| In the duckyard . .
. The hens called it the henyard, for there were hens there
too, but this story is about a duck, so we shall call it the
duckyard since that is the name the ducks prefer. . . . In the
duckyard there once was a duck who came from Portugal. She had
laid eggs, been slaughtered, and then eaten; and that was her
biography. But all the little ducklings who had crawled out
of her eggs had been called Portuguese and that name they were
very proud of. When our story takes place there was only one
member of the family left, and she was very fat, which is considered
beautiful among ducks. |
Der kom en And fra Portugal,
Nogle sagde fra Spanien, det er ligemeget, hun blev kaldt den
Portugisiske, hun lagde Æg, blev slagtet og anrettet; det er
hendes Levnetsløb. Alle de, som krøbe ud af hendes Æg, bleve
kaldte de Portugisiske og det betydede Noget; nu var her af
hele den Slægt kun Een tilbage i Andegaarden, en Gaard, som
ogsaa Hønsene havde Adgang til og hvor Hanen traadte op med
uendelig Hovmod. |
| "Ugh, how his crowing
hurts my ears," the Portuguese said. "I wish he would learn
to modulate his voice. But he is beautiful. I won't deny it,
even though he isn't a drake. But to be able to modulate your
voice is a sign of culture. Now the little songbirds who nest
in the linden tree, they know the art. They sing so beautifully
. . . . There's something in their songs that touches me indescribably
. . . . I call it something Portuguese. If I had such a little
songbird I would be a mother to it--kind and loving! It is part
of my nature to be loving. It is in my blood: my Portuguese
blood." |
"Han krænker mig med
sit voldsomme Gal!" sagde den Portugisiske. "Men kjøn er han,
det kan man ikke negte, uagtet han ikke er nogen Andrik. Moderere
sig skulde han, men det er en Konst at moderere sig, det viser
høiere Dannelse, den har de smaa Sangfugle oppe i Nabohavens
Lindetræ! hvor yndigt de synge! der ligger noget saa Rørende
i deres Sang; jeg kalder det Portugal! Havde jeg saadan en lille
Sangfugl, jeg vilde være ham en Moder, kjærlig og god, det ligger
mig i Blodet, i mit Portugisiske!" |
| She had no sooner finished
speaking than a little songbird fell, headfirst, from the roof
of the house into the duckyard. The cat had caught the poor
little fellow, and somehow he had managed to escape but not
without a broken wing. |
Og lige idet hun talte
kom der en lille Sangfugl; den kom hovedkulds oppe fra Taget.
Katten var efter den, men Fuglen slap med en knækket Vinge og
faldt ned i Andegaarden. |
| "Isn't that exactly
what you would expect from a cat-brutality!" exclaimed the Portuguese.
"I know that cat, hasn't he eaten two of my ducklings? That
such a creature should be allowed to walk about freely, especially
on roofs, is more than I can understand. It would never be allowed
in Portugal." |
"Det ligner Katten,
det Afskum!" sagde den Portugisiske; "jeg kjender ham fra jeg
selv havde Ællinger! At et saadant Væsen faaer Lov at leve og
gaae om paa Tagene! det troer jeg ikke finder Sted i Portugal!"
