PELLE THE CONQUEROR

PART II. --APPRENTICESHIP

BY MARTIN ANDERSON NEXO

TRANSLATED FROM THE DANISHBy Bernard Miall. 

II. APPRENTICESHIP

I

On that windy May-morning when Pelle tumbled out of the nest, it sohappened that old Klaus Hermann was clattering into town with hismanure-cart, in order to fetch a load of dung. And this triflingcircumstance decided the boy's position in life. There was no morepother than this about the question: What was Pelle to be?

He had never put that question to himself. He had simply gone onwardat hazard, as the meaning of the radiant world unfolded itself. As towhat he should make of himself when he was really out in the world--well, the matter was so incomprehensible that it was mere folly tothink about it. So he just went on. 

Now he had reached the further end of the ridge. He lay down in theditch to recover his breath after his long walk; he was tired andhungry, but in excellent spirits. Down there at his feet, only halfa mile distant, lay the town. There was a cheerful glitter about it;from its hundreds of fireplaces the smoke of midday fires curledupward into the blue sky, and the red roofs laughed roguishly intothe beaming face of the day. Pelle immediately began to count thehouses; not wishing to exaggerate, he had estimated them at a milliononly, and already he was well into the first hundred. 

But in the midst of his counting he jumped up. What did the peopledown there get for dinner? They must surely live well there! And wasit polite to go on eating until one was quite full, or should one laydown one's spoon when one had only half finished, like the landownerswhen they attended a dinner? For one who was always hungry this wasa very important question. 

There was a great deal of traffic on the high-road. People werecoming and going; some had their boxes behind them in a cart, andothers carried their sole worldly possessions in a bag slung overtheir shoulders, just as he did. Pelle knew some of these people, and nodded to them benevolently; he knew something about all of them. There were people who were going to the town--his town--and some weregoing farther, far over the sea, to America, or even farther still, to serve the King there; one could see that by their equipment andthe frozen look on their faces. Others were merely going into thetown to make a hole in their wages, and to celebrate May-day. Thesecame along the road in whole parties, humming or whistling, withempty hands and overflowing spirits. But the most interesting peoplewere those who had put their boxes on a wheelbarrow, or were carryingthem by both handles. These had flushed faces, and were feverish intheir movements; they were people who had torn themselves away fromtheir own country-side, and their accustomed way of life, and hadchosen the town, as he himself had done. 

There was one man, a cottager, with a little green chest on hiswheelbarrow; this latter was broad in the beam, and it was neatlyadorned with flowers painted by his own hand. Beside him walked hisdaughter; her cheeks were red, and her eyes were gazing into theunknown future. The father was speaking to her, but she did not lookas though she heard him. "Yes--now you must take it on you to lookout for yourself; you must think about it, and not throw yourselfaway. The town is quite a good place for those who go right aheadand think of their own advantage, but it thinks nothing of who getstrodden underfoot. So don't be too trusting, for the people thereare wonderful clever in all sorts of tricks to take you in and tripyou up. At the same time you want to be soft-spoken and friendly. "She did not reply to this; she was apparently more taken up withthe problem of putting down her feet in their new shoes so that theheels should not turn over. 

There was a stream of people coming up from the town too. All theforenoon Pelle had been meeting Swedes who had come that morningin the steamer, and were now looking for a job on the land. Therewere old folk, worn out with labor, and little children; there weremaidens as pretty as yellow-haired Marie, and young laborers who hadthe strength of the whole world in their loins and muscles. And thiscurrent of life was setting hither to fill up the gaps left by theswarms that were going away--but that did not concern Pelle. Forseven years ago he had felt everything that made their faces lookso troubled now; what they were just entering upon he had alreadyput behind him. So there was no good in looking back. 

Presently the old man from Neuendorf came along the road. He was gotup quite like an American, with a portmanteau and a silk neckerchief, and the inside pockets of his open coat were stuffed full of papers. At last he had made up his mind, and was going out to his betrothed, who had already been three years away. 

"Hullo!" cried Pelle, "so you are going away?"

The man came over to Pelle and set his portmanteau down by the sideof the ditch. 

"Well, yes; it's time to be going, " he said. "Laura won't wait forme any longer. So the old people must see how they can get alongwithout a son; I've done everything for them now for three years. Provided they can manage all by themselves--"

"They can do that all right, " said Pelle, with an experienced air. "And they had to get help formerly. There is no future for youngpeople at home. " He had heard his elders say this. He struck at thegrass with his stick, assuming a superior air. 

"No, " said the other, "and Laura refuses to be a cottager's wife. Well, good-bye!" He held out his hand to Pelle and tried to smile, but his features had it their own way; nothing but a rather twistedexpression came over them. He stood there a minute, looking at hisboots, his thumb groping over his face as though he wanted to wipethe tormented look away; then he picked up his portmanteau and went. He was evidently not very comfortable. 

"I'll willingly take over the ticket and the bride, " shouted Pellemerrily. He felt in the deuce of a good humor. 

Everybody to-day was treading the road along which Pelle's own youngblood had called him--every young fellow with a little pluck, everygood-looking wench. Not for a moment was the road free of traffic;it was like a vast exodus, an army of people escaping from placeswhere everyone had the feeling that he was condemned to live and dieon the very spot where he was born; an army of people who had chosenthe excitement of the unknown. Those little brick houses which layscattered over the green, or stood drawn up in two straight rowswhere the high-road ran into the town--those were the cottages ofthe peasant folk who had renounced the outdoor life, and dressedthemselves in townified clothes, and had then adventured hither;and down on the sea-front the houses stood all squeezed and heapedtogether round the church, so close that there looked to be no roombetween them; there were the crowds who had gone wandering, drivenfar afield by the longing in their hearts--and then the sea had seta limit to their journey. 

Pelle had no intention of allowing anything whatever to set alimit to his journeying. Perhaps, if he had no luck in the town, he would go to sea. And then one day he would come to some coastthat interested him, and he would land, and go to the gold-diggings. Over there the girls went mother-naked, with nothing but some bluetattoo-work to hide their shame; but Pelle had his girl sitting athome, true to him, waiting for his return. She was more beautifuleven than Bodil and yellow-haired Marie put together, and wholecrowds followed her footsteps, but she sat at home and was faithful, and she would sing the old love-song:

 "I had a lad, but he went away All over the false, false sea, Three years they are gone, and now to-day He writes no more to me!"

And while she sang the letter came to the door. But out of everyletter that his father Lasse received fell ten-kroner banknotes, and one day a letter came with steamer-tickets for the two of them. The song would not serve him any further, for in the song theyperished during the voyage, and the poor young man spent the restof his days on the sea-shore, gazing, through the shadow of insanity, upon every rising sail. She and Lasse arrived safely--after all sortsof difficulties, that went without saying--and Pelle stood on theshore and welcomed them. He had dressed himself up like a savage, and he carried on as though he meant to eat them before he madehimself known. 

_Houp la!_ Pelle jumped to his feet. Up the road there wasa rattling and a clanking as though a thousand scythes were clashingtogether: an old cart with loose plank sides came slowly joltingalong, drawn by the two most miserable moorland horses he had everseen. On the driver's seat was an old peasant, who was bobbing aboutas though he would every moment fall in pieces, like all the restof his equipment. Pelle did not at first feel sure whether it wasthe cart itself or the two bags of bones between the shafts thatmade such a frightful din whenever they moved, but as the vehicleat last drew level with him, and the old peasant drew up, he couldnot resist the invitation to get up and have a lift. His shoulderswere still aching from carrying his sack. 

"So you are going to town, after all?" said old Klaus, pointingto his goods and chattels. 

To town, yes indeed! Something seemed to grip hold of Pelle'sbursting heart, and before he was aware of it he had deliveredhimself and his whole future into the old peasant's hands. 

"Yes, yes--yes indeed--why, naturally!" said Klaus, nodding as Pellecame forward. "Yes, of course! A man can't do less. And what's youridea about what you are going to be in the long run--councillor orking?" He looked up slowly. "Yes, goin' to town; well, well, theyall, take the road they feel something calling them to take. .. . Directly a young greyhound feels the marrow in his bones, or has gota shilling in his pocket, he's got to go to town and leave it there. And what do you think conies back out the town? Just manure andnothing else! What else have I ever in my life been able to pick upthere? And now I'm sixty-five. But what's the good of talking? Nomore than if a man was to stick his tail out and blow against a gale. It comes over them just like the May-gripes takes the young calves--heigh-ho! and away they go, goin' to do something big. Afterward, then old Klaus Hermann can come and clean up after them! They've nosituation there, and no kinsfolk what could put them up--but theyalways expect something big. Why, down in the town there are bedsmade up in the streets, and the gutters are running over with foodand money! But what do you mean to do? Let's hear it now. "

Pelle turned crimson. He had not yet succeeded in making a beginning, and already he had been caught behaving like a blockhead. 

"Well, well, well, " said Klaus, in a good-humored tone, "you are nobigger fool than all the rest. But if you'll take my advice, you'llgo to shoemaker Jeppe Kofod as apprentice; I am going straight tohis place to fetch manure, and I know he's looking for an apprentice. Then you needn't go floundering about uncertain-like, and you candrive right up to the door like the quality. "

Pelle winced all over. Never in his life had it entered his headthat he could ever become a shoemaker. Even back there on the land, where people looked up to the handicrafts, they used always to say, if a boy had not turned out quite right: "Well, we can always makea cobbler or a tailor of him!" But Pelle was no cripple, that hemust lead a sedentary life indoors in order to get on at all; he wasstrong and well-made. What he would be--well, that certainly lay inthe hands of fortune; but he felt very strongly that it ought to besomething active, something that needed courage and energy. And inany case he was quite sure as to what he did not want to be. But asthey jolted through the town, and Pelle--so as to be beforehand withthe great world--kept on taking off his cap to everybody, althoughno one returned his greeting, his spirits began to sink, and a senseof his own insignificance possessed him. The miserable cart, atwhich all the little town boys laughed and pointed with theirfingers, had a great deal to do with this feeling. 

"Take off your cap to a pack like that!" grumbled Klaus; "why, only look how puffed up they behave, and yet everything they've gotthey've stolen from us others. Or what do you suppose--can you seeif they've got their summer seeds in the earth yet?" And he glaredcontemptuously down the street. 

No, there was nothing growing on the stone pavements, and all theselittle houses, which stood so close that now and then they seemedto Pelle as if they must be squeezed out of the row--these graduallytook his breath away. Here were thousands and thousands of people, if that made any difference; and all his blind confidence waveredat the question: where did all their food come from? For here he wasonce more at home in his needy, familiar world, where no amount ofsmoke will enable one to buy a pair of socks. All at once he feltthoroughly humble, and he decided that it would be all he coulddo here to hold his own, and find his daily bread among all thesestones, for here people did not raise it naturally from the soil, but got it--well, how _did_ they get it?

The streets were full of servants. The girls stood about in groups, their arms round one another's waists, staring with burning eyesat the cotton-stuffs displayed in the shops; they rocked themselvesgently to and fro as though they were dreaming. A 'prentice boy ofabout Pelle's age, with a red, spotty face, was walking down themiddle of the street, eating a great wheaten roll which he heldwith both hands; his ears were full of scabs and his hands swollenwith the cold. Farm laborers went by, carrying red bundles in theirhands, their overcoats flapping against their calves; they wouldstop suddenly at a turning, look cautiously round, and then hurrydown a side street. In front of the shops the salesmen were walkingup and down, bareheaded, and if any one stopped in front of theirwindows they would beg them, in the politest manner, to step nearer, and would secretly wink at one another across the street. 

"The shopkeepers have arranged their things very neatly to-day, "said Pelle. 

Klaus nodded. "Yes, yes; to-day they've brought out everything theycouldn't get rid of sooner. To-day the block-heads have come tomarket--the easy purses. Those"--and he pointed to a side street, "those are the publicans. They are looking this way so longingly, but the procession don't come as far as them. But you wait tillthis evening, and then take a turn along here, and ask the differentpeople how much they've got left of their year's wages. Yes, thetown's a fine place--the very deuce of a fine place!" And he spatdisgustedly. 

Pelle had quite lost all his blind courage. He saw not a singleperson doing anything by which he himself might earn his bread. Andgladly as he would have belonged to this new world, yet he could notventure into anything where, perhaps without knowing it, he would bean associate of people who would tear the rags off his old comrades'backs. All the courage had gone out of him, and with a miserablefeeling that even his only riches, his hands, were here useless, he sat irresolute, and allowed himself to be driven, rattling andjangling, to Master Jeppe Kofod's workshop. 

II

The workshop stood over an entry which opened off the street. Peoplecame and went along this entry: Madame Rasmussen and old CaptainElleby; the old maid-servant of a Comptroller, an aged pensionerwho wore a white cap, drew her money from the Court, and expendedit here, and a feeble, gouty old sailor who had bidden the seafarewell. Out in the street, on the sharp-edged cobble-stones, thesparrows were clamoring loudly, lying there with puffed-out feathers, feasting among the horse-droppings, tugging at them and scatteringthem about to the accompaniment of a storm of chirping andscolding. 

Everything overlooking the yard stood open. In the workshop all fourwindows were opened wide, and the green light sifted into the roomand fell on the faces of those present. But that was no help. Not abreath of wind was blowing; moreover, Pelle's heat came from within. He was sweating with sheer anxiety. 

For the rest, he pulled industriously at his cobbler's wax, unless, indeed, something outside captured his harassed mind, so that itwandered out into the sunshine. 

Everything out there was splashed with vivid sunlight; seen from thestuffy workshop the light was like a golden river, streaming downbetween the two rows of houses, and always in the same direction, down to the sea. Then a speck of white down came floating on the air, followed by whitish-gray thistle-seeds, and a whole swarm of gnats, and a big broad bumble-bee swung to and fro. All these eddied, gleaming, in the open doorway, and they went on circling as thoughthere was something there which attracted them all--doubtless anaccident, or perhaps a festival. 

"Are you asleep, booby?" asked the journeyman sharply. Pelle shrankinto his shell and continued to work at the wax; he kneaded away atit, holding it in hot water. 

Inside the court, at the baker's--the baker was the old master'sbrother--they were hoisting sacks of meal. The windlass squeakedhorribly, and in between the squeaking one could hear Master JorgenKofod, in a high falsetto, disputing with his son. "You're a noodle, a pitiful simpleton--whatever will become of you? Do you think we'venothing more to do than to go running out to prayer-meetings on aworking day? Perhaps that will get us our daily bread? Now you juststay here, or, God's mercy, I'll break every bone in your body!"Then the wife chimed in, and then of a sudden all was silent. Andafter a while the son stole like a phantom along the wall of theopposite house, a hymn-book in his hand. He was not unlike HowlingPeter. He squeezed himself against the wall, and his knees gaveunder him if any one looked sharply at him. He was twenty-five yearsold, and he took beatings from his father without a murmur. But whenmatters of religion were in question he defied public opinion, thestick, and his father's anger. 

"Are you asleep, booby? I shall really have to come over and teachyou to hurry!"

For a time no one spoke in the workshop--the journeyman was silent, so the others had to hold their tongues. Each bent over his work, and Pelle pulled the pitch out to as great a length as possible, kneaded some grease into it, and pulled again. Outside, in thesunshine, some street urchins were playing, running to and fro. Whenthey saw Pelle, they held their clenched fist under their noses, nodded to him in a provocative manner, and sang--

 "The cobbler has a pitchy nose, The more he wipes it the blacker it grows!"

Pelle pretended not to see them, but he secretly ticked them alloff in his mind. It was his sincere intention to wipe them all offthe face of the earth. 

Suddenly they all ran into the street, where a tremendous, monotonous voice lifted itself and flowed abroad. This was the crazywatchmaker; he was standing on his high steps, crying damnation onthe world at large. 

Pelle knew perfectly well that the man was crazy, and in the wordswhich he so ponderously hurled at the town there was not theslightest meaning. But they sounded wonderfully fine notwithstanding, and the "ordeal by wax" was hanging over him like a sort of lastjudgment. Involuntarily, he began to turn cold at the sound of thiswarning voice, which uttered such solemn words and had so littlemeaning, just as he did at the strong language in the Bible. It wasjust the voice that frightened him; it was such a terrible voice, such a voice as one might hear speaking out of the clouds; the sortof voice, in short, that made the knees of Moses and Paul give underthem; a portentous voice, such as Pelle himself used to hear comingout of the darkness at Stone Farm when a quarrel was going on. 

Only the knee-strap of little Nikas, the journeyman, kept him fromjumping up then and there and throwing himself down like Paul. Thisknee-strap was a piece of undeniable reality in the midst of all hisimaginings; in two months it had taught him never quite to forgetwho and where he was. He pulled himself together, and satisfiedhimself that all his miseries arose from his labors over thiswretched cobbler's wax; besides, there was such a temptation tocompare his puddle of cobbler's wax with the hell in which he wastold he would be tormented. But then he heard the cheerful voiceof the young shoemaker in the yard outside, and the whole troubledisappeared. The "ordeal by wax" could not really be so terrible, since all the others had undergone it--he had certainly seen tougherfellows than these in his lifetime!

Jens sat down and ducked his head, as though he was expecting a boxon the ears;--that was the curse of the house which continuallyhung over him. He was so slow at his work that already Pelle couldovertake him; there was something inside him that seemed to hamperhis movements like a sort of spell. But Peter and Emil were smartfellows--only they were always wanting to thrash him. 

Among the apple trees in the yard it was early summer, and closeunder the workshop windows the pig stood smacking at his food. Thissound was like a warm breeze that blew over Pelle's heart. Since theday when Klaus Hermann had shaken the squeaking little porker outof his sack, Pelle had begun to take root. It had squealed at firstin a most desolate manner, and something of Pelle's own feeling ofloneliness was taken away from him by its cries. Now it complainedsimply because it was badly fed, and it made Pelle quite furious tosee the nasty trash that was thrown to it--a young pig must eat well, that is half the battle. They ought not to go running out every fewminute to throw something or other to the pig; when once the heatreally set in it would get acidity of the stomach. But there was nosense in these town folk. 

"Are you really asleep, booby? Why, you are snoring, deuce take me!"

The young master came limping in, took a drink, and buried himselfin his book. As he read he whistled softly in time with the hammer-strokes of the others. Little Nikas began to whistle too, and thetwo older apprentices who were beating leather began to strike intime with the whistling, and they even kept double time, so thateverything went like greased lightning. The journeyman's trills andquavers became more and more extraordinary, in order to catch upwith the blows--the blows and the whistling seemed to be chasing oneanother--and Master Andres raised his head from his book to listen. He sat there staring into the far distance, as though the shadowypictures evoked by his reading were hovering before his eyes. Then, with a start, he was present and among them all, his eyes runningover them with a waggish expression; and then he stood up, placinghis stick so that it supported his diseased hip. The master's handsdanced loosely in the air, his head and his whole figure jerkingcrazily under the compulsion of the rhythm. 

_Swoop!_--and the dancing hands fell upon the cutting-outknife, and the master fingered the notes on the sharp edge, his headon one side and his eyes closed--his whole appearance that of oneabsorbed in intent inward listening. But then suddenly his facebeamed with felicity, his whole figure contracted in a frenzy ofdelight, one foot clutched at the air as though bewitched, as thoughhe were playing a harp with his toes--Master Andres was all at oncea musical idiot and a musical clown. And _smack!_ the knifeflew to the ground and he had the great tin cover in his hand--_chin-da-da-da chin-da-da-da!_ Suddenly by a stroke of magicthe flute had turned into a drum and cymbals!

Pelle was doubled up with laughter: then he looked in alarm at theknee-strap and again burst out laughing; but no one took any noticeof him. The master's fingers and wrist were dancing a sort ofdevil's dance on the tin cover, and all of a sudden his elbows toowere called into requisition, so that the cover banged against themaster's left knee, bounced off again and quick as lightning struckagainst his wooden heel, which stuck out behind him; then againstPelle's head, and round about it went, striking the most improbableobjects, _dum, dum, dum_, as though in wild, demoniacalobedience to the flute-like tones of the journeyman. There was noholding back. Emil, the oldest apprentice, began boldly to whistletoo, cautiously at first, and then, as no one smacked his head, more forcefully. Then the next apprentice, Jens--the music-devil, as he was called, because anything would produce a note between hisfingers--plucked so cleverly at his waxed-end that it straightwaybegan to give out a buzzing undertone, rising and falling throughtwo or three notes, as though an educated bumble-bee had beenleading the whole orchestra. Out of doors the birds came hopping onto the apple-boughs; they twisted their heads inquisitively to oneside, frantically fluffed out their feathers, and then they toojoined in this orgy of jubilation, which was caused merely by ascrap of bright blue sky. But then the young master had an attackof coughing, and the whole business came to an end. 

Pelle worked away at his cobbler's wax, kneading the pitch andmixing grease with it. When the black lump was on the point ofstiffening, he had to plunge both hands into hot water, so that hegot hangnails. Old Jeppe came tripping in from the yard, and MasterAndres quickly laid the cutting-board over his book and diligentlystropped his knife. 

"That's right!" said Jeppe; "warm the wax, then it binds allthe better. "

Pelle had rolled the wax into balls, and had put them in thesoaking-tub, and now stood silent; for he had not the courageof his own accord to say, "I am ready. " The others had magnifiedthe "ordeal by wax" into something positively terrible; all sortsof terrors lurked in the mystery that was now awaiting him; and ifhe himself had not known that he was a smart fellow--why--yes, hewould have left them all in the lurch. But now he meant to submit toit, however bad it might be; he only wanted time to swallow first. Then at last he would have succeeded in shaking off the peasant, andthe handicraft would be open to him, with its song and its wanderinglife and its smart journeyman's clothes. The workshop here was nobetter than a stuffy hole where one sat and slaved over smellygreasy boots, but he saw that one must go through with it in orderto reach the great world, where journeymen wore patent-leather shoeson workdays and made footwear fit for kings. The little town hadgiven Pelle a preliminary foreboding that the world was almostincredibly great, and this foreboding filled him with impatience. He meant to conquer it all!

"Now I am ready!" he said resolutely; now he would decide whetherhe and the handicraft were made for one another. 

"Then you can pull a waxed end--but make it as long as a bad year!"said the journeyman. 

The old master was all on fire at the idea. He went over and watchedPelle closely, his tongue hanging out of his mouth; he felt quiteyoung again, and began to descant upon his own apprenticeship inCopenhagen, sixty years ago. Those were times! The apprenticesdidn't lie in bed and snore in those days till six o'clock in themorning, and throw down their work on the very stroke of eight, simply to go out and run about. No; up they got at four, and stuckat it as long as there was work to do. Then fellows _could_work--and then they still learned something; they were told thingsjust once, and then--the knee-strap! Then, too, the manual craftsstill enjoyed some reputation; even the kings had to learn ahandicraft. It was very different to the present, with its bunglingand cheap retailing and pinching and paring everywhere. 

The apprentices winked at one another. Master Andres and thejourneyman were silent. You might as well quarrel with thesewing-machine because it purred. Jeppe was allowed to spin hisyarn alone. 

"Are you waxing it well?" said little Nikas. "It's for pigskin. "

The others laughed, but Pelle rubbed the thread with a feeling asthough he were building his own scaffold. 

"Now I am ready!" he said, in a low voice. 

The largest pair of men's lasts was taken down from the shelf, andthese were tied to one end of the waxed-end and were let right downto the pavement. People collected in the street outside, and stoodthere staring. Pelle had to lean right out of the window, and bendover as far as he could, while Emil, as the oldest apprentice, laid the waxed-end over his neck. They were all on their feet now, with the exception of the young master; he took no part in thisdiversion. 

"Pull, then!" ordered the journeyman, who was directing the solemnbusiness. "Pull them along till they're right under your feet!"

Pelle pulled, and the heavy lasts joggled over the pavement, but hepaused with a sigh; the waxed-end was slipping over his warm neck. He stood there stamping, like an animal which stamps its feet on theground, without knowing why; he lifted them cautiously and looked atthem in torment. 

"Pull, pull!" ordered Jeppe. "You must keep the thing moving or itsticks!" But it was too late; the wax had hardened in the hairs ofhis nape--Father Lasse used to call them his "luck curls, " andprophesied a great future for him on their account--and there hestood, and could not remove the waxed-end, however hard he tried. He made droll grimaces, the pain was so bad, and the saliva ranout of his mouth. 

"Huh! He can't even manage a pair of lasts!" said Jeppe jeeringly. "He'd better go back to the land again and wash down the cows'behinds!"

Then Pelle, boiling with rage, gave a jerk, closing his eyes andwrithing as he loosed himself. Something sticky and slippery slippedthrough his fingers with the waxed-end; it was bloody hair, andacross his neck the thread had bitten its way in a gutter of lymphand molten wax. But Pelle no longer felt the pain, his head wasboiling so, and he felt a vague but tremendous longing to pick upa hammer and strike them all to the ground, and then to run throughthe street, banging at the skulls of all he met. But then thejourneyman took the lasts off him, and the pain came back to him, and his whole miserable plight. He heard Jeppe's squeaky voice, and looked at the young master, who sat there submissively, withouthaving the courage to express his opinion, and all at once he feltterribly sorry for himself. 

"That was right, " buzzed old Jeppe, "a shoemaker mustn't be afraidto wax his hide a little. What? I believe it has actually broughtthe water to his eyes! No, when I was apprentice we had a realordeal; we had to pass the waxed-end twice round our necks before wewere allowed to pull. Our heads used to hang by a thread and danglewhen we were done. Yes, those were times!"

Pelle stood there shuffling, in order to fight down his tears; buthe had to snigger with mischievous delight at the idea of Jeppe'sdangling head. 

"Then we must see whether he can stand a buzzing head, " said thejourneyman, getting ready to strike him. 

"No, you can wait until he deserves it, " said Master Andres hastily. "You will soon find an occasion. "

"Well, he's done with the wax, " said Jeppe, "but the question is, can he sit? Because there are some who never learn the art ofsitting. "

"That must be tested, too, before we can declare him to be useful, "said little Nikas, in deadly earnest. 

"Are you done with your tomfoolery now?" said Master Andres angrily, and he went his way. 

But Jeppe was altogether in his element; his head was full of thememories of his boyhood, a whole train of devilish tricks, whichcompleted the ordination. "Then we used to brand them indeliblywith their special branch, and they never took to their heels, butthey considered it a great honor as long as they drew breath. Butnow these are weakly times and full of pretences; the one can'tdo this and the other can't do that; and there's leather colic andsore behinds and God knows what. Every other day they come withcertificates that they're suffering from boils from sitting down, and then you can begin all over again. No, in my time we behavedvery different--the booby got held naked over a three-legged stooland a couple of men used to go at him with knee-straps! That wasleather on leather, and like that they learned, damn and blast itall! how to put up with sitting on a stool!"

The journeyman made a sign. 

"Now, is the seat of the stool ready consecrated, and prayed over?Yes, then you can go over there and sit down. "

Pelle went stupidly across the room and sat down--it was all thesame to him. But he leaped into the air with a yell of pain, lookedmalevolently about him, and in a moment he had a hammer in his hand. But he dropped it again, and now he cried--wept buckets of tears. 

"What the devil are you doing to him now?"

The young master came out of the cutting-out room. "What dirtytricks are you hatching now?" He ran his hand over the seat of thestool; it was studded with broken awl-points. "You are barbarousdevils; any one would think he was among a lot of savages!"

"What a weakling!" sneered Jeppe. "In these days a man can't takea boy as apprentice and inoculate him a bit against boils! One oughtto anoint the boobies back and front with honey, perhaps, like thekings of Israel? But you are a freethinker!"

"You get out of this, father!" shouted Master Andres, quite besidehimself. "You get out of this, father!" He trembled, and his facewas quite gray. And then he pushed the old man out of the roombefore he had struck Pelle on the shoulder and received him properlyinto the handicraft. 

Pelle sat there and reflected. He was altogether disillusioned. Allthe covert allusions had evoked something terrifying, but at thesame time impressive. In his imagination the ordeal had grown intosomething that constituted the great barrier of his life, so thatone passed over to the other side as quite a different being; itwas something after the fashion of the mysterious circumcision inthe Bible, a consecration to new things. And now the whole thingwas just a spitefully devised torture!

The young master threw him a pair of children's shoes, which had tobe soled. So he was admitted to that department, and need no longersubmit to preparing waxed-ends for the others! But the fact didnot give him any pleasure. He sat there struggling with somethingirrational that seemed to keep on rising deep within him; when noone was looking he licked his fingers and drew them over his neck. He seemed to himself like a half-stupefied cat which had freeditself from the snare and sat there drying its fur. 

Out of doors, under the apple-trees, the sunlight lay green andgolden, and a long way off, in the skipper's garden, three brightlydressed girls were walking and playing; they seemed to Pelle likebeings out of another world. "Fortune's children on the sunbrightshore, " as the song had it. From time to time a rat made itsappearance behind the pigsty, and went clattering over the greatheap of broken glass that lay there. The pig stood there gobblingdown its spoiled potatoes with that despairing noise that put an endto all Pelle's proud dreams of the future, while it filled him withlonging--oh, such a mad longing!

And everything that possibly could do so made its assault upon himat this moment when he was feeling particularly victorious; themiseries of his probation here in the workshop, the street urchins, the apprentices, who would not accept him as one of themselves, andall the sharp edges and corners which he was continually runningup against in this unfamiliar world. And then the smelly workshopitself, where never a ray of sunlight entered. And no one hereseemed to respect anything. 

When the master was not present, little Nikas would sometimesindulge in tittle-tattle with the older apprentices. Remarks weremade at such times which opened new spheres of thought to Pelle, andhe had to ask questions; or they would talk of the country, whichPelle knew better than all of them put together, and he would chimein with some correction. _Smack!_ came a box on his ears thatwould send him rolling into the corner; he was to hold his tongueuntil he was spoken to. But Pelle, who was all eyes and ears, andhad been accustomed to discuss everything in heaven or earth withFather Lasse, could not learn to hold his tongue. 

Each exacted with a strong hand his quantum of respect, fromthe apprentices to the old master, who was nearly bursting withprofessional pride in his handicraft; only Pelle had no claim to anyrespect whatever, but must pay tribute to all. The young master wasthe only one who did not press like a yoke on the youngster's neck. Easygoing as he was, he would disregard the journeyman and the rest, and at times he would plump himself down beside Pelle, who sat therefeeling dreadfully small. 

Outside, when the sun was shining through the trees in a particularway, and a peculiar note came into the twittering of the birds, Pelle knew it was about the time when the cows began to get on theirfeet after their midday chewing of the cud. And then a youngsterwould come out from among the little fir-trees, lustily cracking hiswhip; he was the general of the whole lot--Pelle, the youngster--whohad no one set over him. And the figure that came stumbling acrossthe arable yonder, in order to drive the cows home--why, that wasLasse!

Father Lasse!

He did not know why, but it wrung a sob from him; it took him sounawares. "Hold your row!" cried the journeyman threateningly. Pellewas greatly concerned; he had not once made the attempt to go overand see Lasse. 

The young master came to get something off the shelf above his head, and leaned confidentially on Pelle's shoulder, his weak leg hangingfree and dangling. He stood there loitering for a time, staring atthe sky outside, and this warm hand on Pelle's shoulder quieted him. 

But there could be no talk of enjoyment when he thought wheregood Father Lasse was. He had not seen his father since that sunnymorning when he himself had gone away and left the old man to hisloneliness. He had not heard of him; he had scarcely given a thoughtto him. He had to get through the day with a whole skin, and toadapt himself to the new life; a whole new world was before him, in which he had to find his feet. Pelle had simply had no time;the town had swallowed him. 

But at this moment his conduct confronted him as the worst exampleof unfaithfulness the world had ever known. And his neck continuedto hurt him--he must go somewhere or other where no one would lookat him. He made a pretence of having to do something in the yardoutside; he went behind the washhouse, and he crouched down by thewoodpile beside the well. 

There he lay, shrinking into himself, in the blackest despair athaving left Father Lasse so shamelessly in the lurch, just for thesake of all these new strange surroundings. Yes, and then, when theyused to work together, he had been neither as good nor as heedfulas he should have been. It was really Lasse who, old as he was, hadsacrificed himself for Pelle, in order to lighten his work and takethe worst of the burden off him, although Pelle had the youngershoulders. And he had been a little hard at times, as over thatbusiness between his father and Madame Olsen; and he had not alwaysbeen very patient with his good-humored elderly tittle-tattle, although if he could hear it now he would give his life to listen. He could remember only too plainly occasions when he had snapped atLasse, so unkindly that Lasse had given a sigh and made off; forLasse never snapped back--he was only silent and very sad. 

But how dreadful that was! Pelle threw all his high-and-mighty airsto the winds and gave himself up to despair. What was he doing here, with Father Lasse wandering among strangers, and perhaps unable tofind shelter? There was nothing with which he could console himself, no evasion or excuse was possible; Pelle howled at the thought ofhis faithlessness. And as he lay there despairing, worrying overthe whole business and crying himself into a state of exhaustion, quite a manful resolve began to form within him; he must give upeverything of his own--the future, and the great world, and all, and devote his days to making the old man's life happy. He must goback to Stone Farm! He forgot that he was only a child who couldjust earn his own keep. To protect the infirm old man at every pointand make his life easy--that was just what he wanted. And Pelle wasby no means disposed to doubt that he could do it. In the midst ofhis childish collapse he took upon himself all the duties of astrong man. 

As he lay there, woe-begone, playing with a couple of bits offirewood, the elder-boughs behind the well parted, and a pair ofbig eyes stared at him wonderingly. It was only Manna. 

"Did they beat you--or why are you crying?" she asked earnestly. 

Pelle turned his face away. 

Manna shook her hair back and looked at him fixedly. "Did they beatyou? What? If they did, I shall go in and scold them hard!"

"What is it to you?"

"People who don't answer aren't well-behaved. "

"Oh, hold your row!"

Then he was left in peace; over at the back of the garden Manna andher two younger sisters were scrambling about the trellis, hangingon it and gazing steadfastly across the yard at him. But that wasnothing to him; he wanted to know nothing about them; he didn't wantpetticoats to pity him or intercede for him. They were saucy jades, even if their father had sailed on the wide ocean and earned a lotof money. If he had them here they would get the stick from him!Now he must content himself with putting out his tongue at them. 

He heard their horrified outcry--but what then? He didn't want togo scrambling about with them any more, or to play with the greatconch-shells and lumps of coral in their garden! He would go backto the land and look after his old father! Afterward, when that wasdone, he would go out into the world himself, and bring such thingshome with him--whole shiploads of them!

They were calling him from the workshop window. "Where in theworld has that little blighter got to?" he heard them say. Hestarted, shrinking; he had quite forgotten that he was servinghis apprenticeship. He got on his feet and ran quickly indoors. 

Pelle had soon tidied up after leaving off work. The others had runout in search of amusement; he was alone upstairs in the garret. He put his worldly possessions into his sack. There was a wholecollection of wonderful things--tin steamboats, railway-trains, andhorses that were hollow inside--as much of the irresistible wondersof the town as he had been able to obtain for five white kronepieces. They went in among the washing, so that they should notget damaged, and then he threw the bag out of the gable-window intothe little alley. Now the question was how he himself should slipthrough the kitchen without arousing the suspicions of Jeppe's oldwoman; she had eyes like a witch, and Pelle had a feeling that everyone who saw him would know what he was about. 

But he went. He controlled himself, and sauntered along, so thatthe people should think he was taking washing to the laundrywoman;but he could only keep it up as far as the first turning; thenhe started off as fast as he could go. He was homesick. A fewstreet-boys yelled and threw stones after him, but that didn'tmatter, so long as he only got away; he was insensible to everythingbut the remorse and homesickness that filled his heart. 

It was past midnight when he at last reached the outbuildings ofStone Farm. He was breathless, and had a stitch in his side. Heleaned against the ruined forge, and closed his eyes, the better torecover himself. As soon as he had recovered his breath, he enteredthe cowshed from the back and made for the herdsman's room. Thefloor of the cowshed felt familiar to his feet, and now he came inthe darkness to the place where the big bull lay. He breathed inthe scent of the creature's body and blew it out again--ah, didn'the remember it! But the scent of the cowherd's room was strange tohim. "Father Lasse is neglecting himself, " he thought, and he pulledthe feather-bed from under the sleeper's head. A strange voice beganto upbraid him. "Then isn't this Lasse?" said Pelle. His knees wereshaking under him. 

"Lasse?" cried the new cowherd, as he sat upright. "Do you say Lasse?Have you come to fetch that child of God, Mr. Devil? They've beenhere already from Hell and taken him with them--in the living bodythey've taken him there with them--he was too good for this world, d'ye see? Old Satan was here himself in the form of a woman and tookhim away. You'd better go there and look for him. Go straight ontill you come to the devil's great-grandmother, and then you've onlygot to ask your way to the hairy one. "

Pelle stood for a while in the yard below and considered. So FatherLasse had gone away! And wanted to marry, or was perhaps alreadymarried. And to Karna, of course. He stood bolt-upright, sunk inintimate memories. The great farm lay hushed in moonlight, indeepest slumber, and all about him rose memories from their sleep, speaking to him caressingly, with a voice like that contentedpurring, remembered from childhood, when the little kittens usedto sleep upon his pillow, and he would lay his cheek against theirsoft, quivering bodies. 

Pelle's memory had deep roots. Once, at Uncle Kalle's, he had laidhimself in the big twins' cradle and had let the other children rockhim--he was then fully nine years old--and as they rocked him awhile the surroundings began to take hold of him, and he saw a smoky, raftered ceiling, which did not belong to Kalle's house, swayinghigh over his head, and he had a feeling that a muffled-up old woman, wrapped in a shawl, sat like a shadow at the head of the cradle, androcked it with her foot. The cradle jolted with the over-vigorousrocking, and every time the rocking foot slipped from the footboardit struck on the floor with the sound of a sprung wooden shoe. Pellejumped up--"she bumped so, " he said, bewildered. "What? No, youcertainly dreamed that!" Kalle looked, smiling, under the rockers. "Bumped!" said Lasse. "That ought to suit you first-rate! At onetime, when you were little, you couldn't sleep if the cradle didn'tbump, so we had to make the rockers all uneven. It was almostimpossible to rock it. Bengta cracked many a good wooden shoe intrying to give you your fancy. "

The farmyard here was like a great cradle, which swayed and swayedin the uncertain moonlight, and now that Pelle had once quitesurrendered himself to the past, there was no end to the memoriesof childhood that rose within him. His whole existence passed beforehim, swaying above his head as before, and the earth itself seemedlike a dark speck in the abysm of space. 

And then the crying broke out from the house--big with destiny, tobe heard all over the place, so that Kongstrup slunk away shamefaced, and the other grew angry and ungovernable. . .. And Lasse . .. Yes, where was Father Lasse?

With one leap, Pelle was in the brew-house, knocking on the doorof the maid's room. 

"Is that you, Anders?" whispered a voice from within, and then thedoor opened, and a pair of arms fastened themselves about him anddrew him in. Pelle felt about him, and his hands sank into a nakedbosom--why, it was yellow-haired Marie!

"Is Karna still here?" he asked. "Can't I speak to Karna a moment?"

They were glad to see him again; and yellow-haired Marie patted hischeeks quite affectionately, and just before that she kissed him too. Karna could scarcely recover from her surprise; he had acquired sucha townsman's air. "And now you are a shoemaker too, in the biggestworkshop in the town! Yes, we've heard; Butcher Jensen heard aboutit on the market. And you have grown tall and townified. You do holdyourself well!" Karna was dressing herself. 

"Where is Father Lasse?" said Pelle; he had a lump in his throatonly from speaking of him. 

"Give me time, and I'll come out with you. How fine you dress now!I should hardly have known you. Would you, Marie?"

"He's a darling boy--he always was, " said Marie, and she pushedat him with her arched foot--she was now in bed again. 

"It's the same suit as I always had, " said Pelle. 

"Yes, yes; but then you held yourself different--there in town theyall look like lords. Well, shall we go?"

Pelle said good-by to Marie affectionately; it occurred to him thathe had much to thank her for. She looked at him in a very odd way, and tried to draw his hand under the coverlet. 

"What's the matter with father?" said Pelle impatiently, as soonas they were outside. 

Well, Lasse had taken to his heels too! He couldn't stand it whenPelle had gone. And the work was too heavy for one. Where he wasjust at the moment Karna could not say. "He's now here, now there, considering farms and houses, " she said proudly. "Some fine dayhe'll be able to take you in on his visit to town. "

"And how are things going here?" inquired Pelle. 

"Well, Erik has got his speech back and is beginning to be a managain--he can make himself understood. And Kongstrup and his wife, they drink one against the other. "

"They drink together, do they, like the wooden shoemaker and hisold woman?"

"Yes, and so much that they often lie in the room upstairs soaking, and can't see one another for the drink, they're that foggy. Everything goes crooked here, as you may suppose, with no master. 'Masterless, defenceless, ' as the old proverb says. But what can yousay about it--they haven't anything else in common! But it's all thesame to me--as soon as Lasse finds something I'm off!"

Pelle could well believe that, and had nothing to say against it. Karna looked at him from head to foot in surprise as they walked on. "They feed you devilish well in the town there, don't they?"

"Yes--vinegary soup and rotten greaves. We were much better fedhere. "

She would not believe it--it sounded too foolish. "But where areall the things they have in the shop windows--all the meats andcakes and sweet things? What becomes of all them?"

"That I don't know, " said Pelle grumpily; he himself had racked hisbrains over this very question. "I get all I can eat, but washingand clothes I have to see to myself. "

Karna could scarcely conceal her amazement; she had supposed thatPelle had been, so to speak, caught up to Heaven while yet living. "But how do you manage?" she said anxiously. "You must find thatdifficult. Yes, yes, directly we set out feet under our own tablewe'll help you all we can. "

They parted up on the high-road, and Pelle, tired and defeated, setout on his way back. It was broad daylight when he got back, and hecrawled into bed without any one noticing anything of his attemptedflight. 

III

Little Nikas had washed the blacking from his face and had put onhis best clothes; he wanted to go to the market with a bundle ofwashing, which the butcher from Aaker was to take home to his mother, and Pelle walked behind him, carrying the bundle. Little Nikassaluted many friendly maidservants in the houses of the neighborhood, and Pelle found it more amusing to walk beside him than to follow;two people who are together ought to walk abreast. But every time hewalked beside the journeyman the latter pushed him into the gutter, and finally Pelle fell over a curbstone; then he gave it up. 

Up the street the crazy watchmaker was standing on the edge of hishigh steps, swinging a weight; it was attached to the end of a longcord, and he followed the swinging of the pendulum with his fingers, as though he were timing the beats. This was very interesting, andPelle feared it would escape the journeyman. 

"The watchmaker's making an experiment, " he said cheerfully. 

"Stop your jaw!" said the journeyman sharply. Then it occurredto Pelle that he was not allowed to speak, so he closed his mouthtight. 

He felt the bundle, in order to picture to himself what the contentswere like. His eyes swept all the windows and the side streets, and every moment he carried his free hand to his mouth, as thoughhe were yawning, and introduced a crumb of black bread, which hehad picked up in the kitchen. His braces were broken, so he hadcontinually to puff out his belly; there were hundreds of thingsto look at, and the coal-merchant's dog to be kicked while, in allgood faith, he snuffed at a curbstone. 

A funeral procession came toward them, and the journeyman passedit with his head bared, so Pelle did the same. Eight at the backof the procession came Tailor Bjerregrav with his crutch; he alwaysfollowed every funeral, and always walked light at the back becausehis method of progression called for plenty of room. He would standstill and look on the ground until the last of the other followershad gone a few steps in advance, then he would set his crutch infront of him, swing himself forward for a space, and then standstill again. Then he would swing forward again on his lame legs, and again stand still and watch the others, and again take a fewpaces, looking like a slowly wandering pair of compasses which wastracing the path followed by the procession. 

But the funniest thing was that the tailor had forgotten to buttonup the flap of his black mourning-breeches, so that it hung over hisknees like an apron. Pelle was not quite sure that the journeymanhad noticed this. 

"Bjerregrav has forgotten--"

"Hold your jaw. " Little Nikas made a movement backward, and Pelleducked his head and pressed his hand tightly to his mouth. 

Over in Staal Street there was a great uproar; an enormously fatwoman was standing there quarrelling with two seamen. She was inher nightcap and petticoat, and Pelle knew her. 

"That's the Sow!" he began. "She's a dreadful woman; up at StoneFarm----"

_Smack!_ Little Nikas gave him such a box on the ear that hehad to sit down on the woodcarver's steps. "One, two, three, four--that's it; now come on!" He counted ten steps forward and set offagain. "But God help you if you don't keep your distance!"

Pelle kept his distance religiously, but he instantly discoveredthat little Nikas, like old Jeppe, had too large a posterior. That certainly came of sitting too much--and it twisted one's loins. He protruded his own buttocks as far as he could, smoothed down acrease in his jacket over his hips, raised himself elegantly uponthe balls of his feet and marched proudly forward, one hand thrustinto the breast of his coat. If the journeyman scratched himself, Pelle did the same--and he swayed his body in the same buoyantmanner; his cheeks were burning, but he was highly pleased withhimself. 

Directly he was his own master he went the round of the countrybutchers, questioning them, in the hope of hearing some news ofLasse, but no one could tell him anything. He went from cart to cart, asking his questions. "Lasse Karlson?" said one. "Ah, he was cowherdup at Stone Farm!" Then he called to another, asking him about Lasse--the old cowherd at Stone Farm--and he again called to a third, andthey all gathered about the carts, in order to talk the matter over. There were men here who travelled all over the island [Bornholm] inorder to buy cattle; they knew everything and everybody, but theycould tell him nothing of Lasse. "Then he's not in the island, " saidone, very decidedly. "You must get another father, my lad!"

Pelle did not feel inclined for chaff, so he slipped away. Besides, he must go back and get to work; the young master, who was busilygoing from cart to cart, ordering meat, had called to him. They hungtogether like the halves of a pea-pod when it was a question ofkeeping the apprentices on the curb, although otherwise they werejealous enough of one another. 

Bjerregrav's crutch stood behind the door, and he himself satin stiff funereal state by the window; he held a folded whitehandkerchief in his folded hands, and was diligently moppinghis eyes. 

"Was he perhaps a relation of yours?" said the young master slyly. 

"No; but it is so sad for those who are left--a wife and children. There is always some one to mourn and regret the dead. Man's lifeis a strange thing, Andres. "

"Ah, and potatoes are bad this year, Bjerregrav!"

Neighbor Jorgen filled up the whole doorway. "Lord, here we havethat blessed Bjerregrav!" he shouted; "and in state, too! What'son to-day then--going courting, are you?"

"I've been following!" answered Bjerregrav, in a hushed voice. 

The big baker made an involuntary movement; he did not like beingunexpectedly reminded of death. "You, Bjerregrav, you ought to bea hearse-driver; then at least you wouldn't work to no purpose!"

"It isn't to no purpose when they are dead, " stammered Bjerregrav. "I am not so poor that I need much, and there is no one who standsnear to me. No living person loses anything because I follow thosewho die. And then I know them all, and I've followed them all inthought since they were born, " he added apologetically. 

"If only you got invited to the funeral feast and got somethingof all the good things they have to eat, " continued the baker, "I could understand it better. "

"The poor widow, who sits there with her four little ones anddoesn't know how she's to feed them--to take food from her--no, I couldn't do it! She's had to borrow three hundred kroner so thather man could have a respectable funeral party. "

"That ought to be forbidden by law, " said Master Andres; "any onewith little children hasn't the right to throw away money on thedead. "

"She is giving her husband the last honors, " said Jeppe reprovingly. "That is the duty of every good wife. "

"Of course, " rejoined Master Andres. "God knows, something must bedone. It's like the performances on the other side of the earth, where the widow throws herself on the funeral pyre when the husbanddies, and has to be burned to death. "

Baker Jorgen scratched his thighs and grimaced. "You are trying toget us to swallow one of your stinking lies, Andres. You'd never geta woman to do that, if I know anything of womankind. "

But Bjerregrav knew that the shoemaker was not lying, and flutteredhis thin hands in the air, as though he were trying to keepsomething invisible from touching his body. "God be thanked that wecame into the world on this island here, " he said, in a low voice. "Here only ordinary things happen, however wrongheaded they may be. "

"What puzzles me is where she got all that money!" said the baker. 

"She's borrowed it, of course, " said Bjerregrav, in a tone of voicethat made it clear that he wanted to terminate the conversation. 

Jeppe retorted contemptuously, "Who's going to lend a poor mate'swidow three hundred kroner? He might as well throw it into the searight away. "

But Baker Jorgen gave Bjerregrav a great smack on the back. "You'vegiven her the money, it's you has done it; nobody else would he sucha silly sheep!" he said threateningly. 

"You let me be!" stammered Bjerregrav. "I've done nothing to you!And she has had one happy day in the midst of all her sorrow. " Hishands were trembling. 

"You're a goat!" said Jeppe shortly. 

"What is Bjerregrav really thinking about when he stands like thislooking down into the grave?" asked the young master, in order todivert the conversation. 

"I am thinking: Now you are lying there, where you are better offthan 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 andenjoys the whole thing--and then there's nothing! That's why I neverlike 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 imagininga whole lot of things; but what if it's all just lies?"

"That's the mind of an unbeliever!" said Jeppe, and stampedviolently 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 helpthinking. And what does a man see round about him? Sickness anddeath and halleluiah! We live, and we live, I tell you, BrotherJeppe--and we live in order to live! But, good heavens! all thepoor things that aren't born yet!"

He sank into thought again, as was usual with him when he thoughtof Little Jorgen, who refused to come into the world and assume hisname and likeness, and carry on after him. .. . There lay his belief;there was nothing to be done about it. And the others began to speakin hushed voices, in order not to disturb his memories. 

Pelle, who concerned himself with everything in heaven and earth, had been absorbing every word that was spoken with his protrudingears, but when the conversation turned upon death he yawned. Hehimself had never been seriously ill, and since Mother Bengta died, death had never encroached upon his world. And that was lucky forhim, as it would have been a case of all or nothing, for he had onlyFather Lasse. For Pelle the cruel hands of death hardly existed, and he could not understand how people could lay themselves downwith their noses in the air; there was so much to observe herebelow--the town alone kept one busy. 

On the very first evening he had run out to look for the other boys, just where the crowd was thickest. There was no use in waiting;Pelle was accustomed to take the bull by the horns, and he longedto be taken into favor. 

"What sort of brat is that?" they said, flocking round him. 

"I'm Pelle, " he said, standing confidently in the midst of thegroup, and looking at them all. "I have been at Stone Farm sinceI was eight, and that is the biggest farm in the north country. "He had put his hands in his pockets, and spat coolly in front ofhim, for that was nothing to what he had in reserve. 

"Oh, so you're a farmer chap, then!" said one, and the otherslaughed. Rud was among them. 

"Yes, " said Pelle; "and I've done a bit of ploughing, and mowingfodder for the calves. "

They winked at one another. "Are you really a farmer chap?"

"Yes, truly, " replied Pelle, perplexed; they had spoken the wordin a tone which he now remarked. 

They all burst out laughing: "He confesses it himself. And he comesfrom the biggest farm in the country. Then he's the biggest farmerin the country!"

"No, the farmer was called Kongstrup, " said Pelle emphatically. "I was only the herd-boy. "

They roared with laughter. "He doesn't see it now! Why, Lord, that's the biggest farmer's lout!"

Pelle had not yet lost his head, for he had heavier ammunition, andnow he was about to play a trump. "And there at the farm there wasa man called Erik, who was so strong that he could thrash three men, but the bailiff was stronger still; and he gave Erik such a blowthat he lost his senses. "

"Oh, indeed! How did he manage that? Can you hit a farmer chapso that he loses his senses? Who was it hit you like that?" Thequestions rained upon him. 

Pelle pushed the boy who had asked the last question, and fixed hiseyes upon his. But the rascal let fly at him again. "Take care ofyour best clothes, " he said, laughing. "Don't crumple your cuffs!"

Pelle had put on a clean blue shirt, of which the neckband andwristbands had to serve as collar and cuffs. He knew well enoughthat he was clean and neat, and now they were being smart at hisexpense on that very account. 

"And what sort of a pair of Elbe barges has he got on? Good Lord!Why, they'd fill half the harbor!" This was in reference toKongstrup's shoes. Pelle had debated with himself as to whether heshould wear them on a week-day. "When did you celebrate hiring-day?"asked a third. This was in reference to his fat red cheeks. 

Now he was ready to jump out of his skin, and cast his eyes aroundto see if there was nothing with which he could lay about him, forthis would infallibly end in an attack upon the whole party. Pellealready had them all against him. 

But just then a long, thin lad came forward. "Have you a prettysister?" he asked. 

"I have no sisters at all, " answered Pelle shortly. 

"That's a shame. Well, can you play hide-and-seek?"

Of course Pelle could!

"Well, then, play!" The thin boy pushed Pelle's cap over his eyes, and turned him with his face against the plank fence. "Count to ahundred--and no cheating, I tell you!"

No, Pelle would not cheat--he would neither look nor count short--so much depended on this beginning. But he solemnly promisedhimself to use his legs to some purpose; they should all be caught, one after another! He finished his counting and took his cap fromhis eyes. No one was to be seen. "Say 'peep'!" he cried; but noone answered. For half an hour Pelle searched among timbers andwarehouses, and at last he slipped away home and to bed. But hedreamed, that night, that he caught them all, and they electedhim as their leader for all future time. 

The town did not meet him with open arms, into which he could fall, with his childlike confidence, and be carried up the ladder. Here, apparently, one did not talk about the heroic deeds which elsewheregave a man foothold; here such things merely aroused scornfullaughter. He tried it again and again, always with something new, but the answer was always the same--"Farmer!" His whole littleperson was overflowing with good-will, and he became deplorablydejected. 

Pelle soon perceived that his whole store of ammunition wascrumbling between his hands, and any respect he had won at home, on the farm or in the village, by his courage and good nature, went for nothing here. Here other qualities counted; there was adifferent jargon, the clothes were different, and people went aboutthings in a different way. Everything he had valued was turned toridicule, even down to his pretty cap with its ear-flaps and itsribbon adorned with representations of harvest implements. He hadcome to town so calmly confident in himself--to make the painfuldiscovery that he was a laughable object! Every time he tried tomake one of a party, he was pushed to one side; he had no rightto speak to others; he must take the hindmost rank!

Nothing remained to him but to sound the retreat all along the lineuntil he had reached the lowest place of all. And hard as this wasfor a smart youngster who was burning to set his mark on everything, Pelle did it, and confidently prepared to scramble up again. Howeversore his defeat, he always retained an obstinate feeling of his ownworth, which no one could take away from him. He was persuaded thatthe trouble lay not with himself but with all sorts of things abouthim, and he set himself restlessly to find out the new values andto conduct a war of elimination against himself. After every defeathe took himself unweariedly to task, and the next evening he wouldgo forth once more, enriched by so many experiences, and wouldsuffer defeat at a new point. He wanted to conquer--but what musthe not sacrifice first? He knew of nothing more splendid than tomarch resoundingly through the streets, his legs thrust into Lasse'sold boots--this was the essence of manliness. But he was man enoughto abstain from so doing--for here such conduct would be regardedas boorish. It was harder for him to suppress his past; it was soinseparable from Father Lasse that he was obsessed by a sense ofunfaithfulness. But there was no alternative; if he wanted to geton he must adapt himself in everything, in prejudices and opinionsalike. But he promised himself to flout the lot of them so soon ashe felt sufficiently high-spirited. 

What distressed him most was the fact that his handicraft was solittle regarded. However accomplished he might become, the cobblerwas, and remained, a poor creature with a pitchy snout and a bigbehind! Personal performance counted for nothing; it was obviousthat he must as soon as possible escape into some other walk oflife. 

But at least he was in the town, and as one of its inhabitants--there was no getting over that. And the town seemed still as greatand as splendid, although it had lost the look of enchantment itonce had, when Lasse and he had passed through it on their way tothe country. Most of the people wore their Sunday clothes, and manysat still and earned lots of money, but no one knew how. All roadscame hither, and the town swallowed everything: pigs and corn andmen--everything sooner or later found its harbor here! The Sow livedhere with Rud, who was now apprenticed to a painter, and the twinswere here! And one day Pelle saw a tall boy leaning against a doorand bellowing at the top of his voice, his arms over his face, whilea couple of smaller boys were thrashing him; it was Howling Peter, who was cook's boy on a vessel. Everything flowed into the town!

But Father Lasse--he was not here!

