"O Lord, is that a man?" he cried to Jeppe, who sat at his window, shaving himself before the milk-can. "Just look how he puffs! Now he"ll go in and beg G.o.d to forgive him for going courting!"
Jeppe came to the window to see and to silence him; one could hear Brother Jorgen"s falsetto voice right down the street. "Has he been courting? However did you get him to venture such a leap?" he asked eagerly.
"Oh, it was while we were sitting at table. I had a tussle with my melancholy madman--because I couldn"t help thinking of the little Jorgen. G.o.d knows, I told myself, no little Jorgen has come to carry on your name, and the boy"s a weakling, and you"ve no one else to build on!
It"s all very well going about with your nose in the air all the days G.o.d gives you--everything will be swept away and be to no purpose. And everything of that sort--you know how I get thinking when ideas like that get the upper hand with me. I sat there and looked at the boy, and angry I felt with him, that I did; and right opposite him there was sitting a fine bit of womanhood, and he not looking at her. And with that I struck my hand on the table, and I says, "Now, boy, just you take Marie by the hand and ask her whether she"ll be your wife--I want to make an end of the matter now and see what you"re good for!" The boy all shrivels up and holds out his hand, and Marie, it don"t come amiss to her. "Yes, that I will!" she says, and grips hold of him before he has time to think what he"s doing. And we shall be having the marriage soon."
"If you can make a boot out of that leather!" said Jeppe.
"Oh, she"s a warm piece--look at the way she"s built. She"s thawing him already. Women, they know the way--he won"t freeze in bed."
Old Jorgen laughed contentedly, and went off to his work. "Yes, why, she"d breathe life into the dead," he announced to the street at large.
The others went out in their finest clothes, but Pelle did not care to go. He had not been able to accomplish his constant resolution to keep himself neat and clean, and this failure weighed upon him and abashed him. And the holes in his stockings, which were now so big that they could no longer be darned, were disgustingly apparent, with his skin showing through them, so that he had a loathing for himself.
Now all the young people were going out. He could see the sea in the opening at the end of the street; it was perfectly calm, and had borrowed the colors of the sunset. They would be going to the harbor or the dunes by the sea; there would be dancing on the gra.s.s, and perhaps some would get to fighting about a girl. But he wasn"t going to be driven out of the pack like a mangy dog; he didn"t care a hang for the whole lot of them!
He threw off his ap.r.o.n and established himself on a beer-barrel which stood outside before the gate. On the bench opposite sat the older inhabitants of the street, puffing at their pipes and gossiping about everything under the sun. Now the bells sounded the hour for leaving off work. Madame Rasmussen was beating her child and reviling it in time with her blows. Then suddenly all was silent; only the crying of the child continued, like a feeble evening hymn. Old Jeppe was talking about Malaga--"when I ran ash.o.r.e at Malaga!"--but Baker Jorgen was still lamenting his want of an heir, and sighing: "Yes, yes; if only one could see into the future!" Then he suddenly began to talk about the Mormons.
"It might really be great fun to see, some time, what they have to offer you," he said.
"I thought you"d been a Mormon a long time, Uncle Jorgen," said Master Andres. The old man laughed.
"Well, well; one tries all sorts of things in one"s time," he said, and looked out at the sky.
Up the street stood the watchmaker, on his stone steps, his face turned up to the zenith, while he shouted his senseless warnings: "The new time! I ask you about the new time, O G.o.d the Father!" he repeated.
Two weary stevedores were going homeward. "He"ll drive all poverty out of the world and give us all a new life--that"s the form his madness takes," said one of them, with a dreary laugh.
"Then he"s got the millennium on the brain?" said the other.
"No, he"s just snarling at the world," said old Jorgen, behind them. "We shall certainly get a change in the weather."
"Things are bad with him just now, poor fellow," said Bjerregrav, shuddering. "It was about this time of the year that he lost his wits."
