Presently there was another knock. It was Falk. (More of him later on.)
We revived old memories and discussed mutual friends. But by and by there was a pause, that strange silence which so frequently occurs after a lively conversation. Rehnhjelm took up a book, turned over the leaves and read out:
"A Cæsarean Operation: An academic treatise which, with the permission of the illustrious medical faculty, will be publicly discussed in the little lecture room of the University." What horrible diagrams! "Who in the world is the unfortunate being cursed thus to haunt the living after his death?"
"You will find it on page 2," I said.
He went on reading.
"The pelvis which, as No. 38, is preserved in the pathological collection of the Academy...." No—that can't be it. "Agnes Rundgren, spinster...."
The man's face turned as white as chalk. He got up and drank some water.
"Did you know the woman?" I asked, in order to distract his thoughts.
"Did I know her? She was on the stage, and I knew her at X-köping; after leaving X-köping, she was engaged in a Stockholm café, under the name of Beda Petterson."
Then you should have seen Falk! It came to a scene which ended in Rehnhjelm's cursing all women, and Falk, greatly excited, replying, that there were two kinds of women, which differed from each other as much as angels and devils. He was so moved that Rehnhjelm's eyes filled with tears.