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

want or unconscious fear of it. Most crimes could easily be traced back to the distressing conditions, and even where the connection was not perceptible he was sure that it nevertheless existed. It was his experience that everyone in reality was good: the evil in them could nearly always be traced back to something definite, while the goodness often existed in spite of everything. It would triumph altogether when the conditions became secure for everybody. He was sure that even the crimes that were due to abnormity would cease of themselves when there were no longer hidden reminders of misery in the community.

It was his firm belief that he and his followers should renew the world; the common people should turn it into a paradise for the multitude, just as it had already made it a paradise for the few. It would require a great and courageous mind for this, but his army had been well tested. Those who, from time immemorial, had patiently borne the pressure of existence for others, must be well fitted to take upon themselves the leadership into the new age.

Pelle at last found himself in Strand Road, and it was too late to return home. He was ravenously hungry and bought a couple of rolls at a baker’s, and ate them on his way to work.

At midday Brun came into the works to sign some papers and go through accounts with Pelle. They were sitting up in the office behind the shop. Pelle read out the items and made remarks on them, while the old man gave his half attention and merely nodded. He was longing to get back to “Daybreak.”

“You won’t mind making it as short as possible?” he said, “for I don’t feel quite well.” The harsh spring winds were bad for him and made his breathing difficult. The doctor had advised a couple of months in the Riviera⁠—until the spring was over; but the old man could not make up his mind. He had not the courage to set out alone.

The shop-bell rang, and Pelle went in to serve. A young sunburnt man stood on the other side of the counter and laughed.

“Don’t you know me?” he asked, holding out his hand to Pelle. It was Karl, the youngest of the three orphans in the “Ark.”

“Why, of course I know you!” answered Pelle, delighted. “I’ve been to Adel Street to look for you; I was told you had your business there.”

That had been a long time ago! Now Karl Anker was manager of a large supply association over on Funen. He had come over to order some boots and shoes from Pelle for the association. “It’s only a trial,” he said. “If it succeeds I’ll get you a connection with the cooperative association, and that’s a customer that takes something, I can tell you!”

Pelle had to make haste to take down the order, as Karl had to catch a train.

“It’s a pity you haven’t got time to see our works,” said Pelle. “Do you remember little Paul from the ‘Ark’? The factory-girl’s child that she tied to the stove when she went to work? He’s become a splendid fellow. He’s my head man in the factory. He’d like to see you!”

When Karl was gone and Pelle was about to go in to Brun in the office, he caught sight of a small, somewhat deformed woman with a child, walking to and fro above the workshop windows, and taking stolen glances down. They timidly made way for people passing, and looked very frightened. Pelle called them into the shop.

“Do you want to speak to Peter Dreyer?” he asked.

The woman nodded. She had a refined face with large, sorrowful eyes. “If it won’t disturb him,” she said.

Pelle called Peter Dreyer and then went into the office, where he found Brun had fallen asleep.

He heard them whispering in the shop. Peter was angry, and the woman and the child cried; he could hear it in the tones of their whisper. It did not last more than a minute, and then Peter let them out. Pelle went quickly into the shop.

“If it was money,” he said hurriedly, “you know you’ve only got to tell me.”

“No, it was the big meeting of unemployed this afternoon. They were begging me to stop at home, silly creatures! Goodness knows what’s come to them!” Peter was quite offended. “By the by⁠—I suppose you haven’t any objection to my going now? It begins in an hour’s time.”

“I thought it had been postponed,” said Pelle.

“Yes, but that was only a ruse to prevent its being prohibited. We’re holding it in a field out by Nörrebro. You ought to come too; it’ll be a meeting that’ll be remembered. We shall settle great matters today.” Peter was nervous, and fidgeted with his clothes while he spoke.

Pelle placed his hands on his shoulders and looked into his eyes. “You’d better do what those two want,” he said earnestly. “I don’t know them, of course; but if their welfare’s dependent on you, then they too have a claim upon you. Give up what you were going to do, and go out for a walk with those two! Everything’s budding now; take them to the woods! It’s better to make two people happy than a thousand unhappy.”

Peter looked away. “We’re not going to do anything special, so what is there to make such a fuss about?” he murmured.

“You are going to do something today; I can see it in you. And if you can’t carry it through, who’ll have to take the consequences? Why, the women and children! You can’t carry it through! Our strength doesn’t lie in that direction.”

“You go your way and let me go mine,” said Peter, gently freeing himself.

Two policemen were standing on the opposite pavement, talking together, while they secretly kept an eye on the shop. Pelle pointed to them.

“The police don’t know where the meeting’s to be held, so they’re keeping watch on me,” said Peter, shrugging his shoulders. “I can