Pelle the Conqueror Part 88

"There, you hear her yourself," said the old woman, nudging Pelle.

"She's got no shame in her--there's nothing to be done with her!"

Up on the hill there was a deafening confusion of people in playful mood; wandering to and fro in groups, blowing into children's trumpets and "dying pigs," and behaving like frolicsome wild beasts. At every moment some one tooted in your ear, to make you jump, or you suddenly discovered that some rogue was fixing something on the back of your coat. Hanne was nervous; she kept between Pelle and her mother, and could not stand still. "No, let's go away somewhere--anywhere!" she said, laughing in bewilderment.

Pelle wanted to treat them to coffee, so they went on till they found a tent where there was room for them. Hallo! There was the hurdy-gurdy man from home, on a roundabout, nodding to him as he went whirling round. He held his hand in front of his mouth like a speaking-trumpet in order to shout above the noise. "Mother's coming up behind you with the Olsens,"

he roared.

"I can't hear what he says at all," said Madam Johnsen. She didn't care about meeting people out of the "Ark" to-day.

When the coffee was finished they wandered up and down between the booths and amused themselves by watching the crowd. Hanne consented to have her fortune told; it cost five and twenty ore, but she was rewarded by an unexpected suitor who was coming across the sea with lots of money. Her eyes shone.

"I could have done it much better than that!" said Madam Johnsen.

"No, mother, for you never foretell me anything but misfortune," replied Hanne, laughing.

Madam Johnsen met an acquaintance who was selling "dying pigs." She sat down beside her. "You go over there now and have a bit of a dance while I rest my tired legs," she said.

The young people went across to the dancing marquee and stood among the onlookers. From time to time they had five ore worth of dancing. When other men came up and asked Hanne to dance, she shook her head; she did not care to dance with any one but Pelle.

The rejected applicants stood a little way off, their hats on the backs of their heads, and reviled her. Pelle had to reprove her. "You have offended them," he said, "and perhaps they're screwed and will begin to quarrel."

"Why should I be forced to dance with anybody, with somebody I don't know at all?" replied Hanne. "I'm only going to dance with you!" She made angry eyes, and looked bewitching in her unapproachableness. Pelle had nothing against being her only partner. He would gladly have fought for her, had it been needful.

When they were about to go he discovered the foreigner right at the back of the dancing-tent. He urged Hanne to make haste, but she stood there, staring absent-mindedly in the midst of the dancers as though she did not know what was happening around her. The stranger came over to them.

Pelle was certain that Hanne had not seen him.

Suddenly she came to herself and gripped Pelle's arm. "Shan't we go, then?" she said impatiently, and she quickly dragged him away.

At the doorway the stranger came to meet them and bowed before Hanne.

She did not look at him, but her left arm twitched as though she wanted to lay it across his shoulders.

"My sweetheart isn't dancing any more; she is tired," said Pelle shortly, and he led her away.

"A good thing we've come out from there," she cried, with a feeling of deliverance, as they went back to her mother. "There were no amusing dancers."

Pelle was taken aback; then she had not seen the stranger, but merely believed that it had been one of the others who had asked her to dance!

It was inconceivable that she should have seen him; and yet a peculiar knowledge had enveloped her, as though she had seen obliquely through her down-dropped eyelids; and then it was well known women could see round corners! And that twitch of the arm! He did not know what to think. "Well, it's all one to me," he thought, "for I'm not going to be led by the nose!"

He had them both on his arm as they returned under the trees to the station. The old woman was lively; Hanne walked on in silence and let them both talk. But suddenly she begged Pelle to be quiet a moment; he looked at her in surprise.

"It's singing so beautifully in my ears; but when you talk then it stops!"

"Nonsense! Your blood is too unruly," said the mother, "and mouths were meant to be used."

During the journey Pelle was reserved. Now and again he pressed Hanne's hand, which lay, warm and slightly perspiring, in his upon the seat.

But the old woman's delight was by no means exhausted, the light shining from the city and the dark peaceful Sound had their message for her secluded life, and she began to sing, in a thin, quavering falsetto:

"Gently the Night upon her silent wings Comes, and the stars are bright in east and west; And lo, the bell of evening rings; And men draw homewards, and the birds all rest."

But from the Triangle onward it was difficult for her to keep step; she had run herself off her legs.

"Many thanks for to-day," she said to Pelle, down in the courtyard.

"To-morrow one must start work again and clean old uniform trousers.

