美国MITBBS

安徒生著
叶君健译

小城却格附近一带是一片荒凉的地区。这个城市是在海岸的近旁——这永远要算是一个美丽的位置。要不是因为周围全是平淡无奇的田野，而且离开森林很远，它可能还要更可爱一点儿。但是，当你在一个地方真正住惯了的时候，你总会发现某些可爱的东西，你就是住在世界上别的最可爱的地方，你也会怀恋它的。我们还得承认：在这个小城的外围，在一条流向大海的小溪的两岸，有几个简陋的小花园。这儿，夏天的风景是很美丽的。这是两个小邻居，克努得和乔安娜的感觉。他们在那儿一起玩耍，他们穿过醋栗丛来彼此相会。

在这样的一个小花园里，长着一棵接骨木树；在另一个小花园里长着一棵老柳树。这两个小孩子特别喜欢在这株柳树下面玩耍，他们也得到了许可到这儿来玩耍。尽管这树长在溪流的近旁，很容易使他们落到水里去。不过上帝的眼睛在留神着他们，否则他们就可能出乱子。此外，他们自己是非常谨慎的。事实上，那个男孩子是一个非常怕水的懦夫，在夏天谁也没有办法劝他走下海去，虽然别的孩子很喜欢到浪花上去嬉戏。因此他成了一个被别人讥笑的对象，他也只好忍受。不过有一次邻家的那个小小的乔安娜做了一个梦，梦见她自己驾着一只船在却格湾行驶。克努得涉水向她走来，水淹到他的颈上，最后淹没了他的头顶。自从克努得听到了这个梦的时候起，他就再也不能忍受别人把他称为怕水的懦夫。他常常提起乔安娜所做的那个梦——这是他的一件很得意的事情，但是他却不走下水去。

他们的父母都是穷苦的人，经常互相拜访。克努得和乔安娜在花园里和公路上玩耍。公路上沿着水沟长着一排柳树。柳树并不漂亮，因为它们的顶都剪秃了；不过它们栽在那儿并不是为了装饰，而是为了实际的用处。花园里的那棵老柳树要漂亮得多，因此他们常常喜欢坐在它的下面。

却格城里有一个大市场。在赶集的日子，整条街都布满了篷摊，出卖缎带、靴子和人们所想要买的一切东西。来的人总是拥挤不堪，天气经常总是在下雨。这时你就可以闻到农人衣服上所发出来的一股气味，但是你也可以闻到蜜糕和姜饼的香气——有一个篷摊摆满了这些东西。最可爱的事情是：每年在赶集的季节，卖这些蜜糕的那个人就来寄住在小克努得的父亲家里。因此，他们自然能尝得到一点儿姜饼，当然小乔安娜也能分吃到一点儿。不过最妙的事情是，那个卖姜饼的人还会讲故事：他可以讲关于任何一件东西的故事，甚至于关于他的姜饼的故事。有一天晚上他就讲了一个关于姜饼的故事。这故事给了孩子们一个很深刻的印象，他们永远忘记不了。因为这个缘故，我想我们最好也听听它，尤其是因为这个故事并不太长。

他说：“柜台上放着两块姜饼。有一块是一个男子的形状，戴一顶礼帽；另一块是一个小姑娘，没有戴帽子，但是戴着一片金叶子。他们的脸都是在饼子朝上的那一面，好使人们一眼就能看清楚，不至于弄错。的确，谁也不会从反面去看他们的。男子的左边有一颗味苦的杏仁——这就是他的心；相反的，姑娘的全身都是姜饼。他们被放在柜台上作为样品。他们在那上面待了很久，最后他们两个人就发生了爱情，但是谁也不说出口来。如果他们想得到一个什么结果的话，他们就应该说出来才是。

“他是一个男子，他应该先开口。”她想。不过她仍然感到很满意，因为她知道他是同样的爱她。

“他的想法却是有点过分——男子一般都是这样。他梦想着自己是一个真正有生命的街头孩子，身边带着四枚铜板，把这姑娘买过来，一口吃掉。

“他们就这样在柜台上躺了许多天和许多星期，终于变得又干又硬了。她的思想却越变越温柔和越女子气。

“‘我能跟他在柜台上躺在一起，已经很满意了！’她想。于是——‘啪！’——她裂为两半。

“‘如果她知道我的爱情，她也许可以活得更久一点儿！’他想。

“这就是那个故事。他们两个人现在都在这儿！”糕饼老板说，“就他们奇特的历史和他们没有结果的沉默爱情说来，他们真是了不起！现在我就把他们送给你们吧！”他这么说着，就把那个还是完整的男子送给乔安娜，把那个碎裂了的姑娘送给克努得。不过这个故事感动了他们，他们鼓不起勇气来把这对恋人吃掉。

第二天他们带着姜饼到却格公墓去。教堂的墙上长满了最茂盛的常春藤，它冬天和夏天悬在墙上，简直像是一张华丽的挂毯。他们把姜饼放在太阳光中的绿叶里，然后把这个没有结果的、沉默的爱情的故事讲给一群小孩子听。这叫做“爱”，因为这故事很可爱——在这一点上大家都同意。不过，当他们再看看这对姜饼恋人的时候，哎呀，一个存心拆烂污的大孩子已经把那个碎裂的姑娘吃掉了。孩子们大哭了一通，然后——大概是为了不要让那个男恋人在这世界上感到寂寞凄凉——他们也把他吃掉了。但是他们一直没有忘掉这个故事。

孩子们经常在接骨木树旁和柳树底下玩耍。那个小女孩用银铃一样清脆的声音唱着最美丽的歌。可是克努得没有唱歌的天才，他只是知道歌中的词句——不过这也不坏。当乔安娜在唱着的时候，却格的居民，甚至铁匠铺富有的老板娘，都静静地站着听。“那个小姑娘有一个甜蜜的声音！”她说。

这是人生最美丽的季节，但不能永远是这样。邻居已经搬走了。小姑娘的妈妈已经去世了；她的爸爸打算迁到京城里去，重新讨一个太太，因为他在那儿可以找到一个职业——他要在一个机关里当个送信人，这是一个收入颇丰的差使。因此两个邻居就流着眼泪分手了，孩子们特别痛哭了一阵，不过两家的老人都答应一年最少通信一次。

克努得做了一个鞋匠的学徒，因为一个大孩子不能再把日子荒废下去，此外他已经受过了坚信礼！

啊，他多么希望能在一个节日到哥本哈根去看看乔安娜啊！但他没有去，他从来没有到那儿去过，虽然它离却格只不过七十多里地的路程。不过当天气晴朗的时候，克努得从海湾望去，可以遥遥看到塔顶；在他受坚信礼的那天，他还清楚地看见圣母院教堂上的发着闪光的十字架呢。

啊，他多么怀念乔安娜啊！也许她也记得他吧？是的，快到圣诞节的时候，她的父亲寄了一封信给克努得的爸爸和妈妈。信上说，他们在哥本哈根生活得很好，尤其是乔安娜，因为她有美丽的嗓音，她可以期待有一个光明的前途。她已经跟一个歌剧院订了合同，而且已经开始赚些钱了。她现在从她的收入中省下一块大洋，寄给她住在却格的亲爱的邻居过这个快乐的圣诞节。在“附言”中她亲自加了一笔，请他们喝一杯祝她健康的酒；同时还有：“向克努得亲切地致意。”

