UNDER THE WILLOW TREE

THE region round the little town of Kj ge is very bleak and bare．The town certainly lies by the sea－shore，which is always beautiful，but just there it might be more beautiful than it is：all around are flat fields，and it is a long way to the forest．But when one is really at home in a place，one always finds something beautiful，and some－thing that one longs for in the most charming spot in the world that is strange to us．We confess that，by the utmost boundary of the little town，where some humble gar－dens skirt the streamlet that falls into the sea，it must be very pretty in summer；and this was the opinion of the two children，from neighbouring houses，who were playing there，and forcing their way through the gooseberry bushes to get to one another．

In one of the gardens stood an elder tree，and in the other an old willow，and under the latter especially the children were very fond of playing：they were allowed to play there，though，indeed，the tree stood close beside the stream，and they might easily have fallen into the water．But the eye of God watches over the little ones；if it did not，they would be badly off．And，moreover，they were very careful with respect to the water；in fact，the boy was so much afraid of it，that they could not lure him into the sea in summer，when the other children were splashing about in the waves．Accordingly，he was famously jeered and mocked at，and had to bear the jeering and mockery as best he could．But once Joanna，the neighbour's little girl，dreamed she was sailing in a boat，and Knud waded out to join her till the water rose，first to his neck，and afterwards closed right over his head．From the time when little Knud heard of this dream，he would no longer stand any one saying that he was afraid of the water，but simply referred them to Joanna's dream；that was his pride，but into the water he did not go．

Their parents，who were poor people，often visited each other，and Knud and Joanna played in the gardens and on the high road，where a row of willows had been planted beside the ditch；these trees，with their polled tops，certainly did not look beautiful，but they were not put there for ornament，but for use．The old willow tree in the garden was much handsomer，and therefore the children were fond of sitting under it．

In the town itself there was a great market－place，and at the time of the fair this place was covered with whole streets of tents and booths，containing silk ribbons，boots，and everything that a person could wish for．There was great crowding，and generally the weather was rainy，and then one noticed the odour of the peasants’ coats，but also the fragrance of the honey－cakes and the gingerbread，of which there was a booth quite full；and the best of it was，that the man who kept this booth came every year to lodge during the fair－time in the dwelling of little Knud's father．Consequently there came a present of a bit of gingerbread every now and then，and of course Joanna received her share of the gift．But perhaps the most charming thing of all was that the gingerbread dealer knew all sorts of tales，and could even relate histories about his own gingerbread cakes；and one evening，in particular，he told a story about them which made such a deep impression on the children that they never forgot it；and for that reason it is perhaps advisable that we should hear it too，more espe－cially as the story is not long．

“On the shop－board，”he said，“lay two gingerbread cakes，one in the shape of a man with a hat，the other of a maiden without a bonnet，but with a piece of gold－leaf on her head；both their faces were on the side that was upper－most，for they were to be looked at on that side，and not on the other；and，indeed，no one should be viewed from the wrong side．On the left side the man wore a bitter almond——that was his heart；but the maiden，on the other hand，was honey－cake all over．They were placed as samples on the shop－board，and remaining there a long time，at last they fell in love with one another，but neither told the other，as they should have done if they had expected anything to come of it．

‘He is a man，and therefore he must speak first，’she thought；but she felt quite contented，for she knew her love was returned．

His thoughts were far more extravagant，as is always the case with a man．He dreamed that he was a real street boy，that he had four pennies of his own，and that he purchased the maiden and ate her up．So they lay on the shop-board for days and weeks，and grew dry and hard，but the thoughts of the maiden became ever more gentle and maidenly．

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‘It is enough for me that I have lain on the same table with him，’she said，and——crack！——she broke in two．

‘If she had only known of my love，she would have kept together a little longer，’he thought．

“And that is the story，and here they are，both of them，”said the baker in conclusion．“They are remark-able for their curious history，and for their silent love，which never came to anything．And there they are for you！”and，so saying，he gave Joanna the man who was yet entire，and Knud got the broken maiden；but the children had been so much impressed by the story that they could not summon courage to eat up the lovers．

On the following day they went out with them to the churchyard，and sat down by the church wall，which is covered，winter and summer，with the most luxuriant ivy as with a rich carpet．Here they stood the two cake figures up in the sunshine among the green leaves，and told the story to a group of other children；they told them of the silent love which led to nothing．It was called love because the story was so lovely，on that they all agreed．But when they turned to look again at the gingerbread pair，a big boy，out of mischief，had eaten up the broken maiden．The children cried about this，and afterwards——probably that the poor lover might not be left in the world lonely and desolate——they ate him up too；but they never forgot the story．

The children were always together by the elder tree and under the willow，and the little girl sang the most beautiful songs with a voice that was clear as a bell．Knud，on the other hand，had not a note of music in him，but he knew the words of the songs，and that is always something．The people of Kjoge，even to the rich wife of the ironmonger，stood still and listened when Joanna sang．“She has a very sweet voice，that little girl，”she said．

Those were glorious days，but they could not last for ever．The neighbours were neighbours no longer．The little maiden's mother was dead，and the father intended to mar-ry again，in the capital，where he had been promised a livin as a messenger，which was to be a very lucrative office．And the neighbours separated regretfully，the children weeping heartily，but the parents promised that they should at least write to one another once a year．

And Knud was bound apprentice to a shoemaker，for the big boy could not be allowed to run wild any longer；and moreover he was confirmed．

Ah，how gladly on that day of celebration would he have been in Copenhagen，with little Joanna！but he remained in Kjoge，and had never yet been to Copenhagen，though the little town is only five Danish miles distant from the capital；but far across the bay，when the sky was clear，Knud had seen the towers in the distance and on the day of his confirmation he could distinctly see the golden cross on the principal church glittering in the sun．

Ah，how often his thoughts were with Joanna！Did she think of him？Yes．Towards Christmas there came a letter from her father to the parents of Knud，to say that they were getting on very well in Copenhagen，and especially might Joanna look forward to a brilliant future on the strength of her fine voice．She had been engaged in the theatre in which people sing，and was already earning some money，out of which she sent her dear neighbours of Kjoge a dollar for the merry Christmas-eve．They were to drink her health，she had herself added in a postscript；and in the same postscript there stood further，“A kind greeting to Knud．”

The whole family wept and yet all this was very pleasant——those were joyful tears that they shed．Knud's thoughts had been occupied every day with Joanna；and now he knew that she also thought of him；and the nearer the time came when his apprenticeship would be over，the more clearly did it appear to him that he was very fond of Joanna，and that she must be his wife；and when he thought of this，a smile came upon his lips，and he drew the thread twice as fast as before，and pressed his foot hard against the knee－strap．He ran the awl far into his finger，but he did not care for that．He determined not to play the dumb lover，as the two gingerbread cakes had done：the story should teach him a lesson．

