Hunger Read Free

milk!” he finally said, cocking his head.
    Well, now I was really in for it! I fumbled in my pockets and said, “For milk, sure. Hmm. Money is scarce these days, and I don’t know how badly you may need it.”
    â€œI haven’t eaten since yesterday, in Drammen,” the man said. “I don’t have a penny and I’m still out of work.”
    â€œAre you an artisan?”
    â€œYes, I am a welter.”
    â€œA what?”
    â€œA welter. For that matter, I can make shoes, too.”
    â€œThat alters the case,” I said. “Just wait a few minutes and I’ll go get some money for you, a few øre anyway.”
    I hastened down Pilestrædet Lane, where I knew of a pawnbroker on the second floor, someone I had never been to before. When I got inside the gate I quickly took off my vest, rolled it up and stuck it under my arm; then I walked up the stairs and knocked on the door to the shop. I made a bow and threw the vest on the counter.
    â€œOne krone and a half,” the man said.
    â€œAll right,” I said. “If it weren’t for the fact that it’s getting a bit tight for me, I wouldn’t have parted with it.”
    I got the money and the slip and retraced my steps. All things considered, this business with the vest was an excellent idea; there would even be money to spare for an ample breakfast, and by evening my monograph about the crimes of the future would be ready. Life began to look sunnier right away, and I hastened back to the man to have done with him.
    â€œHere you are,” I said to him. “I’m glad you came to me first.”
    He took the money and began to look me up and down. What did he stand there staring at? I had the impression that he examined especially the knees of my trousers, and I found this piece of impudence tiresome. Did that louse imagine I was really as poor as I looked? Hadn’t I just about started writing a ten-krone article? On the whole, I had no apprehensions about the future, I had many irons in the fire. So, what business was it of this total stranger if I handed out a gratuity on such a bright morning? The man’s stare annoyed me, and I decided to give him a piece of my mind before leaving him. Shrugging my shoulder, I said, “My dear man, you have gotten into a nasty habit of staring at a man’s knees when he gives you a krone’s worth of money.”
    He leaned his head back against the wall, all the way, and opened his mouth wide. Something was stirring behind that bum’s forehead of his; thinking, no doubt, that I meant to trick him in some way, he handed the money back to me.
    I stamped my feet, swearing he should keep it. Did he imagine I had gone to all that trouble for nothing? When all was said and done, maybe I owed him that krone—I had a knack for remembering old debts, he was in the presence of a person of integrity, honest to his very fingertips. In short, the money was his. . . . No need for thanks, it had been a pleasure. Goodbye.
    I left. I was rid at last of this paralytic nuisance and could feel at ease. I went down Pilestrædet Lane again and stopped outside a grocery store. The window was packed with food, and I decided to go in and get me something for the road.
    â€œA piece of cheese and a white loaf!” I said, smacking my half krone down on the counter.
    â€œCheese and bread for all of it?” the woman asked ironically, without looking at me.
    â€œFor all of fifty øre, yes,” I replied, unruffled.
    I got my things, said goodbye to the fat old woman with the utmost politeness, and started up Palace Hill to the park without delay. I found a bench for myself and began gnawing greedily at my snack. It did me a lot of good; it had been a long time since I’d had such an ample meal, and I gradually felt that same sense of satiated repose you experience after a good cry. My courage rose markedly; I was no longer satisfied with writing an