Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 16, 2025
When Morten, with a few kind words, covered her up, she began to weep convulsively, but turned her face to the wall and stuffed the quilt into her mouth in order to hide it. She gradually became quieter and at last fell asleep; and the two men stole out of the room and closed the door after them. Morten looked tired out, for he was still not strong.
Morten had an unfruitful tendency to undermine the certainty of one's mind; he always brought forth his words from his inner consciousness, from places where no one else had ever been, and he delivered them as though they had been God's voice in the Bible, which always made people pause in their designs. Pelle respected his peculiar nature, which never marched with the crowd, and avoided him.
Where he himself could not see he was like a lens that collects the half-darkness and gives it out again as a beam of light. Morten he preferred to avoid. Pelle had gradually absorbed all the theories of the labor movement, and they comfortably filled his mind. And how could one accomplish more than by remaining in harmony with the whole?
"It's exhaustion," whispered Morten. "She's not got much strength yet." Their presence made her sleep disturbed, and she tossed from side to side and then, suddenly opening her eyes, gazed about her with an expression of wild terror. In a moment she recognized them and smiled; and raising herself a little she held out both her hands to Pelle with a charming expression of childish coquetry.
"I'm looking forward tremendously to reading your books," said Pelle enthusiastically. "What a lot you've written! You haven't given that up." "Perhaps solitude's taught you too to like books," said Morten, looking at him. "If so, you've made some good friends in there, Pelle. All that there isn't worth much; it's only preliminary work. It's a new world ours, you must remember."
She was on her feet beside me and with a gentle yet compelling hand put me back in my chair. Her voice had the same tone a mother would use to a grieving child. "Dicky's name wasn't mentioned when the story was printed the last time, because at the time the divorce was granted, Mr. Morten withdrew the accusation that he had made against him." "Why?"
Once or twice I've heard her talk in her sleep of her grandmother; but when I've referred to it, she sulks and won't speak." "Does she drink?" asked Pelle. Morten nodded. "I've had some bad times with her on that account," he said. "She shows incredible ingenuity when it's a case of getting hold of liquor. At first she couldn't eat hot food at all, she was in such a state.
And she knows that her own father is peasant-born as well as Bruus. Now I know what the Ingvorstrup horses were intended for. They were to blind the judge and to lead him aside from the narrow path of righteousness. The rich Morten Bruus covets poor Ole Andersen's peat moor and pasture land. It would have been a good bargain for Morten even at seventy thalers.
"I have a responsibility to those above me," answered Morten proudly. "If I give the blind man eyes to see into the future, I can't let myself be led by him. Now and then The Working Man gets hold of one of my contributions to the upper-class press: that's all the connection I have with my own side.
"I'm always so afraid that father might forget what he's doing when he's like he is now; and she doesn't think of giving in to him, so it's flint against flint. But now I think you ought to go where the rest of the young folks are, instead of sitting here and hanging your heads." "We'll stay and see whether father comes," declared Morten.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking