Pelle the Conqueror Part 107

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 pa.s.sed: 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 d.a.m.ned 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. 'd.a.m.n 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 G.o.d, he was sitting at the bas.e.m.e.nt window, winking at us so, with his forefinger to his nose, making signs to us to go down and have a gla.s.s 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 gla.s.s 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 La.s.se 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 ma.s.ses. 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 gra.s.s 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. G.o.d 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 h.o.a.rd 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 G.o.d, 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 sc.r.a.p 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 La.s.se 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.

La.s.se had his pockets filled with sweets for the three orphans.

"What's become of the Vanishing Man?" said Otto suddenly.

"Perhaps he's been taken bad down in the yard," said Stolpe. "Run down and see, Frederick." They had quite forgotten him.

Frederik returned and announced that Albert Olsen was not in the yard--and the gate was locked.