一家人全哭起来了，然而这是很愉快的——他们所流出来的是愉快的眼泪。克努得的思想每天环萦在乔安娜的身上，现在他知道她也在想念他。当他快要学完手艺的时候，他就更清楚地觉得他爱乔安娜。她一定得成为他的亲爱的妻子。当他想到这点的时候，他的嘴唇上就飘出一丝微笑；于是他做鞋的速度也就加快了两倍，同时用脚紧扣着膝盖上的皮垫子。他的锥子刺进了他的手指，但是他也不在意。他下了决心不要像那对姜饼一样，扮演一个哑巴恋人的角色，他从那个故事得到了一个很好的教训。

现在他成了一个皮鞋师傅。他打好背包准备旅行了，他算是有生第一次终于要去哥本哈根了。他已经在那儿接洽好了一个主人。嗨，乔安娜一定是非常奇怪和高兴的！她现在是十七岁了，而他已经十九岁。

当他还在却格的时候，他就想为她买一个金戒指。不过他想，他可以在哥本哈根买到更漂亮的戒指。因此他就向他的父母告别了。这是一个晚秋下雨的天气，他在微微的细雨中动身离开了生养他的小城。树上的叶子在簌簌地落下；当他到达哥本哈根新主人家里的时候，他已经全身透湿了。

在接着的一个星期日里，他就去拜望乔安娜的父亲。他穿上了一套手艺人的新衣服，戴上一顶却格的新礼帽。这装束对现在的克努得很相称，从前他只戴一顶小便帽。他找到了他所要拜访的那座房子。他爬了好几层楼，他的头都几乎要昏了。在这个人口稠密的城市里，人们一层堆上一层地住在一起。这在他眼里真是太糟糕了。

房间里是一种富足的样子，乔安娜的父亲对他非常客气。他的新太太对他来说，是一个生人，不过她仍跟他握手，请他喝咖啡。

“乔安娜看到你一定会很高兴的！”父亲说，“你现在长成一个很漂亮的年轻人了……你马上就可以看到她！她是一个使我快乐的孩子，上帝保佑，我希望她更快乐。她自己住一间小房，而且还付给我们房租！”

于是父亲就在一个门上非常客气地敲了一下，好像他是一个客人似的。然后他们走进去了。嗨，这房间是多么漂亮啊！这样的房间在整个却格都找不到。就是皇后也不会有比这可爱的房间！它地上铺有地毯，窗帘一直垂到地上；四周全是花和画，还有一面镜子——它大得像一扇门，人们一不留心就很容易朝它走进去；甚至还有一把天鹅绒的椅子。

克努得一眼就看见了这些东西，不过他眼中只有乔安娜。她现在已经是一个成年的小姐了。她跟克努得所想象的完全不同，但是更美丽。她不再是一个却格的姑娘了，她是多么文雅啊！她朝克努得看了一眼，她的视线显得多么奇怪和生疏啊！不过这情形只持续了片刻；不一会儿她向他跑过来，好像她想要吻他一下似的。事实上她没有这样做，但是她几乎这样做了。是的，她看到她儿时的朋友，心中感到非常高兴！她的眼睛里亮着泪珠。她有许多话要说，她有许多事情要问——从克努得的父母一直问到接骨木树和柳树——她把它们叫做接骨木树妈妈和柳树爸爸，好像它们就像人一样。的确，像姜饼一样，它们也可以当作人看。她也谈起姜饼，谈起他们的沉默的爱情，他们怎样躺在柜台上，然后裂为两半——这时她就哈哈大笑起来。不过克努得的血却涌到脸上来了，他的心跳得比什么时候都快。不，她一点也没有变得骄傲！他注意到，她的父母请他来玩一晚上，完全是由于她的示意。她亲手倒茶，把杯子递给他。后来她取出一本书，大声地念给他们听。克努得似乎觉得她所念的是关于他自己的爱情，因为那跟他的思想恰恰相吻合。于是她又唱了一支简单的歌，在她的歌声中，这支歌好像是一段历史，好像是从她的心里倾倒出来的话语。是的，她一定是喜欢克努得的。眼泪从他的脸上流下来了——他抑制不住，他也说不出半个字来。他觉得自己很傻，但是她紧握着他的手，说：

“你有一颗善良的心，克努得——我希望你永远是这样！”

这是克努得无比幸福的一晚。要想睡是不可能的，实际上克努得也没有睡。

在告别的时候，乔安娜的父亲曾经说过：“唔，你不会马上就忘记我们吧！你不会让这整个的冬天过去，不再来看我们一次吧！”因此他下个礼拜天又可以再去，而他也就决定去了。

每天晚上，工作完了以后——他们在烛光下做活——克努得就穿过这城市，走过街道，到乔安娜住的地方去。他抬起头来朝她的窗子望，窗子差不多总是亮着的。有一天晚上他清楚地看到她的面孔映在窗帘上——这真是最可爱的一晚！他的老板娘不喜欢他每晚在外面“游荡”——引用她的话——所以她常常摇头。不过老板只是笑笑。

“他是一个年轻小伙子呀！”他说。

克努得心想：“我们在礼拜天要见面。我要告诉她，说我整个的思想中只有她，她一定要做我亲爱的妻子才成。我知道我不过是一个卖长工的鞋匠，但是我可以成为一个师傅，最起码也要成为一个独立的师傅。我要工作和斗争下去——是的，我要把这告诉她。沉默的爱情是不会有什么结果的：我从那两块姜饼已经得到了教训了。”

星期天到来了。克努得大步地走去。不过，很不幸！他们一家人都要出去，而且不得不当面告诉他。乔安娜握着他的手，问道：

“你到戏院去过没有？你应该去一次。星期三我将要上台去唱歌，如果你那天晚上有时间的话，我将送你一张票。我父亲知道你的老板的住址。”

她的用意是多好啊！星期三中午，他收到了一个封好了的纸套，上面一个字也没有写，但是里面却有一张票。晚间，克努得有生第一次到戏院里去。他看到了什么呢？他看到了乔安娜——她是那么美丽，那么可爱！她跟一个生人结了婚，不过那是在做戏——克努得知道得很清楚，这不过是扮演而已，否则她绝不会有那么大的勇气送他一张票，让他去看她结婚的！观众都在喝彩，鼓掌。克努得喊：“好！”

连国王也对乔安娜微笑起来，好像他也喜欢她似的。上帝啊！克努得感到自己多么渺小啊！不过他是那么热烈地爱她，而且认为她也喜欢他。但是男子应该先开口——那个姜饼姑娘就是这样想的。这个故事的意义是深长的。

当星期天一到来的时候，克努得又去了。他的心情跟去领圣餐的时候差不多。乔安娜一个人单独在家。她接待他——世界上再没有比这更幸运的事情。

“你来得正好！”她说，“我原来想叫我的父亲去告诉你，不过我有一个预感，觉得你今晚会来。我要告诉你，星期五我就要到法国去，如果我想要有一点儿成就的话，我非得这样做不可。”

