Pelle the Conqueror, Vol. 1 by Martin Anderson Nexo

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"It's three years now since Mother Bengta died, and she's lying in
the west corner of the churchyard."

"Do you miss her very much?"

"Oh, well, Father Lasse mends my clothes!"

"I'm sure she can't have been very good to you."

"Oh, yes!" said Pelle, nodding earnestly. "But she was so fretful,
she was always ailing; and it's better they should go when they get
like that. But now we're soon going to get married again--when
Father Lasse's found somebody that'll do."

"And then I suppose you'll go away from here? I'm sure you aren't
comfortable here, are you?"

Pelle had found his tongue, but now feared a trap, and became dumb.
He only nodded. Nobody should come and accuse him afterward of
having complained.

"No, you aren't comfortable," she said, in a plaintive tone. "No one
is comfortable at Stone Farm. Everything turns to misfortune here."

"It's an old curse, that!" said Pelle.

"Do they say so? Yes, yes, I know they do! And they say of me that
I'm a devil--only because I love a single man--and cannot put up
with being trampled on." She wept and pressed his hand against her
quivering face.

"I've got to go out and move the cows," said Pelle, wriggling about
uneasily in an endeavor to get away.

"Now you're afraid of me again!" she said, and tried to smile. It
was like a gleam of sunshine after rain.

"No--only I've got to go out and move the cows."

"There's still a whole hour before that. But why aren't you herding
to-day? Is your father ill?"

Then Pelle had to tell her about the bull.

"You're a good boy!" said the mistress, patting his head. "If I had
a son, I should like him to be like you. But now you shall have some
jam, and then you must run to the shop for a bottle of black-currant
rum, so that we can make a hot drink for your father. If you hurry,
you can be back before moving-time."

Lasse had his hot drink, even before the boy returned; and every day
while he kept his bed he had something strengthening--although there
was no black-currant rum in it.

During this time Pelle went up to the mistress nearly every day.
Kongstrup had gone on business to Copenhagen. She was kind to him
and gave him nice things to eat; and while he ate, she talked
without ceasing about Kongstrup, or asked him what people thought
about her. Pelle had to tell her, and then she was upset and began
to cry. There was no end to her talk about the farmer, but she
contradicted herself, and Pelle gave up trying to make anything
of it. Besides, the good things she gave him were quite enough for
him to think about.

Down in their room he repeated everything word for word, and Lasse
lay and listened, and wondered at this little fellow who had the run
of high places, and was in the mistress's confidence. Still he did
not quite like it.

"... She could scarcely stand, and had to hold on to the table when
she was going to fetch me the biscuits, she was so ill. It was only
because he'd treated her badly, she said. Do you know she hates him,
and would like to kill him, she says; and yet she says that he's
the handsomest man in the world, and asked me if I've seen any one
handsomer in all Sweden. And then she cries as if she was mad."

"Does she?" said Lasse thoughtfully. "I don't suppose she knows what
she's saying, or else she says it for reasons of her own. But all
the same, it's not true that he beats her! She's telling a lie, I'm
sure."

"And why should she lie?"

"Because she wants to do him harm, I suppose. But it's true he's a
fine man--and cares for everybody except just her; and that's the
misfortune. I don't like your being so much up there; I'm so afraid
you may come to some harm."

"How could I? She's so good, so very good."

"How am I to know that? No, she isn't good--her eyes aren't good,
at any rate. She's brought more than one person into misfortune by
looking at them. But there's nothing to be done about it; the poor
man has to risk things."

Lasse was silent, and stumbled about for a little while. Then he
came up to Pelle. "Now, see here! Here's a piece of steel I've found,
and you must remember always to have it about you, especially when
you go up _there_! And then--yes, then we must leave the rest
in God's hand. He's the only one who perhaps looks after poor little
boys."

Lasse was up for a short while that day. He was getting on quickly,
thank God, and in two days they might be back in their old ways
again. And next winter they must try to get away from it all!

On the last day that Pelle stayed at home, he went up to the
mistress as usual, and ran her errand for her. And that day he saw
something unpleasant that made him glad that this was over. She took
her teeth, palate, and everything out of her mouth, and laid them
on the table in front of her!

So she _was_ a witch!

XIII

Pelle was coming home with his young cattle. As he came near the
farm he issued his commands in a loud voice, so that his father
might hear. "Hi! Spasianna! where are you going to? Dannebrog, you
confounded old ram, will you turn round!" But Lasse did not come
to open the gate of the enclosure.

