Pelle the Conqueror, Vol. 1 by Martin Anderson Nexo

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"I won't stay here any longer," said Pelle decidedly.

"No, let's get away from here; nothing has ever grown on this farm
for us two but wormwood. Perhaps there are new, happy days waiting
for us out there; and there are parsons everywhere. If we two work
together at some good work out there, we shall earn a peck of money.
Then one day we'll go up to a parson, and throw down half a hundred
krones in front of his face, and it 'u'd be funny if he didn't
confirm you on the spot--and perhaps let himself be kicked into
the bargain. Those kind of folk are very fond of money."

Lasse had grown more erect in his anger, and had a keen look in
his eyes. He walked quickly along the foddering passage, and threw
the things about carelessly, for Pelle's adventurous proposal had
infected him with youth. In the intervals of their work, they
collected all their little things and packed the green chest. "What
a surprise it'll be to-morrow morning when they come here and find
the nest empty!" said Pelle gaily. Lasse chuckled.

Their plan was to take shelter with Kalle for a day or two, while
they took a survey of what the world offered. When everything was
done in the evening, they took the green chest between them, and
stole out through the outside door into the field. The chest was
heavy, and the darkness did not make walking easier. They moved on
a little way, changed hands, and rested. "We've got the night before
us!" said Lasse cheerfully.

He was quite animated, and while they sat resting upon the chest
talked about everything that awaited them. When he came to a
standstill Pelle began. Neither of them had made any distinct plans
for their future; they simply expected a fairy-story itself with its
inconceivable surprises. All the definite possibilities that they
were capable of picturing to themselves fell so far short of that
which must come, that they left it alone and abandoned themselves
to what lay beyond their powers of foresight.

Lasse was not sure-footed in the dark, and had more and more
frequently to put down his burden. He grew weary and breathless,
and the cheerful words died away upon his lips. "Ah, how heavy it
is!" he sighed. "What a lot of rubbish you do scrape together in
the course of time!" Then he sat down upon the chest, quite out of
breath. He could do no more. "If only we'd had something to pick
us up a little!" he said faintly. "And it's so dark and gloomy
to-night."

"Help me to get it on my back," said Pelle, "and I'll carry it
a little way."

Lasse would not at first, but gave in, and they went on again,
he running on in front and giving warning of ditches and walls.
"Suppose Brother Kalle can't take us in!" he said suddenly.

"He's sure to be able to. There's grandmother's bed; that's big
enough for two."

"But suppose we can't get anything to do, then we shall be a burden
on him."

"Oh, we shall get something to do. There's a scarcity of laborers
everywhere."

"Yes, they'll jump at you, but I'm really too old to offer myself
out." Lasse had lost all hope, and was undermining Pelle's too.

"I can't do any more!" said Pelle, letting the chest down. They
stood with arms hanging, and stared into the darkness at nothing
particular. Lasse showed no desire to take hold again, and Pelle
was now tired out. The night lay dark around them, and its all-
enveloping loneliness made it seem as if they two were floating
alone in space.

"Well, we ought to be getting on," exclaimed Pelle, taking a handle
of the chest; but as Lasse did not move, he dropped it and sat down.
They sat back to back, and neither could find the right words to
utter, and the distance between them seemed to increase. Lasse
shivered with the night cold. "If only we were at home in our good
bed!" he sighed.

Pelle was almost wishing he had been alone, for then he would have
gone on to the end. The old man was just as heavy to drag along as
the chest.

"Do you know I think I'll go back again!" said Lasse at last in
crestfallen tone. "I'm afraid I'm not able to tread uncertain paths.
And you'll never be confirmed if we go on like this! Suppose we go
back and get Kongstrup to put in a good word for us with the parson."
Lasse stood and held one handle of the chest.

Pelle sat on as if he had not heard, and then he silently took hold,
and they toiled along on their weary way homeward across the fields.
Every other minute Pelle was tired and had to rest; now that they
were going home, Lasse was the more enduring. "I think I could carry
it a little way alone, if you'd help me up with it," he said; but
Pelle would not hear of it.

"Pee-u-ah!" sighed Lasse with pleasure when they once more stood
in the warmth of the cow-stable and heard the animals breathing in
indolent well-being--"it's comfortable here. It's just like coming
into one's old home. I think I should know this stable again by the
air, if they led me into it blindfold anywhere in the world."

And now they were home again, Pelle too could not help thinking
that it really was pleasant.

