PELLE THE CONQUEROR

PART IV. --DAYBREAK. 

BY MARTIN ANDERSON NEXO

TRANSLATED FROM THE DANISHBy Jessie Muir. 

IV. DAYBREAK

I

Out in the middle of the open, fertile country, where the plough wasbusy turning up the soil round the numerous cheerful little houses, stood a gloomy building that on every side turned bare walls toward thesmiling world. No panes of glass caught the ruddy glow of the morningand evening sun and threw back its quivering reflection; three rows ofbarred apertures drank in all the light of day with insatiable avidity. They were always gaping greedily, and seen against the background ofblue spring sky, looked like holes leading into the everlastingdarkness. In its heavy gloom the mass of masonry towered above the manysmiling homes, but their peaceable inhabitants did not seem to feeloppressed. They ploughed their fields right up to the bare walls, andwherever the building was visible, eyes were turned toward it with anexpression that told of the feeling of security that its strong wallsgave. 

Like a landmark the huge building towered above everything else. Itmight very well have been a temple raised to God's glory by a gratefulhumanity, so imposing was it; but if so, it must have been in by-goneages, for no dwellings--even for the Almighty--are built nowadays in sobarbaric a style, as if the one object were to keep out light and air!The massive walls were saturated with the dank darkness within, and thecenturies had weathered their surface and made on it luxuriant culturesof fungus and mould, and yet they still seemed as if they could standfor an eternity. 

The building was no fortress, however, nor yet a temple whose dimrecesses were the abode of the unknown God. If you went up to the great, heavy door, which was always closed you could read above the arch theone word _Prison_ in large letters and below it a simple Latinverse that with no little pretentiousness proclaimed:

 "I am the threshold to all virtue and wisdom; Justice flourishes solely for my sake. "

One day in the middle of spring, the little door in the prison gateopened, and a tall man stepped out and looked about him with eyesblinking at the light which fell upon his ashen-white face. His stepfaltered and he had to lean for support against the wall; he looked asif he were about to go back again, but he drew a deep breath and wentout on to the open ground. 

The spring breeze made a playful assault upon him, tried to ruffle hisprison-clipped, slightly gray hair, which had been curly and fair whenlast it had done so, and penetrated gently to his bare body like a soft, cool hand. "Welcome, Pelle!" said the sun, as it peeped into hisdistended pupils in which the darkness of the prison-cell still laybrooding. Not a muscle of his face moved, however; it was as though hewnout of stone. Only the pupils of his eyes contracted so violently as tobe almost painful, but he continued to look earnestly before him. Whenever he saw any one, he stopped and gazed eagerly, perhaps in thehope that it was some one coming to meet him. 

As he turned into the King's Road some one called to him. He turnedround in sudden, intense joy, but then his head dropped and he went onwithout answering. It was only a tramp, who was standing half out of aditch in a field a little way off, beckoning to him. He came runningover the ploughed field, crying hoarsely: "Wait a little, can't you?Here have I been waiting for company all day, so you might as well waita little!"

He was a broad-shouldered, rather puffy-looking fellow, with a flat backand the nape of his neck broad and straight and running right up intohis cap without forming any projection for the back of his head, makingone involuntarily think of the scaffold. The bone of his nose had sunkinto his purple face, giving a bull-dog mixture of brutality and stupidcuriosity to its expression. 

"How long have you been in?" he asked, as he joined him, breathless. There was a malicious look in his eyes. 

"I went in when Pontius Pilate was a little boy, so you can reckon itout for yourself, " said Pelle shortly. 

"My goodness! That was a good spell! And what were you copped for?"

"Oh, there happened to be an empty place, so they took me and put me in--so that it shouldn't stand empty, you know!"

The tramp scowled at him. "You're laying it on a little too thick! Youwon't get any one to believe that!" he said uncertainly. Suddenly he puthimself in front of Pelle, and pushed his bull-like forehead close tothe other's face. "Now, I'll just tell you something, my boy!" he said. "I don't want to touch any one the first day I'm out, but you'd bettertake yourself and your confounded uppishness somewhere else; for I'vebeen lying here waiting for company all day. "

"I didn't mean to offend any one, " said Pelle absently. He looked as ifhe had not come back to earth, and appeared to have no intention ofdoing anything. 

"Oh, didn't you! That's fortunate for you, or I might have taken acolor-print of your doleful face, however unwillingly. By the way, mother said I was to give you her love. "

"Are you Ferdinand?" asked Pelle, raising his head. 

"Oh, don't pretend!" said Ferdinand. "Being in gaol seems to have made aswell of you!"

"I didn't recognize you, " said Pelle earnestly, suddenly recalled to theworld around him. 

"Oh, all right--if you say so. It must be the fault of my nose. I got itbashed in the evening after I'd buried mother. I was to give you herlove, by the way. "

"Thank you!" said Pelle heartily. Old memories from the "Ark" filled hismind and sent his blood coursing through his veins once more. "Is itlong since your mother died?" he asked sympathetically. 

Ferdinand nodded. "It was a good thing, however, " he said, "for nowthere's no one I need go and have a bad conscience about. I'd made up mymind that she deserved to have things comfortable in her old age, and Iwas awfully careful; but all the same I was caught for a little robberyand got eight months. That was just after you got in--but of course youknow that. "

"No! How could I know it?"

"Well, I telegraphed it over to you. I was just opposite you, in Wing A, and when I'd reckoned out your cell, I bespoke the whole line oneevening, and knocked a message through to you. But there was asanctimonious parson at the corner of your passage, one of those moralfolk--oh, you didn't even know that, then? Well, I'd always suspectedhim of not passing my message on, though a chap like that's had an awfullot of learning put into him. Then when I came out I said to myself thatthere must be an end to all this, for mother'd taken it very much toheart, and was failing. I managed to get into one of the streets wherehonest thieves live, and went about as a colporteur, and it all wentvery well. It would have been horribly mean if she'd died of hunger. Andwe had a jolly good time for six months, but then she slipped away allthe same, and I can just tell you that I've never been in such lowspirits as the day they put her underground in the cemetery. Well, Isaid to myself, there lies mother smelling the weeds from underneath, soyou can just as well give it all up, for there's nothing more to troubleabout now. And I went up to the office and asked for a settlement, andthey cheated me of fifty subscribers, the rogues!

"Of course I went to the police: I was stupid enough to do that at thattime. But they're all a lot of rogues together. They thought it wouldn'tdo to believe a word that I said, and would have liked to put me inprison at once; but for all they poked about they couldn't find a peg tohang their hat upon. 'He's managing to hide it well this time, the slyfellow!' they said, and let me go. But there soon was something, for Isettled the matter myself, and you may take your oath my employersdidn't get the best of the arrangement. You see there are two kinds ofpeople--poor people who are only honest when they let themselves berobbed, and all the others. Why the devil should one go about like ashorn sheep and not rob back! Some day of course there'll be a bust-up, and then--'three years, prisoner!' I shall be in again before long. "

"That depends upon yourself, " said Pelle slowly. 

"Oh, well, of course you can do _something_; but the police arealways getting sharper, and the man isn't born who won't fall into thetrap sooner or later. "

"You should try and get some honest employment again. You've shown thatyou can succeed. "

Ferdinand whistled. "In such a paltry way as that! Many thanks for thegood advice! You'd like me to look after a bloated aristocrat's geeseand then sit on the steps and eat dry bread to the smell of the roastbird, would you? No, thank you! And even if I did--what then? You may bequite sure they'd keep a good watch on a fellow, if he tried an honestjob, and it wouldn't be two days before the shadow was there. 'What'sthis about Ferdinand? I hear things are not all square with him. I'msorry, for he's really worked well; but he'd better look out for anotherplace. ' That's what the decent ones would do; the others would simplywait until his wages were due and take something off--because he'd beenin once. They could never be sure that he hadn't stolen something fromthem, could they? and it's best to be careful! If you make a fuss, you're called a thief to your face. I've tried it, let me tell you! Andnow you can try it yourself. You'll be in again as soon as ever thespring comes! The worst of it is that it gets more every time; a fellowlike me may get five years for stealing five krones (five shillings). Isn't that a shame? So it's just as well to do something to make itworth while. It wouldn't matter if you could only get a good hit at itall. It's all one to me now that mother's dead. There's a child crying, but it's not for me. There isn't a soul that would shed a tear if I hadto lay my head on the block. They'd come and stare, that's what they'ddo--and I should get properly into the papers!

"Wicked? Of course I'm wicked! Sometimes I feel like one great sore, andwould like to let them hear all about it. There's no such thing asgentle hands. That's only a lie, so I owe nothing to anybody. Severaltimes while I've been in there I've made up my mind to kill the warder, just so as to have a hit at something; for he hadn't done me any harm. But then I thought after all it was stupid. I'd no objection to kick thebucket; it would be a pleasant change anyhow to sitting in prison allone's life. But then you'd want to do something first that would make astir. That's what I feel!"

They walked on at a good pace, their faces turned in the direction ofthe smoky mist of the town far ahead, Ferdinand chewing his quid andspitting incessantly. His hardened, bulldog face with its bloodshot eyeswas entirely without expression now that he was silent. 

A peasant lad came toward them, singing at the top of his voice. He musthave been about twelve or fourteen years of age. 

"What are you so happy about, boy?" asked Ferdinand, stopping him. 

"I took a heifer into the town, and I got two krones (two shillings) forthe job, " answered the boy, smiling all over his face. 

"You must have been up early then, " said Pelle. 

"Yes, I left home at three last night. But now I've earned a day'swages, and can take it easy the rest of the day!" answered the boy, throwing the two-krone piece into the air and catching it again. 

"Take care you don't lose it, " said Ferdinand, following the coin withcovetous eyes. 

The boy laughed merrily. 

"Let's see whether it's a good one. They're a fearful lot of thieves onthe market in there. "

The boy handed him the coin. "Ah, yes, it's one of those that you canbreak in half and make two of, " said Ferdinand, doing a few jugglingtricks with it. "I suppose I may keep one?" His expression had becomelively and he winked maliciously at Pelle as he stood playing with thecoin so that it appeared to be two. "There you are; that's yours, " hesaid, pressing the piece of money firmly into the boy's hand. "Take goodcare of it, so that you don't get a scolding from your mother. "

The boy opened his empty hand in wonderment. "Give me my two-krone!" hesaid, smiling uncertainly. 

"What the devil--I've given it you once!" said Ferdinand, pushing theboy aside roughly and beginning to walk on. 

The boy followed him and begged persistently for his money. Then hebegan to cry. 

"Give him his money!" said Pelle crossly. "It's not amusing now. "

"Amusing?" exclaimed Ferdinand, stopping abruptly and gazing at him inamazement. "Do you think I play for small sums? What do I care about theboy! He may take himself off; I'm not his father. "

Pelle looked at him a moment without comprehending; then he took a papercontaining a few silver coins out of his waistcoat pocket, and handedthe boy two krones. The boy stood motionless with amazement for amoment, but then, seizing the money, he darted away as quickly as hecould go. 

Ferdinand went on, growling to himself and blinking his eyes. Suddenlyhe stopped and exclaimed: "I'll just tell you as a warning that if itwasn't you, and because I don't want to have this day spoiled, I'd havecracked your skull for you; for no one else would have played me thattrick. Do you understand?" And he stood still again and pushed his heavybrow close to Pelle's face. 

Quick as thought, Pelle seized him by his collar and trousers, and threwhim forcibly onto a heap of stones. "That's the second time to-day thatyou've threatened to crack my skull, " he said in fury, poundingFerdinand's head against the stones. For a few moments he held him downfirmly, but then released him and helped him to rise. Ferdinand wascrimson in the face, and stood swaying, ready to throw himself uponPelle, while his gaze wandered round in search of a weapon. Then hehesitatingly drew the two-krone piece out of his pocket, and handed itto Pelle in sign of subjection. 

"You may keep it, " said Pelle condescendingly. 

Ferdinand quickly pocketed it again, and began to brush the mud off hisclothes. "The skilly in there doesn't seem to have weakened you much, "he said, shaking himself good-naturedly as they went on. "You've stillgot a confounded hard hand. But what I can't understand is why youshould be so sorry for a hobbledehoy like that. He can take care ofhimself without us. "

"Weren't you once sorry too for a little fellow when some one wanted totake his money away from him?"

"Oh, that little fellow in the 'Ark' who was going to fetch the medicinefor his mother? That's such a long time ago!"

"You got into difficulties with the police for his sake! It was thefirst time you were at odds with the authorities, I think. "

"Well, the boy hadn't done anything; I saw that myself. So I hobbled thecopper that was going to run him in. His mother was ill--and my old 'unwas alive; and so I was a big idiot! You'll see you won't get far withyour weak pity. Do we owe any one anything, I should like to know?"

"Yes, _I_ do, " said Pelle, suddenly raising his face toward thelight. "But I can't say you've much to thank any one for. "

"What confounded nonsense!" exclaimed Ferdinand, staring at him. "Havethey been good to you, did you say? When they shut you up in prison too, perhaps? You're pretending to be good, eh? You stop that! You'll have togo farther into the country with it. So you think you deserved yourhouse-of-correction turn, while another was only suffering the blackestinjustice? Nonsense! They know well enough what they're doing when theyget hold of me, but they might very well have let you off. You gottogether fifty thousand men, but what did you all do, I should like toknow? You didn't make as much disturbance as a mouse in a pair of lady'sunmentionables. Well-to-do people are far more afraid of me than of youand all your fellows together. Injustice! Oh, shut up and don't slobber!You give no quarter, and you don't ask any either: that's all. And bythe way, you might do me the favor to take back your two-krone. _I_don't owe any one anything. "

"Well, borrow it, then, " said Pelle. "You can't go to town quite withoutmoney. "

"Do take it, won't you?" begged Ferdinand. "It isn't so easy for you toget hold of any as for any one else, and it was a little too mean theway I got it out of you. You've been saving it up in there, a halfpennya day, and perhaps gone without your quid, and I come and cheat you outof it! No, confound it! And you gave mother a little into the bargain;I'd almost forgotten it! Well, never mind the tin then! I know a placewhere there's a good stroke of business to be done. "

A little above Damhus Lake they turned into a side road that lednorthward, in order to reach the town from the Nörrebro side. Far downto the right a great cloud of smoke hung in the air. It was theatmosphere of the city. As the east wind tore off fragments of it andcarried them out, Ferdinand lifted his bull-dog nose and sniffed theair. "Wouldn't I like to be sitting in the 'Cupping-Glass' before ahorse-steak with onions!" he said. 

By this time the afternoon was well advanced. They broke sticks out of ahedge and went on steadily, following ditches and dikes as best theycould. The plough was being driven over the fields, backward andforward, turning up the black earth, while crows and sea-birds fought inthe fresh furrows. The ploughmen put the reins round their waist eachtime they came to the end of their line, threw the plough over andbrought it into position for a new furrow, and while they let theirhorses take breath, gazed afar at the two strange spring wayfarers. There was such a foreign air about their clothes that they must be twoof that kind of people that go on foot from land to land, they thought;and they called after them scraps of foreign sentences to show they knewsomething about them. Ah, yes! They were men who could look about them!Perhaps by to-morrow those two would be in a foreign country again, while other folk never left the place they were once in!

They passed a white house standing in stately seclusion among old trees, a high hawthorn hedge screening the garden from the road. Ferdinandthrew a hasty glance over the gate. The blinds were all down! He beganto be restless, and a little farther on he suddenly slipped in behind ahedge and refused to go any farther. "I don't care to show myself intown empty-handed, " he said. "And besides evening's the best time to goin at full speed. Let's wait here until it's dark. I can smell silver inthat house we passed. "

"Come on now and let those fancies alone, " said Pelle earnestly. "A newlife begins from to-day. I'll manage to help you to get honest work!"

Ferdinand broke into laughter. "Good gracious me! You help others! Youhaven't tried yet what it is to come home from prison! You'll find ithard enough to get anywhere yourself, my good fellow. New life, ha, ha!No; just you stay here and we'll do a little business together when itgets dark. The house doesn't look quite squint-eyed. Then this eveningwe can go to the 'Cupping-Glass' and have a jolly good spree, and actthe home-coming American. Besides it's not right to go home withouttaking something for your family. Just you wait! You should see 'Laurawith the Arm' dance! She's my cupboard-love, you know. She can danceblindfold upon a table full of beer-mugs without spilling a drop. Theremight be a little kiss for you too. --Hang it!--you don't surely imagineyou'll be made welcome anywhere else, do you? I can tell you there's noone who'll stand beckoning you home. --Very well, then go to the devil, you fool, and remember me to your monthly nurse! When you're tired offamily life, you can ask for me at my address, the 'Cupping-Glass'. " Hishoarse, hollow voice cut through the clear spring air as he shouted thelast words with his hand to his mouth. 

Pelle went on quickly, as though anxious to leave something behind him. He had had an insane hope of being received in some kind way or otherwhen he came out--comrades singing, perhaps, or a woman and two childrenstanding on the white highroad, waiting for him! And there had only beenFerdinand to meet him! Well, it had been a damper, and now he shook offthe disappointment and set out at a good pace. The active movement sethis pulses beating. The sky had never before been so bright as it wasto-day; the sun shone right into his heart. There was a smiling greetingin it all--in the wind that threw itself into his very arms, in thefresh earth and in the running water in the ditches. Welcome back again, Pelle!

How wide and fair the world looks when you've spent years within fourbare walls! Down in the south the clouds were like the breast of a greatbright bird, one of those that come a long way every year with summer inthe beat of their strong wings; and on all sides lay the open, whiteroads, pointing onward with bright assurances. 

For the fourth time he was setting out to conquer the world, and thistime it was in bitter earnest. There had always before proved to besomething more behind, but now he felt that what he should now set outupon would be decisive; if he was victorious now, he would conquereternity. This time it must be either for weal or woe, and all that hepossessed he was now bringing into the field. He had never before beenso heavily equipped. Far off he could still make out the dome of theprison, which stood there like a huge mill over the descent to thenether world, and ground misery into crime in the name of humanity. Itsucked down every one who was exposed to life's uncertainty; he hadhimself hung in the funnel and felt how its whirling drew him down. 

But Pelle had been too well equipped. Hitherto he had successfullyconverted everything into means of rising, and he took this in the sameway. His hair was no longer fair, but, on the other hand, his mind wasmagically filled with a secret knowledge of the inner nature of things, for he had sat at the root of all things, and by listening had drawn itout of the solitude. He had been sitting moping in the dark mountainlike Prince Fortune, while Eternity sang to him of the great wonder. Thespirits of evil had carried him away into the mountains; that was all. And now they had set him free again, believing that he had become atroll like all his predecessors. But Pelle was not bewitched. He hadalready consumed many things in his growth, and this was added to therest. What did a little confinement signify as compared with the slowdrip, drip, of centuries? Had he not been born with a caul, upon whichneither steel nor poison made any impression?

He sat down on an elevation, pulled off his cap, and let the cool breezeplay upon his forehead. It was full of rich promises; in its vernalwandering over the earth it had gathered up all that could improve andstrengthen, and loaded him with it. Look around you, Pelle!

On all sides the soil was being prepared, the plough-teams nodded up thegentle inclines and disappeared down the other side. A thin vapor rosefrom the soil; it was the last of the cold evaporating in the decliningspring day. Some way down a few red cottages smilingly faced the sunset, and still farther on lay the town with its eternal cloud of smokehanging over it. 

What would his future be like down there? And how did matters stand? Hadthe new made its way to the front, or would he once more have to submitto an extortioner, get only the bare necessaries of life out of hiswork, and see the rest disappear into some one else's pocket? A numberof new factories had grown up, and now formed quite a belt about thecity, with their hundreds of giant chimneys stretching up into the sky. But something must be going on, since they were not smoking. Was it awages conflict?

He was now going to lay plans for his life, build it up again upon thedeep foundation that had been laid in his solitude; and yet he knewabsolutely nothing of the conditions down in the town! Well, he hadfriends in thousands; the town was simply lying waiting to receive himwith open arms, more fond of him than ever because of all he hadsuffered. With all his ignorance he had been able to lead them on alittle way; the development had chosen him as its blind instrument, andit had been successful; but now he was going to lead them right into theland, for now he felt the burden of life within him. 

Hullo! if he wasn't building castles in the air just as in the old days, and forgetting all that the prison cell had taught him so bitterly! Theothers' good indeed! He had been busily concerned for the homes ofothers, and had not even succeeded in building his own! What humbug!Down there were three neglected beings who would bring accusationsagainst him, and what was the use of his sheltering himself behind thewelfare of the many? What was the good of receiving praise from tens ofthousands and being called benefactor by the whole world, if those threewhose welfare had been entrusted to him accused him of having failedthem? He had often enough tried to stifle their accusing voices, but inthere it was not possible to stifle anything into silence. 

Pelle still had no doubt that he was chosen to accomplish something forthe masses, but it had become of such secondary importance when herecollected that he had neglected his share of that which was the dutyof every one. He had mistaken small for great, and believed that when heaccomplished something that no one else could do, he might in return payless attention to ordinary every-day duties; but the fates ordained thatthe burden of life should be laid just where every one could help. Andnow he was coming back like a poor beggar, who had conquered everythingexcept the actual, and therefore possessed nothing, and had to beg formercy. Branded as a criminal, he must now begin at the beginning, andaccomplish that which he had not been able to do in the days of hispower. It would be difficult to build his home under thesecircumstances, and who was there to help him? Those three who could havespoken for him he had left to their own devices as punishment for anoffence which in reality was his own. 

He had never before set out in such a poverty-stricken state. He did noteven come like one who had something to forgive: his prison-cell hadleft him nothing. He had had time enough there to go carefully over thewhole matter, and everything about Ellen that he had before been toomuch occupied to notice or had felt like a silent opposition to hisprojects, now stood out clearly, and formed itself, against his will, into the picture of a woman who never thought of herself, but only ofthe care of her little world and how she could sacrifice herself. Hecould not afford to give up any of his right here, and marshalled allhis accusations against her, bringing forward laws and morals; but itall failed completely to shake the image, and only emphasized yet morethe strength of her nature. She had sacrificed _everything_ for himand the children, her one desire being to see them happy. Each of hisattacks only washed away a fresh layer of obstructing mire, and made thesacrifice in her action stand out more clearly. It was because she wasso unsensual and chaste that she could act as she had done. Alas! shehad had to pay dearly for _his_ remissness; it was the mother who, in their extreme want, gave her own body to nourish her offspring. 

Pelle would not yield, but fought fiercely against conviction. He hadbeen robbed of freedom and the right to be a human being like others, and now solitude was about to take from him all that remained to sustainhim. Even if everything joined together against him, he was not wrong, he _would_ not be wrong. It was he who had brought the greatconflict to an end at the cost of his own--and he had found Ellen to bea prostitute! His thoughts clung to this word, and shouted it hoarsely, unceasingly--prostitute! prostitute! He did not connect it withanything, but only wanted to drown the clamor of accusations on allsides which were making him still more naked and miserable. 

At first letters now and then came to him, probably from old companions-in-arms, perhaps too from Ellen: he did not know, for he refused to takethem. He hated Ellen because she was the stronger, hated in impotentdefiance everything and everybody. Neither she nor any one else shouldhave the satisfaction of being any comfort to him; since he had beenshut up as an unclean person, he had better keep himself quite apartfrom them. He would make his punishment still more hard, and purposelyincreased his forlornness, kept out of his thoughts everything that wasnear and dear to him, and dragged the painful things into theforeground. Ellen had of course forgotten him for some one else, and hadperhaps turned the children's thoughts from him; they would certainly beforbidden to mention the word "father. " He could distinctly see them allthree sitting happily round the lamp; and when some turn in theconversation threatened to lead it to the subject of himself, a coldnessand stillness as of death suddenly fell upon them. He mercilessly filledhis existence with icy acknowledgment on all points, and believed herevenged himself by breathing in the deadly cold. 

After a prolonged period of this he was attacked with frenzy, dashedhimself blindly against the walls, and shouted that he wanted to getout. To quiet him he was put into a strait-waistcoat and removed to apitch-dark cell. On the whole he was one of the so-called defiantprisoners, who meant to kick against the pricks, and he was treatedaccordingly. 

But one night when he lay groaning after a punishment, and saw the angryface of God in the darkness, he suddenly became silent. "Are you a humanbeing?" it said, "and cannot even bear a little suffering?" Pelle wasstartled. He had never known that there was anything particularly humanin suffering. But from that night he behaved quietly, with a listeningexpression, as if he heard something through the walls. "Now he's becomequiet, " said the gaoler, who was looking at him through the peep-hole. "It won't be long before he's an idiot!"

But Pelle had only come out on the other side; he was staring bravelyinto the darkness to see God's face once more, but in a gentler guise. The first thing he saw was Ellen again, sitting there beautiful, exculpated, made more desirable by all his accusations. How great andfateful all petty things became here! What was the good of defendinghimself? She was his fate, and he would have to surrenderunconditionally. He still did not comprehend her, but he had aconsciousness of greater laws for life, laws that raised _her_ andmade him small. She and hers passed undefiled through places where hestuck fast in the surface mire. 

She seemed to him to grow in here, and led his thoughts behind thesurface, where they had never been before. Her unfailing mother-love waslike a beating pulse that rose from the invisible and revealed hiddenmystical forces--the perceptible rhythm of a great heart which beat inconcealment behind everything. Her care resembled that of God Himself;she was nearer to the springs of life than he. 

The springs of life! Through her the expression for the first timeacquired a meaning for him. It was on the whole as if she re-createdhim, and by occupying himself with her ever enigmatical nature, histhoughts were turned further and further inward. He suspected thepresence of strong currents which bore the whole thing; and sometimes inthe silence of his cell he seemed to hear his existence flowing, flowinglike a broad stream, and emptying itself out there where his thoughtshad never ventured to roam. What became of the days and the years withall that they had held? The ever present Ellen, who had never herselfgiven a thought to the unseen, brought Pelle face to face with infinity. 

While all this was going on within him, they sang one Sunday during theprison service Grundtvig's hymn, "The former days have passed away. " Thehymn expressed all that he had himself vaguely thought, and touched himdeeply; the verses came to him in his narrow pen like waves from amighty ocean, which rolled ages in to the shore in monotonous power. Hesuddenly and strongly realized the passage of generations of humanbeings over the earth, and boldly grasped what he had until now onlydimly suspected, namely, his own connection with them all, both thosewho were living then and all those who had gone before. How small hisown idea of union had been when measured by this immense community ofsouls, and what a responsibility was connected with each one! Heunderstood now how fatal it was to act recklessly, then break off andleave everything. In reality you could never leave anything; the verysmallest thing you shirked would be waiting for you as your fate at thenext milestone. And who, indeed, was able to overlook an action? You hadto be lenient continually, and at last it would turn out that you hadbeen lenient to yourself. 

Pelle was taking in wisdom, and his own heart confirmed it. The thoughtof Ellen filled his mind more and more; he had lost her, and yet hecould not get beyond her. Did she still love him? This question pursuedhim day and night with ever increasing vehemence, until even his lifeseemed to depend upon it. He felt, as he gazed questioningly into hissolitude, that he would be worthless if he did not win her back. Newworlds grew up before him; he could dimly discern the great connectionbetween things, and thought he could see how deep down the roots of lifestretched, drawing nourishment from the very darkness in which he dwelt. But to this he received no answer. 

He never dreamt of writing to her. God had His own way of dealing withthe soul, a way with which one did not interfere. It would have to comelike all the rest, and he lulled himself with the foolish hope thatEllen would come and visit him, for he was now in the right mood toreceive her. On Sundays he listened eagerly to the heavy clang of thegate. It meant visitors to the prisoners; and when the gaoler came alongthe corridor rattling his keys, Pelle's heart beat suffocatingly. Thisrepeated itself Sunday after Sunday, and then he gave up hope andresigned himself to his fate. 

After a long time, however, fortune favored him and brought him agreeting. 

Pelle took no personal part in the knocking that every evening after thelights were out sounded through the immense building as if a thousanddeath-ticks were at work. He had enough of his own to think about, andonly knocked those messages on that had to pass through his cell. Oneday, however, a new prisoner was placed in the cell next to his, andwoke him. He was a regular frequenter of the establishment, andimmediately set about proclaiming his arrival in all directions. It wasDruk-Valde, "Widow" Rasmussen's idler of a sweetheart, who used to standall the winter through in the gateway in Chapel Road, and spit over thetoes of his well-polished shoes. 

Yes, Valde knew Pelle's family well; his sweetheart had looked after thechildren when Ellen, during the great conflict, began to go out to work. Ellen had been very successful, and still held her head high. She seweduppers and had a couple of apprentices to help her, and she was reallydoing pretty well. She did not associate with any one, not even with herrelatives, for she never left her children. 

Druk-Valde had to go to the wall every evening; the most insignificantdetail was of the greatest importance. Pelle could see Ellen as if shewere standing in the darkness before him, pale, always clad in black, always serious. She had broken with her parents; she had sacrificedeverything for his sake! She even talked about him so that the childrenshould not have forgotten him by the time he came back. "The littlebeggars think you're travelling, " said Valde. 

So everything was all right! It was like sunshine in his heart to knowthat she was waiting faithfully for him although he had cast her off. All the ice must melt and disappear; he was a rich man in spite ofeverything. 

Did she bear his name? he asked eagerly. It would be like her--intrepidas she was--defiantly to write "Pelle" in large letters on the door-plate. 

Yes, of course! There was no such thing as hiding there! Lasse Frederikand his sister were big now, and little Boy Comfort was a huge fellowfor his age--a regular little fatty. To see him sitting in hisperambulator, when they wheeled him out on Sundays, was a sight forgods!

Pelle stood in the darkness as though stunned. Boy Comfort, a littlefellow sitting in a perambulator! And it was not an adopted childeither; Druk-Valde so evidently took it to be his. Ellen! Ellen!

He went no more to the wall. Druk-Valde knocked in vain, and his sixmonths came to an end without Pelle noticing it. This time he made nodisturbance, but shrank under a feeling of being accursed. Providencemust be hostile to him, since the same blow had been aimed at him twice. In the daytime he sought relief in hard work and reading; at night helay on his dirty, mouldy-smelling mattress and wept. He no longer triedto overthrow his conception of Ellen, for he knew it was hopeless: shestill tragically overshadowed everything. She was his fate and stillfilled his thoughts, but not brightly; there was indeed nothing brightor great about it now, only imperative necessity. 

And then his work! For a man there was always work to fall back upon, when happiness failed him. Pelle set to work in earnest, and the man whowas at the head of the prison shoemaking department liked to have him, for he did much more than was required of him. In his leisure hours heread diligently, and entered with zest into the prison school-work, taking up especially history and languages. The prison chaplain and theteachers took an interest in him, and procured books for him which weregenerally unobtainable by the prisoners. 

When he was thoroughly tired out he allowed his mind to seek rest inthoughts of his home. His weariness cast a conciliatory light overeverything, and he would lie upon his pallet and in imagination spendhappy hours with his children, including that young cuckoo who alwayslooked at him with such a strangely mocking expression. To Ellen alonehe did not get near. She had never been so beautiful as now in herunapproachableness, but she received all his assurances in mysterioussilence, only gazing at him with her unfathomable eyes. He had forsakenher and the home; he knew that; but had he not also made reparation? Itwas _her_ child he held on his knee, and he meant to build the homeup again. He had had enough of an outlaw's life, and needed a heart uponwhich to rest his weary head. 

All this was dreaming, but now he was on his way down to begin from thebeginning. He did not feel very courageous; the uncertainty held so manypossibilities. Were the children and Ellen well, and was she stillwaiting for him? And his comrades? How would his fate shape itself?

 * * * * *

Pelle was so little accustomed to being in the fresh air that itaffected him powerfully, and, much against his will, he fell asleep ashe leaned back upon the bank. The longing to reach the end of hisjourney made him dream that he was still walking on and making his entryinto the city; but he did not recognize it, everything was so changed. People were walking about in their best clothes, either going to thewood or to hear lectures. "Who is doing the work, then?" he asked of aman whom he met. 

"Work!" exclaimed the man in surprise. "Why, the machines, of course! Weeach have three hours at them in the day, but it'll soon be changed totwo, for the machines are getting more and more clever. It's splendid tolive and to know that there are no slaves but those inanimate machines;and for that we have to thank a man called Pelle. "

"Why, that's me!" exclaimed Pelle, laughing with pleasure. 

"You! What absurdity! Why, you're a young man, and all this happenedmany years ago. "

"It is me, all the same! Don't you see that my hair is gray and myforehead lined? I got like that in fighting for you. Don't you recognizeme?" But people only laughed at him, and he had to go on. 

"I'll go to Ellen!" he thought, disheartened. "She'll speak up for me!"And while the thought was in his mind, he found himself in her parlor. 

"Sit down!" she said kindly. "My husband'll be here directly. "

"Why, I'm your husband!" he exclaimed, hardly able to keep back histears; but she looked at him coldly and without recognition, and movedtoward the door. 

"I'm Pelle!" he said, holding out his hand beseechingly. "Don't you knowme?"

Ellen opened her lips to cry out, and at that moment the husbandappeared threateningly in the doorway. From behind him Lasse Frederikand Sister peeped out in alarm, and Pelle saw with a certain amount ofsatisfaction that there were only the two. The terrible thing, however, was that the man was himself, the true Pelle with the good, fairmoustache, the lock of hair on his forehead and the go-ahead expression. When he discovered this, it all collapsed and he sank down in despair. 

Pelle awoke with a start, bathed in perspiration, and saw withthankfulness the fields and the bright atmosphere: he was at any ratestill alive! He rose and walked on with heavy steps while the springbreeze cooled his brow. 

His road led him to Nörrebro. The sun was setting behind him; it must beabout the time for leaving off work, and yet no hooter sounded from thenumerous factories, no stream of begrimed human beings poured out of theside streets. In the little tea-gardens in the Frederikssund Road satworkmen's families with perambulator and provision-basket; they weredressed in their best and were enjoying the spring day. Was there afterall something in his dream? If so, it would be splendid to come back! Heasked people what was going on, and was told that it was the elections. "We're going to take the city to-day!" they said, laughing triumphantly. 

From the square he turned into the churchyard, and went down the somberavenue of poplars to Chapel Road. Opposite the end of the avenue he sawthe two little windows in the second floor; and in his passionatelonging he seemed to see Ellen standing there and beckoning. He ran now, and took the stairs three or four at a time. 

Just as he was about to pull the bell-cord, he heard strange voiceswithin, and paused as though paralyzed. The door looked cold and as ifit had nothing to do with him; and there was no door-plate. He wentslowly down the stairs and asked in the greengrocer's cellar belowwhether a woman who sewed uppers did not live on the second floor to theleft. She had been forsaken by her husband and had two children--_three_, he corrected himself humbly; What had become of them?

The deputy-landlord was a new man and could give him no information; sohe went up into the house again, and asked from door to door but withoutany result. Poor people do not generally live long in one place. 

Pelle wandered about the streets at haphazard. He could think of no wayof getting Ellen's address, and gave it up disheartened; in his forlorncondition he had the impression that people avoided him, and itdiscouraged him. His soul was sick with longing for a kind word and acaress, and there was no one to give them. No eyes brightened at seeinghim out again, and he hunted in vain in house after house for some onewho would sympathize with him. A sudden feeling of hatred arose in him, an evil desire to hit out at everything and go recklessly on. 

Twilight was coming on. Below the churchyard wall some newspaper-boyswere playing "touch last" on their bicycles. They managed their machineslike circus-riders, and resembled little gauchos, throwing them back andrunning upon the back wheel only, and bounding over obstacles. They hadstrapped their bags on their backs, and their blue cap-bands flappedabout their ears like pennons. 

Pelle seated himself upon a bench, and absently followed their recklessplay, while his thoughts went back to his own careless boyhood. A boy often or twelve took the lead in breakneck tricks, shouting andcommanding; he was the chief of the band, and maintained the leadershipwith a high hand. His face, with its snub nose, beamed with livelyimpudence, and his cap rested upon two exceptionally prominent ears. 

The boys began to make of the stranger a target for their exuberantspirits. In dashing past him they pretended to lose control of theirmachine, so that it almost went over his foot; and at last the leadersuddenly snatched off his cap. Pelle quietly picked it up, but when theboy came circling back with measured strokes as though pondering somefresh piece of mischief he sprang up and seized him by the collar. 

"Now you shall have a thrashing, you scamp!" he said, lifting him offhis bicycle. "But it'll be just as well if you get it from your parents. What's your father's name?"

"He hasn't got a father!" cried the other boys, flocking round themthreateningly. "Let him go!"

The boy opened his lips to give vent to a torrent of bad language, butstopped suddenly and gazed in terror at Pelle, struggling like a madthing to get away. Pelle let him go in surprise, and saw him mount hisbicycle and disappear howling. His companions dashed after him like aflight of swallows. "Wait a little, Lasse Frederik!" they cried. Pellestood a little while gazing after them, and then with bent head walkedslowly into Nörrebro Street. 

It was strange to be walking again in this street, which had played sogreat a part in his life. The traffic was heavier here than in otherplaces, and the stone paving made it more so. A peculiar adamantineself-dependence was characteristic of this district where every step wasweighted with the weight of labor. 

The shops were the same, and he also recognized several of theshopkeepers. He tried to feel at home in the crowd, and looked intopeople's faces, wondering whether any one would recognize him. He bothwished and feared it, but they hurried past, only now and then one ofthem would wonder a little at his strange appearance. He himself knewmost of them as well as if it had been yesterday he had had to do withthose thousands, for the intermediate years had not thrust new faces inbetween him and the old ones. Now and again he met one of his menwalking on the pavement with his wife on his arm, while others werestanding on the electric tramcars as drivers and conductors. Weaklingsand steady fellows--they were his army. He could name them by name andwas acquainted with their family circumstances. Well, a good deal ofwater had run under the bridge since then!

He went into a little inn for travelling artisans, and engaged a room. 

"It's easy to see that you've been away from this country for a day ortwo, " said the landlord. "Have you been far?"

Oh, yes, Pelle had seen something of the world. And here at home therehad been a good many changes. How did the Movement get on?

"Capitally! Yes, awfully well! Our party has made tremendous progress;to-day we shall take the town!"

"That'll make a difference in things, I suppose?"

"Oh, well, I wouldn't say that for certain. Unemployment increases everyyear, and it's all the same who represents the town and sits inparliament. But we've got on very well as far as prices go. "

"Tell me--there was a man in the Movement a few years ago called Pelle;what's become of him?"

The landlord scratched his parting. "Pelle! Pelle! Yes, of course. Whatin the world was there about him? Didn't he make false coins, or rob atill? If I remember right, he ended by going to prison. Well, well, there are bad characters in every movement. "

A couple of workmen, who were sitting at a table eating fried liver, joined in the conversation. "He came a good deal to the front five orsix years ago, " said one of them with his mouth full. "But there wasn'tmuch in him; he had too much imagination. "

"He had the gift of the gab, anyhow, " said the other. "I stilldistinctly remember him at the great lock-out. He could make you thinkyou were no end of a fine fellow, he could! Well, that's all past andgone! Your health, comrade!"

Pelle rose quietly and went out. He was forgotten; nobody rememberedanything about him, in spite of all that he had fought for and suffered. Much must have passed over their heads since then, and him they hadsimply forgotten. 

He did not know what to do with himself, more homeless here in thisstreet, which should have been his own, than in any other place. It wasblack with people, but he was not carried with the stream; he resembledsomething that has been washed up to one side and left lying. 

They were all in their best clothes. The workmen came in crowds on theirway either from or to the polling-booths, and some were collected andaccompanied thither by eager comrades. One man would shout to anotheracross the road through his hollowed hand: "Hi, Petersen! I supposeyou've voted?" Everywhere there was excitement and good humor: the citywas to be taken!

Pelle went with the stream over Queen Louise's Bridge and farther intothe city. Here the feeling was different, opinions were divided, peopleexchanged sharp words. Outside the newspaper-offices stood dense crowdsimpeding the wheel-traffic as they waited patiently for the results thatwere shown in the windows. Every time a contested district came in, awave of movement passed through the crowd, followed by a mighty roar ifa victory was recorded. All was comparatively quiet; people stoodoutside the offices of the papers that bore the color of their party. Only the quarrelsome men gathered about their opponents and had theirhats bashed in. Within the offices the members of the staff were passingbusily backward and forward, hanging up the results and correcting them. 

All the _cafés_ and restaurants were full of customers. Thetelephone rang incessantly, and messengers kept coming with lists fromthe telegram bureaus; men fought over the results in front of the greatblackboard and chances were discussed at the tables and much politicalnonsense was talked. 

Pelle had never seen the city so excited, not even during the greatlock-out. Class faced class with clenched fists, the workmen even moreeager than the upper class: they had become out-and-out politicians. Hecould see that the Movement had shifted its center of gravity over this. What was necessary was to gain seats; to-day they expected to get theupper hand in the city and a firm footing out in the country. Several ofthe old leaders were already in parliament and brought forward theirpractical experience in the debate; their aim now was nothing less thanto usurp the political power. This was bold enough: they must have beensuccessful, after all. He still possessed his old quickness of hearingas regards the general feeling, and perceived a change in the publictone. It had become broader, more democratic. Even the upper classessubmitted to the ballot now, and condescended to fight for a majority ofvotes. 

Pelle could see no place for himself, however, in this conflict. "Hi, you there! I suppose you've voted?" men shouted to him as they passed. Voted! He had not even the right to vote! In the battle that was nowbeing fought, their old leader was not even allowed to take part as anordinary soldier. 

Out of the road! They marched in small bands on their way to thepolling-booths or the Assembly Rooms, taking up the whole pavement, andPelle readily moved out of their way. This time he did not come like aking's son for whom the whole world stood waiting. 

He was of the scum of the earth, neither more nor less, one who had beenthrown aside and forgotten. If he succeeded in recalling himself totheir remembrance, it would only be the bringing up of the story of acriminal. There was the house where the Stolpes lived. Perhaps they knewwhere Ellen was. But what did it matter to him? He had not forgottenLasse Frederik's terror-stricken face. And there was the corner housewhere Morten had managed the business. Ah, it was long since their wayshad parted! Morten had in reality always envied him; he had not beenable to bear his tremendous success. Now he would be able to crow overhim!

Anger and bitterness filled his heart, and his head was confused, andhis thoughts, bred of malice, were like clumsy faultfinders. For yearsthe need of associating with human beings had been accumulating withinhim; and now the whole thing gave way like an avalanche. He could easilypick a quarrel with some one, just to make himself less a matter ofindifference to the rest of the world. Why shouldn't he go to the"Cupping-Glass"? He would be expected there at any rate. 

Outside Griffenfeldt Street there was a crowd. A number of people hadgathered round a coal-heaver, who was belaboring a lamp-post with thetoes of his wooden shoes, at the same time using abusive language. Hehad run against it and had a bruise on his forehead. People were amusingthemselves at his expense. 

As the light from the lamp fell upon the coal-blackened face of thedrunken man, Pelle recognized him. It was Merry Jacob. He pushed his wayangrily through the crowd and took him by the shoulder. "What's thematter with you, Jacob? Have you become a drunkard?" he said hotly. "How's that?"

"It's got no business to get in the way of an organized workman, " Jacobsaid indistinctly, kicking the air to the great delight of theonlookers, who encouraged him to continue. "I'm a member of myorganization, and don't owe anything; you can see for yourselves!" Hepulled out of his breast-pocket a little book in a black leather cover, and turned over its pages. "Just look for yourselves! Member'ssubscription paid, isn't it? Strike subscription paid, isn't it? Shownon entrance, isn't it? Just you shut up! Take it and pass it round; wemust have our papers in order. You're supporting the election fund, Isuppose? Go up and vote, confound you! The man who won't give his miteis a poor pal. Who says thief? There's no one here that steals. I'm anhonest, organized--" He suddenly began to weep, and the saliva droppedfrom the corners of his mouth onto his coat, while he made fearfulgrimaces. 

Pelle managed to get him into a courtyard, and washed his wound at thepump. The cold water made him shiver, and his head lolled weakly. "Sucha snotty blackleg!" he murmured. "I'll get the chairman to give him adoing in the paper. "

Suddenly he recognized Pelle. He started, and consciousness struggled toobtain control over his dulled senses. "Why, is that you, master?" heasked shamefacedly, seizing Pelle's hand. "So you've come back! Isuppose you think me a beast, but what can I do?"

"Just come along!" said Pelle sharply, anxious to get away from thecrowd of spectators. 

They went down Meinung Street, Jacob staggering along in silence, andlooking askance at his former leader. He walked a little awkwardly, butit came from his work; the meeting with Pelle had made him almost sober. "I'm sure you think I'm a beast, " he said again at last in a pitifulvoice. "But you see there's no one to keep me straight. "

"It's the fault of the brandy, " said Pelle shortly. 

"Well, you may be right, but a fellow needs a kind word now and then, and you have to take it where you can get it. Your pals look down uponyou and chuck you out of their set. "

"What's the matter, then?" asked Pelle. 

"What's the matter? Six times five's the matter, because I wouldn't letmy old father starve during the lockout. We had a jolly good time then. I was a good son! Didn't mind the fat purses of the bigwigs and a littlebread and water--and the devil and his standpipe! But now they'resinging another tune: That man! Why, he's been punished for theft! Endof him. No one asks why; they've become big men, you see. In olden daysI was always called Merry Jacob, and the fellows liked to be in myshift. Do you know what they call me now? Thieving Jacob. Well, theydon't say it right out, for if they did, some one 'ud crack their headsfor them; but that is my name. Well, I say to myself, perhaps you saweverything topsy-turvy in those days; perhaps, after all, you're nothingbut a thief. And then I have to drink to become an honest man again. "

"And get in rages with the lamp-posts! Don't you think you'd do betterto hit out at those who wrong you?"