An inner voice admonished Pelle: "Don"t sit there with your hands in your lap, but go in and look after your clothes!" But he could not bring himself to do so--the difficulties had become too insurmountable. On the following day Manna and the others called him, but he could not spring over the wall to join them; they had begun to turn up their noses at him and regard him critically. He did not very well understand it, but he had become an outcast, a creature who no longer cared about washing himself properly. But what was the use? He could not go on contending against the invincible! No one had warned him in time, and now the town had captured him, and he had given up everything else. He must shuffle through life as best he could.
No one had a thought for him! When washing was being done for his employers it never occurred to Madam to wash anything of his, and he was not the boy to come forward of himself. The washerwoman was more considerate; when she could she would smuggle in some of Pelle"s dirty linen, although it meant more work for her. But she was poor herself; as for the rest, they only wanted to make use of him. There was no one in town who cared sufficiently for his welfare to take the trouble even to open his mouth to tell him the truth. This was a thought that made him feel quite weak about the knees, although he was fifteen years old and had courage to tackle a mad bull. More than anything else it was his loneliness that weakened his powers of resistance. He was helpless alone among all these people, a child, who had to look after himself as best he could, and be prepared for attacks from every quarter.
He sat there, making no effort to dispel the misery that had come over him, and was working its will with him, while with half an ear he listened to the life around him. But suddenly he felt something in his waistcoat pocket--money! He felt immensely relieved at once, but he did not hurry; he slipped behind the gate and counted it. One and a half kroner. He was on the point of regarding it as a gift from on high, as something which the Almighty had in His great goodness placed there, but then it occurred to him that this was his master"s money. It had been given him the day before for repairs to a pair of ladies" shoes, and he had forgotten to pay it in, while the master, strangely enough, had quite forgotten to ask for it.
Pelle stood with bent back by the well outside, scrubbing himself over a bucket until his blood tingled. Then he put on his best clothes, drew his shoes on to his naked feet, to avoid the painful feeling of the ragged stockings, and b.u.t.toned his rubber collar--for the last time innocent of any tie--to his shirt. Shortly afterward he was standing outside a shop-window, contemplating some large neckties, which had just been put upon the market, and could be worn with any one of four faces outward; they filled the whole of the waistcoat, so that one did not see the shirt. Now he would be disdained no longer! For a moment he ran to and fro and breathed the air; then he got upon the scent, and ran at a breathless gallop toward the sea-dunes, where the young folk of the town played late into the summer night that lay over the wan sea.
Of course, it was only a loan. Pelle had to sole a pair of shoes for a baker"s apprentice who worked with Nilen; as soon as they were finished he would repay the money. He could put the money under the cutting-out board in his master"s room; the master would find it there, would gaze at it with a droll expression, and say: "What the devil is this?"
And then he would knock on the wall, and would treat Pelle to a long rigmarole about his magical gifts--and then he would ask him to run out and fetch a half-bottle of port.
He did not receive the money for soling the shoes; half the sum he had to pay out for leather, and the rest was a long time coming, for the baker"s apprentice was a needy wretch. But he did not doubt his own integrity; the master might be as sure of his money as if it had been in the bank. Yet now and again he forgot to give up petty sums--if some necessity or other was pressing him unexpectedly. They were, of course, all loans--until the golden time came. And that was never far away.
One day he returned home as the young master was standing at the door, staring at the driving clouds overhead. He gave Pelle"s shoulder a familiar squeeze. "How was it they didn"t pay you for the shoes at the Chamberlain"s yesterday?"
Pelle went crimson and his hand went to his waistcoat pocket. "I forgot it," he said in a low voice.
"Now, now!" The master shook him good-naturedly. "It"s not that I mistrust you. But just to be methodical!"
Pelle"s heart pounded wildly in his body; he had just decided to use the money to buy a pair of stockings, the very next time he went out--and then what would have happened? And the master"s belief in him! And all at once his offence showed itself to him in all its shameful treachery; he felt as if he was on the point of being sick, so disturbed was he.
