Hunger Part 11

"No disturbance in the street," says the constable; "so, march," and he gives me a shove on.

"Is them your papers?" he calls after me.

"Yes, by Jove! my newspaper leader; many important papers! However could I be so careless?" I s.n.a.t.c.h up my ma.n.u.script, convince myself that it is lying in order and go, without stopping a second or looking about me, towards the editor's office.

It was now four by the clock of Our Saviour's Church. The office is shut. I stead noiselessly down the stairs, frightened as a thief, and stand irresolutely outside the door. What should I do now? I lean up against the wall, stare down at the stones, and consider. A pin is lying glistening at my feet; I stoop and pick it up. Supposing I were to cut the b.u.t.tons off my coat, how much could I get for them? Perhaps it would be no use, though b.u.t.tons are b.u.t.tons; but yet, I look and examine them, and find them as good as new--that was a lucky idea all the same; I could cut them off with my penknife and take them to the p.a.w.n-office. The hope of being able to sell these five b.u.t.tons cheered me immediately, and I cried, "See, see; it will all come right!" My delight got the upper hand of me, and I at once set to cut off the b.u.t.tons one by one. Whilst thus occupied, I held the following hushed soliloquy:

Yes, you see one has become a little impoverished; a momentary embarra.s.sment ... worn out, do you say? You must not make slips when you speak? I would like to see the person who wears out less b.u.t.tons than I do, I can tell you! I always go with my coat open; it is a habit of mine, an idiosyncrasy.... No, no; of course, if you _won't_, well!

But I must have a penny for them, at least.... No indeed! who said you were obliged to do it? You can hold your tongue, and leave me in peace.... Yes, well, you can fetch a policeman, can't you? I'll wait here whilst you are out looking for him, and I won't steal anything from you. Well, good-day! Good-day! My name, by the way, is Tangen; have been out a little late.

Some one comes up the stairs. I am recalled at once to reality. I recognize "Scissors," and put the b.u.t.tons carefully into my pocket. He attempts to pa.s.s; doesn't even acknowledge my nod; is suddenly intently busied with his nails. I stop him, and inquire for the editor.

"Not in, do you hear."

"You lie," I said, and, with a cheek that fairly amazed myself, I continued, "I must have a word with him; it is a necessary errand--communications from the Stiftsgaarden. [Footnote: Dwelling of the civil governor of a Stift or diocese.]

"Well, can't you tell me what it is, then?"

"Tell you?" and I looked "Scissors" up and down. This had the desired effect. He accompanied me at once, and opened the door. My heart was in my mouth now; I set my teeth, to try and revive my courage, knocked, and entered the editor's private office.

"Good-day! Is it you?" he asked kindly; "sit down."

If he had shown me the door it would have been almost as acceptable. I felt as if I were on the point of crying and said:

"I beg you will excuse...."

"Pray, sit down," he repeated. And I sat down, and explained that I again had an article which I was extremely anxious to get into his paper. I had taken such pains with it; it had cost me much effort.

"I will read it," said he, and he took it. "Everything you write is certain to cost you effort, but you are far too impetuous; if you could only be a little more sober. There's too much fever. In the meantime, I will read it," and he turned to the table again.

There I sat. Dared I ask for a s.h.i.+lling? explain to him why there was always fever? He would be sure to aid me; it was not the first time.

I stood up. Hum! But the last time I was with him he had complained about money, and had sent a messenger out to sc.r.a.pe some together for me. Maybe it might be the same case now. No; it should not occur! Could I not see then that he was sitting at work?

Was there otherwise anything? he inquired.

"No," I answered, and I compelled my voice to sound steady. "About how soon shall I call in again?"

"Oh, any time you are pa.s.sing--in a couple of days or so."

I could not get my request over my lips. This man's friendliness seemed to me beyond bounds, and I ought to know how to appreciate it. Rather die of hunger! I went. Not even when I was outside the door, and felt once more the pangs of hunger, did I repent having left the office without having asked for that s.h.i.+lling. I took the other shaving out of my pocket and stuck it into my mouth. It helped. Why hadn't I done so before? "You ought to be ashamed of yourself," I said aloud. "Could it really have entered your head to ask the man for a s.h.i.+lling and put him to inconvenience again?" and I got downright angry with myself for the effrontery of which I had almost been guilty. "That is, by G.o.d! the shabbiest thing I ever heard," said I, "to rush at a man and nearly tear the eyes out of his head just because you happen to need a s.h.i.+lling, you miserable dog! So--o, march! quicker! quicker! you big thumping lout; I'll teach you." I commenced to run to punish myself, left one street after the other behind me at a bound, goaded myself on with suppressed cries, and shrieked dumbly and furiously at myself whenever I was about to halt. Thus I arrived a long way up Pyle Street, when at last I stood still, almost ready to cry with vexation at not being able to run any farther. I was trembling over my whole body, and I flung myself down on a step. "No; stop!" I said, and, in order to torture myself rightly, I arose again, and forced myself to keep standing. I jeered at myself and hugged myself with pleasure at the spectacle of my own exhaustion. At length, after the lapse of a few moments, I gave myself, with a nod, permission to be seated, though, even then, I chose the most uncomfortable place on the steps.

Lord! how delicious it was to rest! I dried the sweat off my face, and drew great refres.h.i.+ng breaths. How had I not run! But I was not sorry; I had richly deserved it. Why did I want to ask for that s.h.i.+lling? Now I could see the consequences, and I began to talk mildly to myself, dealing out admonitions as a mother might have done. I grew more and more moved, and tired and weak as I was, I fell a-crying. A quiet, heart-felt cry; an inner sobbing without a tear.

I sat for the s.p.a.ce of a quarter of an hour, or more, in the same place. People came and went, and no one molested me. Little children played about around me, and a little bird sang on a tree on the other side of the street.

