Pelle the Conqueror, Vol 3 by Martin Anderson Nexo

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At the Stolpes' the whole household was topsy-turvy. The guests who were
to go to the church had already arrived; they were fidgeting about in
the living-room and whistling to themselves, or looking out into the
street, and feeling bored. Stople's writing-table had been turned into a
side-board, and the brothers were opening bottles of beer and politely
pressing everybody: "Do take a sandwich with it--you'll get a dry throat
standing so long and saying nothing."

In the best room Stolpe was pacing up and down and muttering. He was in
his shirtsleeves, waiting until it was his turn to use the bedroom,
where Ellen and her mother had locked themselves in. Prom time to time
the door was opened a little, and Ellen's bare white arm appeared, as
she threw her father some article of attire. Then Pelle's heart began to
thump.

On the window-sill stood Madam Stolpe's myrtle; it was stripped quite
bare.

Now Stolpe came back; he was ready! Pelle had only to button his collar
for him. He took Lasse's hand and then went to fetch _The Working
Man_. "Now you just ought to hear this, what they say of your son,"
he said, and began to read:

"Our young party-member, Pelle, to-day celebrates his nuptials with the
daughter of one of the oldest and most respected members of the party,
Mason Stolpe. This young man, who has already done a great deal of work
for the Cause, was last night unanimously proposed as President of his
organization. We give the young couple our best wishes for the future."

"That speaks for itself, eh?" Stolpe handed the paper to his guests.

"Yes, that looks well indeed," they said, passing the paper from hand to
hand. Lasse moved his lips as though he, too, were reading the notice
through. "Yes, devilish good, and they know how to put these things," he
said, delighted.

"But what's wrong with Petersen--is he going to resign?" asked Stolpe.

"He is ill," replied Pelle. "But I wasn't there last night, so I don't
know anything about it." Stolpe gazed at him, astonished.

Madam Stolpe came in and drew Pelle into the bedroom, where Ellen stood
like a snow-white revelation, with a long veil and a myrtle-wreath in
her hair. "Really you two are supposed not to see one another, but I
think that's wrong," she said, and with a loving glance she pushed them
into each other's arms.

Frederik, who was leaning out of the window, in order to watch for the
carriage, came and thundered on the door. "The carriage is there,
children!" he roared, in quite a needlessly loud voice. "The carriage is
there!"

And they drove away in it, although the church was only a few steps
distant. Pelle scarcely knew what happened to him after that, until he
found himself back in the carriage; they had to nudge him every time he
had to do anything. He saw no one but Ellen.

She was his sun; the rest meant nothing to him. At the altar he had
seized her hand and held it in his during the whole service.

Frederik had remained at home, in order to admit, receive messages and
people who came to offer their congratulations. As they returned he
leaned out of the window and threw crackers and detonating pellets under
the horses' feet, as a salute to the bridal pair.

People drank wine, touched glasses with the young couple, and examined
the wedding-presents. Stolpe looked to see the time; it was still quite
early. "You must go for a bit of a stroll, father," said Madam Stolpe.
"We can't eat anything for a couple of hours yet." So the men went
across to Ventegodt's beer-garden, in order to play a game of skittles,
while the women prepared the food.

Pelle would rather have stopped in the house with Ellen, but he must
not; he and Lasse went together. Lasse had not yet properly wished Pelle
happiness; he had waited until they should be alone.

"Well, happiness and all blessings, my boy," he said, much moved, as he
pressed Pelle's hand. "Now you, too, are a man with a family and
responsibilities. Now don't you forget that the women are like children.
In serious matters you mustn't be too ceremonious with them, but tell
them, short and plain. This is to be so! It goes down best with them. If
once a man begins discussing too much with them, then they don't know
which way they want to go. Otherwise they are quite all right, and it's
easy to get on with them--if one only treats them well. I never found it
any trouble, for they like a firm hand over them. You've reason to be
proud of your parents-in-law; they are capital people, even if they are
a bit proud of their calling. And Ellen will make you a good wife--if I
know anything of women. She'll attend to her own affairs and she'll
understand how to save what's left over. Long in the body she is, like a
fruitful cow--she won't fail you in the matter of children."

Outdoors in the beer-garden Swedish punch was served, and Lasse's
spirits began to rise. He tried to play at skittles--he had never done
so before; and he plucked up courage to utter witticisms.

The others laughed, and Lasse drew himself up and came out of his shell.
"Splendid people, the Copenhageners!" he whispered to Pelle. "A ready
hand for spending, and they've got a witty word ready for everything."