|
| She felt very sorry
for the little songbird, and so did all the other ducks, even
though they weren't Portuguese. |
Og hun ynkede den lille
Sangfugl, og de andre Ænder, som ikke vare portugisiske, ynkede
ham ogsaa. |
| As they stood in a circle
around him, they said, "Poor unfortunate creature. We cannot
sing, but we appreciate music and are sensitive to art, though
we don't talk about it." |
"Det lille Kræ!" sagde
de, og saa kom den Ene og saa kom den Anden. "Vel ere vi selv
ikke syngende," sagde de, "men vi have indvendig Sangbund eller
saadant Noget; det føle vi, om vi ikke tale derom!" |
| "And why not?" said
the Portuguese. "Just to show my appreciation, I will do something
for the poor little thing, for that is a duty." Then she climbed
into the water trough and splashed with her wings. The water
streamed down over the little songbird and he nearly drowned,
but he knew he had been drenched out of kindness. "That was
a good deed!" said the Portuguese to the other ducks. "I hope
it will be a good example to all of you." |
"Da vil jeg tale om
det!" sagde den Portugisiske, "og jeg vil gjøre Noget for den,
for det er Ens Pligt!" og saa gik hun op i Vandtruget og baskede
i Vandet, saa hun nær havde druknet den lille Sangfugl i den
Skylle, han fik, men det var godt meent. "Det er en god Gjerning,"
sagde hun, "den kan de Andre see paa og tage Exempel af!" |
| "Pip," said the little
songbird. His broken wing made it very difficult for him to
shake himself dry. "You have a good heart, madam." He wanted
to show his appreciation for the shower, though he hoped he
would never get another. |
"Pip!" sagde den lille
Fugl, hans ene Vinge var knækket; det var ham svært at ryste
sig, men han forstod saa godt den velmeente Pjasken. "De er
saa hjertensgod, Madame!" sagde han, men forlangte ikke mere.
|
| "I have never thought
about being good-hearted," the Portuguese began, and spread
her wings. "But this I know: I love all my fellow creatures,
all except the cat. And to demand that I should love the cat
would be quite unreasonable. You can make yourself at home.
I am from a foreign land, and you can see it by the beauty of
my feathers and my posture. All the other ducks are natives.
They don't have my blood. But it hasn't gone to my head. Only
this I must say: if anyone here understands you, then it is
I." |
"Jeg har aldrig tænkt
over mit Hjertelag!" sagde den Portugisiske, "men det veed jeg,
at jeg elsker alle mine Medskabninger undtagen Katten, men det
kan da Ingen forlange af mig! han har ædt To af mine; men vær
nu som hjemme her, det kan man; jeg selv er fra en fremmed Egn,
som De nok seer paa min Reisning og Fjederkjole! min Andrik
er indfødt, har ikke mit Blod, men jeg hovmoder mig ikke! -
forstaaes De af Nogen herinde, saa tør jeg nok sige, at det
er af mig!" |
| "She has a wortugal
stuck in her gizzard," cried one of the ordinary ducklings,
who was known to be wittier than all the others. The other ordinary
ducks nudged each other and snickered. "Wortugal . . . Quack
. . . Quack . . . Wortugal, Portugal . . . Quack . . . Quack
. . ." They all agreed that their companion's joke was one of
the funniest they had ever heard "Wortugal, Portugal." But now
it was time that they, too, befriended the little songbird.
|
"Hun har Portulak i
Kroen!" sagde en lille almindelig Ælling, der var vittig, og
de andre Almindelige fandt det saa, udmærket med "Portulak",
det klang som "Portugal"; og de stødte til hinanden og sagde
Rab! han var saa mageløs vittig! og saa indlode de sig med den
lille Sangfugl. |
| "We don't waddle around
with long and difficult words in our bills, but that doesn't
mean that we are not kind or sensitive. We care about you too,
but when we do you a favor we won't shout about it. Kind acts
are best done quietly." |
"Den Portugisiske har
rigtignok Sproget i sin Magt!" sagde de. "Vi have det ikke med
store Ord i Næbet, men vi have ligesaa stor Deeltagelse; gjør
vi ikke Noget for Dem, saa gaae vi stille med det; og det finde
vi smukkest!" |
| "You have a beautiful
voice," one of the older drakes began as he stepped closer to
the songbird. "It must be very gratifying for you to know how
much pleasure you give to others. Not that I understand art;
and that is why I keep my bill shut about it. After all, it
is better to be silent than to say a lot of stupidities, as
some people do." |
"De har en yndig Røst!"
sagde en af de Ældste. "Det maa være en deilig Bevidsthed at
glæde saa Mange, som De gjør! jeg forstaaer mig rigtignok aldeles
ikke paa det! derfor holder jeg min Mund, og det er altid bedre,
end at sige noget Dumt, som saa mange Andre sige til Dem!" |
| "Don't pester him,"
the Portuguese ordered. "He needs lots of rest and proper attention."