Until this moment he had preserved through everything the feeling of his own worth, and now it was destroyed; there could not be any one wickeder than he in all the world. In future no one could trust him any more, and he could no longer look people straight in the face; unless he went to the master at once and cast himself and his shame unconditionally on his mercy. There was no other salvation, that he knew.
But he was not certain that the master would conceive the matter in its finer aspect, or that everything would turn out for the best; he had given up believing in fairy-tales. Then he would simply be turned away, or perhaps be sent to the courthouse, and it would be all up with him.
Pelle resolved to keep it to himself; and for many days he went about suffering from a sense of his own wickedness. But then necessity gripped him by the throat and brushed all else aside; and in order to procure himself the most necessary things he was forced to resort to the dangerous expedient of stating; when the master gave him money to buy anything, that it was to be put down. And then one day it was all up with him. The others were ready to pull down the house about his ears; they threw his things out of the garret and called him a filthy, beast.
Pelle wept; he was quite convinced that not he was the guilty person, but Peter, who was always keeping company with the nastiest women, but he could get no hearing. He hurried away, with the resolves that he would never come back.
On the dunes he was captured by Emil and Peter, who had been sent out after him by old Jeppe. He did not want to go back with them, but they threw him down and dragged him back, one taking his head and one his legs. People came to the door and laughed and asked questions, and the other two gave their explanation of the matter, which was a terrible disgrace for Pelle.
And then he fell ill. He lay under the tiled roof raving with fever; they had thrown his bed into the loft. "What, isn"t he up yet?" said Jeppe, astounded, when he came in to the workshop. "No? Well, he"ll soon get up when he gets hungry." It was no joke to take a sick apprentice his meals in bed. But Pelle did not come down.
Once the young master threw all considerations overboard and took some food up to him. "You"re making yourself ridiculous," sneered Jeppe; "you"ll never be able to manage people like that!" And Madam scolded.
But Master Andres whistled until he was out of hearing.
Poor Pelle lay there, in delirium; his little head was full of fancies, more than it would hold. But now the reaction set in, and he lay there stuffing himself with all that was brought him.
The young master sat upstairs a great deal and received enlightenment on many points. It was not his nature to do anything energetically, but he arranged that Pelle"s washing should be done in the house, and he took care that La.s.se should be sent for.
VIII
Jeppe was related to about half the island, but he was not greatly interested in disentangling his relationship. He could easily go right back to the founder of the family, and trace the generations through two centuries, and follow the several branches of the family from country to town and over the sea and back again, and show that Andres and the judge must be cousins twice removed. But if any insignificant person asked him: "How was it, then--weren"t my father and you first cousins?" he would answer brusquely, "Maybe, but the soup grows too thin after a time. This relationship!"
"Then you and I, good Lord! are second cousins, and you are related to the judge as well," Master Andres would say. He did not grudge people any pleasure they could derive from the facts of relationship. Poor people regarded him gratefully--they said he had kind eyes; it was a shame that he should not be allowed to live.
Jeppe was the oldest employer in the town, and among the shoemakers his workshop was the biggest. He was able, too, or rather he had been, and he still possessed the manual skill peculiar to the old days. When it came to a ticklish job he would willingly show them how to get on with it, or plan some contrivance to a.s.sist them. Elastic-sided boots and lace-up boots had superseded the old footwear, but honest skill still meant an honest reputation. And if some old fellow wanted a pair of Wellingtons or Bluchers of leather waterproofed with grease, instead of by some new-fangled devilry, he must needs go to Jeppe--no one else could shape an instep as he could. And when it came to handling the heavy dressed leathers for sea-boots there was no one like Jeppe. He was obstinate, and rigidly opposed to everything new, where everybody else was led away by novelty. In this he was peculiarly the representative of the old days, and people respected him as such.
The apprentices alone did not respect him. They did everything they could to vex him and to retaliate on him for being such a severe task-master. They all laid themselves out to mystify him, speaking of the most matter-of-fact things in dark and covert hints, in order to make old Jeppe suspicious, and if he spied upon them and caught them at something which proved to be nothing at all they had a great day of it.
