The Great Hunger Part 23

All looked at Peer; Merle fastened her eyes on him, too. But he laughed.

"Now, what on earth would be the satisfaction to me of binding in bands those two ancient and honourable rivers?"

"Well, in the first place, it would mean an increase of many millions of bushels in the corn production of the world. Wouldn't you have any satisfaction in that?"

"No," said Peer, with a touch of scorn.

"Or regular lines of communication over hundreds of thousands of square miles of the most fertile country on the globe?"

"Don't interest me," said Peer.

"Ah!" Ferdinand Holm lifted his gla.s.s to Merle. "Tell me, dear lady, how does it feel to be married to an anachronism?"

"To--to what?" stammered Merle.

"Yes, your husband's an anachronism. He might, if he chose, be one of the kings, the prophets, who lead the van in the fight for civilisation.

But he will not; he despises his own powers, and one day he will start a revolution against himself. Mark my words. Your health, dear lady!"

Merle laughed, and lifted her gla.s.s, but hesitatingly, and with a side-glance towards Peer.

"Yes, your husband is no better now than an egoist, a collector of happy days."

"Well, and is that so very wicked?"

"He sits ravelling out his life into a mult.i.tude of golden threads,"

went on Ferdinand with a bow, his steely eyes trying to look gentle.

"But what is wrong in that?" said the young wife stoutly.

"It is wrong. It is wasting his immortal soul. A man has no right to ravel out his life, even though the threads are of gold. A man's days of personal happiness are forgotten--his work endures. And your husband in particular--why the deuce should HE be so happy? The world-evolution uses us inexorably, either for light or for fuel. And Peer--your husband, dear lady--is too good for fuel."

Merle glanced again at her husband. Peer laughed, but then suddenly compressed his lips and looked down at his plate.

Then the nurse came in with little Louise, to say good-night, and the child was handed round from one to the other. But when the little fair-haired girl came to Ferdinand Holm, he seemed loth to touch her, and Merle read his glance at Peer as meaning: "Here is another of the bonds you've tied yourself up with."

"Excuse me," he said suddenly, looking at his watch, "I'm afraid I must ask for the use of the telephone again. Pardon me, Fru Holm." And he rose and left the room. Klaus looked at the others and shook his head.

"That man would simply expire if he couldn't send a telegram once an hour," he said with a laugh.

Coffee was served out on the balcony, and the men sat and smoked. It was a dusky twilight of early autumn; the hills were dark blue now and distant; there was a scent of hay and garden flowers. After a while Merle rose and said good-night. And in her thoughts, when she found herself alone in her bedroom, she hardly knew whether to be displeased or not. These strange men were drawing Peer far away from all that had been his chief delight since she had known him. But it was interesting to see how different his manner was towards the two friends. Klaus Brock he could jest and laugh with, but with Ferdinand Holm he seemed always on his guard, ready to a.s.sert himself, and whenever he contradicted him it was always with a certain deference.

The great yellow disc of the moon came up over the hills in the east, drawing a broad pillar of gold across the dark water. And the three comrades on the balcony sat watching it for a while in silence.

"So you're really going to go on idling here?" asked Ferdinand at last, sipping his liqueur.

"Is it me you mean?" asked Peer, bending slightly forward.

"Well, I gather you're going round here simply being happy from morning to night. I call that idling."

"Thanks."

"Of course, you're very unhappy in reality. Everyone is, as long as he's neglecting his powers and apt.i.tudes."

"Very many thanks," said Peer, with a laugh. Klaus sat up in his chair, a little anxious as to what was coming.

Ferdinand was still looking out over the lake. "You seem to despise your own trade--as engineer?"

"Yes," said Peer.

"And why?"

"Why, I feel the lack of some touch of beauty in our ceaseless craving to create something new, something new, always something new. More gold, more speed, more food--are these things not all we are driving at?"

"My dear fellow, gold means freedom. And food means life. And speed carries us over the dead moments. Double the possibilities of life for men, and you double their numbers."

"And what good will it do to double their numbers? Two thousand million machine-made souls--is that what you want?"

"But hang it all, man," put in Klaus Brock eagerly, "think of our dear Norway at least. Surely you don't think it would be a misfortune if our population increased so far that the world could recognise our existence."

"I do," said Peer, looking away over the lake.

"Ah, you're a fanatic for the small in size and in numbers."

"I am loth to see all Norway polluted with factories and proletariat armies. Why the devil can't we be left in peace?"

"The steel will not have it," said Ferdinand Holm, as if speaking to the pillar of moonlight on the water.

"What? Who did you say?" Peer looked at him with wide eyes.

Ferdinand went on undisturbed: "The steel will not have peace. And the fire will not. And Prometheus will not. The human spirit has still too many steps to climb before it reaches the top. Peace? No, my friend--there are powers outside you and me that determine these things."

Peer smiled, and lit a new cigar. Ferdinand Holm leaned back in his chair and went on, addressing himself apparently to the moon.

"Tigris and Euphrates--Indus and Ganges--and all the rest of this planet--regulate and cultivate the whole, and what is it after all?

It's only a question of a few years. It is only a humble beginning. In a couple of centuries or so there will be nothing left to occupy us any more on this little globe of ours. And then we'll have to set about colonising other worlds."

There was silence for a moment. Then Peer spoke.

"And what do we gain by it all?" he asked.

"Gain? Do you imagine there will ever be any 'thus far and no farther'

for the spirit of man? Half a million years hence, all the solar systems we know of now will be regulated and ordered by the human spirit.

There will be difficulties, of course. Interplanetary wars will arise, planetary patriotism, groups of planetary powers in alliances and coalitions against other groups. Little worlds will be subjugated by the bigger ones, and so on. Is there anything in all this to grow dizzy over? Great heavens--can anyone doubt that man must go on conquering and to conquer for millions of years to come? The world-will goes its way.

We cannot resist. n.o.body asks whether we are happy. The will that works towards the infinite asks only whom it can use for its ends, and who is useless. Viola tout."

"And when I die," asked Peer--"what then?"

"You! Are you still going about feeling your own pulse and wanting to live for ever? My dear fellow, YOU don't exist. There is just one person on our side--the world-will. And that includes us all. That's what I mean by 'we.' And we are working towards the day when we can make G.o.d respect us in good earnest. The spirit of man will hold a Day of Judgment, and settle accounts with Olympus--with the riddle, the almighty power beyond. It will be a great reckoning. And mark my words--that is the one single religious idea that lives and works in each and every one of us--the thing that makes us hold up our heads and walk upright, forgetting that we are slaves and things that die."

Suddenly he looked at his watch. "Excuse me a moment. If the telegraph office is open . . ." and he rose and went in.

When he returned, Klaus and Peer were talking of the home of their boyhood and their early days together.