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Updated: June 23, 2025
The Stolpe family lived in Elm Street, on the second floor of one of the new workmen's tenement houses. The stairs were roomy, and on the door there was a porcelain plate with their name on it. In the entry an elderly, well-dressed woman up to them. "Here is a comrade, mother," said Otto. "Welcome," she said, as she took Pelle's hand. She held it a moment in her own as she looked at him.
Lasse laughed a hollow laugh. "Leaving yes! We've left indeed, we've each of us gone our own way. Karna has gone where there's no more care and trouble and here's Lasse, with all that's his!" He struck his foot against the sack, and stood there with face averted from them, his eyes fixed upon the ground. All signs of life had vanished from Pelle's face.
"I went there on Thursday when the old things had leave to go out and beg for a little coffee; and one day I saw her." "Didn't you go up to her then?" "No; I was tired of listening to her lamentations!" Johanna was no longer stiff and defiant. She lay with her face turned away and answered a little sullenly Pelle's questions, while she played nervously with his fingers.
Pelle's action was not due to his own volition. He might as well try to lift himself up by his hair as determine that now he would be a human being by himself. It was an awakening of new powers. He no longer let sunshine and rain pass unnoticed over his head.
Then they fled into the kitchen, but the hired cook was in possession; at length they found an undisturbed haven in the bedroom. Ellen wound her arms round Pelle's neck and gazed at him in silence, quite lost in happiness and longing.
It was Hanne's look; behind it was the same wondering over life, but here was added to it a terrible knowledge. Suddenly her face changed; she discovered that she had been outwitted, and glared at him. "Is it true that you and mother were once sweethearts?" she suddenly asked mischievously. Pelle's face flushed. The question had taken him by surprise.
There's my hand on it and good luck to you! We must work the cause up, and perhaps we shall succeed yet; I tell you, you've given me back my courage! Now you persuade as many as you can, and don't miss the meetings; they'll be announced in The Working Man." He shook Pelle's hand eagerly. Pelle took a brisk walk out to the northward. He felt pleased and in the best of spirits.
Stimulated and startled by the terrible power which lay in their hands, the dustmen went home. There was something in all this that did not satisfy him; it was in his nature to create, not to destroy. But if only the poor would, they could make society all over again so Morten had one day said, and the words had never ceased to haunt Pelle's mind.
And you, Pelle, will you join us now? God is waiting and longing for you; he wants to use you for the good of all these little ones." And he held Pelle's hand in his, gazing at him compellingly; perhaps he thought Pelle had come in order to seek the shelter of his "Kingdom." Here was another who had the intention of leading the poor to the land of fortune! But Pelle had his own poor.
There was hatred in every stroke that Pelle struck, and they went like shocks through his playmate's body, but he never uttered a cry. No, there was no point in his crying, for the coin he held in his hand took away the pain. But about Pelle's body the air burnt like fire, his arms began to give way with fatigue, and his inclination diminished with every stroke. It was toil, nothing but hard toil.
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