Pelle the Conqueror by Martin Andersen Nexø (great novels to read .TXT) 📕

chatter. One thing he was always coming back to. “I ought to be glad I had you, for if you hadn’t held back that time when I was bent upon moving down to Madam Olsen’s, we should have been in the wrong box. I should think he’d have killed us in his anger. You were my good angel as you always have been.”

Lasse’s words had the pleasant effect of caresses on Pelle; he was happy in it all, and was more of a child than his years would have indicated.

But one Saturday he came home from the parson’s altogether changed. He was as slow about everything as a dead herring, and did not go across to his dinner, but came straight in through the outer door, and threw himself face downward upon a bundle of hay.

“What’s the matter now?” asked Lasse, coming up to him. “Has anyone been unkind to you?”

Pelle did not answer, but lay plucking at the hay. Lasse was going to turn his face up to him, but Pelle buried it in the hay. “Won’t you trust your own father? You know I’ve no other wish in the world but for your good!” Lasse’s voice was sad.

“I’m to be turned out of the confirmation-class,” Pelle managed to say, and then burrowed into the hay to keep back his tears.

“Oh, no, surely not!” Lasse began to tremble. “Whatever have you done?”

“I’ve half killed the parson’s son.”

“Oh, that’s about the worst thing you could have done⁠—lift your hand against the parson’s son! I’m sure he must have deserved it, but⁠—still you shouldn’t have done it. Unless he’s accused you of thieving, for no honest man need stand that from anyone, not even the king himself.”

“He⁠—he called you Madam Olsen’s concubine.” Pelle had some difficulty in getting this out.

Lasse’s mouth grew hard and he clenched his fists. “Oh, he did! Oh, did he! If I had him here, I’d kick his guts out, the young monkey! I hope you gave him something he’ll remember for a long time?”

“Oh, no, it wasn’t very much, for he wouldn’t stand up to me⁠—he threw himself down and screamed. And then the parson came!”

For a little while Lasse’s face was disfigured with rage, and he kept uttering threats. Then he turned to Pelle. “And they’ve turned you out? Only because you stood up for your old father! I’m always to bring misfortune upon you, though I’m only thinking of your good! But what shall we do now?”

“I won’t stay here any longer,” said Pelle decidedly.

“No, let’s get away from here; nothing has ever grown on this farm for us two but wormwood. Perhaps there are new, happy days waiting for us out there; and there are parsons everywhere. If we two work together at some good work out there, we shall earn a peck of money. Then one day we’ll go up to a parson, and throw down half a hundred krones in front of his face, and it ’u’d be funny if he didn’t confirm you on the spot⁠—and perhaps let himself be kicked into the bargain. Those kind of folk are very fond of money.”

Lasse had grown more erect in his anger, and had a keen look in his eyes. He walked quickly along the foddering passage, and threw the things about carelessly, for Pelle’s adventurous proposal had infected him with youth. In the intervals of their work, they collected all their little things and packed the green chest. “What a surprise it’ll be tomorrow morning when they come here and find the nest empty!” said Pelle gaily. Lasse chuckled.

Their plan was to take shelter with Kalle for a day or two, while they took a survey of what the world offered. When everything was done in the evening, they took the green chest between them, and stole out through the outside door into the field. The chest was heavy, and the darkness did not make walking easier. They moved on a little way, changed hands, and rested. “We’ve got the night before us!” said Lasse cheerfully.

He was quite animated, and while they sat resting upon the chest talked about everything that awaited them. When he came to a standstill Pelle began. Neither of them had made any distinct plans for their future; they simply expected a fairy-story itself with its inconceivable surprises. All the definite possibilities that they were capable of picturing to themselves fell so far short of that which must come, that they left it alone and abandoned themselves to what lay beyond their powers of foresight.

Lasse was not surefooted in the dark, and had more and more frequently to put down his burden. He grew weary and breathless, and the cheerful words died away upon his lips. “Ah, how heavy it is!” he sighed. “What a lot of rubbish you do scrape together in the course of time!” Then he sat down upon the chest, quite out of breath. He could do no more. “If only we’d had something to pick us up a little!” he said faintly. “And it’s so dark and gloomy tonight.”

“Help me to get it on my back,” said Pelle, “and I’ll carry it a little way.”

Lasse would not at first, but gave in, and they went on again, he running on in front and giving warning of ditches and walls. “Suppose Brother Kalle can’t take us in!” he said suddenly.

“He’s sure to be able to. There’s grandmother’s bed; that’s big enough for two.”

“But suppose we can’t get anything to do, then we shall be a burden on him.”

“Oh, we shall get something to do. There’s a scarcity of laborers everywhere.”

“Yes, they’ll jump at you, but I’m really too old to offer myself out.” Lasse had lost all hope, and was undermining Pelle’s too.

“I can’t do any more!” said Pelle, letting the chest down. They stood with arms hanging, and stared into the darkness at nothing particular. Lasse showed no desire to take hold again, and Pelle was now tired out. The night lay