Part 49 (1/2)
The Princess smiled on Doffen as she smiled on everyone, and each of course fancied himself specially favoured. Even old Consul Endresen brightened up at the sight of her, and was always ready to stop for a chat; he would draw himself up and endeavour to play the gallant cavalier. He had been a widower now for many years, and it was commonly believed that he was not unwilling to enter once more into the bonds of holy matrimony, should a favourable opportunity occur.
The Admiral growled fiercely whenever Baby was out, and Missa wept and wrung her hands over the young ladies of the present day--particularly in this barbarous country.
Paying attentions? It was one continual paying of attentions all day long. The young men of the place were sick with longing when she was not to be seen, and Doffen suffered most, having occasion to see her every day. To make matters worse, she had taken to coming into the office more frequently of late, and would perch herself up on her father's high stool. There she would sit and gossip with him for half an hour at a time. Six times a week at least Doffen was in the seventh heaven of delight. She asked him questions about everything under the sun, consulting him on every imaginable subject. And then she would thank him with one of those wonderful smiles, and a look from those dark eyes of hers--oh, it was beyond all bearing.
Doffen pondered long and deep, seeking some way of coming to the point.
He must not let the others get there before him, and he decided on a _coup de main_, which, as he had read in the life of Napoleon, was the proper way to win a battle. He would go directly to the Admiral himself.
One morning, then, the Admiral came into the office, looked long and attentively at Doffen, and finally said:
”What's the matter with you, man? You're getting to look like a plucked goose, for all the sign of life in you!” And he jumped up on his stool.
”It's a dog's life being a man,” declared Doffen sententiously.
”You find it easier, no doubt, to be a monkey,” said the Admiral.
”Well, anyway, I'd be a sort of relative of yours,” said Doffen. ”And it's as well to be on good terms with the devil, they say.”
The Admiral laughed. This was a bad sign.
Ugh! So Doffen was going to be funny, and make jokes. That sort of polite conversation was a thing the Admiral detested; it was blank tomfoolery; soup without salt.
No; what he enjoyed was proper high temper on both sides like a couple of flints striking sparks. Anything short of that made life a washy, milk-and-watery dreariness. And most people, according to his opinion, were just a set of slack-kneed molly-coddles that sheered off at the first encounter. Devil take their measly souls! When he did happen to meet with a fellow-citizen who could get into a proper towering pa.s.sion, he felt like falling on his neck out of sheer grat.i.tude and admiration. Here, at last, was a _man_! Women he placed in a separate category: they were ”fellow-creatures,” just as rabbits, for instance, whose chief business in life was to have young ones.
Doffen, then, ought to have realised that the moment was not opportune for a _coup de main_. He had, however, only the day before, seen the Princess out for a long walk with young Endresen, and he felt he must act promptly, so he went on:
”You could make a happy man of me, Admiral!”
”You're happy enough as it is, man.”
”No, not quite. There's one thing wanting.”
”And what's that?”
”Your daughter----”
”Hey? Are you off your head?”
”Your daughter,” repeated Doffen. ”I'd be a good husband to her, and a proper son-in-law to you.”
”I'll give you son-in-law!” roared the Admiral, and, picking up the big Directory, he sent it full at Doffen's chest; the latter, taken by surprise, came tumbling down from his stool, and fell against the wood-box in the corner.
”You miserable nincomp.o.o.p!” snorted the Admiral, as he rushed out of the room.
Doffen lay in the corner by the wood-box, groaning pitifully. The noise had been heard all over the house, and the Princess came rus.h.i.+ng in to see what was the matter.
”Are you ill, Eriksen?” she asked, taking his hand.
”Oh, I think I must be dying,” he said, touching his chest.