But it's been a beautiful outing." She waddled forward and up the steps, groaning a little at the numbers of them, talking to herself.

Hanne stood hesitating. "Why did you say 'my sweetheart'?" she asked suddenly. "I'm not."

"You told me to," answered Pelle, who would willingly have said more.

"Oh, well!" said Hanne, and she ran up the stairs. "Goodnight, Pelle!"

she called down to him.

IV

Pelle was bound to the "Family" by peculiar ties. The three orphans were the first to reach him a friendly helping hand when he stood in the open street three days after his landing, robbed of his last penny.

He had come over feeling important enough. He had not slept all night on his bench between decks among the cattle. Excitement had kept him awake; and he lay there making far-reaching plans concerning himself and his twenty-five kroner. He was up on deck by the first light of morning, gazing at the sh.o.r.e, where the great capital with its towers and factory-chimneys showed out of the mist. Above the city floated its misty light, which reddened in the morning sun, and gave a splendor to the prospect. And the pa.s.sage between the forts and the naval harbor was sufficiently magnificent to impress him. The crowd on the landing-stage before the steamer laid alongside and the cabmen and porters began shouting and calling, was enough to stupefy him, but he had made up his mind beforehand that nothing should disconcert him. It would have been difficult enough in any case to disentangle himself from all this confusion.

And then Fortune herself was on his side. Down on the quay stood a thick-set, jovial man, who looked familiarly at Pelle; he did not shout and bawl, but merely said quietly, "Good-day, countryman," and offered Pelle board and lodging for two kroner a day. It was good to find a countryman in all this bustle, and Pelle confidingly put himself in his hands. He was remarkably helpful; Pelle was by no means allowed to carry the green chest. "I'll soon have that brought along!" said the man, and he answered everything with a jolly "I'll soon arrange that; you just leave that to me!"

When three days had gone by, he presented Pelle with a circ.u.mstantial account, which amounted exactly to five and twenty kroner. It was a curious chance that Pelle had just that amount of money. He was not willing to be done out of it, but the boarding-house keeper, Elleby, called in a policeman from the street, and Pelle had to pay.

He was standing in the street with his green box, helpless and bewildered, not knowing what to be about. Then a little boy came whistling up to him and asked if he could not help him. "I can easily carry the box alone, to wherever you want it, but it will cost twenty-five ore and ten ore for the barrow. But if I just take one handle it will be only ten ore," he said, and he looked Pelle over in a business-like manner. He did not seem to be more than nine or ten years old.

"But I don't know where I shall go," said Pelle, almost crying. "I've been turned out on the street and have nowhere where I can turn. I am quite a stranger here in the city and all my money has been taken from me."

The youngster made a gesture in the air as though b.u.t.ting something with his head. "Yes, that's a cursed business. You've fallen into the hands of the farmer-catchers, my lad. So you must come home with us--you can very well stay with us, if you don't mind lying on the floor."

"But what will your parents say if you go dragging me home?"

"I haven't any parents, and Marie and Peter, they'll say nothing. Just come with me, and, after all, you can get work with old Pipman. Where do you come from?"

"From Bornholm."

"So did we! That's to say, a long time ago, when we were quite children.

Come along with me, countryman!" The boy laughed delightedly and seized one handle of the chest.

It was also, to be sure, a fellow-countryman who had robbed him; but none the less he went with the boy; it was not in Pelle's nature to be distrustful.

So he had entered the "Ark," under the protection of a child. The sister, a little older than the other two, found little Karl's action entirely reasonable, and the three waifs, who had formerly been shy and retiring, quickly attached themselves to Pelle. They found him in the street and treated him like an elder comrade, who was a stranger, and needed protection. They afforded him his first glimpse of the great city, and they helped him to get work from Pipman.

On the day after the outing in the forest, Pelle moved over to the row of attics, into a room near the "Family," which was standing empty just then. Marie helped him to get tidy and to bring his things along, and with an easier mind he shook himself free of his burdensome relations with Pipman. There was an end of his profit-sharing, and all the recriminations which were involved in it. Now he could enter into direct relations with the employers and look his comrades straight in the eyes. For various reasons it had been a humiliating time; but he had no feeling of resentment toward Pipman; he had learned more with him in a few months than during his whole apprenticeship at home.

He obtained a few necessary tools from an ironmonger, and bought a bench and a bed for ready money. From the master-shoemaker he obtained as a beginning some material for children's shoes, which he made at odd times. His princ.i.p.al living he got from Master Beck in Market Street.