Jacob was silent and hung his head; the once strong, bold fellow hadbecome like a dog that any one might kick. If it were so dreadful tobear six times five among one's own people, what could Pelle say? "Howis your brother?" he asked, in order to divert Jacob's thoughts tosomething brighter. "He was a splendid fellow. "

"He hung himself, " answered Jacob gloomily. "He couldn't stand it anylonger. We broke into a house together, so as to be equal about it; andthe grocer owed the old man money--he'd worked for it--and they meant tocheat him out of it. So the two old things were starving, and had nofire either; and we got them what they'd a right to, and it was sosplendidly done too. But afterward when there was a row at the works, agitation and election fuss and all that kind of thing, they just wentand left him and me out. We weren't the right sort, you see; we hadn'tthe right to vote. He couldn't get even with the business in any otherway than by putting a rope over the lamp-hook in the ceiling. I'velooked at the matter myself all round, you see, but I can't makeanything of it. " He walked on a little without speaking, and then said:"Would you hit out properly now? There's need of a kind word. "

Pelle did not answer; it was all too sad. He did not even hear thequestion. 

"It was chiefly what you said that made me believe in a better timecoming, " Jacob continued persistently, "or perhaps my brother and mewould have done differently and things might have gone better with bothof us. Well, I suppose you believed it yourself, but what do you thinknow? Do you still believe in that about the better time? For I shouldlike to be an honest man again. "

Of course Pelle still believed in it. 

"For there aren't many who'd give a brass farthing for that story now;but if _you_ say so--I've got faith in you all the same. Otherswouldn't have the brains to think of anything for themselves, and it waslike the cork going off, so to speak, for us poor people when you wentaway; everything went flat. If anything happens, it doesn't do for apoor devil to look on; and every time any one wants to complain, he getsa voting-paper pushed into his hand and they say: Go and vote and thingswill be altered! But confound it, that can't rouse a fellow who's notlearnt anything from the time he was small. They'd taken a lot oftrouble about me now--whitewashing me so that I could use my right tovote; but they can't make me so that no one looks down on me. And so Isay, Thank you for nothing! But if you still believe in it, so will I, for I've got faith in you. Here's my hand on it!"

Jacob was the same simple, good-hearted fellow that he had been informer days when he lived in the attic in the "Ark. " There might verywell have been a little more evil in him. But his words warmed Pelle'sheart. Here was some one who needed him, and who still believed in himalthough he had been maimed in the fight. He was the first of thedisabled ones, and Pelle was prepared to meet with more and to heartheir accusations. Many of them would turn against him now that he waspowerless, but he would have to put up with that. He felt as though hehad the strength for it now. 

Pelle went into the street again, letting his feet carry him where theywould, while he thought of the past and the future. They had been socertain that a new age would dawn upon them at once! The new, greattruth had been so self-evident that it seemed as if all the oldconditions must fall before it as at a magic word; and now the everydayreality had worn the gloss off it. As far as he could see, nothingparticular had happened, and what was there to happen? That was not theway to overturn systems. From Merry Jacob's opinion he could draw hisown, but he was no longer despondent, he did not mind what happened. Hewould have had no objection to challenge the opinion of his old comradesat once, and find out how he stood. 

He had passed through several side streets when he suddenly foundhimself in front of a large, well-lighted building with a broad flightof steps, up which people were flocking. It was one of the working-men'shalls, and festivities were being held in it to celebrate the elections. Pelle went, by force of habit, with the stream. 

He remained at the back of the hall, and used his eyes as though he hadjust dropped down from some other planet; strange feelings welled upwithin him when he found himself once more among the people. For amoment he felt a vehement desire to cry: Here I am! and stretch out hisarms to them all; but he quickly controlled it, and his face regainedits stony composure. 

This then was his army from the conflict. They were decidedly betterclothed than on the day when he led them in triumph into the city as itstrue citizens; they carried their heads higher too, did not get behindone another, but claimed room for themselves. They had more to eat, hecould see, for their faces shone more; and their eyes had becomeindolent in expression, and no longer looked hungrily out intouncertainty but moved quietly and unhesitatingly from place to place. They were prepared for another long march, and perhaps it was as well;great things did not happen in the twinkling of an eye. 

He was aroused from his thoughts by discovering that the people nearestto him were turning and gazing at him. The number of faces looking roundat him increased, and the words, "Pelle is here!" passed in a murmurthrough the crowd. Hundreds of eyes were directed toward himquestioningly and searchingly, some of them in evident expectation ofsomething unusual happening at once. 

The movement became general--a wave that carried him resistlessly to thefront of the hall and up onto the platform. A great roar like thebreaking of surf arose on all sides of him and stupefied his sensitivebrain in which silence sat always putting together a fine new worldabout which no one else knew. Suddenly everything was still, so stillthat the solitude was again audible to his ear. 

Pelle spoke quietly and with confidence. His words were a greeting tothem from a world they as yet did not know, the great solitude throughwhich man must move alone--without loud-voiced companions to encouragehim--and listen until he hears his own heart beat within it. He sits ina cell again, like the first original germ of life, alone and forsaken;and over him a spider skilfully spins its web. At first he is angry withthe busy insect, and tears down the web; but the insect begins againpatiently. And this suddenly becomes a consolatory lesson to him neverto give up; he becomes fond of the little vigilant creature that makesits web as skilfully as if it had a great responsibility, and he askshimself whether it is at all conscious of his existence. Is it sorry forhim in his forsaken condition, since it does not move to another place, but patiently builds its web up again, finer and finer, as if it hadonly been torn down because it was not made well enough? He bitterlyregrets his conduct, and would give much for a sign that the littleinsect is not angry with him, for no one can afford to offend another;the smallest creature is of vital importance to you. In the lonelinessof the prison cell you learn solidarity. And one day when he is sittingreading, the spider, in its busy efforts to carry its thread past him, drops down and uses his shoulder as a temporary attachment. Never beforehas such confidence been shown him notwithstanding everything; thelittle insect knew how a hardened criminal should be taken. It taughthim that he had both a heart and a soul to take care of. A greeting tohis comrades from the great silence that was waiting to speak to themone by one. 

He spoke from the depths of his soul, and saw surprise in their faces. What in the world did he want? Did he want them all to go to prison onlybecause he himself had been there? Was that all that was left of the oldPelle--Lightning, as he was then called? He was certainly rather weak inthe legs; there wasn't much of _his_ eloquence left! They quicklylost interest and began to talk together in undertones; there came onlya little desultory applause here and there from the corners. 

Pelle felt the disappointment and indifference, and smiled. He no longerhad need of storms of approbation; he listened for it now withinhimself. This much he had learned by standing up there, namely, that hehad not done with the men below; he was, in fact, only just beginningwith them. His work had been swept away: well then he would build up anew one that was better. He had sat in his prison-cell and learned long-suffering. 

He took a seat below the platform among the leaders of the meeting, andfelt that he was really a stranger there. It was out of compassion theyhad drawn him into the meeting; he read in their eyes that the work thathad been done was done without him, and that he came at an inopportunemoment. Would they have to reckon with him, the hare-brained fellow, nowagain, or did he mean to emigrate? Alas, he did not give much impetus tothe Movement! but if they only knew how much wisdom he had gained in hissolitude!

He did not talk, but looked on absently, trying to listen through thenoise for something lasting. They laughed and drank and made speeches--for him too; but all this was so unnecessary! They had gainedconfidence, they spoke quite openly, there was a certain emancipation intheir general behavior; taken as a whole, they made a good impression. But the miracle? the incomprehensible? He missed a little anxiety behindthe prosperity, the deep, silent pondering that would show that they hadgazed into a new world. Did they not hear the undertone at all, sincethey were making such a noise--the unceasing, soft rhythm that was inhis own ears continually and contained the whole thing? The stillness ofthe cell had made his hearing acute; the boisterous laughter, whichexpressed their pleasure in life, caused him suffering. 

Beside a large blackboard on the platform stood one of the leaders, writing up the victories of the day, amid the rejoicing of the crowd. Pelle slipped out unnoticed, and was standing on the steps, breathing inthe quiet night air, when a young man came up to him and held out hishand. It was his brother-in-law, Frederik Stolpe. "I just wanted to wishyou welcome back, " he said, "and to thank you for what you said inthere. "

"How is Ellen?" Pelle asked in a low voice. 

"She's only pretty well. She lives at 20, Victoria Street, and takes inwashing. I think she would be glad to see you. " He looked searchingly atPelle. "If you like, I can easily arrange for you to meet at my place. "

"Thank you!" Pelle answered, "but I'll go out to her early to-morrowmorning. " He no longer needed to go by circuitous routes. 

II

Pelle was awakened by a distant sound resembling thunder, that camenearer and nearer out of the night and kept close to the prison. He laystill and listened shudderingly in the hope of hearing the reassuringstep of the watchman passing his door, while fancies chased one anotherin his heavy head like riderless horses. The hollow, threatening soundgrew ever louder and clearer, until it suddenly shattered the stillnessof the night with a thunderous roar, which seemed to bring everythingcrashing down. It was as though a great gulf had opened and swallowedeverything. 

In one panic-stricken bound he was at the window, his heart beatingtumultuously; but the next moment he was ashamed of his mistake. It hadbeen the same terrifying Doomsday that he had dreaded in the days of hischildhood, when the lightning zig-zagged among the rocks at home; andyet it was nothing but the noise of the first farm-carts as they passedfrom the highroad onto the stone paving of the town. It was the solitudebrooding in his imagination, making it start in fear at every sound. Butthat would wear off. 

He stretched himself and shook off the nightmare. Free! No gaoler wascoming like a bad spirit to shatter the night's happy dream of freedom. He _was_ free! His pallet had not to be hooked up to the wall at acertain hour; he could lie as long as he wanted to, the whole day, if heliked. But now he had more important things to do; life was waiting. Hehastily put on his clothes. 

In the street the lamplighter was lighting every other lamp. An endlessprocession of carts was pouring in from the country to supply the town. Pelle threw open the window and looked out over the wakening city whilehe dressed himself. He was accustomed to sleep in a silence that wasonly broken by the soft squeaking of the mice under the heat-grating;and the night-noises of the city--the rumble of the electric trams, theshouts of night-wanderers--all these unwonted sounds that pierced thedarkness so startlingly, had filled, his sleep with feverish dreams andcaused a series of ugly, deformed visions to pass through his brain. 

He now felt quite rested, however, and greeted the city with awakenedpleasure. Yes, he had slept more than sufficiently; the noise called himand he must go down and give a helping hand to keep it going. For yearshe had done nothing but hoard; now he would set to work again withstrength and courage. As soon as he was dressed he went out. It was tooearly to visit Ellen, but he could not bear to stay in any longer. Itwas early morning. The first tram-car came in, filled with workmen, someeven hanging on to the steps both of the motor-wagon and the two carsfollowing it. And there was the first peasant with milk: they were noteven up yet in the ice-dairy! Every quarter of an hour trams came inwith workmen, and the market-carts continued to drive in from thecountry laden with vegetables, corn or pigs' carcasses. The street waslike a feeding-tube through which nourishment was continually beingdrawn into the city. 

On the top of swaying loads of straw sat Zealand peasants nodding. Theyhad come all the way from the Frederikssund quarter, and had beendriving all night. Here and there came a drover with a few animalsintended for the cattle-market. The animals did not like the town, andconstantly became restive, hitching themselves round lamp-posts orgetting across the tram-lines. The newspaper-women trudged from street-door to street-door with their aprons laden with morning papers, and heheard them toiling up the stairs as though their feet were weighted withlead. And beneath all this could be heard the endless tramp-tramp ofworkmen hastening to their work. 

There was a peculiarly familiar sound in those footsteps, which suddenlyreminded him that he no longer belonged to their party, but had markedout his own way for good and evil. 

Why was he not still a small, impersonal fraction of this great streamwhich day after day mechanically followed the same round in the mill?Solitude had made his view of mankind a new and wondering one; he now, in every strange face he met, involuntarily sought for a little of thatwhich makes each individual a world in himself. But these men were allalike, he thought; they came hurrying out of the darkness of the sidestreets, and were not fully awake and steady on their feet until theyjoined the throng, but then they did walk capitally. He recognized thefirm beat again: he had himself taught it to them. 

Daylight came stealing in over Vesterbro, gray and heavy with springmoisture and the city smoke. That part of the town was not quite awakeyet; the step sounding in the main street was that of the belated night-wanderer. He turned down Victoria Street, looking about him in surprise;he had never been here before. He read the door-plates: Artists' Bureau, Artisan Heim, Lodging for Artists, Masseur & Chiropodist, Costumes forHire. Most of the announcements were in foreign languages. There wasalso a Gymnasium for Equilibrists and a Conservatorium for Singing andMusic, Dancing and Deportment. Nor did there seem to be a scarcity ofpawnbrokers and dealers in second-hand goods. How had Ellen drifted intothis strange atmosphere of perfumes and old clothes and foreigncountries? Behind the windows in the low rooms he saw wonderful dressesthrown over chair-backs--burnouses and red fezes; and a little darkfigure with a long pigtail and bare feet in yellow slippers, glidednoiselessly past him in the old-fashioned, palatial doorway of No. 20. 

He mounted the stairs with a beating heart. The steps were worn andgroaned ominously when trodden on. The door of the flat stood ajar, andhe heard the sound of sweeping in the front room, while farther in achild was talking to itself or its doll. He had to stand a little whileon the landing to take breath and to regain his composure. 

Ellen was sweeping under the sofa with quick movements. She rose andgazed at him in bewilderment; the broom fell from her hand and sheswayed to and fro. Pelle caught her, and she leaned inert and helplessagainst him, and remained thus for a considerable time, pale and withclosed eyes. When at last he turned her inanimate face toward him andkissed, it, she burst into tears. 

He spoke gently and reassuringly to her as to a child. She kept her eyesclosed, as she had always done when anything overwhelmed her. She layback on his arm, and he felt her body tremble at the sound of his voice. Her tears seemed to soften her, and from the yielding of her body now hecould see how stiffly she must have held herself, and was filled withjoy. It had all been for his sake, and with a tremendous effort of herwill she had defied fate until he came. She now placed it all at hisfeet and lay prostrate. How tired she must be! But now she and thechildren should have a good time; he would live for her now!

He had laid her on the sofa and sat bending over her and telling herquietly how he had repented and longed for her. She made no answer, butheld his hand in a convulsive grasp, now and then opening her eyes andstealing a glance at him. Suddenly she discovered how worn and lined hisface was, and as she passed her hand over it as if to soften thefeatures, she broke into a storm of weeping. 

"You have suffered so, Pelle!" she exclaimed vehemently, passing hertrembling fingers through his iron-gray hair. "I can feel by your poorhead how badly they've treated you. And I wasn't even with you! If Icould only do something really nice to make you look happy!"

She drew his head down onto her bosom and stroked it as a mother mighther child's, and Pelle's face changed as would a child's when taken toits mother's breast. It was as though the well of life flowed throughhim, the hardness of his expression disappeared, and life and warmthtook its place. "I didn't think you'd come back to us, " said Ellen. "Ever since Lasse Frederik met you yesterday I've been expecting you tocome. "

Pelle suddenly noticed how exhausted she looked. "Haven't you been tobed all night?" he asked. 

She smilingly shook her head. "I had to take care that the street-doorwasn't locked. Whenever any one came home, I ran down and unlocked itagain. You mustn't be angry with the boy for being afraid of you just atfirst. He was sorry for it afterward, and ran about the town all theevening trying to find you. "

A clear child's voice was calling from the bedroom more and morepersistently: "Man! Good-morning, man!"

It was Sister, sitting up in Ellen's bed and playing with a feather thatshe had pulled out of the corner of the down-quilt. She readily allowedherself to be kissed, and sat there with pouting mouth and the funniestlittle wrinkled nose. "You're man!" she said insinuatingly. 

"Yes, that's true enough, " answered Pelle, laughing: "but what man?"

"Man!" she repeated, nodding gravely. 

Sister shared Ellen's bed now. At the foot of the big bed stood her ownlittle cot, which had also been Lasse Frederik's, and in it lay----. Well, Pelle turned to the other side of the room, where Lasse Frederiklay snoring in a small bed, with one arm beneath his head. He had kickedoff the quilt, and lay on his stomach in a deep sleep, with his limbsextended carelessly. The little fellow was well built, thought Pelle. 

"Now, lazy-bones, you'd better be thinking of getting up!" cried Pelle, pulling him by the leg. 

The boy turned slowly. When he saw his father, he instantly became wideawake, and raised his arm above his head as though to ward off a blow. 

"There's no box on the ears in the air, my boy, " said Pelle, laughing. "The game only begins to-day!"

Lasse Frederik continued to hold his arm in the same position, and laygazing indifferently out into the front room, as if he had no idea towhat his father was referring; but his face was scarlet. 

"Don't you even say good-morning to your father?" said Ellen, whereuponhe sullenly extended his hand and then turned his face to the wall. Hewas vexed at his behavior of the day before, and perhaps expected ablowing-up. On a nail above his head hung his blouse and cap. 

"Is Lasse Frederik a milk-boy?" asked Pelle. 

"Yes, " said Ellen, "and he's very good at it. The drivers praise him. "

"Isn't he going to get up then, and go? I've met several milk-carts. "

"No, for we're on strike just now, " murmured the boy without turninground. 

Pelle became quite interested. "What fellows you are! So you're onstrike, are you? What's it for--is it wages?"

The boy had to explain, and gradually turned his face round, but did notlook at his father. 

Ellen stood in the doorway and listened to them smilingly. She lookedfrail. "Lasse Frederik's the leader, " she said gently. 

"And he's lying here instead of being out on the watch for blacklegs?"exclaimed Pelle quite irritably. "You're a nice leader!"

"Do you suppose any boy would be so mean as to be a blackleg?" saidLasse Frederik. "No, indeed! But people fetch their own milk from thecarts. "

"Then you must get the drivers to join you. "

"No, we don't belong to a real union, so they won't support us. "

"Well then, make a union! Get up, boy, and don't lie there snoring whenthere's anything of this sort on! Do you imagine that anything in thisworld is to be got by sleeping?"

The boy did not move. He did not seem to think there was any reason fortaking his father very seriously; but he met a reproachful look fromEllen, and he was out of bed and dressed in a trice. While they sat inthe front room, drinking their coffee, Pelle gave him a few hints as tohow he should proceed in the matter. He was greatly interested, and wentthoroughly into the subject; it seemed to him as though it were onlyyesterday that he had occupied himself with the people. How manypleasant memories of the fight crowded into his mind! And now everychild knew that the meanest thing on earth was to become a blackleg! Howhe had fought to make even intelligent fellow-workmen understand this!It was quite comical to think that the strike--which filled the workmenwith horror the first time he had employed it--was now a thing thatchildren made use of. Time passed with a fleet foot out here in the day;and if you wanted to keep pace you must look sharp!

When the boy had gone, Ellen came to Pelle and stroked his hair. "Welcome home!" she said softly, and kissed his furrowed brow. 

He pressed her hand. "Thank you for having a home for me, " he answered, looking into her eyes; "for if you hadn't, I think I should have gone tothe dogs. "

"The boy has had his share in that, you know! He's worked well, or itmight have gone badly with me many a time. You mustn't be angry withhim, Pelle, even if he is a little sullen to you. You must remember howmuch he's gone through with the other boys. Sometimes he's come homequite disheartened. "

"Because of me?" asked Pelle in a low voice. 

"Yes, for he couldn't bear them to say anything about you. At one timehe was always fighting, but now I think he's taught them to leave himalone; for he never gave in. But it may have left its marks on him. "

She lingered by him; there was something she wanted to say to him, butshe had a difficulty in beginning. "What is it?" he asked, in order tohelp her, his heart beating rapidly. He would have liked to get overthis without speech. 

She drew him gently into the bedroom and up to the little cot. "Youhaven't looked at Boy Comfort, " she said. 

He bent in embarrassment over the little boy who lay and gazed at himwith large, serious eyes. "You must give me a little time, " he said. 

"It's little Marie's boy, " said Ellen, with a peculiar intonation. 

He stood up quickly, and looked in bewilderment at her. It was a littlewhile before he comprehended. 

"Where is Marie?" he asked with difficulty. 

"She's dead, Pelle, " answered Ellen, and came to his aid by holding outher hand to him. "She died when the child was born. "

A gray shadow passed across Pelle's face. 

III

The house in which Pelle and his wife lived--the "Palace, " theinhabitants of the street called it--was an old, tumble-down, three-storied building with a mansard roof. Up the middle of the façade ranthe remains of some fluted pilasters through the two upper stories, making a handsome frame to the small windows. The name "Palace" had notbeen given to the house entirely without reason; the old woman who keptthe ironmonger's shop in the back building could remember that in herchildhood it had been a general's country-house, and stood quite byitself. At that time the shore reached to where Isted Street now runs, and the fruit-gardens went right into Council House Square. Two ancient, worm-eaten apple-trees, relics of that period, were still standingsqueezed in among the back buildings. 

Since then the town had pushed the fruit-gardens a couple of milesfarther back, and in the course of time side streets had been added tothe bright neighborhood of Vesterbro--narrow, poor-men's streets, whichsprang up round the scattered country-houses, and shut out the light;and poor people, artistes and street girls ousted the owners and turnedthe luxuriant summer resort into a motley district where booted povertyand shoeless intelligence met. 

The "Palace" was the last relic of a vanished age. The remains of itsformer grandeur were still to be seen in the smoke-blackened stucco anddeep windows of the attics; but the large rooms had been broken up intosets of one or two rooms for people of small means, half the widelanding being boarded off for coal-cellars. 

From Pelle's little two-roomed flat, a door and a couple of steps leddown into a large room which occupied the entire upper floor of the sidebuilding, and was not unlike the ruins of a former banqueting-hall. Theheavy, smoke-blackened ceiling went right up under the span roof and hadonce been decorated; but most of the plaster had now fallen down, andthe beams threatened to follow it. 

The huge room had been utilized, in the course of time, both as abrewery and as a warehouse; but it still bore the stamp of its formersplendor. The children of the property at any rate thought it was grand, and picked out the last remains of panelling for kindling-wood, andwould sit calling to one another for hours from the high ledges abovethe brick pillars, upon which there had once stood busts of famous men. 

Now and again a party of Russian or Polish emigrants hired the room andtook possession of it for a few nights. They slept side by side upon thebare floor, each using his bundle for a pillow; and in the morning theywould knock at the door of Ellen's room, and ask by gestures to beallowed to come to the water-tap. At first she was afraid of them andbarricaded the door with her wardrobe cupboard; but the thought of Pellein prison made her sympathetic and helpful. They were poor, needybeings, whom misery and misfortune had driven from their homes. Theycould not speak the language and knew nothing about the world; but theyseemed, like birds of passage, to find their way by instinct. In theirblind flight it was at the "Palace" that they happened to alight forrest. 

With this exception the great room lay unused. It went up through twostories, and could have been made into several small flats; but theowner of the property--an old peasant from Glostrup--was so miserly thathe could not find it in his heart to spend money on it, notwithstandingthe great advantage it would be to him. _Ellen_ had no objection tothis! She dried her customers' washing there, and escaped all the coal-dust and dirt of the yard. 

Chance, which so often takes the place of Providence in the case of poorpeople, had landed her and her children here when things had gone wrongwith them in Chapel Road. Ellen had at last, after hard toil, got herboot-sewing into good working order and had two pupils to help her, whena long strike came and spoiled it all for her. She struggled against itas well as she could, but one day they came and carried her bits offurniture down into the street. It was the old story: Pelle had heard itseveral times before. There she stood with the children, mounting guardover her belongings until it grew dark. It was pouring with rain, andthey did not know what to do. People stopped as they hurried by, asked afew questions and passed on; one or two advised her to apply to thecommittee for housing the homeless. This, however, both Ellen and LasseFrederik were too proud to do. They took the little ones down to themangling-woman in the cellar, and themselves remained on guard overtheir things, in the dull hope that something would happen, a hope ofwhich experience never quite deprives the poor. 

After they had stood there a long time something really did happen. Outof Nörrebro Street came two men dashing along at a tremendous pace witha four-wheeled cart of the kind employed by the poor of Copenhagen whenthey move--preferably by night--from one place to another. One of themen was at the pole of the cart, while the other pushed behind and, whenthe pace was at its height, flung himself upon his stomach on the cart, putting on the brake with the toes of his boots upon the road so as totwist the cart into the gutter. Upon the empty cart sat a middle-agedwoman, singing, with her feet dangling over the side; she was big andwore an enormous hat with large nodding flowers, of the kind designed toattract the male sex. The party zig-zagged, shouting and singing, fromone side of the street to the other, and each time the lady shrieked. 

"_There's_ a removing cart!" said Lasse Frederik, and as he spokethe vehicle pulled up in the gutter just in front of them. 

"What are you doing, Thorvald?" said one of the men; then, staringstraight into Ellen's face, "Have you hurt your eye?"

The woman had jumped down from the cart. "Oh, get out of the way, youass!" she said, pushing him aside. "Can't you see they've been turnedout? Is it your husband that's chucked you out?" she asked, bendingsympathetically over Ellen. 

"No, the landlord's turned us out!" said Lasse Frederik. 

"What a funny little figure! And you've got nowhere to sleep to-night?Here, Christian, take and load these things on the cart, and then theycan stand under the gateway at home for the night. They'll be quitespoilt by the rain here. "

"Yes, " answered Christian, "the chair-legs have actually begun to takeroot!" The two men were in a boisterous humor. 

"Now you can just come along with me, " said the woman, when the thingswere piled upon the cart, "and I'll find you a place to sleep in. Andthen to-morrow Providence'll perhaps be at home himself!"

"She's a street-woman, " whispered Lasse Frederik again and again, pulling Ellen's dress; but Ellen did not care now, if only she couldavoid having to accept poor relief. She no longer held her head so high. 

It was "Queen Theresa" herself they had met, and in a sense this meetinghad made their fortune. She helped Ellen to find her little flat, andgot her washing to do for the girls of the neighborhood. It was not verymuch, though the girls of Vesterbro went in for fine clothes as far asthey could; but it afforded her at any rate a livelihood. 

 * * * * *

Pelle did not like Ellen going on with all this dirty work; he wanted tobe the one to provide for the family. Ellen moreover had had her turn, and she looked tired and as if she needed to live a more comfortablelife. It was as though she fell away now that he was there and able oncemore to assume the responsibility; but she would not hear of giving upthe washing. "It's never worth while to throw away the dirty water untilyou've got the clean!" she said. 

Every morning he set out furnished with a brand-new trades-union book, and went from workshop to workshop. Times were bad for his branch oftrade; many of his old fellow-workmen had been forced to take up otheroccupations--he met them again as conductors, lamplighters, etc. ;machinery had made them unnecessary, they said. It was the effect of thegreat lock-out; it had killed the little independent businesses that hadformerly worked with one or two men, and put wind into the sails oflarge industries. The few who could manage it had procured machines andbecome manufacturers; the rest were crowded out and sat in out-of-the-way basements doing repairs. To set to work again, on the old conditionswas what had been farthest from Pelle's thoughts; and he now went aboutand offered to become an apprentice again in order to serve his newmaster, the machinery, and was ready to be utilized to the utmost. Butthe manufacturers had no use for him; they still remembered him toowell. "You've been too long away from the work, " said one and another ofthem meaningly. 

Well, that was only tit for tat; but he felt bitterly how even his pastrose up against him. He had fought and sacrificed everything to improvethe conditions in his branch; and the machines were the discouraginganswer that the development gave to him and his fellows. 

He was not alone in his vain search in this bright springtime. A numberof other branches had had the same fate as his own. Every new day thatdawned brought him into a stream of men who seemed to be condemned towear out the pavement in their hopeless search for work--people who hadbeen pushed out by the machines and could not get in again. "There mustbe something wrong with them, " Pelle thought while he stood and listenedto always the same story of how they had suddenly been dropped, and sawthe rest of the train steaming away. It must have been their own faultthat they were not coupled on to a new one; perhaps they were lazy ordrunkards. But after a time he saw good, tried men standing in the row, and offering their powers morning after morning without result; and hebegan to realize with a chill fear that times were changing. 

He would certainly have managed to make both ends meet if there had beenanything to be got. The prices were all right; their only defect wasthat they were not eatable. Altogether it seemed as if a change for theworse had overtaken the artisan; and to make it still more serious thelarge businesses stood in the way of his establishing himself andbecoming independent. There was not even a back door left open now!Pelle might just as well put that out of his head first as last; tobecome a master now required capital and credit. The best thing that thefuture held was an endless and aimless tramp to and from the factory. 

At one stroke he was planted in the middle of the old question again;all the circumstances passed before him, and it was useless to close hiseyes. He was willing enough to mind his own affairs and did not seek foranything; but the one thing was a consequence of the other, and whetherhe wished it or not, it united in a general view of the conditions. 

The union had stood the test outwardly. The workmen were well organizedand had vindicated their right to negotiate; their corporations could nolonger be disregarded. Wages were also to some extent higher, and thefeeling for the home had grown in the workmen themselves, many of themhaving removed from their basements into new two- or three-roomed flats, and bought good furniture. They demanded more from life, but everythinghad become dearer, and they still lived from hand to mouth. He could seethat the social development had not kept pace with the mechanical; themachines wedged themselves quietly but inexorably in between the workmenand the work, and threw more and more men out of employment. The hoursof labor were not greatly shortened. Society did not seem to care toprotect the workers, but it interested itself more in disabled workmenthan before, and provision for the poor was well organized. Pelle couldnot discover _any_ law that had a regulating effect, but found awhole number of laws that plastered up the existing conditions. A greatdeal of help was given, always just on the borders of starvation; andmore and more men had to apply for it. It did not rob them of theirrights as citizens, but made them a kind of politically _kept_proletariat. 

It was thus that the world of adventure which Pelle had helped toconquer appeared now when he returned and looked at it with new eyes. The world had not been created anew, and the Movement did not seem tohave produced anything strong and humanly supporting. It seemed as ifthe workmen would quietly allow themselves to be left out of the game, if only they received money for doing nothing! What had become of theirformer pride? They must have acquired the morals of citizens, since theywillingly agreed to accept a pension for rights surrendered. They werenot deficient in power; they could make the whole world wither and diewithout shedding a drop of blood, only by holding together. It was asense of responsibility that they lacked; they had lost the fundamentalidea of the Movement. 

Pelle looked at the question from all sides while he trudged up and downin his vain search. The prospect obtruded itself upon him, and therewere forces at work, both within and without, trying to push him intothe Movement and into the front rank among the leaders, but he repelledthe idea: he was going to work for his home now. 

He managed to obtain some repairs for the neighbors, and also helpedEllen to hang up clothes and turn the mangle. One must pocket one'spride and be glad _she_ had something. She was glad of his help, but did not want any one to see him doing this woman's work. 

"It's not work for a man, " she said, looking at him with eyes which saidhow pleased she was to have his company. 

They liked being together, enjoyed it in their own quiet way withoutmany words. Much had happened, but neither Pelle nor Ellen were in ahurry. Neither of them had a facility in speaking, but they found theirway to an understanding through the pauses, and drew nearer to oneanother in the silences. Each knew what the other had suffered withoutrequiring to have it told: time had been at work on them both. 

There was no storm in their new companionship. The days passed quietly, made sad by the years that had gone by. In Ellen's mind was neitherjubilation nor reproach. She was cautious with regard to him--almost asshy as the first time they met; behind all her goodness and care lay thesame touch of maidenly reserve as at that time. She received hiscaresses silently, she herself giving chiefly by being something forhim. He noticed how every little homely action she did for him grew outof her like a motherly caress and took him into her heart. He wasgrateful for it, but it was not that of which he stood most in need. 

When they sat together in the twilight and the children played upon thefloor, she was generally silent, stealing glances at him now and then;but as soon as he noticed these, the depth of her expression vanished. Was she again searching for his inner being as she had done in theirearliest time together? It was as though she were calling to somethingwithin him, but would not reveal herself. It was thus that mother mightsit and gaze searchingly into her child's future. Did she not love himthen? She had given him all that she possessed, borne him children, andhad faithfully waited for him when all the rest of the world had casthim off; and yet he was not sure that she had ever loved him. 

Pelle had never met with love in the form of something unmanageable; theMovement had absorbed the surplus of his youth. But now he had been bornanew together with the spring, and felt it suddenly as an inward power. He and Ellen would begin now, for now she was everything! Life hadtaught him seriousness, and it was well. He was horrified at thethoughtless way in which he had taken Ellen and made her a motherwithout first making her a bride. Her woman's heart must be immeasurablylarge since she had not gone to pieces in consequence, but still stoodas unmoved as ever, waiting for him to win her. She had got through itby being a mother. 

Would he ever win her? Was she really waiting still, or was shecontented with things as they were?

His love for her was so strong that everything about her wastransfigured, and he was happy in the knowledge that she was his fate. Merely a ribbon or a worn check cotton apron--any little thing thatbelonged to her--acquired a wonderfully warm hue, and filled his mindwith sweetness. A glance or a touch made him dizzy with happiness, andhis heart went out to her in waves of ardent longing. It awoke noresponse; she smiled gently and pressed his hand. She was fond of himand refused him nothing, but he nevertheless felt that she kept herinnermost self hidden from him. When he tried to see in, he found itclosed by a barrier of kindness. 

IV

Pelle was like a man returning home after years of exile, and trying tobring himself into personal relations with everything; the act ofoblivion was in force only up to the threshold; the real thing he had tosee to himself. The land he had tilled was in other hands, he no longerhad any right to it; but it was he who had planted, and he must know howit had been tended and how it had thriven. 

The great advance had taken on a political character. The Movement hadin the meantime let the demand of the poorest of the people for breaddrop, and thrown them over as one would throw over ballast in order torise more quickly. The institutions themselves would be won, and thenthey would of course come back to the starting-point and begin againquite differently. It might be rather convenient to turn out those whomost hindered the advance, but would it lead to victory? It was uponthem indeed that everything turned! Pelle had thoroughly learned thelesson, that he who thinks he will outwit others is outwitted himself. He had no faith in those who would climb the fence where it was lowest. 

The new tactics dated from the victorious result of the great conflict. He had himself led the crowds in triumph through the capital, and if hehad not been taken he would probably now be sitting in parliament as oneof the labor members and symbolizing his promotion to citizenship. Butnow he was out of it all, and had to choose his attitude toward theexisting state of things; he had belonged to the world of outcasts andhad stood face to face with the irreconcilable. He was not sure that thepoor man was to be raised by an extension of the existing social ethics. He himself was still an outlaw, and would probably never be anythingelse. It was hard to stoop to enter the doorway through which you hadonce been thrown out, and it was hard to get in. He did not intend totake any steps toward gaining admission to the company of respectablemen; he was strong enough to stand alone now. 

Perhaps Ellen expected something in that way as reparation for all thewrong she had suffered. She must have patience! Pelle had promisedhimself that he would make her and the children happy, and he persuadedhimself that this would be best attained by following his own impulses. 

He was not exactly happy. Pecuniarily things were in a bad way, andnotwithstanding all his planning, the future continued to lookuncertain. He needed to be the man, the breadwinner, so that Ellen couldcome to him for safety and shelter, take her food with an untroubledmind from his hand, and yield herself to him unresistingly. 

He was not their god; that was where the defect lay. This was noticeableat any rate in Lasse Frederik. There was good stuff in the boy, althoughit had a tang of the street. He was an energetic fellow, bright andpushing, keenly alert with regard to everything in the way of business. Pelle saw in him the image of himself, and was only proud of him; butthe boy did not look upon him with unconditional reliance in return. Hewas quick and willing, but nothing more; his attitude was one of trial, as if he wanted to see how things would turn out before he recognizedthe paternal relationship. 

Pelle suffered under this impalpable distrust, which classed him withthe "new fathers" of certain children; and he had a feeling that was atthe same time painful and ridiculous, that he was on trial. In oldendays the matter might have been settled by a good thrashing, but nowthings had to be arranged so that they would be lasting; he could nolonger buy cheaply. When helping Lasse Frederik in organizing the milk-boys, he pocketed his pride and introduced features from the greatconflict in order to show that he was good for something too. He couldsee from the boy's expression that he did not believe much of it, andintended to investigate the matter more closely. It wounded hissensitive mind and drove him into himself. 

One day, however, when he was sitting at his work, Lasse Frederik rushedin. "Father, tell me what you did to get the men that were locked intothe factory out!" he cried breathlessly. 

"You wouldn't believe it if I did, " said Pelle reproachfully. 

"Yes, I would; for they called you the 'Lightning!'" exclaimed the boyin tones of admiration. "And they had to put you in prison so as to getrid of you. The milk-driver told me all about it!"

From that day they were friends. At one stroke Pelle had become the heroof the boy's existence. He had shaved off his beard, had blackened hisface, and had gone right into the camp of his opponents, and nothingcould have been finer. He positively had to defend himself from beingturned into a regular robber-captain with a wide-awake hat and top-boots! Lasse Frederik had a lively imagination!

Pelle had needed this victory. He must have his own people safely at hisback first of all, and then have a thorough settlement of the past. Butthis was not easy, for little Boy Comfort staggered about everywhere, warped himself toward him from one piece of furniture to another withhis serious eyes fixed steadily upon him, and crawled the last part ofthe way. Whenever he was set down, he instantly steered for Pelle; hewould come crawling in right from the kitchen, and would not stop untilhe stood on his feet by Pelle's leg, looking up at him. "See how fond heis of you already!" said Ellen tenderly, as she put him down in themiddle of the floor to try him. "Take him up!" Pelle obeyedmechanically; he had no personal feeling for this child; it was indeedno child, but the accusation of a grown-up person that came crawlingtoward him. And there stood Ellen with as tender an expression as if itwere her own baby! Pelle could not understand how it was that she didnot despise him; he was ashamed whenever he thought of his struggle toreconcile himself to this "little cuckoo. " It was a good thing he hadsaid so little!

His inability to be as naturally kind to the child as she was tormentedhim; and when, on Saturday evening, she had bathed Boy Comfort and thensat with him on her lap, putting on his clean clothes, Pelle wasoverwhelmed with self-accusation. He had thoughtlessly trodden littleMarie of the "Ark" underfoot, and she whom he had cast off when she mostneeded him, in return passed her beneficent hand over his wrong-doing. As though she were aware of his gloomy thoughts, she went to him andplaced the warm, naked child in his arms, saying with a gentle smile:"Isn't he a darling?" Her heart was so large that he was almost afraid;she really took more interest in this child than in her own. 

"I'm his mother, of course!" she said naturally. "You don't suppose hecan do without a real mother, do you?"

Marie's fate lay like a shadow over Pelle's mind. He had to talk toEllen about it in order to try to dispel it, but she did not see thefateful connection; she looked upon it as something that had to be. "Youwere so hunted and persecuted, " she said quietly, "and you had no one tolook to. So it had to happen like that. Marie told me all about it. Itwas no one's fault that she was not strong enough to bear children. Thedoctor said there was a defect in her frame; she had an internaldeformity. " Alas! Ellen did not know how much a human being should beable to help, and she herself took much more upon her than she need. 

There was, nevertheless, something soothing in these sober facts, although they told him nothing about the real thing. It is impossible tobear for long the burden of the irreparable, and Pelle was glad thatEllen dwelt so constantly and naturally on Marie's fate; it brought itwithin the range of ordinary things for him too. Marie had come to herwhen she could no longer hide her condition, and Ellen had taken her inand kept her until she went to the lying-in hospital. Marie knew quitewell that she was going to die--she could feel it, as it were--and wouldsit and talk about it while she helped Ellen with her boot-sewing. Shearranged everything as sensibly as an experienced mother. 

"How old-fashioned she was, and yet so child-like!" Ellen would exclaimwith emotion. 

Pelle could not help thinking of his life in the "Ark" when little Mariekept house for him and her two brothers--a careful housekeeper of elevenyears! She was deformed and yet had abundant possibilities within her;she resembled poverty itself. Infected by his young strength, she hadshot up and unfolded into a fair maiden, at whom the young dandiesturned to look when she went along the street to make her purchases. Hehad been anxious about her, alone and unprotected as she was; and yet itwas he himself who had become the plunderer of the poor, defencelessgirl. Why had he not carried his cross alone, instead of accepting thelove of a being who gave herself to him in gratitude for his gift to herof the joy of life? Why had he been obliged, in a difficult moment, totake his gift back? Boy Comfort she had called her boy in her innocentgoodness of heart, in order that Pelle should be really fond of him; butit was a dearly-bought Comfort that cost the life of another! For Pellethe child was almost an accusation. 

There was much to settle up and some things that could not be arranged!Pelle sometimes found it burdensome enough to be responsible forhimself. 

About this time Morten was often in his thoughts. "Morten hasdisappointed me at any rate, " he thought; "he could not bear myprosperity!" This was a point on which Pelle had right upon his side!Morten must come to him if they were to have anything more to do withone another. Pelle bore no malice, but it was reasonable and just thatthe one who was on the top should first hold out his hand. 

In this way he thought he had obtained rest from that question in anycase, but it returned. He had taken the responsibility upon himself now, and was going to begin by sacrificing his only friend on a question ofetiquette! He would have to go to him and hold out a hand ofreconciliation!

This at last seemed to be a noble thought!

But Pelle was not allowed to feel satisfied with himself in this either. He was a prey to the same tormenting unrest that he had suffered in hiscell, when he stole away from his work and sat reading secretly--he feltas if there were always an eye at the peephole, which saw everythingthat he did. He would have to go into the question once more. 

That unselfish Morten envious? It was true he had not celebrated Pelle'svictory with a flourish of trumpets, but had preferred to be hisconscience! That was really at the bottom of it. He had intoxicatedhimself in the noise, and wanted to find something with which to drownMorten's quiet warning voice, and the accusation was not far to seek--_envy!_ It was he himself, in fact, who had been the one todisappoint. 

One day he hunted him up. Morten's dwelling was not difficult to findout; he had acquired a name as an author, and was often mentioned in thepapers in connection with the lower classes. He lived on the SouthBoulevard, up in an attic as usual, with a view over Kalvebod Strand andAmager. 

"Why, is that you?" he said, taking Pelle's hands in his and gazing intohis stern, furrowed face until the tears filled his eyes. "I say, howyou have changed!" he whispered half tearfully, and led him into hisroom. 

"I suppose I have, " Pelle answered gloomily. "I've had good reason to, anyhow. And how have you been? Are you married?"

"No, I'm as solitary as ever. The one I want still doesn't care aboutme, and the others _I_ don't want. I thought you'd thrown me overtoo, but you've come after all. "

"I had too much prosperity, and that makes you self-important. "

"Oh, well, it does. But in prison--why did you send my letters back? Itwas almost too hard. "

Pelle looked up in astonishment. "It would never have occurred to theprisoner that he could hurt anybody, so you do me an injustice there, "he said. "It was myself I wanted to punish!"

"You've been ill then, Pelle!"

"Yes, ill! You should only know what one gets like when they stifle yourright to be a human being and shut you in between four bare walls. Atone time I hated blindly the whole world; my brain reeled with trying tofind out a really crushing revenge, and when I couldn't hit others Ihelped to carry out the punishment upon myself. There was always asatisfaction in feeling that the more I suffered, the greater devils didit make the others appear. And I really did get a hit at them; theyhated with all their hearts having to give me a transfer. "

"Wasn't there any one there who could speak a comforting word--thechaplain, the teachers?"

Pelle smiled a bitter smile. "Oh, yes, the lash! The jailer couldn'tkeep me under discipline; I was what they call a difficult prisoner. Itwasn't that I didn't want to, but I had quite lost my balance. You mightjust as well expect a man to walk steadily when everything is whirlinground him. They saw, I suppose, that I couldn't come right by myself, soone day they tied me to a post, pulled my shirt up over my head and gaveme a thrashing. It sounds strange, but that did it; the manner ofprocedure was so brutal that everything in me was struck dumb. When sucha thing as _that_ could happen, there was nothing more to protestagainst. They put a wet sheet round me and I was lifted onto my pallet, so that was all right. For a week I had to lie on my face and couldn'tmove for the pain; the slightest movement made me growl like an animal. The strokes had gone right through me and could be counted on my chest;and there I lay like a lump of lead, struck down to the earth in open-mouthed astonishment. 'This is what they do to human beings!' I groanedinwardly; 'this is what they do to human beings!' I could no longercomprehend anything. "

Pelle's face had become ashen gray; all the blood had left it, and thebones stood out sharply as in a dead face. He gulped two or three timesto obtain control over his voice. 

"I wonder if you understand what it means to get a thrashing!" he saidhoarsely. "Fire's nothing; I'd rather be burnt alive than have it again. The fellow doesn't beat; he's not the least angry; nobody's angry withyou; they're all so seriously grieved on your account. He places thestrokes carefully down over your back as if he were weighing out food, almost as if he were fondling you. But your lungs gasp at each strokeand your heart beats wildly; it's as if a thousand pincers were tearingall your fibers and nerves apart at once. My very entrails contracted interror, and seemed ready to escape through my throat every time the lashfell. My lungs still burn when I think of it, and my heart will suddenlycontract as if it would send the blood out through my throat. Do youknow what the devilish part of corporal punishment is? It's not thebodily pain that they inflict upon the culprit; it's his inner man theythrash--his soul. While I lay there brooding over my mutilated spirit, left to lick my wounds like a wounded animal, I realized that I had beenin an encounter with the evil conscience of Society, the victim of theirhatred of those who suffer. "

"Do you remember what gave occasion to the punishment?" Morten asked, ashe wiped the perspiration from his forehead. 

"It was some little thing or other--I think I called out. The solitudeand the terrible silence got upon my nerves, and I suppose I shouted tomake a little life in the horrible emptiness. I don't remember veryclearly, but I think that was my crime. "

"You'd have been the better anyhow for a kind word from a friend. "Morten was still thinking of his despised letters. 

"Yes, but the atmosphere of a cell is not suited for friendly relationswith the outside world. You get to hate all who are at liberty--thosewho mean well by you too--and you chop off even the little bit of branchyou're sitting on. Perhaps I should never have got into touch with lifeagain if it hadn't been for the mice in my cell. I used to put crumbs ofbread down the grating for them, and when I lay there half dead andbrooding, they ran squeaking over my hand. It was a caress anyhow, evenif it wasn't from fellow-men. "

Morten lived in a small two-roomed flat in the attics. While they sattalking, a sound came now and then from the other room, and each time anervous look came into Morten's face, and he glanced in annoyance at theclosed door. Gradually he became quite restless and his attention wasfixed on these sounds. Pelle wondered at it, but asked no questions. 