Turning to the little bird, she suggested, "Would you like another
shower?" |
"Plag ham ikke!" sagde
den Portugisiske, "han trænger til Hvile og Pleie. Lille Sangfugl,
skal jeg pjaske Dem igjen?" |
| "Oh no. Please let me
stay dry," whispered the songbird. |
"0 nei, lad mig være
tør!" bad han. |
| "Water is the best cure
for everything. It has never done me any harm," the Portuguese
argued. "Amusing company helps too. Look who's coming. It's
the Chinese hens. They have feathers on their legs, but they
are quite respectable anyway. They have foreign blood in their
veins, but they were born here, and that in my opinion is a
virtue." |
"Vandkuren er den eneste,
der hjelper mig," sagde den Portugisiske; "Adspredelse er ogsaa
noget Godt! nu kommer snart Nabohønsene og gjør Visit, der ere
to chinesiske Høns, de gaae med Mamelukker, have megen Dannelse,
og de ere indførte, det hæver dem i min Agtelse!" |
| The Chinese hens came
and before them walked the cock. |
Og Hønsene kom og Hanen
kom, han var idag saa høflig, at han var ikke grov. |
| "You are a songbird,"
he said politely, and this was very unusual, for he considered
courtesy unmasculine. "You do what you can with the little voice
you have and I appreciate it. But in order really to be heard
one needs a chest," he asserted while he took a deep breath
and held it as long as he could. |
"De er en virkelig Sangfugl!"
sagde han, "og De gjør ud af Deres lille Stemme Alt, hvad der
kan gjøres af saadan en lille Stemme. Men noget mere Locomotiv
maa man have, at det kan høres, at man er af Hankjønnet." |
| "Isn't he sweet?" remarked
one of the Chinese hens. The songbird looked up at her; his
feathers were still wet and ruffled from his shower. "He looks
almost as beautiful as a newly hatched Chinese chick." The Chinese
hens spoke kindly to the songbird--very softly and in the most
educated Chinese. Every word had a "ph" sound. |
De to Chinesiske stode
henrykte ved Synet af Sangfuglen, han saae saa forpjusket ud
af Pjasket, han havde faaet over sig, at de syntes, han lignede
en chinesisk Kylling. "Han er yndig!" og saa indlode de sig
med ham; de talte med Hviskestemme og P-Lyd paa fornemt Chinesisk. |
| "We belong to the same
race as you do. The ducks, even the Portuguese, are webfooted.
You don't know us yet, but then, who does? Who has taken the
trouble to find out who we are? No one! And yet we are members
of an aristocratic family, born to position above the others.
We don't make a fuss about it. We try to see everyone else's
good points and only talk about their virtues--though this can
be difficult when so few of the creatures here have any. Excluding
ourselves and the cock, there isn't an intelligent fowl in the
henhouse, but at least they are all respectable, that's more
than you can say about any of the ducks. Don't trust that duck
with the curled tail, she is false. As for the one with the
green feathers in her wings, she is too talkative. She wont
let you get a word in edgewise, and she has never held an opinion
worth listening to. The fat one is a gossip, always telling
malicious tales. We couldn't talk that way if we wanted to,
because it would be against our nature; we say nice things about
others or we don't say anything at all. The Portuguese is the
only one of the whole lot of them who is the least bit educated,
and she is too passionate and talks too much about Portugal." |
"Vi høre nu til Deres
Art. Ænderne, selv den Portugisiske, høre til Svømmefuglene,
som De nok har bemærket. Os kjender De endnu ikke, men hvor
Mange kjende os, eller gjøre sig den Uleilighed, Ingen, selv
blandt Hønsene, uagtet vi ere fødte til at sidde paa en høiere
Pind, end de fleste Andre. - Det er nu det Samme, vi gaae vor
stille Gang mellem de Andre, hvis Grundsætninger ikke ere vore,
men vi see kun paa de gode Sider, og tale kun om det Gode, skjøndt
det er vanskeligt at finde, hvor Intet er. Med Undtagelse af
os To og Hanen, er der Ingen i Hønsehuset, der ere begavede,
men honnette! dette kan man ikke sige om Beboerne af Andegaarden.
