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

had heaped up the quilt, and put an old woolly cap just sticking out at the pillow-end; in a hurry it could easily be mistaken for the hair of a sleeper, if anyone came to see. When they had got a little way, Lasse had to go back once more to take precautions against fire.

It was snowing gently and silently, and the ground was frozen so that they could go straight on over everything. Now that they knew the way, it seemed no distance at all; and before they knew where they were, the fields came to an end and the rock began.

There was a light in the cottage. Kalle was sitting up waiting for them. “Grandmother hasn’t long to live,” he said, more seriously than Lasse ever remembered to have heard him speak before.

Kalle opened the door to grandmother’s room, and whispered something, to which his wife answered softly out of the darkness.

“Oh, I’m awake,” said the old woman, in a slow, monotonous voice. “You can speak out, for I am awake.”

Lasse and Pelle took off their leather shoes and went in in their stockings. “Good evening, grandmother!” they both said solemnly, “and the peace of God!” Lasse added.

“Well, here I am,” said the old woman, feebly patting the quilt. She had big woollen gloves on. “I took the liberty of sending for you for I haven’t long to live now. How are things going on in the parish? Have there been any deaths?”

“No, not that I know of,” answered Lasse. “But you look so well, grandmother, so fat and rosy! We shall see you going about again in two or three days.”

“Oh, I dare say!” said the old woman, smiling indulgently. “I suppose I look like a young bride after her first baby, eh? But thank you for coming; it’s as if you belonged to me. Well, now I’ve been sent for, and I shall depart in peace. I’ve had a good time in this world, and haven’t anything to complain of. I had a good husband and a good daughter, not forgetting Kalle there. And I got my sight back, so that I saw the world once more.”

“But you only saw it with one eye, like the birds, grandmother,” said Kalle, trying to laugh.

“Yes, yes, but that was quite good enough; there was so much that was new since I lost my sight. The wood had grown bigger, and a whole family had grown up without my quite knowing it. Ah! yes, it has been good to live in my old age and have them all about me⁠—Kalle and Maria and the children. And all of my own age have gone before me; it’s been nice to see what became of them all.”

“How old are you now, grandmother?” asked Lasse.

“Kalle has looked it up in the church-book, and from that I ought to be almost eighty; but that can scarcely be right.”

“Yes, it’s right enough,” said Kalle, “for the parson looked it up for me himself.”

“Well, well, then the time’s gone quickly, and I shouldn’t at all mind living a little longer, if it was God’s will. But the grave’s giving warning; I notice it in my eyelids.” The old woman had a little difficulty in breathing, but kept on talking.

“You’re talking far too much, mother!” said Maria.

“Yes, you ought to be resting and sleeping,” said Lasse. “Hadn’t we better say goodbye to you?”

“No, I really must talk, for it’ll be the last time I see you and I shall have plenty of time to rest. My eyes are so light thank God, and I don’t feel the least bit sleepy.”

“Grandmother hasn’t slept for a whole week, I think,” said Kalle doubtfully.

“And why should I sleep away the last of the time I shall have here, when I shall get plenty of time for that afterward? At night when you others are asleep, I lie and listen to your breathing, and feel glad that you’re all so well. Or I look at the heather-broom, and think of Anders and all the fun we had together.”

She lay silent for a little while, getting her breath, while she gazed at a withered bunch of heather hanging from a beam.

“He gathered that for me the first time we lay in the flowering heather. He was so uncommonly fond of the heather, was Anders, and every year when it flowered, he took me out of my bed and carried me out there⁠—every year until he was called away. I was always as new for him as on the first day, and so happiness and joy took up their abode in my heart.”

“Now, mother, you ought to be quiet and not talk so much!” said Maria, smoothing the old woman’s pillow. But she would not be silenced, though her thoughts shifted a little.

“Yes, my teeth were hard to get and hard to lose, and I brought my children into the world with pain, and laid them in the grave with sorrow, one after another. But except for that, I’ve never been ill, and I’ve had a good husband. He had an eye for God’s creations, and we got up with the birds every summer morning, and went out onto the heath and saw the sun rise out of the sea before we set about our days work.”

The old woman’s slow voice died away, and it was as though a song ceased to sound in their ears. They sat up and sighed. “Ah, yes,” said Lasse, “the voice of memory is pleasant!”

“What about you, Lasse?” said the old woman suddenly, “I hear you’re looking about for a wife!”

“Am I?” exclaimed Lasse, in alarm. Pelle saw Kalle wink at Maria, so they knew about it too.

“Aren’t you soon coming to show us your sweetheart?” asked Kalle. “I hear it’s a good match.”

“I don’t in the least know what you’re talking about,” said Lasse, quite confused.

“Well, well, you might do worse than that!” said the grandmother. “She’s good enough⁠—from what I know. I hope you’ll