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"The devil may understand the sea!" cried Master Andres breathlessly. "It is curved like an arch everywhere, and it can get up on its hind legs and stand like a wall, although it's a fluid! And I have read in a book that there is so much silver in the sea that every man in the whole world might be rich." "Thou righteous God!" cried Bjerregrav, "such a thing I have never heard.
And no one had known or guessed, so that they might have been a little kinder to him just at the last! He died in his bed, with his mind full of their last disdainful words, and now they could never go to him and say: "Don't take any notice of it, Bjerregrav; we didn't mean to be unkind." Perhaps their behavior had embittered his last hours.
Bjerregrav, with an afflicted expression, looked first at one, then at another. "And they get frost-bite in their feet and their toes have to be amputated in some cases, the whole foot." "No, be quiet! So they lose their health, poor fellows! I don't want to hear any more!" The old man sat rocking himself to and fro, as though he felt unwell.
"If he'd been a son of mine he would have got the stick," said Jorgen. "Aren't they the sort of people who are making ready for the millennium? We've got a few of their sort here," said Bjerregrav diffidently. "D'you mean the poor devils who believe in the watchmaker and his 'new time'? Yes, that may well be," said Jeppe contemptuously. "I have heard they are quite wicked enough for that.
The young master smiled. "To the devil with them we'd all go down to the shore and shoot them: they should never land alive!" "They are just a miserable rabble, the lot of them," said Jeppe. "I should very much like to know whether there is a decent citizen among them." "Naturally, it's always the poor who complain of poverty," said Bjerregrav. "So the thing never comes to an end."
Bjerregrav cannot help crossing himself he who has never accomplished anything, except to feel for the poor; but in the young master's eyes everybody travels round and round the world, round and round the world.
Bjerregrav, with an afflicted expression, looked first at one, then at another. "And they get frost-bite in their feet and their toes have to be amputated in some cases, the whole foot." "No, be quiet! So they lose their health, poor fellows! I don't want to hear any more!" The old man sat rocking himself to and fro, as though he felt unwell.
"Then there ought to be great rejoicing among the poor this winter." "Well, they won't get it direct in food and firing," said Bjerregrav, "but it will come to them just as well in other ways. For when I'd made my offer to the Society, Shipowner Monsen you know him came to me, and begged me to lend him the money at one year.
"That's a work of poetry, Lord alive!" said the master, and he related its contents to Bjerregrav, who took them all for reality. "You should have played some part in the great world, Andres I for my part do best to stay at home here. But you could have managed it I'm sure of it." "The great world!" said the master scornfully. No, he didn't take much stock in the world it wasn't big enough.
"If he'd been a son of mine he would have got the stick," said Jorgen. "Aren't they the sort of people who are making ready for the millennium? We've got a few of their sort here," said Bjerregrav diffidently. "D'you mean the poor devils who believe in the watchmaker and his 'new time'? Yes, that may well be," said Jeppe contemptuously. "I have heard they are quite wicked enough for that.
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