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安徒生童話故事第94篇：安妮·莉斯貝Anne Lisbeth
引導語：安徒生童話故事《安妮·莉斯貝》主要是講一個女孩安妮·莉斯貝的故事，歡迎大家閱讀，有英文版的。
安妮·莉斯貝像牛奶和血，又年輕，又快樂，樣子真是可愛。她的牙齒白得放光，她的眼睛非常明亮，她的腳跳起舞來非常輕松，而她的性情也很輕松。這一切會結出怎樣的果子呢?……“一個討厭的孩子!……”的確，孩子一點也不好看，因此他被送到一個挖溝工人的老婆家里去撫養。
安妮·莉斯貝本人則搬進一位伯爵的公館里去住。她穿著絲綢和天鵝絨做的衣服，坐在華貴的房間里，一絲兒風也不能吹到她身上，誰也不能對她說一句不客氣的話，因為這會使她難過，而難過是她所受不了的。她撫養伯爵的孩子。這孩子清秀得像一個王子，美麗得像一個安琪兒。她是多么愛這孩子啊!
至于她自己的孩子呢，是的，他是在家里，在那個挖溝工人的家里。在這家里，鍋開的時候少，嘴開的時候多。此外，家里常常沒有人。孩子哭起來。不過，既然沒有人聽到他哭，因此也就沒有人為他難過。他哭得慢慢地睡著了。在睡夢中，他既不覺得餓，也不覺得渴。睡眠是一種多么好的發明啊!
許多年過去了。是的，正如俗話說的，時間一久，野草也就長起來了。安妮·莉斯貝的孩子也長大了。大家都說他發育不全，但是他現在已經完全成為他所寄住的這一家的成員。這一家得到了一筆撫養他的錢，安妮·莉斯貝也就算從此把他脫手了。她自己成了一個都市婦人，住得非常舒服;當她出門的時候，她還戴一頂帽子呢。但是她卻從來不到那個挖溝工人家里去，因為那兒離城太遠。事實上，她去也沒有什么事情可做。孩子是別人的;而且他們說，孩子現在自己可以找飯吃了。他應該找個職業來糊口，因此他就為馬茲·演生看一頭紅毛母牛。他已經可以牧牛，做點有用的事情了。
在一個貴族公館的洗衣池旁邊，有一只看家狗坐在狗屋頂上曬太陽。隨便什么人走過去，它都要叫幾聲。如果天下雨，它就鉆進它的屋子里去，在干燥和舒服的地上睡覺。安妮·莉斯貝的孩子坐在溝沿上一面曬太陽，一面削著拴牛的木樁子。在春天他看見三棵草莓開花了;他唯一高興的想頭是：這些花將會結出果子，可是果子卻沒有結出來。他坐在風雨之中，全身給淋得透濕，后來強勁的風又把他的衣服吹干。當他回到家里來的時候，一些男人和女人不是推他，就是拉他，因為他丑得出奇。誰也不愛他——他已經習慣了這類事情了!
安妮·莉斯貝的孩子怎樣活下去呢?他怎么能活下去呢?
他的命運是：誰也不愛他。
他從陸地上被推到船上去。他乘著一條破爛的船去航海。當船老板在喝酒的時候，他就坐著掌舵。他是既寒冷，又饑餓。人們可能以為他從來沒有吃過飽飯呢。事實上也是如此。
這正是晚秋的天氣：寒冷，多風，多雨。冷風甚至能透進最厚的衣服——特別是在海上。這條破爛的船正在海上航行;船上只有兩個人——事實上也可以說只有一個半人：船老板和他的助手。整天都是陰沉沉的，現在變得更黑了。天氣是刺人的寒冷。船老板喝了一德蘭的酒，可以把他的身體溫暖一下。酒瓶是很舊的，酒杯更是如此——它的上半部分是完整的，但它的下半部分已經碎了，因此現在是擱在一塊上了漆的藍色木座子上。船老板說：“一德蘭的酒使我感到舒服，兩德蘭使我感到更愉快。”這孩子坐在舵旁，用他一雙油污的手緊緊地握著舵。他是丑陋的，他的頭發挺直，他的樣子衰老，顯得發育不全。他是一個勞動人家的孩子——雖然在教堂的出生登記簿上他是安妮·莉斯貝的兒子。
風吹著船，船破著浪!船帆鼓滿了風，船在向前挺進。前后左右，上上下下，都是暴風雨;但是更糟糕的事情還待到來。停住!什么?什么裂開了?什么碰到了船?船在急轉!難道這是龍吸水嗎?難道海在沸騰嗎?坐在舵旁的這個孩子高聲地喊：“上帝啊，救我吧!”船觸到了海底上的一個巨大的石礁，接著它就像池塘里的一只破鞋似的沉到水下面去了——正如俗話所說的，“連人帶耗子都沉下去了。”是的，船上有的是耗子，不過人只有一個半：船主人和這個挖溝人的孩子。
只有尖叫的海鷗看到了這情景;此外還有下面的一些魚，不過它們也沒有看清楚，因為當水涌進船里和船在下沉時候，它們已經嚇得跑開了。船沉到水底將近有一尺深，于是他們兩個人就完了。他們死了，也被遺忘了!只有那個安在藍色木座子上的酒杯沒有沉，因為木座子把它托起來了。它順水漂流，隨時可以撞碎，漂到岸上去。但是漂到哪邊的岸上去呢?什么時候呢?是的，這并沒有什么了不起的重要!它已經完成了它的任務，它已經被人愛過——但是安妮·莉斯貝的孩子卻沒有被人愛過!然而在天國里，任何靈魂都不能說：“沒有被人愛!”
