Pelle the Conqueror, vol 3 | Page 7

that account, supported by a feeling of community. He felt solemnly
happy, as on his birthday; and he had a feeling as though he must do
something. The public houses were open, and the workmen were
entering them in little groups. But he had no desire to sit there and pour
spirits down his throat. One could do that sort of thing when everything
had gone to the dogs.
He stationed himself in front of a pastry cook's window, eagerly
occupied in comparing the different kinds of cakes. He wanted to go
inside and expend five and twenty öre in celebration of the day. But
first of all the whole affair must be properly and methodically planned
out, so that he should not be disappointed afterward. He must, of course,
have something that he had never eaten before, and that was just the
difficult part. Many of the cakes were hollow inside too, and the feast
would have to serve as his evening meal.
It was by no means easy, and just as Pelle was on the point of solving
the difficulty he was startled out of the whole affair by a slap on the
shoulder. Behind him was Morten, smiling at him with that kindly
smile of his, as though nothing had gone wrong between them. Pelle
was ashamed of himself and could not find a word to say. He had been
unfaithful to his only friend; and it was not easy for him to account for
his behavior. But Morten didn't want any explanations; he simply
shook Pelle by the hand. His pale face was shining with joy. It still
betrayed that trace of suffering which was so touching, and Pelle had to
surrender at discretion. "Well, to think we should meet here!" he cried,
and laughed good-naturedly.
Morten was working at the pastry cook's, and had been out; now he was
going in to get some sleep before the night's work. "But come in with
me; we can at least sit and talk for half an hour; and you shall have a

cake too." He was just the same as in the old days.
They went in through the gate and up the back stairs; Morten went into
the shop and returned with five "Napoleons." "You see I know your
taste," he said laughing. Morten's room was right up under the roof; it
was a kind of turret-room with windows on both sides. One could look
out over the endless mass of roofs, which lay in rows, one behind the
other, like the hotbeds in a monstrous nursery garden. From the
numberless flues and chimneys rose a thin bluish smoke, which lay
oppressively over all. Due south lay the Kalvebod Strand, and further
to the west the hill of Frederiksberg with its castle rose above the mist.
On the opposite side lay the Common, and out beyond the chimneys of
the limekilns glittered the Sound with its many sails. "That's something
like a view, eh?" said Morten proudly.
Pelle remained staring; he went from one window to another and said
nothing. This was the city, the capital, for which he and all other poor
men from the farthest corners of the land, had longed so boundlessly;
the Fortunate Land, where they were to win free of poverty!
He had wandered through it in all directions, had marvelled at its
palaces and its treasures, and had found it to be great beyond all
expectation. Everything here was on the grand scale; what men built
one day they tore down again on the morrow, in order to build
something more sumptuous. So much was going on here, surely the
poor man might somehow make his fortune out of it all!
And yet he had had no true conception of the whole. Now for the first
time he saw the City! It lay there, a mighty whole, outspread at his feet,
with palaces, churches, and factory chimneys rising above the mass of
houses. Down in the street flowed a black, unending stream, a stream of
people continually renewed, as though from a mighty ocean that could
never be exhausted. They all had some object; one could not see it, but
really they were running along like ants, each bearing his little burden
to the mighty heap of precious things, which was gathered together
from all the ends of the earth.
"There are millions in all this!" said Pelle at last, drawing a deep breath.
"Yes," said Morten standing beside him. "And it's all put together by
human hands--by the hands of working people!"
Pelle started. That was a wonderful idea. But it was true enough, if one
thought about it.

"But now it has fallen into very different hands!" he exclaimed,
laughing. "Yes, they've got it away from us by trickery, just