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Updated: May 31, 2025
And then he was silent, with a look that seemed to say that the matter had been sufficiently discussed. Morten's reserved expression made Pelle serious. He might jestingly pretend that this was nonsense, but Morten was one of those who looked into things perhaps there was something here that he didn't understand.
Pelle took down some of Morten's own works, and turned over their leaves with interest. He seemed to hear Morten's earnest voice behind the printed words. He would begin to read him now! Morten came in. "You're not going, are you?" he asked, drawing his hand across his forehead. "Do stay a little while and we'll have a good talk. You can't think how I've missed you!" He looked tired.
"You needn't waste anything on me; I've had no children by you." She was trembling with cold, but remained obstinately standing, and answered Morten's remonstrances with a torrent of abusive epithets. At last he gave it up and sat down wearily. The two men sat and looked at her in silence.
Morten so far prevailed that the Consul was at length obliged to let him set up an office in the town, but under his own name; for Garman and Worse were still to be found only at Sandsgaard, and there those who wished to do business with the firm had to betake themselves. Meanwhile a considerable amount of business passed through Morten's office in the town.
"Yes, that was all Brother Morten's fault. Did the old rector have much trouble about it?" "Niels! Niels!" I cried from out the horror of my soul, "you have a monstrous black sin upon your conscience! For your sake that unfortunate man fell by the ax of the executioner!" The bread and the crutch fell from his hand, and he himself was near to falling into the fire.
'You do not belong to my chosen people away with you! And then he lashed me over the back with his knout." Morten checked himself and spoke no more; it was as though he neither saw nor heard; he had quite collapsed. Suddenly he turned away, without saying good-bye. Pelle went home; he was vexed by Morten's violence, which was, he felt, an attack upon himself.
In Morten's pale, handsome face there was something indescribable that made Pelle's heart throb in his breast, and a gentler note came into the voices of all who spoke to him. Pelle did not clearly understand what there could be attractive about himself; but he steeped himself in this friendship, which fell upon his ravaged soul like a beneficent rain.
In Morten's sitting-room, a hunched-up figure was sitting with its back to the window, staring down at the floor. His clothes hung loosely upon him, and his thin hair was colorless. He slowly raised a wasted face as he looked toward the door. Pelle had already recognized him from his maimed right hand, which had only the thumb and one joint of the forefinger.
Martyn goes back in a few weeks; Arbuthnot's returned already; Ellis and Clay are putting the last touches to a new feeder-line the Government's built as relief-work. Morten's dead he was a Bengal man, though; you wouldn't know him. 'Pon my word, you and Will Miss Martyn seem to have come through it as well as anybody." "Oh, how is she, by-the-way"." The voice went up and down as he spoke.
He worked independently; there was scarcely his match in individual cases of need or injustice; and he was always laboring to make people think for themselves. And they loved him. They looked up to Pelle and the rest, and made way for them with shining eyes; but they smilingly put themselves in Morten's way. They wanted to press his hand he could scarcely make his way to the speaker's platform.
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