| The countryside around
Køge is very barren. True, the town is situated on the coast,
and the seaside is always lovely, but it can be much prettier
than it is there. The city is surrounded by flat fields and
it is far to the nearest forest. And yet, if it is the place
that you call home, you will find something beautiful about
it: something that you will long for when, later on in life,
you see places that are truly beautiful. On the outskirts of
Køge there is a little stream that ebbs out in the sands of
a beach, and along its banks it is quite lovely, especially
in summer. Knud and Johanna thought this place was as beautiful
as any place could be. They were two children who lived next
door to each other and whose gardens went right down to the
stream. Both of the families were very poor, but there was an
elderberry tree in one of the gardens and a willow tree in the
other. The children had only to crawl under the hedge to be
together. Sometimes they played under the elderberry tree but
more often under the willow, even though this grew on the bank
of the stream. Our Lord looks after all small creatures; otherwise,
very few of them would survive. Besides, the children were careful,
especially the boy, who was so frightened of the water that
even in summer he never waded in the sea as all the other children
did. He had had to bear a lot of teasing about it, until little
Johanna had a dream that she was out sailing in a boat, on Køge
Bay, and Knud walked out to meet her--first the water went up
to his throat and then over his head, but he walked on. From
then on, whenever the children teased him, he would refer to
Johanna's dream as proof of his courage. He was very proud of
it; but he went no nearer the water. |
Egnen er meget nøgen
nede ved Kjøge; Byen ligger jo rigtignok ved Stranden, og det
er altid kjønt, men der kunde dog være kjønnere, end der er:
rundt om flad Mark, og langt er der til Skoven; men naar man
er rigtig hjemme et Sted, saa finder man dog Noget kjønt, noget,
man paa det deiligste Sted i Ver den siden kan henges efter!
Og det maae vi ogsaa sige, at i Ud kanten af Kjøge, hvor et
Par smaa fattige Haver strække sig ned til den lille Aa, som
løber ud i Stranden, kunde der være ganske yndigt ved Sommertid,
og det fandt især de to smaa Nabobørn, Knud og Johanne, som
legede her og krøb under Stikkelsbær buskene ind til hinanden.
I den ene Have stod en Hyld, i den anden et gammelt Piletræ,
og under det især legede de Børn saa gjerne, og dertil havde
de Lov, skjøndt Træet stod lige tæt ved Aaen, hvor de let kunde
falde i Vandet, men vor Herre har Øie paa de Smaa, ellers saae
det slemt ud; de vare ogsaa meget forsigtige, ja, Drengen var
en saadan Cujon for Vandet, at det var ikke mueligt ved Sommertid
at faae ham ud i Stranden, hvor dog de andre Børn saa gjerne
vilde gaae at pjadske; han blev skammet ud for det, og det maatte
han taale; men saa drømte Naboens lille Johanne, at hun seilede
i en Baad paa Kjøgebugt og Knud gik lige ud til hende, Vandet
naaede ham først til Halsen og saa gik det ham heeelt over Hovedet;
og fra det Øieblik af, at Knud hørte den Drøm, taalte han ikke
læn ger, at man kaldte ham en Cujon for Vandet, men henviste
bare til Johannes Drøm; den var hans Stolthed; men i Vandet
gik han ikke. |
| The parents of the children
often visited each other, and the children played together all
the time, either in the gardens or out in the road. Along the
sides of the road many willow trees grew, but they were stunted,
for they had not been planted there to be looked at but for
the sake of their branches, from which fences and baskets could
be woven. The willow tree in the garden was allowed to grow
as it wanted to, and under its widespread branches the children
passed many happy hours. |
De fattige Forældre
kom jævnlig sammen, og Knud og Johanne legede i Haverne og paa
Landeveien, som langs med Grøfterne havde en heel Række Piletræer,
og de vare ikke kjønne, de vare saa forhuggede i Kronen, men
de stode jo heller ikke til Stads, men for at gjøre Nytte; deiligere
var den gamle Piil i Haven, og under den sad de mangen god Gang,
som man siger. |
| On market day the great
square in the center of Køge became a little city of tents.
Here silk ribbons, boots, and many other kinds of wares were
sold. There were always big crowds of people and usually there
was rain. Every peasant for twenty miles around came to Køge.
The smell of the damp woolen clothing blended with the delicious
odor of gingerbread. There was a booth where gingerbread alone
was sold, and the best part of it was that the man who owned
it stayed with Knud's parents whenever he was in town, so the
boy was always given a piece of gingerbread which he shared
with Johanna. There was another wonderful thing about the gingerbread
baker, he knew how to tell stories. He could make them up about
almost everything, even his own gingerbread figures. One evening
he told a tale about a gingerbread man and a gingerbread woman
that made such a deep impression on the two children that they
never forgot it; so maybe it is a good idea that we hear it
too, especially since it is short. |
Inde i Kjøge er der
et stort Torv, og ved Markedstid stod der hele Gader af Telte
med Silkebaand, Støvler og alt mueligt; der var en Trængsel
og sædvanligviis Regnveir, og da mærkede man Dunsten af Bondekofter,
men ogsaa den deiligste Lugt af Honningkager, der var en heel
Bod fuld, og hvad der var det prægtigste: Manden, som solgte
dem, indlogerede sig altid i Markedstiden hos den lille Knuds
Forældre, og saa vankede der naturligviis en lille Honningkage,
hvoraf Johanne ogsaa fik sit Stykke, men hvad der næsten var
endnu meget mere, Honningkagehandleren vidste at fortælle Historier,
og det næsten om enhver Ting, selv om sine Honningkager; ja
om disse fortalte han en Aften en Historie, som gjorde et saa
dybt Indtryk paa de to Børn, at de aldrig siden glemte den,
og saa er det vel bedst, vi ogsaa høre den, især da den er kort. |
| "Once there lay on the
counter of my booth two gingerbread figures. One of them was
a man with a hat on his head, the other a girl who had no hat
but did have a dab of gold for hair. Their faces were on the
front of their heads just as human beings' faces are; and they,
too, shouldn't be judged by how they look from behind. The man
had a bitter almond on the left side of his chest and that was
his heart. The gingerbread girl was just plain gingerbread.
They were displayed on the counter as samples. And as the days
went by they fell in love, but neither of them spoke of their
love, and if you don't do that, nothing will ever come of it.
|
"Der laae paa Disken
to Honningkager," sagde han, "den ene havde Skikkelse af et
Mandfolk med Hat, den anden som en Jomfru uden Hat, men med
en Klat Bog-Guld paa Hovedet; de havde Ansigt paa den Side,
som vendte opad, og der skulde man see dem og ikke paa Vrangen,
der skal man aldrig see noget Menneske. Mandfolket havde en
Bittermandel til Venstre, det var hans Hjerte, Jomfruen var
derimod bare Honningkage. De laae som Prøver paa Disken, de
laae længe og saa elskede de hinanden, men den Ene sagde det
ikke til den Anden, og det maa man, naar det skal blive til
Noget. |
| 'He is a man, it is
only proper that he should speak first,' thought the gingerbread
girl, though she was dying to know whether her love was returned.
|
"Han er et Mandfolk,
han maa sige det første Ord," tænkte hun, men vilde dog være
fornøiet med at vide, at hendes Kjærlighed blev gjengjældt. |
| His thoughts were more
ferocious: men's usually are. He dreamed that he was an urchin
who had fourpence, so he could buy the little gingerbread girl
and eat her up. |
Han var nu mere glubende
i sine Tanker, og det er altid Mandfolkene; han drømte, han
var en levende Gadedreng og eiede fire Skilling, og saa kjøbte
han Jomfruen og aad hende. |
| For weeks they lay on
the counter and became more and more dried out. The gingerbread
girl's ideas became more refined, more womanly. 'It is enough
to have lain on the same counter with him,' she thought, and
then she broke in two at the waist. |
Og de laae Dage og Uger
paa Disken og blev tørre, og hendes Tanker bleve finere og mere
qvindelige: "det er mig nok, at jeg har ligget paa Disk med
ham!" tænkte hun, og saa knak hun i Livet. |
| 'If she had known of
my love, she might have lasted longer,' thought the gingerbread
man." |
"Havde hun vidst min
Kjærlighed, saa havde hun nok holdt noget længer!" tænkte han.
|
| "That was their story
and here they are, both of them," said the baker. "Theirs was
an unhappy fate and proves that silent love leads to unhappiness.
