| The
Fairy Fountain.
A Fairy Tale
|
Once in a northern city, my children, far away from
here,
there dwelt a cobbler whose name was Anders Chris-
tensen. He was very young, being scarcely twenty
years of
age. His parents were both dead. He was their only
child.
Since his mother’s death, his father and he had
lived entirely |
5 |
alone,
and for several years had worked at their trade
very dil- igently together. Their days had drifted
by them in a shadow
of quiet dreamy toil. They had had few pleasures:
for his father though a kindly was a sombre man:
only once in a great while
it had pleased him to take his son and go forth
out of the town |
10 |
gate
into the green country beyond. There under the shade
of great elms in warm pasture lands, or lying beneath
cool pines
on breezy slopes, the child had passed many a happy
hour, lis- tening to the stories which the white-haired
man had gathered
in his youth. After his father’s death Anders had
but one friend |
15 |
left.
This was the parish priest, who had taken a fancy
to him
long before, on account of his strange dark eyes
and pale dreamy forehead. He had taught him to read
and had given
him a few books, which the boy had read over and
over, till he almost knew them by heart. The great
thoughts and visions |
20 |
which
he got from some of these books were ever before
him while he was at work—so that the neighbours
would call him
the grey-haired child, seeing how still and patient
he was.
More than ever now that his father was gone were
they a
delight to him in his loneliness, and often after
his day’s work |
25 |
was
done, he would light his candle and go slowly over
them again till he fell asleep sometimes, dreaming
strangely
between the lines.
One evening as he sat so,
he came to a passage in an old poem, telling of
green fields and the mirth and beauty of the |
30 |
summer
hills and valleys. At this he fell to thinking,
that it was
long since he had seen these things with his own
eyes, and he determined to make the next day a holiday,
and spend it all by himself in the sweet places,
which his father had taught him to love. Early in
the morning, before it was sunrise, he got up and |
35 |
packed
a loaf of bread in his wallet and set out. The sun
was
not quite risen yet when he reached the highway;
but all the
East was white, and the birds were breaking into
sweet muf-
fled songs in the cool grey of the morning.
Hour after hour he journeyed
on, ever lighter of heart, and |
40 |
it was
high noon and the sun was very hot, when he reached
the hills and came into a narrow valley, with a
small beautiful stream running through it. It seemed
to him that he had never been in this valley before,
so he kept along one side of it, determined to get
as far into the cheery depth of it as possible. |
45 |
At last
in a quiet hidden place he came to a fountain, from
which a very small stream flowed away into the brook
below.
It was strangely made; for it was built against
a high rock—a round deep basin, and a smoothe wall
behind—and on the
wall was carved the figure of a fairy blowing a
horn, and from |
50 |
the
horn the water leaped into the basin and from this
it ran
down sparkling and murmuring over the slope. Anders
felt
quite tired now and the place was very beautiful.
He sat down
on the rim of the fountain and looked over into
the chrystal
water. It was very deep but he could see every pebble
at the |
55 |
bottom
glimmering as with a circle of pearl, and the stream
falling from the horn seemed to call to him to drink:
so he took
out his bread and ate and drank of the water. Then
he began to feel wonderfully bright and joyous.
The voices of the brook
sang like so many hundred silver bells in his ears.
All the |
60 |
leaves
of the fair trees, as the wind blew through them,
seemed to be talking strangely to one another, and
then seemed to look at him now and then, as the
sun caught them, with innum-
erable eyes. The birds came close about him and
sang so won- derfully, that Anders thought that
he could guess at the happy |
65 |
things
they were saying. Grasshoppers piped thinly in the
hot thick grass, and farther down in the reeds by
the stream the
clear voices of the lizards melted dreamily into
his ears. A
great quiet came over him and after he had eaten
and drunk,
he still sat on the rim of the fountain and rested
his head upon |
70 |
his
hand and gazed at the stone figure of the fairy.
It was so beautiful, that he thought that he would
fain sit there in revery forever. But as he gazed
it seemed to him that the fairy was no longer of
stone, but living flesh, and her lips were like
those of
a living being. She took the horn from her mouth,
and the |
75 |
water
ceased to flow. Then the quiet lips moved, and the
sense
of words came into Anders’ heart so softly that
he could
hardly tell whether it were a voice or not:
"Long have I looked
for you, Anders Christensen, and happy are you,
having at last reached the rim of my fountain. |
80 |
Few
of those, whose eyes look upon beautiful things,
find me;
but when they do, they behold more than ever they
dreamed
of." Then she put the horn back to her lips
again, and the water rustled down as before: but
Anders saw that a little gold key dropped from the
horn’s mouth into the basin, and he bared his |
85 |
arm,
and leaned over, and drew it out. But knowing not
as yet what it meant, he looked again dreamily into
the strange stone face and saw that the fairy’s
eyes were fixed kindly upon his.
He saw that the eyes turned slowly to the left along
the wall,
and Anders following that direction also with his,
marked a |
90 |
small
gold padlock that hung on the face of the rock,
only a lit-
tle way from where he sat. He got up and put the
key into the
lock and turned it. Immediately a stone gate swung
open and Anders went in. He found himself on a wide
plain, covered
with thick soft grass and so closely sprinkled with
daisies that |
95 |
his
feet trod them down at every step. Anders walked
on and
on and he was carelessly happy like one in a quiet
dream; till
he came suddenly to the end of the plain; for here
it sloped
down into a great stretch of level cornland, covered
with fields and farm-houses, gardens and orchards
as far as the eye could |
100 |
see.
And here and there a great way off were many castles
with grey towers and walls shining in the sunlight,
and away
against the horizon a vast city, with hundreds of
spires, glitter-
ing like silver. On the slope were many trees, and
the sheep were lying under them, chewing the cud
and sheltered from |
105 |
the
heat. Anders sat down on a grey stone bewildered;
for he had never seen any country so beautiful in
his life before, nei- ther had he ever dreamed of
anything like it.
He sat there looking long
over the rich fields, wherein
many were at work reaping the harvest, and gazing
at the fair |
110 |
castles
and the slender city spires, and the green rustling
woods, till the sun went down, a ball of gold over
the still yel-
low West, and then he felt drowsy and laid himself
on the grass and watched the stars come out, larger
and more lustrous than he had ever seen them before.
