小学英语安徒生童话系列二TheStoryoftheWind於瓦尔德玛多伊阅读素材

the

Story

of

the

Windby

Hans

Christian

Andersen（1859）EAR

the

shores

of

the

GREat

Belt，

which

is

oneof

the

straits

that

connect

the

Cattegat

with

theBaltic，

stands

an

old

mansion

with

thick

red

walls.

Iknow

every

stone

of

it，“

says

the

Wind.”I

saw

itwhen

it

was

part

of

the

castle

of

Marck

Stig

on

thepromontory.

But

the

castle

was

obliged

to

be

pulleddown，

and

the

stone

was

used

again

for

the

wallsof

a

new

mansion

on

another

spot—the

baronialresidence

of

Borreby，

which

still

stands

near

the

coast.

I

knew

them

well，

those

noble

lordsand

ladies，

the

successive

generations

that

dwelt

there；

and

now

I'm

going

to

tell

you

ofWaldemar

Daa

and

his

daughters.

How

proud

was

his

bearing，

for

he

was

of

royal

blood，

andcould

boast

of

more

noble

deeds

than

merely

hunting

the

stag

and

emptying

the

wine-cup.

Hisrule

was

despotic：

'It

shall

be，'

he

was

accustomed

to

say.

His

wife，

in

garmentsembroidered

with

gold，

stepped

proudly

over

the

polished

marble

floors.

The

tapestries

weregorgeous，

and

the

furniture

of

costly

and

artistic

taste.

She

had

brought

gold

and

plate

withher

into

the

house.

The

cellars

were

full

of

wine.

Black，

fiery

horses，

neighed

in

the

stables.There

was

a

look

of

wealth

about

the

house

of

Borreby

at

that

time.

They

had

three

children，daughters，

fair

and

delicate

maidens—Ida，

Joanna，

and

Anna

Dorothea；

I

have

neverforgotten

their

names.

They

were

a

rich，

noble

family，

born

in

affluence

and

nurtured

inluxury.“Whir-r-r，

whir-r-r！”

roared

the

Wind，

and

went

on，“I

did

not

see

in

this

house，

as

inother

GREat

houses，

the

high-born

lady

sitting

among

her

women，

turning

the

spinning-wheel.

She

could

sweep

the

sounding

chords

of

the

guitar，

and

sing

to

the

music，

notalways

Danish

melodies，

but

the

songs

of

a

strange

land.

It

was

'Live

and

let

live，'

here.Stranger

guests

came

from

far

and

near，

music

sounded，

goblets

clashed，

and

I，”

said

theWind，“was

not

able

to

drown

the

noise.

Ostentation，

pride，

splendor，

and

displayruled，

but

not

the

fear

of

the

Lord.“It

was

on

the

evening

of

the

first

day

of

May，”

the

Wind

continued，“I

came

from

thewest，

and

had

seen

the

ships

overpowered

with

the

waves，

when

all

on

board

persisted

orwere

cast

shipwrecked

on

the

coast

of

Jutland.

I

had

hurried

across

the

heath

and

overJutland's

wood-girt

eastern

coast，

and

over

the

island

of

Funen，

and

then

I

drove

across

theGREat

belt，

sighing

and

moaning.

At

length

I

lay

down

to

rest

on

the

shores

of

Zeeland，

nearto

the

great

house

of

Borreby，

where

the

splendid

forest

of

oaks

still

flourished.

The

youngmen

of

the

neighborhood

were

collecting

branches

and

brushwood

under

the

oak-trees.

Thelargest

and

dryest

they

could

find

they

carried

into

the

village，

and

piled

them

up

in

a

heap

andset

them

on

fire.

Then

the

men

and

maidens

danced，

and

sung

in

a

circle

round

the

blazingpile.

I

lay

quite

quiet，”

said

the

Wind，“but

I

silently

touched

a

branch

which

had

beenbrought

by

one

of

the

handsomest

of

the

young

men，

and

the

wood

blazed

up

brightly，blazed

brighter

than

all

the

rest.

Then

he

was

chosen

as

the

chief，

and

received

the

name

ofthe

Shepherd；

and

might

choose

his

lamb

from

among

the

maidens.

There

was

greater

mirthand

rejoicing

than

I

had

ever

heard

in

the

halls

of

the

rich

baronial

house.

Then

the

noble

ladydrove

by

towards

the

baron's

mansion

with

her

three

daughters，

in

a

gilded

carriage

drawn

bysix

horses.

The

daughters

were

young

and

beautiful—three

charming

blossoms—a

rose，

alily，

and

a

white

hyacinth.

The

mother

was

a

proud

tulip，

and

never

acknowledged

thesalutations

of

any

of

the

men

or

maidens

who

paused

in

their

sport

to

do

her

honor.

Thegracious

lady

seemed

like

a

flower

that

was

rather

stiff

in

the

stalk.

Rose，

lily，

and

hyacinth—yes，

I

saw

them

all

three.

Whose

little

lambs

will

they

one

day

become？

thought

I；

theirshepherd

will

be

a

gallant

knight，

perhaps

a

prince.

The

carriage

rolled

on，

and

the

peasantsresumed

their

dancing.

They

drove

about

the

summer

through

all

the

villages

near.