And now he was a journeyman，and his knapsack was packed ready for his journey：at length，for the first time in his life，he was to go to Copenhagen，where a master was already waiting for him．How glad Joanna would be！She was now seventeen years old，and he nine－teen．

Already in Kjoge he had wanted to buy a gold ring for her；but he recollected that such things were to be had far better in Copenhagen．And now he took leave of his parents，and on a rainy day，late in the autumn，went forth on foot out of the town of his birth．The leaves were falling down from the trees，and he arrived at his new master's in Copenhagen wet to the skin．

Next Sunday he was to pay a visit to Joanna's father．The new journeyman's clothes were brought forth，and the new hat from Kjoge was put on，which became Knud very well，for till this time he had only worn a cap．And he found the house he sought，and mounted flight after flight of stairs until he became almost giddy．It was terrible to him to see how people lived piled up one over the other in the dreadful city．

Everything in the room had a prosperous look，and Joanna's father received him very kindly．To the new wife he was a stranger，but she shook hands with him，and gave him some coffee．

“Joanna will be glad to see you，”said the father：“you have grown quite a nice young man．You shall see her presently．She is a girl who rejoices my heart，and，please God，she will rejoice it yet more．She has her own room now，and pays us rent for it．”

And the father knocked quite politely at the door，as if he were a visitor，and then they went in．

But how pretty everything was in that room！such an apartment was certainly not to be found in all Kjoge：the Queen herself could not be more charmingly lodged．There were carpets，there were window curtains quite down to the floor，and around were flowers and pictures，and a mirror into which there was almost danger that a visitor might step，for it was as large as a door；and there was even a velvet chair．

Knud saw all this at a glance；and yet he saw nothing but Joanna．She was a grown maiden，quite different from what Knud had fancied her，and much more beautiful．In all Kjoge there was not a girl like her．How graceful she was，and with what an odd unfamiliar glance she looked at Knud！But that was only for a moment，and then she rushed towards him as if she would have kissed him．She did not really do so，but she came very near it．Yes，she was certainly rejoiced at the arrival of the friend of her youth！The tears were actually in her eyes；and She had much to say，and many questions to put concerning all，from Knud's parents down to the elder tree and the willow，which she called Elder-mother and Willow-father，as if they had been human beings；and indeed they might pass as such，just as well as the gingerbread cakes；and of these she spoke too，and of their silent love，and how they had lain upon the shop-board and split in two-and then she laughed very heartily；but the blood mounted in-to Knud's cheeks，and his heart beat thick and fast．No，she had not grown proud at all．And it was through her-he noticed it well-that her parents invited him to stay the whole evening with them；and she poured out the tea and gave him a cup with her own hands；and afterwards she took a book and read aloud to them，and it seemed to Knud that what she read was all about himself and his love，for it matched so well with his thoughts；and then she sang a simple song，but through singing，it be-came like a history，and seemed to be the outpouring of her very heart．Yes，certainly she was fond of Knub．The tears coursed down his cheeks-he could not restrain them，nor could he speak a single word：he thought him-self very stupid；and yet she pressed his hand，and said．

“You have a good heart，Knub-remain always as you are now．”

That was an evening of matchless delight to Knud；to sleep after it was impossible，and accordingly Knud did not sleep．

At parting，Joanna's father had said，“Now，you won't forget us altogether！Don't let the whole winter go by without once coming to see us again；”and therefore he could very well go again the next Sunday，and resolved to do so．But every evening when working hours were over-and they worked by candle-light there-Knud went out through the town：he went into the street in which Joanna lived，and looked up at her window；it was almost always lit up，and one evening he could see the shadow of her face quite plainly on the curtain-and that was a grand evening for him．His master's wife did not like his gallivanting abroad every evening，as she expressed it，and she shook her head；but the master only smiled．

“He is only a young fellow，” he said．

But Knud thought to himself：“On Sunday I shall see her，and I shall tell her how completely she reigns in my thoughts，and that she must be my little wife．I know I am only a poor joumeyman shoemaker，but I shall work and strive-yes，I shall tell her so．Nothing comes of silent love：I have learned that from the cakes．

And Sunday came round，and Knud sallied forth；but，unluckily，they were all going out，and were obliged to tell him so．Joanna pressed his hand，and said，

“Have you ever been to the theatre？You must go once．I shall sing on Wednesday，and if you have time on that evening，I will send you a ticket；my father knows where your master lives． ”

How kind that was of her！And on Wednesday at noon he received a sealed paper，with no words written in it；but the ticket was there，and in the evening Knud went to the theatre for the first time in his life．And what did he see？He saw Joanna，and how charming and how beautiful she looked！She was certainly married to a stranger，but that was all in the play-something that was only make-believe，as Knud knew very well．Otherwise，he thought，she would never have had the heart to send him a ticket that he might go and see it．And all the people shouted and applauded，and Knud cried out“hurrah！”

Even the King smiled at Joanna，and seemed to de-light in her．Ah，how small Knud felt！but then he loved her so dearly，and thought that she loved him too；but it was for the man to speak the first word，as the gingerbread maiden had thought；and there was a great deal for him in that story．

So soon as Sunday came，he went again．He felt as if he were going into a church．Joanna was alone，and received him-it could not have happened more fortunately．

“It is well that you are come，she said．“I had an idea of sending my father to you，only I felt a presentiment that you would be here this evening；for I must tell you that I start for France on Friday：I must do that so that I may really come to be something．

It seemed to Knud as if the whole room turned round and as if his heart would burst；no tear rose to his eyes，but still it was easy to see how sorrowful he was．

Joanna saw it，and came near to crying．

“You honest，faithful soul！”she exclaimed．

And these wods of hers loosened Knud's tongue．He told her how constantly he loved her，and that she must become his wife；and as he said this，he saw Joanna turn pale．She let his hand fall，and answered，seriously and mournfully，

“Knud，do not make yourself and me unhappy．I shall always be a good sister to you，one in whom you may trust，but I shall never be anything more．”

And she drew her white band over his hot forehead．

“Heaven gives us strength for much，”she said，“if we only endeavour to do our best． ”

At that monent the stepmother came into the room；and Joanna said quickly，

“Knud is quite inconsolable because I am going away．Come，be a man，”she continued，and laid her hand upon his shoulde；and it seemed as if they had been talking of the journey，and nothing else．“You are a child，”she added；“but now you must be good and reasonable，as you used to be under the willow tree，when we were both children．

But Knud felt as if a piece had gone out of the world，and his thoughts were like a loose thread fluttering to and fro in the wind．He stayed，though he could not remember if she had asked him to stay；and they were kind and good，and Joanna poured out his tea for him，and sang to him．It had not the old tone，and yet it was wonderfully beautiful，and made his heart feel ready to burst．And then they parted．Knud did not offer her his hand，but she seized it，and said，