Finally he fell asleep, dreaming |
115 |
of many
strange and beautiful things. While he had sat awake
the birds had sung to one another for hours and
he had under- stood what they sang. Now in his dreams
he followed still the sweet things they told of
among the sunny fields and through
the shadowy woods. |
120 |
When Anders awoke in the morning, he could do nothing
for some time but rub his eyes and stare about him
in bewil- derment. He was no longer on the slope,
but lying in a corner
of a great cornfield. Half of the wheat was mowed
and bound
in shiefs, the other half still standing, and Anders
found that |
125 |
| his
clothing was changed; for he had on the rough homespun
garb of a husbandman. Presently he saw coming towards
him half a dozen men and girls and they had sickles
and rakes in their hands. They came into the field
and the men began to cut the corn and the women
to bind it. One of the girls was very |
130 |
| beautiful,
and she gave orders to the rest where they were
to bind and where to stack the shocks. Her hair
was golden, and bound in two long braids behind
her back. Her dress was coarse, but neat and graceful.
Anders had never seen any fine lady whom he thought
so lovely, and in spite of himself he |
135 |
drew
nearer and nearer to her, till at last he was among
the binders and almost at her side. Then the maiden
looked up and said to him,
"Ah, Anders Christensen,
thou hast better hands for bind-
ing than I; here get thee to work and I will talk
to thee. There |
140 |
is none
here, that would not buy my talk with a little hard
labour." And Anders took the corn and tried
to bind it, but was very clumsy; not because he
was ignorant, for somehow he seemed suddenly to
know all about it: but because he could
not keep his eyes from the maiden, and her voice
fell on his |
145 |
ears
like a strange music and bewildered him. He was
wonder-
ing too how it was that she came to know him. She
seeing how
ill at ease he was with the shieves, began again
to bind, and the two went on working together, talking
pleasantly all the while;
and the maiden told him many things about the farm
and many |
150 |
stories
of what had happened to the labourers.
When it was noon, one came
across the fields, bearing an earthern jar of milk
and a basket of bread; and the maiden took Anders
and led him to a great elm tree, that overshadowed
the midst of the field. There they all ate and drank
together and all |
155 |
seemed
to know Anders and talked to him as friends. After
this they went on binding again till night came
and Anders was very happy; for the toil with the
shieves was new to him, the
sight of the yellow corn, with the labourers in
it was pleasing
to him, and the maiden talked all the while, and
he could look |
160 |
at
her as much as he liked. When it was evening the
men and
the girls gathered the sickles and rakes together
and left
Anders and went away, and the maiden thanked him
and bad him good-night. Anders went back to the
corner of the field, where he had found himself
in the morning, and lay down |
165 |
under
a hedge, and the night wind blew the scent of musk
roses over his face, till he fell asleep and dreamed
of the har- vest, the farm tales and the lovely
maiden.
When Anders awoke he found
everything more strange
even than before. He was no longer lying under the
hedge by |
170 |
the
side of the cornfield, but in the depth of a great
park or straggling forest. All around him were mighty
oaks and the
grass was deep and green beneath him. His clothing
was changed, and when he looked down over his limbs,
they
seemed to him to be all glowing with rich cloth
and lovely |
175 |
colour.
His jacket was of velvet and satin, his hose of
shining
silk and a silken baldrick with a hunting horn was
lying by his side. On his hands were long gloves.
On one of his wrists was
a falcon, who seemed to be sitting there, as naturally
as if Anders had never made a shoe in his life.
After Anders had |
180 |
surveyed
himself awhile in contented wonder, he began to
look about him among the trees. A little way off
a horse was standing, quietly cropping up the grass.
He knew that it was
his horse, though he had never seen it before. Everything
was half strange, half natural. Presently Anders
got up, and flung |
185 |
the
baldrick round his neck, and, going to the horse,
leaped lightly upon its back, though he had never
done such a thing before in his life.
So he rode away among the
oaks, thinking that perhaps he might somewhere find
the maiden and her companions at |
190 |
| work.
The sun was risen, but the dew was still quivering
on the crisp leaves in thousands of little silver
beads. The cool wind blew into Anders’ face and
seemed to stroke his hair. Every- where the thrushes
and robins were singing their sweetest car- ols
to the morning among the moist branches and in the
sunny |
195 |
| glades.
A few small white clouds were hanging in the sky,
but they never seemed to move. All things were so
blithe and joy- ous, that Anders thought he had
never been so happy before in his life. He lifted
the horn from his side, and blew a great blast,
that echoed far away among the gnarled trunks. Again
and |
200 |
again
he blew the horn, and at length as he stopped once
to lis-
ten to the echoes, he heard an answer borne to him
softly from the depth of the wood. Again blowing
the horn he rode on in
the direction of the sound, and the answers drew
nearer and nearer, till he beheld a fair company,
coming toward him |
205 |
through
an open space between the trees—a lady and maidens
and a troupe of squires, some with hawks and others
leading hounds in long leashes, the women having
falcons on their gloved wrists. When Anders came
near, he could look at noth-
ing but the lady, for she was the same as the maiden
he had |
210 |
helped
the day before in the harvest field, the same face
and figure, the same eyes and hair. She wore a riding
dress of the fairest green silk, and her horse was
wonderfully trapped.
When Anders came up to them, the lady said in a
voice so
sweet and clear, that he heard no more of the songs
of the |
215 |
thrushes,
though they were the richest he had ever heard.
"Ah! Anders Christensen,
I am glad you think this is no morning to be making
shoes. Come ride with me, and you
shall be merry as the day is long." Then he
kissed the lady’s hand and they went on together,
talking merrily all the while. |
220 |
The morning passed away and Anders never left the
lady’s side. Sometimes they followed in the chace
of the deer
through the noisy woods and listened to the music
of the hounds—and sometimes watched the herons killed
by the margin of a reedy fen. At noon they all came
back together to |
225 |
| a place
where a stream murmured among the trees. Thither
servants had come, and had pitched a tent and laid
a repast on the soft grass: and the ladies and the
squires and Anders with them sat down there and
ate and drank in much happiness, and there was great
jesting and laughing, and many sweet stories |
230 |
were
told to pass the time more joyously.
Anders knew that it was
not real, but only like a very vivid dream, yet
he joined with them in their talk and gave himself
up to the brightness and beauty of everything; and
he could
never get enough of looking into the strange lady’s
face and |
235 |
hearing
the wonderful music of her voice.
So the hours fled, till
it was time to journey home. Then
they all got to horse again and rode back through
the forest,
now golden with the sinking sun. At last they came
to a great meadow, sloping away to the westward.
