Pelle the Conqueror Part 134

_Trapp, trapp, trapp, trapp!_ On they go, with a slow, deliberate step.

Whither? Where Pelle wills. "_Brother, soon will dawn the day!_" One hears the song over and over again; when one division has finished it the next takes it up. The side-streets are spewing their contents out upon the procession; shrunken creatures that against their will were singed in the struggle, and cannot recover their feet again. But they follow the procession with big eyes and break into fanatical explanations.

A young fellow stands on the side-walk yonder; he has hidden himself behind some women, and is stretching his neck to see. For his own Union is coming now, to which he was faithless in the conflict. Remorse has brought him hither. But the rhythm of the marching feet carries him away, so that he forgets all and marches off beside them. He imagines himself in the ranks, singing and proud of the victory. And suddenly some of his comrades seize him and drag him into the ranks; they lift him up and march away with him. A trophy, a trophy! A pity he can't be stuck on a pole and carried high overhead!

Pelle is still at the head of the procession, at the side of the st.u.r.dy Munck. His aspect is quiet and smiling, but inwardly he is full of unruly energy; never before has he felt so strong! On the side-walks the police keep step with him, silent and fateful. He leads the procession diagonally across the King's New Market, and suddenly a shiver runs through the whole; he is going to make a demonstration in front of Schloss Amalienborg! No one has thought of that! Only the police are too clever for them the streets leading to the castle are held by troops.

Gradually the procession widens out until it fills the entire market-place. A hundred and fifty trades unions, each with its waving standard! A tremendous spectacle! Every banner has its motto or device.

Red is the color of all those banners which wave above the societies which were established in the days of Socialism, and among them are many national flags--blue, red, and white--the standards of the old guilds and corporations. Those belong to ancient societies which have gradually joined the movement. Over all waves the standard of the millers, which is some hundreds of years old! It displays a curious-looking scrawl which is the monogram of the first absolute king!

But the real standard is not here, the red banner of the International, which led the movement through the first troubled years. The old men would speedily recognize it, and the young men too, they have heard so many legends attaching to it. If it still exists it is well hidden; it would have too great an effect on the authorities--would be like a red rag to a bull.

And as they stand staring it suddenly rises in the air--slashed and tattered, imperishable as to color. Pelle stands on the box of a carriage, solemnly raising it in the air. For a moment they are taken by surprise; then they begin to shout, until the shouts grow to a tempest of sound. They are greeting the flag of brotherhood, the blood-red sign of the International--and Pelle, too, who is raising it in his blistered hands--Pelle, the good comrade, who saved the child from the fire; Pelle, who has led the movement cause to victory!

And Pelle stands there laughing at them frankly, like a great child.

This would have been the place to give them all a few words, but he has not yet recovered his mighty voice. So he waves it round over them with a slow movement as though he were administering an oath to them all. And he is very silent. This is an old dream of his, and at last it has come to fulfillment!

The police are pushing into the crowd in squads, but the banner has disappeared; Munck is standing with an empty stave in his hands, and is on the point of fixing his Union banner on it.

"You must take care to get these people away from here, or we shall hold you responsible for the consequences," says the Police inspector, with a look that promises mischief. Pelle looks in the face. "He'd like to throw me into prison, if only he had the courage," he thought, and then he sets the procession in motion again.

Out on the Common the great gathering of people rocked to and fro, in restless confusion. From beyond its confines it looked like a dark, raging sea. About each of the numerous speakers' platforms stood a densely packed crowd, listening to the leaders who were demonstrating the great significance of the day. But the majority did not feel inclined to-day to stand in a crowd about a platform. They felt a longing to surrender themselves to careless enjoyment, after all the hardships they had endured; to stand on their heads in the gra.s.s, to play the clown for a moment. Group upon group lay all over the great Common, eating and playing. The men had thrown off their coats and were wrestling with one another, or trying to revive the gymnastic exercises of their boyhood. They laughed more than they spoke; if any one introduced a serious subject it was immediately suppressed with a punning remark. n.o.body was serious to-day!

Pelle moved slowly about, delighting in the crowd, while keeping a look-out for Madam Johnsen and the child, who were to have met him out here. Inwardly, at the back of everything, he was in a serious mood, and was therefore quiet. It must be fine to lie on one's belly here, in the midst of one's own family circle, eating hard-boiled eggs and bread-and-b.u.t.ter--or to go running about with Young La.s.se on his shoulders! But what did it profit a man to put his trust in anything?

He could not begin over again with Ellen; the impossible stood between them. To drive Young La.s.se out of his thoughts--that would be the hardest thing of all; he must see if he could not get him away from Ellen in a friendly manner. As for applying to the law in order to get him back, that he would not do.

The entire Stolpe family was lying in a big circle, enjoying a meal; the sons were there with their wives and children; only Pelle and his family were lacking.

"Come and set to!" said Stolpe, "or you'll be making too long a day of it."

"Yes," cried Madam Stolpe, "it is such a time since we've been together.

No need for us to suffer because you and Ellen can't agree!" She did not know the reason of the breach--at all events, not from him--but was none the less friendly toward him.

"I am really looking for my own basket of food," said Pelle, lying down beside them.

"Now look here, you are the deuce of a fellow," said Stolpe, suddenly laughing. "You intended beforehand to look in and say how-d'ye-do to Brother Christian, [Footnote: The king was so called.] hey? It wasn't very wise of you, really--but that's all one to me. But what you have done to-day no one else could do. The whole thing went like a dance! Not a sign of wobbling in the ranks! You know, I expect, that they mean to put you at the head of the Central Committee? Then you will have an opportunity of working at your wonderful ideas of a world-federation.

