“We’ll go away together, father!” said Pelle, raising his head.
“No; I go nowhere now except to the churchyard. They have taken my farm away from me, and Karna has worked herself to death, and I myself have left what strength I had behind me. And then they took it away from me!”
“I will work for us both—you shall be comfortable and enjoy your old days!” Pelle saw light in the distance.
Lasse shook his head. “I can no longer put things away from me—I can no longer leave them behind and go on again!”
“I propose that we go into the town,” said Sort. “Up by the church we are sure to find some one who will drive us in.”
They collected their things and set off. Lasse walked behind the others, talking to himself; from time to time he broke out into lamentation. Then Pelle turned back to him in silence and took his hand.
“There is no one to help us and give us good advice. On the contrary, they’d gladly see us lose life and fortune if they could only earn a few shillings on that account. Even the authorities won’t help the poor man. He’s only there so that they can all have a cut at him and then each run off with his booty. What do they care that they bring need and misery and ruin upon us? So long as they get their taxes and their interest! I could stick them all in the throat, in cold blood!”
So he continued a while, increasing in bitterness, until he broke down like a little child.
XXVI
They lived with Sort, who had his own little house in the outermost suburb. The little travelling cobbler did not know what to do for them: Lasse was so dejected and so aimless. He could not rest; he did not recover; from time to time he broke out into lamentation. He had grown very frail, and could no longer lift his spoon to his mouth without spilling the contents. If they tried to distract him, he became obstinate.