. . . Now look at them!" And he gave the gingerbread man to
Johanna and the two pieces of the gingerbread girl to Knud,
but the children were so touched by the story that they couldn't
eat the cakes. |
Og det er Historien
og her er de begge to"! sagde Kagehandleren. "De ere mærkelige
ved deres Levnetsløb og den stumme Kjærlighed, der aldrig fører
til Noget. See der har I dem!" og saa gav han Johanne Mandfolket,
som var heel, og Knud fik den knækkede Jomfrue; men de vare
saa betagne af Historien, at de ikke nænte at spise Kjærestefolkene.
|
| The next day the children
went to the churchyard. Its walls were so overgrown with ivy
that they looked as if the red bricks were covered by a green
carpet. Here among the greenery Knud and Johanna leaned the
gingerbread man and the gingerbread woman up against the wall
and told the other children the story of silent love and what
a waste of time it was--the love, that is, not the story, for
the children found that very amusing. They were all so absorbed
in the tale that they didn't notice that a bigger boy had stolen
one of the gingerbread figures. It was the maiden and out of
meanness he ate her all up. The children wept when they realized
what had happened; and then they ate the gingerbread man--probably
so that the poor fellow would not suffer from being alone in
the world. They never forgot the story. |
Næste Dag gik de med
dem ind paa Kjøge Kirkegaard, hvor Kirkemuren er overgroet med
det deiligste Vedbende-Grønt, der Vinter og Sommer hænger som
et rigt Tæppe over Muren; og de stillede Honningkagerne op i
det Grønne i Solskinnet og fortalte for en Flok andre Børn Historien
om den stumme Kjærlighed, som ikke duede til Noget, det vil
sige Kjærligheden, for Historien var yndig, det fandt de Allesammen,
og da de saae hen paa Honning-Parret, ja, saa var der en stor
Dreng, der - og det var af Ondskab - havde spiist den knækkede
Jomfrue, Børnene græd derover, og siden, - og det var vistnok
for at det stakkels Mandfolk ikke skulde være ene i Verden,
- saa spiste de ham med, men aldrig glemte de Historien. |
| The two children were
always together either under the elderberry tree or under the
willow. Johanna had a voice that was as clear as a silver bell,
and she would sing the loveliest songs. Knud had no voice at
all, but he knew the words of all the songs by heart--and that
is always something. The people of Køge, even the rich grocer's
Wife, would stop when they passed the gardens, to listen to
Johanna sing. "That little brat has a beautiful voice," they
would say. |
Altid var de Børn sammen
ved Hyldebusken og under Piletræet, og den lille Pige sang med
sølvklokkeklar Stemme de yndigste Sange; i Knud var der ikke
Tone skabt, men han kunde Ordene og det er altid noget. - Folk
i Kjøge, selv IsenkræmmerMadammen, stod stille og hørte paa
Johanne. "Det er en sød Røst den lille Unge har!" sagde hun.
|
| Those were beautiful,
happy days but they did not last. Little Johanna's mother died
and her father decided to move to Copenhagen. The neighbors
had tears in their eyes when they parted, and the two children
wept aloud. The grown-ups promised to write to each other at
least once a year. Shortly afterward Knud was apprenticed to
a shoemaker--such a big boy could not spend all his time playing.
In the autumn he was confirmed in the church in Køge. |
Det var velsignede Dage,
men de vare ikke ved altid. Naboerne skiltes ad; den lille Piges
Moder var død, Faderen skulde giftes inde i Kjøbenhavn og der
kunde han faae en Levevei; han skulde være Bud et Sted, det
skulde være et meget indbringende Embede. Og Naboerne skiltes
ad med Taarer, og Børnene især græd; men de Gamle lovede at
skrive hinanden til i det mindste eengang om Aaret. Og Knud
kom i Skomagerlære, de kunde jo ikke lade den lange Dreng længer
gaae og drive. Og saa blev han confirmeret! |
| How Knud would have
liked to go to Copenhagen on that solemn day, to see Johanna.
He had never been in the capital, though the distance was not
more than twenty miles. On a clear day you can see the towers
of Copenhagen across the bay; and the morning he was confirmed,
Knud saw the golden cross on the top of the steeple of the Church
of Our Lady. |
0 hvor gjerne vilde
han paa den Høitidsdag have kommet til Kjøbenhavn og seet lille
Johanne, men han kom ikke og aldrig havde han været der, skjøndt
den kun ligger fem Miil fra Kjøge; men Taarnene havde Knud seet
over Bugten i klart Veir, og paa Confirmationsdagen saae han
tydeligt det gyldne Kors skinne paa Frue Kirke. |
| How often he thought
of Johanna! But did she remember him? At Christmas a letter
arrived from Johanna's father. All had turned out well for him
and he had married again; but Johanna had had even greater good
luck. Her lovely voice had won her a position in the theater.
She sang in the kind of play in which there was music and she
already earned quite a bit of money. That was why she was sending
her "dear neighbors in Køge a silver mark, to buy wine for Christmas
Eve and to toast my health--" that she had written herself;
and she added: "My very best regards to Knud!" |
Ak hvor tænkte han paa
Johanne! mon hun huskede ham? Jo! -Ved Juletid kom der Brev
fra hendes Fader til Knuds Forældre, det gik meget godt i Kjøbenhavn,
og en stor Lykke vilde blive tildeelt Johanne ved hendes kjønne
Stemme; hun var ansat ved Comedien, den de sang i; og lidt Penge
fik hun allerede derfor og af disse sendte hun de kjære Naboefolk
i Kjøge en heel Rigsdaler til Fornøielse Juleaften; de skulde
drikke hendes Skaal, og det havde hun selv med egen Haand tilføiet
i en Efterskrift, og i den stod: "venlig Hilsen til Knud!" |
| They all wept. Everything
was so wonderful and their tears came from happiness. Not a
day passed without Knud thinking of Johanna, now that he could
read in her letter that she thought of him. The nearer the time
came for his apprenticeship to end, the more certain he was
that he loved Johanna and that one day she would become his
wife. He would think of Johanna; a smile would play on his lips
and he would pull the leather even tighter to the last. Once
he stuck the big needle right into his thumb; but it did not
matter, he was so happy in his dreams. He was not going to be
silent as the two gingerbread figures had been; from that story
he had learned a lot. |
De græd Allesammen,
og det var jo dog saa fornøieligt det Hele, men det var af Glæde
de græd. Hver Dag havde Johanne været i hans Tanker, og nu saae
han, at hun ogsaa tænkte paa ham, og alt, som det nærmede sig,
at han skulde blive Svend, des klarere stod det for ham, at
han holdt saa meget af Johanne og at hun skulde blive hans lille
Kone, og saa spillede der ham et Smiil om Munden og han trak
endnu raskere i Rispen, mens Benet spændte mod Spanderemmen;
han stak Sylen heelt ind i den ene Finger, men det gjorde ikke
Noget. Han skulde rigtignok ikke være stum, som de to Honningkager,
den Historie var ham meget til Lærdom. |
| Finally his apprenticeship
was over and he packed his knapsack. He was going to Copenhagen
for the first time in his life. He had already got a position
there with a shoemaker. How surprised Johanna would be when
she saw him. She was now seventeen and he was nineteen. |
Og saa blev han Svend
og Randselen snørt. Til Kjøbenhavn skulde han da endelig for
første Gang i sit Liv og han havde allerede der en Mester. Naa,
hvor Johanne vilde blive overrasket og glad. Hun var nu sytten
Aar og han var nitten. |
| He had thought of buying
a gold ring for her in Køge but had decided that he could probably
buy a much more beautiful one in Copenhagen. He said good-by
to his parents, took his knapsack on his back, and set out.