克努得觉得整个的房间在打转，他的心好像要爆裂。不过他的眼睛里却没有涌出眼泪来，人们可以很清楚地看出，他感到多么悲哀。

乔安娜看到了这个情景，也几乎要哭出来。

“你这老实的、忠诚的人啊！”她说。她的这句话使克努得敢于开口了。他告诉她说，他怎样始终如一地爱她，她一定要做他亲爱的妻子才成。当他说这话的时候，他看到乔安娜的面孔变得惨白。她放松了手，同时严肃地、悲哀地回答说：

“克努得，请不要把你自己和我弄得痛苦吧。我将永远是你的一个好妹妹——你可以相信我。不过除此以外，我什么也办不到！”

于是她把她柔嫩的手贴到他灼热的额上。“上帝会给我们勇气应付一切，只要人有这个志愿。”

这时候她的继母走到房间里来了。

“克努得难过得很，因为我要离去！”她说，“拿出男子气概来吧！”她把手搭在他的肩上，好像他们在谈论着关于旅行的事情而没有谈别的东西似的。“你还是一个孩子！”她说，“不过现在你必须要听话，要有理智，像我们小时在那棵柳树底下一样。”

克努得觉得世界似乎有一块已经塌下去了。他的思想像一根无所皈依的线，在风中飘荡。他待下没有走，他不知道她们有没有留他坐下来，但是他们一家人都是很和气善良的。乔安娜倒茶给他喝，对他唱歌。她的歌调跟以前不同，但是听起来是分外美丽，使得他的心要裂成碎片。然后他们就告别了。克努得没有向她伸出手来。但是她握着他的手，说：

“我小时一起玩的兄弟，你一定会握一下你的妹妹的手，作为告别吧！”

她微笑着，眼泪从她的脸上流下来。她又重复地说一次：“哥哥”——好像这样能起多大作用似的！——他们就这样告别了。

她坐船到法国去了，克努得在满地泥泞的哥本哈根街头走着。皮鞋店里别的人问他为什么老是这样心事重重地走来走去，他应该跟大伙儿一块去玩玩才对，因为他终究还是一个年轻人。

他们带着他到跳舞的地方去。那儿有许多漂亮的女子，但是没有一个像乔安娜。他想在这些地方把她忘记，而她却更生动地在他的思想中显现出来了。“上帝会给我们勇气应付一切，只要人有这个志愿！”她曾经这样说过。这时他有一种虔诚的感觉，他叠着手什么也不玩。提琴在奏出音乐，年轻的姑娘在围成圆圈跳舞。他怔了一下，因为他似乎觉得他不应该把乔安娜带到这地方来——因为她活在他的心里。所以他就走出去了。他跑过许多街道，经过她住过的那个屋子。那儿是阴暗的——处处都是阴暗、空洞和孤寂。世界走着自己的道路，克努得也走着自己的道路。

冬天来了，水都结了冰。一切东西似乎都在准备入葬。

不过当春天到来的时候，当第一艘轮船开航的时候，他就有了一种远行的渴望，远行到辽远的世界里去，但是他不愿意走近法国。因此他把他的背包打好，流浪到德国去。他从这个城走到那个城，一点也不休息和安静下来，只有当他来到那个美丽的古老的城市纽伦堡的时候，他那不安的情绪才算稳定下来。他决定住下来。

纽伦堡是一个稀有的古城。它好像是从旧画册里剪下来的一样。它的街道随意地伸展开来，它的房屋不是排成死板的直行。那些有小塔、蔓藤花纹和雕像装饰的吊窗悬在人行道上；从奇形的尖屋顶上伸出来的水笕嘴，以飞龙或长腰犬的形式，高高地俯视着下边的街道。

克努得背着背包站在这儿的一个市场上。他立在一个古老的喷泉塔旁边。圣经时代的、历史性的庄严铜像立在两股喷泉的中间。一个漂亮的女佣人正在用桶汲水。她给克努得一口凉爽的水喝。因为她手中满满地握着一束玫瑰花，所以她也给他一朵。他把它当作一个好的预兆。

风琴的声音从邻近的一个教堂里飘到他的耳边来；它的调子，对他来说，跟他故乡却格风琴的调子一样的亲切。他走进一个大礼拜堂里去。日光透过绘有彩色画的窗玻璃，照在高而细长的圆柱之间。他的心中有一种虔诚的感觉，他的灵魂变得安静起来。

他在纽伦堡找到了一个很好的老板，于是他便安住下来，同时学习这个国家的语言。

城周围的古老的堑壕已经变成了许多小块的菜园，不过高大的城墙和它上面的高塔仍然是存留着的。在城墙里边，搓绳子的人正在一个木走廊或人行道上搓绳子。接骨木树丛从城墙的缝隙里生长出来，把它们的绿枝伸展到它们下面的那些低矮的小屋上。克努得的老板就住在这样的一座小屋里。在他睡觉的那个顶楼上——接骨木树就在他的床前垂下枝子。

他在这儿住过了一个夏天和冬天。不过当夏天到来的时候，他再也忍受不了。接骨木树在开着花，而这花香使他记起了故乡。他似乎回到了却格的花园里去。因此克努得就离开了他的主人，搬到住在离城墙较远的一个老板家去工作，这个屋子上面没有接骨木树。

他的作坊离一座古老的石桥很近，面对着一个老是发出嗡嗡声的水推磨房。外边有一条激流在许多房子之间冲过去。这些房子上挂着许多腐朽的阳台，它们好像随时要倒进水里去似的。这儿没有接骨木树——连栽着小绿植物的花钵子也没有。不过这儿有一株高大的老柳树。它紧紧地贴着那儿的一幢房子，生怕被水冲走。它像却格河边花园里的那棵柳树一样，也把它的枝子在激流上层开来。

是的，他从“接骨木树妈妈”那儿搬到“柳树爸爸”的近旁来了。这棵树引起了某种触动，尤其是在有月光的晚上——这种丹麦的心情，在月光下面流露了出来。但是——使他感触的不是月光，不，是那棵老柳树。

他住不下去。为什么住不下去呢？请你去问那棵柳树，去问那棵开着花的接骨木树吧！因此他跟主人告别，跟纽伦堡告别，走到更远的地方去。

他对谁也不提起乔安娜——他只是把自己的忧愁秘密地藏在心里。那两块姜饼的故事对他有特别深刻的意义。现在他懂得了那个男子为什么胸口上有一颗苦味的杏仁——他现在自己尝到这苦味了。乔安娜永远是那么温柔和善良，但她只是一块姜饼。

他背包的带子似乎在紧紧束缚着他，使他感到呼吸困难。他把它松开，但是仍然感到不舒畅。他的周围只有半个世界，另外的一半压在他的心里，这就是他的处境！

只有当他看到了一群高山的时候，世界才似乎对他扩大了些许。这时他的思想才向外面流露，他的眼中涌出了泪水。

阿尔卑斯山，对他来说，似乎是地球的一双敛着的翅膀。假如这双翅膀展开了，显示出一片黑森林、涌泉、云块和积雪的种种景色所组成的羽毛，那又会怎样呢？

他想，在世界的末日那天，地球将会展开它庞大的翅膀，向天空飞去，同时将会在上帝的明朗的光中像肥皂泡似的爆裂！他叹息：“啊，唯愿现在就是末日！”

