he broke in, seizing hold of my arm; "but I may as well
tell you I don't believe you. You are such an idiot, that it's better
you come in along with me."

I understood what he meant, suddenly felt a little spark of pride, and
answered:

"I can't; I promised to be in Bernt Akers Street at half-past seven,
and...."

"Half-past seven, quite so; but it's eight now. Here I am, standing
with the watch in my hand that I'm going to pawn. So, in with you, you
hungry sinner! I'll get you five shillings anyhow," and he pushed me in.

Part III

A week passed in glory and gladness.

I had got over the worst this time, too. I had had food every day, and
my courage rose, and I thrust one iron after the other into the fire.

I was working at three or four articles, that plundered my poor brain
of every spark, every thought that rose in it; and yet I fancied that I
wrote with more facility than before.

The last article with which I had raced about so much, and upon which I
had built such hopes, had already been returned to me by the editor;
and, angry and wounded as I was, I had destroyed it immediately,
without even re-reading it again. In future, I would try another paper
in order to open up more fields for my work.

Supposing that writing were to fail, and the worst were to come to the
worst, I still had the ships to take to. The _Nun_ lay alongside the
wharf, ready to sail, and I might, perhaps, work my way out to
Archangel, or wherever else she might be bound; there was no lack of
openings on many sides. The last crisis had dealt rather roughly with
me. My hair fell out in masses, and I was much troubled with headaches,
particularly in the morning, and my nervousness died a hard death. I
sat and wrote during the day with my hands bound up in rags, simply
because I could not endure the touch of my own breath upon them. If
Jens Olaj banged the stable door underneath me, or if a dog came into
the yard and commenced to bark, it thrilled through my very marrow like
icy stabs piercing me from every side. I was pretty well played out.

Day after day I strove at my work, begrudging myself the short time it
took to swallow my food before I sat down again to write. At this time
both the bed and the little rickety table were strewn over with notes
and written pages, upon which I worked turn about, added any new ideas
which might have occurred to me during the day, erased, or quickened
here and there the dull points by a w