XXIII

On Sunday morning, between watering and midday feed, Lasse and Pelle
ascended the high stone steps. They took off their wooden shoes in
the passage, and stood and shook themselves outside the door of the
office; their gray stocking-feet were full of chaff and earth. Lasse
raised his hand to knock, but drew it back. "Have you wiped your nose
properly?" he asked in a whisper, with a look of anxiety on his face.
Pelle performed the operation once more, and gave a final polish with
the sleeve of his blouse.

Lasse lifted his hand again; he looked greatly oppressed. "You might
keep quiet then!" he said irritably to Pelle, who was standing as
still as a mouse. Lasse's knuckles were poised in the air two or
three times before they fell upon the door; and then he stood with
his forehead close to the panel and listened. "There's no one there,"
he whispered irresolutely.

"Just go in!" exclaimed Pelle. "We can't stand here all day."

"Then you can go first, if you think you know better how to behave!"
said Lasse, offended.

Pelle quickly opened the door and went in. There was no one in the
office, but the door was open into the drawing-room, and the sound
of Kongstrup's comfortable breathing came thence.

"Who's there?" he asked.

"It's Lasse and Pelle," answered Lasse in a voice that did not sound
altogether brave.

"Will you come in here?"

Kongstrup was lying on the sofa reading a magazine, and on the table
beside him stood a pile of old magazines and a plateful of little
cakes. He did not raise his eyes from his book, not even while his
hand went out to the plate for something to put in his mouth. He lay
nibbling and swallowing while he read, and never looked at Lasse and
Pelle, or asked them what they wanted, or said anything to give them
a start. It was like being sent out to plough without knowing where.
He must have been in the middle of something very exciting.

"Well, what do you want?" asked Kongstrup at last in slow tones.

"Well--well, the master must excuse us for coming like this about
something that doesn't concern the farm; but as matters now stand,
we've no one else to go to, and so I said to the laddie: 'Master
won't be angry, I'm sure, for he's many a time been kind to us poor
beggars--and that.' Now it's so in this world that even if you're a
poor soul that's only fit to do others' dirty work, the Almighty's
nevertheless given you a father's heart, and it hurts you to see
the father's sin standing in the son's way."

Lasse came to a standstill. He had thought it all out beforehand,
and so arranged it that it should lead up, in a shrewd, dignified
way, to the matter itself. But now it was all in a muddle like a
slattern's pocket-handkerchief, and the farmer did not look as if
he had understood a single word of it. He lay there, taking a cake
now and then, and looking helplessly toward the door.

"It sometimes happens too, that a man gets tired of the single
state," began Lasse once more, but at once gave up trying to go on.
No matter how he began, he went round and round the thing and got
no hold anywhere! And now Kongstrup began to read again. A tiny
question from him might have led to the very middle of it; but he
only filled his mouth full and began munching quite hard.

Lasse was outwardly disheartened and inwardly angry, as he stood
there and prepared to go. Pelle was staring about at the pictures
and the old mahogany furniture, making up his mind about each thing.

Suddenly energetic steps sounded through the rooms; the ear could
follow their course right up from the kitchen. Kongstrup's eyes
brightened, and Lasse straightened himself up.

"Is that you two?" said Fru Kongstrup in her decided way that
indicated the manager. "But do sit down! Why didn't you offer
them a seat, old man?"

Lasse and Pelle found seats, and the mistress seated herself
beside her husband, with her arm leaning upon his pillow. "How
are you getting on, Kongstrup? Have you been resting?" she asked
sympathetically, patting his shoulder. Kongstrup gave a little
grunt, that might have meant yes, or no, or nothing at all.

"And what about you two? Are you in need of money?"

"No, it's the lad. He's to be dismissed from the confirmation-
class," answered Lasse simply. With the mistress you couldn't help
being decided.

"Are you to be dismissed?" she exclaimed, looking at Pelle as at
an old acquaintance. "Then what have you been doing?"

"Oh, I kicked the parson's son."

"And what did you do that for?"

"Because he wouldn't fight, but threw himself down."

Fru Kongstrup laughed and nudged her husband. "Yes, of course.
But what had he done to you?"

"He'd said bad things about Father Lasse."

"What were the things?"

Pelle looked hard at her; she meant to get to the bottom of
everything. "I won't tell you!" he said firmly.

"Oh, very well! But then we can't do anything about it
either."