Suddenly there came the sound of a chair being overturned. Morten rosequickly and went in, shutting the door carefully behind him. Pelle heardlow voices--Morten's admonishing, and a thin, refractory, girlish voice. "He's got a girl hidden in there, " thought Pelle. "I'd better be off. "

He rose and looked out of the large attic window. How everything hadchanged since he first came to the capital and looked out over it fromMorten's old lodging! In those days he had had dreams of conquering it, and had carried out his plan too; and now he could begin from thebeginning! An entirely new city lay spread out beneath him. Where he hadonce run about among wharves and coal-bunkers, there now stood a row ofpalatial buildings with a fine boulevard. And everything outside wasnew; a large working-men's district had sprung up where there had oncebeen timber-yards or water. Below him engines were drawing rows oftrucks filled with ballast across the site for the new goods-stationyard; and on the opposite side of the harbor a new residential andbusiness quarter had grown up on the Iceland Quay. And behind it all laythe water and the green land of Amager. Morten had had the sense toselect a high branch for himself like the nightingales. 

He had got together a good number of books again, and on his writing-table stood photographs of well-known men with autograph inscriptions. To all appearances he seemed to make his way in the world of books. Pelle took down some of Morten's own works, and turned over their leaveswith interest. He seemed to hear Morten's earnest voice behind theprinted words. He would begin to read him now!

Morten came in. "You're not going, are you?" he asked, drawing his handacross his forehead. "Do stay a little while and we'll have a good talk. You can't think how I've missed you!" He looked tired. 

"I'm looking forward tremendously to reading your books, " said Pelleenthusiastically. "What a lot you've written! You haven't given thatup. "

"Perhaps solitude's taught you too to like books, " said Morten, lookingat him. "If so, you've made some good friends in there, Pelle. All thatthere isn't worth much; it's only preliminary work. It's a new worldours, you must remember. "

"I don't think _The Working Man_ cares much about you. "

"No, not much, " answered Morten slowly. 

"They say you only write in the upper-class papers. "

"If I didn't I should starve. _They_ don't grudge me my food, atany rate! Our own press still has no use for skirmishers, but only formen who march to order!"

"And it's very difficult for you to subordinate yourself to any one, "said Pelle, smiling. 

"I have a responsibility to those above me, " answered Morten proudly. "If I give the blind man eyes to see into the future, I can't let myselfbe led by him. Now and then _The Working Man_ gets hold of one ofmy contributions to the upper-class press: that's all the connection Ihave with my own side. My food I have to get from the other side of theboundary, and lay my eggs there: they're pretty hard conditions. Youcan't think how often I've worried over not being able to speak to myown people except in roundabout ways. Well, it doesn't matter! I canafford to wait. There's no way of avoiding the son of my father, and inthe meantime I'm doing work among the upper classes. I bring the miseryinto the life of the happily-situated, and disturb their quietenjoyment. The upper classes must be prepared for the revolution too. "

"Can they stand your representations?" asked Pelle, in surprise. 

"Yes, the upper classes are just as tolerant as the common people werebefore they rose: it's an outcome of culture. Sometimes they're almosttoo tolerant; you can't quite vouch for their words. When there'ssomething they don't like, they always get out of it by looking at itfrom an artistic point of view. "

"How do you mean?"

"As a display, as if you were acting for their entertainment. 'It'ssplendidly done, ' they say, when you've laid bare a little of theboundless misery. 'It's quite Russian. Of course it's not real at all, at any rate not here at home. ' But you always make a mark on some one orother, and little by little the food after all becomes bitter to theirtaste, I think. Perhaps some day I shall be lucky enough to write insuch a way about the poor that no one can leave them out. But youyourself--what's your attitude toward matters? Are you disappointed?"

"Yes, to some extent. In prison, in my great need, I left the fulfilmentof the time of prosperity to you others. All the same, a great changehas taken place. "

"And you're pleased with it?"

"Everything has become dearer, " said Pelle slowly, "and unemploymentseems on the way to become permanent. "

Morten nodded. "That's the answer capital gives, " he said. "Itmultiplies every rise in wages by two, and puts it back on the workmenagain. The poor man can't stand very many victories of that kind. "

"Almost the worst thing about it is the development of snobbery. Itseems to me that our good working classes are being split up into two--the higher professions, which will be taken up into the upper classes;and the proletariat, which will be left behind. The whole thing has beenplanned on too small a scale for it to get very far. "

"You've been out and seen something of the world, Pelle, " said Mortensignificantly. "You must teach others now. "

"I don't understand myself, " answered Pelle evasively, "and I've been inprison. But what about you?"

"I'm no good as a rallier; you've seen that yourself. They don't careabout me. I'm too far in advance of the great body of them, and have noactual connection--you know I'm really terribly lonely! Perhaps, though, I'm destined to reach the heights before you others, and if I do I'lltry to light a beacon up there for you. "

Morten sat silent for a little while, and then suddenly lifted his head. 

"But you _must_, Pelle!" he said. "You say you're not the rightman, but there's simply no one but you. Have you forgotten that youfired the Movement, that you were its simple faith? They one and allbelieved in you blindly like children, and were capable of nothing whenyou gave up. Why, it's not you, but the others--the whole Movement--who've been imprisoned! How glad I am that you've come back full of thestrength gained there! You were smaller than you are now, Pelle, andeven then something happened; now you may be successful even in greatthings. "

Pelle sat and listened in the deepening twilight, wondering with apleased embarrassment. It was Morten who was nominating him--the severe, incorruptible Morten, who had always before been after him like his evilconscience. 

"No, I'm going to be careful now, " he said, "and it's your own fault, Morten. You've gone and pricked my soul, and I'm awake now; I shan't goat anything blindly again. I have a feeling that what we two are joiningin is the greatest thing the world has ever seen. It reaches furtherinto the future than I can see, and so I'm working on myself. I studythe books now--I got into the way of that in prison--and I must try toget a view out over the world. Something strange too has happened to me:I understand now what you meant when you said that man was holy! I'm nolonger satisfied with being a small part of the whole, but think I musttry to become a whole world by myself. It sounds foolish, but I feel asif I were in one of the scales and the rest of the world in the other;and until I can send the other scale up, I can't think of putting myselfat the head of the multitude. "

Evening had closed in before they were aware of it. The electric lightfrom the railway-station yard threw its gleam upon the ceiling of theattic room and was reflected thence onto the two men who sat leaningforward in the half-darkness, talking quietly. Neither of them noticedthat the door to the other room had opened, and a tall, thin girl stoodon the threshold gazing at them with dilated pupils. She was in herchemise only, and it had slipped from one thin shoulder; and her feetwere bare. The chemise reached only to her knees, leaving exposed a pairof sadly emaciated legs. A wheezing sound accompanied her breathing. 

Pelle had raised his head to say something, but was silent at sight ofthe lean, white figure, which stood looking at him with great eyes thatseemed to draw the darkness into them. The meeting with Morten had puthim into an expectant frame of mind. He still had the call sounding inhis ears, and gazed in amazement at the ghostly apparition. The delicatelines, spoiled by want, the expression of childlike terror of the dark--all this twofold picture of wanness stamped with the stamp of death, andof an unfulfilled promise of beauty--was it not the ghost of poverty, ofwrong and oppression, a tortured apparition sent to admonish him? Washis brain failing? Were the horrible visions of the darkness of his cellreturning? "Morten!" he whispered, touching his arm. 

Morten sprang up. "Why, Johanna! Aren't you ashamed of yourself?" heexclaimed reproachfully. He tried to make the girl go back into theother room, and to close the door; but she pushed past him out into theroom. 

"I _will_ see him!" she cried excitedly. "If you don't let me, Ishall run away! He's hidden my clothes, " she said to Pelle, gazing athim with her sunken eyes. "But I can easily run away in my chemise. Idon't care!" Her voice was rough and coarse from the damp air of theback yards. 

"Now go back to bed, Johanna!" said Morten more gently. 

"Remember what the doctor said. You'll catch cold and it'll all bewasted. "

"What do I care!" she answered, breaking into a coarse laugh. "Youneedn't waste anything on me; I've had no children by you. " She wastrembling with cold, but remained obstinately standing, and answeredMorten's remonstrances with a torrent of abusive epithets. At last hegave it up and sat down wearily. The two men sat and looked at her insilence. 

The child was evidently uncomfortable at the cessation of resistance, and became confused beneath their silent gaze. She tossed her head andlooked defiantly from the one to the other, her eyes glowing with anunnatural brightness. Suddenly she sank upon the floor and began to cry. 

"_This_ won't do, " said Pelle gravely. 

"I can't manage her, " answered Morten hopelessly, "but you are strongenough. "

Pelle stooped and took her up in his arms. She kicked and bit him. "She's got a fit, " he said to Morten. "We must take her out to thepump. " She instantly became quiet and let him carry her to bed. Thefever was raging in her, and he noticed how her body was racked withevery breath she drew; it sounded like a leaky pump. 

When Morten, with a few kind words, covered her up, she began to weepconvulsively, but turned her face to the wall and stuffed the quilt intoher mouth in order to hide it. She gradually became quieter and at lastfell asleep; and the two men stole out of the room and closed the doorafter them. 

Morten looked tired out, for he was still not strong. "I've let myselfin for something that I'm not equal to, " he said despondently. 

"Who is the poor child?" asked Pelle softly. 

"I don't know. She came to me this spring, almost dead drunk and in afearful state; and the next day she regretted it and went off, but I gothold of her again. She's one of those poor creatures who have no otherhome than the big timber-yards, and there she's made a living by goingfrom one to another of the bigger lads. I can get nothing out of her, but I've found out in other ways that she's lived among timber-stacksand in cellars for at least two years. The boys enticed dissolute menout there and sold her, taking most of the money themselves and givingher spirits to encourage her. From what I can make out there are wholeorganized bands which supply the dissolute men of the city with boys andgirls. It makes one sick to think of it! The child must be an orphan, but won't, as I said, tell me anything. Once or twice I've heard hertalk in her sleep of her grandmother; but when I've referred to it, shesulks and won't speak. "

"Does she drink?" asked Pelle. 

Morten nodded. "I've had some bad times with her on that account, " hesaid. "She shows incredible ingenuity when it's a case of getting holdof liquor. At first she couldn't eat hot food at all, she was in such astate. She's altogether fearfully shattered in soul and body, and causesme much trouble. "

"Why don't you get her into some home?"

"Our public institutions for the care of children are not calculated tofoster life in a down-trodden plant, and you'll not succeed with Johannaby punishment and treatment like any ordinary child. At times she'squite abnormally defiant and unmanageable, and makes me altogetherdespair; and then when I'm not looking, she lies and cries over herself. There's much good in her in spite of everything, but she can't let itcome out. I've tried getting her into a private family, where I knewthey would be kind to her; but not many days had passed before they cameand said she'd run away. For a couple of weeks she wandered about, andthen came back again to me. Late one evening when I came home, I foundher sitting wet and shivering in the dark corner outside my door. I wasquite touched, but she was angry because I saw her, and bit and kickedas she did just now. I had to carry her in by force. Her unhappycircumstances have thrown her quite off her balance, and I at any ratecan't make her out. So that's how matters stand. I sleep on the sofa inhere, but of course a bachelor's quarters are not exactly arranged forthis. There's a lot of gossip too among the other lodgers. "

"Does that trouble you?" asked Pelle in surprise. 

"No, but the child, you see--she's terribly alive to that sort of thing. And then she doesn't comprehend the circumstances herself. She's onlyabout eleven or twelve, and yet she's already accustomed to pay forevery kindness with her weak body. Can't you imagine how dreadful it isto look into her wondering eyes? The doctor says she's been injuredinternally and is probably tuberculous too; he thinks she'll never getright. And her soul! What an abyss for a child! For even one child tohave such a fate is too much, and how many there are in the hell inwhich we live!"

They were both silent for a little while, and then Morten rose. "Youmustn't mind if I ask you to go, " he said, "but I must get to work;there's something I've got to finish this evening. You won't mind, willyou? Come and see me again as soon as you can, and thanks for comingthis time!" he said as he pressed Pelle's hand. 

"I'd like you to keep your eyes open, " he said as he followed him to thedoor. "Perhaps you could help me to find out the history of the poorthing. You know a lot of poor people, and must have come in some way orother into her life, for I can see it in her. Didn't you notice howeager she was to have a look at you? Try to find out about it, willyou?"

Pelle promised, but it was more easily said than done. When his thoughtssearched the wide world of poverty to which he had drawn so close duringthe great lock-out, he realized that there were hundreds of children whomight have suffered Johanna's fate. 

V

Pelle had got out his old tools and started as shoemaker to the dwellersin his street. He no longer went about seeking for employment, and toEllen it appeared as if he had given up all hope of getting any. But hewas only waiting and arming himself: he was as sanguine as ever. Thepromise of the inconceivable was still unfulfilled in his mind. 

There was no room for him up in the small flat with Ellen doing herwashing there, so he took a room in the high basement, and hung up alarge placard in the window, on which he wrote with shoemaker's ink, "Come to me with your shoes, and we will help one another to stand onour feet. " When Lasse Frederik was not at work or at school, he wasgenerally to be found downstairs with his father. He was a clever fellowand could give a hand in many ways. While they worked they talked aboutall sorts of things, and the boy related his experiences to his father. 

He was changing very rapidly and talked sensibly about everything. Pellewas afraid he was getting too little out of his childhood. "Aren't yougoing up to play with them?" he asked, when the boys of the neighborhoodrushed shouting past the basement window; but Lasse Frederik shook hishead. He had played at being everything, from a criminal to a king, sothere was nothing more to be had in that direction. He wanted somethingreal now, and in the meantime had dreams of going to sea. 

Although they all three worked, they could only just make ends meet;there was never anything over for extras. This was a sorrow to Ellenespecially; Pelle did not seem to think much about it. If they only putsomething eatable before him, he was contented and did not mind what itwas. 

It was Ellen's dream that they should still, by toiling early and late, be able to work themselves up into another stratum; but Pelle was angrywhen she worked on after the time for leaving off. He would rather theywere a little poor, if only they could afford to be human beings. Ellendid not understand it, but she saw that his mind was turned in anotherdirection; he who had hitherto always fallen asleep over books would nowbecome so absorbed in them that he did not hear the children playinground him. She had actually to rouse him when there was anything shewanted; and she began to fear this new power which had come in place ofthe old. It seemed like a curse that something should always work uponhim to take him beyond her. And she dared not oppose it; she had bitterexperience from former times. 

"What are you looking for in those books?" she asked, sitting downbeside him. Pelle looked up absently. His thoughts were in far-offregions where she had never been. What was he looking for? He tried totell her, but could not explain it. "I'm looking for myself!" he saidsuddenly, striking boldly through everything. Ellen gazed at him, wondering and disappointed. 

But she tried again. This time nothing should come between them anddestroy her world. She no longer directly opposed anything; she meant to_go with him_ and be where he was. "Tell me what you are doing andlet me take part in it, " she said. 

Pelle had been prepared to some extent to go into this by himself, andwas glad to meet with a desire for development in her too. For thepresent the intellectual world resembled more or less a wilderness, andit was good to have a companion with him in traversing it. 

He explained to her the thoughts that occupied him, and discussed themwith her; and Ellen observed wonderingly that it was all about thingsthat did not concern their own little well-being. She took great painsto comprehend this flight away from the things that mattered most; itwas like children who always wanted what they ought not to have. 

In the evening, when Boy Comfort and Sister had been put to bed, Pellewould take a book and read aloud. Ellen was occupied with some mendingor other, and Lasse Frederik, his ears standing out from his head, hungover a chair-back with his eyes fixed upon his father. Although he didnot understand the half of it, he followed it attentively until Natureasserted herself, and he fell asleep. 

Ellen understood this very well, for she had great difficulty herself inkeeping her eyes open. They were not stories that Pelle read. Sometimeshe would stop to write something down or to discuss some question orother. He would have the most extraordinary ideas, and see a connectionbetween things that seemed to Ellen to be as far apart as the poles; shecould not help thinking that he might very well have studied to be apastor. It suited him, however; his eyes became quite black when he wasexplaining some subject that he was thoroughly interested in, and hislips assumed an expression that made her long to kiss them. She had toconfess to herself that in any case it was a very harmless eveningoccupation, and was glad that what was interesting him this time kepthim at home at any rate. 

One day Pelle became aware that she was not following him. She did noteven believe in what he was doing; she had never believed in himblindly. "She's never really loved me either: that's why!" he thoughtdespondently. Perhaps that explained why she took Boy Comfort as calmlyas if he were her own child: she was not jealous! Pelle would willinglyhave submitted to a shower of reproaches if afterward she had given hima kiss wetted with hot tears; but Ellen was never thrown off herbalance. 

Happy though they were, he noticed that she, to a certain extent, reckoned without him, as if he had a weakness of which it was alwayswell to take account. Her earlier experiences had left their mark uponher. 

 * * * * *

Ellen had been making plans with regard to the old room and the twosmall ante-rooms at the end of it. She was tired of washing; it paidwretchedly and gave a great deal of work, and she received very littleconsideration. She now wanted to let lodgings to artistes. She knew ofmore than one woman in their street who made a nice living by taking inartistes. "If I'd only got a couple of hundred krones (10 or 11 pounds)to start it with, I'm sure I should make it pay, " she said. "And thenyou'd have more time and quiet for reading your books, " she addedcoaxingly. 

Pelle was against the plan. The better class of artistes took rooms atthe artiste hotels, and the people _they_ might expect to get hadnot much to pay with. He had seen a good deal of them from his basementwindow, and had mended shoes for some of them: they were rather asoleless tribe. She said no more about it, but he could see that she wasnot convinced. She only dropped the subject because he was against itand it was he who would have to procure the money. 

He could not bear to think this; he had become cautious about decidingfor others. The money might be obtained, if in no other way, by givingsecurity in his furniture and tools. If the plan did not succeed, itwould be certain ruin; but perhaps Ellen thought him a wet blanket. 

One day he threw down his leather apron and went out to raise the money. It was late when he came home, and Ellen was standing at the doorwaiting for him with a face of anxiety. 

"Here's the money, my dear! What'll you give me for it?" he said gaily, and counted out into her hand a hundred and eighty krones (Ł10) innotes. Ellen gazed in surprise at the money; she had never held so largea sum in her hands before. 

"Wherever did you get all that money from?" she asked at last. 

"Well, I've trudged all day from place to place, " said Pelle cheerfully, "and at last I was directed to a man in Blaagaard Street. He gave me twohundred krones (Ł11) on the furniture. "

"But there's only one hundred and eighty (Ł10) here!"

"Oh, well, he took off twenty krones (Ł1 2_s_. ). The loan's to berepaid in instalments of twenty krones (Ł1 2_s_. ) a month forfifteen months. I had to sign a statement that I had borrowed threehundred krones (Ł16 10_s_. ), but then we shan't have to pay anyinterest. "

Ellen stared at him in amazement. "Three hundred krones, and we've onlygot a hundred and eighty, Pelle!" But she suddenly threw her arms roundhis neck and kissed him passionately. "Thank you!" she whispered. Hefelt quite dazed; it was not like her to be so vehement. 

She had plenty to do, after hiring the room, in putting it in order. Theloose beams had to be fixed up, and the walls plastered and whitewasheda little. The old peasant was willing enough to let it, but he would nothear of going to any expense. Ellen at last succeeded, however, ingetting him to agree to pay half the repairs on condition that she tookthe room for a year and payed the rent in advance. "We can get mybrother Frederik to do some of the repairs on Sunday morning, " she saidto Pelle, "and then perhaps we shall get it done for nothing. " She wasaltogether very energetic. 

There was need for it too. The rent swallowed up the hundred krones (Ł510_s_. ), and then there were all the things that had to be got. Shebought a quantity of cheap print, and hung it up so as to divide oneside of the room into a number of small compartments each provided witha second-hand bed and hay mattress, and a washing-stand. "Artistes arenot so particular, " she said, "and I'm sure they'll be glad to have theroom to practise in. " Finally there were the two little anterooms, whichwere to be furnished a little better for more particular artistes. Therewas not nearly enough money, and some of the things had to be taken oncredit. 

At last it was all ready to receive the guests. It looked quite smartfor the amount spent on it, and Pelle could not but admire hercleverness in making a little go a long way. The only thing now left todo was to catch the birds, but here Ellen's practical sense ceased toact; she had no idea how to proceed. "We must advertise, " she said, andcounted up her remaining pence. 

Pelle laughed at her. A lot of good it would be to advertise for peoplewho were goodness knows where on railways and steamers! "What shall wedo then?" she said, looking anxiously to him for help. After all, he wasthe man for it all. 

Well, first of all there must be a German placard down on the street-door, and then they must make the rooms known. Pelle had studied bothGerman and English in the prison, and he made up the placard himself. Hehad cards printed, and left them in the artistes' tavern at the cornerof Vesterbro Street, went there himself two or three times aftermidnight when the artistes gathered there when their work was finished, and stationed himself at the stage-entrances of the music-halls. He sooncame to look upon it as a task to be performed, like everything withwhich he occupied himself; and this _should_ succeed!

Ellen looked on wondering and helpless. She had all at once grownfrightened, and followed each of his movements with anxious attention. 

Soon, however, things began to move. The girls whose washing Ellen haddone took an interest in the undertaking, and sent lodgers to her; andLasse Frederik, who had the run of the circus stables, often returnedwith some Russian groom or other who did a turn as a rustic dancer or aCossack horseman. Sometimes there lived with her people from the otherside of the world where they walk with their heads down--fakirs andmagicians from India and Japan, snake-charmers from Tetuan, people withshaven heads or a long black pigtail, with oblique, sorrowful eyes, loose hips and skin that resembled the greenish leather that Pelle usedfor ladies' boots. Sister was afraid of them, but it was the time of hislife to Lasse Frederik. There were fat Tyrolese girls, who came three bythree; they jodeled at the music-halls, and looked dreadful all day, much to Ellen's despair. Now and then a whole company would come, andthen trapezes and rings creaked in the great room, Spanish dancers wentthrough their steps, and jugglers practised new feats. 

They were all people who should preferably not be seen off the stage. Ellen often went to the circus and music-halls now, but could neverquite believe that the performers were the same men and women who wentabout at home looking like scarecrows. Most of them required nothingexcept that the lodging should be cheap; they boarded themselves, andgoodness knows what they lived on. Some of them simply lighted a fire ona sheet of iron on the floor and made a mixture of rice or something ofthe sort. They could not eat Danish food, Pelle said. Sometimes theywent away without paying, and occasionally took something with them; andthey often broke things. There was no fortune to be made out of them, but in the meantime Ellen was satisfied as long as she could keep itgoing, so that it paid the rent and instalments on the loan and left hera little for her trouble. It was her intention to weed out the moreworthless subjects, and raise the whole tone of the business when it hadgot into good order. 

"You really might refuse the worst work now, and save yourself alittle, " she said to Pelle when he was sitting over some worn-outfactory shoes that had neither sole nor upper. Most boots and shoes haddone service somewhere else before they reached this neighborhood; andwhen they came to Pelle there was not much left of them. "Say no to it!"said Ellen. "It's far too hardly earned for you! And we shall get on nowwithout having to take everything. " In the kindness of her heart shewanted him to be able to read his books, since he had a weakness forthem. Her intention was good, but Pelle had no thought of becoming anaesthetic idler, who let his wife keep him while he posed as a learnedman. There were enough of them in the neighborhood, and the inhabitantslooked up to them; but they were not interesting. They were more or lessanother form of drunkard. 

To Pelle books were a new power, grown slowly out of his sojourn inprison. He had sat there alone with his work, thrown on himself foroccupation, and he had examined himself in every detail. It was likehaving companionship when he brought to light anything new and strangein himself; and one day he chanced upon the mistiness of his own being, and discovered that it consisted of experience that others had gonethrough before him. The Bible, which always lay on the prisoner's tablefor company, helped him; its words had the sound of a well-known voicethat reminded him strongly of Father Lasse's in his childhood. From theBible he went on further and discovered that the serious books were menwho sat in solitude like himself, and spoke out. 

Was solitude so dreadful then when you had such company? Pelle was nolonger able to comprehend his own fear of it. As a child he had been acreature in the widest sense, and found companionship in everything; hecould converse with trees, animals, and stones. Those fibers hadwithered, and no longer conveyed nourishment; but then he became onewith the masses, and thought and felt exactly as they did. That wascrumbling away too now; he was being isolated distinctly, bit by bit, and he was interested in discovering a plan in it. He had madeNature subject to him even as a child, and had afterward won the masses!It was solitude now that had to be taken, and he himself was going aboutin the midst of it, large and wonderful! It was already leavingindelible traces in his mind, although he had seen nothing of it yet. Hefelt strangely excited, very much as he had felt when, in his childhood, he arrived in Bornholm with his father and could see nothing, but heardthe movement of thronging life behind the mist. A new and unknown world, full of wonders and throbbing with anticipation, would meet him inthere. 

Pelle's action was not due to his own volition. He might as well try tolift himself up by his hair as determine that now he would be a humanbeing by himself. It was an awakening of new powers. He no longer letsunshine and rain pass unnoticed over his head. A strange thing happenedto him--he looked wonderingly at everything that he had formerly passedby as commonplace, and saw it all in a new, brilliant light. He had togo all over it from the beginning, look at every detail. How wonderfullyeverything was connected, sorrow and joy and apparent trifles, to makehim, Pelle, who had ruled over hundreds of thousands and yet had to goto prison in order to feel himself rich! Something had been ignited inhim that could never be extinguished, a sacred fire to which everythingmust bear fuel, whether it would or not. He could not be conquered now;he drew strength from infinity itself. 

The bare cell--three paces one way and six the other--with its tinywindow and the mysterious peephole in the door which was like a watchfuleye upon one always, how much it had held! It had always been the lot ofthe poor man to create worlds out of the void, beautiful mirages whichsuddenly broke and threw him back even poorer and more desolate. Butthis lasted. All the threads of life seemed to be joined together in thebare cell. It was like the dark, underground place in large buildingswhere the machinery is kept that admits and excludes light and heat tothe whole block. There he discovered how rich and varied life is. 

Pelle went about in a peculiarly elevated frame of mind. He felt thatsomething greater and finer than himself had taken up its abode withinhim and would grow on to perfection there. 

It was a new being that yet was himself; it remained there and drewnourishment from everything that he did. He went about circumspectly andquietly, with an introspective expression as though he were weighingeverything: there was so much that was not permissible because it mightinjure _it_! There were always two of them now--Pelle and thiswonderful, invisible ego, which lay securely and weightily within himlike a living thing, with its roots in the darkness. 

Pelle's relations to books were deeply grounded: he had to find out whatthe world meant now. He was a little distrustful of works of fiction;you got at their subject-matter too easily, and that could not be right. They were made up, too! He needed real stuff, facts. There were greatspaces in his brain that longed to be filled with a tangible knowledgeof things. His favorite reading was historical works, especially socialhistory; and at present he read everything that came in his way, raw andunsweetened; it would have to sort itself out. It was a longing that hadnever been satisfied, and now seemed insatiable. 

He minded his work punctiliously, however. He had made it a principlenever to touch a book as long as any work lay waiting unfinished on thefloor. In prison he had dreamt of a reasonable working-day of--forinstance--eight hours, so that he would have time and strength to occupyhimself with intellectual matters; but now he took it off his night'ssleep instead. This was at any rate a field out of which they need nottry to keep him; he would have his share in the knowledge of the times. He felt it was a weapon. The poor man had long enough retired willinglyinto the corner for want of enlightenment, and whenever he put out hishead he was laughed back again. Why did he not simply wrest theprerogative from the upper classes? It cost only toil, and in that coinhe was accustomed to pay! He was scarcely deficient in ability; as faras Pelle could see at present, almost all the pioneers of the new stateof things came from the lower classes. 

He discovered with pleasure that his inward searching did not carry himaway from the world, for far in there he came out again into the light--the light itself! He followed the secret laws for his own inward being, and found himself once more deep in the question of the welfare of themultitude. His practical sense required this confirmation of theconditions. There were also outward results. Even now history could nolonger be used to light him and his ideas home; he knew too much. Andhis vision grew from day to day, and embraced an ever-widening horizon. Some day he would simply take the magic word from the trolls and wakethe giant with it!

He worked hard and was as a rule full of confidence. When the last ofthe artistes came home from their _café_, he was often sittingworking by the light of his shoemaker's lamp. They would stop before theopen basement window and have a chat with him in their broken Danish. His domestic circumstances were somewhat straitened; the instalments inrepayment of the loan, and the debt on the furniture still swallowed allthat they were able to scrape together, and Pelle had no prospect ofgetting better work. But work is the bearer of faith, and he felt surethat a way would open out if only he kept on with it unweariedly. 

He took Ellen's unspoken mistrust of his projects quietly. He felthimself to be greater than she in this; she could not reach up to thelevel of his head!

VI

Pelle was awake as early as four o'clock, although he had gone to bedlate. He slept lightly at this time, when the summer night lay lightlyupon his eyelids. He stole out into the kitchen and washed himself underthe tap, and then went down to his work. The gray spirit of the nightwas still visible down in the street, but a tinge of red was appearingabove the roofs. "The sun's rising now over the country, " he thought, recalling the mornings of his childhood, the fields with their sheen ofsilvery dew, and the sun suddenly coming and changing them intothousands of sparkling diamond drops. Ah, if one could once more runbare-footed, if a little shrinkingly, out into the dewy grass, and shouta greeting to the dawning day: "Get up, Sun! Pelle is here already!"The night-watchman came slowly past the open window on his way home. "Upalready?" he exclaimed in a voice hoarse with the night air, as henodded down to Pelle. "Well, it's the early bird that catches the worm!You'll be rich one of these days, shoemaker!" Pelle laughed; he_was_ rich!

He thought of his wife and children while he worked. It was nice tothink of them sleeping so securely while he sat here at work; itemphasized the fact that he was their bread-winner. With every blow ofhis hammer the home grew, so he hammered away cheerfully. They werepoor, but that was nothing in comparison with the fact that if he weretaken away now, things would go to pieces. He was the children'sProvidence; it was always "Father's going to, " or "Father said so. " Intheir eyes he was infallible. Ellen too began to come to him with hertroubles; she no longer kept them to herself, but recognized that he hadthe broader back. 

It was all so undeserved--as if good spirits were working for him. Shameful though it was that the wife should work to help to keep thefamily, he had not been able to exempt her from it. And what had he donefor the children? It was not easy to build everything up at once from abare foundation, and he was sometimes tempted to leave something aloneso as to accomplish the rest the more quickly. As it was now, he wasreally nothing! Neither the old Pelle nor the new, but somethingindeterminate, in process of formation, something that was greatly inneed of indulgence! A removing van full of furniture on its way to a newdwelling. 

He often enough had occasion to feel this from outside; both old enemiesand old friends looked upon him as a man who had gone very much down inthe world. Their look said: "Is that really all that remains of thatstalwart fellow we once knew?" His own people, on the other hand, werelenient in their judgment. "Father hasn't got time, " Sister would say inexplanation to herself when she was playing about down in his work-room--"but he will have some day!" And then she would picture to herself allthe delightful things that would happen then. It affected Pellestrangely; he would try to get through this as quickly as possible. 

It was a dark and pathless continent into which he had ventured, but hewas now beginning to find his way in it. There were ridges of hills thatconstantly repeated themselves, and a mountain-top here and there thatwas reached every time he emerged from the thicket. It was good totravel there. Perhaps it was the land he and the others had looked for. When he had got through, he would show it to them. 

Pelle had a good memory, and remembered all that he read. He could quotemuch of it verbatim, and in the morning, before the street had wakened, he used to go through it all in his mind while he worked. It surprisedhim to find how little history concerned itself with his people; it wasonly in quite recent times that they had been included. Well, that didnot trouble him! The Movement _was_ really something new, and notone of history's everlasting repetitions. He now wanted to see its ideain print, and one day found him sitting with a strange solemnity in thelibrary with Marx and Henry George in front of him. Pelle knew somethingabout this subject too, but this was nevertheless like drawing up a netfrom the deep; a brilliant world of wonders came up with it. There wereincontrovertible logical proofs that he had a right apprehension, thoughit had been arrived at blindly. The land of fortune was big enough forall; the greater the number that entered it, the larger did it become. He felt a desire to hit out again and strike a fresh blow for happiness!

Suddenly an avalanche seemed to fall from the top to the bottom of thehouse, a brief, all-pervading storm that brought him back to his home. It was only Lasse Frederik ushering in the day; he took a flight at eachleap, called a greeting down to his father, and dashed off to his work, buttoning the last button of his braces as he ran. A little later Ellencame down with coffee. 

"Why didn't you call me when you got up?" she said sulkily. "It's notgood to sit working so long without having had something to eat. "

Pelle laughed and kissed her good-morning. "Fine ladies don't get upuntil long after their husbands, " he said teasingly. 

But Ellen would not be put off with a jest. A proper wife would be upbefore her husband and have something ready for him. "I _will_ haveyou call me!" she said decidedly, her cheeks very red. It suited her toget roused now and then. 

While he drank his coffee, she sat and talked to him about her affairs, and they discussed the plans for the day, after which she went upstairsto help the children to dress. 

Later in the morning Pelle laid aside his work, dressed himself and wentout to deliver it. While he was out he would go into the Library andlook up something in the large dictionaries. 

The street lived its own quiet life here close up to the greaterthoroughfares--the same life day after day. The fat second-hand dealerfrom Jutland was standing as usual at his door, smoking his wooden pipe. "Good-morning, shoemaker!" he cried. A yellow, oblique-eyed oriental inslippers and long black caftan was balancing himself carelessly on thesteps of the basement milk-shop with a bowl of cream in one hand and aloaf of bread in the other. Above on the pavement two boys were playinghopscotch, just below the large red lamp which all night long advertisedits "corn-operator" right up to the main thoroughfare. Two girls incycling costume came out of a gateway with their machines; they weregoing to the woods. "Good-day, Pelle! How is Ellen's business gettingon?" they asked familiarly. They were girls for whom she had washed. 

Pelle was fond of this busy part of the town where new shops with largeplate-glass windows stood side by side with low-roofed cottages whereretail business was carried on behind ordinary windows with wallflowersand dahlias in them as they might be in any provincial town. A stringwas stretched above the flower-pots, with a paper of safety-pins or abundle of shoelaces hanging from it. There were poor people enough here, but life did not run in such hard grooves as out at Nörrebro. Peopletook existence more easily; he thought them less honorable, but alsoless self-righteous. They seemed to be endowed with a more cheerfultemperament, did not go so steadily and methodically to and from theirfixed work, but, on the other hand, had several ways of making a living. 

There was everywhere a feeling of breaking up, which corresponded wellwith Pelle's own condition; the uncertainty of life enveloped everythingin a peculiarly tense atmosphere. Poverty did not come marching in closecolumns of workmen; its clothing was plentiful and varied; it mightappear in the last woollen material from the big houses of oldCopenhagen, or in gold-rimmed spectacles and high hat. Pelle thought heknew all the trades, but here there were hundreds of businesses thatcould not be organized; every day he discovered new and remarkabletrades. He remembered how difficult it had been to organize out here;life was too incalculable. 

There was room here for everything; next door to one another livedpeople whom the Movement had not yet gathered in, and people who hadbeen pushed up out of it in obstinate defiance. There was room here forhim too; the shadow he had dreaded did not follow him. The people hadseen too much of life to interfere in one another's affairs; respectablecitizenship had not been able to take possession of the poor man. Therewas something of the "Ark" about this part of the town, only not itshopelessness; on the contrary, all possibilities were to be found here. The poor man had conquered this ground from the rich citizens, and itseemed as if the development had got its direction from them. Here itwas the proletariat whose varied nature forced its way upward, andleavened--so to speak--the whole. In the long side streets, which werefull of second-hand dealers and pawnbrokers, existence had not resolveditself into its various constituents. Girls and gamblers were next-doorneighbors to old, peaceable townsfolk, who lived soberly on the interestof their money, and went to church every Sunday with their hymn-books intheir hands. The ironmonger had gold watches and antique articles amongthe lumber in his cellar. 

Pelle went along Vesterbro Street. The summer holidays were just over, and the pavement on the Figaro side was crowded with sunburnt people--business-men, students and college girls--who were conspicuous in thethrong by their high spirits. They had just returned to town, and stillhad the scent of fresh breeze and shore about them: it was almost asgood as a walk in the country. And if he wanted to go farther out intothe world, he could do that too; there were figures enough in theVesterbro neighborhood to arrest his fancy and carry him forth. It waslike a quay on which people from all parts of the world had agreed tomeet--artists, seamen and international agents. Strange women camesailing through the crowd, large, exotic, like hot-house fruits; Pellerecognized them from the picture of the second-hand dealer's daughter inthe "Ark, " and knew that they belonged to the international nursingcorps. They wore striped costumes, and their thick, fair hair emitted aperfume of foreign lands, of many ports and routes, like the interior ofsteamers; and their strong, placid faces were big with massage. Theyfloated majestically down the current like full-rigged vessels. In theirwake followed some energetic little beings who also belonged to theshow, and had decked themselves out to look like children, with puffedsleeves, short skirts, and hair tied up with ribbons. Feeble old men, whom the sun had enticed out, stood in silent wonder, following thelovely children with their eyes. 

Pelle felt a peculiar pleasure in being carried along with this streamwhich flowed like life itself, broad and calm. The world was greaterthan he had thought, and he took no side for or against anything, butmerely wondered over its variety. 

 * * * * *

He came home from the library at two, with a large volume of statisticsunder his arm. Ellen received him with red eyes. 

"Have your lodgers been making things unpleasant for you again?" heasked, looking into her face. She turned her head away. 

"Did you get the money for your work?" she asked instead of answering. 

"No, the man wasn't in the shop himself. They're coming here to pay. "

"Then we haven't got a farthing, and I've got no dinner for you!" Shetried to smile as she spoke, but her heavy eyelids quivered. 

"Is that all?" said Pelle, putting his arm round her. "Why didn't youmake me some porridge? I should have liked a good plateful of that. "

"I have made it, but you'll get hardly anything else, and that's no foodfor a man. "

He took her round the waist with both hands, lifted her up and put hercarefully down upon the kitchen table. "That's porridge, my dear!" hesaid merrily. "I can hardly walk, I'm so strong!"

But there was no smile to be coaxed out of Ellen; something had happenedthat she did not want to tell him. At last he got out of her that thetwo musical clowns had gone off without paying. They had spoiled hergood bed-clothes by lying in them with their clothes on, and had madethem so filthy that nothing could be done with them. She was unwillingto tell Pelle, because he had once advised her against it; but all atonce she gave in completely. "You mustn't laugh at me!" she sobbed, hiding her face on his shoulder. 

Pelle attempted to comfort her, but it was not so easily done. It wasnot the one misfortune but the whole fiasco that had upset her so; shehad promised herself so much from her great plan. "It isn't all lostyet, " he said to comfort her. "We'll just keep on and you'll see it'llbe all right. "

Ellen was not to be hoodwinked, however. "You know you don't mean it, "she said angrily. "You only say it because of me! And the second-handdealer sent up word this morning that if he didn't soon get the rest ofhis money, he'd take all the furniture back again. "

"Then let him take it, and that'll be an end of the matter. "

"But then we shall lose all that we've paid!" she exclaimed quickly, drying her eyes. 

Pelle shrugged his shoulders. "That can't be helped. "

"Wouldn't it be better to get the things sold little by little? We onlyowe a third on them. "

"We can't do that; it's punishable. We've got a contract for the hire ofthe furniture, and as long as we owe a farthing on it, it's his. Butwe're well and strong all of us; what does it matter?"

"That's true enough, " answered Ellen, trying to smile, "but the strongerwe are, the more food we need. "

A girl came running up with a pair of boots that were to be soled asquickly as possible. They were "Queen Theresa's, " and she was going towear them in the evening. "That'll bring us in a few pence!" said Ellen, brightening. "I'll help you to get them done quickly. "

They seated themselves one on each side of the counter, and set to work. It reminded them of the early days of their married life. Now and thenthey stopped to laugh, when Ellen had forgotten some knack. In an hourand a half the boots were ready, and Pelle went himself with them tomake sure of the money. 

"You'll most likely find her in the tavern, " said Ellen. "The artistesgenerally have their dinner at this hour, and she's probably there. "

It was a busy time in the artistes' restaurant. At the small tables satbony, close-cropped men of a peculiar rubicund type, having dinner withsome girl or other from the neighborhood. They were acrobats, clowns, and wrestlers, people of a homogeneous type, dressed in loud checks, with enormous cuffs and boots with almost armor-plated toes. They chewedwell and looked up stupidly at the call of the girls; they wore a hard, brutal mask for a face, and big diamond rings on their fingers. Some ofthem had such a powerful lower jaw that they looked as if they haddeveloped it for the purpose of taking blows in a boxing-match. In theadjoining room some elegant young men were playing billiards while theysecretly kept an eye on what was going on at the tables. They had curlson their forehead, and patent leather shoes. 

"Queen Theresa" was not there, so Pelle went to Dannebrog Street, whereshe lived, but found she was not at home. He had to hand in the boots toa neighbor, and go back empty-handed. 

Well, it was no more than might have been expected. When you needed athing most, chance played with you as a cat played with a mouse. Pellewas not nearly so cheerful as he appeared to be when he faced Ellen. Thereality was beginning to affect him. He went out to Morten, but withoutany faith in the result; Morten had many uses for what he earned. 

"You've just come at the right moment!" said Morten, waving two notes inthe air. "I've just had twenty krones (a guinea) sent me from _TheWorking Man_, and we can divide them. It's the first money I've gotfrom that quarter, so of course I've spat upon it three times. "

"Then they've found their way to you, after all!" exclaimed Pellejoyfully. 

Morten laughed. "I got tired of seeing my work repeated in their paper, "he said, "when they'll have nothing to do with me up there; and I wentup to them and drew their attention to the paragraph about piracy. Youshould have seen their expression! Goodness knows it's not pleasant tohave to earn your bread on wretchedness, so to speak, but it's stillmore painful when afterward you have to beg for your hard-earned pence. You mustn't think I should do it either under other circumstances; I'dsooner starve; but at any rate I won't be sweated, by my own side! It'sa long time since you were here. "

"I've been so busy. How's Johanna?" The last words were spoken in awhisper. 

"Not well just now; she's keeping her bed. She's always asking afteryou. "

"I've been very busy lately, and unfortunately I can't find out anythingabout her. Is she just as cross?"

"When she's in a bad temper she lets me understand that she could easilyhelp to put us on the right track if she wanted to. I think it amusesher to see us fooled. "

"A child can't be so knowing!"

"Don't be so sure of that! Remember she's not a child; her experienceshave been too terrible. I have an idea that she hates me and onlymeditates on the mischief she can do me. You can't imagine how spitefulshe can be; it's as though the exhalations from down there had turned topoison in her. If any one comes here that she notices I like, shereviles them as soon as they're gone, says some poisonous thing aboutthem in order to wound me. You're the only one she spares, so I thinkthere must be some secret link between you. Try to press her on thesubject once more. "

They went in to her. As the door opened she slipped hastily down beneaththe clothes--she had been listening at the door--and pretended to beasleep. Morten went back to his work and closed the door after him. 

"Well, Johanna, " said Pelle, seating himself on the edge of the bed. "I've got a message for you. Can you guess who it's from?"

"From grandmother!" she exclaimed, sitting up eagerly; but the nextmoment she was ashamed at having been outwitted, and crept down underthe clothes, where she lay with compressed lips, and stole distrustfulglances at Pelle. There was something in the glance and the carriage ofher head that awakened dormant memories in him, but he could not fixthem. 

"No, not grandmother, " he said. "By-the-bye, where is she now? I shouldlike to speak to her. Couldn't you go out to her with me when you getwell?"

She looked at him with sparkling eyes and a mocking expression. "Don'tyou wish you may get it!" she answered. 

"Tell me where she lives, Johanna, " Pelle went on, taking her thin handin his, "there's a good girl!"

"Oh, yes, at night!"

Pelle frowned. "You must be very heartless, when you can leave your oldgrandmother and not even like others to help her. I'm certain she's inwant somewhere or other. "

Johanna looked at him angrily. "I whipped her too, " she exclaimedmalignantly, and then burst into a laugh at Pelle's expression. "No, Ididn't really, " she said reassuringly. "I only took away her stick andhid her spectacles so that she couldn't go out and fetch the cream. Soshe was obliged to send me, and I drank up all the cream and put waterin the can. She couldn't see it, so she scolded the milk people becausethey cheated. "

"You're making all this up, I think, " said Pelle uncertainly. 

"I picked the crumb out of the loaf too, and let her eat the crust, "Johanna continued with a nod. 

"Now stop that, " said Pelle, stroking her damp forehead. "I know quitewell that I've offended you. "

She pushed away his hand angrily. "Do you know what I wish?" she saidsuddenly. "I wish you were my father. "

"Would you like me to be?"

"Yes, for when you became quite poor and ill, I'd treat you just as wellas I've treated grandmother. " She laughed a harsh laugh. 

"I'm certain you've only been kind to grandmother, " said Pelle gravely. 

She looked hard at him to see whether he meant this too, and then turnedher face to the wall. He could see from the curve of her body that shewas struggling to keep back her tears, and he tried to turn her round tohim; but she stiffened herself. 

"I won't live with grandmother!" she whispered emphatically, "I won't!"

"And yet you're fond of her!"

"No, I'm not! I can't bear her! She told the woman next door that I wasonly in the way! It was that confounded child's fault that she couldn'tget into the Home, she said; I heard her myself! And yet I went aboutand begged all the food for her. But then I left her!" She jerked thesentences out in a voice that was quite hoarse, and crumpled the sheetup in her hands. 

"But do tell me where she is!" said Pelle earnestly. "I promise you youshan't go to her if you don't want to. "

The child kept a stubborn silence. She did not believe in promises. 

