Pelle the Conqueror Part 63

"Well," said Master Andres, "what they want, I believe, is perfectly right, only they'll never get it. I know a little about it, on account of Garibaldi."

"But what _do_ they want, then, if they don't want to overthrow the whole world?"

"What do they want? Well, what do they want? That everybody should have exactly the same?" Master Andres was uncertain.

"Then the ship's boy would have as much as the captain! No, it would be the devil and all!" Baker Jorgen smacked his thigh and laughed.

"And they want to abolish the king," said Wooden-leg La.r.s.en eagerly.

"Who the devil would reign over us then? The Germans would soon come hurrying over! That's a most wicked thing, that Danish people should want to hand over their country to the enemy! All I wonder is that they don't shoot them down without trial! They'd never be admitted to Bornholm."

"That we don't really know!" The young master smiled.

"To the devil with them--we'd all go down to the sh.o.r.e and shoot them: they should never land alive!"

"They are just a miserable rabble, the lot of them," said Jeppe. "I should very much like to know whether there is a decent citizen among them."

"Naturally, it's always the poor who complain of poverty," said Bjerregrav. "So the thing never comes to an end."

Baker Jorgen was the only one of them who had anything to do. Things would have to be bad indeed before the people stopped buying his black bread. He even had more to do than usual; the more people abstained from meat and cheese, the more bread they ate. He often hired Jeppe's apprentices so that they might help him in the kneading.

But he was not in a happy frame of mind. He was always shouting his abuse of Soren through the open doors, because the latter would not go near his buxom young wife. Old Jorgen had taken him and put him into bed with her with his own hands, but Soren had got out of the business by crying and trembling like a new-born calf.

"D'you think he's perhaps bewitched?" asked Master Andres.

"She's young and pretty, and there's not the least fault to be found with her--and we've fed him with eggs right through the winter. She goes about hanging her head, she gets no attention from him. 'Marie! Soren!'

I cry, just to put a little life into them--he ought to be the sort of devil I was, I can tell you! She laughs and blushes, but Soren, he simply sneaks off. It's really a shame--so dainty as she is too, in every way. Ah, it ought to have been in my young days, I can tell you!"

"You are still young enough, Uncle Jorgen!" laughed Master Andres.

"Well, a man could almost bring himself to it--when he considers what a dreadful injustice is going on under his own eyes. For, look you, Andres, I've been a dirty beast about all that sort of thing, but I've been a jolly fellow too; people were always glad to be on board with me.

And I've had strength for a booze, and a girl; and for hard work in bad weather. The life I've led--it hasn't been bad; I'd live it all over again the same. But Soren--what sort of a strayed weakling is he? He can't find his own way about! Now, if only you would have a chat with him--you've got some influence over him."

"I'll willingly try."

"Thanks; but look here, I owe you money." Jorgen took ten kroner and laid them on the table as he was going.

"Pelle, you devil's imp, can you run an errand for me?" The young master limped into the cutting-out room, Pelle following on his heels.

A hundred times a day the master would run to the front door, but he hurried back again directly; he could not stand the cold. His eyes were full of dreams of other countries, whose climates were kinder, and he spoke of his two brothers, of whom one was lost in South America--perhaps murdered. But the other was in Australia, herding sheep. He earned more at that than the town magistrate received as salary, and was the cleverest boxer in the neighborhood. Here the master made his bloodless hands circle one round the other, and let them fall clenched upon Pelle's back. "That," he said, in a superior tone, "is what they call boxing. Brother Martin can cripple a man with one blow.

He is paid for it, the devil!" The master shuddered. His brother had on several occasions offered to send him his steamer-ticket, but there was that d.a.m.ned leg. "Tell me what I should do over there, eh, Pelle?"

Pelle had to bring books from the lending library every day, and he soon learned which writers were the most exciting. He also attempted to read himself, but he could not get on with it; it was more amusing to stand about by the skating-pond and freeze and watch the others gliding over the ice. But he got Morten to tell him of exciting books, and these he brought home for the master; such was the "Flying Dutchman." "That's a work of poetry, Lord alive!" said the master, and he related its contents to Bjerregrav, who took them all for reality.

"You should have played some part in the great world, Andres--I for my part do best to stay at home here. But you could have managed it--I'm sure of it."

"The great world!" said the master scornfully. No, he didn't take much stock in the world--it wasn't big enough. "If I were to travel, I should like to look for the way into the interior of the earth--they say there's a way into it in Iceland. Or it would be glorious to make a voyage to the moon; but that will always be just a story."

At the beginning of the new year the crazy Anker came to the young master and dictated a love-letter to the eldest daughter of the king.

"This year he will surely answer," he said thoughtfully. "Time is pa.s.sing, and fortune disappears, and there are few that have their share of it; we need the new time very badly."

"Yes, we certainly do," said Master Andres. "But if such a misfortune should happen that the king should refuse, why, you are man enough to manage the matter yourself, Anker!"

It was a slack season, and, just as it was at its very worst, shoemaker Bohn returned and opened a shop on the marketplace. He had spent a year on the mainland and had learned all sorts of modern humbug. There was only one pair of boots in his window, and those were his own Sunday boots. Every Monday they were put out and exhibited again, so that there should be something to look at.

