The Tales of Hans Christian Andersen

"Lovely" - "Deilig!"

1860

The sculptor Hans Alfred, you know him, I am sure. We all know him. He received the gold medal when he graduated from the Art Academy, then he traveled to Italy and came home again. That was when he was young. Oh, he is still young, although he is at least ten years older now than he was then. Billedhuggeren Alfred, ja Du kjender ham vel? Vi kjende ham Allesammen: han fik Guldmedaillen, reiste til Italien og kom hjem igjen; da var han ung, ja det er han da endnu, men dog altid en halv Snees Aar ældre end dengang.
After his return he visited one of the smaller towns on Zealand. Everybody knew who he was and in his honor a party was given by one of the richer families of the town. Everyone who was anybody, or owned anything, was invited. It was an important event and the whole town knew about it without the town crier having mentioned it. Outside the house stood a group of apprentices and children--and a few of their parents, too--staring up at the curtained windows through which a festive glare shone. One might think that the night watchmen were having a party, so many people were there in the street. The spectators felt that they at least got a whiff of the amusements going on inside. And truly it was a grand party; after all, Mr. Alfred the sculptor was there. Han kom hjem, kom i Besøg i en af Sjællands Smaastæder, hele Byen vidste om den Fremmede, vidste hvem han var; for hans Skyld var Selskab hos en af de rigeste Familier, Alt, hvad der var Noget eller havde Noget, var indbudt, det var en Begivenhed, Byen vidste det uden Trommeslag, Haandværksdrenge og Smaafolks Børn, et Par af Forældrene med, stode udenfor og saae paa de nedrullede, belyste Gardiner, Vægteren kunde bilde sig ind, han gjorde Selskab, saa mange Folk stod der i hans Boldgade; det smagte af Fornøielse, og indenfor var rigtignok Fornøielse tilhuse, der var Hr. Alfred, Billedhuggeren.
He liked to talk, to tell about his travels, and everyone listened to him with pleasure and some with more than that. An elderly widow, whose husband had been a civil servant, was particularly impressed by the young man. Like a sponge she soaked up everything he said and asked for more. She was most naive and unbelievably ignorant: a female Caspar Hauser. Han talte, han fortalte, og Alle derinde hørte paa ham med Glæde, med Salvelse, men Ingen mere end en ældre Enkefrue af Embedsstanden, og hun var for Alt hvad Hr. Alfred sagde, et ubeskrevet graat Papir, der sugede det Sagte strax i sig og bad om Mere, høist modtagelig, utrolig uvidende, en qvindelig Caspar Hauser.
"I wouldn't mind seeing Rome," she said. "It must be a pretty town. Why, everyone in the whole world visits it. Now describe Rome for us. What do you see when you enter the city gate?" "Rom gad jeg nok see!" sagde hun, "det maa være en yndig By med alle de mange Fremmede, som komme der, beskriv os nu Rom! hvorledes seer der nu ud idet man kommer ind af Porten?"
"It is not so easy to describe," said the young sculptor. "There is a great square and in the center of it stands an obelisk that is four thousand years old." "Det er ikke let at beskrive!" sagde den unge Billedhugger. "Der er en stor Plads; midt paa den staaer en Obelisk, som er fire tusind Aar gammel!"
"An organist!" exclaimed the widow. She had never heard of an obelisk before. Some of the other guests smiled, and others were about to laugh--the young man among them. But he didn't, for just at that moment he noticed two eyes, as blue as the sea, staring at him. They belonged to the daughter of the widow; and if one has such a daughter, it does not matter that one is a bit naive and talkative. Mama was a gushing fountain of questions, her daughter was the fountain's beautiful nymph. She was lovely! There was something for a sculptor to look at and admire, he need not talk with her. And the young lady hardly ever opened her mouth. "En Organist!" udbrød Fruen, hun havde aldrig før hørt Ordet Obelisk; Nogle vare nær ved at lee, Billedhuggeren med, men det Smiil som kom, gled hen i Beskuelse, thi han saae tæt ved Fruen et Par store, havblaae Øine, det var Datteren af hende, der talte, og naar man har en saadan Datter, kan man ikke være eenfoldig! Moderen var et øsende Spørgsmaals Væld, Datteren Vældets Skjønheds Najade der hørte til. Hvor var hun deilig! hun var Noget for en Billedhugger at see paa, men ikke tale med, og hun talte Intet, idetmindste meget lidt.
