Pause.

"I thought you wanted to speak to me about something," asked Tidemand.

"Yes, well--I don't know that I do, exactly." Ole went over and locked the
door. "I thought that, as you cannot possibly know anything about it, I
had perhaps better tell you that people are talking about you,
calumniating you, blackening your reputation, so to speak. And you hear
nothing, of course."

"Are they blackening me? What are they saying?"

"Oh, you can feel above anything they say. Never mind what they say. The
gossip is that you neglect your wife; that you frequent restaurants
although you have a home of your own; that you leave her to herself while
you enjoy life single-handed. You are above such insinuations, of course.
But, anyway, why do you eat away from home and live so much in
restaurants? Not that I have any business to--Say, this wine is not half
bad, believe me! Take another glass; do me the favour--"

Tidemand's eyes had suddenly become clear and sharp. He got up, made a few
turns across the floor, and went back to the sofa.

"I am not at all surprised that people are talking," he said. "I myself
have done what I could to start the gossip; I know that only too well. But
I have ceased to care about anything any more." Tidemand shrugged his
shoulders and got up again. Drifting back and forth across the floor,
staring fixedly straight ahead, he murmured again that he had ceased to
care about anything.