他静默地走过这块土地。在他看来，这块土地像一个长满了草的果木园。从许多屋子的木阳台上，忙着织丝带的女孩子们在对他点头。许多山峰在落日的晚霞中发出红光。当他看到深树林中的绿湖的时候，他就想起了却格湾的海岸。这时他感到一阵凄凉，但是他心中却没有痛苦。

莱茵河像一股很长的巨浪在滚流，在翻腾，在冲撞，在变成雪白的、闪光的云雾，好像云块就是在这儿制造出来似的。虹在它上面飘着，像一条解开了的缎带。他现在不禁想起了却格的水推磨坊和奔流着的、发出喧闹声的流水。

他倒是很愿意在这个安静的、莱茵河畔的城市里住下来的，可惜这儿的接骨木树和杨柳太多。因此他又继续向前走。他爬过巨大的高山，越过石峡，走过像燕子窝似的、贴在山边的山路。水在山峡里潺潺地流着，云块在他的下面飞着。在温暖夏天的太阳光下，他在光亮的蓟草上、石楠属植物上和雪上走着。他告别了北方的国家，来到了葡萄园和玉米田之间的栗树阴下。这些山是他和他的回忆之间的一座墙——他希望的也正是这样。

现在他面前出现了一座美丽的、雄伟的城市——人们把它叫做米兰。他在这儿找到了一个德国籍的老板，同时也找到了工作。他们是一对和善的老年夫妇，他现在就在他们的作坊里工作着。这对老人很喜欢这个安静的工人。他的话讲得很少，但工作得很努力，同时过着一种虔诚的、基督徒的生活。就他自己来说，他也仿佛觉得上帝取去了他心中的一个重担。

他最心爱的消遣是不时去参观那个雄伟的大理石教堂。在他看来，这教堂似乎是用他故国的雪所造成的，用雕像、尖塔和华丽的大厅所组合起来的。雪白的大理石雕像似乎从每一个角落里、从每一个尖顶、从每一个拱门上对他微笑。他上面是蔚蓝的天空，他下面是这个城市和广阔的龙巴得平原。再朝北一点就是终年盖着雪的高山。他不禁想起了却格的教堂和布满了红色常春藤的红墙。不过他并不怀恋它们，他希望他被埋葬在这些高山的后面。

他在这儿住了一年。自从他离开家以后，三年已经过去了。有一天他的老板带他到城里去——不是到马戏场去看骑师的表演，不是的，而是去看一个大歌剧院。这是一个大建筑物，值得一看。它有七层楼，每层楼上都悬着丝织的帘子。从第一层楼到那使人一看就头昏的顶楼都坐满了华贵的仕女。她们的手中拿着花束，好像她们是在参加一个舞会似的。绅士们都穿着礼服，有许多还戴着金质或银质勋章。这地方非常亮，如同在最明朗的太阳光下一样。响亮而悦耳的音乐奏起来了。这的确要比哥本哈根的剧院华丽得多，但那却是乔安娜演出的地方；而这儿呢——是的，这真是像魔术一样——幕布向两边分开了，乔安娜穿着丝绸，戴着金饰和皇冠也出现了。她的歌声在他听来只有上帝的安琪儿可以和她相比。她尽量走到舞台前面来，同时发出只有乔安娜才能发出的微笑。她的眼睛向下望着克努得。

可怜的克努得紧握着他主人的手，高声地喊出来：“乔安娜！”不过谁也听不见他。乐师在奏着响亮的音乐。老板只点点头，说：“是的，是的，她的名字是叫做乔安娜！”

于是他拿出一张节目单来，他指着她的名字——她的全名。

不，这不是一个梦！所有的人都在为她鼓掌，在对她抛掷着花朵和花环。每次她回到后台的时候，喝彩声就又把她叫出来，所以她不停地在走出走进。

在街上，人们围着她的车子，欣喜若狂地拉着车子走。克努得站在最前面，也是最高兴的。当大家来到她那灯火通明的房子面前的时候，克努得紧紧地挤到她车子的门口。车门开了，她走了出来。灯光正照在她可爱的脸上，她微笑着，她温柔地向大家表示谢意，她显得非常感动。克努得朝她的脸上望，她也望着他，但是她不认识他。一位胸前戴有星章的绅士伸出他的手臂来扶她——大家都说，他们已经订婚了。

克努得回到家来，收拾好他的背包，他决定回到他的老家去，回到接骨木树和柳树那儿去——啊，回到那棵柳树下面去！

那对老年夫妇请他住下来，但是什么话也留不住他。他们告诉他，说是冬天快要到来了，山上已经下雪了。但是他说他可以背着背包，拄着拐杖，跟在慢慢前进的马车后面的车辙里走——因为这是唯一可走的路。

这样他就向山上走去，一会儿上爬，一会儿下坡。他的气力没有了，但是他还看不见一个村子或一间房屋。他不停地向北方走去。星星在他的头上出现了，他的脚在摇摆，他的头在发昏。在深深的山谷里，也有星星在闪耀着；天空也好像伸展到他的下面去了似的。他觉得他病了。他下面的星星越来越多，越闪越亮，而且还在前后移动。原来这是一个小小的城市，家家都点上了灯火。当他了解到这情况以后，他就鼓起一点残留的气力，最后到达了一个简陋的客栈。

他在那儿待了一天一夜，因为他的身体需要休息和恢复。天气转暖，冰雪正在融化，山谷里下起雨来。上午有一个奏手风琴的人来了，他奏起一支丹麦的家乡曲子，弄得克努得又住不下去了。他又踏上了北上的旅途，走了许多天，他匆忙地走着，好像想要在家里的人没有死完以前赶回去似的。不过他没有对任何人说出他心中的渴望，谁也不会相信他心中的悲哀——一个人的心中所能感觉到的、最深的悲哀。这种悲哀是不需要世人了解的，因为它并不有趣；也不需要朋友了解——而且他根本就没有朋友。他是一个陌生人，在一些陌生的国度里旅行，向家乡，向北国走去。他在许多年以前、从他父母那里接到的唯一的一封信里，有这样的话语：“你和我们家里的人不一样，你不是一个纯粹的丹麦人。我们是太丹麦化了！你只喜欢陌生的国家！”这是他父母亲手写的——是的，他们最了解他！

现在是黄昏了。他在荒野的公路上向前走。天开始冷起来了。这地方渐渐变得很平坦，是一片田野和草原。路旁有一棵很大的柳树。一切景物是那么亲切，那么富有丹麦风味！他在柳树下坐下来。他感到困倦，他的头向下垂，他的眼睛闭起来休息。但是他在冥冥中感到，柳树在向他垂下枝子。这树像一个威严的老人，一个“柳树爸爸”，它把它的困累了的儿子抱进怀里，把他送回到那有广阔的白色海岸的丹麦祖国去，送到却格去，送到他儿时的花园里去。

是的，他梦见这就是却格的那棵柳树。这老树正在世界各处奔走来寻找他，现在居然找到他了，把他带回到小溪旁边的那个小花园里来——乔安娜在这儿出现了。她全身穿着漂亮的衣服，头上戴着金冠，正如他上次见到她的那个样子。她对他喊道：“欢迎你！”