It was a rainy and windy autumn day; he was wet to the skin
by the time he had walked the twenty miles to the big city and
found the home of the shoemaker he was to work for. |
Han vilde allerede kjøbe
i Kjøge en Guldring til hende, men saa betænkte han, at man
vist fik dem langt kjønnere i Kjøbenhavn; og saa blev der taget
Afsked med de Gamle, og rask i Efteraarstiden gik han paa sin
Fod i Regn og Rusk; Bladene faldt af Træerne; vaad til Skindet
kom han til det store Kjøbenhavn og til sin nye Mester. |
| The very first Sunday
he went to the address that he had copied from Johanna's father's
letter. He had put on his new suit and was wearing the hat he
had bought in Køge. He looked well in it; it was his first hat,
until then he had always worn a cap. He found the house. They
lived on the top floor, and it almost made him dizzy to walk
up so many flights of stairs. "How strangely people live in
the huge lonesome city," he thought, "all on top of each other."
|
Førstkommende Søndag
vilde han aflægge Besøget hos Johannes Fader. De nye Svende-Klæder
kom paa, og den nye Hat fra Kjøge, den klædte Knud saa godt,
før havde han altid kun gaaet med Kaskjet. - Og han fandt Huset,
som han søgte, og kom de mange Trapper op; det var ganske til
at blive svindel over, hvorledes Menneskene vare stillede ovenpaa
hinanden her i den vildsomme By. |
| Johanna's father greeted
him kindly; his new wife, whom Knud had not met before, shook
his hand and offered him coffee. Their apartment was neat and
well furnished. |
Ganske velhavende saae
der ud inde i Stuen, og venligt tog Johannes Fader imod ham;
for Madammen var han jo en fremmed En, men hun gav ham Haanden
og Caffe. |
| "Johanna will be so
pleased to see you," said the father. "You have grown up to
be a nice-looking young man. I will call her. She is a girl
that a father can be proud of; she has gone far. And with God's
help she will go even further. She has her own room and she
pays me rent." Her father knocked on her door as if he were
a stranger to his own daughter. They stepped inside. Oh, what
a beautiful room she had! Knud felt certain that there was not
a room so elegant in all of Køge. The queen could not have a
better one. The floor was covered by a rug, and the curtains
were so long that they almost reached the floor. There was a
little upholstered chair covered with velvet, several pictures
on the walls, and a mirror as big as a door. Knud noticed it
all and yet he saw only Johanna! She looked quite different
from what he had expected; she was much more beautiful than
he had imagined she would be. There was not a girl in Køge as
lovely as she, or as refined. For a moment she stared at him
strangely as if she didn't know him, but then she came running
over to him. Knud thought that she was going to kiss him. But
she didn't, though she was happy to see him. She had tears in
her eyes when she looked at the friend from her childhood. And
she asked so many questions: about Knud's parents and everyone
else in Køge, including the elderberry tree and the willow tree.
She called them "mother elderberry" and "father willow," and
talked about them as if they were human beings. And why shouldn't
she? After all, they were as human as the two gingerbread cakes.
Of those she talked too; about their silent love and how they
lay on the counter beside each other, not daring to speak of
it. She laughed so warmly, so kindly. "No, she hasn't changed,"
thought Knud. His cheeks blushed and his heart beat so strangely.
Knud also sensed that it was for her sake that he was invited
to stay all evening. They had tea. Later she read aloud from
a book, and Knud felt that every word she read was about him
and his love for her. When she sang a little song for them,
the song became more than a song, it was a little story that
came from her heart. The tears ran down his cheeks; he could
not stop them and to speak was impossible. He thought that he
had behaved very stupidly, but when he left she shook his hand
warmly and said: "You have a kind heart, Knud. Always stay as
you are." |
"Det vil fornøie Johanne
at see dig!" sagde Faderen, "Du er jo blevet et meget net Menneske!
- ja nu skal du see hende! ja det er en Pige, jeg har Glæde
af og faaer mere, med Guds Bistand! hun har sit eget Kammer
og det betaler hun os for!" og Faderen selv bankede ganske høfligt
paa hendes Dør, ligesom om han var en fremmed Mand, og saa traadte
de ind - nei, hvor der var nydeligt! der var bestemt ikke saadant
et Kammer til i hele Kjøge, Dronningen kunde ikke have det yndigere!
Der var Gulvtæppe, der var Gardiner lige ned til Jorden, en
virkelig Fløiels-Stol og rundtom Blomster og Skilderier og et
Speil, som man var færdig ved at løbe lige ind i, det var ligesaa
stort som en Dør. Knud saae det altsammen paa eengang og saae
dog kun Johanne, hun var en voxen Pige; ganske anderledes end
Knud havde tænkt sig hende, men meget deiligere! der var ikke
en Jomfru i Kjøge, som hun, og hvor var hun fiin! Men hvor saae
hun underlig fremmed paa Knud, dog kun et Øieblik, saa fløi
hun hen imod ham, ligesom om hun vilde kysse ham; hun gjorde
det ikke, men hun var lige ved det. Jo, hun var rigtignok glad
ved at see sin Barndoms Ven! stod ikke Taarerne hende i Øinene,
og saa havde hun saa meget at spørge og tale om, lige fra Knuds
Forældre til Hyldetræet og Piletræet, og dem kaldte hun Hyldemoer
og Pilefaer, ligesom om de ogsaa vare Mennesker, dog det kunne
de da ligesaa godt gjælde for, som Honningkagerne kunde det;
om dem talte hun ogsaa, om deres stumme Kjærlighed, hvorledes
de laae paa Disken og gik istykker, og saa loe hun saa hjerteligt
- men Blodet brændte Knud i Kinderne og hans Hjerte slog stærkere
end ellers! - nei, hun var slet ikke blevet storagtig! - Hun
var ogsaa Skyld i, mærkede han nok, at hendes Forældre bad ham
blive der hele Aftenen, og hun skjænkede Theen og hun selv bød
ham en Kop og siden tog hun en Bog og læste høit for dem, og
det var for Knud ligesom om netop det, hun læste, var om hans
Kjærlighed, det passede saa ganske paa alle hans Tanker; og
saa sang hun en simpel Vise, men den blev ved hende til en heel
Historie, det var som om hendes eget Hjerte strømmede over deraf.
