Pelle the Conqueror, Vol. 1 by Martin Anderson Nexo

M >> Martin Anderson Nexo >> Pelle the Conqueror, Vol. 1

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24

"What can be wrong with him?" said Lasse tearfully to the cottagers'
wives. "Oh dear, what shall I do?" He carried him down to their room
in a sad state of mind, because the moon was waning, and it would
never pass off!

Down in the mangling-cellar they were busy with Erik, pouring brandy
into his mouth and bathing his head with vinegar. Kongstrup was not
at home, but the mistress herself was down there, wringing her hands
and cursing Stone Farm--her own childhood's home! Stone Farm had
become a hell with its murder and debauchery! she said, without
caring that they were all standing round her and heard every word.

The bailiff had driven quickly off in the pony-carriage to fetch a
doctor and to report what he had done in defence of his life. The
women stood round the pump and gossiped, while the men and girls
wandered about in confusion; there was no one to issue orders. But
then the mistress came out on to the steps and looked at them for
a little, and they all found something to do. Hers were piercing
eyes! The old women shook themselves and went back to their work.
It reminded them so pleasantly of old times, when the master of the
Stone Farm of their youth rushed up with anger in his eyes when they
were idling.

Down in their room, Lasse sat watching Pelle, who lay talking and
laughing in delirium, so that his father hardly knew whether to
laugh or to cry.

XV

"She must have had right on her side, for he never said a cross word
when she started off with her complaints and reproaches, and them so
loud that you could hear them right through the walls and down in
the servants' room and all over the farm. But it was stupid of her
all the same, for she only drove him distracted and sent him away.
And how will it go with a farm in the long run, when the farmer
spends all his time on the high-roads because he can't stay at home?
It's a poor sort of affection that drives the man away from his
home."

Lasse was standing in the stable on Sunday evening talking to the
women about it while they milked. Pelle was there too, busy with his
own affairs, but listening to what was said.

"But she wasn't altogether stupid either," said Thatcher Holm's
wife. "For instance when she had Fair Maria in to do housemaid's
work, so that he could have a pretty face to look at at home. She
knew that if you have food at home you don't go out for it. But of
course it all led to nothing when she couldn't leave off frightening
him out of the house with her crying and her drinking."

"I'm sure he drinks too!" said Pelle shortly.

"Yes, of course he gets drunk now and then," said Lasse in a
reproving tone. "But he's a man, you see, and may have his reasons
besides. But it's ill when a woman takes to drinking." Lasse was
cross. The boy was beginning to have opinions of his own pretty
well on everything, and was always joining in when grown people
were talking.

"I maintain"--he went on, turning again to the women--"that he'd
be a good husband, if only he wasn't worried with crying and a bad
conscience. Things go very well too when he's away. He's at home
pretty well every day, and looks after things himself, so that
the bailiff's quite upset, for _he_ likes to be king of the
castle. To all of us, the master's like one of ourselves; he's
even forgotten the grudge he had against Gustav."

"There can't be very much to bear him a grudge for, unless it is
that he'll get a wife with money. They say Bodil's saved more than
a hundred krones from her two or three months as housemaid. Some
people can--they get paid for what the rest of us have always had
to do for nothing." It was one of the old women who spoke.

"Well, we'll just see whether he ever gets her for a wife. I doubt
it myself. One oughtn't to speak evil of one's fellow-servant, but
Bodil's not a faithful girl. That matter with the master must go
for what it was--as I once said to Gustav when he was raging about
it; the master comes before his men! Bengta was a good wife to me
in every way, but she too was very fond of laying herself out for
the landlord at home. The greatest take first; that's the way of
the world! But Bodil's never of the same mind for long together.
Now she's carrying on with the pupil, though he's not sixteen yet,
and takes presents from him. Gustav should get out of it in time;
it always leads to misfortune when love gets into a person. We've
got an example of that at the farm here."

"I was talking to some one the other day who thought that the
mistress hadn't gone to Copenhagen at all, but was with relations
in the south. She's run away from him, you'll see!"

"That's the genteel thing to do nowadays, it seems!" said Lasse.
"If only she'll stay away! Things are much better as they are."