他面前立着两个奇怪的人形，不过比起他在儿时所看到的那个样子来，他们似乎是更像人了。他们也有些改变，但是他们仍然是两块姜饼，一男一女。他们现在是正面朝上，显出很快乐的样子。

“我们感谢你！”他们两人对克努得说，“你使我们有勇气讲出话来，你教导我们：一个人必须把心里想的事情自由地讲出来，否则什么结果也不会有！现在总算是有一个结果了——我们已经订了婚。”

于是他们就手挽着手在却格的街上走过去，他们无论从哪一面看都很像个样子，你在他们身上找不出一点儿毛病！他们一直向却格的教堂走去。克努得和乔安娜跟在他们后面，他们也是手挽着手的。教堂仍然像过去一样，墙壁是红的，墙上布满了绿色的常春藤。教堂大门向两边分开，风琴奏起来了。男的和女的双双地在教堂的通道上走进去。

“主人请先进去！”那对姜饼恋人说，同时退向两边，让克努得和乔安娜先进去。他们在圣坛前跪下来。乔安娜向克努得低下头来，冰冷的泪珠从她的眼里滚滚地往外流。这是她心里的冰——他热烈的爱情把它融化了，泪光滴到他灼热的脸上。于是他醒来了。原来他是在一个严冬的晚上，坐在一棵异国的老柳树下。一阵冰雹正在从云中打下来，打到他的脸上。

“这是我生命中最甜美的一个时刻！”他说，“而这却是一个梦！上帝啊，让我再梦下去吧！”

于是他又把他的眼睛闭起来，睡过去了，做起梦来。

天明的时候，落了一场大雪。风把雪花卷到他的脚边，但他还在睡着。村人到教堂去做礼拜，发现路旁坐着一个手艺人。他已经死了，在这棵柳树下冻死了。

Under The Willow Tree

A translation of Hans Christian Andersen's "Under Piletræet" by Jean Hersholt

https://andersen.sdu.dk/vaerk/hersholt/ ... ree_e.html

The country around the town of Kjöge is very bare. The town itself lies by the seashore, which is always beautiful, although it might be more beautiful than it is, because all around are flat fields, and a forest a long way off. But one always finds something beautiful in the spot that is one's own home, something for which one longs, even when one is in the most wonderful spot in the world.

And we must admit that the outer edge of Kjöge, where small, humble gardens line the little stream that flows into the sea, could be very pretty in the summertime. This was the opinion of the two small children, Knud and Johanne, who were playing there, crawling under the gooseberry bushes to reach each other.

In one of the gardens there stood an elder tree, in the other an old willow, and under the latter the children were especially fond of playing. Although the tree stood close beside the stream and they might easily have fallen into the water, they were allowed to play there, for the eye of God watches over little ones. Otherwise they would be very badly off indeed. Besides, these two were careful about the water; in fact, the boy was so afraid of it that in the summer he could not be lured into the sea, where the other children were fond of splashing about. As a result, he had to bear the teasing of the others as best he could.

But once Johanne, the little girl, dreamed she was out in a boat, and Knud waded out to join her, with the water rising until it closed over his head. And from the moment little Knud heard of this dream he could no longer bear to be called a coward. He might really go into the water now, he said, since Johanne had dreamed it. He never carried that idea into practice, but for all that the dream remained his great pride.

Their poor parents often came together, while Knud and Johanne played in the gardens or on the highroad, where a long row of willows had been planted along the ditch. These trees with their polled tops certainly did not look very beautiful, but they were there for use rather than for ornament. The old willow tree in the garden was much lovelier, which was why the children took most delight in sitting under it.

In Kjöge itself was a great market place, and at fair time this plaza was gay with whole streets of tents, filled with silk ribbons, boots, and everything a person might desire. There were great crowds then, and generally the weather was rainy. One could easily smell the odor of peasants' clothes, but this could not destroy the fragrance that streamed from a booth full of honey cakes. And best of all, the man who kept this particular booth came every year during fair time to lodge in the house of little Knud's parents. Consequently, every now and then there was a present of a bit of honey cake, and of course Johanne always received her share.

But the best thing of all was that this gingerbread dealer knew all sorts of charming stories and could even tell tales about his own gingerbread cakes. One evening he told a story about them which made such a deep impression on the two children that they never forgot it. For that reason perhaps we should hear it, too, especially since it is not very long.

"On the shop counter," he said, "there once lay two gingerbread cakes. One was in the shape of a man with a hat on, the other of a maiden with no bonnet but with a blot of yellow on top of her head. Both their faces were on the upper side, for that was the side that was supposed to be looked at, and not the other. Indeed, most people have one side from which they should be viewed. On his left side the man wore a bitter almond for a heart; but the maiden, on the other hand, was honey cake all through. They were placed on the counter as samples, so they remained there for a long time, until at last they fell in love with each other. But neither told the other, which they should have done if they had expected anything to come of it.

" 'He is a man, so he must speak first,' thought the maiden. But she was quite contented, for she knew in her heart that her love was returned. His thoughts were far more extravagant, which is just like a man. He dreamed that he was a street urchin, and that he had four pennies all his own, and that he bought the maiden and ate her up.

"So they lay on the counter for days and weeks, and grew dry, but the thoughts of the maiden remained still gentle and womanly.

" 'It's enough for me that I have lived on the same table with him, ' thought the maiden, and then she broke in two.

" 'If only she had known of my love she would have held together a little longer,' thought he.

"So that's the story, and here they are, both of them," said the baker. "They're remarkable for their strange history and for their silent love, which never came to anything. And now they're both for you!" With that he gave Johanne the man, who was still in one piece, and Knud got the broken maiden; but the children had been so touched by the story that they couldn't be so bold as to eat up the lovers.

Next day they took them out to the Kjöge churchyard, where, winter and summer, lovely ivy covers the church wall like a rich carpet. They stood the two cake figures up among the green leaves in the bright sunshine and told a group of other children the story of the silent love that was useless; that is to say, the love was, for the story was charming, they all found.

But when they looked again at the gingerbread couple they found that a mischievous big boy had eaten up the broken maiden. The children cried about that and later - probably so that the poor lover might not be left alone in the world - they ate him up, too. But they never forgot the story. The two children were always together by the elder tree or under the willow, and little Johanne sang the most beautiful songs in a voice as clear as a silver bell. Knud had not a note of music in him, but at least he knew the words of the songs, and that was something. But the people of Kjöge, even the wife of the hardware merchant, stopped and listened when Johanne sang. "She has a very sweet voice, that little girl," she said.

Those were glorious days; but glorious days do not last forever, and finally the neighbors separated. Johanne's mother died, and her father planned to marry again in Copenhagen, where he had been promised a position as messenger, a job supposed to be very profitable. While the neighbors parted with regrets, the children wept bitterly, but the parents promised to write to each other at least once a year.

And Knud was made apprentice to a shoemaker, for such a big boy was too old to run around wild any longer; and, furthermore, he was confirmed.

Oh, how he would have liked to see little Johanne in Copenhagen on that day of celebration! But he didn't go; and he had never been there, although Kjöge is only five Danish miles away. On a clear day Knud could see the distant towers of the city across the bay, and on the day of his confirmation he could even see the golden cross on the tower of the Church of Our Lady glitter in the sun.