Jo, hun holdt bestemt af Knud. Taarerne løb ham ned over Kinderne,
han kunde ikke gjøre derfor, og han kunde ikke sige et eneste
Ord, han syntes selv, at han var meget dum og dog trykkede hun
ham i Haanden og sagde: "Du har et godt Hjerte Knud! bliv altid,
som Du er!" |
| After such a marvelous
experience it was difficult to sleep, and Knud did not close
his eyes all night. When he said good-by, Johanna's father had
remarked, "Now don't let the whole winter pass before you visit
us again." Knud thought that this was as good as an invitation
and decided to go back on the following Sunday. In the meantime,
every day when he was finished working for his master--and this
could be quite late, for they also worked by lamplight--he would
walk through the street on which Johanna lived. Beneath her
window he would stop and look up. Once he saw her shadow against
the curtains and that was a very pleasant evening. The shoemaker's
wife complained that he was always running about at night, but
his master laughed and said, "Knud is a young man." |
Det var en mageløs Aften,
den var slet ikke til at sove paa, og Knud sov heller ikke.
Ved Afskeden havde Johannes Fader sagt: "Ja, nu glemmer Du os
vel ikke ganske! Lad os see, at du ikke lader hele Vinteren
gaae hen, før du seer til os igjen!" - og saa kunde han jo godt
komme paa Søndag! og det vilde han. Men hver Aften, naar Arbeidet
var endt, og de arbeidede ved Lys, gik Knud ud i Byen; han gik
hen gjennem Gaden, hvor Johanne boede, saae op til hendes Vindue,
der var næsten altid Lys, og een Aften saae han ganske tydeligt
Skyggen af hendes Ansigt paa Gardinet; det var en deilig Aften!
Mesters Madam syntes ikke om, at han altid om Aftenen skulde
paa Farten, som hun kaldte det, og hun rystede paa Hovedet,
men Mester loe: "det er et ungt Menneske!" sagde han. |
| "On Sunday I will see
her again," thought Knud. "Then I will tell her how she has
always been in my thoughts. I will ask her to be my little wife!
True, I am only a poor shoemaker, but I will work hard and one
day I shall have my own shop. Yes, that is what I will say.
Love must have a voice, the silent kind is of no use; that I
learned from the gingerbread cakes." |
"Paa Søndag sees vi,
og jeg siger hende det, hvordan hun er i mine Tanker, og at
hun maa blive min lille Kone! jeg er rigtignok kun en fattig
Skomagersvend, men jeg kan blive Mester, i det mindste Fri-Mester,
jeg skal arbeide og stræbe -! ja, jeg siger hende det, der kommer
ikke noget ud af den stumme Kjærlighed, det har jeg lært af
Honningkagerne!" |
| Sunday came and Knud
along with it; but unfortunately Johanna and her family were
all going out that day. Johanna took his hand in a most friendly
way and asked him if he had ever been to the theater. "I will
send you a ticket," she said. "Next Wednesday I will be singing.
My father knows where your master lives." |
Og Søndagen kom og Knud
kom, men hvor uheldigt! de skulde alle ud, de maatte sige ham
det. Johanne trykkede hans Haand og spurgte: "har Du været henne
paa Comedien ? Der maa Du engang! jeg synger paa Onsdag, og
har Du da Tid, saa vil jeg sende Dig en Billet; min Fader veed,
hvor din Mester boer!" |
| That certainly was thoughtful
of her. At noon on Wednesday an envelope with a ticket had arrived
for him, but there was no note or letter with it. In the evening
Knud went for the first time in his life to the theater; and
what did he see? He saw Johanna, so beautiful, so lovely. In
the play she got married to a stranger; but then, it was only
a play, not real life, or Johanna would not have sent him a
ticket to come and see it. Knud knew that well enough, so he
didn't mind. Everybody clapped and shouted, and so did Knud.
He screamed, "Hurrah," as loud as he could. |
Hvor det var kjærligt
af hende! og Onsdag Middag kom der ogsaa et forseglet Papir
uden Ord, men Billetten laae deri, og om Aftenen gik Knud første
Gang i sit Liv i Theatret og hvad saae han - ja han saae Johanne,
saa deilig, saa yndig; hun blev rigtignok gift med en fremmed
Person, men det var Comedie, Noget de forestillede, det vidste
Knud, ellers havde hun heller ikke nænt at sende ham Billet
til at see derpaa; og alle Folk klappede og raabte høit, og
Knud raabte Hurra! |
| Even the king, who attended
the performance, smiled most kindly down at Johanna; one could
see he was pleased. Knud felt himself terribly small among such
splendid company, but he loved his Johanna ever so much and
felt sure that she cared for him too. A man must say the first
words; that was what the little gingerbread girl had thought,
and that story Knud had not forgotten. |
Selv Kongen smilte ned
til Johanne, ligesom om han ogsaa var glad over hende. Gud,
hvor Knud følte sig lille bitte, men han elskede hende saa inderligt
og hun holdt jo ogsaa af ham, og Mandfolket maa sige det første
Ord, saadan tænkte jo Honningkage-Jomfruen; i den Historie var
der Meget lagt. |
| Next Sunday Knud set
off to visit Johanna. He felt as solemn as if he were going
to church to receive the sacraments. Johanna was home alone,
nothing could have been luckier. |
Saa snart det blev Søndag
gik Knud derhen; hans Tanker vare stemte, ligesom til Altargang.
Johanne var alene og tog imod ham, det kunde ikke være heldigere.
|
| "I am glad you have
come," she said. "I nearly sent Father off to fetch you, but
I felt sure that you would come. Next Friday I will be leaving
Copenhagen. I am going to France. I must, for only there can
I learn to be a great singer." |
"Det er godt Du kommer!"
sagde hun, "nær havde jeg sendt Fader til Dig, men saa havde
jeg en Fornemmelse af, at Du nok kom iaften; for jeg maa sige
Dig, at jeg reiser paa Fredag til Frankrige, det maa jeg, at
der kan blive noget rigtigt dygtigt af mig!" |
| Knud felt as though
the whole room were turning around him and that, within him,
his heart were breaking, but he did not cry. Even though no
tears could be seen in his eyes, it was obvious that he was
very sad. Johanna saw it right away, and she almost cried. "Oh,
you poor, faithful, honest soul!" she exclaimed, and her words
loosened Knud's tongue. He told her how much he loved her and
how much he wanted her to be his wife. Johanna, who had been
holding his hand in hers, let go of it and turned as pale as
death. Then she said, seriously, almost mournfully, "Don't make
yourself and me unhappy, Knud. I will always be your good sister
whom you can trust. But I can never be more." She stroked his
moist forehead with her soft hands. "God gives us strength when
we ask it of Him." |
Og det var for Knud,
som om Stuen dreiede rundt, som om hans Hjerte vilde gaae itu,
men der kom ikke Taarer i hans Øine, dog var det synligt nok,
hvor bedrøvet han blev; Johanne saae det og hun var lige ved
at græde, "Du ærlige, trofaste Sjæl!" sagde hun - og saa var
Knuds Tunge løst, og han sagde hende, hvor inderligt han holdt
af hende og at hun maatte blive hans lille Kone; og i det han
sagde det, saae han, at Johanne blev liigbleg, hun slap hans
Haand og sagde alvorlig og bedrøvet: "Gjør ikke Dig selv og
mig ulykkelig, Knud! jeg bliver Dig altid en god Søster, som
Du kan stole paa -! men heller ikke mere!" og hun strøg sin
bløde Haand hen over hans hede Pande. "Gud giver os Styrke til
Meget, naar man kun selv vil!" |
| At that moment her stepmother
came into the room. |
Da traadte i det samme
hendes Stedmoder ind. |
| "Knud is beside himself
because I am leaving," said Johanna to her stepmother, and then
patted him on the back. "Now be a man," she said smilingly,
as if they had only been talking about her journey. "Child,"
she added, "you will have to be kind and sensible as you were
when we were children and sat under the willow tree." |
"Knud er reent ude af
det fordi jeg reiser!" sagde hun; "vær dog et Mandfolk!" og
saa klappede hun ham paa Skulderen, det var ligesom de kun havde
talt om Reisen og ikke om andet. "Barn!" sagde hun. "Og nu skal
Du være god og fornuftig, som under Piletræet, da vi begge vare
Børn!" |
| Knud's world broke into
pieces and one piece was lost forever. He felt that his thoughts
were like loose threads that the wind could play with. He stayed
even though he was not sure whether he had been invited to.