“Surely you will shake hands with your sister at parting，old playfellow！”

And she smiled through the tears that were rolling over her cheeks，and she repeated the word “brother”-as if that would help much！-and thus they parted．

She sailed to France，and Knud wandered about the muddy streets of Copenhagen．The other journeymen in the workshop asked him why he went about so gloomily，and told him he should go and amuse himself with them，for he was a young fellow．

And they went with him to the dancing-rooms．He saw many handsome girls there，but certainly not one like Joan-na；and here，where he thought to forget her，she stood more vividly than ever in his thoughts．“Heaven gives us strength for a great deal，if we only try to do our best，”she had said；and holy thoughts came into his mind，and he folded his hands．The violins played，and the girls danced round in a circle；and he was quite startled，for it seemed to him as if he were in a place to which he ought not to have brought Joanna-for she was there with him，in his heart；and accordingly he went out．He ran through the streets，and passed by the house where she had dwelt；it was dark there，dark everywhere，and empty，and loney．The world went its way，and Knud went his．

The winter came，and the streams were frozen．Everything seemed to be preparing for a burial．

But when spring returmed，and the first steamer was to start，a longing seized him to go away，far，far into the world，but not too near to France．So he packed his knapsack，and wandered far into the German land，from city to city，without rest or peace；and it was not till he came to the glorious old city of Nuremberg，that he could master his restless spirit；and in Nuremberg，therefore，he decided to remain．

Nuremberg is a wonderful old city，and looks as if it were cut out of an old picture-book．The streets lie just as they please．The houses do not like standing in regular ranks．Gables with little towers，arabesques，and pillars，start out over the pathway，and from the strange peaked roofs-spouts，formed like dragons or great slim dogs，extend far over the street．

Here in the market-place stood Knud，with his knapsack on his back．He stood by one of the old fountains that are adorned with splendid bronze figures，scriptural and historical，rising up between the gushing jets of water．A pretty servant-maid was just filling her pails，and she gave Knud a refreshing draught；and as her hand was full of roses，she gave him one of the flowers，and he accepted it as a good omen．

From the neighbouring church the strains of the or-an were sounding：they seemed to him as familiar as the tones of the organ at home at Kjoge；and he went into the great cathedral．The sunlight streamed in through the stained glass windows，between the lofty slender pillars．His spirit became prayerful，and peace returned to his soul．

And he sought and found a good master in Nuremberg，with whom he stayed，and learned the language．

The old moat round the town has been converted into a unmber of little kitchen gardens；but the high walls are standing yet，with their heavy towers．The ropemaker twists his ropes on a gallery or walk built of wood，inside the town wall，where elder bushes grow out of the clefts and cracks，spreading their green twigs over the little low houses that stand below；and in one of these dwelt the master with whom Knud worked；and over the little garret window where he slept the elder waved its branches．

Here he lived through a summer and a winter；but when the spring came again he could bear it no longer．The elder was in blossom，and its fragrance reminded him so of home，that he fancied himself back in the garden at Kjoge；and therefore Knud went away from his master，and dwelt with another，farther in the town，over whose house no elder bush grew．

His workshop was quite close to one of the old stone bridges，by a low water-mill，that rushed and foamed always．Without，rolled the roaring stream，hemmed in by houses，whose old decayed gables looked ready to topple down into the water．No elder grew here—there was not even a flower-pot with its little green plant；but just opposite the workshop stood a great old willow tree，that seemed to cling fast to the house，for fear of being carried away by the water，and which stretched forth its branches over the river，just as the willow at Kjoge spread its arms across the streamlet by the gardens there．

Yes，he had certainly gone from the “Elder-mother”to the“Willow-father”．The tree here had some-thing，especially on moonlight evenings，that went straight to his heart-and that something was not in the moonlight，but in the old tree itself．

Nevertheless，he could not remain．Why not？Ask the willow tree，ask the blooming elder！And therefore he bade farewell to his master in Nuremberg，and joumeyed on-ward．

To no one did he speak of Joanna-in his secret heart he hid his sorrow；and he thought of the deep meaning in the story of the two cakes．Now he understood why the man had a bitter almond in his breast-he himself felt the bitterness of it；and Joanna，who was always so gentle and kind，was typified by the honey-cake．

The strap of his knapsack seemed so tight across his chest that he could scarcely breathe；he loosened it，but was not relieved．He saw but half the world around him；the other half he carried about him and within himself．And thus it stood with him．

Not till he came in sight of the high mountains did the world appear treer to him；and now his thoughts were turned without，and tears came into his eyes．

The Alps appeared to him as the folded wings of the earth；how if they were to unfold themselves，and display their variegated pictures of black woods，foaming waters，clouds，and masses of snow？At the last day，he thought，the world will lift up its great wings，and mount upwards towards the sky，and burst like a soap-bubble in the glance of the Highest！

“Ah，” sighed he，“that the Last Day were come！”

Silently he wandered through the land，that seemed to him as an orchard covered with soft turf．From the wooden balconies of the houses the girls who sat busy with their lace-making nodded at him；the summits of the mountains glowed in the red sun of the evening；and when he saw the green lakes gleaming among the dark trees，he thought of the coast by the Bay of Kj ge，and there was a longing in his bosom，but it was pain no more．

There where the Rhine rolls onward like a great billow，and bursts，and is changed into snow-white，gleam-in，cloud-like masses，as if clouds were being created there，with the rainbow fluttering like a loose ribbon above them；there he thought of the water-mill at Kj ge，with its rushing，foaming water．

Gladly would he have remained in the quiet Rhenish town，but here also were too many elder trees and willows，and therefore he journeyed on，over the high，mighty mountains，through shattered walls of rock，and on roads that clung like swallows nests to the mountain-side．The waters foamed on in the depths，the clouds were below him，and he strode on over thistles，Alpine roses，and snow，in the warm summer sun；and saying farewell to the lands of the North，he passed on under the shade of chestnut trees，and through vineyards and fields of maize．The mountains were a wall between him and all his recollections；and he wished it to be so．

Before him lay a great glorious city which they called Milan，and here he found a German master who gave him work．They were an old pious couple，in whose workshop he now laboured．And the two old people be came quite fond of the quiet journeyman，who said little，but worked all the more，and led a pious Christian life．To himself also it seemed as if Heaven had lifted the heavy burden from his heart．

His favourite pastime was to mount now and then upon the mighty marble church，which seemed to him to have been formed of the snow of his native land，fashioned into roofs，and pinnacles，and decorated open halls：from every corner and every point the white statues smiled upon him Above him was the blue sky，below him the city and the widespreading Lombard plains，and towards the north the high mountains clad with perpetual snow；and he thought of the church at Kj ge，wi ith its red ivy-covered walls，but he did not long to go thither：here，beyond the mountains，he would be buried．

