Two men appeared from the wood and crossed the highroad. One was little
and hump-backed; he had a shoemaker’s bench strapped tightly on his
back; the edge rested on his hump, and a little pillow was thrust
between, so that the bench should not chafe him. The other was young
and strongly built; a little thin, but healthy and fresh- colored. He
carried a great bundle of lasts on his back, which were held in
equilibrium by another box, which he carried on his chest, and which,
to judge by the sounds that proceeded from it, contained tools. At the
edge of the ditch he threw down his burden and unstrapped the bench
from the hunchback. They threw themselves down in the grass and gazed
up into the blue sky. It was a glorious morning; the birds twittered
and flew busily to and fro, and the cattle were feeding in the dewy
clover, leaving long streaks behind them as they moved.
“And in spite of that, you are always happy?” said Pelle. Sort had been
telling him the sad story of his childhood.
“Yes, look you, it often vexes me that I take everything so easily— but
what if I can’t find anything to be sad about? If I once go into the
matter thoroughly, I always hit on something or other that makes me
still happier—as, for instance, your society. You are young, and health
beams out of your eyes. The girls become so friendly wherever we go,
and it’s as though I myself were the cause of their pleasure!”
“Where do you really get your knowledge of everything?” asked Pelle.
“Do you find that I know so much?” Sort laughed gaily. “I go about so
much, and I see so many different households, some where man and wife
are as one, and others where they live like cat and dog. I come into
contact with people of every kind. And I get to know a lot, too,
because I’m not like other men—more than one maiden has confided her
miseries to me. And then in winter, when I sit alone, I think over
everything—and the Bible is a good book, a book a man can draw wisdom
from. There a man learns to look behind things; and if you once realize
that everything has its other side, then you learn to use your
understanding. You can go behind everything if you want to, and they
all lead in the same direction—to God. And they all came from Him. He
is the connection, do you see; and once a man grasps that, then he is
always happy. It would be splendid to follow things up further—right up
to where they divide, and then to show, in spite of all, that they
finally run together in God again! But that I’m not able to do.”
“We ought to see about getting on.” Pelle yawned, and he began to
bestir himself.
“Why? We’re so comfortable here—and we’ve already done what we
undertook to do. What if there should be a pair of boots yonder which
Sort and Pelle won’t get to sole before they’re done with? Some one
else will get the job!”
Pelle threw himself on his back and again pulled his cap over his
eyes—he was in no hurry. He had now been travelling nearly a month with
Sort, and had spent almost as much time on the road as sitting at his
work. Sort could never rest when he had been a few days in one place;
he must go on again! He loved the edge of the wood and the edge of the
meadow, and could spend half the day there. And Pelle had many points
of contact with this leisurely life in the open air; he had his whole
childhood to draw upon. He could lie for hours, chewing a grass-stem,
patient as a convalescent, while sun and air did their work upon him.
“Why do you never preach to me?” he said suddenly, and he peeped
mischievously from tinder his cap.
“Why should I preach to you? Because I am religious? Well, so are you;
every one who rejoices and is content is religious.”
“But I’m not at all content!” retorted Pelle, and he rolled on his back
with all four limbs in the air. “But you—I don’t understand why you
don’t get a congregation; you’ve got such a power over language.”
“Yes, if I were built as you are—fast enough. But I’m humpbacked!”
“What does that matter? You don’t want to run after the women!”
“No, but one can’t get on without them; they bring the men and the
children after them. And it’s really queer that they should—for women
don’t bother themselves about God! They haven’t the faculty of going
behind things. They choose only according to the outside—they want to
hang everything on their bodies as finery—and the men too, yes, and the
dear God best of all—they’ve got a use for the lot!”
Pelle lay still for a time, revolving his scattered experiences. “But
Marie Nielsen wasn’t like that,” he said thoughtfully. “She’d willingly
give the shirt off her body and ask nothing for herself. I’ve behaved
badly to her—I didn’t even say goodbye before I came away!”
“Then you must look her up when we come to town and confess your fault.
There was no lovemaking between you?”
“She treated me like a child; I’ve told you.”
Sort was silent a while.
“If you would help me, we’d soon get a congregation! I can see it in
your eyes, that you’ve got influence over them, if you only cared about
it; for instance, the girl at Willow Farm. Thousands would come to us.”
Pelle did not answer. His thoughts were roaming back wonderingly to
Willow Farm, where Sort and he had last been working; he was once more
in that cold, damp room with the over-large bed, on which the pale
girl’s face was almost invisible. She lay there encircling her thick
braids with her transparent hand, and gazed at him; and the door was
gently closed behind him. “That was really a queer fancy,” he said, and
he breathed deeply; “some one she’d never laid eyes on before; I could
cry now when I think of it.”
“The old folks had told her we were there, and asked if she wouldn’t
like me to read something from God’s word with her. But she’d rather
see you. The father was angry and didn’t want to allow it. ‘She has
never thought about young men before,’ he said, ‘and she shall stand
before the throne of God and the Lamb quite pure.’ But I said, ‘Do you
know so precisely that the good God cares anything for what you call
purity, Ole Jensen? Let the two of them come together, if they can take
any joy in it.’ Then we shut the door behind you—and how was it then?”
