H. C. Andersen

“ Mother! thy features have died out of my recollection; I revere thee! Thou wast all love; to love didst thou offer up thy life—more than life! Pray for me with thy God! Pray for me, ye dead! if there is immortality; if the flesh is not alone born again in grass and the worm; if the soul is not lost in floods of air! We shall be unconscious of it: eternally shall we sleep! eternally!” Otto supported his forehead upon the window-frame, his arm sank languidly, “Mother! poor mother! thou didst gain by death, even if it be merely an eternal sleep,—asleep without dreams! ”

“ In the room stands a piano-forte, with a number of music-books; upon the walls hang the portraits of Weyse and Beethoven, for our young Baron is musical, nay a composer himself.
“See, here we have again this lovely, clinging mist!” said Wilhelm. “Out of doors one can fairly taste it; at home it would be a real plague to me, here it only Londonizes the city.”
“I like it!” said Otto. “To me it is like an old acquaintance from Vestervovov. It is as though the mist brought me greetings from the sea and sand-hills.”
“I should like to see the North Sea, but the devil might live there! ”

“ I saw the Alpine chain, like floating cloud mountains; below mist, above dark shapes with glancing glaciers.”
“Yes, Otto,” said Rosalie, and her eyes sparkled with youthful fire; “so looks the Alpine chain when one goes from Le Locle to Neulfchâtel: so did I see it when I descended the Jura for the list time. It was in August. The trees, with their autumnal foliage, stood yellow and red between the dark firs; barberries and hips grew among the tall fern. The Alps lay in such a beautiful light, their feet blue as heaven, their peaks snow-white in the clear sunshine. ”

“ It was almost evening before he reached the house where Rosalie awaited him. His last scene with the blind fisher-woman had again thrown him into his gloomy mood. “After all, she really knows nothing!” said he to himself. “This Heinrich is my evil angel! might he only die soon!” It was in Otto’s soul as if he could shoot a ball through Heinrich’s heart. “Did he only lie buried under the heather, and with him my secret! I will have blood! yes, there is something devilish in man! Were Heinrich only dead! But others live who know my birth,—my sister! ”

“ Cousin Joachim had gone to Stockholm, and would not return either in the spring or summer to Funen. On the contrary, Otto intended to spend a few weeks at the country-seat; not before August would he and Wilhelm travel. There would at least be one happy moment, and many perhaps almost as happy. In his room stood a rose-bush, the first buds formed themselves, and opened their red lips—as pure and tender as these leaves was Sophie’s cheek: he bent over the flower, smiled and read there sweet thoughts which were related to his love. A rose-bud is a sweet mystery. ”

“ There lay no balsam in the gentle airs of the clear summer night, in the fragrance of the wood, in the holy, silent spirit of nature. Poor Otto!
“Weep, only weep! it gives repose, A world is every tear that flows,— A world of anguish and unrest, That rolleth from the troubled breast. “And hast thou wept whilst tears can flow, A tranquil peace thy heart will know; For sorrow, trivial or severe, Hath had its seat in every tear. “Think’st thou that He, whose love beholds The worm the smallest leaf enfolds,— That He, whose power sustains the whole Forgets a world—thy human soul?” ”

“ Whatever serves to advance our own wishes we find to be excellent. To those who love us, we give our love in return. At the bottom, whom do I love except myself? Wilhelm? My friendship for him is built upon the foundation,—I cannot do without thee! Friendship is to me a necessity. Was I not once convinced that I adored Sophie, and that I never could bear it if she were lost to me? and yet there needed the conviction ‘She loves thee not,’ and my strong feeling was dead. Sophie even seems to me less beautiful; I see faults where I formerly could only discover amiabilities! ”

“ When I again sit in Copenhagen, when the rain patters and the winter approaches with cold and a joyless sky, I shall still see before me Funen with its green woods, flowers, and sunshine; it will appear to me that it must still be so there, and that the garland and bouquet are only withered because they are with me in the winter cold.”
“In Copenhagen we shall meet again!” said Sophie.
“And I shall see you again with the swallows!” said Louise, “when my flowers spring up again, when we have again warm summer days! ”

“ It was a thema out of “Tancredi,” therefore from Rossini, even the very composer whom our musical friends most looked down upon; how could he then guess who had created those tones which now spoke to his heart? His whole being he felt penetrated by a happiness, a love of life, the cause of which he knew not. He thought of Otto with a warmth which the latter’s strange behavior did not deserve. All beloved beings floated so sweetly before his mind. This was one of those moments which all good people know; one feels one’s self a member of the great chain of love which binds creation together. ”

“ The sunshine warm, the odorous flowers, Of these do not bereave me! I breathe with joy the morning hours, Let not the grave receive me! There can no pleasant sunbeams fall, No human voice come near me; There should I miss the flow’rets small, There have no friends to cheer me. Now, how to value life I know— I hold it as a treasure; There is no love i’ th’ grave below, No music, warmth, or pleasure. On it the heavy earth is flung, The coffin-lid shuts tightly! My blood is warm, my soul is young! ”