安妮·莉斯貝住在城市里已經有許多年了。人們把她稱為“太太”。當她談起舊時的記憶，談起跟伯爵在一起的時候，她特別感到驕傲。那時她坐在馬車里，可以跟伯爵夫人和男爵夫人交談。她那位甜蜜的小伯爵是上帝的最美麗的安琪兒，是一個最親愛的人物。他喜歡她，她也喜歡他。他們彼此吻著，彼此擁抱著。他是她的幸福，她的半個生命。現在他已經長得很高大了。他14歲了，有學問，有好看的外表。自從她把他抱在懷里的那個時候起，她已經有很久沒有看見過他了。她已經有好多年沒有到伯爵的公館里去了，因為到那兒去的旅程的確不簡單。
“我一定要設法去一趟!”安妮·莉斯貝說。“我要去看看我的寶貝，我的親愛的小伯爵。是的，他一定也很想看到我的;他一定也很想念我，愛我，像他從前用他安琪兒的手臂摟著我的脖子時一樣。那時他總是喊：‘安·莉斯!’那聲音簡直像提琴!我一定要想辦法再去看他一次。”
她坐著一輛牛車走了一陣子，然后又步行了一陣子，最后她來到了伯爵的公館。公館像從前一樣，仍然是很莊嚴和華麗的;它外面的花園也是像從前一樣。不過屋子里面的人卻完全是陌生的。誰也不認識安妮·莉斯貝。他們不知道她有什么了不起的事情要到這兒來。當然，伯爵夫人會告訴他們的，她親愛的孩子也會告訴他們的。她是多么想念他們啊!
安妮·莉斯貝在等著。她等了很久，而且時間似乎越等越長!她在主人用飯以前被喊進去了。主人跟她很客氣地應酬了幾句。至于她的親愛的孩子，她只有吃完了飯以后才能見到——那時她將會再一次被喊進去。
他長得多么大，多么高，多么瘦啊!但是他仍然有美麗的眼睛和安琪兒般的嘴!他望著她，但是一句話也不講。顯然他不認識她，他掉轉身，想要走開，但是她捧住他的手，把它貼到自己的嘴上。
“好吧，這已經夠了!”他說。接著他就從房間里走開了——他是她心中念念不忘的人;是她最愛的人;是她在人世間一提起就感到驕傲的人。
安妮·莉斯貝走出了這個公館，來到廣闊的大路上。她感到非常傷心。他對她是那么冷漠，一點也不想她，連一句感謝的話也不說。曾經有個時候，她日夜都抱著他——她現在在夢里還抱著他。
一只大黑烏鴉飛下來，落在她面前的路上，不停地發出尖銳的叫聲。
“哎呀!”她說，“你是一只多么不吉利的鳥兒啊!”
她在那個挖溝工人的茅屋旁邊走過。茅屋的女主人正站在門口。她們交談起來。
“你真是一個有福氣的樣子!”挖溝工人的老婆說。“你長得又肥又胖，是一副發財相!”
“還不壞!”安妮·莉斯貝說。
“船帶著他們一起沉了!”挖溝工人的老婆說。“船老板和助手都淹死了。一切都完了。我起初還以為這孩子將來會賺幾塊錢，補貼我的家用。安妮·莉斯貝，他再也不會要你費錢了。”
“他們淹死了?”安妮·莉斯貝問。她們沒有再在這個問題上談下去。
安妮·莉斯貝感到非常難過，因為她的小伯爵不喜歡和她講話。她曾經是那樣愛他，現在她還特別走這么遠的路來看他——這段旅程也費錢呀，雖然她并沒有從它那得到什么愉快。不過關于這事她一個字也不提，因為把這事講給挖溝工人的老婆聽也不會使她的心情好轉。這只會引起后者猜疑她在伯爵家里不受歡迎。這時那只黑烏鴉又在她頭上尖叫了幾聲。
“這個黑鬼，”安妮·莉斯貝說，“它今天使我害怕起來!”
她帶來了一點咖啡豆和菊苣①。她覺得這對于挖溝工人的老婆說來是一件施舍，可以使她煮一杯咖啡喝;同時她自己也可以喝一杯。挖溝工人的老妻子煮咖啡去了;這時，安妮·莉斯貝就坐在椅子上睡著了。她做了一個從來沒有做過的夢。說來也很奇怪，她夢見了自己的孩子：他在這個工人的茅屋里餓得哭叫，誰也不管他;現在他躺在海底——只有上帝知道他在什么地方，她夢見自己坐在這茅屋里，挖溝工人的老婆在煮咖啡，她可以聞到咖啡豆的香味，這時門口出現了一個可愛的人形——這人形跟那位小伯爵一樣好看。他說：“世界快要滅亡了!緊跟著我來吧，因為你是我的媽媽呀!你有一個安琪兒在天國里呀!緊跟著我來吧。”
他伸出手來拉她，不過這時有一個可怕的爆裂聲響起來了。這無疑是世界在爆裂，這時安琪兒升上來，緊緊地抓住她的襯衫袖子;她似乎覺得自己從地上被托起來了。不過她的腳上似乎系著一件沉重的東西，把她向下拖，好像有幾百個女人在緊抓住她說：
“假使你要得救，我們也要得救!抓緊!抓緊!”