But Johanna's father and his wife treated him kindly, and Johanna
poured the tea as she had the last time he had been there. She
sang, too, but her voice did not sound as sweet; yet it was
beautiful enough to break one's heart. When they parted, Knud
did not offer her his hand but she took it anyway. "Will you
not give your sister your hand when you say good-by? My dear
old playmate!" She smiled while tears ran down her cheeks. "Sister,"
she repeated. That word brought no comfort to Knud; thus they
parted. |
Og det var for Knud,
som om der var gaaet et Stykke af Verden, hans Tanke var som
en løs Traad, villieløs for Vinden. Han blev, han vidste ikke,
om de havde bedt ham derom, men venlige og gode vare de, og
Johanne gav ham Theevand, og hun sang, det var ikke den gamle
Klang, og dog saa mageløst deiligt, det var til at slaae Hjertet
i Stykker ved, og saa skiltes de; Knud rakte hende ikke Haanden,
men hun tog hans og sagde: "Du giver dog din Søster Haanden
til Afsked, min gamle Legebroder!" og hun smilte med Taarer,
de løb hende ned over Kinderne, og hun gjentog: "Broder." Jo,
det skulde stort hjælpe! - Det var Afskeden. |
| She sailed to France.
Knud stayed in Copenhagen and walked its muddy streets. The
young shoemakers asked him what he was brooding about and invited
him to come along with them. "To amuse yourself is almost a
duty when you are young," one of them explained. |
Hun seilede til Frankrige,
Knud gik paa de kjøbenhavnske sølede Gader. - De andre Svende
fra Værkstedet spurgte ham om, hvad han saadan gik og grubliserede
over; han skulde gaae paa Fornøielse med dem, han var jo et
ungt Blod. |
| He went with them to
a dance. There were many pretty girls, but none as lovely as
Johanna. In the midst of all the gaiety, where he had expected
to forget her, he remembered her most clearly. "God gives us
strength when we ask it of Him," she had said. Knud folded his
hands as if he were going to kneel down and pray right there,
with the dancing couples all about him, and the violins playing.
He was shocked! What had he done? How could he have taken Johanna
with him to such a place? For she was with him; didn't he carry
her in his heart? He rushed out into the street and did not
stop running till he stood once more before the house where
she had lived. The house was dark; everything was dark and lonesome.
The world went its way and Knud went his. |
Og de gik sammen ind
paa en Dandsebod; og der vare mange smukke Piger, men rigtignok
ingen, som Johanne, og der hvor han troede at glemme hende,
der stod hun just lyslevende i hans Tanker: "Gud giver Styrke
til Meget, naar man kun selv vil!" havde hun sagt; og der kom
en Andagt i hans Sind, han foldede sine Hænder - og Violinerne
spillede og Jomfruerne dandsede rundtom; han blev ganske forskrækket,
han syntes, han var et Sted, hvor han ikke kunde føre Johanne
med, og hun var med ham i hans Hjerte, - og saa gik han udenfor,
han løb gjennem Gaderne, gik forbi Huset hvor hun havde boet,
der var mørkt, overalt var der mørkt, tomt og eensomt; Verden
gik sin Gang og Knud sin. |
| Winter came and the
Sound froze; it was a real ice winter and all of nature seemed
dead and buried. |
Og det blev Vinter og
Vandene frøs til, det var ligesom om Alt indrettede sig til
Begravelse. |
| Finally spring came.
The ice thawed and ships from foreign countries came to the
harbor of Copenhagen once again. Knud longed to go away, far
away, out into the wide world, but not to France. |
Men da Foraaret kom
og det første Dampskib gik, da fik han saadan Længsel efter
at komme bort, langt ud i den vide Verden, men ikke for nær
ved Frankrige. |
| He packed his knapsack
and set out. He wandered along the roads of Germany without
purpose or peace. He walked from one city to the next, too restless
to remain in any one of them. Only when he reached Nuremberg,
far to the south, did his feet begin to drag, so that he felt
that he had the power to make himself stay put. |
Og saa snørede han sin
Randsel og vandrede langt ind i Tydskland, fra By til By, uden
Rist eller Ro; først da han kom til den gamle, prægtige Stad
Nurnberg, saa var det, som om Bisselæderet kom ham af Skoene,
han mægtede at blive. |
| It was a strange city
that looked as though it had been cut out of an old-fashioned
picture book. Each street went its own way, not one of them
was straight; and the houses did not necessarily follow them.
Some of the houses jutted out and filled half the sidewalk,
and not two of them looked alike. Some had bay windows and little
towers, others had gables and carved cornices. Around the crooked
roofs ran copper gutters shaped like dragons or strangely elongated
dogs. |
Det er en underlig gammel
By, som klippet ud af en Billed-Krønike. Gaderne ligge, som
de selv ville, Husene holde ikke af at staae i Række; Karnapper
med smaa Taarne, Snirkler og Billedstøtter springe frem over
Fortouget, og høit oppe fra de underligt stillede Tage løber
der midt ud over Gaden Tagrender, formede som Drager og langlivede
Hunde. |
| Here, on the main square,
Knud stood one morning with his knapsack on his back. He was
looking at one of the old fountains whose waters fell down over
marvelous bronze figures depicting scenes from the Bible and
history. A pretty servingmaid had come to fetch water; she gave
him a rose from the handful of flowers she was carrying. This,
Knud decided, was a good omen. |
Paa Torvet her stod
Knud med Randselen paa sin Ryg; han stod ved et af de gamle
Springvande, hvor de herlige Malmfigurer, bibelske og historiske,
staae mellem de springende Vandstraaler. - En smuk Tjenestepige
hentede just Vand, hun gav Knud en Lædskedrik; og da hun havde
en heel haandfuld Roser, gav hun ham ogsaa een af dem, og det
syntes ham et godt Varsel. |
| He could hear the music
of an organ. He was reminded of home, of the church in Køge.
The church here was very large; it was a cathedral. Knud entered.