"Has the Pope a big family?" asked Mama. "Har Paven en stor Familie?" spurgte Fruen.
The young man answered as if the question had been just incorrectly phrased. "No, the Pope does not come from a large family." Og den unge Mand svarede, som Spørgsmaalet bedre kunde have været stillet: "Nei, han er ikke af stor Familie!"
"That is not what I mean!" said the old lady. "Does he have a wife and children?" "Det mener jeg ikke!" sagde Fruen; "jeg mener, har han Kone og Børn?"
"The Pope does not dare marry," said the young man. "Paven tør ikke gifte sig!" svarede han.
"I don't like that!" was the widow's verdict. "Det holder jeg ikke af!" sagde Fruen.
She could have spoken more cleverly and asked more intelligent questions, but if she had, would her daughter have leaned so close to her and looked at her with such a gentle and sweet smile? Kløgtigere kunde hun vel have spurgt og talt, men om hun ikke havde spurgt og talt, som hun gjorde det, mon da vel Datteren saaledes havde heldet sig op til hendes Skulder og seet med dette næsten rørende Smiil?
Mr. Alfred spoke about the splendid colors of Italy, the pale blue mountains and the deep blue Mediterranean Sea. "Only in the color of the eyes of our women here in the north," he declared, "is that blueness surpassed." It was meant as allusion to the young lady's eyes, but she acted as if she had not understood it; and that, too, the sculptor found "lovely." Og Hr. Alfred talte, talte om Italiens Farvepragt, de blaanende Bjerge, det blaa Middelhav, Sydens Blaa, en Deilighed, som man i Norden kun fandt overtruffen i den nordiske Qvindes blaae Øine. Og det blev her sagt med Hentydning, men hun som skulde forstaae det, hun lod sig ikke mærke med at hun forstod det; og det var jo nu ogsaa deiligt!
"Italy," sighed some of the guests. "To travel," whispered others. "Lovely, lovely." "Italien!" sukkede Nogle, "reise!" sukkede Andre. "Deilig! deilig!"
"When I win the fifty thousand silver marks in the lottery," exclaimed Mama, "then my daughter and I will travel. We will take you, Mr. Alfred, along as a guide. We will go abroad, the three of us. And we will take a few of our old friends along too." And then she nodded so gaily to everyone around her that each had a right to believe that she meant him. "Yes, we will go to Italy. But not in any of the places where there are bandits. No, we will stick to Rome and the big highways where one is safe." "Ja, naar jeg nu vinder de halvtredsindstyve Tusind Rigsdaler i Lotteriet," sagde Enkefruen, "saa reise vi! jeg og min Datter, og De, Hr. Alfred! skal føre os an! vi reise alle Tre! og et Par andre gode Venner med!" og saa nikkede hun fornøieligt til dem Allesammen, Enhver havde Lov at troe, det er mig der skal med. "Til Italien ville vi! men vi ville ikke hvor der er Røvere, vi blive i Rom og paa de store Landeveie, hvor man er sikker!"
Her daughter sighed. Oh, how much can be expressed in a sigh, and how much can one imagine is being expressed in a sigh! The young sculptor found profound depth of feeling in it. The two lovely blue eyes hid within them all the treasures of the heart and spirit. Riches far greater than all the wealth of Rome. When he left the party he was lost; he had fallen in love with the young lady. Og Datteren drog et lille Suk; hvormeget kan der ikke ligge i et lille Suk, eller lægges deri; den unge Mand lagde Meget deri; de to blaae Øine, denne Aften belyste for ham, skjulte Skatte, Aandens og Hjertets Skatte, rige, som alle Roms Herligheder, og da han forlod Selskabet, - ja saa var han væk, væk i Frøkenen.