“ Upon this Eva left her home, and came to the excellent people at Roeskelde; and from that day God had been very good to her.
She sank down upon her knees before the elderly lady’s bed. She was not among strangers: a mother and a sister wept with the happy one.
“O that I might live!” besought Eva, in the depths of her heart. As a glorified one she stood before them. Her joy beamed through tears.
The next morning she felt herself singularly unwell. Her feet trembled; her cheeks were like marble. She seated herself in the warm sunshine which came in through the window. ”

“ Dost thou know, Otto, often as thou hast sat quiet and dreaming, silent as a statue, have I thought of my mill, and the repose which it presented? and yet how wildly the stream roared in its bosom, how the wheels rushed round, and how gloomy it was in the depth!”
“We will leave the mill!” said Otto, and sought to lead her from her reflections back to her own relation. “We find ourselves in the wood, where the ringing of the evening-bell reaches our ear from the little chapel in Franche Compté.” ”

“ He pressed her hand silently, and with the earnest glance of confidence and truth they looked at each other.
“I shall speedily leave my native country,” said Otto. “It may be forever. I should return with sorrow to a home where no happiness awaited me. I stand so entirely alone in the world!”
“But you have friends,” said Louise; “sincere friends. You must think with pleasure of returning home to Denmark. My mother loves you as if she were your own mother. Wilhelm and Sophie—yes, we will consider you as a brother.”
“And Sophie?” exclaimed Otto. ”

“ I can well imagine how enchanting a loving look from a rich young gentleman may be for a weak, feminine mind. The sweet words which one can say are as poison which enters the blood. I have still a clear conscience. Not ONE innocent soul have I poisoned!”
“And yet you are rich and young enough to do so,” returned Otto, not without bitterness. “Our friends precede us with a good example: here come some of our own age; they are acquainted with the roses!”
“Good evening, thou good fellow!” was the greeting Wilhelm received from three or four of the young men. ”

“ Wilhelm opened his eyes. Otto was pale; a sleepless night and sorrow of heart had breathed upon his brow and eyes.
“Thostrup!” cried Wilhelm, with joyous surprise, and stretched forth his hand toward him, but it again sank; Otto seized it, and pressed it firmly in his own, adding at the same time, with gravity,—“You have humbled me! Is that sufficient satisfaction for you?”
“We are then friends!” said Wilhelm. “Friends must be very indulgent toward each other. Yesterday you were a little strange, to-morrow I may be so; that is the way in which one retaliates.” ”

“ Otto seated himself in a swing; an itinerant flute-player and a drummer deafened him with dissonances. A young lady, one of the beauties, in a white dress, and with a thin handkerchief over her shoulders, approached and threw herself into his arms. It was Wilhelm! but Otto found his likeness to Sophie stronger than he had ever before noticed it to be; and therefore the blood rushed to his cheeks when the fair one threw her arms around him, and laid her cheek upon his: he perceived more of Sophie than of Wilhelm in this form. ”

“ In the cold zones a venomous bite does not operate as dangerously as in warmer ones; a sorrow in childhood cannot overpower us as it does in riper age. Whatever misfortune may have happened to you when a child, if in your wildness—you yourself say that you were wild—whatsoever you may have then done, it cannot, it ought not to influence your whole life: your understanding could tell you this better than I. At our age we find ourselves in the land of joy, or we never enter it!”
“You are a happy man!” exclaimed Otto, and gazed sorrowfully before him. ”

“ Yet, without doubt, the prisoner can see us walking here upon the wall.”
“And envy our golden freedom!” said Wilhelm.
“Perhaps he derides it,” answered Otto. “He is confined to his chamber and the small courts behind the beam-lattice; we are confined to the coast; we cannot fly forth with the ships into the mighty, glorious world. We are also fastened with a chain, only ours is somewhat longer than that of the prisoner. But we will not think of this; let us go down to where the beautiful ladies are walking.”
“To see and to be seen,” cried Wilhelm. ”

“ It will do them good to stand in the dew.”
The servant did as she bade; she herself carried down one of the pots, and left the room.
“I do not love you!” repeated Wilhelm to himself, and returned to the company which he had left, and where he found all gayety and happiness.
The supper-table was spread in the garden; lights burned in the open air with a steady flame; it was a summer-evening beautiful as the October of the South; the reseda sent forth its fragrance; and when Sophie’s health was drunk cannon were fired among the lofty fir-trees, the pines of the North. ”

“ Otto stepped aside; it was as though he in anticipation felt the shadow which this form would one day cast across his life.
When he and Wilhelm immediately afterward returned to Sophie and Louise, he related the unpleasant impression which the girl had made upon him.
“O, that is my Meg Merrilies!” exclaimed Sophie. “Yes, spite of her youth, do you not find that she has something of Sir Walter Scott’s witch about her? When she grows older, she will be excellent. She has the appearance of being thirty, whereas she is said not to be more than twenty years old: she is a true giantess.” ”