If he himself was in the shop, talking to the people, his wife would sit in the living-room behind and hammer on a boot, so that it sounded as though there were men in the workshop.

But at Shrovetide Jeppe received some orders. Master Andres came home quite cheerfully one day from Bjerhansen's cellar; there he had made the acquaintance of some of the actors of a troupe which had just arrived.

"They are fellows, too!" he said, stroking his cheeks. "They travel continually from one place to another and give performances--they get to see the world!" He could not sit quiet.

The next morning they came rioting into the workshop, filling the place with their deafening gabble. "Soles and heels!" "Heels that won't come off!" "A bit of heel-work and two on the snout!" So they went on, bringing great armfuls of boots from under their cloaks, or fishing them out of bottomless pockets, and throwing them in heaps on the window-bench, each with his droll remarks. Boots and shoes they called "understandings"; they turned and twisted every word, tossing it like a ball from mouth to mouth, until not a trace of sense was left in it.

The apprentices forgot everything, and could scarcely contain themselves for laughing, and the young master overflowed with wit--he was equal to the best of them. Now one saw that he really might have luck with the women: there was no boasting or lying about it. The young actress with the hair like the lightest flax could not keep her eyes off him, although she evidently had all the others at her petticoat-tails; she made signs to her companions that they should admire the master's splendid big mustache. The master had forgotten his lame leg and thrown his stick away; he was on his knees, taking the actress's measure for a pair of high boots with patent tops and concertina-like folds in the legs. She had a hole in the heel of her stocking, but she only laughed over it; one of the actors cried "Poached egg!" and then they laughed uproariously.

Old Jeppe came tumbling into the room, attracted by the merriment. The blonde lady called him "Grandfather," and wanted to dance with him, and Jeppe forgot his dignity and laughed with the rest. "Yes, it's to us they come when they want to have something good," he said proudly. "And I learned my trade in Copenhagen, and I used to carry boots and shoes to more than one play-actor there. We had to work for the whole theater; Jungfer Patges, who became so famous later on, got her first dancing shoes from us."

"Yes, those are the fellows!" said Master Andres, as at last they bustled out; "devil take me, but those are the chaps!" Jeppe could not in the least understand how they had found their way thither, and Master Andres did not explain that he had been to the tavern. "Perhaps Jungfer Patges sent them to me," he said, gazing into the distance. "She must somehow have kept me in mind."

Free tickets poured in on them; the young master was in the theater every evening. Pelle received a gallery ticket every time he went round with a pair of boots. He was to say nothing--but the price was plainly marked on the sole with chalk.

"Did you get the money?" the master would ask eagerly; he used to stand on the stairs all the time, waiting. No, Pelle was to present their very best wishes, and to say they would come round and settle up themselves.

"Well, well, people of that sort are safe enough," said the master.

One day La.s.se came stamping into the workshop and into the midst of them all, looking the picture of a big farmer, with his fur collar drawn round his ears. He had a sack of potatoes outside; it was a present to Pelle's employers, because Pelle was learning his trade so well. Pelle was given leave and went out with his father; and he kept looking furtively at the fur collar. At last he could contain himself no longer, but turned it up inquiringly. Disillusioned, he let it fall again.

"Ah, yes--er--well--that's just tacked on to my driving-cloak. It looks well, and it keeps my ears nice and warm. You thought I'd blossomed out into a proper fur coat? No, it won't run to that just yet--but it will soon. And I could name you more than one big farmer who has nothing better than this."

Yes, Pelle was just a trifle disappointed. But he must admit that there was no difference to be perceived between this cloak and the real bear-skin. "Are things going on all right?" he asked.

"Oh, yes; at present I am breaking stone. I've got to break twenty cords if I'm to pay everybody what's owing to him by the Devil's birthday.

[Footnote: The 11th December--the general pay-day and hiring-day.--TB.]

So long as we keep our health and strength, Karna and I."

They drove to the merchant's and put up the horses. Pelle noticed that the people at the merchant's did not rush forward to La.s.se quite so eagerly as they did to the real farmers; but La.s.se himself behaved in quite an important manner. He stumped right into the merchant's counting-house, just like the rest, filled his pipe at the barrel, and helped himself to a drink of brandy. A cold breath of air hung about him as he went backward and forward from the cart with b.u.t.toned-up cloak, and he stamped as loudly on the sharp cobble-stones as though his boot-soles too were made of stone.

Then they went on to Due's cottage; La.s.se was anxious to see how matters were prospering there. "It isn't always easy when one of the parties brings a love-child into the business."

Pelle explained to him how matters stood. "Tell them at Uncle Kalle's that they must take little Maria back again. Anna ill-treats her. They are getting on well in other ways; now they want to buy a wagon and horses and set up as carriers."

"Do they? Well, it's easy for those to get on who haven't any heart."

La.s.se sighed.

"Look, father," said Pelle suddenly, "there's a theater here now, and I know all the players. I take them their boots, and they give me a ticket every evening. I've seen the whole thing."

"But, of course, that's all lies, eh?" La.s.se had to pull up, in order to scrutinize Pelle's face. "So you've been in a proper theater, eh? Well, those who live in the town have got the devil to thank for it if they are cleverer than a peasant. One can have everything here!"

"Will you go with me to-night? I can get the tickets."