looking down into the grave?" asked the young master, in order to
divert the conversation.

"I am thinking: Now you are lying there, where you are better off
than here," said the old tailor simply.

"Yes, because Bjerregrav follows only poor people," said Jeppe,
rather contemptuously.

"I can't help it, but I'm always thinking," continued Master Andres;
"just supposing it were all a take-in! Suppose he follows them and
enjoys the whole thing--and then there's nothing! That's why I never
like to see a funeral."

"Ah, you see, that's the question--supposing there's nothing."
Baker Jorgen turned his thick body. "Here we go about imagining
a whole lot of things; but what if it's all just lies?"

"That's the mind of an unbeliever!" said Jeppe, and stamped
violently on the floor.

"God preserve my mind from unbelief!" retorted brother Jorgen,
and he stroked his face gravely. "But a man can't very well help
thinking. And what does a man see round about him? Sickness and
death and halleluiah! We live, and we live, I tell you, Brother
Jeppe--and we live in order to live! But, good heavens! all the
poor things that aren't born yet!"

He sank into thought again, as was usual with him when he thought
of Little Jorgen, who refused to come into the world and assume his