"Well, then, I must go to the police to find her, but I don't want to dothat. "

"No, because you've been in prison!" she exclaimed, with a short laugh. 

A pained expression passed over Pelle's face. "Do you think that's sofunny?" he said, winking his eyes fast. "I'm sure grandmother didn'tlaugh at it. "

Johanna turned half round. "No, she cried!" she said. "There was no oneto give us food then, and so she cried. "

It began to dawn upon him who she was. "What became of you two that dayon the common? We were going to have dinner together, " he said. 

"When you were taken up? Oh, we couldn't find you, so we just wenthome. " Her face was now quite uncovered, and she lay looking at him withher large gray eyes. It was Hanne's look; behind it was the samewondering over life, but here was added to it a terrible knowledge. Suddenly her face changed; she discovered that she had been outwitted, and glared at him. 

"Is it true that you and mother were once sweethearts?" she suddenlyasked mischievously. 

Pelle's face flushed. The question had taken him by surprise. "I'll tellyou everything about your mother if you'll tell me what you know, " hesaid, looking straight at her. 

"What is it you want to know?" she asked in a cross-questioning tone. "Are you going to write about me in the papers?"

"My dear child, we must find your grandmother! She may be starving. "

"I think she's at the 'Generality, '" said the child quietly. "I wentthere on Thursday when the old things had leave to go out and beg for alittle coffee; and one day I saw her. "

"Didn't you go up to her then?"

"No; I was tired of listening to her lamentations!"

Johanna was no longer stiff and defiant. She lay with her face turnedaway and answered--a little sullenly--Pelle's questions, while sheplayed nervously with his fingers. Her brief answers made up for him oneconnected, sad story. 

Widow Johnsen was not worth much when once the "Ark" was burnt down. Shefelt old and helpless everywhere else, and when Pelle went to prison, she collapsed entirely. She and the little girl suffered want, and whenJohanna felt herself in the way, she ran away to a place where she couldbe comfortable. Her grandmother had also been in her way. She had hermother's whimsical, dreamy nature, and now she gave up everything andran away to meet the wonderful. An older playfellow seduced her and tookher out to the boys of the timber-yard. There she was left to take careof herself, often slept out in the open, and stole now and then, butsoon learned to earn money for herself. When it became cold she went asscullery-maid to the inns or maid-of-all-work to the women in DannebrogStreet. Strange to say, she always eluded the police. At first therewere two or three times when she started to return to her grandmother, but went no farther than the stairs; she was afraid of being punished, and could not endure the thought of having to listen to the old lady'scomplaints. Later on she became accustomed to her new way of living, andno longer felt any desire to leave it, probably because she had begun totake strong drink. Now and again, however, she stole in to the Home andcaught a glimpse of her grandmother. She could not explain why she didit, and firmly maintained that she could not endure her. The old woman'sunreasonable complaint that she was an encumbrance to her had eatendeeply into the child's mind. During the last year she had been awaitress for some time at a sailors' tavern down in Nyhavn with aninnkeeper Elleby, the confidence-man who had fleeced Pelle on his firstarrival in the city. It was Elleby's custom to adopt young girls so asto evade the law and have women-servants for his sailors; and theygenerally died in the course of a year or two: he always wore a crapeband round his sleeve. Johanna was also to have been adopted, but ranaway in time. 

She slowly confessed it all to Pelle, coarse and horrible as it was, with the instinctive confidence that the inhabitants of the "Ark" hadplaced in him, and which had been inherited by her from her mother andgrandmother. What an abyss of horrors! And he had been thinking thatthere was no hurry, that life was richer than that! But the children, the children! Were they to wait too, while he surveyed the varied formsof existence--wait and go to ruin? Was there on the whole any need ofknowledge and comprehensiveness of survey in order to fight for justerconditions? Was anything necessary beyond the state of being good? Whilehe sat and read books, children were perhaps being trodden down bythousands. Did this also belong to life and require caution? For thefirst time he doubted himself. 

"Now you must lie down and go to sleep, " he said gently, and stroked herforehead. It was burning hot and throbbed, and alarmed he felt herpulse. Her hand dropped into his, thin and worn, and her pulse wasirregular. Alas, Hanne's fever was raging within her!

She held his hand tight when he rose to go. "Were you and mothersweethearts, then?" she asked in a whisper, with a look of expectationin the bright eyes that she fixed upon him. And suddenly he understoodthe reiterated question and all her strange compliance with his wishes. 

For a moment he looked waveringly into her expectant eyes. Then henodded slowly. "Yes, Johanna; you're my little daughter!" he said, bending down over her. Her pale face was lighted with a faint smile, andshe shyly touched his stubbly chin and then turned over to go to sleep. 

In a few words Pelle told Morten the child's previous history--MadamJohnsen and her husband's vain fight to get on, his horrible death inthe sewer, how Hanne had grown up as the beautiful princess of the"Ark"--Hanne who meant to have happiness, and had instead this poorchild!

"You've never told me anything about Hanne, " said Morten, looking athim. 

"No, " said Pelle slowly. "She was always so strangely unreal to me, likean all too beautiful dream. Do you know she danced herself to death! Butyou must pretend to the child that I'm her father. "

Morten nodded. "You might go out to the Home for me, and hear about theold lady. It's a pity she should have to spend her old age there!" Helooked round the room. 

"You can't have her here, however, " said Pelle. 

"It might perhaps be arranged. She and the child belong to one another. "

Pelle first went home to Ellen with the money and then out to the Home. 

Madam Johnsen was in the infirmary, and could not live many days. It wasa little while before she recognized Pelle, and she seemed to haveforgotten the past. It made no impression whatever on her when he toldher that her grandchild had been found. She lay most of the time, talking unintelligibly; she thought she still had to get money for therent and for food for herself and the child. The troubles of old age hadmade an indelible impression upon her. "She gets no pleasure out oflying here and being comfortable, " said an old woman who lay in the nextbed to hers. "She's always trying and trying to get things, and whenshe's free of that, she goes to Jutland. "

At the sound of the last word, Madam Johnsen fixed her eyes upon Pelle. "I should so like to see Jutland again before I die, " she said. "Eversince I came over here in my young days, I've always meant to use thefirst money I had over on an excursion home; but I never managed it. Hanne's child had to live too, and they eat a lot at her age. " And soshe was back in her troubles again. 

The nurse came and told Pelle that he must go now, and he rose and bentover the old woman to say farewell, strangely moved at the thought thatshe had done so much for him, and now scarcely knew him. She felt forhis hand and held it in both hers like a blind person trying torecognize, and she looked at him with her expressionless eyes that werealready dimmed by approaching death. "You still have a good hand, " shesaid slowly, with the far-sounding voice of old age. "Hanne should havetaken you, and then things would have been very different. '"

VII

People wondered, at the library, over the grave, silent working-man whotook hold of books as if they were bricks. They liked him and helped himto find what he wanted. 

Among the staff there was an old librarian who often came and askedPelle if there were anything he could help him with. He was a littlewizened man with gold spectacles and thin white hair and beard that gavea smiling expression to his pale face. He had spent his time among thestacks of books during the greater part of his life; the dust of thebooks had attacked his chest, and every minute his dry cough soundedthrough the room. 

Librarian Brun was a bachelor and was said to be very rich. He was notparticularly neat or careful in his dress, but there was somethingunspoiled about his person that made one think he could never have beensubjected to the world's rough handling. In his writings he was afanatical worshipper of the ego, and held up the law of conscience asthe only one to which men should be subject. Personally he was reservedand shy, but something drew him to Pelle, who, he knew, had once beenthe soul in the raising of the masses; and he followed with wonder andcuriosity the development of the new working-man. Now and then hebrought one of his essays to Pelle and asked him to read it. It oftentreated of the nature of personality, took as its starting-point the egoof some philosopher or other, or of such and such a religion, andattempted to get at the questions of the day. They conversed in whisperson the subject. The old, easily-approached philosopher, who was read byvery few, cherished an unrequited affection for the general public, andlistened eagerly to what a working-man might be able to make out of hisideas. Quiet and almost timid though his manner was, his views werestrong, and he did not flinch from the thought of employing violentmeasures; but his attitude toward the raising of the lower classes wassceptical. "They don't know how to read, " he said. "The common peoplenever touch a real book. " He had lived so long among books that hethought the truths of life were hidden away in them. 

They gradually became well acquainted with one another. Brun was thelast descendant of an old, decayed family, which had been rich for manygenerations. He despised money, and did not consider it to be one of thevaluable things of life. Never having known want, he had fewpretensions, and often denied himself to help others. It was said thathe lived in a very Spartan fashion, and used a large proportion of hisincome for the relief of the poor. On many points he agreed with thelower classes, not only theoretically but purely organically; and Pellesaw, to his amazement, that the dissolution of existing conditions couldalso take place from the upper grades of society. Perhaps the future waspreparing itself at both extremities!

One day Brun carefully led the conversation on to Pelle's privateaffairs: he seemed to know something about them. "Isn't there anythingyou want to start?" he asked. "I should be so glad if you would allow meto help you. "

Pelle was not yet clear as to what was to be done about the future. "Atpresent, " he said, "the whole thing is just a chaos to me. "

"But you must live! Will you do me the favor of taking a loan from me atany rate, while you're looking about you? Money is necessary to make onecapable and free, " he continued, when Pelle refused it. "It's a pity, but so it is. You don't _take_ what you want anyhow, so you musteither get the money in the way that offers, or do without. "

"Then I'll do without, " said Pelle. 

"It seems to me that's what you and yours have always done, and have youever succeeded in heaping coals of fire on the head of society by it?You set too high a value upon money; the common people have too greatrespect for the property of others. And upon my word it's true! The goodold poor man could scarcely find it in his heart to put anything intohis own miserable mouth; his wife was to have all the good pieces. So heis mourned as lost to our side; he was so easy to get wealth by. Hisprogeny still go about with a good deal of it. "

"Money makes you dependent, " Pelle objected. 

"Not always, " answered Brun, laughing. "In my world people borrow andtake on credit without a thought: the greater the debt, the better itis; they never treat a man worse than when they owe him money. On thatpoint we are very much more emancipated than you are, indeed that'swhere the dividing line goes between the upper classes and the commonpeople. This fear of becoming indebted to any one, and carefulness to dotwo services in return for one, is all very nice and profitable in yourown world; but it's what you'll be run down by in your relations to us. We don't know it at all; how otherwise would those people get on whohave to let themselves be helped from their cradle to their grave, andlive exclusively upon services received?"

Pelle looked at him in bewilderment. "Poor people have nothing but theirsense of honor, and so they watch over it, " he said. 

"And you've really never halted at this sense of honor that works sosplendidly in our favor?" asked Brun in surprise. "Just examine theexisting morals, and you'll discover that they must have been inventedby us--for your use. Yes, you're surprised to hear me say that, but thenI'm a degenerate upper-class man, one of those who fall outside theestablished order of things. I saw your amazement at my not havingpatted you on the shoulder and said: 'Poor but proud! Go on being so, young man!' But you mustn't draw too far-reaching conclusions from that;as I told you, I'm not that sort. Now mayn't I give you a helping hand?"

No, Pelle was quite determined he should not. Something had beenshattered within him, and the knowledge made him restive. 

"You're an obstinate plebeian, " said Brun, half vexed. 

On his way home Pelle thought it all over. Of course he had always beenquite aware that the whole thing resembled a gentleman's carriage, inwhich he and others like him had to be the horses; the laws and generalarrangement were the reins and harness, which made them draw thecarriage well. The only thing was that it was always denied from theother side; he was toiling at history and statistics in order to furnishincontrovertible proof of this. But here was some one who sat in thecarriage himself, and gave evidence to the effect that it was rightenough; and this was not a book, but a living man with whom he stoodface to face. It gave an immense support to his belief. 

There was need enough for it too, for at home things were going badly. The letting of rooms was at a standstill, and Ellen was selling thefurniture as fast as she could. "It's all the same to me what the lawis!" was her reply to Pelle's warnings. "There surely can be no sense inour having to make the furniture-dealer a present of all we've paid uponit, just because he has a scrap of paper against us. When thefurniture's sold, he shall have the rest of what we owe him. "

He did not get the whole, however, for in the first place they had tolive. The remainder of the debt hung like a threat over them; if hediscovered that the furniture was sold, it might end badly for them. "Remember I've been in prison before, " said Pelle. 

"They surely can't punish you for what I've done?" said Ellen, lookingat him in terror. "Pelle, Pelle, what have I done! Why didn't I do whatyou told me!" For a time she collapsed, but then suddenly roseenergetically, saying: "Then we must get it paid at once. It's surelypossible to find twenty krones (a guinea)!" And hastening up to theirflat, she quickly returned in her hat and jacket. 

"What are you going to do?" asked Pelle in amazement. 

"What am I going to do? I'm going to 'Queen Theresa. ' She _can_ getit! Don't be afraid!" she said, bending down and kissing him. She soonreturned with the money. "I may pay it back by _washing_, " she saidcheerfully. 

So that matter was settled, and they would have been glad if the loanhad been the same. It scarcely moved, however; the instalments atethemselves up in some wonderful way. Two or three times they had had toask for a postponement, and each time the usurer added the amount of theinstalment to the sum still owing; he called it punishment interest. 

Pelle read seldom; he felt no wish to do so. He was out early and latelooking for a job. He fetched and took back furniture in the town forthe second-hand dealer, and did anything else that came to hand. 

One evening Ellen came up with a newspaper cutting that "Queen Theresa"had sent her, an advertisement of a good, well-paid situation for atrustworthy man, who had been trained as a shoemaker. "It's thismorning's, " said Ellen anxiously, "so I only hope it isn't too late. Youmust go out there at once. " She took out Pelle's Sunday clothes quickly, and helped him to make himself tidy. It was for a boot-factory in BorgerStreet. Pelle took the tram in order to get there quickly, but he had nogreat hopes of getting the place. The manufacturer was one of his mostbitter opponents among the employers at the time when he was organizingthe trade--a young master-shoemaker who had had the good sense to followthe development and take the leap over to manufacturer. 

"Oh, it's you, is it?" he said. "Well, well, old differences shan'tstand between us if we can come to an agreement in other ways. What Iwant is a man who'll look a little after everything, a kind of right-hand man who can take something off my shoulders in a general way, andsuperintend the whole thing when I'm travelling. I think you'll docapitally for that, for you've got influence with the men; and I'd likethings to go nicely and smoothly with them, without giving in to themtoo much, you understand. One may just as well do things pleasantly; itdoesn't cost an atom more, according to my experience, and now onebelongs to the party one's self. "

"Do you?" said Pelle, hardly able to believe his ears. 

"Yes! Why shouldn't an employer be a fellow-partisan? There's nothing tobe afraid of when once you've peeped in behind the scenes; and it hasits advantages, of course. In ten years' time every sensible man will bea social democrat. "

"That's not at all unlikely, " said Pelle, laughing. 

"No, is it! So one evening I said to my wife: 'I say, you know it won'tdo soon to own that you don't belong to the party; in other countriesmillionaires and counts and barons already belong to it. ' She didn'tquite like it, but now she's quite satisfied. They're quite nice people, as she said herself. There are even persons of rank among them. Well, itwasn't conviction that drove me at first, but now I agree because whatthey say's very sensible. And upon my word it's the only party that canthrash the anarchists properly, don't you think so? In my opinion allshould unite in fighting against them, and that'll be the end of it, Isuppose. I've reflected a good deal upon politics and have come to theconclusion that we employers behaved like asses from the beginning. Weoughtn't to have struggled against the Movement; it only drove it toextremes. Just see how well-behaved it's become since we began to takeoff our hats to it! You _become_ what you're _treated_ as, letme tell you. You wouldn't have acted so harshly if we others had been alittle kinder to you. Don't you allow that? You're exactly like everyone else: you want to have good food and nice clothes--be consideredrespectable people. So it was wise to cut off the lower end; you can'trise when you've too much lumber as ballast. Fellows who pull up paving-stones and knock you down are no company for me. You must have patienceand wait until the turn comes to your party to come in for a share:those are my politics. Well, what do you think about the job?"

"I don't understand the machines, " said Pelle. 

"You'll soon get into that! But it's not that that matters, if only youknow how to treat the workmen, and that of course you do. I'll pay youthirty-five krones (Ł2) a week--that's a good weekly wage--and in returnyou'll have an eye to my advantage of course. One doesn't join the partyto be bled--you understand what I mean? Then you get a free house--inthe front building of course--so as to be a kind of vice-landlord forthe back building here; there are three stairs with one-roomed flats. Ican't be bothered having anything to do with that; there's so muchnonsense about the mob. They do damage and don't pay if they can helpit, and when you're a little firm with them they fly to the papers andwrite spiteful letters. Of course I don't run much risk of that, but allthe same I like things to go smoothly, partly because I aspire to becomea member of the management. So you get eighteen hundred krones (Ł100) ayear and a flat at four hundred (Ł22), which makes two thousand twohundred krones (Łl22)--a good wage, though perhaps I oughtn't to say somyself; but good pay makes good work. Well, is it a bargain?"

Pelle wanted to have till the next day to think it over. 

"What do you want to think over? One ought never to think over thingstoo much; our age requires action. As I said before, an expert knowledgeis not the main thing; it's your authority that I chiefly want. In otherwords, you'll be my confidential man. Well, well, then you'll give meyour answer to-morrow. "

Pelle went slowly homeward. He did not know why he had asked time tothink it over; the matter was settled. If you wanted to make a home, youmust take the consequences of it and not sneak away the first time aprospect offered of making it a little comfortable for your wife andchildren. So now he was the dog set to watch his companions. 

He went down the King's New Market and into the fashionable quarter. Itwas bright and gay here, with the arc-lamps hanging like a row of light-birds above the asphalt, now and then beating their wings to keepthemselves poised. They seemed to sweep down the darkness of night, andgreat shadows flickered through the street and disappeared. In thenarrow side streets darkness lay, and insistent sounds forced their wayout of it--a girl's laugh, the crying of a lonely child, the ceaselessbickering of a cowed woman. But people strolled, quietly conversing, along the pavement in couples and heard nothing. They had got out theirwinter coats, and were luxuriating in the first cold weather. 

Music sounded from the large _cafés_, which were filled tooverflowing. People were sitting close together in small selectcompanies, and looked gay and happy. On the tables round which they sat, stood the wine-cooler with the champagne bottle pointing obliquelyupward as though it were going to shoot down heaven itself to them. Howsecure they appeared to feel! Had they no suspicion that they weresitting upon a thin crust, with the hell of poverty right beneath them?Or was that perhaps why they were enjoying themselves--to-day your turn, to-morrow mine? Perhaps they had become reconciled to the idea, and tookwhat they could get without listening too carefully to the hoarseprotests of the back streets!

Under one of the electric lamp-posts on the Town Hall Square a man wasstanding selling papers. He held one out to Pelle, saying: "A halfpennyif you can afford it, if not you can have it for nothing!" He was pale, with dark shadows under his eyes, and he had a dark beard. He looked asif he were suffering from some internal complaint which was slowlyconsuming him. Pelle looked at him, and saw to his surprise that it wasPeter Dreyer, his comrade of long ago!

"Do you go about selling newspapers?" he exclaimed in astonishment, holding out his hand. 

Peter Dreyer quietly returned his greeting. He had the same heavy, introspective look that he had had when Pelle met him in the garret inJager Street, but looked even more perplexed. 

"Yes, I've become a newspaper man, " he said, "but only after workinghours. It's a little paper that I write and print myself. It may perhapsdo you good to read it. "

"What's it about?"

"About you and me. "

"It's anarchistic, I suppose?" said Pelle, looking at the title of thepaper. "You were so strange last time I met you. "

"Well, you can read it. A halfpenny if you can afford it, if notgratis!" he cried, holding out a copy to the passers-by. A policeman wasstanding a little way off observing him. He gradually drew nearer. 

"I see you're under observation!" said Pelle, drawing his attention tothe policeman. 

"I'm used to that. Once or twice they've seized my inoffensive littlepaper. "

"Then it can't have been altogether inoffensive?" said Pelle, smiling. 

"I only advise people to think for themselves. "

"That advice may be dangerous enough too, if it's followed. "

"Oh, yes. The mean thing is that the police pursue me financially. Assoon as I've got work with any master, a policeman appears and adviseshim to discharge me. It's their usual tactics! They aim at the stomach, for that's where they themselves have their heart. "

"Then it must be very hard for you to get on, " said Pellesympathetically. 

"Oh, I get along somehow. Now and then they put me in prison for nolawful reason, and when a certain time has passed they let me out again--the one with just as little reason as the other. They've lost theirheads. It doesn't say much for machinery that's exclusively kept goingto look after us. I've a feeling that they'd like to put me out of theway, if it could be done; but the country's not large enough to let anyone disappear in. But I'm not going to play the hunted animal anylonger. Although I despise our laws, which are only a mask for bruteforce, I'm very careful to be on the right side; and if they useviolence against me again, I'll not submit to it. "

"The conditions are so unequal, " said Pelle, looking seriously at him. 

"No one need put up with more than he himself likes. But there'ssomething wanting in us here at home--our own extreme consequence, self-respect; and so they treat us as ignominiously as they please. "

They went on together. On the pavement outside one of the large_cafés_ stood an anaemic woman with a child upon her arm, offeringfor sale some miserable stalks which were supposed to represent flowers. Peter Dreyer pointed silently from her to the people in the _café_. His face was distorted. 

"I've no objection to people enjoying life, " said Pelle; "on thecontrary, I'm glad to see that there are some who are happy. I hate thesystem, but not the people, you see, unless it were those who grudge usall anything, and are only really happy in the thought that others arein want. "

"And do you believe there's any one in there who seriously doesn'tgrudge others anything? Do you believe any of them would say: 'I'mfortunate enough to earn twenty-five thousand krones (Ł1, 400) a year andam not allowed to use more than five thousand (Ł300), so the restbelongs to the poor'? No, they're sitting there abusing the poor manwhile they drink up the surplus of his existence. The men abuse theworkmen, and their wives the servant girls. Just go in among the tablesand listen! The poor are bestial, unreliable, ungrateful in spite ofeverything that is done for them; they are themselves to blame for theirmisery. It gives a spice to the feast to some of them, others dull theiruneasy conscience with it. And yet all they eat and drink has been madeby the poor man; even the choicest dainties have passed through hisdirty hands and have a piquant flavor of sweat and hunger. They lookupon it as a matter of course that it should be so; they are not evensurprised that nothing is ever done in gratitude for kind treatment--something to disagree with them, a little poison, for instance. Justthink! There are millions of poor people daily occupied in makingdainties for the rich man, and it never occurs to any of them to revengethemselves, they are so good-natured. Capital literally sleeps with itshead in our lap, and abuses us in its sleep; and yet we don't cut itsthroat!"

At Victoria Street they stopped. The policeman had followed them andstopped on the other side of the street when they stopped. Pelle drewthe other's attention to the fact. 

Peter looked across carelessly. "He's like an English bloodhound, " hesaid quietly--"a ferocious mouth and no brain! What vexes me most isthat we ourselves produce the dogs that are to hunt us; but we shallsoon begin to agitate among the military. " He said good-night and turnedtoward Enghave Road, where he lived. 

Ellen met Pelle at the top of the street. "How did you get on?" sheasked eagerly. "Did you get the place?"

He quietly explained matters to her. She had put her arm round him. "Yougreat big man, " she said, looking up at him with a happy face. "If youonly knew how proud I am of you! Why, we're rich now, Pelle--thirty-fivekrones (2 Pounds) a week! Aren't you glad yourself?"

"Yes, I'm glad that you and the children will be a little comfortablefor once. "

"Yes, but you yourself--you don't seem to be very delighted, and yetit's a good place you're getting. "

"It won't be an easy place for me, but I must make the best of it, " heanswered. 

"I don't see why not. You're to be on the side of the manufacturer, butthat's always the way with that kind of position; and he's got a righttoo to have his interests looked after. "

When they got in Ellen brought him his supper, which had been standingon the stove to keep warm. Now and then she looked at him in wonder;there was something about him to-day that she did not understand. He hadon the whole become a little peculiar in his views about things in theprison, and it was not to be wondered at. She went to him and strokedhis hair. 

"You'll be satisfied on your own account too, soon, " she said. "It'sfortunate for us that he can't be bothered to look after thingshimself. "

"He's taken up with politics, " answered Pelle absently. "At present he'sthinking of getting into the Town Council by the help of the working-men's votes. "

"Then it's very wise of him to take you, " Ellen exclaimed vivaciously. "You understand these matters and can help him. If we save, we mayperhaps have so much over that we could buy the business from him someday. "

She looked happy, and treated him to a little petting, now in one wayand now in another. Her joy increased her beauty, and when he looked ather it was impossible for him to regret anything. She had sacrificedeverything for him, and he could do nothing without considering her. Hemust see her perfectly happy once more, let it cost what it might, forhe owed her everything. How beautiful she was in her unaffectedness! Shestill had a fondness for dressing in black, and with her dark hair abouther pale face, she resembled one of those Sisters who have suffered muchand do everything out of compassion. 

It struck him that he had never heard her really laugh; she only smiled. He had not awakened the strongest feeling in her yet, he had notsucceeded in making her happy; and therefore, though she had shared hisbed and board, she had kept the most beautiful part to herself, like anunapproachable virgin. But now her cheeks glowed with happy expectation, and her eyes rested upon him eagerly; he no longer represented for herthe everyday dullness, he was the fairy-story that might take her bysurprise when the need was greatest. He felt he could hardly pay toodearly for this change. Women were not made for adversity and solitude;they were flowers that only opened fully when happiness kissed them. Ellen might shift the responsibility over onto his shoulders. 

The next day he dressed himself carefully to go out and make the finalagreement with the manufacturer. Ellen helped him to button his collar, and brushed his coat, talking, as she did so, with the lightheartednessof a bird, of the future. "What are we going to do now? We must try andget rid of this flat and move out to that end of the town, " she said, "or else you'll have too far to walk. "

"I forgot to tell you that we shall live out there, " said Pelle. "He hasthree stairs with one-roomed apartments, and we're to be the vice-landlord of them. He can't manage the tenants himself. " Pelle had notforgotten it, but had not been able to bring himself to tell her that hewas to be watch-dog. 

Ellen looked at him in petrified astonishment. "Does that go with thepost?" she gasped. 

Pelle nodded. 

"You mustn't do it!" she cried, suddenly seizing him by the arms. "Doyou hear, Pelle? You mustn't do it!" She was greatly disturbed and gazedbeseechingly at him. "I don't understand you at all. "

He looked at her in bewilderment and murmured something in self-defence. 

"Don't you see that he only wants to make use of you?" she continuedexcitedly. "It's a Judas post he's offered you, but we won't earn ourbread by turning poor people into the street. I've seen my own bits offurniture lying in the gutter. Oh, if you'd gone there!" She gazedshudderingly straight before her. 

"I can't understand what you can have been thinking about--you who aregenerally so sensible, " she said when she had once more calmed down, looking reproachfully at him; but the next instant she understood itall, and sank down weeping. 

"Oh, Pelle, Pelle!" she exclaimed, and hid her face. 

VIII

Pelle read no more and no longer went to the library. He had enough todo to keep things going. There was no question now of trying to get aplace; winter was at the door, and the army of the unemployed grewlarger every day. He stayed at home, worked when there was anything todo, and for the rest minded the children for Ellen while she washed. Hetalked to Lasse Frederik as he would to a comrade, but it was nice tohave to look after the little ones too. They were grateful for it, andhe discovered that it gave him much pleasure. Boy Comfort he was veryfond of now, his only sorrow being that the boy could not talk yet. Hisdumbness was always a silent accusation. 

"Why don't you bring books home?" Ellen would say when she came up fromthe wash-house to look after them, with her arms bare and tiny drops inher hair from the steam down there. "You've plenty of time now. "

No, what did he want with books? They did perhaps widen his horizon alittle, but what lay behind it became so very much greater again; and hehimself only grew smaller by reading. It was impossible in any case toobtain any reassuring view of the whole. The world followed its owncrooked course in defiance of all wisdom. There was little pleasure inabsorbing knowledge about things that one could not remedy; poor peoplehad better be dull. 

He and Morten had just been to Madam Johnsen's funeral. She had notsucceeded in seeing Jutland. Out of a whole life of toil there had neverbeen ten krones (10s. ) over for a ticket home; and the trains ran dayafter day with hundreds of empty places. With chilling punctuality theywhirled away from station to station. Heaven knows how many thousandempty seats the trains had run with to Jutland during the years in whichthe old woman longed to see her home! And if she had trudged to therailway-station and got into the train, remorseless hands would haveremoved her at the first station. What had she to do with Jutland? Shelonged to go there, it was true, but she had no money!

Was it malice or heartless indifference? A more fiendish sport can atany rate hardly be imagined than this running with empty places. It wasthey that made the journey so terribly vivid--as though the devilhimself were harnessed to the train and, panting with wantonness, dragging it along through the country to places that people were longingto see. It must be dreadful to be the guard and call the names of thestations in to those seats for the people left behind!

And Sister walked about the floor so pale and thin! There was nostrength in her fair hair, and when she was excited, her breath whistledin her windpipe with that painful sound that was practically inseparablefrom the children of the poor neighborhoods. It was always the vitiatedair of the back-yards that had something to say now--depressing, likealmost everything his understanding mastered. All she wanted wassunshine, and all the summer it had been poured down in open-handedgenerosity, only it went over the heads of poor people like everythingelse. It had been a splendid year for strawberries, but the largegardeners had decided to let half of them rot on their stalks in orderto keep up the prices and save the money spent on picking them. And herewere the children hungering for fruit, and ailing for want of it! Why?No, there was no possible answer to be given to that question. 

And again--everywhere the same! Whenever he thought of some socialinstitution or other, the same melancholy spectacle presented itself--anenormous rolling stock, only meant for a few, and to a great extentrunning empty; and from the empty places accusing eyes gazed out, sickand sad with hunger and want and disappointed hope. If one had once seenthem, it was impossible to close one's eyes to them again. 

Sometimes his imagination took another direction, and he found himselfplanning, for instance, kingdoms in which trains were used according tothe need for them, and not according to the purse, where the food waseaten by those who were hungry, and the only poor people were those whogrudged others things. 

But he pulled himself up there; it was too idiotic! A voice from theunseen had called him and his out into the day, and then nothing hadhappened! It had only been to fool them. 

Brun often came down to see him. The old librarian missed his youngfriend. 

"Why do you never come in to us now?" he asked. 

"What should I do there?" answered Pelle shortly. "The poor man has nouse for knowledge; he's everlastingly damned. "

He had broken with all that and did not care either about thelibrarian's visits. It was best for every one to look after himself; thegreat were no company for such as he. He made no attempt to conceal hisill humor, but Brun took no notice. The latter had moved out intoFrederiksberg Avenue in October, and dropped in almost every afternoonon his way home from the library. The children took care to be downthere at that time, for he always brought something for them. 

Neither Pelle nor Ellen demanded much of life now. They had settled downin resignation side by side like a pair of carthorses that wereaccustomed to share manger and toil. It would have been a great thingnow to have done with that confounded loan, so that they need not goabout with their lives in their hands continually; but even that wasrequiring too much! All that could be scraped together went every monthto the money-lender, and they were no nearer the end. On the one hundredand eighty krones (Ł10) that Pelle had received they had now in all paidoff one hundred and twenty (Ł7), and yet they still owed two hundred andforty (more than Ł13). It was the "punishment interest" that made itmount up whenever they came only a day or two too late with theinstalments or whatever it might be. In any case it was an endless screwthat would go on all their life pumping out whatever they could scrapetogether into the money-lender's pocket. 

But now Pelle meant to put an end to this. He had not paid the lastinstalment and meant to pay no more, but let things go as they liked. "You ought to borrow of Herr Brun and pay off that money-lender, " saidEllen, "or else he'll only come down on us and take our furniture. " ButPelle was obstinate and would not listen to reason. The consciousnessthat a parasite had fastened upon him and sucked him dry in spite of allhis resistance, made him angry. He would like to see them touching histhings!

When the money-lender came to fetch his instalment, Pelle shut the doorin his face. For the rest he took everything with the calmness ofresignation; but when the subject cropped up, he fired up and did notknow what he said. Ellen had to keep silence and let his mood workitself out. 

One afternoon he sat working at the basement window. The librarian wassitting on the chair by the door, with a child on each knee, feedingthem with dates. Pelle was taking no notice, but bent over his work withthe expression of a madman who is afraid of being spoken to. His workdid not interest him as it had formerly done, and progressed slowly; adisturbing element had entered, and whenever he could not instantly finda tool, he grew angry and threw the things about. 

Brun sat watching him anxiously, though apparently taken up with thechildren. A pitying expression would have made Pelle furious. Brunguessed that there was some money trouble, but dared not offer hisassistance; every time he tried to begin a conversation Pelle repelledhim with a cunning look which said: "You're seeking for an opportunityto come with your money, but you won't get it!" Something or other hadgone wrong with him, but it would all come right in the end. 

A cab stopped outside the door, and three men stepped out and went intothe house. A little while after Ellen burst into the workshop. "Pelle!"she cried, without noticing Brun, "they've come to take away ourthings!" She broke into a fit of weeping, and seeing their mothercrying, the children began to cry too. 

Pelle rose and seized a hammer. "I'll soon get _them_ out!" he saidbetween his teeth in a low tone as he moved toward the door. He did nothurry, but went with lowered head, not looking at any one. 

Brun seized him by the arm and stopped him. 

"You forget that there's something called Prison!" he said with peculiaremphasis. 

Pelle gazed at him in astonishment, and for a moment it looked as if hewere going to strike the old man; then the hammer dropped from his handand he broke down. 

IX

Now and then a comrade from the good old days would come up and wantPelle to go with him to a meeting. Old fighting memories wakened withinhim. Perhaps it was there the whole point lay. He threw off his leatherapron and went. Ellen's eyes followed him to the door, wondering that hecould still wish to have anything to do with that after what _he_had got out of it. 

But it was not there after all! He remembered the tremendous ferment inmen's minds during the Movement, and it seemed to him that theexcitement had died down. People only came forward before the elections, otherwise they went about their own business as if there had never beenany rallying idea. They were all organized, but there was nothing newand strong in that fact; they were born--so to speak--in organization, and connected nothing great and elevating with it. His old associateshad cooled down remarkably; they must have discovered that success wasneither so romantic nor so easy as they had thought. They had no longersimply to open the gate into the land of success and stream through it;there was a long and difficult road before that. So they each arrangedhis own matters, and disposed of the doubtful future for small presentadvantages which were immediately swallowed up by the existingconditions. 

The Movement had not reached to the bottom. There was an accusationagainst himself in this fact; it had not been designed with sufficientbreadth. Even at that time it had passed over the heads of theinhabitants of the "Ark, " and now a large proletariat was left withtheir own expectations of the future. The good old class of the commonpeople had split up into a class of petty tradesmen--who seemed to beoccupied solely in establishing themselves--and this proletariat. 

But there was nothing new in this. One stratum moved up and revealed anew one below; it had always been thus in history. Was it theneverlastingly determined that at the bottom of existence there shouldalways be the same innumerable crowd of those who were thrust down, whobore the burden of the whole, the great hunger reserve? Was it onlypossible to be happy when one knew how to push the difficulties down, just as one might push the folds of a material until at last they wereheaped up in one place? It was the old question over again. Formerly hehad had his clear faith with which to beat down doubt, but now he couldnot be content with a blind hope; he required to be shown an expedient. If the Movement had failed through having been begun crookedly, thecauses with which one had to do were practical causes, and it waspossible to do the whole thing over again. 

There were also others engaged in taking the whole thing up from thebottom, and through Peter Dreyer he came into contact with young men ofan entirely new type. They had emerged from the Movement, shot upsurprisingly out of its sediment, and now made new ambitious claims uponlife. By unknown paths they had reached the same point as he himself haddone, and demanded first and foremost to be human beings. The sacrednessof the ego filled them, and made them rebel at all yokes; they beganfrom within by shaking them off, did not smoke or drink, would be slavesto nothing. They kept out of the Movement and had their own places ofmeeting out about the South Boulevard, where they read and discussed newsocial forms. They were intelligent, well-paid working-men, whopersistently shared the conditions of the proletariat; fanatics who gaveaway their week's wages if they met a man who was poorer thanthemselves; hot-headed enthusiasts who awaited revolution. Several ofthem had been in prison for agitating against the social order. Therewere also country people among them--sons of the men who stood in theditches and peat-pits out there. "The little man's children, " Mortencalled them. 

These were the offspring of those who had made the Movement; that washow it should go on. By being contented they kept themselves free fromthe ensnaring expedients of capitalism, they despised the pettytradesman's inclination for comfort, and were always ready for action. In them the departure was at any rate a fact!

They wanted to get hold of Pelle. "Come over to us!" Peter Dreyer oftensaid. 

Pelle, however, was not easily enticed out; he had his home where he hidhimself like a snail in its shell. He had the responsibility for thislittle world of five people, and he had not even succeeded in securingit. His strength and industry were not enough even to keep one littlehome above water; a benefactor was needed for that! It was not the timeto tend jealously one's own honor when wife and children would be thesufferers; and now that it was all arranged he felt deeply grateful tothe old librarian. It was nevertheless a disgraceful fact which did notencourage him to have anything to do with the affairs of others. 

The violent language used by the young men frightened him too. He hadrebelled against the old conditions just as they had done, but he metwith different experiences. From the time he could crawl he hadstruggled to accommodate himself to the great connection of things; eventhe life of the prison had not placed him outside it, but had onlyunited him the more closely with the whole. He had no inclination to cutthe knot, but demanded that it should be untied. 

"You're no good, " said Morten and the others when they tried to rousehim, "for you can't hate. " No, the cold in his mind was like the night-frost; it melted at the first sunbeam. When he looked back there wereredeeming ties that held the whole together in spite of all the evil;and now the old librarian had brought him close up to the good in theother side of the cleft too. He had settled down to his shoemaking againand refused to be roused by the others' impatience; but he looked as ifhe had an eternity in which to unravel his affairs. 

Sister was often down with him and filled the workshop with her chatter. At about eight, when it began to grow light, he heard her staggeringstep on the stair, and she remained with him until Ellen took her up inthe evening by main force to put her to bed. She dragged all the toolstogether and piled them up in front of Pelle on the bench so that hecould hardly move, and called it helping. Then she rested, standing withher hands upon the edge of the bench and talking to him. "Sister'sclever!" she said appreciatively, pointing with satisfaction to herwork. "Big girl!" And if he did not answer she repeated it and did notleave off until he had praised her. 

"Yes, you're very clever!" he said, "but can you put the things back intheir places?"

The child shook her head. "Sister's tired, " she declared with decision, and immediately after brought another tool and pushed it slowly up ontothe heap while she kept her eyes upon his face to see whether she mightdo it. "Sister's helping!" she repeated in explanation; but Pellepretended not to hear. 

For a time she was quiet, but then came to him with her pinafore full ofold boots and shoes that she had pulled out from behind the stove. Hetried to look stern, but had to bend down over his work. It made thelittle girl feel uncertain. She emptied her pinafore onto the platform, and sitting on her heels with her hands on her little knees, she triedto see what his expression was. It was not satisfactory, so she got upand, putting her hands on his knee, said, with an ingratiating look intohis face: "You're so clever, father! You can do everything! You're thecleverest in the whole world!" And after a little pause--"We're bothclever, aren't we, father?"

"Oh, that's it, is it!" exclaimed Pelle. "One of us is very conceited atany rate!"

"It's not me!" answered the child confidently, shaking her head. 

"You seem to be very happy together, " said Ellen when she came down withBoy Comfort on her arm to fetch Anna. The child did not want to go upwith her, and pushed round into the corner behind Pelle's chair; and BoyComfort struggled to be put down onto the floor to play with the lasts. "Well, then, " said Ellen, sitting down, "we'll all stay here together. "

She looked quiet and resigned; her defeat had told upon her. She nolonger spoke of the future, but was glad that they had escaped from theclutches of the money-lender; the thought of it filled her with a quietbut not altogether unspoiled happiness. She no longer dreamed ofanything better, but was grateful for what she possessed; and it seemedto Pelle that something had died within her together with thedissatisfaction. It was as though she had at last given everything shehad; her resignation to the gray everyday life made her dull andordinary. "She needs sunshine, " he thought. 

And again his thoughts wandered in their search for a way out into thefuture--his one idea--in the same track that they had followed a hundredtimes before. He did not even enter it fully, but merely recognized thatthe problem was being worn threadbare. In his trade there was nocompromise; there was only room for extortioners and extortionized, andhe was not suited for either part. When he took up other possibilities, however, his thoughts returned of themselves to his work, like a rovingdog that always comes back and snuffs at the same scent. There wassomething in him that with fatalistic obstinacy made him one with histrade, in spite of its hopelessness; he had staked everything there, andthere the question should be solved. Behind the fatalism of the commonpeople lies the recognition that there is plan and perspective in theirlife too; such and such a thing is so because it must be so. And thisrecognition Pelle had no reason to do away with. 

He grew confused with the continual dwelling of his thoughts on the samesubject, but it seemed to possess him, was with him while he slept, andseized him as soon as he awoke. There was an old dream that persistentlyhaunted him at this time--a forgotten youthful idea from his earliestparticipation in the rising, the plan for a common workshop that wouldmake the court shoemaker superfluous. The plan had been laid aside atthe time as impossible, but now he took it up again and went over itstep by step. He could easily find some capable, reliable fellow-workmenwho would stand by him through thick and thin with regard to work andprofits; and there would be no difficulty about discipline, for duringthe past years the workmen had learned to subordinate themselves totheir own people. Here was a way for the small man to assert himselfwithin his trade and join the development; what one was not able to docould be done by several joining together, namely, turn the moderntechnics to account and divide the work into sections. He arranged itall most carefully, and went over it again and again to make sure thatevery detail was correct. When he slept he dreamed of his system ofprofit-sharing, and then it was a fact. He stood working in a brightroom among comrades; there was no master and no servant, the machinerywhirred, and the workmen sang and whistled while they minded it. Theirhours of labor were short, and they all had happy homes waiting forthem. 

It was hard to wake up and know the reality. Alas! all the cleverest andmost industrious hands in the world had no influence in their severaltrades--could not so much as sew a single stitch--until capital startedthem. If that refused its support, they could do nothing at all, butwere cut off, as it were, at once. 

Machinery cost money. Pelle could get the latter from Brun, the old manhaving often enough offered him capital to start something or other; buthe already owed him money, and capital might run his undertaking down. It was at its post, and allowed no activity of that kind beside it. Hewas seized with uncertainty; he dared not venture the stakes. 

The old philosopher came almost daily. Pelle had become a part of hislife, and he watched his young friend's condition with anxiety. Was itthe prison life--or was it perhaps the books--that had transformed thisyoung man, who had once gone ahead with tempestuous recklessness, into ahesitating doubter who could not come to a decision? Personality was ofdoubtful value when it grew at the expense of energy. It had been theold man's hope that it would have developed greater energy through beingreplanted in fresh, untouched soil, and he tried to rouse Pelle out ofhis lethargy. 

Pelle gave an impatient jerk. They were poking him up on all sides, wanting him to come to a decision, and he could not see his way to it. Of course he was half asleep; he knew it himself. He felt that he wantedrest; his entity was working for him out there in the uncertainty. 

"I don't know anything, " he said, half irritated, "so what can be theuse? I thought books would lead me to a place from which I could bringeverything together; but now I'm all abroad. I know too much to dash onblindly, and too little to find the pivot on which the whole thingturns. It doesn't matter what I touch, it resolves itself into something_for_ and something _against_. " He laughed in desperation. 

One day Brun brought him a book. "This book, " he said with a peculiarsmile, "has satisfied many who were seeking for the truth. Let's seewhether it can satisfy you too!" It was Darwin's "Origin of Species. "

Pelle read as in a mist. The point lay here--the whole thing powerfullyput into one sentence! His brain was in a ferment, he could not lay thebook down, but went on reading all night, bewitched and horrified atthis merciless view. When Ellen in surprise came down with his morningcoffee, he had finished the book. He made no reply to her gentlereproaches, but drank the coffee in silence, put on his hat and went outinto the deserted streets to cool his burning brow. 

It was very early and the working-men had not yet turned out; at themorning coffee-rooms the shutters were just being taken down; warmly-clad tram-men were tramping through the streets in their wooden-soledboots; slipshod, tired women ran stumbling along to their early jobs, shivering with cold and weary of life, weary before they had begun theirday. Here and there a belated woman toiled along the street carrying aclothes-basket, a mother taking her baby to the cręche before she wentto her work. 

Suddenly the feeling of rebellion came over Pelle, hot, almostsuffocating him. This cruelly cold doctrine of the right of the strong, which gave him the choice between becoming brutal or going to the dogs--this was the key to an understanding of life? It pronounced a sentenceof death upon him and his fellows, upon the entire world of the poor. From this point of view, the existing conditions were the only onespossible--they were simply ideal; the sweater and the money-lender, whomhe hated, were in the most harmonious agreement with the fundamentallaws of life! And the terrible thing was that from this standpoint thesocial fabric was clearly illuminated: he could not deny it. He who bestlearned to accommodate himself to the existing state of things, conquered; no matter how vile the existing state of things might be. 

The book threw at once a dazzling light upon society, but where was hisown class in this doctrine--all the poor? They were not taken intoaccount! Society was thus in reality only those in possession, and herehe had their religion, the moral support for the uncompromisingutilization. It had always been difficult to understand how men couldmisuse others; but here it was a sacred duty to give stones for bread. The greatest oppressor was in reality nearest to life's holy, maternalheart; for he was appointed to carry on the development. 

The poor had no share in this doctrine. When a bad workman was indifficulties, the others did not press him until he had to go down, noteven when he himself was to blame for his lack of means. The poor didnot let the weak fall, but took him under their wing. They placedthemselves outside the pale of the law and gave themselves no chance;the race could not be won with a wounded comrade on one's back. But inthis fact there lay the admission that they did not belong to theexisting order of things, but had the right to demand their own time ofhappiness. A new age must come, in which all that was needed in orderthat they might share in it--kindness of heart, solidarity--waspredominant. Thus even the great union he had helped to effect pointedin the right direction. It had been the opposite of one against all-ithad built upon the law of reciprocity. 

