Jörgen Wilhelm Bergsöe
circled by clouds of tobacco smoke, stared at by curious glances, and made the object of coarse jokes. O God! how terrible it was!
"I must have that arm," exclaimed Sölling, when the first burst of admiration had passed. "When I bleach it and touch it up with varnish, it will be a superb specimen. I'll take it home with me."
"No," I exclaimed, "I can't permit it. It was wrong of me to bring it away from the churchyard. I'm going right back to put the arm in its place."
"Well, will you listen to that?" cried Sölling, amid the hearty laughter of the others. "Simsen's so lyric, he certainly must be drunk. I must have that arm at any cost."
"Not much," cut in Niels Daae; "you have no right to it. It was buried in the earth and dug out again; it is a find, and all the rest of us have just as much right to it as you have."
"Yes, everyone of us has some share in it," said some one else.
"But what are you going to do about it?" remarked Sölling. "It would be vandalism to break up that arm. What God has joined together let no man put asunder," he concluded with pathos.
"Let's auction it off," exclaimed Daae. "I will be the auctioneer, and this key to the graveyard will serve me for a hammer."
The laughter broke out anew as Daae took his place solemnly at the head of the table and began to whine out the following announcement: "I hereby notify all present that on the 25th of November, at twelve o'clock at midnight, in corridor No. 5 of the student barracks, a lady's arm in excellent condition, with all its appurtenances of wrist bones, joints, and finger tips, is to be offered at public auction. The buyer can have possession of his purchase immediately after the auction, and a credit of six weeks will be given to any reliable customer. I bid a Danish shilling."
"One mark," cried Sölling mockingly.
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