Голод
Part III
Alittlebloodandwaterranoutofthesoreplace;itdidnothurtmuch,butitwasverytiresometohavethistenderplaceinthemiddleofmystomach.Ihadnoremedyforit,anditwouldn’thealofitsownaccord.Iwashedit,drieditcarefully,andputonthesameshirt.Therewasnohelpforit,it....
Isitthereonthebenchandponderoverallthis,andamsadenough.Iloathemyself.Myveryhandsseemdistastefultome;theloose,almostcoarse,expressionofthebacksofthempainsme,disgustsme.Ifeelmyselfrudelyaffectedbythesightofmyleanfingers.Ihatethewholeofmygaunt,shrunkenbody,andshrinkfrombearingit,fromfeelingitenvelopme.Lord,ifthewholethingwouldcometoanendnow,Iwouldheartily,gladlydie!
Completelyworsted,soiled,defiled,anddebasedinmyownestimation,Irosemechanicallyandcommencedtoturnmystepshomewards.OnthewayIpassedadoor,uponwhichthefollowingwastobereadonaplate—"Winding-sheetstobehadatMissAndersen’s,doortotheright."Oldmemories!Imuttered,asmythoughtsflewbacktomyformerroominHammersborg.Thelittlerocking-chair,thenewspapersnearthedoor,thelighthousedirector’sannouncement,andFabianOlsen,thebaker’snew-bakedbread.Ahyes;timeswerebetterwithmethenthannow;onenightIhadwrittenatalefortenshillings,nowIcouldn’twriteanything.MyheadgrewlightassoonaseverIattemptedit.Yes,Iwouldputanendtoitnow;andIwentonandon.