But

onenight，

when

I

rose

again，

the

high-born

lady

lay

down

to

rise

again

no

more；

that

thingcame

to

her

which

comes

to

us

all，

in

which

there

is

nothing

new.

Waldemar

Daa

remained

fora

time

silent

and

thoughtful.

'The

loftiest

tree

may

be

bowed

without

being

broken，'

said

avoice

within

him.

His

daughters

wept；

all

the

people

in

the

mansion

wiped

their

eyes，

butLady

Daa

had

driven

away，

and

I

drove

away

too，”

said

the

Wind.“Whir-r-r，

whir-r-r-！“I

returned

again；

I

often

returned

and

passed

over

the

island

of

Funen

and

the

shores

ofthe

Belt.

Then

I

rested

by

Borreby，

near

the

glorious

wood，

where

the

heron

made

his

nest，the

haunt

of

the

wood-pigeons，

the

blue-birds，

and

the

black

stork.

It

was

yet

spring，some

were

sitting

on

their

eggs，

others

had

already

hatched

their

young

broods；

but

howthey

fluttered

about

and

cried

out

when

the

axe

sounded

through

the

forest，

blow

uponblow！

The

trees

of

the

forest

were

doomed.

Waldemar

Daa

wanted

to

build

a

noble

ship，

aman-of-war，

a

three-decker，

which

the

king

would

be

sure

to

buy；

and

these，

the

trees

ofthe

wood，

the

landmark

of

the

seamen，

the

refuge

of

the

birds，

must

be

felled.

The

hawkstarted

up

and

flew

away，

for

its

nest

was

destroyed；

the

heron

and

all

the

birds

of

theforest

became

homeless，

and

flew

about

in

fear

and

anger.

I

could

well

understand

how

theyfelt.

Crows

and

ravens

croaked，

as

if

in

scorn，

while

the

trees

were

cracking

and

fallingaround

them.

Far

in

the

interior

of

the

wood，

where

a

noisy

swarm

of

laborers

were

working，stood

Waldemar

Daa

and

his

three

daughters，

and

all

were

laughing

at

the

wild

cries

of

thebirds，

excepting

one，

the

youngest，

Anna

Dorothea，

who

felt

grieved

to

the

heart；

andwhen

they

made

preparations

to

fell

a

tree

that

was

almost

dead，

and

on

whose

nakedbranches

the

black

stork

had

built

her

nest，

she

saw

the

poor

little

things

stretching

out

theirnecks，

and

she

begged

for

mercy

for

them，

with

the

tears

in

her

eyes.

So

the

tree

with

theblack

stork's

nest

was

left

standing；

the

tree

itself，

however，

was

not

worth

much

to

speakof.

Then

there

was

a

GREat

deal

of

hewing

and

sawing，

and

at

last

the

three-decker

was

built.The

builder

was

a

man

of

low

origin，

but

possessing

great

pride；

his

eyes

and

foreheadspoke

of

large

intellect，

and

Waldemar

Daa

was

fond

of

listening

to

him，

and

so

wasWaldemar's

daughter

Ida，

the

eldest，

now

about

fifteen

years

old；

and

while

he

was

buildingthe

ship

for

the

father，

he

was

building

for

himself

a

castle

in

the

air，

in

which

he

and

Idawere

to

live

when

they

were

married.

This

might

have

happened，

indeed，

if

there

had

been

areal

castle，

with

stone

walls，

ramparts，

and

a

moat.

But

in

spite

of

his

clever

head，

thebuilder

was

still

but

a

poor，

inferior

bird；

and

how

can

a

sparrow

expect

to

be

admitted

intothe

society

of

peacocks？“I

passed

on

in

my

course，”

said

the

Wind，“and

he

passed

away

also.

He

was

not

allowedto

remain，

and

little

Ida

got

over

it，

because

she

was

obliged

to

do

so.

Proud，

blackhorses，

worth

looking

at，

were

neighing

in

the

stable.

And

they

were

locked

up；

for

theadmiral，

who

had

been

sent

by

the

king

to

inspect

the

new

ship，

and

make

arrangements

forits

purchase，

was

loud

in

admiration

of

these

beautiful

horses.

I

heard

it

all，”

said

theWind，“for

I

accompanied

the

gentlemen

through

the

open

door

of

the

stable，

and

strewedstalks

of

straw，

like

bars

of

gold，

at

their

feet.

Waldemar

Daa

wanted

gold，

and

the

admiralwished

for

the

proud

black

horses；

therefore

he

praised

them

so

much.

But

the

hint

was

nottaken，

and

consequently

the

ship

was

not

bought.

It

remained

on

the

shore

covered

withboards，—a

Noah's

ark

that

never

got

to

the

water—Whir-r-r-r—and

that

was

a

pity.“In

the

winter，

when

the

fields

were

covered

with

snow，

and

the

water

filled

with

largeblocks

of

ice

which

I

had

blown

up

to

the

coast，”

continued

the

Wind，“GREat

flocks

of

crowsand

ravens，

dark

and

black

as

they

usually

are，

came

and

alighted

on

the

lonely，

desertedship.

Then

they

croaked

in

harsh

accents

of

the

forest

that

now

existed

no

more，

of

the

manypretty

birds'

nests

destroyed

and

the

little

ones

left

without

a

home；

and

all

for

the

sake

ofthat

great

bit

of

lumber，

that

proud

ship，

that

never

sailed

forth.

