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Updated: June 4, 2025
Then Pelle turned away a little, re- crossed his leg, and leant over on the other side, restless as a horse in blinkers. Close behind him his neighbor, Madam Frandsen, was bustling about her little kitchen. The door stood open on to the platform, and she chattered incessantly, half to herself and half to Pelle, about her gout, her dead husband, and her lout of a son.
Madam Olsen called out to her and invited her in, but the old woman shook her head. On the way back she looked in on Pelle. "He's coming this evening," she whispered delightedly. "I've been buying brandy and beefsteak for him, because he's coming this evening!" "Well, don't be disappointed, Madam Frandsen," said Pelle, "but he daren't venture here any more.
It was a miserable life. Every morning she came over to beg Pelle to look in The Working Man, to see whether her son had been caught. He was in the city Pelle and Madam Frandsen knew that. The police knew it also; and they believed him responsible for a series of nocturnal burglaries. He might well be sleeping in the outhouses and the kennels of the suburban villas.
They went to him in their misery, and loaded it all on his strong young shoulders, so that he could bear it for them. And Pelle accepted it all with an increasing sense that perhaps it was not quite aimlessly that he lingered here so near the foundations of society! At this time Widow Frandsen and her son Ferdinand came upon the scene. Misfortune must house itself somewhere!
Down by the exit into the street they had to push two tramps, who stood there shuddering in the cold. They were suspicious-looking people. "There are two men down there, but they aren't genuine," said Karl. "They look as if they came out of a music-hall." "Run over to old Madam Frandsen and tell her that," said Pelle. But her only answer was, "God be thanked, then they haven't caught him yet!"
"No; d'you think we are going to break our necks for the like of him?" retorted the policemen, as they scrambled down. "Any one going to stand a glass of Christmas beer?" As no response followed, they departed. Old Madam Frandsen went into her room and locked up; she was tired and worried and wanted to go to bed. But after a time she came shuffling down the long gangway.
Ferdinand and the boy dashed off, each in a different direction, and disappeared. And now they had been hunting him for three weeks already. He did not dare go home. The "Ark" was watched night and day, in the hope of catching him he was so fond of his mother. God only knew where he might be in that rainy, cold autumn. Madam Frandsen moved about her attic, lonely and forsaken.
Madam Olsen called out to her and invited her in, but the old woman shook her head. On the way back she looked in on Pelle. "He's coming this evening," she whispered delightedly. "I've been buying brandy and beefsteak for him, because he's coming this evening!" "Well, don't be disappointed, Madam Frandsen," said Pelle, "but he daren't venture here any more.
Ferdinand and the boy dashed off, each in a different direction, and disappeared. And now they had been hunting him for three weeks already. He did not dare go home. The "Ark" was watched night and day, in the hope of catching him he was so fond of his mother. God only knew where he might be in that rainy, cold autumn. Madam Frandsen moved about her attic, lonely and forsaken.
They went to him in their misery, and loaded it all on his strong young shoulders, so that he could bear it for them. And Pelle accepted it all with an increasing sense that perhaps it was not quite aimlessly that he lingered here so near the foundations of society! At this time Widow Frandsen and her son Ferdinand came upon the scene. Misfortune must house itself somewhere!
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