The widow's house was the place where you most often found Mr. Alfred. Everyone realized that it couldn't be because of Mama that he came, although she was the one who talked to him, so it had to be because of her daughter. She was called Kala. Her name was really Karen Malene, and by adding the two names together and subtracting a few letters, her pet name, Kala, had been invented. Lovely she was, though a bit lazy, some people said, for she never got up very early. Enkefruens Huus blev af alle Huse det, Hr. Alfred, Billedhuggeren, besøgte; man indsaae, at det ikke kunde være for Moderens Skyld, uagtet han og hun altid vare de Talende, det maatte være for Datterens Skyld han kom. Kala blev hun kaldt, hun hed Karen Malene, de to Navne vare trukne sammen til det ene Navn Kala; deilig var hun, men lidt dvask, sagde Een og Anden; hun laae gjerne lidt længe om Morgenen.
"She is used to that from childhood," explained her mother. "She has always been a Venus child and they tire easily. She sleeps a little late but that keeps her eyes bright." "Det er hun vant til fra sin Barndom!" sagde Moderen, "hun har altid været en Venus-Unge, og de blive saa let trætte. Hun ligger lidt længe, men deraf har hun sine klare Øine!"
What power there was in those eyes! Those sea-blue eyes! Still waters run deep. The young man felt their power. After all, he had run aground in those still waters. He talked and explained, and Mama asked the questions with the same ease as she had on their first meeting. Hvilken Magt var der ikke i disse klare Øine! disse havblaae Vande; det stille Vand med den dybe Grund, det fornam den unge Mand, han sad fast paa den dybe Grund. Han talte og fortalte, og Mama spurgte altid lige levende, freidigt og flot, som ved første Møde.
It was a pleasure to hear Mr. Alfred talk. He described Naples. He told about the walks he had taken up Vesuvius, and showed them pictures, in color, of the volcano erupting. Mama had never head of a volcano before, nor ever imagined that such a thing could exist. Det var en Fornøielse at høre Hr. Alfred fortælle; han fortalte om Neapel, om Vandringerne paa Vesuv og fremviste dertil i farvede Billeder flere af Eruptionerne. Og Enkefruen havde aldrig før hørt om det eller faaet det i Overveielse.
"God preserve us!" she said. "A mountain that spouts fire! Isn't it dangerous?" "Bevar os!" sagde hun, "det er da et ildspruddendes Bjerg! kan der Ingen komme til Skade ved det?"
"Whole towns have been buried by it," explained the young man, "Pompeii and Herculaneum." "Hele Byer ere gaaede tilgrunde!" svarede han, "Pompeji og Herculanum!"
"Oh, the poor wretched people! Did you see it happen?" "Men de ulykkelige Mennesker! og alt Det har De selv seet!"
"No, but I will draw you a picture of one little eruption that I did see." "Nei, ingen af de Udbrud, jeg her har i Billeder, men jeg skal vise Dem i en Tegning af mig selv, hvorledes Udbruddet var da jeg saae det!"
He took his sketch block and pencil and started to draw. Mama, who had just been looking at the very colorful pictures he had shown her, looked with surprise at the pale pencil drawing. Og han tog frem en Skizze gjort med Blyant, og Mama, der sad opfyldt i Beskuelsen af de stærkt colorerede Billeder, saae paa den blege Blyants-Skizze og udbrød i Overraskelse:
"But why is what's shooting up from it white?" she exclaimed. "De har seet det sprudde hvidt!"