她們都一起抓著她;她們的人數真多。“嘶!嘶!”她的襯衫袖子被撕碎了，安妮·莉斯貝在恐怖中跌落下來了，同時也醒了。的確，她幾乎跟她坐著的那張椅子一齊倒下來，她嚇得頭腦發暈，她甚至記不清楚自己夢見了什么東西。不過她知道那是一個惡夢。
她們一起喝咖啡，聊聊天。然后她就走到附近的一個鎮上去，因為她要到那兒去找到那個趕車的人，以便在天黑以前能夠回到家里去。不過當她碰到這個趕車人的時候，他說他們要等到第二天天黑以前才能動身，她開始考慮住下來的費用，同時也把里程考慮了一下。她想，如果沿著海岸走，可以比坐車子少走八九里路。這時天氣晴朗，月亮正圓，因此安妮·莉斯貝決計步行;她第二天就可以回到家里了。
太陽已經下沉;暮鐘仍然在敲著。不過，這不是鐘聲，而是貝得爾·奧克斯的青蛙在沼澤地里的叫聲②。現在它們靜下來了，四周是一片沉寂，連一聲鳥叫也沒有，因為它們都睡著了，甚至貓頭鷹都不見了。樹林里和她正在走著的海岸上一點聲音也沒有。她聽到自己在沙上走著的腳步聲。海上也沒有浪花在沖擊;遙遠的深水里也是鴉雀無聲。水底有生命和無生命的東西，都是默默地沒有聲響。
安妮·莉斯貝只顧向前走，像俗話所說的，什么也不想。不過思想并沒有離開她，因為思想是永遠不會離開我們的。它只不過是在睡覺罷了。那些活躍著、但現在正在休息著的思想，和那些還沒有被掀動起來的思想，都是這個樣子。不過思想會冒出頭來，有時在心里活動，有時在我們的腦袋里活動，或者從上面向我們襲來。
“善有善報，”書上這樣寫著。“罪過里藏著死機!”書上也這樣寫著。書上寫著的東西不少，講過的東西也不少，但是人們卻不知道，也想不起。安妮·莉斯貝就是這個樣子。不過有時人們心里會露出一線光明——這完全是可能的!
一切罪惡和一切美德都藏在我們的心里——藏在你的心里和我的心里!它們像看不見的小種子似的藏著。一絲太陽從外面射進來，一只罪惡的手摸觸一下，你在街角向左邊拐或向右邊拐——是的，這就夠決定問題了。于是這顆小小的種子就活躍起來，開始脹大和冒出新芽。它把它的汁液散布到你的血管里去，這樣你的行動就開始受到影響。一個人在迷糊地走著路的時候，是不會感覺到那種使人苦惱的思想的，但是這種思想卻在心里醞釀。安妮·莉斯貝就是這樣半睡似的走著路，但是她的思想正要開始活動。
從頭年的圣燭節③到第二年的圣燭節，心里記載著的事情可是不少——一年所發生的事情，有許多已經被忘記了，比如對上帝、對我們的鄰居和對我們自己的良心，在言語上和思想上所作過的罪惡行為。我們想不到這些事情，安妮·莉斯貝也沒有想到這些事情。她知道，她并沒有做出任何不良的事情來破壞這國家的法律，她是一個善良、誠實和被人看得起的人，她自己知道這一點。
現在她沿著海邊走。那里有一件什么東西呢?她停下來。那是一件什么東西漂上來了呢?那是一頂男子的舊帽子。它是從什么地方漂來的呢?她走過去，停下來仔細看了一眼。哎呀!這是一件什么東西呢?她害怕起來。但是這并不值得害怕：這不過是些海草和燈芯草罷了，它纏在一塊長長的石頭上，樣子像一個人的身軀。這只是些燈芯草和海草，但是她卻害怕起來。她繼續向前走，心中想起兒時所聽到的更多的迷信故事：“海鬼”——漂到荒涼的海灘上沒有人埋葬的尸體。尸體本身是不傷害任何人的，不過它的魂魄——“海鬼”——會追著孤獨的旅人，緊抓著他，要求他把它送進教堂，埋在基督徒的墓地里。
“抓緊!抓緊!”有一個聲音這樣喊。當安妮·莉斯貝想起這幾句話的時候，她做過的夢馬上又生動地回到記憶中來了——那些母親們怎樣抓著她，喊著：“抓緊!抓緊!”她腳底下的地面怎樣向下沉，她的衣袖怎樣被撕碎，在這最后審判的時候，她的孩子怎樣托著她，她又怎樣從孩子的手中掉下來。她的孩子，她自己親生的孩子，她從來沒有愛過他，也從來沒有想過他。這個孩子現在正躺在海底。他永遠也不會像一個海鬼似的爬起來，叫著：“抓緊!抓緊!把我送到基督徒的墓地上去呀!”當她想著這事情的時候，恐懼刺激著她的腳，使她加快了步子。
恐怖像一只冰冷潮濕的手，按在她的心上;她幾乎要昏過去了。當她朝海上望的時候，海上正慢慢地變得昏暗。一層濃霧從海上升起來，彌漫到灌木林和樹上，形成各種各樣的奇形怪狀。她掉轉身向背后的月亮望了一眼。月亮像一面沒有光輝的、淡白色的圓鏡。她的四肢似乎被某種沉重的東西壓住了：抓緊!抓緊!她這樣想。當她再掉轉身看看月亮的時候，似乎覺得月亮的白面孔就貼著她的身子，而濃霧就像一件尸衣似的披在她的肩上。“抓緊!把我送到基督徒的墓地里去吧!”她聽到這樣一個空洞的聲音。這不是沼澤地上的青蛙，或大渡烏和烏鴉發出來的，因為她并沒有看到這些東西。“把我埋葬掉吧，把我埋葬掉吧!”這聲音說。
是的，這是“海鬼”——躺在海底的她的孩子的魂魄。這魂魄是不會安息的，除非有人把它送到教堂的墓地里去，除非有人在基督教的土地上為它砌一個墳墓。她得向那兒走去，她得到那兒去挖一個墳墓。她朝教堂的那個方向走去，于是她就覺得她的負擔輕了許多——甚至變得沒有了。這時她又打算掉轉身，沿著那條最短的路走回家去，立刻那個擔子又壓到她身上來了：抓緊!抓緊!這好像青蛙的叫聲，又好像鳥兒的哀鳴，她聽得非常清楚。“為我挖一個墳墓吧!為我挖一個墳墓吧!”