“ Yet she is weak; she resembles the tender mountain-flowers which grow in ice and snow, but which bow their heads in the soft mountain air, when it is warmed by the sun. It really seems to me that she is become weaker since she has enjoyed our care and happy days. When I saw her at Roeskelde she was far more blooming.”
“Perhaps she thinks of your brother—thinks of him with quiet sorrow?”
“That I do not think is the case,” replied Sophie; “otherwise Louise would have heard something of it. She possesses Eva’s entire confidence. You may make yourself easy, if you are jealous!” ”

“ Eva, you beloved girl!”
Louise related to her all that Otto had confided to her. She told her about German Heinrich, and how Otto had assisted Sidsel away, and how they had met.
Eva burst into tears. “My brother! O Father in heaven, that I may but live! live and see him! Life is so beautiful! I must not die!”
“Happiness will make you strong! There is no doubt but that he is your brother! We must tell it to mamma. O Heavens! how delighted she will be! and Otto will no longer suffer and be unhappy! He may be proud of you, and happy in you! ”

“ Otto gave a joking reason.
“Let me have your hand!” said he. Otto gave it to him, he felt his pulse.
“Yes, quite correct!” said he; “the blood is yet in commotion. One sees plain enough that there is no concealing things! Here was I sleeping in all innocence, and you were running after adventures. You wicked bird!”
The thoughts worked rapidly in Otto’s soul. If Louise would only be silent, no one would dream of the possibility of his having part in Sidsel’s flight. He must allow Wilhelm quietly to have his joke. ”

“ Your childhood afforded you only joy and hope! Only think of the solitude in which mine was passed. Among the sand-hills of the west coast my days glided away: my grandfather was gloomy and passionate; our old preacher lived only in a past time which I knew not, and Rosalie regarded the world through the spectacles of sorrow. Such an environment might well cast a shadow upon my life-joy. Even in dress, one is strangely remarkable when one comes from afar province to the capital; first this receives another cut, and one gradually becomes like those around one. ”

“ But there will come better days! happy days! Thou art young, and youth brings health for the soul and body!”
She led Otto into the garden, where the willow plantations protected the other trees from the sharp west wind. The gooseberry-bushes bore fruit, but it was not yet ripe: one bush Otto had planted when a cutting; it was now large. Rosalie had tied the twigs to a palisade, so that, as an espalier, it could thoroughly drink in the sun’s rays. Otto regarded the fetters more than the good intention. ”

“ He remained silent. Wilhelm himself seemed occupied with unusual thoughts, when he suddenly exclaimed: “Life is, after all, a gift of blessings! One should never make one’s self sorrows which do not really exist! ‘Carpe diem,’ said old Horace.”
“That will we!” replied Otto; “but now we must first think of our examination.”
They pressed each other’s hands and parted.
“But I have heard no thou!” said Wilhelm to himself “He is an oddity, and yet I love him! ”

“ The poet sits upon a peak and gazes before him into the mist, which, like canvas spread upon the easel, conceals all heights and expanses; then comes the God of Love and teaches him how to paint a picture on the mist. The little one now sketches with his rosy fingers a picture such as only Nature and Goethe give us. Were the poet here, we could offer him no rock on which he might seat himself, but something, through legends and songs, equally beautiful. He would then sing,—I seated myself upon the mossy stone above the cairn; the mist resembled outstretched canvas. ”

“ I will sincerely wish that your heart may be filled with love as mine is; then will the influence of the sand-hills vanish, and you will speak with me as you ought to do, and as my confidence deserves!”
“That will I!” replied Otto. “You make the poor girl miserable! Now you love Eva, but then you will no longer be able. The distance between you and her is too great, and I cannot conceive how the beauty of her countenance can thus fill your whole being. A waiting-girl! yes, I repeat the name which offends your ear: a waiting-girl! Everywhere will it be repeated. ”

“ Otto stared at the black coffin in which his grandfather lay. The carriage drove away with it. Otto followed after with the preacher, heard him throw earth upon it, heard words which he did not comprehend, saw the last corner of the coffin, and it was then removed from his sight. All was as a dream to him.
They returned back to the preacher’s abode; a pale figure approached him: it was Rosalie—old Rosalie.
“We have here no abiding-place, we all hasten toward futurity!” said the old preacher. “Strengthen yourself now with meat and drink! The body cannot suffer like the soul. ”

“ Denmark is a good land—a beautiful land!”
“But not the west coast of Jutland!” exclaimed Otto. “For thy green pasture hast thou here heath; for thy mountains, low sand-hills.”
“Upon the Jura Mountains there is also heath,” said Rosalie. “The heath here often reminds me of my home on the Jura. There also is it cold, and snow can fall already in August. The fir-trees then stand as if powdered over.”
“I love Switzerland, which I have never seen,” pursued Otto. “Thy relation has given me a conception of the picturesque magnificence of this mountain-land. I have a plan, Rosalie. ”