Before any one noticed it had grown dark, and now they must be home!

At home the table was laid, and the rest of the guests had come. Madam
Stolpe was already quite nervous, they had stopped away so long. "Now
we'll all wobble a bit on our legs," whispered Stolpe, in the entry;
"then my wife will go for us! Well, mother, have you got a warm welcome
ready for us?" he asked, as he tumbled into the room.

"Ah, you donkey, do you think I don't know you?" cried Madam Stolpe,
laughing. "No, one needn't go searching in the taverns for my man!"

Pelle went straight up to Ellen in the kitchen and led her away. Hand in
hand they went round the rooms, looking at the last presents to arrive.
There was a table-lamp, a dish-cover in German silver, and some
enamelled cooking-utensils. Some one, too, had sent a little china
figure of a child in swaddling-clothes, but had forgotten to attach his
name.

Ellen led Pelle out into the entry, in order to embrace him, but there
stood Morten, taking off his things. Then they fled into the kitchen,
but the hired cook was in possession; at length they found an
undisturbed haven in the bedroom. Ellen wound her arms round Pelle's
neck and gazed at him in silence, quite lost in happiness and longing.
And Pelle pressed the beloved, slender, girlish body against his own,
and looked deep in her eyes, which were dark and shadowy as velvet, as
they drank in the light in his. His heart swelled within him, and he
felt that he was unspeakably fortunate--richer than any one else in the
whole world--because of the treasure that he held in his arms. Silently
he vowed to himself that he would protect her and cherish her and have
no other thought than to make her happy.

An impatient trampling sounded from the other room. "The young couple--
the young couple!" they were calling. Pelle and Ellen hastened in, each
by a different door. The others were standing in their places at the
table, and were waiting for Pelle and Ellen to take their seats. "Well,
it isn't difficult to see what she's been about!" said Stolpe teasingly.
"One has only to look at the lass's peepers--such a pair of glowing
coals!"

Otto Stolpe, the slater, was spokesman, and opened the banquet by
offering brandy. "A drop of spirits," he said to each: "we must make
sure there's a vent to the gutter, or the whole thing will soon get
stopped up."

"Now, take something, people!" cried Stolpe, from the head of the table,
where he was carving a loin of roast pork. "Up with the bricks there!"
He had the young couple on his right and the newly-baked journeyman on
his left. On the table before him stood a new bedroom chamber with a
white wooden cover to it; the guests glanced at it and smiled at one
another. "What are you staring at?" he asked solemnly. "If you need
anything, let the cat out of the bag!"

"Ah, it's the tureen there!" said his brother, the carpenter, without
moving a muscle. "My wife would be glad to borrow it a moment, she
says."

His wife, taken aback, started up and gave him a thwack on the back.
"Monster!" she said, half ashamed, and laughing. "The men must always
make a fool of somebody!"

Then they all set to, and for a while eating stopped their mouths. From
time to time some droll remark was made. "Some sit and do themselves
proud, while others do the drudging," said the Vanishing Man, Otto's
comrade. Which was to say that he had finished his pork. "Give him one
in the mouth, mother!" said Stolpe.

When their hunger was satisfied the witticisms began to fly. Morten's
present was a great wedding-cake. It was a real work of art; he had made
it in the form of a pyramid. On the summit stood a youthful couple, made
of sugar, who held one another embraced, while behind them was a highly
glazed representation of the rising sun. Up the steps of the pyramid
various other figures were scrambling to the top, holding their arms
outstretched toward the summit. Wine was poured out when they came to
the cake, and Morten made a little speech in Pelle's honor, in which he
spoke of loyalty toward the new comrade whom he had chosen. Apparently
the speech concerned Ellen only, but Pelle understood that his words
were meant to be much more comprehensive; they had a double meaning all
the time.

"Thank you, Morten," he said, much moved, and he touched glasses with
him.

Then Stolpe delivered a speech admonishing the newly-married pair. This
was full of precious conceits and was received with jubilation.

"Now you see how father can speak," said Madam Stolpe. "When nothing
depends on it then he can speak!"

"What's that you say, mother?" cried Stolpe, astonished. He was not
accustomed to criticism from that source. "Just listen to that now--
one's own wife is beginning to pull away the scaffolding-poles from
under one!"