IV

There was something about the town that made it hard to go to bedand hard to get up. In the town there was no sunrise shining overthe earth and waking everybody. The open face of morning could notbe seen indoors. And the dying day poured no evening weariness intoone's limbs, driving them to repose; life seemed here to flow inthe reverse direction, for here people grew lively at night!

About half-past six in the morning the master, who slept downstairs, would strike the ceiling with his stick. Pelle, whose business itwas to reply, would mechanically sit up and strike the side of thebedstead with his clenched fist. Then, still sleeping, he would fallback again. After a while the process was repeated. But then themaster grew impatient. "Devil take it! aren't you going to get upto-day?" he would bellow. "Is this to end in my bringing you yourcoffee in bed?" Drunken with sleep, Pelle would tumble out of bed. "Get up, get up!" he would cry, shaking the others. Jens got nimblyon his feet; he always awoke with a cry of terror, guarding hishead; but Emil and Peter, who were in the hobbledehoy stage, were terribly difficult to wake. 

Pelle would hasten downstairs, and begin to set everything in order, filling the soaking-tub and laying a sand-heap by the window-benchfor the master to spit into. He bothered no further about the others;he was in a morning temper himself. On the days when he had tosettle right away into the cobbler's hunch, without first runninga few early errands or doing a few odd tasks, it took hours to thawhim. 

He used to look round to see whether on the preceding evening hehad made a chalk-mark in any conspicuous place; for then there mustbe something that he had to remember. Memory was not his strongpoint, hence this ingenious device. Then it was only a matter of notforgetting what the mark stood for; if he forgot, he was no betteroff than before. 

When the workshop was tidy, he would hurry downstairs and run outfor Madame, to fetch morning rolls "for themselves. " He himself wasgiven a wheaten biscuit with his coffee, which he drank out in thekitchen, while the old woman went grumbling to and fro. She was dryas a mummy and moved about bent double, and when she was not usingher hands she carried one forearm pressed against her midriff. Shewas discontented with everything, and was always talking of thegrave. "My two eldest are overseas, in America and Australia;I shall never see them again. And here at home two menfolk gostrutting about doing nothing and expecting to be waited on. Andres, poor fellow, isn't strong, and Jeppe's no use any longer; he can'teven keep himself warm in bed nowadays. But they know how to ask forthings, that they do, and they let me go running all over the placewithout any help; I have to do everything myself. I shall trulythank God when at last I lie in my grave. What are you standingthere for with your mouth and your eyes wide open? Get away withyou!" Thereupon Pelle would finish his coffee--it was sweetenedwith brown sugar--out of doors, by the workshop window. 

In the mornings, before the master appeared, there was no greateagerness to work; they were all sleepy still, looking forward toa long, dreary day. The journeyman did not encourage them to work;he had a difficulty in finding enough for himself. So they sat therewool-gathering, striking a few blows with the hammer now and thenfor appearance's sake, and one or another would fall asleep againover the table. They all started when three blows were struck onthe wall as a signal for Pelle. 

"What are you doing? It seems to me you are very idle in there!"the master would say, staring suspiciously at Pelle. But Pelle hadremarked what work each was supposed to have in hand, and would runover it all. "What day's this--Thursday? Damnation take it! Tellthat Jens he's to put aside Manna's uppers and begin on the pilot'sboots this moment--they were promised for last Monday. " The masterwould struggle miserably to get his breath: "Ah, I've had a badnight, Pelle, a horrible night; I was so hot, with such a ringingin my ears. New blood is so devilishly unruly; it's all the timeboiling in my head like soda-water. But it's a good thing I'm makingit, God knows; I used to be so soon done up. Do you believe in Hell?Heaven, now, that's sheer nonsense; what happiness can we expectelsewhere if we can't be properly happy here? But do you believe inHell? I dreamed I'd spat up the last bit of my lungs and that I wentto Hell. 'What the devil d'you want here, Andres?' they asked me;'your heart is still whole!' And they wouldn't have me. But whatdoes that signify? I can't breathe with my heart, so I'm dying. And what becomes of me then? Will you tell me that?

"There's something that bids a man enter again into his mother'swomb; now if only a man could do that, and come into the world againwith two sound legs, you'd see me disappear oversea double-quick, whoop! I wouldn't stay messing about here any longer. .. . Well, haveyou seen your navel yet to-day? Yes, you ragamuffin, you laugh; butI'm in earnest. It would pay you well if you always began the dayby contemplating your navel. "

The master was half serious, half jesting. "Well, now, you can fetchme my port wine; it's on the shelf, behind the box with the laces init. I'm deadly cold. "

Pelle came back and announced that the bottle was empty. The masterlooked at him mildly. 

"Then run along and get me another. I've no money--you must say--well, think it out for yourself; you've got a head. " The masterlooked at him with an expression which went to Pelle's heart, sothat he often felt like bursting into tears. Hitherto Pelle's lifehad been spent on the straight highway; he did not understand thiscombination of wit and misery, roguishness and deadly affliction. But he felt something of the presence of the good God, and trembledinwardly; he would have died for the young master. 

When the weather was wet it was difficult for the sick man to getabout; the cold pulled him down. If he came into the workshop, freshly washed and with his hair still wet, he would go over to thecold stove, and stand there, stamping his feet. His cheeks had quitefallen in. "I've so little blood for the moment, " he said at suchtimes, "but the new blood is on the way; it sings in my ears everynight. " Then he would be silent a while. "There, by my soul, we'vegot a piece of lung again, " he said, and showed Pelle, who stood atthe stove brushing shoes, a gelatinous lump. "But they grow againafterward!"

"The master will soon be in his thirtieth year, " said thejourneyman; "then the dangerous time is over. "

"Yes, deuce take it--if only I can hang together so long--onlyanother six months, " said the master eagerly, and he looked at Pelle, as though Pelle had it in his power to help him; "only another sixmonths! Then the whole body renews itself--new lungs--everything new. But new legs, God knows, I shall never get. "

A peculiar, secret understanding grew up between Pelle and themaster; it did not manifest itself in words, but in glances, intones of the voice, and in the whole conduct of each. When Pellestood behind him, it was as though even the master's leather jacketemitted a feeling of warmth, and Pelle followed him with his eyeswhenever and wherever he could, and the master's behavior to Pellewas different from his behavior to the others. 

When, on his return from running errands in the town, he came tothe corner, he was delighted to see the young master standing inthe doorway, tightly grasping his stick, with his lame leg in aneasy position. He stood there, sweeping his eyes from side to side, gazing longingly into the distance. This was his place when he wasnot indoors, sitting over some book of adventure. But Pelle likedhim to stand there, and as he slipped past he would hang his headshyly, for it often happened that the master would clutch hisshoulder, so hard that it hurt, and shake him to and fro, and wouldsay affectionately: "Oh, you limb of Satan!" This was the onlyendearment that life had vouchsafed Pelle, and he sunned himselfin it. 

Pelle could not understand the master, nor did he understand hissighs and groans. The master never went out, save as an exception, when he was feeling well; then he would hobble across to thebeerhouse and make up a party, but as a rule his travels ended atthe house door. There he would stand, looking about him a little, and then he would hobble indoors again, with that infectious goodhumor which transformed the dark workshop into a grove full ofthe twittering of birds. He had never been abroad, and he felt nocraving to go; but in spite of this his mind and his speech roamedover the whole wide world, so that Pelle at times felt like fallingsick from sheer longing. He demanded nothing more than health ofthe future, and adventures hovered all about him; one received theimpression that happiness itself had fluttered to earth and settledupon him. Pelle idolized him, but did not understand him. Themaster, who at one moment would make sport of his lame leg and thenext moment forget that he had one, or jest about his poverty asthough he were flinging good gold pieces about him--this was a manPelle could not fathom. He was no wiser when he secretly looked intothe books which Master Andres read so breathlessly; he would havebeen content with a much more modest adventure than a journey to theNorth Pole or the center of the earth, if only he himself could havebeen of the party. 

He had no opportunity to sit still and indulge in fancies. Everymoment it was, "Pelle, run and do something or other!" Everythingwas purchased in small quantities, although it was obtained oncredit. "Then it doesn't run up so, " Jeppe used to say; it was allthe same to Master Andres. The foreman's young woman came runningin; she absolutely must have her young lady's shoes; they werepromised for Monday. The master had quite forgotten them. "They arein hand now, " he said, undaunted. "To the devil with you, Jens!" AndJens had hastily thrust a pair of lasts into the shoes, while MasterAndres went outside with the girl, and joked with her on the landing, in order to smooth her down. "Just a few nails, so that they'llhang together, " said the master to Jens. And then, "Pelle, out yougo, as quick as your legs will carry you! Say we'll send for themearly to-morrow morning and finish them properly! But run as thoughthe devil were at your heels!"

Pelle ran, and when he returned, just as he was slipping into hisleather apron, he had to go out again. "Pelle, run out and borrow afew brass nails--then we needn't buy any to-day. Go to Klausen--no, go to Blom, rather; you've been to Klausen already this morning. "

"Blom's are angry about the screw-block!" said Pelle. 

"Death and all the devils! We must see about putting it in repairand returning it; remember that, and take it with you to the smith's. Well, what in the world shall we do?" The young master staredhelplessly from one to another. 

"Shoemaker Marker, " suggested little Nikas. 

"We don't borrow from Marker, " and the master wrinkled his forehead. "Marker's a louse!" Marker had succeeded in stealing one of theoldest customers of the workshop. 

"There isn't salt to eat an egg!"

"Well, what _shall_ I do?" asked Pelle, somewhat impatiently. 

The master sat for a while in silence. "Well, take it, then!" hecried, and threw a krone toward Pelle; "I have no peace from youso long as I've got a farthing in my pocket, you demon! Buy a packetand pay back Klausen and Blom what we've borrowed. "

"But then they'd see we've got a whole packet, " said Pelle. 

"Besides, they owe us lots of other things that they've borrowedof us. " Pelle showed circumspection in his dealings. 

"What a rogue!" said the master, and he settled himself to read. "Lord above us, what a gallows-bird!" He looked extremely contented. 

And after a time it was once more, "Pelle, run out, etc. "

The day was largely passed in running errands, and Pelle was notone to curtail them; he had no liking for the smelly workshop andits wooden chairs. There was so much to be fetched and carried, andPelle considered these errands to be his especial duty; when he hadnothing else to do he roved about like a young puppy, and thrust hisnose into everything. Already the town had no more secrets from him. 

There was in Pelle an honorable streak which subdued the whole. But hitherto he had suffered only defeat; he had again and againsacrificed his qualities and accomplishments, without so farreceiving anything in return. His timidity and distrust he hadstripped from him indoors, where it was of importance that he shouldopen his defences on all sides, and his solid qualities he was onthe point of sacrificing on the altar of the town as boorish. Butthe less protection he possessed the more he gained in intrepidity, so he went about out-of-doors undauntedly--the town should beconquered. He was enticed out of the safe refuge of his shell, and might easily be gobbled up. 

The town had lured him from the security of his lair, but in othermatters he was the same good little fellow--most people would haveseen no difference in him, except that he had grown taller. ButFather Lasse would have wept tears of blood to see his boy as henow walked along the streets, full of uncertainty and uneasyimitativeness, wearing his best coat on a workday, and yetdisorderly in his dress. 

Yonder he goes, sauntering along with a pair of boots, his fingersthrust through the string of the parcel, whistling with an air ofbravado. Now and again he makes a grimace and moves cautiously--whenhis trousers rub the sensitive spots of his body. He has had abad day. In the morning he was passing a smithy, and allowed thesplendid display of energy within, half in the firelight and halfin the shadow, to detain him. The flames and the clanging of themetal, the whole lively uproar of real work, fascinated him, and hehad to go in and ask whether there was an opening for an apprentice. He was not so stupid as to tell them where he came from, but whenhe got home, Jeppe had already been told of it! But that is soonforgotten, unless, indeed, his trousers rub against his sore places. Then he remembers it; remembers that in this world everything hasto be paid for; there is no getting out of things; once one beginsanything one has to eat one's way through it, like the boy inthe fairy-tale. And this discovery is, in the abstract, not sostrikingly novel to Pelle. 

He has, as always, chosen the longest way, rummaging about backyards and side streets, where there is a possibility of adventure;and all at once he is suddenly accosted by Albinus, who is nowemployed by a tradesman. Albinus is not amusing. He has no rightto play and loiter about the warehouse in the aimless fashion thatis possible out-of-doors; nor to devote himself to making a ladderstand straight up in the air while he climbs up it. Not a word canbe got out of him, although Pelle does his best; so he picks upa handful of raisins and absconds. 

Down at the harbor he boards a Swedish vessel, which has justarrived with a cargo of timber. "Have you anything for us to do?"he asks, holding one hand behind him, where his trousers have ahole in them. 

"Klausen's apprentice has just been here and got what there was, "replied the skipper. 

"That's a nuisance--you ought to have given it to us, " says Pelle. "Have you got a clay pipe?"

"Yes--just you come here!" The skipper reaches for a rope's end, but Pelle escapes and runs ashore. 

"Will you give me a thrashing now?" he cries, jeering. 

"You shall have a clay pipe if you'll run and get me half a krone'sworth of chewing 'bacca. "

"What will it cost?" asks Pelle, with an air of simplicity. Theskipper reaches for his rope's end again, but Pelle is off already. 

"Five ore worth of chewing tobacco, the long kind, " he cries, beforehe gets to the door even. "But it must be the very best, becauseit's for an invalid. " He throws the money on the counter and putson a cheeky expression. 

Old Skipper Lau rises by the aid of his two sticks and hands Pellethe twist; his jaws are working like a mill, and all his limbs aretwisted with gout. "Is it for some one lying-in?" he asks slyly. 

Pelle breaks off the stem of the clay pipe, lest it should stick outof his pocket, boards the salvage steamer, and disappears forward. After a time he reappears from under the cabin hatchway, with agigantic pair of sea-boots and a scrap of chewing tobacco. Behindthe deck-house he bites a huge mouthful off the brown Cavendish, and begins to chew courageously, which makes him feel tremendouslymanly. But near the furnace where the ship's timbers are bent hehas to unload his stomach; it seems as though all his inward partsare doing their very utmost to see how matters would be with themhanging out of his mouth. He drags himself along, sick as a cat, with thumping temples; but somewhere or other inside him a littlefeeling of satisfaction informs him that one has to undergo the mostdreadful consequences in order to perform any really heroic deed. 

In most respects the harbor, with its stacks of timber and itsvessels on the slips, is just as fascinating as it was on the daywhen Pelle lay on the shavings and guarded Father Lasse's sack. Theblack man with the barking hounds still leans from the roof of theharbor warehouse, but the inexplicable thing is that one could everhave been frightened of him. But Pelle is in a hurry. 

He runs a few yards, but he must of necessity stop when he comes tothe old quay. There the "strong man, " the "Great Power, " is trimmingsome blocks of granite. He is tanned a coppery brown with wind andsun, and his thick black hair is full of splinters of granite; hewears only a shirt and canvas trousers, and the shirt is open onhis powerful breast; but it lies close on his back, and reveals theplay of his muscles. Every time he strikes a blow the air whistles--_whew!_--and the walls and timber-stacks echo the sound. Peoplecome hurrying by, stop short at a certain distance, and stand therelooking on. A little group stands there all the time, newcomerstaking the place of those that move on, like spectators in front ofa cage of lions. It is as though they expect something to happen--something that will stagger everybody and give the bystanders a goodfright. 

Pelle goes right up to the "Great Power. " The "strong man" is thefather of Jens, the second youngest apprentice. "Good-day, " he saysboldly, and stands right in the giant's shadow. But the stonecutterpushes him to one side without looking to see who it is, andcontinues to hew at the granite: _whew! whew!_

"It is quite a long time now since he has properly used hisstrength, " says an old townsman. "Is he quieting down, d'youthink?"

"He must have quieted down for good, " says another. "The town oughtto see that he keeps quiet. " And they move on, and Pelle must moveon, too--anywhere, where no one can see him. 

 "Cobbler, wobbler, groats in your gruel, Smack on your back goes the stick--how cruel!"

It is those accursed street-urchins. Pelle is by no means in awarlike humor; he pretends not to see them. But they come up closebehind him and tread on his heels, and before he knows what ishappening they are upon him. The first he knows about it is that heis lying in the gutter, on his back, with all three on top of him. He has fallen alongside of the curbstone and cannot move; he isfaint, too, as a result of his indiscretion; the two biggest boysspread his arms wide open on the flagstones and press them down withall their might, while the third ventures to deal with his face. It is a carefully planned outrage, and all Pelle can do is to twisthis head round under the blows--and for once he is thankful for hisdisgracefully fat cheeks. 

Then, in his need, a dazzling apparition appears before him;standing in the doorway yonder is a white baker's boy, who isroyally amused. It is no other than Nilen, the wonderful littledevil Nilen, of his schooldays, who was always fighting everybodylike a terrier and always came out of it with a whole skin. Pelleshuts his eyes and blushes for himself, although he knows perfectlywell that this is only an apparition. 

But then a wonderful thing happens; the apparition leaps down intothe gutter, slings the boys to one side, and helps him to his feet. Pelle recognizes the grip of those fingers--even in his schooldaysthey were like claws of iron. 

And soon he is sitting behind the oven, on Nilen's grimy bed. "Soyou've become a cobbler?" says Nilen, to begin with, compassionately, for he feels a deucedly smart fellow himself in his fine whiteclothes, with his bare arms crossed over his naked breast. Pellefeels remarkably comfortable; he has been given a slice of bread andcream, and he decides that the world is more interesting than ever. Nilen is chewing manfully, and spitting over the end of the bed. 

"Do you chew?" asks Pelle, and hastens to offer him theleaf-tobacco. 

"Yes, we all do; a fellow has to when he works all night. "

Pelle cannot understand how people can keep going day and night. 

"All the bakers in Copenhagen do--so that the people can get freshbread in the morning--and our master wants to introduce it here. Butit isn't every one can do it; the whole staff had to be reorganized. It's worst about midnight, when everything is turning round. Then itcomes over you so that you keep on looking at the time, and the verymoment the clock strikes twelve we all hold our breath, and then noone can come in or go out any more. The master himself can't standthe night shift; the 'baccy turns sour in his mouth and he has tolay it on the table. When he wakes up again he thinks it's a raisinand sticks it in the dough. What's the name of your girl?"

For a moment Pelle's thoughts caress the three daughters of oldSkipper Elleby--but no, none of them shall be immolated. No, hehas no girl. 

"Well, you get one, then you needn't let them sit on you. I'mflirting a bit just now with the master's daughter--fine girl, sheis, quite developed already--you know! But we have to look out whenthe old man's about!"

"Then are you going to marry her when you are a journeyman?" asksPelle, with interest. 

"And have a wife and kids on my back? You are a duffer, Pelle! Noneed to trouble about that! But a woman--well, that's only for whena man's bored. See?" He stretches himself, yawning. 

Nilen has become quite a young man, but a little crude in hismanner of expressing himself. He sits there and looks at Pellewith a curious expression in his eyes. "Cobbler's patch!" he sayscontemptuously, and thrusts his tongue into his cheek so as to makeit bulge. Pelle says nothing; he knows he cannot thrash Nilen. 

Nilen has lit his pipe and is lying on his back in bed--with hismuddy shoes on--chattering. "What's your journeyman like? Ours isa conceited ass. The other day I had to fetch him a box on the ears, he was so saucy. I've learned the Copenhagen trick of doing it;it soon settles a man. Only you want to keep your head about it. "A deuce of a fellow, this Nilen, he is so grown up! Pelle feelssmaller and smaller. 

But suddenly Nilen jumps up in the greatest hurry. Out in the bakerya sharp voice is calling. "Out of the window--to the devil with you!"he yelps--"the journeyman!" And Pelle has to get through the window, and is so slow about it that his boots go whizzing past him. Whilehe is jumping down he hears the well-known sound of a ringing boxon the ear. 

When Pelle returned from his wanderings he was tired and languid;the stuffy workshop did not seem alluring. He was dispirited, too;for the watchmaker's clock told him that he had been three hoursaway. He could not believe it. 

The young master stood at the front door, peeping out, still in hisleather jacket and apron of green baize; he was whistling softly tohimself, and looked like a grown fledgling that did not dare to letitself tumble out of the nest. A whole world of amazement lay in hisinquiring eyes. 

"Have you been to the harbor again, you young devil?" he asked, sinking his claws into Pelle. 

"Yes. " Pelle was properly ashamed. 

"Well, what's going on there? What's the news?"

So Pelle had to tell it all on the stairs; how there was a Swedishtimber ship whose skipper's wife was taken with childbirth out atsea, and how the cook had to deliver her; of a Russian vessel whichhad run into port with a mutiny on board; and anything else thatmight have happened. To-day there were only these boots. "They arefrom the salvage steamer--they want soling. "

"H'm!" The master looked at them indifferently. "Is the schooner_Andreas_ ready to sail?"

But that Pelle did not know. 

"What sort of a sheep's head have you got, then? Haven't you anyeyes in it? Well, well, go and get me three bottles of beer! Onlystick them under your blouse so that father don't see, you monster!"The master was quite good-tempered again. 

Then Pelle got into his apron and buckled on the knee-strap. Everybody was bending over his work, and Master Andres was reading;no sound was to be heard but those produced by the workers, and nowand again a word of reprimand from the journeyman. 

Every second afternoon, about five o'clock, the workshop door wouldopen slightly, and a naked, floury arm introduced the newspaper andlaid it on the counter. This was the baker's son, Soren, who neverallowed himself to be seen; he moved about from choice like a thiefin the night. If the master--as he occasionally did--seized him andpulled him into the workshop, he was like a scared faun strayed fromhis thickets; he would stand with hanging head, concealing his eyes, and no one could get a word from him; and when he saw an opportunity, he would slip away. 

The arrival of the newspaper caused quite a small commotion in theworkshop. When the master felt inclined, he would read aloud--ofcalves with two heads and four pairs of legs; of a pumpkin thatweighed fifty pounds; of the fattest man in the world; of fatalitiesdue to the careless handling of firearms, or of snakes in Martinique. The dazzling wonder of the whole world passed like a pageant, filling the dark workshop; the political news was ignored. If themaster happened to be in one of his desperate humors, he would readthe most damnable nonsense: of how the Atlantic Ocean had caughtfire, so that the people were living on boiled codfish; or how theheavens had got torn over America, so that angels fell right on tosomebody's supper-tray. Things which one knew at once for lies--andblasphemous nonsense, too, which might at any time have got himinto trouble. Rowing people was not in the master's line, he wasill the moment there was any unpleasantness; but he had his own wayof making himself respected. As he went on reading some one woulddiscover that he was getting a wigging, and would give a jump, believing that all his failings were in the paper. 

When the time drew near for leaving off work, a brisker note soundedin the workshop. The long working-day was coming to an end, and theday's weariness and satiety were forgotten, and the mind lookedforward--filling with thoughts of the sand-hills or the woods, wandering down a road that was bright with pleasure. Now and againa neighbor would step in, and while away the time with his gossip;something or other had happened, and Master Andres, who was soclever, must say what he thought about it. Sounds that had beenconfused during the day now entered the workshop, so that thosewithin felt that they were participating in the life of the town;it was as though the walls had fallen. 

About seven o'clock a peculiar sound was heard in the streetwithout, approaching in very slowly _tempo;_ there was a dullthump and then two clacking sounds; and then came the thump again, like the tread of a huge padded foot, and once more the clack-clack. This was old Bjerregrav, swinging toward the workshop on hiscrutches; Bjerregrav, who moved more slowly than anybody, and gotforward more quickly. If Master Andres happened to be in one of hisbad humors, he would limp away, in order not to remain in the sameroom with a cripple; at other times he was glad to see Bjerregrav. 

"Well, you are a rare bird, aren't you?" he would cry, whenBjerregrav reached the landing and swung himself sideways throughthe door; and the old man would laugh--he had paid this visit dailynow for many years. The master took no further notice of him, butwent on reading; and Bjerregrav sank into his dumb pondering; hispale hands feeling one thing after another, as though the mosteveryday objects were unknown to him. He took hold of things justas a newborn child might have done; one had to smile at him andleave him to sit there, grubbing about like the child he really was. It was quite impossible to hold a continuous conversation with him;for even if he did actually make an observation it was sure to bequite beside the mark; Bjerregrav was given to remarking attributeswhich no one else noticed, or which no one would have dwelt upon. 

When he sat thus, pondering over and fingering some perfectlyfamiliar object, people used to say, "Now Bjerregrav's questioningfit is coming on!" For Bjerregrav was an inquirer; he would askquestions about the wind and the weather, and even the food thathe ate. He would ask questions about the most laughable subjects--things that were self-evident to any one else--why a stone was hard, or why water extinguished fire. People did not answer him, butshrugged their shoulders compassionately. "He is quite all there, "they would say; "his head's all right. But he takes everything thewrong way round!"

The young master looked up from his book. "Now, shall I inheritBjerregrav's money?" he asked mischievously. 

"No--you've always been good to me; I don't want to cause you anymisfortune. "

"Worse things than that might befall me, don't you think?"

"No, for you've got a fair competence. No one has a right to more, so long as the many suffer need. "

"Certain people have money in the bank themselves, " said MasterAndres allusively. 

"No, that's all over, " answered the old man cheerfully. "I'mnow exactly as rich as you. "

"The devil! Have you run through the lot?" The young master turnedround on his chair. 

"You and your 'run through it all'! You always sit over me likea judge and accuse me of things! I'm not conscious of having doneanything wrong; but it's true that the need gets worse every winter. It's a burden to have money, Andres, when men are hungry all aboutyou; and if you help them then you learn afterward that you've donethe man injury; they say it themselves, so it must be true. But nowI've given the money to the Charity Organization Society, so now itwill go to the right people. "

"Five thousand kroner!" said the master, musing. "Then there oughtto be great rejoicing among the poor this winter. "

"Well, they won't get it direct in food and firing, " saidBjerregrav, "but it will come to them just as well in other ways. For when I'd made my offer to the Society, Shipowner Monsen--youknow him--came to me, and begged me to lend him the money at oneyear. He would have gone bankrupt if he hadn't had it, and it wasterrible to think of all the poor people who would have gone withoutbread if that great business of his had come to a standstill. Nowthe responsibility falls on me. But the money is safe enough, andin that way it does the poor twice as much good. "

Master Andres shook his head. "Suppose Bjerregrav has just sathimself down in the nettles?"

"Why? But what else could I have done?" said the old man uneasily. 

"The devil knows it won't be long before he's bankrupt. He's afrothy old rogue, " murmured the master. "Has Bjerregrav got a noteof hand?"

The old man nodded; he was quite proud of himself. 

"And interest? Five per cent. ?"

"No, no interest. For money to stand out and receive interest--Idon't like that. It has to suck the interest somewhere or other, and of course it's from the poor. Interest is blood-money, Andres--and it's a new-fangled contrivance, too. When I was young we knewnothing about getting interest on our money. "

"Yes, yes:

 'Who gives to other folks his bread And after suffers in their stead, Why club him, club him, club him dead!'"

said the master, and went on reading. 

Bjerregrav sat there sunk in his own thoughts. Suddenly he looked up. 

"Can you, who are so well read, tell me what keeps the moon fromfalling? I lay overnight puzzling over it, so as I couldn't sleep. She wanders and wanders through the sky, and you can see plainlythere's nothing but air under her. "

"The devil may know, " said Master Andres thoughtfully. "She musthave strength of her own, so that she holds herself up. "

"I've thought that myself--for obligation isn't enough. Now we cando that--we walk and walk where we are put down, but then we've theearth under us to support us. And you are always studying, aren'tyou? I suppose you have read nearly all the books in the world?"Bjerregrav took the master's book and felt it thoroughly. "That'sa good book, " he said, striking his knuckles against the cover andholding the book to his ear; "good material, that. Is it a lyingstory or a history book?"

"It's a travel book. They go up to the North Pole, and they getfrozen in, and they don't know if they'll ever get home aliveagain. "

"But that's terrible--that people should risk their lives so. I've often thought about that--what it's like at the end of theworld--but to go and find out--no, I should never have had thecourage. Never to get home again!" Bjerregrav, with an afflictedexpression, looked first at one, then at another. 

"And they get frost-bite in their feet--and their toes have to beamputated--in some cases, the whole foot. "

"No, be quiet! So they lose their health, poor fellows!--I don'twant to hear any more!" The old man sat rocking himself to andfro, as though he felt unwell. But a few moments later he askedinquisitively: "Did the king send them up there to make war?"

"No; they went to look for the Garden of Eden. One of the people whoinvestigate writings has discovered that it is said to lie behindthe ice, " declared the master solemnly. 

"The Garden of Eden--or they call it Paradise, too--but that lieswhere the two rivers fall into a third, in the East! That is quiteplainly written. Consequently what you read there is false teaching. "

"It's at the North Pole, God's truth it is!" said the master, whowas inclined to be a free-thinker; "God's truth, I tell you! Theother's just a silly superstition. "

Bjerregrav maintained an angry silence. He sat for some time bendinglow in his chair, his eyes roaming anywhere so that they did notmeet another's. "Yes, yes, " he said, in a low voice; "everybodythinks something new in order to make himself remarkable, but noone can alter the grave. "

Master Andres wriggled impatiently to and fro; he could changehis mood like a woman. Bjerregrav's presence began to distress him. "Now, I've learned to conjure up spirits; will Bjerregrav makethe experiment?" he said suddenly. 

"No, not at any price!" said the old man, smiling uneasily. 

But the master pointed, with two fingers, at his blinking eyes, and gazed at him, while he uttered the conjuration. 

"In the name of the Blood, in the name of the Sap, in the name ofall the Humors of the Body, the good and the bad alike, and in thename of the Ocean, " he murmured, crouching like a tom-cat. 

"Stop it, I tell you! Stop it! I won't have it!" Bjerregrav washanging helplessly between his crutches, swinging to and fro, with an eye to the door, but he could not wrest himself away fromthe enchantment. Then, desperately, he struck down the master'sconjuring hand, and profited by the interruption of the incantationto slip away. 

The master sat there blowing upon his hand. "He struck out properly, "he said, in surprise, turning his reddened hand with the palm inward. 

Little Nikas did not respond. He was not superstitious, but he didnot like to hear ridicule cast upon the reality of things. 

"What shall I do?" asked Peter. 

"Are mate Jensen's boots ready?" The master looked at the clock. "Then you can nibble your shin-bones. "

It was time to stop work. The master took his stick and hat andlimped over to the beer-house to play a game of billiards; thejourneyman dressed and went out; the older apprentices washed theirnecks in the soaking-tub. Presently they too would go out and havea proper time of it. 

Pelle gazed after them. He too experienced a desperate need toshake off the oppressive day, and to escape out of doors, but hisstockings were nothing but holes, and his working-blouse had to bewashed so that it should be dry by the following morning. Yes, andhis shirt--and he blushed up to his ears--was it a fortnight he hadworn it, or was this the fourth week? The time had slipped pastso. .. . He had meant to defer the disagreeable business of washingonly for a few days--and now it had mounted up to fourteen! His bodyhad a horrible crawling feeling; was his punishment come upon himbecause he had turned a deaf ear to the voice of conscience, and hadignored Father Lasse's warning, that disgrace awaited those who didnot keep themselves clean?

No, thank God! But Pelle had received a thorough fright, andhis ears were still burning as he scrubbed his shirt and blousedownstairs in the yard. It would be well to take it as a timelywarning from on high!

And then blouse and shirt were hanging on the fence, spreadingthemselves abroad as though they wanted to hug the heavens for joyin their cleanliness. But Pelle sat dejectedly upstairs, at thewindow of the apprentices' garret, one leg outside, so that partof him at least was in the open air. The skillful darning which hisfather had taught him was not put into practice here; the holes weresimply cobbled together, so that Father Lasse would have sunk intothe earth for shame. Gradually he crept right out on to the roof;below, in the skipper's garden, the three girls were wandering idly, looking over toward the workshop, and evidently feeling bored. 

Then they caught sight of him, and at once became different beings. Manna came toward him, thrust her body impatiently against the stonewall, and motioned to him with her lips. She threw her head backimperiously, and stamped with her feet--but without making a sound. The other two were bent double with suppressed laughter. 

Pelle understood perfectly what this silent speech intended, but fora time he courageously stood his ground. At last, however, he couldendure it no longer; he threw everything aside and next moment waswith the girls. 

All Pelle's dreams and unuttered longings hovered over those placeswhere men disported themselves. To him nothing was more ridiculousthan to run after petticoats. Women, for Pelle, were really rathercontemptible; they had no strength, and very little intelligence;indeed, they understood nothing but the art of making themselvesornamental. But Manna and her sisters were something apart; he wasstill enough of a child to play, and they were excellent playmates. 

Manna--the wild cat--was afraid of nothing; with her short skirtsand her pigtail and her skipping movements she reminded him of afrolicsome, inquisitive young bird--Skip! out of the thicket andback again! She could climb like a boy, and could carry Pelle allround the garden on her back; it was really an oversight that sheshould have to wear skirts. Her clothes wouldn't keep on her, andshe was always tumbling into the workshop, having torn somethingor other off her shoes. Then she would turn everything upside down, take the master's stick away, so that he could not move, and wouldeven get her fingers among the journeyman's American tools. 

She was on good terms with Pelle the very first day. 

"Whose new boy are you?" she asked him, smacking him on the back. And Pelle laughed, and returned her look frankly, with thatimmediate comprehension which is the secret of our early years. There was no trace of embarrassment between them; they had alwaysknown one another, and could at any time resume their play justwhere they had left off. In the evening Pelle used to stationhimself by the garden wall and wait for her; then in a moment hewas over and in the middle of some game. 

Manna was no ordinary cry-baby; not one who seeks to escape theconsequences of her action by a display of tears. If she let herselfin for a scuffle, she never sued for mercy, however hardly it wentwith her. But Pelle was to a certain extent restrained by the factof her petticoats. And she, on one occasion, did not deny that shewished she could only be a little stronger!

But she had courage, and Pelle, like a good comrade, gave as goodas he got, except in the workshop, where she bullied him. If sheassailed him from behind, dropping something down his neck orpushing him off his wooden stool, he restrained himself, and wasmerely thankful that his bones were still unbroken. 

All his best hours were spent in the skipper's garden, and thisgarden was a wonderful place, which might well hold his sensescaptive. The girls had strange outlandish names, which their fatherhad brought home with him on his long voyages: Aina, Dolores, andSjermanna! They wore heavy beads of red coral round their necks andin their ears. And about the garden lay gigantic conch-shells, inwhich one could hear the surging of the ocean, and tortoise-shellsas big as a fifteen-pound loaf, and whole great lumps of coral. 

All these things were new to Pelle, but he would not allow them toconfound him; he enrolled them as quickly as possible among thethings that were matters of course, and reserved himself the rightto encounter, at any moment, something finer and more remarkable. 

But on some evenings he would disappoint the girls, and would strollabout the town where he could see real life--or go down to the dunesor the harbor. Then they would stand dejectedly at the garden wall, bored and quarrelsome. But on Sundays, as soon as he had finished inthe workshop, he would faithfully appear, and they would spin outtheir games, conscious of a long day in front of them. They playedgames innumerable, and Pelle was the center of them all; he couldturn himself to anything; he became everything in turn--lawfulhusband, cannibal, or slave. He was like a tame bear in their hands;they would ride on him, trample all over him, and at times theywould all three fall upon him and "murder" him. And he had to liestill, and allow them to bury his body and conceal all traces of it. The reality of the affair was enhanced by the fact that he wasreally covered with earth--all but his face, which was left bareonly from necessity--they contented themselves with covering thatwith withered leaves. When he cried afterward over the state of hisfine confirmation clothes, they brushed him with solicitous hands, and when he could scarcely be comforted they all three kissed him. With them he was always referred to as "Manna's husband. "

So Pelle's days went by. He had a certain grim humor rather thana cheerful mind; he felt gloomy, and as though things were goingbadly with him; and he had no one to lean upon. But he continued hiscampaign against the town, undaunted; he thought of it night and day, and fought, it in his sleep. 

"If you're ever in a difficulty, you've always Alfred and Albinusto help you out, " Uncle Kalle had said, when Pelle was bidding himgood-bye; and he did not fail to look them up. But the twins wereto-day the same slippery, evasive customers as they were among thepastures; they ventured their skins neither for themselves nor foranybody else. 

In other respects they had considerably improved. They had comehither from the country in order to better their positions, and tothat end had accepted situations which would serve them until theyhad saved sufficient to allow them to commence a more distinguishedcareer. Albinus had advanced no further, as he had no inclinationto any handicraft. He was a good-tempered youth, who was willingto give up everything else if only he could practise his acrobaticfeats. He always went about balancing something or other, takingpains to put all sorts of objects to the most impossible uses. Hehad no respect for the order of nature; he would twist his limbsinto all imaginable positions, and if he threw anything into the airhe expected it to stay there while he did something else. "Thingsmust be broken in as well as animals, " he would say, and persevereindefatigably. Pelle laughed; he liked him, but he did not count onhim any further. 

Alfred had struck out in quite another direction. He no longerindulged in hand-springs, but walked decorously on his legs, hadalways much ado to pull down and straighten his collar and cuffs, and was in continual anxiety as to his clothes. He was nowapprentice to a painter, but had a parting in his hair like acounter-jumper, and bought all sorts of things at the chemist's, which he smeared on his hair. If Pelle ran across him in the street, Alfred always made some excuse to shake him off; he preferred toassociate with tradesmen's apprentices, and was continually greetingacquaintances right and left--people who were in a better positionthan himself. Alfred put on airs of importance which made Pelle longone fine day to cudgel him soundly. 

The twins resembled one another in this--no one need look to themfor assistance of any kind. They laughed comfortably at the veryidea, and if any one made fun of Pelle they joined in the laughter. 

It was not easy to get on. He had quite shaken off the farm-boy; itwas his poverty that gave him trouble now. He had recklessly boundhimself as apprentice for board and lodging; he had a few clothes onhis body, and he had not thought other requisites necessary for onewho did not stroll up and down and gad about with girls. But thetown demanded that he should rig himself out. Sunday clothes werehere not a bit too good for weekdays. He ought to see about gettinghimself a rubber collar--which had the advantage that one could washit oneself; cuffs he regarded as a further desideratum. But thatneeded money, and the mighty sum of five kroner, with which he hadset out to conquer the world, or, at the worst, to buy it--well, thetown had enticed it out of his pocket before he was aware of it. 

Hitherto Father Lasse had taken all very difficult matters uponhimself; but now Pelle stood alone, and had only himself to rely on. Now he stood face to face with life, and he struggled courageouslyforward, like the excellent boy he was. But at times he broke down. And this struggle was a drag upon all his boyish doings andstrivings. 

In the workshop he made himself useful and tried to stand wellwith everybody. He won over little Nikas by drawing a somewhatextravagant representation of his betrothed from a photograph. Theface would not come out quite right; it looked as though some onehad trodden on it; but the clothes and the brooch at the throat werecapital. The picture hung for a week in the workshop, and broughtPelle a wonderful piece of luck: Carlsen, who ran errands for thestone-workers, ordered two large pictures, one of himself and one ofhis wife, at the rate of twenty-five ore apiece. "But you must showa few curls in my hair, " he said, "for my mother's always wished Ihad curls. "

Pelle could not promise the pictures in less than two months' time;it was tedious work if they were to be accurate. 

"Well, well; we can't spare the money sooner. This month there'sthe lottery, and next month the rent to pay. " Pelle could very wellappreciate that, for Carlsen earned eight kroner a week and had ninechildren. But he felt that he could not well reduce the price. Truly, people weren't rolling in money here! And when for once he actuallyhad a shilling in hand, then it was sure to take to its heels underhis very nose, directly he began to rack his brains to decide howit could most usefully be applied: on one such occasion, for example, he had seen, in a huckster's window, a pipe in the form of aboot-leg, which was quite irresistible. 

When the three girls called to him over the garden wall hischildhood found companionship, and he forgot his cares and struggles. He was rather shy of anybody seeing him when he slipped across; hefelt that his intercourse with the children was not to his credit;moreover, they were only "petticoats. " But he felt that he was luckyto be there, where there were curious things which were useful toplay with--Chinese cups and saucers, and weapons from the South SeaIslands. Manna had a necklace of white teeth, sharp and irregular, strung together in a haphazard way, which she maintained were humanteeth, and she had the courage to wear them round her bare neck. And the garden was full of wonderful plants; there were maize, andtobacco, and all sorts of other plants, which were said, in someparts of the world, to grow as thick as corn does at home. 

They were finer of skin than other folk, and they were fragrant ofthe strange places of the world. And he played with them, and theyregarded him with wonder and mended his clothes when he tore them;they made him the center of all their games--even when he was notpresent. There was a secret satisfaction in this--although heaccepted it as a matter of course, it was a portion of all thatfate and good fortune had reserved for him, a slight advance paymentfrom the infinite fairy-tale of life. He longed to rule over themabsolutely, and if they were obstinate he lectured them angrily, sothat they suddenly gave in to him. He knew well enough that everyproper man makes his wife behave submissively. 

So passed the early summer; time was moving onward. The townsfolkhad already, at Whitsuntide, provided themselves with what theyneeded for the summer, and out in the country people had otherthings to think about than trapesing into town with work for theartisans; the coming harvest occupied all their thoughts. Even inthe poorest quarters, where no work was done for the peasants, onerealized how utterly dependent the little town was upon the country. It was as though the town had in a moment forgotten its superiority;the manual workers no longer looked down on the peasants; theylooked longingly toward the fields, spoke of the weather and theprospects of harvest, and had forgotten all their urban interests. If by exception a farmer's cart came through the streets, peopleran to the window to look after it. And as the harvest stood almostat their doors, it seemed as though old memories were calling tothem, and they raised their heads to listen; those who could gave uptheir town life and went into the country to help in the work ofharvest. Both the journeyman and the two apprentices had left theworkshop; Jens and Pelle could comfortably manage the work. 

Pelle saw nothing of this stagnant mood; he was occupied on allsides in keeping a whole skin and getting the utmost out of life;there were thousands of impressions of good and evil which had to beassimilated, and which made a balanced whole--that remarkable thing, the town, of which Pelle never knew whether he felt inclined tobless it or curse it, --or it always held him in suspense. 

And amidst all his activities, Lasse's face rose up before him andmade him feel lonely in the midst of the bustle. Wherever couldFather Lasse be? Would he ever hear of him again? Every day he hadexpected, in reliance on Karna's word, to see him blundering in atthe door, and when anybody fumbled at the door-knocker he felt quitecertain it was Lasse. It became a silent grief in the boy's mind, a note that sounded through all that he undertook. 

V

One Sunday evening, as Pelle was running down East Street, a cartloaded with household goods came jolting in from the country. Pellewas in a great hurry, but was obliged to look at it. The driver satin front, below the load, almost between the horses; he was tall andhad ruddy cheeks, and was monstrously wrapped up, in spite of theheat. "Hallo!" Why, it was the worthy Due, Kalle's son-in-law; andabove him, in the midst of all the lumber, sat Anna and the children, swaying to and fro with the motion of the cart. "Hullo!" Pelle wavedhis cap, and with one spring he had his foot on the shaft and wassitting next to Due, who was laughing all over his face at theencounter. 

"Yes, we've had enough of the farming country, and now we've cometo see if things aren't better here in town, " said Due, in his quietmanner. "And here you are, running about just like you did at home!"There was amazement in his voice. 

Anna came crawling over the load, and smiled down upon him. 

"Have you news of Father Lasse?" Pelle asked her. This was alwayshis question when he met an acquaintance. 

"Yes, that we have--he's just going to buy a farm up on the heath. Now, you devil, are you goin' to behave?" Anna crawled backward, and a child began to cry. Then she reappeared. "Yes, and we wereto remember father to you, and mother, and all the rest. "

But Pelle had no thoughts to spare for Uncle Kalle. 

"Is it up by Stone Farm?" he asked. 

"No--farther to the east, by the Witch's Cell, " said Due. "It is abig piece of land, but it's not much more than stone. So long as hedoesn't ruin himself over it--two have gone smash there before him. He's arranged it together with Karna. "

"Uncle Lasse will know what he's about, " said Anna. "Karna hasfound the money for it; she has something saved. "

Pelle couldn't sit still; his heart leaped in his body at this news. No more uncertainty--no more horrible possibilities: he had hisfather once more! And the dream of Lasse's life was about to befulfilled: he could now put his feet under his own table. He hadbecome a landowner into the bargain, if one didn't use the termtoo precisely; and Pelle himself--why, he was a landowner's son!

By nine o'clock in the evening he had finished everything, and wasable to get off; his blood was pulsing with excitement. .. . Wouldthere be horses? Why, of course; but would there be laborers, too?Had Father Lasse become one of those farmers who pay wages ona quarter-day, and come into town on a Sunday afternoon, theirfur-lined collars up to their ears? Pelle could see the men quiteplainly going up the stairs, one after another, taking off theirwooden shoes and knocking on the door of the office--yes, theywanted to see about an advance on their wages. And Lasse scratchedthe back of his head, looked at them thoughtfully, and said: "Not onany account, you'd only waste it on drink. " But he gave it to themfinally, for all that. "One is much too good-natured, " he said toPelle. .. . 

For Pelle had bidden farewell to cobbling, and was living at homeas a landowner's son. Really, Pelle managed the whole business--onlyit wouldn't do to say so. And at the Christmas feast he danced withthe buxom farmer's daughters. There was whispering in the cornerswhen Pelle made his appearance; but he went straight across the roomand invited the Pastor's daughter to a dance, so that she lost herbreath, and more besides, and begged him on the spot to marry her. .. . 

He hurried onward, still dreaming; longing drew him onward, andbefore he knew it he had travelled some miles along the high-road. The road he now turned into led him by pine woods and heath-coveredhills; the houses he passed were poorer, and the distance from oneto another was increasing. 

Pelle took a turning a little farther on, which, to the best of hisknowledge, led in the required direction, and hurried forward withawakened senses. The landscape was only half revealed by the summernight, but it was all as familiar as the mends in the back of FatherLasse's waistcoat, although he had never been here before. Thepoverty-stricken landscape spoke to him as with a mother's voice. Among these clay-daubed huts, the homes of poor cultivators whowaged war upon the rocky ground surrounding their handful of soil, he felt safe as he had never felt before. All this had been histhrough many generations, down to the rags thrust into the brokenwindow-panes and the lumber piled upon the thatch to secure it. Herewas nothing for any one to rack his brains over, as elsewhere in theworld; here a man could lie down at peace and rest. Yet it was notfor him to till the ground and to dwell amid all these things. Forhe had outgrown them, as he had outgrown the shelter of his mother'sskirts. 

The lane gradually became a deep cart-track, which meandered betweenrocks and moorland. Pelle knew that he ought to keep to the east, but the track went now to the south, now to the north. He soon hadenough of it, noted his direction exactly, and struck off obliquely. But it was difficult to make his way; the moonlight deceived hiseyes so that he stumbled and sank into hollows, while the heatherand the juniper reached as high as his waist, and hampered everymovement. And then he turned obstinate, and would not turn back tothe cart-track, but labored forward, so that he was soon steamingwith heat; clambering over slanting ridges of rock, which wereslippery with the dewfall on the moss, and letting himself tumbleat hazard over the ledges. A little too late he felt a depth belowhim; it was as though a cold wave washed through his heart, and heclutched wildly at the air for some support. "Father Lasse!" hecried woefully; and at the same moment he was caught by brambles, and sank slowly down through their interwoven runners, which strucktheir myriad claws into him and reluctantly let him pass, until hewas cautiously deposited, deep down among the sharp stones at thebottom of a ravine, shuddering and thanking his stars for all thethorns that had mercifully flayed his hide in order that he shouldnot split his skull. Then he must needs grope forward, through thedarkness and running water, until he found a tree and was able toclimb to the surface. 

Now he had lost his bearings, and when that became clear he lost hishead as well. Nothing was left of the confident Pelle of a while ago;he ran blindly forward, in order to reach the summit of the hill. And as he was hastening upward, so that he might take note of thecrags that lay about him, the ground rose and closed above him witha frightful clamor, and the air turned black and full of noises, andhe could not see his hand before his eyes. It was like a stupendousexplosion--as though released by his cheerful stamping over therocks, the earth was hurled into the sky and dissolved in darkness, and the darkness itself cried aloud with terror and eddied round him. His heart pounded in his breast and robbed him of his last remnantof understanding; he jumped for sheer unbridled terror and bellowedlike a maniac. The black mass drove over his head, so that he wasforced to duck, and gleaming rifts showed and disappeared; and thedarkness surged like the ocean and cried continually aloud with ahellish chaos of sounds. Then it suddenly swung to one side, driftednorthward, and descended. And Pelle understood that he had stumbledupon a rookery. 

He found himself behind a great rock. How he got there he did notknow; but he knew that he was a terrible duffer. How easily he couldhave brought confusion on the fifty-odd crows by tossing a fewstones into the air!

He went along the slope, very valiant in his resolve, but withshaking knees. In the far distance a fox sat upon a cliff and howledinsanely at the moon, and far to the north and the south lay atransient glimmer of sea. Up here subterranean creatures had theirhome; when one trod upon the rock it sounded hollow. 

In the southern opening the sea lay silver in the moonlight, butas Pelle looked again it disappeared, and the low-lying plain wasdrowned in white. In every direction the land was disappearing;Pelle watched in amazement while the sea slowly rose and filledevery hollow. Then it closed above the lesser hills; one by one itswallowed them, and then it took the long ridge of hills to the east, until only the crests of the pine-trees lifted themselves above it;but Pelle did not as yet give himself up for lost; for behind allhis anxiety lay a confused conception of Mount Ararat, which keptup his courage. But then it became so dreadfully cold that Pelle'sbreeches seemed to stick to his body. "That's the water, " he thought, and he looked round in alarm; the rock had become a little island, and he and it were floating on the ocean. 

Pelle was a sturdy little realist, who had already had all manner ofexperiences. But now the fear had at last curdled his blood, and heaccepted the supernatural without a protest. The world had evidentlyperished, and he himself was drifting--drifting out into space, andspace was terribly cold. Father Lasse, and the workshop, Manna andthe young master's shining eyes--here was an end of them all. He didnot mourn them; he simply felt terribly lonely. What would be theend of it all--or was this perhaps death? Had he perhaps fallen deada little while ago, when he tumbled over the precipice? And was henow voyaging toward the land of the blessed? Or was this the end ofthe world itself, of which he had heard such dreadful things said, as far back as he could remember? Perhaps he was adrift on the lastscrap of earth, and was the only person still living? It did not inthe least surprise Pelle that he should be left where everybody elsehad perished; in this moment of despair he found it quite natural. 

He stood breathlessly silent and listened to the infinite; and heheard the cudgel-like blows of his pulses. Still he listened, andnow he heard something more: far away in the night that surgedagainst his ears he heard the suggestion of a sound, the vibratingnote of some living creature. Infinitely remote and faint though itwas, yet Pelle was so aware of it that it thrilled him all through. It was a cow feeding on the chain; he could follow the sound of herneck scrubbing up and down against the post. 

He ran down over the craggy declivity, fell, and was again on hisfeet and running forward; the mist had swallowed him unawares. Thenhe was down on arable that had once been woodland; then he trod onsomething that felt familiar as it brushed against his feet--it wasland that had once been ploughed but had now been recaptured by theheath. The sound grew louder, and changed to all those familiarsounds that one hears at night coming from an open cowshed; andnow a decayed farmhouse showed through the mist. This could not ofcourse be the farm Pelle was looking for--Father Lasse had a properfarmhouse with four wings! But he went forward. 

Out in the country people do not lock everything up as carefully asthey do in town; so Pelle could walk right in. Directly he openedthe door of the sitting-room he was filled with an uplifting joy. The most comfortable odor he had ever known struck upon his senses--the foundation of everything fragrant--the scent of Father Lasse!It was dark in the room, and the light of the night without couldnot make its way through the low window. He heard the deep breathingof persons asleep, and knew that they had not awakened--the nightwas not nearly over yet. "Good-evening!" he said. 

A hand began to grope for the matches. 

"Is any one there?" said a drowsy woman's voice. 

"Good-evening!" he cried again, and went forward into the room. "It's Pelle!" He brought out the name in a singsong voice. 

"So it's you, boy!" Lasse's voice quavered, and the hands could notmanage the matches; but Pelle stepped toward the voice and claspedhis wrist. "And how did you find your way here in the wilderness--and at night, too? Yes, yes, I'll get up!" he continued, and hetried, with a groan, to sit up. 

"No, you stop there and let me get up, " said Karna, who lay againstthe wall--she had kept silence while the men-folk were speaking. "Hegets this lumbago, I can tell you!" she declared, jumping out of bed. 

"Ay, I've been at it a bit too hard. Work comes easy when a man'shis own master--it's difficult to leave off. But it'll be all rightwhen once I've got things properly going. Work's a good embrocationfor the lumbago. And how goes it with you then? I was near believingyou must be dead!"

So Pelle had to sit on the edge of the bed and tell about everythingin town--about the workshop, and the young master's lame leg, andeverything. But he said nothing of the disagreeable things; it wasnot for men to dwell upon such things. 

"Then you've been getting on well in foreign parts!" said Lasse, delighted. "And do they think well of you?"

"Yes!" This came a trifle slowly. In the first place, respect wasjust particularly what he had not won--but why trumpet forth hismiseries? "The young master must like me--he often chats with me, even over the journeyman's head. "

"Now, think of that! I have often wondered, I can tell you, how youwere getting on, and whether we shouldn't soon have good news ofyou. But everything takes time, that we know. And as you see, I'min a very different position. "

"Yes, you've become a landowner!" said Pelle, smiling. 

"The deuce, yes, so I am!" Lasse laughed, too, but then he groanedpiteously with the pain in his back. "In the daytime, when I'mworking hard, I get along well enough, but as soon as I lie down, then it comes on directly. And it's the devil of a pain--as thoughthe wheels of a heavy loaded wagon were going to and fro across yourback, whatever name you like to give it. Well, well! It's a finething, all the same, to be your own master! It's funny how it takesme--but dry bread tastes better to me at my own table than--yes, byGod, I can tell you, it tastes better than cake at any other body'stable! And then to be all alone on your own bit of land, and to beable to spit wherever you like to spit, without asking anybody'sleave! And the soil isn't so bad; even if most of it has never beenunder cultivation, it has all been lying there storing up its powerto produce since the beginning of the world. But about the peoplein the town--are they agreeable?"

Oh, Pelle had nothing to complain about. "But when were youmarried?" he asked suddenly. 

"Well, you see, " and Lasse began to stumble over his own words, although he had been prepared for the boy to ask this very question;"in a way we aren't exactly married. That takes money, and the workhere is getting forward. .. . But it's our intention, I needn't say, as soon as we have time and money. " It was honestly Lasse's opinionthat one could just as well dispense with the ceremony; at leastuntil children came, and demanded an honorable birth. But he couldsee that Pelle did not relish the idea; he was still the samepedantic little chap the moment a point of honor was in question. "As soon as we've got the harvest under shelter we'll invite peopleto a grand feast, " he said resolutely. 

Pelle nodded eagerly. Now he was a landowner's son, and he couldmake the shabby-genteel boys of the town envious of him. But theymustn't be able to throw it in his face that his father was "livingwith a woman!"

Now Karna came in with some food. She looked at the boy with muchaffection. "Now, fall to, and don't despise our poor table, my son, "she said, and gave his arm a friendly pat. Pelle fell to with a goodappetite. Lasse hung half out of the alcove, delighted. 

"You haven't lost your appetite down there, " he said. "Do you getanything decent to eat? Karna thought the food wasn't any too good. "

"It's passable!" said Pelle obstinately. He repented of havingbetrayed himself to Karna that evening, when he was so depressed. 

The desire to eat awoke in Lasse, so that little by little he creptout of the alcove. "You are sitting alone there, " he said, andsat down at the table in his nightcap and pants. He was wearinga knitted nightcap, one end of which fell loosely over his ear. Helooked like a genuine old farmer, one that had money in his mattress. And Karna, who was moving to and fro while the menfolk ate, had around, comfortable figure, and was carrying a big bread-knife inher hand. She inspired confidence, and she too looked a regularfarmer's wife. 

A place was found for Pelle on the bed. He extinguished the tallowdip before he undressed, and thrust his underclothing under thepillow. 

He woke late; the sun had already left the eastern heavens. The mostdelicious smell of coffee filled the room. Pelle started up hastily, in order to dress himself before Karna could come in and espy hiscondition; he felt under the pillow--and his shirt was no longerthere! And his stockings lay on a stool, and they had been darned!

"When Karna came in he lay motionless, in obstinate silence; he didnot reply to her morning salutation, and kept his eyes turned towardthe alcove. She ought not to have gone rummaging among his things!