I

made

the

snowflakeswhirl

till

the

snow

lay

like

a

great

lake

round

the

ship，

and

drifted

over

it.

I

let

it

hear

myvoice，

that

it

might

know

what

the

storm

has

to

say.

Certainly

I

did

my

part

towards

teachingit

seamanship.“That

winter

passed

away，

and

another

winter

and

summer

both

passed，

as

they

are

stillpassing

away，

even

as

I

pass

away.

The

snow

drifts

onwards，

the

apple-blossoms

arescattered，

the

leaves

fall，—everything

passes

away，

and

men

are

passing

away

too.

But

theGREat

man's

daughters

are

still

young，

and

little

Ida

is

a

rose

as

fair

to

look

upon

as

on

theday

when

the

shipbuilder

first

saw

her.

I

often

tumbled

her

long，

brown

hair，

while

she

stoodin

the

garden

by

the

apple-tree，

musing，

and

not

heeding

how

I

strewed

the

blossoms

on

herhair，

and

dishevelled

it；

or

sometimes，

while

she

stood

gazing

at

the

red

sun

and

the

goldensky

through

the

opening

branches

of

the

dark，

thick

foliage

of

the

garden

trees.

Her

sisterJoanna

was

bright

and

slender

as

a

lily；

she

had

a

tall

and

lofty

carriage

and

figure，though，

like

her

mother，

rather

stiff

in

back.

She

was

very

fond

of

walking

through

the

greathall，

where

hung

the

portraits

of

her

ancestors.

The

women

were

represented

in

dresses

ofvelvet

and

silk，

with

tiny

little

hats，

embroidered

with

pearls，

on

their

braided

hair.

Theywere

all

handsome

women.

The

gentlemen

appeared

clad

in

steel，

or

in

rich

cloaks

lined

withsquirrel's

fur；

they

wore

little

ruffs，

and

swords

at

their

sides.

Where

would

Joanna's

place

beon

that

wall

some

day？

and

how

would

he

look，—her

noble

lord

and

husband？

This

is

whatshe

thought

of，

and

often

spoke

of

in

a

low

voice

to

herself.

I

heard

it

as

I

swept

into

the

longhall，

and

turned

round

to

come

out

again.

Anna

Dorothea，

the

pale

hyacinth，

a

child

offourteen，

was

quiet

and

thoughtful；

her

large，

deep，

blue

eyes

had

a

dreamy

look，

but

achildlike

smile

still

played

round

her

mouth.

I

was

not

able

to

blow

it

away，

neither

did

I

wish

todo

so.

We

have

met

in

the

garden，

in

the

hollow

lane，

in

the

field

and

meadow，

where

shegathered

herbs

and

flowers

which

she

knew

would

be

useful

to

her

father

in

preparing

thedrugs

and

mixtures

he

was

always

concocting.

Waldemar

Daa

was

arrogant

and

proud，

buthe

was

also

a

learned

man，

and

knew

a

great

deal.

It

was

no

secret，

and

many

opinions

wereexpressed

on

what

he

did.

In

his

fireplace

there

was

a

fire，

even

in

summer

time.

He

wouldlock

himself

in

his

room，

and

for

days

the

fire

would

be

kept

burning；

but

he

did

not

talkmuch

of

what

he

was

doing.

The

secret

powers

of

nature

are

generally

discovered

in

solitude，and

did

he

not

soon

expect

to

find

out

the

art

of

making

the

greatest

of

all

good

things—theart

of

making

gold？

So

he

fondly

hoped；

therefore

the

chimney

smoked

and

the

fire

crackledso

constantly.

Yes，

I

was

there

too，”

said

the

Wind.“'Leave

it

alone，'

I

sang

down

thechimney；

'leave

it

alone，

it

will

all

end

in

smoke，

air，

coals，

and

ashes，

and

you

will

burnyour

fingers.'

But

Waldemar

Daa

did

not

leave

it

alone，

and

all

he

possessed

vanished

likesmoke

blown

by

me.

The

splendid

black

horses，

where

are

they？

What

became

of

the

cows

inthe

field，

the

old

gold

and

silver

vessels

in

cupboards

and

chests，

and

even

the

house

andhome

itself？

It

was

easy

to

melt

all

these

away

in

the

gold-making

crucible，

and

yet

obtain

nogold.

And

so

it

was.

Empty

are

the

barns

and

store-rooms，

the

cellars

and

cupboards；

theservants

decreased

in

number，

and

the

mice

multiplied.

First

one

window

became

broken，

andthen

another，

so

that

I

could

get

in

at

other

places

besides

the

door.

'Where

the

chimneysmokes，

the

meal

is

being

cooked，'

says

the

proverb；

but

here

a

chimney

smoked

thatdevoured

all

the

meals

for

the

sake

of

gold.

I

blew

round

the

courtyard，”

said

the

Wind，“likea

watchman

blowing

his

home，

but

no

watchman

was

there.

I

twirled

the

weather-cock

roundon

the

summit

of

the

tower，

and

it

creaked

like

the

snoring

of

a

warder，

but

no

warder

wasthere；

nothing

but

mice

and

rats.

Poverty

laid

the

table-cloth；

poverty

sat

in

the

wardrobeand

in

the

larder.

