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

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 passionately.

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.”

“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 someone 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” today.

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 öre, 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 öre worth of dancing. When other men came up and asked Hanne to dance, she shook her head; she did not care to dance with anyone 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 absentmindedly 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