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Diary of a Pilgrimage by Jerome K. (Jerome Klapka) Jerome
page 41 of 154 (26%)
seemed to strike one of them, a little more intelligent-looking than
the rest, and he rushed outside and began running up and down,
calling out something very loudly, in which the word "Norwegian"
kept on occurring.

He returned in a few seconds, evidently exceedingly pleased with
himself, accompanied by a kindly-looking old gentleman in a white
hat.

Way was made in the crowd, and the old gentleman pressed forward.
When he got near, he smiled at me, and then proceeded to address to
me a lengthy, but no doubt kindly meant, speech in Scandinavian.

Of course, it was all utterly unintelligible to me from beginning to
end, and my face clearly showed this. I can grasp a word or two of
Scandinavian here and there, if pronounced slowly and distinctly;
but that is all.

The old gentleman regarded me with great surprise. He said (in
Scandinavian, of course):

"You speak Norwegian?"

I replied, in the same tongue:

"A little, a very little--VERY."

He seemed not only disappointed, but indignant. He explained the
matter to the crowd, and they all seemed indignant.

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