And the poor man was not a miserable wretch, condemned by thedevelopment to be ruined, a visionary, who, as a consequence of an emptystomach, dreamed of a Utopia. Pelle had passed his childhood in thecountry and gone about with the rest of creation in all kinds ofweather. He had seen the small singing-birds throw themselves in wholeclouds at the hawk when it had seized one of their number, and pursue ituntil it dropped its prey in confusion. When he caught an ant in a splitstraw, the other ants flocked to the straw and gnawed their comrade out:they could not be frightened away. If he touched them, they squirtedtheir poison against his hand and went on working. Their courage amusedhim, the sprinklings of poison were so tiny that he could not see them;but if he quickly raised his hand to his nose, he detected a sharp acidsmell. Why did they not leave their comrade in his dilemma, when therewere so many of them and they were so busy? They did not even stop tohave a meal until they had liberated him. 

The poor man must stick to the union idea; he had got hold of the rightthing this time! And now all at once Pelle knew which way they ought togo. If they were outside the existing conditions and their laws, why notarrange their own world upon the laws that were theirs? Through theorganizations they had been educated in self-government; it was abouttime that they took charge of their own existence. 

The young revolutionaries kept clear of the power of money by goingwithout things, but that was not the way. Capital always preachedcontentment to the poor; he would go the other way, and conquerproduction by a great flanking movement. 

He was not afraid now of using the librarian's money. All doubt had beenchased away. He was perfectly clear and saw in broad outlines a world-wide, peaceful revolution which was to subvert all existing values. Pelle knew that poverty is not confined to any country. He had oncebefore brought forward an invincible idea. His system of profit-sharingmust be the starting-point for a world-fight between Labor and Capital!

X

Two days later Pelle and the librarian went to Frederiksberg Street tolook at a business that was to be disposed of. It was a small matter ofhalf a score of workmen, with an electrical workshop in the basement anda shop above. The whole could be had by taking over the stock andmachinery at a valuation. The rent was rather high, but with thatexception the conditions were favorable. 

"I think we'll arrange that the purchase and working capital shall bearinterest and be sunk like a four per cent. Credit-association loan, "said Brun. 

"It's cheap money, " answered Pelle. "A good result won't say much aboutthe circumstances when we haven't got the same conditions as otherbusinesses. "

"Not so very cheap. At that price you can get as many as you want ongood security; and I suppose the workman ought to be regarded as thebest security in an undertaking that's built upon labor, " said the oldman, smiling. "There'll be a big fall in discount when you come intopower, Pelle! But the bare capital costs no more now either, when thereare no parasites at it; and it's just parasites that we're going tofight. "

Pelle had no objection to the cheap money; there were still plenty ofdifficulties to overcome. If they got on, it would not be long beforeprivate speculation declared war on him. 

They agreed that they would have nothing to do with agents and branches;the business was to rest entirely upon itself and communicate directlywith the consumers. What was made in the workshop should merely coverthe expenses of the shop above, the rest of the surplus being dividedamong the workmen. 

"According to what rules?" asked Brun, with a searching glance atPelle. 

"Equal!" he answered without hesitation. "We won't have anything to dowith agreements. We made a great mistake, when we began the Movement, ingiving in to the agreement system instead of doing away with italtogether. It has increased the inequality. Every one that works has aright to live. "

"Do you think the capable workman will submit to sharing equally withthose that are less capable?" asked Brun doubtfully. 

"He must learn to!" said Pelle firmly. "How could he otherwise maintainthat all work is of equal value?"

"Is that your own opinion?"

"Most decidedly. I see no reason, for instance, for making anydifference between a doctor and a sewer-cleaner. It's impossible to saywhich of them is of the greater use in matters of health; the point isthat each shall do what he can. "

"Capital!" exclaimed Brun. "Capital!" The old philosopher was in thebest of spirits. Pelle had considered him awkward and unpractical, andwas astonished to find that his views on many points were so practical. 

"It's because this is something new, " said the old man, rubbing hishands. "I'd done with the old before I came into the world; there wasnothing that stimulated me; I was said to be degenerated. Yes, indeed!All the same, the old bookworm's going to show his ancestors thatthere's vigorous blood flowing in his veins too. We two have found theplace from which the world can be rocked, my dear Pelle; I think we'vefound it! And now we'll set to work. "

There was enough to do indeed, but they were realities now, and Pellehad a pleasant feeling of once more having his feet upon the ground. This was something different from riding alone through space upon hisown thought, always in danger of falling down; here he opened up hisroad, so to speak, with his hands. 

It had been arranged that the present owner of the business should carryit on a little longer, while Pelle made himself at home in it all, learned to understand the machinery, and took lessons in book-keeping. He was always busy, used his day and at night slept like a log. Hisbrain was no longer in a perpetual ferment like a caldron, for sleep putout the fire beneath it. 

The essential thing was that they should be a party that could entirelyrely upon one another, and Pelle unhesitatingly discharged those of hiscomrades who were not suited for work under new forms, and admittedothers. 

The first man he applied to was Peter Dreyer. Ellen advised him not todo so. "You know he's on bad terms with the police, " she said. "You mayhave difficulties enough without that. " But Pelle needed some one besidehim who was able to look at things from a new point of view, and quiteunderstood what was essential; egoists were of no good, and this must bethe very thing for a man who had grown restive at the old state ofthings. 

 * * * * *

Pelle had come home from his book-keeping course to have his dinner. Ellen was out with Boy Comfort, but she had left the meal ready for him. It was more convenient to eat it in the kitchen, so he sat upon thekitchen table, reading a book on the keeping of accounts while he ate. 

In the front room sat Lasse Frederik, learning his lessons with fingersin both ears in order to shut out the world completely. This was not soeasy, however, for Sister had a loose tooth, and his fingers wereitching to get at it. Every other minute he broke off his reading tooffer her something or other for leave to pull it out; but the littlegirl always made the same answer: "No, father's going to. "

He then gave up setting about it honorably, and tried to take herunawares; and at last he persuaded her to let him tie a piece of cottonround the tooth and fasten it to the doorhandle. "There! Now we've onlygot to burn through the cotton, " he said, lighting a piece of candle, "or else father'll never be able to get the tooth out. It loosens ittremendously!" He talked on about all kinds of things to divert herattention, like a conjuror, and then suddenly brought the candle closeto her nose, so that she quickly drew back. "Look, here's the tooth!" hecried triumphantly, showing it to Sister, who, however, screamed at thetop of her voice. 

Pelle heard it all, but quietly went on eating. They would have to makeit up by themselves. It was not long before Lasse Frederik was applyinga plaster to his exploit; he talked to her and gave her her toys to puther into good humor again. When Pelle went in, they were both lying onthe floor with their heads under the bed. They had thrown the toothright into the wall, and were shouting together:

 "Mouse, mouse! Give me a gold tooth Instead of a bone tooth!"

"Are you going to do anything now, father?" asked Sister, running up tohim. 

Yes, he had several things to do. 

"You're always so busy, " she said sulkily. "Are you going to keep on allyour life?"

Pelle's conscience smote him. "No, I'm not very busy, " he said quickly. "I can stay with you for a little. What shall we do?"

Little Anna brought her large rag doll, and began to drag chairs intoposition. 

"No, that's so stupid!" said Lasse Frederik. "Tell us about the time youminded the cows, father! About the big mad bull!" And Pelle told themstories of his childhood--about the bull and Father Lasse, the farmer ofStone Farm and Uncle Kalle with his thirteen children and his happydisposition. The big farm, the country life, the stone-quarry and thesea--they all made up a fairy-story for the two children of thepavement; the boy Pelle's battle with the great oxen for the supremacy, his wonderful capture of the twenty-five-öre piece--each incident wasmore exciting than the one before it. Most exciting of all was the storyof the giant Eric, who became an idiot from a blow. "That was in thosedays, " said Pelle, nodding; "it wouldn't happen like that now. "

"What a lot you have seen!" said Ellen, who had come home while theywere talking, and was sitting knitting. "I can hardly understand how youmanaged--a little fellow like that! How I should like to have seen you!"

"Father's big!" exclaimed Sister appreciatively. Lasse

Frederik was a little more reserved. It was so tiresome always to beoutdone, and he would like to have found room for a parenthesis abouthis own exploits. "I say, there's a big load of corn in the cabman'sgateway, " he said, to show that he too understood country life. 

"That's not corn, " said Pelle; "it's hay--clover hay. Don't you evenknow what corn's like?"

"We call it corn, " answered the boy confidently, "and it is corn too, for it has those tassels at the ends. "

"The ears, you mean! But those are on coarse grass too, and, besides, corn is descended from grass. Haven't you ever really been into thecountry?"

"We were once going, and meant to stay a whole week, but it went wrongwith mother's work. I've been right out to the Zoological Gardens, though. "

Pelle suddenly realized how much the children must lose by living theirlife in the city. "I wonder if we shouldn't think about moving out oftown, " he said that evening when he and Ellen were alone. 

"If you think so, " Ellen answered. She herself had no desire to moveinto the country, indeed she had an instinctive horror of it as a placeto live in. She did not understand it from the point of view of thechildren either; there were so many children who got on capitally intown, and he surely did not want them to become stupid peasants! If hethought so, however, she supposed it was right; he was generally right. 

Then it was certainly time they gave notice; there was not much morethan a month to April removing-day. 

On Sundays they packed the perambulator and made excursions into thesurrounding country, just as in the old days when Lasse Frederik was theonly child and sat in his carriage like a little crown-prince. Now hewheeled the carriage in which Boy Comfort sat in state; and when Sistergrew tired she was placed upon the apron with her legs hanging down. They went in a different direction each time, and came to places thateven Lasse Frederik did not know. Close in to the back of the town laynice old orchards, and in the midst of them a low straw-thatchedbuilding, which had evidently once been the dwelling-house on a farm. They came upon it quite by chance from a side-road, and discovered thatthe town was busy building barracks beyond this little idyll too, andshutting it in. When the sun shone they sat down on a bank and ate theirdinner; Pelle and Lasse Frederik vied with one another in performingfeats of strength on the withered grass; and Ellen hunted for winterboughs to decorate the house with. 

On one of their excursions they crossed a boggy piece of ground on whichgrew willow copse; behind it rose cultivated land. They followed thefield roads with no definite aim, and chanced upon an uninhabited, somewhat dilapidated house, which stood in the middle of the risingground with a view over Copenhagen, and surrounded by a large, overgrowngarden. On an old, rotten board stood the words "To let, " but nothingwas said as to where application was to be made. 

"That's just the sort of house you'd like, " said Ellen, for Pelle hadstopped. 

"It would be nice to see the inside, " he said. "I expect the key's to begot at the farm up there. "

Lasse Frederik ran up to the old farmhouse that lay a little farther inat the top of the hill, to ask. A little while after he came backaccompanied by the farmer himself, a pale, languid, youngish man, whowore a stand-up collar and was smoking a cigar. 

The house belonged to the hill farm, and had been built for the parentsof the present owner. The old people had had the odd idea of calling it"Daybreak, " and the name was painted in large letters on the east gable. The house had stood empty since they died some years ago, and lookedstrangely lifeless; the window-panes were broken and looked like deadeyes, and the floors were covered with filth. 

"No, I don't like it!" said Ellen. 

Pelle showed her, however, that the house was good enough, the doors andwindows fitted well, and the whole needed only to be overhauled. Therewere four rooms and a kitchen on the ground floor, and some rooms above, one of these being a large attic facing south. The garden was more thanan acre in extent, and in the yard was an out-house fitted up for fowlsand rabbits, the rent was four hundred krones (Ł22). 

Pelle and Lasse Frederik went all over it again and again, and made themost wonderful discoveries; but when Pelle heard, the price, he grewserious. "Then we may as well give it up, " he said. 

Ellen did not answer, but on the way home she reckoned it out toherself; she could see how disappointed he was. "It'll be fifteen krones(17 s. ) more a month than we now pay, " she suddenly exclaimed. "Butsupposing we could get something out of the garden, and kept fowls!Perhaps, too, we might let the upper floor furnished. "

Pelle looked gratefully at her. "I'll undertake to get several hundredkrones' worth out of the garden, " he said. 

They were tired out when they got home, for after all it was a long wayout. "It's far away from everything, " said Ellen. "You'd have to try tobuy a second-hand bicycle. " Pelle suddenly understood from the tone ofher voice that she herself would be lonely out there. 

"We'd better put it out of our thoughts, " he said, "and look for athree-roomed flat in town. The other is unpractical after all. "

When he returned from his work the following evening, Ellen had asurprise for him. "I've been out and taken the house, " she said. "It'snot so far from the tram after all, and we get it for three hundredkrones (Ł16 10s. ) the first year. The man promised to put it all intogood order by removing-day. Aren't you glad?"

"Yes, if only you'll be happy there, " said Pelle, putting his arms roundher. 

The children were delighted. They were to live out there in the brightworld into which they had peeped, as a rule, only on very festiveoccasions--to wander about there every day, and always eat the food theybrought with them in the open air. 

A week later they moved out. Pelle did not think they could afford tohire men to do the removing. He borrowed a four-wheeled hand-cart--thesame that had carried Ellen's furniture from Chapel Road--and in thecourse of Saturday evening and Sunday morning he and Lasse Frederik tookout the things. "Queen Theresa" gave Ellen a helping hand with thepacking. The last load was done very quickly, as they had to be out ofthe town before church-time. They half ran with it, Boy Comfort havingbeen placed in a tub on the top of the load. Behind came Ellen withlittle Anna, and last of all fat "Queen Theresa" with some pot plantsthat had to be taken with special care. It was quite a procession. 

They were in a tremendous bustle all day. The cleaning had been verybadly done and Ellen and "Queen Theresa" had to do it all over again. Well, it was only what they might have expected! When you moved youalways had to clean two flats, the one you left and the one you wentinto. There had not been much done in the way of repairs either, butthat too was what one was accustomed to. Landlords were the same all theworld over. There was little use in making a fuss; they were there, andthe agreement was signed. Pelle would have to see to it by degrees. 

By evening the house was so far in order that it could be slept in. "Nowwe'll stop for to-day, " said Ellen. "We mustn't forget that it'sSunday. " They carried chairs out into the garden and had their supperthere, Pelle having laid an old door upon a barrel for a table. Everytime "Queen Theresa" leaned forward with her elbows on the table, thewhole thing threatened to upset, and then she screamed. She was apastor's daughter, and her surroundings now made her melancholy. "Ihaven't sat like this and had supper out of doors since I ran away fromhome as a fifteen-year-old girl, " she said, wiping her eyes. 

"Poor soul!" said Ellen, when they had gone with her along the road tothe tram. "She's certainly gone through a good deal. She's got no one tocare about her except us. "

"Is she really a pastor's daughter?" asked Pelle. "Women of that kindalways pretend to be somebody of a better class who has beenunfortunate. "

"Oh, yes, it's true enough. She ran away from home because she couldn'tstand it. She wasn't allowed to laugh, but had to be always praying andthinking about God. Her parents have cursed her. "

They went for a little walk behind the farm to see the evening sky. Ellen was very talkative, and already had a thousand plans in her head. She was going to plant a great many fruit-bushes and make a kitchen-garden; and they would keep a number of fowls and rabbits. Next summershe would have early vegetables that could be sold in town. 

Pelle was only half attending as he walked beside her and gazed at theglowing evening sky, which, with its long fiery lines, resembled adistant prairie-fire. There was quiet happiness within him and aroundhim. He was in a solemn mood, and felt as though, after an absence ofmany years, he had once more entered the land of his childhood. Therewas a familiar feeling in the soft pressure of the earth beneath hisfeet; it was like a caress that made him strong and gave him new life. Here, with his feet on the soil, he felt himself invincible. 

"You're so silent!" said Ellen, taking his arm so as to walk beside himupon the dike. 

"I feel as if you had just become my bride, " he said, taking her intohis arms. 

XI

Brun came in every morning before he went to the library to see how thework was progressing; he was greatly interested in it, and began to lookyounger. He was always urging Pelle on, and suggesting plans forextensions. "If money's wanted, just let me know, " he said. He longed tosee the effect of this new system, and was always asking Pelle whetherhe noticed anything. When he heard that the boot and shoe manufacturershad held a meeting to decide what should be their attitude to theundertaking, he laughed and wanted to turn on more steam, quiteindifferent to what it might cost. The old philosopher had become asimpatient as a child; an interest had come into his old-man's existence, and he was afraid of not getting the whole of it. "It's all very wellfor you to take your time, " he said, "but remember that I'm old andsickly into the bargain. "

He treated Pelle as a son, and generally said "thou" to him. 

Pelle held back. So much depended upon the success of this venture, andhe watched it anxiously; it was as though he had been chosen to questionthe future. Within the Movement his undertaking was followed withattention; the working-men's papers wrote about it, but awaited results. There were opinions for and against. 

He wanted to give a good answer, and decided on his measures with muchcare; he immediately dismissed such workmen as were not suited to theplan. It made bad blood, but there was no help for that. He was busyeverywhere, and where he could not go himself, Lasse Frederik went, forthe boy had given up his other occupations and helped in the shop andran errands. Ellen wanted to help too. "We can keep a servant, and thenI'll learn book-keeping and keep the accounts and mind the shop. "

Pelle would not agree to this, however. He was not going to have herworking for their maintenance any more. A woman's place was with herchildren!

"Nowadays the women take part in all kinds of work, " Ellen urged. 

It did not matter; he had his own opinion on the subject. It was enoughthat the men should do the producing. Would she have them stand on thepavement and watch the women doing the work? It was very possible it didnot sound liberal-minded, but he did not care. Women were like beautifulflowers, whatever people said about their being man's equal. They woretheir happiness off when they had to work for their living; he had seenenough to know that. 

She did not like standing and looking on while the two men were so busy, so she attacked the garden, and sowed herbs and planted cabbage in thebeds that lay like thick down quilts upon the earth; and when ithappened that things came up, she was happy. She had bought a gardeningbook, and puzzled her head about the various kinds and their treatment. Pelle came to her assistance after working hours, and everything that hehandled flourished. This made Ellen a little angry. She did exactly whathe did, but it was just as if the plants made a difference between them. "I've got the countryman's hand, " he said, laughing. 

All Sunday they were busy. The whole family was in the garden, LasseFrederik digging, Pelle pruning the espalier round the garden door, andEllen tying it up. The children were trying to help everybody and weremostly a hindrance. One or other of them was always doing somethingwrong, treading on the beds or pulling up the plants. Howextraordinarily stupid they were! Regular town children! They could noteven understand when they were told! Pelle could not comprehend it, andsometimes nearly lost patience. 

One day when little Anna came to him unsuspectingly to show him aflowering branch of an apple-tree which she had broken off, he was angryand took her roughly by the arm; but when he saw the frightenedexpression in her face, he remembered the man with the strange eyes, whohad taught him in his childhood to manage the cattle without usinganything but his hands, and he was ashamed of himself. He took thelittle ones by the hand, went round the garden with them and told themabout the trees and bushes, which were alive just like themselves, andonly wanted to do all they could for the two children. The branches weretheir arms and legs, so they could imagine how dreadful it was to pullthem off. Sister turned pale and said nothing, but Boy Comfort, who atlast had decided, to open his mouth and had become quite a chatterbox, jabbered away and stuck out his little stomach like a drummer. He was asturdy little fellow, and Ellen's eyes followed him proudly as he wentround the garden. 

The knowledge that everything was alive had a remarkable effect upon thetwo children. They always went about hand in hand, and kept carefully tothe paths. All round them the earth was breaking and curious thingscoming up out of it. The beans had a bucket turned over them to protectthem, and the lettuces put up folded hands as if they were praying forfine weather. Every morning when the children made their round of thegarden, new things had come up. "'Oook, 'ook!" exclaimed Boy Comfort, pointing to the beds. They stood at a safe distance and talked to oneanother about the new wonders, bending over with their hands upon theirbacks as if afraid that the new thing would snatch at their fingers. Sometimes Boy Comfort's chubby hand would come out involuntarily andwant to take hold of things; but he withdrew it in alarm as if he hadburnt himself, saying "Ow!" and then the two children would run as fastas they could up to the house. 

For them the garden was a wonder-world full of delights--and full ofterrors. They soon became familiar with the plants in their own way, andentered into a kind of mystic companionship with them, met them in afriendly way and exchanged opinions--like beings from different worlds, meeting on the threshold. There was always something mysterious abouttheir new friends, which kept them at a distance; they did not give muchinformation about themselves. When they were asked: "Who called you?"they answered quickly: "Mother Ellen!" But if they were asked what itlooked like down in the earth, they made no answer whatever. The gardencontinued to be an inexhaustible world to the children, no matter howmuch they trotted about in it. Every day they went on new journeys ofdiscovery in under elder and thorn bushes; there were even places whichthey had not yet got at, and others into which they did not venture atall. They went near to them many times in the course of the day, andpeeped over the gooseberry bushes into the horrible darkness that sat inthere like an evil being and had no name. Out in the brilliant sunshineon the path they stood and challenged it, Sister spitting until her chinand pinafore were wet, and Boy Comfort laboriously picking up stones andthrowing them in. He was so fat that he could not bend down, but had tosquat on his heels whenever he wanted to pick up anything. And thensuddenly they would rush away to the house in a panic of fear. 

It was not necessary to be a child to follow the life in the garden. Awonderful power of growing filled everything, and in the night itcrackled and rustled out in the moonlight, branches stretched themselvesin fresh growths, the sap broke through the old bark in the form offlowers and new "eyes. " It was as though Pelle and Ellen's happy zealhad been infectious; the half-stifled fruit-trees that had not borne formany years revived and answered the gay voices by blossomingluxuriantly. It was a race between human beings and plants as to whoshould accomplish the most, and between the plants themselves as towhich could make the best show. "The spring is lavishing its flowers andgreen things upon us, " said Pelle. He had never seen a nest that was sobeautiful as his; he had at last made a home. 

It was pleasant here. Virginia creeper and purple clematis covered thewhole front of the house and hung down before the garden door, whereEllen liked to sit with her work, keeping an eye on the little onesplaying on the grass, where she liked best to sit with Pelle on Sundays, when the Copenhagen families came wandering past on their little countryexcursions. They often stopped outside the hedge and exclaimed: "Oh, what a lovely home!"

 * * * * *

The work in Pelle's workshop began, as in all other places, at six inthe morning; but it stopped at four, so that those who cared about itcould easily make something of the day. Pelle had reduced the workinghours to nine, and dared not venture any further for the present. 

Some of the hands liked this arrangement, and employed the afternoon ingoing out with their wives and children; but others would rather havehad an hour longer in bed in the morning. One day the latter came anddeclared that now they were in the majority and would have it changed. 

"I can't agree to that, " answered Pelle. "Being early up is theworkman's privilege, and I'm not going to give it up. "

"But we've taken the votes on it, " they said. "This is a democraticinstitution, isn't it?"

"I've taken no oath to the vote, " Pelle answered quietly, "and in themeantime I should advise those who are dissatisfied with the conditionshere to try somewhere else. "

There was always something like this going on, but he did not take itfor more than it was worth. They had acquired consciousness of theirpower, but most of them had not yet discovered its aim. They used itblindly, in childish pleasure at seeing it unfold, like boys inunfurling their banner, tyrannized a little by way of a change, and tooktheir revenge for the subjection of old times by systematicallydemanding the opposite to what they had. They reeled a little; themiracle of the voting-paper had gone to their heads. It was anintelligible transition; the feeling of responsibility would get hold ofthem in time. 

Another day two of the most skilful workmen came and asked to havepiece-work introduced again. "We won't stand toiling to make money forour comrades, " they said. 

"Are they idle?" asked Pelle. 

"No, but we work quicker. "

"Then they're more thorough on the whole. The one generally balances theother. "

"That's all very well, but it doesn't benefit us. "

"It benefits the consumers, and under the new conditions that's the samething. We must maintain the principle that all who do their duty areequally good; it's in our own interests. "

They were satisfied for the time. They were two clever fellows, and itwas only that they had not got hold of the new feature in thearrangement. 

In this way there was considerable trouble. The workmen were short-sighted, and saw only from their hands to their own mouths. Impatiencehad also something to do with it. They had shorter hours and higherwages, but had not as much to do as in other places. It was new ofcourse, and had to answer to their dreams; but there would be nofortunes to be made out of it as Pelle was working it. He was a littlemore precise than was necessary when you were pressed on all sides byvulgar competition. 

There were, for instance, still a number of people who kept to the goodold handsewn boots and shoes, and willingly paid half as much again forthem. A good many small shoemakers availed themselves of this byadvertising handsewn foot-wear, and then passed the measures on to afactory. It was a good business for both factory and shoemaker, butPelle would have nothing to do with such transactions. He put his trade-mark on the sole of everything that went out of his workshop. 

Pelle took all this with dignified calmness. What right had he to demandperspicuity of these people? It was _his_ business to educate themto it. If only they were willing, he was satisfied. Some day he supposedhe would take them so far that they would be able to take over thebusiness jointly, or make it self-supporting; but until then they wouldhave to fall in with his plans. 

Part of a great, far-off dream was nevertheless being realized in hisundertaking, modest though it was at present; and if it were successful, the way to a new age for the petty tradesmen was open. And what was ofstill more importance, his own home was growing through this work. Hehad found the point where the happiness of the many lay in thelengthening of his own; he had got the right way now! Sometimes in theevening after a troublesome day he felt a little tired of thedifficulties; but when he bicycled down toward the town in the earlymorning, while the mists of night drifted across the fields and the larksang above his head, he was always in good spirits. Then he could followthe consequences of his labor, and see the good principles victoriousand the work growing. Kindred enterprises sprang up in other parts ofthe town, in other towns, still farther out. In the far distance hecould see that all production was in the hands of the working-menthemselves. 

Peter Dreyer supported him like a good comrade, and took a good deal ofthe worry off his shoulders. He unselfishly put all his strength intoit, but he did not share Pelle's belief in the enormous results thatwould come from it. "But, dear me, this is capitalistic too!" he said--"socialist capitalism! Just look up to the pavement! there goes a manwith no soles to his shoes, and his feet are wet, but all the same hedoesn't come down here and get new shoes, for we want money for themjust like all the others, and those who need our work most simply havenone. That thing"--he went on, giving a kick to one of the machines--"turns ten men into the street! There you have the whole thing!"

Pelle defended his machines, but Peter would not give in. "The wholething should have been altered first, " he said angrily. "As it is, theyare inventions of the devil! The machines have come a day or two tooearly, and point their mouths at us, like captured cannons!"

"The machines make shoes for ten times as many people as we could makefor with our hands, " said Pelle, "and that can hardly be called amisfortune. It's only the distribution that's all wrong. "

Peter Dreyer shrugged his shoulders; he would not discuss the questionof distribution any more. If they meant to do anything to alter it hewas willing to help. There had been enough nonsense talked about it. Those who had money could buy up all that they made, while thebarefooted would be no better off than before. It was a deadlock. Did hethink it would revolutionize the world if every man received the entireproceeds of his work? That only meant justice in the existingconditions, so long as diamonds continued to be more valuable thanbread. "I don't see that those who happen to have work should have abetter right to live than those who can't get any, " he said wrathfully. "Or perhaps you don't know the curse of unemployment! Look at themwandering about in thousands, summer and winter, a whole army ofshadows! The community provides for them so that they can just hangtogether. Good heavens, that isn't helping the poor, with all respect tothe honorable workman! Let him keep his vote, since it amuses him! It's aninnocent pleasure. Just think if he demanded proper food instead of it!"

Yes, Pelle was well enough acquainted with the great hunger reserve; hehad very nearly been transferred into it himself. But here henevertheless caught a glimpse of the bottom. There was a peaceablestrength in what he was doing that might carry them on a long way. PeterDreyer acknowledged it himself by working so faithfully with him. It wasonly that he would not admit it. 

At first they had to stand a good deal, but by degrees Pelle learned toturn things off. Peter, who was generally so good and amenable, spoke inan angry, vexed tone when the conversation touched upon socialconditions; it was as though he was at the end of his patience. Thoughhe earned a very good amount, he was badly dressed and looked as if hedid not get sufficient food; his breakfast, which he ate together withthe others in the workshop, generally consisted of bread and margarine, and he quenched his thirst at the water-tap. At first the others madefun of his prison fare, but he soon taught them to mind their ownbusiness: it was not safe to offend him. Part of his earnings he usedfor agitation, and his comrades said that he lived with a humpbackedwoman and her mother. He himself admitted no one into his confidence, but grew more and more reticent. Pelle knew that he lived in one of theVesterbro back streets, but did not know his address. When he stoodsilent at his work, his expression was always gloomy, sometimes terriblysad. He seemed to be always in pain. 

The police were always after him. Pelle had once or twice received ahint not to employ him, but firmly refused to submit to any interferencein his affairs. It was then arbitrarily decided that Peter Dreyer shouldreport himself to the authorities every week. 

"I won't do it!" he said. "It's quite illegal. I've only been punishedfor political offences, and I've been so careful that they shouldn't beable to get at me for any formal mistake, and here they're having thistriumph! I won't!" He spoke quietly and without excitement, but hishands shook. 

Pelle tried an appeal to his unselfishness. "Do it for my sake then, " hesaid. "If you don't they'll shut you up, and you know I can't do withoutyou. "

"Would you go and report yourself then if you were told to?" Peterasked. 

"Yes. No one need be ashamed of submitting to superior brute force. "

So he went. But it cost him an enormous effort, and on that day in theweek it was better to leave him alone. 

XII

Marie's fate lay no longer like a heavy burden upon Pelle; time hadtaken the bitterness out of it. He could recall without self-reproachhis life with her and her two brothers in the "Ark, " and often wonderedwhat had become of the latter. No one could give him any informationabout them. 

One day, during the midday rest, he went on his bicycle out to Mortenwith a message from Ellen. In Morten's sitting-room, a hunched-up figurewas sitting with its back to the window, staring down at the floor. Hisclothes hung loosely upon him, and his thin hair was colorless. Heslowly raised a wasted face as he looked toward the door. Pelle hadalready recognized him from his maimed right hand, which had only thethumb and one joint of the forefinger. He no longer hid it away, but letit lie upon his thin knee. 

"Why, good-day, Peter!" exclaimed Pelle in surprise, holding out hishand to take the other's left hand. Peter drew the hand out of hispocket and held it out. It was a dead, maimed lump with some smallprotuberances like rudiments of knuckles, that Pelle found in his hand. Peter looked into his face without moving a muscle of his own, and therewas only a little gleam in his eyes when Pelle started. 

"What in the world are you starting for?" he said dryly. "I should thinkany one might have known that a fellow couldn't mind a shearing-machinewith one hand. I knew it just as well as everybody else in the factory, and expected it every day; and at last I had to shut my eyes. Confoundit, I often thought, won't there soon be an end to it? And then one daythere it was!"

Pelle shivered. "Didn't you get any accident insurance?" he asked inorder to say something. 

"Of course I did! The whole council gathered on account of my humbleself, and I was awarded three thousand krones (Ł170) as entirelyinvalided. Well, the master possessed nothing and had never insured me, so it never got beyond the paper. But anyhow it's a great advance uponthe last time, isn't it? Our party has accomplished something!" Helooked mockingly at Pelle. "You ought to give a cheer for paperreforms!"

Peter was a messenger and a kind of secretary in a revolutionaryassociation for young men. He had taught himself to read and sat withother young men studying anarchistic literature. The others took care ofhim like brothers; but it was a marvel that he had not gone to the dogs. He was nothing but skin and bone, and resembled a fanatic that is almostconsumed by his own fire. His intelligence had never been much to boastof, but there were not many difficulties in the problem that life hadset him. He hated with a logic that was quite convincing. The strongcommunity had passed a sham law, which was not even liable for theobligations that it admitted that it had with regard to him. He had donewith it now and belonged to the destructionists. 

He had come up to Morten to ask him to give a reading at the Club. "It'snot because we appreciate authors--you mustn't imagine that, " he saidwith a gloomy look. "They live upon us and enjoy a meaningless respectfor it. It's only manual labor that deserves to be honored; everythingelse sponges on us. I'm only telling you so that you shan't comeimagining something different. "

"Thank you, " said Morten, smiling. "It's always nice to know what you'revalued at. And still you think you can make use of me?"

"Yes, you're one of the comparatively better ones among those who workto maintain the capitalists; but we're agreed at the Club that you'renot a real proletariat writer, you're far too much elaborated. Therehave never been proletariat writers; and it's of no consequence either, for entertainment shouldn't be made out of misery. It's very likelyyou'll hear all about that up there. "

"That's all right. I'll be sure to come, " answered Morten. 

"And if you'll write us a cantata for our anniversary festival--it'sthe day of the great Russian massacre--I'll see that it's accepted. Butit mustn't be the usual hallelujah!"

"I'm glad I met you, " he said to Pelle with his unchanging expression ofgloom. "Have you seen anything of Karl?"

"No, where is he?" asked Pelle eagerly. 

"He's a swell now. He's got a business in Adel Street; but he won'tenjoy it long. "

"Why not? Is there anything wrong with his affairs?"

"Nothing more than that some day we'll pull the whole thing down uponall your heads. There'll soon be quite a number of us. I say, you mightspeak one evening in our association, and tell us something about yourprison life. I think it would interest them. We don't generally haveoutsiders, for we speak for ourselves; but I don't think there'd be anydifficulty in getting you introduced. "

Pelle promised. 

"He's a devil-may-care fellow, isn't he?" exclaimed Morten when he hadshut the door on Peter, "but he's no fool. Did you notice that he neverasked for anything? They never do. When they're hungry they go up to thefirst person they meet and say: 'Let me have something to eat!' It's allthe same to them what's put into their mouths so long as it'ssatisfying, and they never thank gratefully. Nothing affects them. They're men who put the thief above the beggar. I don't dislike itreally; there's a new tone in it. Perhaps our well-behaved ruminant'sbusy doing away with one stomach and making up the spare material intoteeth and claws. "

"If only they'd come forward and do work!" said Pelle. "Strong wordsdon't accomplish much. "

"How's it going with your peaceable revolution?" asked Morten with atwinkle in his eye. "Do you see any progress in the work?"

"Oh, yes, it's slow but sure. Rome wasn't built in a day. I didn't thinkthough that you were interested in it. "

"I think you're on the right tack, Pelle, " answered Morten seriously. "But let the young ones light the fire underneath, and it'll go all thequicker. That new eventualities crop up in this country is nodisadvantage; the governing body may very well be made aware thatthere's gunpowder under their seats. It'll immensely strengthen theirsense of responsibility! Would you like to see Johanna? She's beenwanting very much to see you. She's ill again unfortunately. "

"Ellen sent me out to propose that she should come to stay with us inthe country. She thinks the child must be a great trouble to you andcannot be properly looked after here either. "

"It's very kind of your wife to think of it, but hasn't she enough to doalready?"

"Oh, Ellen can manage a great deal, " said Pelle heartily. "You would begiving her a pleasure. "

"Then I'll say 'Thank you' for the offer, " exclaimed Morten. "It'll be agreat relief to me, if only she can stand the moving. It isn't that shegives me any trouble now, for we get on capitally together. Johanna isgood and manageable, really a splendid character in spite of herspoiling. You won't have any difficulty with her. And I think it'll begood for her to be away from me here, and be somewhere where there's awoman to see to her--and children. She doesn't get much attention here. "

They went in to her and found her asleep, her pale face covered withlarge drops of moisture. "It's exhaustion, " whispered Morten. "She's notgot much strength yet. " Their presence made her sleep disturbed, and shetossed from side to side and then, suddenly opening her eyes, gazedabout her with an expression of wild terror. In a moment she recognizedthem and smiled; and raising herself a little she held out both herhands to Pelle with a charming expression of childish coquetry. 

"Tell me about the house out there and Boy Comfort, " she said, makingroom for him on the edge of the bed. "It's so tiresome here, and Mr. Morten's so serious. " And she threw a glance of defiance at him. 

"Is he?" said Pelle. "That must be because he writes books. "

"No, but I must keep up a little dignity, " said Morten, assuming afunny, schoolmasterish expression. "This young lady's beginning to besaucy!"

Johanna lay and laughed to herself, her eyes travelling from one to theother of them. "He ought to have a pair of spectacles, and then he'd belike a real one, " she said. She spoke hardly above a whisper, it was allshe had strength for; but her voice was mischievous. 

"You must come to us if he's so bad, " said Pelle, "and then you can playwith the children and lie in the sunshine out in the garden. You don'tknow how lovely it is there now? Yes, I'm really in earnest, " hecontinued, as she still smiled. "Ellen asked me to come and say so. "

She suddenly became grave and looked from the one to the other; thenlooking down, and with her face turned away, she asked: "Will Morten bethere too?"

"No, Johanna, I must stay here, of course; but I'll come out to seeyou. "

"Every day?" Her face was turned to the wall, and she scratched thepaper with her nails. 

"I shall come and see my little sweetheart just as often as I can, " saidMorten, stroking her hair. 

The red blood suffused her neck in a sudden wave, and was imperceptiblyabsorbed in the paleness of her skin, like a dying ember. Hanne's bloodcame and went in the same way for the merest trifle. Johanna hadinherited her mother's bashfulness and unspeakable charm, and also hercapricious temper. 

She lay with her back turned toward them and made no reply to theirpersuasions. It was not easy to say whether she even heard them, untilsuddenly she turned to Morten with an expression of hatred on her face. "You don't need to trouble, " she said, with glowing eyes; "you caneasily get rid of me!"

Morten only looked at her sorrowfully, but Pelle was angry. "You oughtto be ashamed of yourself for taking it like that, " he said. "Is thatall the thanks Morten gets for what he's done? I must say you're agrateful child!"

Johanna took the scolding without moving a muscle of her face, but whenhe ceased she quietly took his hand and laid it over her delicate, thinface, which it quite covered. There she lay peeping out at him andMorten between the large fingers, with a strangely resigned expressionthat was meant to be roguish. "I know it was horrid of me, " she saiddully, moving Pelle's middle finger backward and forward in front of hereyes so that she squinted; "but I'll do what you tell me. Elle-Pelle, Morten-Porten-I can talk the P-language!" And she laughed an embarrassedlaugh. 

"You don't know how much better and happier you'll be when you get outto Pelle's, " said Morten. 

"I could easily get up and do the work of the house, so that you didn'tneed to have a woman, " she whispered, gazing at him passionately withher big eyes. "I'm well enough now. "

"My dear child, that's not what I mean at all! It's for your sake. Don'tyou understand that?" said Morten earnestly, bending over her. 

Johanna's gaze wandered round hopelessly, as if she had given up allthought of being understood any more. 

"I don't think we'll move her against her will, " said Morten, as he wentdown with Pelle. "She is so capricious in her moods. I think, too, Ishould miss her, for she's a good little soul. When she's up she goescreeping about and is often quite touching in her desire to make mecomfortable. And suddenly recollections of her former life awaken in herand darken her mind; she's still very mistrustful and afraid of beingburdensome. But she needs the companionship of women, some one to whomshe can talk confidentially. She has too much on her mind for a child. "

"Couldn't you both move out to us? You can have the two upstairs rooms. "

"That's not a bad idea, " exclaimed Morten. "May I have two or three daysto think it over? And my love to Ellen and the children!"

XIII

When the workshop closed, Pelle often went on working for an hour or twoin the shop, getting the accounts straight and arranging the work forthe following day in the intervals of attending to customers. A littlebefore six he closed the shop, mounted his bicycle and hastened homewith longing for the nest in his heart. 

Every one else seemed to feel as he did. There was a peculiar homewardcurrent in the traffic of the streets. Cyclists overtook him in wholeflocks, and raced in shoals in front of the trams, which looked as ifthey squirted them away from the lines as they worked their way alongwith incessant, deafening ringing, bounding up and down under the weightof the overfilled platforms. 

Crowds of men and women were on their way out, and met other crowdswhose homes were in the opposite quarter. On the outskirts of the townthe factory whistles were crowing like a choir of giant cocks, a singleone beginning, the others all joining in. Sooty workmen poured out ofthe gates, with beer-bottles sticking out of coat-pockets and dinnerhandkerchiefs dangling from a finger. Women who had been at work or outmaking purchases, stood with their baskets on their arms, waiting fortheir husbands at the corner of the street. Little children trippingalong hand in hand suddenly caught sight of a man far off in the crowd, and set off at a run to throw themselves at his legs. 

Sister often ran right across the fields to meet her father, and Ellenstood at the gate of "Daybreak" and waited. "Good-day, Mr. Manufacturer!" she cried as he approached. She was making up for so muchnow, and was glowing with health and happiness. It was no use for Pelleto protest, and declare that in his world there were only workmen; shewould not give up the title. He was the one who directed the wholething, and she did not mind about the fellowship. She was proud of him, and he might call himself an errand-boy if he liked; men must alwayshave some crochet or other in their work, or else it would not satisfythem. The arrangement about the equal division she did not understand, but she was sure that her big, clever husband deserved to have twice asmuch as any of the others. She did not trouble her head about that, however; she lived her own life and was contented and happy. 

Pelle had feared that she would tire of the country, and apparently shedid not take to it. She weeded and worked in the garden with hercustomary energy, and by degrees acquired a fair knowledge of the work;but it did not seem to afford her any peculiar enjoyment. It was nopleasure to her to dig her fingers into the mould. Pelle and thechildren throve here, and that determined her relations to the place;but she did not strike root on her own account. She could thriveanywhere in the world if only they were there; and their welfare washers. She grew out from them, and had her own wonderful growth inward. 

Within her there were strange hidden forces that had nothing to do withtheories or systems, but produced the warmth that bore up the whole. Pelle no longer desired to force his way in there. What did he careabout logical understanding between man and woman? It was her heart withwhich he needed to be irradiated. He required to be understood by hisfriends. His great satisfaction in being with, for instance, Morten, wasthat in perfect unanimity they talked until they came to a stopping-place, and if they were then silent their thoughts ran on parallel linesand were side by side when they emerged once more. But even if he andEllen started from the same point, the shortest pause would take theirthoughts in different directions; he never knew where she would appearagain. No matter how well he thought he knew her, she always came upjust as surprisingly and unexpectedly behind him. And was it not justthat he loved? Why then contend with it on the basis of the claims of apoor logic?

She continued to be just as unfathomable, no matter how much of her hethought he had mastered. She became greater and greater with it, and shebrought him a new, strange world--the mysterious unknown with which hehad always had to strive, allowed itself to be tenderly embraced. He nolonger demanded the whole of her; in his inmost soul probably everyhuman being was lonely. He guessed that she was going through her owndevelopment in concealment, and wondered where she would appear again. 

It had formerly been a grief to him that she did not join the Movement;she was not interested in political questions and the suffrage. He nowdimly realized that that was just her strength, and in any case he didnot wish her otherwise. She seldom interfered definitely with what hedid, and why should she? She exerted a silent influence upon everythinghe did, stamped each of his thoughts from the moment they began to shootup. For the very reason that she did not know how to discuss, she couldnot be refuted; what to him was downright logic had no effect whateverupon her. He did not get his own thoughts again stale from her lips, anddid not wish to either; her wonderful power over him lay in the factthat she rested so securely on her own, and answered the most crushingarguments with a smile. Pelle was beginning to doubt as to the value ofsuperiority of intellect; it seemed to have undisputed rule over theage, but did not accomplish chiefly good. As compared with Ellen'snature, it seemed to him poor. The warmth in a kiss convinced her betterthan a thousand sensible reasons, and yet she seldom made a mistake. 

And she herself gave out warmth. They went to her, both he and thechildren, when there was anything wrong. She did not say much, but shewarmed. She still always seemed to him like a pulse that beat, livingand palpable, out from the invisible, with a strangely tranquil speech. When his head was hot and tired with adverse happenings, there wasnothing more delightful than to rest it upon her bosom and listen, onlyhalf awake, to the dull, soothing murmur within like that of the earth'ssprings when, in his childhood, he laid his ear to the grass. 

The spring was beautiful, and they were much out in it; when no onecould see them they walked hand-in-hand along the dikes like two younglovers. Then Pelle talked and showed her things. Look! there it grew inthat way, and here in quite a different way. Was it not strange? Helived over again all his childhood's excitement in spring. Ellenlistened to him, smiling; she was not astonished at anything so naturalas that things grew; she was merely _transformed!_ The earth simplysent up its juices into her too. 

The fresh air and the work in the garden tanned her bare arms, and gavestrength and beauty to her figure, while her easy circumstances freedher from care. One day a new being showed in her eyes, and looked atPelle with the inquisitiveness of a kid. "Shall we play?" it said. Wasit he or the spring that set fire to her? No matter! The pleasure washis! The sunshine entered the innermost corners of his soul, the mustycorners left by the darkness of his prison-cell, and cured himcompletely; her freedom from care infected him, and he was entirelyhappy. It was Ellen who had done it all; at last she had taken uponherself to be the messenger between joy and him!

She became gentler and more vigorous in disposition every day. The sunand the wind across the open country called forth something in her thathad never been there before, an innocent pleasure in her own body and aphysical appetite that made her teeth white and gleaming. She wasradiant with delight when Pelle brought her little things to adornherself with; she did not use them for the children now! "Look!" shesaid once, holding up a piece of dark velvet to her face which in theevening gave out again the warmth of the sun, as hay its scent. "Youmust give me a dress like this when we become rich. " And her eyessparkled as she looked at him, full of promises of abundant returns. Hethought he belonged to the soil, and yet it was through her that hefirst really came into contact with it! There was worship of nature inthe appetite with which she crunched the first radishes of the year anddelighted in their juicy freshness; and when in the evening he sprangfrom his bicycle and took her in his arms, she herself exhaled the freshperfume of all that had passed through the spring day--the wind and theproducts of the soil. He could smell in her breath the perfume of wildhoney, mixed with the pollen and nectar of wild flowers; and she wouldclose her eyes as though she herself were intoxicated with it. 

