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Updated: May 31, 2025
On his way home Pelle pondered honestly over Morten's words, but he had to admit that he couldn't take them in. No, he had no occasion to surround his person with any sort of holiness or halo; he was only a healthy body, and he just wanted to do things. Pelle came rushing home from Master Beck's workshop, threw off his coat and waistcoat, and thrust his head into a bucket of water.
When their hunger was satisfied the witticisms began to fly. Morten's present was a great wedding-cake. It was a real work of art; he had made it in the form of a pyramid. On the summit stood a youthful couple, made of sugar, who held one another embraced, while behind them was a highly glazed representation of the rising sun.
Gammel-Skagen lies on the northern part of Jutland, at the other extremity of the country from Huusby-Klitter, and that was what Jörgen thought most of. He was determined not to stay for Elsé and Morten's wedding, which was to take place in a couple of weeks. "It was foolish to take his departure now," was the opinion of the old fisherman who had spoken to him before.
But Manna would hold on to Pelle's shoulder and throw her foot into his lap, so that he could button her boots. Sometimes she would pinch him secretly and look angry she was jealous of Morten. But Pelle did not understand; Morten's gentle, capable mind had entirely subjugated him and assumed the direction of their relations. Pelle was miserable if Morten was not there when he had an hour to spare.
Pelle looked at him quickly. He did not like Morten's ambiguous manner of expressing himself. It made him feel insecure. "Can't you talk reasonably?" he said. "I can't understand you." "No? And yet that's quite reason enough there have been lots of reasons since his great-grandfather's days. What the devil why should they want a reason referring to yesterday precisely?
While they sat talking, a sound came now and then from the other room, and each time a nervous look came into Morten's face, and he glanced in annoyance at the closed door. Gradually he became quite restless and his attention was fixed on these sounds. Pelle wondered at it, but asked no questions. Suddenly there came the sound of a chair being overturned.
At the same moment she heard Morten's heavy tread on the stone steps leading up to the front door: he must be returning from the stable. It was time to go to bed, but still she remained at the window, looking towards the summer-house. She now discovered two forms that were going slowly down the path which led to the wicket in the garden wall.
One day he hunted him up. Morten's dwelling was not difficult to find out; he had acquired a name as an author, and was often mentioned in the papers in connection with the lower classes. He lived on the South Boulevard, up in an attic as usual, with a view over Kalvebod Strand and Amager.
Morten rose quickly and went in, shutting the door carefully behind him. Pelle heard low voices Morten's admonishing, and a thin, refractory, girlish voice. "He's got a girl hidden in there," thought Pelle. "I'd better be off." He rose and looked out of the large attic window. How everything had changed since he first came to the capital and looked out over it from Morten's old lodging!
Now the footsteps were keeping time with his now; they had a double sound. And when he thought, another creature answered to him, from deep within him. There was something persistent about this, as there was in Morten's influence; an opinion that made its way through all obstacles, even when reduced to silence. What was wanted of him now hadn't he worked loyally enough?
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