At that moment Mr. Alfred's respect for Mama reached an all-time low. But soon, with the help of Kala, he understood that Mama just did not have much sense of color. And after all, what did that matter, when she had the best, the most beautiful thing in the whole world? She had Kala. Det blev et Øieblik sort i Hr. Alfreds Høiagtelse for Mama, men snart, i Kalas Belysning, forstod han, at hendes Moder ikke havde Farvesands, det var det Hele, hun havde det Bedste, det Skjønneste, hun havde Kala.
And Kala and Alfred became engaged, and that was not surprising. An announcement of the engagement was printed in the local newspaper, and Mama bought thirty copies of it so that she could send one to each of her friends. The young couple were very happy and so was Mama. She felt that now she was related to Thorvaldsen, the most famous Danish sculptor. Og med Kala blev Alfred forlovet, det var saa rimeligt; og Forlovelsen stod i Byens Avis. Mama fik sig tredive Exemplarer af den, for at klippe det Stykke ud og lægge i Breve til Venner og Bekjendte. Og de Forlovede vare lykkelige og Svigermama med, hun var ligesom kommen i Familie med Thorvaldsen.
"After all, you are his successor," she said. "De er dog hans Fortsættelse!" sagde hun.
And for once Mr. Alfred thought she had said something Kala did not say anything at all, but her eyes were bright, and she smiled so prettily, and the movements of her body were so graceful and lovely. Oh yes, lovely she was: lovely it cannot be repeated too often. Og Alfred syntes at hun sagde noget Aandrigt. Kala sagde ikke Noget, men hendes Øine lyste, Smilet sad om Munden, hver Bevægelse var deilig; og deilig var hun, det kan ikke siges for tidt.
Alfred made two busts: one of his future mother-in-law and one of Kala. They were his models and they watched him form the soft clay with his hands. Alfred formede Kalas og Svigermamas Buste; de sade for ham og saae, hvorledes han med Fingeren glattede og bøiede det bløde Leer.
"Is it for our sake that you do the simple work yourself?" asked the widow. "You might have hired someone to throw the clay together, then your hands wouldn't get dirty." "Det er nu for vor Skyld," sagde Svigermama, "at De selv gjør det simple Arbeide, og ikke lader Deres Karl klatte det sammen!"
"It is necessary that I form it myself from the very beginning," said Alfred. "Det er just nødvendigt at jeg former det i Leret!" sagde han.
"I am sure that is very gallant of you," said Mama; and Kala pressed his clay-covered hand. "Ja De er nu altid saa overordenlig galant!" sagde Mama, og Kala trykkede stille hans Haand, som Leret sad paa.
While he worked he explained to them his theory of why creation gave expression to the wonder of nature. Living matter, he said, was more important than dead, plants were above minerals, animals above plants, and man above animals. Spirit and beauty could be seen in form, and the sculptor revealed the human form in its perfection. Og han udviklede for dem begge To Naturens Herlighed i det Skabte, hvorledes det Levende stod over det Døde, Planten over Mineraliet, Dyret over Planten, Mennesket over Dyret; hvorledes Aand og Skjønhed aabenbarede sig gjennem Formen og at Billedhuggeren gav den jordiske Skikkelse af det Herligste i dets Aabenbarelse.
Kala was silent, although she seemed to sway a little in time with his thoughts and ideas. His future mother-in-law confessed openly: Kala stod taus, vuggende hans udtalte Tanke, Svigermama tilstod:
"It is difficult to follow you! My thoughts walk a little slower, but I am holding my own and I am sure I will catch up." "Det er svært at følge med! men jeg gaaer langsomt efter med Tankerne, og de surre ved det, men jeg har fast!"
