where Ellen was. But what did it matter to him? He had not forgotten
Lasse Frederik's terror-stricken face. And there was the corner house
where Morten had managed the business. Ah, it was long since their ways
had parted! Morten had in reality always envied him; he had not been
able to bear his tremendous success. Now he would be able to crow over
him!

Anger and bitterness filled his heart, and his head was confused, and
his thoughts, bred of malice, were like clumsy faultfinders. For years
the need of associating with human beings had been accumulating within
him; and now the whole thing gave way like an avalanche. He could easily
pick a quarrel with some one, just to make himself less a matter of
indifference to the rest of the world. Why shouldn't he go to the
"Cupping-Glass"? He would be expected there at any rate.

Outside Griffenfeldt Street there was a crowd. A number of people had
gathered round a coal-heaver, who was belaboring a lamp-post with the
toes of his wooden shoes, at the same time using abusive language. He
had run against it and had a bruise on his forehead. People were amusing
themselves at his expense.

As the light from the lamp fell upon the coal-blackened face of the
drunken man, Pelle recognized him. It was Merry Jacob. He pushed his way
angrily through the crowd and took him by the shoulder. "What's the
matter with you, Jacob? Have you become a drunkard?" he said hotly.
"How's that?"

"It's got no business to get in the way of an organized workman," Jacob
said indistinctly, kicking the air to the great delight of the
onlookers, who encouraged him to continue. "I'm a member of my