He had dwelt here a year，and three years had passed away since he left his home，when one day his master took him into the city， not to the circus where riders exhibited，but to the opera，where was a hall worth seeing．There were seven stories，from each of which beautiful silken curtains hung down，and from the ground to the dizzy height of the roof sat elegant ladies，with bouquets of flowers in their hands，as if they were at a ball，and the gentlemen were in full dress，and many of them decorated with gold and silver．It was as bright there as in the brilliant sunshine，and the music rolled gloriously through the building．Everything was much more splendid than in the theatre at Copenhagen，but then Joanna had been there，while here-Yes，It was like magic-the curtain rose，and Joanna appeared，dressed in silk and gold，with a crown upon her head：she sang as he thought none but angels could sing，and came far forward，quite to the front of the stage，and smiled as only Joanna could smile，and looked straight down at Knud．

Poor Knud seized his master's hand，and called out aloud，“Joanna！”but it could not be heard，the musicians played so loudly，and the master nodded and said，“Yes，yes，her name is Joanna． ”

And he drew forth a printed playbill，and showed Knud her name-for the full name was printed there．

No，it was not a dream！All the people applauded and threw wreaths and flowers to her，and every time she went away they called her back，so that she was always going and coming．

In the street the people crowded round her carriage，and drew it away in triumph．Knud was in the foremost row，and gladdest of all；and when the carriage stopped before her brilliantly lighted house，Knud stood close be-side the door of the eariage．It was opened，and she stepped out：the light fell upon her dear face，as she smiled，and made a kindly gesture of thanks，and appeared deeply moved．Knud looked straight into her face，and she looked into his，but she did not know him．A man with a star glittering on his breast gave her his arm-and it was whispered about that the two were engaged．

Then Knud went home and packed his knapsack． He was determined to go back to his own home，to the elder and willow treesah，under the willow tree！

The old couple begged him to remain，but no words could induce him to stay．It was in vain they told him that winter coming，and pointed out that snow had already fallen in the mountains；he said he could march on，with his knapsack on his back，in the wake of the slow-moving carriage，for which they would have to clear a path．

So he went away towards the mountains，and marched up them and down them．His strength was giving way，but still he saw no village，no house；he marched on towards the north．The stars came out above him，his feet stumbled，and his head grew dizzy．Deep in the valley stars were shining too，and it seemed as if there were another sky below him．He felt he was ill．The stars below him became more and more numerous，and glowed brighter and brighter，and moved to and fro．It was a little town whose lights beamed there；and when he understood that，he exerted the remains of his strength，and at last reached a humble inn．

That night and the whole of the following day he remained there，for his body required rest and refreshment．It was thawing，and there was rain in the valley．But early on the second morning came a man with an organ，who played a tune of home；and now Knud could stay no longer．He continued his journey towards the north，marching onward for many days with haste and hurry，as if he were trying to get home before all were dead there；but to no one did he speak of his longing，for no one would have believed in the sorrow of his heart，the deepest a human heart can feel．Such a grief is not for the world，for it is not amusing；nor is it even for friends；and moreover he had no friends-a stranger，he wandered through strange lands towards his home in the North．In the only letter he had received from home，one that his parents had written more than a year before，were the words：“You are not thoroughly Danish like the rest of us．You are fond only of foreign lands．”His parents could actually write that，-yes，they knew him so well！

It was evening．He was walking on the public high road．The frost began to make itself felt，and the country soon became flatter，containing mere field and meadow．By the roadside grew a great willow tree．Everything re-minded him of home，and he sat down under the tree：he felt very tired，his head began to nod，and his eyes closed in slumber，but still he was conscious that the tree lowered its branches towards him；the tree appeared to be an old，mighty man-it seemed as if the“Willow-father”himself had taken up his tired son in his arms，and were carrying him back into the land of home，to the bare bleak shore of Kj ge，to the garden of his childhood．

Yes，he dreamed it was the willow tree of Kj ge that had travelled out into the world to seek him，and that now had found him，and had let him back into the little garden by the streamlet，and there stood Joannna，in all her splendour，with the golden crown on her head，as he had seen her last，and she called out “Welcome！”to him．

And before him stood two remarkable shapes，which looked much more human than they did in his childhood：they had changed also，but they were still the two cakes that turned the right side toward him，and looked very well．

“We thank you，”they said to Knud．“You have loosened our tongues，and have taught us that thoughts should be spoken out freely，or nothing will come of them；and now something has indeed come of it-we are betrothed．”

Then they went band in hand through the streets of Kj ge，and they looked very spectable in every way：there was no fault to find with them．And they went on，straight towards the church，and Knud and Joanna followed them；they also were walking hand in hand；and the church stood there as it had always stood，with its red walls，on which the green ivy grew；and the great door of the church flew open，and the organ sounded，and they walked up the long aisle of the church．

“Our master first，”said the cake couple，and made room for Joanna and Knud，who knelt by the altar，and she bent her head over him，and tears fell from her eyes，but they were icy cold，for it was the ice around her heart that was melting-melting by his strong love；and the tears fell upon his burning cheeks，and he awoke，and was sitting under the old willow tree in the strange land，in the cold wintry evening：an icy hail was falling from the clouds and beating on his face．

“That was the most delicious hour of my life！”he said，“and it was but a dream．Oh，let me dream it over again！”

And he closed his eyes once more，and slept and dreamed．

Towards morning there was a great fall of snow．The wind drifted the snow over his feet，but he slept on．The villagers came forth to go to church，and by the roadside sat a journeyman．He was dead-frozen to death under the willow tree！

柳树下的梦

 

小城却格附近一带是一片荒凉的地区。这个城市是在海岸的近旁——这永远要算是一个美丽的位置。要不是因为周围全是平淡无奇的田野，而且离开森林很远，它可能还要更可爱一点。但是，当你在一个地方真正住惯了的时候，你总会发现某些可爱的东西，你就是住在世界上别的最可爱的地方，你也会怀恋它的。我们还得承认：在这个小城的外围，在一条流向大海的小溪的两岸，有几个简陋的小花园，这儿，夏天的风景是很美丽的。这是两个小邻居，克努得和乔安娜的感觉。他们在那儿一起玩耍；他们穿过醋栗丛来彼此相会。

