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Updated: May 22, 2025
"To the devil with you, Jens!" And Jens had hastily thrust a pair of lasts into the shoes, while Master Andres went outside with the girl, and joked with her on the landing, in order to smooth her down. "Just a few nails, so that they'll hang together," said the master to Jens. And then, "Pelle, out you go, as quick as your legs will carry you!
The eldest apprentice had not had the pluck to leave the island; he was now a postman in Sudland and cobbled shoes at night in order to live. Now Peter stood on the deck above, while Jens and Pelle stood below and looked up at him admiringly. "Good-bye, Pelle!" he cried. "Give Jeppe my best respects and tell him he can kiss my bootsoles!"
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. "Thou Borglum bishop," he exclaims, "I shall subdue thee after all!
So he rented a room in the poor quarter of the town and settled there with his young woman. They could not get married; he was only nineteen years of age. When Pelle had business in the northern portion of the town he used to look in on them. The table stood between the bed and the window, and there sat Jens, working on repairs for the poor folk of the neighborhood.
Over the gate-arch there is, even to this day, a watch-tower; and all along the sides of the castle ran sentry-galleries, and in the corners stood towers with walls a metre thick. Yet the castle had not been erected in the most savage war time; for Jens Brahe, who built it, had also studied to make of it a beautiful and decorative ornament.
And they stand there and stare and wait; but let them wait; nothing happens, for now the 'Great Power' has got control of himself! And then all at once it's there behind! Hit away! Eight in the thick of the heap! Send them all to hell, the scoundrels! 'Cause a man must drink, in order to keep his energies in check.... Well, and there she sits! Can one of you lend me a krone?" "Not I!" said Jens.
A month after the Students' Meeting, at the invitation of my friend Jens Paludan-Mueller, I spent a few weeks at his home at Nykjoebing, in the island of Falster, where his father, Caspar Paludan-Mueller, the historian, was at the time head master of the Grammar-school. Those were rich and beautiful weeks, which I always remembered later with gratitude.
He held one hand before his eyes, and murmured as though in thought, and at every moment he raised his forefinger in the air. "She has found peace," he said thickly, trying to look intelligent. "Peace the higher it is " He could not find the word he wanted. Jens and Pelle replaced the men at the stretcher, and bore it home. They were afraid of what was before them.
Their mother was busy warming the supper in the oven, and in the chimney-corner sat a shrivelled old grandmother, knitting. It was a poverty-stricken home. "I really thought that was father," said the woman, shivering. "Has any of you heard of him?" The boys related what they had heard; some one had seen him here, another there. "People are only too glad to keep us informed," said Jens bitterly.
Then the next apprentice, Jens the music-devil, as he was called, because anything would produce a note between his fingers plucked so cleverly at his waxed-end that it straightway began to give out a buzzing undertone, rising and falling through two or three notes, as though an educated bumble-bee had been leading the whole orchestra.
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