| Once upon a time there
stood in a street a very old house; it was nearly three hundred
years old. You could tell what year it had been built by reading
the date cut into one of the beams; all around it tulips and
curling hop vines had been carved. Right above the entrance
a whole verse had been inscribed, and above each window appeared
a grinning face. The second story protruded out over the first.
The lead gutters, which hung under the roof, were shaped like
dragons, with the monster's head at either end. The water was
supposed to spout out of their mouths, but it didn't; the gutter
was filled with holes and the water ran out of the dragons'
stomachs. |
Der var omme i Gaden
et gammelt, gammelt Huus, det var næsten tre hundrede Aar, det
kunde man læse sig til paa Bjælken, hvor Aarstallet var skaaret
ud tilligemed Tulipaner og Humleranker; der stod hele Vers bogstaverede
som i gamle Dage, og over hvert Vindue var der i Bjælken snittet
et Ansigt, som vrængede; den ene Etage gik et langt Stykke ud
over den anden, og lige under Taget var en Bly-Rende med Dragehoved;
Regnvandet skulde løbe ud af Gabet, men det løb ud af Maven,
for der var Hul paa Renden. |
| All the other houses
in the street were new and well kept, their walls were straight
and smooth, and they had large windows. It was quite reasonable
that they should feel themselves superior to the old house.
Had they been able to speak they probably would have said: "How
long are we to tolerate that old ruin? Bow windows are out of
fashion and, besides, they obstruct our view. It must believe
itself to be a castle, judging from the size of the steps leading
up to the entrance, and that iron railing makes one think of
funerals; not to speak of the brass knobs. It's embarrassing!"
|
Alle de andre Huse i
Gaden vare saa nye og saa nette, med store Ruder og glatte Vægge,
man kunde nok see at de vilde ikke have noget at gjøre med det
gamle Huus; de tænkte nok: "hvor længe skal det Skrummel staae
til Spektakel her i Gaden; saa løber Carnappet saadan ud, at
Ingen fra vore Vinduer kan see hvad der skeer i den Kant i Trappen
er saa bred som til et Slot og saa høi som til et Kirketaarn.
Jerngelænderet seer jo ud som Døren til en gammel Begravelse,
og saa har det Mæssingknapper. Det er flaut!" |
| Right across from the
old house stood a new house; it was of the same opinion as all
the other houses in the street. But behind one of its windows
sat a little boy, a little red-cheeked child with bright, shining
eyes who preferred the old house, and that both in the daytime
when the sun shone and at night in the moonlight. When he looked
at the walls of the old house, with its cracks and bare spots
where the mortar had fallen off, then he could imagine how the
street once had looked: in olden times, when all the houses
had had broad steps leading up to their doors, and bay windows,
and gables with tall pointed roofs. He could see the soldiers
marching through the streets armed with halberds. Oh, he found
the old house worth looking at and dreaming about. Its owner
was an old man who wore the strangest old-fashioned pants, a
coat with brass buttons, and a wig that you could see was a
wig. Every morning an old servant arrived to clean and run errands
for the old gentleman; otherwise, he was all alone. Sometimes
he came to the window and looked out into the street; then the
little boy nodded to him and the old man nodded back. In this,
manner they became acquainted; no, more than that, they were
friends, although they had never spoken to each other. |
Lige over for i Gaden
var ogsaa nye og nette Huse og de tænkte som de andre, men ved
Vinduet her sad en lille Dreng med friske røde Kinder, med klare
straalende Øine, han syntes rigtignok bedst om det gamle Huus,
og det baade i Solskin og i Maaneskin. Og saae han over paa
Muren, hvor Kalken var gaaet af, saa kunde han sidde og udfinde
der alle de underligste Billeder, akkurat hvorledes Gaden havde