在这样的一个小花园里，长着一棵接骨木树；在另一个小花园里长着一棵老柳树。这两个小孩子特别喜欢在这株柳树下面玩耍；他们也得到了许可到这儿来玩耍。尽管这树长在溪流的近旁，很容易使他们落到水里去。不过上帝的眼睛在留神着他们，否则他们就可能出乱子。此外，他们自己是非常谨慎的。事实上，那个男孩子是一个非常怕水的懦夫，在夏天谁也没有办法劝他走下海去，虽然别的孩子很喜欢到浪花上去嬉戏。因此他成了一个被别人讥笑的对象；他也只好忍受。不过有一次邻家的那个小小的乔安娜做了一个梦，梦见她自己驾着一只船在却格湾行驶。克努得涉水向她走来，水淹到他的颈上，最后淹没了他的头顶。自从克努得听到了这个梦的时候起，他就再也不能忍受别人把他称为怕水的懦夫。他常常提起乔安娜所做的那个梦——这是他的一件很得意的事情，但是他却不走下水去。

他们的父母都是穷苦的人，经常互相拜访。克努得和乔安娜在花园里和公路上玩耍。公路上沿着水沟长着一排柳树。柳树并不漂亮，因为它们的顶都剪秃了；不过它们栽在那儿并不是为了装饰，而是为了实际的用处。花园里的那棵老柳树要漂亮得多，因此他们常常喜欢坐在它的下面。

却格城里有一个大市场。在赶集的日子，整条街都布满了篷摊，出卖缎带、靴子和人们所想要买的一切东西。来的人总是拥挤不堪，天气经常总是在下雨。这时你就可以闻到农人衣服上所发出来的一股气味，但是你也可以闻到蜜糕和姜饼的香气——有一个篷摊子摆满了这些东西。最可爱的事情是：每年在赶集的季节，卖这些蜜糕的那个人就来寄住在小克努得的父亲家里。因此，他们自然能尝得到一点姜饼，当然小乔安娜也能分吃到一点。不过最妙的事情是，那个卖姜饼的人还会讲故事：他可以讲关于任何一件东西的故事，甚至于关于他的姜饼的故事。有一天晚上他就讲了一个关于姜饼的故事。这故事给了孩子们一个很深刻的印象，他们永远忘记不了。因为这个缘故，我想我们最好也听听它，尤其是因为这个故事并不太长。

他说：“柜台上放着两块姜饼。有一块是一个男子的形状，戴一顶礼帽；另一块是一个小姑娘，没有戴帽子，但是戴着一片金叶子。他们的脸都是在饼子朝上的那一面，好使人们一眼就能看清楚，不至于弄错。的确，谁也不会从反面去看他们的。男子的左边有一颗味苦的杏仁——这就是他的心；相反地，姑娘的全身都是姜饼。他们被放在柜台上作为样品。他们在那上面呆了很久，最后他们两个人就发生了爱情，但是谁也不说出口来。如果他们想得到一个什么结果的话，他们就应该说出来才是。

“‘他是一个男子，他应该先开口，’”她想。不过她仍然感到很满意，因为她知道他是同样地爱她。

“他的想法却是有点过分——男子一般都是这样。他梦想着自己是一个真正有生命的街头孩子，身边带着四枚铜板，把这姑娘买过来，一口吃掉了。

“他们就这样在柜台上躺了许多天和许多星期，终于变得又干又硬了。她的思想却越变越温柔和越女子气。

“‘我能跟他在柜台上躺在一起，已经很满意了！’她想。于是——啪！——她裂为两半。

‘如果她知道我的爱情，她也许可以活得更久一点！’他想。

“这就是那个故事。他们两个人现在都在这儿！”糕饼老板说。“就他们奇特的历史和他们没有结果的沉默爱情说来，他们真是了不起！现在我就把他们送给你们吧！”他这么说着，就把那个还是完整的男子送给乔安娜，把那个碎裂了的姑娘送给克努得。不过这个故事感动了他们，他们鼓不起勇气来把这对恋人吃掉。

第二天他们带着姜饼到却格公墓去。教堂的墙上长满了最茂盛的长春藤；它冬天和夏天悬在墙上，简直像是一张华丽的挂毯。他们把姜饼放在太阳光中的绿叶里，然后把这个没有结果的、沉默的爱情的故事讲给一群小孩子听。这叫做“爱”，因为这故事很可爱——在这一点上大家都同意。不过，当他们再看看这对姜饼恋人的时候，哎呀，一个存心拆烂污的大孩子已经把那个碎裂的姑娘吃掉了。孩子们大哭了一通，然后——大概是为了要不让那个男恋人在这世界上感到寂寞凄凉——他们也把他吃掉了。但是他们一直没有忘掉这个故事。

孩子们经常在接骨木树旁和柳树底下玩耍。那个小女孩用银铃一样清脆的声音唱着最美丽的歌。可是克努得没有唱歌的天才；他只是知道歌中的词句——不过这也不坏。当乔安娜在唱着的时候，却格的居民，甚至铁匠铺富有的老板娘，都静静地站着听。“那个小姑娘有一个甜蜜的声音！”她说。

这是人生最美丽的季节，但不能永远是这样。邻居已经搬走了。小姑娘的妈妈已经去世了；她的爸爸打算迁到京城里去，重新讨一个太太，因为他在那儿可以找到一个职业——他要在一个机关里当个送信人，这是一个收入颇丰的差使。因此两个邻居就流着眼泪分手了，孩子们特别痛哭了一阵；不过两家的老人都答应一年最少通信一次。

克努得做了一个鞋匠的学徒，因为一个大孩子不能再把日子荒废下去；此外他已经受过了坚信礼！

啊，他多么希望能在一个节日到哥本哈根去看看乔安娜啊！但他没有去，他从来没有到那儿去过，虽然它离却格只不过70多里地的路程。不过当天气晴朗的时候，克努得从海湾望去，可以遥遥看到塔顶；在他受坚信礼的那天，他还清楚地看见圣母院教堂上的发着闪光的十字架呢。

啊，他多么怀念乔安娜啊！也许她也记得他吧？是的，快到圣诞节的时候，她的父亲寄了一封信给克努得的爸爸和妈妈。信上说，他们在哥本哈根生活得很好，尤其是乔安娜，因为她有美丽的嗓音，她可以期待有一个光明的前途。她已经跟一个歌剧院订了合同，而且已经开始赚些钱了。她现在从她的收入中省下一块大洋，寄给她住在却格的亲爱的邻居过这个快乐的圣诞节。在“附言”中她亲自加了一笔，请他们喝一杯祝她健康的酒；同时还有：“向克努得亲切地致意。”

一家人全哭起来了，然而这是很愉快的——他们所流出来的是愉快的眼泪。克努得的思想每天环萦在乔安娜的身上；现在他知道她也在想念他。当他快要学完手艺的时候，他就更清楚地觉得他爱乔安娜。她一定得成为他的亲爱的妻子。当他想到这点的时候，他的嘴唇上就飘出一丝微笑；于是他做鞋的速度也就加快了两倍，同时用脚紧扣着膝盖上的皮垫子。他的锥子刺进了他的手指，但是他也不在意。他下了决心不要像那对姜饼一样，扮演一个哑巴恋人的角色；他从那个故事得到了一个很好的教训。