At the end of the |
240 |
| meadow
was a castle, with towers grey and old against the
sunset, and shaggy with ivy. As they rode slowly
towards the castle, the talk grew more quiet, for
the meadow became ever more still and dreamy, as
the light fell, and the shadows of the scattered
trees lengthened and darkened in the evening. Then |
245 |
they
came all together to the gate and went into the
courtyard and the lady and her maidens left them,
and Anders and the squires passed presently into
a great hall. The floor was of
stone, and the roof, vaulted far over head was brown
and won-
derful to behold. There were great pointed windows,
and |
250 |
between
the windows torches fastened against the stone,
and they flung a red flare over all the hall. A
broad board was laid
in the midst. Then came an old knight with grey
beard and hair and the lady with him. The knight
was the same as the chief of those who had labored
the day before in the harvest field, only |
255 |
now
he was more reverend and was richly clad. He sat
at the head of the board and the lady by his side,
and she called to Anders and had him sit at her
right hand.
After they had feasted
to their hearts content, the youths
and maidens began to dance and afterwards the minstrels
sang |
260 |
their
lays and recited parts of beautiful legends. In
the end the
old knight took Anders by the hand and led him to
a chamber, where he lay upon soft skins and covered
with a silken cover-
let. Long he lay awake, still wandering in thought
among the great oaks or watching the falcons shoot
down upon the long- |
265 |
winged
herons or he thought of the beautiful lady as they
sat
by the stream in the forest or danced and listened
to the min-
strel tales in the sombre red-lighted hall. Sleep
overcame him
at last, but it seemed only a moment till he was
awake again
and the day was shining upon his eyes once more. |
270 |
Everything had changed again, and Anders felt for
a
moment a sharp pang of regret, as he looked about
him and
saw that he was no longer lying in the brown old
chamber,
with the thick skins and the silken coverlet; but
in the corner
of a great market-place, and his head propped upon
a low |
275 |
stone
seat, and his limbs a little chilly with the morning
air. All was noise and bustle in the market-place,
for the merchants were opening their stalls, the
pedlars were already hawking
their wares with innumerable cries. The country
folk were dis- posing their carts, putting up awnings
here and there and lay- |
280 |
ing
out their goods. There was a fair fountain in the
midst of
the place, and there were already gathered about
it many beg-
gars and nimble-fingered boys.
Then Anders became aware
that there was a stall close beside him, roofed
with canvas and there were boards laid all |
285 |
round
it upon trestles, and they were covered with garden
stuffs, together with fruits and bunches of flowers.
A maiden
was standing there behind the boards in the stall,
with her back turned to him, and it seemed to him
that he knew the head and the light fair figure.
Anders had hardly noted all these things, |
290 |
when
the maiden turned and, seeing him, smiled and cried,
"Ah, Anders Christensen,
it is no time for you to be lying asleep in corners,
when folks are busy. Come, take this pitcher, and
bring me water from the fountain, for I must get
my flow-
ers in order." So he went to the fountain and
brought the water, |
295 |
and
poured it into the earthen vases, which she had
there, and, while he did this, the maiden arranged
the flowers, and talked
to him with the same musical voice, and looked at
him with
the same strange eyes as the lady in the forest
and the maiden in the harvest field. |
300 |
When Anders had awakened there was a harp laid near
him against the wall, and he now went to it and
began to touch the strings. All the beautiful things
that had happened to him came
to his mind, the sweet tales that he had heard,
and a sense of
the beauty and strangeness of everything around
him. Imme- |
305 |
| diately
he began to fashion a song out of these things,
and the song took possession of his heart and carried
him away. So he played and sang there, till the
people gathered about him, and were touched with
his words. Some of them gave him money, which at
night he distributed to the beggars at the fountain. |
310 |
When it was evening two of the maiden’s kinsmen
came
with a cart and took away the trestles and the awning,
and the things that were not sold, and the maiden
bade good-night to Anders and went with them. When
she was gone Anders sat down on the stone bench
that was round the fountain, and lis- |
315 |
tened
to the murmur of the water, till there was no longer
any
one left in the square. Then he laid himself down
to rest with
the harp beside him and the noise of the fountain
soothed him
to sleep.
The next morning when he
woke the scene was more |
320 |
wildly
changed than ever. He was lying on a great plain,
near
to a fire, which was falling into embers. There
were hundreds
of mighty men around him with stern rough faces,
and they
were girding on their armour. Hoarse horns were
blowing in every direction, and not far away was
a tent of skins, and one
|
325 |
taller
and slimmer than the rest, was standing in front
of it,
giving orders in a loud deep voice. Those who were
about Anders were already on their feet, and he
observed that they
had rude harps and were wild-eyed storm-beaten looking
men. Presently the man before the tent looked to
where Anders sat, |
330 |
with
his hand upon his harp,—for he too had one and called
to him, "Come hither, Anders Christensen, I
have great work for your eyes and ears to do this
day." And one of his companions said,
"Hasten, Anders, for
the King calls you"—and Anders
sprang up and came before the King, who laid his
hand upon |
335 |
his
shoulder and said to him,
"You and your brother
scalds—there be nine of you—shall stand in the ring
of shields with me to-day, and see with your
own eyes the terrible deeds that I shall do,—so
you shall sing them the better, when the victory
is won, and I come to feast |
340 |
with
my servants in hall."
And Anders now understood
where he was, and seemed to know as much about it
as if he had been the King’s scald all
his life,—and he went to his brother harpers and
they armed themselves and took their harps. |
345 |
Then
the King’s host marshalled itself in a long line,
with shining helmets and jingling mail, and in the
midst was a great banner, and round it a circle
of mighty warriors, taller and
fiercer than Anders had ever dreamed of; and within
the circle was the King, with his hand leaning upon
a long straight |
350 |
sword,
that stood from his shoulder down to his feet. Then
Anders and the scalds came and placed themselves
behind the King within the ring of horses, and they
all moved on together with heavy feet and clanging
armour into the battle.
All that day Anders moved
on behind the King, and many |
355 |
times
the circle was broken and the King was hewed at
by innumerable swords;—and often Anders had to fight
for his
life, and some of the scalds were killed at his
side; and though
it was all strange and unreal like a dream, yet
he seemed to be filled with a fierce ardour and
fought so wonderfully that at |
360 |
times
he was before the King and warded off blows from
him.
But at length the King’s
enemy was stricken down, and all
his warriors, slain or wounded or put to flight.
The whole field
was covered with the dead and the victors pursued
after their enemies with terrible shouts. As night
fell the King stayed his |
365 |
men
from the chase, and halted in a lonely valley, and
leaned upon what was left of his sword—for it was
broken—very
weary. In front of them was a great castle of stone
and the lord
of it came and yielded up the keys and invited the
King to
come there. So they went many of them into the castle,
and a |
370 |
feast
was made in the great hall, and when they had eaten
and drank, the King made Anders take his harp and
sing about the battle. A fierce wild glow came over
him and he seemed to feel strangely that he was
indeed a scald, and he held the harp in
his hands, and touched the strings, and chanted
a wonderful |
375 |
song.