The

door

fell

off

its

hinges，

cracks

and

fissures

made

their

appearanceeverywhere；

so

that

I

could

go

in

and

out

at

pleasure，

and

that

is

how

I

know

all

about

it.Amid

smoke

and

ashes，

sorrow，

and

sleepless

nights，

the

hair

and

beard

of

the

master

ofthe

house

turned

gray，

and

deep

furrows

showed

themselves

around

his

temples；

his

skinturned

pale

and

yellow，

while

his

eyes

still

looked

eagerly

for

gold，

the

longed-for

gold，

andthe

result

of

his

labor

was

debt

instead

of

gain.

I

blew

the

smoke

and

ashes

into

his

face

andbeard；

I

moaned

through

the

broken

window-panes，

and

the

yawning

clefts

in

the

walls；

Iblew

into

the

chests

and

drawers

belonging

to

his

daughters，

wherein

lay

the

clothes

that

hadbecome

faded

and

threadbare，

from

being

worn

over

and

over

again.

Such

a

song

had

notbeen

sung，

at

the

children's

cradle

as

I

sung

now.

The

lordly

life

had

changed

to

a

life

ofpenury.

I

was

the

only

one

who

rejoiced

aloud

in

that

castle，”

said

the

Wind.“At

last

Isnowed

them

up，

and

they

say

snow

keeps

people

warm.

It

was

good

for

them，

for

they

hadno

wood，

and

the

forest，

from

which

they

might

have

obtained

it，

had

been

cut

down.

Thefrost

was

very

bitter，

and

I

rushed

through

loop-holes

and

passages，

over

gables

and

roofswith

keen

and

cutting

swiftness.

The

three

high-born

daughters

were

lying

in

bed

because

ofthe

cold，

and

their

father

crouching

beneath

his

leather

coverlet.

Nothing

to

eat，

nothing

toburn，

no

fire

on

the

hearth！

Here

was

a

life

for

high-born

people！

'Give

it

up，

give

it

up！'But

my

Lord

Daa

would

not

do

that.

'After

winter，

spring

will

come，'

he

said，

'after

want，good

times.

We

must

not

lose

patience，

we

must

learn

to

wait.

Now

my

horses

and

lands

areall

mortgaged，

it

is

indeed

high

time；

but

gold

will

come

at

last—at

Easter.'“I

heard

him

as

he

thus

spoke；

he

was

looking

at

a

spider's

web，

and

he

continued，'Thou

cunning

little

weaver，

thou

dost

teach

me

perseverance.

Let

any

one

tear

thy

web，and

thou

wilt

begin

again

and

repair

it.

Let

it

be

entirely

destroyed，

thou

wilt

resolutely

beginto

make

another

till

it

is

completed.

So

ought

we

to

do，

if

we

wish

to

succeed

at

last.'“It

was

the

morning

of

Easter-day.

The

bells

sounded

from

the

neighboring

church，

andthe

sun

seemed

to

rejoice

in

the

sky.

The

master

of

the

castle

had

watched

through

thenight，

in

feverish

excitement，

and

had

been

melting

and

cooling，

distilling

and

mixing.

Iheard

him

sighing

like

a

soul

in

despair；

I

heard

him

praying，

and

I

noticed

how

he

held

hisbreath.

The

lamp

burnt

out，

but

he

did

not

observe

it.

I

blew

up

the

fire

in

the

coals

on

thehearth，

and

it

threw

a

red

glow

on

his

ghastly

white

face，

lighting

it

up

with

a

glare，

whilehis

sunken

eyes

looked

out

wildly

from

their

cavernous

depths，

and

appeared

to

grow

largerand

more

prominent，

as

if

they

would

burst

from

their

sockets.

'Look

at

the

alchymic

glass，'he

cried；

'something

glows

in

the

crucible，

pure

and

heavy.'

He

lifted

it

with

a

tremblinghand，

and

exclaimed

in

a

voice

of

agitation，

'Gold！

gold！'

He

was

quite

giddy，

I

could

haveblown

him

down，”

said

the

Wind；“but

I

only

fanned

the

glowing

coals，

and

accompaniedhim

through

the

door

to

the

room

where

his

daughter

sat

shivering.

His

coat

was

powderedwith

ashes，

and

there

were

ashes

in

his

beard

and

in

his

tangled

hair.

He

stood

erect，

andheld

high

in

the

air

the

brittle

glass

that

contained

his

costly

treasure.

'Found！

found！Gold！

gold！'

he

shouted，

again

holding

the

glass

aloft，

that

it

might

FLASH

in

thesunshine；

but

his

hand

trembled，

and

the

alchymic

glass

fell

from

it，

clattering

to

theground，

and

brake

in

a

thousand

pieces.

The

last

bubble

of

his

happiness

had

burst，

with

awhiz

and

a

whir，

and

I

rushed

away

from

the

gold-maker's

house.“Late

in

the

autumn，

when

the

days

were

short，

and

the

mist

sprinkled

cold

drops

on

theberries

and

the

leafless

branches，

I

came

back

in

fresh

spirits，

rushed

through

the

air，

sweptthe

sky

clear，

and

snapped

off

the

dry

twigs，

which

is

certainly

no

GREat

labor

to

do，

yet

itmust

be

done.