现在他成了一个皮鞋师傅。他打好背包准备旅行了；他算是有生第一次终于要去哥本哈根了。他已经在那儿接洽好了一个主人。嗨，乔安娜一定是非常奇怪和高兴的！她现在是17岁了，而他已经19。

当他还在却格的时候，他就想为她买一个金戒指。不过他想，他可以在哥本哈根买到更漂亮的戒指。因此他就向他的父母告别了。这是一个晚秋下雨的天气，他在微微的细雨中动身离开了生养他的小城。树上的叶子在簌簌地下落；当他到达哥本哈根新主人家里的时候，他已经全身透湿了。

在接着的一个星期日里，他就去拜望乔安娜的父亲。他穿上了一套手艺人的新衣服，戴上一顶却格的新礼帽。这装束对现在的克努得很相称，从前他只戴一顶小便帽。他找到了他所要拜访的那座房子。他爬了好几层楼，他的头都几乎要昏了。在这个人烟稠密的城市里，人们一层堆上一层地住在一起。这在他眼里真是太糟糕了。

房间里是一种富足的样子；乔安娜的父亲对他非常客气。他的新太太对他说来，是一个生人，不过她仍跟他握手，请他吃咖啡。

“乔安娜看到你一定会很高兴的！”父亲说。“你现在长成一个很漂亮的年轻人了……你马上就可以看到她！她是一个使我快乐的孩子，上帝保佑，我希望她更快乐。她自己住一间小房，而且还付给我们房租！”

于是父亲就在一个门上非常客气地敲了一下，好像他是一个客人似的。然后他们走进去了。嗨，这房间是多么漂亮啊！这样的房间在整个的却格都找不到的。就是皇后也不会有比这可爱的房间！它地上铺得有地毯，窗帘一直垂到地上；四周全是花和画，还有一面镜子——它大得像一扇门，人们一不留心就很容易朝它走进去；甚至还有一把天鹅绒的椅子。

克努得一眼就看见了这些东西；不过他眼中只有乔安娜。她现在已经是一个成年的小姐了。她跟克努得所想象的完全不同，但是更美丽。她不再是一个却格的姑娘了，她是多么文雅啊！她朝克努得看了一眼，她的视线显得多么奇怪和生疏啊！不过这情形只持续了片刻；不一会儿她向他跑过来，好像她想要吻他一下似的。事实上她没有这样做，但是她几乎这样做了。是的，她看到她儿时的朋友，心中感到非常高兴！她的眼睛里亮着泪珠。她有许多话要说，她有许多事情要问——从克努得的父母一直问到接骨木树和柳树——她把它们叫做接骨木树妈妈和柳树爸爸，好像它们就像人一样。的确，像姜饼一样，它们也可以当作人看。她也谈起姜饼，谈起他们的沉默的爱情，他们怎样躺在柜台上，然后裂为两半——这时她就哈哈大笑起来。不过克努得的血却涌到脸上来了，他的心跳得比什么时候都快。不，她一点也没有变得骄傲！他注意到，她的父母请他来玩一晚上，完全是由于她的示意。她亲手倒茶，把杯子递给他。后来她取出一本书，大声地念给他们听。克努得似乎觉得她所念的是关于他自己的爱情，因为那跟他的思想恰恰相吻合。于是她又唱了一支简单的歌；在她的歌声中，这支歌好像是一段历史，好像是从她的心里倾倒出来的话语。是的，她一定是喜欢克努得的。眼泪从他的脸上流下来了——他抑制不住，他也说不出半个字来。他觉得自己很傻；但是她紧握着他的手，说：

“你有一颗善良的心，克努得——我希望你永远是这样！”

这是克努得的无比幸福的一晚。要想睡是不可能的；实际上克努得也没有睡。

在告别的时候，乔安娜的父亲曾经说过：“唔，你不会马上就忘记我们吧！你不会让这整个的冬天过去，不再来看我们一次吧！”因此他下个礼拜天又可以再去，而他也就决定去了。

每天晚上，工作完了以后——他们在烛光下做活——克努得就穿过这城市，走过街道，到乔安娜住的地方去。他抬起头来朝她的窗子望，窗子差不多总是亮着的。有一天晚上他清楚地看到她的面孔映在窗帘上——这真是最可爱的一晚！他的老板娘不喜欢他每晚在外面“游荡”——引用她的话——所以她常常摇头。不过老板只是笑笑。

“他是一个年轻小伙子呀！”他说。

克努得心想：“我们在礼拜天要见面。我要告诉她，说我整个的思想中只有她，她一定要做我亲爱的妻子才成。我知道我不过是一个卖长工的鞋匠，但是[我可以成为一个师傅，最低限度成为一个独立的师傅。]我要工作和斗争下去——是的，我要把这告诉她。沉默的爱情是不会有什么结果的：我从那两块姜饼已经得到了教训了。”

星期天到来了。克努得大步地走去。不过，很不幸！他们一家人都要出去，而且不得不当面告诉他。乔安娜握着他的手，问道：

“你到戏院去过没有？你应该去一次。星期三我将要上台去唱歌，如果你那天晚上有时间的话，我将送你一张票子。我父亲知道你的老板的住址。”

她的用意是多好啊！星期三中午，他收到了一个封好了的纸套，上面一个字也没有写，但是里面却有一张票。晚间，克努得有生第一次到戏院里去。他看到了什么呢？他看到了乔安娜——她是那么美丽，那么可爱！她跟一个生人结了婚，不过那是在做戏——克努得知道得很清楚，这不过是扮演而已，否则她决不会有那么大的勇气送他一张票，让他去看她结婚的！观众都在喝彩，鼓掌。克努得喊：“好！”

连国王也对乔安娜微笑起来，好像他也喜欢她似的。上帝啊！克努得感到自己多么渺小啊！不过他是那么热烈地爱她，而且认为她也喜欢他。但是男子应该先开口——那个姜饼姑娘就是这样想的。这个故事的意义是深长的。

当星期天一到来的时候，克努得又去了。他的心情跟去领圣餐的时候差不多。乔安娜一个人单独在家。她接待他——世界上再没有比这更幸运的事情。

“你来得正好！”她说，“我原来想叫我的父亲去告诉你，不过我有一个预感，觉得你今晚会来。我要告诉你，星期五我就要到法国去：如果我想要有一点成就的话，我非得这样做不可。”