"I've taken your shirt and washed it, " she said serenely, "but youcan have it again this evening. After all, you can wear this untilthen. " She laid one of Lasse's shirts on the coverlet. 

Pelle lay there for a time as though he had not heard Karna. Then hesat up, feeling very cross and got into the shirt. "No, stay thereuntil you've drunk your coffee, " she said as he attempted to get up, and she placed a stool by him. And so Pelle had his coffee in bed, as he had dreamed it was to happen when Father Lasse remarried;and he could not go on feeling angry. But he was still burning withshame, and that made him taciturn. 

During the morning Lasse and Pelle went out and inspectedthe property. 

"It'll be best if we go round it first; then you will see plainlywhere the boundary lies, " said Lasse, who knew that the dimensionsof the place would be a surprise to Pelle. They wandered throughheather and brambles and thorns, striking across the moorland andskirting precipitous slopes. It was several hours before they hadfinished their round. 

"It's an awfully large holding, " Pelle said again and again. 

And Lasse answered proudly. "Yes, there's nearly seventy acreshere--if only it were all tilled!"

It was virgin soil, but it was overrun with heather and juniper-scrub, through which brambles and honeysuckle twined their way. Halfway up a perpendicular wall of rock hung the ash and the wildcherry, gripping the bare cliff with roots that looked like crippledhands. Crab-apple trees, sloe-bushes and wild rose-briars made animpenetrable jungle, which already bore traces of Lasse's exertions. And in the midst of this luxuriant growth the rocky subsoilprotruded its grim features, or came so near the surface thatthe sun had scorched the roots of the herbage. 

"That's a proper little Paradise, " said Lasse; "you can scarcelyset foot in it without treading on the berries. But it's got to beturned into arable if one is to live here. 

"Isn't the soil rather middling?" said Pelle. 

"Middling--when all that can grow and flourish there?" Lasse pointedto where birch and aspen stood waving their shining foliage to andfro in the breeze. "No, but it'll be a damned rough bit of work toget it ready for ploughing; I'm sorry now that you aren't at home. "

Lasse had several times made this allusion, but Pelle was deaf to it. All this was not what he had imagined; he felt no desire to play thelandowner's son at home in the way Lasse had in mind. 

"It'll be trouble enough here to manage about your daily bread, "he said, with remarkable precocity. 

"Oh, it won't be so difficult to earn our daily bread, even if wecan't hold a feast every day, " said Lasse, affronted. "And here atany rate a man can straighten his back without having a bailiff comeyapping round him. Even if I were to work myself to death here, atleast I've done with slavery. And you must not forget the pleasureof seeing the soil coming under one's hands, day after day, andyielding something instead of lying there useless. That is indeedthe finest task a man can perform--to till the earth and make itfruitful--I can think of none better! But you--have you lost thefarmer's instinct in town?"

Pelle did not reply. Although there might be something fine andsplendid in working oneself to death over a bit of land, just sothat something different might grow there, he himself was glad thathe did not possess this farmer's instinct. 

"My father, and his father, and all of our family I have ever known, we've all had something in us so that we've been driven to improvethe soil, without thinking of our own comfort. But it certainlynever entered the mind of one of us that we should ever hear it illspoken of--and by one of our own people too!" Lasse spoke with hisface turned away--as did the Almighty when He was wroth with Hispeople; and Pelle felt as though he were a hateful renegade, asbad as bad could be. But nevertheless he would not give in. 

"I should be no use at all here, " he said apologetically, gazingin the direction of the sea. "I don't believe in it. "

"No, you've cut yourself loose from it all, you have!" retortedLasse bitterly. "But you'll repent it some day, in the long run. Life among the strangers there isn't all splendor and enjoyment. "

Pelle did not answer; he felt at that moment too much of a man tobandy words. He contained himself, and they went onward in silence. 

"Well, of course, it isn't an estate, " said Lasse suddenly, in orderto take the sting out of further criticism. Pelle was still silent. 

Round the house the land was cultivated, and all round thecultivated land the luxuriant heather revealed disappearing tracesof cultivation, and obliterated furrows. 

"This was a cornfield once, " said Pelle. 

"Well, to think of your seeing that right off!" exclaimed Lasse, half sarcastically, half in real admiration. "The deuce of an eyeyou've got, you truly have! I should certainly have noticed nothingparticular about the heath--if I had not known. Yes, that has beenunder cultivation, but the heath has won it back again! That wasunder my predecessor, who took in more than he could work, so thatit ruined him. But you can see now that something can be done withthe land!" Lasse pointed to a patch of rye, and Pelle was obligedto recognize that it looked very well. But through the whole lengthof the field ran high ridges of broken stone, which told him whata terrible labor this soil demanded before it could be brought undercultivation. Beyond the rye lay newly-broken soil, which looked likea dammed-up ice-field; the plough had been driven through merepatches of soil. Pelle looked at it all, and it made him sad tothink of his father. 

Lasse himself was undismayed. 

"As it is, it needs two to hold the plough. Karna is very strong, but even so it's as though one's arms would be torn from one's bodyevery time the plough strikes. And most of it has to be broken upwith pick and drill--and now and again it takes a bit of a sneeze. I use dynamite; it's more powerful than powder, and it bites downinto the ground better, " he said proudly. 

"How much is under cultivation here?" asked Pelle. 

"With meadow and garden, almost fourteen acres; but it will be morebefore the year is out. "

"And two families have been ruined already by those fourteen acres, "said Karna, who had come out to call them in to dinner. 

"Yes, yes; God be merciful to them--and now we get the fruit oftheir labors! The parish won't take the farm away again--not fromus, " he said. Lasse spoke in a tone full of self-reliance. Pellehad never seen him stand so upright. 

"I can never feel quite easy about it, " said Karna; "it's as thoughone were ploughing up churchyard soil. The first who was turned outby the parish hanged himself, so they say. "

"Yes, he had a hut on the heath there--where you see the elder-trees--but it's fallen to pieces since then. I'm so glad it didn't happenin the house. " Lasse shuddered uncomfortably. "People say he hauntsthe place when any misfortune is in store for those that come afterhim. "

"Then the house was built later?" asked Pelle, astonished, for ithad such a tumble-down appearance. 

"Yes, my predecessor built that. He got the land from the parishfree for twenty years, provided he built a house and tilled a tondeof land a year. Those were not such bad conditions. Only he tookin too much at a time; he was one of those people who rake awayfiercely all the morning and have tired themselves out before midday. But he built the house well"--and Lasse kicked the thin mud-daubedwall--"and the timber-work is good. I think I shall break a lotof stone when the winter comes; the stone must be got out of theway, and it isn't so bad to earn a few hundred kroner. And in twoor three years we will make the old house into a barn and buildourselves a new house--eh, Karna? With a cellar underneath and highsteps outside, like they have at Stone Farm. It could be of unhewngranite, and I can manage the walls myself. "

Karna beamed with joy, but Pelle could not enter into their mood. Hewas disillusioned; the descent from his dream to this naked realitywas too great. And a feeling rose within him of dull resentmentagainst this endless labor, which, inexperienced though he was, was yet part of his very being by virtue of the lives of ten, nay, twenty generations. He himself had not waged the hard-fought waragainst the soil, but he had as a matter of course understoodeverything that had to do with tilling the soil ever since he couldcrawl, and his hands had an inborn aptitude for spade and rake andplough. But he had not inherited his father's joy in the soil;his thoughts had struck out in a new direction. Yet this endlessbondage to the soil lay rooted in him, like a hatred, which gave hima survey unknown to his father. He was reasonable; he did not losehis head at the sight of seventy acres of land, but asked what theycontained. He himself was not aware of it, but his whole being wasquick with hostility toward the idea of spending one's strength inthis useless labor; and his point of view was as experienced asthough he had been Lasse's father. 

"Wouldn't you have done better to buy a cottage-holding with twelveor fourteen acres of land, and that in a good state of cultivation?"he asked. 

Lasse turned on him impatiently. "Yes, and then a man might stintand save all his life, and never get beyond cutting off his flyto mend his seat; he'd most likely spend twice what he made! Whatthe deuce! I might as well have stayed where I was. Here, it's true, I do work harder and I have to use my brains more, but then there'sa future before me. When I've once got the place under cultivationthis will be a farm to hold its own with any of them!" Lasse gazedproudly over his holding; in his mind's eye it was waving with grainand full of prime cattle. 

"It would carry six horses and a score or two of cows easily, " hesaid aloud. "That would bring in a nice income! What do you think, Karna?"

"I think the dinner will be cold, " said Karna, laughing. She wasperfectly happy. 

At dinner Lasse proposed that Pelle should send his clothes tobe washed and mended at home. "You've certainly got enough to dowithout that, " he said indulgently. "Butcher Jensen goes to marketevery Saturday; he'd take it for you and put it down by the church, and it would be odd if on a Sunday no one from the heath went tochurch, who could bring the bundle back to us. "

But Pelle suddenly turned stubborn and made no reply. 

"I just thought it would be too much for you to wash and mend foryourself, " said Lasse patiently. "In town one must have other thingsto think about, and then it isn't really proper work for a man!"

"I'll do it myself all right, " murmured Pelle ungraciously. 

Now he would show them that he could keep himself decent. It waspartly in order to revenge himself for his own neglect that herefused the offer. 

"Yes, yes, " said Lasse meekly; "I just asked you. I hope you won'ttake it amiss. "

However strong Karna might be, and however willing to help ineverything, Lasse did greatly feel the need of a man to work withhim. Work of a kind that needed two had accumulated, and Pelle didnot spare himself. The greater part of the day was spent in heavinggreat stones out of the soil and dragging them away; Lasse hadknocked a sledge together, and the two moorland horses wereharnessed up to it. 

"Yes, you mustn't look at them too closely, " said Lasse, as hestroked the two scarecrows caressingly. "Just wait until a fewmonths have gone by, and then you'll see! But they've plenty ofspirit now. "

There was much to be done, and the sweat was soon pouring down theirfaces; but they were both in good spirits. Lasse was surprised atthe boy's strength--with two or three such lads he could turn thewhole wilderness over. Once again he sighed that Pelle was notliving at home; but to this Pelle still turned a deaf ear. Andbefore they were aware of it Karna had come out again and wascalling them to supper. 

"I think we'll harness the horses and drive Pelle halfway to town--as a reward for the work he's done, " said Lasse gaily. "And we'veboth earned a drive. " So the two screws were put into the cart. 

It was amusing to watch Lasse; he was a notable driver, and onecould not but be almost persuaded that he had a pair of blood horsesin front of him. When they met any one he would cautiously gather upthe reins in order to be prepared lest the horses should shy--"theymight so easily bolt, " he said solemnly. And when he succeeded ininducing them to trot he was delighted. "They take some holding, " hewould say, and to look at him you would have thought they called fora strong pair of wrists. "Damn it all, I believe I shall have to putthe curb on them!" And he set both his feet against the dashboard, and sawed the reins to and fro. 

When half the distance was covered Father Lasse wanted to drivejust a little further, and again a little further still--oh, well, then, they might as well drive right up to the house! He had quiteforgotten that the following day would be a day of hard labor bothfor himself and for the horses. But at last Pelle jumped out. 

"Shan't we arrange that about your washing?" asked Lasse. 

"No!" Pelle turned his face away--surely they might stop askinghim that!

"Well, well, take care of yourself, and thanks for your help. You'll come again as soon as you can?"

Pelle smiled at them, but said nothing; he dared not open his mouth, for fear of the unmanly lump that had risen in his throat. Silentlyhe held out his hand and ran toward the town. 

VI

The other apprentices were able to provide themselves with clothes, as they worked on their own account in their own time; they got workfrom their friends, and at times they pirated the master's customers, by underbidding him in secret. They kept their own work under thebench; when the master was not at home they got it out and proceededwith it. "To-night I shall go out and meet my girl, " they would say, laughing. Little Nikas said nothing at all. 

Pelle had no friends to give him work, and he could not have donemuch. If the others had much to do after work-hours or on Sundayshe had to help them; but he gained nothing by so doing. And he alsohad Nilen's shoes to keep mended, for old acquaintances' sake. 

Jeppe lectured them at great length on the subject of tips, ashe had promised; for the townsfolk had been complaining of thisburdensome addition to their expenditure, and in no measuredterms had sworn either to abate or abolish this tax on all retailtransactions. But it was only because they had read of the matterin the newspapers, and didn't want to be behind the capital! Theyalways referred to the subject when Pelle went round with his shoes, and felt in their purses; if there was a shilling there they wouldhide it between their fingers, and say that he should have somethingnext time for certain--he must remind them of it another time! Atfirst he did remind them--they had told him to do so--but then Jeppereceived a hint that his youngest apprentice must stop his attemptsat swindling. Pelle could not understand it, but he conceived anincreasing dislike of these people, who could resort to such ashameless trick in order to save a penny piece, which they wouldnever have missed. 

Pelle, who had been thinking that he had had enough of the worldof poor folk, and must somehow contrive to get into another class, learned once again to rely on the poor, and rejoiced over every pairof poor folk's shoes which the master anathematized because theywere so worn out. The poor were not afraid to pay a shilling if theyhad one; it made him feel really sad to see how they would search inevery corner to get a few pence together, and empty their children'smoney-boxes, while the little ones stood by in silence, looking onwith mournful eyes. And if he did not wish to accept their moneythey were offended. The little that he did receive he owed to peoplewho were as poor as himself. 

Money, to these folk, no longer consisted of those round, indifferent objects which people in the upper strata of humansociety piled up in whole heaps. Here every shilling meant so muchsuffering or happiness, and a grimy little copper would still theman's angry clamor and the child's despairing cry for food. WidowHoest gave him a ten-ore piece, and he could not help reflectingthat she had given him her mid-day meal for two days to come!

One day, as he was passing the miserable hovels which lay out bythe northern dunes, a poor young woman came to her door and calledto him; she held the remains of a pair of elastic-sided boots in herhand. "Oh, shoemaker's boy, do be so kind as to mend these a bit forme!" she pleaded. "Just sew them up anyhow, so that they'll stickon my feet for half the evening. The stone-masons are giving theirfeast, and I do so want to go to it!" Pelle examined the boots;there was not much to be done for them, nevertheless he took them, and mended them in his own time. He learned from Jens that the womanwas the widow of a stone-cutter, who was killed by an explosionshortly after their marriage. The boots looked quite decent whenhe returned them. 

"Well, I've no money, but I do offer you many, many thanks!" shesaid, looking delightedly at the boots; "and how nice you've madethem look! God bless you for it. "

"Thanks killed the blacksmith's cat, " said Pelle smiling. Herpleasure was contagious. 

"Yes, and God's blessing falls where two poor people share theirbed, " the young woman rejoined jestingly. "Still, I wish youeverything good as payment--now I can dance after all!"

Pelle was quite pleased with himself as he made off. But few doorsfarther on another poor woman accosted him; she had evidently heardof the success of the first, and there she stood holding a dirtypair of children's boots, which she earnestly begged him to mend. He took the boots and repaired them although it left him stillpoorer; he knew too well what need was to refuse. This was the firsttime that any one in the town had regarded him as an equal, andrecognized him at the first glance as a fellow-creature. Pellepondered over this; he did not know that poverty is cosmopolitan. 

When he went out after the day's work he took a back seat; he wentabout with the poorest boys and behaved as unobtrusively as possible. But sometimes a desperate mood came over him, and at times he wouldmake himself conspicuous by behavior that would have made old Lasseweep; as, for example, when he defiantly sat upon a freshly-tarredbollard. He became thereby the hero of the evening; but as soon ashe was alone he went behind a fence and let down his breeches inorder to ascertain the extent of the damage. He had been running hiserrands that day in the best clothes he possessed. This was no joke. Lasse had deeply imbued him with his own moderation, and had taughthim to treat his things carefully, so that it seemed to Pelle almosta pious duty. But Pelle felt himself forsaken by all the gods, andnow he defied them. 

The poor women in the streets were the only people who had eyes forhim. "Now look at the booby, wearing his confirmation jacket on aweekday!" they would say, and call him over in order to give him alecture, which as a rule ended in an offer to repair the damage. Butit was all one to Pelle; if he ran about out-of-doors in his bestclothes he was only doing as the town did. At all events he hada shirt on, even if it was rather big! And the barber's assistanthimself, who looked most important in tail-coat and top-hat, and wasthe ideal of every apprentice, did not always wear a shirt; Pellehad once noticed that fact as the youth was swinging some ladies. Up in the country, where a man was appraised according to the numberof his shirts, such a thing would have been impossible. But here intown people did not regard such matters so strictly. 

He was no longer beside himself with astonishment at the number ofpeople--respectable folk for the most part--who had no abiding placeanywhere, but all through the year drifted in the most casual mannerfrom one spot to another. Yet the men looked contented, had wivesand children, went out on Sundays, and amused themselves; and afterall why should one behave as if the world was coming to an endbecause one hadn't a barrel of salt pork or a clamp of potatoes tosee one through the winter? Recklessness was finally Pelle's refugetoo; when all the lights seemed to have gone out of the future ithelped him to take up the fairy-tale of life anew, and lent a glamorto naked poverty. Imagination entered even into starvation: are youor are you not going to die of it?

Pelle was poor enough for everything to be still before him, andhe possessed the poor man's alert imagination; the great world andthe romance of life were the motives that drew him through the void, that peculiar music of life which is never silent, but murmurs tothe reckless and the careful alike. Of the world he knew well enoughthat it was something incomprehensibly vast--something that wasalways receding; yet in eighty days one could travel right round it, to the place where men walk about with their heads downward, andback again, and experience all its wonders. He himself had set outinto this incomprehensible world, and here he was, stranded inthis little town, where there was never a crumb to feed a hungryimagination; nothing but a teeming confusion of petty cares. Onefelt the cold breath of the outer winds, and the dizziness of greatspaces; when the little newspaper came the small tradesmen andemployers would run eagerly across the street, their spectacles ontheir noses, and would speak, with gestures of amazement, of thethings that happened outside. "China, " they would say; "America!"and fancy that they themselves made part of the bustling world. ButPelle used to wish most ardently that something great and wonderfulmight wander thither and settle down among them just for once! Hewould have been quite contented with a little volcano underfoot, so that the houses would begin to sway and bob to one another; ora trifling inundation, so that ships would ride over the town, andhave to moor themselves to the weather-cock on the church steeple. He had an irrational longing that something of this kind shouldhappen, something to drive the blood from his heart and make hishair stand on end. But now he had enough to contend against apartfrom matters of this sort; the world must look after itself untiltimes were better. 

It was more difficult to renounce the old fairy-tales, for povertyitself had sung them into his heart, and they spoke to him withFather Lasse's quivering voice. "A rich child often lies in a poormother's lap, " his father used to say, when he prophesied concerninghis son's future, and the saying sank deep into the boy's mind, likethe refrain of a song. But he had learned this much, that there wereno elephants here, on whose necks a plucky youngster could rideastraddle, in order to ride down the tiger which was on the pointof tearing the King of the Himalayas to pieces so that he would ofcourse receive the king's daughter and half his kingdom as a rewardfor his heroic deed. Pelle often loitered about the harbor, but nobeautifully dressed little girl ever fell into the water, so that hemight rescue her, and then, when he was grown up, make her his wife. And if such a thing did really happen he knew now that his elderswould cheat him out of any tip he might receive. And he had quitegiven up looking for the golden coach which was to run over him, so that the two terrified ladies, who would be dressed in mourning, would take him into their carriage and carry him off to their six-storied castle! Of course, they would adopt him permanently in placeof the son which they had just lost, and who, curiously enough, wasexactly the same age as himself. No, there were no golden coacheshere!

Out in the great world the poorest boy had the most wonderfulprospects; all the great men the books had ever heard of had beenpoor lads like himself, who had reached their high estate throughgood fortune and their own valor. But all the men in town whopossessed anything had attained their wealth by wearily ploddingforward and sucking the blood of the poor. They were always sittingand brooding over their money, and they threw nothing away for alucky fellow to pick up; and they left nothing lying about, lestsome poor lad should come and take it. Not one of them consideredit beneath him to pick up an old trouser-button off the pavement, and carry it home. 

One evening Pelle was running out to fetch half a pound of canistertobacco for Jeppe. In front of the coal-merchant's house the big dog, as always, made for his legs, and he lost the twenty-five-ore piece. While he was looking for it, an elderly man came up to him. Pelleknew him very well; he was Monsen the shipowner, the richest manin the town. 

"Have you lost something, my lad?" he asked, and began to assistin the search. 

"Now he will question me, " thought Pelle. "And then I shall answerhim boldly, and then he will look at me attentively and say--"

Pelle was always hoping for some mysterious adventure, such ashappens to an able lad and raises him to fortune. 

But the shipowner did nothing he was expected to do. He merelysearched eagerly, and inquired: "Where were you walking? Here, weren't you? Are you quite certain of that?"

"In any case he'll give me another twenty-five ore, " thought Pelle. "Extraordinary--how eager he is!" Pelle did not really want to go onsearching, but he could not very well leave off before the other. 

"Well, well!" said the shipowner at last, "you may as well whistlefor those twenty-five ore. But what a booby you are!" And he movedon, and Pelle looked after him for a long while before putting hishand into his own pocket. 

Later, as he was returning that way, he saw a man bowed over theflagstones, striking matches as he searched. It was Monsen. Thesight tickled Pelle tremendously. "Have you lost anything?" he askedmischievously, standing on the alert, lest he should get a box onthe ear. "Yes, yes; twenty-five ore;" groaned the shipowner. "Can'tyou help me to find it, my boy?"

Well, he had long understood that Monsen was the richest man in thetown, and that he had become so by provisioning ships with spoiledfoodstuffs, and refitting old crank vessels, which he heavilyinsured. And he knew who was a thief and who a bankrupt speculator, and that Merchant Lau only did business with the little shopkeepers, because his daughter had gone to the bad. Pelle knew the secretpride of the town, the "Top-galeass, " as she was called, who in hersole self represented the allurements of the capital, and he knewthe two sharpers, and the consul with the disease which was eatinghim up. All this was very gratifying knowledge for one of therejected. 

He had no intention of letting the town retain any trace of thosesplendors with which he had once endowed it. In his constantramblings he stripped it to the buff. For instance, there stood thehouses of the town, some retiring, some standing well forward, butall so neat on the side that faced the street, with their wonderfulold doorways and flowers in every window. Their neatly tarredframework glistened, and they were always newly lime-washed, ochrousyellow or dazzling white, sea-green, or blue as the sky. And onSundays there was quite a festive display of flags. But Pelle hadexplored the back quarters of every house; and there were sinks andtraps there, with dense slimy growths, and stinking refuse-barrels, and one great dustbin with a drooping elder-tree over it. And thespaces between the cobble-stones were foul with the scales ofherrings and the guts of codfish, and the lower portions of thewalls were covered with patches of green moss. 

The bookbinder and his wife went about hand in hand when they setout for the meeting of some religious society. But at home theyfought, and in chapel, as they sat together and sang out of thesame hymn-book, they would secretly pinch one another's legs. "Yes, "people used to say, "such a nice couple!" But the town couldn'tthrow dust in Pelle's eyes; he knew a thing or two. If only he hadknown just how to get himself a new blouse!

Some people didn't go without clothes so readily; they wereforever making use of that fabulous thing--credit! At first it tookhis breath away to discover that the people here in the town goteverything they wanted without paying money for it. "Will you pleaseput it down?" they would say, when they came for their boots; and"it's to be entered, " he himself would say, when he made a purchasefor his employers. All spoke the same magical formula, and Pelle wasreminded of Father Lasse, who had counted his shillings over a scoreof times before he ventured to buy anything. He anticipated muchfrom this discovery, and it was his intention to make good use ofthe magic words when his own means became exhausted. 

Now, naturally, he was wiser. He had discovered that the very poormust always go marketing with their money in their hands, and evenfor the others there came a day of reckoning. The master alreadyspoke with horror of the New Year; and it was very unfortunate forhis business that the leather-sellers had got him in their pocket, so that he could not buy his material where it was cheapest. Allthe small employers made the same complaint. 

But the fairy-tale of credit was not yet exhausted--there wasstill a manner of drawing a draft upon fortune, which could be keptwaiting, and on the future, which redeems all drafts. Credit wasa spark of poetry in the scramble of life; there were people goingabout who were poor as church mice, yet they played the lord. Alfredwas such a lucky fellow; he earned not a red cent, but was alwaysdressed like a counter-jumper, and let himself want for nothing. Ifhe took a fancy to anything he simply went in and got it on "tick";and he was never refused. His comrades envied him and regarded himas a child of fortune. 

Pelle himself had a little flirtation with fortune. One day he wentgaily into a shop, in order to procure himself some underclothing. When he asked for credit they looked at him as though he could notbe quite sane, and he had to go away without effecting his object. "There must be some secret about it that I don't know, " he thought;and he dimly remembered another boy, who couldn't stir the pot tocook his porridge or lay the table for himself, because he didn'tknow the necessary word. He sought Alfred forthwith in order toreceive enlightenment. 

Alfred was wearing new patent braces, and was putting on his collar. On his feet were slippers with fur edging, which looked like feedingpigeons. "I got them from a shopkeeper's daughter, " he said; and hecoquetted with his legs; "she's quite gone on me. A nice girl too--only there's no money. "

Pelle explained his requirements. 

"Shirts! shirts!" Alfred chortled with delight, and clapped hishands before his face. "Good Lord, he wants to gets shirts on tick!If only they had been linen shirts!" He was near bursting withlaughter. 

Pelle tried again. As a peasant--for he was still that--he hadthought of shirts first of all; but now he wanted a summer overcoatand rubber cuffs. "Why do you want credit?" asked the shopkeeper, hesitating. "Are you expecting any money? Or is there any one whowill give you a reference?"

No, Pelle didn't want to bring any one else into it; it was simplythat he had no money. 

"Then wait until you have, " said the shopkeeper surlily. "We don'tclothe paupers!" Pelle slunk away abashed. 

"You're a fool!" said Alfred shortly. "You are just like Albinus--hecan never learn how to do it!"

"How do you do it then?" asked Pelle meekly. 

"How do I do it--how do I do it?" Alfred could give no explanation;"it just came of itself. But naturally I don't tell them that I'mpoor! No, you'd better leave it alone--it'll never succeed with you!"

"Why do you sit there and pinch your upper lip?" asked Pellediscontentedly. 

"Pinch? You goat, I'm stroking my moustache!"

VII

On Saturday afternoon Pelle was busily sweeping the street. It wasgetting on for evening; in the little houses there was alreadya fire in the grate; one could hear it crackling at BuilderRasmussen's and Swedish Anders', and the smell of broiled herringsfilled the street. The women were preparing something extra good inorder to wheedle their husbands when they came home with the week'swages. Then they ran across to the huckster's for schnaps and beer, leaving the door wide open behind them; there was just half a minuteto spare while the herring was getting cooked on the one side! Andnow Pelle sniffed it afar off--Madame Rasmussen was tattling awayto the huckster, and a voice screeched after her: "Madame Rasmussen!Your herring is burning!" Now she came rushing back, turning herhead confusedly from house to house as she scampered across thestreet and into her house. The blue smoke drifted down among thehouses; the sun fell lower and filled the street with gold-dust. 

There were people sweeping all along the street; Baker Jorgen, thewasherwoman, and the Comptroller's maid-servant. The heavy boughsof the mulberry-tree across the road drooped over the wall andoffered their last ripe fruits to whomsoever would pick them. Onthe other side of the wall the rich merchant Hans--he who marriedthe nurse-maid--was pottering about his garden. He never came out, and the rumor ran that he was held a prisoner by his wife and herkin. But Pelle had leaned his ear against the wall, and had hearda stammering old voice repeating the same pet names, so that itsounded like one of those love-songs that never come to an end; andwhen in the twilight he slipped out of his attic window and climbedon to the ridge of the roof, in order to take a look at the world, he had seen a tiny little white-haired man walking down there in thegarden, with his arm round the waist of a woman younger than himself. They were like a couple of young lovers, and they had to stop everyother moment in order to caress one another. The most monstrousthings were said of him and his money; of his fortune, that onceupon a time was founded on a paper of pins, and was now so greatthat some curse must rest upon it. 

From the baker's house the baker's son came slinking hymn-book inhand. He fled across to the shelter of the wall, and hurried off;old Jorgen stood there gobbling with laughter as he watched him, his hands folded over his broomstick. 

"O Lord, is that a man?" he cried to Jeppe, who sat at his window, shaving himself before the milk-can. "Just look how he puffs! Nowhe'll go in and beg God to forgive him for going courting!"

Jeppe came to the window to see and to silence him; one could hearBrother Jorgen's falsetto voice right down the street. "Has he beencourting? However did you get him to venture such a leap?" he askedeagerly. 

"Oh, it was while we were sitting at table. I had a tussle with mymelancholy madman--because I couldn't help thinking of the littleJorgen. God knows, I told myself, no little Jorgen has come to carryon your name, and the boy's a weakling, and you've no one else tobuild on! It's all very well going about with your nose in the airall the days God gives you--everything will be swept away and be tono purpose. And everything of that sort--you know how I get thinkingwhen ideas like that get the upper hand with me. I sat there andlooked at the boy, and angry I felt with him, that I did; and rightopposite him there was sitting a fine bit of womanhood, and he notlooking at her. And with that I struck my hand on the table, and Isays, 'Now, boy, just you take Marie by the hand and ask her whethershe'll be your wife--I want to make an end of the matter now and seewhat you're good for!' The boy all shrivels up and holds out hishand, and Marie, it don't come amiss to her. 'Yes, that I will!'she says, and grips hold of him before he has time to think whathe's doing. And we shall be having the marriage soon. "

"If you can make a boot out of that leather!" said Jeppe. 

"Oh, she's a warm piece--look at the way she's built. She's thawinghim already. Women, they know the way--he won't freeze in bed. "

Old Jorgen laughed contentedly, and went off to his work. "Yes, why, she'd breathe life into the dead, " he announced to the street atlarge. 

The others went out in their finest clothes, but Pelle did not careto go. He had not been able to accomplish his constant resolution tokeep himself neat and clean, and this failure weighed upon him andabashed him. And the holes in his stockings, which were now so bigthat they could no longer be darned, were disgustingly apparent, with his skin showing through them, so that he had a loathing forhimself. 

Now all the young people were going out. He could see the sea inthe opening at the end of the street; it was perfectly calm, and hadborrowed the colors of the sunset. They would be going to the harboror the dunes by the sea; there would be dancing on the grass, andperhaps some would get to fighting about a girl. But he wasn't goingto be driven out of the pack like a mangy dog; he didn't care a hangfor the whole lot of them!

He threw off his apron and established himself on a beer-barrelwhich stood outside before the gate. On the bench opposite satthe older inhabitants of the street, puffing at their pipes andgossiping about everything under the sun. Now the bells sounded thehour for leaving off work. Madame Rasmussen was beating her childand reviling it in time with her blows. Then suddenly all was silent;only the crying of the child continued, like a feeble evening hymn. Old Jeppe was talking about Malaga--"when I ran ashore at Malaga!"--but Baker Jorgen was still lamenting his want of an heir, andsighing: "Yes, yes; if only one could see into the future!" Then hesuddenly began to talk about the Mormons. "It might really be greatfun to see, some time, what they have to offer you, " he said. 

"I thought you'd been a Mormon a long time, Uncle Jorgen, " saidMaster Andres. The old man laughed. 

"Well, well; one tries all sorts of things in one's time, " he said, and looked out at the sky. 

Up the street stood the watchmaker, on his stone steps, his faceturned up to the zenith, while he shouted his senseless warnings:"The new time! I ask you about the new time, O God the Father!"he repeated. 

Two weary stevedores were going homeward. "He'll drive all povertyout of the world and give us all a new life--that's the form hismadness takes, " said one of them, with a dreary laugh. 

"Then he's got the millennium on the brain?" said the other. 

"No, he's just snarling at the world, " said old Jorgen, behindthem. "We shall certainly get a change in the weather. "

"Things are bad with him just now, poor fellow, " said Bjerregrav, shuddering. "It was about this time of the year that he lost hiswits. "

An inner voice admonished Pelle: "Don't sit there with your handsin your lap, but go in and look after your clothes!" But he couldnot bring himself to do so--the difficulties had become tooinsurmountable. On the following day Manna and the others calledhim, but he could not spring over the wall to join them; they hadbegun to turn up their noses at him and regard him critically. He did not very well understand it, but he had become an outcast, a creature who no longer cared about washing himself properly. But what was the use? He could not go on contending against theinvincible! No one had warned him in time, and now the town hadcaptured him, and he had given up everything else. He must shufflethrough life as best he could. 

No one had a thought for him! When washing was being done for hisemployers it never occurred to Madam to wash anything of his, and hewas not the boy to come forward of himself. The washerwoman was moreconsiderate; when she could she would smuggle in some of Pelle'sdirty linen, although it meant more work for her. But she was poorherself; as for the rest, they only wanted to make use of him. Therewas no one in town who cared sufficiently for his welfare to takethe trouble even to open his mouth to tell him the truth. This wasa thought that made him feel quite weak about the knees, althoughhe was fifteen years old and had courage to tackle a mad bull. Morethan anything else it was his loneliness that weakened his powers ofresistance. He was helpless alone among all these people, a child, who had to look after himself as best he could, and be prepared forattacks from every quarter. 

He sat there, making no effort to dispel the misery that had comeover him, and was working its will with him, while with half an earhe listened to the life around him. But suddenly he felt somethingin his waistcoat pocket--money! He felt immensely relieved at once, but he did not hurry; he slipped behind the gate and counted it. One and a half kroner. He was on the point of regarding it as agift from on high, as something which the Almighty had in His greatgoodness placed there, but then it occurred to him that this was hismaster's money. It had been given him the day before for repairs toa pair of ladies' shoes, and he had forgotten to pay it in, whilethe master, strangely enough, had quite forgotten to ask for it. 

Pelle stood with bent back by the well outside, scrubbing himselfover a bucket until his blood tingled. Then he put on his bestclothes, drew his shoes on to his naked feet, to avoid the painfulfeeling of the ragged stockings, and buttoned his rubber collar--forthe last time innocent of any tie--to his shirt. Shortly afterwardhe was standing outside a shop-window, contemplating some largeneckties, which had just been put upon the market, and could be wornwith any one of four faces outward; they filled the whole of thewaistcoat, so that one did not see the shirt. Now he would bedisdained no longer! For a moment he ran to and fro and breathedthe air; then he got upon the scent, and ran at a breathless galloptoward the sea-dunes, where the young folk of the town played lateinto the summer night that lay over the wan sea. 

Of course, it was only a loan. Pelle had to sole a pair of shoesfor a baker's apprentice who worked with Nilen; as soon as they werefinished he would repay the money. He could put the money under thecutting-out board in his master's room; the master would find itthere, would gaze at it with a droll expression, and say: "What thedevil is this?" And then he would knock on the wall, and would treatPelle to a long rigmarole about his magical gifts--and then he wouldask him to run out and fetch a half-bottle of port. 

He did not receive the money for soling the shoes; half the sum hehad to pay out for leather, and the rest was a long time coming, forthe baker's apprentice was a needy wretch. But he did not doubt hisown integrity; the master might be as sure of his money as if it hadbeen in the bank. Yet now and again he forgot to give up petty sums--if some necessity or other was pressing him unexpectedly. Theywere, of course, all loans--until the golden time came. And thatwas never far away. 

One day he returned home as the young master was standing at thedoor, staring at the driving clouds overhead. He gave Pelle'sshoulder a familiar squeeze. "How was it they didn't pay you forthe shoes at the Chamberlain's yesterday?"

Pelle went crimson and his hand went to his waistcoat pocket. "I forgot it, " he said in a low voice. 

"Now, now!" The master shook him good-naturedly. "It's not thatI mistrust you. But just to be methodical!"

Pelle's heart pounded wildly in his body; he had just decided to usethe money to buy a pair of stockings, the very next time he went out--and then what would have happened? And the master's belief in him!And all at once his offence showed itself to him in all its shamefultreachery; he felt as if he was on the point of being sick, sodisturbed was he. Until this moment he had preserved througheverything the feeling of his own worth, and now it was destroyed;there could not be any one wickeder than he in all the world. Infuture no one could trust him any more, and he could no longer lookpeople straight in the face; unless he went to the master at onceand cast himself and his shame unconditionally on his mercy. Therewas no other salvation, that he knew. 

But he was not certain that the master would conceive the matterin its finer aspect, or that everything would turn out for the best;he had given up believing in fairy-tales. Then he would simply beturned away, or perhaps be sent to the courthouse, and it would beall up with him. 

Pelle resolved to keep it to himself; and for many days he wentabout suffering from a sense of his own wickedness. But thennecessity gripped him by the throat and brushed all else aside; andin order to procure himself the most necessary things he was forcedto resort to the dangerous expedient of stating; when the mastergave him money to buy anything, that it was to be put down. And thenone day it was all up with him. The others were ready to pull downthe house about his ears; they threw his things out of the garretand called him a filthy, beast. Pelle wept; he was quite convincedthat not he was the guilty person, but Peter, who was always keepingcompany with the nastiest women, but he could get no hearing. Hehurried away, with the resolves that he would never come back. 

On the dunes he was captured by Emil and Peter, who had been sentout after him by old Jeppe. He did not want to go back with them, but they threw him down and dragged him back, one taking his headand one his legs. People came to the door and laughed and askedquestions, and the other two gave their explanation of the matter, which was a terrible disgrace for Pelle. 

And then he fell ill. He lay under the tiled roof raving with fever;they had thrown his bed into the loft. "What, isn't he up yet?" saidJeppe, astounded, when he came in to the workshop. "No? Well, he'llsoon get up when he gets hungry. " It was no joke to take a sickapprentice his meals in bed. But Pelle did not come down. 

Once the young master threw all considerations overboard and tooksome food up to him. "You're making yourself ridiculous, " sneeredJeppe; "you'll never be able to manage people like that!" And Madamscolded. But Master Andres whistled until he was out of hearing. 

Poor Pelle lay there, in delirium; his little head was full offancies, more than it would hold. But now the reaction set in, andhe lay there stuffing himself with all that was brought him. 

The young master sat upstairs a great deal and received enlightenmenton many points. It was not his nature to do anything energetically, but he arranged that Pelle's washing should be done in the house, and he took care that Lasse should be sent for. 

VIII

Jeppe was related to about half the island, but he was not greatlyinterested in disentangling his relationship. He could easily goright back to the founder of the family, and trace the generationsthrough two centuries, and follow the several branches of the familyfrom country to town and over the sea and back again, and show thatAndres and the judge must be cousins twice removed. But if anyinsignificant person asked him: "How was it, then--weren't my fatherand you first cousins?" he would answer brusquely, "Maybe, but thesoup grows too thin after a time. This relationship!"

"Then you and I, good Lord! are second cousins, and you are relatedto the judge as well, " Master Andres would say. He did not grudgepeople any pleasure they could derive from the facts of relationship. Poor people regarded him gratefully--they said he had kind eyes; itwas a shame that he should not be allowed to live. 

Jeppe was the oldest employer in the town, and among the shoemakershis workshop was the biggest. He was able, too, or rather he hadbeen, and he still possessed the manual skill peculiar to the olddays. When it came to a ticklish job he would willingly show themhow to get on with it, or plan some contrivance to assist them. Elastic-sided boots and lace-up boots had superseded the oldfootwear, but honest skill still meant an honest reputation. Andif some old fellow wanted a pair of Wellingtons or Bluchers ofleather waterproofed with grease, instead of by some new-fangleddevilry, he must needs go to Jeppe--no one else could shape aninstep as he could. And when it came to handling the heavy dressedleathers for sea-boots there was no one like Jeppe. He was obstinate, and rigidly opposed to everything new, where everybody else was ledaway by novelty. In this he was peculiarly the representative ofthe old days, and people respected him as such. 

The apprentices alone did not respect him. They did everything theycould to vex him and to retaliate on him for being such a severetask-master. They all laid themselves out to mystify him, speakingof the most matter-of-fact things in dark and covert hints, in orderto make old Jeppe suspicious, and if he spied upon them and caughtthem at something which proved to be nothing at all they had a greatday of it. 

"What does this mean? Where are you going without permission?" askedJeppe, if one of them got up to go into the court; he was alwaysforgetting that times had altered. They did not answer, and then hewould fly into a passion. "I'll have you show me respect!" he wouldcry, stamping on the floor until the dust eddied round him. MasterAndres would slowly raise his head. "What's the matter with you thistime, father?" he would ask wearily. Then Jeppe would break out intofulminations against the new times. 

If Master Andres and the journeyman were not present, theapprentices amused themselves by making the old man lose his temper;and this was not difficult, as he saw hostility in everything. Then he would snatch up a knee-strap and begin to rain blows uponthe sinner. At the same time he would make the most extraordinarygrimaces and give vent to a singular gurgling sound. "There, takethat, although it grieves me to use harsh measures!" he would mew. "And that, too--and that! You've got to go through with it, if youwant to enter the craft!" Then he would give the lad something thatfaintly resembled a kick, and would stand there struggling forbreath. "You're a troublesome youngster--you'll allow that?" "Yes, my mother used to break a broomstick over my head every other day!"replied Peter, the rogue, snorting. "There, you see you are! But itmay all turn out for the best even now. The foundation's not so bad!"Jeppe doddered to and fro, his hands behind his back. The rest ofthe day he was inclined to solemnity, and did his best to obliterateall remembrance of the punishment. "It was only for your own good!"he would say, in a propitiatory tone. 

Jeppe was first cousin to the crazy Anker, but he preferred not tolay claim to the fact; the man could not help being mad, but he madehis living, disgracefully enough, by selling sand in the streets--aspecialist in his way. Day by day one saw Anker's long, thin figurein the streets, with a sackful of sand slung over his slopingshoulders; he wore a suit of blue twill and white woollen stockings, and his face was death-like. He was quite fleshless. "That comes ofall his digging, " people said. "Look at his assistant!"

He never appeared in the workshop with his sack of sand; he wasafraid of Jeppe, who was now the oldest member of the family. Elsewhere he went in and out everywhere with his clattering woodenshoes; and people bought of him, as they must have sand for theirfloors, and his was as good as any other. He needed next to nothingfor his livelihood; people maintained that he never ate anything, but lived on his own vitals. With the money he received he boughtmaterials for the "New Time, " and what was left he threw away, in his more exalted moments, from the top of his high stairs. Thestreet-urchins always came running up when the word went round thatthe madness about the "new time" was attacking him. 

He and Bjerregrav had been friends as boys. Formerly they had beeninseparable, and neither of them was willing to do his duty andmarry, although each was in a position to keep a wife and children. At an age when others were thinking about how to find favor withthe womenfolk, these two were running about with their heads full ofrubbish which enraged people. At that time a dangerous revolutionistwas living with Bjerregrav's brother; he had spent many years onChristianso, but then the Government had sent him to spend the restof his term of captivity on Bornholm. Dampe was his name; Jeppehad known him when an apprentice in Copenhagen; and his ambition wasto overthrow God and king. This ambition of his did not profit himgreatly; he was cast down like a second Lucifer, and only kept hishead on his shoulders by virtue of an act of mercy. The two youngpeople regarded him as then justification, and he turned their headswith his venomous talk, so that they began to ponder over thingswhich common folk do better to leave alone. Bjerregrav came throughthis phase with a whole skin, but Anker paid the penalty by losinghis wits. Although they both had a comfortable competence, theypondered above all things over the question of poverty--as thoughthere was anything particular to be discovered about that!

All this was many years ago; it was about the time when thecraze for freedom had broken out in the surrounding nations withfratricide and rebellion. Matters were not so bad on the island, forneither Anker nor Bjerregrav was particularly warlike; yet everybodycould see that the town was not behind the rest of the world. Herethe vanity of the town was quite in agreement with Master Jeppe, but for the rest he roundly condemned the whole movement. He alwayslooked ready to fall upon Bjerregrav tooth and nail if theconversation turned on Anker's misfortune. 

"Dampe!" said Jeppe scornfully, "he has turned both your heads!"

"That's a lie!" stammered Bjerregrav. "Anker went wrong laterthan that--after King Frederick granted us liberty. And it's onlythat I'm not very capable; I have my wits, thank God!" Bjerregravsolemnly raised the fingers of his right hand to his lips, a gesturewhich had all the appearance of a surviving vestige of the sign ofthe cross. 

"You and your wits!" hissed Jeppe contemptuously. "You, who throwyour money away over the first tramp you meet! And you defend anabominable agitator, who never goes out by daylight like otherpeople, but goes gallivanting about at night!"

"Yes, because he's ashamed of humanity; he wants to make the worldmore beautiful!" Bjerregrav blushed with embarrassment when he hadsaid this. 

But Jeppe was beside himself with contempt. "So gaol-birds areashamed of honest people! So that's why he takes his walks at night!Well, the world would of course be a more beautiful place if it werefilled with people like you and Dampe!"

The pitiful thing about Anker was that he was such a good craftsman. He had inherited the watchmaker's trade from his father andgrandfather, and his Bornholm striking-clocks were known all overthe world; orders came to him from Funen as well as from the capital. But when the Constitution was granted he behaved like a child--asthough people had not always been free on Bornholm! Now, he said, the new time had begun, and in its honor he intended, in his insanerejoicing, to make an ingenious clock which should show the moon andthe date and the month and year. Being an excellent craftsman, hecompleted it successfully, but then it entered his head that theclock ought to show the weather as well. Like so many whom God hadendowed with His gifts, he ventured too far and sought to rival GodHimself. But here the brakes were clapped on, and the whole projectwas nearly derailed. For a long time he took it greatly to heart, but when the work was completed he rejoiced. He was offered a largeprice for his masterpiece, and Jeppe bade him close with the offer, but he answered crazily--for he was now definitely insane--"Thiscannot be bought with money. Everything I made formerly had itsvalue in money, but not this. Can any one buy _me_?"

For a long time he was in a dilemma as to what he should do withhis work, but then one day he came to Jeppe, saying: "Now I know;the best ought to have the clock. I shall send it to the King. Hehas given us the new time, and this clock will tell the new time. "Anker sent the clock away, and after some time he received twohundred thalers, paid him through the Treasury. 

This was a large sum of money, but Anker was not satisfied; he hadexpected a letter of thanks from the King's own hand. He behavedvery oddly about this, and everything went wrong with him; over andover again trouble built its nest with him. The money he gave tothe poor, and he lamented that the new time had not yet arrived. Sohe sank even deeper into his madness, and however hard Jeppe scoldedhim and lectured him it did no good. Finally he went so far as tofancy that he was appointed to create the new time, and then hebecame cheerful once more. 

Three or four families of the town--very poor people, so demoralizedthat the sects would have nothing to do with them--gathered aroundAnker, and heard the voice of God in his message. "_They_ losenothing by sitting under a crazy man, " saw Jeppe scornfully. Ankerhimself paid no attention to them, but went his own way. Presentlyhe was a king's son in disguise, and was betrothed to the eldestdaughter of the King--and the new time was coming. Or when his moodwas quieter, he would sit and work at an infallible clock whichwould not show the time; it would _be_ the time--the new timeitself. 

He went to and fro in the workshop, in order to let Master Andressee the progress of his invention; he had conceived a blindaffection for the young master. Every year, about the first ofJanuary, Master Andres had to write a letter for him, a love-letterto the king's daughter, and had also to take it upon him to despatchit to the proper quarter; and from time to time Anker would run into ask whether an answer had yet arrived; and at the New Year afresh love-letter was sent off. Master Andres had them all put away. 

One evening--it was nearly time to knock off--there was a thunderingknock on the workshop door, and the sound of some one humming amarch drifted in from the entry. "Can you not open?" cried a solemnvoice: "the Prince is here!"

"Pelle, open the door quick!" said the master. Pelle flung the doorwide open, and Anker marched in. He wore a paper hat with a wavingplume, and epaulettes made out of paper frills; his face was beaming, and he stood there with his hand to his hat as he allowed the marchto die away. The young master rose gaily and shouldered arms withhis stick. 

"Your Majesty, " he said, "how goes it with the new time?"

"Not at all well!" replied Anker, becoming serious. "The pendulumsthat should keep the whole in motion are failing me. " He stood still, gazing at the door; his brain was working mysteriously. 

"Ought they to be made of gold?" The master's eyes were twinkling, but he was earnestness personified. 

"They ought to be made of eternity, " said Anker unwillingly, "and first it has got to be invented. "

For a long time he stood there, staring in front of him with hisgray, empty eyes, without speaking a word. He did not move; onlyhis temples went on working as though some worm was gnawing at themand seeking its way out. 

Suddenly it became uncomfortable; his silence was sometimes likea living darkness that surrounded those about him. Pelle sat therewith palpitating heart. 

Then the lunatic came forward and bent over the young master's ear. "Has an answer come from the king?" he asked, in a penetratingwhisper. 

"No, not yet; but I expect it every day. You can be quite easy, " themaster whispered back. Anker stood for a few moments in silence; helooked as though he must be meditating, but after his own fashion. Then he turned round and marched out of the workshop. 

"Go after him and see he gets home all right, " said the youngmaster. His voice sounded mournful now. Pelle followed theclockmaker up the street. 

It was a Saturday evening, and the workers were on their wayhomeward from the great quarries and the potteries which lay abouthalf a mile beyond the town. They passed in large groups, theirdinner-boxes on their back, with a beer-bottle hung in front as acounter-weight. Their sticks struck loudly on the flagstones, andthe iron heel-pieces of their wooden shoes struck out sparks as theypassed. Pelle knew that weary homecoming; it was as though wearinessin person had invaded the town. And he knew the sound of thistaciturn procession; the snarling sound when this man or that madean unexpected and involuntary movement with his stiffened limbs, andwas forced to groan with the pain of it. But to-night they gave hima different impression, and something like a smile broke through theencrusted stone-dust on their faces; it was the reflection of thebright new kroner that lay in their pockets after the exhaustinglabor of the week. Some of them had to visit the post-office torenew their lottery tickets or to ask for a postponement, and hereand there one was about to enter a tavern, but at the last momentwould be captured by his wife, leading a child by the hand. 

Anker stood motionless on the sidewalk, his face turned toward thepassing workers. He had bared his head, and the great plume of hishat drooped to the ground behind him; he looked agitated, as thoughsomething were fermenting within him, which could not find utterance, save in an odd, unintelligible noise. The workers shook their headssadly as they trudged onward; one solitary young fellow threw him aplayful remark. "Keep your hat on--it's not a funeral!" he cried. A few foreign seamen came strolling over the hill from the harbor;they came zigzagging down the street, peeping in at all the streetdoors, and laughing immoderately as they did so. One of them madestraight for Anker with outstretched arms, knocked off his hat, and went on with his arm in the air as though nothing had happened. Suddenly he wheeled about. "What, are you giving yourself airs?" hecried, and therewith he attacked the lunatic, who timidly set aboutresisting him. Then another sailor ran up and struck Anker behindthe knees, so that he fell. He lay on the ground shouting andkicking with fright, and the whole party flung itself upon him. 

The boys scattered in all directions, in order to gather stonesand come to Anker's assistance. Pelle stood still, his body jerkingconvulsively, as though the old sickness were about to attack him. Once he sprang forward toward Anker, but something within him toldhim that sickness had deprived him of his blind courage. 

There was one pale, slender youth who was not afraid. He went rightamong the sailors, in order to drag them off the lunatic, who wasbecoming quite frantic under their treatment of him. 

"He isn't in his right mind!" cried the boy, but he was hurled backwith a bleeding face. 

This was Morten, the brother of Jens the apprentice. He was so angrythat he was sobbing. 

Then a tall man came forward out of the darkness, with a rollinggait; he came forward muttering to himself. "Hurrah!" cried theboys. "Here comes the 'Great Power. '" But the man did not hear; hecame to a standstill by the fighting group and stood there, stillmuttering. His giant figure swayed to and fro above them. "Help him, father!" cried Morten. The man laughed foolishly, and began slowlyto pull his coat off. "Help him, then!" bellowed the boy, quitebeside himself, shaking his father's arm. Jorgensen stretched outhis hand to pat the boy's cheek, when he saw the blood on his face. "Knock them down!" cried the boy, like one possessed. Then a suddenshock ran through the giant's body--somewhat as when a heavy loadis suddenly set in motion; he bowed himself a little, shook himself, and began to throw the sailors aside. One after another they stoodstill for a moment, feeling the place where he had seized them, andthen they set off running as hard as they could toward the harbor. 

Jorgensen set the madman on his legs again and escorted him home. Pelle and Morten followed them hand-in-hand. A peculiar feelingof satisfaction thrilled Pelle through; he had seen strengthpersonified in action, and he had made a friend. 

After that they were inseparable. Their friendship did not grow tofull strength; it overshadowed them suddenly, magically conjured outof their hearts. In Morten's pale, handsome face there was somethingindescribable that made Pelle's heart throb in his breast, and agentler note came into the voices of all who spoke to him. Pelle didnot clearly understand what there could be attractive about himself;but he steeped himself in this friendship, which fell upon hisravaged soul like a beneficent rain. Morten would come up into theworkshop as soon as work was over, or wait for Pelle at the corner. They always ran when they were going to meet. If Pelle had to workovertime, Morten did not go out, but sat in the workshop and amusedhim. He was very fond of reading, and told Pelle about the contentsof many books. 

Through Morten, Pelle drew nearer to Jens, and found that he hadmany good qualities under his warped exterior. Jens had just thatbroken, despondent manner which makes a child instinctively suspecta miserable home. Pelle had at first supposed that Jens and Mortenmust have been supported by the poor-box; he could not understandhow a boy could bear his father to be a giant of whom the wholetown went in terror. Jens seemed hard of hearing when any one spoketo him. "He has had so many beatings, " said Morten. "Father can'tendure him, because he is stupid. " Clever he was not, but he couldproduce the most wonderful melodies by whistling merely with hislips, so that people would stand still and listen to him. 

After his illness Pelle had a more delicate ear for everything. Heno longer let the waves pass over him, careless as a child, but sentout tentacles--he was seeking for something. Everything had appearedto him as simpler than it was, and his dream of fortune had been toocrudely conceived; it was easily shattered, and there was nothingbehind it for him to rest on. Now he felt that he must build abetter foundation, now he demanded nourishment from a wider radius, and his soul was on the alert for wider ventures; he dropped hisanchors in unfamiliar seas. The goal of his desires receded intothe unknown; he now overcame his aversion from the great andmysterious Beyond, where the outlines of the face of God lay hidden. The God of Bible history and the sects had for Pelle been only aman, equipped with a beard, and uprightness, and mercy, and all therest; he was not to be despised, but the "Great Power" was certainlystronger. Hitherto Pelle had not felt the want of a God; he had onlyobscurely felt his membership in that all-loving God who will arisefrom the lowest and foulest and overshadow heaven; in that frenzieddream of the poor, who see, in a thousand bitter privations, thepilgrimage to the beloved land. But now he was seeking for thatwhich no words can express; now the words, "the millennium, " hada peculiar sound in his ears. 

Anker, of course, was crazy, because the others said so; when theylaughed at him, Pelle laughed with them, but there was stillsomething in him that filled Pelle with remorse for having laughedat him. Pelle himself would have liked to scramble money from thetop of his high steps if he had been rich; and if Anker talkedstrangely, in curious phrases, of a time of happiness for all thepoor, why, Father Lasse's lamentations had dealt with the samesubject, as far back as he could remember. The foundation of theboy's nature felt a touch of the same pious awe which had forbiddenLasse and the others, out in the country, to laugh at the insane, for God's finger had touched them, so that their souls wandered inplaces to which no other could attain. Pelle felt the face of theunknown God gazing at him out of the mist. 

He had become another being since his illness; his movements weremore deliberate, and the features of his round childish face hadbecome more marked and prominent. Those two weeks of illness haddislodged his cares, but they were imprinted on his character, to which they lent a certain gravity. He still roamed about alone, encompassing himself with solitude, and he observed the young masterin his own assiduous way. He had an impression that the master wasputting him to the proof, and this wounded him. He himself knew thatthat which lay behind his illness would never be repeated, and hewrithed uneasily under suspicion. 

One day he could bear it no longer. He took the ten kroner whichLasse had given him so that he might buy a much-needed winterovercoat, and went in to the master, who was in the cutting-outroom, and laid them on the table. The master looked at him witha wondering expression, but there was a light in his eyes. 

"What the devil is that?" he asked, drawling. 

"That's master's money, " said Pelle, with averted face. 

Master Andres gazed at him with dreamy eyes, and then he seemedto return, as though from another world, and Pelle all at onceunderstood what every one said--that the young master was goingto die. Then he burst into tears. 

But the master himself could not understand. 