But there'll be enough to do at home here without that; at the next election we must win the city--and part of the country too. You'll let them put you up?"

"If I recover my voice. I can't speak loudly at present."

"Try the raw yolk of an egg every night," said Madam Stolpe, much concerned, "and tie your left-hand stocking round your throat when you go to bed; that is a good way. But it must be the left-hand stocking."

"Mother is a Red, you know," said Stolpe. "If I go the right-hand side of her she doesn't recognize me!"

The sun must have set--it was already beginning to grow dark. Black clouds were rising in the west. Pelle felt remorseful that he had not yet found the old woman and her grandchild, so he took his leave of the Stolpes.

He moved about, looking for the two; wherever he went the people greeted him, and there was a light in their eyes. He noticed that a policeman was following him at some little distance; he was one of the secret hangers-on of the party; possibly he had something to communicate to him. So Pelle lay down in the gra.s.s, a little apart from the crowd, and the policeman stood still and gazed cautiously about him. Then he came up to Pelle. When he was near he bent down as though picking something up. "They are after you," he said, under his breath; "this afternoon there was a search made at your place, and you'll be arrested, as soon as you leave here." Then he moved on.

Pelle lay there some minutes before he could understand the matter. A search-but what was there at his house that every one might not know of?

Suddenly he thought of the wood block and the tracing of the ten-kroner note. They had sought for some means of striking at him and they had found the materials of a hobby!

He rose heavily and walked away from the crowd. On the East Common he stood still and gazed back hesitatingly at this restless sea of humanity, which was now beginning to break up, and would presently melt away into the darkness. Now the victory was won and they were about to take possession of the Promised Land--and he must go to prison, for a fancy begotten of hunger! He had issued no false money, nor had he ever had any intention of doing so. But of what avail was that? He was to be arrested--he had read as much in the eyes of the police-inspector. Penal servitude--or at best a term in prison!

He felt that he must postpone the decisive moment while he composed his mind. So he went back to the city by way of the East Bridge. He kept to the side-streets, in order not to be seen, and made his way toward St.

Saviour's churchyard; the police were mostly on the Common.

For a moment the shipping in the harbor made him think of escape. But whither should he flee? And to wander about abroad as an outlaw, when his task and his fate lay here could he do it? No, he must accept his fate!

The churchyard was closed; he had to climb over the wall in order to get in. Some one had put fresh flowers on Father La.s.se's grave. Maria, he thought. Yes, it must have been she! It was good to be here; he no longer felt so terribly forsaken. It was as though Father La.s.se's untiring care still hovered protectingly about him.

But he must move on. The arrest weighed upon his mind and made him restless. He wandered through the city, keeping continually to the narrow side-streets, where the darkness concealed him. This was the field of battle--how restful it was now! Thank G.o.d, it was not they who condemned him! And now happiness lay before them--but for him!

Cautiously he drew near his lodging--two policemen in plain clothes were patrolling to and fro before the house. After that he drew back again into the narrow side-streets. He drifted about aimlessly, fighting against the implacable, and at last resigning himself.

He would have liked to see Ellen--to have spoken kindly to her, and to have kissed the children. But there was a watch on his home too--at every point he was driven back into the solitude to which he was a stranger. That was the dreadful part of it all. How was he going to live alone with himself, he who only breathed when in the company of others?

Ellen was still his very life, however violently he might deny it. Her questioning eyes still gazed at him enigmatically, from whatever corner of existence he might approach. He had a strong feeling now that she had held herself ready all this time--that she had sat waiting for him, expecting him. How would she accept this?

From Castle Street he saw a light in Morten's room. He slipped into the yard and up the stairs. Morten was reading.

"It's something quite new to see you--fireman!" he said, with a kindly smile.

"I have come to say good-bye," said Pelle lightly.

Morten looked at him wonderingly. "Are you going to travel?"

"Yes ... I--I wanted...." he said, and sat down.

He gazed on the floor in front of his feet. "What would you do if the authorities were sneaking after you?" he asked suddenly. Morten stared at him for a time. Then he opened a drawer and took out a revolver. "I wouldn't let them lay hands on me," he said blackly. "But why do you ask me?"

"Oh, nothing.... Will you do me a favor, Morten? I have promised to take up a collection for those poor creatures from the 'Ark,' but I've no time for it now. They have lost all their belongings in the fire. Will you see to the matter?"

"Willingly. Only I don't understand----"

"Why, I have got to go away for a time," said Pelle, with a grim laugh. "I have always wanted to travel, as you know. Now there's an opportunity."

"Good luck, then!" said Morten, looking at him curiously as he pressed his hand. How much he had guessed Pelle did not know. There was Bornholm blood in Morten's veins; he was not one to meddle in another's affairs.

And then he was in the streets again. No, Morten's way out was of no use to him--and now he would give in, and surrender himself to the authorities! He was in the High Street now; he had no purpose in hiding himself any longer.

In North Street he saw a figure dealing with a shop-door in a very suspicious manner; as Pelle came up it flattened itself against the door. Pelle stood still on the pavement; the man, too, was motionless for a while, pressing himself back into the shadow; then, with an angry growl, he sprang out, in order to strike Pelle to the ground.

At that very moment the two men recognized one another. The stranger was Ferdinand.

"What, are you still at liberty?" he cried, in amazement. "I thought they had taken you!"

"How did you know that?" asked Pelle.