Ah, how often his thoughts turned toward Johanne! And did she remember him? Yes! At Christmastime a letter came from her father to Knud's parents, saying that they were doing very well in Copenhagen, and Johanne could look forward to a brilliant career on the strength of her lovely voice. She already had a position in the opera house and was already earning a little money, out of which she sent her dear neighbors of Kjöge a dollar for a merry Christmas Eve. Johanne herself added a postscript, asking them to drink to her health, and in the same postscript was also written, "Friendly greetings to Knud!"

They all wept; but this was all very pleasant, for they were tears of joy that they shed. Knud's thoughts had been with Johanne every day, and now he knew that she also thought of him. The nearer came the end of his apprenticeship, the more clearly did he realize that he was in love with Johanne and that she must be his little wife.

When he thought of this a smile brightened his face, and he drew the thread faster than before and pressed his foot against the knee strap. He didn't even pay any attention when he ran the awl deep into one of his fingers. He was determined that he would not play the silent lover, like the two gingerbread cakes. The story had taught him a lesson.

Now he was a journeyman, and his knapsack was packed ready for his trip. At last, for the first time in his life, he was to go to Copenhagen, where a master was already expecting him. How surprised and happy Johanne would be to see him! She was just seventeen now, and he nineteen.

He wanted to buy a gold ring for her before he left Kjöge, but then decided he could get a much nicer one in Copenhagen. And so he took leave of his parents, and on a rainy, windy day in autumn set forth on foot from the town of his birth. The damp leaves were dropping from the trees, and he was wet to the skin when he arrived at his new master's home in the big city of Copenhagen. The following Sunday he would pay a visit to Johanne's father!

So, on Sunday he put on the new journeyman's clothes, and the new hat from Kjöge that became him very well, for till then he had only worn a cap. He easily found the house he was seeking, and mounted flight after flight of stairs until he became almost dizzy. It seemed terrible to him for people to live piled up on top of each other in this intricate city.

Everything in the parlor looked prosperous, and Johanne's father received him in kindly friendship. Knud was a stranger to the new wife, but she too shook hands with him and gave him a cup of coffee.

"Johanne will be glad to see you," said the father. "You've grown into a nice-looking young man. Yes, wait till you see her. There is a girl who rejoices my heart, and please God she will rejoice it still more. She has her own room now and pays us rent regularly for it!"

Then he knocked quite politely at his daughter's door, as if he were a stranger, and they went in.

Oh, how pretty it was! he was certain there wasn't such a lovely room in all Kjöge; the Queen herself could not be more charmingly lodged. There were carpets, and window curtains that hung quite to the floor, and flowers and pictures, and a velvet chair, and even a mirror as large as a door and so clear there was a danger of walking into it.

A glance showed all this to Knud, and yet he could look at nothing but Johanne. She was a full-grown maiden now, quite different from Knud's memories of her, and much more beautiful. There wasn't a girl in Kjöge like her. How graceful she was, and with what a strange, unsure gaze she looked at Knud! But that was only for a moment, and then she rushed toward him as if it kiss him. she did not actually do so, but she very nearly did.

Yes, she was really happy to see her childhood friend again! There were tears in Johanne's eyes; she had so much to say, and so many questions to ask about everything, from Knud's parents to the elder tree and the willow, which she called Elder Mother and Willow Father just as if they had been human beings; and indeed they might be called so, just as much as the gingerbread cakes. She spoke of them too, and their silent love, and how they had lain on the shop counter and broken in two - and at this she laughed heartily, while the blood rushed to Knud's cheeks and his heart beat faster and faster. No, she had not grown haughty at all.

And Knud noticed quite well that it was because of her that her parents invited him to spend the evening. With her won hands she poured out the tea and gave him a cup; and afterward she read aloud to them from a book, and it seemed to Knud that what she read was all about himself and his love, for it matched with his thoughts. Then she sang a simple little song, but her singing made it a real story that seemed to be the outpouring of her very heart.

Yes, Knud knew she cared for him. He could not keep tears of joy from rolling down his cheeks, nor could he speak a single word - he seemed struck dumb. But she pressed his hand and murmured, "You have a good heart, Knud. Stay always the way you are now!"

That was a magnificent evening; it was impossible to sleep afterward, and accordingly Knud did not sleep.

When he had left, Johanne's father had said, "Now, don't forget us altogether. Don't let the whole winter go by before you come to us again!" Knud felt that gave him permission to repeat the call the following Sunday, and determined to do so.

But every evening after work - and the working hours lasted until candlelight there - Knud went out into the town. He returned to the street in which Johanne lived, and looked up at her window. It was almost always lighted, and one evening he could even see the shadow of her face quite plainly on the curtain. That was an evening he would never forget. His master's wife did not like his "gallivanting abroad every evening," as she put it, and shook her head ruefully over him; but the master only smiled.

"He's just a young fellow," he said.

"On Sunday we shall see each other," Knud thought, "and I shall tell her how she is always in my thoughts and that she must be my little wife. I know I'm only a poor journeyman shoemaker, but I can become a master, and I'll work and save - yes, I'll tell her that! No good comes from a silent love; I've learned that much from the gingerbread!"

Sunday came at last, and Knud set out, but to his great disappointment they had to tell him they were all invited out that evening. But as he left Johanne pressed his hand and said, "Have you ever been to the theater? You must go there sometime. I shall be singing on Wednesday, and if you have time that evening I'll send you a ticket. My father knows where you are living."

How kind it was of her! And at noon on Wednesday he received a sealed envelope. There were no words inside, but the ticket was there, and that evening Knud went to the theater for the first time in his life. And what did he see? He saw Johanne, looking more charming and beautiful than he ever could have believed possible! To be sure, she was married to a stranger, but that was just in the play; it was only make-believe, as Knud understood very well. If it had been true, he thought, she would never have had the heart to send him a ticket so that he could go and see it. And everybody shouted and applauded, and Knud cried out, "Hurrah!"

Even the King was there, smiling at Johanne, and he seemed to delight in her loveliness. How small Knud felt then! Still he loved her dearly, and felt that she loved him, too; but he knew it was up to the man to speak the first word, as the gingerbread maiden in the story had taught him. Indeed, there was a great deal of truth in that story.

So, as soon as Sunday came, he went to see her again, feeling as solemn as if he were going into a church. Johanne was at home alone; it could not have happened more fortunately.

"I'm glad you came," she said. "I almost sent Father after you, but I felt in my heart that you would be here this evening. I have to tell you that I am leaving for France on Friday; I must study there if I am to become a great artiste!"

At those words it seemed to Knud as if the whole room were whirling round and round with him. He felt as if his heart would break; there were no tears in his eyes, but Johanne could not fail to see how stricken he was .

"You honest, faithful soul!" she said.

And her tenderness loosened his tongue. He told her how much he loved her and begged her to become his little wife. Then he saw Johanne turn pale as she dropped his hand and said seriously and sadly, "Dear Knud, don't make us both unhappy. I shall always be a loving sister to you, one in whom you may trust, but I shall never be anything more."

Gently she placed her soft hand on his hot forehead. "God gives us the strength for much," she said, "if only we try to do our best." At that moment her stepmother entered the room, and Johanne said, "Knud is quite heartbroken because I'm going away! Come, be a man," and she laid her hand on his shoulder; it seemed as if they had been talking only of her journey. "You're a child," she laughed, "but now you must be good and reasonable, as you used to be under the willow tree when we were both children!"

