Evening at Ylajali's Apartment
The Evening at Ylajali's Apartment marks the novel's most intense and revealing encounter between the starving narrator and the woman he has named Ylajali. After weeks of desperate hunger, homelessness, and a series of humiliating failures, the narrator finds himself invited into her home on a Tuesday evening. The meeting, which begins with playful flirtation and mutual attraction, rapidly descends into a painful exposure of his physical decay, his moral compromises, and the fundamental impossibility of a genuine connection across the chasm of his poverty. The scene is a crucible in which the narrator's romantic fantasies, his hunger-driven madness, and his fragile sense of honor are all tested and found wanting.
The Invitation and the Ascent
Having met Ylajali on the street several evenings in a row, the narrator finally speaks to her and she agrees to meet him. On the appointed Tuesday, he waits at the fountain near St. Olav's Place, and she appears from a different direction, having accompanied her mother to a social engagement. She reveals that the servant has the evening off and she is alone at home. When the narrator, trembling with emotion and acutely aware of his shabby attire, suggests they go up to her apartment, she responds with unexpected tenderness: "You shall certainly not sit down by the door." She takes his hand in the dark lobby and leads him inside. The room is lit not by a lamp but by a single candle, which stands between them on the table as they first gaze at each other.
Playful Intimacy and the Revelation of Poverty
The initial mood is one of playful, almost childlike intimacy. Ylajali laughs about her earlier kiss, saying she will never do it again, and they chase each other around the room. The narrator trips on the carpet, his sore foot giving way, and she notices his limp. She teases him about his many afflictions—a sore finger, now a sore foot—and asks if he has been tipsy again. The narrator, however, cannot sustain the pretense. He confesses his poverty directly: "I am very, very poor." Ylajali responds with a cheerful movement of her head, saying she is poor too, but the narrator knows the difference is vast. He tells her that when he went to bed the previous night, he had settled his arm as if she lay on it, and she calls this "lovely." Yet when he tries to embrace her, she withdraws, and he feels the full weight of his wretchedness. He thinks of his former, better days when he could make a respectable appearance, and he is "fearfully downcast."
The Confession and the Fall
Emboldened by her teasing and his own desperation, the narrator forces himself upon her, knocking over the candle and plunging the room into darkness. Ylajali struggles and whimpers, offering a desperate compromise: "If you like, you may rather kiss me, oh, dear, kind..." The narrator stops instantly, struck by her helplessness. He relights the candle, and she, trembling, looks at the clock and says the servant will soon return. The narrator, hurt and confused, begins a long, rambling speech about his nature, his poverty, and his sensitivity. He insists he is not insane, but that his poverty has sharpened his perceptions. He talks about the scars on his soul, and she mutters "My God!" in despair. He finally prepares to leave, but she comes to him, stretches out her hand, and then winds her arms around his neck. She says something that sounds like "I am fond of you, in spite of all," and she clasps him for a full minute. The narrator, afraid she is forcing herself, simply says, "What a darling you are now!" and then rushes out the door, leaving her behind.
Consequences and Aftermath
The encounter leaves the narrator in a state of heightened emotional turmoil. The next day, he is intoxicated by the memory, but the theft of five shillings from a shopkeeper weighs on his conscience. He gives the money away to a cake vendor in a fit of moral panic, only to later regret his poverty and his inability to maintain a dignified position. The evening with Ylajali does not lead to a sustained relationship. Instead, it becomes a painful memory that underscores his isolation. When he later sees her walking with another man, "the Duke," he feels a surge of jealousy and contempt, but he also recognizes that he has only aroused her pity. The half-sovereign he receives from her through a messenger, which he throws in his landlady's face, becomes a symbol of his degradation. The evening at Ylajali's apartment is the closest the narrator comes to love and human connection, but it is ultimately a scene of failed intimacy, where his hunger—both literal and emotional—destroys any possibility of a shared future.