"Well, that's what I say!" she rejoined, looking at him boldly. Her face
was quite heated with wine. "Does any one stand in the front of things
like father does? He was the first, and he has been always the most
zealous; he has done a good stroke of work, more than most men. And to-
day he might well have been one of the leaders and have called the tune,
if it weren't for that damned hiccoughing. He's a clever man, and his
comrades respect him too, but what does all that signify if a man
hiccoughs? Every time he stands on the speaker's platform he has the
hiccoughs."

"And yet it isn't caused by brandy?" said the thick-set little Vanishing
Man, Albert Olsen.

"Oh, no, father has never gone in for bottle agitation," replied Madam
Stolpe.

"That was a fine speech that mother made about me," said Stolpe,
laughing, "and she didn't hiccough. It is astonishing, though--there are
some people who can't. But now it's your turn, Frederik. Now you have
become a journeyman and must accept the responsibility yourself for
doing things according to plumb-line and square. We have worked on the
scaffold together and we know one another pretty well. Many a time
you've been a clown and many a time a sheep, and a box on the ears from
your old man has never been lacking. But that was in your fledgling
years. When only you made up your mind there was no fault to be found
with you. I will say this to your credit--that you know your trade--you
needn't be shamed by anybody. Show what you can do, my lad! Do your
day's work so that your comrades don't need to take you in tow, and
never shirk when it comes to your turn!"

"Don't cheat the drinker of his bottle, either," said Albert Olsen,
interrupting. Otto nudged him in the ribs.

"No, don't do that," said Stolpe, and he laughed. "There are still two
things," he added seriously. "Take care the girls don't get running
about under the scaffold in working hours, that doesn't look well; and
always uphold the fellowship. There is nothing more despicable than the
name of strikebreaker."

"Hear, hear!" resounded about the table. "A true word!"

Frederik sat listening with an embarrassed smile.

He was dressed in a new suit of the white clothes of his calling, and on
his round chin grew a few dark downy hairs, which he fingered every
other moment. He was waiting excitedly until the old man had finished,
so that he might drink brotherhood with him.

"And now, my lad," said Stolpe, taking the cover from the "tureen," "now
you are admitted to the corporation of masons, and you are welcome!
Health, my lad." And with a sly little twinkle of his eye, he set the
utensil to his mouth, and drank.

"Health, father!" replied Frederik, with shining eyes, as his father
passed him the drinking-bowl. Then it went round the table. The women
shrieked before they drank; it was full of Bavarian beer, and in the
amber fluid swam Bavarian sausages. And while the drinking-bowl made its
cheerful round, Stolpe struck up with the Song of the Mason:

"The man up there in snowy cap and blouse,
He is a mason, any fool could swear.
Just give him stone and lime, he'll build a house
Fine as a palace, up in empty air!
Down in the street below stands half the town:
Ah, ah! Na, na!
The scaffold sways, but it won't fall down!

"Down in the street he's wobbly in his tread,
He tumbles into every cellar door;
That's 'cause his home is in the clouds o'erhead,
Where all the little birds about him soar.
Up there he works away with peaceful mind:
Ah, ah. Na, na!
The scaffold swings in the boisterous wind!

"What it is to be giddy no mason knows:
Left to himself he'd build for ever,
Stone upon stone, till in Heaven, I s'pose!
But up comes the Law, and says--Stop now, clever!
There lives the Almighty, so just come off!
Ah, ah! Na, na!
Sheer slavery this, but he lets them scoff!

"Before he knows it the work has passed:
He measures all over and reckons it up.
His wages are safe in his breeches at last,
And he clatters off home to rest and to sup.
And a goodly wage he's got in his pocket:
Ah, ah! Na, na!
The scaffold creaks to the winds that rock it!"

The little thick-set slater sat with both arms on the table, staring
right in front of him with veiled eyes. When the song was over he raised
his head a little. "Yes, that may be all very fine--for those it
concerns. But the slater, he climbs higher than the mason." His face was
purple.

"Now, comrade, let well alone," said Stolpe comfortably. "It isn't the
question, to-night, who climbs highest, it's a question of amusing
ourselves merely."

"Yes, that may be," replied Olsen, letting his head sink again. "But the
slater, he climbs the highest." After which he sat there murmuring to
himself.

"Just leave him alone," whispered Otto. "Otherwise he'll get in one of
his Berserker rages. Don't be so grumpy, old fellow," he said, laying
his arm on Olsen's shoulders. "No one can compete with you in the art of
tumbling down, anyhow!"