"I may just as well tell you," Lasse interrupted. "He called
me Madam Olsen's concubine--from the Bible story, I suppose."

Kongstrup tried to suppress a chuckle, as if some one had
whispered a coarse joke in his ear, and he could not help it.
The mistress herself was serious enough.

"I don't think I understand," she said, and laid a repressing
hand upon her husband's arm. "Lasse must explain."

"It's because I was engaged to Madam Olsen in the village, who every
one thought was a widow; and then her husband came home the other
day. And so they've given me that nickname round about, I suppose."

Kongstrup began his suppressed laughter again, and Lasse blinked
in distress at it.

"Help yourselves to a cake!" said Fru Kongstrup in a very loud voice,
pushing the plate toward them. This silenced Kongstrup, and he lay
and watched their assault upon the cake-plate with an attentive eye.

Fru Kongstrup sat tapping the table with her middle finger while
they ate. "So that good boy Pelle got angry and kicked out, did he?"
she said suddenly, her eyes flashing.

"Yes, that's what he never ought to have done!" answered Lasse
plaintively.

Fru Kongstrup fixed her eyes upon him.

"No, for all that the poorer birds are for is to be pecked at! Well,
I prefer the bird that pecks back again and defends its nest, no
matter how poor it is. Well, well, we shall see! And is that boy
going to be confirmed? Why, of course! To think that I should be
so forgetful! Then we must begin to think about his clothes."

"That's two troubles got rid of!" said Lasse when they went down to
the stable again. "And did you notice how nicely I let her know that
you were going to be confirmed? It was almost as if she'd found it
out for herself. Now you'll see, you'll be as fine as a shop-boy in
your clothes; people like the master and mistress know what's needed
when once they've opened their purse. Well, they got the whole truth
straight, but confound it! they're no more than human beings. It's
always best to speak out straight." Lasse could not forget how well
it had turned out.

Pelle let the old man boast. "Do you think I shall get leather shoes
of them too?" he asked.

"Yes, of course you will! And I shouldn't wonder if they made a
confirmation-party for you too. I say _they_, but it's her
that's doing it all, and we may be thankful for that. Did you
notice that she said _we_--_we_ shall, and so on--always?
It's nice of her, for he only lies there and eats and leaves
everything to her. But what a good time he has! I think she'd go
through fire to please him; but upon my word, she's master there.
Well, well, I suppose we oughtn't to speak evil of any one; to you
she's like your own mother!"

Fru Kongstrup said nothing about the result of her drive to the
parson; it was not her way to talk about things afterward. But Lasse
and Pelle once more trod the earth with a feeling of security; when
she took up a matter, it was as good as arranged.

One morning later in the week, the tailor came limping in with his
scissors, tape-measure, and pressing-iron, and Pelle had to go down
to the servants' room, and was measured in every direction as if he
had been a prize animal. Up to the present, he had always had his
clothes made by guess-work. It was something new to have itinerant
artisans at Stone Farm; since Kongstrup had come into power, neither
shoemaker nor tailor had ever set foot in the servants' room. This
was a return to the good old farm-customs, and placed Stone Farm
once more on a footing with the other farms. The people enjoyed it,
and as often as they could went down into the servants' room for
a change of air and to hear one of the tailor's yarns. "It's the
mistress who's at the head of things now!" they said to one another.
There was good peasant blood in her hands, and she brought things
back into the good old ways. Pelle walked into the servants' room
like a gentleman; he was fitted several times a day.

He was fitted for two whole suits, one of which was for Rud, who was
to be confirmed too. It would probably be the last thing that Rud
and his mother would get at the farm, for Fru Kongstrup had carried
her point, and they were to leave the cottage in May. They would
never venture to set foot again in Stone Farm. Fru Kongstrup herself
saw that they received what they were to have, but she did not give
money if she could help it.

Pelle and Rud were never together now, and they seldom went to the
parson together. It was Pelle who had drawn back, as he had grown
tired of being on the watch for Rud's continual little lies and
treacheries. Pelle was taller and stronger than Rud, and his nature
--perhaps because of his physical superiority--had taken more open
ways. In ability to master a task or learn it by heart, Rud was also
the inferior; but on the other hand he could bewilder Pelle and the
other boys, if he only got a hold with his practical common sense.