There

was

another

kind

of

sweeping

taking

place

at

Waldemar

Daa's，

in

thecastle

of

Borreby.

His

enemy，

Owe

Ramel，

of

Basnas，

was

there，

with

the

mortgage

ofthe

house

and

everything

it

contained，

in

his

pocket.

I

rattled

the

broken

windows，

beatagainst

the

old

rotten

doors，

and

whistled

through

cracks

and

crevices，

so

that

Mr.

OweRamel

did

not

much

like

to

remain

there.

Ida

and

Anna

Dorothea

wept

bitterly，

Joanna

stood，pale

and

proud，

biting

her

lips

till

the

blood

came；

but

what

could

that

avail？

Owe

Rameloffered

Waldemar

Daa

permission

to

remain

in

the

house

till

the

end

of

his

life.

No

one

thankedhim

for

the

offer，

and

I

saw

the

ruined

old

gentleman

lift

his

head，

and

throw

it

back

moreproudly

than

ever.

Then

I

rushed

against

the

house

and

the

old

lime-trees

with

such

force，that

one

of

the

thickest

branches，

a

decayed

one，

was

broken

off，

and

the

branch

fell

atthe

entrance，

and

remained

there.

It

might

have

been

used

as

a

broom，

if

any

one

hadwanted

to

sweep

the

place

out，

and

a

grand

sweeping-out

there

really

was；

I

thought

itwould

be

so.

It

was

hard

for

any

one

to

preserve

composure

on

such

a

day；

but

thesepeople

had

strong

wills，

as

unbending

as

their

hard

fortune.

There

was

nothing

they

could

calltheir

own，

excepting

the

clothes

they

wore.

Yes，

there

was

one

thing

more，

an

alchymist'sglass，

a

new

one，

which

had

been

lately

bought，

and

filled

with

what

could

be

gathered

fromthe

ground

of

the

treasure

which

had

promised

so

much

but

failed

in

keeping

its

promise.Waldemar

Daa

hid

the

glass

in

his

bosom，

and，

taking

his

stick

in

his

hand，

the

once

richgentleman

passed

with

his

daughters

out

of

the

house

of

Borreby.

I

blew

coldly

upon

hisflustered

cheeks，

I

stroked

his

gray

beard

and

his

long

white

hair，

and

I

sang

as

well

as

Iwas

able，

'Whir-r-r，

whir-r-r.

Gone

away！

Gone

away！'

Ida

walked

on

one

side

of

the

oldman，

and

Anna

Dorothea

on

the

other；

Joanna

turned

round，

as

they

left

the

entrance.Why？

Fortune

would

not

turn

because

she

turned.

She

looked

at

the

stone

in

the

walls

whichhad

once

formed

part

of

the

castle

of

Marck

Stig，

and

perhaps

she

thought

of

his

daughtersand

of

the

old

song，—'the

eldest

and

youngest，

hand-in-hand，Went

forth

alone

to

a

distant

land'.these

were

only

two；

here

there

were

three，

and

their

father

with

them

also.

They

walkedalong

the

high-road，

where

once

they

had

driven

in

their

splendid

carriage；

they

went

forthwith

their

father

as

beggars.

They

wandered

across

an

open

field

to

a

mud

hut，

which

theyrented

for

a

dollar

and

a

half

a

year，

a

new

home，

with

bare

walls

and

empty

cupboards.Crows

and

magpies

fluttered

about

them，

and

cried，

as

if

in

contempt，

'Caw，

caw，

turnedout

of

our

nest—caw，

caw，'

as

they

had

done

in

the

wood

at

Borreby，

when

the

trees

werefelled.

Daa

and

his

daughters

could

not

help

hearing

it，

so

I

blew

about

their

ears

to

drown

thenoise；

what

use

was

it

that

they

should

listen？

So

they

went

to

live

in

the

mud

hut

in

theopen

field，

and

I

wandered

away，

over

moor

and

meadow，

through

bare

bushes

andleafless

forests，

to

the

open

sea，

to

the

broad

shores

in

other

lands，

'Whir-r-r，

whir-r-r！Away，

away！'

year

after

year.“And

what

became

of

Waldemar

Daa

and

his

daughters？

Listen；

the

Wind

will

tell

us：“the

last

I

saw

of

them

was

the

pale

hyacinth，

Anna

Dorothea.

She

was

old

and

bentthen；

for

fifty

years

had

passed

and

she

had

outlived

them

all.

She

could

relate

the

history.Yonder，

on

the

heath，

near

the

town

of

Wiborg，

in

Jutland，

stood

the

fine

new

house

ofthe

canon.

It

was

built

of

red

brick，

with

projecting

gables.

It

was

inhabited，

for

the

smokecurled

up

thickly

from

the

chimneys.

The

canon's

gentle

lady

and

her

beautiful

daughters

sat

inthe

bay-window，

and

looked

over

the

hawthorn

hedge

of

the

garden

towards

the

brownheath.

What

were

they

looking

at？

Their

glances

fell

upon

a

stork's

nest，

which

was

builtupon

an

old

tumbledown

hut.

The

roof，

as

far

as

one

existed

at

all，

was

covered

with

mossand

lichen.

The

stork's

nest

covered

the

GREater

part

of

it，

and

that

alone

was

in

a

goodcondition；

for

it

was

kept

in

order

by

the

stork

himself.