Vi advare Dem, lille Sangfugl! tro ikke hende der med Stumphalen,
hun er lumsk! den Spættede der, med det skjeve Speil paa Vingerne,
hun er disputeergal og lader aldrig Nogen faae det sidste Ord,
og saa har hun altid Uret! - den fede And taler ilde om Alle,
og det er vor Natur imod, kan man ikke tale godt, saa skal man
holde sin Mund. Den Portugisiske er den Eneste, der har lidt
Dannelse og som man kan omgaaes med, men hun er lidenskabelig
og taler for meget om Portugal!" |
| "Goodness, how those
Chinese hens whisper," said one ordinary duck to another ordinary
duck. "But what a bore they are, and that's why we've never
talked to them." |
"Hvor de to Chinesiske
har meget at hviske!" sagde et Par af Ænderne, "mig kjede de;
jeg har aldrig talt med dem!" |
| The drake joined the
little group around the songbird. He was a little surprised
at all the attention it was receiving, for he thought it was
a sparrow. "I can't see the difference," he explained. "They
all belong to the artistic crowd and they are all the same size.
Since they exist we shall have to put up with them." |
Nu kom Andriken! han
troede, at Sangfuglen var en Graaspurv. "Ja, jeg kan ikke gjøre
Forskel!" sagde han, "og det er da ogsaa lige fedt! Han hører
til Spilleværkerne, og har man dem, saa har man dem!" |
| "Don't mind him," the
Portuguese whispered to the little songbird, "He is all business
and business is all to him. . . . Now I think I had better take
a nap. One owes it to oneself to take good care of oneself.
I must grow fat, otherwise I shall never be stuffed and roasted,
and this, after all, is the purpose of life." |
"Bryd Dem aldrig om
hvad han siger!" hviskede den Portugisiske. "Han er agtværdig
i Forretninger, og Forretninger gaae for Alt. Men nu lægger
jeg mig til Hvile! det skylder man sig selv, at man kan være
kjøn fed, til man skal balsameres med Æbler og Svedsker!" |
| The Portuguese blinked.
She was a good duck; she found a good place to lie down, and
there she slept soundly. The little songbird plucked at his
broken wing, then he nestled as close as he could to his protector.
"The duckyard is a pleasant place to be," he thought. |
Og saa lagde hun sig
i Solen, blinkede med det ene Øie; hun laae saa godt, hun var
saa god, og saa sov hun saa godt. Den lille Sangfugl plukkede
paa sin knækkede Vinge, lagde sig lige op til sin Beskytterinde,
Solen skinnede varmt og deiligt, det var et godt Sted at være. |
| The hens walked about
among the ducks only while they were looking for food; now that
there was nothing more to be found, they went back to their
own part of the yard, led by the Chinese hens. The witty duckling
remarked to the other ducklings that the Portuguese was waddling
about in her second "ducklinghood." "Ducklinghood . . . Ducklinghoodl!"
screamed all the other young ducks. "My, how clever he is. .
. ." Then they eagerly repeated his previous joke over and over
again: "Wortagal...Portugal..." they cried until they grew tired
and fell asleep. |
Nabohønsene gik om at
skrabe, de vare i Grunden komne der alene for Fødens Skyld;
de Chinesiske gik først bort, og saa de Andre; den vittige Ælling
sagde om den Portugisiske, at den Gamle gik snart i "Ællingedom",
og saa skrattede de andre Ænder, "Ællingedom! han er mageløs
vittig!" og saa gjentog de den forrige Vittighed: "Portulak!"
det var meget morsomt; og saa lagde de sig. |
| For a while all was
quiet, then a maid came from the kitchen of the farmhouse and
emptied a bucketful of garbage into the duckyard. Splash! At
once all the ducks were up and about with their wings spread.