The Vanishing Man was so called because he was in the habit--while
lying quite quietly on the roof at work--of suddenly sliding downward
and disappearing into the street below. He had several times fallen from
the roof of a house without coming to any harm; but on one occasion he
had broken both legs, and had become visibly bow-legged in consequence.
In order to appease him, Otto, who was his comrade, related how he had
fallen down on the last occasion.

"We were lying on the roof, working away, he and I, and damned cold it
was. He, of course, had untied the safety-rope, and as we were lying
there quite comfortably and chatting, all of a sudden he was off. 'The
devil!' I shouted to the others, 'now the Vanishing Man has fallen down
again!' And we ran down the stairs as quick as we could. We weren't in a
humor for any fool's tricks, as you may suppose. But there was no Albert
Olsen lying on the pavement. 'Damn and blast it all, where has the
Vanisher got to?' we said, and we stared at one another, stupefied. And
then I accidentally glanced across at a beer-cellar opposite, and there,
by God, he was sitting at the basement window, winking at us so, with
his forefinger to his nose, making signs to us to go down and have a
glass of beer with him. 'I was so accursedly thirsty,' was all he said;
'I couldn't wait to run down the stairs!'"

The general laughter appeased the Vanishing Man. "Who'll give me a glass
of beer?" he said, rising with difficulty. He got his beer and sat down
in a corner.

Stolpe was sitting at the table playing with his canary, which had to
partake of its share in the feast. The bird sat on his red ear and fixed
its claws in his hair, then hopped onto his arm and along it onto the
table. Stolpe kept on asking it, "What would you like to smoke, Hansie?"
"Peep!" replied the canary, every time. Then they all laughed. "Hansie
would like a pipe!"

"How clever he is, to answer like that!" said the women.

"Clever?--ay, and he's sly too! Once we bought a little wife for him;
mother didn't think it fair that he shouldn't know what love is. Well,
they married themselves very nicely, and the little wife lay two eggs.
But when she wanted to begin to sit Hansie got sulky; he kept on calling
to her to come out on the perch. Well, she wouldn't, and one fine day,
when she wanted to get something to eat, he hopped in and threw the eggs
out between the bars! He was jealous--the rascal! Yes, animals are
wonderfully clever--stupendous it is, that such a little thing as that
could think that out! Now, now, just look at him!"

Hansie had hopped onto the table and had made his way to the remainder
of the cake. He was sitting on the edge of the dish, cheerfully flirting
his tail as he pecked away. Suddenly something fell upon the table-
cloth. "Lord bless me," cried Stolpe, in consternation, "if that had
been any one else! Wouldn't you have heard mother carry on!"

Old Lasse was near exploding at this. He had never before been in such
pleasant company. "It's just as if one had come upon a dozen of Brother
Kalle's sort," he whispered to Pelle. Pelle smiled absently. Ellen was
holding his hand in her lap and playing with his fingers.

A telegram of congratulation came for Pelle from his Union, and this
brought the conversation back to more serious matters. Morten and Stolpe
became involved in a dispute concerning the labor movement; Morten
considered that they did not sufficiently consider the individual, but
attached too much importance to the voice of the masses. In his opinion
the revolution must come from within.

"No," said Stolpe, "that leads to nothing. But if we could get our
comrades into Parliament and obtain a majority, then we should build up
the State according to our own programme, and that is in every respect a
legal one!"

"Yes, but it's a question of daily bread," said Morten, with energy.
"Hungry people can't sit down and try to become a majority; while the
grass grows the cow starves! They ought to help themselves. If they do
not, their self-consciousness is imperfect; they must wake up to the
consciousness of their own human value. If there were a law forbidding
the poor man to breathe the air, do you think he'd stop doing so? He
simply could not. It's painful for him to look on at others eating when
he gets nothing himself. He is wanting in physical courage. And so
society profits by his disadvantage. What has the poor man to do with
the law? He stands outside all that! A man mustn't starve his horse or
his dog, but the State which forbids him to do so starves its own
workers. I believe they'll have to pay for preaching obedience to the
poor; we are getting bad material for the now order of society that we
hope to found some day."

"Yes, but we don't obey the laws out of respect for the commands of a
capitalist society," said Stolpe, somewhat uncertainly, "but out of
regard for ourselves. God pity the poor man if he takes the law into his
own hands!"

