Ditte: Girl Alive!

by Martin Andersen Nexø

Ditte lost her habit of stooping, and began to fill out as she grew up. She enjoyed the better life and the children's happiness—the one with the other added to her well-being. Her hair had grown, and allowed itself the luxury of curling over her forehead, and her chin was soft and round. No-one could say she was pretty, but her eyes were beautiful—always on the alert, watching for something useful to do. Her hands were red and rough—she had not yet learned how to take care of them.

Ditte had finished in the kitchen, and went into the living room. She sat down on the bench under the window, and began patching the children's clothes; at the same time she could see what was happening on the beach and on the downs.

Down on the shore the children were digging with all their might, building sand-gardens and forts. To the right was a small hut, neat and well cared for, outside which Rasmus Olsen, the fisherman, stood shouting in through the window. His wife had turned him out—it always sounded so funny when he had words with his wife, he mumbled on loudly and monotonously as a preacher—it made one feel quite sleepy. There was not a scrap of bad temper in him. Most likely his wife would come out soon, and she would give it him in another fashion.

They were always quarreling, those two—and always about the daughter. Both spoiled her, and each tried to get her over to their side—and came to blows over it. And Martha, the wretch, sided first with one and then with the other—whichever paid her best. She was a pretty girl, slim but strong enough to push a barrow full of fish or gear through the loose sand on the downs, but she was wild—and had plenty to say for herself. When she had had a sweetheart for a short time, she always ended by quarreling with him.

The two old people were deaf, and always came outside to quarrel—as if they needed air. They themselves thought they spoke in a low voice, all the time shouting so loudly that the whole hamlet knew what the trouble was about.

Ditte could see the sea from the window—it glittered beneath the blazing sun, pale blue and wonderful. It was just like a big being, softly caressing—and then suddenly it would flare up! The boats were on the beach, looking like cattle in their stalls, side by side. On the bench, two old fishermen sat smoking.

Now all the children from the hamlet came rushing up from the beach, like a swarm of frightened bees. They must have caught sight of the inn-keeper! He did not approve of children playing; they ought to be doing something useful. They fled as soon as he appeared, imagining that he had the evil eye. The swarm spread over the downs in all directions, and suddenly vanished, as if the earth had swallowed them.

Then he came tramping in his heavy leather boots. His long arms reached to his knees. When he went through the loose sand, his great bony hands on his thighs, he looked as if he were walking on all fours. His misshapen body was like a pair of bellows, his head resting between his broad shoulders, moved up and down like a buoy; every breath sounded like a steam-whistle, and could be heard from afar. Heavens, how ugly he looked! He was like a crouching goblin, who could make himself as big as he pleased, and see over all the huts in his search for food. The hard shut mouth was so big that it could easily swallow a child's head—and his eyes! Ditte shut her own, and shivered.

She quickly opened them, however; she must find out what his business was, taking care not to be seen herself.

The ogre, as the children called him, mainly because of his big mouth, came to a standstill at Rasmus Olsen's house. "Well, are you two quarreling again?" he shouted jovially. "What's wrong now—Martha, I suppose?"