"What the deuce. But that means nothing!" he cried, and he tossedthe ten kroner in the air. "Lord o' me! what a lot of money! Well, you aren't poor!" He stood there, not knowing what to believe, hishand resting on Pelle's shoulder. 

"It's right, " whispered Pelle. "I've reckoned it up exactly. And themaster mustn't suspect me--I'll never do it again. "

Master Andres made a gesture of refusal with his hand, and wantedto speak, but at that very moment he was attacked by a paroxysm ofcoughing. "You young devil!" he groaned, and leaned heavily on Pelle;his face was purple. Then came a fit of sickness, and the sweatbeaded his face. He stood there for a little, gasping for breathwhile his strength returned, and then he slipped the money intoPelle's hand and pushed him out of the room. 

Pelle was greatly dejected. His uprightness was unrewarded, and whathad become of his vindication? He had been so glad to think thathe would shake himself free of all the disgrace. But late in theafternoon the master called him into the cutting-out room. "Here, Pelle, " he said confidentially, "I want to renew my lottery ticket;but I've no money. Can you lend me those ten kroner for a week?"So it was all as it should be; his one object was to put the wholedisgrace away from him. 

Jens and Morten helped him in that. There were three of them now;and Pelle had a feeling that he had a whole army at his back. Theworld had grown no smaller, no less attractive, by reason of theendless humiliations of the year. And Pelle knew down to the groundexactly where he stood, and that knowledge was bitter enough. Belowhim lay the misty void, and the bubbles which now and again rose tothe surface and broke did not produce in him any feeling of mysticalwonder as to the depths. But he did not feel oppressed thereby; whatwas, was so because it must be. And over him the other half of theround world revolved in the mystery of the blue heavens, and againand again he heard its joyous _Forward! On!_

IX

In his loneliness Pelle had often taken his way to the little houseby the cemetery, where Due lived in two little rooms. It was alwaysa sort of consolation to see familiar faces, but in other respectshe did not gain much by his visits; Due was pleasant enough, butAnna thought of nothing but herself, and how she could best get on. Due had a situation as coachman at a jobmaster's, and they seemedto have a sufficiency. 

"We have no intention of being satisfied with driving other people'shorses, " Anna would say, "but you must crawl before you can walk. "She had no desire to return to the country. 

"Out there there's no prospects for small people, who want somethingmore than groats in their belly and a few rags on their back. Youare respected about as much as the dirt you walk on, and there's notalk of any future. I shall never regret that we've come away fromthe country. "

Due, on the contrary, was homesick. He was quite used to knowingthat there was a quarter of a mile between him and the nearestneighbor, and here he could hear, through the flimsy walls, whetherhis neighbors were kissing, fighting, or counting their money. "Itis so close here, and then I miss the earth; the pavements are sohard. "

"He misses the manure--he can't come treading it into the room, "said Anna, in a superior way; "for that was the only thing there wasplenty of in the country. Here in the town too the children can geton better; in the country poor children can't learn anything that'llhelp them to amount to something; they've got to work for theirdaily bread. It's bad to be poor in the country!"

"It's worse here in town, " said Pelle bitterly, "for here only thosewho dress finely amount to anything!"

"But there are all sorts of ways here by which a man can earn money, and if one way doesn't answer, he can try another. Many a man hascome into town with his naked rump sticking out of his trousers, andnow he's looked up to! If a man's only got the will and the energy--well, I've thought both the children ought to go to the municipalschool, when they are older; knowledge is never to be despised. "

"Why not Marie as well?" asked Pelle. 

"She? What? She's not fitted to learn anything. Besides, she's onlya girl. "

Anna, like her brother Alfred, had set herself a lofty goal. Hereyes were quite bright when she spoke of it, and it was evidentlyher intention to follow it regardless of consequences. She was aloud-voiced, capable woman with an authoritative manner; Due simplysat by and smiled and kept his temper. But in his inmost heart, according to report, he knew well enough what he wanted. He neverwent to the public-house, but came straight home after work; and inthe evening he was never happier than when all three children werescrambling over him. He made no distinction between his own twoyoungsters and the six-year-old Marie, whom Anna had borne beforeshe married him. 

Pelle was very fond of little Marie, who had thrived well enough solong as her child-loving grandparents had had her, but now she wasthin and had stopped growing, and her eyes were too experienced. She gazed at one like a poor housewife who is always fretted anddistressed, and Pelle was sorry for her. If her mother was harsh toher, he always remembered that Christmastide evening when he firstvisited his Uncle Kalle, and when Anna, weeping and abashed, hadcrept into the house, soon to be a mother. Little Anna, with themind of a merry child, whom everybody liked. What had become ofher now?

One evening, as Morten was not at liberty, he ran thither. Justas he was on the point of knocking, he heard Anna storming aboutindoors; suddenly the door flew open and little Marie was thrownout upon the footpath. The child was crying terribly. 

"What's the matter, then?" asked Pelle, in his cheerful way. 

"What's the matter? The matter is that the brat is saucy and won'teat just because she doesn't get exactly the same as the others. Here one has to slave and reckon and contrive--and for a bad girllike that! Now she's punishing herself and won't eat. Is it anythingto her what the others have? Can she compare herself with them?She's a bastard brat and always will be, however you like to dressit up!"

"She can't help that!" said Pelle angrily. 

"Can't help it! Perhaps I can help it? Is it my fault that shedidn't come into the world a farmer's daughter, but has to put upwith being a bastard? Yes, you may believe me, the neighbors' wivestell me to my face she hasn't her father's eyes, and they look atme as friendly as a lot of cats! Am I to be punished all my life, perhaps, because I looked a bit higher, and let myself be led astrayin a way that didn't lead to anything? Ah, the little monster!" Andshe clenched her fists and shook them in the direction from whichthe child's crying could still be heard. 

"Here one goes and wears oneself out to keep the house tidy and tobe respectable, and then no one will treat me as being as good asthemselves, just because once I was a bit careless!" She was quitebeside herself. 

"If you aren't kind to little Marie, I shall tell Uncle Kalle, "said Pelle warningly. 

She spat contemptuously. "Then you can tell him. Yes, I wish toGod you'd do it! Then he'd come and take her away, and delightedI should be!"

But now Due was heard stamping on the flags outside the door, andthey could hear him too consoling the child. He came in holding herby the hand, and gave his wife a warning look, but said nothing. "There, there--now all that's forgotten, " he repeated, in order tocheck the child's sobs, and he wiped away the grimy tears from hercheeks with his great thumbs. 

Anna brought him his food, sulkily enough, and out in the kitchenshe muttered to herself. Due, while he ate his supper of baconand black bread, stood the child between his knees and stared ather with round eyes. "Rider!" she said, and smiled persuasively. "Rider!" Due laid a cube of bacon on a piece of bread. 

 "There came a rider riding On his white hoss, hoss, hoss, hoss!"

he sang, and he made the bread ride up to her mouth. "And then?"

"Then, _pop_ he rode in at the gate!" said the child, andswallowed horse and rider. 

While she ate she kept her eyes fixed upon him unwaveringly, withthat painful earnestness which was so sad to see. But sometimes ithappened that the rider rode right up to her mouth, and then, witha jerk, turned about, and disappeared, at a frantic gallop, betweenDue's white teeth. Then she smiled for a moment. 

"There's really no sense shoving anything into her, " said Anna, whowas bringing coffee in honor of the visitor. "She gets as much asshe can eat, and she's not hungry. "

"She's hungry, all the same!" hummed Due. 

"Then she's dainty--our poor food isn't good enough for her. Shetakes after her father, I can tell you! And what's more, if sheisn't naughty now she soon will be when once she sees she'sbacked up. "

Due did not reply. "Are you quite well again now?" he asked, turning to Pelle. 

"What have you been doing to-day?" asked Anna, filling her husband'slong pipe. 

"I had to drive a forest ranger from up yonder right across thewhole of the moor. I got a krone and a half for a tip. "

"Give it to me, right away!"

Due passed her the money, and she put it into an old coffeepot. "This evening you must take the bucket to the inspector's, "she said. 

Due stretched himself wearily. "I've been on the go since half-pastfour this morning, " he said. 

"But I've promised it faithfully, so there's nothing else to be done. And then I thought you'd see to the digging for them this autumn;you can see when we've got the moonlight, and then there's Sundays. If we don't get it some one else will--and they are good payers. "

Due did not reply. 

"In a year or two from now, I'm thinking, you'll have your ownhorses and won't need to go scraping other people's daily breadtogether, " she said, laying her hand on his shoulder, "Won't yougo right away and take the bucket? Then it's done. And I must havesome small firewood cut before you go to bed. "

Due sat there wearily blinking. After eating, fatigue came over him. He could hardly see out of his eyes, so sleepy was he. Marie handedhim his cap, and at last he got on his legs. He and Pelle went outtogether. 

The house in which Due lived lay far up the long street, which ransteeply down to the sea. It was an old watercourse, and even nowwhen there was a violent shower the water ran down like a rushingtorrent between the poor cottages. 

Down on the sea-road they met a group of men who were carryinglanterns in their hands; they were armed with heavy sticks, and oneof them wore an old leather hat and carried a club studded withspikes. This was the night-watch. They moved off, and behind themall went the new policeman, Pihl, in his resplendent uniform. Hekept well behind the others, in order to show off his uniform, andalso to ensure that none of the watch took to their heels. They werehalf drunk, and were taking their time; whenever they met any onethey stood still and related with much detail precisely why they hadtaken the field. The "Great Power" was at his tricks again. He hadbeen refractory all day, and the provost had given the order to keepan eye on him. And quite rightly, for in his cups he had met Ship-owner Monsen, on Church Hill, and had fallen upon him with blowsand words of abuse: "So you take the widow's bread out of her mouth, do you? You told her the _Three Sisters_ was damaged at sea, and you took over her shares for next to nothing, did you? Out ofpure compassion, eh, you scoundrel? And there was nothing the matterwith the ship except that she had done only too well and made a bigprofit, eh? So you did the poor widow a kindness, eh?" A scoundrel, he called him and at every question he struck him a blow, so that herolled on the ground. "We are all witnesses, and now he must go toprison. A poor stone-cutter oughtn't to go about playing the judge. Come and help us catch him, Due--you are pretty strong!"

"It's nothing to do with me, " said Due. 

"You do best to keep your fingers out of it, " said one of the menderisively; "you might get to know the feel of his fist. " And theywent on, laughing contemptuously. 

"They won't be so pleased with their errand when they've done, " saidDue, laughing. "That's why they've got a nice drop stowed away--under their belts. To give them courage. The strong man's a swine, but I'd rather not be the one he goes for. "

"Suppose they don't get him at all!" said Pelle eagerly. 

Due laughed. "They'll time it so that they are where he isn't. Butwhy don't he stick to his work and leave his fool's tricks alone? Hecould have a good drink and sleep it off at home--he's only a poordevil, he ought to leave it to the great people to drink themselvessilly!"

But Pelle took another view of the affair. The poor man of courseought to go quietly along the street and take his hat off toeverybody; and if anybody greeted him in return he'd be quite proud, and tell it to his wife as quite an event, as they were going tobed. "The clerk raised his hat to me to-day--yes, that he did!" ButStonecutter Jorgensen looked neither to right nor to left when hewas sober, and in his cups he trampled everybody underfoot. 

Pelle by no means agreed with the pitiful opinions of the town. Inthe country, whence he came, strength was regarded as everything, and here was a man who could have taken strong Erik himself and puthim in his pocket. He roamed about in secret, furtively measuringhis wrists, and lifted objects which were much too heavy for him; hewould by no means have objected to be like the "Great Power, " who, as a single individual, kept the whole town in a state of breathlessexcitement, whether he was in one of his raging moods or whether helay like one dead. The thought that he was the comrade of Jens andMorten made him quite giddy, and he could not understand why theybowed themselves so completely to the judgment of the town, as noone could cast it in their teeth that they were on the parish, butonly that their father was a powerful fellow. 

Jens shrank from continually hearing his father's name on all lips, and avoided looking people in the eyes, but in Morten's open glancehe saw no trace of this nameless grief. 

One evening, when matters were quite at their worst, they took Pellehome with them. They lived in the east, by the great clay-pit, wherethe refuse of the town was cast away. Their mother was busy warmingthe supper in the oven, and in the chimney-corner sat a shrivelledold grandmother, knitting. It was a poverty-stricken home. 

"I really thought that was father, " said the woman, shivering. "Has any of you heard of him?"

The boys related what they had heard; some one had seen him here, another there. "People are only too glad to keep us informed, " saidJens bitterly. 

"Now it's the fourth evening that I've warmed up his supper to nopurpose, " the mother continued. "Formerly he used to take care tolook in at home, however much they were after him--but he may comeyet. "

She tried to smile hopefully, but suddenly threw her apron in frontof her eyes and burst into tears. Jens went about with hanging head, not knowing what he ought to do; Morten put his arm behind the wearyback and spoke soothingly: "Come, come; it isn't worse than it hasoften been!" And he stroked the projecting shoulder-blades. 

"No, but I did feel so glad that it was over. A whole year almosthe never broke out, but took his food quietly when he came home fromwork, and then crawled into bed. All that time he broke nothing; hejust slept and slept; at last I believed he had become weak-minded, and I was glad for him, for he had peace from those terrible ideas. I believed he had quieted down after all his disgraces, and wouldtake life as it came; as the rest of his comrades do. And now he'sbroken out again as audacious as possible, and it's all begun overagain!" She wept desolately. 

The old woman sat by the stove, her shifting glance wandering fromone to another; she was like a crafty bird of prey sitting in a cage. Then her voice began, passionless and uninflected:

"You're a great donkey; now it's the fourth evening you've madepancakes for your vagabond; you're always at him, kissing andpetting him! I wouldn't sweeten my husband's sleep if he had behavedso scandalously to his wife and family; he could go to bed andget up again hungry, and dry too, for all I cared; then he'd learnmanners at last. But there's no grit in you--that's the trouble;you put up with all his sauciness. "

"If I were to lay a stone in his way--why, who would be good to him, if his poor head wanted to lie soft? Grandmother ought to know howmuch he needs some one who believes in him. And there's nothing elseI can do for him. "

"Yes, yes; work away and wear yourself out, so that there's alwayssomething for the great fellow to smash if he has a mind to! But nowyou go to bed and lie down; I'll wait up for Peter and give him hisfood, if he comes; you must be half dead with weariness, you poorworm. "

"There's an old proverb says, 'A man's mother is the devil's pother, 'but it don't apply to you, grandmother, " said the mother of the boysmildly. "You always take my part, although there's no need. But nowyou go to bed! It's far past your bed-time, and I'll look afterPeter. It's so easy to manage him if only he knows that you meanwell by him. "

The old woman behaved as though she did not hear; she went onknitting. The boys remembered that they had brought something withthem; a bag of coffee-beans, some sugar-candy, and a few rolls. 

"You waste all your hard-earned shillings on me, " said the motherreproachfully, and put the water to boil for the coffee, while herface beamed with gratitude. 

"They've no young women to waste it on, " said the old woman dryly. 

"Grandmother's out of humor this evening, " said Morten. He had takenoff the old woman's glasses and looked smilingly into her gray eyes. 

"Out of humor--yes, that I am! But time passes, I tell you, and hereone sits on the edge of the grave, waiting for her own flesh andblood to get on and do something wonderful, but nothing ever happens!Energies are wasted--they run away like brook-water into the sea--and the years are wasted too--or is it lies I'm telling you? Allwant to be masters; no one wants to carry the sack; and one manseizes hold of another and clambers over him just to reach an inchhigher. And there ought to be plenty in the house--but there'spoverty and filth in every corner. I should think the dear God willsoon have had enough of it all! Not an hour goes by but I cursethe day when I let myself be wheedled away from the country; therea poor man's daily bread grows in the field, if he'll take it as itcomes. But here he must go with a shilling in his fist, if it's onlythat he wants a scrap of cabbage for his soup. If you've money youcan have it; if you haven't, you can leave it. Yes, that's how it is!But one must live in town in order to have the same luck as Peter!Everything promised splendidly, and I, stupid old woman, have alwayshad a craving to see my own flesh and blood up at the top. And nowI sit here like a beggar-princess! Oh, it has been splendid--I'mthe mother of the biggest vagabond in town!"

"Grandmother shouldn't talk like that, " said the mother of the boys. 

"Yes, yes; but I'm sick of it all--and yet I can't think about dying!How can I go and lay me down--who would take a stick to Peter?--thestrong man!" she said contemptuously. 

"Grandmother had better go quietly and lie down; I can manage Peterbest if I'm alone with him, " said the wife, but the old woman didnot move. 

"Can't you get her to go, Morten?" whispered the mother. "You arethe only one she will listen to. "

Morten lectured the old woman until he had enticed her away; he hadto promise to go with her and arrange the bedclothes over her feet. 

"Now, thank goodness, we've got her out of the way!" said the mother, relieved. "I'm always so afraid that father might forget what he'sdoing when he's like he is now; and she doesn't think of giving into him, so it's flint against flint. But now I think you ought to gowhere the rest of the young folks are, instead of sitting here andhanging your heads. "

"We'll stay and see whether father comes, " declared Morten. 

"But what does it matter to you--you can say good-day to father atany time. Go now--listen--father prefers to find me alone when he'slike this and comes home merry. Perhaps he takes me in his arms andswings me round--he's so strong--so that I feel as giddy as a younggirl. 'Ho, heigh, wench, here's the "Great Power"!' he says, and helaughs as loud as he used to in his rowdy young days. Yes, when he'sgot just enough in him he gets as strong and jolly as ever he was inhis very best days. I'm glad it's soon over. But that's not for you--you had better go. " She looked at them appealingly, and shrankback as some one fumbled at the door. Out-of-doors it was terribleweather. 

It was only the youngest, who had come home from her day's work. Shemight have been ten or twelve years old and was small for her age, although she looked older; her voice was harsh and strident, andher little body seemed coarsened and worn with work. There was nota spot about her that shed or reflected a single ray of light; shewas like some subterranean creature that has strayed to the surface. She went silently across the room and let herself drop into hergrandmother's chair; she leaned over to one side as she sat, andnow and again her features contracted. 

"She's got that mischief in her back, " said the mother, stroking herthin, unlovely hair. "She got it always carrying the doctor's littleboy--he's so tall and so heavy. But as long as the doctor saysnothing, it can't be anything dangerous. Yes, you did really leavehome too early, my child; but, after all, you get good food and youlearn to be smart. And capable, that she is; she looks after thedoctor's three children all by herself! The eldest is her own age, but she has to dress and undress her. Such grand children, theydon't even learn how to do things for themselves!"

Pelle stared at her curiously. He himself had put up with a gooddeal, but to cripple himself by dragging children about, who wereperhaps stronger than himself--no, no one need expect that of him!"Why do you carry the over-fed brat?" he asked. 

"They must have some one to look after them, " said the mother, "andtheir mother, who's the nearest to them, she doesn't feel inclinedto do it. And they pay her for it. "

"If it was me, I'd let the brat fall, " said Pelle boldly. 

The little girl just glanced at him with her dull eyes, and afeeble interest glimmered in them. But her face retained its frozenindifference, and it was impossible to say what she was thinking, so hard and experienced was her expression. 

"You mustn't teach her anything naughty, " said the mother; "she hasenough to struggle against already; she's got an obstinate nature. And now you must go to bed, Karen"--she caressed her once more--"Father can't bear to see you when he's had too much. He's so fondof her, " she added helplessly. 

Karen drew away from the caress without the slightest change ofexpression; silently she went up to the garret where she slept. Pelle had not heard her utter a sound. 

"That's how she is, " said the mother, shivering. "Never a word tosay 'good night'! Nothing makes any impression on her nowadays--neither good nor bad; she's grown up too soon. And I have to manageso that father doesn't see her when he's merry. He goes on like awild beast against himself and everybody else when it comes acrosshis mind how she's been put upon. " She looked nervously at the clock. "But go now--do listen! You'll do me a great favor if you'll go!"She was almost crying. 

Morten stood up, hesitating, and the others followed his example. "Pull your collars up and run, " said the mother, and buttoned uptheir coats. The October gale was beating in gusts against the house, and the rain was lashing violently against the window-panes. 

As they were saying good night a fresh noise was heard outside. Theouter door banged against the wall, and they heard the storm burstin and fill the entry. "Ah, now it's too late!" lamented the motherreproachfully. "Why didn't you go sooner?" A monstrous breathingsounded outside, like the breathing of a gigantic beast, sniffing upand down at the crack of the door, and fumbling after the latch withits dripping paws. Jens wanted to run and open the door. "No, youmustn't do that!" cried his mother despairingly, and she pushed thebolt. She stood there, rigid, her whole body trembling. Pelle toobegan to shiver; he had a feeling that the storm itself was lyingthere in the entry like a great unwieldy being, puffing and snortingin a kind of gross content, and licking itself dry while it waitedfor them. 

The woman bent her ear to the door, listening in frantic suspense. "What is he up to now?" she murmured; "he is so fond of teasing!"She was crying again. The boys had for the moment forgotten her. 

Then the outer door was beaten in, and the monster got up on allfour dripping paws, and began to call them with familiar growls. The woman turned about in her distress; waving her hands helplesslybefore her, and then clapping them to her face. But now the greatbeast became impatient; it struck the door sharply, and snarledwarningly. The woman shrank back as though she herself were aboutto drop on all fours and answered him. "No, no!" she cried, andconsidered a moment. Then the door was burst in with one tremendousblow, and Master Bruin rolled over the threshold and leaped towardthem in clumsy jumps, his head thrown somewhat backward as thoughwondering why his little comrade had not rushed to meet him, withan eager growl. "Peter, Peter, the boy!" she whispered, bending overhim; but he pushed her to the floor with a snarl, and laid one heavypaw upon her. She tore herself away from him and escaped to a chair. 

"Who am I?" he asked, in a stumbling, ghostly voice, confrontingher. 

"The great strong man!" She could not help smiling; he was rampingabout in such a clumsy, comical way. 

"And you?"

"The luckiest woman in all the world!" But now her voice died awayin a sob. 

"And where is the strong man to rest to-night?" He snatched at herbreast. 

She sprang up with blazing eyes. "You beast--oh, you beast!" shecried, red with shame, and she struck him in the face. 

The "Great Power" wiped his face wonderingly after each blow. "We'reonly playing, " he said. Then, in a flash, he caught sight of theboys, who had shrunk into a corner. "There you are!" he said, and helaughed crazily; "yes, mother and I, we're having a bit of a game!Aren't we, mother?"

But the woman had run out of doors, and now stood under the eaves, sobbing. 

Jorgensen moved restlessly to and fro. "She's crying, " he muttered. "There's no grit in her--she ought to have married some farmer'slad, devil take it, if the truth must be told! It catches me hereand presses as though some one were shoving an iron ferrule into mybrain. Come on, 'Great Power'! Come on! so that you can get somepeace from it! I say every day. No, let be, I say then--you mustkeep a hold on yourself, or she just goes about crying! And she'snever been anything but good to you! But deuce take it, if it wouldonly come out! And then one goes to bed and says, Praise God, theday is done--and another day, and another. And they stand there andstare--and wait; but let them wait; nothing happens, for now the'Great Power' has got control of himself! And then all at once it'sthere behind! Hit away! Eight in the thick of the heap! Send themall to hell, the scoundrels! 'Cause a man must drink, in order tokeep his energies in check. .. . Well, and there she sits! Can oneof you lend me a krone?"

"Not I!" said Jens. 

"No, not you--he'd be a pretty duffer who'd expect anything from you!Haven't I always said 'he takes after the wrong side'? He's like hismother. He's got a heart, but he's incapable. What can you really do, Jens? Do you get fine clothes from your master, and does he treatyou like a son, and will you finish up by taking over the businessas his son-in-law? And why not? if I may ask the question. Yourfather is as much respected as Morten's. "

"Morten won't be a son-in-law, either, if his master has nodaughter, " Jens muttered. 

"No. But he might have had a daughter, hey? But there we've got ananswer. You don't reflect. Morten, he's got something there!" Hetouched his forehead. 

"Then you shouldn't have hit me on the head, " retorted Jens sulkily. 

"On the head--well! But the understanding has its seat in the head. That's where one ought to hammer it in. For what use would it be, I ask you, supposing you commit some stupidity with your head and Ismack you on the behind? You don't need any understanding there? Butit has helped--you've grown much smarter. That was no fool's answeryou gave me just now: 'Then you shouldn't have hit me on the head!'"He nodded in acknowledgment. "No, but here is a head that can givethem some trouble--there are knots of sense in this wood, hey?" Andthe three boys had to feel the top of his head. 

He stood there like a swaying tree, and listened with a changingexpression to the less frequent sobs of his wife; she was nowsitting by the fire, just facing the door. "She does nothing butcry, " he said compassionately; "that's a way the women have ofamusing themselves nowadays. Life has been hard on us, and shecouldn't stand hardships, poor thing! For example, if I were to saynow that I'd like to smash the stove"--and here he seized a heavychair and waved it about in the air--"then she begins to cry. Shecries about everything. But if I get on I shall take another wife--one who can make a bit of a show. Because this is nonsense. Canshe receive her guests and make fine conversation? Pah! What thedevil is the use of my working and pulling us all out of the mud?But now I'm going out again--God knows, it ain't amusing here!"

His wife hurried across to him. "Ah, don't go out, Peter--stayhere, do!" she begged. 

"Am I to hang about here listening to you maundering on?" he askedsulkily, shrugging his shoulders. He was like a great, good-naturedboy who gives himself airs. 

"I won't maunder--I'm ever so jolly--if only you'll stay!" shecried, and she smiled through her tears. "Look at me--don't yousee how glad I am? Stay with me, do, 'Great Power!'" She breathedwarmly into his ear; she had shaken off her cares and pulled herselftogether, and was now really pretty with her glowing face. 

The "Great Power" looked at her affectionately; he laughed stupidly, as though he was tickled, and allowed himself to be pulled about; heimitated her whisper to the empty air, and was overflowing with goodhumor. Then he slyly approached his mouth to her ear, and as shelistened he trumpeted loudly, so that she started back with a littlecry. "Do stay, you great baby!" she said, laughing. "I won't let yougo; I can hold you!" But he shook her off, laughing, and ran outbareheaded. 

For a moment it looked as though she would run after him, but thenher hands fell, and she drooped her head. "Let him run off, " shesaid wearily; "now things must go as they will. There's nothing tobe done; I've never seen him so drunk. Yes, you look at me, but youmust remember that he carries his drink differently to every oneelse--he is quite by himself in everything!" She said this with acertain air of pride. "And he has punished the shipowner--and eventhe judge daren't touch him. The good God Himself can't be moreupright than he is. "

X

Now the dark evenings had come when the lamp had to be lit early forthe workers. The journeyman left while it was still twilight; therewas little for him to do. In November the eldest apprentice hadserved his time. He was made to sit all alone in the master's room, and there he stayed for a whole week, working on his journeyman'stask--a pair of sea-boots. No one was allowed to go in to him, andthe whole affair was extremely exciting. When the boots were readyand had been inspected by some of the master-shoemakers, they werefilled to the top with water and suspended in the garret; there theyhung for a few days, in order to show that they were water-tight. Then Emil was solemnly appointed a journeyman, and had to treat thewhole workshop. He drank brotherhood with little Nikas, and in theevening he went out and treated the other journeymen--and came homedrunk as a lord. Everything passed off just as it should. 

On the following day Jeppe came into the workshop. "Well, Emil, nowyou're a journeyman. What do you think of it? Do you mean to travel?It does a freshly baked journeyman good to go out into the world andmove about and learn something. "

Emil did not reply, but began to bundle his things together. "No, no; it's not a matter of life and death to turn you out. You cancome to the workshop here and share the light and the warmth untilyou've got something better--those are good conditions, it seemsto me. Now, when I was learning, things were very different--a kickbehind, and out you went! And that's for young men--it's good forthem!"

He could sit in the workshop and enumerate all the masters in thewhole island who had a journeyman. But that was really only a joke--it never happened that a new journeyman was engaged. On the otherhand, he and the others knew well enough how many freshly-bakedjourneymen had been thrown on to the streets that autumn. 

Emil was by no means dejected. Two evenings later they saw him offon the Copenhagen steamer. "There is work enough, " he said, beamingwith delight. "You must promise me that you'll write to me in ayear, " said Peter, who had finished his apprenticeship at the sametime. "That I will!" said Emil. 

But before a month had passed they heard that Emil was home again. He was ashamed to let himself be seen. And then one morning he came, much embarrassed, slinking into the workshop. Yes, he had got work--in several places, but had soon been sent away again. "I havelearned nothing, " he said dejectedly. He loitered about for a time, to enjoy the light and warmth of the workshop, and would sit theredoing some jobs of cobbling which he had got hold of. He kepthimself above water until nearly Christmas-time, but then he gavein, and disgraced his handicraft by working at the harbor as anordinary stevedore. 

"I have wasted five years of my life, " he used to say when they methim; "Run away while there's time! Or it'll be the same with you asit was with me. " He did not come to the workshop any longer out offear of Jeppe, who was extremely wroth with him for dishonoring histrade. 

It was cozy in the workshop when the fire crackled in the stove andthe darkness looked in at the black, uncovered window-panes. Thetable was moved away from the window so that all four could findplace about it, the master with his book and the three apprenticeseach with his repairing job. The lamp hung over the table, andsmoked; it managed to lessen the darkness a little. The little lightit gave was gathered up by the great glass balls which focussed itand cast it upon the work. The lamp swayed slightly, and the specksof light wriggled hither and thither like tadpoles, so that the workwas continually left in darkness. Then the master would curse andstare miserably at the lamp. 

The others suffered with their eyes, but the master sickened inthe darkness. Every moment he would stand up with a shudder. "Damnand blast it, how dark it is here; it's as dark as though one layin the grave! Won't it give any light to-night?" Then Pelle wouldtwist the regulator, but it was no better. 

When old Jeppe came tripping in, Master Andres looked up withouttrying to hide his book; he was in a fighting mood. 

"Who is there?" he asked, staring into the darkness. "Ah, it'sfather!"

"Have you got bad eyes?" asked the old man derisively. "Will youhave some eye-water?"

"Father's eye-water--no thanks! But this damned light--one can'tsee one's hand before one's face!"

"Open your mouth, then, and your teeth will shine!" Jeppe spat thewords out. This lighting was always a source of strike between them. 

"No one else in the whole island works by so wretched a light, you take my word, father. "

"In my time I never heard complaints about the light, " retortedJeppe. "And better work has been done under the glass ball thanany one can do now with all their artificial discoveries. But it'sdisappearing now; the young people to-day know no greater pleasurethan throwing their money out of the window after such moderntrash. "

"Yes, in father's time--then everything was so splendid!" saidMaster Andres. "That was when the angels ran about with white sticksin their mouths!"

In the course of the evening now one and another would drop in tohear and tell the news. And if the young master was in a good temperthey would stay. He was the fire and soul of the party, as oldBjerregrav said; he could, thanks to his reading, give explanationsof so many things. 

When Pelle lifted his eyes from his work he was blind. Yonder, inthe workshop, where Baker Jorgen and the rest sat and gossiped, hecould see nothing but dancing specks of light, and his work swamround in the midst of them; and of his comrades he saw nothing buttheir aprons. But in the glass ball the light was like a livingfire, in whose streams a world was laboring. 

"Well, this evening there's a capital light, " said Jeppe, if oneof them looked to the lamp. 

"You mean there's no light at all!" retorted Master Andres, twisting the regulator. 

But one day the ironmonger's man brought something in a big basket--a hanging lamp with a round burner; and when it was dark theironmonger himself came in order to light it for the first time, andto initiate Pelle into the management of the wonderful contrivance. He went to work very circumstantially and with much caution. "It canexplode, I needn't tell you, " he said, "but you'd have to treat themechanism very badly first. If you only set to work with care andreason there is no danger whatever. "

Pelle stood close to him, holding the cylinder, but the othersturned their heads away from the table, while the young masterstood right at the back, and shuffled to and fro. "Devil knowsI don't want to go to heaven in my living body!" he said, witha comical expression; "but deuce take it, where did you get thecourage, Pelle? You're a saucy young spark!" And he looked at himwith his wide, wondering gaze, which held in it both jest andearnest. 

At last the lamp shone out; and even on the furthest shelf, highup under the ceiling, one could count every single last. "That'sa regular sun!" said the young master, and he put his hand to hisface; "why, good Lord, I believe it warms the room!" He was quiteflushed, and his eyes were sparkling. 

The old master kept well away from the lamp until the ironmongerhad gone; then he came rushing over to it. "Well, aren't you blownsky-high?" he asked, in great astonishment. "It gives an ugly light--oh, a horrible light! Poof, I say! And it doesn't shine properly;it catches you in the eyes. Well, well, you can spoil your sight asfar as I'm concerned!"

But for the others the lamp was a renewal of life. Master Andressunned himself in its rays. He was like a sun-intoxicated bird; ashe sat there, quite at peace, a wave of joy would suddenly come overhim. And to the neighbors who gathered round the lamp in order todiscover its qualities he held forth in great style, so that thelight was doubled. They came often and stayed readily; the masterbeamed and the lamp shone; they were like insects attracted by thelight--the glorious light!

Twenty times a day the master would go out to the front door, buthe always came in again and sat by the window to read, his boot withthe wooden heel sticking out behind him. He spat so much that Pellehad to put fresh sand every day under his place. 

"Is there some sort of beast that sits in your chest and gnaws?"said Uncle Jorgen, when Andres' cough troubled him badly. "You lookso well otherwise. You'll recover before we know where we are!"

"Yes, thank God!" The master laughed gaily between two attacks. 

"If you only go at the beast hard enough, it'll surely die. Now, where you are, in your thirtieth year, you ought to be able to getat it. Suppose you were to give it cognac?"

Jorgen Kofod, as a rule, came clumping in with great wooden shoes, and Jeppe used to scold him. "One wouldn't believe you've got ashoemaker for a brother!" he would say crossly; "and yet we allget our black bread from you. "

"But what if I can't keep my feet warm now in those damned leathershoes? And I'm full through and through of gout--it's a real misery!"The big baker twisted himself dolefully. 

"It must be dreadful with gout like that, " said Bjerregrav. "Imyself have never had it. "

"Tailors don't get gout, " rejoined Baker Jorgen scornfully. "Atailor's body has no room to harbor it. So much I do know--twelvetailors go to a pound. "

Bjerregrav did not reply. 

"The tailors have their own topsy-turvy world, " continued the baker. "I can't compare myself with them. A crippled tailor--well, even hehas got his full strength of body. "

"A tailor is as fine a fellow as a black-bread baker!" stammeredBjerregrav nervously. "To bake black bread--why, every farmer'swife can do that!"

"Fine! I believe you! Hell and blazes! If the tailor makes a caphe has enough cloth left over to make himself a pair of breeches. That's why tailors are always dressed so fine!" The baker wastalking to the empty air. 

"Millers and bakers are always rogues, everybody says. " OldBjerregrav turned to Master Andres, trembling with excitement. But the young master stood there looking gaily from one to theother, his lame leg dangling in the air. 

"For the tailor nothing comes amiss--there's too much room in me!"said the baker, as though something were choking him. "Or, asanother proverb says--it's of no more consequence than a tailor inhell. They are the fellows! We all know the story of the woman whobrought a full-grown tailor into the world without even knowing shewas with child. "

Jeppe laughed. "Now, that's enough, really; God knows neither ofyou will give in to the other. "

"Well, and I've no intention of trampling a tailor to death, if itcan anyhow be avoided--but one can't always see them. " Baker Jorgencarefully lifted his great wooden shoes. "But they are not men. Now is there even one tailor in the town who has been overseas? No, and there were no men about while the tailor was being made. A womanstood in a draught at the front door, and there she brought forththe tailor. " The baker could not stop himself when once he beganto quiz anybody; now that Soren was married, he had recovered allhis good spirits. 

Bjerregrav could not beat this. "You can say what you like abouttailors, " he succeeded in saying at last. "But people who bakeblack bread are not respected as handicraftsmen--no more than thewasherwoman! Tailoring and shoemaking, they are proper crafts, with craftman's tests, and all the rest. "

"Yes, shoemaking of course is another thing, " said Jeppe. 

"But as many proverbs and sayings are as true of you as of us, "said Bjerregrav, desperately blinking. 

"Well, it's no longer ago than last year that Master Klausen marrieda cabinet-maker's daughter. But whom must a tailor marry? His ownserving-maid?"

"Now how can you, father!" sighed Master Andres. "One man's as goodas another. "

"Yes, you turn everything upside down! But I'll have my handicraftrespected. To-day all sorts of agents and wool-merchants and othertrash settle in the town and talk big. But in the old days thehandicraftsmen were the marrow of the land. Even the king himselfhad to learn a handicraft. I myself served my apprenticeship in thecapital, and in the workshop where I was a prince had learned thetrade. But, hang it all, I never heard of a king who learnedtailoring!"

They were capable of going on forever in this way, but, as thedispute was at its worst, the door opened, and Wooden-leg Larsenstumped in, filling the workshop with fresh air. He was wearing astorm-cap and a blue pilot-coat. "Good evening, children!" he saidgaily, and threw down a heap of leather ferrules and single bootson the window-bench. 

His entrance put life into all. "Here's a playboy for us! Welcomehome! Has it been a good summer?"

Jeppe picked up the five boots for the right foot, one after another, turned back the uppers, and held heels and soles in a straight linebefore his eyes. "A bungler has had these in hand, " he growled, andthen he set to work on the casing for the wooden leg. "Well, did thelayer of felt answer?" Larsen suffered from cold in his amputatedfoot. 

"Yes; I've not had cold feet any more. "

"Cold feet!" The baker struck himself on the loins and laughed. 

"Yes, you can say what you like, but every time my wooden leg getswet I get a cold in the head!"

"That's the very deuce!" cried Jorgen, and his great body rolledlike a hippopotamus. "A funny thing, that!"

"There are many funny things in the world, " stammered Bjerregrav. "When my brother died, my watch stopped at that very moment--itwas he who gave it me. "

Wooden-leg Larsen had been through the whole kingdom with hisbarrel-organ, and had to tell them all about it; of the railway-trains which travelled so fast that the landscape turned round onits own axis, and of the great shops and places of amusement inthe capital. 

"It must be as it will, " said Master Andres. "But in the summerI shall go to the capital and work there!"

"In Jutland--that's where they have so many wrecks!" said the baker. "They say everything is sand there! I've heard that the country isshifting under their feet--moving away toward the east. Is it truethat they have a post there that a man must scratch himself againstbefore he can sit down?"

"My sister has a son who has married a Jutland woman and settleddown there, " said Bjerregrav. "Have you seen anything of them?"

The baker laughed. "Tailors are so big--they've got the whole worldin their waistcoat pocket. Well, and Funen? Have you been there, too? That's where the women have such a pleasant disposition. I'velain before Svendborg and taken in water, but there was no time togo ashore. " This remark sounded like a sigh. 

"Can you stand it, wandering so much?" asked Bjerregrav anxiously. 

Wooden-leg Larsen looked contemptuously at Bjerregrav's congenitalclub-foot--he had received his own injury at Heligoland, at thehands of an honorable bullet. "If one's sound of limb, " he said, spitting on the floor by the window. 

Then the others had to relate what had happened in town during thecourse of the summer; of the Finnish barque which had stranded inthe north, and how the "Great Power" had broken out again. "Now he'ssitting in the dumps under lock and key. "

Bjerregrav took exception to the name they gave him; he called itblasphemy, on the ground that the Bible said that power and mightbelonged to God alone. 

Wooden-leg Larsen said that the word, as they had used it, hadnothing to do with God; it was an earthly thing; across the waterpeople used it to drive machinery, instead of horses. 

"I should think woman is the greatest power, " said Baker Jorgen, "for women rule the world, God knows they do! And God protect usif they are once let loose on us! But what do you think, Andres, you who are so book-learned?"

"The sun is the greatest power, " said Master Andres. "It rules overall life, and science has discovered that all strength and forcecome from the sun. When it falls into the sea and cools, then thewhole world will become a lump of ice. "

"Then the sea is the greatest power!" cried Jeppe triumphantly. "Or do you know of anything else that tears everything down andwashes it away? And from the sea we get everything back again. Once when I went to Malaga----"

"Yes, that really is true, " said Bjerregrav, "for most people gettheir living from the sea, and many their death. And the rich peoplewe have get all their money from the sea. "

Jeppe drew himself up proudly and his glasses began to glitter. "The sea can bear what it likes, stone or iron, although it is softitself! The heaviest loads can travel on its back. And then all atonce it swallows everything down. I have seen ships which sailedright into the weather and disappeared when their time came. "

"I should very much like to know whether the different countriesfloat on the water, or whether they stand firm on the bottom ofthe sea. Don't you know that, Andres?" asked Bjerregrav. 

Master Andres thought they stood on the bottom of the sea, far belowthe surface; but Uncle Jorgen said: "Nay! Big as the sea is!"

"Yes, it's big, for I've been over the whole island, " saidBjerregrav self-consciously; "but I never got anywhere where Icouldn't see the sea. Every parish in all Bornholm borders on thesea. But it has no power over the farmers and peasants--they belongto the land, don't they?"

"The sea has power over all of us, " said Larsen. "Some it refuses;they go to sea for years and years, but then in their old age theysuffer from sea-sickness, and then they are warned. That is whySkipper Andersen came on shore. And others it attracts, from rightaway up in the country! I have been to sea with such people--theyhad spent their whole lives up on the island, and had seen the sea, but had never been down to the shore. And then one day the devilcollared them and they left the plough and ran down to the seaand hired themselves out. And they weren't the worse seamen. "

"Yes, " said Baker Jorgen, "and all of us here have been to sea, and Bornholmers sail on all the seas, as far as a ship can go. AndI have met people who had never been on the sea, and yet they wereas though it was their home. When I sailed the brig _Clara_for Skipper Andersen, I had such a lad on board as ordinary seaman. He had never bathed in the sea; but one day, as we were lying atanchor, and the others were swimming around, he jumped into thewater too--now this is God's truth--as though he were tumbling intohis mother's arms; he thought that swimming came of its own accord. He went straight to the bottom, and was half dead before we fishedhim up again. "

"The devil may understand the sea!" cried Master Andres breathlessly. "It is curved like an arch everywhere, and it can get up on its hindlegs and stand like a wall, although it's a fluid! And I have readin a book that there is so much silver in the sea that every man inthe whole world might be rich. "

"Thou righteous God!" cried Bjerregrav, "such a thing I have neverheard. Now does that come from all the ships that have gone down?Yes, the sea--that, curse it, is the greatest power!"

"It's ten o'clock, " said Jeppe. "And the lamp is going out--thatdevil's contrivance!" They broke up hastily, and Pelle turned thelamp out. 

But long after he had laid his head on his pillow everything wasgoing round inside it. He had swallowed everything, and imaginarypictures thronged in his brain like young birds in an over-full nest, pushing and wriggling to find a place wherein to rest. The sea wasstrong; now in the wintertime the surging of the billows against thecliffs was continually in his ear. Pelle was not sure whether itwould stand aside for him! He had an unconscious reluctance to sethimself limits, and as for the power about which they had all beendisputing, it certainly had its seat in Pelle himself, like a vagueconsciousness that he was, despite all his defeats, invincible. 

At times this feeling manifested itself visibly and helped himthrough the day. One afternoon they were sitting and working, afterhaving swallowed their food in five minutes, as their custom was;the journeyman was the only one who did not grudge himself a briefmid-day rest, and he sat reading the newspaper. Suddenly he raisedhis head and looked wonderingly at Pelle. "Now what's this? LasseKarlson--isn't that your father?"

"Yes, " answered Pelle, with a paralyzed tongue, and the blood rushedto his cheeks. Was Father Lasse in the news? Not among the accidents?He must have made himself remarkable in one way or another throughhis farming! Pelle was nearly choking with excitement, but he didnot venture to ask, and Little Nikas simply sat there and lookedsecretive. He had assumed the expression peculiar to the youngmaster. 

But then he read aloud: "Lost! A louse with three tails has escaped, and may be left, in return for a good tip, with the landowner LasseKarlson, Heath Farm. Broken black bread may also be brought there. "

The others burst into a shout of laughter, but Pelle turned an ashengray. With a leap he was across the table and had pulled littleNikas to the ground underneath him; there he lay, squeezing theman's throat with his fingers, trying to throttle him, until he wasoverpowered. Emil and Peter had to hold him while the knee-strap putin its work. 

And yet he was proud of the occurrence; what did a miserablethrashing signify as against the feat of throwing the journeymanto the ground and overcoming the slavish respect he had felt forhim! Let them dare to get at him again with their lying allusions, or to make sport of Father Lasse! Pelle was not inclined to adoptcircuitous methods. 

And the circumstances justified him. After this he received moreconsideration; no one felt anxious to bring Pelle and his cobbler'stools on top of him, even although the boy could be thrashedafterward. 

XI

The skipper's garden was a desert. Trees and bushes were leafless;from the workshop window one could look right through them, andover other gardens beyond, and as far as the backs of the housesin East Street. There were no more games in the garden; the pathswere buried in ice and melting snow, and the blocks of coral, andthe great conch-shells which, with their rosy mouths and fish-liketeeth, had sung so wonderfully of the great ocean, had been takenin on account of the frost. 

Manna he saw often enough. She used to come tumbling into theworkshop with her school satchel or her skates; a button had gottorn off, or a heel had been wrenched loose by a skate. A freshbreeze hovered about her hair and cheeks, and the cold made herface glow. "There is blood!" the young master would say, lookingat her delightedly; he laughed and jested when she came in. ButManna would hold on to Pelle's shoulder and throw her foot into hislap, so that he could button her boots. Sometimes she would pinchhim secretly and look angry--she was jealous of Morten. But Pelledid not understand; Morten's gentle, capable mind had entirelysubjugated him and assumed the direction of their relations. Pellewas miserable if Morten was not there when he had an hour to spare. Then he would run, with his heart in his mouth, to find him;everything else was indifferent to him. 

One Sunday morning, as he was sweeping the snow in the yard, thegirls were in their garden; they were making a snowman. 

"Hey, Pelle!" they cried, and they clapped their mittens; "come overhere! You can help us to build a snow-house. We'll wall up the doorand light some Christmas-tree candles: we've got some ends. Oh, docome!"

"Then Morten must come too--he'll be here directly!"

Manna turned up her nose. "No, we don't want Morten here!"

"Why not? He's so jolly!" said Pelle, wounded. 

"Yes, but his father is so dreadful--everybody is afraid of him. And then he's been in prison. "

"Yes, for beating some one--that's nothing so dreadful! My fatherwas too, when he was a young man. That's no disgrace, for it isn'tfor stealing. "

But Manna looked at him with an expression exactly like Jeppe's whenhe was criticizing somebody from his standpoint as a respectablecitizen. 

"But, Pelle, aren't you ashamed of it? That's how only the verypoorest people think--those who haven't any feelings of shame!"

Pelle blushed for his vulgar way of looking at things. "It's nofault of Morten's that his father's like that!" he retorted lamely. 

"No, we won't have Morten here. And mother won't let us. She saysperhaps we can play with you, but not with anybody else. We belongto a very good family, " she said, in explanation. 

"My father has a great farm--it's worth quite as much as a rottenbarge, " said Pelle angrily. 

"Father's ship isn't rotten!" rejoined Manna, affronted. "It's thebest in the harbor here, and it has three masts!"

"All the same, you're nothing but a mean hussy!" Pelle spat overthe hedge. 

"Yes, and you're a Swede!" Manna blinked her eyes triumphantly, while Dolores and Aina stood behind her and put out their tongues. 

Pelle felt strongly inclined to jump over the garden wall andbeat them; but just then Jeppe's old woman began scolding fromthe kitchen, and he went on with his work. 

Now, after Christmas, there was nothing at all to do. People werewearing out their old boots, or they went about in wooden shoes. Little Nikas was seldom in the workshop; he came in at meal-timesand went away again, and he was always wearing his best clothes. "He earns his daily bread easily, " said Jeppe. Over on the mainlandthey didn't feed their people through the winter; the moment therewas no more work, they kicked them out. 

In the daytime Pelle was often sent on a round through the harborin order to visit the shipping. He would find the masters standingabout there in their leather aprons, talking about nautical affairs;or they would gather before their doors, to gossip, and each, fromsheer habit, would carry some tool or other in his hand. 

And the wolf was at the door. The "Saints" held daily meetings, and the people had time enough to attend them. Winter proved howinsecurely the town was established, how feeble were its roots; itwas not here as it was up in the country, where a man could enjoyhimself in the knowledge that the earth was working for him. Herepeople made themselves as small and ate as little as possible, inorder to win through the slack season. 

In the workshops the apprentices sat working at cheap boots andshoes for stock; every spring the shoemakers would charter a shipin common and send a cargo to Iceland. This helped them on a little. "Fire away!" the master would repeat, over and over again; "makehaste--we don't get much for it!"

The slack season gave rise to many serious questions. Many of theworkers were near to destitution, and it was said that the organizedcharities would find it very difficult to give assistance to all whoapplied for it. They were busy everywhere, to their full capacity. "And I've heard it's nothing here to what it is on the mainland, "said Baker Jorgen. "There the unemployed are numbered in tens ofthousands. "

"How can they live, all those thousands of poor people, if theunemployment is so great?" asked Bjerregrav. "The need is bad enoughhere in town, where every employer provides his people with theirdaily bread. "

"Here no one starves unless he wants to, " said Jeppe. "We havea well-organized system of relief. "

"You're certainly becoming a Social Democrat, Jeppe, " said BakerJorgen; "you want to put everything on to the organized charities!"

Wooden-leg Larsen laughed; that was a new interpretation. 

"Well, what do they really want? For they are not freemasons. Theysay they are raising their heads again over on the mainland. "

"Well, that, of course, is a thing that comes and goes withunemployment, " said Jeppe. "The people must do something. Lastwinter a son of the sailmaker's came home--well, he was one of themin secret. But the old folks would never admit it, and he himselfwas so clever that he got out of it somehow. "

"If he'd been a son of mine he would have got the stick, " saidJorgen. 

"Aren't they the sort of people who are making ready for themillennium? We've got a few of their sort here, " said Bjerregravdiffidently. 

"D'you mean the poor devils who believe in the watchmaker and his'new time'? Yes, that may well be, " said Jeppe contemptuously. "I have heard they are quite wicked enough for that. I'm inclinedto think they are the Antichrist the Bible foretells. "

"Ah, but what do they really want?" asked Baker Jorgen. "What istheir madness really driving at?"

"What do they want?" Wooden-leg Larsen pulled himself together. "I've knocked up against a lot of people, I have, and as far as Ican understand it they want to get justice; they want to take theright of coining money away from the Crown and give it to everybody. And they want to overthrow everything, that is quite certain. "

"Well, " said Master Andres, "what they want, I believe, is perfectlyright, only they'll never get it. I know a little about it, onaccount of Garibaldi. "

"But what _do_ they want, then, if they don't want to overthrowthe whole world?"

"What do they want? Well, what do they want? That everybody shouldhave exactly the same?" Master Andres was uncertain. 

"Then the ship's boy would have as much as the captain! No, it wouldbe the devil and all!" Baker Jorgen smacked his thigh and laughed. 

"And they want to abolish the king, " said Wooden-leg Larsen eagerly. 

"Who the devil would reign over us then? The Germans would soon comehurrying over! That's a most wicked thing, that Danish people shouldwant to hand over their country to the enemy! All I wonder is thatthey don't shoot them down without trial! They'd never be admittedto Bornholm. "

"That we don't really know!" The young master smiled. 

"To the devil with them--we'd all go down to the shore and shootthem: they should never land alive!"

"They are just a miserable rabble, the lot of them, " said Jeppe. "I should very much like to know whether there is a decent citizenamong them. "

"Naturally, it's always the poor who complain of poverty, " saidBjerregrav. "So the thing never comes to an end. "

Baker Jorgen was the only one of them who had anything to do. Thingswould have to be bad indeed before the people stopped buying hisblack bread. He even had more to do than usual; the more peopleabstained from meat and cheese, the more bread they ate. He oftenhired Jeppe's apprentices so that they might help him in thekneading. 

But he was not in a happy frame of mind. He was always shouting hisabuse of Soren through the open doors, because the latter would notgo near his buxom young wife. Old Jorgen had taken him and put himinto bed with her with his own hands, but Soren had got out of thebusiness by crying and trembling like a new-born calf. 

"D'you think he's perhaps bewitched?" asked Master Andres. 

"She's young and pretty, and there's not the least fault to be foundwith her--and we've fed him with eggs right through the winter. Shegoes about hanging her head, she gets no attention from him. 'Marie!Soren!' I cry, just to put a little life into them--he ought to bethe sort of devil I was, I can tell you! She laughs and blushes, butSoren, he simply sneaks off. It's really a shame--so dainty as sheis too, in every way. Ah, it ought to have been in my young days, I can tell you!"

"You are still young enough, Uncle Jorgen!" laughed Master Andres. 

"Well, a man could almost bring himself to it--when he considerswhat a dreadful injustice is going on under his own eyes. For, lookyou, Andres, I've been a dirty beast about all that sort of thing, but I've been a jolly fellow too; people were always glad to be onboard with me. And I've had strength for a booze, and a girl; andfor hard work in bad weather. The life I've led--it hasn't beenbad; I'd live it all over again the same. But Soren--what sort ofa strayed weakling is he? He can't find his own way about! Now, ifonly you would have a chat with him--you've got some influence overhim. "

"I'll willingly try. "

"Thanks; but look here, I owe you money. " Jorgen took ten kronerand laid them on the table as he was going. 

"Pelle, you devil's imp, can you run an errand for me?" The youngmaster limped into the cutting-out room, Pelle following on hisheels. 

A hundred times a day the master would run to the front door, but hehurried back again directly; he could not stand the cold. His eyeswere full of dreams of other countries, whose climates were kinder, and he spoke of his two brothers, of whom one was lost in SouthAmerica--perhaps murdered. But the other was in Australia, herdingsheep. He earned more at that than the town magistrate received assalary, and was the cleverest boxer in the neighborhood. Here themaster made his bloodless hands circle one round the other, and letthem fall clenched upon Pelle's back. "That, " he said, in a superiortone, "is what they call boxing. Brother Martin can cripple a manwith one blow. He is paid for it, the devil!" The master shuddered. His brother had on several occasions offered to send him hissteamer-ticket, but there was that damned leg. "Tell me whatI should do over there, eh, Pelle?"

Pelle had to bring books from the lending library every day, and he soon learned which writers were the most exciting. He alsoattempted to read himself, but he could not get on with it; it wasmore amusing to stand about by the skating-pond and freeze and watchthe others gliding over the ice. But he got Morten to tell him ofexciting books, and these he brought home for the master; such wasthe "Flying Dutchman. " "That's a work of poetry, Lord alive!" saidthe master, and he related its contents to Bjerregrav, who took themall for reality. 

"You should have played some part in the great world, Andres--I formy part do best to stay at home here. But you could have managedit--I'm sure of it. "

"The great world!" said the master scornfully. No, he didn't takemuch stock in the world--it wasn't big enough. "If I were to travel, I should like to look for the way into the interior of the earth--they say there's a way into it in Iceland. Or it would be gloriousto make a voyage to the moon; but that will always be just a story. "

At the beginning of the new year the crazy Anker came to the youngmaster and dictated a love-letter to the eldest daughter of theking. "This year he will surely answer, " he said thoughtfully. "Time is passing, and fortune disappears, and there are few thathave their share of it; we need the new time very badly. "

"Yes, we certainly do, " said Master Andres. "But if such amisfortune should happen that the king should refuse, why, youare man enough to manage the matter yourself, Anker!"

It was a slack season, and, just as it was at its very worst, shoemaker Bohn returned and opened a shop on the marketplace. Hehad spent a year on the mainland and had learned all sorts of modernhumbug. There was only one pair of boots in his window, and thosewere his own Sunday boots. Every Monday they were put out andexhibited again, so that there should be something to look at. 

If he himself was in the shop, talking to the people, his wifewould sit in the living-room behind and hammer on a boot, so thatit sounded as though there were men in the workshop. 

But at Shrovetide Jeppe received some orders. Master Andres camehome quite cheerfully one day from Bjerhansen's cellar; there hehad made the acquaintance of some of the actors of a troupe whichhad just arrived. "They are fellows, too!" he said, stroking hischeeks. "They travel continually from one place to another and giveperformances--they get to see the world!" He could not sit quiet. 

