Pelle the Conqueror, Vol. 2

ussen and old Captain Elleby; the old maid-servant of a Comptroller, an aged pensioner who wore a white cap, dre

, lying there with puffed-out feathers, feasting among the horse-droppings, tugging at

green light sifted into the room and fell on the faces of those present. But that was no help. Not a

wax, unless, indeed, something outside captured his h

e direction, down to the sea. Then a speck of white down came floating on the air, followed by whitish-gray thistle-seeds, and a whole swarm of gnats, and a big broad bumble-bee swung to a

Pelle shrank into his shell and continued to work at

re to do than to go running out to prayer-meetings on a working day? Perhaps that will get us our daily bread? Now you just stay here, or, God's mercy, I'll break every bone in your body!" Then the wife chimed in, and then of a sudden all was silent. And after a while the son stole like a phantom along the wall of the opposite house, a hymn-

hall really have to come ov

ed the pitch out to as great a length as possible, kneaded some grease into it, and pulled again. Outside, in the sunshine, some street urchins wer

er has a p

pes it the bla

cked them all off in his mind. It was his sincere i

oice lifted itself and flowed abroad. This was the crazy watchmaker; he

dgment. Involuntarily, he began to turn cold at the sound of this warning voice, which uttered such solemn words and had so little meaning, just as he did at the strong language in the Bible. It was just the voice that frightened him; it was such a terrible voice,

nd where he was. He pulled himself together, and satisfied himself that all his miseries arose from his labors over this wretched cobbler's wax; besides, there was such a temptation to compare his puddle of cobbler's wax with the hell in which he was told he would be torment

lly hung over him. He was so slow at his work that already Pelle could overtake him; there was something inside him that seemed

k, Pelle had begun to take root. It had squealed at first in a most desolate manner, and something of Pelle's own feeling of loneliness was taken away from him by its cries. Now it complained simply because it was badly fed, and it made Pelle quite furious to see the nasty tras

, booby? Why, you are

like greased lightning. The journeyman's trills and quavers became more and more extraordinary, in order to catch up with the blows-the blows and the whistling seemed to be chasing one another-and Master Andres raised his head from his book to listen. He sat there staring into the far distance, as though the shadowy pictures evoked by his readi

But then suddenly his face beamed with felicity, his whole figure contracted in a frenzy of delight, one foot clutched at the air as though bewitched, as though he were playing a harp with his toes-Master Andres was all at onc

t went, striking the most improbable objects, dum, dum, dum, as though in wild, demoniacal obedience to the flute-like tones of the journeyman. There was no holding back. Emil, the oldest apprentice, began boldly to whistle too, cautiously at first, and then, as no one smacked his head, more forcefully. Then the next apprentice, Jens-the music-devil, as he was called, because anything would produce a note between his fingers-plucked so cleverly at his waxed-end that it straightway began to g

e point of stiffening, he had to plunge both hands into hot water, so that he got hangnails. Old Jeppe came trippin

pe; "warm the wax, then

he would have left them all in the lurch. But now he meant to submit to it, however bad it might be; he only wanted time to swallow first. Then at last he would have succeeded in shaking off the peasant, and the handicraft would be open to him, with its song and its wandering life and its smart journeyman's clothes. The workshop here was no better than a stuffy hole where one s

now he would decide whether he and the

d-but make it as long as a ba

bed and snore in those days till six o'clock in the morning, and throw down their work on the very stroke of eight, simply to go out and run about. No; up they got at four, and stuck at it as long as there was work to do. Then fellows could work-and then they still learned som

neyman were silent. You might as well quarrel with the sewing-mac

ll?" said little Nika

d the thread with a feeling as thou

y!" he said, i

e collected in the street outside, and stood there staring. Pelle had to lean right out of the window, and bend over as far as he could, while Emil, as the o

as directing the solemn business. "Pull the

d-end was slipping over his warm neck. He stood there stamping, like an animal which stamps its

is nape-Father Lasse used to call them his "luck curls," and prophesied a great future for him on their account-and there he stood, and

aid Jeppe jeeringly. "He'd better go back to t

ten wax. But Pelle no longer felt the pain, his head was boiling so, and he felt a vague but tremendous longing to pick up a hammer and strike them all to the ground, and then to run through the street, banging at the skulls of all he met. But then the journeyman took the

brought the water to his eyes! No, when I was apprentice we had a real ordeal; we had to pass the waxed-end twice round our n

wn his tears; but he had to snigger with mischiev

and a buzzing head," said the journ

l he deserves it," sai

oon find an

but the question is, can he sit? Because ther

e can declare him to be useful," sa

olery now?" said Master Andre

long as they drew breath. But now these are weakly times and full of pretences; the one can't do this and the other can't do that; and there's leather colic and sore behinds and God knows what. Every other day they come with certificates that they're suffering from boils from sitting down, and the

eyman mad

he stool ready consecr

an go over ther

ed into the air with a yell of pain, looked malevolently about him, and in a moment he h