* * * * *

An altogether different atmosphere seemed to fill Stone Farm. The
dismal feeling was gone; no wailing tones came from the house and
settled upon one like horse flies and black care. The change was
most apparent in the farmer. He looked ten or twenty years younger,
and joked good-humoredly like one freed from chains and fetters. He
took an interest in the work of the farm, drove to the quarry two
or three times a day in his gig, was present whenever a new piece
of work was started, and would often throw off his coat and take a
hand in it. Fair Maria laid his table and made his bed, and he was
not afraid of showing his kindness for her. His good humor was
infectious and made everything pleasanter.

But it could not be denied that Lasse had his own burden to bear.
His anxiety to get married grew greater with the arrival of very
cold weather as early as December; he longed to have his feet under
his own table, and have a woman to himself who should be everything
to him. He had not entirely given up thoughts of Karna yet, but he
had promised Thatcher Holm's wife ten krones down if she could find
some one that would do for him.

He had really put the whole matter out of his head as an
impossibility, and had passed into the land of old age; but what
was the use of shutting yourself in, when you were all the time
looking for doors through which to slip out again? Lasse looked
out once more, and as usual it was Pelle who brought life and
joy to the house.

Down in the outskirts of the fishing-village there lived a woman,
whose husband had gone to sea and had not been heard of for a good
many years. Two or three times on his way to and from school, Pelle
had sought shelter from the weather in her porch, and they had
gradually become good friends; he performed little services for her,
and received a cup of hot coffee in return. When the cold was very
bitter, she always called him in; and then she would tell him about
the sea and about her good-for-nothing husband, who kept away and
left her to toil for her living by mending nets for the fishermen.
In return Pelle felt bound to tell her about Father Lasse, and
Mother Bengta who lay at home in the churchyard at Tommelilla.
The talk never came to much more, for she always returned to her
husband who had gone away and left her a widow.

"I suppose he's drowned," Pelle would say.

"No, he isn't, for I've had no warning," she answered decidedly,
always in the same words.

Pelle repeated it all to his father, who was very much interested.
"Well, did you run in to Madam Olsen to-day?" was the first thing
he said when the boy came in from school; and then Pelle had to
tell him every detail several times over. It could never be too
circumstantially told for Lasse.

"You've told her, I suppose, that Mother Bengta's dead? Yes, of
course you have! Well, what did she ask about me to-day? Does she
know about the legacy?" (Lasse had recently had twenty-five krones
left him by an uncle.) "You might very well let fall a word or two
about that, so that she shouldn't think we're quite paupers."

Pelle was the bearer of ambiguous messages backward and forward.
From Lasse he took little things in return for her kindness to
himself, such as embroidered handkerchiefs and a fine silk kerchief,
the last remnants of Mother Bengta's effects. It would be hard to
lose them if this new chance failed, for then there would be no
memories to fall back upon. But Lasse staked everything upon one
card.

One day Pelle brought word that warning had come to Madam Olsen. She
had been awakened in the night by a big black dog that stood gasping
at the head of her bed. Its eyes shone in the darkness, and she
heard the water dripping from its fur. She understood that it must
be the ship's dog with a message for her, and went to the window;
and out in the moonlight on the sea she saw a ship sailing with all
sail set. She stood high, and you could see the sea and sky right
through her. Over the bulwark hung her husband and the others, and
they were transparent; and the salt water was dripping from their
hair and beards and running down the side of the ship.

In the evening Lasse put on his best clothes.

"Are we going out this evening?" asked Pelle in glad surprise.

"No--well, that's to say I am, just a little errand. If any one
asks after me, you must say that I've gone to the smith about a new
nose-ring for the bull."

"And mayn't I go with you?" asked Pelle on the verge of tears.

"No, you must be good and stay at home for this once. Lasse patted
him on the head.

"Where are you going then?"

"I'm going--" Lasse was about to make up a lie about it, but had not
the heart to do it. "You mustn't ask me!" he said.

"Shall I know another day, then, without asking?"

"Yes, you shall, for certain--sure!"

Lasse went out, but came back again. Pelle was sitting on the edge
of the bed, crying; it was the first time Father Lasse had gone out
without taking him with him.

"Now you must be a good boy and go to bed," he said gravely. "Or
else I shall stay at home with you; but if I do, it may spoil things
for us both."

So Pelle thought better of it and began to undress; and at last
Lasse got off.

When Lasse reached Madam Olsen's house, it was shut up and in
darkness. He recognized it easily from Pelle's descriptions, and
walked round it two or three times to see how the walls stood. Both
timber and plaster looked good, and there was a fair-sized piece
of ground belonging to it, just big enough to allow of its being
attended to on Sundays, so that one could work for a daily wage
on weekdays.

