Pelle the Conqueror Part 87

They climbed up past the Hermitage and thence out over the gra.s.s and into the forest again, until they came to the little ranger's house where they drank coffee and ate some of the bread-and-b.u.t.ter they had brought with them. Then they trudged on again. Madam Johnsen was paying a rare visit to the forest and wanted to see everything. The young people raised objections, but she was not to be dissuaded. She had girlhood memories of the forest, and she wanted to renew them; let them say what they would. If they were tired of running after her they could go their own way. But they followed her faithfully, looking about them wearily and moving along dully onward, moving along rather more stupidly than was justifiable.

On the path leading to Raavad there were not so many people.

"It's just as forest-like here as in my young days!" said the old woman.

"And beautiful it is here. The leaves are so close, it's just the place for a loving couple of lovers. Now I'm going to sit down and take my boots off for a bit, my feet are beginning to hurt me. You look about you for a bit."

But the young people looked at one another strangely and threw themselves down at her feet. She had taken off her boots, and was cooling her feet in the fresh gra.s.s as she sat there chatting. "It's so warm to-day the stones feel quite burning--but you two certainly won't catch fire. Why do you stare in that funny way? Give each other a kiss in the gra.s.s, now! There's no harm in it, and it's so pretty to see!"

Pelle did not move. But Hanne moved over to him on her knees, put her hands gently round his head, and kissed him. When she had done so she looked into his eyes, lovingly, as a child might look at her doll. Her hat had slipped on to her shoulders. On her white forehead and her upper lip were little clear drops of sweat. Then, with a merry laugh, she suddenly released him. Pelle and the old woman had gathered flowers and boughs of foliage; these they now began to arrange. Hanne lay on her back and gazed up at the sky.

"You leave that old staring of yours alone," said the mother. "It does you no good."

"I'm only playing at 'Glory'; it's such a height here," said Hanne. "But at home in the 'Ark' you see more. Here it's too light."

"Yes, G.o.d knows, one does see more--a sewer and two privies. A good thing it's so dark there. No, one ought to have enough money to be able to go into the forests every Sunday all the summer. When one has grown up in the open air it's hard to be penned in between dirty walls all one's life. But now I think we ought to be going on. We waste so much time."

"Oh Lord, and I'm so comfortable lying here!" said Hanne lazily. "Pelle, just push my shawl under my head!"

Out of the boughs high above them broke a great bird. "There, there, what a chap!" cried Pelle, pointing at it. It sailed slowly downward, on its mighty outspread wings, now and again compressing the air beneath it with a few powerful strokes, and then flew onward, close above the tree-tops, with a scrutinizing glance.

"Jiminy, I believe that was a stork!" said Madam Johnsen. She reached for her boots, alarmed. "I won't stay here any longer now. One never knows what may happen." She hastily laced up her boots, with a prudish expression on her face. Pelle laughed until the tears stood in his eyes.

Hanne raised her head. "That was surely a crane, don't you think so?

Stupid bird, always to fly along like that, staring down at everything as though he were short-sighted. If I were he I should fly straight up in the air and then shut my eyes and come swooping down. Then, wherever one got to, something or other would happen."

"Sure enough, this would happen, that you'd fall into the sea and be drowned. Hanne has always had the feeling that something has got to happen; and for that reason she can never hold on to what she's got in her hands."

"No, for I haven't anything in them!" cried Hanne, showing her hands and laughing. "Can you hold what you haven't got, Pelle?"

About four o'clock they came to the Schleswig Stone, where the Social-Democrats were holding a meeting. Pelle had never yet attended any big meeting at which he could hear agitators speaking, but had obtained his ideas of the new movements at second hand. They were in tune with the blind instinct within him. But he had never experienced anything really electrifying--only that confused, monotonous surging such as he had heard in his childhood when he listened with his ear to the hollow of the wooden shoe.

"Well, it looks as if the whole society was here!" said Madam Johnsen half contemptuously. "Now you can see all the Social-Democrats of Copenhagen. They never have been more numerous, although they pretend the whole of society belongs to them. But things don't always go so smoothly as they do on paper."

Pelle frowned, but was silent. He himself knew too little of the matter to be able to convert another.

The crowd affected him powerfully; here were several thousands of people gathered together for a common object, and it became exceedingly clear to him that he himself belonged to this crowd. "I belong to them too!"

Over and over again the words repeated themselves rejoicingly in his mind. He felt the need to verify it all himself, and to prove himself grateful for the quickly-pa.s.sing day. If the Court shoemaker hadn't spoken the words that drove him to join the Union he would still have been standing apart from it all, like a heathen. The act of subscribing the day before was like a baptism. He felt quite different in the society of these men--he felt as he did not feel with others. And as the thousands of voices broke into song, a song of jubilation of the new times that were to come, a cold shudder went through him. He had a feeling as though a door within him had opened, and as though something that had lain closely penned within him had found its way to the light.