Such a song it was that the battle ardour came upon
all who heard it. The King’s eyes burned like fire,
and his war-
riors seized their swords and hewed the table and
benches to pieces, and only ceased from their fury,
when wine and wea- riness overcame them, and one
by one they fell upon the floor |
380 |
and
slept.
And then was Anders weary
too, and the harp dropped
from his hands: but at that moment a lady came into
the hall,
and drew near to him, stepping lightly among those
that lay asleep, and she brought Anders a goblet
of water, and this |
385 |
revived
him. The lady sat down beside him and talked to
him
and made him sing to her other songs than the one
he had just finished. At last, when all the torches
had flickered out and
only the pale moonshine from the narrow windows
rested on
the sombre figures of those that slept, the lady
brought a great |
390 |
skin
and laid it on the floor at his feet and bade him
good-night and went away. And then Anders, being
very weary, lay down too, and remembered no more.
The next day brought him
new scenes of wonder and
beauty, but everything seemed to him dimmer and
more unreal |
395 |
than
before. The faces and figures about him were more
like those in dreams and he could barely hold the
meaning of what
he heard. Three more days were passed in adventures
no less strange than those already recorded. But
every day Anders thought himself to be moving more
and more among unreal |
400 |
shadows.
All things about him were beautiful, but his mind
could keep no hold of them. His eyes could no longer
see, nor his ears hear. At last he seemed to go
about painfully as one striving to steady himself
in a stupor. At the end of the third
day, as he was walking in the narrow street of a
strange town, |
405 |
that
appeared to be filled with a thin mist, through
which came
a murmuring like that of waves upon sand, he saw
a cobbler at work in his stall, and immediately
he remembered his former
life. A great longing came upon him to be away from
dreams
and shadows, and once more working patiently among
living |
410 |
men;
and he said to himself, "Ah, Anders, you have
had
enough of changing clothes, lodging and manners
seven times a-week. You would fain go back to your
stall, if you could but
find the way." So saying he sat down dreamily
on a stone-
bench, that was in front of the cobbler’s shop and
leaned his |
415 |
forehead
on his hands and tried to think. His eyes were fixed
upon the pavement, and he saw that the earth beneath
him was no longer covered with stone, but with thick
green grass. He started and looked up, and, behold,
there was the great wheat-
land before him, with the fields and the orchards,
the castles |
420 |
| and
the far slender spires. The harvest was reaped now
and the fields were rough with the stubble, and
a soft haze of gold was over them from the setting
sun. Anders turned and saw that the smoothe plain
was behind him with the grass and the daisies— and
not far away was the wall; and he looked once more
for a |
425 |
moment
half-regretfully over the sweet country he was leav-
ing, for it was marvelously beautiful, and then
got up and went cheerily back to the gate. The gold
key was hanging in the golden padlock and he turned
it and went out.
The fountain was murmuring
just as he had left it, and |
430 |
Anders
sat down on the brink, and looked at the stone-figure,
and, as he looked, he saw that the form and face
of the fairy were the same as those of the strange
maiden, who had so haunted him in the land beyond
the wall. The eyes were look-
ing kindly at him, and they seemed not to be of
stone, but soft |
435 |
living
ones. She took the horn from her mouth and the water
ceased to flow, and again the sweet voice crept
into his ears so softly that it was like a thought
that came to him from the stone lips without the
help of words.
"Whenever thou desirest
the life of fables, of songs and of |
440 |
dreams,
come thou to my fountain, and drink. Yet remember,
none but the simple and free shall be made glad
with my water. He that hath the yoke of care shall
not easily enter into my
land; and he, that is of the world, shall drink
of me in vain."
Then the horn went back
to the mouth, and the water fell |
445 |
and
the stream ran down over the slope. The gold key
slipped from Anders’ hand into the basin and disappeared.
The sun
was now almost set, as Anders turned away slowly
from the beautiful fountain, and went along the
valley. Before he
reached the high road, the round moon was shining
and it was |
450 |
deep
night when he at last entered the door of his little
shop in the town, and, flinging himself upon his
bed, fell fast asleep, weary with his walk and tired
with much thinking.
The next day found him
busily at work with his shoes, for
he imagined that he had lost many days, and would
have hard |
455 |
toil
to make it up. Presently a neighbour of his came
in—an
old woman, who had been wont to cook his meals for
him and take care of his shop. As she began to set
herself to work, she said,
"It is long since
you have taken a holiday, Anders; and |
460 |
when
I saw you going out yesterday in the dawning, I
was both glad and sorry. I was glad because you
would cheer yourself, being so sad and lonely here—yet
sorry, that your father might
no longer bear you company."
Anders stared amazed, but
said nothing; for now he saw |
465 |
that
the days he had spent in the world beyond the wall
were
in reality not half so many hours.
When the day’s work was
over, Anders remembered the songs and lays he had
made and sung in the fairy world, and
he took up the old harp that had been his father’s,
and, which |
470 |
his
father had taught him to play, and began to touch
the
strings, endeavouring to recollect. As he did so,
he seemed to be borne back again to those strange
and beautiful scenes; and the matter of the lays
returned to him; but he could not remem- ber the
words. Then a great longing came over him to sing |
475 |
them
again for he recalled that they were beautiful,
and he
could hear echoes of them still lingering in his
heart. Day by
day the longing grew, till at last it seemed to
him that life
would be a miserable thing, if he could not remould
the lays,
and know them as he had known them in dreams. He
deter- |
480 |
mined
to labour at them when the day’s cobbling was over,
and fashion them all afresh and copy them down that
they
might not be forgotten. So day by day he worked
at his shoes until the evening, and then lit his
candle, and fashioned bit by
bit the fairy lays; and, as he made them, he wrote
them down. |
485 |
One
evening, as he was labouring thus, his friend the
village priest came in, and Anders told him what
he had done, saying nothing of the fountain or the
world beyond the wall, and then
he recited to him one of the lays he had made. After
this the priest came often to his shop, bringing
with him many who |
490 |
were
skilled in minstrellsy, and they too heard the beautiful
songs and covered them with praise. Soon it was
noised
abroad what wonderful things Anders Christensen
the cobbler had done: and the people came to him
in crowds, and besought him that they also might
hear his songs: so it was that once a |
495 |
week
Anders sat on a bench in front of his stall, and
recited
and sang to the townsmen with his harp and sent
them away happy. In course of time the wandering
minstrells, who passed through the town on their
journeys, hearing of Anders, came
to him, and learned his songs, and carried them
abroad about |
500 |
the
country and even into foreign lands, everywhere
letting
that they were the songs of AndersChristensen the
cobbler.
