Pelle the Conqueror — Volume 02 by Martin Andersen Nexø
page 16 of 362 (04%)
page 16 of 362 (04%)
![]() | ![]() |
|
flew to the ground and he had the great tin cover in his hand--
_chin-da-da-da chin-da-da-da!_ Suddenly by a stroke of magic the flute had turned into a drum and cymbals! Pelle was doubled up with laughter: then he looked in alarm at the knee-strap and again burst out laughing; but no one took any notice of him. The master's fingers and wrist were dancing a sort of devil's dance on the tin cover, and all of a sudden his elbows too were called into requisition, so that the cover banged against the master's left knee, bounced off again and quick as lightning struck against his wooden heel, which stuck out behind him; then against Pelle's head, and round about it went, striking the most improbable objects, _dum, dum, dum_, as though in wild, demoniacal obedience to the flute-like tones of the journeyman. There was no holding back. Emil, the oldest apprentice, began boldly to whistle too, cautiously at first, and then, as no one smacked his head, more forcefully. Then the next apprentice, Jens--the music-devil, as he was called, because anything would produce a note between his fingers--plucked so cleverly at his waxed-end that it straightway began to give out a buzzing undertone, rising and falling through two or three notes, as though an educated bumble-bee had been leading the whole orchestra. Out of doors the birds came hopping on to the apple-boughs; they twisted their heads inquisitively to one side, frantically fluffed out their feathers, and then they too joined in this orgy of jubilation, which was caused merely by a scrap of bright blue sky. But then the young master had an attack of coughing, and the whole business came to an end. Pelle worked away at his cobbler's wax, kneading the pitch and mixing grease with it. When the black lump was on the point of |
|