"
"You don't mean to say," Camilla protested, "that Carlsen and Ronholt
have the same opinions."
"Yes, they are the finest of all, they belong to different parties!
Their fundamental principles are as different as night and day. No,
they are not. They are in such agreement that it is a perfect joy.
Perhaps there may he some little point about which they don't agree;
perhaps, it is merely a misunderstanding. But heaven help me, if it
isn't pure comedy to listen to them. It is as if they had prearranged
to do everything possible not to agree. They begin by talking in a
loud voice, and immediately talk themselves into a passion. Then one
of them in his passion says something which he doesn't mean, and then
the other one says the direct opposite which he doesn't mean either,
and then the one attacks that which the other doesn't mean, and the
other that which the first one didn't mean, and the game is on."
"But what have they done to you?"
"They annoy me, these fellows. If you look into their faces it is just
as if you had it under seal that nothing especial is ever going to
happen in the world in the future." Camilla laid down her sewing, went
over and took hold of the corners of his coat collar and looked
roguishly and questioningly at him.
"I cannot bear Carlsen," he said angrily, and tossed his head.
"Well, and then."
"And then you are very, very sweet," he murmured with a comic
tenderness.
"And then?"
"And then," he burst out, "he looks at you and listens to you and talks
to you in a way I don't like.
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