“See, I’ve brought everything here for you, father!” he cried, lustily cracking his whip. But Lasse went in without saying a word. When they had unloaded the cart and went to look for him, he had crawled into bed. There he lay with his face to the wall, and would not speak.
Pelle told him all sorts of news of Heath Farm, in order to put a little life into him. “Now the parish has sold Heath Farm to the Hill Farm man for five thousand kroner, and they say he’s got a good bargain. He wants to live there himself and to leave Hill Farm in his son’s hands.”
Lasse half turned his head. “Yes, something grows there now. Now they are making thousands—and the farmer will do better still,” he said bitterly. “But it’s well-manured soil. Karna overstrained herself and died and left me…. And we went so well in harness together. Her thousand kroner went into it, too … and now I’m a poor wreck. All that was put into the barren, rocky soil, so that it became good and generous soil. And then the farmer buys it, and now he wants to live there—we poor lice have prepared the way for him! What else were we there for? Fools we are to excite ourselves so over such a thing! But, how I loved the place!” Lasse suddenly burst into tears.
“Now you must be reasonable and see about becoming cheerful again,” said Sort. “The bad times for the poor man will soon be over. There is a time coming when no one will need to work himself to death for others, and when every one will reap what he himself has sown. What injury have you suffered? For you are on the right side and have thousands of kroner on which you can draw a bill. It would be still worse if you owed money to others!”
“I haven’t much more time,” said Lasse, raising himself on his elbows.
“Perhaps not, you and I, for those who start on the pilgrimage must die in the desert! But for that reason we are God’s chosen people, we poor folk. And Pelle, he will surely behold the Promised Land!”
“Now you ought to come in, father, and see how we have arranged it,” said Pelle.
Lasse stood up wearily and went with them. They had furnished one of Sort’s empty rooms with Lasse’s things. It looked quite cozy.
“We thought that you would live here until Pelle is getting on well ‘over there,’” said Sort. “No, you don’t need to thank me! I’m delighted to think I shall have society, as you may well understand.”
“The good God will repay it to you,” said Lasse, with a quavering voice. “We poor folk have no one but Him to rely on.”