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

“I had already passed them on, they were never very long in one place in those days. Now they lead a comparatively quiet life, and mother and the rest of us too!”

The young men stood in silence, gazing at the standard that had seen so many vicissitudes, and that was like the hot red blood of the movement. Before Pelle a whole new world was unfolding itself; the hope that had burned in the depths of his soul was after all not so extravagant. When he was still running, wild at home, playing the games of childhood or herding the cows, strong men had already been at work and had laid the foundations of the cause.⁠ ⁠… A peculiar warmth spread through him and rose to his head. If only it had been he who had waved the glowing standard in the face of the oppressor⁠—he, Pelle!

“And now it lies here in the chest and is forgotten!” he said dejectedly.

“It is only resting,” said Stolpe. “Forgotten, yes; the police have no idea that it still exists. But fix it on a staff, and you will see how the comrades flock about it! Old and young alike. There’s fire in that bit of cloth! True fire, that never goes out!”

Carefully they folded the colors and laid them back in the chest. “It won’t do even now to speak aloud of the colors! You understand?” said Stolpe.

There was a knock, and Stolpe made haste to lock the chest and hide the key, while Frederik went to the door. They looked at one another uneasily and stood listening.

“It is only Ellen,” said Frederik, and he returned, followed by a tall dark girl with an earnest bearing. She had a veil over her face, and before her mouth her breath showed like a pearly tissue.

“Ah, that’s the lass!” cried Stolpe, laughing. “What folly⁠—we were quite nervous, just as nervous as in the old days. And you’re abroad in the streets at this hour of night! And in this weather?” He looked at her affectionately; one could see that she was his darling. Outwardly they were very unlike.

She greeted Pelle with the tiniest nod, but looked at him earnestly. There was something still and gracious about her that fascinated him. She wore dark clothes, without the slightest adornment, but they were of good sound stuff.

“Won’t you change?” asked the mother, unbuttoning her cloak. “You are quite wet, child.”

“No, I must go out again at once,” Ellen replied. “I only wanted to peep in.”

“But it’s really very late,” grumbled Stolpe. “Are you only off duty now?”

“Yes, it’s not my going-out day.”

“Not today again? Yes, it’s sheer slavery, till eleven at night!”

“That’s the way things are, and it doesn’t make it any better for you to scold me,” said Ellen courageously.

“No, but you needn’t go out to service. There’s no sense in our children going out to service in the houses of the employers. Don’t you agree with me?” He turned to Pelle.

Ellen laughed brightly. “It’s all the same⁠—father works for the employers as well.”

“Yes, but that’s a different thing. It’s from one fixed hour to another, and then it’s over. But this other work is a home; she goes from one home to another and undertakes all the dirty work.”

“Father’s not in a position to keep me at home.”

“I know that very well, but all the same I can’t bear it. Besides, you could surely get some other kind of work.”

“Yes, but I don’t want to! I claim the right to dispose of myself!” she replied heatedly.

The others sat silent, looking nervously at one another. The veins swelled on Stolpe’s forehead; he was purple, and terribly angry. But Ellen looked at him with a little laugh. He got up and went grumbling into the other room.

Her mother shook her head at Ellen. She was quite pale. “Oh, child, child!” she whispered.

After a while Stolpe returned with some old newspapers, which he wanted to show Pelle. Ellen stood behind his chair, looking down at them; she rested her arm on his shoulders and idly ruffled his hair. The mother pulled at her skirt. The papers were illustrated, and went back to the stirring times.

The clock struck the half-hour; it was half-past eleven. Pelle rose in consternation; he had quite forgotten the time.

“Take the lass with you,” said Stolpe. “You go the same way, don’t you, Ellen? Then you’ll have company. There’s no danger going with her, for she’s a saint.” It sounded as though he wanted to make up for his scolding. “Come again soon; you will always be welcome here.”

They did not speak much on the way home. Pelle was embarrassed, and he had a feeling that she was considering him and thinking him over as they walked, wondering what sort of a fellow he might be. When he ventured to say something, she answered briefly and looked at him searchingly. And yet he found it was an interesting walk. He would gladly have prolonged it.

“Many thanks for your company,” he said, when they stood at her house-door. “I should be very glad to see you again.”

“You will if we meet,” she said taciturnly; but she gave him her hand for a moment.

“We are sure to meet again! Be sure of that!” cried Pelle jovially. “But you are forgetting to reward me for my escort?” He bent over her.

She gazed at him in astonishment⁠—with eyes that were turning him to stone, he thought. Then she slowly turned and went indoors.

X

One day, after his working hours, Pelle was taking some freshly completed work to the Court shoemaker’s. The foreman took it and paid for it, and proceeded to give out work to the others, leaving Pelle standing. Pelle waited impatiently, but did no more than clear his throat now and again. This was the way of these people; one had to put up with it if one wanted work. “Have you forgotten me?” he said at last, a little impatiently.

“You can go,” said the