Sellén snored. But Olle rose and paced the room, up and down, until the dawn broke in the east; then day took pity on him and gave him the peace which night had denied him.
CHAPTER XXV
CHECKMATE
The winter passed; slowly for the sufferers, more quickly for those who were less unhappy. Spring came with its disappointed hopes of sun and verdure, and in its turn made room for the summer which was but a short introduction to the autumn.
On a May morning Arvid Falk, now a member of the permanent staff of the Workman's Flag, was strolling along the quay, watching the vessels loading and discharging their cargoes. He looked less well-groomed than in days gone by; his black hair was longer than fashion decreed, and he wore a beard à la Henri IV, which gave his thin face an almost savage expression. An ominous fire burned in his eyes, a fire denoting the fanatic or the drunkard.
He seemed to be endeavouring to make a choice among the vessels, but was unable to come to a decision. After hesitating for a considerable time, he accosted one of the sailors, who was wheeling a barrow full of goods on to a brig. He courteously raised his hat.
"Can you tell me the destination of this ship?" he asked timidly, imagining that he was speaking in a bold voice.
"Ship? I see no ship?"
The bystanders laughed.
"But if you want to know where this brig's bound for, go and read that bill over there!"