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

a journeyman shoemaker to look for work wearing such shoes as his. Sort and Pelle must make a pair of respectable boots. “We must leave ourselves time,” said Sort. “Think! They must be able to stand the judgment of the capital!” Pelle was impatient, and wanted to get the work quickly out of hand.

Now there was only the question of a new suit. “Then buy it ready made on credit,” said Sort. “Lasse and I will be good enough securities for a suit.”

In the evening, before he started, he and Lasse went out to look up Due. They chose the time when they were certain of meeting Due himself. They neither of them cared much for Anna. As they approached the house they saw an old richly-dressed gentleman go in at the front door.

“That is the consul,” said Pelle, “who has helped them to get on. Then Due is out with the horses, and we are certainly not welcome.”

“Is it like that with them?” said Lasse, standing still. “Then I am sorry for Due when he first finds out how his affairs really stand! He will certainly find that he has bought his independence too dearly! Yes, yes; for those who want to get on the price is hard to pay. I hope it will go well with you over there, my boy.”

They had reached the church. There stood a cart full of green plants; two men were carrying them into a dwelling-house.

“What festivity’s going on here?” asked Pelle.

“There’s to be a wedding tomorrow,” answered one of the men. “Merchant Lau’s daughter is marrying that swaggering fellow, who’s always giving himself airs⁠—Karlsen, he’s called, and he’s a poor chap like ourselves. But do you suppose he’ll notice us? When dirt comes to honor, there’s no bearing with it! Now he’s become a partner in the business!”

“Then I’ll go to the wedding,” said Lasse eagerly, while they strolled on. “It is very interesting to see when one of a family comes to something.” Pelle felt that this was to some extent meant as a reproach, but he said nothing.

“Shall we have one look at the new harbor?” he said.

“No, now the sun’s going down, and I’ll go home and get to bed. I’m old⁠—but you go. I shall soon find my way back.” Pelle strolled onward, but then turned aside toward the north⁠—he would go and bid Marie Nielsen goodbye. He owed her a friendly word for all her goodness. Also, as an exception, she should for once see him in respectable clothes. She had just come home from her work, and was on the point of preparing her supper.

“No, Pelle, is that you?” she cried delightedly, “and so grand, too⁠—you look like a prince!” Pelle had to remain to supper.

“I have really only come to thank you for all your friendliness and to say goodbye. Tomorrow I go to Copenhagen.”

She looked at him earnestly. “And you are glad!”

Pelle had to tell her what he had been doing since he had last seen her. He sat there looking gratefully about the poor, clean room, with the bed set so innocently against the wall, covered with a snow-white counterpane. He had never forgotten that fragrance of soap and cleanliness and her fresh, simple nature. She had taken him in the midst of all his misery and had not thought her own white bed too good for him while she scrubbed the mire from him. When he reached the capital he would have himself photographed and send her his portrait.

“And how are you doing now?” he asked gently.

“Just as when you last saw me⁠—only a little more lonely,” she answered earnestly.

And then he must go. “Goodbye, and may everything go well with you!” he said, and he shook her hand. “And many thanks for all your goodness!”

She stood before him silently, looking at him with an uncertain smile. “Ah, no! I’m only a human being too!” she cried suddenly, and she flung her arms about him in a passionate embrace.

And then the great day broke! Pelle awaked with the sun and had the green chest already packed before the others were up, and then he roamed about, not knowing what he should set his hand to, he was so restless and so excited. He answered at random, and his eyes were full of radiant dreams. In the morning he and Lasse carried the chest to the steamer, in order to have the evening free. Then they went to the church, in order to attend Alfred’s wedding. Pelle would gladly have stayed away; he had enough to do with his own affairs, and he had no sympathy for Alfred’s doings.

But Lasse pushed him along.

The sun stood high in heaven and blazed in the winding side-streets so that the tarred timber-work sweated and the gutters stank; from the harbor came the sound of the crier, with his drum, crying herrings, and announcing an auction. The people streamed to church in breathless conversation concerning this child of fortune, Alfred, who had climbed so far.

The church was full of people. It was gaily decorated, and up by the organ stood eight young women who were to sing “It is so lovely together to be!” Lasse had never seen or heard of such a wedding. “I feel quite proud!” he said.

“He’s a bladder full of wind!” said Pelle. “He’s taking her simply on account of the honor.”

And then the bridal pair stepped up to the altar. “It’s tremendous the way Alfred has greased his head!” whispered Lasse. “It looks like a newly-licked calf’s head! But she is pretty. I’m only puzzled that she’s not put on her myrtle-wreath⁠—I suppose nothing has happened?”

“Yes, she’s got a child,” whispered Pelle. “Otherwise, he would never in this world have got her!”

“Oh, I see! Yes, but that’s smart of him, to catch such a fine lady!”

Now the young women sang, and it sounded just as if they were angels from heaven who had come to seal the bond.

“We must take our places