Sort turned toward Pelle.
“You know,” replied Pelle crossly. “She just lay there and looked at me
as though she was thinking: ‘That’s what he looks like—and he’s come a
long way here.’ I could see by her eyes that you had spoken of me and
that she knew about all my swinishness.”
Sort nodded.
“Then she held out her hand to me. How like she is to one of God’s
angels already—I thought—but it’s a pity in one who’s so young. And
then I went close to her and took her hand.”
“And what then?” Sort drew nearer to Pelle. His eyes hung expectantly
on Pelle’s lips.
“Then she stretched out her mouth to me a little—and at that very
moment I forgot what sort of a hog I’d been—and I kissed her!”
“Didn’t she say anything to you—not a word?”
“She only looked at me with those eyes that you can’t understand. Then
I didn’t know what I—what I ought to do next, so I came away.”
“Weren’t you afraid that she might transfer death to you?”
“No; why should I be? I didn’t think about it. But she could never
think of a thing like that—so child-like as she was!”
They both lay for a time without speaking. “You have something in you
that conquers them all!” said Sort at length. “If only you would help
me—I’d see to the preaching!”
Pelle stretched himself indolently—he felt no desire to create a new
religion. “No, I want to go away and see the world now,” he said.
“There must be places in that world where they’ve already begun to go
for the rich folks—that’s where I want to go!”
“One can’t achieve good by the aid of evil—you had better stay here!
Here you know where you are—and if we went together—”
“No, there’s nothing here for any one to do who is poor—if I go on here
any longer, I shall end in the mud again. I want to have my share—even
if I have to strike a bloodsucker dead to get it—and that couldn’t be
any very great sin! But shan’t we see about getting on now? We’ve been
a whole month now tramping round these Sudland farms. You’ve always
promised me that we should make our way toward the heath. For months
now I’ve heard nothing of Father Lasse and Karna. When things began to
go wrong with me, it was as though I had quite forgotten them.”
Sort rose quickly. “Good! So you’ve still thoughts for other things
than killing bloodsuckers! How far is it, then, to Heath Farm?”
“A good six miles.”
“We’ll go straight there. I’ve no wish to begin anything to-day.”
They packed their possessions on their backs and trudged onward in
cheerful gossip. Sort pictured their arrival to Pelle. “I shall go in
first and ask whether they’ve any old boots or harness that we can
mend; and then you’ll come in, while we’re in the middle of a
conversation.”
Pelle laughed. “Shan’t I carry the bench for you? I can very well strap
it on the other things.”
“You shan’t sweat for me as well as yourself!” rejoined Sort, laughing.
“You’d want to take off even your trousers then.”
They had chattered enough, and tramped on in silence. Pelle stepped
forward carelessly, drinking in the fresh air. He was conscious of a
superfluity of strength and well-being; otherwise he thought of
nothing, but merely rejoiced unconsciously over his visit to his home.
At every moment he had to moderate his steps, so that Sort should not
be left behind.
“What are you really thinking about now?” he asked suddenly. He would
always have it that Sort was thinking of something the moment he fell
silent. One could never know beforehand in what region he would crop up
next.
“That’s just what the children ask!” replied Sort, laughing. “They
always want to know what’s inside.”
“Tell me, then—you might as well tell me!”
“I was thinking about life. Here you walk at my side, strong and
certain of victory as the young David. And yet a month ago you were
part of the dregs of society!”
“Yes, that is really queer,” said Pelle, and he became thoughtful.
“But how did you get into such a mess? You could quite well have kept
your head above water if you had only wanted to!”
“That I really don’t know. I tell you, it’s as if some one had hit you
over the head; and then you run about and don’t know what you’re doing;
and it isn’t so bad if you’ve once got there. You work and drink and
bang each other over the head with your beer-cans or bottles—”
“You say that so contentedly—you don’t look behind things—that’s the
point! I’ve seen so many people shipwrecked; for the poor man it’s only
one little step aside, and he goes to the dogs; and he himself believes
he’s a devilish fine fellow. But it was a piece of luck that you got
out of it all! Yes, it’s a wonder remorse didn’t make your life
bitter.”
“If we felt remorse we had brandy,” said Pelle, with an experienced
air. “That soon drives out everything else.”
“Then it certainly has its good points—it helps a man over the time of
waiting!”
“Do you really believe that an eternal kingdom is coming—the
‘thousand-year kingdom’—the millennium? With good times for all, for
the poor and the miserable?”
Sort nodded. “God has promised it, and we must believe His Word.
Something is being prepared over on the mainland, but whether it’s the
real millennium, I don’t know.”
They tramped along. The road was stony and deserted. On either side the
rocky cliffs, with their scrubby growth, were beginning to rise from
the fields, and before them ranged the bluish rocky landscape of the
heath or moorland. “As soon as we’ve been home, I shall travel; I must
cross the sea and find out what they do really intend there,” said
Pelle.
