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"She's as soft as a young bird, and she warms you through your clothes and everything!" But Pelle had something else on hand. He wanted to learn to swim. He wanted to know how to do everything that the town boys did, and to win back his place among them. He no longer dreamed of leading them.
The leap was unsuccessful, and made the bottle rock, so that the second leap was slanting and rebounded sideways. But then followed with lightning rapidity a number of leaps a perfect bombardment; and suddenly the mouse flew right out of the bottle, head foremost into the water. "That was a leap and a half!" cried Pelle, jumping straight up and down in the grass, with his arms at his sides.
"Be quiet, Pelle," she whispered anxiously; "you'll venture too far." She would not let go of him, so he had to sit down again to avoid attracting attention. His cheeks were burning, and he was as breathless as though he had been running up a hill. It was the first time he had ventured on a public platform; excitement had sent him thither. The people began to get up and to mix together.
She stood before him, slender, but generously formed; her hair once so thin and uncared-for fell in heavy waves over her forehead. She had emerged from her stunted shell into a glorious maturity. "Pelle," she said, with downcast eyes, gripping both his hands, "don't go there to- night wait till tomorrow!
"They've got the souls of grocers!" he would cry. "Then we must peg those soles!" "That won't answer with ladies' patent-leather shoes!" replied Pelle very positively. "Damn and blast it all, it will answer! We'll black the bottom with cobbler's wax." But when the black was trodden off, Jungfer Lund and the others called, and were wroth. They were not accustomed to walk in pegged shoes.
It was some time before any one came out and took the horses in, so that Pelle could go into the barn and see what was the matter. He found Long Ole walking about and writhing over one of his hands. His blouse was wrapped about it, but the blood was dripping through on to the floor of the barn.
In any case he could not give them food to-day, and he had grown out of the use of strong language. "Go up and say something nice to them! Don't you see how starved they are?" said Peter Dreyer, one evening. "They still have confidence in you from old days. But don't preach cooperation; you don't feed hungry men with music of the future." "Do you give them food then?" asked Pelle.
Many of them had come to the city in search of fortune, as had Pelle himself, and these were full of burning restlessness. There was something violent and feverish about them. Such was the situation when Pelle entered the capital. It was chaotic; there was no definite plan by which they could reach their goal.
Pelle already had them all against him. But just then a long, thin lad came forward. "Have you a pretty sister?" he asked. "I have no sisters at all," answered Pelle shortly. "That's a shame. Well, can you play hide-and-seek?" Of course Pelle could! "Well, then, play!" The thin boy pushed Pelle's cap over his eyes, and turned him with his face against the plank fence.
After the funeral he and Pelle walked home together while the others drove. Pelle talked of indifferent matters in order to draw Morten's thoughts away from the child, but Morten did not listen to him. "My dear fellow, you can't go on like this," said Pelle suddenly, putting his arm through Morten's.
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