Lasse knocked at the door, and a little while after a white form
appeared at the window, and asked who was there.

"It's Pelle's father, Lasse Karlsson," said Lasse, stepping out
into the moonlight.

The door was unbolted, and a soft voice said: "Come inside! Don't
stand out there in the cold!" and Lasse stepped over the threshold.
There was a smell of sleep in the room, and Lasse had an idea where
the alcove was, but could see nothing. He heard the breathing as of
a stout person drawing on stockings. Then she struck a match and
lighted the lamp.

They shook hands, and looked at one another as they did so. She wore
a skirt of striped bed-ticking, which kept her night-jacket together,
and had a blue night-cap on her head. She had strong-looking limbs
and a good bust, and her face gave a good impression. She was the
kind of woman that would not hurt a fly if she were not put upon;
but she was not a toiler--she was too soft for that.

"So this is Pelle's father!" she said. "It's a young son you've got.
But do sit down!"

Lasse blinked his eyes a little. He had been afraid that she would
think him old.

"Yes, he's what you'd call a late-born child; but I'm still able to
do a man's work in more ways than one."

She laughed while she busied herself in placing on the table cold
bacon and pork sausage, a dram, bread and a saucer of dripping.
"But now you must eat!" she said. "That's what a man's known by.
And you've come a long way."

It only now occurred to Lasse that he must give some excuse for his
visit. "I ought really to be going again at once. I only wanted to
come down and thank you for your kindness to the boy." He even got
up as if to go.

"Oh, but what nonsense!" she exclaimed, pushing him down into his
chair again. "It's very plain, but do take some." She pressed the
knife into his hand, and eagerly pushed the food in front of him.
Her whole person radiated warmth and kind-heartedness as she stood
close to him and attended to his wants; and Lasse enjoyed it all.

"You must have been a good wife to your husband," he said.

"Yes, that's true enough!" she said, as she sat down and looked
frankly at him. "He got all that he could want, and almost more,
when he was on shore. He stayed in bed until dinner, and I looked
after him like a little child; but he never gave me a hand's turn
for it, and at last one gets tired."

"That was wrong of him," said Lasse; "for one good action deserves
another. I don't think Bengta would have anything like that to say
of me if she was asked."

"Well, there's certainly plenty to do in a house, when there's a
man that has the will to help. I've only one cow, of course, for
I can't manage more; but two might very well be kept, and there's
no debt on the place."

"I'm only a poor devil compared to you!" said Lasse despondently.
"Altogether I've got fifty krones, and we both have decent clothes
to put on; but beyond that I've only got a pair of good hands."

"And I'm sure that's worth a good deal! And I should fancy you're
not afraid of fetching a pail of water or that sort of thing,
are you?"

"No, I'm not. And I'm not afraid of a cup of coffee in bed on
a Sunday morning, either."

She laughed. "Then I suppose I ought to have a kiss!" she said.

"Yes, I suppose you ought," said Lasse delighted, and kissed her.
"And now we may hope for happiness and a blessing for all three
of us. I know you're fond of the laddie."

There still remained several things to discuss, there was coffee
to be drunk, and Lasse had to see the cow and the way the house was
arranged. In the meantime it had grown late.

"You'd better stay here for the night," said Madam Olsen.

Lasse stood wavering. There was the boy sleeping alone, and he had
to be at the farm by four o'clock; but it was cold outside, and here
it was so warm and comfortable in every way.

"Yes, perhaps I'd better," he said, laying down his hat and coat
again.

* * * * *

When at about four he crept into the cow-stable from the back, the
lantern was still burning in the herdsman's room. Lasse thought
he was discovered, and began to tremble; it was a criminal and
unjustifiable action to be away from the herd a whole night. But
it was only Pelle, who lay huddled up upon the chest asleep, with
his clothes on. His face was black and swollen with crying.

All that day there was something reserved, almost hostile, about
Pelle's behavior, and Lasse suffered under it. There was nothing
for it; he must speak out.

"It's all settled now, Pelle," he said at last. "We're going to
have a house and home, and a nice-looking mother into the bargain.
It's Madam Olsen. Are you satisfied now?"

Pelle had nothing against it. "Then may I come with you next time?"
he asked, still a little sullen.