When he had got the animals in, he ran into the cow-stable. His
father was neither there nor in their room, and his Sunday wooden
shoes and his woollen cap were gone. Then Pelle remembered that it
was Saturday, and that probably the old man had gone to the shop
to fetch spirits for the men.

Pelle went down into the servants' room to get his supper. The men
had come home late, and were still sitting at the table, which was
covered with spilt milk and potato-skins. They were engrossed in
a wager; Erik undertook to eat twenty salt herrings with potatoes
after he had finished his meal. The stakes were a bottle of spirits,
and the others were to peel the potatoes for him.

Pelle got out his pocket-knife and peeled himself a pile of
potatoes. He left the skin on the herring, but scraped it carefully
and cut off the head and tail; then he cut it in pieces and ate it
without taking out the bones, with the potatoes and the sauce. While
he did so, he looked at Erik--the giant Erik, who was so strong
and was not afraid of anything between heaven and earth. Erik had
children all over the place! Erik could put his finger into the
barrel of a gun, and hold the gun straight out at arm's length! Erik
could drink as much as three others!

And now Erik was sitting and eating twenty salt herrings after his
hunger was satisfied. He took the herring by the head, drew it once
between his legs, and then ate it as it was; and he ate potatoes
to them, quite as quickly as the others could peel them. In between
whiles he swore because the bailiff had refused him permission to go
out that evening; there was going to be the devil to pay about that:
he'd teach them to keep Erik at home when he wanted to go out!

Pelle quickly swallowed his herring and porridge, and set off again
to run to meet his father; he was longing immensely to see him. Out
at the pump the girls were busy scouring the milkpails and kitchen
pans; and Gustav was standing in the lower yard with his arms on
the fence, talking to them. He was really watching Bodil, whose eyes
were always following the new pupil, who was strutting up and down
and showing off his long boots with patent-leather tops.

Pelle was stopped as he ran past, and set to pump water. The men now
came up and went across to the barn, perhaps to try their strength.
Since Erik had come, they always tried their strength in their free
time. There was nothing Pelle found so exciting as trials of
strength, and he worked hard so as to get done and go over there.

Gustav, who was generally the most eager, continued to stand and
vent his ill-nature upon the pupil.

"There must be money there!" said Bodil, thoughtfully.

"Yes, you should try him; perhaps you might become a farmer's wife.
The bailiff won't anyhow; and the farmer--well, you saw the Sow the
other day; it must be nice to have that in prospect."

"Who told you that the bailiff won't?" answered Bodil sharply.
"Don't imagine that we need you to hold the candle for us! Little
children aren't allowed to see everything."

Gustav turned red. "Oh, hold your jaw, you hussy!" he muttered,
and sauntered down to the barn.

"Oh, goodness gracious, my poor old mother,
Who's up on deck and can't stand!"

sang Mons over at the stable door, where he was standing hammering
at a cracked wooden shoe. Pelle and the girls were quarreling, and
up in the attic the bailiff could be heard going about; he was busy
putting pipes in order. Now and then a long-drawn sound came from
the high house, like the distant howling of some animal, making the
people shudder with dreariness.

A man dressed in his best clothes, and with a bundle under his arm,
slipped out of the door from the men's rooms, and crept along by
the building in the lower yard. It was Erik.

"Hi, there! Where the devil are you going?" thundered a voice from
the bailiff's window. The man ducked his head a little and pretended
not to hear. "Do you hear, you confounded Kabyle! _Erik_!" This
time Erik turned and darted in at a barn-door.

Directly after the bailiff came down and went across the yard. In
the chaff-cutting barn the men were standing laughing at Erik's bad
luck. "He's a devil for keeping watch!" said Gustav. "You must be
up early to get the better of _him_."

"Oh, I'll manage to dish him!" said Erik. "I wasn't born yesterday.
And if he doesn't mind his own business, we shall come to blows."

There was a sudden silence as the bailiff's well-known step was
heard upon the stone paving. Erik stole away.

The form of the bailiff filled the doorway. "Who sent Lasse for
gin?" he asked sternly.

They looked at one another as if not understanding. "Is Lasse out?"
asked Mons then, with the most innocent look in the world. "Ay, the
old man's fond of spirits," said Anders, in explanation.