In the meantime, when Anders
had written out all the lays,
he began to feel a great desire to visit the fairy
world once
more. He remembered what the stone figure had said
to him |
505 |
| and
repaired one morning early to the fountain. He found
the golden key as before, and, entering the gate,
once again trod down the wonderful grass and the
daisies. He remained many days in the fairy world,
and each day brought him new and beautiful adventures.
They were visions, dreamy and yet real,
|
510 |
in
which he seemed to take part, and at the same time
watched himself acting; scenes sometimes of labour
and patience, at others of anger or courage or fear,
of mirth or sadness, of weeping or revelry. Sometimes
he was in towns, watching, as
in a vivid dream, the pomp of processions, the toil
of artizans |
515 |
and
all the changes and sad and lovely things of life.
Some- times he was among huts and cornfields, at
other times among palaces and parks: sometimes with
outlaws and cragsmen
upon lofty mountains, or with woodsmen and hunters
in the
depth of forests—often in strange lands and in ages,
long |
520 |
passed
away. When at last he grew weary again of dreams
and shadows he wished himself back in the shop,
and immed- iately he was near to the gate, and went
out, and returned to his
home, freighted with strange thoughts and imaginings.
These
he fashioned into other lays, ever more beautiful
than before. |
525 |
In
this way three years of Anders’ life went by in
much happi- ness, divided between the daily task
of cobbling and the mak- ing of his songs, and now
and then he went to the world
beyond the wall, and lost himself for shadowy days
in the life
of dreams. |
530 |
One day he received a bidding to go to the house
of a
scholar in a distant part of the town, as there
was one there
who wished to be measured for a pair of shoes. Anders
had never seen the old scholar, though he knew his
name: all he could tell of him was that he had lived
very secludedly and |
535 |
was
supposed to possess much wealth. Anders however
failed not to appear at his new customer’s house
at the appointed
hour. An old servant met him at the gate and brought
him to a chamber looking into a walled garden, where
the master and
the lady his daughter were seated. As Anders passed
the |
540 |
threshold,
he started and stood still, having no power to move.
The old master sat beside the window in a tall chair
with a
great book in his hands, and the maiden sat a little
way off in front of the window. Anders gazed at
her in dreamy wonder. It was true: she was no other
than his beautiful friend in the fairy |
545 |
world.
The old servant said to the master, "This is
the cobbler, Anders Christensen," and then
the maiden looked up at him
with the fair face he seemed to remember so well
and said. "It
is I, Anders Christensen, that desire the shoes
to be made. You may take the measure of my foot":
and Anders knelt down and |
550 |
measured
the delicate foot, while the maiden went on with
her knitting. After Anders had taken the measure,
he still
remained at the maiden’s feet, leaning with one
hand on the floor, and looking up like one enchanted
into the beautiful
face. It was the same in every feature as the sweet
stone one at |
555 |
the
fountain, but, as Anders thought, many times more
lovely. Then Anders spoke to the maiden, he knew
not how—and
when he had done, he scarcely knew what he had said.
"Oh, Lady, have we
not known each other before? Have we not been together
for days in places far away from here? Tell
|
560 |
me.
Do you remember?"
But the maiden only smiled
and looked down wondering
into his face, and said gravely,
"You must have been
dreaming, Anders Christensen; and I would not permit
you to speak so to me, were you not, as I |
565 |
have
heard people say, a maker of minstrellsy, and a
dreamer
by trade. There: let me have the shoes done in two
days; and when you come with them, my father desires
that you will not refuse him a specimen of your
song-making, for he is a lover
of such things, and so indeed am I."
|
570 |
And Anders bowed low—not daring to touch the maiden’s
hand, for she was so great and beautiful, and went
away like
one in a trance. He saw nothing of what passed before
him in
the narrow streets, and the faces of men and women
went by
him like shadows. He saw only the face of the scholar’s daugh- |
575 |
ter.
The only sound he could hear was her voice. He had
loved
in many of his songs to tell the beauty of the maiden
who was
so often with him in the fairy world; but he only
knew of that
figure as a beautiful fancy; neither the figure
nor his worship
of it had been real. But now the dream was made
mortal, and |
580 |
Anders
had seen her among men, even fairer than she was
among dreams, and he could not choose but love her.
When he came to his shop,
he entered in and sat down, and then the brown gloom
of the little cramped dusty place fell
coldly on his spirit, and he laid his head upon
his hands and |
585 |
cried,
"Ah me, that I ever went to the scholar’s house;
for now
I am undone." And then Anders went to work
drearily at the shoes: but he found that he had
taken the measure so badly that he could not hope
to make them aright. And this gave him a gleam of
pleasure, for he said, "I must go and fit them
on, and |
590 |
so
get the measure again. Thus will I have seen the
maiden
three times instead of once." That day and
the next he wrought upon the shoes, and on the third
he took them, and went again
to the scholar’s house. He found them as before,
the old man beside the window and the beautiful
maiden—near to him. |
595 |
Anders
tried on the shoes, and found them much amiss, and
he promised to have them done the next day. Then
the maiden
rose, and brought him a harp and gave it to him,
and the old
man placed him on a stool by the window, and she
said, "Sing
to us, Master Christensen: for we have heard much
of your |
600 |
song-making."
And Anders took the harp and sang to them
many of the songs he had made about things he had
seen and heard in the fairy world. And as he sang
the songs seemed
more beautiful to him than ever before, and once
or twice the scholar’s daughter looked up from her
work, and there was a |
605 |
flush
on her cheek and her eyes flashed. Anders became
more and more in love with her with every word that
he sang; for she was wonderfully lovely. When it
was evening he bade good
bye to the old master and the maiden, and returned
to his shop, and wrought once more at the shoes.
|
610 |
Next day he carried the shoes again to the scholar’s
house, and they were found to be the fairest that
he had ever made.
He took the harp and sang to them again, and the
old man praised him, and would have given him money
for his singing, but he would not take it. Then
the maiden said to him, "When- |
615 |
ever
you would pass an hour with two lonely people, come
hither to us, Master Christensen, and you and your
songs shall be welcome." And Anders dared then
to kiss the maiden’s
hand, and returned to his shop, burdened with many
thoughts.
Then he took up leather
and thread, and began to work at |
620 |
his
shoes, and he worked on steadily till night came,
heavy of heart—and at his work he thought of the
room where he had sung to the maiden and her father;
he thought of the beauty
and comfort of everything about them; of the fair
large room
with its soft matting and rich wainscots; the heavy
and costly |
625 |
furniture;
the spacious garden with its trees and flowers:
then
he gazed blankly through the close gloom of the
scant poor
place that was his, and the hot tears came into
his eyes; for he loved the maiden, and his life
was low and needy, and he could never hope to win
her. Day after day he laboured patiently, and
|
630 |
at
night he tried to win sleep and a little comfort
from his harp,
but the songs would not come. Now and then, as the
maiden
had bade him, he came to her house in the even-
ings after his work, and went over his songs and
lays to her: but it brought
him no hope. They were very sweet and kind to him,
but they |
635 |
were
grand in their manner and he knew in every word
and motion, that they were not of the same life
with him.