Knud felt as if the whole world were out of joint, and his thoughts were like a loose thread fluttering in the wind. He remained for tea, though he hardly knew if they had asked him to; and they were kind and gentle, and Johanne poured out his tea and sang to him. Her voice did not have its old tone, but still it was wonderfully beautiful and nearly broke his heart. And then they parted. Knud could not bear to offer his hand, but she took it and said, "Surely you'll shake hands with your sister at parting, old playmate!"

She smiled through the tears that were in her own eyes, and repeated the word "brother". Yes, that was supposed to be a great consolation! Such was their parting.

She sailed for France, and Knud wandered about the muddy streets of Copenhagen. His comrades in the workshop asked why he was so gloomy and urged him to join them and amuse himself, for he was still a young fellow.

So they took him to a dance hall. He saw many pretty girls there, but there was not one to compare with Johanne; here, where he had hoped to forget her, she was more vivid than ever before the eyes of his soul. "God gives us the strength for much," she had said, "if only we try to do our best." Then a devotion came to his mind, and he folded his hands quietly. The violins played, and the girls danced gaily, and suddenly it seemed to him that he should never have brought Johanne into a place like this - for she was there with him, in his heart.

Knud ran out and wandered aimlessly through the streets. He passed by the house where she had lived; it was dark there - everywhere were darkness and emptiness and loneliness. The world went in its way, and Knud went his.

Winter set in, and the waters froze over; it was as if everything were preparing itself for burial. But when spring returned, and the first steamer was to start, an intense longing seized him to go away, far into the world, anywhere - but not too close to France. So he packed his knapsack and wandered deep into Germany, from town to town, finding rest and peace nowhere. It was not until he came to the glorious old city of Nuremberg that he could quiet his restless spirit, and there he decided to stay.

Nuremberg is a strange old city, looking as if it had been cut out of an old-fashioned picture book. The streets seem to wander along just as they please. The houses did not like to stand in regular rows. Gables with little towers, arabesques, and pillars lean out over the walks, and from the queer peaked roofs water-spouts, shaped like dragons or long, slim dogs, push out far over the streets.

There in the Nuremberg market place stood Knud, his knapsack, on his back. He was beside one of the old fountains, where splendid bronze figures, scriptural and historical, rose up between the gushing jets of water. A pretty little servant girl was just filling her pails, and she gave Knud a refreshing drink; and as her hand was full of roses she gave him one of them, too, and he accepted that as a good sign.

From the church near by came the strains of an organ; they rang as familiar to him as the tones of the organ at home in Kjöge church, and he entered the great cathedral. The sunlight streamed in through the high stained-glass windows and down between the lofty, slender pillars. His spirit found rest.

And Knud found a good master in Nuremberg, and he lived in his house, and there learned to speak German.

The old moat around the town of Nuremberg has been converted into little kitchen gardens, but the high walls with their heavy towers are standing yet. The ropemaker twists his cords on a wooden gallery along the inside of the town wall, where elderbushes grow out of the cracks and clefts, spreading their green branches over the small, lowly houses below. In one of these houses Knud lived with his master; and over the little garret window where he slept the elder tree waved its branches.

Here he lived for a summer and winter. But when spring returned he could bear it no longer, for the elder was blooming and the fragrance of its blossoms carried him back to home and the garden at Kjöge. So Knud left that master and found another farther in town, over whose house no elderbush blossomed.

His new workshop was close to one of the old stone bridges, by an ever-foaming, low water mill. The stream roared past it, hemmed in by the houses, whose decayed old balconies looked about to topple into the water. No elder grew here - there was not even a little green plant in a flowerpot - but just opposite stood a grand old willow tree that seemed to cling fast to the house, as if it feared being carried away by the stream. It stretched its branches out over the river, just as the willow at Kjöge spread its arms across the stream by the gardens of home.

Yes, Knud had gone from the Elder Mother to the Willow Father. This tree had something, especially on moonlit evenings, that went straight to his heart, and that something was not of the moonlight but of the old willow tree itself.

He could not remain there. Why not? Ask the willow tree; ask the blossoming elder! And so he bade farewell to his kind master and to Nuremberg and traveled on further.

To no one did he speak of Johanne, but hid his sorrow in his innermost heart; and he thought of the deep meaning of the old story of the gingerbread. Now he understood why the man had a bitter almond for a heart - he himself had felt the bitterness of it. And Johanne, who was always so gentle and smiling, she was only like the honey cake.

The strap of Knud's knapsack seemed so tight across his chest that he could scarcely breathe, but even when he loosened it he was not relieved. He saw only half the world around him; the other half he carried within him. That's how it was!

Not until he was in sight of the high mountains did the world appear freer to him; now his thoughts were turned outward again, and the tears came into his eyes.

The Alps seemed to him like the folded wings of the earth; what if they were to unfold themselves and display their varied pictures of black woods, foaming waters, clouds, and great masses of snow! On the last day, he thought, the world will lift up its mighty wings and mount upward to God, to burst like a soap bubble before the glance of the Highest.

"Ah," he sighed, "that that last day were here now!"

Silently he wandered through a country that seemed to him like an orchard covered with soft turf. From the wooden balconies of the houses girls, busy with their lacemaking, nodded down at him. The summits of the mountains glowed in the red evening sun; and when he saw the blue lakes gleaming through the dark trees, he thought of the seacoast near Kjöge, and there was a sadness in his heart - but it was pain no longer.

There where the Rhine rolls onward like a great wave, and then bursts into snow-white, gleaming, cloudlike masses, as if clouds were being created there, with the rainbow fluttering like a loose band above them - it was there that he thought of the mill at Kjöge, with its rushing, foaming stream.

He would have been glad to have remained in the quiet Rhenish town, but here also there were too many elder trees and too many willows, so he traveled on, over the mighty, towering mountains, through shattered walls of rock, and on roads that clung to the mountainsides like the nests of swallows. The waters foamed in the depths, the clouds themselves were below him, and he strode on in the warm summer sun over shiny thistles, Alpine roses and snow. Thus he said farewell to the lands of the North and journeyed on under the shade of blooming chestnut trees, and through vineyards and fields of maize. Now the mountains were a wall between him and all his memories; that was how he wished it to be.

At last he reached that great, glorious city called Milan, and here he found a German master who gave him work. The master an his wife, in whose workshop he labored now, were a pious old couple. And they became quite fond of the quiet journeyman, who said little but worked all the harder and led a devout Christian life. And to Knud also it seemed that God had lifted the heavy burden from his heart.

His favorite relaxation was to climb from time to time to the mighty marble church, which seemed to him to have been built of the snow of his native Northland, formed into images, pointed towers, and decorated open halls; from every corner and every niche the white statues smiled down upon him. Above him was the blue sky; below him were the city and the wide-spreading green plains of Lombardy, and toward the north the high mountains capped with perpetual snow. Then he thought of the church at Kjöge, with its red ivy-colored walls, but he did not long to go there again. Here, beyond the mountains, he would be buried.