On the great day itself, Karl Johan drove Pelle and Lasse in the
little one-horse carriage. "We're fine folk to-day!" said Lasse,
with a beaming face. He was quite confused, although he had not
tasted anything strong. There was a bottle of gin lying in the chest
to treat the men with when the sacred ceremony was over; but Lasse
was not the man to drink anything before he went to church. Pelle
had not _touched_ food; God's Word would take best effect in
that condition.

Pelle was radiant too, in spite of his hunger. He was in brand-new
twill, so new that it crackled every time he moved. On his feet he
wore elastic-sided shoes that had once belonged to Kongstrup himself.
They were too large, but "there's no difficulty with a sausage
that's too long," as Lasse said. He put in thick soles and paper
in the toes, and Pelle put on two pairs of stockings; and then the
shoes fitted as if they had been cast for his foot. On his head he
wore a blue cap that he had chosen himself down at the shop. It
allowed room for growing, and rested on his ears, which, for the
occasion, were as red as two roses. Round the cap was a broad ribbon
in which were woven rakes, scythes, and flails, interlaced with
sheaves all the way round.

"It's a good thing you came," said Pelle, as they drove up to the
church, and found themselves among so many people. Lasse had almost
had to give up thought of coming, for the man who was going to look
after the animals while he was away had to go off at the last moment
for the veterinary surgeon; but Karna came and offered to water and
give the midday feed, although neither could truthfully say that
they had behaved as they ought to have done to her.

"Have you got that thing now?" whispered Lasse, when they were
inside the church. Pelle felt in his pocket and nodded; the
little round piece of lignum-vitae that was to carry him over
the difficulties of the day lay there. "Then just answer loud and
straight out," whispered Lasse, as he slipped into a pew in the
background.

Pelle did answer straight out, and to Lasse his voice sounded really
well through the spacious church. And the parson did absolutely
nothing to revenge himself, but treated Pelle exactly as he did the
others. At the most solemn part of the ceremony, Lasse thought of
Karna, and how touching her devotion was. He scolded himself in an
undertone, and made a solemn vow. She should not sigh any longer in
vain.

For a whole month indeed, Lasse's thoughts had been occupied with
Karna, now favorably, now unfavorably; but at this solemn moment
when Pelle was just taking the great step into the future, and
Lasse's feelings were touched in so many ways, the thought of
Karna's devotion broke over him as something sad, like a song of
slighted affection that at last, at last has justice done to it.

Lasse shook hands with Pelle. "Good luck and a blessing!" he said
in a trembling voice. The wish also embraced his own vow and he had
some difficulty in keeping silence respecting his determination,
he was so moved. The words were heard on all sides, and Pelle went
round and shook hands with his comrades. Then they drove home.

"It all went uncommonly well for you to-day," said Lasse proudly;
"and now you're a man, you know."

"Yes, now you must begin to look about for a sweetheart," said Karl
Johan. Pelle only laughed.

In the afternoon they had a holiday. Pelle had first to go up to his
master and mistress to thank them for his clothes and receive their
congratulations. Fru Kongstrup gave him red-currant wine and cake,
and the farmer gave him a two-krone piece.

Then they went up to Kalle's by the quarry. Pelle was to exhibit
himself in his new clothes, and say good-bye to them; there was only
a fortnight to May Day. Lasse was going to take the opportunity of
secretly obtaining information concerning a house that was for sale
on the heath.

XXIV

They still talked about it every day for the short time that was left.
Lasse, who had always had the thought of leaving in his mind, and had
only stayed on and on, year after year, because the boy's welfare
demanded it--was slow to move now that there was nothing to hold him
back. He was unwilling to lose Pelle, and did all he could to keep
him; but nothing would induce him to go out into the world again.

"Stay here!" he said persuasively, "and we'll talk to the mistress
and she'll take you on for a proper wage. You're both strong and
handy, and she's always looked upon you with a friendly eye."

But Pelle would not take service with the farmer; it gave no position
and no prospects. He wanted to be something great, but there was no
possibility of that in the country; he would be following cows all
his days. He would go to the town--perhaps still farther, across the
sea to Copenhagen.

"You'd better come too," he said, "and then we shall get rich all
the quicker and be able to buy a big farm."

"Yes, yes," said Lasse, slowly nodding his head; "that's one for me
and two for yourself! But what the parson preaches doesn't always
come to pass. We might become penniless. Who knows what the future
may bring?"

"Oh, I shall manage!" said Pelle, nodding confidently. "Do you mean
to say I can't turn my hand to anything I like?"

