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

of course! Old Noah⁠—the one that Gustav had that song about. I wonder what he made himself drunk on, the old man?”

“Wine.”

“Was it wine?” Lasse raised his eyebrows. “Then that Noah must have been a fine gentleman! The owner of the estate at home drank wine, too, on grand occasions. I’ve heard that it takes a lot of that to make a man tipsy⁠—and it’s expensive! Does the book tell you, too, about him that was such a terrible swindler? What was his name again?”

“Laban, do you mean?”

“Laban, yes of course! To think that I could forget it, too, for he was a regular Laban,3 so the name suits him just right. It was him that let his son-in-law have both his daughters, and off their price on his daily wage too! If they’d been alive now, they’d have got hard labor, both him and his son-in-law; but in those days the police didn’t look so close at people’s papers. Now I should like to know whether a wife was allowed to have two husbands in those days. Does the book say anything about that?” Lasse moved his head inquisitively.

“No, I don’t think it does,” answered Pelle absently.

“Oh, well, I oughtn’t to disturb you,” said Lasse, and went to his work. But in a very short time he was back again. “Those two names have slipped my memory; I can’t think where my head could have been at the moment. But I know the greater prophets well enough, if you like to hear me.”

“Say them, then!” said Pelle, without raising his eyes from his book.

“But you must stop reading while I say them,” said Lasse, “or you might go wrong.” He did not approve of Pelle’s wanting to treat it as food for babes.

“Well, I don’t suppose I could go wrong in the four greater!” said Pelle, with an air of superiority, but nevertheless shutting the book.

Lasse took the quid out from his lower lip with his forefinger, and threw it on the ground so as to have his mouth clear, and then hitched up his trousers and stood for a little while with closed eyes while he moved his lips in inward repetition.

“Are they coming soon?” asked Pelle.

“I must first make sure that they’re there!” answered Lasse, in vexation at the interruption, and beginning to go over them again. “Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and Daniel!” he said, dashing them off hastily, so as not to lose any of them on the way.

“Shall we take Jacob’s twelve sons, too?”

“No, not today. It might be too much for me all at once. At my age you must go forward gently; I’m not as young as you, you know. But you might go through the twelve lesser prophets with me.”

Pelle went through them slowly, and Lasse repeated them one by one. “What confounded names they did think of in those days!” he exclaimed, quite out of breath. “You can hardly get your tongue round them! But I shall manage them in time.”

“What do you want to know them for, father?” asked Pelle suddenly.

“What do I want to know them for?” Lasse scratched one ear. “Why, of course I⁠—er⁠—what a terrible stupid question! What do you want to know them for? Learning’s as good for the one to have as for the other, and in my youth they wouldn’t let me get at anything fine like that. Do you want to keep it all to yourself?”

“No, for I wouldn’t care a hang about all this prophet business if I didn’t have to.”

Lasse almost fainted with horror.

“Then you’re the most wicked little cub I ever knew, and deserve never to have been born into the world! Is that all the respect you have for learning? You ought to be glad you were born in an age when the poor man’s child shares in it all as well as the rich. It wasn’t so in my time, or else⁠—who knows⁠—perhaps I shouldn’t be going about here cleaning stables if I’d learned something when I was young. Take care you don’t take pride in your own shame!”

Pelle half regretted his words now, and said, to clear himself: “I’m in the top form now!”

“Yes, I know that well enough, but that’s no reason for your putting your hands in your trouser-pockets; while you’re taking breath, the others eat the porridge. I hope you’ve not forgotten anything in the long Christmas holidays?”

“Oh, no, I’m sure I haven’t!” said Pelle, with assurance.

Lasse did not doubt it either, but only made believe he did to take the boy in. He knew nothing more splendid than to listen to a rushing torrent of learning, but it was becoming more and more difficult to get the laddie to contribute it. “How can you be sure?” he went on. “Hadn’t you better see? It would be such a comfort to know that you hadn’t forgotten anything⁠—so much as you must have in your head.”

Pelle felt flattered and yielded. He stretched out his legs, closed his eyes, and began to rock backward and forward. And the Ten Commandments, the Patriarchs, the Judges, Joseph and his brethren, the four major and the twelve minor prophets⁠—the whole learning of the world poured from his lips in one long breath. To Lasse it seemed as if the universe itself were whizzing round the white-bearded countenance of the Almighty. He had to bend his head and cross himself in awe at the amount that the boy’s little head could contain.

“I wonder what it costs to be a student?” said Lasse, when he once more felt earth beneath his feet.

“It must be expensive⁠—a thousand krones, I suppose, at least,” Pelle thought. Neither of them connected any definite idea with the number; it merely meant the insurmountably great.

“I wonder if it would be so terrible dear,” said Lasse. “I’ve been thinking that when we have something of our own⁠—I suppose it’ll come to something some day⁠—you might go to Fris and learn the trade of him fairly cheap,