He had lived there a year, and three years had passed since he had left his home, when one day his master took him into the city - not to the circus with its daring riders; no, to the great opera, where was an auditorium well worth seeing. There were seven tiers of boxes, and from each beautiful silken curtains hung, while from the ground to the dizzy heights of the roof there sat the most elegant ladies, with corsages in their hands as if they were at a ball, and gentlemen in full dress, many of them with decorations of gold and silver. It was as bright there as in the noonday sunshine, and the music rolled gloriously and beautifully; everything was much more splendid than in the theater at Copenhagen, but then Johanne had been in Copenhagen, and here - -

Yes! It was like magic - Johanne was here also! The Curtain rose, and she appeared, clad in silk and gold, with a gold crown upon her head. She sang as none but an angel could sing, and came far forward to the front of the stage, and smiled as only Johanne could smile, and looked straight down at Knud! The poor boy seized his master's arm and called out aloud, "Johanne!" The loud music sounded above everything, but no one heard but the master, who nodded his head.

"Yes," he said, "her name is Johanne!" Then he drew forth his program and showed Knud her name - for the full name was printed there.

No, it was not a dream! The great audience applauded and threw wreaths and flowers to Johanne, and every time she went away they called her back on stage, so that she was always going and coming.

In the street outside afterward the people crowded about her carriage and drew it away in triumph. Knud was in the first row and shouted as joyfully as any; and when the carriage halted before her brightly lighted house he was standing close beside the door. It opened, and she stepped out; the light fell upon her beloved face, and she smiled, thanked them graciously, and appeared deeply touched. Knud looked straight into her eyes, and she into his, but she never knew him. A gentleman with a decoration glittering on his breast gave her his arm - people said they were betrothed.
Then Knud went home and packed his knapsack. He had decided to return to his own home, to the elder and willow trees - ah, beneath the willow tree!

The old couple begged him to remain, but no words could change his mind. It was in vain that they pointed out to him that winter was coming and the snow had already fallen in the mountains. He replied that he could march, with his knapsack on his back, and supported by his cane, in the wake of a slow-moving carriage, for which a path would have to be cleared.
So Knud left for the mountains and climbed up them and down them. His strength grew less, but still he saw no village or house; always he plodded onward toward the North. High above him the stars gleamed; his feet stumbled, and his head grew dizzy with the heights. Stars seemed to shine deep in the valley, too, as if there were another sky below him. He felt ill. More and more stars became visible below him; they glowed brighter and brighter and moved to and fro. Then he realized it was the lights of a little town that were shining down there. When he was sure of that, he put forth the last of his strength and finally reached the shelter of a humble inn.

He remained there that night and the whole of the next day, for his body was in desperate need of rest and refreshment. The ice was beginning to thaw, and there was rain in the valley. But on the second morning a man with a hand organ came to the inn and played a Danish melody - and now Knud could not remain.

He resumed his journey northward, tramping on for many days, hurrying as though he were trying to reach home before all were dead there. But to no man did he speak of his longing, for no one would have believed in the sorrow of his spirit, the deepest a human heart can feel. Such grief is not for the world, for it is not amusing; nor is it for friends. And this man had no friends; a stranger, he wandered through strange lands toward his home in the North. He had received only one letter from home, and it was now years since his parents had written. "You are not really Danish as we here at home. We love our country, but you love only a strange country." Thus his parents had written him - yes, they thought they knew him!
Now it was evening. He was tramping along the public highway. The frost had settled down, and the country had become flatter, with fields and meadows on all sides. And near the road there grew a great willow tree! The whole outlook reminded Knud strongly of home; it looked so Danish, and with a deep sigh he sat down under the tree. He was very tired, his head began to nod, and his eyes closed in slumber, but still he seemed to see the tree stretching its arms above him, and in his wandering fancy the tree seemed to be a mighty old man - the Willow Father himself - carrying his tired son in his arms back to his Danish home, to the bare, bleak shore of Kjöge and the garden of his childhood.

Yes, he dreamed that this was the willow tree of Kjöge that had traveled out into the world in search of him, and at last had found him, and had carried him back into the little garden beside the stream. And there stood Johanne, in all her splendor, with the golden crown on her head, just as he had seen her last, and she called out "Welcome!" to him.

And before him stood two remarkable figures, looking much more human than he remembered them from his childhood. They had changed too, but they were still the two gingerbread cakes, the man and the maiden, that turned their right sides toward him, and looked very handsome.
"We thank you!" both said to Knud. "You have loosened our tongues and taught us that thoughts should be spoken freely or nothing will come of them. And now something has come of them - we are betrothed!"

Then they walked hand in hand through the street s of Kjöge, and looked very respectable even on the wrong side; no one could have found any fault with them. On they went, straight toward Kjöge Church, and Knud and Johanne followed them - they, too, walked hand in hand. The church stood there as it had always stood, with the beautiful green ivy growing on its red walls, and the great door of the church swung open, and the organ pealed, and the gingerbread couple walked up the aisle.

"Our master first," said the cake pair, and made room for Johanne and Knud to kneel before the altar. And she bent her head over him, and the tears fell from her eyes, but they were icy cold, for it was the ice around her heart that was melting, softened by his strong love.

The tears fell upon his burning cheeks, and then he awoke - and he was sitting under the old willow tree in a foreign land on that cold winter evening; an icy hail from the could s was beating on his face.

"That was the most wonderful hour of my life!" he cried. "And it was just a dream. Oh, God, let me dream again!

Then he closed his eyes once more and dreamed again.

Toward morning there was a great snowstorm, and the wind blew it in drifts over him, and when the villagers came forth to go to church they found a journeyman sitting by the roadside. He was dead - frozen to death beneath the willow tree!

resso 写了： 04 4月 2026, 20:08

我略过 Youtube 的中间部分，听了结尾部分；她讲得好。这个故事更适合成年人。

安徒生的故事是写给成年人的。

安徒生常在故事中加入只有成年人才能领会的社会讽刺和对人性的剖析，如《皇帝的新衣》。

在情感故事上，与格林童话常有的“王子公主从此幸福地生活在一起”不同，安徒生的作品往往带有淡淡的悲伤，像《海的女儿》、《柳树下的梦》。《卖火柴的小女孩》更是催人泪下。安徒生向读者展示了失落、孤独、贫穷、无助、死亡，还有善良。

shepherd17 写了： 04 4月 2026, 20:21

安徒生的故事是写给成年人的。

安徒生常在故事中加入只有成年人才能领会的社会讽刺和对人性的剖析，如《皇帝的新衣》。

在情感故事上，与格林童话常有的“王子公主从此幸福地生活在一起”不同，安徒生的作品往往带有淡淡的悲伤，像《海的女儿》、《柳树下的梦》。《卖火柴的小女孩》更是催人泪下。安徒生向读者展示了失落、孤独、贫穷、无助、死亡，还有善良。

是的，和宫崎骏动画片一样，不是给小孩看的

这个有点像男版的人鱼姑娘，只是公主比这个更深刻 更让人心痛一点

Moominvalley 写了： 04 4月 2026, 22:31

这个有点像男版的人鱼姑娘，只是公主比这个更深刻 更让人心痛一点

是的，情节有类似之处：求而不得。

《海的女儿》比较梦幻，而《柳树下的梦》更贴近真实生活，它一定程度上带有安徒生自传性质。