霧是又冷又潮濕;她的手和面孔也是由于恐怖而變得又冷又潮濕。周圍的壓力向她壓過來，但是她心里的思想卻在無限地膨脹。這是她從來沒有經驗過的一種感覺。
在北國，山毛櫸可以在一個春天的晚上就冒出芽，第二天一見到太陽就現出它幸福的春青美。同樣，在我們的心里，藏在我們過去生活中的罪惡種子，也會在一瞬間通過思想、言語和行動冒出芽來。當良心一覺醒的時候，這種子只需一瞬間的工夫就會長大和發育。這是上帝在我們最想不到的時刻使它起這樣的變化的。什么辯解都不需要了，因為事實擺在面前，作為見證。思想變成了語言，而語言是在世界什么地方都可以聽見的。我們一想到我們身中藏著的東西，一想到我們還沒有能消滅我們在無意和驕傲中種下的種子，我們就不禁要恐怖起來。心中可以藏著一切美德，也可以藏著罪惡。
它們甚至在最貧瘠的土地上也可以繁殖起來。
安妮·莉斯貝的心里深深地體會到我們剛才所講的這些話。她感到極度地不安，她倒到地上，只能向前爬幾步。一個聲音說：“請埋葬我吧!請埋葬我吧!”只要能在墳墓里把一切都忘記，她倒很想把自己埋葬掉。這是她充滿恐懼和驚惶的、醒覺的時刻。迷信使她的血一會兒變冷，一會兒變熱。有許多她不愿意講的事情，現在都集中到她的心里來了。
一個她從前聽人講過的幻象，像明朗的月光下面的云彩，靜寂地在她面前出現：四匹嘶鳴的馬兒在她身邊馳過去了。它們的眼睛里和鼻孔里射出火花，拉著一輛火紅的車子，里面坐著一個在這地區橫行了一百多年的壞人。據說他每天半夜要跑進自己的家里去一次，然后再跑出來。他的外貌并不像一般人所描述的死人那樣，慘白得毫無血色，而是像熄滅了的炭一樣漆黑。他對安妮·莉斯貝點點頭，招招手：
“抓緊!抓緊!你可以在伯爵的車子上再坐一次，把你的孩子忘掉!”
她急忙避開，走進教堂的墓地里去。但是黑十字架和大渡鴉在她的眼前混作一團。大渡鴉在叫——像她白天所看到的那樣叫。不過現在她懂得它們所叫的是什么東西。它們說：“我是大渡鴉媽媽!我是大渡鴉媽媽!”每一只都這樣說。安妮·莉斯貝知道，她也會變成這樣的一只黑鳥。如果她不挖出一個墳墓來，她將永遠也要像它們那樣叫。
她伏到地上，用手在堅硬的土上挖一個墳墓，她的手指流出血來。
“把我埋葬掉吧!把我埋葬掉吧!”這聲音在喊。她害怕在她的工作沒有做完以前雞會叫起來，東方會放出彩霞，因為如果這樣，她就沒有希望了。
雞終于叫了，東方也現出亮光。她還要挖的墳墓只完成了一半。一只冰冷的手從她的頭上和臉上一直摸到她的心窩。
“只挖出半個墳墓!”一個聲音哀嘆著，接著就漸漸地沉到海底。是的，這就是“海鬼”!安妮·莉斯貝昏倒在地上。她不能思想，失去了知覺。
她醒轉來的時候，已經是明朗的白天了。有兩個人把她扶起來。她并沒有躺在教堂的墓地里，而是躺在海灘上。她在沙上挖了一個深洞。她的手指被一個破玻璃杯劃開了，流出血來。這杯子底端的腳是安在一個涂了藍漆的木座子上的。
安妮·莉斯貝病了。良心和迷信糾纏在一起，她也分辨不清，結果她相信她現在只有半個靈魂，另外半個靈魂則被她的孩子帶到海里去了。她將永遠也不能飛上天國，接受慈悲，除非她能夠收回深藏在水底的另一半靈魂。
安妮·莉斯貝回到家里去，她已經不再是原來的那個樣子了。她的思想像一團亂麻一樣。她只能抽出一根線索來，那就是她得把這個“海鬼”運到教堂的墓地里去，為他挖一個墳墓——這樣她才能招回她整個的靈魂。
有許多晚上她不在家里。人們老是看見她在海灘上等待那個“海鬼”。這樣的日子她挨過了一整年。于是有一天晚上她又不見了，人們再也找不到她。第二天大家找了一整天，也沒有結果。
黃昏的時候，牧師到教堂里來敲晚鐘。這時他看見安妮·莉斯貝跪在祭壇的腳下。她從大清早起就在這兒，她已經沒有一點氣力了，但是她的眼睛仍然射出光彩，臉上仍然現出紅光。太陽的最后的晚霞照著她，射在攤開在祭壇上的《圣經》的銀扣子上④。《圣經》攤開的地方顯露出先知約珥的幾句話：“你們要撕裂心腸，不撕裂衣服，歸向上帝⑤!”