Up on the platform stood a darkish man talking earnestly in a mighty voice. Shoulder to shoulder the crowd stood breathless, listening open-mouthed, with every face turned fixedly upon the speaker. A few were so completely under his spell that they reproduced the play of his features. When he made some particular sally from his citadel a murmur of admiration ran through the crowd. There was no shouting. He spoke of want and poverty, of the wearisome, endless wandering that won no further forward. As the Israelites in their faith bore the Ark of the Covenant through the wilderness, so the poor bore their hope through the unfruitful years. If one division was overthrown another was ready with the carrying-staves, and at last the day was breaking. Now they stood at the entrance to the Promised Land, with the proof in their hands that they were the rightful dwellers therein. All that was quite a matter of course; if there was anything that Pelle had experienced it was that wearisome wandering of G.o.d's people through the wilderness. That was the great symbol of poverty. The words came to him like something long familiar. But the greatness of the man's voice affected Pelle; there was something in the speech of this man which did not reach him through the understanding, but seemed somehow to burn its way in through the skin, there to meet something that lay expanding within him. The mere ring of anger in his voice affected Pelle; his words beat upon one's old wounds, so that they broke open like poisonous ulcers, and one heaved a deep breath of relief. Pelle had heard such a voice, ringing over all, when he lived in the fields and tended cows. He felt as though he too must let himself go in a great shout and subdue the whole crowd by his voice--he too! To be able to speak like that, now thundering and now mild, like the ancient prophets!

A peculiar sense of energy was exhaled by this dense crowd of men, this thinking and feeling crowd. It produced a singular feeling of strength.

Pelle was no longer the poor journeyman shoemaker, who found it difficult enough to make his way. He became one, as he stood there, with that vast being; he felt its strength swelling within him; the little finger shares in the strength of the whole body. A blind certainty of irresistibility went out from this mighty gathering, a spur to ride the storm with. His limbs swelled; he became a vast, monstrous being that only needed to go trampling onward in order to conquer everything.

His brain was whirling with energy, with illimitable, unconquerable strength!

Pelle had before this gone soaring on high and had come safely to earth again. And this time also he came to ground, with a long sigh of relief, as though he had cast off a heavy burden. Hanne's arm lay in his; he pressed it slightly. But she did notice him; she too now was far away.

He looked at her pretty neck, and bent forward to see her face. The great yellow hat threw a golden glimmer over it. Her active intelligence played restlessly behind her strained, frozen features; her eyes looked fixedly before her. It has taken hold of her too, he thought, full of happiness; she is far away from here. It was something wonderful to know that they were coupled together in the same interests--were like man and wife!

At that very moment he accidentally noticed the direction of her fixed gaze, and a sharp pain ran through his heart. Standing on the level ground, quite apart from the crowd, stood a tall, handsome man, astonishingly like the owner of Stone Farm in his best days; the sunlight was coming and going over his brown skin and his soft beard.

Now that he turned his face toward Pelle his big, open features reminded him of the sea.

Hanne started, as though awakening from a deep sleep, and noticed Pelle.

"He is a sailor!" she said, in a curious, remote voice, although Pelle had not questioned her. G.o.d knows, thought Pelle, vexedly, how is it she knows him; and he drew his arm from hers. But she took it again at once and pressed it against her soft bosom. It was as though she suddenly wanted to give him a feeling of security.

She hung heavily on his arm and stood with her eyes fixed unwaveringly on the speakers' platform. Her hands busied themselves nervously about her hair. "You are so restless, child," said the mother, who had seated herself at their feet. "You might let me lean back against your knee; I was sitting so comfortably before."

"Yes," said Hanne, and she put herself in the desired position. Her voice sounded quite excited.

"Pelle," she whispered suddenly, "if he comes over to us I shan't answer him. I shan't."

"Do you know him, then?"

"No, but it does happen sometimes that men come and speak to one. But then you'll say I belong to you, won't you?"

Pelle was going to refuse, but a shudder ran through her. She's feverish, he thought compa.s.sionately; one gets fever so easily in the "Ark." It comes up with the smell out of the sewer. She must have lied to me nicely, he thought after a while. Women are cunning, but he was too proud to question her. And then the crowd shouted "Hurrah!" so that the air rang. Pelle shouted with them; and when they had finished the man had disappeared.

They went over to the Hill, the old woman keeping her few steps in advance. Hanne hummed as she went; now and then she looked questioningly at Pelle--and then went on humming.

"It's nothing to do with me," said Pelle morosely. "But it's not right of you to have lied to me."

"I lie to you? But Pelle!" She gazed wonderingly into his eyes.

"Yes, that you do! There's something between you and him."

Hanne laughed, a clear, innocent laugh, but suddenly broken off. "No, Pelle, no, what should I have to do with him? I have never even seen him before. I have never even once kissed a man--yes, you, but you are my brother."

"I don't particularly care about being your brother--not a straw, and you know that!"

"Have I done anything to offend you? I'm sorry if I have." She seized his hand.

"I want you for my wife!" cried Pelle pa.s.sionately.

Hanne laughed. "Did you hear, mother? Pelle wants me for his wife!" she cried, beaming.

"Yes, I see and hear more than you think," said Madam Johnsen shortly.

Hanne looked from one to the other and became serious. "You are so good, Pelle," she said softly, "but you can't come to me bringing me something from foreign parts--I know everything about you, but I've never dreamed of you at night. Are you a fortunate person?"

"I'll soon show you if I am," said Pelle, raising his head. "Only give me a little time."

"Lord, now she's blethering about fortune again," cried the mother, turning round. "You really needn't have spoiled this lovely day for us with your nonsense. I was enjoying it all so."

Hanne laughed helplessly. "Mother will have it that I'm not quite right in my mind, because father hit me on the head once when I was a little girl," she told Pelle.

"Yes, it's since then she's had these ideas. She'll do nothing but go rambling on at random with her ideas and her wishes. She'll sit whole days at the window and stare, and she used to make the children down in the yard even crazier than herself with her nonsense. And she was always bothering me to leave everything standing--poor as we were after my man died--just to go round and round the room with her and the dolls and sing those songs all about earls. Yes, Pelle, you may believe I've wept tears of blood over her."

Hanne wandered on, laughing at her mother's rebuke, and humming--it was the tune of the "Earl's Song."