Голод

           ThewaterIhaddrunkdisagreedwithmefearfully,andIretched,stoppinghereandtheretoescapebeingnoticedintheopenstreet.InthismannerIcameuptoOurSaviour’sCemetery.

           Isatdownhere,withmyelbowsonmykneesandmyheadinmyhands.InthiscrampedpositionIwasmoreatease,andInolongerfeltthelittlegnawinginmychest.

           Astone-cutterlayonhisstomachonalargeslabofgranite,atthesideofme,andcutinscriptions.Hehadbluespectacleson,andremindedmeofanacquaintanceofmine,whomIhadalmostforgotten.

           IfIcouldonlyknockallshameontheheadandapplytohim.Tellhimthetruthrightout,thatthingsweregettingawfullytightwithmenow;ay,thatIfoundithardenoughtokeepalive.Icouldgivehimmyshaving-tickets.

           Zounds!myshaving-tickets;ticketsfornearlyashilling.Isearchnervouslyforthisprecioustreasure.AsIdonotfindthemquicklyenough,Ispringtomyfeetandsearch,inasweatoffear.Idiscoverthematlastinthebottomofmybreast-pocket,togetherwithotherpapers—someclean,somewrittenon—ofnovalue.

           Icountthesesixticketsovermanytimes,backwardsandforwards;Ihadnotmuchuseforthem;itmightpassforawhim—anotionofmine—thatInolongercaredtogetshaved.

           Iwassavedtotheextentofsixpence—awhitesixpenceofKongsbergsilver.Thebankclosedatsix;IcouldwatchformymanoutsidetheOplandCafébetweensevenandeight.