seet ud før med Trapper, Karnapper og spidse Gavle; han kunde
see Soldater med Hellebarder, og Tagrender der løb om som Drager
og Lindorme. - Det var rigtig nok et Huus at see paa! og der
ovre boede en gammel Mand, som gik i Skjægs Buxer, havde en
Kjole med store Mæssingknapper og en Paryk, som man kunde see
var en virkelig Paryk. Hver Morgen kom der til ham en gammel
Karl, som ryddede op og gik Ærinder, ellers var den gamle Mand
i de Skjægs Buxer ganske alene i det gamle Huus; imellem kom
han hen til Vindues-Ruden og saae ud, og den lille Dreng nikkede
til ham, og den gamle Mand nikkede igjen, og saa vare de Bekjendtere
og saa vare de Venner, skjøndt de aldrig havde talt med hinanden,
men det kunde da ogsaa være det samme. |
| The little boy heard
his parents say, "Our neighbor, across the street, must be terribly
lonely." |
Den lille Dreng hørte
sine Forældre sige: "den gamle Mand derovre har det meget godt,
men han er saa skrækkelig ene!" |
| Next Sunday the boy
made a little package and, when he saw the servant going by
in the street, he hurried down and gave it to him. "Would you
please give this to your master?" he asked. "I have two tin
soldiers, and I would like your master to have one of them,
for I have heard that he is so terribly lonely." |
Næste Søndag tog den
lille Dreng og svøbte noget ind i et Stykke Papir, gik ned i
Porten, og da han, som gik Ærinder, kom forbi, sagde han til
ham: "hør! vil du bringe den gamle Mand derovre dette fra mig!
jeg har to Tinsoldater, dette er den ene; han skal have den,
for jeg veed at han er saa skrækkelig ene." |
| The old servant smiled
and nodded and took the little package, with the tin soldier
inside it to his master. Later that day a message arrived, inviting
the boy to come and visit the old man. The child's parents gave
their permission; and thus he finally entered the old house.
|
Og den gamle Karl saae
ganske fornøiet ud, nikkede og bar Tinsoldaten over i det gamle
Huus. Siden kom der Bud om den lille Dreng ikke havde Lyst til
selv at komme over at gjøre Besøg, og det fik han Lov til af
sine Forældre, og saa kom han over i det gamle Huus. |
| The brass knobs on the
iron railing seemed to shine so brightly that one might believe
that they had been newly polished in honor of the boys visit.
The little carved trumpeters in the oak doorway seemed to be
blowing especially hard on their instruments, for their cheeks
were all puffed up. It was a fanfare! 'Tra . . . tra . . . trattalala!
The boy is coming! Tra . . . tra . . . trattalala!" The door
was opened and he stood in the hall. All the walls were covered
with paintings portraying ladies in long silk gowns and knights
in armor. The boy thought that he could hear the silk gowns
rustle and the armor clang. Then there were the stairs; first
they went up a goodish way, and then down a little bit, and
ended in a balcony. It was wooden and a bit rickety, grass and
weeds grew out of every crack, making it look more like a garden
than a balcony. Antique flowerpots with human faces and donkey
cars stood ranged in a row; the plants grew to suit themselves.
One of them was filled with carnations that spread out over
the rim in all directions; that is, the green leaves and the
stems, the flowers hadn't come yet. One could almost hear the
plant saying: "The breeze has caressed me. and the sun has kissed
me and promised me a flower next Sunday, a little flower next
Sunday." |
Og Mæssingknapperne
paa Trappe-Gelænderet skinnede meget stærkere end ellers, man
skulde troe at de vare polerede i Anledning af Besøget, og det
var som om de udskaarne Trompetere - for der var udskaaret i
Døren Trompetere, som stode i Tulipanerne - blæste af alle Kræfter,
Kinderne saae meget tykkere ud end før. Jo de blæste: "Tratteratra!
den lille Dreng kommer! tratteratra!" - og saa gik Døren op.
Hele Gangen var med gamle Portrætter, Riddere i Harnisk og Fruer
i Silkekjole; og Harniskerne raslede og Silkekjolerne raslede!
