Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - Part one - III
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Helge was not hungry. The sour white wine gave him
heartburn, and he could scarcely swallow the dry, unsalted
bread, but Jenny bit off great chunks with her white teeth, put
small pieces of Parmesan in her mouth, and drank wine. The
three eggs were already done with.
“How can you eat that nasty bread without butter?” said
Helge.
“I like it. I have not tasted butter since I left Christiania.
Cesca and I buy it only when we are having a party. We have
to live very economically, you see.”
He laughed, saying: “What do you call economy — beads
and corals?”
“No; it is luxury, but I think it is very essential — a little
of it. We live cheaply and we eat cheaply, tea and dry bread
and radishes twice or three times a week for supper — and we
buy silk scarves.”
She had finished eating, lit a cigarette, and sat looking in
front of her, with her chin resting on her hand:
“To starve, you see, Mr. Gram — of course I have not tried
it yet, but I may have to. Heggen has, and he thinks as I
do — to starve or to have too little of the necessary is better
than never to have any of the superfluous. The superfluous is
the very thing we work and long for. At home, with my
mother, we always had the strictly necessary, but everything
beyond it was not to be thought of. It had to be — the
children had to be fed before anything else.”
“I cannot think of you as ever having been troubled about
money.”
“Why not?”
“Because you are so courageous and independent, and you
have such decided opinions about everything. When you grow
up in circumstances where it is a constant struggle to make ends
meet, and you are always reminded of it, you sort of dare not
form any opinions — in a general way — it is so tantalizing to
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