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Updated: June 16, 2025
"You've accompanied the poor child along the road as far as you could, and the living have some claim on you too." Morten raised his head. "What does it matter whether I write a few pages more or less?" he said wearily. "Your pen was given you to defend the defenceless with; you mustn't give up," said Pelle. Morten laughed bitterly.
Morten was still thinking of his despised letters. "Yes, but the atmosphere of a cell is not suited for friendly relations with the outside world. You get to hate all who are at liberty those who mean well by you too and you chop off even the little bit of branch you're sitting on. Perhaps I should never have got into touch with life again if it hadn't been for the mice in my cell.
"Well, to think we should meet here!" he cried, and laughed good-naturedly. Morten was working at the pastry cook's, and had been out; now he was going in to get some sleep before the night's work. "But come in with me; we can at least sit and talk for half an hour; and you shall have a cake too." He was just the same as in the old days.
"That's good, but now be off with you," replied Morten, smiling; he was already half-undressed. "I'm going, I'm going!" said Pelle, and he picked up his hat, and stood for a moment gazing out over the city. "But it's magnificent, what you were saying about things just now!" he cried suddenly. "If I had the strength of all us poor folks in me, I'd break out right away and conquer the whole of it!
When all the household else had gone to sleep the two brothers crept out, and went to a field where several days before they had buried the body of a man of about Niels' age, size, and general appearance. But Morten was the stronger, and Niels had to do as he was ordered. They carried the body back with them into the house.
Poor Ole Anderson keeps his peat moor and his pasture land, but rich Morten Bruus is angry at me because of it. When he heard the decision he closed his eyes and set his lips tight, and his face was as pale as a whitewashed wall. But he controlled himself and as he went out he called back to his adversary, "Wish you joy of the bargain, Ole Anderson.
Others will come to do as I am doing, either of their own free will or by compulsion, until everything belongs to everybody. Then only can the conflict about human interests begin. Capitalism has created wonderful machines, but what wonderful men await us in the new age! Happy the man who could have lived to see it! "I have left all my money to you and Morten.
"Good luck, then!" said Morten, looking at him curiously as he pressed his hand. How much he had guessed Pelle did not know. There was Bornholm blood in Morten's veins; he was not one to meddle in another's affairs. And then he was in the streets again. No, Morten's way out was of no use to him and now he would give in, and surrender himself to the authorities!
Up the steps of the pyramid various other figures were scrambling to the top, holding their arms outstretched toward the summit. Wine was poured out when they came to the cake, and Morten made a little speech in Pelle's honor, in which he spoke of loyalty toward the new comrade whom he had chosen.
This kiss, in connection with the smudge of ink, made this day a memorable one for old Svendsen, and he used to reckon from it as an epoch which he could never forget. The same post brought, among other things, a note for Morten Garman. He opened it, smiled in a singular manner, and sent it upstairs to his wife.
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