- Og saa kom der en Trappe, den gik et stort Stykke opad og
et lille Stykke ned -og saa var man paa en Altan, der rigtignok
var meget skrøbelig, med store Huller og lange Sprækker, men
der voxte Græs og Blade op af dem Allesammen, for hele Altanen
udenfor, Gaarden og Muren, var med saa meget Grønt, det saae
ud som en Have, men det var kun en Altan. Her stode gamle Urtepotter,
som havde Ansigt og Æsel-Ører; Blomsterne de voxte nu ligesom
de vilde. I den ene Potte løb det over alle Bredder med Nelliker,
det vil sige med det Grønne, Skud ved Skud, og ganske tydeligt
sagde det: "Luften har klappet mig, Solen har kysset mig og
lovet mig en lille Blomst paa Søndag, en lille Blomst paa Søndag!"
|
| The old servant led
the boy into a chamber where the walls did not have paper on
them; no, they were covered with leather, which had gilded flowers
stamped upon it. |
Og saa kom de ind i
et Kammer, hvor Væggene vare med Svinelæders Betræk og der var
trykt Guldblomster paa. |
"Gilding fades all too fast. Leather, that is meant to
last,"
|
"Forgyldning forgaaer, Men Svinelæder bestaaer!"
|
| said the walls. In the
room were high-backed armchairs with carvings all over them.
"Sit down, sit down!" they cried. And when you sat down in them
they mumbled. "Ugh, how it cracks inside me! I think I got rheumatism
like the old cabinet. Ugh, how it creaks and cracks." |
sagde Væggene. Og der
stode Lænestole saa høiryggede, saa udskaarne, og med Arme paa
begge Sider. "Sid ned! sid ned!" sagde de. "Uh, hvor det knager
i mig! nu faaer jeg nok Gigt ligesom det gamle Skab! Gigt i
Ryggen, uh!" |
| At last the little boy
entered the room with the bow windows. Here the old master of
the house greeted him. |
Og saa kom den lille
Dreng ind i Stuen hvor Karnappet var og hvor den gamle Mand
sad. |
| "Thank you for the
tin soldier, my little friend," said he. "And thank you for
coming." |
"Tak for Tinsoldaten,
min lille Ven!" sagde den gamle Mand. "Og tak fordi du kommer
over til mig!" |
| "Thanks, thanks," said
all the furniture, although it sounded a little more like: "Crack
. . . Crack." There were so many chairs, tables, and cabinets
in the room that they stood in each other's way, for they all
wanted to see the little boy at once. |
"Tak! Tak!" eller "Knak
i Knak!" sagde det i alle Meublerne; de vare saa mange at de
næsten stode hverandre iveien for at see den lille Dreng. |
| In the center of one
of the walls hung a picture of a beautiful young girl. She was
laughing and dressed in clothes from a bygone time. She did
not say "thank you" or "crack" as the furniture had, but she
looked down so kindly at the little boy that he could not help
asking, "Where did you get her?" |
Og midt paa Væggen hang
et Skilderi med en deilig Dame, saa ung, saa glad, men ganske
klædt paa, som i gamle Dage, med Pudder i Haaret og Klæder,
som stode stive; hun sagde hverken "tak" eller "knak," men saae
med sine milde Øine paa den lille Dreng, som strax spurgte den
gamle Mand: "hvor har du faaet hende?" |
| "From the pawnbroker's,"
replied the old gentleman. "His shop is filled with pictures
that no one cares about any more. The people they portray have
been dead so long that no one remembers them. But though she
has been dead and gone for fifty years, I knew her once." |
"Omme hos Marskandiseren!"
sagde den gamle Mand. "Der hænge saa mange Billeder; Ingen kjende
eller bryde sig om dem, for de ere begravede Allesammen, men
i gamle Dage har jeg kjendt hende og nu er hun død og borte
i et halvhundrede Aar!" |
| Under the portrait hung
a bouquet of faded flowers, carefully preserved behind glass.
They looked old enough to have been picked half a century ago.