That

is

a

house

to

be

looked

at，

andnot

to

be

touched，”

said

the

Wind.“For

the

sake

of

the

stork's

nest

it

had

been

allowed

toremain，

although

it

is

a

blot

on

the

landscape.

They

did

not

like

to

drive

the

stork

away；therefore

the

old

shed

was

left

standing，

and

the

poor

woman

who

dwelt

in

it

allowed

to

stay.She

had

the

Egyptian

bird

to

thank

for

that；

or

was

it

perchance

her

reward

for

having

onceinterceded

for

the

preservation

of

the

nest

of

its

black

brother

in

the

forest

of

Borreby？

Atthat

time

she，

the

poor

woman，

was

a

young

child，

a

white

hyacinth

in

a

rich

garden.

Sheremembered

that

time

well；

for

it

was

Anna

Dorothea.“'O-h，

o-h，'

she

sighed；

for

people

can

sigh

like

the

moaning

of

the

wind

among

thereeds

and

rushes.

'O-h，

o-h，'

she

would

say，

'no

bell

sounded

at

thy

burial，

WaldemarDaa.

The

poor

school-boys

did

not

even

sing

a

psalm

when

the

former

lord

of

Borreby

was

laidin

the

earth

to

rest.

O-h，

everything

has

an

end，

even

misery.

Sister

Ida

became

the

wife

ofa

peasant；

that

was

the

hardest

trial

which

befell

our

father，

that

the

husband

of

his

owndaughter

should

be

a

miserable

serf，

whom

his

owner

could

place

for

punishment

on

thewooden

horse.

I

suppose

he

is

under

the

ground

now；

and

Ida—alas！

alas！

it

is

not

endedyet；

miserable

that

I

am！

Kind

Heaven，

grant

me

that

I

may

die.'“That

was

Anna

Dorothea's

prayer

in

the

wretched

hut

that

was

left

standing

for

the

sakeof

the

stork.

I

took

pity

on

the

proudest

of

the

sisters，”

said

the

Wind.“Her

courage

was

likethat

of

a

man；

and

in

man's

clothes

she

served

as

a

sailor

on

board

ship.

She

was

of

fewwords，

and

of

a

dark

countenance；

but

she

did

not

know

how

to

climb，

so

I

blew

heroverboard

before

any

one

found

out

that

she

was

a

woman；

and，

in

my

opinion，

that

waswell

done，”

said

the

Wind.On

such

another

Easter

morning

as

that

on

which

Waldemar

Daa

imagined

he

haddiscovered

the

art

of

making

gold，

I

heard

the

tones

of

a

psalm

under

the

stork's

nest，

andwithin

the

crumbling

walls.

It

was

Anna

Dorothea's

last

song.

There

was

no

window

in

thehut，

only

a

hole

in

the

wall；

and

the

sun

rose

like

a

globe

of

burnished

gold，

and

lookedthrough.

With

what

splendor

he

filled

that

dismal

dwelling！

Her

eyes

were

glazing，

and

herheart

breaking；

but

so

it

would

have

been，

even

had

the

sun

not

shone

that

morning

onAnna

Dorothea.

The

stork's

nest

had

secured

her

a

home

till

her

death.

I

sung

over

hergrave；

I

sung

at

her

father's

grave.

I

know

where

it

lies，

and

where

her

grave

is

too，

butnobody

else

knows

it.“New

times

now；

all

is

changed.

the

old

high-road

is

lost

amid

cultivated

fields；

the

newone

now

winds

along

over

covered

graves；

and

soon

the

railway

will

come，

with

its

train

ofcarriages，

and

rush

over

graves

where

lie

those

whose

very

names

are

forgoten.

All

passedaway，

passed

away！“This

is

the

story

of

Waldemar

Daa

and

his

daughters.

Tell

it

better，

any

of

you，

if

youknow

how，”

