Part 76 (1/2)

”There's a woman and a little child sitting there, and she's forever and forever crying in my ear. I can't stand it any longer!” answered Strom, knotting his rope.

”Think of the little child, then!” said Pelle firmly, and he tore down the rope. Strom submitted to be led back into his room, and he crawled into bed. But Pelle must stay with him; he dared not put out the light and lie alone in the darkness.

”Is it the devils?” asked Pelle.

”What devils?” Strom knew nothing of any devils. ”No, it's remorse,”

he replied. ”The child and its mother are continually complaining of my faithlessness.”

But next moment he would spring out of bed and stand there whistling as though he was coaxing a dog. With a sudden grip he seized something by the throat, opened the window, and threw it out. ”So, that was it!” he said, relieved; ”now there's none of the devil's brood left!” He reached after the bottle of brandy.

”Leave it alone!” said Pelle, and he took the bottle away from him. His will increased in strength at the sight of the other's misery.

Strom crept into bed again. He lay there tossing to and fro, and his teeth chattered. ”If I could only have a mouthful!” he said pleadingly; ”what harm can that do me? It's the only thing that helps me! Why should a man always torment himself and play the respectable when he can buy peace for his soul so cheaply? Give me a mouthful!” Pelle pa.s.sed him the bottle. ”You should take one yourself--it sets a man up! Do you think I can't see that you've suffered s.h.i.+pwreck, too? The poor man goes aground so easily, he has so little water under the keel. And who d'you think will help him to get off again if he's betrayed his own best friend?

Take a swallow, then--it wakes the devil in us and gives us courage to live.”

No, Pelle wanted to go to bed.

”Why do you want to go now? Stay here, it is so comfortable. If you could, tell me about something, something that'll drive that d.a.m.ned noise out of my ears for a bit! There's a young woman and a little child, and they're always crying in my ears.”

Pelle stayed, and tried to distract the diver. He looked into his own empty soul, and he could find nothing there; so he told the man of Father La.s.se and of their life at Stone Farm, with everything mixed up just as it occurred to him. But his memories rose up within him as he spoke of them, and they gazed at him so mournfully that they awakened his crippled soul to life. Suddenly he felt utterly wretched about himself, and he broke down helplessly.

”Now, now!” said Strom, raising his head. ”Is it your turn now? Have you, too, something wicked to repent of, or what is it?”

”I don't know.”

”You don't know? That's almost like the women--crying is one of their pleasures. But Strom doesn't hang his head; he would like to be at peace with himself, if it weren't for a pair of child's eyes that look at him so reproachfully, day in and day out, and the crying of a girl! They're both at home there in Sweden, wringing their hands for their daily bread. And the one that should provide for them is away from them here and throws away his earnings in the beer-houses. But perhaps they're dead now because I've forsaken them. Look you, that is a real grief; there's no child's talk about that! But you must take a drink for it.”

But Pelle did not hear; he sat there gazing blindly in front of him.

All at once the chair began to sail through air with him; he was almost fainting with hunger. ”Give me just one drink--I've had not a mouthful of food to-day!” He smiled a shamefaced smile at the confession.

With one leap, Strom was out of bed. ”No, then you shall have something to eat,” he said eagerly, and he fetched some food. ”Did one ever see the like--such a desperate devil! To take brandy on an empty stomach!

Eat now, and then you can drink yourself full elsewhere! Strom has enough on his conscience without that.... He can drink his brandy himself! Well, well, then, so you cried from hunger! It sounded like a child crying to me!”

Pelle often experienced such nights. They enlarged his world in the direction of the darkness. When he came home late and groped his way across the landing he always experienced a secret terror lest he should rub against Strom's lifeless body; and he only breathed freely when he heard him snoring or ramping round his room. He liked to look in on him before he went to bed.

Strom was always delighted to see him, and gave him food; but brandy he would not give him. ”It's not for fellows as young as you! You'll get the taste for it early enough, perhaps.”

”You drink, yourself,” said Pelle obstinately.

”Yes, I drink to deaden remorse. But that's not necessary in your case.”

”I'm so empty inside,” said Pelle. ”Really brandy might set me up a little. I feel as if I weren't human at all, but a dead thing, a table, for instance.”

”You must do something--anything--or you'll become a good-for-nothing.

I've seen so many of our sort go to the dogs; we haven't enough power of resistance!”

”It's all the same to me what becomes of me!” replied Pelle drowsily.

”I'm sick of the whole thing!”

XXIII