"Oh, yes; you're good comrades!" said the bailiff. "First you make
the old man go, and then you leave him in the lurch. You deserve
a thrashing, all of you."

"No, we don't deserve a thrashing, and don't mean to submit to
one either," said the head man, going a step forward. "Let me tell
you--"

"Hold your tongue, man!" cried the bailiff, going close up to him,
and Karl Johan drew back.

"Where's Erik?"

"He must be in his room."

The bailiff went in through the horse-stable, something in his
carriage showing that he was not altogether unprepared for an attack
from behind. Erik was in bed, with the quilt drawn up to his eyes.

"What's the meaning of this? Are you ill?" asked the bailiff.

"Yes, I think I've caught cold, I'm shivering so." He tried to make
his teeth chatter.

"It isn't the rot, I hope?" said the bailiff sympathetically. "Let's
look at you a little, poor fellow." He whipped off the quilt. "Oho,
so you're in bed with your best things on--and top-boots! It's your
grave-clothes, perhaps? And I suppose you were going out to order a
pauper's grave for yourself, weren't you? It's time we got you put
underground, too; seems to me you're beginning to smell already!"
He sniffed at him once or twice.

But Erik sprang out of bed as if shot by a spring, and stood erect
close to him. "I'm not dead yet, and perhaps I don't smell any more
than some other people!" he said, his eyes flashing and looking
about for a weapon.

The bailiff felt his hot breath upon his face, and knew it would not
do to draw back. He planted his fist in the man's stomach, so that
he fell back upon the bed and gasped for breath; and then held him
down with a hand upon his chest. He was burning with a desire to do
more, to drive his fist into the face of this rascal, who grumbled
whenever one's back was turned, and had to be driven to every little
task. Here was all the servant-worry that embittered his existence
--dissatisfaction with the fare, cantankerousness in work, threats
of leaving when things were at their busiest--difficulties without
end. Here was the slave of many years of worry and ignominy, and all
he wanted was one little pretext--a blow from this big fellow who
never used his strength for work, but only to take the lead in all
disturbances.

But Erik lay quite still and looked at his enemy with watchful eye.
"You may hit me, if you like. There is such a thing as a magistrate
in the country," he said, with irritating calm. The bailiff's
muscles burned, but he was obliged to let the man go for fear of
being summoned. "Then remember another time not to be fractious!"
he said, letting go his hold, "or I'll show you that there is a
magistrate."

"When Lasse comes, send him up to me with the gin!" he said to
the men as he passed through the barn.

"The devil we will!" said Mons, in an undertone.

Pelle had gone to meet his father. The old man had tasted the
purchase, and was in good spirits. "There were seven men in the
boat, and they were all called Ole except one, and he was called
Ole Olsen!" he said solemnly, when he saw the boy. "Yes, wasn't it
a strange thing, Pelle, boy, that they should every one of them be
called Ole--except the one, of course; for his name was Ole Olsen."
Then he laughed, and nudged the boy mysteriously; and Pelle laughed
too, for he liked to see his father in good spirits.

The men came up to them, and took the bottles from the herdsman.
"He's been tasting it!" said Anders, holding the bottle up to the
light. "Oh, the old drunkard! He's had a taste at the bottles."

"No, the bottles must leak at the bottom!" said Lasse, whom the dram
had made quite bold. "For I've done nothing but just smell. You've
got to make sure, you know, that you get the genuine thing and not
just water."

They moved on down the enclosure, Gustav going in front and playing
on his concertina. A kind of excited merriment reigned over the
party. First one and then another would leap into the air as they
went; they uttered short, shrill cries and disconnected oaths at
random. The consciousness of the full bottles, Saturday evening with
the day of rest in prospect, and above all the row with the bailiff,
had roused their tempers.

They settled down below the cow-stable, in the grass close to the
pond. The sun had long since gone down, but the evening sky was
bright, and cast a flaming light upon their faces turned westward;
while the white farms inland looked dazzling in the twilight.

Now the girls came sauntering over the grass, with their hands under
their aprons, looking like silhouettes against the brilliant sky.
They were humming a soft folk-song, and one by one sank on to the
grass beside the men; the evening twilight was in their hearts, and
made their figures and voices as soft as a caress. But the men's
mood was not a gentle one, and they preferred the bottle.

