Голод
Part I
Itwasperhapsmediocreenoughinitsway,perhapsdownrightworthless.WhatsecurityhadIthatitwasnotalreadyatthismomentlyinginthewaste-paperbasket?...Myconfidencewasshaken.Isprangupandstormedoutofthegraveyard.
DowninAkersgadenIpeepedintoashopwindow,andsawthatitwasonlyalittlepastnoon.Therewasnouseinlookinguptheeditorbeforefour.Thefateofmystoryfilledmewithgloomyforebodings;themoreIthoughtaboutitthemoreabsurditseemedtomethatIcouldhavewrittenanythinguseablewithsuchsuddenness,half-asleep,withmybrainfulloffeveranddreams.OfcourseIhaddeceivedmyselfandbeenhappyallthroughthelongmorningfornothing!...Ofcourse!...IrushedwithhurriedstridesupUllavold-sveien,pastSt.Han’sHill,untilIcametotheopenfields;onthroughthenarrowquaintlanesinSagene,pastwasteplotsandsmalltilledfields,andfoundmyselfatlastonacountryroad,theendofwhichIcouldnotsee.
HereIhaltedanddecidedtoturn.
Iwaswarmfromthewalk,andreturnedslowlyandverydowncast.Imettwohay-carts.Thedriverswerelyingflatuponthetopoftheirloads,andsang.Bothwerebare-headed,andbothhadround,care-freefaces.
