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Updated: May 22, 2025
Received to-day the terrible, incomprehensible, but only too certain news that the Danevirke has been abandoned without a blow being struck. This is indescribable, overwhelming. Thursday, Feb. 28th. We may, unfortunately, assume it as certain that my dear friend Jens Paludan-Mueller fell at Oversoe on Feb. 5th. Feb. 28th. Heard definitely to-day. At half-past one this night finished my essay.
He triumphed openly over his accuser, and laughed at him, "Can't you find anything, you libeler?" Bruus did not answer. He pondered for a few moments, then called out, "Jens Larsen, where was it you saw the rector digging?" Jens Larsen had been standing to one side with his hands folded, watching the work.
Jens shrank from continually hearing his father's name on all lips, and avoided looking people in the eyes, but in Morten's open glance he saw no trace of this nameless grief. One evening, when matters were quite at their worst, they took Pelle home with them. They lived in the east, by the great clay-pit, where the refuse of the town was cast away.
Lassesen, one of my dogs, who had been following the sledges loose, was left behind this morning at the camping-place; we did not miss him till late in the day. Rasmus, one of the "Three Musketeers," fell to-day. Like Lurven, he pulled till he died. Jens was very ill, could not touch food, and was taken on Wisting's sledge.
Pelle had at first supposed that Jens and Morten must have been supported by the poor-box; he could not understand how a boy could bear his father to be a giant of whom the whole town went in terror. Jens seemed hard of hearing when any one spoke to him. "He has had so many beatings," said Morten. "Father can't endure him, because he is stupid."
"Best leave off thy efforts, knight Jens." Again it is the time of falling leaves, of stranded ships icy winter comes again, and the "white bees" are swarming, and sting the traveller's face till they melt. "Keen weather to-day," say the people, as they step in. Jens Glob stands so deeply wrapped in thought that he singes the skirt of his wide garment.
Most of his comrades were going home for the holidays, and their captain made no objection. The Swedish king was fighting in far-off Poland, and no one dreamed that he would come over the ice with his army in the depth of winter to reckon with Denmark. So Jens Kofoed took ship with the promise that he would be back in two weeks. But they were to be two long weeks.
When he had managed to get a job the girl would stand bending over him, waiting intently until he had finished, so that she could get something to eat. Then she would come back and cook something right away at the stove, and Jens would sit there and watch her with burning eyes until he had more work in hand.
Jens got nimbly on his feet; he always awoke with a cry of terror, guarding his head; but Emil and Peter, who were in the hobbledehoy stage, were terribly difficult to wake. Pelle would hasten downstairs, and begin to set everything in order, filling the soaking-tub and laying a sand-heap by the window-bench for the master to spit into.
The garrison surrendered, only to discover that they had been tricked. Jens Kofoed took command in the castle. The Swedish soldiers were set to doing chores for the farmers they had so lately harassed. The ship that was to have fetched reënforcements from Sweden was sent to Denmark instead, with the heartening news. They needed that kind there just then.
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