The loveliness of Kala bound the young sculptor, it touched and fascinated him; it captured him. It was not only the single parts but all of Kala that was lovely. Her body, her glance, her mouth, even the movement of her fingers. That was Mr. Alfred's judgment; and he was a sculptor. He understood that sort of thing. He talked only about her, he thought only about her, the two of them had become one! In this manner silent Kala became talkative too, for Mr. Alfred talked enough for two, if not three. Og Deiligheden havde ham fast, den fyldte ham, betog og beherskede ham. Deiligheden lyste ud af hele Kalas Skikkelse, ud af hendes Blik, fra Mundvigerne, fra selv Fingrenes Bevægelse, det udtalte Alfred og han, Billedhuggeren, forstod sig paa det, han talte kun om hende, tænkte kun paa hende, de To blev Eet, og saaledes talte hun ogsaa meget, for han talte særdeles meget.
That was the engagement, then came the wedding. There were bridemaids and gifts. Both were mentioned in the speech to the bridal couple. Det var Forlovelsesdagene, nu kom Brylluppet med Brudepiger og Brudegaver, og de bleve nævnte i Brudetalen.
Mama had put a bust of Thorvaldsen at the end of the table and draped her husband's old dressing gown around it. She wanted the famous sculptor to be among the guests; it was her own idea. Several songs had been written for the occasion, and innumerable toasts were drunk. It was a delightful wedding with a lovely bridal couple. "Pygmalion got his Galatea," so ran one of the lines in one of the songs written for the occasion. "That is mythology!" declared Mama-in-law. Svigermama havde i Brudehuset stillet op for Bordenden Thorvaldsens Buste med Slobrok om, han skulde være Gjest, det var hendes Idee; der blev sjunget Viser og der blev drukket Skaaler, det var et fornøieligt Bryllup, et deiligt Par: "Pygmalion fik sin Galathea", stod der i en af Sangene: "Det er nu saadan Mythologie!" sagde Svigermama.
The day after the wedding the young couple left for Copenhagen; there they were going to build their nest. Mama-in-law followed. She was to attend to the coarse part, she said. She was to run the household, Kala was just to sit in the doll's house. Everything was new, bright, and lovely! There they sat, the three of them. And how did Mr. Alfred sit? Well, to explain it, one might use an old proverb: he sat as a bishop does in a goose's nest. Dagen derpaa reiste det unge Par til Kjøbenhavn for der at boe og bygge, Svigermama fulgte med for at tage sig af det Grove! sagde hun, det vil sige styre Huusvæsenet. Kala skulde sidde i Dukkeskab! Alt var Nyt, blankt og deiligt! der sad de alle Tre, - og Alfred, ja, for at bruge et Ordsprog, der belyser hvorledes han sad, han sad som en Bisp i en Gaaserede.
The magic of form had charmed him, he had looked at the beautiful decoration of the box without bothering to find out what was inside it. And that is a misfortune, a great misfortune in a marriage. When the gluing comes apart and the gilding wears off the casing, then one regrets the bargain. When you are out at a grand party, it is a horrible sensation to be aware that you have lost two of your suspender buttons and you can't depend upon your belt because you have forgotten to put one on. But what is even worse at such a party is to be aware that both your wife and your mother-in-law say one stupidity after another, while you are not certain that you can think up witty replies to counteract their foolishness. Formens Trolddom havde daaret ham, han havde seet paa Foderalet og ikke paa hvad der stak i Foderalet og det er Uheld, meget Uheld i Ægtestanden; gaaer Foderalet op i Liimningerne og Glimmerguldet falder af, saa fortryder man Handelen. I stort Selskab er det høist ubehageligt at mærke, at man har mistet begge sine Seleknapper og vide, at man ikke kan stole paa sit Spænde, for man har intet Spænde, men endnu værre er det i stort Selskab at fornemme, at Kone og Svigermama tale dumt og da, ikke at kunne stole paa selv at faae et vittigt Indfald der bortveirer Dumheden.