The pendulum of the grandfather clock swung back and forth,
and the hands moved slowly around, telling everything in the
room that time was passing and that they were getting older;
but that did not disturb the furniture. |
Og under Skilderiet
hang bag Glas en Bouquet visne Blomster; de vare vist ogsaa
et halvhundrede Aar, saa gamle saae de ud. Og Perpendikelen
paa det store Uhr gik frem og tilbage og Viseren dreiede og
Alting i Stuen blev endnu ældre, men det mærkede de ikke. |
| "My parents say that
you are terribly lonely," said the little boy. |
"De sige hjemme," sagde
den lille Dreng, "at Du er saa skrækkelig ene!" |
| "Oh," the old man smiled,
"that is not altogether true. Old thoughts, old dreams, old
memories come and visit me and now you are here. I am not unhappy."
|
"0," sagde han, "de
gamle Tanker, med hvad de kunne føre med sig, komme og besøge
mig, og nu kommer du jo ogsaa! Jeg har det meget godt!" |
| Then from a shelf he
took down a book that was filled with wonderful pictures. There
were processions in which there were golden carriages, knights,
and kings who looked like the ones in a deck of cards; and then
came the citizens carrying the banners of their trades: the
tailors' emblem was a pair of scissors held by a lion; the shoemakers
had an eagle with two heads above their banner--for, as you
know, shoemakers do everything in pairs. What a picture book
that was! |
Og saa tog han ned af
Hylden en Bog med Billeder, der vare hele lange Optog, de forunderligste
Karreeter, som man ikke seer dem nu til Dags, Soldater som Kløverknægt
og Borgere med vaiende Faner; Skræderne havde deres med en Sax,
som blev holdt af to Løver og Skomagerne deres uden Støvle,
men med en Ørn, som havde to Hoveder, for Skomagerne maa have
Alting saaledes at de kunne sige: det er et Par. - Jo det var
en Billedbog! |
| The old man left for
a moment to fetch some comfits, apples, and nuts; it was certainly
nice to be visiting in the old house. |
Og den gamle Mand gik
ind i den anden Stue for at hente Syltetøi, Æbler og Nødder;
- der var rigtig nok velsignet ovre i det gamle Huus. |
| "But I can't stand it
here!" wailed the tin soldier, who was standing on the lid of
a chest. "It is so lonely and sad here; once you have lived
with a family one cannot get accustomed to being alone. I can't
stand it! The days are ever so long and the evenings feel even
longer. It is not the same here as in your home, where your
parents talked so pleasantly and you sweet children made such
a lot of lovely noise. No, that poor old man really is lonely.
Do you think anybody ever gives him a kiss? Or looks kindly
at him? Here there is no Christmas tree ever, or gifts! The
only thing he will ever get will be a funeral! . . . I can't
stand it!" |
"Jeg kan ikke holde
det ud!" sagde Tinsoldaten, som stod paa Dragkisten; "her er
saa eensomt og saa sørgeligt; nei, naar man har været i Familieliv,
kan man ikke vænne sig til dette her! - Jeg kan ikke holde det
ud! Den hele Dag er saa lang og Aftenen er endnu længer! her
er slet ikke, som ovre hos Dig, hvor din Fader og Moder talte
saa fornøiede, og hvor Du og alle I søde Børn gjorde saadant
et deiligt Spektakel. Nei hvor den gamle Mand har det eensomt!