l are you doin

ng now?" He ran his hand over the seat of the stool; it was studded with broken awl-

ice and inoculate him a bit against boils! One ought to anoint the boobies back an

s, father!" He trembled, and his face was quite gray. And then he pushed the old man out of the

ination the ordeal had grown into something that constituted the great barrier of his life, so that one passed over to the other side as quite a different being; it w

the others! But the fact did not give him any pleasure. He sat there struggling with something irrational that seemed to keep on rising deep within him; when no one was lo

of another world. "Fortune's children on the sunbright shore," as the song had it. From time to time a rat made its appearance behind the pigsty, and went clattering over the great heap of broken glass that

in the workshop, the street urchins, the apprentices, who would not accept him as one of themselves, and all the sharp edges and corners which he was continually

uestions; or they would talk of the country, which Pelle knew better than all of them put together, and he would chime in with some correction. Smack! came a box on his ears that would send him rolling into the c

nly Pelle had no claim to any respect whatever, but must pay tribute to all. The young master was the only one who did not press like a yoke on the youngster's neck

egan to get on their feet after their midday chewing of the cud. And then a youngster would come out from among the little fir-trees, lustily cracking his whip; he was the general

er L

es. "Hold your row!" cried the journeyman threateningly. Pelle was grea

ally on Pelle's shoulder, his weak leg hanging free and dangling. He stood there loitering

away and left the old man to his loneliness. He had not heard of him; he had scarcely given a thought to him. He had to get through the day with a whole skin, a

neck continued to hurt him-he must go somewhere or other where no one would look at him. He made a pretence of having t

asse who, old as he was, had sacrificed himself for Pelle, in order to lighten his work and take the worst of the burden off him, although Pelle had the younger shoulders. And he had been a little hard at times, as over that business between his father and Madame Olsen; and he had not always been very pat

of his faithlessness. And as he lay there despairing, worrying over the whole business and crying himself into a state of exhaustion, quite a manful resolve began to form within him; he must give up everything of his own-the future, and the great world, and all, and devote his days to making the old man's life happy. He must go back t

f firewood, the elder-boughs behind the well parted, and a p

why are you crying?"

ned his f

m fixedly. "Did they beat you? What? If th

is it

't answer aren'

old yo

d at him. But that was nothing to him; he wanted to know nothing about them; he didn't want petticoats to pity him or intercede for him. They were saucy jades, even if their fath

e great conch-shells and lumps of coral in their garden! He would go back to the land and look after his old father! Afterw

blighter got to?" he heard them say. He started, shrinking; he had quite forgotten

s, and horses that were hollow inside-as much of the irresistible wonders of the town as he had been able to obtain for five white krone pieces. They went in among the washing, so that they should not get damaged, and then he threw the bag out of the gable-

y keep it up as far as the first turning; then he started off as fast as he could go. He was homesick. A few street-boys yelled and threw stones aft

shed from the back and made for the herdsman's room. The floor of the cowshed felt familiar to his feet, and now he came in the darkness to the place where the big bull lay. He breathed in the scent of the creature's body and blew it out again-ah, didn't he remember it! B

him with them-in the living body they've taken him there with them-he was too good for this world, d'ye see? Old Satan was here himself in the form of a woman and took h

upright, sunk in intimate memories. The great farm lay hushed in moonlight, in deepest slumber, and all about him rose memories from their sleep, speaking to him caressingly, with a

feeling that a muffled-up old woman, wrapped in a shawl, sat like a shadow at the head of the cradle, and rocked it with her foot. The cradle jolted with the over-vigorous rocking, and every time the rocking foot slipped from the footboard it struck on the floor with the sound of a sprung wooden shoe. Pelle jumped up-"she bumped so," he said, bewildered. "What?

quite surrendered himself to the past, there was no end to the memories of childhood that rose within him. His whole existe

all over the place, so that Kongstrup slunk away shamefaced, and the other

the brew-house, knocking on

and a pair of arms fastened themselves about him and drew him in. Pelle felt a

he asked. "Can't I sp

carcely recover from her surprise; he had acquired such a townsman's air. "And now you are a shoemaker too, in the biggest workshop in the town! Yes, w

Pelle; he had a lump in his th

l come out with you. H

have known you.

id Marie, and she pushed at him with h

uit as I always

lf different-there in town they all

im that he had much to thank her for. She looked at him in a

er?" said Pelle impatiently,

eavy for one. Where he was just at the moment Karna could not say. "He's now here, now there, considerin

ngs going here?"

be a man again-he can make himself understood. And Kon

they, like the wooden sho

Everything goes crooked here, as you may suppose, with no master. 'Masterless, defenceless,' as the old proverb says. But what

eve that, and had not

om head to foot in sur

ish well in the town

rotten greaves. We were

are all the things they have in the shop windows-all the m

racked his brains over this very question. "I get all I c

ught up to Heaven while yet living. "But how do you manage?" she said anxiously. "You must find t

t on his way back. It was broad daylight when he got back, and he craw