Yet ever more and more
he loved the maiden, and often,
when he had not been invited by her, his feet carried
him, he knew not how, to the scholar’s house; and
if he might not enter |
640 |
in,
yet would he stand at the wicket and look wistfully
into the beautiful garden, sometimes warm and golden
with the sunset, sometimes still and dark-shadowed
in the moonlight; and if
there was light of a candle in any window, he would
lean upon
the gate, and watch it till it was gone, and then
turn drearily |
645 |
back
to the little shop, and work at his shoemaking patiently
into the night.
Once instead of going home
he remained at the gate, hav-
ing no heart to turn away, and when every light
was gone from
the house flung himself down on the grass by the
wall, and laid |
650 |
his
head upon his arm, and wept till he grew aweary,
and fell
fast asleep. It was grey morning when he awoke stiff
and
chilly. The carts of the country folk were coming
in to the mar-
ket, and the heavy creaking of their wooden wheels
had star-
tled him from his sleep. He got up slowly and haggardly,
and |
655 |
went
away toward home, and as he went he cried suddenly
to himself.
"I will waste no more
time with song-making and these
idle dreams. I will make myself rich and mighty,
that I may
win her who is noble and rich." |
660 |
If any of his friends had been abroad so early in
the morn-
ing and had met him in the narrow streets, they
would have wondered to see how his brow was furrowed
with deep lines, and his lips hardened themselves
together, and his eyes were set with stern thought.
|
665 |
After this Anders toiled day and night at his trade,
and
thought no more of his songs. The more work he did,
the more customers he got; for his skill in shoemaking
was hardly less than his skill in minstrellsy. He
lived hardly and denied him-
self, and the money he made he laid away. Day by
day his |
670 |
earnings
grew, and day by day he watched them growing, till
his eyes became quite greedy, and he himself was
startled sometimes to think how like a miser he
had become. But he hardened himself and began to
lend the money at interest and added the interest
to his earnings and lent them again, till soon
|
675 |
he
saw that he would indeed become rich. The more his
trea-
sure increased, the more eager he became; and he
dealt hardly with those that borrowed of him—till
at length all the town knew him for a usurer.
He made no more songs;
for he deemed it waste of time; |
680 |
and
when the people came to his stall, as they had been
wont,
to hear his minstrellsy, he drove them away with
curt words,
and went on bitterly with his shoes or turned with
weary eyes
to his account books. Only now and then, as often
as he could, he went to the scholar’s house, and
once more, sitting near the |
685 |
maiden’s
feet, forgot for a time his money-making and lost
himself in his songs. But they were always the same
songs
over again, and because he never made any new ones,
but thought only of money, his heart became more
and more
dulled even to them, and he put ever less and less
life and |
690 |
beauty
into them. But what pained him most was that some-
how the maiden was growing colder to him, and the
old
scholar gave him fewer invitations. Sometimes she
asked him quite sternly how it was that he never
made any new songs, but always sang them the old
ones: and he answered in great grief,
|
695 |
that
he would make no more new songs for a time, that
he was
at work upon a great and wise undertaking, and after
that was accomplished, he would work at his minstrellsy
again. But the maiden became daily colder, till
at length she scarcely noticed him at all.
|
700 |
Yet in spite of his hard labour, Anders could not
resist
going again to the land beyond the wall; for there
he should
see the maiden, and talk to her; even if it were
only in a dream. One day several weeks after he
had begun to lend his money,
he went early in the morning to the fountain, and
sat down, as |
705 |
had been his wont, upon the stone brink. The fairy
seemed not
to regard him at all, but stared at him blankly
with her rocky
eyes, and the water fell with a heavy murmur into
the basin.
After he had sat for a long while, Anders clasped
his hands,
and entreated the fairy to give him the key, that
he might go |
710 |
again
into the hidden world, and forget his care. Then
the
water ceased to flow, and the stone lips moved a
little, but Anders could not hear, only at last
he seemed to catch the words, which she had spoken
to him once before, "He, that is
of the world, shall drink of me in vain." Then
the gold key fell, |
715 |
and
slid down so far into the basin, that he could scarcely
get
it out: but he went with it to the gate, and opened
it, and
entered in.
It seemed to him that the
beautiful plain, which had been
so covered with the thick grass and the daisies,
was now rough |
720 |
and
wild with heather, and, when he came to the slope,
low clouds were hanging over the great wheatland:
the wind was blowing bleak and dreary: the far castles
loomed up gray and chilly: there was no light on
the city spires, no colour of fruit
in the orchards and vineyards. He threw himself
down on the |
725 |
slope,
and gazed hopelessly over the changed land, till
at last
the night fell, and sleep came over him and made
him forget.
Anders did not stay many
days in the fairy world. He had
the same strange sort of adventures as before; but
they brought him no delight. Again he was near to
the maiden, and she was |
730 |
ever
his companion; but it only made him more sick at
heart,
for she had no kind words for him, but came and
went like a
chilly shadow. Often as of old he was in the fairest
places, and among the strangest and loveliest scenes,
but he could find no beauty in anything. Day by
day everything grew duller and |
735 |
more
lifeless, till at last he seemed to wander he knew
not whither, as in a stupor, and could see nothing
any- where in the gloom, but a dim beautiful face,
clouded with scorn.
When he could bear it no
longer, Anders went out weary
and heavy-hearted from the hidden land, and dropped
the gold |
740 |
key
into the fountain, and went home, and laboured at
his trade more diligently than ever. Once or twice
again he went to the fountain, hoping that he might
find peace, but the world
beyond the wall was now full of bitterness. He seemed
to pass dreary days there in which nothing ever
happened to him. He |
745 |
looked over beautiful landscapes, fields and gardens,
cities
and forests, but they were to him only blurs on
the earth’s sur-
face, so many marks that had no meaning. He wandered,
all alone, in the streets of busy towns, and the
people that passed him seemed no more than breaths
of wind. Sometimes he sat |
750 |
in
gloomy places with hardly any light and shadows
and
visions of the lovely things he had seen there in
former days, came to him and flitted about him and
scoffed at him.
The last time that Anders
went to the fountain, the stone
figure took no heed of him whatever, and he did
not get the |
755 |
key.
After he had sat bitterly until it was evening,
he went back
to his shop and gave himself wholly to his money,
thinking no more of the fairy world.