The Portuguese woke too, and as she rose she stepped right on
top of the little songbird. |
De laae en Stund, da
blev lige med Eet kastet noget Snaskeri ind i Andegaarden, det
klaskede, saa hele den sovende Besætning foer op og slog med
Vingerne; den Portugisiske vaagnede ogsaa, væltede om og trykkede
forfærdeligt den lille Sangfugl. |
| "Peep," he cried. "You
are so heavy, madam." |
"Pip!" sagde den, "De
traadte saa haardt, Madame!" |
| "It was your own fault,
weren't you in the way? Don't be so thin skinned. I am nervous
too, but you will never hear me say 'Peep.'" |
"Hvorfor ligger De i
Veien!" sagde hun, "De maa ikke være saa ømskindet! jeg har
ogsaa Nerver, men jeg har aldrig sagt Pip!" |
| "Don't be angry," said
the little bird, "the peep just escaped me by mistake." |
"Vær ikke vred!" sagde
den lille Fugl, "det Pip slap mig ud af Næbet!" |
| The Portuguese was not
listening. She was too busy eating, gobbling down garbage as
quickly as she could. In the meantime the songbird composed
a song for her, and when she had finished eating and again lay
down, he began to sing: |
Den Portugisiske hørte
ikke paa det, men foer i Snaskeriet og holdt sit gode Maaltid,
da det var endt og hun lagde sig, kom den lille Sangfugl og
vilde være elskværdig: |
"Tweet ... Tweet ... Of your good heart I sing And its
message bring, Tweet ... Tweet ... To the sky Oh, so high.
Tweet ... Tweet..."
|
"Tillelelit! Om Hjertet dit, Vil jeg synge tidt, Flyvende
vidt, vidt, vidt!"
|
| "I always rest after
meals," the Portuguese complained. "When you live in a duckyard
you must learn to behave like a duck. Now it is time to sleep."
|
"Nu skal jeg hvile paa
Maden!" sagde hun, "De maa lære Huusskik herinde! Nu sover jeg!"
|
| The poor little songbird
was amazed and unhappy; he had only meant to please the Portuguese.
While she slept he found a grain of wheat and placed it in front
of her. But when the duck woke up she was irritable because
she had slept badly. |
Den lille Sangfugl blev
ganske forbløffet, for han meente det saa godt. Da Madamen siden
vaagnede, stod han foran hende med et lille Korn, han havde
fundet; det lagde han foran hende; men hun havde ikke sovet
godt, og saa var hun naturligviis tvær. |
| "That's something for
a chicken, not for me; and please don't bother me all the time."
|
"Det kan De give en
Kylling!" sagde hun; "staa ikke og hæng over mig!" |
| "Why are you mad at
me, when all I want to do is to make you happy?" the songbird
cried. |
"Men De er vred paa
mig!" sagde han. "Hvad har jeg gjort?" |
| "Mad!" she exclaimed.
"How dare you call me mad? Don't ever make such a mistake again."
|
"Gjort!" sagde den Portugisiske,
"det Udtryk er ikke af den fineste Slags, vil jeg gjøre Dem
opmærksom paa!" |
| "Yesterday," sniffed
the little songbird, "yesterday there was only sunshine. Today
everything is dark and gray. It makes me so sad." |
"Igaar var her Solskin,"
sagde den lille Fugl, "idag er her mørkt og graat! jeg er saa
inderlig bedrøvet!" |
| "Hum. . . . You can't
tell time," replied the Portuguese crossly. "The day isn't done
yet. Don't stand there with such a long, sad face." |
"De kan det nok ikke
med Tidsregning!" sagde den Portugisiske, "Dagen er endnu ikke
gaaet, staa ikke og vær saa dumladende!" |
| "Please don't look at
me like that," the little bird begged. "That's the way those
two evil eyes looked at me just before I fell down from the
roof into the duckyard." |
"De seer paa mig saa
vred, som de to slemme Øine saae, da jeg faldt herned i Gaarden!"
|
| "Of all the nerve!"
screamed the Portuguese. "Imagine anyone comparing me to a cat,
to a carnivorous animal! I who haven't a mean bone in my body!