"What does this mean? Where are you going without permission?" asked Jeppe, if one of them got up to go into the court; he was always forgetting that times had altered. They did not answer, and then he would fly into a pa.s.sion. "I"ll have you show me respect!" he would cry, stamping on the floor until the dust eddied round him. Master Andres would slowly raise his head. "What"s the matter with you this time, father?" he would ask wearily. Then Jeppe would break out into fulminations against the new times.
If Master Andres and the journeyman were not present, the apprentices amused themselves by making the old man lose his temper; and this was not difficult, as he saw hostility in everything. Then he would s.n.a.t.c.h up a knee-strap and begin to rain blows upon the sinner. At the same time he would make the most extraordinary grimaces and give vent to a singular gurgling sound. "There, take that, although it grieves me to use harsh measures!" he would mew. "And that, too--and that! You"ve got to go through with it, if you want to enter the craft!" Then he would give the lad something that faintly resembled a kick, and would stand there struggling for breath. "You"re a troublesome youngster--you"ll allow that?" "Yes, my mother used to break a broomstick over my head every other day!" replied Peter, the rogue, snorting. "There, you see you are! But it may all turn out for the best even now. The foundation"s not so bad!" Jeppe doddered to and fro, his hands behind his back.
The rest of the day he was inclined to solemnity, and did his best to obliterate all remembrance of the punishment. "It was only for your own good!" he would say, in a propitiatory tone.
Jeppe was first cousin to the crazy Anker, but he preferred not to lay claim to the fact; the man could not help being mad, but he made his living, disgracefully enough, by selling sand in the streets--a specialist in his way. Day by day one saw Anker"s long, thin figure in the streets, with a sackful of sand slung over his sloping shoulders; he wore a suit of blue twill and white woollen stockings, and his face was death-like. He was quite fleshless. "That comes of all his digging,"
people said. "Look at his a.s.sistant!"
He never appeared in the workshop with his sack of sand; he was afraid of Jeppe, who was now the oldest member of the family. Elsewhere he went in and out everywhere with his clattering wooden shoes; and people bought of him, as they must have sand for their floors, and his was as good as any other. He needed next to nothing for his livelihood; people maintained that he never ate anything, but lived on his own vitals. With the money he received he bought materials for the "New Time," and what was left he threw away, in his more exalted moments, from the top of his high stairs. The street-urchins always came running up when the word went round that the madness about the "new time" was attacking him.
He and Bjerregrav had been friends as boys. Formerly they had been inseparable, and neither of them was willing to do his duty and marry, although each was in a position to keep a wife and children. At an age when others were thinking about how to find favor with the womenfolk, these two were running about with their heads full of rubbish which enraged people. At that time a dangerous revolutionist was living with Bjerregrav"s brother; he had spent many years on Christianso, but then the Government had sent him to spend the rest of his term of captivity on Bornholm. Dampe was his name; Jeppe had known him when an apprentice in Copenhagen; and his ambition was to overthrow G.o.d and king. This ambition of his did not profit him greatly; he was cast down like a second Lucifer, and only kept his head on his shoulders by virtue of an act of mercy. The two young people regarded him as then justification, and he turned their heads with his venomous talk, so that they began to ponder over things which common folk do better to leave alone.
Bjerregrav came through this phase with a whole skin, but Anker paid the penalty by losing his wits. Although they both had a comfortable competence, they pondered above all things over the question of poverty--as though there was anything particular to be discovered about that!
All this was many years ago; it was about the time when the craze for freedom had broken out in the surrounding nations with fratricide and rebellion. Matters were not so bad on the island, for neither Anker nor Bjerregrav was particularly warlike; yet everybody could see that the town was not behind the rest of the world. Here the vanity of the town was quite in agreement with Master Jeppe, but for the rest he roundly condemned the whole movement. He always looked ready to fall upon Bjerregrav tooth and nail if the conversation turned on Anker"s misfortune.