Year after year, Anders
toiled with his trade and his riches.
At the end of the fourth year, he went into a beautiful
street of |
760 |
town
and bought three old houses and tore them down,
and
built for himself a great dwelling like the one
that the scholar
had, and made a spacious garden about it in the
likeness of his. He hired servants to keep the gate
and attend to the household matters, and filled
the chambers of the house with rich and
|
765 |
costly
things. There he took up his abode at night and
in the morning returned to his stall and laboured
far into the dark
over his shoes and his money-making.
At the end of another year
he made up all his accounts one evening, and found
that he was rich. Then he threw himself
|
770 |
back
in his chair, and his hands trembled, and his heart
beat heavily, and he said, "Now will I ask
for the maiden, for I am
as rich and powerful as she, and I have a fairer
house." The
next evening he dressed himself in his best, and
went away unbidden to the scholar’s house. There
he found the maiden, |
775 |
| now
a full grown woman, alone in the room, where he
had so often sung to her his songs. He took the
old harp, and sat on a stool at her feet, and touched
the strings, and some of the old- time spirit came
back upon him so that he sang, as he had not done
for many a day. Then he looked up into the lady’s
face, |
780 |
and
she was watching him strangely, and she said, "How
comes it Anders that you sing with more spirit than
usual to-night?" Then Anders said to her trembling,
"Lady, it is because
I have accomplished that great under-
taking, which once I told you of: for know, that,
when I first |
785 |
saw
you, I loved you, but I was too poor and mean to
win you,
and I said that I would make myself rich, that I
might be wor-
thy of you. This have I done, and I am now indeed
as wealthy
as any in this town. Oh, Lady, do not refuse me!"
But his heart died within
him as he looked into the lady’s |
790 |
face;
for it was pale, and the lips were curled with scorn
and
then she said,
"Anders Christensen,
once I loved you, and it was because you were not
like other men. Your life was nobler and fairer
than theirs. Now you are become as the rest. Why
should I |
795 |
love
you? I might find an hundred such [as] you, walking
any
day in the streets. Yet, Anders, I pity you and
would fain see
you happy; go back then to your trade and traffic,
and forget
me, for indeed I do not love you."
Then she rose, and went
away and left him. Anders bent his
|
800 |
head
upon his clasped hands, and moaned. After awhile
he got up, and trudged away blindly to his great
house, and laid him-
self upon his bed, but could not sleep. All night
long he tossed
in bitter agony, for his grief was too sharp for
tears— and when
it was morning he rose and locked up the house, and
sent away |
805 |
the
servants. Then he went to his cobbler’s stall and
locked up that too, and putting the keys into his
pocket turned away out
the town, thinking that he could never live there
again. So he wandered out upon the high-road, he
knew not where, and his feet bore him to the hills,
and he turned into a narrow valley.
|
810 |
Then
he seemed to awake for a moment from his misery,
for
he knew that it was the valley of the fountain,
and a gleam of hope came to him. "Perhaps the
fairy will now give me the
key," he said, "and I will go into the
hidden land— whether it
be for joy or pain—and never return." There
was a grey cloud |
815 |
over
the valley, and a fog along the stream. The wind
moaned drearily among the trees, and the birds hardly
sang. When he came to the fountain, he sat down
upon the brink, and looked
at the stone figure; but there was no form or feature
in it. The
fairy was veiled with stone from head to foot, and
from under |
820 |
her
hood the horn ran out, and the water fell in jets
with a
sound like that of sobs. Anders waited long, but
no key came. Then he looked up, and, behold the
gate was wide open; so he arose, and entered; and
it closed behind him. And- ers walked on till he
came to the slope, and there, hardly looking about |
825 |
him,
he threw himself down upon the grass, and wept and
he
was so weary, that at last he sobbed himself asleep.
When he woke in the morning,
he was lying on the floor of
a cobbler’s stall, very much like his own, and he
lifted himself
on his hands, and looked out into the street. It
was a broad one, |
830 |
and
many people, all in black, were going to and fro,
with their heads bent, as if they too were in great
misery, and there was
a grey wintery sky overhead. Then Anders said, "I
will make shoes here for the rest of my life; for
this gloom and penury
are pleasing to me." So he got up and went
to the stool and |
835 |
took
leather and thread, and made shoes all that day.
The next morning he went
on, as before; but, after a little
while, a figure came into the shop, that was the
same as the stone fairy at the fountain, veiled
from head to foot, and the
figure bore a tray with food and drink upon it,
and laid it down |
840 |
on
the bench beside Anders, and said, "Eat, and
drink,Anders, for you are weary and starved."
Then the figure went to work
and swept the room, and made everything neat and
tidy and went away, Anders being too sad and heartsick
to question her or say any word to her. At evening
she came again with drink |
845 |
and
food; and laid a soft rug for him in an alcove of
the shop,
and went away. The next day several customers came
in, and asked if their shoes were done, and Anders
gave them the shoes, and they offered him money,
but he said, "Nay, give no money; take it away,
for I cannot bear to see it"—but the men
|
850 |
looked
coldly upon him and took the shoes and left the
money. Then Anders rose and flung the coins into
the street.
Many days and months and
years, as it seemed to Anders, passed slowly by
in this manner. The veiled woman came
twice every day with food and drink, and took care
of his shop, |
855 |
and
disappeared, he knew not whither. The customers
came
and ordered shoes and gave him money, and Anders
flung it
out always into the street: and what surprised him
much was
that no one ever picked up the coins, only some
would turn
them curiously with their toes, and look at them
for a moment, |
860 |
and
then pass on indifferently.
But at length as the years
went on, Anders found that a change came very gradually
over everything. The grey win-
tery clouds began to break now and then, and the
bright sun-
shine would come down into the street, or gleam
for a moment |
865 |
| upon
the tiles. The people outside began to move about
less sorrowfully, and some of them seemed to wear
happy faces. Sometimes he would catch the sound
of pleasant talk, or even hear afar off the laughter
of children. He found himself able to endure his
lot with patience, and at last he was quite contented
|
870 |
with
it. The old heart-rending agony wore itself away
into a
quiet smoothe sadness; and these things grew more
and more, till the grey clouds were almost gone,
and the streets were
filled with life, and light, and the sound of mirth
and business. Happy children went by his stall,
and men and women came |
875 |
often
to chat with him and cheer him at his toil. He found
him-
self taking more and more interest in life, often
watching the passers by, and sometimes laughing
heartily at the merry
things, that happened in the street beyond his stall.
He began
to leave his work sometimes, and roam about the
town, sadly |
880 |
at
first, but in the end with every greater delight.