“這完全是碰巧，”人們說，“有許多事情就是偶然發生的。”
安妮·莉斯貝的臉上，在太陽光中，露出一種和平和安靜的表情。她說她感到非常愉快。她現在重新獲得了靈魂。昨天晚上那個“海鬼”——她的兒子——是和她在一道。這幽靈對她說：
“你只為我挖好了半個墳墓，但是在整整一年中你卻在你的心中為我砌好了一個完整的墳墓。這是一個媽媽能埋葬她的孩子的最好的地方。”
于是他把她失去了的那半個靈魂還給她，同時把她領到這個教堂里來。
“現在我是在上帝的屋子里，”她說，“在這個屋子里我們全都感到快樂!”
太陽落下去的時候，安妮·莉斯貝的靈魂就升到另一個境界里去了。當人們在人世間作過一番斗爭以后，來到這個境界是不會感到痛苦的;而安妮·莉斯貝是作過一番斗爭的。
①菊苣(Cichoric)是一種植物，它的根可以當咖啡代用品。
②安徒生寫到這里，大概是想到了他同時代的丹麥詩人蒂勒(J.M.Thirle)的兩句詩：
如果貝得爾·奧克斯的青蛙晚上在沼澤地里叫，
第二天的太陽會很明朗，對著玫瑰花微笑。
③圣燭節(Kyndelmisse)是在2月2日，即圣母馬利亞產后40天帶著耶穌往耶路撒冷去祈禱的紀念日。又稱“圣母行潔凈禮日”、“獻主節”等。
④古時的《圣經》像一個小匣子，不念時可以用扣子扣上。
⑤見《圣經·舊約全書·約珥書》第二章第十三節。最后“歸向上帝”這句話應該是“歸向耶和華你們的神”，和安徒生在這里引用的略有不同。
安妮·莉斯貝英文版：
Anne Lisbeth
ANNE LISBETH was a beautiful young woman, with a red and white complexion, glittering white teeth, and clear soft eyes; and her footstep was light in the dance, but her mind was lighter still. She had a little child, not at all pretty; so he was put out to be nursed by a laborer’s wife, and his mother went to the count’s castle. She sat in splendid rooms, richly decorated with silk and velvet; not a breath of air was allowed to blow upon her, and no one was allowed to speak to her harshly, for she was nurse to the count’s child. He was fair and delicate as a prince, and beautiful as an angel; and how she loved this child! Her own boy was provided for by being at the laborer’s where the mouth watered more frequently than the pot boiled, and where in general no one was at home to take care of the child. Then he would cry, but what nobody knows nobody cares for; so he would cry till he was tired, and then fall asleep; and while we are asleep we can feel neither hunger nor thirst. Ah, yes; sleep is a capital invention.
As years went on, Anne Lisbeth’s child grew apace like weeds, although they said his growth had been stunted. He had become quite a member of the family in which he dwelt; they received money to keep him, so that his mother got rid of him altogether. She had become quite a lady; she had a comfortable home of her own in the town; and out of doors, when she went for a walk, she wore a bonnet; but she never walked out to see the laborer: that was too far from the town, and, indeed, she had nothing to go for, the boy now belonged to these laboring people. He had food, and he could also do something towards earning his living; he took care of Mary’s red cow, for he knew how to tend cattle and make himself useful.
The great dog by the yard gate of a nobleman’s mansion sits proudly on the top of his kennel when the sun shines, and barks at every one that passes; but if it rains, he creeps into his house, and there he is warm and dry. Anne Lisbeth’s boy also sat in the sunshine on the top of the fence, cutting out a little toy. If it was spring-time, he knew of three strawberry-plants in blossom, which would certainly bear fruit. This was his most hopeful thought, though it often came to nothing. And he had to sit out in the rain in the worst weather, and get wet to the skin, and let the cold wind dry the clothes on his back afterwards. If he went near the farmyard belonging to the count, he was pushed and knocked about, for the men and the maids said he was so horrible ugly; but he was used to all this, for nobody loved him. This was how the world treated Anne Lisbeth’s boy, and how could it be otherwise. It was his fate to be beloved by no one. Hitherto he had been a land crab; the land at last cast him adrift. He went to sea in a wretched vessel, and sat at the helm, while the skipper sat over the grog-can. He was dirty and ugly, half-frozen and half-starved; he always looked as if he never had enough to eat, which was really the case.
