“And have we allowed it ourselves?” muttered Ström. “We are always uneasy if one of our own people wants to fly over our heads!”
“I don’t understand why all the poor folk don’t make a stand together against the others,” said Bergendal. “We suffer the same wrongs. If we all acted together, and had nothing to do with them that mean us harm, for instance, then it would soon be seen that collective poverty is what makes the wealth of the others. And I’ve heard that that’s what they’re doing elsewhere.”
“But we shall never in this life be unanimous about anything whatever,” said an old stonemason sadly. “If one of the gentlemen only scratches our neck a bit, then we all grovel at his feet, and let ourselves be set on to one of our own chaps. If we were all like the ‘Great Power,’ then things might have turned out different.”
They were silent again; they sat there and gazed at the dead man; there was something apologetic in the bearing of each and all.
“Yes, that comes late!” said Ström, with a sigh. Then he felt in the straw and pulled out a bottle.
Some of the men still sat there, trying to put into words something that ought perhaps to be said; but then came the doctor, and they drew in their horns. They picked up their beer-cans and went out to their work.
Silently Pelle gathered his possessions together and went to the foreman. He asked for his wages.
“That’s sudden,” said the foreman. “You were getting on so well just now. What do you want to do now?”
“I just want my wages,” rejoined Pelle. What more he wanted, he himself did not know. And then he went home and put his room in order. It was like a pigsty; he could not understand how he could have endured such untidiness. In the meantime he thought listlessly of some way of escape. It had been very convenient to belong to the dregs of society, and to know that he could not sink any deeper; but perhaps there were still other possibilities. Emil had said a stupid thing—what did he mean by it? “Pelle, he’ll get on all right!” Well, what did Emil know of the misery of others? He had enough of his own.
He went down into the street in order to buy a little milk; then he would go back and sleep. He felt a longing to deaden all the thoughts that once more began to seethe in his head.