said

the

Wind；

and

he

rushed

away，

and

was

gone.风刮过草地，草儿便像一泓清水，泛起层层涟漪；若是它刮过了一片麦田，麦田便像一片海洋，生出阵阵波浪。这是风的舞蹈。请听它讲的：它是用歌把它唱出来的，而且在树林里发出的那响声又不同於墙上的风孔、裂缝和开口的地方发出的声音。你瞧，风在天上是怎样像赶羊群似地追逐着云彩；你听，风在地面上如同守卫人吹号角一样鸣响着闯过敞开的城门。它奇妙地从烟囱口吹进，吹到壁炉里；火於是生出烈焰，溅出了火星，把屋子照得通明，坐在这儿听风讲故事是多么暖和惬意。只让风自个儿讲！它知道的童话和故事比我们知道的加在一起还要多。听，它现在讲甚么：“呼——呜！刮了过去！”——这便是它唱的歌的副歌。“在大海峡1边上有一座古老的庄子，庄墙的砖是红色的，块头很大！”风说道，“我熟悉每一块砖石，以前，它被砌在海角上马斯克·斯蒂2寨子上的时候我就见过它；它不得不被拆下来！砖石又被砌成一道新墙，一座另外的新的庄子，那就是波尔毕农庄3，它现在还在那儿。”我见过住在里面的那些高贵的先生、夫人及他们的后代，也认识他们。现在，我讲一讲瓦尔德玛·多伊和他的女儿们4.“他头抬得高高地朝着天，一派傲气，他有皇室血统！他不仅会猎鹿，不仅懂得把一瓶酒喝个精光；——总有办法的，他自己说。”他的夫人穿着缀金片的衣袍，挺着身子，在亮闪闪的拼花地板上踱来踱去。挂毯富丽堂皇，傢具是花了许多钱买来的，雕了许多精巧的花饰。她带来了银器和金器作嫁妆；地窖里藏着许多东西，又存了德国啤酒；雄赳赳的黑马在马厩里嘶鸣；波尔毕庄园里有的是财宝，里面一派富豪景象。“里面有孩子，三位娇姑娘，伊黛、约翰妮和安娜·多瑟亚；我连名字都还记得。”他们是有钱人，是有派头的人，生在一派富豪景象之中，长在一派富豪景象之中！呼——呜！刮了过去！“风说道，接着又讲了起来。”不像我常在其他古老的庄园里看到的那样，贵妇人都坐在大厅里与使女们在一起摇纺车。在这里，她吹着声音清脆的笛子，还唱着歌；可是唱的并不总是丹麦的古老歌曲，而是些外国歌。这里有丰富的生活，有好客的气氛；远远近近有许多客人来访问，一片音乐声，酒瓶碰击的声音；我都盖不过这些声音！“风说道。”这里有一种高傲的铺张炫耀、主子派头，可是就没有上帝！“”那正是瓦尔堡吉斯节5的前夜，“风说道，”我从西边来，看见有些船撞碎在西日德兰海岸上；我飞过荒原和碧波万顷的海洋；飞过菲因岛，穿过大海峡，呼呼地喘着气。“后来我在锡兰岛海岸波尔毕庄子附近歇了下来，那儿还有一片可爱的橡树林。”那一带的年轻小伙子到那儿去捡树枝，捡那些最粗的最乾燥的。他们把树枝带进城去，摆成堆，点燃，姑娘和小伙子们便围绕着火堆唱歌跳舞。“我静静地躺着，”风说道，“可是我轻轻地碰了一下一根树枝，那一根，那位漂亮的年轻人摆上去的；他的柴火便燃了起来，火焰飞得很高。他被选上了，获得了荣誉称号，成为街头肥仔，第一个在姑娘中挑选他的街头小绵羊6.这儿有一种欢乐，一种高兴，超过那富有的波尔毕庄子。”高贵的妇人和她的三位姑娘乘着一辆六匹马拉的金光闪闪的车子驶进庄子。三位姑娘美貌、年轻，简直就是三朵好看的花：玫瑰、百合、淡色风信子；母亲本人是骄艳的郁金香。一群人停止了游戏，鞠恭敬礼，可是她并没有向任何一个人问好，让人觉得她是花桿上一朵僵直的花。“玫瑰、百合和淡色风信子，是的，她们三人我全都看到了！她们会是甚么人的街头小绵羊呢，我在想；她们的街头肥仔会是一位高傲的骑士，或者是一位王子！——呼-呜！——刮了过去！刮了过去！”“是的，车子拉着她们走了，农民们在跳舞。波尔毕、捷尔毕、以及附近所有的城镇都在欢庆夏天。”可是在夜里，我起身的时候，“风说道，”那位高贵的夫人躺下了，再也没有起来。发生在她身上的事，就和发生在所有人身上的事一个样，并没有甚么新鲜的。瓦尔德玛·多伊严肃地站着，沉思着，一小会儿；最高傲的树会弯，可是并不会折，他内心深处在这样想。女儿都哭了，庄子里大家都在擦眼睛，可是多伊夫人去世了，——我刮过去！呼——呜！“风说道。”我又来了，我常常去了又会回来，刮过了菲因岛的土地，刮过了大海峡的水面，在波尔毕的海滩上歇下来，歇在那宏大的橡树林那边；海鹰、斑鸠、蓝渡鸦，甚至连黑鹤都在这里筑巢。那是早春时分，有的刚生下了蛋，有的已经孵出了小仔子。天呀，瞧它们飞的，听它们的叫声！传来了斧子砍劈的声响，一下接着一下。树林里的树木要被伐下，瓦尔德玛·多伊想建一艘价值昂贵的船，一艘有三层甲台的战船。这船国王7肯定是要买的，正是因为这才把树林，海员们的航标，鸟儿的栖身之处，砍伐掉的。伯劳8被吓飞了，它的巢毁了；渔鹰和其他的林鸟都失去了自己的家，它们到处乱飞，恐惧和愤怒使它们叫个不停，我很懂得它们。