Pelle the Conqueror Part 125

Yes, he read it, but there was no harm in hearing the great news confirmed by Pelle himself. And Pelle could confirm it, because he never harbored a doubt. It had been difficult to get the ma.s.ses to grasp the new conception of things--as difficult as to move the earth! Something big must happen in return!

A few of the men had brought out sandwiches and began to eat them as they debated. "Good digestion!" said Pelle, nodding farewell to them.

His mouth was watering, and he remembered that he had had nothing to eat or drink. But he had no time to think about it; he must go to Stolpe to arrange about the posting of the pickets.

Over the way stood Marie in a white cap, with a basket over her arm; she nodded to him, with rosy cheeks. Transplantation had made her grow; every time he saw her she was more erect and prettier.

At his parents'-in-law the strictest economy prevailed. All sorts of things--household possessions--had disappeared from that once so comfortable home; but there was no lack of good spirits. Stolpe was pottering about waiting for his breakfast; he had been at work early that morning.

"What's the girl doing?" he asked. "We never see her now."

"She has such a lot to do," said Pelle apologetically. "And now she's going out to work as well."

"Well, well, with things as they are she's not too fine to lend a hand.

But we don't really know what's amiss with her--she's a rebellious nature! Thank G.o.d she's not a man--she would have brought dissolution into the ranks!"

Breakfast consisted of a portion of coffee and bread-and-b.u.t.ter and porridge. Madam Stolpe could not find her fine new silver coffee-service, which her children had given her on her silver-wedding day. "I must have put it away," she said.

"Well, well, that'll soon be found again, mother!" said Stolpe. "Now we shall soon have better times; many fine things will make their appearance again then, we shall see!"

"Have you been to the machine-works this morning, father-in-law?" asked Pelle.

"Yes, I've been there. But there is nothing more for the pickets to do.

The employers have quartered all the men in the factory; they get full board and all there. There must be a crowd of foreign strike-breakers there--the work's in full swing."

This was an overwhelming piece of news! The iron-masters had won the first victory! This would quickly have a most depressing effect on the workers, when they saw that their trade could be kept going without them.

"We must put a bridle on them," said Pelle, "or they'll get off the course and the whole organization will fall to pieces. As for those fellows in there, we must get a louse under their shirts somehow."

"How can we do that when they are locked in, and the police are patrolling day and night in front of the gates? We can't even speak to them." Stolpe laughed despairingly.

"Then some one must slink in and pretend he's in want of employment!"

Stolpe started. "As a strike-breaker? You'll never in this life get a respectable man to do that, even if it's only in jest! I wouldn't do it myself! A strike-breaker is a strike-breaker, turn and twist it how you will."

"A strike-breaker, I suppose, is one who does his comrades harm. The man who risks his skin in this way deserves another name."

"I won't admit that," said Stolpe. "That's a little too abstract for me; anyhow, I'm not going to argue with you. But in my catechism it says that he is a strike-breaker who accepts employment where a.s.sistance is forbidden--and that I stick to!"

Pelle might talk as much as he liked; the old man would not budge an inch. "But it would be another matter if you wanted to do it yourself,"

said Stolpe. "You don't have to account to any one for what you do--you just do what comes into your head."

"I have to account to the Cause for my doings," said Pelle sharply, "and for that very reason I want to do it myself!"

Stolpe contracted his arms and stretched them out again. "Ah, it would be good to have work again!" he cried suddenly. "Idleness eats into one's limbs like the gout. And now there's the rent, mother--where the devil are we to get that? It must be paid on the nail on Sat.u.r.day, otherwise out we go--so the landlord says."

"We'll soon find that, father!" said Madam Stolpe. "Don't you lose heart!"

Stolpe looked round the room. "Yes, there's still a bit to take, as Hunger said when he began on the bowels. But listen, Pelle--do you know what? I'm your father-in-law-to be sure--but you haven't a wife like mine!"

"I'm contented with Ellen as she is," said Pelle.