Then he made his way beyond the gates into the open
country, and wandered for days in the fields, and
among the hills and forests, and
these things brought a great peace to him, and quieted
his
heart, till he had almost forgotten his grief.
|
885 |
One evening he took up his harp and began to recall
the songs he had fashioned long ago; but they did
not please him. They were songs of bright and youthful
things, often of mirth
and revelry, and many of them of happy love, and
grated upon
his saddened heart; so he laid the harp aside; but
not for long. |
890 |
His
wanderings in the town and in the quiet country
soon
awoke in him again the old love for his harp and
he took it up once more, and set himself gradually
to fashioning new things, that answered to his mood.
He began to make lays on grave
and touching themes, deeds of courage and generosity
of faith |
895 |
and
patience, and sweet and quiet songs of the deep
and sol-
emn things of life. The grey clouds were all gone
now, and his eyes rested upon the stir and sunshine
of the little city with a sweet peace. Often he
would sit all day with his hand upon his harp, dreaming.
He saved also, of the money that was given to
|
900 |
him,
a little, that he might buy parchment and writing
material
to copy these things down upon.
At last one evening, after
many long years had gone by, he was sitting at the
door of his stall, with the quiet shadow of the
houses around him, and his hand was on his harp—when
the |
905 |
veiled
woman came to him for the third time that day, and
stood before him, and, lifting up her two white
hands, threw
back the veil from her face, and Anders saw, that
she was the maiden, who had been his friend of old,
only now no longer a
girl, but a grave and beautiful woman. She smiled
kindly and |
910 |
said,
"Anders Christensen,
you have entered again into your inheritance. As
your youth was true and beautiful, so now is
your manhood deep and noble. You need stay no longer
here, but journey back to your town, and receive
what awaits you |
915 |
there.
To-morrow, take your wallet, and follow out this
street
to the westward. After seven days, you shall reach
the wall of
the fountain."
Anders had great joy, when
he heard this, and he was too moved to speak; but
he kissed the lady’s hand, wondering, for
|
920 |
she
was the same as the scholar’s daughter, only older
and queenlier looking, than when he last saw her.
Anders slept little that
night, and, early in the morning, put
his wallet upon his back, and set out. Seven days
he journeyed upon the highway, past villages and
castles, gardens and corn- |
925 |
fields,
till at last he came to the slope, that led him
up to the
wall. There he sat down to dream and gaze about
him for a space, before he should turn away, and
a serene happiness came over him, as he looked across
the beautiful plain. There were the wheatfields,
and the orchards, with the fair fruit in
|
930 |
them,
the grey castles and the far city walls, all quiet
and joy-
ous in the mellow sunshine. The birds were singing
about him, and the laborers toiling in the harvest,
just as when he first
came, a boy, into this wonderful world. He felt
not now the
mirth and buoyancy he had known then; but this grave
and sol- |
935 |
emn
happiness was sweeter still. Then Anders rose, and
went
on to the gate and it was open. There too was the
fountain, and the stone figure was still veiled,
but the veil was thrown back,
just as the fair woman’s had been, when she spoke
to him last: and the eyes were looking into his
kindly, like living ones. |
940 |
Anders
leaned over and kissed the hem of the stone veil,
and turned away down the valley, dreaming once more
of the scholar’s daughter.
Late at night he came to
the town, and went through the
silent streets to the great house, which he had
locked up, as it |
945 |
seemed
to him, so many years before. It was standing silent
and grey, just as he had left it. The lock in the
great gate would hardly turn, for it was very rusty,
and, when he went in, the spacious garden was lying
bright and shadowy in the moon- shine, and Anders
could see that it was rank and choked with
|
950 |
weeds
and thorns. Then he went into the house, and the
creak-
ing of the doors, scared out hundreds of bats, that
were shel-
tered in the crannies of the walls. Groping about
he found at
last his old-time sleeping chamber, and throwing
himself upon the mouldy bed, fell fast asleep, for
he was weary. |
955 |
Next morning he ate what was left in his wallet,
and deter- mined to go at once, and search for the
scholar’s daughter, for he thought that by this
time he had patience to endure what-
ever might befall him. His beard was grown long
and bushy,
and his garments were old and worn; but he cared
not now for |
960 |
| these
things and so he set out as he was. It was not long
till he came to the well known gate, and his hand
trembled as he knocked. The old porter came to the
gate, and opened it with hands more pale and aged
even than of yore, and Anders entered in—and, lifting
up his eyes, he saw that a lady was sit
|
965 |
ting
under a tree in the garden, not many paces before
him, and he went toward her, with his eyes fixed
upon her face. When
he was near the lady rose, and looked at him, and
she was pale and trembling, and she cried, "Anders
Christensen, is it you?" and Anders answered,
|
970 |
"Lady, it is I. I went away from here, because
you scorned
me, being a rich man. Now am I returned to see if
you will take me, being a poor one. You see, I am
changed."
Then the fair lady looked
long into the sad grave face and
she too saw that he was much changed, and she said,
"Anders, |
975 |
I thought
not to drive you away with those harsh words of
mine. I would not marry you, when you had so hard
a name
for your bargaining, and when I knew that you had
justly
earned it. I thought that my scornful speech would
only turn
you away from what was spoiling you, and make you
as you |
980 |
had
been before. Indeed, Anders, I have paid bitterly
with my tears for what I said; for I loved you."
Then Anders took her in
his arms and kissed her, and that very afternoon
Anders sought out his old friend, the parish
priest, and he came to the scholar’s house, and
the three went |
985 |
away
together to the church, and the old man married
them.
And now will I tell you
of the life that Anders led in the
years that followed his marriage. On the very day
after his
return he went into the town, and opened his old
stall and
wrought at his cobbler’s trade as before. And this
he did ever |
990 |
afterward,
for he made it a condition with his wife that he
should make his own living. All the day he spent
at his shop
and returned in the evening to his wife’s house
where she was mistress, for the old scholar was
dead. Often during the day’s labour, she would come,
and sit near to him with her work, or |
995 |
in
the after years she would bring her children there,
and teach them in the sight of their father.
Anders also resumed his
old custom of singing with his
harp to the people on certain days before his shop,
and the
fame of his later songs and lays spread far and
wide over the |
1000 |
land,
till he was far more renowned than any other of
his kind. Once every week he went to the valley
of the fountain, and
saw in the fairy world the beautiful things, that
were told in his songs.
After a time he found that
there were still some of his old |
1005 |
| riches
left, but he took the money, and gave it together
with his great house to the council of the town,
to be used for a chari- table hospital forever;
so was Anders Christensen’s name hauled down, no
less for his charity than for his greatness in song.
|
1010 |
|
| |
