It was strange to be walking again in this street, which had played so
great a part in his life. The traffic was heavier here than in other
places, and the stone paving made it more so. A peculiar adamantine
self-dependence was characteristic of this district where every step was
weighted with the weight of labor.

The shops were the same, and he also recognized several of the
shopkeepers. He tried to feel at home in the crowd, and looked into
people's faces, wondering whether any one would recognize him. He both
wished and feared it, but they hurried past, only now and then one of
them would wonder a little at his strange appearance. He himself knew
most of them as well as if it had been yesterday he had had to do with
those thousands, for the intermediate years had not thrust new faces in
between him and the old ones. Now and again he met one of his men
walking on the pavement with his wife on his arm, while others were
standing on the electric tramcars as drivers and conductors. Weaklings
and steady fellows--they were his army. He could name them by name and
was acquainted with their family circumstances. Well, a good deal of
water had run under the bridge since then!

He went into a little inn for travelling artisans, and engaged a room.

"It's easy to see that you've been away from this country for a day or
two," said the landlord. "Have you been far?"

Oh, yes, Pelle had seen something of the world. And here at home there
had been a good many changes. How did the Movement get on?

"Capitally! Yes, awfully well! Our party has made tremendous progress;
to-day we shall take the town!"