pitch-black night brooded continually; those who lived there had to grope their way like moles. In the darkness sounds rose to the surface whi

les vied with one another in their efforts. The darkness was full of the aromatic fragrance of the falling worm-dust. All through this old box of a building dissolution was at work, with thousands of tiny creatures

a ponderous mountain. Dark cellar-openings led down into the roots of the mountain, and there, in its dark entrails, moved wan, grimy creatures with smoky lamps; there were all those who lived upon the poverty of the "Ark"-the old iron merchant, the old clothes merchant, and the money-lender who lent money upon tangible pledges. They moved fearfully, burrowing into strange- looking heaps. The darkness was ingrained in them; Pelle was always reminded of the

om the rickety steps, and down in the well the children of the quarter surrounded the place where he had dropped dead, and illuminate

er claws into them too! She was rummaging about down there, scurfy and repulsive to look at, chewing an unappetizing slice of bread-and-butter, and starting at every sound tha

r my proposal?" she asked,

" said Pelle, i

r cobbling alone and be my

nt? No, Pelle hadn't tho

there's not much to do. And I keep a man who fetches and carries things. It's mostly that I have a fancy

ch she had concealed in these underground chambers. Pelle knew

he poverty of others," said Pelle, smiling. "Perhaps I might knoc

you jest so brutally about life and death? Day and night I go about here trembling for my life, and yet I've nothing at all, the living God knows I've nothing. That is just gossip! Everybody looks at me as much as to say, 'I'd gladly strike you de

" said Pelle teasingly. "No need for a

d so much over there that she can live on it, and she'll still be in the prime of her youth. What do you think of that? In her last letter she asked me to look out for a husband for her. He need only b

hinking over!" answered Pelle; h

Many a poor lord would accept such an offer a

lord, and now I

ctures?" The old woman beg

f white furs, alone in the midst of a crowd of Russian officers-princes, the old woman said. There was also a picture from the aquarium, in which she was swimming about in a great glass tank amid some curious-looking plants, with nothing on her body but golden scales and diamond ornaments. She had a magnificent body-

He went onward with a feeling that his mind was lifted above the things of everyday; the grimy old woman who lived as a parasite on the poverty of the "Ark" and who had a wonderful daughter who

o formerly used to feel insults so bitterly,

neyman cobbler in Smith Street; he was one of Meyer's regular workers, and Pelle was prepared for a hard fight. The man was not at home. "But you can certainly put him down," said his wife. "We've been talking it over lately, and we've com

, Norway Street, making his way through backyards and up da

consider or gave him a direct refusal. He promised himself that he would presently give the wobblers another call; he would soon bring them round; the others he ticked off, keeping them for better times- their

s Peter, his fellow-'prentice at home. They were speedily talking of the days of their apprenticeship, and the workshop at home with all the curious company there. There was not much that was good

ow who must always be running; but something hostile and obstinate glowed within his close-set eyes. Pelle sat there wondering what could really be

h of it-are you one of

m I one of you? That sounds just like when they ask y

eplied Pelle frankly, "if you'll onl

any use for a man. They want one more listener, one more to add to their list; it's the same everywhere." He sat lost in thought, looking into vacancy. Sud

ot of the poor, then? You haven't tri

I can easily get. But if they could manage to make me feel that I'm a man, and not mer

together, they'll have to respect the individual as well, and lis

don't matter a damn to me! But perhaps they'd look at me of their own accord-and say, of their own accord-'Lo

running your head against a wall when there are reasonable things in store for us? We want to organiz

lavery! Why not? Put down my name for one!" s

oyfully shaking his hand. "But yo

ble weather for you to be out in," he sa

ose against the cemetery wall in order to get shelter, and charged against the wind, head down. He was in the best of humors. That was two new members he had won over

and pushed a little packet under Pelle's arm without stopping for a moment. At a short di

doubt-in that word "mother" he seemed plainly to hear Ferdinand's hoarse voice. "Now Madam Frandsen will be delighted," he thought, and he put it in his pocket. During the past week s

ng in a thick copybook. He clo

wanted to open the book; "are you

s-oh, as far as that goes," he said, "you may as well kn

it out to me!

be silent about it, or the others

and with resignation watched the enjoyment of those above them. It was called, "Let them die!" and the words were repeated as the refrai

ou're a real poet. But I've always thought that-that you had something particular in you. You've got your own way of looking at things, and they won't

find th

that. What can happen

you believe

t why shouldn't we have s

er classes of society regard you as such and you involuntarily do the same. Yes, you may pull faces, but it's true, all the same! You don't like to hear about your own kind, for you don't believe they can amount to anythi

soothingly, "it isn't

"And do you know why? Because you don't yet understand that

laughing. "But I'm not holy, and

more than a horse or a machine that can do so much work." And then he was silent

etend that this was nonsense, but Morten was one of those who looked i

ter, who was at Jeppe's with your brother Jens and me? He's here, too-I-I came across him a little while ago. He's always looking into things too, but he can't find

are that rather than I,"

ng of use to him. No, I'm only a t

t he couldn't take them in. No, he had no occasion to surround his person with any s