troer Du han faaer Kys! troer Du han faaer milde Øine, eller
Juletræ! Han faaer ikke noget, uden Begravelse! - jeg kan ikke
holde det ud!" |
| "You mustn't take it
so to heart," said the little boy. "I think it is very nice
here. All the old thoughts and dreams come to visit, so he said." |
"Du maa ikke tage det
saa sørgeligt!" sagde den lille Dreng; "jeg synes her er saa
deiligt og alle de gamle Tanker, med hvad de kunne føre med
sig, komme jo og gjøre Besøg!" |
| "I see none of them
and I don't want to either," screamed the tin soldier. "I can't
stand it!" |
"Ja, dem seer jeg ikke
og dem kjender jeg ikke!" sagde Tinsoldaten, "jeg kan ikke holde
det ud!" |
| "You will have to,"
said the little boy |
"Det maa Du!" sagde
den lille Dreng. |
| just as the old man
returned with the comfits, apples, and nuts; and at the sight
of them the boy forgot all about the soldier. |
Og den gamle Mand kom
med det meest fornøiede Ansigt, det deiligste Syltetøi, Æbler
og Nødder, og saa tænkte den lille Dreng ikke paa Tinsoldaten. |
| Happy and content, the
little boy returned home. Days and weeks went by. The boy nodded
to the old man from his window, and from the funny bow window
of the old house the greeting was returned. Finally the little
boy was asked to come visiting again. |
Lykkelig og fornøiet
kom den lille Dreng hjem, og der gik Uger og der gik Dage, og
der blev nikket til det gamle Huus og fra det gamle Huus, og
saa kom den lille Dreng derover igjen. |
| The carved trumpeters
blew, "Tra . . . tra . . . tratralala. . . The boy is here!
. . . Tra tra!" The knights in armor clanged with their swords
and the silk gowns of the ladies rustled, the leather on the
wall said its little verse, and the old chairs that had rheumatism
creaked. Nothing had changed, for in the old house every day
and hour were exactly alike. |
Og de udskaarne Trompetere
blæste: "tratteratra! der er den lille Dreng! tratteratra!"
og Sværd og Rustning paa Ridderbillederne raslede og Silkekjolerne
raslede, Svinelæderet talte og de gamle Stole havde Gigt i Ryggen:
"av!" det var akkurat ligesom første Gang, for der ovre var
den ene Dag og Time ligesom den anden. |
| "I can't stand it!"
screamed the tin soldier as soon as he saw the boy. "I have
wept tin tears! It is much too mournful and sad here. Please,
let me go to the wars and lose my arms and legs, that at least
will be a change. I can't stand it, for I know what it is like
to have old thoughts and old memories come visiting. Mine have
been here and that is not amusing. Why, I almost jumped right
off the lid of the chest. I saw all of you and my own home as
plainly as if I had been there. It was Sunday morning and all
you children were standing around the big table singing hymns,
as you always do on Sunday. Your parents were nearby, looking
solemn. Suddenly the door opened and little Maria, who is only
two years old, entered. She always dances whenever she hears
music, and she tried to dance to the tune you were singing,
but hymns are not made for dancing they are too slow. She stood
first on one leg and flung her head forward, and then on the
other and flung her head forward, but it didn't work out. You
looked grave, all of you, but I found it too difficult not to
laugh--at least inside myself. I laughed so hard that I fell
off the table and hit my head so hard that I got a lump on it.
I know it was wrong of me to laugh and the lump was punishment
for it. That is what the old man meant by old thoughts and memories:
everything that has ever happened to you comes back inside you.
. . . Tell me, do you still sing your hymns on Sunday? Tell
me something about little Maria and about my comrade, the other
tin soldier. He must be happy. Oh, I can't stand it!" |
"Jeg kan ikke holde
det ud!" sagde Tinsoldaten, "jeg har grædt Tin! her er altfor
sørgeligt! lad mig heller gaae i Krig og miste Arme og Been!