The sunlight shone through the stained-glass windows and between
the tall, slender columns. He felt the holiness of the place
and for the first time his soul was at peace. |
Fra Kirken tæt ved brusede
Orgelet ud til ham, det klang saa hjemligt, ligesom fra Kjøge
Kirke og han traadte ind i den store Dom; Solen skinnede gjennem
de malede Ruder, ind mellem de høie slanke Piller; der var Andagt
i hans Tanke, der kom Stilhed i hans Sind. |
| He sought and found
a good master; he stayed in Nuremberg and learned the language.
|
Og han søgte og fandt
en god Mester i Nurnberg, og hos ham blev han og lærte Sproget.
|
| The old moat and defenses
around the town had been made into gardens, but the city wall,
with its sturdy towers, was still intact. There was a wooden
gallery along the outside of the walls where ropemakers twisted
their long cords into strong rope. In the cracks and crevices
of the old stonemasonry, elderberry trees had taken root; their
branches spread out over the low cottages built at the base
of the walls. Here the master for whom Knud worked lived; and
he had a little garret room in his master's house. The elderberry
branches shaded the window of the attic in which Knud slept. |
De gamle Grave om Byen
ere forvandlede til smaa Kjøkkenhaver, men de høie Mure staae
endnu, med svære Taarne; Rebslageren snoer sine Reb paa det
bjælkebyggede Gallerie henad Muren ind til Byen, og her rundt
om fra Revner og Huller voxe Hyldetræer, der hænge deres Grene
udover de smaa lave Huse nedenfor, og i eet af disse boede den
Mester, som Knud arbeidede hos; hen over det lille Tagvindue,
hvor han sov, hældede Hylden sine Grene. |
| He lived there one summer
and the following winter, but when spring arrived he could not
remain. The smell of the flowering elderberry was too much for
him. It reminded him of Køge, of his home. He felt that he was
back in the garden of his childhood. Knud found another master
and moved farther inside the city where there were no elderberry
trees. |
Her boede han en Sommer
og en Vinter, men da Foraaret kom, saa var her ikke til at holde
ud, Hylden stod i Blomster, og de duftede saa hjemligt, det
var ligesom han var i Haven ved Kjøge, - og saa flyttede Knud
fra sin Mester og hen til en anden længer inde i Byen, hvor
der ingen Hyldetræer stod. |
| His new master lived
near one of the old bridges, across from a water mill. The houses
were built at the water's edge and they all had rickety old
balconies that hung out over the river. Here were no elderberry
trees, not even a single flower could grow; but there was an
old willow tree. It clung to the house, holding onto it so that
the raging waters could not uproot it and tear it away. Its
branches hung down over the river just as the willow tree's
at home had over the little stream. |
Det var tæt ved een
af de gamle murede Broer, ligeover en altid brusende lav Vandmølle,
han her kom paa Værksted; udenfor var der kun en rivende Flod,
der blev indeklemt af Husene, som alle vare behængte med gamle
skrøbelige Altaner, det saae ud, som om de vilde ryste dem ned
i Vandet. - Her voxte ingen Hyld, her stod ikke engang en Urtepotte
med en Smule Grønt i, men lige overfor var der et stort gammelt
Piletræ, der ligesom holdt sig fast til Huset der, for ikke
at rives bort af Strømmen; det strakte sine Grene hen over Floden,
akkurat ligesom Piletræet i Haven ved Kjøge-Aa. |
| He had moved from "mother
elderberry" to "father willow." Especially at night in the moonlight
the willow tree would make him yearn for home. |
Jo, han var rigtignok
flyttet fra Hyldemoer til Pilefaer, Træet her, især i Maaneskins
Aftener, havde Noget, hvorved han følte sig: |
| |
"- saa dansk i Sind I Maaneskin!"
|
| |
men det var slet ikke
Maaneskinnet, som gjorde det, nei det var det gamle Piletræ.
|
| At last he could not
stand it any longer. And why? Ask the flowering elderberry tree,
ask the willow. He bade his master good-by and left Nuremberg
to travel farther south. |
Han kunde ikke holde
det ud, og hvorfor ikke? Spørg Pilen, spørg den blomstrende
Hyld! - og saa sagde han Farvel til den Mester og til Nurnberg
og drog længer bort. |
| He never talked to anyone
about Johanna; he kept his sorrow locked within himself. But
he often thought about the story of the two gingerbread figures
and how the man had had a bitter almond on his left side. Now
he felt he knew its bitter taste. Johanna, who was always gentle
and smiling, was like the girl, gingerbread all the way through.
The straps of his knapsack cut his shoulders and neck, he felt
that he had difficulty breathing; he readjusted them but it
did not help. The world was not whole around him, he carried
half of it inside him, and that he could do nothing about. |
Til Ingen talte han
om Johanne; inden i sig gjemte han sin Sorg, og sær Betydning
lagde han i Historien om Honningkagerne; nu forstod han, hvorfor
Mandfolket der havde en bitter Mandel til Venstre, han havde
selv en bitter Smag deraf, og Johanne, som altid var saa mild
og smilende, hun var bare Honningkage. Det var, som om Remmen
fra hans Randsel snørede ham, saa at det var svært at trække
Veiret, han løsnede den, men det hjalp ikke. Verden var kun
halv uden om ham, den anden Halvdeel bar han inden i sig, saadan
var det! |
| It was not before he
reached the great mountains that the dimensions of the world
grew real and his thoughts turned outward, not inward to torture
himself. The sight of the Alps brought tears to his eyes. He
thought they looked like the folded wings of the world. What
would happen if the world spread its wings, with their great
feathers of black forests, waterfalls, clouds, and snow fields?
"On doomsday it will happen and the earth will fly toward God
and break like a soap bubble! Oh, I wish doomsday would come!"
he sighed. |
Først da han saae de
høie Bjerge, blev Verden ham større, hans Tanker vendte ud ad,
han fik Taarer i sine Øine. Alperne syntes ham Jordens sammenlagte
Vinger; hvad om den opløftede dem, udbredte de store Fjer med
brogede Billeder af sorte Skove, brusende Vande, Skyer og Snee-Masser!
"Paa Dommedag løfter Jorden de store Vinger, flyver mod Gud
og brister som Boble i hans klare Straaler! 0, gid at det var
Dommedag!" sukkede han. |
| The countryside he passed
through seemed to him like an enormous orchard. The young girls,
sitting on the little wooden balconies of the houses doing lacework,
would nod to the wanderer. The snow on the tall mountains glowed
like embers in the light from the setting sun. The green lakes,
surrounded by dark pine trees, reminded him of the color of
the sea at home in Køge, but the sadness that he felt was more
filled with sweetness than with pain. |
Stille vandrede han
gjennem Landet, der syntes ham en græsgroet Frugthave; fra Husenes
Træ-Altaner nikkede de kniplende Piger til ham, Bjergtoppene
glødede i den røde Aftensol, og da han saae de grønne Søer mellem
de mørke Træer - saa tænkte han paa Stranden ved Kjøgebugt;
og der var Veemod, men ikke Smerte i hans Bryst. |
| Where the Rhine like
a gigantic wave rushed forth and its waters were crushed and
transformed into mist where rainbows play, he thought of the
water mill near Køge. There, too, the water roared and was crushed
into foam. |
Der hvor Rhinen, som
een lang Bølge, vælter frem, styrter, knuses og forvandles i
sneehvide klare Skymasser, som var det Skyernes Skabelse - Regnbuen
flagrer som et løst Baand hen derover, - her tænkte han paa
Vandmøllen ved Kjøge, hvor Vandet bruste og knustes. |
| He would have liked
to stay in the little town by the Rhine but there were too many
elderberries and willows growing there. So he set out across
the great mountains. He walked through narrow passes, along
roads that clung to the steep mountainside like swallows' nests.
Far below him were clouds which hid the waterfalls that he could
hear roaring in the abyss. Amidst the eternal snow he walked
and the summer sun warmed his back. He said farewell to the
north and came to the country where chestnut trees spread their
crowns between fields of corn and vineyards. The mountains were
a wall between himself and his memories, and that was a blessing.
|
Gjerne var han blevet
i den stille Rhinby, men her var saa megen Hyld og saa mange
Piletræer, - og saa drog han videre; over de høie, mægtige Bjerge,
gjennem Klippe-Sprængninger og hen ad Veie, der som Svalereder
vare klinede til Steen-Væggen. Vandet bruste i Dybet, Skyerne
laae under ham; over blanke Tidsler, Alperoser og Snee gik han
i den varme Sommersol - og saa sagde han Farvel til Nordens
Lande og kom ned under Kastanietræer, mellem Viinhaver og Maismarker.