Often the young couple would sit, hand in hand, and he would talk; she would only say a word every now and then, and they were always the same. The same little notes from the bell, the same melodies. Her girl friend Sophie, when she came for a visit, provided a breath of fresh air, spiritually speaking. Saa tidt sad det unge Ægtepar Haand i Haand, og han talte og hun dryppede et Ord, samme Melodie, samme to, tre Klokketoner. Det var en Aandsluftning, naar Sophie, een af Veninderne, kom.
Sophie was not beautiful. She was not misshapen, her figure was a little "crooked," as Kala claimed. But this "crookedness" was not so great that it could be observed by anyone except Sophie's girl friends. She was a sensible and intelligent girl who was completely unaware that she might become dangerous in such company. She was a bit of fresh air in the dollhouse, as I have said; and they needed it, this they were all aware of. A change of air was needed, so the young couple and Mama-in-law set off for Italy. Sophie var meget lidt kjøn; ja hun var uden Skavank, lidt skjev var hun rigtignok, sagde Kala, men det var visseligt ikke mere, end kun Veninder kunne see det; hun var en meget fornuftig Pige, dog det faldt hende ikke ind at hun her kunde blive farlig. Hun var en forfriskende Luftning i Dukkeskabet, og frisk Luftning trængte man til, det indsaae de Allesammen; luftes maatte der og saa kom de ud at luftes, Svigermama og det unge Ægtepar reiste til Italien.
"Thank God that we are home again," said both Mama and daughter when they returned the following year together with Mr. Alfred. "Gud skee Lov vi ere hjemme i vort Eget igjen!" sagde Moder og Datter, da de Aaret efter med Alfred, alle Tre, kom tilbage.
"It is not amusing to travel!" insisted Mama-in-law. "It is really very boring! Excuse me for being so frank. But I was bored a good deal of the time, even though I had my children along. And it is expensive! It is terribly expensive to travel. Then there are all the galleries and museums you have to visit. One is always running about. You have to see everything so you can answer all the questions people are going to ask when you get home. And what's the result? Everyone tells you that you missed the most beautiful one of all. I got tired of looking at those eternal madonnas; why, you ended up looking like one yourself." "Det er ingen Fornøielse at reise!" sagde Svigermama; "det er egenligt kjedeligt! undskyld at jeg siger det. Jeg kjedede mig, uagtet jeg havde mine Børn med, og det er dyrt, meget dyrt at reise! Alle de Gallerier man skal see! Alt det man skal løbe efter! man kan jo ikke være Andet bekjendt, naar man kommer hjem og bliver spurgt ud! og saa maa man dog høre at det er det Deiligste, det man fik glemt at see. Mig kjedede i Længden disse evige Madonnaer, man bliver selv bare Madonna!"
"And the food one has to eat!" interrupted Kala. "Og den Mad man faaer!" sagde Kala.
"One can't get a decent bowl of soup," agreed Mama. "Foreigners don't know how to cook food!" "Ikke en ærlig Kjødsuppe!" sagde Mama. "Det er Daarligdom med deres Madlavning!"
Kala was fatigued by the journey. She couldn't get over it, and that was the worst of it. Sophie came to help in the house; and she was a help. Og Kala var bleven fatigueret af Reisen, vedvarende fatigueret, det var det Værste. Sophie kom der i Huset, og Gavn gjorde hun.
"I have to admit it," said Mama-in-law. "Sophie knows how to run a house and she understands all that art business. She is what one might call educated beyond her position and fortune. And besides all that, she is really a very decent human being and very loyal." The latter was proven when Kala lay sick and grew daily weaker. Det maatte man erkjende, sagde Svigermama, at Sophie forstod sig paa Huusvæsen og Kunstvæsen og Alt hvad hun efter sin Formue ikke havde Raad til, og saa var hun dertil meget agtbar, inderlig trofast; det viste hun ret, da Kala laae syg og tabte sig.
Where the casing is all, it must survive or all is over. The casing did not last: Kala died. Hvor Foderalet er det Hele, der maa Foderalet holde ud, ellers er det forbi med Foderalet - og det var forbi med Foderalet, - Kala døde.