A policeman came towards me. "Why do you sit here?" said he.

"Why do I sit here?" I replied; "for pleasure."

"I have been watching you for the last half-hour. You've sat here now half-an-hour."

"About that," I replied; "anything more?"

I got up in a temper and walked on. Arrived at the market-place, I stopped and gazed down the street. For pleasure. Now, was that an answer to give? For weariness, you should have replied, and made your voice whining. You are a b.o.o.by; you will never learn to dissemble. From exhaustion, and you should have gasped like a horse.

When I got to the fire look-out, I halted afresh, seized by a new idea.

I snapped my fingers, burst into a loud laugh that confounded the pa.s.sers-by, and said: "Now you shall just go to Levion the parson. You shall, as sure as death--ay, just for a try. What have you got to lose by it? and it is such glorious weather!"

I entered Pascha's book-shop, found Pastor Levion's address in the directory, and started for it.

Now for it! said I. Play no pranks. Conscience, did you say? No rubbish, if you please. You are too poor to support a conscience. You are hungry; you have come on important business--the first thing needful. But you shall hold your head askew, and set your words to a sing-song. You won't! What? Well then, I won't go a step farther. Do you hear that? Indeed, you are in a sorely tempted condition, fighting with the powers of darkness and great voiceless monsters at night, so that it is a horror to think of; you hunger and thirst for wine and milk, and don't get them. It has gone so far with you. Here you stand and haven't as much as a halfpenny to bless yourself with. But you believe in grace, the Lord be praised; you haven't yet lost your faith; and then you must clasp your hands together, and look a very Satan of a fellow for believing in grace. As far as Mammon was concerned, why, you hated Mammon with all its pomps in any form. Now it's quite another thing with a psalm-book--a souvenir to the extent of a few s.h.i.+llings.... I stopped at the pastor's door, and read, "Office hours, 12 to 4."

Mind, no fudge, I said; now we'll go ahead in earnest! So hang your head a little more, and I rang at the private entrance.

"I want to see the pastor," said I to the maid; but it was not possible for me to get in G.o.d's name yet awhile.

"He has gone out."

Gone out, gone out! That destroyed my whole plan; scattered all I intended to say to the four winds. What had I gained then by the long walk? There I stood.

"Was it anything particular?" questioned the maid.

"Not at all," I replied, "not at all." It was only just that it was such glorious G.o.d's weather that I thought I would come out and make a call.

There I stood, and there she stood. I purposely thrust out my chest to attract her attention to the pin that held my coat together. I implored her with a look to see what I had come for, but the poor creature didn't understand it at all.

Lovely G.o.d's weather. Was not the mistress at home either?

Yes; but she had gout, and lay on a sofa without being able to move herself.... Perhaps I would leave a message or something?

No, not at all; I only just took walks like this now and again, just for exercise; it was so wholesome after dinner.... I set out on the road back--what would gossiping longer lead to? Besides, I commenced to feel dizzy. There was no mistake about it; I was about to break down in earnest. Office hours from 12 to 4. I had knocked at the door an hour too late. The time of grace was over. I sat down on one of the benches near the church in the market. Lord! how black things began to look for me now! I did not cry; I was too utterly tired, worn to the last degree. I sat there without trying to arrive at any conclusion, sad, motionless, and starving. My chest was much inflamed; it smarted most strangely and sorely--nor would chewing shavings help me much longer.

My jaws were tired of that barren work, and I let them rest. I simply gave up. A brown orange-peel, too, I had found in the street, and which I had at once commenced to chew, had given me nausea. I was ill--the veins swelled up bluely on my wrists. What was it I had really sought after? Run about the whole live-long day for a s.h.i.+lling, that would but keep life in me for a few hours longer. Considering all, was it not a matter of indifference if the inevitable took place one day earlier or one day later? If I had conducted myself like an ordinary being I should have gone home long ago, and laid myself down to rest, and given in. My mind was clear for a moment. Now I was to die. It was in the time of the fall, and all things were hushed to sleep. I had tried every means, exhausted every resource of which I knew. I fondled this thought sentimentally, and each time I still hoped for a possible succour I whispered repudiatingly: "You fool, you have already begun to die."

I ought to write a couple of letters, make all ready--prepare myself. I would wash myself carefully and tidy my bed nicely. I would lay my head upon the sheets of white paper, the cleanest things I had left, and the green blanket. I ... The green blanket! Like a shot I was wide awake.

The blood mounted to my head, and I got violent palpitation of the heart. I arise from the seat, and start to walk. Life stirs again in all my fibres, and time after time I repeat disconnectedly, "The green blanket--the green blanket." I go faster and faster, as if it is a case of fetching something, and stand after a little time in my tinker's workshop. Without pausing a moment, or wavering in my resolution, I go over to the bed, and roll up Hans Pauli's blanket. It was a strange thing if this bright idea of mine couldn't save me. I rose infinitely superior to the stupid scruples which sprang up in me--half inward cries about a certain stain on my honour. I bade good-bye to the whole of them. I was no hero--no virtuous idiot. I had my senses left.

So I took the blanket under my arm and went to No. 5 Stener's Street. I knocked, and entered the big, strange room for the first time. The bell on the door above my head gave a lot of violent jerks. A man enters from a side room, chewing, his mouth is full of food, and stands behind the counter.

"Eh, lend me sixpence on my eye-gla.s.ses?" said I. "I shall release them in a couple of days, without fail--eh?"

"No! they're steel, aren't they?"

"Yes."

"No; can't do it."

"Ah, no, I suppose you can't. Well, it was really at best only a joke.

Well, I have a blanket with me for which, properly speaking, I have no longer any use, and it struck me that you might take it off my hands."