I who have taken such good care of you! I'll teach you better
manners, I will!" |
"Uforskammede!" sagde
den Portugisiske, "ligner De mig med Katten, det Rovdyr! ikke
en ond Blodsdraabe er der i mig; jeg har taget mig af Dem, og
god Omgang skal jeg lære Dem!" |
| And she bit off the
songbird's head and left his body dead and still. |
Og saa bed hun Hovedet
af Sangfuglen, den laae død. |
| "Now what have I done?"
the Portuguese asked herself. "Was I too severe? Well, if he
couldn't take that, then he wasn't meant for this world. Didn't
I try to be a mother to him? How could I have done otherwise,
when I have such a kind heart?" |
"Hvad er nu det!" sagde
hun; "kunde han ikke taale det! ja saa var han saamænd ikke
for denne Verden! jeg har været som en Moder mod ham, det veed
jeg! for Hjerte har jeg!" |
| The neighbor's cock
stuck his head over the fence and crowed so that he could be
heard in the next county. |
Og Naboens Hane stak
Hovedet ind i Gaarden og galede med Locomotivkraft. |
| "You'll be the death
of us all, with your crowing," the Portuguese cried. "The little
songbird lost his head because of it, and I almost lost mine." |
"De tager Livet af En
med det Gal!" sagde hun; "det er Deres Skyld det Hele; han tabte
Hovedet og jeg er nærved at tabe mit." |
| "He doesn't look like
much now," the cock admitted as he glanced at the headless songbird.
|
"Han fylder ikke meget
hvor han ligger!" sagde Hanen. |
| "Speak with respect
of him," snapped the Portuguese. "His breast was small but he
sang with true artistry. And he had that loving nature and tender
soul which all animals and so-called human beings ought to have."
|
"Tal De med Agtelse
om ham!" sagde den Portugisiske, "han havde Tone, han havde
Sang og høi Dannelse! kjærlig og blød var han og det passer
sig for Dyrene, som for de saakaldte Mennesker." |
| All the ducks gathered
around the body of the little songbird. Ducks have a passionate
nature and their passions are most deeply aroused by envy and
pity. And as there was no reason to envy the songbird, they
were filled with pity. They were joined by the Chinese hens. |
Og alle Ænderne samlede
sig om den lille døde Sangfugl; Ænderne have stærke Passioner,
enten have de det med Misundelse eller med Medlidenhed, og da
her ikke var Noget at misunde, saa vare de medlidende, det var
da ogsaa de to chinesiske Høns. |
| "We shall never see
another songbird like him. . . . He was almost Chinese," they
said. And then they clucked and cried. And all the other hens
clucked and cried. But the ducks had the reddest eyes. |
"Saadan en Sangfugl
faae vi aldrig mere! han var næsten en Chineser," og de græd
saa det klukkede efter, og alle Hønsene klukkede, men Ænderne
gik og havde de rødeste Øine. |
| "We have soft hearts,"
the ducks exclaimed. "No one can deny it." |
"Hjerte have vi!" sagde
de, "det kan da Ingen negte os!" |
| "It is true," cried
the Portuguese. "Ducks are almost as softhearted here as they
are in Portugal." |
"Hjerte!" sagde den
Portugisiske, "ja det have vi - næsten lige saa meget som i
Portugal!" |
| But the drake, who hadn't
cried, grunted, "What about something to eat! Is there anything
more important than eating? A dead musician more or less doesn't
matter. There are plenty more where he came from." |
"Lad os nu tænke paa
at faae Noget i Skrotten!" sagde Andriken, "det er det Vigtigere!
Gaaer et af Spilleværkerne i Stykker, saa have vi nok alligevel!" |