det er dog en Forandring. Jeg kan ikke holde det ud! - nu veed
jeg hvad det er at have Besøg af sine gamle Tanker, med hvad
de kunne føre med! jeg har havt Besøg af mine og Du kan troe,
det er ingen Fornøielse i Længden, jeg var tilsidst nær ved
at springe ned af Dragkisten. Alle I derovre i Huset saae jeg
saa tydeligt, som om I virkeligt var her; det var igjen den
Søndag-Morgen, som Du veed nok! Alle I Børn stode foran Bordet
og sang eders Psalme, som I synge den hver Morgen; I stode andægtige
med foldede Hænder, og Fader og Moder vare ligesaa høitidelige,
og saa gik Døren op og den lille Søster Maria, som ikke er to
Aar endnu, og som altid dandser naar hun hører Musik eller Sang,
hvad Slags det endogsaa er, blev sat ind, - hun skulde det nu
ikke, - og saa begyndte hun at dandse, men kunde ikke komme
i Tact, for Tonerne vare saa lange, og saa stod hun først paa
det ene Been og hældede Hovedet heelt forover, og saa paa det
andet Been og hældede Hovedet heelt forover, men det vilde ikke
slaae til. I stode meget alvorlige, Allesammen, skjøndt det
var nok svært, men jeg loe indvendig og derfor faldt jeg ned
af Bordet og fik en Bule, som jeg endnu gaaer med, for det var
ikke Ret af mig at lee. Men det Hele gaaer nu igjen indeni mig,
og Alt hvad jeg saadan har oplevet; og det er nok de gamle Tanker
med hvad de kunne føre med! - Siig mig, om I synge endnu om
Søndagen? Siig mig Lidt om den lille Maria! og hvordan har min
Kammerat det, den anden Tinsoldat! ja han er rigtignok lykkelig!
-jeg kan ikke holde det ud!" |
| "I have given you away,"
said the little boy. "You will have to stay, can't you understand
that?" |
"Du er foræret bort!"
sagde den lille Dreng, "Du maa blive. Kan Du ikke indsee det?"
|
| The old man brought
him a drawer in which lay many wonderful things. There were
old playing cards with gilded edges, a little silver piggy bank,
and a fish with a wiggly tail. Other drawers were opened and
all the curiosities were looked at and examined. Finally the
old man opened the harpsichord; on the inside of the lid was
a painting of a landscape. The instrument was out of tune but
the old man played on it anyway, and hummed a melody. |
Og den gamle Mand kom
med en Skuffe, hvori der var meget at see, baade "Kridthuus",
og "Balsombøsse", og gamle Kort, saa store og saa forgyldte,
som man aldrig seer dem nu. Og der blev aabnet flere Skuffer
og Claveret blev aabnet, det var med Landskab indvendigt paa
Laaget, og det var saa hæst da den gamle Mand spillede paa det;
og saa nynnede han en Vise. |
| "Ah yes, she used to
sing that," he sighed, and looked up toward the painting he
had bought from the pawnbroker and his eyes shone like a young
man's. |
"Ja, den kunde hun synge!"
sagde han og saa nikkede han til Portrættet, som han havde kjøbt
hos Marskandiseren, og den gamle Mands Øine de skinnede saa
klare. |
| "I am going to the wars!
I am going to the wars!" screamed the tin soldier as loudly
as he could, and fell off the chest. |
"Jeg vil i Krig! jeg
vil i Krig!" raabte Tinsoldaten saa høit han kunde og styrtede
sig lige ned paa Gulvet. |
| "What could have happened
to him?" said the old man. Together he and the boy were searching
for the little soldier on the floor. "Never mind, I will find
him later," said the old man, but he never did. There were so
many cracks in the floor and the tin soldier had fallen right
down through one of them; there he lay buried alive. |
Ja, hvor blev han af?
Den gamle Mand søgte, den lille Dreng søgte, borte var han og
borte blev han. "Jeg finder ham nok!" sagde den Gamle, men han
fandt ham aldrig; Gulvet var alt for aabent og hullet; -Tinsoldaten
var faldet gjennem en Sprække og der laae han som i aaben Begravelse.
|
| The day passed and the
little boy returned home. Many weeks went by, winter had come.