Gustav walked about extemporizing on his concertina. He was looking
for a place to sit down, and at last threw himself into Karna's lap,
and began to play a dance. Erik was the first upon his feet. He led
on account of his difference with the bailiff, and pulled Bengta up
from the grass with a jerk. They danced a Swedish polka, and always
at a certain place in the melody, he tossed her up into the air
with a shout. She shrieked every time, and her heavy skirts stood
out round her like the tail of a turkey-cock, so that every one
could see how long it was till Sunday.

In the middle of a whirl he let go of her, so that she stumbled over
the grass and fell. The bailiff's window was visible from where they
sat, and a light patch had appeared at it. "He's staring! Lord, how
he's staring! I say, can you see this?" Erik called out, holding up
a gin-bottle. Then, as he drank: "Your health! Old Nick's health!
He smells, the pig! Bah!" The others laughed, and the face at the
window disappeared.

In between the dances they played, drank, and wrestled. Their
actions became more and more wild, they uttered sudden yells that
made the girls scream, threw themselves flat upon the ground in
the middle of a dance, groaned as if they were dying, and sprang
up again suddenly with wild gestures and kicked the legs of those
nearest to them. Once or twice the bailiff sent the pupil to tell
them to be quiet, but that only made the noise worse. "Tell him to
go his own dog's errands!" Erik shouted after the pupil.

Lasse nudged Pelle and they gradually drew farther and farther away.
"We'd better go to bed now," Lasse said, when they had slipped away
unnoticed. "One never knows what this may lead to. They all of them
see red; I should think they'll soon begin to dance the dance of
blood. Ah me, if I'd been young I wouldn't have stolen away like
a thief; I'd have stayed and taken whatever might have come. There
was a time when Lasse could put both hands on the ground and kick
his man in the face with the heels of his boots so that he went down
like a blade of grass; but that time's gone, and it's wisest to take
care of one's self. This may end in the police and much more, not
to mention the bailiff. They've been irritating him all the summer
with that Erik at their head; but if once he gets downright angry,
Erik may go home to his mother."

Pelle wanted to stay up for a little and look at them. "If I creep
along behind the fence and lie down--oh, do let me, father!" he
begged.

"Eh, what a silly idea! They might treat you badly if they got hold
of you. They're in the very worst of moods. Well, you must take the
consequences, and for goodness' sake take care they don't see you!"

So Lasse went to bed, but Pelle crawled along on the ground behind
the fence until he came close up to them and could see everything.

Gustav was still sitting on Karna's open lap and playing, and she
was holding him fast in her arms. But Anders had put his arm around
Bodil's waist. Gustav discovered it, and with an oath flung away his
concertina, sending it rolling over the grass, and sprang up. The
others threw themselves down in a circle on the grass, breathing
hard. They expected something.

Gustav was like a savage dancing a war-dance. His mouth was open and
his eyes bright and staring. He was the only man on the grass, and
jumped up and down like a ball, hopped upon his heels, and kicked
up his legs alternately to the height of his head, uttering a shrill
cry with each kick. Then he shot up into the air, turning round as
he did so, and came down on one heel and went on turning round like
a top, making himself smaller and smaller as he turned, and then
exploded in a leap and landed in the lap of Bodil, who threw her
arms about him in delight.

In an instant Anders had both hands on his shoulders from behind,
set his feet against his back, and sent him rolling over the grass.
It all happened without a pause, and Gustav himself gave impetus to
his course, rolling along in jolts like an uneven ball. But suddenly
he stopped and rose to his feet with a bound, stared straight in
front of him, turned round with a jerk, and moved slowly toward
Anders. Anders rose quickly, pushed his cap on one side, clicked
with his tongue, and advanced. Bodil spread herself out more
comfortably on the ground, and looked proudly round the circle,
eagerly noting the envy of the others.

The two antagonists stood face to face, feeling their way to a good
grasp. They stroked one another affectionately, pinched one another
in the side, and made little jesting remarks.

"My goodness me, how fat you are, brother!" This was Anders.

"And what breasts you've got! You might quite well be a woman,"
answered Gustav, feeling Anders' chest. "Eeh, how soft you are!"
Scorn gleamed in their faces, but their eyes followed every movement
of their opponent. Each of them expected a sudden attack from the
other.

The others lay stretched around them on the grass, and called out
impatiently: "Have done with that and look sharp about it!"