"She was lovely," said Mama. "More beautiful than all those Greeks and Romans; they were always missing their heads or arms. Beauty has to be whole, and Kala was whole!" "Hun var deilig!" sagde Moderen, "hun var rigtignok noget Andet end Antikkerne, de ere saa rambonerede! Kala var heel og det skal en Skjønhed være!"
Alfred wept and Mama wept, and both of them dressed in black. Black was very becoming on Mama; therefore she wore it longer than Alfred. She mourned and soon had another cause for grief! Her son-in-law married again. He took Sophie, the girl who was a bit "crooked." Alfred græd og Moderen græd og de gik begge i sorte Klæder, Mama klædte Sort især, og, hun gik længst i Sort, bar længst Sorg, og hun fik den Sorg til, at Alfred giftede sig igjen, tog Sophie, der ikke havde Udvortes.
"He went from one extreme to another!" said his former mother-in-law. "From the loveliest to the ugliest. He has forgotten my Kala! There is no loyalty in men. My husband was different! But then he died before me." "Han er gaaet til Yderligheder!" sagde Svigermama, "gaaet fra det Deiligste til det Grimmeste, han har kunnet glemme sin første Kone. Der er ikke Udholdenhed hos Mandfolk! min Mand var anderledes! han døde ogsaa før jeg!"
"Pygmalion got his Galatea," said Alfred. "That is a quote from a song that was written for my first wedding. And it was true, I had fallen in love with a beautiful statue, and it became alive in my arms. But that kindred soul whom heaven sends us--one of the angels, who can sympathize with us, understand our thoughts, and when we are downhearted lift us up--I have not won until now. You, Sophie! Not so beautiful, not so glorious, but pretty enough, lovelier than one deserves. You came and taught the sculptor that his works are only clay, dust; only an impression of the hidden kernel inside one, the kernel that one should seek. Poor Kala, our life together was merely a journey. If we meet up there, where all the souls meet in eternal sympathy, we will be almost strangers." "Pygmalion fik sin Galathea!" sagde Alfred, "ja det stod i Brudevisen; jeg havde ogsaa virkelig forelsket mig i den deilige Statue, der fik Liv i mine Arme! men den beslægtede Sjæl, som Himlen sender os, en af dens Engle, der kan føle med os, tænke med os, løfte os, hvor vi bøies, har jeg nu først fundet og vundet. Du kom, Sophie! ikke i Form-Skjønhed, i Straaleglands, -men god nok, mere smuk, end det behøves! Hovedsagen er Hovedsagen! Du kom og lærte Billedhuggeren, at hans Værk kun er Leer, Støv, kun et Aftryk i dette af den indre Kjærne, den vi skulle søge. Stakkels Kala! vort Jordliv var som et Reiseliv! deroppe, hvor man samles i Sympathie, ere vi hinanden maaskee halv fremmede!"
"That was not very kind to say," admonished Sophie. "It wasn't very Christian. Up there where no one is to marry and all the souls meet in sympathy, as you phrased it, up there where all unfold themselves fully, her soul may ring with a sweeter and purer tone than mine. And you! You will say again, as you did when you first saw her and fell in love, 'Lovely, lovely!'" "Det var ikke kjærligt sagt," sagde Sophie, "det var ikke christeligt! hist oppe, hvor der ikke skal tages tilægte, men, som Du siger, Sjælene mødes ved Sympathie, der, hvor alt Herligt udfolder og løfter sig, vil hendes Sjæl maaskee klinge i saa fuldelig Kraft, at den overklinger min, og Du - Du vil da igjen udbryde i dit første Forelskelses-Udbrud: Deilig, deilig!"

Copyright Anchor Books Doubleday
Hans Christian Andersen:
The Complete Fairy Tales and Stories

Translated from Danish by Erik Christian Haugaard

Copyright:
The Hans Christian Andersen Project