Pelle the Conqueror, Martin Andersen Nexø [best fantasy books to read .TXT] 📗

in bitterness, until he broke down like a little child. XXVI

They lived with Sort, who had his own little house in the outermost suburb. The little travelling cobbler did not know what to do for them: Lasse was so dejected and so aimless. He could not rest; he did not recover; from time to time he broke out into lamentation. He had grown very frail, and could no longer lift his spoon to his mouth without spilling the contents. If they tried to distract him, he became obstinate.

“Now we must see about fetching your things,” they would both say repeatedly. “There is no sense in giving your furniture to the parish.”

But Lasse would not have them sent for. “They’ve taken everything else from me; they can take that, too,” he said. “And I won’t go out there again⁠—and let myself be pitied by everyone.”

“But you’ll beggar yourself,” said Sort.

“They’ve done that already. Let them have their way. But they’ll have to answer for it in the end!”

Then Pelle procured a cart, and drove over himself to fetch them. There was quite a load to bring back. Mother Bengta’s green chest he found upstairs in the attic; it was full of balls of thread. It was so strange to see it again⁠—for many years he had not thought of his mother. “I’ll have that for a travelling trunk,” he thought, and he took it with him.

Lasse was standing before the door when he returned.

“See, I’ve brought everything here for you, father!” he cried, lustily cracking his whip. But Lasse went in without saying a word. When they had unloaded the cart and went to look for him, he had crawled into bed. There he lay with his face to the wall, and would not speak.

Pelle told him all sorts of news of Heath Farm, in order to put a little life into him. “Now the parish has sold Heath Farm to the Hill Farm man for five thousand kroner, and they say he’s got a good bargain. He wants to live there himself and to leave Hill Farm in his son’s hands.”

Lasse half turned his head. “Yes, something grows there now. Now they are making thousands⁠—and the farmer will do better still,” he said bitterly. “But it’s well-manured soil. Karna overstrained herself and died and left me.⁠ ⁠… And we went so well in harness together. Her thousand kroner went into it, too⁠ ⁠… and now I’m a poor wreck. All that was put into the barren, rocky soil, so that it became good and generous soil. And then the farmer buys it, and now he wants to live there⁠—we poor lice have prepared the way for him! What else were we there for? Fools we are to excite ourselves so over such a thing! But, how I loved the place!” Lasse suddenly burst into tears.

“Now you must be reasonable and see about becoming cheerful again,” said Sort. “The bad times for the poor man will soon be over. There is a time coming when no one will need to work himself to death for others, and when everyone will reap what he himself has sown. What injury have you suffered? For you are on the right side and have thousands of kroner on which you can draw a bill. It would be still worse if you owed money to others!”

“I haven’t much more time,” said Lasse, raising himself on his elbows.

“Perhaps not, you and I, for those who start on the pilgrimage must die in the desert! But for that reason we are God’s chosen people, we poor folk. And Pelle, he will surely behold the Promised Land!”

“Now you ought to come in, father, and see how we have arranged it,” said Pelle.

Lasse stood up wearily and went with them. They had furnished one of Sort’s empty rooms with Lasse’s things. It looked quite cozy.

“We thought that you would live here until Pelle is getting on well ‘over there,’ ” said Sort. “No, you don’t need to thank me! I’m delighted to think I shall have society, as you may well understand.”

“The good God will repay it to you,” said Lasse, with a quavering voice. “We poor folk have no one but Him to rely on.”

Pelle could not rest, nor control his thoughts any longer; he must be off! “If you’ll give me what the fare comes to, as I’ve helped you,” he told Sort, “then I’ll start this evening.⁠ ⁠…”

Sort gave him thirty kroner.

“That’s the half of what we took. There’s not so much owing to me,” said Pelle. “You are the master and had the tools and everything.”

“I won’t live by the work of other hands⁠—only by that of my own,” said Sort, and he pushed the money across to Pelle. “Are you going to travel just as you stand?”

“No, I have plenty of money,” said Pelle gaily. “I’ve never before possessed so much money all at once! One can get quite a lot of clothes for that.”

“But you mustn’t touch the money! Five kroner you’ll need for the passage and the like; the rest you must save, so that you can face the future with confidence!”

“I shall soon earn plenty of money in Copenhagen!”

“He has always been a thoughtless lad,” said Lasse anxiously. “Once, when he came into town here to be apprenticed he had five kroner; and as for what he spent them on, he could never give any proper account!”

Sort laughed.

“Then I shall travel as I stand!” said Pelle resolutely. But that wouldn’t do, either!

He could not by any means please both⁠—they were like two anxious clucking hens.

He had no lack of linen, for Lasse had just thought of his own supply. Karna had looked after him well. “But it will be very short for your long body. It’s not the same now as it was when you left Stone Farm⁠—then we had to put a tuck in my shirt for you.”

In the matter of shoes he was not well off. It would never do for