[Footnote: Issued by the barbers at cheaper rates, as few men in Norway
shave themselves.] fell out of my pocket. I opened it, and counted the
tickets; there were six. "The Lord be praised," I exclaimed involuntarily;
"I can still get shaved for a couple of weeks, and look a little decent";
and I immediately fell into a better frame of mind on account of this
little property which still remained to me. I smoothed the leaves out
carefully, and put the book safely into my pocket.

But write I could not. After a few lines nothing seemed to occur to me; my
thought ran in other directions, and I could not pull myself together
enough for any special exertion.

Everything influenced and distracted me; everything I saw made a fresh
impression on me. Flies and tiny mosquitoes stick fast to the paper and
disturb me. I blow at them to get rid of them--blow harder and harder; to
no purpose, the little pests throw themselves on their backs, make
themselves heavy, and fight against me until their slender legs bend. They
are not to be moved from the spot; they find something to hook on to, set
their heels against a comma or an unevenness in the paper, or stand
immovably still until they themselves think fit to go their way.

These insects continued to busy me for a long time, and I crossed my legs
to observe them at leisure. All at once a couple of high clarionet notes
waved up to me from the bandstand, and gave my thoughts a new impulse.

Despondent at not being able to put my article together, I replaced the
paper in my pocket, and leant back in the seat. At this instant my head is
so clear that I can follow the most delicate train of thought without
tiring. As I lie in this position, and let my eyes glide down my breast
and along my legs, I notice the jerking movement my foot makes each time