There was a knock; it was Stolpe's brother, the carpenter. He looked exhausted; he was thin and poorly dressed; his eyes were surrounded by red patches. He did not look at those whose hands he took.

"Sit down, brother," said Stolpe, pushing a chair toward him.

"Thanks--I must go on again directly. It was--I only wanted to tell you--well...." He stared out of the window.

"Is anything wrong at home?"

"No, no, not that exactly. I just wanted to say--I want to give notice that I'm deserting!" he cried suddenly.

Stolpe sprang to his feet; he was as white as chalk. "You think what you are doing!" he cried threateningly.

"I've had time enough to think. They are starving, I tell you--and there's got to be an end of it. I only wanted to tell you beforehand so that you shouldn't hear it from others--after all, you're my brother."

"Your brother--I'm your brother no longer! You do this and we've done with one another!" roared Stolpe, striking the table. "But you won't do it, you shan't do it! G.o.d d.a.m.n me, I couldn't live through the shame of seeing the comrades condemning my own brother in the open street! And I shall be with them! I shall be the first to give you a kick, if you are my brother!" He was quite beside himself.

"Well, well, we can still talk it over," said the carpenter quietly.

"But now you know--I didn't want to do anything behind your back." And then he went.

Stolpe paced up and down the room, moving from one object to another.

He picked them up and put them down again, quite unthinkingly. His hands were trembling violently; and finally he went to the other room and shut himself in. After a time his wife entered the room. "You had better go, Pelle! I don't think father is fit for company to-day. He's lying there quite gray in the face--if he could only cry even! Oh, those two brothers have always been so much to each other till now! They wore so united in everything!"

Pelle went; he was thinking earnestly. He could see that Stolpe, in his integrity, would consider it his duty to treat his brother more harshly than others, dearly as he loved him; perhaps he himself would undertake the picketing of the place where his brother went to work.

Out by the lakes he met a squad of pickets who were on their way out of the city; he accompanied them for some distance, in order to make certain arrangements. Across the road a young fellow came out of a doorway and slunk round the corner. "You there, stop!" cried one of the comrades. "There he is--the toff!" A few pickets followed him down Castle Street and came back leading him among them. A crowd began to form round the whole party, women and children speedily joining it.

"You are not to do anything to him," said Pelle decisively.

"G.o.d knows no one wants to touch him!" they retorted. For a while they stood silently gazing at him, as though weighing him in their minds; then one after another spat at him, and they went their way. The fellow went silently into a doorway and stood there wiping the spittle from his face with his sleeve. Pelle followed him in order to say a kind word to him and lead him back into the organization. The lad pulled himself up hastily as Pelle approached.

"Are you coming to spit at me?" he said contemptuously. "You forgot it before--why didn't you do it then?"

"I don't spit at people," said Pelle, "but your comrades are right to despise you. You have left them in the lurch. Come with me, and I'll enter you in the organization again, and no one shall molest you."

"I am to go about as a culprit and be taunted--no, thanks!"

"Do you prefer to injure your own comrades?"

"I ask for permission to look after my old mother. The rest of you can go to the devil. My mother isn't going to hang about courtyards singing, and picking over the dustbins, while her son plays the great man! I leave that to certain other people!"

Pelle turned crimson. He knew this allusion was meant for Father La.s.se; the desperate condition of the old man was lurking somewhere in his mind like an ingrowing grief, and now it came to the surface. "Dare you repeat what you said?" he growled, pressing close up to the other.

"And if I were married I shouldn't let my wife earn my daily bread for me--I should leave that to the pimps!"

Oho! That was like the tattlers, to blacken a man from behind! Evidently they were spreading all sorts of lying rumors about him, while he had placed all that he possessed at their disposal. Now Pelle was furious; the leader could go to h.e.l.l! He gave the fellow a few sound boxes on the ear, and asked him which he would rather do--hold his mouth or take some more?

Morten appeared in the doorway--this had happened in the doorway of the house in which he worked. "This won't do!" he whispered, and he drew Pelle away with him. Pelle could make no reply; he threw himself on Morten's bed. His eyes were still blazing with anger at the insult, and he needed air.