All the windows were frozen over. The little boy had to breathe
on the glass until he could thaw a little hole so that he could
see out. Across the street the old house looked quite deserted;
the snow lay in drifts on the steps. They had not been swept;
one would think no one was at home. And no one was. The kind
old man had died. |
Og den Dag gik og den
lille Dreng kom hjem, og Ugen gik og der gik flere Uger. Vinduerne
vare ganske frosne; den lille Dreng maatte sidde og aande paa
dem for at faae et Kighul over til det gamle Huus, og der var
Sneen fyget ind i alle Snirkler og Indskrifter, den laae heelt
op over Trappen, ligesom om der var Ingen hjemme, og der var
heller Ingen hjemme, den gamle Mand var død! |
| That evening a hearse
drew up in front of the old house and a coffin was carried down
the steps. The old man was not to be buried in the town cemetery
but somewhere out in the country, where he had been born. The
hearse drove away. No one followed it, for all his friends and
family had died long ago. The little boy kissed his fingers
and threw a kiss after the hearse as it disappeared down the
street. |
Om Aftenen holdt en
Vogn udenfor, og ned i den bar man ham i hans Kiste, han skulde
ud at ligge paa Landet i sin Begravelse. Der kjørte han nu,
men Ingen fulgte, alle hans Venner vare jo døde. Og den lille
Dreng kyssede paa Fingeren efter Kisten da den kjørte. |
| A few days afterward
an auction was held; the furniture in the old house was sold.
The boy watched from the window. He saw the knights in armor
and the ladies with their silken gowns being carried out of
the house. The old high-backed chairs, the funny flowerpots
with faces and donkey ears were bought by strangers. Only the
portrait of the lady found no buyer; it was returned to the
pawnbroker. There it hung; no one remembered her and no one
cared for the old picture. |
Nogle Dage efter blev
der Auction paa det gamle Huus, og den lille Dreng saae fra
sit Vindue, hvor man bar bort: de gamle Riddere og de gamle
Damer, Urtepotterne med lange Ører, de gamle Stole og de gamle
Skabe; noget kom her og noget kom der; Portrættet af hende,
som var fundet hos Marskandiseren, kom til Marskandiseren igjen
og der hang det altid, for Ingen kjendte hende mere, Ingen brød
sig om det gamle Billede. |
| Next spring the house
itself was torn down, "It was a monstrosity," said the people
as they went by. One could see right into the room with the
leather-covered walls; the leather was torn and hung flapping
like banners in the wind. The grass and weeds on the balcony
clung tenaciously to the broken beams. But at last all was cleared
away. |
I Foraaret rev man Huset
selv ned, for det var et Skrummel, sagde Folk. Man kunde see
fra Gaden lige ind i Stuen til det Svineskinds Betræk, som blev
flænget og revet; og det Grønne om Altanen hang ganske vildsomt
om de faldende Bjælker. Og saa blev der ryddet op. |
| "That was good," said
the neighboring houses. |
"Det hjalp!" sagde Nabohusene.
|
| A new house was built,
with straight walls and big windows but not quite where the
old house had stood; it was a little farther back from the street.
On the site of the old house a little garden was planted, and
up the walls of the houses on either side grew vines. A fine
iron fence with a gate enclosed it, and people would stop in
the street to look in, for it was most attractive. The sparrows
would sit in the vines and talk and talk as sparrows do, but
not about the old house, for they were too young to remember
it. Years went by and the little boy had become a grown man,
a good and clever man of whom his parents could be justly proud.
He had just got married and had moved into the new house. His
young wife was planting a little wild flower in the front garden.
He was watching her with a smile. Just as she finished, and
was patting the earth around the little plant, she pricked her
little hand. Something sharp was sticking out of the soft earth.
