“I live out in Kristianshavn—in the ‘Ark,’ if you know where that is!”
“That’s a queer sort of house to have tumbled into! I know the ‘Ark’ very well, it’s been so often described in the papers. There’s all sorts of people live there!”
“I don’t know anything about that,” said Pelle, half offended. “I like the people well enough…. But it’s capital that we should have run into one another’s arms like this! What bit of luck, eh? And I behaved like a clown and kept out of your way? But that was when I was going to the dogs, and hated everybody! But now nothing’s going to come between us again, you may lay to that!”
“That’s good, but now be off with you,” replied Morten, smiling; he was already half-undressed.
“I’m going, I’m going!” said Pelle, and he picked up his hat, and stood for a moment gazing out over the city. “But it’s magnificent, what you were saying about things just now!” he cried suddenly. “If I had the strength of all us poor folks in me, I’d break out right away and conquer the whole of it! If such a mass of wealth were shared out there’d never be any poverty any more!” He stood there with his arms uplifted, as though he held it all in his hands. Then he laughed uproariously. He looked full of energy. Morten lay half asleep, staring at him and saying nothing. And then he went.
Pipman scolded Pelle outrageously when at last he returned. “Curse it all, what are you thinking of? To go strolling about and playing the duke while such as we can sit here working our eyes out of our heads! And we have to go thirsty too! Now don’t you dream of being insolent to me, or there’ll be an end of the matter. I am excessively annoyed!”
He held out his hand in pathetic expostulation, although Pelle had no intention of answering him. He no longer took Pipman seriously. “Devil fry me, but a man must sit here and drink the clothes off his body while a lout like you goes for a stroll!”
Pelle was standing there counting the week’s earnings when he suddenly burst into a loud laugh as his glance fell upon Pipman. His blue naked shanks, miserably shivering under his leather apron, looked so enormously ridiculous when contrasted with the fully-dressed body and the venerable beard.
“Yes, you grin!” said Pipman, laughing too. “But suppose it was you had to take off your trousers in front of the old clothes’ man, and wanted to get upstairs respectably! Those damned brats! ‘Pipman’s got D. T.,’ they yell. ‘Pipman’s got D. T. And God knows I haven’t got D. T., but I haven’t got any trousers, and that’s just the trouble! And these accursed open staircases! Olsen’s hired girl took the opportunity, and you may be sure she saw all there was to see! You might lend me your old bags!”
Pelle opened his green chest and took out his work-day trousers.