Голод
Part II
Heconsideredandexaminedmypersonalappearance.Therainfellintorrentsoutside.
"Wellthen,youmustgototheguard-houseandreportyourselfashomeless!"saidhe.
Homeless?Ihadn’tthoughtofthat.Yes,byJove,thatwasacapitalidea;andIthankedtheconstableonthespotforthesuggestion.CouldIsimplygoinandsayIwashomeless?
"Justthat."...
"Yourname?"inquiredtheguard.
"Tangen—AndreasTangen!"
Idon’tknowwhyIlied;mythoughtsflutteredaboutdisconnectedlyandinspiredmewithmanysingularwhims,morethanIknewwhattodowith.Ihituponthisout-of-the-waynameonthespurofthemoment,andblurteditoutwithoutanycalculation.Iliedwithoutanyoccasionfordoingso.
"Occupation?"
Thiswasdrivingmeintoacornerwithavengeance.Occupation!whatwasmyoccupation?Ithoughtfirstofturningmyselfintoatinker—butIdarednot;firstly,Ihadgivenmyselfanamethatwasnotcommontoeveryandanytinker—besides,Iworepince-nez.Itsuddenlyenteredmyheadtobefoolhardy.Itookastepforwardandsaidfirmly,almostsolemnly:
"Ajournalist."
Theguardgaveastartbeforehewroteitdown,whilstIstoodasimportantasahomelessCabinetMinisterbeforethebarrier.Itrousednosuspicions.TheguardunderstoodquitewellwhyIhesitatedalittlebeforeanswering.