Late in the autumn, when the weather was rough, windy, and wet, and the cold penetrated through the thickest clothing, especially at sea, a wretched boat went out to sea with only two men on board, or, more correctly, a man and a half, for it was the skipper and his boy. There had only been a kind of twilight all day, and it soon grew quite dark, and so bitterly cold, that the skipper took a dram to warm him. The bottle was old, and the glass too. It was perfect in the upper part, but the foot was broken off, and it had therefore been fixed upon a little carved block of wood, painted blue. A dram is a great comfort, and two are better still, thought the skipper, while the boy sat at the helm, which he held fast in his hard seamed hands. He was ugly, and his hair was matted, and he looked crippled and stunted; they called him the field-laborer’s boy, though in the church register he was entered as Anne Lisbeth’s son. The wind cut through the rigging, and the boat cut through the sea. The sails, filled by the wind, swelled out and carried them along in wild career. It was wet and rough above and below, and might still be worse. Hold! what is that? What has struck the boat? Was it a waterspout, or a heavy sea rolling suddenly upon them?
“Heaven help us!” cried the boy at the helm, as the boat heeled over and lay on its beam ends. It had struck on a rock, which rose from the depths of the sea, and sank at once, like an old shoe in a puddle. “It sank at once with mouse and man,” as the saying is. There might have been mice on board, but only one man and a half, the skipper and the laborer’s boy. No one saw it but the skimming sea-gulls and the fishes beneath the water; and even they did not see it properly, for they darted back with terror as the boat filled with water and sank. There it lay, scarcely a fathom below the surface, and those two were provided for, buried, and forgotten. The glass with the foot of blue wood was the only thing that did not sink, for the wood floated and the glass drifted away to be cast upon the shore and broken; where and when, is indeed of no consequence. It had served its purpose, and it had been loved, which Anne Lisbeth’s boy had not been. But in heaven no soul will be able to say, “Never loved.”
Anne Lisbeth had now lived in the town many years; she was called “Madame,” and felt dignified in consequence; she remembered the old, noble days, in which she had driven in the carriage, and had associated with countess and baroness. Her beautiful, noble child had been a dear angel, and possessed the kindest heart; he had loved her so much, and she had loved him in return; they had kissed and loved each other, and the boy had been her joy, her second life. Now he was fourteen years of age, tall, handsome, and clever. She had not seen him since she carried him in her arms; neither had she been for years to the count’s palace; it was quite a journey thither from the town.
“I must make one effort to go,” said Anne Lisbeth, “to see my darling, the count’s sweet child, and press him to my heart. Certainly he must long to see me, too, the young count; no doubt he thinks of me and loves me, as in those days when he would fling his angel-arms round my neck, and lisp ’Anne Liz.’ It was music to my ears. Yes, I must make an effort to see him again.” She drove across the country in a grazier’s cart, and then got out, and continued her journey on foot, and thus reached the count’s castle. It was as great and magnificent as it had always been, and the garden looked the same as ever; all the servants were strangers to her, not one of them knew Anne Lisbeth, nor of what consequence she had once been there; but she felt sure the countess would soon let them know it, and her darling boy, too: how she longed to see him!
Now that Anne Lisbeth was at her journey’s end, she was kept waiting a long time; and for those who wait, time passes slowly. But before the great people went in to dinner, she was called in and spoken to very graciously. She was to go in again after dinner, and then she would see her sweet boy once more. How tall, and slender, and thin he had grown; but the eyes and the sweet angel mouth were still beautiful. He looked at her, but he did not speak, he certainly did not know who she was. He turned round and was going away, but she seized his hand and pressed it to her lips.
“Well, well,” he said; and with that he walked out of the room. He who filled her every thought! he whom she loved best, and who was her whole earthly pride!
Anne Lisbeth went forth from the castle into the public road, feeling mournful and sad; he whom she had nursed day and night, and even now carried about in her dreams, had been cold and strange, and had not a word or thought respecting her. A great black raven darted down in front of her on the high road, and croaked dismally.
“Ah,” said she, “what bird of ill omen art thou?” Presently she passed the laborer’s hut; his wife stood at the door, and the two women spoke to each other.
“You look well,” said the woman; “you’re fat and plump; you are well off.”
“Oh yes,” answered Anne Lisbeth.
“The boat went down with them,” continued the woman; “Hans the skipper and the boy were both drowned; so there’s an end of them. I always thought the boy would be able to help me with a few dollars. He’ll never cost you anything more, Anne Lisbeth.”
“So they were drowned,” repeated Anne Lisbeth; but she said no more, and the subject was dropped. She felt very low-spirited, because her count-child had shown no inclination to speak to her who loved him so well, and who had travelled so far to see him. The journey had cost money too, and she had derived no great pleasure from it. Still she said not a word of all this; she could not relieve her heart by telling the laborer’s wife, lest the latter should think she did not enjoy her former position at the castle. Then the raven flew over her, screaming again as he flew.
“The black wretch!” said Anne Lisbeth, “he will end by frightening me today.” She had brought coffee and chicory with her, for she thought it would be a charity to the poor woman to give them to her to boil a cup of coffee, and then she would take a cup herself.