乌鸦和寒鸦嘲弄似地高声叫喊着：“离开巢吧！离开巢吧，逃吧！逃吧！”“在树林中心，在工人群中，瓦尔德玛·多伊和他的三个女儿都在那里，他们都为鸟儿的叫喊而大笑不已；可是他的最小的女儿，安娜·多瑟亚，心中很难受；人们要把一棵已经半死，光秃秃的枝子上有一个黑鹳的巢的树9也砍掉，这时小鹳把它们的头伸了出来，她含着眼泪求情。於是，这棵树总算被留了下来，保留了黑鹳的巢。这只是小事一桩。”又是砍，又是锯，——一艘有三层甲台的船建成了。建筑师本人出身卑微，但却仪表堂堂；眼睛和前额告诉人们他是多么聪明。瓦尔德玛·多伊很愿意听他谈，十五岁的女儿伊黛也很愿意听。他一面为那位父亲建船，一面为自己建造了一座空中楼阁，梦想着他和小伊黛成了夫妻住在里面。要是这楼阁有坚实的砖石作基础，有护庄河、有护庄堤，树林和花园，那这也会成为现实。但是尽管他一身是才，可是他只不过是寒酸鸟儿，在鹤群的舞蹈中麻雀跑去干甚么？呼——呜！——我飞走了，他也飞走了，他不能留下。小伊黛克制了自己的感情，她不得不克制自己的情感。““马厩里黑色的马在嘶叫，这些马值得一看，它们也让人饱看了一番。——国王亲自派海军上将来视察那艘新战船，商讨购买它的事，他高声地讚扬那些骏马；我听得很清楚，”风说道，“我随着先生们走进敞开的厩门，把料草吹在他们的脚跟前，像一根根金条。瓦尔德玛·多伊想得到金子，海军上将想要那些黑马，因此他才那么样地称讚它们。但是这意思没有得到理解，所以船也没有卖掉十，它躺在海滩上，闪闪发光，用木板遮着，成了一艘永未下水的诺亚方舟？。呼——呜！刮了过去！刮了过去！太可怜了。”冬天田野被雪覆盖，大海峡里满是浮冰，我把冰吹到岸边上，“风说道，”渡鸦和乌鸦成群地飞来，一只比一只黑。它们落在海滩上那艘荒废了的、没有一点生气的孤寂的船上，用极难听的声音为那已不复存在的树林，那许多荒废了的可贵的鸟巢，那些无家可归的大鸟小鸟而鸣叫；所有这一切都是那一大堆木材，那艘永远下不了水的骄傲的船的过。“我刮起漫天雪花；雪花像海洋一样堆在船的四周，掠过它的上面！我让它听到我的声音，听听风暴要说些甚么。我知道，我在使劲地让它得到些船舰知识。呼——呜！刮了过去！”冬天过去了，冬天和夏天像我在奔驰一样一齐奔驰过去了，一齐奔驰着，像雪花在飞舞，苹果花在飞舞，叶子在飞舞一样。刮了过去！刮了过去！刮了过去！连人一起！“但是，女儿们还年轻，小伊黛像一朵玫瑰，很好看，就像造船的建筑师看见她时那样。她沉思地站在花园里苹果树旁，不曾觉察到我把苹果花吹落到她的散发上。她凝望着红色的太阳，从园子里黑色的矮丛和树木之间望着金黄色的天空，在这样的时刻，我常常握住了她的棕色长发。”她的妹妹约翰妮像一朵百合花，艳光四射，神态高傲；像她母亲一样，好似长在一根乾脆的花桿上，昂首挺腰。她喜欢走进那悬着祖先画像的大厅；那些画里，夫人们都身着丝绒，挽成髻儿的头发上戴着镶了珠宝的小帽；都是些美貌的夫人！她们的丈夫都披着铠甲，或者披着用松鼠皮做成的有蓝色硬皱领的大氅；剑挂在大腿旁而不是挂在腰间。约翰妮的画像会挂在墙上甚么地方呢？那高贵的丈夫又是个甚么样子呢？是啊，她在想这些，她在喃喃私语讲着这些，在我顺着长长走廊刮到大厅又刮出来的时候，我听到了的。“安娜·多瑟亚，那淡色的风信子，还只是一个十四岁的孩子，很安静，喜沉思；那深蓝似水的眼睛露出一副深思的神情，但是，她嘴上挂着的是童稚的微笑。我吹不走这微笑，也不愿吹走它。”我在花园里，在空无一人的道上，在农田里遇到她。她在摘各种花草，她知道，父亲可以用这些花草蒸溜出饮料和药剂。瓦尔德玛·多伊是很高傲自大的人，但他知识丰富，知道的东西很多。大夥儿已经注意到，并在私下议论着这一点。他家的火炉在夏天也总是点燃的，那间屋子的门老是关着，这样过了许多个昼夜。可是他不太谈这个。请教大自然的力量只能静悄悄地进行，用不了多久他便可以发现最好的东西——赤金。“因此，火炉总是在冒烟，总是辟辟啪啪，冒着火焰；是的，我知道！”风说道，“烧吧！烧吧！我穿过烟囱唱道。剩给你的是烟，是浓烟，是热灰，是死灰！你把自己燃掉！呼——呜！刮了过去！刮了过去！可是瓦尔德玛·多伊却不肯罢手。”那些在马厩里的骏马，——它们哪里去了？那些装在柜子里箱子里的金银财宝、金银器皿，田野里的那些母牛，房产和庄子呢？——是的，统统都会熔化掉，会在金坩埚里熔掉，可是却没有金子。“粮仓里，食品间空了，地窖、储藏室空了，没有几个人，老鼠一大群。东一块玻璃碎了，西一块玻璃裂了，我用不着从门里进去了。”风说道，“烟囱冒烟的地方，就是在煮饭；这里的烟囱也冒烟，为了赤金，它把一顿顿的饭都吞噬掉了。”我从庄子大门吹进去，像一个卫士在吹号角，可是那里却不见了守卫人。“风