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Updated: June 16, 2025
"The others that was nothing at all! But it was you who spat seven times over into the poor devil's face I was standing in the shop, and saw it." Pelle stared at him, speechless. Was this the truth-loving Morten who stood there lying? "You say you saw me spit at him?" Morten nodded. "Do you want to accept the applause and the honor, and sneak out of the beastliness and the destruction?
Morten had returned after his interview with his father, and was standing close by Uncle Richard. Every eye was fixed on the ship. The fire increased every second, and with a loud roar the flames burst out above the roof of the storehouse, and at each blast of wind the conflagration waxed higher and higher, until the heat by the engines became almost intolerable.
But why don't you write about something big and thrilling that would repay reading there's nothing interesting about us!" "But I find there is!" "No, I don't understand that. What can happen to poor fellows like us?" "Then don't you believe in greatness?" To be sure Pelle did. "But why shouldn't we have splendid things right away?" "You want to read about counts and barons!" said Morten.
Through her spoiled being there radiated a strange charm, bearing the stamp of death, which seemed to unfold itself the more as she drew nearer to the grave. Later in the autumn her nature changed. Suddenly, when Pelle or Morten approached, her eyes would fill with horror and she would open her mouth to cry out; but when she recognized them, she nestled down in their arms, crying pitifully.
His eyes were still blazing with anger at the insult, and he needed air. "Things are going badly here now," said Morten, looking at him with a peculiar smile. "Yes, I know very well you can't stand it all the same, they must hold together." "And supposing they don't get better conditions?" "Then they must accept the consequences. That's better than the whole Cause should go to the wall!"
That's how only the very poorest people think those who haven't any feelings of shame!" Pelle blushed for his vulgar way of looking at things. "It's no fault of Morten's that his father's like that!" he retorted lamely. "No, we won't have Morten here. And mother won't let us. She says perhaps we can play with you, but not with anybody else.
"Oh! then I would take Morten, of course; but one can't live upon love." And Jörgen reflected for the whole night over what had passed. There was something in him he could not himself account for; but he had one idea it overpowered his love for Elsé, and it led him to Morten.
"Tell me about the house out there and Boy Comfort," she said, making room for him on the edge of the bed. "It's so tiresome here, and Mr. Morten's so serious." And she threw a glance of defiance at him. "Is he?" said Pelle. "That must be because he writes books." "No, but I must keep up a little dignity," said Morten, assuming a funny, schoolmasterish expression.
The crowds around Morten Goosey-Gander grew larger and larger. Akka and the other wild geese tried to swim over to him, but were jostled hither and thither and could not get to him. The old swan-king, who was the strongest among them, swam off quickly, pushed all the others aside, and made his way over to the big white gander.
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.
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