The woman prepared the coffee, and in the meantime Anne Lisbeth seated her in a chair and fell asleep. Then she dreamed of something which she had never dreamed before; singularly enough she dreamed of her own child, who had wept and hungered in the laborer’s hut, and had been knocked about in heat and in cold, and who was now lying in the depths of the sea, in a spot only known by God. She fancied she was still sitting in the hut, where the woman was busy preparing the coffee, for she could smell the coffee-berries roasting. But suddenly it seemed to her that there stood on the threshold a beautiful young form, as beautiful as the count’s child, and this apparition said to her, “The world is passing away; hold fast to me, for you are my mother after all; you have an angel in heaven, hold me fast;” and the child-angel stretched out his hand and seized her. Then there was a terrible crash, as of a world crumbling to pieces, and the angel-child was rising from the earth, and holding her by the sleeve so tightly that she felt herself lifted from the ground; but, on the other hand, something heavy hung to her feet and dragged her down, and it seemed as if hundreds of women were clinging to her, and crying, “If thou art to be saved, we must be saved too. Hold fast, hold fast.” And then they all hung on her, but there were too many; and as they clung the sleeve was torn, and Anne Lisbeth fell down in horror, and awoke. Indeed she was on the point of falling over in reality with the chair on which she sat; but she was so startled and alarmed that she could not remember what she had dreamed, only that it was something very dreadful.
They drank their coffee and had a chat together, and then Anne Lisbeth went away towards the little town where she was to meet the carrier, who was to drive her back to her own home. But when she came to him she found that he would not be ready to start till the evening of the next day. Then she began to think of the expense, and what the distance would be to walk. She remembered that the route by the sea-shore was two miles shorter than by the high road; and as the weather was clear, and there would be moonlight, she determined to make her way on foot, and to start at once, that she might reach home the next day.
The sun had set, and the evening bells sounded through the air from the tower of the village church, but to her it was not the bells, but the cry of the frogs in the marshes. Then they ceased, and all around became still; not a bird could be heard, they were all at rest, even the owl had not left her hiding place; deep silence reigned on the margin of the wood by the sea-shore. As Anne Lisbeth walked on she could hear her own footsteps in the sands; even the waves of the sea were at rest, and all in the deep waters had sunk into silence. There was quiet among the dead and the living in the deep sea. Anne Lisbeth walked on, thinking of nothing at all, as people say, or rather her thoughts wandered, but not away from her, for thought is never absent from us, it only slumbers. Many thoughts that have lain dormant are roused at the proper time, and begin to stir in the mind and the heart, and seem even to come upon us from above. It is written, that a good deed bears a blessing for its fruit; and it is also written, that the wages of sin is death. Much has been said and much written which we pass over or know nothing of. A light arises within us, and then forgotten things make themselves remembered; and thus it was with Anne Lisbeth. The germ of every vice and every virtue lies in our heart, in yours and in mine; they lie like little grains of seed, till a ray of sunshine, or the touch of an evil hand, or you turn the corner to the right or to the left, and the decision is made. The little seed is stirred, it swells and shoots up, and pours its sap into your blood, directing your course either for good or evil. Troublesome thoughts often exist in the mind, fermenting there, which are not realized by us while the senses are as it were slumbering; but still they are there. Anne Lisbeth walked on thus with her senses half asleep, but the thoughts were fermenting within her.
From one Shrove Tuesday to another, much may occur to weigh down the heart; it is the reckoning of a whole year; much may be forgotten, sins against heaven in word and thought, sins against our neighbor, and against our own conscience. We are scarcely aware of their existence; and Anne Lisbeth did not think of any of her errors. She had committed no crime against the law of the land; she was an honorable person, in a good position—that she knew.
She continued her walk along by the margin of the sea. What was it she saw lying there? An old hat; a man’s hat. Now when might that have been washed overboard? She drew nearer, she stopped to look at the hat; “Ha! what was lying yonder?” She shuddered; yet it was nothing save a heap of grass and tangled seaweed flung across a long stone, but it looked like a corpse. Only tangled grass, and yet she was frightened at it. As she turned to walk away, much came into her mind that she had heard in her childhood: old superstitions of spectres by the sea-shore; of the ghosts of drowned but unburied people, whose corpses had been washed up on the desolate beach. The body, she knew, could do no harm to any one, but the spirit could pursue the lonely wanderer, attach itself to him, and demand to be carried to the churchyard, that it might rest in consecrated ground. “Hold fast! hold fast!” the spectre would cry; and as Anne Lisbeth murmured these words to herself, the whole of her dream was suddenly recalled to her memory, when the mother had clung to her, and uttered these words, when, amid the crashing of worlds, her sleeve had been torn, and she had slipped from the grasp of her child, who wanted to hold her up in that terrible hour. Her child, her own child, which she had never loved, lay now buried in the sea, and might rise up, like a spectre, from the waters, and cry, “Hold fast; carry me to consecrated ground!”
As these thoughts passed through her mind, fear gave speed to her feet, so that she walked faster and faster. Fear came upon her as if a cold, clammy hand had been laid upon her heart, so that she almost fainted. As she looked across the sea, all there grew darker; a heavy mist came rolling onwards, and clung to bush and tree, distorting them into fantastic shapes. She turned and glanced at the moon, which had risen behind her. It looked like a pale, rayless surface, and a deadly weight seemed to hang upon her limbs. “Hold,” thought she; and then she turned round a second time to look at the moon. A white face appeared quite close to her, with a mist, hanging like a garment from its shoulders. “Stop! carry me to consecrated earth,” sounded in her ears, in strange, hollow tones. The sound did not come from frogs or ravens; she saw no sign of such creatures. “A grave! dig me a grave!” was repeated quite loud. Yes, it was indeed the spectre of her child. The child that lay beneath the ocean, and whose spirit could have no rest until it was carried to the churchyard, and until a grave had been dug for it in consecrated ground. She would go there at once, and there she would dig. She turned in the direction of the church, and the weight on her heart seemed to grow lighter, and even to vanish altogether; but when she turned to go home by the shortest way, it returned. “Stop! stop!” and the words came quite clear, though they were like the croak of a frog, or the wail of a bird. “A grave! dig me a grave!”
