I alight, without any haste, absently, listlessly, with my head heavy. I
go through a gateway and come into a yard across which I pass. I come to a
door which I open and pass through; I find myself in a lobby, a sort of
anteroom, with two windows. There are two boxes in it, one on top of the
other, in one corner, and against the wall an old, painted sofa-bed over
which a rug is spread. To the right, in the next room, I hear voices and
the cry of a child, and above me, on the second floor, the sound of an
iron plate being hammered. All this I notice the moment as I enter.
I step quietly across the room to the opposite door without any haste,
without any thought of flight; open it, too, and come out in
Vognmansgaden. I look up at the house through which I have passed.
"Refreshment and lodgings for travellers."
It is not my intention to escape, to steal away from the driver who is
waiting for me. I go very coolly down Vognmansgaden, without fear of being
conscious of doing any wrong. Kierulf, this dealer in wool, who has
spooked in my brain so long--this creature in whose existence I believe,
and whom it was of vital importance that I should meet--had vanished from
my memory; was wiped out with many other mad whims which came and went in
turns. I recalled him no longer, except as a reminiscence--a phantom.
In measure, as I walked on, I become more and more sober; felt languid and
weary, and dragged my legs after me.
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