The next morning they came rioting into the workshop, filling theplace with their deafening gabble. "Soles and heels!" "Heels thatwon't come off!" "A bit of heel-work and two on the snout!" So theywent on, bringing great armfuls of boots from under their cloaks, or fishing them out of bottomless pockets, and throwing them inheaps on the window-bench, each with his droll remarks. Boots andshoes they called "understandings"; they turned and twisted everyword, tossing it like a ball from mouth to mouth, until not a traceof sense was left in it. 

The apprentices forgot everything, and could scarcely containthemselves for laughing, and the young master overflowed with wit--he was equal to the best of them. Now one saw that he really mighthave luck with the women: there was no boasting or lying about it. The young actress with the hair like the lightest flax could notkeep her eyes off him, although she evidently had all the othersat her petticoat-tails; she made signs to her companions that theyshould admire the master's splendid big mustache. The master hadforgotten his lame leg and thrown his stick away; he was on hisknees, taking the actress's measure for a pair of high boots withpatent tops and concertina-like folds in the legs. She had a holein the heel of her stocking, but she only laughed over it; one ofthe actors cried "Poached egg!" and then they laughed uproariously. 

Old Jeppe came tumbling into the room, attracted by the merriment. The blonde lady called him "Grandfather, " and wanted to dance withhim, and Jeppe forgot his dignity and laughed with the rest. "Yes, it's to us they come when they want to have something good, " he saidproudly. "And I learned my trade in Copenhagen, and I used to carryboots and shoes to more than one play-actor there. We had to workfor the whole theater; Jungfer Patges, who became so famous lateron, got her first dancing shoes from us. "

"Yes, those are the fellows!" said Master Andres, as at last theybustled out; "devil take me, but those are the chaps!" Jeppe couldnot in the least understand how they had found their way thither, and Master Andres did not explain that he had been to the tavern. "Perhaps Jungfer Patges sent them to me, " he said, gazing into thedistance. "She must somehow have kept me in mind. "

Free tickets poured in on them; the young master was in the theaterevery evening. Pelle received a gallery ticket every time he wentround with a pair of boots. He was to say nothing--but the pricewas plainly marked on the sole with chalk. 

"Did you get the money?" the master would ask eagerly; he used tostand on the stairs all the time, waiting. No, Pelle was to presenttheir very best wishes, and to say they would come round and settleup themselves. 

"Well, well, people of that sort are safe enough, " said the master. 

One day Lasse came stamping into the workshop and into the midst ofthem all, looking the picture of a big farmer, with his fur collardrawn round his ears. He had a sack of potatoes outside; it was apresent to Pelle's employers, because Pelle was learning his tradeso well. Pelle was given leave and went out with his father; and hekept looking furtively at the fur collar. At last he could containhimself no longer, but turned it up inquiringly. Disillusioned, helet it fall again. 

"Ah, yes--er--well--that's just tacked on to my driving-cloak. Itlooks well, and it keeps my ears nice and warm. You thought I'dblossomed out into a proper fur coat? No, it won't run to that justyet--but it will soon. And I could name you more than one big farmerwho has nothing better than this. "

Yes, Pelle was just a trifle disappointed. But he must admit thatthere was no difference to be perceived between this cloak and thereal bear-skin. "Are things going on all right?" he asked. 

"Oh, yes; at present I am breaking stone. I've got to break twentycords if I'm to pay everybody what's owing to him by the Devil'sbirthday. [Footnote: The 11th December--the general pay-day andhiring-day. --TB. ] So long as we keep our health and strength, Karnaand I. "

They drove to the merchant's and put up the horses. Pelle noticedthat the people at the merchant's did not rush forward to Lassequite so eagerly as they did to the real farmers; but Lasse himselfbehaved in quite an important manner. He stumped right into themerchant's counting-house, just like the rest, filled his pipe atthe barrel, and helped himself to a drink of brandy. A cold breathof air hung about him as he went backward and forward from thecart with buttoned-up cloak, and he stamped as loudly on the sharpcobble-stones as though his boot-soles too were made of stone. 

Then they went on to Due's cottage; Lasse was anxious to see howmatters were prospering there. "It isn't always easy when one ofthe parties brings a love-child into the business. "

Pelle explained to him how matters stood. "Tell them at UncleKalle's that they must take little Maria back again. Anna ill-treatsher. They are getting on well in other ways; now they want to buya wagon and horses and set up as carriers. "

"Do they? Well, it's easy for those to get on who haven't anyheart. " Lasse sighed. 

"Look, father, " said Pelle suddenly, "there's a theater here now, and I know all the players. I take them their boots, and they giveme a ticket every evening. I've seen the whole thing. "

"But, of course, that's all lies, eh?" Lasse had to pull up, inorder to scrutinize Pelle's face. "So you've been in a propertheater, eh? Well, those who live in the town have got the devilto thank for it if they are cleverer than a peasant. One canhave everything here!"

"Will you go with me to-night? I can get the tickets. "

Lasse was uneasy. It wasn't that he didn't want to go; but the wholething was so unaccustomed. However, it was arranged that he shouldsleep the night at Due's, and in the evening they both went to thetheater. 

"Is it here?" asked Lasse, astounded. They had come to a greatbuilding like a barn, before which a number of people were standing. But it was fine inside. They sat right up at the top, at the back, where the seats were arranged like the side of a hill, and they hada view over the whole theater. Down below, right in front, sat someladies who, so far as Lasse could see, were naked. "I suppose thoseare the performers?" he inquired. 

Pelle laughed. "No, those are the grandest ladies in the town--thedoctor's wife, the burgomaster's lady, and the inspector's wife, and such like. "

"What, they are so grand that they haven't enough clothes towear!" cried Lasse. "With us we call that poverty! But where arethe players, then?"

"They are the other side of the curtain. "

"Then have they begun already?"

"No, you can see they haven't--the curtain has to go up first. "

There was a hole in the curtain, and a finger came through it, andbegan to turn from side to side, pointing at the spectators. Lasselaughed. "That's devilish funny!" he cried, slapping his thighs, as the finger continued to point. 

"It hasn't begun yet, " said Pelle. 

"Is that so?" This damped Lasse's spirits a little. 

But then the big crown-light began suddenly to run up through a holein the ceiling; up in the loft some boys were kneeling round thehole, and as the light came up they blew out the lamps. Then thecurtain went up, and there was a great brightly-lit hall, in whicha number of pretty young girls were moving about, dressed in themost wonderful costumes--and they were speaking! Lasse was quiteastonished to find that he could understand what they said; thewhole thing seemed so strange and foreign to him; it was like apeep into dreamland. But there was one maiden who sat there allalone at her spinning wheel, and she was the fairest of them all. 

"That's surely a fine lady?" asked Lasse. 

But Pelle whispered that she was only a poor forest maiden, whom thelord of the castle had robbed, and now he wanted to force her to behis sweetheart. All the others were making a tremendous lot of her, combing her golden hair and kneeling before her; but she only lookedunhappier than before. And sometimes her sadness was more than shecould bear; then she opened her beautiful mouth and her woundedheart bled in song, which affected Lasse so that he had to fetcha long sighing breath. 

Then a tall man with a huge red beard came stamping into the hall. Lasse saw that he was dressed like a man who has been keepingCarnival. 

"That's the one we made the fine boots for, " whispered Pelle: "thelord of the castle, who wants to seduce her. "

"An ugly devil he looks too!" said Lasse, and spat. "The master atStone Farm is a child of God compared with him!" Pelle signed tohim to be quiet. 

The lord of the castle drove all the other women away, and thenbegan to tramp stormily to and fro, eyeing the forest maiden andshowing the whites of his eyes. "Well, have you at last decided?"he roared, and snorted like a mad bull. And suddenly he sprang ather as if to take her by force. 

"Ha! Touch me not!" she cried, "or by the living God, I will plungethis dagger into my heart! You believe you can buy my innocencebecause I am poor, but the honor of the poor is not to be boughtwith gold!"

"That's a true word!" said Lasse loudly. 

But the lord of the castle gave a malicious laugh, and tugged athis red beard. He rolled his r's dreadfully. 

"Is my offer not enough for you? Come, stay this night with me andyou shall receive a farm with ten head of cattle, so that to-morrowyou can stand at the altar with your huntsman!"

"Hold your tongue, you whoremonger!" said Lasse angrily. 

Those round about him tried to calm him; one or another nudged himin the ribs. "Well, can't a man speak any longer?" Lasse turnedcrossly to Pelle. "I'm no clergyman, but if the girl doesn't wantto, let him leave her alone; at any rate he shan't slake his lustpublicly in the presence of hundreds of people with impunity! Aswine like that!" Lasse was speaking loudly, and it seemed as thoughhis words had had their effect on the lord of the castle. He stoodthere awhile staring in front of him, and then called a man, andbade him lead the maiden back to the forest. 

Lasse breathed easily again as the curtain fell and the boysoverhead by the hole in the ceiling relit the lamps and let themdown again. "So far she's got out of it all right, " he told Pelle, "but I don't trust the lord--he's a scoundrel!" He was perspiringfreely, and did not look entirely satisfied. 

The next scene which was conjured up on the stage was a forest. It was wonderfully fine, with pelargoniums blooming on the ground, and a spring which was flowing out of something green. "That is acovered beer-barrel!" said Pelle, and now Lasse too could see thetap, but it was wonderfully natural. Right in the background onecould see the lord's castle on a cliff, and in the foreground laya fallen tree-trunk; two green-clad huntsmen sat astride of it, concocting their evil schemes. Lasse nodded--he knew something ofthe wickedness of the world. 

Now they heard a sound, and crouched down behind the tree-trunk, each with a knife in his hand. For a moment all was silent; thencame the forest maiden and her huntsman, wandering all unawares downthe forest path. By the spring they took a clinging and affectionatefarewell; then the man came forward, hurrying to his certain death. 

This was too much. Lasse stood up. "Look out!" he cried in a chokingvoice: "look out!" Those behind him pulled his coat and scolded him. "No, devil take you all, I won't hold my tongue!" he cried, andlaid about him. And then he leaned forward again: "Look where you'regoing, d'you hear! Your life is at stake! They're hiding behind thefallen tree!"

The huntsman stood where he was and stared up, and the twoassassins had risen to their feet and were staring, and the actorsand actresses came through from the wings and gazed upward overthe auditorium. Lasse saw that the man was saved, but now he hadto suffer for his services; the manager wanted to throw him out. "I can perfectly well go by myself, " he said. "An honorable manis one too many in this company!" In the street below he talkedaloud to himself; he was in a blazing temper. 

"It was only a play, " said Pelle dejectedly. In his heart he wasashamed of his father. 

"You needn't try to teach me about that! I know very well that itall happened long ago and that I can do nothing to alter it, notif I was to stand on my head. But that such low doings should bebrought to life again! If the others had felt as I did we shouldhave taken the lord and thrashed him to death, even if it did comea hundred years too late!"

"Why--but that was Actor West, who comes to our workshop every day. "

"Is that so? Actor West, eh? Then you are Actor Codfish, to letyourself be imposed on like that! I have met people before now whohad the gift of falling asleep and conjuring up long dead peoplein their place--but not so real as here, you understand. If youhad been behind the curtain you would have seen West lying therelike dead, while he, the other one--the Devil--was carrying onand ordering everybody about. It's a gift I'd rather not have; adangerous game! If the others forget the word of command that bringshim back into the body it would be all up with him, and the otherwould take his place. "

"But that is all superstition! When I know it's West in a play--why, I recognized him at once!"

"Oh, of course! You are always the cleverer! You'd like a disputewith the devil himself every day! So it was only a show? When hewas rolling the whites of his eyes in his frantic lust! You believeme--if she hadn't had that knife he would have fallen on her andsatisfied his desire in front of everybody! Because if you conjureup long bygone times the action has to have its way, however manythere are to see. But that they should do it for money--for money--ugh! And now I'm going home!" Lasse would say nothing more, buthad the horses harnessed. 

"You had best not go there again, " he said at parting. "But if ithas got hold of you already, at least put a knife in your pocket. Yes, and we'll send you your washing by Butcher Jensen, oneSaturday, soon. "

Pelle went to the theater as before; he had a shrewd idea that itwas only a play, but there _was_ something mysterious about it;people must have a supernatural gift who evening after evening couldso entirely alter their appearance and so completely enter into thepeople they represented. Pelle thought he would like to become anactor if he could only climb high enough. 

The players created a considerable excitement when they strolledthrough the streets with their napping clothes and queer head-gear;people ran to their windows to see them, the old folk peeping overtheir shoulders. The town was as though transformed as long as theywere in it. 

Every mind had taken a perverse direction. The girls cried out intheir sleep and dreamed of abductions; they even left their windowsa little open; and every young fellow was ready to run away with theplayers. Those who were not theater-mad attended religious meetingsin order to combat the evil. 

And one day the players disappeared--as they had come--and left acloud of debts behind them. "Devil's trash!" said the master withhis despondent expression. "They've tricked us! But, all the same, they were fine fellows in their way, and they had seen the world!"

But after these happenings he could by no means get warm again. Hecrawled into bed and spent the best part of the month lying there. 

XII

It can be very cozy on those winter evenings when everybody sits athome in the workshop and passes the time by doing nothing, becauseit is so dark and cold out of doors, and one has nowhere to go to. To stand about by the skating-ponds and to look on, frozen, whileothers go swinging past--well, Pelle has had enough of it; and asfor strolling up the street toward the north, and then turning aboutand returning toward the south, and turning yet again, up and downthe selfsame street--well, there is nothing in it unless one hasgood warm clothes and a girl whose waist one can hold. And Mortentoo is no fresh-air disciple; he is freezing, and wants to sit inthe warmth. 

So they slink into the workshop as soon as it begins to grow dark, and they take out the key and hang it on the nail in the entry, inorder to deceive Jeppe, and then they secretly make a fire in thestove, placing a screen in front of it, so that Jeppe shall not seethe light from it when he makes his rounds past the workshop windows. They crouch together on the ledge at the bottom of the stove, eachwith an arm round the other's shoulder, and Morten tells Pelle aboutthe books he has read. 

"Why do you do nothing but read those stupid books?" asks Pelle, when he has listened for a time. 

"Because I want to know something about life and about the world, "answers Morten, out of the darkness. 

"Of the world?" says Pelle, in a contemptuous tone. "I want to goout into the world and see things--what's in the books is only lies. But go on. "

And Morten goes on, good-natured as always. And in the midst of hisnarrative something suddenly occurs to him, and he pulls a paperpacket from his breast-pocket: "That's chocolate from Bodil, " hesays, and breaks the stick in two. 

"Where had she put it?" asks Pelle. 

"Under the sheet--I felt something hard under my back whenI lay down. "

The boys laugh, while they nibble at the chocolate. Suddenly Pellesays: "Bodil, she's a child-seducer! She enticed Hans Peter awayfrom Stone Farm--and he was only fifteen!"

Morten does not reply; but after a time his head sinks on Pelle'sshoulder--his body is twitching. 

"Well, you are seventeen, " says Pelle, consoling. "But it's sillyall the same; she might well be your mother--apart from her age. "And they both laugh. 

It can be still cozier on work-day evenings. Then the fire isburning openly in the stove, even after eight o'clock, and thelamp is shining, and Morten is there again. People come fromall directions and look in for a moment's visit, and the cold, an impediment to everything else, awakens all sorts of notablereminiscences. It is as though the world itself comes creepinginto the workshop. Jeppe conjures up his apprentice years in thecapital, and tells of the great bankruptcy; he goes right back tothe beginning of the century, to a wonderful old capital where theold people wore wigs, and the rope's-end was always at hand and theapprentices just kept body and soul together, begging on Sundaysbefore the doors of the townsfolk. Ah, those were times! And hecomes home and wants to settle down as master, but the guild won'taccept him; he is too young. So he goes to sea as cook, and comesto places down south where the sun burns so fiercely that the pitchmelts in the seams and the deck scorches one's feet. They are amerry band, and Jeppe, little as he is, by no means lags behind therest. In Malaga they storm a tavern, throw all the Spaniards outof the window, and sport with the girls--until the whole town fallsupon them and they have to fly to their boat. Jeppe cannot keep upwith them, and the boat shoves off, so that he has to jump into thewater and swim for it. Knives fall splashing about him in the water, and one sticks shivering in his shoulder-blades. When Jeppe comes tothis he always begins to strip his back to show the scar, and MasterAndres holds him back. Pelle and Morten have heard the story manya time, but they are willing always to hear it again. 

And Baker Jorgen, who for the greater part of his life has been aseaman on the big vessels sailing the northern and southern oceans, talks about capstans and icebergs and beautiful black women fromthe West Indies. He sets the capstan turning, so that the greatthree-master makes sail out of the Havana roadstead, and all hishearers feel their hearts grow light. 

 "Heave ho, the capstan, Waltz her well along! Leave the girl a-weeping, Strike up the song!"

So they walk round and round, twelve men with their breasts pressedagainst the heavy capstan-bars; the anchor is weighed, and the sailfills with the wind--and behind and through his words gleam thefeatures of a sweetheart in every port. Bjerregrav cannot helpcrossing himself--he who has never accomplished anything, exceptto feel for the poor; but in the young master's eyes everybodytravels--round and round the world, round and round the world. AndWooden-leg Larsen, who in winter is quite the well-to-do pensioner, in blue pilot-coat and fur cap, leaves his pretty, solidly-builtcottage when the Spring comes, and sallies forth into the world asa poor organ-grinder--he tells them of the Zoological Gardens on thehill, and the adventurous Holm-Street, and of extraordinary beingswho live upon the dustbins in the back-yards of the capital. 

But Pelle's body creaks whenever he moves; his bones are growingand seeking to stretch themselves; he feels growth and restlessnessin every part and corner of his being. He is the first to whom theSpring comes; one day it announces itself in him in the form of acuriosity as to what his appearance is like. Pelle has never askedhimself this question before; and the scrap of looking-glass whichhe begged from the glazier from whom he fetches the glass scraperstells him nothing truly. He has at bottom a feeling that he is animpossible person. 

He begins to give heed to the opinions of others respecting hisoutward appearance; now and again a girl looks after him, and hischeeks are no longer so fat that people can chaff him about them. His fair hair is wavy; the lucky curl on his forehead is stillvisible as an obstinate little streak; but his ears are stillterribly big, and it is of no use to pull his cap over them, inorder to press them close to his head. But he is tall and well-grownfor his age, and the air of the workshop has been powerless to spoilhis ruddy complexion; and he is afraid of nothing in the world--particularly when he is angry. He thinks out a hundred differentkinds of exercise in order to satisfy the demands of his body, butit is of no use. If he only bends over his hammer-work he feels itin every joint of his body. 

And then one day the ice breaks and goes out to sea. Ships arefitted out again, and provisioned, and follow the ice, and thepeople of the town awake to the idea of a new life, and begin tothink of green woods and summer clothing. 

And one day the fishing-boats arrive! They come gliding acrossfrom Hellavik and Nogesund on the Swedish coast. They cut swiftlythrough the water, heeling far over under their queer lateen sails, like hungry sea-birds that sweep the waves with one wing-tip intheir search for booty. A mile to seaward the fishermen of the townreceive them with gunshots; they have no permission to anchor inthe fishing port, but have to rent moorings for themselves in theold ship's harbor, and to spread out the gear to dry toward thenorth. The craftsmen of the town come flocking down to the harbor, discussing the foreign thieves who have come from a poorer countryin order to take the bread out of the mouths of the townsfolk;for they are inured to all weathers, and full of courage, and aresuccessful in their fishing. They say the same things every Spring, but when they want to buy herrings they deal with the Swedes, whosell more cheaply than the Bornholmers. "Perhaps our fishermen wearleather boots?" inquires Jeppe. "No, they wear wooden shoes week-days and Sunday alike. Let the wooden-shoe makers deal with them--Ibuy where the fish is cheapest!"

It is as though the Spring in person has arrived with these thin, sinewy figures, who go singing through the streets, challenging thepetty envy of the town. There are women, too, on every boat, to mendand clean the gear, and they pass the workshop in crowds, searchingfor their old lodgings in the poor part of the town near the "GreatPower's" home. Pelle's heart leaps at the sight of these young women, with pretty slippers on their feet, black shawls round their ovalfaces, and many fine colors in their dress. His mind is full ofshadowy memories of his childhood, which have lain as quiet asthough they were indeed extinguished; vague traditions of a timethat he has experienced but can no longer remember; it is like awarm breath of air from another and unknown existence. 

If it happens that one or another of these girls has a littlechild on her arm, then the town has something to talk about. Is itMerchant Lund again, as it was last year? Lund, who since then hadbeen known only as "the Herring Merchant"? Or is it some sixteen-year-old apprentice, a scandal to his pastor and schoolmaster, whose hands he has only just left?

Then Jens goes forth with his concertina, and Pelle makes haste withhis tidying up, and he and Morten hurry up to Gallows Hill, hand-in-hand, for Morten finds it difficult to run so quickly. All that thetown possesses of reckless youth is there; but the Swedish girlstake the lead. They dance and whirl until their slippers fly off, and little battles are fought over them. But on Saturdays the boatsdo not go to sea; then the men turn up, with smouldering brows, andclaim their women, and then there is great slaughter. 

Pelle enters into it all eagerly; here he finds an opportunity ofthat exercise of which his handicraft deprives his body. He hungersfor heroic deeds, and presses so close to the fighters that now andagain he gets a blow himself. He dances with Morten, and plucks upcourage to ask one of the girls to dance with him; he is shy, anddances like a leaping kid in order to banish his shyness; and inthe midst of the dance he takes to his heels and leaves the girlstanding there. "Damned silly!" say the onlookers, and he hears themlaughing behind him. He has a peculiar manner of entering into allthis recklessness which lets the body claim its due without thoughtfor the following day and the following year. If some man-huntingyoung woman tries to capture his youth he lashes out behind, andwith a few wanton leaps he is off and away. But he loves to join inthe singing when the men and women go homeward with closely-twinedarms, and he and Morten follow them, they too with their arms abouteach other. Then the moon builds her bridge of light across the sea, and in the pinewood, where a white mist lies over the tree-tops, a song rises from every path, heard as a lulling music in the hauntsof the wandering couples; insistently melancholy in its meaning, but issuing from the lightest hearts. It is just the kind of songto express their happiness. 

 "Put up, put up thy golden hair; A son thou'lt have before a year-- No help in thy clamor and crying! In forty weeks may'st look for me. I come to ask how it fares with thee. The forty weeks were left behind. And sad she was and sick of mind, And fell to her clamor and crying--"

And the song continues as they go through the town, couple aftercouple, wandering as they list. The quiet winding closes ring withsongs of love and death, so that the old townsfolk lift their headsfrom their pillows, and, their nightcaps pushed to one side, waggravely at all this frivolity. But youth knows nothing of this;it plunges reveling onward, with its surging blood. And one daythe old people have the best of it; the blood surges no longer, butthere they are, and there are the consequences, and the consequencesdemand paternity and maintenance. "Didn't we say so?" cry theold folk; but the young ones hang their heads, and foresee a long, crippled existence, with a hasty marriage or continual paymentsto a strange woman, while all through their lives a shadow ofdegradation and ridicule clings to them; both their wives and theircompany must be taken from beneath them. They talk no longer ofgoing out into the world and making their way; they used to strutarrogantly before the old folk and demand free play for their youth, but now they go meekly in harness with hanging heads, and blinkshamefacedly at the mention of their one heroic deed. And those whocannot endure their fate must leave the country secretly and bynight, or swear themselves free. 

The young master has his own way of enjoying himself. He takes nopart in the chase after the girls; but when the sunlight is reallywarm, he sits before the workshop window and lets it warm his back. "Ah, that's glorious!" he says, shaking himself. Pelle has to feelhis fur jacket to see how powerful the sun is. "Thank God, now wehave the spring here!"

Inside the workshop they whistle and sing to the hammer-strokes;there are times when the dark room sounds like a bird-shop. "ThankGod, now we have the spring!" says Master Andres over and over again, "but the messenger of spring doesn't seem to be coming this year. "

"Perhaps he is dead, " says little Nikas. 

"Garibaldi dead? Good Lord! he won't die just yet. All the years Ican remember he has looked just as he does now and has drunk just ashard. Lord of my body! but how he has boozed in his time, the rascal!But you won't find his equal as a shoemaker all the world over. "

One morning, soon after the arrival of the steamer, a thin, tall, sharp-shouldered man comes ducking through the workshop door. Hishands and face are blue with the cold of the morning and his cheeksare rather baggy, but in his eyes burns an undying fire. "Morning, comrades!" he says, with a genial wave of the hand. "Well, how'slife treating us? Master well?" He dances into the workshop, his hatpressed flat under his left arm. His coat and trousers flap againsthis body, revealing the fact that he is wearing nothing beneaththem; his feet are thrust bare into his shoes, and he wears a thickkerchief round his neck. But such a manner and a carriage in acraftsman Pelle has never seen in all his days; and Garibaldi'svoice alone is like a bell. 

"Now, my son, " he says, and strikes Pelle lightly on the shoulder, "can you fetch me something to drink? Just a little, now at once, for I'm murderously thirsty. The master has credit! Pst! We'll havethe bottleful--then you needn't go twice. "

Pelle runs. In half a minute he is back again. Garibaldi knows howto do things quickly; he has already tied his apron, and is on thepoint of passing his opinion on the work in the workshop. He takesthe bottle from Pelle, throws it over his shoulder, catches it withthe other hand, sets his thumb against the middle of the bottle, and drinks. Then he shows the bottle to the others. "Just to thethumbnail, eh?"

"I call that smart drinking!" says little Nikas. 

"It can be done though the night is black as a crow"; Garibaldiwaves his hand in a superior manner. "And old Jeppe is alive still?A smart fellow!"

Master Andres strikes on the wall. "He has come in--he is there!"he says, with his wide-opened eyes. After a time he slips into hisclothes and comes out into the workshop; he hangs about gossiping, but Garibaldi is sparing of his words; he is still rusty after thenight voyage. 

A certain feverishness has affected them all; an anxiety lestanything should escape them. No one regards his daily work withaversion to-day; everybody exerts his capacities to the utmost. Garibaldi comes from the great world, and the spirit of adventureand the wandering life exhales from his flimsy clothes. 

"If he'll only begin to tell us about it, " whispers Pelle to Jens;he cannot sit still. They hang upon his lips, gazing at him; if heis silent it is the will of Providence. Even the master does notbother him, but endures his taciturnity and little Nikas submitsto being treated like an apprentice. 

Garibaldi raises his head. "Well, one didn't come here to sitabout and idle!" he cries gaily. "Plenty to do, master?"

"There's not much doing here, but we've always work for you, "replies Master Andres. "Besides, we've had an order for a pair ofwedding-shoes, white satin with yellow stitching; but we haven'tproperly tackled it. " He gives little Nikas a meaning glance. 

"No yellow stitching with white satin, master; white silk, of course, and white edges. "

"Is that the Paris fashion?" asks Master Andres eagerly. Garibaldishrugs his shoulders. "Don't let us speak of Paris, Master Andres;here we have neither the leather nor the tools to make Parisianshoes; and we haven't the legs to put into them, either. "

"The deuce! Are they so fashionable?"

"Fashionable! I should say so! I can hold the foot of a well-grownParisian woman in the hollow of my hand. And when they walk theydon't touch the pavement! You could make shoes for a Parisian girlout of whipped cream, and they'd hold together! If you were to fither with a pair of ordinary woman's beetle-crushers she'd jumpstraight into the sewer!"

"Well, I'm damned!" The master is hastily cutting some leatherto shape. "The devil she would!"

Never did any one make himself at home more easily; Garibaldi drawsa seat up to the table and is at once in full swing. No rummagingabout after tools; his hand finds his way to the exact spot wherethe thing required lies, as though an invisible track lay betweenthem. These hands do everything of themselves, quietly, with gentlemovements, while the eyes are elsewhere; gazing out into the garden, or examining the young master, or the work of the apprentices. ToPelle and the others, who always have to look at everything fromevery side in turn, this is absolutely marvelous. And before theyhave had time to look round Garibaldi has put everything in order, and is sitting there working and looking across the room at themaster, who is himself sewing to-day. 

And then Jeppe comes tumbling in, annoyed that no one has told himof Garibaldi's arrival. "'Day, master--'day, craft-master!" saysGaribaldi, who stands up and bows. 

"Yes, " says Jeppe self-consciously, "if there were craft-mastersstill, I should be one. But manual work is in a wretched case to-day;there's no respect for it, and where shall a man look for respect ifhe doesn't respect himself?"

"That's meant for the young master, eh?" says Garibaldi laughing. "But times have altered, Master Jeppe; knee-straps and respect havegiven out; yes, those days are over! Begin at seven, and at six offand away! So it is in the big cities!"

"Is that this sosherlism?" says Jeppe disdainfully. 

"It's all the same to me what it is--Garibaldi begins and leavesoff when it pleases him! And if he wants more for his work he asksfor it! And if that doesn't please them--then adieu, master, adieu!There are slaves enough, said the boy, when he got no bread. "

The others did not get very much done; they have enough to do towatch Garibaldi's manner of working. He has emptied the bottle, and now his tongue is oiled; the young master questions him, and Garibaldi talks and talks, with continual gestures. Not fora moment do his hands persist at their work; and yet the workprogresses so quickly it is a revelation to watch it; it is asthough it were proceeding of itself. His attention is directedupon their work, and he always interferes at the right moment;he criticizes their way of holding their tools, and works out thevarious fashions of cut which lend beauty to the heel and sole. Itis as though he feels it when they do anything wrongly; his spiritpervades the whole workshop. "That's how one does it in Paris, " hesays, or "this is Nuremberg fashion. " He speaks of Vienna and Greecein as matter-of-fact a way as though they lay yonder under SkipperElleby's trees. In Athens he went to the castle to shake the kingby the hand, for countrymen should always stand by one another inforeign parts. 

"He was very nice, by the by; but he had had his breakfast already. And otherwise it's a damned bad country for traveling; there areno shoemakers there. No, there I recommend you Italy--there areshoemakers there, but no work; however, you can safely risk it andbeg your way from place to place. They aren't like those industriousGermans; every time you ask them for a little present they comeand say, 'Come in, please, there is some work you can do!' And itis so warm there a man can sleep on the bare ground. Wine flows inevery gutter there, but otherwise it's no joke. " Garibaldi raisesthe empty bottle high in the air and peeps wonderingly up at theshelves; the young master winks at Pelle, and the latter fetchesanother supply of drink at the gallop. 

The hot blood is seething in Pelle's ears. He must go away, faraway from here, and live the wandering life, like Garibaldi, whohid himself in the vineyards from the gendarmes, and stole the baconfrom the chimneys while the people were in the fields. A spirit isworking in him and the others; the spirit of their craft. They touchtheir tools and their material caressingly with their fingers;everything one handles has an inward color of its own; which tellsone something. All the dustiness and familiarity of the workshop isswept away; the objects standing on the shelves glow with interest;the most tedious things contain a radiant life of their own. 

The world rises before them like a cloudy wonder, traversed byendless highways deep in white dust, and Garibaldi treads them all. He has sold his journeyman's pass to a comrade for a slice of breadand butter, and is left without papers; German policemen give chaseto him, and he creeps through the vineyards for fourteen days, onhands and knees, getting nothing for his pains but grapes and ashocking attack of summer cholera. Finally his clothes are so verymuch alive that he no longer needs to move of himself; he simplylies quiet, and lets himself be carried along until he comes to alittle town. "An inn?" asks Garibaldi. Yes, there is an inn. Therehe tells a story to the effect that he has been robbed; and thegood people put him to bed, and warm and dry his clothes. Garibaldisnores, and pushes the chair nearer the stove; snores, and pushes ita little further; and as his clothes burst into a blaze he starts uproaring and scolding and weeping, and is inconsolable. So then he isgiven fine new clothes and new papers, and is out on the road again, and the begging begins afresh; mountains rise and pass him by, andgreat cities too, cities with wide rivers. There are towns in whichthe wandering journeyman can get no money, but is forced to work;damnable places, and there are German hostels where one is treatedlike a prisoner; all clothes must be taken off in a long corridor, even to one's shirt; a handful of men examine them, and theneverything is put safely away. Thirty or forty naked men areadmitted, one after another, to the great bare dormitory. 

Paris--the name is like a bubble bursting in one's ear! ThereGaribaldi has worked for two years, and he has been there a scoreof times on passing visits. Paris is the glory of the whole worldmassed together, and all the convenient contrivances of the worldbrought to a state of perfection. Here in the town no respectableshoemaker will mend the dirty shoes of the "Top-galeass"; she goesabout in down-trodden top-boots, or, if the snipping season hasbeen poor, she wears wooden shoes. In Paris there are women whowear shoes at twenty guineas a pair, who carry themselves likequeens, earn forty thousand pounds a year, and are yet nothingbut prostitutes. Forty thousand! If another than Garibaldi hadsaid it he would have had all the lasts thrown at his head!

Pelle does not hear what the master says to him, and Jens is in agreat hurry for the cobbler's wax; he has cut the upper of the shoehe is soling. They are quite irresponsible; as though bewitched bythis wonderful being, who goes on pouring brandy down his throat, and turning the accursed drink into a many-colored panorama of thewhole world, and work that is like a miracle. 

The news has soon spread, and people come hurrying in to seeGaribaldi, and perhaps to venture to shake him by the hand; Klausenwants to borrow some pegs, and Marker, quite unabashed, looks in toborrow the biggest last. The old cobbler Drejer stands modestly ina corner and says "Yes, yes!" to the other's remarks. Garibaldi hasreached him his hand, and now he can go home to his gloomy shop andhis dirty stock and his old man's solitude. The genius of the crafthas touched him, and for the rest of his days has shed a light uponhis wretched work of patching and repairing; he has exchanged ahandshake with the man who made the cork-soled boots for the Emperorof Germany himself when he went out to fight the French. And thecrazy Anker is there too; but does not come in, as he is shy ofstrangers. He walks up and down the yard before the workshop window, and keeps on peeping in. Garibaldi points his finger to his foreheadand nods, and Anker does the same; he is shaking with suppressedlaughter, as over some excellent joke, and runs off like a child whomust hide himself in a corner in order to savor his delight. BakerJorgen is there, bending down with his hands on his thighs, and hismouth wide open. "Lor' Jiminy!" he cries from time to time; "didever one hear the like!" He watches the white silk run through thesole and form itself into glistening pearls along the edge. Pearlafter pearl appears; Garibaldi's arms fly about him, and presentlyhe touches the baker on the hip. "Am I in the way?" asks old Jorgen. "No, God forbid--stay where you are!" And his arms fly out again, and the butt of the bodkin touches the baker with a little click. "I'm certainly in the way, " says Jorgen, and moves a few inches. "Not in the least!" replies Garibaldi, stitching away. Then outfly his arms again, but this time the point of the bodkin is turnedtoward the baker. "Now, good Lord, I can see I'm in the way!" saysJorgen, rubbing himself behind. "Not at all!" replies Garibaldicourteously, with an inviting flourish of his hand. "Pray comenearer. " "No, thank you! No, thank you!" Old Jorgen gives a forcedlaugh, and hobbles away. 

Otherwise Garibaldi lets them come and stare and go as they like. It does not trouble him that he is an eminent and remarkable person;quite unperturbed, he puts the brandy-bottle to his lips and drinksjust as long as he is thirsty. He sits there, playing thoughtlesslywith knife and leather and silk, as though he had sat on the stoolall his life, instead of having just fallen from the moon. And aboutthe middle of the afternoon the incomparable result is completed; apair of wonderful satin shoes, slender as a neat's tongue, dazzlingin their white brilliance, as though they had just walked out of thefairy-tale and were waiting for the feet of the Princess. 

"Look at them, damn it all!" says the master, and passes them tolittle Nikas, who passes them round the circle. Garibaldi throwsback his close-cropped gray head. 

"You need not say who has made them--everybody can see that. Supposenow the shoes go to Jutland and are worn there and are thrown onthe rubbish-heap. One day, years hence, some porridge-eater goesploughing; a scrap of the instep comes to the surface; and awandering journeyman, who is sitting in the ditch nibbling at hissupper, rakes it toward him with his stick. That bit of instep, hesays, that, or the Devil may fry me else, was part of a shoe madeby Garibaldi--deuce take me, he says, but that's what it was. Andin that case the journeyman must be from Paris, or Nuremberg, orHamburg--one or the other, that's certain. Or am I talking nonsense, master?"

No; Master Andres can asseverate this is no nonsense--he who fromchildhood lived with Garibaldi on the highways and in great cities, who followed him so impetuously with that lame leg of his that heremembers Garibaldi's heroic feats better than Garibaldi himself. "But now you will stay here, " he says persuasively. "Now we'll workup the business--we'll get all the fine work of the whole island. "Garibaldi has nothing against this; he has had enough of toilingthrough the world. 

Klausen will gladly make one of the company; in the eyes of allthose present this proposal is a dream which will once more raisethe craft to its proper level; will perhaps improve it until thelittle town can compete with Copenhagen. "How many medals have youreally received?" says Jeppe, as he stands there with a great frameddiploma in his hand. Garibaldi shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know, old master; one gets old, and one's hand gets unsteady. But what isthis? Has Master Jeppe got the silver medal?"

Jeppe laughs. "For this I have to thank a tramp by the name ofGaribaldi. He was here four years ago and won the silver medal forme!" Well--that is a thing Garibaldi has long forgotten! But medalsare scattered about wherever he has been. 

"Yes, there are a hundred masters knocking about who boast of theirdistinctions: first-class workshop--you can see it for yourself--'a silver medal. ' But who did the work? Who got his day's wages andan extra drop of drink and then--good-bye, Garibaldi! What has oneto show for it, master? There are plenty of trees a man can changehis clothes behind--but the shirt?" For a moment he seems dejected. "Lorrain in Paris gave me two hundred francs for the golden medalI won for him; but otherwise it was always--Look in my waistcoatpocket! or--I've an old pair of trousers for you, Garibaldi! But nowthere's an end to that, I tell you; Garibaldi has done with bringingwater to the mill for the rich townsfolk; for now he's a sosherlist!"He strikes the table so that the glass scrapers jingle. "That lastwas Franz in Cologne--gent's boots with cork socks. He was a stingyfellow; he annoyed Garibaldi. I'm afraid this isn't enough for themedal, master, I said; there's too much unrest in the air. Then hebid me more and yet more--but it won't run to the medal--that's allI will say. At last he sends Madame to me with coffee and Viennabread--and she was in other respects a lady, who drove with alackey on the box. But we were furious by that time! Well, itwas a glorious distinction--to please Madame. "

"Had he many journeymen?" asks Jeppe. 

"Oh, quite thirty or forty. "

"Then he must have been somebody. " Jeppe speaks in a reproving tone. 

"Somebody--yes--he was a rascal! What did it matter to me that hehad a lot of journeymen? I didn't cheat them out of their wages!"

Now Garibaldi is annoyed; he takes off his apron, puts his hat onsideways, and he goes into the town. 

"Now he's going to look for a sweetheart!" says the young master;"he has a sweetheart in every town. "

At eight he comes sailing into the workshop again. "What, stillsitting here?" he says to the apprentices. "In other parts of theworld they have knocked off work two hours ago. What sort of slavesare you to sit crouching here for fourteen hours? Strike, damn itall!"

They look at one another stupidly. "Strike--what is that?"

Then comes the young master. "Now it would do one good to warmone's eyes a bit, " says Garibaldi. 

"There's a bed made up for you in the cutting-out room, " says themaster. But Garibaldi rolls his coat under his head and lies down onthe window-bench. "If I snore, just pull my nose, " he says to Pelle, and goes to sleep. Next day he makes two pairs of kid boots withyellow stitching--for little Nikas this would be a three days' job. Master Andres has all his plans ready--Garibaldi is to be a partner. "We'll knock out a bit of wall and put in a big shop-window!"Garibaldi agrees--he really does for once feel a desire to settledown. "But we mustn't begin too big, " he says: "this isn't Paris. "He drinks a little more and does not talk much; his eyes stray tothe wandering clouds outside. 

On the third day Garibaldi begins to show his capacities. He doesnot do much more work, but he breaks a heavy stick in two with oneblow as it flies through the air, and jumps over a stick which heholds in both hands. "One must have exercise, " he says restlessly. He balances an awl on the face of a hammer and strikes it into ahole in the sole of a boot. 

And suddenly he throws down his work. "Lend me ten kroner, master, "he says; "I must go and buy myself a proper suit. Now I'm settledand a partner in a business I can't go about looking like a pig. "

"It will be better for you to get that finished, " says the masterquietly, pushing Garibaldi's work across to little Nikas. "Weshan't see him again!"

This is really the case. He will go into the town with the honorableintentions, to buy something, and then he will be caught and whirledout into the great world, far away, quite at hazard. "He's on theway to Germany with some skipper already, " says the master. 

"But he hasn't even said good-bye!" The master shrugs his shoulders. 

He was like a falling star! But for Pelle and the others hesignified more than that; they learned more in three days than inthe whole course of their apprenticeship. And they saw brilliantprospects for the craft; it was no hole-and-corner business afterall; with Garibaldi, they traveled the whole wonderful world. Pelle's blood burned with the desire to wander; he knew now whathe wanted. To be capable as Garibaldi--that genius personified;and to enter the great cities with stick and knapsack as thoughto a flourish of trumpets. 

They all retained traces of his fleeting visit. Something insidethem had broken with a snap; they gripped their tools more freely, more courageously; and they had seen their handicraft pass beforetheir eyes like a species of technical pageant. For a long timethe wind of the passage of the great bird hung about the littleworkshop with its atmosphere of respectable citizenship. 

And this fresh wind in one's ears was the spirit of handicraftitself which hovered above their heads--borne upon its two mightypinions--genius and debauchery. 

But one thing remained in Pelle's mind as a meaningless fragment--the word "strike. " What did it mean?

XIII

One could not be quite as cheerful and secure here as one couldat home in the country; there was always a gnawing something inthe background, which kept one from wholly surrendering oneself. Most people had wandered hither in search of fortune--poverty haddestroyed their faculty of surrendering to fate; they were weary ofwaiting and had resolved to take matters into their own hands. Andnow here they were, sunk in wretchedness. They could not stir fromthe spot; they only labored and sunk deeper into the mire. But theycontinued to strive, with the strength of their bodies, until thatgave way, and it was all over with them. 

Pelle had often enough wondered to see how many poor people therewere in the town. Why did not they go ahead with might and mainuntil they were well off? They had all of them had intentions ofthat kind, but nothing came of them. Why? They themselves did notunderstand why, but bowed their heads as though under a curse. Andif they raised them again it was only to seek that consolation ofthe poor--alcohol, or to attend the meetings of the home missions. 

Pelle could not understand it either. He had an obscure sense ofthat joyous madness which arises from poverty itself, like a dim butwonderful dream of reaching the light. And he could not understandwhy it failed; and yet he must always follow that impetus upwardwhich resided in him, and scramble up once more. Yet otherwise hisknowledge was wide; a patched-up window-pane, or a scurfy child'shead, marked an entrance to that underworld which he had known sowell from birth, so that he could have found his way about it withbandaged eyes. He attached no particular importance to it, but inthis direction his knowledge was continually extended; he "thee'dand thou'd" poor people from the first moment, and knew the mournfulhistory of every cottage. And all he saw and heard was like a wearyrefrain--it spoke of the same eternally unalterable longing andthe same defeats. He reflected no further about the matter, butit entered into his blood like an oppression, purged his mind ofpresumption, and vitiated his tense alertness. When he lay his headon his pillow and went to sleep the endless pulsing of his bloodin his ears became the tramping of weary hordes who were for everpassing in their blind groping after the road which should lead tolight and happiness. His consciousness did not grasp it, but itbrooded oppressively over his days. 

The middle-class society of the town was still, as far as he wasconcerned, a foreign world. Most of the townsfolk were as poor aschurch mice, but they concealed the fact skilfully, and seemed tohave no other desire than to preserve appearances. "Money!" saidMaster Andres; "here there's only one ten-kroner note among all theemployers in the town, and that goes from hand to hand. If it wereto stop too long with one of them all the rest of us would stoppayment!" The want of loose capital weighed on them oppressively, but they boasted of Shipowner Monsen's money--there were still richpeople in the town! For the rest, each kept himself going by meansof his own earnings; one had sent footwear to the West Indies, andanother had made the bride-bed for the burgomaster's daughter; theymaintained themselves as a caste and looked down with contempt uponthe people. 

Pelle himself had honestly and honorably intended to follow the samepath; to keep smiles for those above him and harsh judgments forthose below him; in short, like Alfred, to wriggle his way upward. But in the depths of his being his energies were working in anotherdirection, and they continually thrust him back where he belonged. His conflict with the street-urchins stopped of itself, it was soaimless; Pelle went in and out of their houses, and the boys, sosoon as they were confirmed, became his comrades. 

The street boys sustained an implacable conflict with those whoattended the town school and the grammar-school. They called thempigs, after the trough-like satchels which they carried on theirbacks. Pelle found himself between a double fire, although heaccepted the disdain and the insult of those above him, as Lassehad taught him, as something that was inherent in the nature ofthings. "Some are born to command and some to obey, " as Lasse said. 

But one day he came to blows with one of them. And having thrashedthe postmaster's son until not a clean spot was left on him, hediscovered that he now had a crow to pluck with the sons of allthe fine folks, or else they would hold him up to ridicule. It wasas though something was redeemed at his hands when he managed toplant them in the face of one of these lads, and there seemed tobe a particular charm connected with the act of rolling their fineclothes in the mire. When he had thrashed a "pig" he was always inthe rosiest of tempers, and he laughed to think how Father Lassewould have crossed himself!

One day he met three grammar-school students, who fell upon himthen and there, beating him with their books; there was repaymentin every blow. Pelle got his back against the wall, and defendedhimself with his belt, but could not manage the three of them; sohe gave the biggest of them a terrific kick in the lower part ofthe body and took to his heels. The boy rolled on the ground andlay there shrieking; Pelle could see, from the other end of thestreet, how the other two were toiling to set him on his legsagain. He himself had got off with a black eye. 

"Have you been fighting again, you devil's imp?" said the youngmaster. 

No! Pelle had fallen and bruised himself. 

In the evening he went round the harbor to see the steamer go outand to say good-bye to Peter. He was in a bad temper; he wasoppressed by a foreboding of evil. 

The steamer was swarming with people. Over the rail hung a swarmof freshly-made journeymen of that year's batch--the most courageousof them; the others had already gone into other trades, had becomepostmen or farm servants. "There is no employment for us in theshoe trade, " they said dejectedly as they sank. As soon as theirjourneyman's test-work was done they took to their heels, and newapprentices were taken all along the line. But these fellows herewere crossing to the capital; they wanted to go on working at theirown trade. The hundreds of apprentices of the little town were there, shouting "Hurrah!" every other moment, for those departing were theheroes who were going forth to conquer the land of promise for themall. "We are coming after you!" they cried. "Find me a place, you!Find me a place!"

Emil stood by the harbor shed, with some waterside workers, lookingon. His time was long ago over. The eldest apprentice had not hadthe pluck to leave the island; he was now a postman in Sudlandand cobbled shoes at night in order to live. Now Peter stood onthe deck above, while Jens and Pelle stood below and looked up athim admiringly. "Good-bye, Pelle!" he cried. "Give Jeppe my bestrespects and tell him he can kiss my bootsoles!"

Some of the masters were strolling to and fro on the quay, in orderto note that none of their apprentices were absconding from the town. 

Jens foresaw the time when he himself would stand there penniless. "Send me your address, " he said, "and find me something over there. "

"And me too, " said Pelle. 

Peter spat. "There's a bit of sour cabbage soup--take it home andgive it to Jeppe with my love and I wish him good appetite! But givemy very best respects to Master Andres. And when I write, then comeover--there's nothing to be done in this hole. "

"Don't let the Social Democrats eat you up!" cried some one fromamong the spectators. The words "Social Democrat" were at this timein every mouth, although no one knew what they meant; they were usedas terms of abuse. 

"If they come to me with their damned rot they'll get one on themouth!" said Peter, disdainfully. And then the steamer began tomove; the last cheers were given from the outer breakwater. Pellecould have thrown himself into the sea; he was burning with desireto turn his back on it all. And then he let himself drift with thecrowd from the harbor to the circus-ground. On the way he heard afew words of a conversation which made his ears burn. Two townsmenwere walking ahead of him and were talking. 

"They say he got such a kick that he brought up blood, " saidthe one. 

"Yes, it's terrible, the way that scum behaves! I hope they'llarrest the ruffian. "

Pelle crept along behind the tent until he came to the opening. There he stood every evening, drinking everything in by his senseof smell. He had no money to pay his way in; but he could catch aglimpse of a whole host of magnificent things when the curtain wasdrawn up in order to admit a late-comer. Albinus came and went atwill--as always, when jugglers were in the town. He was acquaintedwith them almost before he had seen them. When he had seen someclever feat of strength or skill he would come crawling out fromunder the canvas in order to show his companions that he could dothe same thing. Then he was absolutely in his element; he would walkon his hands along the harbor railings and let his body hang overthe water. 

Pelle wanted to go home and sleep on the day's doings, but a happypair came up to him--a woman who was dancing as she walked, and atimid young workman, whom she held firmly by the arm. "Here, Hans!"she said, "this is Pelle, whose doing it is that we two belong toeach other!"

Then she laughed aloud for sheer delight, and Hans, smiling, heldout his hand to Pelle. "I ought to thank you for it, " he said. 

"Yes, it was that dance, " she said. "If my dancing-shoes hadn'tbeen mended Hans would have run off with somebody else!" She seizedPelle's arm. And then they went on, very much pleased with oneanother, and Pelle's old merriment returned for a time. He toocould perform all sorts of feats of strength. 

On the following day Pelle was hired by Baker Jorgensen to kneadsome dough; the baker had received, at short notice, a large orderfor ship's biscuit for the _Three Sisters_. 

"Keep moving properly!" he would cry every moment to the two boys, who had pulled off their stockings and were now standing up in thegreat kneading-trough, stamping away, with their hands gripping thebattens which were firmly nailed to the rafters. The wooden ceilingbetween the rafters was black and greasy; a slimy paste of dust anddough and condensed vapor was running down the walls. When the boyshung too heavily on the battens the baker would cry: "Use yourwhole weight! Down into the dough with you--then you'll get a footlike a fine young lady!"

Soren was pottering about alone, with hanging head as always; nowand again he sighed. Then old Jorgen would nudge Marie in the side, and they would both laugh. They stood close together, and as theywere rolling out the dough their hands kept on meeting; they laughedand jested together. But the young man saw nothing of this. 

"Don't you see?" whispered his mother, striking him sharply in theribs; her angry eyes were constantly fixed on the pair. 

"Oh, leave me alone!" the son would say, moving a little away fromher. But she moved after him. "Go and put your arm round her waist--that's what she wants! Let her feel your hands on her hips! Why doyou suppose she sticks out her bosom like that? Let her feel yourhands on her hips! Push the old man aside!"

"Oh, leave me alone!" replied Soren, and he moved further away fromher again. 

"You are tempting your father to sin--you know what he is! And shecan't properly control herself any longer, now that she claims tohave a word in the matter. Are you going to put up with that? Go andtake her round the waist--strike her if you can't put up with her, but make her feel that you're a man!"

"Well, are you working up there?" old Jorgen cried to the boys, turning his laughing countenance from Marie. "Tread away! The doughwill draw all the rottenness out of your bodies! And you, Soren--geta move on you!"

"Yes, get a move on--don't stand there like an idiot!" continuedhis mother. 

"Oh, leave me alone! I've done nothing to anybody; leave mein peace!"

"Pah!" The old woman spat at him. "Are you a man? Letting anotherhandle your wife! There she is, obliged to take up with a gouty oldman like that! Pah, I say! But perhaps you are a woman after all? Idid once bring a girl into the world, only I always thought she wasdead. But perhaps you are she? Yes, make long ears at me!" she criedto the two boys, "you've never seen anything like what's going onhere! There's a son for you, who leaves his father to do all thework by himself!"

"Now then, what's the matter with you?" cried old Jorgen jollily. "Is mother turning the boys' heads?" Marie broke into a loud laugh. 

Jeppe came to fetch Pelle. "Now you'll go to the Town Hall and geta thrashing, " he said, as they entered the workshop. Pelle turnedan ashen gray. 

"What have you been doing now?" asked Master Andres, looking sadlyat him. 

"Yes, and to one of our customers, too!" said Jeppe. "You'vedeserved that, haven't you?"

"Can't father get him let off the beating?" said Master Andres. 

"I have proposed that Pelle should have a good flogging here in theworkshop, in the presence of the deputy and his son. But the deputysays no. He wants justice to run its course. "

Pelle collapsed. He knew what it meant when a poor boy went to thetown hall and was branded for life. His brain sought desperately forsome way of escape. There was only one--death! He could secretlyhide the knee-strap under his blouse and go into the little houseand hang himself. He was conscious of a monotonous din; that wasJeppe, admonishing him; but the words escaped him; his soul hadalready began its journey toward death. As the noise ceased herose silently. 

"Well? What are you going out for?" asked Jeppe. 

"I'm going to the yard. " He spoke like a sleepwalker. 

"Perhaps you want to take the knee-strap out with you?"

Jeppe and the master exchanged a look of understanding. Then MasterAndres came over to him. "You wouldn't be so silly?" he said, andlooked deep into Pelle's eyes. Then he made himself tidy and wentinto the town. 

"Pelle, you devil's imp, " he said, as he came home, "I've beenrunning from Herod to Pilate, and I've arranged matters so that youcan get off if you will ask for pardon. You must go to the grammar-school about one o'clock. But think it over first, as to what youare going to say, because the whole class will hear it. "

"I won't ask for pardon. " It sounded like a cry. 

The master looked at Pelle hesitatingly. "But that is no disgrace--if one has done wrong. "

"I have not done wrong. They began it, and they have been makinggame of me for a long time. "

"But you thrashed him, Pelle, and one mustn't thrash fine folks likethat; they have got a doctor's certificate that might be your ruin. Is your father a friend of the magistrate's? They can dishonor youfor the rest of your life. I think you ought to choose the lesserevil. "

No, Pelle could not do that. "So let them flog me instead!"he said morosely. 

"Then it will be about three o'clock at the town hall, " saidthe master, shortly, and he turned red about the eyes. 

Suddenly Pelle felt how obstinacy must pain the young master, who, lame and sick as he was, had of his own accord gone running aboutthe town for him. "Yes, I'll do it!" he said; "I'll do it!"

"Yes, yes!" replied Master Andres quietly; "for your own sake aswell. And I believe you ought to be getting ready now. "

Pelle slunk away; it was not his intention to apologize, and hehad plenty of time. He walked as though asleep; everything was deadwithin him. His thoughts were busy with all sorts of indifferentmatters, as though he sought to delay something by chattering;Crazy Anker went by with his bag of sand on his back, his thin legswobbling under him. "I will help him to carry it, " thought Pelledejectedly, as he went onward; "I will help him to carry it. "

Alfred came strolling down the street; he was carrying his bestwalking-stick and was wearing gloves, although it was in the midstof working hours. "If he sees me now he'll turn down the corner bythe coal-merchant's, " thought Pelle bitterly. "Oughtn't I to askhim to say a good word for me? He is such an important person! Andhe still owes me money for soling a pair of boots. "

But Alfred made straight for him. "Have you seen anything ofAlbinus? He has disappeared!" he said; and his pretty face seemedsomehow unusually moved. He stood there chewing at his moustache, just as fine folk do when they are musing over something. 

"I've got to go to the town hall, " said Pelle. 

"Yes, I know--you've got to be flogged. But don't you know anythingof Albinus?" Alfred had drawn him into the coal-merchant's doorway, in order not to be seen in his company. 

"Yes, Albinus, Albinus--" Something was dawning in Pelle's mind. "Wait a minute--he--he--I'm sure he has run away with the circus. At least, I believe he has!" Whereat Alfred turned about and ran--ran in his best clothes!

Of course Albinus had run away with the circus. Pelle couldunderstand the whole affair perfectly well. The evening before hehad slipped on board Ole Hansen's yacht, which during the night wasto have taken the trick-rider across to Sweden, and now he wouldlive a glorious life and do what he liked. To run away--that wasthe only clear opening in life. Before Pelle knew it, he was downby the harbor, staring at a ship which was on the point of sailing. He followed up his inspiration, and went about inquiring after avacancy on board some vessel, but there was none. 

He sat down by the waterside, and played with a chip of wood. Itrepresented a three-master, and Pelle gave it a cargo; but everytime it should have gone to sea it canted over, and he had to beginthe loading all over again. All round him carpenters and stone-cutters were working on the preparations for the new harbor; andbehind them, a little apart, stood the "Great Power, " at work, while, as usual, a handful of people were loitering near him; they stoodthere staring, in uneasy expectation that something would happen. Pelle himself had a feeling of something ominous as he sat thereand plashed in the water to drive his ship out to sea; he would haveaccepted it as a manifestation of the most sacred principle of lifehad Jorgensen begun to rage before his eyes. 

