安徒生童話故事第87篇：沼澤王的女兒The Marsh King’s Daughter

　　引導語：安徒生童話故事《沼澤王的女兒》講述了赫爾伽由海盜女孩被青年教父所指導，而步入正軌的故事。下面是小編整理的中英文版本，歡迎大家閱讀!

　　鸛鳥講了許多故事給自己的孩子聽，都是關于沼澤地和洼地的事情。這些故事一般說來，都適合聽眾的年齡和理解力。最小的那些鳥兒只須聽聽“嘰嘰，喳喳，呱呱”，就感到有趣，而且還會認為這很了不起呢。不過年紀大點的鳥兒則希望聽到意義比較深的事情，或者無論如何與它們自己有關的事情。在鸛鳥之中流傳下來的兩個最老和最長的故事中，有一個是我們大家都知道的——那就是關于摩西的故事。他的母親把他放在尼羅河上，后來他被國王的女兒發現了，得到了很好的教養，終于成為一個偉大的人物①。他的葬地至今還沒有人知道。這個故事是大家都知道的。

　　第二個故事人們還不知道，可能因為它是一個本地故事的緣故，這個故事是幾千年來鸛鳥媽媽世代相傳下來的。它們一個比一個講得好�，F在我們可以把它講得更好了。

　　講這故事和親身參加這個故事的頭一對鸛鳥夫婦，住在一個威金人②木屋子里，把它當作它們夏天的別墅。這是在溫德素色爾的荒野沼澤地旁邊;如果我們要表示我們學識淵博，那就不妨說，這地方是在叔林③區的大沼澤地附近，在尤蘭極北的斯卡根一帶。那兒仍然是一片茫茫的沼澤。關于它的記載，我們可以在地方志中看到。據說這兒本來是海底，后來變得高起來了。它向四面擴展了許多英里，它的周圍是一片潮濕的草原和泥濘的沼澤地，上面長滿了能變成泥炭的青苔、野黃莓和矮小的樹。這地方的上空差不多老是有一層煙霧;70年以前，這兒還有豺狼出沒。把它叫做荒野的沼地是一點也不錯的。人們不難想象，它曾經是多么荒涼，它在一千年以前該有多少沼澤和湖水!

　　是的，那時候可以看到的東西，現在仍然可以看到，一絲也沒有改變。那時的蘆葦跟現在的一樣高，而且長著跟現在一樣長的葉子和開著藍而帶棕色的絨毛般的花。跟現在一樣，那時的樺木也長出白色的皮和細嫩的松散的葉子。至于住在那兒的生物，唔，蒼蠅穿的紗衣服，跟它現在穿的沒有兩樣。那時鸛鳥的上衣的顏色仍然是白中夾著黑點;襪子仍然是紅的。但是那時人們所穿的上衣，卻跟現在所穿的式樣不同;不過，無論誰在這泥濘的沼澤地上走過，不管他是獵人或者隨從，他在一千年前遭遇的命運，決不會與現在兩樣。他會陷下去，一直沉落到大家所謂的沼澤王那兒去。沼澤王統治著地下的那個廣大的沼澤帝國。人們也可以把他叫做泥地王，不過，我們覺得最好還是把他叫做沼澤王——鸛鳥也是這樣叫他的。人們對于他的統治，知道的并不多;可能這是一件好事情。

　　那個威金人的木房子就在沼澤地的附近，緊貼著林姆海峽、這房子有石建的地下室、尖塔和三層樓。鸛鳥在屋頂上建筑了一個窩;鸛鳥媽媽在這兒孵卵。它很有把握，認為它孵的卵一定會有良好的結果。

　　有一天晚上，鸛鳥爸爸在外面呆了很久。當它回到家里來的時候，它顯得很慌張和忙亂。

　　“我有一件非�？膳碌氖虑橐�告訴你!”它對鸛鳥媽媽說。

　　“讓它去吧!”它回答說。“‘請記住，我在孵卵呀。這會攪亂我，蛋會受到影響!”

　　“你應該知道這事情!”它說。“她——我們埃及主人的女兒——已經到這兒來了!她冒險旅行到這兒來——現在她卻不見了!”

　　“她，她是仙女的后代呀!快點告訴我吧!你知道，我在孵卵，我可受不了你這么吞吞吐吐呀!”

　　“你知道，媽媽，她一定相信了醫生的話——這是你告訴我的。她相信這兒沼澤地里的花可以把她父親的病治好。她穿著天鵝的羽衣，跟另外兩個天鵝公主一起飛來了。這兩個公主每年飛到北方來，洗一次澡，恢復她們的青春!她到這兒來了�，F在她卻不見了!”

