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

increase and multiply. And the cold, too, saw the growth of a whole swarm of creatures that live not by labor, but on it, as parasites. The good times are their bad times; then they grow thin, and there are not many of them about. But as soon as cold and destitution appear they come forth in their swarms; it is they who arouse beneficence⁠—and get the best part of what is going. They scent the coming of a bad year and inundate the rich quarters of the city. “How many poor people come to the door this year!” people say, as they open their purses. “These are hard times for the poor!”

In the autumn Pelle had removed; he was now dwelling in a little two-roomed apartment on the Kapelvej. He had many points of contact with this part of the city now; besides, he wanted Ellen to be near her parents when she should be brought to bed. Lasse would not accompany him; he preferred to be faithful to the “Ark”; he had got to know the inmates now, and he could keep himself quite decently by occasional work in the neighboring parts of the city.

Pelle fought valiantly to keep the winter at bay. There was nothing to do at the workshop; and he had to be on the go from morning to night. Wherever work was to be had, there he applied, squeezing his way through hundreds of others. His customers needed footwear now more than ever; but they had no money to pay for it.

Ellen and he drew nearer at this season and learned to know one another on a new side. The hard times drew them together; and he had cause to marvel at the stoutness of her heart. She accepted conditions as they were with extraordinary willingness, and made a little go a very long way. Only with the stove she could do nothing. “It eats up everything we scrape together,” she said dejectedly; “it sends everything up the chimney and doesn’t give out any warmth. I’ve put a bushel of coal on it today, and it’s as cold as ever! Where I was in service we were able to warm two big rooms with one scuttle! I must be a fool, but won’t you look into it?” She was almost crying.

“You mustn’t take that to heart so!” said Pelle gloomily. “That’s the way with poor folks’ stoves. They are old articles that are past use, and the landlords buy them up as old iron and then fit them in their workmen’s dwellings! And it’s like that with everything! We poor people get the worst and pay the dearest⁠—although we make the things! Poverty is a sieve.”

“Yes, it’s dreadful,” said Ellen, looking at him with mournful eyes. “And I can understand you so well now!”

Threatening Need had spread its pinions above them. They hardly dared to think now; they accepted all things at its hands.

One day, soon after Ellen had been brought to bed, she asked Pelle to go at once to see Father Lasse. “And mind you bring him with you!” she said. “We can very well have him here, if we squeeze together a little. I’m afraid he may be in want.”

Pelle was pleased by the offer, and immediately set out. It was good of Ellen to open her heart to the old man when they were by no means certain of being able to feed themselves.

The “Ark” had a devastated appearance. All the curtains had disappeared⁠—except at Olsen’s; with the gilt mouldings they always fetched fifty öre. The flowers in the windows were frostbitten. One could see right into the rooms, and inside also all was empty. There was something shameless about the winter here; instead of clothing the “Ark” more warmly it stripped it bare⁠—and first of all of its protecting veils. The privies in the court had lost their doors and covers, and it was all Pelle could do to climb up to the attics! Most of the balustrades had vanished, and every second step was lacking; the “Ark” was helping itself as well as it could! Over at Madam Johnsen’s the bucket of oak was gone that had always stood in the corner of the gallery when it was not lent to someone⁠—the “Ark” possessed only the one. And now it was burned or sold. Pelle looked across, but had not the courage to call. Hanne, he knew, was out of work.

A woman came slinking out of the third story, and proceeded to break away a fragment of woodwork; she nodded to Pelle. “For a drop of coffee!” she said, “and God bless coffee! You can make it as weak as you like as long as it’s still nice and hot.”

The room was empty; Lasse was not there. Pelle asked news of him along the gangway. He learned that he was living in the cellar with the old clothes woman. Thin gray faces appeared for a moment in the doorways, gazed at him, and silently disappeared.

The cellar of the old clothes woman was overcrowded with all sorts of objects; hither, that winter, the possessions of the poor had drifted. Lasse was sitting in a corner, patching a mattress; he was alone down there. “She has gone out to see about something,” he said; “in these times her money finds plenty of use! No, I’m not going to come with you and eat your bread. I get food and drink here⁠—I earn it by helping her⁠—and how many others can say this winter that they’ve their living assured? And I’ve got a corner where I can lie. But can’t you tell me what’s become of Peter? He left the room before me one day, and since then I’ve never seen him again.”

“Perhaps he’s living with his sweetheart,” said Pelle. “I’ll see if I can’t find out.”

“Yes, if you will. They were good children, those three, it would be a pity if one of them were to come to any harm.”

Pelle