Their dawning affection became passionate first love out here. Ellen wasalways standing at the gate waiting for him. As soon as Pelle had hadhis supper, the children dragged him round the garden to show him whathad taken place during the day. They held his hands and Ellen had towalk by herself. Pelle and she had an intense desire to be closetogether, but the little ones would not submit to be set aside. "He'sour father!" they said; and Pelle and Ellen were like two young peoplethat are kept cruelly apart by a remorseless fate, and they looked atone another with eyes that were heavy with expression. 

When the little ones had gone to bed they stole away from it all, leaving Lasse Frederik in charge of the house. He had seen an artistsitting outside the hedge and painting the smoky city in the springlight, and had procured himself a paintbox. He sat out there everyevening now, daubing away busily. He did not mean to be a sailor now!

They went up past the farm and on toward the evening sun, walked hand-in-hand in the dewy grass, gazing silently in front of them. The ruddyevening light colored their faces and made their eyes glow. There was alittle grove of trees not far off, to which they often went so as to bequite away from the world. With their arms round one another they passedinto the deep twilight, whispering together. Now and then she bent herhead back for him to kiss her, when an invisible ray would strike hereye and be refracted into a rainbow-colored star, in the darkness. 

A high dike of turfs ran along the edge of the wood, and low over ithung hazel and young beech trees. In under the branches there werelittle bowers where they hid themselves; the dead leaves had driftedtogether in under the dike and made a soft couch. The birds above theirheads gave little sleepy chirps, turned on the branch and twitteredsoftly as though they dreamed the day's melodies over again. Sometimesthe moon peeped in at them with a broad smile. The heavy night-exhalations of the leaves lulled them to sleep, and sometimes they wereonly wakened by the tremor that passes through everything when the sunrises. Pelle would be cold then, but Ellen's body was always warmalthough she had removed some of her clothing to make a pillow for theirheads. 

She still continued to be motherly; her devotion only called forth newsides of her desire for self-sacrifice. How rich she was in hermotherliness! She demanded nothing but the hard ground, and could notmake herself soft enough: everything was for him. And she could makeherself so incomprehensibly soft! Providence had thrown all His richesand warmth into her lap; it was no wonder that both life and happinesshad made their nesting-place there. 

Their love increased with the sunshine, and made everything bright andgood; there was no room for any darkness. Pelle met all troubles with asmile. He went about in a state of semi-stupor, and even his mostserious business affairs could not efface Ellen's picture from his mind. Her breath warmed the air around him throughout the day, and made himhasten home. At table at home they had secret signs that referred totheir secret world. They were living in the first love of youth with allits sweet secrecy, and smiled at one another in youthful, stealthycomprehension, as though the whole world were watching them and mustlearn nothing. If their feet touched under the table, their eyes met andEllen would blush like a young girl. Her affection was so great that shecould not bear it to be known, even to themselves. A red flame passedover her face, and her eyes were veiled as though she hid in them theunspeakable sweetness of her tryst from time to time. She rarely spokeand generally answered with a smile; she sang softly to herself, filledwith the happiness of youth. 

 * * * * *

One afternoon when he came cycling home Ellen did not meet him as usual. He became anxious, and hurried in. The sofa was made into a bed, andEllen was standing by it, bending over Johanna, who lay shivering withfever. Ellen raised her head and said, "Hush!" The children were sittingin a corner gazing fearfully at the sick girl, who lay with closed eyes, moaning slightly. 

"She came running out here this afternoon, " whispered

Ellen, looking strangely at him; "I can't think why. She's terribly ill!I've sent Lasse Frederik in to Morten, so that he may know she's withus. "

"Have you sent for the doctor?" asked Pelle, bending down over Johanna. 

"Yes. Lasse Frederik will tell Morten to bring his doctor with him. Hemust know her best. I should think they'll soon be here. "

A shivering fit came over Johanna. She lay working her tongue againstthe dry roof of her mouth, now and then uttering a number ofdisconnected words, and tossing to and fro upon the bed. Suddenly sheraised herself in terror, her wide-open eyes fixed upon Pelle, but withno recognition in them. "Go away! I won't!" she screamed, pushing himaway. His deep voice calmed her, however, and she allowed herself to belaid down once more, and then lay still with closed eyes. 

"Some one has been after her, " said Ellen, weeping. "What can it be?"

"It's the old story, " Pelle whispered with emotion. "Morten says that itconstantly reappears in her. --Take the children out into the garden, Ellen. I'll stay here with her. "

Ellen went out with the little ones, who could hardly be persuaded tocome out of their corner; but it was not long before their chatteringvoices could be heard out on the grass. 

Pelle sat with his hand on Johanna's forehead, staring straight beforehim. He had been rudely awakened to the horror of life once more. Convulsive tremors passed through her tortured brow. It was as if heheld in his hand a fluttering soul that had been trodden in the mirebeneath heavy heels--a poor crushed fledgeling that could neither flynor die. 

He was roused by the sound of a carriage driving quickly up to thegarden gate, and went out to meet the men. 

The doctor was very doubtful about Johanna's condition. "I'm afraid thatthe fits will increase rather than decrease, " he said in a whisper. "Itwould be better if she were sent to the hospital as soon as she's ableto be moved. "

"Would it be better for her?" asked Ellen. 

"No, not exactly for her, but--she'll be a difficult patient, you know!"

"Then she shall remain here, " said Ellen; "she shall be well lookedafter. "

Lasse Frederik had to take his bicycle and ride to the chemist's, andimmediately after the doctor drove away. 

They sat outside the garden door, so that they could hear any sound fromthe sick girl, and talked together in low tones. It was sad to seeMorten; Johanna's flight from him had wounded him deeply. 

"I wonder why she did it?" said Pelle. 

"She's been strange ever since you came up and proposed that she shouldcome out to you, " said Morten sadly. "She got it into her head that shewas a burden to me and that I would like to get rid of her. Two or threedays ago she got up while I was out, and began working in the house--Isuppose as a return for my keeping her. She's morbidly sensitive. When Idistinctly forbade her she declared that she wouldn't owe me anythingand meant to go away. I knew that she might very likely do it in spiteof her being ill, so I stayed at home. At midday to-day I just went downto fetch milk, and when I came up she was gone. It was a good thing shecame out here; I think she'd do anything when once the idea's taken herthat she's a burden. "

"She must be very fond of you, " said Ellen, looking at him. 

"I don't think so, " answered Morten, with a sad smile. "At any rate, she's hidden it well. My impression is that she's hated me ever sincethe day we spoke of her coming out here. --May I stay here for thenight?"

"If you can put up with what we have, " answered Ellen. "It won't be aluxurious bed, but it'll be something to lie down on. "

Morten did not want a bed, however. "I'll sit up and watch overJohanna, " he said. 

XIV

The house was thus transformed into a nursing home. It was a hard hit attheir careless happiness, but they took it as it came. Neither of themdemanded more of life than it was capable of. 

Ellen was with the sick girl day and night until the worst was over; sheneglected both Pelle and the children to give all her care to Johanna. 

"You've got far too much to do, " said Pelle anxiously. "It'll end inyour being ill too. Do let us have help!" And as Ellen would not hear ofit, he took the matter into his own hands, and got "Queen Theresa" to beout there during the day. 

In the course of a few days Morten arranged his affairs, got rid of hisflat, and moved out to them. "You won't be able to run away from me, after all, " he said to Johanna, who was sitting up in bed listening tothe carrying upstairs of his things. "When you're well enough you shallbe moved up into the big attic; and then we two shall live upstairs andbe jolly again, won't we?"

She made no answer, but flushed with pleasure. 

Ellen now received from Morten the amount he usually spent in a month onfood and house-rent. She was quite disconcerted. What was she to do withall that money? It was far too much! Well, they need no longer beanxious about their rent. 

Johanna was soon so far recovered as to be able to get up for a little. The country air had a beneficial effect upon her nerves, and Ellen knewhow to keep her in good spirits. Old Brun made her a present of abeautiful red and yellow reclining chair of basket work; and when thesun shone she was carried out onto the grass, where she lay and watchedthe children's play, sometimes joining in the game from her chair, andordering them hither and thither. Boy Comfort submitted to it good-naturedly, but Sister was a little more reserved. She did not like thisstranger to call Pelle "father"; and when she was in a teasing mood shewould stand a little way off and repeat again and again: "He's not yourfather, for he's mine!" until Ellen took her away. 

Johanna mostly lay, however, gazing into space with an expression of theutmost weariness. For a moment her attention would be attracted byanything new, but then her eyes wandered away again. She was never wellenough to walk about; even when she felt well, her legs would notsupport her. Brun came out to "Daybreak" every afternoon to see her. Theold man was deeply affected by her sad fate, and had given up his usualholiday trip in order to keep himself acquainted with her condition. "Wemust do something for her, " he said to the doctor, who paid a dailyvisit at his request. "Is there nothing that can be done?"

The doctor shook his head. "She couldn't be better off anywhere than sheis here, " he said. 

They were all fond of her, and did what they could to please her. Brunalways brought something with him, expensive things, such as beautifulsilk blankets that she could have over her when she lay out in thegarden, and a splendid coral necklace. He got her everything that hecould imagine she would like. Her eyes sparkled whenever she receivedanything new, and she put everything on. "Now I'm a princess in all herfinery, " she whispered, smiling at him; but a moment after she hadforgotten all about it. She was very fond of the old man, made him sitbeside her, and called him "grandfather" with a mournful attempt atroguishness. She did not listen to what he told her, however, and whenthe little ones crept up and wanted him to come with them to play in thefield, he could quite well go, for she did not notice it. 

Alas! nothing could reconcile her child's soul to her poor, maltreatedbody, neither love nor trinkets. It was as though it were weary of itscovering and had soared as far out as possible, held captive by a thinthread that would easily wear through. She grew more transparent everyday; it could be clearly seen now that she had the other children besideher. They ate and throve for her as well as themselves! When Ellen wasnot on the watch, Boy Comfort would come and eat up Johanna's invalidfood, though goodness knew he wasn't starved! Johanna herself looked oncalmly; it was all a matter of such indifference to her. 

It was an unusually fine summer, dry and sunny, and they could nearlyalways be in the garden. They generally gathered there toward evening;Ellen and "Queen Theresa" had finished their house work, and sat byJohanna with their sewing, Brun kept them company with his cheerfultalk, and Johanna lay and dozed with her face toward the garden gate. They laughed and joked with her to keep her in good spirits. Brun hadpromised her a trip to the South if she would make haste to use herlegs, and told her about the sun down there and the delicious grapes andoranges that she would be allowed to pick herself. She answeredeverything with her sad smile, as though she knew all too well whatawaited her. Her thick, dark hair overshadowed more and more her paleface; it was as if night were closing over her. She seemed to be dozingslowly out of existence, with her large eyes turned toward the gardengate. 

Morten was often away on lecturing tours, sometimes for several days ata time. When at last he entered the gate, life flashed into her face. Hewas the only one who could recall her spirit to its surroundings; it wasas though it only lingered on for him. She was no longer capricious withhim. When she had the strength for it, she sat up and threw her armsround his neck; her tears flowed silently, and her longing found freevent. Ellen understood the child's feelings, and signed to the others toleave the two together. Morten would then sit for hours beside her, telling her all that he had been doing; she never seemed to grow weary, but lay and listened to him with shining eyes, her transparent handresting upon his arm. Every step he took interested her; sometimes apeculiar expression came into her eyes, and she fell suspiciously uponsome detail or other. Her senses were morbidly keen; the very scent ofstrange people about him made her sullen and suspicious. 

"The poor, poor child! She loves him!" said Ellen one day to Pelle, andsuddenly burst into tears. "And there she lies dying!" Her own happinessmade her so fully conscious of the child's condition. 

"But dearest Ellen!" exclaimed Pelle in protest. "Don't you think I cansee? That's of course why she's always been so strange to him. How sadit is!"

The child's sad fate cast a shadow over the others, but the sun rosehigh in the heavens and became still stronger. 

"Pelle, " said Ellen, stroking his hair, "the light nights will soon beover!"

Morten continued obstinately to believe that little Johanna wouldrecover, but every one else could see distinctly what the end was to be. Her life oozed away with the departing summer. She became gentler andmore manageable every day. The hatred in her was extinguished; sheaccepted all their kindness with a tired smile. Through her spoiledbeing there radiated a strange charm, bearing the stamp of death, whichseemed to unfold itself the more as she drew nearer to the grave. 

Later in the autumn her nature changed. Suddenly, when Pelle or Mortenapproached, her eyes would fill with horror and she would open her mouthto cry out; but when she recognized them, she nestled down in theirarms, crying pitifully. She could no longer go into the garden, butalways kept her bed. She could not bear the noise of the children; ittortured her and carried her thoughts back to the narrow streets: theyhad to keep out of doors all day. Delirious attacks became morefrequent, and her thin, languid voice became once more rough and hoarse. She lay fighting with boys and roughs and high hats, defended herselfwith nicknames and abusive epithets, and snarled at every one, until sheat last gave in and asked for brandy, and lay crying softly to herself. Old Brun never dared show himself at her bedside; she took him for anold chamberlain that the street-boys had set onto her, and received himwith coarse demands. 

This insight into the child's terrible existence among the timber-stacksaffected them all. It seemed as if the malignity of life would not relaxits hold on this innocent victim, but would persecute her as long aslife remained, and made all their love useless. Morten stayed with herduring the days in which she fought her battle with death; he satwatching her from a corner, only venturing nearer when she dozed. Ellenwas the only one who had the strength to meet it. She was with Johannanight and day, and tried to make death easier for her by her unwearyingcare; and when the fits came over the child, she held her in her armsand sought to calm her with a mother's love. 

She had never been in a death-chamber before, but did not quail; and thechild died upon her breast. 

 * * * * *

Johanna's death had completely paralyzed Morten. As long as he possiblycould he had clung to the belief that her life might be saved; if not, it would be so unreasonably unjust; and when her hopeless conditionbecame apparent to him, he collapsed. He did nothing, but wandered aboutdully, spoke to no one and ate very little. It was as though he hadreceived a blow on the head from a heavy hand. 

After the funeral he and Pelle walked home together while the othersdrove. Pelle talked of indifferent matters in order to draw Morten'sthoughts away from the child, but Morten did not listen to him. 

"My dear fellow, you can't go on like this, " said Pelle suddenly, putting his arm through Morten's. "You've accompanied the poor childalong the road as far as you could, and the living have some claim onyou too. "

Morten raised his head. "What does it matter whether I write a few pagesmore or less?" he said wearily. 

"Your pen was given you to defend the defenceless with; you mustn't giveup, " said Pelle. 

Morten laughed bitterly. "And haven't I pleaded the cause of thechildren as well as I could, and been innocent enough to believe thatthere, at any rate, it was only necessary to open people's eyes in orderto touch their hearts? And what has been gained? The addition, at themost, of one more volume to the so-called good literature. Men arepractical beings; you can with the greatest ease get them to shedtheater tears; they're quite fond of sitting in the stalls and weepingwith the unfortunate man; but woe to him if they meet him again in thestreet! The warmest words that have ever been spoken to me about mydescriptions of children were from an old gentleman whom I afterwardfound to be trying to get hold of little children. "

"But what are you going to do?" said Pelle, looking at him with concern. 

"Yes, what am I going to do--tell me that! You're right in saying I'mindifferent, but can one go on taking part in a battle that doesn't evenspare the children? Do you remember my little sister Karen, who had todrown herself? How many thousand children are there not standing behindher and Johanna! They call this the children's century, and thechildren's blood is crying out from the earth! They're happy when theycan steal away. Fancy if Johanna had lived on with her burden! Theshadows of childhood stretch over the whole of life. "

"Yes, and so does the sunshine of childhood!" exclaimed Pelle. "That'swhy we mustn't fail the poor little ones. We shall need a race with warmhearts. "

"That's just what I've thought, " said Morten sadly. "Do you know, Pelle, I _loved_ that child who came to me from the very lowest depth. Shewas everything to me; misery has never come so cruelly near to mebefore. It was a beautiful dream of mine--a foolish dream--that shewould live. I was going to coax life and happiness into her again, andthen I would have written a book about all that triumphs. I don't knowwhether you understand me--about misery that becomes health andhappiness beneath the sunshine of kindness. She was that; life couldhardly be brought lower! But did you notice how much beauty and delicacythere was after all buried beneath the sewer-mud in her? I had lookedforward to bringing it out, freed from all want and ugliness, andshowing the world how beautiful we are down here when the mud is scrapedoff us. Perhaps it might have induced them to act justly. That's what Idreamed, but it's a bitter lot to have the unfortunates appointed to beone's beloved. My only love is irretrievably dead, and now I cannotwrite about anything that triumphs. What have I to do with that?"

"I think it's Victor Hugo who says that the heart is the only bird thatcarries its cage, " said Pelle, "but your heart refuses to take it whenthere is most use for it. "

"Oh, no!" said Morten with a little more energy. "I shan't desert you;but this has been a hard blow for me. If only I had a little more ofyour clear faith! Well, I must be glad that I have you yourself, " headded, holding out his hand to Pelle with a bright smile. 

The librarian came across the fields to meet them. "It's taken you twoDioseuri a long time, " he said, looking at them attentively. "Ellen'swaiting with the dinner. "

The three men walked together up the bare stubblefield toward the house. "The best of the summer's over now, " said Brun, looking about with asigh. "The wheel has turned on one more cog!"

"Death isn't the worst thing that can happen to one, " answered Morten, who was still in a morbid mood. 

"That's the sort of thing one says while one's young and prosperous--anddoesn't mean seriously. To-morrow life will have taken you and yoursorrow into its service again. But I have never been young until nowthat I've learned to know you two, so I count every fleeting hour like amiser--and envy you who can walk so quickly, " he added with a smile. 

They walked up more slowly, and as they followed the hedge up toward thehouse they heard a faint whimpering in the garden. In a hole in an emptybed, which the two children had dug with their spades, sat Boy Comfort, and Sister was busy covering him with earth; it was already up to hisneck. He was making no resistance, but only whimpered a little when themould began to get near his mouth. 

Pelle gave the alarm and leaped the hedge, and Ellen at the same momentcame running out. "You might have suffocated little brother!" she saidwith consternation, taking the boy in her arms. 

"I was only planting him, " said Anna, offended at having her workdestroyed. "He wanted to be, and of course he'd come up again in thespring!" The two children wanted a little brother, and had agreed thatBoy Comfort should sacrifice himself. 

"You mustn't do such things, " said Ellen quietly. "You'll get a littlebrother in the spring anyhow. " And she looked at Pelle with a lovingglance. 

XV

Work went on steadily in the cooperative works. It made no great stir;in the Movement they had almost forgotten that it existed at all. It wasa long and difficult road that Pelle had set out on, but he did not fora moment doubt that it led to the end he had in view, and he set aboutit seriously. Never had his respiration been so slow. 

At present he was gaining experience. He and Peter Dreyer had trained astaff of good workmen, who knew what was at stake, and did not allowthemselves to be upset even if a foreign element entered. The businessincreased steadily and required new men; but Pelle had no difficultywith the new forces; the undertaking was so strong that it swallowedthem and remodelled them. 

The manufacturers at any rate remembered his existence, and tried toinjure him at every opportunity. This pleased him, for it establishedthe fact that he was a danger to them. Through their connections theyclosed credit, and when this did not lead to anything, because he hadBrun's fortune to back him up, they boycotted him with regard tomaterials by forcing the leather-merchants not to sell to him. He thenhad to import his materials from abroad. It gave him a little extratrouble, and now it was necessary to have everything in order, so thatthey should not come to a standstill for want of anything. 

One day an article was lacking in a new consignment, and the whole thingwas about to come to a standstill. He managed to obtain it by stratagem, but he was angry. "I should like to hit those leather-merchants back, "he said to Brun. "If we happen to be in want of anything, we're obligedto get it by cunning. Don't you think we might take the shop next door, and set up a leather business? It would be a blow to the others, andthen we should always have what we want to use. We shouldn't get rich onit, so I think the small masters in out-of-the-way corners would be gladto have us. "

Brun had no objection to making a little more war to the knife. Therewas too little happening for his taste!

The new business opened in October. Pelle would have had Peter Dreyer tobe at the head of it, but he refused. "I'm sure I'm not suited forbuying and selling, " he said gloomily, so Pelle took one of the youngworkmen from the workshop into the business, and kept an eye upon ithimself. 

It at once put a little more life into things; there was always plentyof material. They now produced much more than they were able to sell inthe shop, and Pelle's leather shop made the small masters independent ofprivate capital. Many of them sold a little factory foot-wear inaddition to doing repairs, and these now took their goods from him. Outin the provinces his boots and shoes had already gained a footing inmany places; it had come about naturally, in the ordinary sequence ofthings. The manufacturers followed them up there too, wherever theycould; but the consequence was that the workmen patronized them andforced them in again to the shops of which they themselves were thecustomers. A battle began to rage over Pelle's boots and shoes. 

He knew, however, that it was only the beginning. It would soon come toa great conflict, and were his foundations sufficiently strong for that?The manufacturers were establishing a shop opposite his, where the goodswere to be sold cheap in order to ruin his sales, and one day they putthe prices very much down on everything, so as to extinguish himaltogether. 

"Let them!" said Brun. "People will be able to get shoes cheap!" Pellewas troubled, however, at this fresh attack. Even if they held out, itmight well exhaust their economic strength. 

The misfortune was that they were too isolated; they were as yet likemen washed up onto an open shore; they had nothing to fall back upon. The employers had long since discovered that they were just asinternational as the workmen, and had adopted Pelle's old organizationidea. It was not always easy, either, to get materials from abroad; henoticed the connection. Until he had got the tanners to start acooperative business, he ran the risk of having his feet knocked awayfrom under him at any moment. And in the first place he must have thegreat army of workmen on his side; that was whither everything pointed. 

One day he found himself once more after many years on the lecturer'splatform, giving his first lecture on cooperation. It was very strangeto stand once more before his own people and feel their faces turnedtoward him. At present they looked upon him as one who had come fromabroad with new ideas, or perhaps only a new invention; but he meant towin them! Their very slowness promised well when once it was overcome. He knew them again; they were difficult to get started, but once startedcould hardly be stopped again. If his idea got proper hold of these menwith their huge organizations and firm discipline, it would beinsuperable. He entered with heart and soul into the agitation, and gavea lecture every week in a political or trade association. 

"Pelle, how busy you are!" said Ellen, when he came home. Her conditionfilled him with happiness; it was like a seal upon their new union. Shehad withdrawn a little more into herself, and over her face and figurethere was thrown a touch of dreamy gentleness. She met him at the gatenow a little helpless and remote--a young mother, to be touched withcareful hands. He saw her thriving from day to day, and had a happyfeeling that things were growing for him on all sides. 

They did not see much of Morten. He was passing through a crisis, andpreferred to be by himself. He was always complaining that he could notget on with his work. Everything he began, no matter how small, stuckfast. 

"That's because you don't believe in it any longer, " said Pelle. "He whodoubts in his work cuts through the branch upon which he is himselfsitting. "

Morten listened to him with an expression of weariness. "It's much morethan that, " he said, "for it's the men themselves I doubt, Pelle. I feelcold and haven't been able to find out why; but now I know. It's becausemen have no heart. Everything growing is dependent upon warmth, but thewhole of our culture is built upon coldness, and that's why it's so coldhere. "

"The poor people have a heart though, " said Pelle. "It's that and notcommon sense that keeps them up. If they hadn't they'd have gone to ruinlong ago--simply become animals. Why haven't they, with all theirmisery? Why does the very sewer give birth to bright beings?"

"Yes, the poor people warm one another, but they're blue with cold allthe same! And shouldn't one rather wish that they had no heart to beburdened with in a community that's frozen to the very bottom? I envythose who can look at misery from a historical point of view and comfortthemselves with the future. I think myself that the good will some dayconquer, but it's nevertheless fearfully unreasonable that millionsshall first go joyless to the grave in the battle to overcome a folly. I'm an irreconcilable, that's what it is! My mind has arranged itselffor other conditions, and therefore I suffer under those that exist. Even so ordinary a thing as to receive money causes me suffering. It'smine, but I can't help following it back in my thoughts. What want hasbeen caused by its passing into my hands? How much distress and weepingmay be associated with it? And when I pay it out again I'm alwaystroubled to think that those who've helped me get too little--mywasherwoman and the others. They can scarcely live, and the fault ismine among others! Then my thoughts set about finding out the others'wants and I get no peace; every time I put a bit of bread into my mouth, or see the stores in the shops, I can't help thinking of those who arestarving. I suffer terribly through not being able to alter conditionsof which the folly is so apparent. It's of no use for me to put it downto morbidness, for it's not that; it's a forestalling in myself. We mustall go that way some day, if the oppressed do not rise before then andturn the point upward. You see I'm condemned to live in all the others'miseries, and my own life has not been exactly rich in sunshine. Thinkof my childhood, how joyless it was! I haven't your fund to draw from, Pelle, remember that!"

No, there had not been much sunshine on Morten's path, and now hecowered and shivered with cold. 

One evening, however, he rushed into the sitting-room, waving a sheet ofpaper. "I've received a legacy, " he cried. "Tomorrow morning I shallstart for the South. "

"But you'll have to arrange your affairs first, " said Pelle. 

"Arrange?" Morten laughed. "Oh, no! You're always ready to start on ajourney. All my life I've been ready for a tour round the world at anhour's notice!" He walked to and fro, rubbing his hands. "Ah, now Ishall drink the sunshine--let myself be baked through and through! Ithink it'll be good for my chest to hop over a winter. "

"How far are you going?" asked Ellen, with shining eyes. 

"To Southern Italy and Spain. I want to go to a place where the colddoesn't pull off the coats of thousands while it helps you on with yourfurs. And then I want to see people who haven't had a share in theblessings of mechanical culture, but upon whom the sun has shone to makeup for it--sunshine-beings like little Johanna and her mother andgrandmother, but who've been allowed to live. Oh, how nice it'll be tosee for once poor people who aren't cold!"

"Just let him get off as quickly as possible, " said Ellen, when Mortenhad gone up to pack; "for if he once gets the poor into his mind, it'llall come to nothing. I expect I shall put a few of your socks and alittle underclothing into his trunk; he's got no change. If only he'llsee that his things go to the wash, and that they don't ruin them withchlorine!"

"Don't you think you'd better look after him a little while he'spacking?" asked Pelle. "Or else I'm afraid he'll not take what he'llreally want. Morten would sometimes forget his own head. "

Ellen went upstairs with the things she had looked out. It was fortunatethat she did so, for Morten had packed his trunk quite full of books, and laid the necessary things aside. When she took everything out andbegan all over again, he fidgeted about and was quite unhappy; it hadbeen arranged so nicely, the fiction all together in one place, theproletariat writings in another; he could have put his hand in and takenout anything he wanted. But Ellen had no mercy. Everything had to beemptied onto the floor, and he had to bring every stitch of clothing hepossessed and lay them on chairs, whence she selected the necessarygarments. At each one that was placed in the trunk, Morten protestedmeekly: it really could not be worth while to take socks with him, noryet several changes of linen; you simply bought them as you requiredthem. Indeed? Could it not? But it was worth while lugging about a bigtrunk full of useless books like any colporteur, was it?

Ellen was on her knees before the trunk, and was getting on with hertask. Pelle came up and stood leaning against the door-jamb, looking atthem. "That's right! Just give him a coating of paint that will lasttill he gets home again!" he said, laughing. "He may need it badly. "

Morten sat upon a chair looking crestfallen. "Thank goodness, I'm notmarried!" he said. "I really begin to be sorry for you, Pelle. " It wasevident that he was enjoying being looked after. 

"Yes, now you can see what a domestic affliction I have to bear, " Pelleanswered gravely. 

Ellen let them talk. The trunk was now cram full, and she had thesatisfaction of knowing that he would not be going about like a tramp. There were only his toilet articles left now; even those he hadforgotten. She drew a huge volume out of the pocket for these articlesinside the lid of the trunk to make room for his washing things; but atthat Morten sprang forward. "I _must_ have that with me, whateverelse is left out, " he said with determination. It was Victor Hugo's "LesMiserables, " Morten's Bible. 

Ellen opened it at the title-page to see if it really was so necessaryto travel about with such a monster; it was as big as a loaf. 

"There's no room for it, " she declared, and quietly laid it on one side, "that's to say if you want things to wash yourself with; and you're sureto meet plenty of unhappy people wherever you go, for there's alwaysenough of them everywhere. "

"Then perhaps Madam will not permit me to take my writing things withme?" questioned Morten, in a tone of supplication. 

"Oh, yes!" answered Ellen, laughing, "and you may use them too, to dosomething beautiful--that's to say if it's us poor people you're writingfor. There's sorrow and misery enough!"

"When the sun's shone properly upon me, I'll come home and write you abook about it, " said Morten seriously. 

The following day was Sunday. Morten was up early and went out to thechurchyard. He was gone a long time, and they waited breakfast for him. "He's coming now!" cried Lasse Frederik, who had been up to the hillfarm for milk. "I saw him down in the field. "

"Then we can put the eggs on, " said Ellen to Sister, who helped her alittle in the kitchen. 

Morten was in a solemn mood. "The roses on Johanna's grave have beenpicked again, " he said. "I can't imagine how any one can have the heartto rob the dead; they are really the poorest of us all. "

"I'm glad to hear you say that!" exclaimed Pelle. "A month ago youthought the dead were the only ones who were well off. "

"You're a rock!" said Morten, smiling and putting his hands on theother's shoulders. "If everything else were to change, we should alwaysknow where you were to be found. "

"Come to table!" cried Ellen, "but at once, or the surprise will becold. " She stood waiting with a covered dish in her hand. 

"Why, I believe you've got new-laid eggs there!" exclaimed Pelle, inastonishment. 

"Yes, the hens have begun to lay again the last few days. It must be inMorten's honor. "

"No, it's in honor of the fine weather, and because they're allowed torun about anywhere now, " said Lasse Frederik. 

Morten laughed. "Lasse Frederik's an incorrigible realist, " he said. "Life needs no adornment for him. "

Ellen looked well after Morten. "Now you must make a good breakfast, "she said. "You can't be sure you'll get proper food out there in foreigncountries. " She was thinking with horror of the messes her lodgers inthe "Palace" had put together. 

The carriage was at the door, the trunk was put up beside the driver, and Morten and Pelle got into the carriage, not before it was timeeither. They started at a good pace, Lasse Frederik and Sister eachstanding on a step all the way down to the main road. Up at the gablewindow Ellen stood and waved, holding Boy Comfort by the hand. 

"It must be strange to go away from everything, " said Pelle. 

"Yes, it might be strange for you, " answered Morten, taking a last lookat Pelle's home. "But I'm not going away from anything; on the contrary, I'm going to meet things. "

"It'll be strange at any rate not having you walking about overhead anymore, especially for Ellen and the children. But I suppose we shall hearfrom you?"

"Oh, yes! and you'll let me hear how your business gets on, won't you?"

The train started. Pelle felt his heart contract as he stood and gazedafter it, feeling as though it were taking part of him with it. It hadalways been a dream of his to go out and see a little of the world; eversince "Garibaldi" had appeared in the little workshop at home in theprovincial town he had looked forward to it. Now Morten was going, buthe himself would never get away; he must be content with the "journeyabroad" he had had. For a moment Pelle stood looking along the lineswhere the train had disappeared, with his thoughts far away inmelancholy dreams; then he woke up and discovered that without intendingit he had been feeling his home a clog upon his feet. And there wereEllen and the children at home watching for his coming, while he stoodhere and dreamed himself away from them! They would do nothing until hecame, for Sunday was his day, the only day they really had him. Hehurried out and jumped onto a tram. 

As he leaped over the ditch into the field at the tramway terminus, hecaught sight of Brun a little farther along the path. The old librarianwas toiling up the hill, his asthma making him pause every now and then. "He's on his way to us!" said Pelle to himself, touched at the thought;it had not struck him before how toilsome this walk over ploughed fieldsand along bad roads must be for the old man; and yet he did it severaltimes in the week to come out and see them. 

"Well, here I am again!" said Brun. "I only hope you're not gettingtired of me. "

"There's no danger of that!" answered Pelle, taking his arm to help himup the hill. "The children are quite silly about you!"

"Yes, the children--I'm safe enough with them, and with you too, Pelle;but your wife makes me a little uncertain. "

"Ellen's rather reserved, but it's only her manner; she's very fond ofyou, " said Pelle warmly. "Any one who takes the children on his kneewins Ellen's heart. "

"Do you really think so? I've always despised woman because she lackspersonality--until I got to know your wife. She's an exceptional wifeyou've got, Pelle; hers is a strong nature, so strong that she makes meuncertain. Couldn't you get her to leave off calling me Mr. Brun?"

"I'll tell her, " said Pelle, laughing; "but I'm not sure it'll be of anyuse. "

"This _Mr. Brun_ is beginning to be an intolerable person, let metell you; and in your house I should like to get away from him. Justimagine what it means to be burdened all your life with a gentleman likethat, who doesn't stand in close relationship to anybody at all. Othersare called 'Father, ' 'Grandfather'--something or other human; but allconditions of life dispose of me with a 'Mr. Brun'! 'Thank you, Mr. Brun!' 'Many thanks, Mr. Brun!'" The old man had worked himself up, andmade the name a caricature. 

"These are bad roads out here, " he said suddenly, stopping to takebreath. "It's incomprehensible that these fields should be allowed tolie here just outside the town--that speculation hasn't got hold ofthem. "

"I suppose it's because of the boggy ground down there, " said Pelle. "They've begun to fill it in, however, at the north end, I see. "

Brun peered in that direction with some interest, but gave it up, shaking his head. 

"No, I can't see so far without glasses; that's another of the blessingsbestowed by books. Yes, it is! Old people in the country only make useof spectacles when they want to look at a book, but I have to resort tothem when I want to find my way about the world: that makes a greatdifference. It's the fault of the streets and those stupid books thatI'm shortsighted; you don't get any outlook if you don't live in thecountry. The town shuts up all your senses, and the books take you awayfrom life; so I'm thinking of moving out too. "

"Is that wise now just before the winter? It wouldn't do for you to goin and out in all kinds of weather. "

"Then I'll give up the library, " answered Brun. "I shan't miss it much;I've spent enough of my life there. Fancy, Pelle! it occurred to me lastnight that I'd helped to catalogue most of the literature of the world, but haven't even seen a baby dressed! What right have people like me tohave an opinion?"

"I can't understand that, " said Pelle. "Books have given me so muchhelp. "

"Yes, because you had the real thing. If I were young, I would go outand set to work with my hands. I've missed more through never havingworked with my body till I was hot and tired, than you have through notknowing the great classic writers. I'm discovering my own poverty, Pelle; and I would willingly exchange everything for a place asgrandfather by a cozy fireside. "

The children came running across the field. "Have you got anything forus to-day?" they cried from a long distance. 

"Yes, but not until we get into the warmth. I daren't unbutton my coatout here because of my cough. "

"Well, but you walk so slowly, " said Boy Comfort. "Is it because you'reso old?"

"Yes, that's it, " answered the old man, laughing. "You must exercise alittle patience. "

Patience, however, was a thing of which the children possessed little, and they seized hold of his coat and pulled him along. He was quite outof breath when they reached the house. 

Ellen looked severely at the children, but said nothing. She helped Brunoff with his coat and neckerchief, and after seeing him comfortablyseated in the sitting-room, went out into the kitchen. Pelle guessedthere was something she wanted to say to him, and followed her. 

"Pelle, " she said gravely, "the children are much too free with Mr. Brun. I can't think how you can let them do it. "

"Well, but he likes it, Ellen, or of course I should stop them. It'sjust what he likes. And do you know what I think he would like stillbetter? If you would ask him to live with us. "

"That I'll never do!" declared Ellen decidedly. "It would look soextraordinary of me. "

"But if he wants a home, and likes us? He's got no friends but us. "

No--no, Ellen could not understand that all the same, with the littlethey had to offer. And Brun, who could afford to pay for all thecomforts that could be had for money! "If he came, I should have to havenew table-linen at any rate, and good carpets on the floors, and lots ofother things. "

"You can have them too, " said Pelle. "Of course we'll have everything asnice as we can, though Brun's quite as easily pleased as we are. "

That might be so, but Ellen was the mistress of the house, and therewere things she could not let go. "If Mr. Brun would like to live withus, he shall be made comfortable, " she said; "but it's funny he doesn'tpropose it himself, for he can do it much better than we can. "

"No, it must come from us--from _you, _ Ellen. He's a little afraidof you. "

"Of me?" exclaimed Ellen, in dismay. "And I who would--why, there's noone I'd sooner be kind to! Then I'll say it, Pelle, but not just now. "She put up her hands to her face, which was glowing with pleasure andconfusion at the thought that her little home was worth so much. 

Pelle went back to the sitting-room. Brun was sitting on the sofa withBoy Comfort on his knee. "He's a regular little urchin!" he said. "Buthe's not at all like his mother. He's got your features all through. "

"Ellen isn't his mother, " said Pelle, in a low voice. 

"Oh, isn't she! It's funny that he should have those three wrinkles inhis forehead like you; they're like the wave-lines in the countenance ofDenmark. You both look as if you were always angry. "

"So we were at that time, " said Pelle. 

"Talking of anger"--Brun went on--"I applied to the police authoritiesyesterday, and got them to promise to give up their persecution of PeterDreyer, on condition that he ceases his agitation among the soldiers. "

"We shall never get him to agree to that; it would be the same thing asrequiring him to swear away his rights as a man. He has taught himself, by a great effort, to use parliamentary expressions, and nobody'll everget him to do more. In the matter of the Cause itself he'll never yield, and there I agree with him. If you mayn't even fight the existingconditions with spiritual weapons, there'll be an end of everything. "

"Yes, that's true, " said Brun, "only I'm sorry for him. The police keephim in a perpetual state of inflammation. He can't have any pleasure inlife. "

XVI

Pelle was always hoping that Peter Dreyer would acquire a calmer view oflife. It was his intention to start a cooperative business in the courseof the spring at Aarhus too, and Peter was appointed to start it. Buthis spirit seemed incurable; every time he calmed down a little, conditions roused him to antagonism again. This time it was the increaseof unemployment that touched him. 

The senseless persecution, moreover, kept him in a state of perpetualirritation. Even when he was left alone, as now, he had the feeling thatthey were wondering how they could get him to blunder--apparently closedtheir eyes in order to come down upon him with all the more force. Henever knew whether he was bought or sold. 

The business was now so large that they had to move the actual factoryinto the back building, and take the whole of the basement for therepairing workshop. Peter Dreyer managed this workshop, and there was nofault to find with his management; he was energetic and vigilant. He wasnot capable, however, of managing work on a large scale, for his mindwas in constant oscillation. In spite of his abilities he was burning tono purpose. 

"He might drop his agitation and take up something more useful, " saidBrun, one evening when he and Pelle sat discussing the matter. "Nothing's accomplished by violence anyhow! And he's only running hishead against a brick wall himself!"

"You didn't think so some time ago, " said Pelle. It was Brun's pamphletson the rights of the individual that had first roused Peter Dreyer'sattention. 

"No, I know that. I once thought that the whole thing must be smashed topieces in order that a new world might arise out of chaos. I didn't knowyou, and I didn't think my own class too good to be tossed aside; theywere only hindering the development. But you've converted me. I was alittle too quick to condemn your slowness; you have more connectednessin you than I. Our little business in there has proved to me that thecommon people are wise to admit their heritage from and debt to theupper class. I'm sorry to see Peter running off the track; he's one ofyour more talented men. Couldn't we get him out here? He could have oneof my rooms. I think he needs a few more comforts. "

"You'd better propose it to him yourself, " said Pelle. 

The next day Brun went into town with Pelle and proposed it, but PeterDreyer declined with thanks. "I've no right to your comforts as long asthere are twenty thousand men that have neither food nor firing, " hesaid, dismissing the subject. "But you're an anarchist, of course, " headded scornfully, "and a millionaire, from what I hear; so theunemployed have nothing to fear!" He had been disappointed on becomingpersonally acquainted with the old philosopher, and never disguised hisill-will. 

"I think you know that I _have_ already placed my fortune at thedisposal of the poor, " said Brun, in an offended tone, "and my manner ofdoing so will, I hope, some day justify itself. If I were to divide whatI possess to-day among the unemployed, it would have evaporated like dewby to-morrow, so tremendous, unfortunately, is the want now. "

Peter Dreyer shrugged his shoulders. The more reason was there, hethought, to help. 

"Would you have us sacrifice our great plan of making all wantunnecessary, for one meal of food to the needy?" asked Pelle. 

Yes, Peter saw only the want of to-day; it was such a terrible realityto him that the future must take care of itself. 

A change had taken place in him, and he seemed quite to have given upthe development. 

"He sees too much, " said Pelle to Brun, "and now his heart has dominatedhis reason. We'd better leave him alone; we shan't in any case get himto admit anything, and we only irritate him. It's impossible to livewith all that he always has before his eyes, and yet keep your headclear; you must either shut your eyes and harden yourself, or letyourself be broken to pieces. "

Peter Dreyer's heart was the obstruction. He often had to stop in themiddle of his work and gasp for breath. "I'm suffocated!" he would say. 

There were many like him. The ever-increasing unemployment began tospread panic in men's minds. It was no longer only the young, hot-headedmen who lost patience. Out of the great compact mass of organization, inwhich it had hitherto been impossible to distinguish the individualbeings, simple-minded men suddenly emerged and made themselvesridiculous by bearing the truth of the age upon their lips. Poor people, who understood nothing of the laws of life, nevertheless awakened, disappointed, out of the drowsiness into which the rhythm had lulledthem, and stirred impatiently. Nothing happened except that one pickedtrade after another left them to become middle-class. 

The Movement had hitherto been the fixed point of departure; from itcame everything that was of any importance, and the light fell from itover the day. But now suddenly a germ was developed in the simplest ofthem, and they put a note of interrogation after the party-cry. Toeverything the answer was: When the Movement is victorious, things willbe otherwise. But how could they be otherwise when no change had takenplace even now when they had the power? A little improvement, perhaps, but no change. It had become the regular refrain, whenever a woman gavebirth to a child in secret, or a man stole, or beat his wife:--It is aconsequence of the system! Up and vote, comrades! But now it wasbeginning to sound idiotic in their ears. They were voting, confound it, with all their might, but all the same everything was becoming dearer!Goodness knows they were law-abiding enough. They were positivelyperspiring with parliamentarianism, and would soon be doing nothing butgetting mandates. And what then? Did any one doubt that the poor man wasin the majority--an overwhelming majority? What was all this nonsensethen that the majority were to gain? No, those who had the power wouldtake good care to keep it; so they might win whatever stupid mandatesthey liked!

Men had too much respect for the existing conditions, and so they werealways being fooled by them. It was all very well with all thislawfulness, but you didn't only go gradually from the one to the other!How else was it that nothing of the new happened? The fact was thatevery single step toward the new was instantly swallowed up by theexisting condition of things, and turned to fat on its ribs. Capitalgrew fat, confound it, no matter what you did with it; it was like acat, which always falls upon its feet. Each time the workmen obtained byforce a small rise in their wages, the employers multiplied it by twoand put it onto the goods; that was why they were beginning to be soaccommodating with regard to certain wage-demands. Those who were ratherwell off, capital enticed over to its side, leaving the others behind asa shabby proletariat. It might be that the Movement had done a goodpiece of work, but you wanted confounded good eyes to see it. 

Thus voices were raised. At first it was only whiners about whom nobodyneeded to trouble-frequenters of public-houses, who sat and grumbled intheir cups; but gradually it became talk that passed from mouth tomouth; the specter of unemployment haunted every home and made men thinkover matters once more on their own account; no one could know when histurn would come to sweep the pavement. 

Pelle had no difficulty in catching the tone of all this; it was his ownsettlement with the advance on coming out of prison that was now aboutto become every one's. But now he was another man! He was no longer surethat the Movement had been so useless. It had not done anything thatmarked a boundary, but it had kept the apparatus going and strengthenedit. It had carried the masses over a dead period, even if only byletting them go in a circle. And now the idea was ready to take themagain. Perhaps it was a good thing that there had not been too greatprogress, or they would probably never have wakened again. They mightvery well starve a little longer, until they could establish themselvesin their own world; fat slaves soon lost sight of liberty. 

Behind the discontented fussing Pelle could hear the new. It expresseditself in remarkable ways. A party of workmen--more than two hundred--who were employed on a large excavation work, were thrown out of work bythe bankruptcy of the contractor. A new contractor took over the work, but the men made it a condition for beginning work again that he shouldpay them the wages that were due to them, and also for the time theywere unemployed. "We have no share in the cake, " they said, "so you musttake the risk too!" They made the one employer responsible for theother! And capriciously refused good work at a time when thousands wereunemployed! Public opinion almost lost its head, and even their ownpress held aloof from them; but they obstinately kept to theirdetermination, and joined the crowd of unemployed until theirunreasonable demand was submitted to. 

Pelle heard a new tone here. For the first time the lower class madecapital responsible for its sins, without any petty distinction betweenTom, Dick, and Harry. There was beginning to be perspective in thefeeling of solidarity. 

The great weariness occasioned by wandering in a spiritual desert cameonce more to the surface. He had experienced the same thing once before, when the Movement was raised; but oddly enough the breaking out camethat time from the bottom of everything. It began with blind attacks onparliamentarianism, the suffrage, and the paroles; there was in it anunconscious rebellion against restraint and treatment in the mass. By anincomprehensible process of renewal, the mass began to resolve itselfinto individuals, who, in the midst of the bad times, set about aninquiry after the ego and the laws for its satisfaction. They came fromthe very bottom, and demanded that their shabby, ragged person should berespected. 

Where did they come from? It was a complete mystery! Did it not soundfoolish that the poor man, after a century's life in rags anddiscomfort, which ended in his entire effacement in collectivism, shouldnow make his appearance with the strongest claim of all, and demand hissoul back?