克努得觉得整个的房间在打转，他的心好像要爆裂。不过他的眼睛里却没有涌出眼泪来，人们可以很清楚地看出，他感到多么悲哀。

乔安娜看到了这个情景，也几乎要哭出来。

“你这老实的、忠诚的人啊！”她说。

她的这句话使克努得敢于开口了。他告诉她说，他怎样始终如一地爱她，她一定要做他亲爱的妻子才成。当他说这话的时候，他看到乔安娜的面孔变得惨白。她放松了手，同时严肃地、悲哀地回答说：

“克努得，请不要把你自己和我弄得痛苦吧。我将永远是你的一个好妹妹——你可以相信我。不过除此以外，我什么也办不到！”

于是她把她柔嫩的手贴到他灼热的额上。“上帝会给我们勇气应付一切，只要人有这个志愿。”

这时候她的继母走到房间里来了。

“克努得难过得很，因为我要离去！”她说，“拿出男子气概来吧！”她把手搭在他的肩上，好像他们在谈论着关于旅行的事情而没有谈别的东西似的。“你还是一个孩子！”她说：“不过现在你必须要听话，要有理智，像我们小时在那棵柳树底下一样。”

克努得觉得世界似乎有一块已经塌下去了。他的思想像一根无所归依的线，在风中飘荡。他呆下没有走，他不知道她们有没有留他坐下来，但是他们一家人都是很和气和善良的。乔安娜倒茶给他喝，对他唱歌。她的歌调跟以前不同，但是听起来是分外美丽，使得他的心要裂成碎片。然后他们就告别了。克努得没有向她伸出手来。但是她握着他的手，说：

“我小时一起玩的兄弟，你一定会握一下你的妹妹的手，作为告别吧！”

她微笑着，眼泪从她的脸上流下来。她又重复地说一次：“哥哥”——好像这样能起多大作用似的！——他们就这样告别了。

她坐船到法国去了，克努得在满地泥泞的哥本哈根街头走着。皮鞋店里别的人问他为什么老是这样心事重重地走来走去，他应该跟大伙儿一块去玩玩才对，因为他终究还是一个年轻人。

他们带着他到跳舞的地方去。那儿有许多漂亮的女子，但是没有一个像乔安娜。他想在这些地方把她忘记掉，而她却更生动地在他的思想中显现出来了。“上帝会给我们勇气应付一切，只要人有这个志愿！”她曾经这样说过。这时他有一种虔诚的感觉，他叠着手什么也不玩。提琴在奏出音乐，年轻的姑娘在围成圆圈跳舞。他怔了一下，因为他似乎觉得他不应该把乔安娜带到这地方来——因为她是活在他的心里。所以他就走出去了。他跑过许多街道，经过她所住过的那个屋子。那儿是阴暗的——处处都是阴暗、空洞和孤寂。世界走着自己的道路，克努得也走着自己的道路。

冬天来了。水都结了冰。一切东西似乎都在准备入葬。

不过当春天到来的时候，当第一艘轮船开航的时候，他就有了一种远行的渴望，远行到辽远的世界里去，但是他不愿意走近法国。因此他把他的背包打好，流浪到德国去。他从这个城走到那个城，一点也不休息和安静下来，只有当他来到那个美丽的古老的城市纽伦堡的时候，他的不安的情绪才算稳定下来。他决定住下来。

纽伦堡是一个稀有的古城。它好像是从旧画册里剪下来的一样。它的街道随意地伸展开来；它的房屋不是排成死板的直行。那些有小塔、蔓藤花纹和雕像装饰的吊窗悬在人行道上；从奇形的尖屋顶上伸出来的水笕嘴，以飞龙或长腰犬的形式，高高地俯视着下边的街道。

克努得背着背包站在这儿的一个市场上。他立在一个古老的喷泉塔旁边。《圣经》时代的、历史性的庄严铜像立在两股喷泉的中间。一个漂亮的女佣人正在用桶汲水。她给克努得一口凉爽的水喝。因为她手中满满地握着一束玫瑰花，所以她也给他一朵。他把它当作一个好的预兆。

风琴的声音从邻近的一个教堂里飘到他的耳边来；它的调子，对他说来，是跟他故乡却格风琴的调子一样地亲切。他走进一个大礼拜堂里去。日光透过绘有彩色画的窗玻璃，照在高而细长的圆柱之间。他的心中有一种虔诚的感觉，他的灵魂变得安静起来。

他在纽伦堡找到了一个很好的老板；于是他便安住下来，同时学习这个国家的语言。

城周围的古老的堑壕已经变成了许多小块的菜园，不过高大的城墙和它上面的高塔仍然是存留着的。在城墙里边，搓绳子的人正在一个木走廊或人行道上搓绳子。接骨木树丛从城墙的缝隙里生长出来，把它们的绿枝伸展到它们下面的那些低矮的小屋上。克努得的老板就住在这样的一座小屋里。在他睡觉的那个顶楼上——接骨木树就在他的床前垂下枝子。

他在这儿住过了一个夏天和冬天。不过当夏天到来的时候，他再也忍受不了。接骨木树在开着花，而这花香使他记起了故乡。他似乎回到了却格的花园里去。因此克努得就离开了他的主人，搬到住在离城墙较远的一个老板家去工作；这个屋子上面没有接骨木树。

他的作坊离一座古老的石桥很近，面对着一个老是发出嗡嗡声的水推磨房。外边有一条激流在许多房子之间冲过去。这些房子上挂着许多腐朽的阳台；它们好像随时要倒进水里去似的。这儿没有接骨木树——连栽着一点小绿植物的花钵子也没有。不过这儿有一株高大的老柳树。它紧紧地贴着那儿的一幢房子，生怕被水冲走。它像却格河边花园里的那棵柳树一样，也把它的枝子在激流上展开来。

是的，他从“接骨木树妈妈”那儿搬到“柳树爸爸”的近旁来了。这棵树引起了某种触动，尤其是在有月光的晚上——

[这种丹麦的心情，在月光下面流露了出来。但是]——使他感触的不是月光，不，是那棵老柳树。

他住不下去。为什么住不下去呢？请你去问那棵柳树。去问那棵开着花的接骨木树吧！因此他跟主人告别，踉纽伦堡告别走到更远的地方去。

他对谁也不提起乔安娜——他只是把自己的忧愁秘密地藏在心里。那两块姜饼的故事对他特别有深刻的意义。现在他懂得了那个男子为什么胸口上有一颗苦味的杏仁——他现在自己尝到这苦味了。乔安娜永远是那么温柔和善良，但她只是一块姜饼。

他背包的带子似乎在紧紧束缚着他，使他感到呼吸困难。他把它松开，但是仍然不感到舒畅。他的周围只有半个世界；另外的一半压在他的心里，这就是他的处境！

只有当他看到了一群高山的时候，世界才似乎对他扩大了一点。这时他的思想才向外面流露；他的眼中涌出了泪水。

阿尔卑斯山，对他说来，似乎是地球的一双敛着的翅膀。假如这双翅膀展开了，显示出一片黑森林、涌泉、云块和积雪的种种景色所组成的羽毛，那又会怎样呢？

他想，在世界的末日那天，地球将会展开它庞大的翅膀，向天空飞去，同时在上帝的明朗的光中将会像肥皂泡似地爆裂！他叹息：“啊，唯愿现在就是最后的末日！”