Bjergene var en Muur mellem ham og alle Erindringer, og saaledes
skulde det være. |
| He came to the great
city of Milan. There he found a German shoemaker who would hire
him. The master and his wife were a kind, elderly couple who
soon grew fond of the young journeyman, who, though he was so
silent, worked so hard. It was as if God had finally given Knud
peace, taken the burden from his heart. |
Der laae foran ham en
stor, prægtig Stad, de kaldte den Milano og her fandt han en
tydsk Mester, som gav ham Arbeide; det var et gammelt skikkeligt
Ægtepar, han var kommet paa Værkstedet hos. Og de fik kjær den
stille Svend, der talte lidt, arbeidede des mere og var from
og kristelig. Det var ogsaa, som Gud havde taget den tunge Byrde
fra hans Hjerte. |
| His greatest pleasure
was to climb to the top of Milan Cathedral, which seemed to
him to have been shaped out of the white snow of his own country.
He stood among the spires and arches, with sculptures peeping
out at him at every turn. Above him was the blue sky and below
him the city and the great plains of Lombardy. Looking toward
the north, he could see the snow-covered Alps, and at the sight
of them he would recall Køge and its church with ivy-covered
walls. But he no longer thought of it with longing. He had decided
that here, beyond the great mountains, his grave would be. |
Hans bedste Lyst var,
imellem at stige op paa den mæltige Marmor-Kirke, den syntes
ham skabt af Snee hjemme fra, og formet i Billeder, spidse Taarne,
blomstersmykkede aabne Haller; fra hver Krog, fra hver Spidse
og Bue smilede de hvide Billedstøtter til ham. - Ovenover sig
havde han den blaa Himmel, under sig Byen og den vidtudstrakte
grønne Lombarder-Slette, og mod Nord de høie Bjerge med den
evige Snee, - og saa tænkte han paa Kjøge-Kirke med Vedbenderankerne
om de røde Mure, men han længtes ikke; her bag Bjergene vilde
han begraves. |
| It was now three years
since he had left Denmark and one whole year since he had come
to Milan. One evening his employer, the old German shoemaker,
invited him to the opera. What a fantastic theater it was, with
its seven balconies, gold leafing, and silk curtains. Every
seat was occupied by an elegantly dressed lady or gentleman;
they looked as though they were at a ball. The women carried
little bouquets of flowers in their hands. So many lamps burned
that the huge room was as light as if the sun itself had been
the chandelier. The orchestra began to play. It was much larger
than the one in the theater in Copenhagen, but that evening
Johanna had sung, while here . . . It was magic! The curtain
rose and there stood Johanna clad in gold and silk, with a crown
on her head! She sang as beautifully as only one of God's angels
can and then she stepped to the front of the stage and smiled--as
only Johanna could smile--down at Knud. |
Eet Aar havde han levet
her, det var tre Aar siden han drog hjemme fra; da førte hans
Mester ham ud i Staden, ikke til Arena, for at see Kunstberiderne,
nei til den store Opera, og det var ogsaa en Sal, der var værd
at see. - I syv Etager derinde hang der Silkegardiner, og fra
Gulvet, svimlende høit op til Loftet, sad der de fineste Damer
med Blomster-Bouquetter i Hænderne, ligesom om de skulde paa
Bal, og Herrerne vare i fuld Stads og mange med Sølv og med
Guld. Der var saa lyst, som i det klareste Solskin og saa bruste
Musiken saa stærkt og deiligt, det var mere pragtfuldt end Comedien
i Kjøbenhavn, men der var Johanne dog, og her - ja, det var
som en Trolddom, Gardinet gik tilside og ogsaa her stod Johanne
i Guld og Silke med Guldkrone paa Hovedet; hun sang som kun
en Guds Engel kan synge; hun traadte saa langt frem hun kunde,
hun smilede, som kun Johanne kunde det; hun saae lige paa Knud.
|
| Poor Knud grabbed his
master's hand and screamed as loudly as he could, "Johanna!"
But his cry was drowned in the music. The old shoemaker nodded
and said, "Yes, her name is Johanna," and then he took the program
and pointed to the spot where her full name stood. |
Den stakkels Knud greb
Mesters Haand og raabte høit "Johanne!" men det kunde ikke høres,
Musikanterne spilte saa stærkt paa; og Mester nikkede dertil:
"Ja vist hedder hun Johanne!" og saa tog han et trykt Blad og
viste, at der stod hendes Navn, hele hendes Navn. |
| It was no dream! The
audience applauded and shouted her name and the ladies threw
their flowers up on the stage. Endless curtain calls were demanded. |
Nei, det var ingen Drøm!
og alle Mennesker jublede for hende og kastede Blomster og Krandse
til hende, og hver Gang hun gik, saa kaldte de paa hende igjen,
hun gik og kom og atter kom. |
| When she left the opera
house the crowd unharnessed the horses of her carriage and drew
it in triumph through the city. Knud helped to pull it, and
he was the happiest among that happy group. When they came to
the brilliantly lit villa where she lived, Knud stood by the
door of her carriage. It opened and she stepped out. The light
from the many lamps illuminated her dear face. She smiled and
thanked them all. She was deeply touched. Knud looked straight
into her face and she looked straight into his, but she did
not recognize him. A gentleman wearing a decoration on his chest
offered her his arm. She took it. "They are engaged," he heard
people behind whisper. |
Ude paa Gaden flokkede
Folk sig om hendes Vogn og de trak den, og Knud var allerforrest
og allergladest, og da de kom til hendes prægtigt oplyste Huus,
stod Knud lige ved Vogndøren, der aabnedes, og hun traadte ud,
og Lyset skinnede lige ind i hendes velsignede Ansigt og hun
smilede og takkede saa mildt og hun var saa rørt; og Knud saae
hende lige ind i Ansigtet og hun saae Knud lige ind i Ansigtet,
men hun kjendte ham ikke. En Herre med Stjerne paa sit Bryst
rakte hende sin Arm - de vare forlovede, sagde man. |
| Knud walked straight
home and packed his knapsack. Now he wanted to return to the
elderberry tree and to the willow tree. Yes, under the willow
tree one could dream a whole life in one short hour. |
Og saa gik Knud hjem
og snørte sin Randsel; han vilde, han maatte hjem til Hylden
og Pilen - ak under Piletræet! i een Time kan man leve et heelt
Menneskeliv! |
| Everyone begged him
to stay, but they could not keep him from leaving. They told
him that the first snow had already fallen in the mountains.
But he only said that he would walk in the wheel tracks of a
carriage and cut himself a good stout cane. |
De bad ham blive; ingen
Ord kunde holde ham tilbage; de sagde ham, at det var mod Vintertid,
at Sneen alt faldt i Bjergene; men i Sporet af den langsomt
kjørende Vogn, - den maatte der jo banes Vei for, -kunde han
gaae, med Randselen paa sin Ryg, støttende sig paa sin Stav.
|
| He walked toward the
mountains. He climbed up and came down on the other side. Weak
and tired, he stumbled toward the north. The stars came out;
it was night, no house or town was near. Far down below him,
in the valley, stars were shining--it was the lamps in the houses
but to Knud it appeared as if there were two heavens: one above
him and one below. He felt that he was ill. More and more stars
appeared below him. Finally he realized that it was a little
village, and he gathered the last of his strength and walked
toward it. |
Og han gik mod Bjergene,
op ad dem og ned ad dem; afkræftet, saae han endnu ikke By eller
Huus; det var mod Norden. Stjernerne tændtes ovenover ham, hans
Fødder vaklede, hans Hoved svimlede; dybt nede i Dalen tændtes
ogsaa Stjerner, det var, som om Himmelen ogsaa udstrakte sig
neden under ham. Han følte sig syg. Stjernerne dernede bleve
fleer og fleer og altid klarere, de bevægede sig hid og did.