The mist was cold and damp, her hands and face were moist and clammy with horror, a heavy weight again seized her and clung to her, her mind became clear for thoughts that had never before been there.
In these northern regions, a beech-wood often buds in a single night and appears in the morning sunlight in its full glory of youthful green. So, in a single instant, can the consciousness of the sin that has been committed in thoughts, words, and actions of our past life, be unfolded to us. When once the conscience is awakened, it springs up in the heart spontaneously, and God awakens the conscience when we least expect it. Then we can find no excuse for ourselves; the deed is there and bears witness against us. The thoughts seem to become words, and to sound far out into the world. We are horrified at the thought of what we have carried within us, and at the consciousness that we have not overcome the evil which has its origin in thoughtlessness and pride. The heart conceals within itself the vices as well as the virtues, and they grow in the shallowest ground. Anne Lisbeth now experienced in thought what we have clothed in words. She was overpowered by them, and sank down and crept along for some distance on the ground. “A grave! dig me a grave!” sounded again in her ears, and she would have gladly buried herself, if in the grave she could have found forgetfulness of her actions.
It was the first hour of her awakening, full of anguish and horror. Superstition made her alternately shudder with cold or burn with the heat of fever. Many things, of which she had feared even to speak, came into her mind. Silently, as the cloud-shadows in the moonshine, a spectral apparition flitted by her; she had heard of it before. Close by her galloped four snorting steeds, with fire flashing from their eyes and nostrils. They dragged a burning coach, and within it sat the wicked lord of the manor, who had ruled there a hundred years before. The legend says that every night, at twelve o’clock, he drove into his castleyard and out again. He was not as pale as dead men are, but black as a coal. He nodded, and pointed to Anne Lisbeth, crying out, “Hold fast! hold fast! and then you may ride again in a nobleman’s carriage, and forget your child.”
She gathered herself up, and hastened to the churchyard; but black crosses and black ravens danced before her eyes, and she could not distinguish one from the other. The ravens croaked as the raven had done which she saw in the daytime, but now she understood what they said. “I am the raven-mother; I am the raven-mother,” each raven croaked, and Anne Lisbeth felt that the name also applied to her; and she fancied she should be transformed into a black bird, and have to cry as they cried, if she did not dig the grave. And she threw herself upon the earth, and with her hands dug a grave in the hard ground, so that the blood ran from her fingers. “A grave! dig me a grave!” still sounded in her ears; she was fearful that the cock might crow, and the first red streak appear in the east, before she had finished her work; and then she would be lost. And the cock crowed, and the day dawned in the east, and the grave was only half dug. An icy hand passed over her head and face, and down towards her heart. “Only half a grave,” a voice wailed, and fled away. Yes, it fled away over the sea; it was the ocean spectre; and, exhausted and overpowered, Anne Lisbeth sunk to the ground, and her senses left her.
It was a bright day when she came to herself, and two men were raising her up; but she was not lying in the churchyard, but on the sea-shore, where she had dug a deep hole in the sand, and cut her hand with a piece of broken glass, whose sharp stern was stuck in a little block of painted wood. Anne Lisbeth was in a fever. Conscience had roused the memories of superstitions, and had so acted upon her mind, that she fancied she had only half a soul, and that her child had taken the other half down into the sea. Never would she be able to cling to the mercy of Heaven till she had recovered this other half which was now held fast in the deep water.
Anne Lisbeth returned to her home, but she was no longer the woman she had been. Her thoughts were like a confused, tangled skein; only one thread, only one thought was clear to her, namely that she must carry the spectre of the sea-shore to the churchyard, and dig a grave for him there; that by so doing she might win back her soul. Many a night she was missed from her home, and was always found on the sea-shore waiting for the spectre.
In this way a whole year passed; and then one night she vanished again, and was not to be found. The whole of the next day was spent in a useless search after her.
Towards evening, when the clerk entered the church to toll the vesper bell, he saw by the altar Anne Lisbeth, who had spent the whole day there. Her powers of body were almost exhausted, but her eyes flashed brightly, and on her cheeks was a rosy flush. The last rays of the setting sun shone upon her, and gleamed over the altar upon the shining clasps of the Bible, which lay open at the words of the prophet Joel, “Rend your hearts and not your garments, and turn unto the Lord.”
“That was just a chance,” people said; but do things happen by chance? In the face of Anne Lisbeth, lighted up by the evening sun, could be seen peace and rest. She said she was happy now, for she had conquered. The spectre of the shore, her own child, had come to her the night before, and had said to her, “Thou hast dug me only half a grave: but thou hast now, for a year and a day, buried me altogether in thy heart, and it is there a mother can best hide her child!” And then he gave her back her lost soul, and brought her into the church. “Now I am in the house of God,” she said, “and in that house we are happy.”
When the sun set, Anne Lisbeth’s soul had risen to that region where there is no more pain; and Anne Lisbeth’s troubles were at an end.
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