But the stone-cutter only laid down his hammer, in order to takehis brandy-bottle from under the stone and swallow a mouthful; withthat exception, he stood there bowed over the granite as peacefullyas though there were no other powers in the world save it and him. He did not see the onlookers who watched him in gaping expectation, their feet full of agility, ready to take to flight at his slightestmovement. 

He struck so that the air moaned, and when he raised himself againhis glance swept over them. Gradually Pelle had concentrated all hisexpectations upon this one man, who endured the hatred of the townwithout moving an eyelash, and was a haunting presence in every mind. In the boy's imagination he was like a loaded mine; one stood therenot knowing whether or not it was ignited, and in a moment the wholemight leap into the air. He was a volcano, and the town existed fromday to day by his mercy. And from time to time Pelle allowed him toshake himself a little--just enough to make the town rock. 

But now, moreover, there was a secret between them; the "Great Power"had been punished too for beating the rich folks. Pelle was notslow in deducing the consequences--was there not already a townsmanstanding and watching him at play? He too was the terror of thepeople. Perhaps he would join himself to the "Great Power"; therewould be little left of the town then! In the daytime they would liehidden among the cliffs, but at night they came down and plunderedthe town. 

They fell upon all who had earned their living as bloodsuckers;people hid themselves in their cellars and garrets when they heardthat Pelle and the "Great Power" were on the march. They hanged therich shipowner Monsen to the church steeple, and he dangled therea terror and a warning to all. But the poor folk came to them astrustingly as lambs and ate out of their hands. They received allthey desired; so poverty was banished from the world, and Pellecould proceed upon his radiant, onward way without a feeling ofbetrayal. 

His glance fell upon the clock on the harbor guard-house; it wasnearly three. He sprang up and looked irresolutely about him; hegazed out over the sea and down into the deep water of the harbor, looking for help. Manna and her sisters--they would disdainfullyturn their backs upon the dishonored Pelle; they would no longerlook at him. And the people would point their fingers at him, ormerely look at him, and think: "Ha, there goes the boy who wasflogged at the town hall!" Wherever he went in the world it wouldfollow him like a shadow, that he had been flogged as a child;such a thing clings visibly to a man. He knew men and maids and oldwhite-headed men who had come to Stone Farm from places where no oneelse had ever been. They might come as absolute strangers, but therewas something in their past which in spite of all rose up behindthem and went whispering from mouth to mouth. 

He roamed about, desperately in his helplessness, and in the courseof his wanderings came to stone-cutter Jorgensen. 

"Well, " said the "Great Power, " as he laid down his hammer, "you'vequarrelled nicely with the big townsfolk! Do you think you can keepa stiff upper-lip?" Then he reached for his hammer again. But Pelletook his bearings and ran despondently to the town-hall. 

XIV

The punishment itself was nothing. It was almost laughable, thosefew strokes, laid on through his trousers, by the stick of theold gaoler; Pelle had known worse thrashings. But he was branded, an outcast from the society even of the very poorest; he read asmuch into the compassion of the people to whom he carried boots andshoes. "Good Lord, this miserable booby! Has it gone as far as thatwith him!" This was what he read in their eyes. Everybody wouldalways stare at him now, and when he went down the street he sawfaces in the "spy" mirrors fixed outside the windows. "There goesthat shoemaker boy!"

The young master was the only one who treated him precisely asbefore; and Pelle repaid him for that with the most limitlessdevotion. He bought on credit for him and saved him from blowswhere only he could. If the young master in his easy-going wayhad promised to have something completed and had then forgottenit, Pelle would sit in his place and work overtime on it. "What'sit matter to us?" Jens used to say. But Pelle would not have thecustomers coming to scold Master Andres, nor would he allow himto suffer the want of anything that would keep him on his feet. 

He became more intimate than ever with Jens and Morten; they allsuffered from the same disgrace; and he often accompanied them home, although no pleasure awaited them in their miserable cottage. Theywere among the very poorest, although the whole household worked. It was all of no avail. 

"Nothing's any use, " the "Great Power" himself would say when he wasdisposed to talk; "poverty is like a sieve: everything goes straightthrough it, and if we stop one hole, it's running through ten othersat the same time. They say I'm a swine, and why shouldn't I be? Ican do the work of three men--yes, but do I get the wages of three?I get my day's wages and the rest goes into the pockets of those whoemploy me. Even if I wanted to keep myself decent, what should wegain by it? Can a family get decent lodging and decent food anddecent clothing for nine kroner a week? Will the means of a laborerallow him to live anywhere but by the refuse-heaps, where only thepigs used to be kept? Why should I be housed like a pig and livelike a pig and yet be no pig--is there any sense in that? My wifeand children have to work as well as me, and how can things bedecent with us when wife and children have to go out and make thingsdecent for other people? No, look here! A peg of brandy, that makeseverything seem decent, and if that doesn't do it, why, then, abottle!" So he would sit talking, when he had been drinking a little, but otherwise he was usually silent. 

Pelle knew the story of the "Great Power" now, from the daily gossipof the townsfolk, and his career seemed to him sadder than all therest; it was as though a fairy-tale of fortune had come to a suddenend. 

Among the evil reports which were continually in circulationrespecting Stone-cutter Jorgensen--it seemed that there was never anend of them--it was said that in his youth he had strolled into townfrom across the cliffs, clad in canvas trousers, with cracked woodenshoes on his feet, but with his head in the clouds as though thewhole town belonged to him. Brandy he did not touch. He had a betteruse for his energies, he said: he was full of great ideas of himselfand would not content himself with ordinary things. And he wasthoroughly capable--he was quite absurdly talented for a poor man. And at once he wanted to begin turning everything topsy-turvy. Justbecause he was begotten among the cliffs and crags by an old toil-worn stone-cutter, he behaved like a deity of the rocks; he brushedlong-established experience aside, and introduced novel methods ofwork which he evolved out of his own mind. The stone was as thoughbewitched in his hands. If one only put a sketch before him, hewould make devils' heads and subterranean monsters and sea-serpents--the sort of thing that before his time had to be ordered from thesculptors in Copenhagen. Old deserving stone-masons saw themselvessuddenly set aside and had then and there to take to breaking stones;and this young fellow who had strayed into the town straightwayignored and discounted the experience of their many years. Theytried, by the most ancient of all methods, to teach the young manmodesty. But they gave it up. Peter Jorgensen had the strength ofthree men and the courage of ten. It was not good to meddle withone who had stolen his capacities from God himself, or perhaps wasin league with Satan. So they resigned themselves, and avengedthemselves by calling him the "Great Power"--and they put theirtrust in misfortune. To follow in his footsteps meant to risk abroken neck. And whenever the brave townsfolk made the journey, something of its dizzy quality remained with them. 

In the night he would sit sketching and calculating, so that no onecould understand when he slept; and on Sundays, when decent peoplewent to church, he would stop at home and cut the queerest thingsout of stone--although he never got a penny for it. 

It was at this time that the famous sculptor came from the capitalof Germany to hew a great lion out of granite, in honor of Liberty. But he could not get forward with his toolbox full of butter-knives;the stone was too hard for one who was accustomed to standscratching at marble. And when for once he really did succeed inknocking off a bit of granite, it was always in the wrong place. 

Then the "Great Power" asserted himself, and undertook to hew thelion out of granite, according to a scale model of some sort whichthe sculptor slapped together for him! All were persuaded that hewould break down in this undertaking, but he negotiated it socleverly that he completed the work to the utmost satisfaction ofthose concerned. He received a good sum of money for this, but itwas not enough for him; he wanted half the honor, and to be spokenof in the newspapers like the sculptor himself; and as nothing cameof it he threw down his tools and refused to work any more for otherpeople. "Why should I do the work and others have the honor of it?"he asked, and sent in a tender for a stone-cutting contract. In hisunbounded arrogance he sought to push to one side those who wereborn to ride on the top of things. But pride comes before a fall;his doom was already hanging over him. 

He had sent in the lowest tender for the work on the South Bridge. They could not disregard it; so they sought to lay every obstaclein his path; they enticed his workmen away from him and made itdifficult for him to obtain materials. The district judge, who wasin the conspiracy, demanded that the contract should be observed;so the "Great Power" had to work day and night with the few men leftto him in order to complete the work in time. A finer bridge no onehad ever seen. But he had to sell the shirt off his body in orderto meet his engagements. 

He lived at that time in a pretty little house that was his ownproperty. It lay out on the eastern highway, and had a turret on themansard--Jens and Morten had spent their early childhood there. Alittle garden, with tidy paths, and a grotto which was like a heapof rocks, lay in front of it. Jorgenson had planned it all himself. It was taken from him, and he had to remove to a poor quarter ofthe town, to live among the people to whom he rightly belonged, andto rent a house there. But he was not yet broken. He was cheerfulin spite of his downfall, and more high-and-mighty than ever in hismanners. It was not easy to hit him! But then he sent in a tenderfor the new crane-platform. They could have refused him the contracton the pretext that he had no capital at his disposal. But now he_should_ be struck down! He got credit from the savings-bank, in order to get well under way, and workers and material were histo dispose of. And then, as he was in the midst of the work, thesame story was repeated--only this time he was to break his neck!Rich and poor, the whole town was at one in this matter. Alldemanded the restoration of the old certainty, high and low, appointed by God Himself. The "Great Power" was of the humblestdescent; now he could quietly go back to the class he was born in!

He failed! The legal proprietor took over a good piece of workand got it for nothing, and Stonemason Jorgensen stood up in a pairof cracked wooden shoes, with a load of debts which he would neverbe able to shake off. Every one rejoiced to see him return to theexistence of a day-laborer. But he did not submit quietly. He tookto drink. From time to time he broke out and raged like the devilhimself. They could not get rid of him; he weighed upon the mindsof all, like an angry rumbling; even when he was quietly going abouthis work they could not quite forget him. Under these conditions hesquandered his last possessions, and he moved into the cottage bythe refuse-heaps, where formerly no one had dwelt. 

He had become another man since the grant for the great harborproject had been approved. He no longer touched any brandy; whenPelle went out to see his friends, the "Great Power" would besitting at the window, busying himself with sketches and figures. His wife was moving about and weeping quietly to herself; the oldwoman was scolding. But Jorgensen turned his broad back upon themand pored silently over his own affairs. He was not to be shakenout of his self-sufficiency. 

The mother received them out in the kitchen, when she heard theirnoisy approach. "You must move quietly--Father is calculating andcalculating, poor fellow! He can get no peace in his head sincethe harbor plans have been seriously adopted. His ideas are alwaysworking in him. That must be so, he says, and that so! If he wouldonly take life quietly among his equals and leave the great peopleto worry over their own affairs!"

He sat in the window, right in the sunlight, adding up sometroublesome accounts; he whispered half to himself, and hismutilated forefinger, whose outer joint had been blown off, ran upand down the columns. Then he struck the table. "Oh, if only a manhad learned something!" he groaned. The sunlight played on his darkbeard; his weary labors had been powerless to stiffen his limbs orto pull him down. Drink had failed to hurt him--he sat there likestrength personified; his great forehead and his throat were deeplybronzed by the sun. 

"Look here, Morten!" he cried, turning to the boys. "Just look atthese figures!"

Morten looked. "What is it, father?"

"What is it? Our earnings during the last week! You can see theyare big figures!"

"No, father; what are they?" Morten twined his slender hand in hisfather's beard. 

The "Great Power's" eyes grew mild under this caress. 

"It's a proposed alteration--they want to keep the channel in theold place, and that is wrong; when the wind blows in from the sea, one can't get into the harbor. The channel must run out there, andthe outer breakwater must curve like this"--and he pointed to hissketches. "Every fisherman and sailor will confirm what I say--butthe big engineer gentlemen are so clever!"

"But are you going--again--to send in a tender?" Morten looked athis father, horrified. The man nodded. 

"But you aren't good enough for them--you know you aren't! Theyjust laugh at you!"

"This time I shall be the one to laugh, " retorted Jorgensen, hisbrow clouding at the thought of all the contempt he had had toendure. 

"Of course they laugh at him, " said the old woman from the chimney-corner, turning her hawk-like head toward them; "but one must playat something. Peter must always play the great man!"

Her son did not reply. 

"They say you know something about sketching, Pelle?" he saidquietly. "Can't you bring this into order a bit? This here is thebreakwater--supposing the water isn't there--and this is the basin--cut through the middle, you understand? But I can't get it tolook right--yet the dimensions are quite correct. Here above thewater-line there will be big coping-stones, and underneath it'sbroken stone. "

Pelle set to work, but he was too finicking. 

"Not so exact!" said Jorgensen. "Only roughly!"

He was always sitting over his work when they came. From his wifethey learned that he did not put in a tender, after all, but tookhis plans to those who had undertaken the contract and offered themhis cooperation. She had now lost all faith in his schemes, and wasin a state of continual anxiety. "He's so queer--he's always takenup with only this one thing, " she said, shuddering. "He never drinks--and he doesn't go raging against all the world as he used to do. "

"But that's a good thing, " said Morten consolingly. 

"Yes, you may talk, but what do you know about it? If he looks afterhis daily bread, well, one knows what that means. But now, likethis. .. . I'm so afraid of the reaction if he gets a set-back. Don'tyou believe he's changed--it's only sleeping in him. He's the sameas ever about Karen; he can't endure seeing her crooked figure; shereminds him always too much of everything that isn't as it shouldbe. She mustn't go to work, he says, but how can we do without herhelp? We must live! I daren't let him catch sight of her. He getsso bitter against himself, but the child has to suffer for it. Andhe's the only one she cares anything about. "

Karen had not grown during the last few years; she had become evenmore deformed; her voice was dry and shrill, as though she hadpassed through a frozen desert on her way to earth. She was gladwhen Pelle was there and she could hear him talk; if she thought hewould come in the evening, she would hurry home from her situation. But she never joined in the conversation and never took part inanything. No one could guess what was going on in her mind. Hermother would suddenly break down and burst into tears if her glanceby chance fell upon her. 

"She really ought to leave her place at once, " said her mother overand again. "But the doctor's wife has one child after another, andthen they ask so pleadingly if she can't stay yet another half-year. They think great things of her; she is so reliable with children. "

"Yes, if it was Pelle, he'd certainly let them fall. " Karen laughed--it was a creaking laugh. She said nothing more; she never asked tobe allowed to go out, and she never complained. But her silence waslike a silent accusation, destroying all comfort and intimacy. 

But one day she came home and threw some money on the table. "NowI needn't go to Doctor's any more. "

"What's the matter? Have you done something wrong?" asked themother, horrified. 

"The doctor gave me a box on the ear because I couldn't carryAnna over the gutter--she's so heavy. "

"But you can't be sent away because he has struck you! You'vecertainly had a quarrel--you are so stubborn!"

"No; but I accidentally upset the perambulator with little Erikin it--so that he fell out. His head is like a mottled apple. "Her expression was unchanged. 

The mother burst into tears. "But how could you do such a thing?"Karen stood there and looked at the other defiantly. Suddenly hermother seized hold of her. "You didn't do it on purpose? Did youdo it on purpose?"

Karen turned away with a shrug of the shoulders and went up to thegarret without saying good night. Her mother wanted to follow her. 

"Let her go!" said the old woman, as though from a great distance. "You have no power over her! She was begotten in wrath. "

XV

All the winter Jens had smeared his upper lip with fowl's dungin order to grow a moustache; now it was sprouting, and he foundhimself a young woman; she was nurse-maid at the Consul's. "It'stremendous fun, " he said; "you ought to get one yourself. When shekisses me she sticks out her tongue like a little kid. " But Pellewanted no young woman--in the first place, no young woman would havehim, branded as he was; and then he was greatly worried. 

When he raised his head from his work and looked out sideways overthe manure-sheds and pigsties, he saw the green half-twilight of theheart of the apple-tree, and he could dream himself into it. It wasan enchanted world of green shadows and silent movement; countlessyellow caterpillars hung there, dangling to and fro, each on itsslender thread; chaffinches and yellow-hammers swung themselvesimpetuously from bough to bough, and at every swoop snapped up acaterpillar; but these never became any fewer. Without a pause theyrolled themselves down from the twigs, and hung there, so enticinglyyellow, swinging to and fro in the gentle breath of the summer day, and waited to be gobbled up. 

And deeper still in the green light--as though on the floor of agreen sea--three brightly-clad maidens moved and played. Now andagain the two younger would suddenly look over at Pelle, but theyturned their eyes away again the moment he looked at them; and Mannawas as grown-up and self-controlled as though he had never existed. Manna had been confirmed a long time now; her skirts were halfway tothe ground, and she walked soberly along the street, arm-in-arm withher girl friends. She no longer played; she had long been consciousof a rapidly-increasing certainty that it wouldn't do to play anylonger. In a few days she went over from Pelle's side to the camp ofthe grown-ups. She no longer turned to him in the workshop, and ifhe met her in the street she looked in another direction. No longerdid she leap like a wild cat into the shop, tearing Pelle from hisstool if she wanted something done; she went demurely up to theyoung master, who wrapped up her shoes in paper. But in secret shestill recognized her playmate; if no one was by she would pinch hisarm quite hard, and gnash her teeth together as she passed him. 

But Pelle was too clumsy to understand the transition, and too muchof a child to be shy of the light himself. He hung hack, lonely, andpondered, uncomprehending, over the new condition of affairs. 

But now she did not know him in secret even--he simply did not existfor her any longer. And Dolores and Aina too had withdrawn theirfavor; when he looked out, they averted their heads and shruggedtheir shoulders. They were ashamed that they had ever had anythingto do with such a person, and he knew very well why that was. 

It had been a peculiar and voluptuous delight to be handled by thosedelicate and generous hands. It had been really splendid to sitthere with open mouth and let all three stuff him with delicacies, so that he was in danger of choking! He wasn't allowed to swallowthem down--they wanted to see how much his mouth would hold; andthen they would laugh and dance round him, and their plump girlishhands would take hold of his head, one on each side, and press hisjaws together. Now Pelle had gradually added quite an ell to hisstature as a worldly wise citizen; he knew very well that he was ofcoarser clay than his companions, and that there must have been anend of it all, even without the town hall. 

But it hurt him; he felt as though he had been betrayed; properlyhe oughtn't to touch his food. For was not Manna his betrothed? Hehad never thought of that! These were the pains of love! So this waswhat they were like! Did those who took their lives on account ofunhappy love feel any different? His grief, to be sure, was not verystupendous; when the young master made a joke or cursed in his funnyway he could laugh quite heartily still. That, with his disgrace, was the worst of all. 

"You ought to get yourself a young woman, " said Jens. "She's assoft as a young bird, and she warms you through your clothes andeverything!"

But Pelle had something else on hand. He wanted to learn to swim. He wanted to know how to do everything that the town boys did, andto win back his place among them. He no longer dreamed of leadingthem. So he went about with the "gang"; he drew back a little ifthey teased him too brutally, and then crept back again; finallythey grew accustomed to him. 

Every evening he ran down to the harbor. To the south of the bigbasin, which was now being pumped dry, there was always, in thetwilight, a crowd of apprentices; they leaped naked among the rocksand swam in chattering shoals toward the west, where the sky stillglowed after the sunset. A long way out a reef lay under the water, and on this they could just touch bottom; there they would restbefore they swam back, their dark heads brooding on the water likechattering sea-birds. 

Pelle swam out with them in order to accustom himself to deep water, although they always tried to pull him under by his legs. When thesea blushed it was as though one was swimming amid roses; and thelight, slippery, shining fronds which the deep-lying weed-beds hadthrown up gleamed in the evening light and slid gently across hisshoulders, and far out in the west lay the land of Fortune, beyondthe vast radiant portals of the sunset; or it showed its goldenplains stretching out into infinity. There it lay, shining with astrange enticing radiance, so that Pelle forgot the limits of hisstrength, and swam out farther than his powers justified. And whenhe turned round, parting the floating weed with vigorous strokes, the water stared at him blackly, and the terror of the depths seizedupon him. 

One evening the boys had been hostile in their attitude, and oneof them maintained that the marks of the whip could still be seenon Pelle's back. "Pelle has never been beaten with a whip!" criedMorten, in a rage. Pelle himself made no reply, but followed the"squadron"; his whole nature felt somehow embittered. 

There was a slight swell, and this perhaps washed the swimmers outof their proper course; they could not find the reef on which theywere used to rest. For a time they splashed about, trying to findit, and wasting their strength; then they turned back to the shore. Pelle looked after them with wondering eyes. 

"Lie on your back and rest!" they cried, as they passed him, andthen they made for the beach; a touch of panic had fallen on them. Pelle tried to rest, but he had had no practice in floating; thewaves broke over his face; so he labored after the others. On theshore there was great excitement; he wondered what it meant. Morten, who had never bathed with the others, was standing on a rock andwas shouting. 

Some of the foremost swimmers were already in safety. "You can touchbottom here!" they shouted, standing with outstretched arms, thewater up to their chins. Pelle labored on indefatigably, but hewas quite convinced that it was useless. He was making hardly anyprogress, and he was sinking deeper and deeper. Every moment a wavewashed over him and filled him with water. The stronger swimmerscame out again; they swam round him and tried to help him, but theyonly made matters worse. He saw Morten run shouting into the waterwith all his clothes on, and that gave him a little strength. Butthen suddenly his arms became paralyzed; he went round and round inthe same spot, and only his eyes were above water. Pelle had oftenflown in his dreams, and something had always clutched his legsand hampered his flight. But now this had become reality; he wasfloating in the blue sky and poised on his outspread pinions; andout of the darkness below he heard voices. "Pelle!" they cried, "little Pelle!" "Yes, Father Lasse!" he answered, and with a senseof relief he folded his weary wings; he sank in whirling haste, and a surging sounded in his ears. 

Then of a sudden he felt a violent pain in his shins. His handsclutched at growing plants. He stood up with a leap, and light andair flowed over him as from a new existence. The boys were runningabout, frightened, one leg in their trousers, and he was standingon the submarine reef, up to the breast in the sea, vomiting saltwater. Round about him swimmers were splashing, diving in everydirection to fetch him up from the bottom of the sea. It was allreally rather funny, and Pelle raised his arms high above his headas a greeting to life, and took the water with a long dive. Somedistance farther in he appeared again, and swam to shore, partingthe waves like a frolicsome porpoise. But on the beach he fell downas God had made him, in a profound sleep; he had just pulled onestocking over his big toe. 

Since that day the boys recognized him again. He had certainlyperformed no heroic deed, but Destiny had for a moment rested uponhis head--that was enough! Pelle always took the steel sharpenerwith him after that; and laid it on the beach with the point towardthe land; he wanted after all to live a little longer. He did notallow himself to be intimidated, but plunged headlong into thewater. 

If the sea was so rough that they could not swim, they would lieon the brink of the water and let the waves roll them over and over. Then the waves would come in sweeping flight from the west, asthough to spring upon them; the herds of white horses drove onward, their grayish manes streaming obliquely behind them. Rearing theycame, sweeping the sea with their white tails, striking out wildlywith their hooves and plunging under the surface. But others sprangup and leaped over them in serried ranks. They lay flat on the waterand rushed toward the land. The storm whipped the white foam out oftheir mouths and drove it along the beach, where it hung gleamingon the bushes, and then vanished into nothingness. Right up to theshore they dashed, and then fell dead. But fresh hordes stormedshoreward from the offing, as though the land must be over-run bythem; they reared, foaming, and struck at one another; they sprang, snorting and quivering, high in the air; they broke asunder inpanic; there was never an end to it all. And far out in the distancethe sun went down in a flame-red mist. A streak of cloud lay acrossit, stretching far out into infinity. A conflagration like a glowingprairie fire surrounded the horizon, and drove the hordes before itin panic-stricken flight, and on the beach shouted the naked swarmof boys. Now and again they sprang up with outspread arms, and, shouting, chased the wild horses back into the sea. 

XVI

Things were not going well in the brothers' home. Jorgensen had donenothing with his plans. He was the only person who had not knownthat such would be the case. The people knew, too, on very goodauthority, that the engineer had offered him a hundred kroner forthem, and as he would not take them, but demanded a share in theundertaking and the honor of executing it, he was shown to the door. 

He had never before taken anything so quietly. He did not burst outroaring with violent words; he simply betook himself to his usualday-laborer's work in the harbor, like any other worker. He did notmention his defeat, and allowed no one else to do so. He treatedhis wife as though she did not exist. But she had to watch him wraphimself up in silence, without knowing what was going on in his mind. She had a foreboding of something terrible, and spoke of her troubleto the boys. He made no scenes, although now and again he got drunk;he ate in silence and went to bed. When he was not working, he slept. 

But as he himself had so far revealed his plans that they wereknown to all, it was all up with his work. The engineer had takenfrom Jorgensen's plans as much as he could use--every one could seethat--and now the "Great Power" stood with his mouth empty, simplybecause he had put more in his spoon than his mouth would hold. Mostpeople were far from envying his position, and they took plenty oftime to talk about it; the town was quite accustomed to neglect itsown affairs in order to throw its whole weight on his obstinate back. But now he was down in the dust all had been to the harbor to watchthe "Great Power" working there--to see him, as a common laborer, carting the earth for his own wonderful scheme. They marvelledonly that he took it all so quietly; it was to some extent adisappointment that he did not flinch under the weight of hisburden and break out into impotent raving. 

He contented himself with drinking; but that he did thoroughly. Hewent about it as it were in the midst of a cloud of alcoholic vapor, and worked only just enough to enable him to go on drinking. "He hasnever yet been like this, " said his wife, weeping. "He doesn't stormand rage, but he is angry all the time so that one can't bear himat home any longer. He breaks everything in his anger, and he scoldspoor Karen so that it's wretched. He has no regard for anybody, only for his old mother, and God knows how long that will last. Hedoesn't work, he only drinks. He steals my hard-earned money out ofmy dress-pocket and buys brandy with it. He has no shame left in him, although he always used to be so honorable in his way of life. Andhe can't stand his boozing as he used to; he's always falling aboutand staggering. Lately he came home all bloody--he'd knocked a holein his head. What have we ever done to the dear God that he shouldpunish us like this?"

The old woman said nothing, but let her glance sweep from one tothe other, and thought her own thoughts. 

So it went on, week after week. The boys became weary of listeningto their mother's complaints, and kept away from home. 

One day, when Karen had been sent on an errand for her mother, shedid not return. Neither had she returned on the following day. Pelleheard of it down at the boat-harbor, where she had last been seen. They were dragging the water with nets in the hope of finding her, but no one dared tell Jorgensen. On the following afternoon theybrought her to the workshop; Pelle knew what it was when he heardthe many heavy footsteps out in the street. She lay on a stretcher, and two men carried her; before her the autumn wind whirled thefirst falling leaves, and her thin arms were hanging down to thepavement, as though she sought to find a hold there. Her disorderedhair was hanging, too, and the water was dripping from her. Behindthe stretcher came the "Great Power. " He was drunk. He held one handbefore his eyes, and murmured as though in thought, and at everymoment he raised his forefinger in the air. "She has found peace, "he said thickly, trying to look intelligent. 

"Peace--the higher it is----" He could not find the word he wanted. 

Jens and Pelle replaced the men at the stretcher, and bore it home. They were afraid of what was before them. But the mother stood atthe door and received them silently, as though she had expected them;she was merely pale. "She couldn't bear it!" she whispered to them, and she kneeled down beside the child. 

She laid her head on the little crippled body, and whisperedindistinctly; now and again she pressed the child's fingers intoher mouth, in order to stifle her sobs. "And you were to have runan errand for mother, " she said, and she shook her head, smilingly. "You are a nice sort of girl to me--not to be able to buy me twoskeins of thread; and the money I gave you for it--have you thrownit away?" Her words came between smiles and sobs, and they soundedlike a slow lament. "Did you throw the money away? It doesn't matter--it wasn't your fault. Dear child, dear little one!" Then herstrength gave way. Her firmly closed mouth broke open, and closedagain, and so she went on, her head rocking to and fro, while herhands felt eagerly in the child's pocket. "Didn't you run thaterrand for mother?" she moaned. She felt, in the midst of her grief, the need of some sort of corroboration, even if it referred tosomething quite indifferent. And she felt in the child's purse. There lay a few ore and a scrap of paper. 

Then she suddenly stood up. Her face was terribly hard as she turnedto her husband, who stood against the wall, swaying to and fro. "Peter!" she cried in agony, "Peter! Don't you know what you havedone? 'Forgive me, mother, ' it says here, and she has taken fourore of the thirteen to buy sugar-candy. Look here, her hand is stillquite sticky. " She opened the clenched hand, which was closed upona scrap of sticky paper. "Ah, the poor persecuted child! She wantedto sweeten her existence with four ore worth of sugar-candy, and theninto the water! A child has so much pleasure at home here! 'Forgiveme, mother!' she says, as though she had done something wrong. Andeverything she did was wrong; so she had to go away. Karen! Karen!I'm not angry with you--you were very welcome--what do they signify, those few ore! I didn't mean it like that when I reproached you forhanging about at home! But I didn't know what to do--we had nothingto eat. And he spent the little money there was!" She turned herface from the body to the father and pointed to him. It was thefirst time that the wife of the "Great Power" had ever turned uponhim accusingly. But he did not understand her. "She has found peace, "he murmured, and attempted to pull himself up a little; "the peaceof--" But here the old woman rose in the chimney-corner--until thismoment she had not moved. "Be silent!" she said harshly, settingher stick at his breast, "or your old mother will curse the day whenshe brought you into the world. " Wondering, he stared at her; anda light seemed to shine through the mist as he gazed. For a time hestill stood there, unable to tear his eyes from the body. He lookedas though he wished to throw himself down beside his wife, who oncemore lay bowed above the bier, whispering. Then, with hanging head, he went upstairs and lay down. 

XVII

It was after working hours when Pelle went homeward; but he did notfeel inclined to run down to the harbor or to bathe. The image ofthe drowned child continued to follow him, and for the first timeDeath had met him with its mysterious "Why?". He found no answer, and gradually he forgot it for other things. But the mystery itselfcontinued to brood within him, and made him afraid without anysort of reason, so that he encountered the twilight even witha foreboding of evil. The secret powers which exhale from heavenand earth when light and darkness meet clutched at him with theirenigmatical unrest, and he turned unquietly from one thing toanother, although he must be everywhere in order to cope with thisinconceivable Something that stood, threatening, behind everything. For the first time he felt, rid of all disguise, the unmercifulnesswhich was imminent in this or that transgression of his. Neverbefore had Life itself pressed upon him with its heavy burden. 

It seemed to Pelle that something called him, but he could notclearly discover whence the call came. He crept from his window onto the roof and thence to the gable-end; perhaps it was the worldthat called. The hundreds of tile-covered roofs of the town laybefore him, absorbing the crimson of the evening sky, and a bluesmoke was rising. And voices rose out of the warm darkness that laybetween the houses. He heard, too, the crazy Anker's cry; and thiseternal prophecy of things irrational sounded like the complaint ofa wild beast. The sea down yonder and the heavy pine-woods that layto the north and the south--these had long been familiar to him. 

But there was a singing in his ears, and out of the far distance, and something or some one stood behind him, whose warm breath struckupon his neck. He turned slowly about. He was no longer afraid inthe darkness, and he knew beforehand that nothing was there. Buthis lucid mind had been invaded by the twilight, with its mysterioustrain of beings which none of the senses can confirm. 

He went down into the courtyard and strolled about. Everywhereprevailed the same profound repose. Peers, the cat, was sitting onthe rain-water butt, mewing peevishly at a sparrow which had perchedupon the clothes-line. The young master was in his room, coughing;he had already gone to bed. Pelle bent over the edge of the well andgazed vacantly over the gardens. He was hot and dizzy, but a cooldraught rose from the well and soothingly caressed his head. Thebats were gliding through the air like spirits, passing so closeto his face that he felt the wind of their flight, and turning aboutwith a tiny clapping sound. He felt a most painful desire to cry. 

Among the tall currant-bushes yonder something moved, andSjermanna's head made its appearance. She was moving cautiously andpeering before her. When she saw Pelle she came quickly forward. 

"Good evening!" she whispered. 

"Good evening!" he answered aloud, delighted to return to humansociety. 

"Hush! You mustn't shout!" she said peremptorily. 

"Why not?" Pelle himself was whispering now. He was feeling quiteconcerned. "Because you mustn't! Donkey! Come, I'll show yousomething. No, nearer still!"

Pelle pushed his head forward through the tall elder-bush, andsuddenly she put her two hands about his head and kissed himviolently and pushed him back. He tried gropingly to take hold ofher, but she stood there laughing at him. Her face glowed in thedarkness. "You haven't heard anything about it!" she whispered. "Come, I'll tell you!"

Now he was smiling all over his face. He pushed his way eagerly intothe elder-bush. But at the same moment he felt her clenched fiststrike his face. She laughed crazily, but he stood fixed in thesame position, as though stunned, his mouth held forward as if stillawaiting a kiss. "Why do you hit me?" he asked, gazing at herbrokenly. 

"Because I can't endure you! You're a perfect oaf, and so ugly andso common!"

"I have never done anything to you!"

"No? Anyhow, you richly deserved it! What did you want to kiss mefor?"

Pelle stood there helplessly stammering. The whole world of hisexperience collapsed under him. "But I didn't!" he at last broughtout; he looked extraordinarily foolish. Manna aped his expression. "Ugh! Bugh! Take care, or you'll freeze to the ground and turn intoa lamp-post! There's nothing on the hedge here that will throw lighton your understanding!"

With a leap Pelle was over the hedge. Manna took him hastily by thehand and drew him through the bushes. "Aina and Dolores will be heredirectly. Then we'll play, " she declared. 

"I thought they couldn't come out in the evenings any more, " saidPelle, obediently allowing her to lead him. She made no reply, butlooked about her as though she wanted to treat him to something asin the old days. In her need she stripped a handful of leaves offthe currant-boughs, and stuffed them into his mouth. "There, takethat and hold your mouth!" She was quite the old Manna once more, and Pelle laughed. 

They had come to the summer-house. Manna cooled his swollen cheekswith wet earth while they waited. 

"Did it hurt you much?" she asked sympathetically, putting her armabout his shoulder. 

"It's nothing. What's a box on the ear?" he said manfully. 

"I didn't mean it--you know that. Did _that_ hurt you verymuch?"

Pelle gazed at her sadly. She looked at him inquisitively. "Wasit here?" she said, letting her hand slide down his back. He rosesilently, in order to go, but she seized him by the wrist. "Forgiveme, " she whispered. 

"Aren't the others coming soon?" asked Pelle harshly. He proposedto be angry with her, as in the old days. 

"No! They aren't coming at all! I've deceived you. I wanted to talkto you!" Manna was gasping for breath. 

"I thought you didn't want to have anything more to do with me?"

"Well, I don't! I only want--" She could not find words, and stampedangrily on the ground. Then she said slowly and solemnly, with theearnestness of a child: "Do you know what I believe? I believe--Ilove you!"

"Then we can get married when we are old enough!" said Pellejoyfully. 

She looked at him for a moment with a measuring glance. Thetown-hall and the flogging! thought Pelle. He was quite resolvedthat he would do the beating now; but here she laughed at him. "What a glorious booby you are!" she said, and as though deep inthought, she let a handful of wet earth run down his neck. 

Pelle thought for a moment of revenge; then, as though in sport, he thrust his hand into her bosom. She fell back weakly, gropingsubmissively with her hands; a new knowledge arose in him, andimpelled him to embrace her violently. 

She looked at him in amazement, and tried gently to push his handaway. But it was too late. The boy had broken down her defences. 

As Pelle went back into the house he was overwhelmed, but not happy. His heart hammered wildly, and a chaos reigned in his brain. Quiteinstinctively he trod very softly. For a long time he lay tossingto and fro without being able to sleep. His mind had resolved theenigma, and now he discovered the living blood in himself. It sangits sufferings in his ear; it welled into his cheeks and his heart;it murmured everywhere in numberless pulses, so that his whole bodythrilled. Mighty and full of mystery, it surged through him like aninundation, filling him with a warm, deep astonishment. Never beforehad he known all this!

In the time that followed his blood was his secret confidantin everything; he felt it like a caress when it filled his limbs, causing a feeling of distension in wrists and throat. He had hissecret now, and his face never betrayed the fact that he had everknown Sjermanna. His radiant days had all at once changed intoradiant nights. He was still enough of a child to long for the olddays, with their games in the broad light of day; but somethingimpelled him to look forward, listening, and his questing soulbowed itself before the mysteries of life. The night had madehim accomplice in her mysteries. With Manna he never spoke again. She never came into the garden, and if he met her she turned intoanother street. A rosy flame lay continually over her face, asthough it had burned its way in. Soon afterward she went to a farmin Ostland, where an uncle of hers lived. 

But Pelle felt nothing and was in no way dejected. He went about asthough in a half-slumber; everything was blurred and veiled beforehis spiritual vision. He was quite bewildered by all that was goingon within him. Something was hammering and laboring in every partand corner of him. Ideas which were too fragile were broken downand built up more strongly, so that they should bear the weight ofthe man in him. His limbs grew harder; his muscles became like steel, and he was conscious of a general feeling of breadth across hisback, and of unapplied strength. At times he awakened out of hishalf-slumber into a brief amazement, when he felt himself, in oneparticular or another, to have become a man; as when one day heheard his own voice. It had gained a deep resonance, which was quiteforeign to his ear, and forced him to listen as though it had beenanother that spoke. 

XVIII

Pelle fought against the decline of the business. A new apprenticehad been taken into the workshop, but Pelle, as before, had to doall the delicate jobs. He borrowed articles when necessary, andbought things on credit; and he had to interview impatient customers, and endeavor to pacify them. He got plenty of exercise, but helearned nothing properly. "Just run down to the harbor, " the masterused to say: "Perhaps there will be some work to bring back!" Butthe master was much more interested in the news which he broughtthence. 

Pelle would also go thither without having received any orders. Everybody in the town must needs make for the harbor whenever hewent from home; it was the heart through which everything came andwent, money and dreams and desires and that which gratified them. Every man had been to sea, and his best memories and his hardestbattles belonged to the sea. Dreams took the outward way; yonderlay the sea, and all men's thoughts were drawn to it; the thoughtsof the young, who longed to go forth and seek adventure, and ofthe old, who lived on their memories. It was the song in all men'shearts, and the God in the inmost soul of all; the roving-ground oflife's surplus, the home of all that was inexplicable and mystical. The sea had drunk the blood of thousands, but its color knew nochange; the riddle of life brooded in its restless waters. 

Destiny rose from the floor of the deep and with short shriftset her mark upon a man; he might escape to the land, like BakerJorgensen, who went no more to sea when once the warning had cometo him, or, like Boatman Jensen, he might rise in his sleep and walkstraight over the vessel's side. Down below, where the drowned dwelt, the ships sank to bring them what they needed; and from time to timethe bloodless children of the sea rose to the shore, to play withthe children that were born on a Sunday, and to bring them deathor happiness. 

Over the sea, three times a week, came the steamer with news fromCopenhagen; and vessels all wrapped in ice, and others that hadsprung a heavy leak, or bore dead bodies on board; and great shipswhich came from warm countries and had real negroes among theircrews. 

Down by the harbor stood the old men who had forsaken the sea, andnow all the long day through they stared out over the playgroundof their manhood, until Death came for them. The sea had blown goutinto their limbs, had buffeted them until they were bent and bowed, and in the winter nights one could hear them roar with the pain likewild beasts. Down to the harbor drifted all the flotsam and jetsamof the land, invalids and idle men and dying men, and busy folkraced round about and up and down with fluttering coat-tails, in order to scent out possible profits. 

The young sported here continually; it was as though theyencountered the future when they played here by the open sea. Manynever went further, but many let themselves be caught and whirledaway out into the unknown. Of these was Nilen. When the ships werebeing fitted out he could wait no longer. He sacrificed two years'apprenticeship, and ran away on board a vessel which was startingon a long voyage. Now he was far away in the Trades, on the southernpassage round America, homeward bound with a cargo of redwood. Anda few left with every steamer. The girls were the most courageouswhen it came to cutting themselves loose; they steamed away swiftly, and the young men followed them in amorous blindness. And men foughttheir way outward in order to seek something more profitable thancould be found at home. 

Pelle had experienced all this already: he had felt this samelonging, and had known the attractive force of the unknown. Upin the country districts it was the dream of all poor people tofight their way to town, and the boldest one day ventured thither, with burning cheeks, while the old people spoke warningly of theimmorality of cities. And in the town here it was the dream of allto go to the capital, to Copenhagen; there fortune and happinesswere to be found! He who had the courage hung one day over theship's rail, and waved farewell, with an absent expression in hiseyes, as though he had been playing a game with high stakes; overthere on the mainland he would have to be a match with the bestof them. But the old people shook their heads and spoke at lengthof the temptations and immorality of the capital. 

Now and again one came back and justified their wisdom. Then theywould run delightedly from door to door. "Didn't we tell you so?"But many came home at holiday seasons and were such swells that itwas really the limit! And this or that girl was so extremely stylishthat people had to ask the opinion of Wooden-leg Larsen about her. 

The girls who got married over there--well, they were well providedfor! After an interval of many years they came back to theirparents' homes, travelling on deck among the cattle, and givingthe stewardess a few pence to have them put in the newspaper ascabin-passengers. They were fine enough as to their clothes, buttheir thin haggard faces told another story. "There is certainlynot enough to eat for all over there!" said the old women. 

But Pelle took no interest in those that came home again. All histhoughts were with those who went away; his heart tugged painfullyin his breast, so powerful was his longing to be off. The sea, whether it lay idle or seethed with anger, continually filled hishead with the humming of the world "over yonder, " with a vague, mysterious song of happiness. 

One day, as he was on his way to the harbor, he met old thatcherHolm from Stone Farm. Holm was going about looking at the housesfrom top to bottom; he was raising his feet quite high in the airfrom sheer astonishment, and was chattering to himself. On his armhe carried a basket loaded with bread and butter, brandy, and beer. 

"Well, here's some one at last!" he said, and offered his hand. "I'm going round and wondering to myself where they all live, those that come here day after day and year after year, and whetherthey've done any good. Mother and I have often talked about it, thatit would be splendid to know how things have turned out for thisone or that. And this morning she said it would be best if I wereto make a short job of it before I quite forget how to find my wayabout the streets here, I haven't been here for ten years. Well, according to what I've seen so far, mother and I needn't regretwe've stayed at home. Nothing grows here except lamp-posts, andmother wouldn't understand anything about rearing them. Thatchedroofs I've not seen here. Here in the town they'd grudge a thatcherhis bread. But I'll see the harbor before I go home. "

"Then we'll go together, " said Pelle. He was glad to meet some onefrom his home. The country round about Stone Farm was always for himthe home of his childhood. He gossiped with the old man and pointedout various objects of interest. 

"Yes, I've been once, twice, three times before this to the harbor, "said Holm, "but I've never managed to see the steamer. They tellme wonderful things of it; they say all our crops are taken toCopenhagen in the steamer nowadays. "

"It's lying here to-day, " said Pelle eagerly. "This eveningit goes out. "

Holm's eyes beamed. "Then I shall be able to see the beggar! I'veoften seen the smoke from the hill at home--drifting over the sea--and that always gave me a lot to think about. They say it eats coalsand is made of iron. " He looked at Pelle uncertainly. 

The great empty harbor basin, in which some hundreds of men were atwork, interested him greatly. Pelle pointed out the "Great Power, "who was toiling like a madman and allowing himself to be saddledwith the heaviest work. 

"So that is he!" cried Holm. "I knew his father; he was a man whowanted to do things above the ordinary, but he never brought themoff. And how goes it with your father? Not any too well, as I'veheard?"

Pelle had been home a little while before; nothing was going wellthere, but as to that he was silent. "Karna isn't very well, " hesaid. "She tried to do too much; she's strained herself liftingthings. "

"They say he'll have a difficult job to pull through. They havetaken too much on themselves, " Holm continued. 

Pelle made no reply; and then the steamer absorbed their wholeattention. Talkative as he was, Holm quite forgot to wag histongue. 

The steamer was on the point of taking in cargo; the steam derrickswere busy at both hatches, squealing each time they swung round inanother direction. Holm became so light on his legs one might havethought he was treading on needles; when the derrick swung roundover the quay and the chain came rattling down, he ran right backto the granary. Pelle wanted to take him on board, but he would nothear of it. "It looks a bad-tempered monster, " he said: "look howit sneezes and fusses!"

On the quay, by the forward hold, the goods of a poverty-strickenhousehold lay all mixed together. A man stood there holding amahogany looking-glass, the only article of value, in his arms. Hisexpression was gloomy. By the manner in which he blew his nose--withhis knuckles instead of with his fingers--one could see that he hadsomething unaccustomed on hand. His eyes were fixed immovably on hismiserable household possessions, and they anxiously followed everybreakable article as it went its airy way into the vessel's maw. His wife and children were sitting on the quay-wall, eating out ofa basket of provisions. They had been sitting there for hours. Thechildren were tired and tearful; the mother was trying to consolethem, and to induce them to sleep on the stone. 

"Shan't we start soon?" they asked continually, in complainingtones. 

"Yes, the ship starts directly, but you must be very good orI shan't take you with me. And then you'll come to the capital city, where they eat white bread and always wear leather boots. The Kinghimself lives there, and they've got everything in the shops there. "She arranged her shawl under their heads. 

"But that's Per Anker's son from Blaaholt!" cried Holm, when he hadbeen standing a while on the quay and had caught sight of the man. "What, are you leaving the country?"

"Yes, I've decided to do so, " said the man, in an undertone, passinghis hand over his face. 

"And I thought you were doing so well! Didn't you go to Ostland, and didn't you take over a hotel there?"

"Yes, they enticed me out there, and now I've lost everythingthere. "

"You ought to have considered--considering costs nothing buta little trouble. "

"But they showed me false books, which showed a greater surplusthan there really was. Shipowner Monsen was behind the whole affair, together with the brewer from the mainland, who had taken the hotelover in payment of outstanding debts. "

"But how did big folks like that manage to smell you out?" Holmscratched his head; he didn't understand the whole affair. 

"Oh, they'd heard of the ten thousand, of course, which I'dinherited from my father. They throw their nets out for sums likethat, and one day they sent an agent to see me. Ten thousand wasjust enough for the first instalment, and now they have taken thehotel over again. Out of compassion, they let me keep this trashhere. " He suddenly turned his face away and wept; and then his wifecame swiftly up to him. 

Holm drew Pelle away. "They'd rather be rid of us, " he said quietly;and he continued to discuss the man's dismal misfortune, while theystrolled out along the mole. But Pelle was not listening to him. Hehad caught sight of a little schooner which was cruising outside, and was every moment growing more restless. 

"I believe that's the Iceland schooner!" he said at last. "SoI must go back. "

"Yes, run off, " said Holm, "and many thanks for your guidance, and give my respects to Lasse and Karna. "

On the harbor hill Pelle met Master Jeppe, and farther on Drejer, Klaussen, and Blom. The Iceland boat had kept them waiting forseveral months; the news that she was in the roads quickly spread, and all the shoemakers of the whole town were hurrying down to theharbor, in order to hear whether good business had been done beforethe gangway was run out. 

"The Iceland boat is there now!" said the merchants and leather-dealers, when they saw the shoemakers running by. "We must makehaste and make out our bills, for now the shoemakers will be havingmoney. "

But the skipper had most of the boots and shoes still in his hold;he returned with the terrifying news that no more boots and shoescould be disposed of in Iceland. The winter industry had been ofgreat importance to the shoemakers. 

"What does this mean?" asked Jeppe angrily. "You have been longenough about it! Have you been trying to open another agency overthere? In others years you have managed to sell the whole lot. "

"I have done what I could, " replied the captain gloomily. "I offeredthem to the dealers in big parcels, and then I lay there and carriedon a retail trade from the ship. Then I ran down the whole westcoast; but there is nothing to be done. "

"Well, well, " said Jeppe, "but do the Icelanders mean to go withoutboots?"

"There's the factories, " replied the captain. 

"The factories, the factories!" Jeppe laughed disdainfully, butwith a touch of uncertainty. "You'll tell me next that they canmake shoes by machinery--cut out and peg and sew and fix the treadsand all? No, damn it, that can only be done by human hands directedby human intelligence. Shoemaking is work for men only. Perhaps Imyself might be replaced by a machine--by a few cog-wheels that goround and round! Bah! A machine is dead, I know that, and it can'tthink or adapt itself to circumstances; you may have to shape theboot in a particular way for a special foot, on account of tendertoes, or--here I give the sole a certain cut in the instep, so thatit looks smart, or--well, one has to be careful, or one cuts intothe upper!"

"There are machines which make boots, and they make them cheaperthan you, too, " said the skipper brusquely. 

"I should like to see them! Can you show me a boot that hasn'tbeen made by human hands?" Jeppe laughed contemptuously. "No;there's something behind all this, by God! Some one is trying toplay us a trick!" The skipper went his way, offended. 

Jeppe stuck to it that there was something uncanny about it--theidea of a machine making boots was enough to haunt him. He kepton returning to it. 

"They'll be making human beings by machinery too, soon!" heexclaimed angrily. 

"No, " said Baker Jorgen; "there, I believe, the old method willsurvive!"

One day the skipper came in at the workshop door, banged a pair ofshoes down on the window-bench, and went out again. They had beenbought in England, and belonged to the helmsman of a bark which hadjust come into the harbor. The young master looked at them, turnedthem over in his hands, and looked at them again. Then he calledJeppe. They were sewn throughout--shoes for a grown man, yet sewnthroughout! Moreover, the factory stamp was under the sole. 

In Jeppe's opinion they were not worth a couple of shillings. Buthe could not get over the fact that they were machine-made. 

"Then we are superfluous, " he said, in a quavering voice. All hisold importance seemed to have fallen from him. "For if they can makethe one kind on a machine, they can make another. The handicraft iscondemned to death, and we shall all be without bread one fine day!Well, I, thank God, have not many years before me. " It was the firsttime that Jeppe had admitted that he owed his life to God. 

Every time he came into the workshop he began to expatiate on thesame subject. He would stand there turning the hated shoes overbetween his hands. Then he would criticize them. "We must take morepains next winter. "

"Father forgets it's all up with us now, " said the young masterwearily. 

Then the old man would be silent and hobble out. But after a timehe would be back again, fingering the boots and shoes, in order todiscover defects in them. His thoughts were constantly directed uponthis new subject; no song of praise, no eulogy of his handicraft, passed his lips nowadays. If the young master came to him and askedhis help in some difficult situation, he would refuse it; he feltno further desire to triumph over youth with his ancient dexterity, but shuffled about and shrank into himself. "And all that we havethought so highly of--what's to become of it?" he would ask. "Formachines don't make masterpieces and medal work, so where will realgood work come in?"

The young master did not look so far ahead; he thought principallyof the money that was needed. "Devil take it, Pelle, how are wegoing to pay every one, Pelle?" he would ask dejectedly. LittleNikas had to look out for something else; their means would notallow them to keep a journeyman. So Nikas decided to marry, andto set up as a master shoemaker in the north. The shoemaker ofthe Baptist community had just died, and he could get plenty ofcustomers by joining the sect; he was already attending theirservices. "But go to work carefully!" said Jeppe. "Or matterswill go awry!"

It was a bad shock to all of them. Klaussen went bankrupt and had tofind work on the new harbor. Blom ran away, deserting his wife andchildren, and they had to go home to the house of her parents. Inthe workshop matters had been getting worse for a long time. And nowthis had happened, throwing a dazzling light upon the whole question. But the young master refused to believe the worst. "I shall soon bewell again now, " he said. "And then you will just see how I'll workup the business!" He lay in bed more often now, and was susceptibleto every change in the weather. Pelle had to see to everything. 

"Run and borrow something!" the master would say. And if Pellereturned with a refusal, he would look at the boy with his wide, wondering eyes. "They've got the souls of grocers!" he would cry. "Then we must peg those soles!"

"That won't answer with ladies' patent-leather shoes!" repliedPelle very positively. 

"Damn and blast it all, it will answer! We'll black the bottomwith cobbler's wax. "

But when the black was trodden off, Jungfer Lund and the otherscalled, and were wroth. They were not accustomed to walk in peggedshoes. "It's a misunderstanding!" said the young master, theperspiration standing in clear beads on his forehead. Or he wouldhide and leave it to Pelle. When it was over, he would reach up tothe shelf, panting with exhaustion. "Can't you do anything for me, Pelle?" he whispered. 

One day Pelle plucked up courage and said it certainly wasn'thealthy to take so much spirit; the master needed so much now. 

"Healthy?" said the master; "no, good God, it isn't healthy! But thebeasts demand it! In the beginning I couldn't get the stuff down, especially beer; but now I've accustomed myself to it. If I didn'tfeed them, they'd soon rush all over me and eat me up. "

"Do they swallow it, then?"

"I should think they do! As much as ever you like to give them. Orhave you ever seen me tipsy? I can't get drunk; the tubercles takeit all. And for them it's sheer poison. On the day when I am ableto get drunk again I shall thank God, for then the beasts will bedead and the spirit will be able to attack me again. Then it'll onlybe a question of stopping it, otherwise it'll play the deuce with mymind!"

Since the journeyman had left, the meals had become more meager thanever. The masters had not had enough money in the spring to buy apig. So there was no one to consume the scraps. Now they had to eatthem all themselves. Master Andres was never at the table; he tookscarcely any nourishment nowadays; a piece of bread-and-butter nowand again, that was all. Breakfast, at half-past seven, they atealone. It consisted of salt herrings, bread and hog's lard, andsoup. The soup was made out of all sorts of odds and ends of breadand porridge, with an addition of thin beer. It was fermented andunpalatable. What was left over from breakfast was put into a greatcrock which stood in one corner of the kitchen, on the floor, andthis was warmed up again the next morning, with the addition of alittle fresh beer. So it went on all the year round. The contentswere renewed only when some one kicked the crock so that it broke. The boys confined themselves to the herrings and the lard; the soupthey did not use except to fish about in it. They made a jest of it, throwing all sorts of objects into it, and finding them again afterhalf a year. 

Jeppe was still lying in the alcove, asleep; his nightcap washoved awry over one eye. Even in his sleep he still had a comicalexpression of self-importance. The room was thick with vapor; theold man had his own way of getting air, breathing it in with a longsnort and letting it run rumbling through him. If it got too bad, the boys would make a noise; then he would wake and scold them. 

They were longing for food by dinner-time; the moment Jeppe calledhis "Dinner!" at the door they threw everything down, rangedthemselves according to age, and tumbled in behind him. They heldone another tightly by the coat-tails, and made stupid grimaces. Jeppe was enthroned at the head of the table, a little cap on hishead, trying to preserve seemly table-manners. No one might beginbefore him or continue after he had finished. They snatched attheir spoons, laid them down again with a terrified glance at theold man, and nearly exploded with suppressed laughter. "Yes, I'mvery hungry to-day, but there's no need for you to remark it!" hewould say warningly, once they were in full swing. Pelle would winkat the others, and they would go on eating, emptying one dish afteranother. "There's no respect nowadays!" roared Jeppe, striking onthe table. But when he did this discipline suddenly entered intothem, and they all struck the table after him in turn. Sometimes, when matters got too bad, Master Andres had to find some reasonfor coming into the room. 

The long working-hours, the bad food, and the foul air of theworkshop left their mark on Pelle. His attachment to Master Andreswas limitless; he could sit there till midnight and work withoutpayment if a promise had been made to finish some particular job. But otherwise he was imperceptibly slipping into the generalslackness, sharing the others' opinion of the day as somethingutterly abominable, which one must somehow endeavor to get through. To work at half pressure was a physical necessity; his raremovements wearied him, and he felt less inclined to work than tobrood. The semi-darkness of the sunless workshop bleached his skinand filled him with unhealthy imaginations. 

He did little work now on his own account; but he had learned tomanage with very little. Whenever he contrived to get hold of aten-ore piece, he bought a savings-stamp, so that in this way hewas able to collect a few shillings, until they had grown to quitea little sum. Now and again, too, he got a little help from Lasse, but Lasse found it more and more difficult to spare anything. Moreover, he had learned to compose his mind by his work. 

XIX

The crazy Anker was knocking on the workshop door. "Bjerregrav isdead!" he said solemnly. "Now there is only one who can mourn overpoverty!" Then he went away and announced the news to Baker Jorgen. They heard him going from house to house, all along the street. 