他静默地走过这块土地。在他看来，这块土地像一个长满了草的果木园。从许多屋子的木阳台上，忙着织丝带的女孩子们在对他点头。许多山峰在落日的晚霞中发出红光。当他看到深树林中的绿湖的时候，他就想起了却格湾的海岸。这时他感到一阵凄凉，但是他心中却没有痛苦。

莱茵河像一股很长的巨浪在滚流，在翻腾，在冲撞，在变成雪白的、闪光的云雾，好像云块就是在这儿制造出来似的。虹在它上面飘着，像一条解开了的缎带。他现在不禁想起了却格的水推磨坊和奔流着的、发出喧闹声的流水。

他倒是很愿意在这个安静的、莱茵河畔的城市里住下来的，可惜这儿的接骨木树和杨柳太多。因此他又继续向前走。他爬过巨大的高山，越过石峡，走过像燕子窝似的、贴在山边的山路。水在山峡里潺潺地流着，云块在他的下面飞着。在温暖夏天的太阳光下，他在光亮的蓟草上、石楠属植物上和雪上走着。他告别了北方的国家，来到了葡萄园和玉米田之间的栗树阴下。这些山是他和他的回忆之间的一座墙——他希望的也正是这样。

现在他面前出现了一座美丽的、雄伟的城市——人们把它叫做米兰。他在这儿找到了一个德国籍的老板，同时也找到了工作。他们是一对和善的老年夫妇；他现在就在他们的作坊里工作着。这对老人很喜欢这个安静的工人。他的话讲得很少，但工作得很努力，同时过着一种虔诚的、基督徒的生活。就他自己说来，他也仿佛觉得上帝取去了他心中的一个重担子。

他最心爱的消遣是不时去参观那个雄伟的大理石教堂。在他看来，这教堂似乎是用他故国的雪所造成的，用雕像、尖塔和华丽的大厅所组合起来的。雪白的大理石雕像似乎在从每一个角落里、从每一个尖顶、从每一个拱门上对他微笑。他上面是蔚蓝的天空，他下面是这个城市和广阔的龙巴得平原。再朝北一点就是终年盖着雪的高山。他不禁想起了却格的教堂和布满了红色长春藤的红墙。不过他并不怀恋它们，他希望他被埋葬在这些高山的后面。

他在这儿住了一年。自从他离开家以后，三年已经过去了。有一天他的老板带他到城里去——不是到马戏场去看骑师的表演，不是的，而是去看一个大歌剧院。这是一个大建筑物，值得一看。它有7层楼，每层楼上都悬着丝织的帘子。从第一层楼到那使人一看就头昏的顶楼都坐满了华贵的仕女。她们的手中拿着花束，好像她们是在参加一个舞会似的。绅士们都穿着礼服，有许多还戴着金质或银质勋章。这地方非常亮，如同在最明朗的太阳光下一样。响亮而悦耳的音乐奏起来了。这的确要比哥本哈根的剧院华丽得多，但是那却是乔安娜演出的地方；而这儿呢——是的，这真是像魔术一样——幕向两边分开了，乔安娜穿着丝绸，戴着金饰和皇冠也出现了。她的歌声在他听来只有上帝的安琪儿可以和她相比。她尽量走到舞台前面来，同时发出只有乔安娜才能发出的微笑。她的眼睛向下望着克努得。

可怜的克努得紧握着他主人的手，高声地喊出来：“乔安娜！”不过谁也听不见他。乐师在奏着响亮的音乐。老板只点点头，说：“是的，是的，她的名字是叫做乔安娜！”

于是他拿出一张节目单来，他指着她的名字——她的全名。

不，这不是一个梦！所有的人都在为她鼓掌，在对她抛掷着花朵和花环。每次她回到后台的时候，喝彩声就又把她叫出来，所以她不停地在走出走进。

在街上，人们围着她的车子，欣喜若狂地拉着车子走。克努得站在最前面，也是最高兴的。当大家来到她那灯火通明的房子面前的时候，克努得紧紧地挤到她车子的门口。车门开了；她走了出来。灯光正照在她可爱的脸上，她微笑着，她温柔地向大家表示谢意，她显得非常感动。克努得朝她的脸上望，她也望着他，但是她不认识他。一位胸前戴有星章的绅士伸出他的手臂来扶她——大家都说，他们已经订婚了。

克努得回到家来，收拾好他的背包，他决定回到他的老家去，回到接骨木树和柳树那儿去——啊，回到那棵柳树下面去！

那对老年夫妇请他住下来，但是什么话也留不住他。他们告诉他，说是冬天快要到来了，山上已经下雪了。但是他说他可以背着背包，[拄着拐杖，]跟在慢慢前进的马车后面的车辙里走——因为这是唯一可走的路。

这样他就向山上走去，一会儿上爬，一会儿下坡。他的气力没有了，但是他还看不见一个村子或一间房屋。他不停地向北方走去。星星在他的头上出现了，他的脚在摇摆，他的头在发昏。在深深的山谷里，也有星星在闪耀着；天空也好像伸展到他的下面去了似的。他觉得他病了。他下面的星星越来越多，越闪越亮，而且还在前后移动。这原来是一个小小的城市；家家都点上了灯火。当他了解到这情况以后，他就鼓起他一点残留的气力，最后到达了一个简陋的客栈。

他在那儿呆了一天一夜，因为他的身体需要休息和恢复。天气转暖，冰雪正在融化，山谷里下起雨来。上午有一个妻手风琴的人来了，他奏起一支丹麦的家乡曲子，弄得克努得又住不下去了。他又踏上了北上的旅途，走了许多天，他匆忙地走着，好像想要在家里的人没有死完以前，赶回去似的。不过他没有对任何人说出他心中的渴望，谁也不会相信他心中的悲哀——一个人的心中所能感觉到的、最深的悲哀。这种悲哀是不需要世人了解的，因为它并不有趣；也不需要朋友了解——而且他根本就没有朋友。他是一个陌生人，在一些陌生的国度里旅行，向家乡，向北国走去。他在许多年以前、从他父母接到的唯一的一封信里，有这样的话语：“你和我们家里的人不一样，你不是一个纯粹的丹麦人。我们是太丹麦化了！你只喜欢陌生的国家！”这是他父母亲手写的——是的，他们最了解他！

现在是黄昏了。他在荒野的公路上向前走。天开始冷起来了。这地方渐渐变得很平坦，是一片田野和草