The two men continued to stand and play as if they were afraid to
really set to, or were spinning the thing out for its still greater
enjoyment. But suddenly Gustav had seized Anders by the collar,
thrown himself backward and flung Anders over his head. It was done
so quickly that Anders got no hold of Gustav; but in swinging round
he got a firm grasp of Gustav's hair, and they both fell on their
backs with their heads together and their bodies stretched in
opposite directions.

Anders had fallen heavily, and lay half unconscious, but without
loosening his hold on Gustav's hair. Gustav twisted round and tried
to get upon his feet, but could not free his head. Then he wriggled
back into this position again as quickly as a cat, turned a backward
somersault over his antagonist, and fell down upon him with his face
toward the other's. Anders tried to raise his feet to receive him,
but was too late.

Anders threw himself about in violent jerks, lay still and strained
again with sudden strength to turn Gustav off, but Gustav held on.
He let himself fall heavily upon his adversary, and sticking out his
legs and arms to support him on the ground, raised himself suddenly
and sat down again, catching Anders in the wind. All the time the
thoughts of both were directed toward getting out their knives,
and Anders, who had now fully recovered his senses, remembered
distinctly that he had not got his. "Ah!" he said aloud. "What
a fool I am!"

"You're whining, are you?" said Gustav, bending his face him. "Do
you want to ask for mercy?"

At that moment Anders felt Gustav's knife pressing against his thigh,
and in an instant had his hand down there and wrenched it free.
Gustav tried to take it from him, but gave up the attempt for fear
of being thrown off. He then confined himself to taking possession
of one of Anders' hands, so that he could not open the knife, and
began sitting upon him in the region of his stomach.

Anders lay in half surrender, and bore the blows without trying
to defend himself, only gasping at each one. With his left hand he
was working eagerly to get the knife opened against the ground, and
suddenly plunged it into Gustav just as the latter had risen to let
himself fall heavily upon his opponent's body.

Gustav seized Anders by the wrist, his face distorted. "What the
devil are you up to now, you swine?" he said, spitting down into
Anders' face. "He's trying to sneak out by the back door!" he said,
looking round the circle with a face wrinkled like that of a young
bull.

They fought desperately for the knife, using hands and teeth and
head; and when Gustav found that he could not get possession of
the weapon, he set to work so to guide Anders' hand that he should
plunge it into his own body. He succeeded, but the blow was not
straight, and the blade closed upon Anders' fingers, making him
throw the knife from him with an oath.

Meanwhile Erik was growing angry at no longer being the hero of the
evening. "Will you soon be finished, you two cockerels, or must I
have a bite too?" he said, trying to separate them. They took firm
hold of one another, but then Erik grew angry, and did something for
which he was ever after renowned. He took hold of them and set them
both upon their feet.

Gustav looked as if he were going to throw himself into the battle
again, and a sullen expression overspread his face; but then he
began to sway like a tree chopped at the roots, and sank to the
ground. Bodil was the first to come to his assistance. With a cry
she ran to him and threw her arms about him.

He was carried in and laid upon his bed, Karl Johan poured spirit
into the deep cut to clean it, and held it together while Bodil
basted it with needle and thread from one of the men's lockers.
Then they dispersed, in pairs, as friendship permitted, Bodil,
however, remaining with Gustav. She was true to him after all.

* * * * *

Thus the summer passed, in continued war and friction with the
bailiff, to whom, however, they dared do nothing when it came to
the point. Then the disease struck inward, and they set upon one
another. "It must come out somewhere," said Lasse, who did not like
this state of things, and vowed he would leave as soon as anything
else offered, even if they had to run away from wages and clothes
and everything.

"They're discontented with their wages, their working-hours are too
long, and the food isn't good enough; they pitch it about and waste
it until it makes one ill to see them, for anyhow it's God's gift,
even if it might be better. And Erik's at the bottom of it all! He's
forever boasting and bragging and stirring up the others the whole
day long. But as soon as the bailiff is over him, he daren't do
anything any more than the others; so they all creep into their
holes. Father Lasse is not such a cowardly wind-bag as any of them,
old though he is.

"I suppose a good conscience is the best support. If you have it and
have done your duty, you can look both the bailiff and the farmer
--and God the Father, too--in the face. For you must always remember,
laddie, not to set yourself up against those that are placed over
you. Some of us have to be servants and others masters; how would
everything go on if we who work didn't do our duty? You can't expect
the gentlefolk to scrape up the dung in the cow-stable."

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