Bjerregrav dead! Only yesterday evening he was sitting yonder, onthe chair by the window-bench, and his crutch was standing in thecorner by the door; and he had offered them all his hand in hisodd, ingenuous way--that unpleasantly flabby hand, at whose touchthey all felt a certain aversion, so importunate was it, and almostskinless in its warmth, so that one felt as if one had involuntarilytouched some one on a naked part. Pelle was always reminded ofFather Lasse; he too had never learned to put on armor, but hadalways remained the same loyal, simple soul, unaffected by hishard experience. 

The big baker had fallen foul of him as usual. Contact with thischildlike, thin-skinned creature, who let his very heart burn itselfout in a clasp of his hand, always made him brutal. "Now, Bjerregrav, have you tried it--you know what--since we last saw you?"

Bjerregrav turned crimson. "I am content with the experience whichthe dear God has chosen for me, " he answered, with blinking eyes. 

"Would you believe it, he is over seventy and doesn't know yet howa woman is made!"

"Because, after all I find it suits me best to live alone, and thenthere's my club foot. "

"So he goes about asking questions about everything, thingssuch as every child knows about, " said Jeppe, in a superior tone. "Bjerregrav has never rubbed off his childish innocence. "

Yet as he was going home, and Pelle was helping him over the gutter, he was still in his mood of everlasting wonder. 

"What star is that?" he said; "it has quite a different light tothe others. It looks so red to me--if only we don't have a severewinter, with the soil frozen and dear fuel for all the poor people. "Bjerregrav sighed. 

"You mustn't look at the moon so much. Skipper Andersen came by hisaccident simply because he slept on deck and the moon shone right inhis face; now he has gone crazy!"

Yesterday evening just the same as always--and now dead! And no onehad known or guessed, so that they might have been a little kinderto him just at the last! He died in his bed, with his mind full oftheir last disdainful words, and now they could never go to him andsay: "Don't take any notice of it, Bjerregrav; we didn't mean to beunkind. " Perhaps their behavior had embittered his last hours. Atall events, there stood Jeppe and Brother Jorgen, and they could notlook one another in the face; an immovable burden weighed upon them. 

And it meant a void--as when the clock in a room stops ticking. The faithful sound of his crutch no longer approached the workshopabout six o'clock. The young master grew restless about that time;he could not get used to the idea of Bjerregrav's absence. 

"Death is a hateful thing, " he would say, when the truth came overhim; "it is horribly repugnant. Why must one go away from herewithout leaving the least part of one behind? Now I listen forBjerregrav's crutch, and there's a void in my ears, and after a timethere won't be even that. Then he will be forgotten, and perhapsmore besides, who will have followed him, and so it goes on forever. Is there anything reasonable about it all, Pelle? They talk aboutHeaven, but what should I care about sitting on a damp cloud andsinging 'Hallelujah'? I'd much rather go about down here and getmyself a drink--especially if I had a sound leg!"

The apprentices accompanied him to the grave. Jeppe wished them todo so, as a sort of atonement. Jeppe himself and Baker Jorgen, intall hats, walked just behind the coffin. Otherwise only a few poorwomen and children followed, who had joined the procession out ofcuriosity. Coachman Due drove the hearse. He had now bought a pairof horses, and this was his first good job. 

Otherwise life flowed onward, sluggish and monotonous. Winter hadcome again, with its commercial stagnation, and the Iceland tradewas ruined. The shoemakers did no more work by artificial light;there was so little to do that it would not repay the cost of thepetroleum; so the hanging lamp was put on one side and the old tinlamp was brought out again. That was good enough to sit round andto gossip by. The neighbors would come into the twilight of theworkshop; if Master Andres was not there, they would slip out again, or they would sit idly there until Jeppe said it was bed-time. Pellehad begun to occupy himself with carving once more; he got as closeto the lamp as possible, listening to the conversation while heworked upon a button which was to be carved like a twenty-five-orepiece. Morten was to have it for a tie-pin. 

The conversation turned upon the weather, and how fortunate it wasthat the frost had not yet come to stop the great harbor works. Thenit touched upon the "Great Power, " and from him it glanced at thecrazy Anker, and poverty, and discontent. The Social Democrats "overyonder" had for a long time been occupying the public mind. Allthe summer through disquieting rumors had crossed the water; it wasquite plain that they were increasing their power and their numbers--but what were they actually aiming at? In any case, it was nothinggood. "They must be the very poorest who are revolting, " saidWooden-leg Larsen. "So their numbers must be very great!" It wasas though one heard the roaring of something or other out on thehorizon, but did not know what was going on there. The echo of theupheaval of the lower classes was quite distorted by the time itreached the island; people understood just so much, that the lowestclasses wanted to turn God's appointed order upside down and to getto the top themselves, and involuntarily their glance fell covertlyon the poor in the town. But these were going about in theircustomary half-slumber, working when there was work to be had andcontenting themselves with that. "That would be the last straw, "said Jeppe, "here, where we have such a well-organized poor-relief!"

Baker Jorgen was the most eager--every day he came with news ofsome kind to discuss. Now they had threatened the life of the Kinghimself! And now the troops were called out. 

"The troops!" The young master made a disdainful gesture. "That'llhelp a lot! If they merely throw a handful of dynamite among thesoldiers there won't be a trouser-button left whole! No, they'llconquer the capital now!" His cheeks glowed: he saw the eventalready in his mind's eye. "Yes, and then? Then they'll plunderthe royal Mint!"

"Yes--no. Then they'll come over here--the whole party!"

"Come over here? No, by God! We'd call out all the militia and shootthem down from the shore. I've put my gun in order already!"

One day Marker came running in. "The pastrycook's got a newjourneyman from over yonder--and he's a Social Democrat!" he criedbreathlessly. "He came yesterday evening by the steamer. " BakerJorgen had also heard the news. 

"Yes, now they're on you!" said Jeppe, as one announcing disaster. "You've all been trifling with the new spirit of the times. Thiswould have been something for Bjerregrav to see--him with hiscompassion for the poor!"

"Let the tailor rest in peace in his grave, " said Wooden-leg Larsen, in a conciliatory tone. "You mustn't blame him for the angry massesthat exist to-day. He wanted nothing but people's good--and perhapsthese people want to do good, too!"

"Good!" Jeppe was loud with scorn. "They want to overturn law andorder, and sell the fatherland to the Germans! They say the sum issettled already, and all!"

"They say they'll be let into the capital during the night, whenour own people are asleep, " said Marker. 

"Yes, " said Master Andres solemnly. "They've let out that the key'shidden under the mat--the devils!" Here Baker Jorgen burst into ashout of laughter; his laughter filled the whole workshop when heonce began. 

They guessed what sort of a fellow the new journeyman might be. Noone had seen him yet. "He certainly has red hair and a red beard, "said Baker Jorgen. "That's the good God's way of marking those whohave signed themselves to the Evil One. "

"God knows what the pastrycook wants with him, " said Jeppe. "Peopleof that sort can't do anything--they only ask. I've heard the wholelot of them are free-thinkers. "

"What a lark!" The young master shook himself contentedly. "He won'tgrow old here in the town!"

"Old?" The baker drew up his heavy body. "To-morrow I shall go tothe pastrycook and demand that he be sent away. I am commander ofthe militia, and I know all the townsfolk think as I do. "

Drejer thought it might be well to pray from the pulpit--as intime of plague, and in the bad year when the field-mice infestedthe country. 

Next morning Jorgen Kofod looked in on his way to the pastrycook's. He was wearing his old militia coat, and at his belt hung theleather wallet in which flints for the old flint-locks had beencarried many years before. He filled his uniform well; but he cameback without success. The pastrycook praised his new journeymanbeyond all measure, and wouldn't hear a word of sending him away. He was quite besotted. "But we shall buy there no more--we must allstick to that--and no respectable family can deal with the traitorin future. "

"Did you see the journeyman, Uncle Jorgen?" asked Master Andreseagerly. 

"Yes, I saw him--that is, from a distance! He had a pair of terrible, piercing eyes; but he shan't bewitch me with his serpent's glance!"

In the evening Pelle and the others were strolling about the marketin order to catch a glimpse of the new journeyman--there were anumber of people there, and they were all strolling to and fro withthe same object in view. But he evidently kept the house. 

And then one day, toward evening, the master came tumbling into theworkshop. "Hurry up, damn it all!" he cried, quite out of breath;"he's passing now!" They threw down their work and stumbled alongthe passage into the best room, which at ordinary times they werenot allowed to enter. He was a tall, powerful man, with full cheeksand a big, dashing moustache, quite as big as the master's. Hisnostrils were distended, and he held his chest well forward. Hisjacket and wasitcoat were open, as though he wanted more air. Behindhim slunk a few street urchins, in the hope of seeing something;they had quite lost their accustomed insolence, and followed himin silence. 

"He walks as though the whole town belonged to him!" said Jeppescornfully. "But we'll soon finish with him here!"

XX

Out in the street some one went by, and then another, and thenanother; there was quite a trampling of feet. The young masterknocked on the wall. "What in the world is it, Pelle?" He did notmean to get up that day. 

Pelle ran out to seek information. "Jen's father has got delirium--he's cleared the whole harbor and is threatening to kill them all!"

The master raised his head a little. "By God, I believe I shallget up!" His eyes were glistening; presently he had got into hisclothes, and limped out of doors; they heard him coughing terriblyin the cold. 

Old Jeppe put his official cap in his pocket before he ran out;perhaps the authorities would be needed. For a time the apprenticessat staring at the door like sick birds; then they, too, ran outof the house. 

Outside everything was in confusion. The wildest rumors were flyingabout as to what Stonemason Jorgensen had done. The excitement couldnot have been greater had a hostile squadron come to anchor andcommenced to bombard the town. Everybody dropped what he was holdingand rushed down to the harbor. The smaller side-streets were oneunbroken procession of children and old women and small employersin their aprons. Old gouty seamen awoke from their decrepit slumberand hobbled away, their hands dropped to the back of their loinsand their faces twisted with pain. 

 "Toot aroot aroot aroot. All the pitchy snouts!"

A few street-urchins allowed themselves this little diversion, asPelle came running by with the other apprentices; otherwise allattention was concentrated on the one fact that the "Great Power"had broken out again! A certain festivity might have been noted onthe faces of the hurrying crowd; a vivid expectation. The stonemasonhad been quiet for a long time now; he had labored like a giantbeast of burden, to all appearance extinguished, but toiling likean elephant, and quietly taking home a couple of kroner in theevening. It was almost painful to watch him, and a disappointedsilence gathered about him. And now came a sudden explosion, thrilling everybody through!

All had something to say of the "strong man" while they hasteneddown to the harbor. Everybody had foreseen that it must come; he hadfor a long time looked so strange, and had done nothing wrong, sothat it was only a wonder that it hadn't come sooner! Such peopleought not really to be at large; they ought to be shut up for life!They went over the events of his life for the hundredth time--fromthe day when he came trudging into town, young and fearless in hisrags, to find a market for his energies, until the time when hedrove his child into the sea and settled down as a lunatic. 

Down by the harbor the people were swarming; everybody who couldcreep or crawl was stationed there. The crowd was good-humored, inspite of the cold and the hard times; the people stamped their feetand cracked jokes. The town had in a moment shaken off its wintersleep; the people clambered up on the blocks of stone, or hungclose-packed over the rough timber frames that were to be sunkin building the breakwater. They craned their necks and startednervously, as though some one might come up suddenly and hit themover the head. Jens and Morten were there, too; they stood quiteapart and were speaking to one another. They looked on mournfully, with shy, harrassed glances, and where the great slip ran obliquelydown to the floor of the basin the workmen stood in crowds; theyhitched up their trousers, for the sake of something to do, exchanged embarrassed glances, and swore. 

But down on the floor of the great basin the "Great Power"ruled supreme. He was moving about alone, and he seemed to be asunconscious of his surroundings as a child absorbed in play; he hadsome purpose of his own to attend to. But what that was it was noteasy to tell. In one hand he held a bundle of dynamite cartridges;with the other he was leaning on a heavy iron bar. His movementswere slow and regular, not unlike those of a clumsy bear. When hestood up, his comrades shouted to him excitedly; they would comeand tear him into little pieces; they would slit his belly so thathe could see his own bowels; they would slash him with their knivesand rub his wounds with vitriol if he didn't at once lay down hisweapons and let them come down to their work. 

But the "Great Power" did not deign to answer. Perhaps he neverheard them. When he raised his head his glance swept the distance, laden with a mysterious burden which was not human. That face, with its deadly weariness, seemed in its sadness to be turned uponsome distant place whither none could follow him. "He is mad!"they whispered; "God has taken away his wits!" Then he bent himselfto his task again; he seemed to be placing the cartridges underthe great breakwater which he himself had proposed. He was pullingcartridges out of every pocket; that was why they had stuck outfrom his body curiously. 

"What the devil is he going to do now? Blow up the breakwater?"they asked, and tried to creep along behind the causeway, so as tocome upon him from behind. But he had eyes all round him; at theslightest movement on their part he was there with his iron bar. 

The whole works were at a standstill! Two hundred men stood idlehour after hour, growling and swearing and threatening death andthe devil, but no one ventured forward. The overseer ran aboutirresolutely, and even the engineer had lost his head; everythingwas in a state of dissolution. The district judge was walking upand down in full uniform, with an impenetrable expression of face;his mere presence had a calming effect, but he did nothing. 

Each proposal made was wilder than the last. Some wanted to makea gigantic screen which might be pushed toward him; others suggestedcapturing him with a huge pair of tongs made of long balks of timber;but no one attempted to carry out these suggestions; they were onlytoo thankful that he allowed them to stand where they were. The"Great Power" could throw a dynamite cartridge with such force thatit would explode where it struck and sweep away everything around it. 

"The tip-wagons!" cried some one. Here at last was an idea!The wagons were quickly filled with armed workmen. The catch wasreleased, but the wagons did not move. The "Great Power" withhis devilish cunning, had been before them; he had spiked theendless chain so that it could not move. And now he struck awaythe under-pinning of a few of the supports, so that the wagonscould not be launched upon him by hand. 

This was no delirium; no one had ever yet seen delirium manifestitself in such a way! And he had touched no spirit since theday they had carried his daughter home. No; it was the quietestresolution imaginable; when they got up after the breakfast-hourand were strolling down to the slip, he stood there with his ironbar and quietly commanded them to keep away--the harbor belongedto him! They had received more than one sharp blow before theyunderstood that he was in earnest; but there was no malice inhim--one could see quite plainly how it hurt him to strike them. It was certainly the devil riding him--against his own will. 

But where was it going to end? They had had enough of it now!For now the great harbor bell was striking midday, and there wassomething derisive in the sound, as though it was jeering atrespectable people who only wanted to resume their work. Theydidn't want to waste the whole day; neither did they want to risklife and limb against the fool's tricks of a lunatic. Even themighty Bergendal had left his contempt of death at home to-day, and was content to grumble like the rest. 

"We must knock a hole in the dam, " he said, "then the brute mayperish in the waves!"

They immediately picked up their tools, in order to set to work. Theengineer threatened them with the law and the authorities; it wouldcost thousands of kroner to empty the harbor again. They would notlisten to him; what use was he if he couldn't contrive for them todo their work in peace?

They strolled toward the dam, with picks and iron crowbars, in orderto make the breach; the engineer and the police were thrust aside. Now it was no longer a matter of work; it was a matter of showingthat two hundred men were not going to allow one crazy devil to makefools of them. Beelzebub had got to be smoked out. Either the "GreatPower" would come up from the floor of the basin, or he would drown. 

"You shall have a full day's wages!" cried the engineer, to holdthem back. They did not listen; but when they reached the place ofthe intended breach, the "Great Power" was standing at the foot ofthe dam, swinging his pick so that the walls of the basin resounded. He beamed with helpfulness at every blow; he had posted himself atthe spot where the water trickled in, and they saw with horror whatan effect his blows had. It was sheer madness to do what he wasdoing there. 

"He'll fill the harbor with water, the devil!" they cried, and theyhurled stones at his head. "And such a work as it was to empty it!"

The "Great Power" took cover behind a pile and worked away. 

Then there was nothing for it but to shoot him down before he hadattained his object. A charge of shot in the legs, if nothing more, and he would at least be rendered harmless. The district judge wasat his wits' end; but Wooden-leg Larsen was already on the way hometo fetch his gun. Soon he came stumping back, surrounded by a swarmof boys. 

"I've loaded it with coarse salt!" he cried, so that the judgemight hear. 

"Now you'll be shot dead!" they called down to him. In reply, the"Great Power" struck his pick into the foot of the dam, so thatthe trampled clay sighed and the moisture rose underfoot. A longcrackling sound told them that the first plank was shattered. 

The final resolve had been formed quite of itself; everybody wasspeaking of shooting him down as though the man had been long agosentenced, and now everybody was longing for the execution. Theyhated the man below there with a secret hatred which needed noexplanation; his defiance and unruliness affected them like a slapin the face; they would gladly have trampled him underfoot if theycould. 

They shouted down insults; they reminded him how in his presumptionhe had ruined his family, and driven his daughter to suicide; andthey cast in his face his brutal attack on the rich shipowner Monsen, the benefactor of the town. For a time they roused themselves fromtheir apathy in order to take a hand in striking him down. And nowit must be done thoroughly; they must have peace from this fellow, who couldn't wear his chains quietly, but must make them grate likethe voice of hatred that lay behind poverty and oppression. 

The judge leaned out over the quay, in order to read his sentenceover the "Great Power"--three times must it be read, so the manmight have opportunity to repent. He was deathly pale, and at thesecond announcement he started convulsively; but the "Great Power"threw no dynamite cartridges at him; he merely lifted his hand tohis head, as though in greeting, and made a few thrusting motions inthe air with two of his fingers, which stood out from his foreheadlike a pair of horns. From where the apothecary stood in a circleof fine ladies a stifled laugh was heard. All faces were turned towhere the burgomaster's wife stood tall and stately on a block ofstone. But she gazed down unflinchingly at the "Great Power" asthough she had never seen him before. 

On the burgomaster the gesture had an effect like that of anexplosion. "Shoot him down!" he roared, with purple face, stumblingexcitedly along the breakwater. "Shoot him down, Larsen!"

But no one heeded his command. All were streaming toward thewagon-slip, where an old, faded little woman was in the act ofgroping her way along the track toward the floor of the basin. "It's the 'Great Power's' mother!" The word passed from mouthto mouth. "No! How little and old she is! One can hardly believeshe could have brought such a giant into the world!"

Excitedly they followed her, while she tottered over the brokenstone of the floor of the basin, which was littered with the_debris_ of explosions until it resembled an ice-floe underpressure. She made her way but slowly, and it looked continuallyas though she must break her legs. But the old lady persevered, bent and withered though she was, with her shortsighted eyesfixed on the rocks before her feet. 

Then she perceived her son, who stood with his iron bar poisedin his hand. "Throw the stick away, Peter!" she cried sharply, and mechanically he let the iron rod fall. He gave way before her, slowly, until she had pinned him in a corner and attempted to seizehim; then he pushed her carefully aside, as though she was somethingthat inconvenienced him. 

A sigh went through the crowd, and crept round the harbor likea wandering shudder. "He strikes his own mother--he must be mad!"they repeated, shuddering. 

But the old woman was on her legs again. "Do you strike your ownmother, Peter?" she cried, with sheer amazement in her voice, andreached up after his ear; she could not reach so far; but the "GreatPower" bent down as though something heavy pressed upon him, andallowed her to seize his ear. Then she drew him away, over stockand stone, in a slanting path to the slipway, where the peoplestood like a wall. And he went, bowed, across the floor of thebasin, like a great beast in the little woman's hands. 

Up on the quay the police stood ready to fall upon the "Great Power"with ropes; but the old woman was like pepper and salt when she sawtheir intention. "Get out of the way, or I'll let him loose on you!"she hissed. "Don't you see he has lost his intellect? Would youattack a man whom God has smitten?"

"Yes, he is mad!" said the people, in a conciliatory tone; "lethis mother punish him--she is the nearest to him!"

XXI

Now Pelle and the youngest apprentice had to see to everything, for in November Jens had finished his term and had left at once. Hehad not the courage to go to Copenhagen to seek his fortune. So herented a room in the poor quarter of the town and settled there withhis young woman. They could not get married; he was only nineteenyears of age. When Pelle had business in the northern portion of thetown he used to look in on them. The table stood between the bed andthe window, and there sat Jens, working on repairs for the poor folkof the neighborhood. When he had managed to get a job the girl wouldstand bending over him, waiting intently until he had finished, sothat she could get something to eat. Then she would come back andcook something right away at the stove, and Jens would sit thereand watch her with burning eyes until he had more work in hand. He had grown thin, and sported a sparse pointed beard; a lack ofnourishment was written in both their faces. But they loved oneanother, and they helped one another in everything, as awkwardlyas two children who are playing at "father and mother. " They hadchosen the most dismal locality; the lane fell steeply to the sea, and was full of refuse; mangy cats and dogs ran about, draggingfish-offal up the steps of the houses and leaving it lying there. Dirty children were grubbing about before every door. 

One Sunday morning, when Pelle had run out there to see them, heheard a shriek from one of the cottages, and the sound of chairsoverturned. Startled, he stood still. "That's only one-eyed Johannbeating his wife, " said an eight-year-old girl; "he does thatalmost every day. "

Before the door, on a chair, sat an old man, staring imperturbablyat a little boy who continually circled round him. 

Suddenly the child ran inward, laid his hands on the old man's knee, and said delightedly: "Father runs round the table--mother runsround the table--father beats mother--mother runs round the tableand--cries. " He imitated the crying, laughed all over his littleidiot's face, and dribbled. "Yes, yes, " was all the old man said. The child had no eyebrows, and the forehead was hollow over the eyes. Gleefully he ran round and round, stamping and imitating the uproarwithin. "Yes, yes, " said the old man imperturbably, "yes, yes!"

At the window of one of the cottages sat a woman, gazing outthoughtfully, her forehead leaning against the sash-bar. Pellerecognized her; he greeted her cheerfully. She motioned him to thedoor. Her bosom was still plump, but there was a shadow over herface. "Hans!" she cried uncertainly, "here is Pelle, whose doingit was that we found one another!"

The young workman replied from within the room: "Then he canclear out, and I don't care if he looks sharp about it!" He spokethreateningly. 

In spite of the mild winter, Master Andres was almost always in bednow. Pelle had to receive all instructions, and replace the masteras well as he could. There was no making of new boots now--onlyrepairs. Every moment the master would knock on the wall, in orderto gossip a little. 

"To-morrow I shall get up, " he would say, and his eyes would shine;"yes, that I shall, Pelle! Give me sunlight tomorrow, you devil'simp! This is the turning-point--now nature is turning round in me. When that's finished I shall be quite well! I can feel how it'sraging in my blood--it's war to the knife now--but the good sap isconquering! You should see me when the business is well forward--this is nothing to what it will be! And you won't forget to borrowthe list of the lottery-drawings?"

He would not admit it to himself, but he was sinking. He no longercursed the clergy, and one day Jeppe silently went for the pastor. When he had gone, Master Jeppe knocked on the wall. 

"It's really devilish queer, " he said, "for suppose there shouldbe anything in it? And then the pastor is so old, he ought ratherto be thinking of himself. " The master lay there and lookedthoughtful; he was staring up at the ceiling. He would lie all daylike that; he did not care about reading now. "Jens was really agood boy, " he would say suddenly. "I could never endure him, but hereally had a good disposition. And do you believe that I shall everbe a man again?"

"Yes, when once the warm weather comes, " said Pelle. 

From time to time the crazy Anker would come to ask after MasterAndres. Then the master would knock on the wall. "Let him come in, then, " he said to Pelle. "I find myself so terribly wearisome. "Anker had quite given up the marriage with the king's eldestdaughter, and had now taken matters into his own hands. He was nowworking at a clock which would _be_ the "new time" itself, andwhich would go in time with the happiness of the people. He broughtthe wheels and spring and the whole works with him, and explainedthem, while his gray eyes, fixed out-of-doors, wandered from oneobject to another. They were never on the thing he was exhibiting. He, like all the others, had a blind confidence in the young master, and explained his invention in detail. The clock would be so devisedthat it would show the time only when every one in the land had whathe wanted. "Then one can always see and know if anybody is sufferingneed--there'll be no excuse then! For the time goes and goes, andthey get nothing to eat; and one day their hour comes, and they gohungry into the grave. " In his temples that everlasting thing wasbeating which seemed to Pelle like the knocking of a restless soulimprisoned there; and his eyes skipped from one object to anotherwith their vague, indescribable expression. 

The master allowed himself to be quite carried away by Anker's talkas long as it lasted; but as soon as the watchmaker was on the otherside of the door he shook it all off. "It's only the twaddle of amadman, " he said, astonished at himself. 

Then Anker repeated his visit, and had something else to show. Itwas a cuckoo; every ten-thousandth year it would appear to the hourand cry "Cuckoo!" The time would not be shown any longer--only thelong, long course of time--which never comes to an end--eternity. The master looked at Anker bewildered. "Send him away, Pelle!" hewhispered, wiping the sweat from his forehead: "he makes me quitegiddy; he'll turn me crazy with his nonsense!"

Pelle ought really to have spent Christmas at home, but the masterwould not let him leave him. "Who will chat with me all that timeand look after everything?" he said. And Pelle himself was not soset on going; it was no particular pleasure nowadays to go home. Karna was ill, and Father Lasse had enough to do to keep her in goodspirits. He himself was valiant enough, but it did not escape Pellethat as time went on he was sinking deeper into difficulties. He hadnot paid the latest instalment due, and he had not done well withthe winter stone-breaking, which from year to year had helped himover the worst. He had not sufficient strength for all that fellto his lot. But he was plucky. "What does it matter if I'm a fewhundred kroner in arrears when I have improved the property to thetune of several thousand?" he would say. 

Pelle was obliged to admit the truth of that. "Raise a loan, "he advised. 

Lasse did try to do so. Every time he was in the town he went tothe lawyers and the savings-banks. But he could not raise a loan onthe land, as on paper it belonged to the commune, until, in a givennumber of years, the whole of the sum to which Lasse had pledgedhimself should be paid up. On Shrove Tuesday he was again in town, and then he had lost his cheerful humor. "Now we know it, we hadbetter give up at once, " he said despondently, "for now Ole Jensenis haunting the place--you know, he had the farm before me andhanged himself because he couldn't fulfill his engagements. Karnasaw him last night. "

"Nonsense!" said Pelle. "Don't believe such a thing!" But he couldnot help believing in it just a little himself. 

"You think so? But you see yourself that things are always gettingmore difficult for us--and just now, too, when we have improved thewhole property so far, and ought to be enjoying the fruit of ourlabor. And Karna can't get well again, " he added despondently. 

"Well, who knows?--perhaps it's only superstition!" he cried atlast. He had courage for another attempt. 

Master Andres was keeping his bed. But he was jolly enough there;the more quickly he sank, the more boldly he talked. It was quitewonderful to listen to his big words, and to see him lying thereso wasted, ready to take his departure when the time should come. 

At the end of February the winter was so mild that people werealready beginning to look for the first heralds of spring; but thenin one night came the winter from the north, blustering southward ona mighty ice-floe. Seen from the shore it looked as though all thevessels in the world had hoisted new white sails, and were on theway to Bornholm, to pay the island a visit, before they once againset out, after the winter's rest, on their distant voyages. Butrejoicings over the breaking-up of the ice were brief; in four-and-twenty hours the island was hemmed in on every side by the ice-pack, so that there was not a speck of open water to be seen. 

And then the snow began. "We really thought it was time to beginwork on the land, " said the people; but they could put up with thecold--there was still time enough. They proceeded to snowball oneanother, and set their sledges in order; all through the winterthere had been no toboggan-slide. Soon the snow was up to one'sankles, and the slide was made. Now it might as well stop snowing. It might lie a week or two, so that people might enjoy a few propersleighing-parties. But the snow continued to flutter down, until itreached to the knee, and then to the waist; and by the time peoplewere going to bed it was no longer possible to struggle through it. And those who did not need to rise before daylight were very nearnot getting out of bed at all, for in the night a snowstorm set in, and by the morning the snow reached to the roofs and covered allthe windows. One could hear the storm raging about the chimneys, but down below it was warm enough. The apprentices had to go throughthe living-room to reach the workshop. The snow was deep there andhad closed all outlets. 

"What the devil is it?" said Master Andres, looking at Pellein alarm. "Is the world coming to an end?"

Was the world coming to an end? Well, it might have come to anend already; they could not hear the smallest sound from without, to tell them whether their fellow-men were living still, or werealready dead. They had to burn lamps all day long; but the coal wasout in the snow, so they must contrive to get to the shed. They allpushed against the upper half-door of the kitchen, and succeeded inforcing it so far open that Pelle could just creep through. But onceout there it was impossible to move. He disappeared in the mass ofsnow. They must dig a path to the well and the coal-shed; as forfood, they would have to manage as best they could. At noon the suncame out, and so far the snow melted on the south side of the housethat the upper edge of the window admitted a little daylight. Afaint milky shimmer shone through the snow. But there was no signof life outside. 

"I believe we shall starve, like the people who go to the NorthPole, " said the master, his eyes and mouth quite round withexcitement. His eyes were blazing like lamps; he was deep inthe world's fairy-tale. 

During the evening they dug and bored halfway to Baker Jorgen's. They must at least secure their connection with the baker. Jeppewent in with a light. "Look out that it doesn't fall on you, "he said warningly. The light glistened in the snow, and the boysproceeded to amuse themselves. The young master lay in bed, andcalled out at every sound that came to him from outside--so loudlythat his cough was terrible. He could not contain himself forcuriosity. "I'll go and see the robbers' path, too, by God!" hesaid, over and over again. Jeppe scolded him, but he took no notice. He had his way, got into his trousers and fur jacket, and had acounterpane thrown about him. But he could not stand up, and witha despairing cry he fell back on the bed. 

Pelle watched him until his heart burned within him. He took themaster on his arm, and supported him carefully until they enteredthe tunnel. "You are strong; good Lord, you are strong!" The masterheld Pelle convulsively, one arm about his neck, while he waved theother in the air, as defiantly as the strong man in the circus. "Hip, hip!" He was infected by Pelle's strength. Cautiously he turnedround in the glittering vault; his eyes shone like crystals of ice. But the fever was raging in his emaciated body. Pelle felt it likea devouring fire through all his clothes. 

Next day the tunnel was driven farther--as far as Baker Jorgen'ssteps, and their connection with the outer world was secure. AtJorgen's great things had happened in the course of the last four-and-twenty hours. Marie had been so excited by the idea that the endof the world was perhaps at hand that she had hastily brought thelittle Jorgen into it. Old Jorgen was in the seventh heaven; he hadto come over at once and tell them about it. "He's a regular devil, and he's the very image of me!"

"That I can well believe!" cried Master Andres, and laughed. "And is Uncle pleased?"

But Jeppe took the announcement very coolly; the condition of hisbrother's household did not please him. "Is Soren delighted withthe youngster?" he asked cautiously. 

"Soren?" The baker gave vent to a shout of laughter. "He can thinkof nothing but the last judgment--he's praying to the dear God!"

Later in the day the noise of shovels was heard. The workmen wereoutside; they cleared one of the pavements so that one could justget by; but the surface of the street was still on a level withthe roofs. 

Now one could get down to the harbor once more; it felt almost asthough one were breathing again after a choking-fit. As far as theeyes could reach the ice extended, packed in high ridges and longramparts where the waves had battled. A storm was brewing. "God bethanked!" said the old seamen, "now the ice will go!" But it did notmove. And then they understood that the whole sea was frozen; therecould not be one open spot as big as a soup-plate on which the stormcould begin its work. But it was a wonderful sight, to see the sealying dead and motionless as a rocky desert in the midst of thisdevastating storm. 

And one day the first farmer came to town, with news of the country. The farms inland were snowed up; men had to dig pathways into theopen fields, and lead the horses in one by one; but of accidentshe knew nothing. 

All activities came to a standstill. No one could do any work, andeverything had to be used sparingly--especially coals and oil, bothof which threatened to give out. The merchants had issued warningsas early as the beginning of the second week. Then the people beganto take to all sorts of aimless doings; they built wonderful thingswith the snow, or wandered over the ice from town to town. And oneday a dozen men made ready to go with the ice-boat to Sweden, tofetch the post; people could no longer do without news from theoutside world. On Christianso they had hoisted the flag of distress;provisions were collected in small quantities, here, there, andeverywhere, and preparations were made for sending an expeditionthither. 

And then came the famine; it grew out of the frozen earth, andbecame the only subject of conversation. But only those who werewell provided for spoke of it; those who suffered from want weresilent. People appealed to organized charity; there was Bjerregrav'sfive thousand kroner in the bank. But no, they were not there. Ship-owner Monsen declared that Bjerregrav had recalled the moneyduring his lifetime. There was no statement in his will to thecontrary. The people knew nothing positively; but the matter gaveplenty of occasion for discussion. However things might be, Monsenwas the great man, now as always--and he gave a thousand kroner outof his own pocket for the help of the needy. 

Many eyes gazed out over the sea, but the men with the ice-boatdid not come back; the mysterious "over yonder" had swallowed them. It was as though the world had sunk into the sea; as if, behind therugged ice-field which reached to the horizon, there now lay nothingbut the abyss. 

The "Saints" were the only people who were busy; they heldovercrowded meetings, and spoke about the end of the world. All elselay as though dead. Under these conditions, who would worry himselfabout the future? In the workshop they sat in caps and overcoats andfroze; the little coal that still remained had to be saved for themaster. Pelle was in his room every moment. The master did not speakmuch now; he lay there and tossed to and fro, his eyes gazing up atthe ceiling; but as soon as Pelle had left him he knocked for himagain. "How are things going now?" he would ask wearily. "Run downto the harbor and see whether the ice isn't near breaking--it is sovery cold; at this rate the whole earth will become a lump of ice. This evening they will certainly hold another meeting about the lastjudgment. Run and hear what they think about it. "

Pelle went, and returned with the desired information, but when hehad done so the master had usually forgotten all about the matter. From time to time Pelle would announce that there seemed to be abluish shimmer on the sea, far beyond the ice. Then the master'seyes would light up. But he was always cast down again by the nextannouncement. "The sea will eat up the ice yet--you'll see, " saidMaster Andres, as though from a great distance. "But perhaps itcannot digest so much. Then the cold will get the upper hand, andwe shall all be done for!"

But one morning the ice-field drove out seaward, and a hundred mengot ready to clear the channel of ice by means of dynamite. Threeweeks had gone by since any post had been received from the outerworld, and the steamer went out in order to fetch news from Sweden. It was caught by the ice out in the offing, and driven toward thesouth; from the harbor they could see it for days, drifting aboutin the ice-pack, now to the north and now to the south. 

At last the heavy bonds were broken. But it was difficult alike forthe earth and for mankind to resume the normal activities of life. Everybody's health had suffered. The young master could not standthe change from the bitter frost to the thaw; when his cough did nottorment him he lay quite still. "Oh, I suffer so dreadfully, Pelle!"he complained, whispering. "I have no pain--but I suffer, Pelle. "

But then one morning he was in a good humor. "Now I am past theturning-point, " he said, in a weak but cheerful voice; "now you'lljust see how quickly I shall get well. What day is it really to-day?Thursday? Death and the devil! then I must renew my lottery ticket!I am so light I was flying through the air all night long, and ifI only shut my eyes I am flying again. That is the force in the newblood--by summer I shall be quite well. Then I shall go out and seethe world! But one never--deuce take it!--gets to see the best--thestars and space and all that! So man must learn to fly. But I wasthere last night. "

Then the cough overpowered him again. Pelle had to lift him up;at every spasm there was a wet, slapping sound in his chest. Heput one hand on Pelle's shoulder and leaned his forehead againstthe boy's body. Suddenly the cough ceased; and the white, bony handconvulsively clutched Pelle's shoulder. "Pelle, Pelle!" moaned themaster, and he gazed at him, a horrible anxiety in his dying eyes. 

"What does he see now?" thought Pelle, shuddering; and he laid himback on his pillow. 

XXII

Often enough did Pelle regret that he had wasted five years asapprentice. During his apprenticeship he had seen a hundred, nay, two hundred youths pass into the ranks of the journeymen; and thenthey were forthwith turned into the streets, while new apprenticesfrom the country filled up the ranks again. There they were, andthey had to stand on their own legs. In most cases they had learnednothing properly; they had only sat earning their master's dailybread, and now they suddenly had to vindicate their calling. Emilhad gone to the dogs; Peter was a postman and earned a krone a day, and had to go five miles to do that. When he got home he had tosit over the knee-strap and waxed-end, and earn the rest of hislivelihood at night. Many forsook their calling altogether. Theyhad spent the best years of their youth in useless labor. 

Jens had done no better than the majority. He sat all day overrepairs, and had become a small employer, but they were positivelystarving. The girl had recently had a miscarriage, and they hadnothing to eat. When Pelle went to see them they were usuallysitting still and staring at one another with red eyes; and overtheir heads hung the threat of the police, for they were not yetmarried. "If I only understood farm work!" said Jens. "Then I'dgo into the country and serve with a farmer. "

Despite all his recklessness, Pelle could not help seeing his ownfate in theirs; only his attachment to Master Andres had hinderedhim from taking to his heels and beginning something else. 

Now everything suddenly came to an end; old Jeppe sold the business, with apprentices and all. Pelle did not wish to be sold. Now washis opportunity; now, by a sudden resolve, he might bring thiswhole chapter to an end. 

"You don't go!" said Jeppe threateningly; "you have still a yearof your apprenticeship before you! I shall give information to thepolice about you--and you've learned what that means. " But Pellewent. Afterward they could run to the police as often as they liked. 

With a light and cheerful mind he rented an attic on the hill abovethe harbor, and removed his possessions thither. He felt as thoughhe was stretching himself after his years of slavery; he no longerhad any one over him, and he had no responsibilities, and no burdens. Year by year he had fought against a continual descent. It had by nomeans fortified his youthful courage vainly to pit his energies, dayafter day, against the decline of the workshop; he was only able tohold back the tide a little, and as for the rest, he must perforcesink with the business. 

A good share of resignation and a little too much patience withregard to his eighteen years--this was for the moment his netprofit from the process of going downhill. 

Now it all lay at the foot of the hill, and he could stand asideand draw himself up a little. His conscience was clear, and he felta somewhat mitigated delight in his freedom; that was all he hadwon. He had no money for traveling, and his clothes were in a sadcase; but that did not trouble him at first. He breathed deeply, and considered the times. The death of the master had left a greatvoid within him; he missed that intelligent glance, which had givenhim the feeling that he was serving an idea; and the world was aterribly desolate and God-forsaken place now that this glance nolonger rested on him, half lucid and half unfathomable, and nowthat the voice was silent which had always gone to his heart--whenit was angry just as much as when it was infinitely mild orfrolicsome. And where he was used to hear that voice his earencountered only solitude. 

He did nothing to arouse himself; he was for the present idle. Thisor that employer was after him, truly, for they all knew that hewas a quick and reliable worker, and would willingly have taken himas apprentice, for a krone a week and his food. But Pelle would havenone of them; he felt that his future did not lie in that direction. Beyond that he knew nothing, but only waited, with a curious apathy, for something to happen--something, anything. He had been hurriedout of his settled way of life, yet he had no desire to set towork. From his window he could look out over the harbor, where theextensive alterations that had been interrupted by the winter wereagain in full swing. And the murmur of the work rose up to him; theywere hewing, boring and blasting; the tip-wagons wandered in longrows up the slipway, threw their contents out on the shore, andreturned. His limbs longed for strenuous work with pick and shovel, but his thoughts took another direction. 

If he walked along the street the industrious townsfolk would turnto look after him, exchanging remarks which were loud enough toreach his ear. "There goes Master Jeppe's apprentice, loafingalong, " they would tell one another; "young and strong he is, but hedoesn't like work. He'll turn into a loafer if you give him time--that you can see. Yes, wasn't it he who got a beating at the townhall, for his brutal behavior? What else can you expect of him?"

So then Pelle kept the house. Now and again he got a little workfrom comrades, and poor people of his acquaintance; he did his bestwithout proper implements, or if he could not manage otherwise hewould go to Jens. Jens had lasts and an anvil. At other times he satat the window, freezing, and gazed out over the harbor and the sea. He saw the ships being rigged and fitted, and with every ship thatwent gliding out of the harbor, to disappear below the horizon, itseemed to him that a last possibility had escaped him; but althoughhe had such a feeling it did not stir him. He shrank from Morten, and did not mix with other people. He was ashamed to be so idlewhen every one else was working. 

As for food, he managed fairly well; he lived on milk and bread, and needed only a few ore a day. He was able to avoid extremehunger. As for firing, it was not to be thought of. Sitting idlyin his room, he enjoyed his repose, apart from a certain feelingof shame; otherwise he was sunk in apathy. 

On sunny mornings he got up early and slipped out of the town. Allday long he would stroll in the great pine-woods or lie on the dunesby the shore, with the murmur of the sea sounding through his half-slumber. He ate like a dog whatever he could get that was eatable, without particularly thinking of what it consisted. The glitter ofthe sun on the water, and the poignant scent of the pine-trees, andthe first rising of the sluggish sap which came with spring, madehim dizzy, and filled his brain with half-wild imaginations. Thewild animals were not afraid of him, but only stood for a momentinhaling his scent; then they would resume their daily life beforehis eyes. They had no power to disturb his half-slumber; but ifhuman beings approached, he would hide himself, with a feeling ofhostility, almost of hatred. He experienced a kind of well-beingout in the country. The thought often occurred to him that he wouldgive up his dwelling in the town, and creep at night under thenearest tree. 

Only when the darkness hid him did he return to his room. He wouldthrow himself, fully dressed, on his bed, and lie there until hefell asleep. As though from a remote distance he could hear hisnext-door neighbor, Strom the diver, moving about his room withtottering steps, and clattering with his cooking utensils close athand. The smell of food, mingled with tobacco smoke and the odor ofbedding, which crept through the thin board partition, and hovered, heavy and suffocating, above his head, became even more overpowering. His mouth watered. He shut his eyes and forced himself to thinkof other things, in order to deaden his hunger. Then a light, well-known step sounded on the stairs and some one knocked on thedoor--it was Morten. "Are you there, Pelle?" he asked. But Pelledid not move. 

Pelle could hear Strom attacking his bread with great bites, andchewing it with a smacking sound; and suddenly in the intervals ofmastication, another sound was audible; a curious bellowing, whichwas interrupted every time the man took a bite; it sounded like achild eating and crying simultaneously. That another person shouldcry melted something in Pelle, and filled him with a feeble senseof something living; he raised himself on his elbows and listenedto Strom struggling with terror, while cold shudders chased oneanother down his back. 

People said that Strom lived here because in his youth he had donesomething at home. Pelle forgot his own need and listened, rigidwith terror, to this conflict with the powers of evil. Patiently, through his clenched teeth, in a voice broken by weeping, Stromattacked the throng of tiny devils with words from the Bible. "I'll do something to you at last that'll make you tuck your tailsbetween your legs!" he cried, when he had read a little. There wasa peculiar heaviness about his speech, which seemed charged witha craving for peace. "Ah!" he cried presently, "you want some more, you damned rascals, do you? Then what have you got to say to this--'I, the Lord thy God, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, theGod of Jacob'"--Strom hurled the words at them, anger crept into hisvoice, and suddenly he lost patience. He took the Bible and flungit on the floor. "Satan take you, then!" he shouted, laying abouthim with the furniture. 

Pelle lay bathed in sweat, listening to this demoniac struggle; andit was with a feeling of relief that he heard Strom open the windowand drive the devils out over the roofs. The diver fought the lastpart of the battle with a certain humor. He addressed the corner ofthe room in a wheedling, flattering tone. "Come, you sweet, prettylittle devil! What a white skin you have--Strom would so like tostroke you a little! No, you didn't expect that! Are we gettingtoo clever for you? What? You'd still bite, would you, you devil'sbrat? There, don't scowl like that!"--Strom shut the window withan inward chuckle. 

For a while he strolled about amusing himself. "Strom is still manenough to clear up Hell itself!" he said, delighted. 

Pelle heard him go to bed, and he himself fell asleep. But in thenight he awoke; Strom was beating time with his head against theboard partition, while he lay tearfully singing "By the waters ofBabylon!" But halfway through the psalm the diver stopped and stoodup. Pelle heard him groping to and fro across the floor and out onthe landing. Seized with alarm, he sprang out of bed and struck alight. Outside stood Strom, in the act of throwing a noose over therafters. "What do you want here?" he said fiercely. "Can I neverget any peace from you?"

"Why do you want to lay hands on yourself?" asked Pelle quietly. 

"There's a woman and a little child sitting there, and she's foreverand forever crying in my ear. I can't stand it any longer!" answeredStrom, knotting his rope. 

"Think of the little child, then!" said Pelle firmly, and he toredown the rope. Strom submitted to be led back into his room, and hecrawled into bed. But Pelle must stay with him; he dared not put outthe light and lie alone in the darkness. 

"Is it the devils?" asked Pelle. 

"What devils?" Strom knew nothing of any devils. "No, it's remorse, "he replied. "The child and its mother are continually complaining ofmy faithlessness. "

But next moment he would spring out of bed and stand there whistlingas though he was coaxing a dog. With a sudden grip he seizedsomething by the throat, opened the window, and threw it out. "So, that was it!" he said, relieved; "now there's none of the devil'sbrood left!" He reached after the bottle of brandy. 

"Leave it alone!" said Pelle, and he took the bottle away from him. His will increased in strength at the sight of the other's misery. 

Strom crept into bed again. He lay there tossing to and fro, andhis teeth chattered. "If I could only have a mouthful!" he saidpleadingly; "what harm can that do me? It's the only thing thathelps me! Why should a man always torment himself and play therespectable when he can buy peace for his soul so cheaply? Giveme a mouthful!" Pelle passed him the bottle. "You should take oneyourself--it sets a man up! Do you think I can't see that you'vesuffered shipwreck, too? The poor man goes aground so easily, he hasso little water under the keel. And who d'you think will help him toget off again if he's betrayed his own best friend? Take a swallow, then--it wakes the devil in us and gives us courage to live. "

No, Pelle wanted to go to bed. 

"Why do you want to go now? Stay here, it is so comfortable. If youcould, tell me about something, something that'll drive that damnednoise out of my ears for a bit! There's a young woman and a littlechild, and they're always crying in my ears. "

Pelle stayed, and tried to distract the diver. He looked into hisown empty soul, and he could find nothing there; so he told the manof Father Lasse and of their life at Stone Farm, with everythingmixed up just as it occurred to him. But his memories rose up withinhim as he spoke of them, and they gazed at him so mournfully thatthey awakened his crippled soul to life. Suddenly he felt utterlywretched about himself, and he broke down helplessly. 

"Now, now!" said Strom, raising his head. "Is it your turn now?Have you, too, something wicked to repent of, or what is it?"

"I don't know. "

"You don't know? That's almost like the women--crying is one oftheir pleasures. But Strom doesn't hang his head; he would liketo be at peace with himself, if it weren't for a pair of child'seyes that look at him so reproachfully, day in and day out, and thecrying of a girl! They're both at home there in Sweden, wringingtheir hands for their daily bread. And the one that should providefor them is away from them here and throws away his earnings in thebeer-houses. But perhaps they're dead now because I've forsaken them. Look you, that is a real grief; there's no child's talk about that!But you must take a drink for it. "

But Pelle did not hear; he sat there gazing blindly in front of him. All at once the chair began to sail through air with him; he wasalmost fainting with hunger. "Give me just one drink--I've had nota mouthful of food to-day!" He smiled a shamefaced smile at theconfession. 

With one leap, Strom was out of bed. "No, then you shall havesomething to eat, " he said eagerly, and he fetched some food. "Did one ever see the like--such a desperate devil! To take brandyon an empty stomach! Eat now, and then you can drink yourself fullelsewhere! Strom has enough on his conscience without that. .. . Hecan drink his brandy himself! Well, well, then, so you cried fromhunger! It sounded like a child crying to me!"

Pelle often experienced such nights. They enlarged his world inthe direction of the darkness. When he came home late and gropedhis way across the landing he always experienced a secret terrorlest he should rub against Strom's lifeless body; and he onlybreathed freely when he heard him snoring or ramping round his room. He liked to look in on him before he went to bed. 

Strom was always delighted to see him, and gave him food; but brandyhe would not give him. "It's not for fellows as young as you! You'llget the taste for it early enough, perhaps. "

"You drink, yourself, " said Pelle obstinately. 

"Yes, I drink to deaden remorse. But that's not necessaryin your case. "

"I'm so empty inside, " said Pelle. "Really brandy might set me upa little. I feel as if I weren't human at all, but a dead thing, a table, for instance. "

"You must do something--anything--or you'll become a good-for-nothing. I've seen so many of our sort go to the dogs; we haven'tenough power of resistance!"

"It's all the same to me what becomes of me!" replied Pelledrowsily. "I'm sick of the whole thing!"

XXIII

It was Sunday, and Pelle felt a longing for something unaccustomed. At first he went out to see Jens, but the young couple had hada dispute and had come to blows. The girl had let the frying-pancontaining the dinner fall into the fire, and Jens had givenher a box on the ears. She was still white and poorly after hermiscarriage. Now they were sitting each in a corner, sulking likechildren. They were both penitent, but neither would say the firstword. Pelle succeeded in reconciling them, and they wanted himto stay for dinner. "We've still got potatoes and salt, and I canborrow a drop of brandy from a neighbor!" But Pelle went; he couldnot watch them hanging on one another's necks, half weeping, andkissing and babbling, and eternally asking pardon of one another. 

So he went out to Due's. They had removed to an old merchant's housewhere there was room for Due's horses. They seemed to be getting onwell. It was said that the old consul took an interest in them andhelped them on. Pelle never went into the house, but looked up Duein the stable, and if he was not at home Pelle would go away again. Anna did not treat him as though he was welcome. Due himself greetedhim cordially. If he had no rounds to make he used to hang about thestable and potter round the horses; he did not care about being inthe house. Pelle gave him a hand, cutting chaff for him, or helpingin anything that came to hand, and then they would go into the housetogether. Due was at once another man if he had Pelle behind him;he was more decided in his behavior. Anna was gradually andincreasingly getting the upper hand over him. 

She was just as decided as ever, and kept the house in good order. She no longer had little Marie with her. She dressed her own twochildren well, and sent them to a school for young children, andshe paid for their attendance. She was delightful to look at, andunderstood how to dress herself, but she would hear nothing goodof any one else. Pelle was not smart enough for her; she turned upher nose at his every-day clothes, and in order to make him feeluncomfortable she was always talking about Alfred's engagement toMerchant Lau's daughter. This was a fine match for him. "_He_doesn't loaf about and sleep his time away, and sniff at otherpeople's doors in order to get their plate of food, " she said. Pelleonly laughed; nothing made any particular impression on him nowadays. The children ran about, wearying themselves in their fine clothes--they must not play with the poor children out-of-doors, and mustnot make themselves dirty. "Oh, play with us for a bit, Uncle Pelle!"they would say, hanging on to him. "Aren't you our uncle too? Mothersays you aren't our uncle. She's always wanting us to call theconsul uncle, but we just run away. His nose is so horribly red. "

"Does the consul come to see you, then?" asked Pelle. 

"Yes, he often comes--he's here now!"

Pelle peeped into the yard. The pretty wagon had been taken out. "Father's gone out, " said the children. Then he slipped home again. He stole a scrap of bread and a drop of brandy from Strom, who wasnot at home, and threw himself on his bed. As the darkness came onhe strolled out and lounged, freezing, about the street corners. He had a vague desire to do something. Well-dressed people werepromenading up and down the street, and many of his acquaintanceswere there, taking their girls for a walk; he avoided having togreet them, and to listen to whispered remarks and laughter athis expense. Lethargic as he was, he still had the acute sense ofhearing that dated from the time of his disgrace at the town hall. People enjoyed finding something to say when he passed them; theirlaughter still had the effect of making his knees begin to jerkwith a nervous movement, like the quickly-suppressed commencementof a flight. 

He slipped into a side-street; he had buttoned his thin jackettightly about him, and turned up his collar. In the half-darknessof the doorways stood young men and girls, in familiar, whisperedconversation. Warmth radiated from the girls, and their bibbedaprons shone in the darkness. Pelle crept along in the cold, andknew less than ever what to do with himself; he ranged about tofind a sweetheart for himself. 

In the market he met Alfred, arm-in-arm with Lau's daughter. Hecarried a smart walking-stick, and wore brown gloves and a tallhat. "The scamp--he still owes me two and a half kroner, and I shallnever get it out of him!" thought Pelle, and for a moment he felta real desire to spring upon him and to roll all his finery in themud. Alfred turned his head the other way. "He only knows me whenhe wants to do something and has no money!" said Pelle bitterly. 

He ran down the street at a jog-trot, in order to keep himselfwarm, turning his eyes toward the windows. The bookbinder andhis wife were sitting at home, singing pious songs. The man drankwhen at home; that one could see plainly on the blind. At thewool-merchant's they were having supper. 

Farther on, at the Sow's, there was life, as always. A mist oftobacco smoke and a great deal of noise were escaping through theopen window. The Sow kept a house for idle seamen, and made a greatdeal of money. Pelle had often been invited to visit her, but hadalways considered himself too good; moreover, he could not bearRud. But this evening he seized greedily upon the memory of thisinvitation, and went in. Perhaps a mouthful of food would comehis way. 

At a round table sat a few tipsy seamen, shouting at one another, and making a deafening row. The Sow sat on a young fellow's knee;she lay half over the table and dabbled her fingers in a puddle ofspilt beer; from time to time she shouted right in the face of thosewho were making the most noise. The last few years had not reducedher circumference. 

"Now look at that! Is that you, Pelle?" she said, and she stoodup to give him her hand. She was not quite sober, and had somedifficulty in taking his. "That's nice of you to come, now--I reallythought we weren't good enough for you! Now, sit down and havea drop; it won't cost you anything. " She motioned to him to takea seat. 

The sailors were out of humor; they sat staring sleepily at Pelle. Their heavy heads wagged helplessly. "That's surely a new customer?"asked one, and the others laughed. 

The Sow laughed too, but all at once became serious. "Then you canleave him out of your games, for he's far too good to be draggedinto anything; one knows what you are!" She sank into a chair nextto Pelle, and sat looking at him, while she rubbed her own greasycountenance. "How tall and fine you've grown--but you aren'twell-off for clothes! And you don't look to be overfed. .. . Ah, I've known you from the time when you and your father came intothe country; a little fellow you were then, and Lasse brought me mymother's hymn-book!" She was suddenly silent, and her eyes filledwith tears. 

One of the sailors whispered to the rest, and they began to laugh. 

"Stop laughing, you swine!" she cried angrily, and she crossed overto them. "You aren't going to play any of your nonsense with him--hecomes like a memory of the times when I was respectable, too. Hisfather is the only creature living who can prove that I was once apretty, innocent little maid, who got into bad company. He's had meon his lap and sung lullabies to me. " She looked about her defiantly, and her red face quivered. 

"Didn't you weigh as much then as you do now?" asked one of the men, and embraced her. 

"Don't play the fool with the little thing!" cried another. "Don'tyou see she's crying? Take her on your lap and sing her a lullaby--then she'll believe you are Lasse-Basse!"

Raging, she snatched up a bottle. "Will you hold your tongue withyour jeering? Or you'll get this on the head!" Her greasy featuresseemed to run together in her excitement. 

They let her be, and she sat there sobbing, her hands before herface. "Is your father still alive?" she asked. "Then give him myrespects--just say the Sow sends her respects--you can safely callme the Sow!--and tell him he's the only person in the world I haveto thank for anything. He thought well of me, and he brought me thenews of mother's death. "

Pelle sat there listening with constraint to her tearful speech, with an empty smile. He had knives in his bowels, he was so empty, and the beer was going to his head. He remembered all the detailsof Stone Farm, where he had first seen and heard the Sow, just asFather Lasse had recalled her home and her childhood to her. But hedid not connect any further ideas with that meeting; it was a longtime ago, and--"isn't she going to give me anything to eat?" hethought, and listened unsympathetically to her heavy breathing. 

The sailors sat looking at her constrainedly; a solemn silence layon their mist-wreathed faces; they were like drunken men standingabout a grave. "Give over washing the decks now--and get ussomething to drink!" an old fellow said suddenly. "Each of us knowswhat it is to have times of childish innocence come back to him, and I say it's a jolly fine thing when they will peep through thedoor at old devils like us! But let the water stop overboard now, I say! The more one scours an old barge the more damage comes tolight! So, give us something to drink now, and then the cards, ma'am!"

She stood up and gave them what they asked for; she had masteredher emotion, but her legs were still heavy. 