What could it be? |
Og der blev bygget et
deiligt Huus med store Vinduer og hvide, glatte Mure, men foran,
hvor egentligt det gamle Huus havde staaet, plantedes en lille
Have og op af Naboens Mure voxte vilde Viinranker; foran Haven
kom et stort Jerngitter med Jernport, det saae stadseligt ud,
Folk stode stille og kigede derind. Og Spurvene hang sig i Sneseviis,
paa Viinrankerne, snakkede i Munden paa hverandre, saa godt
de kunde, men det var ikke om det gamle Huus, for det kunde
de ikke huske, der var gaaet saa mange Aar, at den lille Dreng
var voxet op til en heel Mand, ja en dygtig Mand, som hans Forældre
havde Fornøielse af; og han var lige blevet gift og med sin
lille Kone flyttet ind i Huset her, hvor Haven var; og han stod
hos hende der i det hun plantede en Markblomst, som hun fandt
saa yndig. Hun plantede den med sin lille Haand og klappede
Jorden til med Fingrene. - Av! hvad var det? Hun stak sig. Der
sad noget Spidst lige op af den bløde Jord. |
| It was--imagine it!--the
tin soldier! The one that had fallen off the chest and down
through a crack in the flooring. It had survived the wrecking
of the old house, falling hither and thither as beams and floors
disappeared, until at last it had been buried in the earth and
there it had lain for many years. |
Det var - ja tænk! det
var Tinsoldaten, ham som var blevet borte oppe hos den gamle
Mand, og var rumlet og tumlet mellem Tømmer og Gruus og tilsidst
havde ligget mange Aar i Jorden. |
| The young woman cleaned
the soldier off with a green leaf and then with her own handkerchief.
It had perfume on it and smelled so delicious that the soldier
felt as though he were awakening from a deep sleep. |
Og den unge Kone tørrede
Soldaten, først med et grønt Blad og saa med sit fine Lommetørklæde,
det havde saadan en deilig Lugt! og det var for Tinsoldaten,
ligesom om den vaagnede op af en Dvale. |
| "Let me have a look
at him," said the young man; then he laughed and shook his head.
"I don't believe it can be him, but he reminds me of a tin soldier
that I once had." Then he told his wife about the old house
and its old master and about the tin soldier that he had sent
over to keep the old man company, when he had been a boy, because
he had known that the old man was so terribly alone. He told
the story so well that his young wife's eyes filled with tears
as she heard about the old house and the old man. |
"Lad mig see ham!" sagde
den unge Mand, loe og rystede saa med Hovedet. "Ja ham kan det
nu ikke være, men han husker mig paa en Historie med en Tinsoldat
jeg havde, da jeg var en lille Dreng!" og saa fortalte han sin
Kone om det gamle Huus, og den gamle Mand, og om Tinsoldaten
han sendte over til ham, fordi han var saa skrækkelig ene, og
han fortalte det saa akkurat, som det virkelig havde været,
saa at den unge Kone fik Taarer i Øinene over det gamle Huus
og den gamle Mand. |
| "It could be the same
soldier," she said. "I will keep it so that I shall not forget
the story you have told me. But you must show me the old man's
grave." |
"Det kan dog være at
det er den samme Tinsoldat!" sagde hun, "jeg vil gjemme den
og huske paa Alt hvad Du har fortalt mig; men den gamle Mands
Grav maa Du vise mig!" |
| "I do not know where
it is," her husband replied. "No one does; all those who knew
him were dead. You must remember that I was a very small boy
then." |
"Ja den veed jeg ikke,"
sagde han, "og Ingen veed den! alle hans Venner vare døde, Ingen
passede den og jeg var jo en lille Dreng!" |
| "How terribly lonesome
he must have been," sighed the young woman. |
"Hvor han maa have været
skrækkeligt ene!" sagde hun. |
| "Yes, terribly lonesome,"
echoed the tin soldier. "But it is truly good to find that one
is not forgotten." |
"Skrækkeligt ene!" sagde
Tinsoldaten, "men deiligt er det, ikke at blive glemt!" |
| "Good," screamed something
nearby in a so weak a voice that only the tin soldier heard
it. It was a little piece of leather from the walls of the old
house. The gilding had gone long ago, and it looked like a little
clod of wet earth. But it still had an opinion, and it expressed
it. |
"Deiligt!" raabte Noget
tæt ved, men Ingen uden Tinsoldaten saae at det var en Lap af
det Svinelæders Betræk, det var uden al Forgyldning, det saae
ud, som vaad Jord, men en Mening havde det og den sagde det:
|
| "Gilding fades all too
fast, But leather, that is meant to last." |
"Forgyldning forgaaer, Men Svinelæder bestaaer."
|
| But the tin soldier
did not believe that |
Dog det troede Tinsoldaten
ikke. |
|