Pelle recognized the impatience of the young men in this commotion. Itwas not for nothing that Peter Dreyer was the moving spirit at themeetings of the unemployed. Peter wanted him to come and speak, and hewent with him two or three times, as he wanted to find out the relationof these people to his idea; but he remained in the background and couldnot be persuaded to mount the platform. He had nothing to do with theseconfused crowds, who turned all his ideas upside down. In any case hecould not give them food to-day, and he had grown out of the use ofstrong language. 

"Go up and say something nice to them! Don't you see how starved theyare?" said Peter Dreyer, one evening. "They still have confidence in youfrom old days. But don't preach coöperation; you don't feed hungry menwith music of the future. "

"Do you give them food then?" asked Pelle. 

"No, I can't do that, but I give them a vent for their grievances, andget them to rise and protest. It's something at any rate, that they nolonger keep silence and submit. "

"And if to-morrow they get something to eat, the whole turmoil'sforgotten; but they're no further on than they were. Isn't it a matterof indifference whether they suffer want today, as compared with thequestion whether they will do so eternally?"

"If you can put the responsibility upon those poor creatures, you mustbe a hard-hearted brute!" said Peter angrily. 

Well, it was necessary now to harden one's heart, for nothing would beaccomplished with sympathy only! The man with eyes that watered wouldnot do for a driver through the darkness. 

It was a dull time, and men were glad when they could keep theirsituations. There was no question of new undertakings before the spring. But Pelle worked hard to gain adherents to his idea. He had started adiscussion in the labor party press, and gave lectures. He chose thequiet trade unions, disdained all agitation eloquence, and put forwardhis idea with the clearness of an expert, building it up from his ownexperience until, without any fuss, by the mere power of the facts, itembraced the world. It was the slow ones he wanted to get hold of, thosewho had been the firm nucleus of the Movement through all these years, and steadfastly continued to walk in the old foot-prints, although theyled nowhere. It was the picked troops from the great conflict that mustfirst of all be called upon! He knew that if he got them to go into firefor his idea with their unyielding discipline, much would be gained. 

It was high time for a new idea to come and take them on; they had grownweary of this perpetual goose-step; the Movement was running away fromthem. But now he had come with an idea of which they would never growweary, and which would carry them right through. No one would be able tosay that he could not understand it, for it was the simple idea of thehome carried out so as to include everything. Ellen had taught it tohim, and if they did not know it themselves, they must go home to theirwives and learn it. _They_ did not brood over the question as towhich of the family paid least or ate most, but gave to each oneaccording to his needs, and took the will for the deed. The world wouldbe like a good, loving home, where no one oppressed the other--nothingmore complicated than that. 

Pelle was at work early and late. Scarcely a day passed on which he didnot give a lecture or write about his coöperation idea. He wasfrequently summoned into the provinces to speak. People wanted to seeand hear the remarkable manufacturer who earned no more than his work-people. 

In these journeys he came to know the country, and saw that much of hisidea had been anticipated out there. The peasant, who stiffened withhorror at the word "socialist, " put the ideas of the Movement intopractice on a large scale. He had arranged matters on the coöperativesystem, and had knitted the country into supply associations. 

"We must join on there when we get our business into better order, " saidPelle to Brun. 

"Yes, if the farmers will work with us, " said Brun doubtfully. "They'reconservative, you know. "

This was now almost revolutionary. As far as Pelle could see, therewould soon be no place as big as his thumb-nail for capital to feed uponout there. The farmers went about things so quickly! Pelle came ofpeasant stock himself, and did not doubt that he would be able to get intouch with the country when the time came. 

The development was preparing on several sides; they would not breakwith that if they wanted to attain anything. 

It was like a fixed law relating to growth in existence, an inviolabledivine idea running through it all. It was now leading him and hisfellows into the fire, and when they advanced, no one must stay behind. No class of the community had yet advanced with so bright and great acall; they were going to put an end forever to the infamy of humangenius sitting and weighing the spheres in space, but forgetting toweigh the bread justly. 

He was not tired of the awakening discontent with the old condition ofthings; it opened up the overgrown minds, and created possibility forthe new. At present he had no great number of adherents; various newcurrents were fighting over the minds, which, in their faltering search, were drawn now to one side, now to the other. But he had a buoyantfeeling of serving a world-idea, and did not lose courage. 

Unemployment and the awakening ego-feeling brought many to join PeterDreyer. They rebelled against the conditions, and now saw no alternativebut to break with everything. They sprang naked out of nothing, anddemanded that their personality should be respected, but were unable asyet to bear its burdens; and their hopeless view of their miserythreatened to stifle them. Then they made obstruction, their own broken-down condition making them want to break down the whole. They werePelle's most troublesome opponents. 

Up to the present they had unfortunately been right, but now he couldnot comprehend their desperate impatience. He had given them an ideanow, with which they could conquer the world just by preserving theircoherence, and if they did not accept this, there must be somethingwrong with them. Taking this view of the matter, he looked upon theirdisintegrating agitation with composure; the healthy mind would bevictorious!

Peter Dreyer was at present agitating for a mass-meeting of theunemployed. He wanted the twenty thousand men, with wives and children, to take up their position on the Council House Square or AmalienborgPalace Square, and refuse to move away until the community took chargeof them. 

"Then the authorities can choose between listening to their demands, anddriving up horses and cannon, " he said. Perhaps that would open up thequestion. 

"Take care then that the police don't arrest you, " said Pelle, in awarning voice; "or your people will be left without a head, and you willhave enticed them into a ridiculous situation which can only end indefeat. "

"Let them take care, the curs!" answered Peter threateningly. "I shallstrike at the first hand that attempts to seize me!"

"And what then? What do you gain by striking the policemen? They areonly the tool, and there are plenty of them!". 

Peter laughed bitterly. "No, " he said, "it's not the policemen, nor theassistant, nor the chief of police! It's no one! That's so convenient, no one can help it! They've always stolen a march upon us in that way;the evil always dives and disappears when you want to catch it. 'Itwasn't me!' Now the workman's demanding his right, the employer finds itto his advantage to disappear, and the impersonal joint stock companyappears. Oh, this confounded sneaking out of a thing! Where is one toapply? There's no one to take the blame! But something _shall_ bedone now! If I hit the hand, I hit what stands behind it too; you musthit what you can see. I've got a revolver to use against the police; tocarry arms against one's own people shall not be made a harmless meansof livelihood unchallenged. "

XVII

One Saturday evening Pelle came home by train from a provincial townwhere he had been helping to start a coöperative undertaking. 

It was late, but many shops were still open and sent their brilliantlight out into the drizzling rain, through which the black stream of thestreets flowed as fast as ever. It was the time when the working womencame from the center of the city--pale typists, cashiers with theexcitement of the cheap novel still in their eyes, seamstresses from thelarge businesses. Some hurried along looking straight before themwithout taking any notice of the solitary street-wanderers; they hadsomething waiting for them--a little child perhaps. Others had nothingto hurry for, and looked weariedly about them as they walked, untilperhaps they suddenly brightened up at sight of a young man in thethrong. 

Charwomen were on their way home with their basket on their arm. Theyhad had a long day, and dragged their heavy feet along. The street wasfull of women workers--a changed world! The bad times had called thewomen out and left the men at home. On their way home they made theirpurchases for Sunday. In the butchers' and provision-dealers' they stoodwaiting like tired horses for their turn. Shivering children stood ontiptoe with their money clasped convulsively in one hand, and their chinsupported on the edge of the counter, staring greedily at the eatables, while the light was reflected from their ravenous eyes. 

Pelle walked quickly to reach the open country. He did not like thesedesolate streets on the outskirts of the city, where poverty rose like asea-birds' nesting-place on both sides of the narrow cleft, and thedarkness sighed beneath so much. When he entered an endless brickchannel such as these, where one- and two-roomed flats, in seven storiesextended as far as he could see, he felt his courage forsaking him. Itwas like passing through a huge churchyard of disappointed hopes. Allthese thousands of families were like so many unhappy fates; they hadset out brightly and hopefully, and now they stood here, fighting withthe emptiness. 

Pelle walked quickly out along the field road. It was pitch-dark andraining, but he knew every ditch and path by heart. Far up on the hillthere shone a light which resembled a star that hung low in the sky. Itmust be the lamp in Brun's bedroom. He wondered at the old man being upstill, for he was soon tired now that he had given up the occupation ofa long lifetime, and generally went to bed early. Perhaps he hadforgotten to put out the lamp. 

Pelle had turned his coat-collar up about his ears, and was in acomfortable frame of mind. He liked walking alone in the dark. Formerlyits yawning emptiness had filled him with a panic of fear, but theprison had made his mind familiar with it. He used to look forward tothese lonely night walks home across the fields. The noises of the citydied away behind him, and he breathed the pure air that seemed to comestraight to him out of space. All that a man cannot impart to othersarose in him in these walks. In the daily struggle he often had adepressing feeling that the result depended upon pure chance. It was noteasy to obtain a hearing through the thousand-voiced noise. A sensationwas needed in order to attract attention, and he had presented himselfwith only quite an ordinary idea, and declared that without stopping awheel it could remodel the world. No one took the trouble to oppose him, and even the manufacturers in his trade took his enterprise calmly andseemed to have given up the war against him. He had expected greatopposition, and had looked forward to overcoming it, and thisindifference sometimes made him doubt himself. His invincible idea wouldsimply disappear in the motley confusion of life!

But out here in the country, where night lay upon the earth like greatrest, his strength returned to him. All the indifference fell away, andhe saw that like the piers of a bridge, his reality lay beneath thesurface. Insignificant though he appeared, he rested upon an immensefoundation. The solitude around him revealed it to him and made him feelhis own power. While they overlooked his enterprise he would make it sostrong that they would run their head against it when they awoke. 

Pelle was glad he lived in the country, and it was a dream of his tomove the workmen out there again some day. He disliked the town more andmore, and never became quite familiar with it. It was always just asstrange to go about in this humming hive, where each seemed to buzz onhis own account, and yet all were subject to one great will--that ofhunger. The town exerted a dull power over men's minds, it drew the poorto it with lies about happiness, and when it once had them, held themfiendishly fast. The poisonous air was like opium; the most miserablebeings dream they are happy in it; and when they have once got a tastefor it, they had not the strength of mind to go back to the uneventfuleveryday life again. There was always something dreadful behind thetown's physiognomy, as though it were lying in wait to drag men into itsnet and fleece them. In the daytime it might be concealed by themultitudinous noises, but the darkness brought it out. 

Every evening before Pelle went to bed he went out to the end of thehouse and gazed out into the night. It was an old peasant-custom that hehad inherited from Father Lasse and his father before him. His inquiringgaze sought the town where his thoughts already were. On sunny daysthere was only smoke and mist to be seen, but on a dark night like thisthere was a cheerful glow above it. The town had a peculiar power ofshedding darkness round about it, and lighting white artificial light init. It lay low, like a bog with the land sloping down to it on allsides, and all water running into it. Its luminous mist seemed to reachto the uttermost borders of the land; everything came this way. Largedragon-flies hovered over the bog in metallic splendor; gnats dancedabove it like careless shadows. A ceaseless hum rose from it, and belowlay the depth that had fostered them, seething so that he could hear itwhere he stood. 

Sometimes the light of the town flickered up over the sky like thereflection from a gigantic forge-fire. It was like an enormous heartthrobbing in panic in the darkness down there; his own caught theinfection and contracted in vague terror. Cries would suddenly rise fromdown there, and one almost wished for them; a loud exclamation was arelief from the everlasting latent excitement. Down there beneath thewalls of the city the darkness was always alive; it glided along like aheavy life-stream, flowing slowly among taverns and low music-halls andbarracks, with their fateful contents of want and imprecations. Itssecret doings inspired him with horror; he hated the town for itsdarkness which hid so much. 

He had stopped in front of his house, and stood gazing downward. Suddenly he heard a sound from within that made him start, and hequickly let himself in. Ellen came out into the passage lookingdisturbed. 

"Thank goodness you've come!" she exclaimed, quite forgetting to greethim. "Anna's so ill!"

"Is it anything serious?" asked Pelle, hurriedly removing his coat. 

"It's the old story. I got a carriage from the farm to drive in for thedoctor. It was dear, but Brun said I must. She's to have hot milk withEms salts and soda water. You must warm yourself at the stove before yougo up to her, but make haste! She keeps on asking for you. "

The sick-room was in semi-darkness, Ellen having put a red shade overthe lamp, so that the light should not annoy the child. Brun was sittingon a chair by her bed, watching her intently as she lay muttering in afeverish doze. He made a sign to Pelle to walk quietly. "She's asleep!"he whispered. The old man looked unhappy. 

Pelle bent silently over her. She lay with closed eyes, but was notasleep. Her hot breath came in short gasps. As he was about to raisehimself again, she opened her eyes and smiled at him. 

"What's the matter with Sister? Is she going to be ill again?" he saidsoftly. "I thought the sun had sent that naughty bronchitis away. "

The child shook her head resignedly. "Listen to the cellarman!" shewhispered. He was whistling as hard as he could down in her windpipe, and she listened to him with a serious expression. Then her hand stoleup and she stroked her father's face as though to comfort him. 

Brun, however, put her hand down again immediately and covered her upclose. "We very nearly lost that doll!" he said seriously. He hadpromised her a large doll if she would keep covered up. 

"Shall I still get it?" she asked in gasps, gazing at him in dismay. 

"Yes, of course you'll get it, and if you make haste and get well, youshall have a carriage too with india rubber tires. "

Here Ellen came in. "Mr. Brun, " she said, "I've made your room all readyfor you. " She laid a quieting hand upon the child's anxious face. 

The librarian rose unwillingly. "That's to say Mr. Brun is to go tobed, " he said half in displeasure. "Well, well, goodnight then! I relyupon your waking me if things become worse. "

"How good he is!" said Ellen softly. "He's been sitting here all thetime to see that she kept covered up. He's made us afraid to movebecause she's to be kept quiet; but he can't help chattering to herhimself whenever she opens her eyes. "

Ellen had moved Lasse Frederik's bed down into their bedroom and put upher own here so as to watch over the child. "Now you should go to bed, "she said softly to Pelle. "You must be tired to death after yourjourney, and you can't have slept last night in the train either. "

He looked tired, but she could not persuade him; he meant to stay upthere. "I can't sleep anyhow as things are, " he whispered, "and to-morrow's Sunday. "

"Then lie down on my bed! It'll rest you a little. "

He lay down to please her, and stared up at the ceiling while helistened to the child's short, rattling respiration. He could hear thatshe was not asleep. She lay and played with the rattling sound, makingthe cellar-man speak sometimes with a deep voice, sometimes with a highone. She seemed quite familiar with this dangerous chatter, which hadalready cost her many hours of illness and sounded so painful to Pelle'sear. She bore her illness with the wonderful resignation that belongedto the dwellers in the back streets. She did not become unreasonable orexacting, but generally lay and entertained herself. It was as thoughshe felt grateful for her bed; she was always in the best spirits whenshe was in it. The sun out here had made her very brown, but there mustbe something in her that it had not prevailed against. It was not soeasy to move away from the bad air of the back streets. 

Whenever she had a fit of coughing, Pelle raised her into a sittingposture and helped her to get rid of the phlegm. She was purple in theface with coughing, and looked at him with eyes that were almoststarting out of her head with the violent exertion. Then Ellen broughther the hot milk and Ems salts, and she drank it with a resignedexpression and lay down again. 

"It's never been so bad before, " whispered Ellen, "so what can be theuse? Perhaps the country air isn't good for her. "

"It ought to be though, " said Pelle, "or else she's a poor littlepoisoned thing. "

Ellen's voice rang with the possibility of their moving back again tothe town for the sake of the child. To her the town air was not bad, butsimply milder than out here. Through several generations she had becomeaccustomed to it and had overcome its injurious effects; to her itseemed good as only the air of home can be. She could live anywhere, butnothing must be said against her childhood's home. Then she becameeager. 

The child had wakened with their whispering, and lay and looked at them. "I shan't die, shall I?" she asked. 

They bent over her. "Now you must cover yourself up and not think aboutsuch things, " said Ellen anxiously. 

But the child continued obstinately. "If I die, will you be as sorryabout me as you were about Johanna?" she asked anxiously, with her eyesfixed upon them. 

Pelle nodded. It was impossible for him to speak. 

"Will you paint the ceiling black to show you're sorry about me? Willyou, father?" she continued inexorably, looking at him. 

"Yes, yes!" said Ellen desperately, kissing her lips to make her stoptalking. The child turned over contentedly, and in another moment shewas asleep. 

"She's not hot now, " whispered Pelle. "I think the fever's gone. " Hisface was very grave. Death had passed its cold hand over it; he knew itwas only in jest, but he could not shake off the impression it had made. 

They sat silent, listening to the child's breathing, which was nowquiet. Ellen had put her hand into Pelle's, and every now and then sheshuddered. They did not move, but simply sat and listened, while thetime ran singing on. Then the cock crew below, and roused Pelle. It wasthree o'clock, and the child had slept for two hours. The lamp hadalmost burned dry, and he could scarcely see Ellen's profile in thesemi-darkness. She looked tired. 

He rose noiselessly and kissed her forehead. "Go downstairs and go tobed, " he whispered, leading her toward the door. 

Stealthy footsteps were heard outside. It was Brun who had been down tolisten at the door. He had not been to bed at all. The lamp was burningin his sitting-room, and the table was covered with papers. He had beenwriting. 

He became very cheerful when he heard that the attack was over. "I thinkyou ought rather to treat us to a cup of coffee, " he answered, whenEllen scolded him because he was not asleep. 

Ellen went down and made the coffee, and they drank it in Brun's room. The doors were left ajar so that they could hear the child. 

"It's been a long night, " said Pelle, passing his hand across hisforehead. 

"Yes, if there are going to be more like it, we shall certainly have tomove back into town, " said Ellen obstinately. 

"It would be a better plan to begin giving her a cold bath in themorning as soon as she's well again, and try to get her hardened, " saidPelle. 

"Do you know, " said Ellen, turning to Brun, "Pelle thinks it's the badair and the good air fighting for the child, and that's the only reasonwhy she's worse here than in town. "

"So it is, " said Brun gravely; "and a sick child like that gives onesomething to think about. "

XVIII

The next day they were up late. Ellen did not wake until about ten, andwas quite horrified; but when she got up she found the fire on andeverything in order, for Lasse Frederik had seen to it all. She couldstart on breakfast at once. 

Sister was quite bright again, and Ellen moved her into the sitting-roomand made up a bed on the sofa, where she sat packed in with pillows, andhad her breakfast with the others. 

"Are you sorry Sister's getting well, old man?" asked Boy Comfort. 

"My name isn't 'old man. ' It's 'grandfather' or else 'Mr. Brun, '" saidthe librarian, laughing and looking at Ellen, who blushed. 

"Are you sorry Sister's getting well, grandfather?" repeated the boywith a funny, pedantic literalness. 

"And why should I be sorry for that, you little stupid?"

"Because you've got to give money!"

"The doll, yes! That's true! You'll have to wait till tomorrow, Sister, because to-day's Sunday. "

Anna had eaten her egg and turned the shell upside down in the egg-cupso that it looked like an egg that had not been touched. She pushed itslowly toward Brun. 

"What's the matter now?" he exclaimed, pushing his spectacles up ontohis forehead. "You haven't eaten your egg!"

"I can't, " she said, hanging her head. 

"Why, there must be something wrong with her!" said the old man, inamazement. "Such a big, fat egg too! Very well, then _I_ must eatit. " And he began to crack the egg, Anna and Boy Comfort following hismovements with dancing eyes and their hands over their mouths, until hisspoon went through the shell and he sprang up to throw it at theirheads, when their merriment burst forth. It was a joke that neversuffered by repetition. 

While breakfast was in progress, the farmer from the hill farm came into tell them that they must be prepared to move out, as he meant to sellthe house. He was one of those farmers of common-land, whom the city hadthrown off their balance. He had lived up there and had seen one farmafter another grow larger and make their owners into millionaires, andwas always expecting that his turn would come. He neglected the land, and even the most abundant harvest was ridiculously small in comparisonwith his golden dreams; so the fields were allowed to lie and produceweeds. 

Ellen was just as dismayed as Pelle at the thought of having to leave"Daybreak. " It was their home, their nest too; all their happiness andwelfare were really connected with this spot. 

"You can buy the house of course, " said the farmer. "I've had an offerof fifteen thousand (L850) for it, and I'll let it go for that. "

After he had gone they sat and discussed the matter. "It's very cheap, "said Brun. "In a year or two you'll have the town spreading in thisdirection, and then it'll be worth at least twice as much. "

"Yes, that may be, " said Pelle; "but you've both to get the amount andmake it yield interest. "

"There's eight thousand (L450) in the first mortgage, and the loaninstitution will lend half that. That'll make twelve thousand (L675). That leaves three thousand (L175), and I'm not afraid of putting that inas a third mortgage, " said Brun. 

Pelle did not like that. "There'll be need for your money in thebusiness, " he said. 

"Yes, yes! But when you put the house into repair and have it re-valued, I'm certain you can get the whole fifteen thousand in the LoanSocieties, " said Brun. "I think it'll be to your advantage to do it. "

Ellen had taken pencil and paper, and was making calculations. "Whatpercentage do you reckon for interest and paying off by instalments?"she asked. 

"Five, " said the old man. "You do all the work of keeping it upyourselves. "

"Then I would venture, " she said, looking dauntlessly at them. "It wouldbe nice to own the house ourselves, don't you think so, Pelle?"

"No, I think it's quite mad, " Pelle answered. "We shall be saddled witha house-rent of seven hundred and fifty kroner (over Ł40). "

Ellen was not afraid of the house-rent; the house and garden would bearthat. "And in a few years we can sell the ground for building and make alot of money. " She was red with excitement. 

Pelle laughed. "Yes, speculation! Isn't that what the hill farmer hasgone to pieces over?" Pelle had quite enough on his hands and had nodesire to have property to struggle with. 

But Ellen became only more and more bent upon it. "Then buy ityourself!" said Pelle, laughing. "I've no desire to become amillionaire. "

Ellen was quite ready to do it. "But then the house'll be _mine_, "she declared. "And if I make money on it, I must be allowed to spend itjust as I like. It's not to go into your bottomless common cash-box!"The men laughed. 

"Brun and I are going for a walk, " said Pelle, "so we'll go in and writea contract note for you at once. "

They went down the garden and followed the edge of the hill to thesouth. The weather was clear; it had changed to slight frost, and whiterime covered the fields. Where the low sun's rays fell upon them, therime had melted and the withered green grass appeared. "It's reallypretty here, " said Brun. "See how nice the town looks with its towers--only one shouldn't live there. I was thinking of that last night whenthe child was lying there with her cough. The work-people really get noshare of the sun, nor do those who in other respects are decently welloff. And then I thought I'd like to build houses for our people on theridge of the hill on both sides of 'Daybreak. ' The people of the new ageought to live in higher and brighter situations than others. I'll tellyou how I thought of doing it. I should in the meantime advance moneyfor the plots, and the business should gradually redeem them with itssurplus. That is quite as practical as dividing the surplus among theworkmen, and we thereby create values for the enterprise. Talking ofsurplus--you've worked well, Pelle! I made an estimate of it last nightand found it's already about ten thousand (Ł555) this year. But toreturn to what we were talking about--mortgage loans are generally ableto, cover the building expenses, and with amortization the whole thingis unencumbered after some years have passed. "

"Who's to own it?" asked Pelle. He was chewing a piece of grass andputting his feet down deliberately like a farmer walking on ploughedland. 

"The cooperative company. It's to be so arranged that the houses can'tbe made over to others, nor encumbered with fresh loan. Our cooperativeenterprises must avoid all form of speculation, thereby limiting thefield for capital. The whole thing should be self-supporting and be ableto do away with private property within its boundaries. You see it'syour own idea of a community within the community that I'm buildingupon. At present it's not easy to find a juridical form under which thewhole thing can work itself, but in the meantime you and I will manageit, and Morten if he will join us. I expect he'll come home with renewedstrength. "

"And when is this plan to be realized? Will it be in the near future?"

"This very winter, I had thought; and in this way we should also be ableto do a little for the great unemployment. Thirty houses! It would be abeginning anyhow. And behind it lies the whole world, Pelle!"

"Shall you make the occupation of the houses obligatory for ourworkmen?"

"Yes, cooperation makes it an obligation. You can't be half outside andhalf inside! Well, what do you think of it?"

"It's a strong plan, " said Pelle. "We shall build our own town here onthe hill. "

The old man's face shone with delight. "There's something in me afterall, eh? There's old business-blood in my veins too. My forefathersbuilt a world for themselves, and why should I do less than they? Iought to have been younger, Pelle!"

They walked round the hill and came to the farm from the other side. "The whole piece wouldn't really be too large if we're to have room toextend ourselves, " said Pelle, who was not afraid of a large outlay whenit was a question of a great plan. 

"I was thinking the same thing, " answered Bran. "How much is there here?A couple of hundred acres? There'll be room for a thousand families ifeach of them is to have a fair-sized piece of land. "

They then went in and took the whole for a quarter of a million(Ł14, 000). 

"But Ellen!" exclaimed Pelle, when they were on their way home again. "How are we going to come to terms with her?"

"Bless my soul! Why, it was her business we went upon! And now we'vedone business for ourselves! Well, I suppose she'll give in when shehears what's been done. "

"I'm not so sure of that, " said Pelle, laughing. "Perhaps when youtackle her. "

"Well, did you get the house?" asked Ellen, from the house door, whereshe was standing to receive them. 

"Yes, we got much more, " said Brun airily. "We bought the wholeconcern. "

"Is that a fact, Pelle?"

Pelle nodded. 

"What about my house then?" she asked slowly. 

"Well, we bought that together with all the rest, " said Brun. "But asfar as that goes it can easily be separated from the rest, only it'srather soon to break up the cooperation before it's started. " He waiteda little, expecting that Ellen would say something, and when shecontinued silent he went on, rather shortly: "Well, then there's nothingmore to be said about that? Fair play's a jewel, and to-morrow I'll makearrangements for the conveyance of the house to you for the fifteenthousand (Ł850). And then we must give up the whole concern, Pelle. Itwon't do for the man at the head of it to live on his private property;so that plan's come to nothing!"

"Unless Ellen and I live in separate houses, " said Pelle slyly. "I mightbuild just the other side of the boundary, and then we could nod to oneanother at any rate. "

Ellen looked at him gravely. "I only think it's rather strange that yousettle my affairs without asking me first, " she said at length. 

"Yes, it was inconsiderate of us, " answered Brun, "and we hope you'llforget all about it. You'll give up the house then?"

"I'm pretty well obliged to when Pelle threatens to move out, " Ellenanswered with a smile. "But I'm sorry about it. I'm certain that in ashort time there'd have been money to make over it. "

"It'll be nice, won't it, if the women are going to move into ourforsaken snail-shells?" said Brun half seriously. 

"Ellen's always been an incorrigible capitalist, " Pelle put in. 

"It's only that I've never had so much money that I shouldn't know whatit was worth, " answered Ellen, with ready wit. 

Old Brun laughed. "That was one for Mr. Brun!" he said. "But sinceyou've such a desire for land-speculation, Mistress Ellen, I've got asuggestion to make. On the ground we've bought there's a piece of meadowthat lies halfway in to town, by the bog. We'll give you that. It's notworth anything at present, and will have to be filled in to be of anyvalue; but it won't be very long before the town is out there wantingmore room. "

Ellen had no objection to that. "But then, " she said, "I must be allowedto do what I like with what comes out of it. "

XIX

The sun held out well that year. Remnants of summer continued to hang inthe air right into December. Every time they had bad weather Ellen said, "Now it'll be winter, I'm sure!" But the sun put it aside once more; itwent far down in the south and looked straight into the whole sitting-room, as if it were going to count the pictures. 

The large yellow Gloire de Dijon went on flowering, and every day Ellenbrought in a large, heavy bunch of roses and red leaves. She was heavyherself, and the fresh cold nipped her nose--which was growing sharper--and reddened her cheeks. One day she brought a large bunch to Pelle, andasked him: "How much money am I going to get to keep Christmas with?"

It was true! The year was almost ended!

After the new year winter began in earnest. It began with much snow andfrost, and made it a difficult matter to keep in communication with theoutside world, while indoors people drew all the closer to one another. Anna should really have been going to school now, but she suffered agood deal from the cold and was altogether not very strong, so Pelle andEllen dared not expose her to the long wading through the snow, andtaught her themselves. 

Ellen had become a little lazy about walking, and seldom went into town;the two men made the purchases for her in the evening on their way home. It was a dull time, and no work was done by artificial light, so theywere home early. Ellen had changed the dinner-hour to five, so that theycould all have it together. After dinner Brun generally went upstairs towork for another couple of hours. He was busy working out projects forthe building on the Hill Farm land, and gave himself no rest. Pelle'swealth of ideas and energy infected him, and his plans grew and assumedever-increasing dimensions. He gave no consideration to his weak frame, but rose early and worked all day at the affairs of the coöperativeworks. He seemed to be vying with Pelle's youth, and to be in constantfear that something would come up behind him and interrupt his work. 

The other members of the family gathered round the lamp, each with someoccupation. Boy Comfort had his toy-table put up and was hammeringindefatigably with his little wooden mallet upon a piece of stuff thatEllen had put between to prevent his marking the table. He was a sturdylittle fellow, and the fat lay in creases round his wrists. The wrinkleson his forehead gave him a funny look when one did not recall the factthat he had cost his mother her life. He looked as if he knew ithimself, he was so serious. He had leave to sit up for a little whilewith the others, but he went to bed at six. 

Lasse Frederik generally drew when he was finished with his lessons. Hehad a turn for it, and Pelle, wondering, saw his own gift, out of whichnothing had ever come but the prison, repeated in the boy in an improvedform. He showed him the way to proceed, and held the pencil once more inhis own hand. His chief occupation, however, was teaching little Anna, and telling her anything that might occur to him. She was especiallyfond of hearing about animals, and Pelle had plenty of reminiscences ofhis herding-time from which to draw. 

"Have animals really intelligence?" asked Ellen, in surprise. "Youreally believe that they think about things just as we do?"

It was nothing new to Sister; she talked every day to the fowls andrabbits, and knew how wise they were. 

"I wonder if flowers can think too, " said Lasse Frederik. He was busydrawing a flower from memory, and it _would_ look like a face:hence the remark. 

Pelle thought they could. 

"No, no, Pelle!" said Ellen. "You're going too far now! It's only uspeople who can think. "

"They can feel at any rate, and that's thinking in a way, I suppose, only with the heart. They notice at once if you're fond of them; if youaren't they don't thrive. "

"Yes, I do believe that, for if you're fond of them you take good careof them, " said the incorrigible Ellen. 

"I'm not so sure of that, " said Pelle, looking at her teasingly. "You'revery fond of your balsam, but a gardener would be sure to tell you thatyou treat it like a cabbage. And look how industriously it flowers allthe same. They answer kind thoughts with gratitude, and that's a niceway of thinking. Intelligence isn't perhaps worth as much as we humanbeings imagine it to be. You yourself think with your heart, littlemother. " It was his pet name for her just now. 

After a little interlude such as this, they went on with their work. Pelle had to tell Sister all about the animals in her alphabet-book--about the useful cow and the hare that licked the dew off the clover andleaped up under the very nose of the cowherd. In the winter it went intothe garden, gnawed the bark off the young trees and ate the farmer'swife's cabbage. "Yes, I must acknowledge that, " Ellen interposed, andthen they all laughed, for puss had just eaten her kail. 

Then the child suddenly left the subject, and wanted to know whetherthere had always, always been a Copenhagen. Pelle came to a standstillfor a moment, but by a happy inspiration dug Bishop Absalom out of hismemory. He took the opportunity of telling them that the capital had apopulation of half a million. 

"Have you counted them, father?" exclaimed Sister, in perplexity, takinghold of his sleeve. 

"Why, of course father hasn't, you little donkey!" said Lasse Frederik. "One might be born while he was counting!"

Then they were at the cock again, which both began and ended the book. He stood and crowed so proudly and never slept. He was a regular prig, but when Sister was diligent he put a one-öre piece among the leaves. But the hens laid eggs, and it was evident that they were the same asthe flowers; for when you were kind to them and treated them as if theybelonged to the family, they were industrious in laying, but if youbuilt a model house for them and treated them according to allestablished rules, they did not even earn as much as would pay for theirfood. At Uncle Kalle's there was a hen that came into the room among allthe children and laid its egg under the bed every single day all throughthe winter, when no other hens were laying. Then the farmer of StoneFarm bought it to make something by it. He gave twenty kroner (a guinea)for it and thought he had got a gold mine; but no sooner did it come toStone Farm than it left off laying winter eggs, for there it was not oneof the family, but was only a hen that they wanted to make money out of. 

"Mother's balsam flowers all the winter, " said Sister, looking fondly atthe plant. 

"Yes, that's because it sees how industrious we all are, " said LasseFrederik mischievously. 

"Will you be quiet!" said Pelle, hitting out at him. 

Ellen sat knitting some tiny socks. Her glance moved lingeringly fromone to another of them, and she smiled indulgently at their chatter. They were just a lot of children!

"Mother, may I have those for my doll?" asked Anna, taking up thefinished sock. 

"No, little sister's to have them when she comes. "

"If it _is_ a girl, " put in Lasse Frederik. 

"When's little sister coming?"

"In the spring when the stork comes back to the farm; he'll bring herwith him. "

"Pooh! The stork!" said Lasse Frederik contemptuously. "What a pack ofnonsense!"

Sister too was wiser than that. When the weather was fine she fetchedmilk from the farm, and had learned a few things there. 

"Now you must go to bed, my child, " said Ellen, rising. "I can seeyou're tired. " When she had helped the child into bed she came back andsat down again with her knitting. 

"Now I think you should leave off work for to-day, " said Pelle. 

"Then I shouldn't be ready in time, " answered Ellen, moving herknitting-needles more swiftly. 

"Send it to a machine-knitter. You don't even earn your bread anyhowwith that handicraft; and there must be a time for work and a time forrest, or else you'd not be a human being. "

"Mother can make three ore (nearly a halfpenny) an hour by knitting, "said Lasse Frederik, who had made a careful calculation. 

What did it matter? Ellen did not think she neglected anything else indoing it. 

"It is stupid though!" exclaimed Lasse Frederik suddenly. "Why doesn'twool grow on one's legs? Then you'd have none of the bother of shearingthe wool off sheep, carding it, spinning it, and knitting stockings. "

"Oh, what nonsense you're talking!" said Ellen, laughing. 

"Well, men were hairy once, " Lasse Frederik continued. "It was a greatpity that they didn't go on being it!"

Pelle did not think it such a pity, for it meant that they had takenover the care of themselves. Animals were born fully equipped. Evenwater-haters like cats and hens were born with the power of swimming;but men had to acquire whatever they had a use for. Nature did not equipthem, because they had become responsible for themselves; they were thelords of creation. 

"But then the poor ought to be hairy all over their bodies, " Ellenobjected. "Why doesn't Nature take as much care of the poor as of theanimals? They can't do it themselves. "

"Yes, but that's just what they _can_ do!" said Pelle, "for it'sthey who produce most things. Perhaps you think it's money thatcultivates the land, or weaves materials, or drags coal out of theearth? It had to leave that alone; all the capital in the world can't somuch as pick up a pin from the ground if there are no hands that it canpay to do it. If the poor were born hairy, it would simply stamp him asan inferior being. Isn't it a wonder that Nature obstinately lets thepoor men's children be born just as naked as the king's, in spite of allthat we've gone through of want and hardship? If you exchange theprince's and the beggar's new-born babies, no one can say which iswhich. It's as if Providence was never tired of holding our stamp ofnobility up before us. "

"Do you really think then that the world can be transformed?" saidEllen, looking affectionately at him. It seemed so wonderful that thisPelle, whom she could take in her arms, occupied himself with such greatmatters. And Pelle looked back at her affectionately and wonderingly. She was the same to-day as on the day he first got to know her, perhapsas the day the world was created! She put nothing out on usury, but hadbeen born with all she had. The world could indeed be transformed, butshe would always remain as she was. 

The post brought a letter from Morten. He was staying at present inSicily, and thought of travelling along the north coast of Africa to thesouth of Spain. "And I may make an excursion in to the borders of theDesert, and try what riding on a camel is like, " he wrote. He was welland in good spirits. It was strange to think that he was writing withopen doors, while here they were struggling with the cold. He drank wineat every meal just as you drank pale ale here at home; and he wrote thatthe olive and orange harvests were just over. 

"It must be lovely to be in such a place just for once!" said Ellen, with a sigh. 

"When the new conditions gain a footing, it'll no longer be amongunattainable things for the working-man, " Pelle answered. 

Brun now came down, having at last finished his work. "Ah, it's good tobe at home!" he said, shaking himself; "it's a stormy night. "

"Here's a letter from Morten, " said Pelle, handing it to him. 

The old man put on his spectacles. 

XX

As soon as it was possible to get at the ground, the work of excavatingfor the foundations of the new workmen's houses was begun with fullvigor. Brun took a great interest in the work, and watched it out in thecold from morning till evening. He wore an extra great-coat, and woollengloves outside his fur-lined ones. Ellen had knitted him a large scarf, which he was to wrap round his mouth. She kept an eye on him from thewindows, and had to fetch him in every now and then to thaw him. It wasquite impossible, however, to keep him in; he was far too eager for thework to progress. When the frost stopped it, he still wandered about outthere, fidgety and in low spirits. 

On weekdays Pelle was never at home in daylight, but on Sunday he had togo out with him and see what had been done, as soon as day dawned. Theold man came and knocked at Pelle's door. "Well, Pelle!" he said. "Willyou soon be out of bed?"

"He must really be allowed to lie there while he has his coffee!" criedEllen from the kitchen. 

Brun ran once round the house to pass the time. He was not happy untilhe had shown it all to Pelle and got him to approve of the alterations. This was where he had thought the road should go. And there, where theroads crossed, a little park with statuary would look nice. New ideaswere always springing up. The librarian's imagination conjured up awhole town from the bare fields, with free schools and theaters andcomfortable dwellings for the aged. "We must have a supply associationand a school at once, " he said; "and by degrees, as our numbersincrease, we shall get all the rest. A poor-house and a prison are theonly things I don't think we shall have any use for. "

They would spend the whole morning out there, walking about and layingplans. Ellen had to fetch them in when dinner-time came. She generallyfound them standing over some hole in earnest conversation--just anordinary, square hole in the earth, with mud or ice at the bottom. Suchholes were always dug for houses; but these two talked about them as ifthey were the beginning of an entirely new earth!

Brun missed Pelle during the day, and watched for him quite as eagerlyas Ellen when the time came for him to return from work. "I shall soonbe quite jealous of him, " said Ellen, as she drew Pelle into the kitchento give him her evening greeting in private. "If he could he'd take youquite away from me. "

When Pelle had been giving a lecture, he generally came home after Brunhad gone to rest, and in the morning when he left home the old man wasnot up. Brun never went to town. He laid the blame on the weather, butin reality he did not know what he would do with himself in there. Butif a couple of days passed without his seeing Pelle, he became restless, lost interest in the excavating, and wandered about feebly without doinganything. Then he would suddenly put on his boots, excuse himself withsome pressing errand, and set off over the fields toward the tram, whileEllen stood at the window watching him with a tender smile. She knewwhat was drawing him!

One would have thought there were ties of blood between these two, sodependent were they on one another. "How's the old man?" was Pelle'sfirst question on entering; and Brun could not have followed Pelle'smovements with tenderer admiration in his old days if he had been hisfather. While Pelle was away the old man went about as if he were alwayslooking for something. 

Ellen did not like his being out among the navvies in all kinds ofweather. In the evening the warmth of the room affected his lungs andmade him cough badly. 

"It'll end in a regular cold, " she said. She wanted him to stay in bedfor a few days and try to get rid of the cold before it took a firmhold. 

It was a constant subject of argument between them, but Ellen did notgive in until she got her way. When once he had made this concession tothe cold, it came on in earnest. The warmth of bed thawed the cold outof his body and made both eyes and nose run. 

"It's a good thing we got you to bed in time, " said Ellen. "And now youwon't be allowed up until the worst cold weather is over, even if I haveto hide your clothes. " She tended him like a child and made "camel tea"for him from flowers that she had gathered and dried in the summer. 

When once he had gone to bed he quite liked it and took delight in beingwaited on, discovering a need of all kinds of things, so as to receivethem from Ellen's hands. 

"Now you're making yourself out worse than you are!" she said, laughingat him. 

Brun laughed too. "You see, I've never been petted before, " he said. "From the time I was born, my parents hired people to look after me;that's why I'm so shrivelled up. I've had to buy everything. Well, there's a certain amount of justice in the fact that money killsaffection, or else you'd both eat your cake and have it. "

"Yes, it's a good thing the best can't be had for money, " said Ellen, tucking the clothes about his feet. He was propped up with pillows, sothat he could lie there and work. He had a map of the Hill Farm landbeside him, and was making plans for a systematic laying out of theground for building. He wrote down his ideas about it in a book that wasto be appended to the plans. He worked from sunrise until the middle ofthe day, and during that time it was all that Ellen could do to keep thechildren away from him; Boy Comfort was on his way up to the old manevery few minutes. 

In the afternoon, when she had finished in the kitchen, she took thechildren up for an hour. They were given a picture-book and were placedat Brun's large writing-table, while Ellen seated herself by the windowwith her knitting and talked to the old man. From her seat she couldfollow the work out on the field, and had to give him a full descriptionof how far they had got with each plot. 

There were always several hundred men out there standing watching thework--a shivering crowd that never diminished. They were unemployed whohad heard that something was going on out here, and long before the dawnof day they were standing there in the hope of coming in for something. All day they streamed in and out, an endless chain of sad men. Theyresembled prisoners condemned hopelessly to tread a huge wheel; therewas a broad track across the fields where they went. 

Brun was troubled by the thought of these thousands of men who came allthis way to look for a day's work and had to go back with a refusal. "Wecan't take more men on than there are already, " he said to Pelle, "orthey'll only get in one another's way. But perhaps we could begin tocarry out some of our plans for the future. Can't we begin to make roadsand such like, so that these men can get something to do?"

No, Pelle dared not agree to that. 

"In the spring we shall want capital to start the tanners with acooperative tannery, " he said. "It'll be agreed on in their Union at anearly date, on the presupposition that we contribute money; and Iconsider it very important to get it started. Our opponents find faultwith us for getting our materials from abroad. It's untenable in thelong run, and must come to an end now. As it is, the factory's hangingin the air; they can cut us off from the supply of materials, and thenwe're done. But if we only have our own tannery, the one business can becarried out thoroughly and can't be smashed up, and then we're ready tomeet a lock-out in the trade. "

"The hides!" interpolated Brun. 

"There we come to agriculture. That's already arranged coöperatively, and will certainly not be used against us. We must anyhow join in thereas soon as ever we get started--buy cattle and kill, ourselves, so thatbesides the hides we provide ourselves with good, cheap meat. "

"Yes, yes, but the tannery won't swallow everything! We can afford to dosome road-making. "

"No, we can't!" Pelle declared decisively. "Remember we've also got tothink of the supply associations, or else all our work is useless; theone thing leads to the other. There's too much depending on what we'redoing, and we mustn't hamper our undertaking with dead values that willdrag it down. First the men and then the roads! The unemployed to-daymust take care of themselves without our help. "

"You're a little hard, I think, " said Brun, somewhat hurt at Pelle'sfirmness, and drumming on the quilt with his fingers. 

"It's not the first time that I've been blamed for it in thisconnection, " answered Pelle gravely; "but I must put up with it. "

The old man held out his hand. "I beg your pardon! It wasn't myintention to find fault with you because you don't act thoughtlessly. Ofcourse we mustn't give up the victory out of sympathy with those whofight. It was only a momentary weakness, but a weakness that might spoileverything--that I must admit! But it's not so easy to be a passivespectator of these topsy-turvy conditions. It's affirmed that theworkmen prefer to receive a starvation allowance to doing any work; andjudging by what they've hitherto got out of their work it's easy tounderstand that it's true. But during the month that the excavationshere have been going on, at least a thousand unemployed have come everyday ready to turn to; and we pay them for refraining from doinganything! They can at a pinch receive support, but at no price obtainwork. It's as insane as it's possible to be! You feel you'd like to givethe machinery a little push and set it going again. "

"It wants a good big push, " said Pelle. "They're not trifles that are inthe way. "

"They look absurdly small, at any rate. The workmen are not in wantbecause they're out of work, as our social economists want us tobelieve; but they're out of work because they're in want. What a puttingof the cart before the horse! The procession of the unemployed is adisgrace to the community; what a waste--also from a purely mercantilepoint of view--while the country and the nation are neglected! If aprivate business were conducted on such principles, it would be doomedfrom the very first. "

"If the pitiable condition arose only from a wrong grasp of things, itwould be easily corrected, " said Pelle; "but the people who settle thewhole thing can't at any rate be charged with a lack of mercantileperception. It would be a good thing if they had the rest in as goodorder! Believe me, not a sparrow falls to the ground unless it is to theadvantage of the money-power; if it paid, in a mercantile sense, to havecountry and people in perfect order, it would take good care that theywere so. But it simply can't be done; the welfare of the many and theaccumulation of property by the few are irreconcilable contradictions. Ithink there is a wonderful balance in humanity, so that at any time itcan produce exactly enough to satisfy all its requirements; and when oneclaims too much, others let go. It's on that understanding indeed thatwe want to remove the others and take over the management. "

"Yes, yes! I didn't mean that I wanted to protect the existing state ofaffairs. Let those who make the venture take the responsibility. ButI've been wondering whether _we_ couldn't find a way to gather upall this waste so that it should benefit the cooperative works?"

"How could we? We _can't_ afford to give occupation to theunemployed. "

"Not for wages! But both the Movement and the community have begun tosupport them, and what would be more natural than that one required workof them in return? Only, remember, letting it benefit them!"

"You mean that, for instance, unemployed bricklayers and carpentersshould build houses for the workmen?" asked Pelle, with animation. 