"That's right--and then we've got a sort of idea that to-day isSunday! Show us your skill, ma'am, quick!"

"But that costs a krone, you know!" she said, laughing. 

They collected the money and she went behind the bar and undressed. She reappeared in her chemise, with a burning candle in her hand. .. . 

Pelle slipped out. He was quite dizzy with hunger and a dull feelingof shame. He strolled on at random, not knowing what he did. He hadonly one feeling--that everything in the world was indifferent tohim, whatever happened--whether he went on living in laborioushonesty, or defiled himself with drinking, or perished--it was allone to him! What was the good of it all? No one cared what happenedto him--not even he himself. Not a human soul would miss him if hewent to the dogs--but yes, there was Lasse, Father Lasse! But as forgoing home now and allowing them to see him in all his wretchedness--when they had expected such unreasonable things of him--no, hecould not do it! The last remnants of shame protested against it. And to work--what at? His dream was dead. He stood there with avague feeling that he had come to the very edge of the abyss, whichis so ominous to those in the depths. 

Year in, year out, he had kept himself by his never-flaggingexertions, and with the demented idea that he was mounting upward. And now he stood very near the lowest depth of life--the very bottom. And he was so tired. Why not let himself sink yet a little further;why not let destiny run its course? There would be a seductiverepose in the acts, after his crazy struggle against the superiorpowers. 

The sound of a hymn aroused him slightly. He had come down aside-street, and right in front of him stood a wide, lofty building, with the gable facing the street and a cross on the point of thegable. Hundreds of voices had sought, in the course of the years, to entice him hither; but in his arrogance he had had no use forspiritual things. What was there here for a smart youngster? And nowhe was stranded outside! And now he felt a longing for a little care, and he had a feeling that a hand had led him hither. 

The hall was quite filled with poor families. They were packedamazingly close together on the benches, each family by itself; themen, as a rule, were asleep, and the women had all they could do toquiet their children, and to make them sit politely with their legssticking out in front of them. These were people who had come toenjoy a little light and warmth, free of cost, in the midst of theirdesolate lives; on Sundays, at least, they thought, they could askfor a little of these things. They were the very poorest of the poor, and they sought refuge here, where they would not be persecuted, andwhere they were promised their part in the millennium. Pelle knewthem all, both those whom he had seen before and those others, whowore the same expression, as of people drowned in the ocean of life. He soon found himself cozily settled among all these dishevellednestlings, whom the pitiless wind had driven oversea, and who werenow washed ashore by the waves. 

A tall man with a full beard and a pair of good child-like eyesstood up among the benches, beating the time of a hymn--he was Dam, the smith. He led the singing, and as he stood there he bent hisknees in time, and they all sang with him, with tremulous voices, each in his own key, of that which had passed over them. The notesforced their way through the parched, worn throats, cowering, asthough afraid, now that they had flown into the light. Hesitatinglythey unfurled their fragile, gauzy wings, and floated out into theroom, up from the quivering lips. And under the roof they met withtheir hundreds of sisters, and their defilement fell from them. Theybecame a jubilation, loud and splendid, over some unknown treasure, over the kingdom of happiness, that was close at hand. To Pelleit seemed that the air must be full of butterflies winged withsunshine:

 "O blessed, blessed shall we be When we, from care and mis'ry free, The splendor of Thy kingdom see, And with our Saviour come to Thee!"

"Mother, I'm hungry!" said a child's voice, as the hymn was followedby silence. The mother, herself emaciated, silenced the child with ashocked expression, and looked wonderingly about her. What a stupididea of the child's! "You've just had your food!" she said loudly, as though she had been comfortably off. But the child went oncrying: "Mother, I'm so hungry!"

Then Baker Jorgen's Soren came by, and gave the child a roll. He hada whole basket full of bread. "Are there any more children who arehungry?" he asked aloud. He looked easily in people's faces, and wasquite another creature to what he was at home; here no one laughedat him, and no one whispered that he was the brother of his own son. 

An old white-bearded man mounted the pulpit at the back of thehall. "That's him, " was whispered in every direction, and theyall hastened to clear their throats by coughing, and to inducethe children to empty their mouths of food. He took the cry ofthe little one as his text: "Mother, I am so hungry!" That was thevoice of the world--that great, terrible cry--put into the mouth ofa child. He saw no one there who had not writhed at the sound ofthat cry on the lips of his own flesh and blood--no one who, lesthe should hear it again, had not sought to secure bread during hislifetime--no one who had not been beaten back. But they did not seeGod's hand when that hand, in its loving-kindness, changed that merehunger for bread into a hunger for happiness. They were the poor, and the poor are God's chosen people. For that reason they mustwander in the desert, and must blindly ask: "Where is the PromisedLand?" But the gleam of which the faithful followed was not earthlyhappiness! God himself led them to and fro until their hunger waspurged and became the true hunger--the hunger of the soul foreternal happiness!

They did not understand much of what he said; but his words set freesomething within them, so that they engaged in lively conversationover everyday things. But suddenly the buzz of conversation wassilenced; a little hunchbacked man had clambered up on a bench andwas looking them over with glittering eyes. This was Sort, thetraveling shoemaker from the outer suburb. 

"We want to be glad and merry, " he said, assuming a drollexpression; "God's children are always glad, however much evil theyhave to fight against, and they can meet with no misfortune--God isJoy!" He began to laugh, as boisterously as a child, and they alllaughed with him; one infected the next. They could not controlthemselves; it was as though an immense merriment had overwhelmedthem all. The little children looked at the grown-ups and laughed, till their little throats began to cough with laughing. "He's aproper clown!" said the men to their wives, their own faces broadwith laughter, "but he's got a good heart!"

On the bench next to Pelle sat a silent family, a man and wife andthree children, who breathed politely through their raw little noses. The parents were little people, and there was a kind of inwarddeftness about them, as though they were continually striving tomake themselves yet smaller. Pelle knew them a little, and enteredinto conversation with them. The man was a clay-worker, and theylived in one of the miserable huts near the "Great Power's" home. 

"Yes, that is true--that about happiness, " said the wife. "Once wetoo used to dream of getting on in the world a little, so that wemight be sure of our livelihood; and we scraped a little moneytogether, that some good people lent us, and we set up in a littleshop, and I kept it while father went to work. But it wouldn'tanswer; no one supported us, and we got poorer goods because we werepoor, and who cares about dealing with very poor people? We had togive it up, and we were deeply in debt, and we're still having topay it off--fifty ore every week, and there we shall be as longas we live, for the interest is always mounting up. But we arehonorable people, thank God!" she concluded. The man took no partin the conversation. 

Her last remark was perhaps evoked by a man who had quietly enteredthe hall, and was now crouching on a bench in the background; forhe was not an honorable man. He had lived on a convict's bread andwater; he was "Thieving Jacob, " who about ten years earlier hadsmashed in the window of Master Jeppe's best room and had stolena pair of patent-leather shoes for his wife. He had heard of a richman who had given his betrothed such a pair of shoes, and he wantedto see what it was like, just for once, to give a really finepresent--a present worth as much as one would earn in two weeks. This he had explained before the court. "Numbskull!" said Jeppealways, when the conversation touched upon Jacob; "for such amiserable louse suddenly to get a swollen head, to want to make bigpresents! And if it had been for his young woman even--but for hiswife! No, he paid the penalty to the very last day--in spite ofAndres. "

Yes, he certainly had to pay the penalty! Even here no one would sitnext to him! Pelle looked at him and wondered that his own offenceshould be so little regarded. The remembrance of it now only lay inpeople's eyes when they spoke to him. But at this moment Smith Damwent and sat next to Thieving Jacob, and they sat hand-in-hand andwhispered. 

And over yonder sat some one who nodded to Pelle--in such a friendlymanner; it was the woman of the dancing-shoes; her young man hadleft her, and now she was stranded here--her dancing days wereover. Yet she was grateful to Pelle; the sight of him had recalleddelightful memories; one could see that by the expression of hereyes and mouth. 

Pelle's own temper was softened as he sat there. Something meltedwithin him; a quiet and humble feeling of happiness came over him. There was still one human being who believed herself in Pelle'sdebt, although everything had gone wrong for her. 

As the meeting was breaking up, at half-past nine, she was standingin the street, in conversation with another woman. She came up toPelle, giving him her hand. "Shall we walk a little way together?"she asked him. She evidently knew of his circumstances; he readcompassion in her glance. "Come with me, " she said, as their waysparted. "I have a scrap of sausage that's got to be eaten. And weare both of us lonely. "

Hesitatingly he went with her, a little hostile, for the occasionwas new and unfamiliar. But once he was seated in her little roomhe felt thoroughly at ease. Her white, dainty bed stood againstthe wall. She went to and fro about the room, cooking the sausageat the stove, while she opened her heart to him, unabashed. 

It isn't everybody would take things so easily! thought Pelle, and he watched her moving figure quite happily. 

They had a cheerful meal, and Pelle wanted to embrace her in hisgratitude, but she pushed his hands away. "You can keep that foranother time!" she said, laughing. "I'm a poor old widow, and youare nothing but a child. If you want to give me pleasure, why, justsettle down and come to yourself again. It isn't right that youshould be just loafing about and idling, and you so young and sucha nice boy. And now go home, for I must get up early to-morrow andgo to my work. "

Pelle visited her almost every evening. She had a disagreeable habitof shaking him out of his slumber, but her simple and unchangingmanner of accepting and enduring everything was invigorating. Nowand again she found a little work for him, and was always delightedwhen she could share her poor meal with him. "Any one like myselffeels a need of seeing a man-body at the table-end once in a while, "she said. "But hands off--you don't owe me anything!"

She criticized his clothes. "They'll all fall off your body soon--why don't you put on something else and let me see to them?"

"I have nothing but these, " said Pelle, ashamed. 

On Saturday evening he had to take off his rags, and creep, mother-naked, into her bed. She would take no refusal, and she took shirtand all, and put them into a bucket of water. It took her halfthe night to clean everything. Pelle lay in bed watching her, thecoverlet up to his chin. He felt very strange. As for her, she hungthe whole wash to dry over the stove, and made herself a bed on acouple of chairs. When he woke up in the middle of the morning shewas sitting by the window mending his clothes. 

"But what sort of a night did you have?" asked Pelle, a trifleconcerned. 

"Excellent! Do you know what I've thought of this morning? You oughtto give up your room and stay here until you are on your feet again--you've had a good rest--for once, " she smiled teasingly. "Thatroom is an unnecessary expense. As you see, there's room here fortwo. "

But Pelle would not agree. He would not hear of being supportedby a woman. "Then people will believe that there's something wrongbetween us--and make a scandal of it, " he said. 

"Let them then!" she answered, with her gay laugh. "If I've a goodconscience it's indifferent to me what others think. " While she wastalking she was working diligently at his linen, and she threw onearticle after another at his head. Then she ironed his suit. "Nowyou're quite a swell again!" she said, when he stood up dressed oncemore, and she looked at him affectionately. "It's as though you hadbecome a new creature. If I were only ten or fifteen years youngerI'd be glad to go down the street on your arm. But you shall give mea kiss--I've put you to rights again, as if you were my own child. "She kissed him heartily and turned about to the stove. 

"And now I've got no better advice than that we have some colddinner together and then go our ways, " she said, with her back stillturned. "All my firing has been used overnight to dry your things, and you can't stay here in the cold. I think I can pay a visitsomewhere or other, and so the day will pass; and you can findsome corner to put yourself in. '

"It's all the same to me where I am, " said Pelle indifferently. 

She looked at him with a peculiar smile. "Are you really alwaysgoing to be a loafer?" she said. "You men are extraordinarycreatures! If anything at all goes wrong with you, you must startdrinking right away, or plunge yourself into unhappiness in someother way--you are no better than babies! We must work quietly on, however things go with us!" She stood there hesitating in her hatand cloak. "Here's five-and-twenty ore, " she said; "that's justfor a cup of coffee to warm you!"

Pelle would not accept it. "What do I want with your money?" hesaid. "Keep it yourself!"

"Take it, do! I know it's only a little, but I have no more, and there's no need for us to be ashamed of being helped by oneanother. " She put the coin in his jacket pocket and hurried off. 

Pelle strolled out to the woods. He did not feel inclined to gohome, to resume the aimless battle with Strom. He wandered alongthe deserted paths, and experienced a feeble sense of well-beingwhen he noticed that the spring was really coming. The snow wasstill lying beneath the old moss-gray pinetrees, but the toadstoolswere already thrusting their heads up through the pine-needles, andone had a feeling, when walking over the ground, as though one trodupon rising dough. 

He found himself pondering over his own affairs, and all of a suddenhe awoke out of his half-slumber. Something had just occurred tohim, something cozy and intimate--why, yes, it was the thought thathe might go to Marie and set up for himself, like Jens and his girl. He could get hold of a few lasts and sit at home and work . .. Hecould scrape along for a bit, until better times came. She earnedsomething too, and she was generous. 

But when he thought over the matter seriously it assumed a lesspleasant aspect. He had already sufficiently abused her poverty andher goodness of heart. He had taken her last scrap of firing, sothat she was now forced to go out in order to get a little warmthand some supper. The idea oppressed him. Now that his eyes wereopened he could not escape this feeling of shame. It went home andto bed with him, and behind all her goodness he felt her contemptfor him, because he did not overcome his misery by means of work, like a respectable fellow. 

On the following morning he was up early, and applied for work downat the harbor. He did not see the necessity of work in the abstract, but he would not be indebted to a woman. On Sunday evening he wouldrepay her outlay over him and his clothes. 

XXIV

Pelle stood on the floor of the basin, loading broken stone into thetip-wagons. When a wagon was full he and his comrade pushed it up tothe head of the track, and came gliding back hanging to the emptywagons. Now and again the others let fall their tools, and lookedacross to where he stood; he was really working well for a cobbler!And he had a fine grip when it came to lifting the stone. When hehad to load a great mass of rock into the wagon, he would lift itfirst to his knee, then he would let out an oath and put his wholebody into it; he would wipe the sweat from his forehead and take adram of brandy or a drop of beer. He was as good as any of the othermen!

He did not bother himself with ideas; two and two might make fivefor all he cared; work and fatigue were enough for him. Hard workhad made his body supple and filled him with a sense of sheer animalwell-being. "Will my beer last out the afternoon to-day?" he wouldwonder; beyond that nothing mattered. The future did not exist, noryet the painful feeling that it did not exist; there was no remorsein him for what he had lost, or what he had neglected; hard workswallowed up everything else. There was only this stone that had tobe removed--and then the next! This wagon which had to be filled--and then the next! If the stone would not move at the first heavehe clenched his teeth; he was as though possessed by his work. "He'sstill fresh to harness, " said the others; "he'll soon knock hishorns off!" But Pelle wanted to show his strength; that was his onlyambition. His mate let him work away in peace and did not fatiguehimself. From time to time he praised Pelle, in order to keep hissteam up. 

This work down at the harbor was the hardest and lowest kindof labor; any one could get taken on for it without previousqualifications. Most of Pelle's comrades were men who had done withthe world, who now let themselves go as the stream carried them, and he felt at ease among them. He stood on the solid ground, andno words had power to call the dead past to life; it had power tohaunt only an empty brain. An iron curtain hung before the future;happiness lay here to his hand; the day's fatigue could straightwaybe banished by joyous drinking. 

His free time he spent with his companions. They led an unsettled, roving life; the rumor that extensive works were to be carried outhad enticed them hither. Most were unmarried; a few had wives andchildren somewhere, but held their tongues about them, or no longerremembered their existence, unless reminded by something outsidethemselves. They had no proper lodgings, but slept in CarrierKoller's forsaken barn, which was close to the harbor. They neverundressed, but slept in the straw, and washed in a bucket of waterthat was seldom changed; their usual diet consisted of stale bread, and eggs, which they grilled over a fire made between two stones. 

The life pleased Pelle, and he liked the society. On Sundays theyate and drank alternately, all day long, and lay in the smoke-filledbarn; burrowing deep into the straw, they told stories, tragicstories of youngest sons who seized an axe and killed their fatherand mother, and all their brothers and sisters, because they thoughtthey were being cheated of their share of their inheritance! Ofchildren who attended confirmation class, and gave way to love, andhad children themselves, and were beheaded for what they did! And ofwives who did not wish to bring into the world the children it wastheir duty to bear, and whose wombs were closed as punishment!

Since Pelle had begun to work here he had never been out to seeMarie Nielsen. "She's making a fool of you, " said the others, towhom he had spoken of Marie; "she's playing the respectable so thatyou shall bite. Women have always got second thoughts--it's safestto be on the lookout. They and these young widows would rather taketwo than one--they're the worst of all. A man must be a sturdy devilto be able to stand up against them. "

But Pelle was a man, and would allow no woman to lead him by thenose. Either you were good friends and no fuss about it, or nothing. He'd tell her that on Saturday, and throw ten kroner on the table--then they would sure enough be quits! And if she made difficultiesshe'd get one over the mouth! He could not forgive her for using allher firing, and having to pass Sunday in the street; the remembrancewould not leave him, and it burned like an angry spark. She wantedto make herself out a martyr. 

One day, about noon, Pelle was standing among the miners on thefloor of the basin; Emil and he had just come from the shed, wherethey had swallowed a few mouthfuls of dinner. They had given uptheir midday sleep in order to witness the firing of a big blastduring the midday pause when the harbor would be empty. The wholespace was cleared, and the people in the adjacent houses had openedtheir windows so that they should not be shattered by the force ofthe explosion. 

The fuse was lit, and the men took shelter behind the caissons, andstood there chatting while they waited for the explosion. The "GreatPower" was there too. He was always in the neighborhood; he wouldstand and stare at the workers with his apathetic expression, without taking part in anything. They took no notice of him, but lethim move about as he pleased. "Take better cover, Pelle, " said Emil;"it's going off directly!"

"Where are Olsen and Strom?" said some one suddenly. The men lookedat one another bewildered. 

"They'll be taking their midday sleep, " said Emil. "They've beendrinking something chronic this morning. "

"Where are they sleeping?" roared the foreman, and he sprang fromhis cover. They all had a foreboding, but no one wanted to say. Itflashed across them that they must do something. But no one stirred. "Lord Jesus!" said Bergendal, and he struck his fist against thestone wall. "Lord Jesus!"

The "Great Power" sprang from his shelter and ran along the side ofthe basin, taking long leaps from one mass of rock to the next, hismighty wooden shoes clattering as he went. "He's going to tear thefuse away!" cried Bergendal. "He'll never reach it--it must be burntin!" There was a sound as of a cry of distress, far above the headsof those who heard it. They breathlessly followed the movements ofthe "Great Power"; they had come completely out of shelter. In Pellean irrational impulse sprang into being. He made a leap forward, but was seized by the scruff of the neck. "One is enough, " saidBergendal, and he threw him back. 

Now the "Great Power" had reached the goal. His hand was stretchedout to seize the fuse. Suddenly he was hurled away from the fuse, as though by an invisible hand, and was swept upward and backwardthrough the air, gently, like a human balloon, and fell on his back. Then the roar of the explosion drowned everything. 

When the last fragments had fallen the men ran forward. The "GreatPower" lay stretched upon his back, looking quietly up at the sky. The corners of his mouth were a little bloody and the blood trickledfrom a hole behind the ear. The two drunken men were scathless. Theyrose to their feet, bewildered, a few paces beyond the site of theexplosion. The "Great Power" was borne into the shed, and while thedoctor was sent for Emil tore a strip from his blouse, and soaked itin brandy, and laid it behind the ear. 

The "Great Power" opened his eyes and looked about him. His glancewas so intelligent that every one knew that he had not long to live. 

"It smells of brandy here, " he said. "Who will stand me a drop?"Emil reached him the bottle, and he emptied it. "It tastes good, "he said easily. "Now I haven't touched brandy for I don't know howlong, but what was the good? The poor man must drink brandy, or he'sgood for nothing; it is no joke being a poor man! There is no othersalvation for him; that you have seen by Strom and Olsen--drunkenmen never come to any harm. Have they come to any harm?" He triedto raise his head. Strom stepped forward. "Here we are, " he said, his voice stifled with emotion. "But I'd give a good dead to havehad us both blown to hell instead of this happening. None of ushas wished you any good!" He held out his hand. 

But the "Great Power" could not raise his; he lay there, staring upthrough the holes in the thatched roof. "It has been hard enough, certainly, to belong to the poor, " he said, "and it's a good thingit's all over. But you owe me no thanks. Why should I leave you inthe lurch and take everything for myself--would that be like the'Great Power'? Of course, the plan was mine! But could I havecarried it out alone? No, money does everything. You've fairlydeserved it! The 'Great Power' doesn't want to have more than anyone else--where we have all done an equal amount of work. " He raisedhis hand, painfully, and made a magnanimous gesture. 

"There--he believes he's the engineer of the harbor works!" saidStrom. "He's wandering. Wouldn't a cold application do him good?"Emil took the bucket in order to fetch fresh water. The "Great Power"lay with closed eyes and a faint smile on his face; he was like ablind man who is listening. "Do you understand, " he said, withoutopening his eyes, "how we have labored and labored, and yet havebeen barely able to earn our daily bread? The big people sat thereand ate up everything that we could produce; when we laid down ourtools and wanted to still our hunger there was nothing. They stoleour thoughts, and if we had a pretty sweetheart or a young daughterthey could do with her too--they didn't disdain our cripple even. But now that's done with, and we will rejoice that we have livedto see it; it might have gone on for a long time. Mother wouldn'tbelieve what I told her at all--that the bad days would soon be over. But now just see! Don't I get just as much for my work as the doctorfor his? Can't I keep my wife and daughter neat and have booksand get myself a piano, just as he can? Isn't it a great thing toperform manual labor too? Karen has piano lessons now, just as I'vealways wished, for she's weakly and can't stand any hard work. Youshould just come home with me and hear her play--she does it soeasily too! Poor people's children have talent too, it's just thatno one notices it. "

"God, how he talks!" said Strom, crying. "It's almost as if he hadthe delirium. "

Pelle bent down over the "Great Power. " "Now you must be good and bequiet, " he said, and laid something wet on his forehead. The bloodwas trickling rapidly from behind his ear. 

"Let him talk, " said Olsen. "He hasn't spoken a word for months now;he must feel the need to clear his mind this once. It'll be longbefore he speaks again, too!"

Now the "Great Power" was only weakly moving his lips. His life wasslowly bleeding away. "Have you got wet, little Karen?" he murmured. "Ah, well, it'll dry again! And now it's all well with you, nowyou can't complain. Is it fine to be a young lady? Only tell meeverything you want. Why be modest? We've been that long enough!Gloves for the work-worn fingers, yes, yes. But you must playsomething for me too. Play that lovely song: 'On the joyful journeythrough the lands of earth. .. . ' That about the Eternal Kingdom!"

Gently he began to hum it; he could no longer keep time by movinghis head, but he blinked his eyes in time; and now his humming brokeout into words. 

Something irresistibly impelled the others to sing in concert withhim; perhaps the fact that it was a religious song. Pelle led themwith his clear young voice; and it was he who best knew the wordsby heart. 

 "Fair, fair is earth, And glorious Heaven; Fair is the spirit's journey long; Through all the lovely earthly kingdoms, Go we to Paradise with song. "

The "Great Power" sang with increasing strength, as though he wouldoutsing Pelle. One of his feet was moving now, beating the time ofthe song. He lay with closed eyes, blindly rocking his head in timewith the voices, like one who, at a drunken orgy, must put in hislast word before he slips under the table. The saliva was runningfrom the corners of his mouth. 

 "The years they come, The years they go And down the road to death we throng, But ever sound the strains from heaven-- The spirit's joyful pilgrim song!"

The "Great Power" ceased; his head drooped to one side, and at thesame moment the others ceased to sing. 

They sat in the straw and gazed at him--his last words still rangin their ears, like a crazy dream, which mingled oddly with thevictorious notes of the hymn. 

They were all sensible of the silent accusation of the dead, and inthe solemnity of the moment they judged and condemned themselves. 

"Yes, who knows what we might come to!" said one ragged fellow, thoughtfully chewing a length of straw. 

"I shall never do any good, " said Emil dejectedly. "With me it'salways been from bad to worse. I was apprenticed, and when I becamea journeyman they gave me the sack; I had wasted five years of mylife and couldn't do a thing. Pelle--he'll get on all right. "

Astonished, Pelle raised his head and gazed at Emiluncomprehendingly. 

"What use is it if a poor devil tries to make his way up? He'llalways be pushed down again!" said Olsen. "Just look at the 'GreatPower'; could any one have had a better claim than he? No, the bigfolks don't allow us others to make our way up!"

"And have we allowed it ourselves?" muttered Strom. "We are alwaysuneasy if one of our own people wants to fly over our heads!"

"I don't understand why all the poor folk don't make a standtogether against the others, " said Bergendal. "We suffer the samewrongs. If we all acted together, and had nothing to do with themthat mean us harm, for instance, then it would soon be seen thatcollective poverty is what makes the wealth of the others. AndI've heard that that's what they're doing elsewhere. "

"But we shall never in this life be unanimous about anythingwhatever, " said an old stonemason sadly. "If one of the gentlemenonly scratches our neck a bit, then we all grovel at his feet, andlet ourselves be set on to one of our own chaps. If we were alllike the 'Great Power, ' then things might have turned outdifferent. "

They were silent again; they sat there and gazed at the dead man;there was something apologetic in the bearing of each and all. 

"Yes, that comes late!" said Strom, with a sigh. Then he felt inthe straw and pulled out a bottle. 

Some of the men still sat there, trying to put into words somethingthat ought perhaps to be said; but then came the doctor, and theydrew in their horns. They picked up their beer-cans and went out totheir work. 

Silently Pelle gathered his possessions together and went to theforeman. He asked for his wages. 

"That's sudden, " said the foreman. "You were getting on so welljust now. What do you want to do now?"

"I just want my wages, " rejoined Pelle. What more he wanted, hehimself did not know. And then he went home and put his room inorder. It was like a pigsty; he could not understand how he couldhave endured such untidiness. In the meantime he thought listlesslyof some way of escape. It had been very convenient to belong to thedregs of society, and to know that he could not sink any deeper; butperhaps there were still other possibilities. Emil had said a stupidthing--what did he mean by it? "Pelle, he'll get on all right!"Well, what did Emil know of the misery of others? He had enoughof his own. 

He went down into the street in order to buy a little milk; thenhe would go back and sleep. He felt a longing to deaden all thethoughts that once more began to seethe in his head. 

Down in the street he ran into the arms of Sort, the wanderingshoemaker. "Now we've got you!" cried Sort. "I was just coming hereand wondering how best I could get to speak with you. I wanted totell you that I begin my travelling to-morrow. Will you come withme? It is a splendid life, to be making the round of the farms nowin the spring-time; and you'll go to the dogs if you stay here. Nowyou know all about it and you can decide. I start at six o'clock!I can't put it off any later!"

Sort had observed Pelle that evening at the prayer-meeting, and onseveral occasions had spoken to him in the hope of arousing him. "Hecan put off his travels for a fortnight as far as I'm concerned!"thought Pelle, with a touch of self-esteem. He wouldn't go! To gobegging for work from farm to farm! Pelle had learned his craft inthe workshop, and looked down with contempt upon the travellingcobbler, who lives from hand to mouth and goes from place to placelike a beggar, working with leather and waxed-ends provided on thespot, and eating out of the same bowl as the farm servants. So muchpride of craft was still left in Pelle. Since his apprentice days, he had been accustomed to regard Sort as a pitiful survival fromthe past, a species properly belonging to the days of serfdom. 

"You'll go to the dogs!" Sort had said. And all Marie Melsen'scovert allusions had meant the same thing. But what then? Perhaps hehad already gone to the dogs! Suppose there was no other escape thanthis! But now he would sleep, and think no more of all these things. 

He drank his bottle of milk and ate some bread with it, and wentto bed. He heard the church clock striking--it was midnight, andglorious weather. But Pelle wanted to sleep--only to sleep! Hisheart was like lead. 

He awoke early next morning and was out of bed with one leap. Thesun filled his room, and he himself was filled with a sense ofhealth and well-being. Quickly he slipped into his clothes--therewas still so much that he wanted to do! He threw up the window, anddrank in the spring morning in a breath that filled his body witha sense of profound joy. Out at sea the boats were approaching theharbor; the morning sun fell on the slack sails, and made them glow;every boat was laboring heavily forward with the aid of its tiller. He had slept like a stone, from the moment of lying down until now. Sleep lay like a gulf between yesterday and to-day. Whistling a tuneto himself, he packed his belongings and set out upon his way, alittle bundle under his arm. He took the direction of the church, inorder to see the time. It was still not much past five. Then he madefor the outermost suburb with vigorous steps, as joyful as though hewere treading the road to happiness. 

XXV

Two men appeared from the wood and crossed the highroad. One waslittle and hump-backed; he had a shoemaker's bench strapped tightlyon his back; the edge rested on his hump, and a little pillow wasthrust between, so that the bench should not chafe him. The otherwas young and strongly built; a little thin, but healthy and fresh-colored. He carried a great bundle of lasts on his back, which wereheld in equilibrium by another box, which he carried on his chest, and which, to judge by the sounds that proceeded from it, containedtools. At the edge of the ditch he threw down his burden andunstrapped the bench from the hunchback. They threw themselvesdown in the grass and gazed up into the blue sky. It was a gloriousmorning; the birds twittered and flew busily to and fro, and thecattle were feeding in the dewy clover, leaving long streaks behindthem as they moved. 

"And in spite of that, you are always happy?" said Pelle. Sort hadbeen telling him the sad story of his childhood. 

"Yes, look you, it often vexes me that I take everything so easily--but what if I can't find anything to be sad about? If I once go intothe matter thoroughly, I always hit on something or other that makesme still happier--as, for instance, your society. You are young, andhealth beams out of your eyes. The girls become so friendly whereverwe go, and it's as though I myself were the cause of their pleasure!"

"Where do you really get your knowledge of everything?" asked Pelle. 

"Do you find that I know so much?" Sort laughed gaily. "I go aboutso much, and I see so many different households, some where man andwife are as one, and others where they live like cat and dog. I comeinto contact with people of every kind. And I get to know a lot, too, because I'm not like other men--more than one maiden has confidedher miseries to me. And then in winter, when I sit alone, I thinkover everything--and the Bible is a good book, a book a man can drawwisdom from. There a man learns to look behind things; and if youonce realize that everything has its other side, then you learn touse your understanding. You can go behind everything if you want to, and they all lead in the same direction--to God. And they all camefrom Him. He is the connection, do you see; and once a man graspsthat, then he is always happy. It would be splendid to follow thingsup further--right up to where they divide, and then to show, inspite of all, that they finally run together in God again! But thatI'm not able to do. "

"We ought to see about getting on. " Pelle yawned, and he beganto bestir himself. 

"Why? We're so comfortable here--and we've already done what weundertook to do. What if there should be a pair of boots yonderwhich Sort and Pelle won't get to sole before they're done with?Some one else will get the job!"

Pelle threw himself on his back and again pulled his cap over hiseyes--he was in no hurry. He had now been travelling nearly a monthwith Sort, and had spent almost as much time on the road as sittingat his work. Sort could never rest when he had been a few days inone place; he must go on again! He loved the edge of the wood andthe edge of the meadow, and could spend half the day there. AndPelle had many points of contact with this leisurely life in theopen air; he had his whole childhood to draw upon. He could liefor hours, chewing a grass-stem, patient as a convalescent, whilesun and air did their work upon him. 

"Why do you never preach to me?" he said suddenly, and he peepedmischievously from tinder his cap. 

"Why should I preach to you? Because I am religious? Well, so areyou; every one who rejoices and is content is religious. "

"But I'm not at all content!" retorted Pelle, and he rolled on hisback with all four limbs in the air. "But you--I don't understandwhy you don't get a congregation; you've got such a power overlanguage. "

"Yes, if I were built as you are--fast enough. But I'm humpbacked!"

"What does that matter? You don't want to run after the women!"

"No, but one can't get on without them; they bring the men and thechildren after them. And it's really queer that they should--forwomen don't bother themselves about God! They haven't the faculty ofgoing behind things. They choose only according to the outside--theywant to hang everything on their bodies as finery--and the men too, yes, and the dear God best of all--they've got a use for the lot!"

Pelle lay still for a time, revolving his scattered experiences. "But Marie Nielsen wasn't like that, " he said thoughtfully. "She'dwillingly give the shirt off her body and ask nothing for herself. I've behaved badly to her--I didn't even say goodbye before I cameaway!"

"Then you must look her up when we come to town and confess yourfault. There was no lovemaking between you?"

"She treated me like a child; I've told you. "

Sort was silent a while. 

"If you would help me, we'd soon get a congregation! I can see itin your eyes, that you've got influence over them, if you only caredabout it; for instance, the girl at Willow Farm. Thousands wouldcome to us. "

Pelle did not answer. His thoughts were roaming back wonderinglyto Willow Farm, where Sort and he had last been working; he was oncemore in that cold, damp room with the over-large bed, on which thepale girl's face was almost invisible. She lay there encircling herthick braids with her transparent hand, and gazed at him; and thedoor was gently closed behind him. "That was really a queer fancy, "he said, and he breathed deeply; "some one she'd never laid eyes onbefore; I could cry now when I think of it. "

"The old folks had told her we were there, and asked if she wouldn'tlike me to read something from God's word with her. But she'd rathersee you. The father was angry and didn't want to allow it. 'She hasnever thought about young men before, ' he said, 'and she shall standbefore the throne of God and the Lamb quite pure. ' But I said, 'Doyou know so precisely that the good God cares anything for what youcall purity, Ole Jensen? Let the two of them come together, if theycan take any joy in it. ' Then we shut the door behind you--and howwas it then?" Sort turned toward Pelle. 

"You know, " replied Pelle crossly. "She just lay there and looked atme as though she was thinking: 'That's what he looks like--and he'scome a long way here. ' I could see by her eyes that you had spokenof me and that she knew about all my swinishness. "

Sort nodded. 

"Then she held out her hand to me. How like she is to one of God'sangels already--I thought--but it's a pity in one who's so young. And then I went close to her and took her hand. "

"And what then?" Sort drew nearer to Pelle. His eyes hungexpectantly on Pelle's lips. 

"Then she stretched out her mouth to me a little--and at that verymoment I forgot what sort of a hog I'd been--and I kissed her!"

"Didn't she say anything to you--not a word?"

"She only looked at me with those eyes that you can't understand. Then I didn't know what I--what I ought to do next, so I came away. "

"Weren't you afraid that she might transfer death to you?"

"No; why should I be? I didn't think about it. But she could neverthink of a thing like that--so child-like as she was!"

They both lay for a time without speaking. "You have something inyou that conquers them all!" said Sort at length. "If only you wouldhelp me--I'd see to the preaching!"

Pelle stretched himself indolently--he felt no desire to createa new religion. "No, I want to go away and see the world now, " hesaid. "There must be places in that world where they've alreadybegun to go for the rich folks--that's where I want to go!"

"One can't achieve good by the aid of evil--you had better stayhere! Here you know where you are--and if we went together--"

"No, there's nothing here for any one to do who is poor--if I go onhere any longer, I shall end in the mud again. I want to have myshare--even if I have to strike a bloodsucker dead to get it--andthat couldn't be any very great sin! But shan't we see about gettingon now? We've been a whole month now tramping round these Sudlandfarms. You've always promised me that we should make our way towardthe heath. For months now I've heard nothing of Father Lasse andKarna. When things began to go wrong with me, it was as though Ihad quite forgotten them. "

Sort rose quickly. "Good! So you've still thoughts for other thingsthan killing bloodsuckers! How far is it, then, to Heath Farm?"

"A good six miles. "

"We'll go straight there. I've no wish to begin anything to-day. "

They packed their possessions on their backs and trudged onward incheerful gossip. Sort pictured their arrival to Pelle. "I shall goin first and ask whether they've any old boots or harness that wecan mend; and then you'll come in, while we're in the middle of aconversation. "

Pelle laughed. "Shan't I carry the bench for you? I can very wellstrap it on the other things. "

"You shan't sweat for me as well as yourself!" rejoined Sort, laughing. "You'd want to take off even your trousers then. "

They had chattered enough, and tramped on in silence. Pelle steppedforward carelessly, drinking in the fresh air. He was conscious ofa superfluity of strength and well-being; otherwise he thought ofnothing, but merely rejoiced unconsciously over his visit to hishome. At every moment he had to moderate his steps, so that Sortshould not be left behind. 

"What are you really thinking about now?" he asked suddenly. Hewould always have it that Sort was thinking of something the momenthe fell silent. One could never know beforehand in what region hewould crop up next. 

"That's just what the children ask!" replied Sort, laughing. "Theyalways want to know what's inside. "

"Tell me, then--you might as well tell me!"

"I was thinking about life. Here you walk at my side, strong andcertain of victory as the young David. And yet a month ago youwere part of the dregs of society!"

"Yes, that is really queer, " said Pelle, and he became thoughtful. 

"But how did you get into such a mess? You could quite well havekept your head above water if you had only wanted to!"

"That I really don't know. I tell you, it's as if some one had hityou over the head; and then you run about and don't know what you'redoing; and it isn't so bad if you've once got there. You work anddrink and bang each other over the head with your beer-cans orbottles--"

"You say that so contentedly--you don't look behind things--that'sthe point! I've seen so many people shipwrecked; for the poor manit's only one little step aside, and he goes to the dogs; and hehimself believes he's a devilish fine fellow. But it was a piece ofluck that you got out of it all! Yes, it's a wonder remorse didn'tmake your life bitter. "

"If we felt remorse we had brandy, " said Pelle, with an experiencedair. "That soon drives out everything else. "

"Then it certainly has its good points--it helps a man over the timeof waiting!"

"Do you really believe that an eternal kingdom is coming--the'thousand-year kingdom'--the millennium? With good times for all, for the poor and the miserable?"

Sort nodded. "God has promised it, and we must believe His Word. Something is being prepared over on the mainland, but whether it'sthe real millennium, I don't know. "

They tramped along. The road was stony and deserted. On either sidethe rocky cliffs, with their scrubby growth, were beginning to risefrom the fields, and before them ranged the bluish rocky landscapeof the heath or moorland. "As soon as we've been home, I shalltravel; I must cross the sea and find out what they do really intendthere, " said Pelle. 

"I have no right to hold you back, " answered Sort quietly, "but itwill be lonely travelling for me. I shall feel as if I'd lost a son. But of course you've got other things to think of than to remembera poor hunchback! The world is open to you. Once you've featheredyour nest, you'll think no more of little Sort!"

"I shall think of you, right enough, " replied Pelle. "And as soon asI'm doing well I shall come back and look out for you--not before. Father will be sure to object to my idea of travelling--he would solike me to take over Heath Farm from him; but there you must backme up. I've no desire to be a farmer. "

"I'll do that. "

"Now just look at it! Nothing but stone upon stone with heather andscrubby bushes in between! That's what Heath Farm was four years ago--and now it's quite a fine property. That the two of them have done--without any outside help. "

"You must be built of good timber, " said Sort. "But what poor fellowis that up on the hill? He's got a great sack on his back and he'swalking as if he'd fall down at every step. "

"That--that is Father Lasse! Hallo!" Pelle waved his cap. 

Lasse came stumbling up to them; he dropped his sack and gave themhis hand without looking at them. 

"Are you coming this way?" cried Pelle joyfully; "we were just goingon to look for you!"

"You can save yourself the trouble! You've become stingy about usingyour legs. Spare them altogether!" said Lasse lifelessly. 

Pelle stared at him. "What's the matter? Are you leaving?"

"Yes, we're leaving!" Lasse laughed--a hollow laugh. "Leaving--yes!We've left--indeed, we've each of us gone our own way. Karna hasgone where there's no more care and trouble--and here's Lasse, withall that's his!" He struck his foot against the sack, and stoodthere with face averted from them, his eyes fixed upon the ground. 

All signs of life had vanished from Pelle's face. Horrified, hestared at his father, and his lips moved, but he could form nowords. 

"Here I must meet my own son by accident in the middle of the emptyfields! So often as I've looked for you and asked after you! No oneknew anything about you. Your own flesh and blood has turned fromyou, I thought--but I had to tell Karna you were ill. She fullyexpected to see you before she went away. Then you must give him mylove, she said, and God grant all may go well with him. She thoughtmore about you than many a mother would have done! Badly you'verepaid it. It's a long time ago since you set foot in our house. "

Still Pelle did not speak; he stood there swaying from side to side;every word was like the blow of a club. 

"You mustn't be too hard on him!" said Sort. "He's not to blame--illas he's been!"

"Ah, so you too have been through bad times and have got to fightyour way, eh? Then, as your father, I must truly be the last toblame you. " Lasse stroked his son's sleeve, and the caress gavePelle pleasure. "Cry, too, my son--it eases the mind. In me thetears are dried up long ago. I must see how I can bear my grief;these have become hard times for me, you may well believe. Manya night have I sat by Karna and been at my wits' end--I could notleave her and go for help, and everything went wrong with us all atthe same time. It almost came to my wishing you were ill. You werethe one who ought to have had a kindly thought for us, and you couldalways have sent us news. But there's an end of it all!"

"Are you going to leave Heath Farm, father?" asked Pelle quietly. 

"They have taken it away from me, " replied Lasse wretchedly. "Withall these troubles, I couldn't pay the last instalment, and nowtheir patience is at an end. Out of sheer compassion they let mestay till Karna had fought out her fight and was happily buriedin the earth--every one could see it wasn't a matter of many daysmore. "

"If it is only the interest, " said Sort, "I have a few hundredkroner which I've saved up for my old days. "

"Now it's too late; the farm is already taken over by another man. And even if that were not the case--what should I do there withoutKarna? I'm no longer any use!"

"We'll go away together, father!" said Pelle, raising his head. 

"No; I go nowhere now except to the churchyard. They have takenmy farm away from me, and Karna has worked herself to death, and Imyself have left what strength I had behind me. And then they tookit away from me!"

"I will work for us both--you shall be comfortable and enjoy yourold days!" Pelle saw light in the distance. 

Lasse shook his head. "I can no longer put things away from me--Ican no longer leave them behind and go on again!"

"I propose that we go into the town, " said Sort. "Up by the churchwe are sure to find some one who will drive us in. "

They collected their things and set off. Lasse walked behind theothers, talking to himself; from time to time he broke out intolamentation. Then Pelle turned back to him in silence and took hishand. 

"There is no one to help us and give us good advice. On the contrary, they'd gladly see us lose life and fortune if they could only earna few shillings on that account. Even the authorities won't help thepoor man. He's only there so that they can all have a cut at him andthen each run off with his booty. What do they care that they bringneed and misery and ruin upon us? So long as they get their taxesand their interest! I could stick them all in the throat, in coldblood!"

So he continued a while, increasing in bitterness, until he brokedown like a little child. 

XXVI

They lived with Sort, who had his own little house in the outermostsuburb. The little travelling cobbler did not know what to do forthem: Lasse was so dejected and so aimless. He could not rest; hedid not recover; from time to time he broke out into lamentation. He had grown very frail, and could no longer lift his spoon to hismouth without spilling the contents. If they tried to distract him, he became obstinate. 

"Now we must see about fetching your things, " they would both sayrepeatedly. "There is no sense in giving your furniture to theparish. "

But Lasse would not have them sent for. "They've taken everythingelse from me; they can take that, too, " he said. "And I won't goout there again--and let myself be pitied by every one. "

"But you'll beggar yourself, " said Sort. 

"They've done that already. Let them have their way. But they'llhave to answer for it in the end!"

Then Pelle procured a cart, and drove over himself to fetch them. There was quite a load to bring back. Mother Bengta's green chesthe found upstairs in the attic; it was full of balls of thread. Itwas so strange to see it again--for many years he had not thoughtof his mother. "I'll have that for a travelling trunk, " he thought, and he took it with him. 

Lasse was standing before the door when he returned. 

"See, I've brought everything here for you, father!" he cried, lustily cracking his whip. But Lasse went in without saying a word. When they had unloaded the cart and went to look for him, he hadcrawled into bed. There he lay with his face to the wall, and wouldnot speak. 

Pelle told him all sorts of news of Heath Farm, in order to puta little life into him. "Now the parish has sold Heath Farm to theHill Farm man for five thousand kroner, and they say he's got a goodbargain. He wants to live there himself and to leave Hill Farm inhis son's hands. "

Lasse half turned his head. "Yes, something grows there now. Nowthey are making thousands--and the farmer will do better still, "he said bitterly. "But it's well-manured soil. Karna overstrainedherself and died and left me. .. . And we went so well in harnesstogether. Her thousand kroner went into it, too . .. And now I'm apoor wreck. All that was put into the barren, rocky soil, so thatit became good and generous soil. And then the farmer buys it, andnow he wants to live there--we poor lice have prepared the way forhim! What else were we there for? Fools we are to excite ourselvesso over such a thing! But, how I loved the place!" Lasse suddenlyburst into tears. 

"Now you must be reasonable and see about becoming cheerful again, "said Sort. "The bad times for the poor man will soon be over. Thereis a time coming when no one will need to work himself to death forothers, and when every one will reap what he himself has sown. Whatinjury have you suffered? For you are on the right side and havethousands of kroner on which you can draw a bill. It would be stillworse if you owed money to others!"

"I haven't much more time, " said Lasse, raising himself on hiselbows. 

"Perhaps not, you and I, for those who start on the pilgrimage mustdie in the desert! But for that reason we are God's chosen people, we poor folk. And Pelle, he will surely behold the Promised Land!"

"Now you ought to come in, father, and see how we have arranged it, "said Pelle. 

Lasse stood up wearily and went with them. They had furnished oneof Sort's empty rooms with Lasse's things. It looked quite cozy. 

"We thought that you would live here until Pelle is getting onwell 'over there, '" said Sort. "No, you don't need to thank me!I'm delighted to think I shall have society, as you may wellunderstand. "

"The good God will repay it to you, " said Lasse, with a quaveringvoice. "We poor folk have no one but Him to rely on. "

Pelle could not rest, nor control his thoughts any longer; he mustbe off! "If you'll give me what the fare comes to, as I've helpedyou, " he told Sort, "then I'll start this evening. .. . "

Sort gave him thirty kroner. 

"That's the half of what we took. There's not so much owing to me, "said Pelle. "You are the master and had the tools and everything. "

"I won't live by the work of other hands--only by that of my own, "said Sort, and he pushed the money across to Pelle. "Are you goingto travel just as you stand?"

"No, I have plenty of money, " said Pelle gaily. "I've never beforepossessed so much money all at once! One can get quite a lot ofclothes for that. "

"But you mustn't touch the money! Five kroner you'll need for thepassage and the like; the rest you must save, so that you can facethe future with confidence!"

"I shall soon earn plenty of money in Copenhagen!"

"He has always been a thoughtless lad, " said Lasse anxiously. "Once, when he came into town here to be apprenticed he had five kroner;and as for what he spent them on, he could never give any properaccount!"

Sort laughed. 

"Then I shall travel as I stand!" said Pelle resolutely. But thatwouldn't do, either!

He could not by any means please both--they were like two anxiousclucking hens. 

He had no lack of linen, for Lasse had just thought of his ownsupply. Karna had looked after him well. "But it will be very shortfor your long body. It's not the same now as it was when you leftStone Farm--then we had to put a tuck in my shirt for you. "

In the matter of shoes he was not well off. It would never do fora journeyman shoemaker to look for work wearing such shoes as his. Sort and Pelle must make a pair of respectable boots. "We must leaveourselves time, " said Sort. "Think! They must be able to stand thejudgment of the capital!" Pelle was impatient, and wanted to getthe work quickly out of hand. 

Now there was only the question of a new suit. "Then buy it readymade on credit, " said Sort. "Lasse and I will be good enoughsecurities for a suit. "

In the evening, before he started, he and Lasse went out to lookup Due. They chose the time when they were certain of meetingDue himself. They neither of them cared much for Anna. As theyapproached the house they saw an old richly-dressed gentleman goin at the front door. 

"That is the consul, " said Pelle, "who has helped them to get on. Then Due is out with the horses, and we are certainly not welcome. "

"Is it like that with them?" said Lasse, standing still. "Then Iam sorry for Due when he first finds out how his affairs reallystand! He will certainly find that he has bought his independencetoo dearly! Yes, yes; for those who want to get on the price ishard to pay. I hope it will go well with you over there, my boy. "

They had reached the church. There stood a cart full of greenplants; two men were carrying them into a dwelling-house. 

"What festivity's going on here?" asked Pelle. 

"There's to be a wedding to-morrow, " answered one of the men. "Merchant Lau's daughter is marrying that swaggering fellow, who'salways giving himself airs--Karlsen, he's called, and he's a poorchap like ourselves. But do you suppose he'll notice us? When dirtcomes to honor, there's no bearing with it! Now he's become apartner in the business!"

"Then I'll go to the wedding, " said Lasse eagerly, while theystrolled on. "It is very interesting to see when one of a familycomes to something. " Pelle felt that this was to some extent meantas a reproach, but he said nothing. 

"Shall we have one look at the new harbor?" he said. 

"No, now the sun's going down, and I'll go home and get to bed. I'm old--but you go. I shall soon find my way back. " Pelle strolledonward, but then turned aside toward the north--he would go andbid Marie Nielsen good-bye. He owed her a friendly word for allher goodness. Also, as an exception, she should for once see him inrespectable clothes. She had just come home from her work, and wason the point of preparing her supper. 

"No, Pelle, is that you?" she cried delightedly, "and so grand, too--you look like a prince!" Pelle had to remain to supper. 

"I have really only come to thank you for all your friendlinessand to say good-bye. To-morrow I go to Copenhagen. "

She looked at him earnestly. "And you are glad!"

Pelle had to tell her what he had been doing since he had last seenher. He sat there looking gratefully about the poor, clean room, with the bed set so innocently against the wall, covered with asnow-white counterpane. He had never forgotten that fragrance ofsoap and cleanliness and her fresh, simple nature. She had takenhim in the midst of all his misery and had not thought her own whitebed too good for him while she scrubbed the mire from him. When hereached the capital he would have himself photographed and send herhis portrait. 

"And how are you doing now?" he asked gently. 

"Just as when you last saw me--only a little more lonely, " sheanswered earnestly. 

And then he must go. "Good-bye, and may everything go well withyou!" he said, and he shook her hand. "And many thanks for allyour goodness!"

She stood before him silently, looking at him with an uncertainsmile. "Ah, no! I'm only a human being too!" she cried suddenly, and she flung her arms about him in a passionate embrace. 

And then the great day broke! Pelle awaked with the sun and hadthe green chest already packed before the others were up, and thenhe roamed about, not knowing what he should set his hand to, hewas so restless and so excited. He answered at random, and his eyeswere full of radiant dreams. In the morning he and Lasse carried thechest to the steamer, in order to have the evening free. Then theywent to the church, in order to attend Alfred's wedding. Pelle wouldgladly have stayed away; he had enough to do with his own affairs, and he had no sympathy for Alfred's doings. 

But Lasse pushed him along. 

The sun stood high in heaven and blazed in the winding side-streetsso that the tarred timberwork sweated and the gutters stank; fromthe harbor came the sound of the crier, with his drum, cryingherrings, and announcing an auction. The people streamed to churchin breathless conversation concerning this child of fortune, Alfred, who had climbed so far. 

The church was full of people. It was gaily decorated, and up bythe organ stood eight young women who were to sing "It is so lovelytogether to be!" Lasse had never seen or heard of such a wedding. "I feel quite proud!" he said. 

"He's a bladder full of wind!" said Pelle. "He's taking her simplyon account of the honor. "

And then the bridal pair stepped up to the altar. "It's tremendousthe way Alfred has greased his head!" whispered Lasse. "It lookslike a newly-licked calf's head! But she is pretty. I'm only puzzledthat she's not put on her myrtle-wreath--I suppose nothing hashappened?"

"Yes, she's got a child, " whispered Pelle. "Otherwise, he wouldnever in this world have got her!"

"Oh, I see! Yes, but that's smart of him, to catch such a finelady!"

Now the young women sang, and it sounded just as if they were angelsfrom heaven who had come to seal the bond. 

"We must take our places so that we can congratulate them, " saidLasse, and he wanted to push right through the crowd, but Pelleheld him back. 

"I'm afraid he won't know us to-day; but look now, there's UncleKalle. "

Kalle stood squeezed among the hindmost chairs, and there he hadto stay until everybody had passed out. "Yes, I was very anxious totake part in this great day, " he said, "and I wanted to bring motherwith me, but she thought her clothes weren't respectable enough. "Kalle wore a new gray linsey-woolsey suit; he had grown smallerand more bent with the years. 

"Why do you stand right away in the corner here, where you can seenothing? As the bridegroom's father, you must have been given yourplace in the first row, " said Lasse. 

"I have been sitting there, too--didn't you see me sitting nextto Merchant Lau? We sang out of the same hymn-book. I only gotpushed here in the crowd. Now I ought to go to the wedding-feast. I was properly invited, but I don't quite know. .. . " He looked downat himself. Suddenly he made a movement, and laughed in his ownreckless way. "Ugh--what am I doing standing here and tellinglies to people who don't believe me! No, pigs don't belong in thecounting-house! I might spread a bad smell, you know! People likeus haven't learned to sweat scent!"

"Bah! He's too grand to know his own father! Devil take it! Thencome with us so that you needn't go away hungry!" said Lasse. 

"No--I've been so overfed with roast meats and wine and cakes that Ican't get any more down for the present. Now I must go home and tellmother about all the splendid things. I've eighteen miles to go. "

"And you came here on foot--thirty-six miles! That's too much foryour years!"

"I had really reckoned that I'd stay the night here. I didn't think. .. Well, an owl's been sitting there! Children can't very wellclimb higher than that--not to recognize their own fathers! Anna isnow taking the best way to become a fine lady, too. .. . I shall bewondering how long I shall know myself! Devil take it, Kalle Karlsen, I'm of good family, too, look you! Well, then, ajoo!"

Wearily he set about tramping home. He looked quite pitiful in hisdisappointment. "He's never looked so miserable in his life!" saidLasse, gazing after him, "and it takes something, too, to makeBrother Kalle chuck his gun into the ditch!"

Toward evening they went through the town to the steamer. Pelle tooklong strides, and a strange feeling of solemnity kept him silent. Lasse trotted along at his side; he stooped as he went. He was in adoleful mood. "Now you won't forget your old father?" he said, againand again. 

"There's no danger of that, " rejoined Sort. Pelle heard nothing ofthis; his thoughts were all set on his journey. The blue smoke ofkitchen fires was drifting down among the narrow lanes. The oldpeople were sitting out of doors on their front steps, and weregossiping over the news of the day. The evening sun fell upon roundspectacles, so that great fiery eyes seemed to be staring out oftheir wrinkled faces. The profound peace of evening lay over thestreets. But in the narrow lanes there was the breathing of thateternal, dull unrest, as of a great beast that tosses and turns andcannot sleep. Now and again it blazed up into a shout, or the cryingof a child, and then began anew--like heavy, labored breathing. Pelleknew it well, that ghostly breathing, which rises always from thelair of the poor man. The cares of poverty had shepherded the evildreams home for the night. But he was leaving this world of poverty, where life was bleeding away unnoted in the silence; in his thoughtsit was fading away like a mournful song; and he gazed out over thesea, which lay glowing redly at the end of the street. Now he wasgoing out into the world!

The crazy Anker was standing at the top of his high steps. "Good-bye!" cried Pelle, but Anker did not understand. He turnedhis face up to the sky and sent forth his demented cry. 

Pelle threw a last glance at the workshop. "There have I spent manya good hour!" he thought; and he thought, too, of the young master. Old Jorgen was standing before his window, playing with the littleJorgen, who sat inside on the windowseat. "Peep, peep, little one!"he cried, in his shrill voice, and he hid, and bobbed up into sightagain. The young wife was holding the child; she was rosy withmaternal delight. 

"You'll be sure to let us hear from you, " said Lasse yet again, asPelle stood leaning over the steamer's rail. "Don't forget your oldfather!" He was quite helpless in his anxiety. 

"I will write to you as soon as I'm getting on, " said Pelle, forthe twentieth time at least. "Only don't worry!" Sure of victory, he laughed down at the old man. For the rest they stood silent andgazed at one another. 

At last the steamer moved. "Good luck--take care of yourself!" hecried for the last time, as they turned the pier-head; and as longas he could see he waved his cap. Then he went right forward and saton a coil of rope. 

He had forgotten all that lay behind him. He gazed ahead as thoughat any moment the great world itself might rise in front of thevessel's bow. He pictured nothing to himself of what was to comeand how he would meet it--he was only longing--longing!

THE END.