"Still, it keeps the wound fresh! As for all the others, who go hungry
in silence, what do they do? There are too few of them, alas--there's
room in the prisons for them! But if every one who was hungry would
stick his arm through a shop window and help himself--then the question
of maintenance would soon be solved. They couldn't put the whole nation
in prison! Now, hunger is yet another human virtue, which is often
practised until men die of it--for the profit of those who hoard wealth.
They pat the poor, brave man on the back because he's so obedient to the
law. What more can he want?"

"Yes, devil take it, of course it's all topsy-turvy," replied Stolpe.
"But that's precisely the reason why----No, no, you won't persuade me,
my young friend! You seem to me a good deal too 'red.' It wouldn't do!
Now I've been concerned in the movement from the very first day, and no
one can say that Stolpe is afraid to risk his skin; but that way
wouldn't suit me. We have always held to the same course, and everything
that we have won we have taken on account."

"Yes, that's true," interrupted Frau Stolpe. "When I look back to those
early years and then consider these I can scarcely believe it's true.
Then it was all we could do to find safe shelter, even among people of
our own standing; they annoyed us in every possible way, and hated
father because he wasn't such a sheep as they were, but used to concern
himself about their affairs. Every time I went out of the kitchen door
I'd find a filthy rag of dishcloth hung over the handle, and they
smeared much worse things than that over the door--and whose doing was
it? I never told father; he would have been so enraged he would have
torn the whole house down to find the guilty person. No, father had
enough to contend against already. But now: 'Ah, here comes Stolpe--
Hurrah! Long live Stolpe! One must show respect to Stolpe, the
veteran!'"

"That may be all very fine," muttered Albert Olsen, "but the slater, he
climbs the highest." He was sitting with sunken head, staring angrily
before him.

"To be sure he climbs highest," said the women. "No one says he
doesn't."

"Leave him alone," said Otto; "he's had a drop too much!"

"Then he should take a walk in the fresh air and not sit there and make
himself disagreeable," said Madam Stolpe, with a good deal of temper.

The Vanishing Man rose with an effort. "Do you say a walk in the fresh
air, Madam Stolpe? Yes, if any one can stand the air, by God, it's
Albert Olsen. Those big-nosed masons, what can they do?" He stood with
bent head, muttering angrily to himself. "Yes, then we'll take a walk in
the fresh air. I don't want to have anything to do with your fools'
tricks." He staggered out through the kitchen door.

"What's he going to do there?" cried Madam Stolpe, in alarm.

"Oh, he'll just go down into the yard and turn himself inside out," said
Otto. "He's a brilliant fellow, but he can't carry much."

Pelle, still sitting at table, had been drawing with a pencil on a scrap
of paper while the others were arguing. Ellen leaned over his shoulder
watching him. He felt her warm breath upon his ear and smiled happily as
he used his pencil. Ellen took the drawing when he had finished and
pushed it across the table to the others. It showed a thick-set figure
of a man, dripping with sweat, pushing a wheelbarrow which supported his
belly. "Capitalism--when the rest of us refuse to serve him any longer!"
was written below. This drawing made a great sensation. "You're a deuce
of a chap!" cried Stolpe. "I'll send that to the editor of the humorous
page--I know him."

"Yes, Pelle," said Lasse proudly, "there's nothing he can't do; devil
knows where he gets it from, for he doesn't get it from his father." And
they all laughed.

Carpenter Stolpe's good lady sat considering the drawing with amazement,
quite bewildered, looking first at Pelle's fingers and then at the
drawing again. "I can understand how people can say funny things with
their mouths," she said, "but with their fingers--that I don't
understand. Poor fellow, obliged to push his belly in front of him! It's
almost worse than when I was going to have Victor."

"Cousin Victor, her youngest, who is so deucedly clever," said Otto, in
explanation, giving Pelle a meaning wink.

"Yes, indeed he is clever, if he is only six months old. The other day I
took him downstairs with me when I went to buy some milk. Since then he
won't accept his mother's left breast any more. The rascal noticed that
the milkman drew skim milk from the left side of the cart and full-cream
milk from the tap on the right side. And another time----"

"Now, mother, give over!" said Carpenter Stolpe; "don't you see they're
sitting laughing at you? And we ought to see about getting home
presently." He looked a trifle injured.

"What, are you going already?" said Stolpe. "Why, bless my soul, it's
quite late already. But we must have another song first."

"It'll be daylight soon," said Madam Stolpe; she was so tired that she
was nodding.

When they had sung the Socialist marching song, the party broke up.
Lasse had his pockets filled with sweets for the three orphans.

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