Det var en lille By, hvor Lysene blinkede, og da han forstod
det, anstrængte han sine sidste Kræfter og naaede der et ringe
Herberg. |
| He stayed a few days
in a little inn. Down here in the valley the snow had already
melted and the roads were muddy. One morning someone played
a Danish melody on a barrel organ. His restless longing for
home returned. Knud set out again. He walked so fast, as if
he feared that if he did not get home soon he would find everyone
there dead. To no one had he spoken of his grief, the greatest
sorrow that a man can experience. Such misery you cannot tell
to the world, for it does not amuse or entertain anyone, even
your friends. And poor Knud had no friends. A foreigner in a
foreign land, he wandered homeward toward the north. He had
received only one letter from his parents and that had been
more than a year ago. In it they had written, "You are not really
Danish like we are. We love our country but you love only foreign
lands." His parents felt they had a right to write like that
because they knew him, because they were his father and mother.
|
Et heelt Døgn blev han
her, thi hans Legeme trængte til Hvile og Pleie. Det var Tø
og Slud i Dalen. En Morgenstund kom her en Liremand, han spillede
en Melodie hjemme fra Danmark, og saa kunde Knud ikke længer
holde det ud, - han gik i Dage, i mange Dage, med en Hast, som
gjaldt det at komme hjem før de allesammen døde der; - men til
Ingen talte han om sin Længsel, Ingen kunde troe, han havde
Hjertesorg, den dybeste man kan have, den er ikke for Verden,
den er ikke moersom, den er ikke engang for Vennerne og han
havde ingen Venner! Fremmed gik han i fremmed Land, hjemad,
mod Norden. I det eneste Brev hjemme fra, det Forældrene for
Aar og Dag siden havde skrevet, stod: "Du er ikke rigtig dansk,
som vi andre hjemme! vi ere det saa uhyre! Du holder kun af
fremmed Land!" Forældrene kunde skrive det - ja, de kjendte
ham jo! |
| It was evening. He was
walking along a broad highway; it began to freeze. The landscape
had become more and more flat, there were fields and meadows.
At the side of the road stood a big willow tree. Everything
looked so homely, so Danish. He sat down under the willow tree.
He was terribly tired; his head fell down on his chest and he
closed his eyes. He felt that the branches of the tree engulfed
him, embraced him. The tree became an old man, "father willow"
himself; and he lifted Knud up in his arms and carried his tired
son home to the bleak beach of Køge, to the garden of his childhood.
Yes, it was the willow tree from Køge, it had gone out into
the world to find him, and now "father willow" had found him
and brought him back to the little garden by the stream. And
there stood Johanna, dressed in all the beautiful clothes she
had had on when last he saw her, and with the golden crown on
her head. She shouted to him, "Welcome!" |
Det var Aften, han gik
paa den aabne Landevei, det begyndte at fryse; Landet selv blev
mere og mere fladt med Mark og Eng; der stod ved Veien et stort
Piletræ; Alt saae saa hjemligt, saa dansk ud! han satte sig
under Pilen, han følte sig saa træt, hans Hoved bøiede sig,
hans Øine lukkede sig til Hvile, men han følte og fornam, hvorledes
Pilen sænkede sine Grene ned imod ham, Træet syntes en gammel
mægtig Mand, det var Pilefaer selv, der løftede ham paa sine
Arme og bar ham, den trætte Søn, hjem til det danske Land ved
den aabne blege Strand, til Kjøgeby, til Barndoms-Haven. Ja,
det var Piletræet selv fra Kjøge, der var gaaet ud i Verden
for at søge og finde ham, og nu var han fundet og bragt hjem
i den lille Have ved Aaen, og her stod Johanne i al sin Pragt,
med Guldkronen paa, som han sidst havde seet hende og raabte:
"Velkommen!" |
| Beside her stood two
strange figures; they looked larger and more human than they
had when he was a child. They were the gingerbread man and the
gingerbread girl. |
Og lige foran dem stode
to underlige Skikkelser, men de saae meget mere menneskelige
ud end i Barndoms Tiden, de havde ogsaa forandret sig; det var
de to Honningkager, Mandfolket og Fruentimmeret; de vendte Retten
til og saae godt ud. |
| "Thank you," they said
to Knud. "You have taught us always to speak up and say what
one feels, or else nothing will come of it. We have, and now
we are engaged." |
"Tak!" sagde de begge
to til Knud; "Du har løst vor Tunge! Du har lært os, at man
skal freidigt udtale sin Tanke, ellers kommer der ikke noget
ud af det! og nu er der kommet noget ud af det! - vi ere forlovede!"
|
| Then the gingerbread
couple walked ahead of them through the town of Køge, and they
looked very decent and proper even from behind. They walked
right up to the church, and Knud and Johanna followed them;
they, too, were walking hand in hand. The church looked as it
always had, with green ivy covering its walls. The big doors
of the church opened, the organ was playing. At the entrance
the gingerbread couple stepped aside and said, "The bridal couple
must go first." Knud and Johanna walked up to the altar and
kneeled down. Ice-cold tears ran from Johanna's eyes. It was
his great love that was thawing the ice around her heart; the
tears fell on his burning cheeks and woke him. There he sat
under a willow tree in a foreign land on a cold winter evening,
while the winds whipped hail into his face. |
Og saa gik de Haand
i Haand gjennem Kjøge Gader, og de saae meget anstændigt ud
paa Vrangen, der var ikke Noget at sige paa dem! og de gik lige
hen mod Kjøge Kirke, og Knud og Johanne fulgte efter; de gik
ogsaa Haand i Haand; og Kirken stod som før med røde Mure og
deiligt Vedbendgrønt, og Kirkens store Dør aabnede sig til begge
Sider og Orgelet bruste og Mandfolket og Fruentimmeret gik begge
op af Kirkegangen: "Herskabet først!" sagde de, "Honningkagernes
Brudefolk!" og saa traadte de hver til sin Side for Knud og
Johanne, og de knælede deroppe og hun bøiede sit Hoved over
hans Ansigt, og der trillede iskolde Taarer fra hendes Øine,
det var Isen der smeltede om hendes Hjerte ved hans stærke Kjærlighed,
og de faldt paa hans brændende Kinder, og - han vaagnede ved
det, og sad under det gamle Piletræ i fremmed Land, i den vinterkolde
Aften; der faldt fra Skyerne isnende Hagl, de pidskede hans
Ansigt. |
| "That was the loveliest
moment of my life," he mumbled. "And it was only a dream. God,
let me dream it once more!" He closed his eyes. He slept, and
he dreamed. |
"Det var den deiligste
Time i mit Liv!" sagde han, "og den var en Drøm. - Gud, lad
mig drømme den om igjen!" og han lukkede sine Øine, han sov,
han drømte. |
| In the early morning
it began to snow, and the wind made a snowdrift that covered
his legs and his feet while he slept. At church time the peasants
found the journeyman; he had frozen to death underneath the
willow tree. |
I Morgenstunden faldt
Sneen, den fygede hen over hans Fødder, han sov. Landsbyfolk
gik til Kirke; der sad en Haandværkssvend, han var død, frosset
ihjel - under Piletræet. |
|