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Updated: June 16, 2025
But Pelle was not allowed to feel satisfied with himself in this either. He was a prey to the same tormenting unrest that he had suffered in his cell, when he stole away from his work and sat reading secretly he felt as if there were always an eye at the peephole, which saw everything that he did. He would have to go into the question once more. That unselfish Morten envious?
They all had some object; one could not see it, but really they were running along like ants, each bearing his little burden to the mighty heap of precious things, which was gathered together from all the ends of the earth. "There are millions in all this!" said Pelle at last, drawing a deep breath. "Yes," said Morten standing beside him.
I told Morten Bruus that this testimony was no proof of the supposed murder, especially as the rector himself had narrated the entire occurrence to me exactly as the women had described it. But he smiled bitterly and asked me to examine the third witness, which I proceeded to do. From the garden he heard a noise as of some one digging in the earth.
Then he struck the table. "Oh, if only a man had learned something!" he groaned. The sunlight played on his dark beard; his weary labors had been powerless to stiffen his limbs or to pull him down. Drink had failed to hurt him he sat there like strength personified; his great forehead and his throat were deeply bronzed by the sun. "Look here, Morten!" he cried, turning to the boys.
It was impossible in any case to obtain any reassuring view of the whole. The world followed its own crooked course in defiance of all wisdom. There was little pleasure in absorbing knowledge about things that one could not remedy; poor people had better be dull. He and Morten had just been to Madam Johnsen's funeral. She had not succeeded in seeing Jutland.
Gabriel, too, devoted all the time that he could spare from his dinner to staring at the master; and every time the latter looked over to that part of the table where Gabriel was sitting, by the side of Miss Corsden, the young scapegrace took up his glass and emptied it with a careless, grown-up air, which he knew would irritate his natural enemy. Morten, who sat between Mr.
It was really extraordinary that Morten should be the son of the giant stone-cutter, so quiet and delicate was he. He had not yet quite recovered the strength of which Bodil had robbed him in his early boyhood; it was as though that early abuse was still wasting him. He had retained his girlish love of comfort.
Morten asked, as he wiped the perspiration from his forehead. "It was some little thing or other I think I called out. The solitude and the terrible silence got upon my nerves, and I suppose I shouted to make a little life in the horrible emptiness. I don't remember very clearly, but I think that was my crime." "You'd have been the better anyhow for a kind word from a friend."
He slipped into the yard and up the stairs. Morten was reading. "It's something quite new to see you fireman!" he said, with a kindly smile. "I have come to say good-bye," said Pelle lightly. Morten looked at him wonderingly. "Are you going to travel?" "Yes ... I I wanted...." he said, and sat down. He gazed on the floor in front of his feet.
"Are those the new ideas? I think the ignorant have always had to take the consequences! And there has never been lacking some one to spit on them!" said Morten sadly. "But, listen!" cried Pelle, springing to his feet. "You'll please not blame me for spitting at anybody the others did that!" He was very near losing his temper again, but Morten's quiet manner mastered him.
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