“I have no right to hold you back,” answered Sort quietly, “but it will
be lonely travelling for me. I shall feel as if I’d lost a son. But of
course you’ve got other things to think of than to remember a poor
hunchback! The world is open to you. Once you’ve feathered your nest,
you’ll think no more of little Sort!”
“I shall think of you, right enough,” replied Pelle. “And as soon as
I’m doing well I shall come back and look out for you—not before.
Father will be sure to object to my idea of travelling—he would so like
me to take over Heath Farm from him; but there you must back me up.
I’ve no desire to be a farmer.”
“I’ll do that.”
“Now just look at it! Nothing but stone upon stone with heather and
scrubby bushes in between! That’s what Heath Farm was four years ago
—and now it’s quite a fine property. That the two of them have done
—without any outside help.”
“You must be built of good timber,” said Sort. “But what poor fellow is
that up on the hill? He’s got a great sack on his back and he’s walking
as if he’d fall down at every step.”
“That—that is Father Lasse! Hallo!” Pelle waved his cap.
Lasse came stumbling up to them; he dropped his sack and gave them his
hand without looking at them.
“Are you coming this way?” cried Pelle joyfully; “we were just going on
to look for you!”
“You can save yourself the trouble! You’ve become stingy about using
your legs. Spare them altogether!” said Lasse lifelessly.
Pelle stared at him. “What’s the matter? Are you leaving?”
“Yes, we’re leaving!” Lasse laughed—a hollow laugh. “Leaving—yes! We’ve
left—indeed, we’ve each of us gone our own way. Karna has gone where
there’s no more care and trouble—and here’s Lasse, with all that’s
his!” He struck his foot against the sack, and stood there with face
averted from them, his eyes fixed upon the ground.
All signs of life had vanished from Pelle’s face. Horrified, he stared
at his father, and his lips moved, but he could form no words.
“Here I must meet my own son by accident in the middle of the empty
fields! So often as I’ve looked for you and asked after you! No one
knew anything about you. Your own flesh and blood has turned from you,
I thought—but I had to tell Karna you were ill. She fully expected to
see you before she went away. Then you must give him my love, she said,
and God grant all may go well with him. She thought more about you than
many a mother would have done! Badly you’ve repaid it. It’s a long time
ago since you set foot in our house.”
Still Pelle did not speak; he stood there swaying from side to side;
every word was like the blow of a club.
“You mustn’t be too hard on him!” said Sort. “He’s not to blame—ill as
he’s been!”
“Ah, so you too have been through bad times and have got to fight your
way, eh? Then, as your father, I must truly be the last to blame you.”
Lasse stroked his son’s sleeve, and the caress gave Pelle pleasure.
“Cry, too, my son—it eases the mind. In me the tears are dried up long
ago. I must see how I can bear my grief; these have become hard times
for me, you may well believe. Many a night have I sat by Karna and been
at my wits’ end—I could not leave her and go for help, and everything
went wrong with us all at the same time. It almost came to my wishing
you were ill. You were the one who ought to have had a kindly thought
for us, and you could always have sent us news. But there’s an end of
it all!”
“Are you going to leave Heath Farm, father?” asked Pelle quietly.
“They have taken it away from me,” replied Lasse wretchedly. “With all
these troubles, I couldn’t pay the last instalment, and now their
patience is at an end. Out of sheer compassion they let me stay till
Karna had fought out her fight and was happily buried in the
earth—every one could see it wasn’t a matter of many days more.”
“If it is only the interest,” said Sort, “I have a few hundred kroner
which I’ve saved up for my old days.”
“Now it’s too late; the farm is already taken over by another man. And
even if that were not the case—what should I do there without Karna?
I’m no longer any use!”
“We’ll go away together, father!” said Pelle, raising his head.
“No; I go nowhere now except to the churchyard. They have taken my farm
away from me, and Karna has worked herself to death, and I myself have
left what strength I had behind me. And then they took it away from
me!”
“I will work for us both—you shall be comfortable and enjoy your old
days!” Pelle saw light in the distance.
Lasse shook his head. “I can no longer put things away from me—I can no
longer leave them behind and go on again!”
“I propose that we go into the town,” said Sort. “Up by the church we
are sure to find some one who will drive us in.”
They collected their things and set off. Lasse walked behind the
others, talking to himself; from time to time he broke out into
lamentation. Then Pelle turned back to him in silence and took his
hand.
“There is no one to help us and give us good advice. On the contrary,
they’d gladly see us lose life and fortune if they could only earn a
few shillings on that account. Even the authorities won’t help the poor
man. He’s only there so that they can all have a cut at him and then
each run off with his booty. What do they care that they bring need and
misery and ruin upon us? So long as they get their taxes and their
interest! I could stick them all in the throat, in cold blood!”
So he continued a while, increasing in bitterness, until he broke down
like a little child.