"And I didn't give notice in time either," said Lasse to excuse
himself.

"Then run away!"

But Lasse would not do that. "No, I'll stay and work toward getting
something for myself about here," he said, a little evasively. "It
would be nice for you too, to have a home that you could visit now
and then; and if you didn't get on out there, it wouldn't be bad to
have something to fall back upon. You might fall ill, or something
else might happen; the world's not to be relied upon. You have to
have a hard skin all over out there."

Pelle did not answer. That about the home sounded nice enough, and
he understood quite well that it was Karna's person that weighed down
the other end of the balance. Well, she'd put all his clothes in order
for his going away, and she'd always been a good soul; he had nothing
against that.

It would be hard to live apart from Father Lasse, but Pelle felt
he must go. Away! The spring seemed to shout the word in his ears.
He knew every rock in the landscape and every tree--yes, every twig
on the trees as well; there was nothing more here that could fill
his blue eyes and long ears, and satisfy his mind.

The day before May Day they packed Pelle's things. Lasse knelt before
the green chest; every article was carefully folded and remarked
upon, before it was placed in the canvas bag that was to serve Pelle
as a traveling-trunk.

"Now remember not to wear your stockings too long before you mend
them!" said Lasse, putting mending wool on one side. "He who mends
his things in time, is spared half the work and all the disgrace."

"I shan't forget that," said Pelle quietly.

Lasse was holding a folded shirt in his hand. "The one you've got
on's just been washed," he said reflectively. "But one can't tell.
Two shirts'll almost be too little if you're away, won't they? You
must take one of mine; I can always manage to get another by the
time I want a change. And remember, you must never go longer than
a fortnight! You who are young and healthy might easily get vermin,
and be jeered at by the whole town; such a thing would never be
tolerated in any one who wants to get on. At the worst you can do
a little washing or yourself; you could go down to the shore in
the evening, if that was all!"

"Do they wear wooden shoes in the town?" asked Pelle.

"Not people who want to get on! I think you'd better let me keep
the wooden shoes and you take my boots instead; they always look
nice even if they're old. You'd better wear them when you go
to-morrow, and save your good shoes."

The new clothes were laid at the top of the bag, wrapped in an old
blouse to keep them clean.

"Now I think we've got everything in," said Lasse, with a searching
glance into the green chest. There was not much left in it. "Very
well, then we'll tie it up in God's name, and pray that, you may
arrive safely--wherever you decide to go!" Lasse tied up the sack;
he was anything but happy.

"You must say good-bye nicely to every one on the farm, so that they
won't have anything to scratch my eyes out for afterward," said Lasse
after a little. "And I should like you to thank Karna nicely for
having put everything in such good order. It isn't every one who'd
have bothered."

"Yes, I'll do that," said Pelle in a low voice. He did not seem to
be able to speak out properly to-day.

* * * * *

Pelle was up and dressed at daybreak. Mist lay over the sea, and
prophesied well for the day. He went about well scrubbed and combed,
and looked at everything with wide-open eyes, and with his hands in
his pockets. The blue clothes which he had gone to his confirmation-
classes in, had been washed and newly mangled, and he still looked
very well in them; and the tabs of the old leather boots, which were
a relic of Lasse's prosperous days, stuck out almost as much as his
ears.

He had said his "Good-bye and thank-you for all your kindness!"
to everybody on the farm--even Erik; and he had had a good meal of
bacon. Now he was going about the stable, collecting himself, shaking
the bull by the horns, and letting the calves suck his fingers; it
was a sort of farewell too! The cows put their noses close up to him,
and breathed a long, comfortable breath when he passed, and the bull
playfully tossed its head at him. And close behind him went Lasse;
he did not say very much but he always kept near the boy.

It was so good to be here, and the feeling sank gently over Pelle
every time a cow licked herself, or the warm vapor rose from freshly-
falling dung. Every sound was like a mother's caress, and every thing
was a familiar toy, with which a bright world could be built. Upon
the posts all round there were pictures that he had cut upon them;
Lasse had smeared them over with dirt again, in case the farmer
should come and say that they were spoiling everything.

Pelle was not thinking, but went about in a dreamy state; it all sank
so warmly and heavily into his child's mind. He had taken out his
knife, and took hold of the bull's horn, as if he were going to carve
something on it. "He won't let you do that," said Lasse, surprised.
"Try one of the bullocks instead."

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