"Yes, next time you shall go with me. I think it'll be on Sunday.
We'll ask leave to go out early, and pay her a visit." Lasse said
this with a peculiar flourish; he had become more erect.

Pelle went with him on Sunday; they were free from the middle of
the afternoon. But after that it would not have done to ask for
leave very soon again. Pelle saw his future mother nearly every day,
but it was more difficult for Lasse. When the longing to see his
sweetheart came over him too strongly, he fussed over Pelle until
the boy fell asleep, and then changed his clothes and stole out.

After a wakeful night such as one of these, he was not up to his
work, and went about stumbling over his own feet; but his eyes shone
with a youthful light, as if he had concluded a secret treaty with
life's most powerful forces.

XVI

Erik was standing on the front steps, with stooping shoulders and
face half turned toward the wall. He stationed himself there every
morning at about four, and waited for the bailiff to come down. It
was now six, and had just begun to grow light.

Lasse and Pelle had finished cleaning out the cow-stable and
distributing the first feed, and they were hungry. They were
standing at the door of the stable, waiting for the breakfast-bell
to ring; and at the doors of the horse-stables, the men were doing
the same. At a quarter-past the hour they went toward the basement,
with Karl Johan at their head, and Lasse and Pelle also turned out
and hurried to the servants' room, with every sign of a good
appetite.

"Now, Erik, we're going down to breakfast!" shouted Karl Johan as
they passed, and Erik came out of his corner by the steps, and
shuffled along after them. There was nothing the matter with his
digestive powers at any rate.

They ate their herring in silence; the food stopped their mouths
completely. When they had finished, the head man knocked on the
table with the handle of his knife, and Karna came in with two
dishes of porridge and a pile of bread-and-dripping.

"Where's Bodil to-day?" asked Gustav.

"How should I know? Her bed was standing untouched this morning,"
answered Karna, with an exulting look.

"It's a lie!" cried Gustav, bringing down his spoon with a bang
upon the table.

"You can go into her room and see for yourself; you know the way!"
said Karna tartly.

"And what's become of the pupil to-day, as he hasn't rung?" said
Karl Johan. "Have any of you girls seen him?"

"No, I expect he's overslept himself," cried Bengta from the
wash-house. "And so he may! _I_ don't want to run up and
shake life into him every morning!"

"Don't you think you'd better go up and wake him, Gustav?" said
Anders with a wink. "You might see something funny." The others
laughed a little.

"If I wake him, it'll be with this rabbit-skinner," answered Gustav,
exhibiting a large knife. "For then I think I should put him out of
harm's way."

At this point the farmer himself came down. He held a piece of paper
in his hand, and appeared to be in high good humor. "Have you heard
the latest news, good people? At dead of night Hans Peter has eloped
with Bodil!"

"My word! Are the babes and sucklings beginning now?" exclaimed
Lasse with self-assurance. "I shall have to look after Pelle there,
and see that he doesn't run away with Karna. She's fond of young
people." Lasse felt himself to be the man of the company, and was
not afraid of giving a hit at any one.

"Hans Peter is fifteen," said Kongstrup reprovingly, "and passion
rages in his heart." He said this with such comical gravity that
they all burst into laughter, except Gustav, who sat blinking his
eyes and nodding his head like a drunken man.

"You shall hear what he says. This lay upon his bed." Kongstrup
held the paper out in a theatrical attitude and read:

"When you read this, I shall have gone forever. Bodil and I have
agreed to run away to-night. My stern father will never give his
consent to our union, and therefore we will enjoy the happiness
of our love in a secret place where no one can find us. It will be
doing a great wrong to look for us, for we have determined to die
together rather than fall into the wicked hands of our enemies.
I wet this paper with Bodil's and my own tears. But you must not
condemn me for my last desperate step, as I can do nothing else
for the sake of my great love.

"HANS PETER."

"That fellow reads story-books," said Karl Johan. "He'll do great
things some day."

"Yes, he knows exactly what's required for an elopement," answered
Kongstrup merrily. "Even to a ladder, which he's dragged up to the
girl's window, although it's on a level with the ground. I wish he
were only half as thorough in his agriculture."

"What's to be done now? I suppose they must be searched for?" asked
the head man.

"Well, I don't know. It's almost a shame to disturb their young
happiness. They'll come of their own accord when they get hungry.
What do you think, Gustav? Shall we organize a battue?"

