It was far too low for
a grown man, and besides that, one needed, so to speak, the aid of a
boot-jack to get out of it. To cut it short, the room was not adopted for
the pursuit of things intellectual, and I did not intend to keep it any
longer. On no account would I keep it. I had held my peace, and endured
and lived far too long in such a den.
Buoyed up by hope and satisfaction, constantly occupied with my remarkable
sketch, which I drew forth every moment from my pocket and re-read, I
determined to set seriously to work with my flitting. I took out my
bundle, a red handkerchief that contained a few clean collars and some
crumpled newspapers, in which I had occasionally carried home bread. I
rolled my blanket up and pocketed my reserve white writing-paper. Then I
ransacked every corner to assure myself that I had left nothing behind,
and as I could not find anything, went over to the window and looked out.
The morning was gloomy and wet; there was no one about at the burnt-out
smithy, and the clothesline down in the yard stretched tightly from wall
to wall shrunken by the wet. It was all familiar to me, so I stepped back
from the window, took the blanket under my arm, and made a low bow to the
lighthouse director's announcement, bowed again to Miss Andersen's
winding-sheet advertisement, and opened the door. Suddenly the thought of
my land-lady struck me; she really ought to be informed of my leaving, so
that she could see she had had an honest soul to deal with.
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