"Yes, as an instance. But the houses should be ensured against privatespeculation, in the same way as those we're building, and always belongto the workmen. As _we_ can't be suspected of trying to makeprofits, we should be suitable people for its management, and it wouldhelp on the cooperative company. In that way the refuse of former timeswould fertilize the new seed. "

Pelle sat lost in thought, and the old man lay and looked at him insuspense. "Well, are you asleep?" he asked at last impatiently. 

"It's a fine idea, " said Pelle, raising his head. "I think we should getthe organizations on our side; they're already beginning to beinterested in cooperation. When the committee sits, I'll lay your planbefore them. I'm not so sure of the community, however, Brun! They haveoccasional use for the great hunger-reserve, so they'll go on justkeeping life in it; if they hadn't, it would soon be allowed to die ofhunger. I don't think they'll agree to have it employed, so to speak, against themselves. "

"You're an incorrigible pessimist!" said Brun a little irritably. 

"Yes, as regards the old state of things, " answered Pelle, with a smile. 

Thus they would discuss the possibilities for the fixture in connectionwith the events of the day when Pelle sat beside the old man in theevening, both of them engrossed in the subject. Sometimes the old manfelt that he ran off the lines. "It's the blood, " he said despondently. "I'm not, after all, quite one of you. It's so long since one of myfamily worked with his hands that I've forgotten it. "

During this time he often touched upon his past, and every evening hadsomething to tell about himself. It was as though he were determined tofind a law that would place him by Pelle's side. 

Brun belonged to an old family that could be traced back several hundredyears to the captain of a ship, who traded with the Tranquebar coast. The founder of the family, who was also a whaler and a pirate, lived ina house on one of the Kristianshavn canals. When his ship was at home, she lay to at the wharf just outside his street-door. The Bruns' housedescended from father to son, and was gradually enlarged until it becamequite a mansion. In the course of four generations it had become one ofthe largest trading-houses of the capital. At the end of the eighteenthand the beginning of the nineteenth century, most of the members of thefamily had gone over into the world of stockbrokers and bankers, andthence the changes went still further. Brun's father, the well-knownKornelius Brun, stuck to the old business, his brothers making overtheir share to him and entering the diplomatic service, one of themreceiving a high Court appointment. 

Kornelius Brun felt it his duty to carry on the old business, and inorder to keep on a level with his brothers as regarded rank, he marrieda lady of noble birth from Funen, of a very old family heavily burdenedwith debt. She bore him three children, all of whom--as he himself said--were failures. The first child was a deaf mute with very smallintellectual powers. It fortunately died before it attained to man'sestate. Number two was very intelligent and endowed with every talent, but even as a boy exhibited perverse tendencies. He was very handsome, had soft, dark hair, and a delicate, womanish complexion. His motherdressed him in velvet, and idolized him. He never did anything useful, but went about in fine company and spent large sums of money. In hisfortieth year he died suddenly, a physical and moral wreck. Theannouncement of the death gave a stroke as the cause; but the truth wasthat rumors had begun to circulate of a scandal in which he wasimplicated together with some persons of high standing. It was at theend of the seventies, at the time when the lower class movement began togather way. An energetic investigation was demanded from below, and itwas considered inadvisable to hush the story up altogether, for fear ofgiving support to the assertion of the rottenness and onesidedness ofthe existing conditions. When an investigation became imminent, and itwas evident that Brun would be offered up upon the altar of themultitude in order to shield those who stood higher, Kornelius Brun puta pistol into his son's hand--or shot him; the librarian was unable tosay which. 

"Those were two of the fruits upon the decaying family tree, " said Brunbitterly, "and it can't be denied that they were rather worm-eaten. Thethird was myself. I came fifteen years after my youngest brother. Bythat time my parents had had enough of their progeny; at any rate, I wasconsidered from the beginning to be a hopeless failure, even before Ihad had an opportunity of showing anything at all. Perhaps they feltinstinctively that I should take a wrong direction too. In me too thedisintegrating forces predominated; I was greatly deficient, forinstance, in family feeling. I remember when still quite little hearingmy mother complain of my plebeian tendencies; I always kept with theservants, and took their part against my parents. My family looked moreaskance at me for upholding the rights of our inferiors than they haddone at the idiot who tore everything to pieces, or the spendthrift whomade scandals and got into debt. And I dare say with good reason! Mothergave me plenty of money to amuse myself with, probably to counteract myplebeian tendencies; but I had soon done with the pleasures and devotedmyself to study. Things of the day did not interest me, but even as aboy I had a remarkable desire to look back; I devoted myself especiallyto history and its philosophy. Father was right when he derided me andcalled it going into a monastery; at an age when other young men arelovers, I could not find any woman that interested me, while almost anybook tempted me to a closer acquaintance. For a long time he hoped thatI would think better of it and take over the business, and when Idefinitely chose study, it came to a quarrel between us. 'When thebusiness comes to an end, there's an end of the family!' he said, andsold the whole concern. He had been a widower then for several years, and had only me; but during the five years that he lived after sellingthe business we didn't see one another. He hated me because I didn'ttake it over, but what could I have done with it? I possessed none ofthe qualities necessary for the carrying on of business in our day, andshould only have ruined the whole thing. From the time I was thirty, mytime has been passed among bookshelves, and I've registered the livesand doings of others. It's only now that I've come out into the daylightand am beginning to live my own life; and now it'll soon be ended!"

"It's only now that life's beginning to be worth living, " said Pelle, "so you've come out just at the right time. "

"Ah, no!" said Brun despondently. "I'm not in the ascendant! I meetyoung men and my mind inclines to them; but it's like evening andmorning meeting in the same glow during the light nights. I've only gotmy share in the new because the old must bend to it, so that the ringmay be completed. You go in where I go out. "

"It must have been a melancholy existence to be always among books, books, without a creature that cared for you, " put in Ellen. "Why didn'tyou marry? Surely we women aren't so terrible that there mightn't havebeen _one_ that you liked?"

"No, you'd think not, but it's true nevertheless, " answered Brun, with asmile. "The antipathy was mutual too; it's always like that. I supposeit wasn't intended that an old fellow like me should put children intothe world! It's not nice, though, to be the end of something. "

Ellen laughed. "Yes, but you haven't always been old!"

"Yes, I have really; I was born old. I'm only now beginning to feelyoung. And who knows?" he exclaimed with grim humor. "I may playProvidence a trick and make my appearance some day with a little wife onmy arm. "

"Brun's indulging in fancies, " said Pelle, as they went down to bed. "But I suppose they'll go when he's about again. "

"He's not had much of a time, poor old soul!" said Ellen, going closerto Pelle. "It's a shame that there are people who get no share in allthe love there is--just as great a shame as what you're working against, I think!"

"Yes, but we can't put that straight!" exclaimed Pelle, laughing. 

XXI

In the garden at "Daybreak" the snow was disappearing from day to day. First it went away nearest the house, and gave place to a little forestof snowdrops and crocuses. The hyacinths in the grass began to breakthrough the earth, coming up like a row of knuckles that first knockedat the door. 

The children were always out watching the progress made. They could notunderstand how the delicate crocus could push straight up out of thefrozen ground without freezing to death, but died when it came into thewarm room. Every day they wrapped some snowdrops in paper and laid themon Brun's table--they were "snowdrop-letters"--and then hovered about inungovernable excitement until he came in from the fields, when they methim with an air of mystery, and did all they could to entice himupstairs. 

Out in the fields they were nearly finished with the excavations, andwere only waiting for the winter water to sink in order to cart upgravel and stone and begin the foundations; the ground was too soft asyet. 

Old Brun was not so active now after his confinement to bed; althoughthere was not much the matter with him, it had weakened him. He allowedPelle a free hand with the works, and said Yea and Amen to everything heproposed. "I can't keep it all in my head, " he would say when Pelle cameto suggest some alteration; "but just do as you like, my son, and it'ssure to be right. " There were not enough palpable happenings down thereto keep his mind aglow, and he was too old to hear it grow and drawstrength from that. His faith, however, merely shifted from the Causeover to Pelle; he saw him alive before him, and could lean upon hisyouthful vigor. 

He had given up his work on the plans. He could not keep at it, andcontented himself with going the round of the fields two or three timesa day and watching the men. The sudden flame of energy that Pelle'syouth had called to life within him had died down, leaving a patheticold man, who had been out in the cold all his life, and was nowluxuriating in a few late rays of evening sun. He no longer measuredhimself by Pelle, and was not jealous of his taking the lead inanything, but simply admired him and kept carefully within the circle ofthose for whom Pelle acted providence. Ellen treated him like a bigchild who needed a great deal of care, and the children of course lookedupon him as their equal. 

When he went his round of the fields, he generally had Boy Comfort bythe hand; the two could both keep pace with one another and conversetogether. There was one thing that interested them both and kept them ingreat excitement. The stork was expected every day back at the HillFarm, and when it came it would bring a baby to Mother Ellen. Theexpectation was not an unmixed pleasure. The stork always bit the motherin the leg when he came with a baby for her. Boy Comfort's own motherdied of the bite; he was wise enough to know that now. The little fellowlooked upon Ellen as his mother, and went about in a serious, almostdepressed, mood. He did not talk to the other children of his anxiety, for fear they would make fun of him; but when he and the old man walkedtogether in the fields they discussed the matter, and Brun, as the olderand wiser, came to the conclusion that there was no danger. All thesame, they always kept near the house so as to be at hand. 

One day Pelle stayed at home from work, and Ellen did not get up asusual. "I'm going to lie here and wait for the stork, " she said to BoyComfort. "Go out and watch for it. " The little boy took a stick, and heand Brun tramped round the house; and when they heard Ellen cry out, they squeezed one another's hands. It was such a disturbed day, it wasimpossible to keep anything going straight; now a carriage drove up tothe door with a fat woman in it, now it was Lasse Frederik who leapedupon his bicycle and raced down the field-path, standing on the pedals. Before Boy Comfort had any idea of it, the stork had been there, andEllen was lying with a baby boy on her arm. He and Brun went in togetherto congratulate her, and they were both equally astonished. The old manhad to be allowed to touch the baby's cheek. 

"He's still so ugly, " said Ellen, with a shy smile, as she lifted thecorner of the shawl from the baby's head. Then she had to be left quiet, and Brun took Boy Comfort upstairs with him. 

Pelle sat on the edge of the bed, holding Ellen's hand, which in a fewhours had become white and thin. "Now we must send for 'Queen Theresa, '"she said. 

"Shan't we send for your mother too?" asked Pelle, who had oftenproposed that they should take the matter into their own hands, and goand see the old people. He did not like keeping up old quarrels. 

Ellen shook her head. "They must come of their own accord, " she saiddecidedly. She did not mind for herself, but they had looked down uponPelle, so it was not more than fair that they should come and make itup. 

"But I _have_ sent for them, " said Pelle. "That was what LasseFrederik went about. You mustn't have a baby without help from yourmother. "

In less than a couple of hours Madam Stolpe had arrived. She was muchmoved, and to hide it she began turning the house inside out for cleancloths and binders, scolding all the time. A nice time, indeed, to sendfor anybody, when it was all over!

Father Stolpe was harder. He was not one to come directly he waswhistled for! But two or three evenings after the baby had arrived, Pelle ran up against him hanging about a little below the house. Well, he was waiting for mother, to take her home, and it didn't concernanybody else, he supposed. He pretended to be very determined, but itwas comparatively easy to persuade him to come in; and once in, it wasnot long before Ellen had thawed him. She had, as usual, her own mannerof procedure. 

"Let me tell you, father, that it's not me that sent for you, but Pelle;and if you don't give him your hand and say you've done him aninjustice, we shall never be good friends again!"

"Upon my word, she's the same confounded way of taking the bull by thehorns that she always had!" said Stolpe, without looking at her. "Well, I suppose I may as well give in at once, and own that I've played thefool. Shall we agree to let bygones be bygones, son-in-law?" extendinghis hand to Pelle. 

When once the reconciliation was effected, Stolpe became quite cheerful. "I never dreamt I should see you so soon, least of all with a baby!" hesaid contentedly, stroking Ellen's face with his rough hand. 

"No, she's always been his darling, and father's often been tired ofit, " said Madam Stolpe. "But men make themselves so hard!"

"Rubbish, mother!" growled Stolpe. "Women will always talk nonsense!"

Time had left its mark upon them both. There had been a certain amountof unemployment in his trade, and Stolpe was getting on in years and hada difficulty in keeping up with the young men on the scaffolding. Theirclothes showed that they were not so prosperous as formerly; but Stolpewas still chairman of his trade union and a highly respected man withinthe Movement. 

"And now, my boy, " he said suddenly, placing his hands on Pelle'sshoulders, "you must explain to me what it is you're doing this time. Ihear you've begun to stir up men's feelings again. "

Pelle told him about his great plan for coöperative works. The old manknew indeed a good deal about it; it appeared that he had followedPelle's movements from a distance. 

"That's perhaps not so out of the way, " he said. "We might squeezecapital out of existence just as quietly, if we all bestirred ourselves. But you must get the Movement to join you; and it must be made clearthat every one who doesn't support his own set is a black-leg. "

"_I have_ got a connection, but it goes rather slowly, " said Pelle. 

"Then we must stir them up a little. I say, that queer fellow--Brun, Ithink you call him--doesn't he live with you?"

"He isn't a queer fellow, " said Pelle, laughing. "We can go up and seehim. "

Brun and Stolpe very soon found something to talk about. They were ofthe same age, and had witnessed the first days of the Movement, eachfrom his own side. Madam Stolpe came several times and pulled herhusband by the coat: they ought to be going home. 

"Well, it's not worth while to quarrel with your own wife, " said Stolpeat last; "but I shall come again. I hear you're building out here, and Ishould like to see what our own houses'll be like. "

"We've not begun yet, " answered Pelle. "But come out on Sunday, and Brunand I will show it all to you. "

"I suppose it's masters who'll get it?" asked Stolpe. 

"No, we thought of letting the unemployed have the work if they couldundertake it, and have a man to put at the head, " said Brun. "Perhapsyou could undertake it?"

"Why, of course I can!" answered Stolpe, with a feeling of his ownimportance. "I'm the man to build houses for workmen! I was member ofthe party when it numbered only one man. "

"Yes, Stolpe's the veteran of the Movement, " said Pelle. 

"Upon my word, it'd be awfully nice if it was me!" exclaimed Stolpe whenPelle accompanied the old couple down to the tram. "I'll get together aset of workmen that have never been equalled. And what houses we shallput up! There won't be much papier-mache there!"

XXII

It still sometimes happened that Pelle awoke in the night not knowingwhere he was. He was oppressed with a stifling anxiety, dreaming that hewas in prison, and fancying he could still smell the rank, mouldy odorof the cell. He gradually came to his senses and knew where he was; thesounds of breathing around him, and the warm influence of the darknessitself, brought him back to his home. He sat up joyfully, and struck amatch to get a glimpse of Ellen and the little ones. He dared not go tosleep again, for sleep would instantly take him back to the prison; sohe dressed quietly and stole out to see the day awaken. 

It was strange with these dreams, for they turned everything upsidedown. In the prison he always dreamed he was free and living happily;nothing less would do there. There the day was bad and the night good, and here it was the reverse. It was as though something within one wouldalways have everything. "That must be the soul!" he thought as hewandered eastward to meet the first gleam of day. In the country athome, the old people in his childhood believed that dreams were the soulwandering about by itself; some had seen it as a white mouse creepingout of the sleeper's mouth to gather fresh experiences for him. It wastrue, too, that through dreams the poor man had hitherto had everything;they carried him out of his prison. Perhaps the _roles_ wereexchanged during the darkness of night. Perhaps the rich man's soul cameduring the night and slipped into the poor man's body to gathersuffering for his master. 

There was spring in the air. As yet it was only perceptible to Pelle ina feeling of elation, a desire to expand and burst all boundaries. Hewalked with his face toward the opening day, and had a feeling ofunconquerable power. Whence this feeling came he knew not, but it wasthere. He felt himself as something immense that was shut into a smallspace and would blow up the world if it were let loose. He walked onquickly. Above his head rose the first lark. Slowly the earth drew fromits face the wonderful veil of rest and mystery that was night. 

Perhaps the feeling of strength came from his having taken possession ofhis spirit and commanding a view of the world. The world had no limits, but neither had his powers; the force that could throw him out of hiscourse did not exist. In his own footfall he heard the whole future; theMovement would soon be concluded when it had taken in the fact that thewhole thing must be included. There was still a little difficulty; fromthat side they still made it a condition for their cooperation thatPelle should demand a public recognition of his good character. Pellelaughed and raised his face to the morning breeze which came like a coldshiver before the sunrise. Outsider! Yes, there was some truth in it. Hedid not belong to the existing state of things; he desired no civilrights there. That he was outside was his stamp of nobility; hisrelations to the future were contained in that fact. He had begun thefight as one of the lowest of the people, and as such he would triumph. When he rose there should no longer be a pariah caste. 

As he walked along with the night behind him and his face to the light, he seemed to have just entered into youth with everything before him--everything to look forward to! And yet he seemed to have existed sincethe morning of time, so thoroughly did he know the world of darknessthat he left. Was not man a wonderful being, both in his power to shrinkup and become nothing, and in his power to expand and fill everything?He now understood Uncle Kalle's smile on all occasions; he had armedhimself with it in order that life should not draw too deep furrows inhis gentle nature. The poor man had been obliged to dull himself; hewould simply bleed to death if he gave himself up to stern reality. Thedullness had been like a hard shell that protected the poor; and nowthey came with their heart quite safe in spite of everything. They couldvery well lead when times were good. 

Pelle had always a vague feeling of being chosen. Even as a child itmade him look with courage in the face of a hard world, and filled hisbare limbs with elasticity. Poor and naked he came into the world, apparently without a gift of any kind; and yet he came as a brightpromise to the elderly, work-bowed Father Lasse. Light radiated fromhim, insignificant and ordinary though he was; God had given him thespark, the old man always said, and he always looked upon the boy as alittle miracle of heaven. The boy Pelle wondered a little at it, but washappy in his father's pleasure. He himself knew some very differentmiracles at that time, for instance the calf of the fair with two heads, and the lamb with eight legs. He had his own demands to make of life'swonderful riches, and was not struck with surprise at a very ordinary, big-eared urchin such as one might see any day. 

And now he was just showing that Father Lasse had been right. Thegreatest miracles were in himself--Pelle, who resembled hundreds ofmillions of other workmen, and had never yet had more than just enoughfor his food. Man was really the most wonderful of all. Was he nothimself, in all his commonplace naturalness, like a luminous spark, sprung from the huge anvil of divine thought? He could send out hisinquiring thought to the uttermost borders of space, and back to thedawn of time. And this all-embracing power seemed to have proceeded fromnothing, like God Himself! The mere fact that he, who made so muchnoise, had to go to prison in order to comprehend the great object ofthings, was a marvel! There must have been far-reaching plans depositedin him, since he shut himself in. 

When he looked out over the rising, he felt himself to be facing aworld-thought with extraordinarily long sight. The common people, without knowing it, had been for centuries preparing themselves for anentry into a new world; the migration of the masses would not be stoppeduntil they had reached their goal. A law which they did not even knowthemselves, and could not enter into, led them the right way; and Pellewas not afraid. At the back of his unwearied labor with the greatproblem of the age was the recognition that he was one of those on whomthe nation laid the responsibility for the future; but he was never indoubt as to the aim, nor the means. During the great lock-out theforeseeing had feared the impossibility of leading all these crowds intothe fire. And then the whole thing had opened out of itself quitenaturally, from an apparently tiny cause to a steadily ordered battleall along the line. The world had never before heard a call so great asthat which he and his followers brought forward! It meant nothing lessthan the triumph of goodness! He was not fond of using great words, butat the bottom of his heart he was convinced that everything badoriginated in want and misery. Distrust and selfishness came frommisusage; they were man's defence against extortion. And the extortioncame from insecure conditions, from reminders of want or unconsciousfear of it. Most crimes could easily be traced back to the distressingconditions, and even where the connection was not perceptible he wassure that it nevertheless existed. It was his experience that every onein reality was good: the evil in them could nearly always be traced backto something definite, while the goodness often existed in spite ofeverything. It would triumph altogether when the conditions becamesecure for everybody. He was sure that even the crimes that were due toabnormity would cease of themselves when there were no longer hiddenreminders of misery in the community. 

It was his firm belief that he and his followers should renew the world;the common people should turn it into a paradise for the multitude, justas it had already made it a paradise for the few. It would require agreat and courageous mind for this, but his army had been well tested. Those who, from time immemorial, had patiently borne the pressure ofexistence for others, must be well fitted to take upon themselves theleadership into the new age. 

Pelle at last found himself in Strand Road, and it was too late toreturn home. He was ravenously hungry and bought a couple of rolls at abaker's, and ate them on his way to work. 

 * * * * *

At midday Brun came into the works to sign some papers and go throughaccounts with Pelle. They were sitting up in the office behind the shop. Pelle read out the items and made remarks on them, while the old mangave his half attention and merely nodded. He was longing to get back to"Daybreak. "

"You won't mind making it as short as possible?" he said, "for I don'tfeel quite well. " The harsh spring winds were bad for him and made hisbreathing difficult. The doctor had advised a couple of months in theRiviera--until the spring was over; but the old man could not make uphis mind. He had not the courage to set out alone. 

The shop-bell rang, and Pelle went in to serve. A young sunburnt manstood on the other side of the counter and laughed. 

"Don't you know me?" he asked, holding out his hand to Pelle. It wasKarl, the youngest of the three orphans in the "Ark. "

"Why, of course I know you!" answered Pelle, delighted. "I've been toAdel Street to look for you; I was told you had your business there. "

That had been a long time ago! Now Karl Anker was manager of a largesupply association over on Funen. He had come over to order some bootsand shoes from Pelle for the association. "It's only a trial, " he said. "If it succeeds I'll get you a connection with the cooperativeassociation, and that's a customer that takes something, I can tellyou!"

Pelle had to make haste to take down the order, as Karl had to catch atrain. 

"It's a pity you haven't got time to see our works, " said Pelle. "Do youremember little Paul from the 'Ark'? The factory-girl's child that shetied to the stove when she went to work? He's become a splendid fellow. He's my head man in the factory. He'd like to see you!"

"When Karl was gone and Pelle was about to go in to Brun in the office, he caught sight of a small, somewhat deformed woman with a child, walking to and fro above the workshop windows, and taking stolen glancesdown. They timidly made way for people passing, and looked veryfrightened. Pelle called them into the shop. 

"Do you want to speak to Peter Dreyer?" he asked. 

The woman nodded. She had a refined face with large, sorrowful eyes. "Ifit won't disturb him, " she said. 

Pelle called Peter Dreyer and then went into the office, where he foundBrun had fallen asleep. 

He heard them whispering in the shop. Peter was angry, and the woman andthe child cried; he could hear it in the tones of their whisper. It didnot last more than a minute, and then Peter let them out. Pelle wentquickly into the shop. 

"If it was money, " he said hurriedly, "you know you've only got to tellme. "

"No, it was the big meeting of unemployed this afternoon. They werebegging me to stop at home, silly creatures! Goodness knows what's cometo them!" Peter was quite offended. "By the by--I suppose you haven'tany objection to my going now? It begins in an hour's time. "

"I thought it had been postponed, " said Pelle. 

"Yes, but that was only a ruse to prevent its being prohibited. We'reholding it in a field out by Nörrebro. You ought to come too; it'll be ameeting that'll be remembered. We shall settle great matters to-day. "Peter was nervous, and fidgeted with his clothes while he spoke. 

Pelle placed his hands on his shoulders and looked into his eyes. "You'dbetter do what those two want, " he said earnestly. "I don't know them, of course; but if their welfare's dependent on you, then they too have aclaim upon you. Give up what you were going to do, and go out for a walkwith those two! Everything's budding now; take them to the woods! It'sbetter to make two people happy than a thousand unhappy. "

Peter looked away. "We're not going to do anything special, so what isthere to make such a fuss about?" he murmured. 

"You _are_ going to do something to-day; I can see it in you. Andif you can't carry it through, who'll have to take the consequences?Why, the women and children! You _can't_ carry it through! Ourstrength doesn't lie in that direction. "

"You go your way and let me go mine, " said Peter, gently freeinghimself. 

Two policemen were standing on the opposite pavement, talking together, while they secretly kept an eye on the shop. Pelle pointed to them. 

"The police don't know where the meeting's to be held, so they'rekeeping watch on me, " said Peter, shrugging his shoulders. "I can easilyput those two on the wrong track. "

The policemen crossed the street and separated outside the shop. One ofthem stood looking at the articles exhibited in the window for a littlewhile, and then quickly entered the shop. "Is Peter Dreyer here?" heasked haughtily. 

"I'm he, " answered Peter, withdrawing behind the counter. "But I adviseyou not to touch me! I can't bear the touch of a policeman's hands. "

"You're arrested!" said the policeman shortly, following him. 

Pelle laid his hand upon his arm. "You should go to work with a littlegentleness, " he said. But the man pushed him roughly away. "I'll have nointerference from you!" he cried, blowing his whistle. Peter started, and for a moment his thoughts were at a standstill; then he leaped likea cat over the iron railing, of the workshop steps. But the otherpoliceman was there to receive him, and he sprang once more into theshop, close up to his pursuer. He had his revolver in his hand. "I'vehad enough of this, confound you!" he hissed. 

Two shots sounded, one immediately after the other. The policeman justmanaged to turn round, but fell forward with his head under the counter, and Peter dropped upon the top of him. It looked as if he had trippedover the policeman's leg; but when Pelle went to help him up he saw thatthe blood was trickling from a hole in his temple. The policeman wasdead. 

Peter opened his eyes with difficulty when Pelle raised his head. "Takeme away!" he whispered, turning his head toward the dead man with anexpression of loathing. He still kept a convulsive hold upon hisrevolver. 

Pelle took it from him, and carried him in to the sofa in the office. "Get me a little water!" said Pelle to the old librarian, who wasstanding trembling at the door, but the old man did not hear him. 

Peter made a sign that he needed nothing now. "But those two, " hewhispered. Pelle nodded. "And then--Pelle--comrade--" He tried to fixhis dying gaze upon Pelle, but suddenly started convulsively, his kneesbeing drawn right up to his chin. "Bloodhounds!" he groaned, his eyesconverging so strongly that the pupils disappeared altogether; but thenhis features fell once more into their ordinary folds as his head sankback, and he was dead. 

The policeman came in. "Well, is he dead?" he asked maliciously. "He'smade fools of us long enough!"

Pelle took him by the arm and led him to the door. "He's no longer inyour district, " he said, as he closed the door behind him and followedthe man into the shop, where the dead policeman lay upon the counter. His fellow-policeman had laid him there, locked the outer door, andpulled down the blinds. 

"Will you stop the work and tell the men what has happened?" said Pellequietly to Brun. "There's something else I must see to. There'll be nomore work done here to-day. "

"Are you going?" asked the old man anxiously. 

"Yes, I'm going to take Peter's meeting for him, now that he can't do ithimself, " answered Pelle in a low voice. 

They had gone down through the workshop, where the men were standingabout, looking at one another. They had heard the shots, but had no ideawhat they meant. "Peter is dead!" said Pelle. His emotion prevented himfrom saying anything more. Everything seemed suddenly to rush over him, and he hastened out and jumped onto a tram-car. 

Out on one of the large fields behind Nörrebro a couple of thousandunemployed were gathered. The wind had risen and blew gustily from thewest over the field. The men tramped backward and forward, or stoodshivering in their thin clothes. The temper of the crowd wasthreatening. Men continued to pour out from the side streets, most ofthem sorry figures, with faces made older by want of work. Many of themcould no longer show themselves in the town for want of clothes, andtook this opportunity of joining the others. 

There was grumbling among them because the meeting had not begun. Menasked one another what the reason was, and no one could tell. SupposePeter Dreyer had cheated them too, and had gone over to the corporation!

Suddenly a figure appeared upon the cart that was to be used as aplatform, and the men pressed forward on all sides. Who in the world wasit? It was not Peter Dreyer! Pelle? What smith? Oh, him from The GreatStruggle--"the Lightning"! Was he still to the fore? Yes, indeed he was!Why, he'd become a big manufacturer and a regular pillar of society. What in the world did he want here? He had plenty of cheek!

Suddenly a storm of shouts and hisses broke out, mingled with a littleapplause. 

Pelle stood looking out over the crowd with an expression of terribleearnestness. Their demonstration against him did not move him; he wasstanding here in the stead of a dead man. He still felt Peter's heavyhead on his arm. 

When comparative quiet was restored he raised his head. "Peter Dreyer isdead!" he said in a voice that was heard by every one. Whispers passedthrough the crowd, and they looked questioningly at one another asthough they had not heard correctly. He saw from their expression howmuch would go to pieces in their lives when they believed it. 

"It's a lie!" suddenly cried a voice, relieving the tension. "You'rehired by the police to entice us round the corner, you sly fellow!"

Pelle turned pale. "Peter Dreyer is lying in the factory with a bulletthrough his head, " he repealed inexorably. "The police were going toarrest him, and he shot both the policeman and himself!"

For a moment all the life in the crowd seemed to be petrified by thepitiless truth, and he saw how they had loved Peter Dreyer. Then theybegan to make an uproar, shouting that they would go and speak to thepolice, and some even turned to go. 

"Silence, people!" cried Pelle in a loud voice. "Are you grown men andyet will get up a row beside the dead body of a comrade?"

"What do you know about it?" answered one. "You don't know what you'retalking about!"

"I do know at any rate that at a place out by Vesterbro there sits awoman with a child, waiting for Peter, and he will not come. Would youhave more like them? What are you thinking of, wanting to jump into thesea and drown yourselves because you're wet through? Will those youleave behind be well off? For if you think so, it's your duty tosacrifice yourselves. But don't you think rather that the community willthrow you into a great common pit, and leave your widows and fatherlesschildren to weep over you?"

"It's all very well for you to talk!" some one shouted. "Yours are safeenough!"

"I'm busy making yours safe for you, and you want to spoil it bystupidity! It's all very well for me to talk, you say! But if there'sany one of you who dares turn his face to heaven and say he has gonethrough more than I have, let him come up here and take my place. "

He was silent and looked out over the crowd. Their wasted faces told himthat they were in need of food, but still more of fresh hope. Their eyesgazed into uncertainty. A responsibility must be laid upon them--a greatresponsibility for such prejudiced beings--if possible, great enough tocarry them on to the goal. 

"What is the matter with you?" he went on. "You suffer want, but you'vealways done that without getting anything for it; and now when there'ssome purpose in it, you won't go any further. We aren't just fromyesterday, remember! Wasn't it us who fought the great battle to its endtogether? Now you scorn it and the whole Movement and say they'vebrought nothing; but it was then we broke through into life and won ourright as men. 

"Before that time we have for centuries borne our blind hope safelythrough oppression and want. Is there any other class of society thathas a marching route like ours? Forced by circumstances, we prepared forcenturies of wandering in the desert and never forgot the country; thegood God had given us some of His own infinite long-suffering to carryus through the toilsome time. And now, when we are at the border, you'veforgotten what we were marching for, and sacrifice the whole thing ifonly _you_ can be changed from thin slaves to fat slaves!"

"There are no slaves here!" was the threatening cry on all sides. 

"You're working horses, in harness and with blinkers on! Now you demandgood feeding. When will the scales fall from your eyes, so that you takethe responsibility upon yourselves? You think you're no end of finefellows when you dare to bare your chest to the bayonets, but are we amatch for brutality? If we were, the future would not be ours. "

"Are you scoffing at Peter Dreyer?" asked a sullen voice. 

"No, I am not. Peter Dreyer was one of those who go on in advance, andsmear the stones on the road with their hearts' blood, so that the restof us may find our way. But you've no right to compare yourselves withhim. He sank under the weight of a tremendous responsibility; and whatare you doing? If you want to honor Peter's memory as it deserves, goquietly home, and join the Movement again. There you have work to dothat will transform the world when you all set about it. What will itmatter if your strength ebbs and you suffer hunger for a little longerwhile you're building your own house? You were hungry too when you werebuilding for others. 

"You referred to Peter Dreyer, but we are none of us great martyrs; weare everyday, ordinary men, and there's where our work lies. Haven't thethousands who have suffered and died in silence a still greater claim tobe followed? They have gone down peacefully for the sake of thedevelopment, and have the strongest right to demand our belief in apeaceable development. It is just we that come from the lowest stratumwho must preserve the historic development; never has any movement hadso long and sad a previous history as ours! Suffering and want havetaught us to accept the leadership, when the good has justice done toit; and you want to throw the whole thing overboard by an act ofviolence. "

They listened to him in silence now. He had caught their minds, but itwas not knowledge they absorbed. At present they looked most like wearypeople who are told that they still have a long way to go. But he_would_ get them through!

"Comrades!" he cried earnestly, "perhaps we who are here shall not liveto see the new, but it's through us that it'll some day become reality. Providence has stopped at us, and has appointed us to fight for it. Isthat not an honor? Look! we come right from the bottom of everything--entirely naked; the old doesn't hang about our clothes, for we haven'tany; we can clothe ourselves in the new. The old God, with His thousandsof priests as a defence against injustice, we do not know; the moral ofwar we have never understood--we who have always been its victims. Webelieve in the Good, because we know that without the victory ofgoodness there will be no future. Our mind is light and can receive thelight; we will lift up our little country and show that it has a missionon the earth. We who are little ourselves will show how the little oneskeep up and assert themselves by the principle of goodness. We wish noharm to any one, therefore the good is on our side. Nothing can in thelong run keep us down! And now go home! Your wives and children areperhaps anxious on your account. "

They stood for a moment as though still listening, and then dispersed insilence. 

When Pelle sprang down from the cart, Morten came up and held out hishand. "You are strong, Pelle!" he said quietly. 

"Where have you come from?" exclaimed Pelle in glad surprise. 

"I came by the steamer this afternoon, and went straight up to theworks. Brun told me what had happened and that you were here. It musthave been a threatening meeting! There was a detachment of police overthere in one of the side streets. What was going on?"

"They'd planned some demonstration or other, and would in that case havemet with harsh treatment, I suppose, " said Pelle gravely. 

"It was well you got them to change their minds. I've seen thesedemonstrations in the South, where the police and the soldiers ride overthe miserable unemployed. It's a sad sight. "

They walked up across the fields toward "Daybreak. " "To think thatyou're home again!" said Pelle, with childlike delight. "You never wrotea word about coming. "

"Well, I'd meant to stay away another couple of months. But one day Isaw the birds of passage flying northward across the Mediterranean, andI began to be so homesick. It was just as well I came too, for now I cansee Brun before he goes. "

"Oh, is he going away, after all? That's been settled very quickly. Thismorning he couldn't make up his mind. "

"It's this about Peter. The old man's fallen off very much in the lastsix months. But let's walk quicker! I'm longing to see Ellen and thechildren. How's the baby?"

"He's a little fatty!" said Pelle proudly. "Nine pounds without hisclothes! Isn't that splendid? He's a regular sunshine baby. "

XXIII

It is spring once more in Denmark. 

It has been coming for a long time. The lark came before the frost wasout of the ground, and then the starling appeared. And one day the airseemed suddenly to have become high and light so that the eye could oncemore see far out; there was a peculiar broad airiness in the wind--thebreath of spring. It rushed along with messages of young, manlystrength, and people threw back their shoulders and took deep breaths. "Ah! the south wind!" they said, and opened their minds in anticipation. 

There he comes riding across the sea from the south, in the middle ofhis youthful train. Never before has his coming been so glorious! Is henot like the sun himself? The sea glitters under golden hoofs, and theair is quivering with sunbeam-darts caught and thrown in the wild gallopover the waves. Heigh-ho! Who'll be the first to reach the Danish shore?

Like a broad wind the spring advances over islands and belts, embracingthe whole in arrogant strength. He sings in the children's open mouthsas in a shell, and is lavish of his airy freshness. Women's teeth growwhiter with his kiss, and vie with their eyes in brightness; theircheeks glow beneath his touch, though they remain cool--like sun-ripefruit under the morning dew. Men's brains whirl once more, and expandinto an airy vault, as large as heaven itself, giddy with expectancy. From high up comes the sound of the passage birds in flight; the air isdizzy with its own infinitude. 

Bareheaded and with a sunny smile the spring advances like a young giantintoxicated with his own strength, stretches out his arms and wakenseverything with his song. Nothing can resist him. He touches lightly theheart of the sleeping earth, calling merrily into her dull ears toawake. And deep down the roots of life begin to stir and wake, and sendthe sap circulating once more. Hedgehogs and field-mice emerge sleepilyand begin to busy themselves in the hedges. From the darkness below olddecayed matter ferments and bubbles up, and the stagnant water in theditches begins to run toward the sea. 

Men stand and gaze in amazement after the open-handed giant, until theyfeel the growth in themselves and can afford something. All that wasimpossible before has suddenly become possible, and more besides. Thefarmer has long since had his plough in the earth, and the sower strapshis basket on: the land is to be clothed again. 

The days lengthen and become warmer; it is delightful to watch them andknow that they are going upward. One day Ellen opens wide the doubledoors out to the garden; it is like a release. But what a quantity ofdirt the light reveals!

"We shall have to be busy now, Petra Dreyer!" says Ellen. The littledeformed sewing-woman smiles with her sad eyes, and the two women beginto sweep floors and wash windows. Now and then a little girl comes infrom the garden complaining that she is not allowed to play with Anna'sbig doll. Boy Comfort is in the fields from morning to night, helpingGrandfather Stolpe to build the new workmen's houses. A fine help hisis! When Ellen fetches him in to meals, he is so dirty that she nearlyloses all patience. 

"I wonder how Old Brun is!" says Ellen suddenly, in the middle of herwork. "We haven't heard from him now for three days. It's quite sad tothink he's so far away. I only hope they'll look after him properly. "

Pelle is tremendously busy, and they do not see much of him. TheMovement has taken up his idea now in earnest, and he is to have themanagement of it all, so that he has his hands full. "Have I got ahusband or not?" says Ellen, when she gets hold of him now and again. 

"It'll soon be better, " he answers. "When once we've got the machineryproperly started, it'll go by itself. "

Morten is the only one who has not set seriously to work on anything, and in the midst of all the bustle has an incongruous effect. "He'sthinking!" says Ellen, stopping in the middle of beating a carpet. "Thank goodness we're not all authors!"

Pelle would like to draw him into the business. "There's so much towrite and lecture about, " he says, "and you could do all that so muchbetter than I. "

"Oh, no, I couldn't, " says Morten. "Your work's growing in me too. I'malways thinking about it and have thought of giving a hand too, but Ican't. If I ever contribute anything to your great work, it'll be insome other way. "

"You're doing nothing with your book about the sun either, " says Pelleanxiously. 

"No, because whenever I set to work on it, it mixes up so strangely withyour work, and I can't keep the ideas apart. At present I feel like amole, digging blindly in the black earth under the mighty tree of life. I dig and search, and am continually coming across the thick roots ofthe huge thing above the surface. I can't see them, but I can hearsounds from above there, and it hurts me not to be able to follow theminto their strong connection up in the light. "

 * * * * *

One Sunday morning at the end of May they were sitting out in thegarden. The cradle had been moved out into the sun, and Pelle and Ellenwere sitting one on either side, talking over domestic matters. Ellenhad so much to tell him when she had him to herself. The child laystaring up into the sky with its dark eyes that were the image ofEllen's. He was brown and chubby; any one could see that he had beenconceived in sunshine and love. 

Lasse Frederik was sitting by the hedge painting a picture that Pellewas not to see until it was finished. He went to the drawing-school now, and was clever. He had a good eye for figures, and poor peopleespecially he hit off in any position. He had a light hand, and in twoor three lines could give what his father had had to work at carefully. "You cheat!" Pelle often said, half resentfully. '"It won't bear lookingclosely at. " He had to admit, however, that it was a good likeness. 

"Well, can't I see the picture soon?" he called across. He was verycurious. 

"Yes, it's finished now, " said Lasse Frederik, coming up with it. 

The picture represented a street in which stood a solitary milk-cart, and behind the cart lay a boy with bleeding head. "He fell asleepbecause he had to get up so early, " Lasse Frederik explained; "and thenwhen the cart started he tumbled backward. " The morning emptiness of thestreet was well done, but the blood was too brilliantly red. 

"It's very unpleasant, " said Ellen, with a shudder. "But it's true. "

Morten came home from town with a big letter which he handed to Pelle, saying: "Here's news for you from Brun. " Pelle went into the house toread it undisturbed, and a little while after came out again. 

"Yes, important news this time, " he said with some emotion. "Would youlike to hear it?" he asked, sitting down. 

"DEAR PELLE:

"I am sitting up in bed to write to you. I am poorly, and have been forsome days; but I hope it is nothing serious. We all have to die someday, but I should like to start on the great voyage round the world fromyour home. I long to see 'Daybreak' and all of you, and I feel verylonely. If the business could do without you for a few days, I should beso glad if you would come down here. Then we could go home together, forI should not like to venture on the journey by myself. 

"The sun is just going down, and sends its last rays in to me. It hasbeen gray and gloomy all day, but now the sun has broken through theclouds, and kisses the earth and me, poor old man, too, in farewell. Itmakes me want to say something to you, Pelle, for my day was like thisbefore I knew you--endlessly long and gray! When you are the lastmember of a dying family, you have to bear the gray existence of theothers too. 

"I have often thought how wonderful the hidden force of life is. Intercourse with you has been like a lever to me, although I knew wellthat I should not accomplish anything more, and had no one to come afterme. I feel, nevertheless, through you, in alliance with the future. Youare in the ascendant and must look upon me as something that isvanishing. But look how life makes us all live by using us each in hisown way. Be strong in your faith in the future; with you lies thedevelopment. I wish with all my heart that I were an awakening proletaryand stood in the dawn of day; but I am nevertheless glad because my eyeswill be closed by the new in you. 

"I have imagined that life was tiresome and dull and far too well known. I had it arranged in my catalogues. And look how it renews itself! In myold age I have experienced its eternal youth. Formerly I had never caredabout the country; in my mind it was a place where you waded either indust or mud. The black earth appeared to me horrible rather thananything else; it was only associated in my mind with the churchyard. That shows how far I was from nature. The country was something thatfarmers moved about in--those big, voracious creatures, who almostseemed like a kind of animal trying to imitate man. Rational beingscould not possibly live out there. That was the view in my circle, and Ihad myself a touch of the same complaint, although my universitytraining of course paraphrased and veiled it all to some extent. Allthis about our relations to nature seemed to me very interestingaesthetically, but with more or less of a contradictory, not to sayhostile, character. I could not understand how any one could seeanything beautiful in a ploughed field or a dike. It was only when I gotto know you that something moved within me and called me out; there wassomething about you like the air from out there. 

"Now I also understand my forefathers! Formerly they seemed to me onlylike thick-skinned boors, who scraped together all the money that twogenerations of us have lived upon without doing a pennyworth of good. They enabled us, however, to live life, I have always thought, and Iconsidered it the only excuse for their being in the family, coarse androbust as they were. Now I see that it was they who lived, while weafter them, with all our wealth, have only had a bed in life's inn. 

"For all this I thank you. I am glad to have become acquainted throughyou with men of the new age, and to be able to give my fortune back. Itwas made by all those who work, and gathered together by a few; mygiving it back is merely a natural consequence. Others will come to doas I am doing, either of their own free will or by compulsion, untileverything belongs to everybody. Then only can the conflict about humaninterests begin. Capitalism has created wonderful machines, but whatwonderful men await us in the new age! Happy the man who could havelived to see it!

"I have left all my money to you and Morten. As yet there is noinstitution that I could give it to, so you must administer it in thename of cooperation. You two are the best guardians of the poor, and Iknow you will employ it in the best manner. I place it with confidencein your hands. The will is at my lawyer's; I arranged it all before Ileft home. 

"My greetings to all at 'Daybreak'--Ellen, the children, and Morten. Ifthe baby is christened before I get home, remember that he is to becalled after me. But I am hoping that you will come. "

 * * * * *

Ellen drew a deep breath when Pelle had finished the letter. "I onlyhope he's not worse than he makes out, " she said. "I suppose you'll go?"

"Yes, I'll arrange what's necessary at the works to-morrow early, andtake the morning express. "

"Then I must see to your things, " exclaimed Ellen, and went in. 

Pelle and Morten went for a stroll along the edge of the hill, past thehalf-finished houses, whose red bricks shone in the sun. 

"Everything seems to turn out well for you, Pelle, " said Mortensuddenly. 

"Yes, " said Pelle; "nothing has succeeded in injuring me, so I supposewhat Father Lasse and the others said is right, that I was born with acaul. The ill-usage I suffered as a child taught me to be good toothers, and in prison I gained liberty; what might have made me acriminal made a man of me instead. Nothing has succeeded in injuring me!So I suppose I may say that everything has turned out well. "

"Yes, you may, and now I've found a subject, Pelle! I'm not going tohunt about blindly in the dark; I'm going to write a great work now. "

"I congratulate you! What will it be about? Is it to be the work on thesun?"

"Yes, both about the sun and about him who conquers. It's to be a bookabout you, Pelle!"

"About me?" exclaimed Pelle. 

"Yes, about the naked Pelle with the caul! It's about time to call outthe naked man into the light and look at him well, now that he's goingto take over the future. You like to read about counts and barons, butnow I'm going to write a story about a prince who finds the treasure andwins the princess. He's looked for her all over the world and she wasn'tthere, and now there's only himself left, and there he finds her, forhe's taken her heart. Won't that be a good story?"

"I think it's a lot of rubbish, " said Pelle, laughing. "And you'll haveto lay the lies on thick if you're going to make me into a prince. Idon't think you'll get the workpeople to take it for a real book; it'llall be so well known and ordinary. "

"They'll snatch at it, and weep with delight and pride at findingthemselves in it. Perhaps they'll name their children after it out ofpure gratitude!"

"What are you going to call it then?" asked Pelle. 

"I'm going to call it 'PELLE THE CONQUEROR. '"

THE END