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

strength was in you! What I scarcely dared to think of even, you have had the power to do! And now here I lie, and have not even the strength to die. You must promise me that you won’t burden yourself on my account with anything that’s beyond your ability⁠—you must leave the matter to the poor-law authorities. I’ve kept myself clear of them till now, but it was only my stupid pride. The poor man and the poor-laws belong together after all. I have learned lately to look at many things differently; and it is good that I am dying⁠—otherwise I should soon be alive and thinking but have no power. If these ideas had come to me in the strength of my youth perhaps I should have done something violent. I hadn’t your prudence and intelligence, to be able to carry eggs in a hopsack.⁠ ⁠…”

On the morning of the third day there was a change in Lasse, although it was not easy to say where the alteration lay. Pelle sat at the bedside reading the last issue of The Working Man, when he noticed that Lasse was gazing at him. “Is there any news?” he asked faintly.

“The negotiations are proceeding,” said Pelle, “but it is difficult to agree upon a basis.⁠ ⁠… Several times everything has been on the point of breaking down.”

“It’s dragging out such a long time,” said Lasse dejectedly; “and I shall die today, Pelle. There is something restless inside me, although I should dearly like to rest a little. It is curious, how we wander about trying to obtain something different to what we have! As a little boy at home in Tommelilla I used to run round a well; I used to run like one possessed, and I believed if I only ran properly I should be able to catch my own heels! And now I’ve done it; for now there is always someone in front of me, so that I can’t go forward, and it’s old Lasse himself who is stopping the way! I am always thinking I must overtake him, but I can’t find my old views of the world again, they have altered so. On the night when the big employers declared the lockout I was standing out there among the many thousands of other poor folks, listening. They were toasting the resolution with champagne, and cheering, and there my opinions were changed! It’s strange how things are in this world. Down in the granary cellar there lay a mason who had built one of the finest palaces in the capital, and he hadn’t even a roof over his head.”

A sharp line that had never been there before appeared round his mouth. It became difficult for him to speak, but he could not stop. “Whatever you do, never believe the clergy,” he continued, when he had gathered a little strength. “That has been my disadvantage⁠—I began to think over things too late. We mustn’t grumble, they say, for one thing has naturally grown out of another, big things out of little, and all together depends on God’s will. According to that our vermin must finally become thoroughbred horse for the rich⁠—and God knows I believe that is possible! They have begun by sucking the blood of poverty⁠—but only see how they prance in front of the carriage! Ah, yes⁠—how will the new period take shape? What do you think about it?”

“It will be good for us all, father,” replied Pelle, with anxiety in his voice. “But it will be sad for me, because you will no longer have your part in it all. But you shall have a fine resting-place, and I will give you a great stone of Bornholm granite, with a beautiful inscription.”

“You must put on the stone: ‘Work today, eat tomorrow!’ ” replied Lasse bitterly.

All day long he lay there in a half-sleep. But in the evening twilight he raised his head. “Are those the angels I hear singing?” he whispered. The ring had gone out of his voice.

“No, those are the little children of the factory women, their mothers will be coming home directly to give them the breast; then they’ll stop.”

Lasse sighed. “That will be poor food if they have to work all day. They say the rich folks drink wine at twelve and fifteen kroner a bottle; that sounds as if they take the milk away from the little children and turn it into costly liquors.”

He lay there whispering; Pelle had to bend his head till it was almost against his mouth. “Hand in hand we’ve wandered hither, lad, yet each has gone his own way. You are going the way of youth, and Lasse⁠—but you have given me much joy.”

Then the loving spirit, which for Pelle had burned always clear and untroubled amid all vicissitudes, was extinguished. It was as though Providence had turned its face from him; life collapsed and sank into space, and he found himself sitting on a chair⁠—alone. All night long he sat there motionless beside the body, staring with vacant eyes into the incomprehensible, while his thoughts whispered sadly to the dead of all that he had been. He did not move, but himself sat like a dead man, until Madam Johnsen came in the morning to ask how matters were progressing.

Then he awoke and went out, in order to make such arrangements as were necessary.

XXXVI

On Saturday, at noon, it was reported that the treaty of peace was signed, and that the great strike was over. The rumor spread through the capital with incredible speed, finding its way everywhere. “Have you heard yet? Have you heard yet? Peace is concluded!” The poor were busy again; they lay huddled together no longer, but came out into the light of day, their lean faces full of sunlight. The women got out their baskets and sent the children running to make a few purchases for Sunday⁠—for now the grocer would give them a little credit! People smiled and