Hold your peace and grip your sledge-hammer, idiot. If ever your conscience should embrace the universe, that day the horror of it would strike you dead. Remember that you are a vertebrate animal, and it is by mistake that you have developed a soul.
Cling, clang. The red sparks fly from the anvil. Live out your life as it is.
But there began to dawn in him a strange longing to be united to all those unfortunates whom fate had blindly crushed; to gather them together, not to a common lamentation, but to a common victory. Not for vengeance, but for a song of praise. Behold, Thou eternal Omnipotence, how we requite Thy cruelty—we praise life: see how much more godlike we are than Thou.
A temple, a temple for the modern spirit of man, hungry for eternity—not for the babbling of prayers, but for a hymn from man’s munificent heart sent pealing up to heaven. Will it come—will it one day be built?
One evening Peer came home from the post-office apparently in high spirits. “Hi, Merle, I’ve got a letter from the Bruseth lady.”
Merle glanced at Lorentz, who had instinctively come close to her, and was looking at his father.
“From Bruseth? How is Louise getting on?” she asked.
“You can see for yourself. Here’s the letter,” said he.
Merle read it through hurriedly, and glanced at Lorentz once more.
That evening, after the children had gone to bed, the father and mother sat up talking together in a low voice.