Pelle the Conqueror, vol 4

Pelle the Conqueror, vol 4 [with
accents]

Project Gutenberg's Pelle the Conqueror, Vol. 4, by Martin Anderson
Nexo #4 in our series by Martin Anderson Nexo
Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the
copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing
this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook.
This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project
Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the
header without written permission.
Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the
eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is
important information about your specific rights and restrictions in how
the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a
donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved.
**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**
**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since
1971**
*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of
Volunteers!*****
Title: Pelle the Conqueror, Vol. 4
Author: Martin Anderson Nexo
Release Date: March, 2005 [EBook #7794] [Yes, we are more than one
year ahead of schedule] [This file was first posted on May 17, 2003]

Edition: 10
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-Latin-1
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PELLE THE
CONQUEROR, VOL. 4 ***

Produced by Eric Eldred, Jerry Fairbanks and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team.

PELLE THE CONQUEROR
PART IV.--DAYBREAK.

BY MARTIN ANDERSON NEXO

TRANSLATED FROM THE DANISH By Jessie Muir.

IV. DAYBREAK
I
Out in the middle of the open, fertile country, where the plough was
busy turning up the soil round the numerous cheerful little houses,
stood a gloomy building that on every side turned bare walls toward the
smiling world. No panes of glass caught the ruddy glow of the morning
and evening sun and threw back its quivering reflection; three rows of
barred apertures drank in all the light of day with insatiable avidity.
They were always gaping greedily, and seen against the background of
blue spring sky, looked like holes leading into the everlasting darkness.
In its heavy gloom the mass of masonry towered above the many
smiling homes, but their peaceable inhabitants did not seem to feel
oppressed. They ploughed their fields right up to the bare walls, and
wherever the building was visible, eyes were turned toward it with an
expression that told of the feeling of security that its strong walls gave.
Like a landmark the huge building towered above everything else. It
might very well have been a temple raised to God's glory by a grateful

humanity, so imposing was it; but if so, it must have been in by-gone
ages, for no dwellings--even for the Almighty--are built nowadays in so
barbaric a style, as if the one object were to keep out light and air! The
massive walls were saturated with the dank darkness within, and the
centuries had weathered their surface and made on it luxuriant cultures
of fungus and mould, and yet they still seemed as if they could stand
for an eternity.
The building was no fortress, however, nor yet a temple whose dim
recesses were the abode of the unknown God. If you went up to the
great, heavy door, which was always closed you could read above the
arch the one word Prison in large letters and below it a simple Latin
verse that with no little pretentiousness proclaimed:
"I am the threshold to all virtue and wisdom; Justice flourishes solely
for my sake."
One day in the middle of spring, the little door in the prison gate
opened, and a tall man stepped out and looked about him with eyes
blinking at the light which fell upon his ashen-white face. His step
faltered and he had to lean for support against the wall; he looked as if
he were about to go back again, but he drew a deep breath and went out
on to the open ground.
The spring breeze made a playful assault upon him, tried to ruffle his
prison-clipped, slightly gray hair, which had been curly and fair when
last it had done so, and penetrated gently to his bare body like a soft,
cool hand. "Welcome, Pelle!" said the sun, as it peeped into his
distended pupils in which the darkness of the prison-cell still lay
brooding. Not a muscle of his face moved, however; it was as though
hewn out of stone. Only the pupils of his eyes contracted so violently as
to be almost painful, but he continued to look earnestly before him.
Whenever he saw any one, he stopped and gazed eagerly, perhaps in
the hope that it was some one coming to meet him.
As he turned into the King's