Gustav made no answer, but rose abruptly and went across to the
men's rooms. When the others followed him, they found him in bed.

All day he lay there and never uttered a syllable when any one came
in to him. Meanwhile the work suffered, and the bailiff was angry.
He did not at all like the new way Kongstrup was introducing--with
liberty for every one to say and do exactly as they liked.

"Go in and pull Gustav out of bed!" he said, in the afternoon, when
they were in the threshing-barn, winnowing grain. "And if he won't
put his own clothes on, dress him by force."

But Kongstrup, who was there himself, entering the weight,
interfered. "No, if he's ill he must be allowed to keep his bed,"
he said. "But it's our duty to do something to cure him."

"How about a mustard-plaster?" suggested Mons, with a defiant
glance at the bailiff.

Kongstrup rubbed his hands with delight. "Yes, that'll be splendid!"
he said. "Go you across, Mons, and get the girls to make a mustard-
plaster that we can stick on the pit of his stomach; that's where
the pain is."

When Mons came back with the plaster, they went up in a procession
to put it on, the farmer himself leading. Kongstrup was well aware
of the bailiff's angry looks, which plainly said, "Another waste
of work for the sake of a foolish prank!" But he was inclined for
a little fun, and the work would get done somehow.

Gustav had smelt a rat, for when they arrived he was dressed. For
the rest of the day he did his work, but nothing could draw a smile
out of him. He was like a man moonstruck.

A few days later a cart drove up to Stone Farm. In the driving-seat
sat a broad-shouldered farmer in a fur coat, and beside him, wrapped
up from head to foot, sat Hans Peter, while at the back, on the
floor of the cart, lay the pretty Bodil on a little hay, shivering
with cold. It was the pupil's father who had brought back the two
fugitives, whom he had found in lodgings in the town.

Up in the office Hans Peter received a thrashing that could be
heard, and was then let out into the yard, where he wandered about
crying and ashamed, until he began to play with Pelle behind the
cow-stable.

Bodil was treated more severely. It must have been the strange
farmer who required that she should be instantly dismissed, for
Kongstrup was not usually a hard man. She had to pack her things,
and after dinner was driven away. She looked good and gentle as she
always did; one would have thought she was a perfect angel--if one
had not known better.

Next morning Gustav's bed was empty. He had vanished completely,
with chest, wooden shoes and everything.

Lasse looked on at all this with a man's indulgent smile--children's
tricks! All that was wanting now was that Karna should squeeze
her fat body through the basement window one night, and she too
disappear like smoke--on the hunt for Gustav.

This did not happen, however; and she became kindly disposed toward
Lasse again, saw after his and Pelle's clothes, and tried to make
them comfortable.

Lasse was not blind; he saw very well which way the wind blew, and
enjoyed the consciousness of his power. There were now two that he
could have whenever he pleased; he only had to stretch out his hand,
and the women-folk snatched at it. He went about all day in a state
of joyful intoxication, and there were days in which he was in such
an elevated condition of mind that he had inward promptings to make
use of his opportunity. He had always trodden his path in this world
so sedately, done his duty and lived his life in such unwavering
decency. Why should not he too for once let things go, and try to
leap through the fiery hoops? There was a tempting development of
power in the thought.

But the uprightness in him triumphed. He had always kept to the one,
as the Scriptures commanded, and he would continue to do so. The
other thing was only for the great--Abraham, of whom Pelle had begun
to tell him, and Kongstrup. Pelle, too, must never be able to say
anything against his father in that way; he must be clean in his
child's eyes, and be able to look him in the face without shrinking.
And then--well, the thought of how the two women would take it in
the event of its being discovered, simply made Lasse blink his red
eyes and hang his head.

* * * * *

Toward the middle of March, Fru Kongstrup returned unexpectedly.
The farmer was getting along very comfortably without her, and
her coming took him rather by surprise. Fair Maria was instantly
turned out and sent down to the wash-house. Her not being sent away
altogether was due to the fact that there was a shortage of maids at
the farm now that Bodil had left. The mistress had brought a young
relative with her, who was to keep her company and help her in the
house.

They appeared to get on very well together. Kongstrup stayed at home
upon the farm and was steady. The three drove out together, and the
mistress was always hanging on his arm when they went about showing
the place to the young lady. It was easy to see why she had come
home; she could not live without him!

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24