　　“你有些太羅唆!”鸛鳥媽媽說。“這些蛋可能傷風呀。你把我弄得緊張起來，我可受不了!”

　　“我已經觀察過了!”鸛鳥爸爸說。“今晚我到蘆葦叢里去過一次——那兒的泥巴可以承受住我。那時飛來了三只天鵝。它們飛行的樣子似乎告訴我說：‘不對!這不太像天鵝;這只是天鵝的羽衣!’媽媽，你像我一樣，一看就知道;你知道什么東西是真的。”

　　“我當然知道!”它說。“不過快點把那個公主的事情告訴我吧!什么天鵝的羽衣，我已經聽厭了!”

　　“你知道，沼澤中央很像一個湖，”鸛鳥爸爸說。“如果你稍微立起一點，就可以看到一部分。在那兒蘆葦和綠泥巴的近旁，躺著一根接骨木樹的殘株。有三只天鵝坐在那上面;它們拍著翅膀，向四周觀察。其中有一只脫下羽衣;我馬上認出她就是我們埃及主人的公主!她坐在那兒，除了她的黑發以外，身上什么衣服也沒有穿。我聽到她請另外兩位好好看著她的天鵝羽衣;然后她就跳到水里去采她幻想中看見在那里開著的花朵。那兩位點點頭，飛到空中，把那脫下的羽衣銜起來。她們把它拿去干什么呢?我想。我想她可能也要問同樣的問題。她馬上得到了回答，而且很干脆：那兩位拿著她的天鵝羽衣飛走了!‘你沉下去吧!’她們喊著說;‘你將永遠也不能再穿著天鵝的羽衣飛，你將永遠也不能再看到埃及了!請你在沼澤地里住下吧!’于是她們就把天鵝羽衣撕成100塊碎片，弄得羽毛像暴風雪似地在四處亂飛。于是這兩位不守信義的公主就飛走了!”

　　“那真可怕!”鸛鳥媽媽說。“我聽到真難過!不過請趕快把結果告訴我吧。”

　　“公主傷心地哭著，真是可憐!她的眼淚滴到那根接骨木材的殘株上。這根殘株就動起來，因為它就是沼澤王本人——他就住在這塊沼澤地里!我親眼看見殘株怎樣一轉身就不再是殘株了。粘滿了泥土的長枝椏伸出來了，像手臂一樣。于是這個可憐的孩子就非常害怕起來，她想從這塊泥濘地里逃走。但是這塊地方連我都承受不住，當然更談不到她了，她馬上就陷下去，接骨木樹的殘株也沉下去了。事實上，是他把她拉下去了。黑色的大泡沫冒出來了;他們沒有留下一點痕跡。公主現在是埋到荒涼的沼澤地里去了，她永遠也不能再帶一朵花兒回到埃及去了。媽媽，你一定不忍心看到這情景的!”

　　“在這樣一個時候，你不該講這類事兒給我聽!這些蛋可能受到影響呀!那個公主會自己想辦法的!一定會有人來幫助她!如果這事情發生在你或我的身上，或者在我們家族的任何人身上，我們就統統都完了!”

　　“但是我要每天去看看會發生什么事!”鸛鳥爸爸說。它說得到就做得到。

　　很長的一段時間過去了。

　　有一天，它看到一根綠梗子從深深的沼澤地里長出來了。當它達到水面的時候，便冒出一片葉子來。葉子越長越寬;旁邊又冒出一個花苞來了。有一天早晨，當鸛鳥在梗子上飛過的時候，花苞在強烈的太陽光中開出一朵花來;花心里面躺著一個漂亮的孩子——一個好像剛剛洗完澡的小女孩。她很像埃及的那位公主——鸛鳥一看見就認為她是那位公主，不過縮小了一些罷了�？墒亲屑毾胍幌拢�它又覺得她很可能是公主跟沼澤王生的孩子，因此她才躺在睡蓮的花心里。

　　“她決不能老躺在那兒!”鸛鳥爸爸想。“不過我窩里的孩子已經不少了!我有了一個辦法!那個威金人的妻子還沒有孩子，她早就盼望有一個小家伙!人們說小孩子是我送來的;這一次我倒真的要送一個去了!我要帶著這孩子飛到威金人的妻子那兒去：那將是一件喜事!”

　　于是鸛鳥把這女孩抱起來，飛到那個木房子里去。它用嘴在那個鑲著膀胱皮的窗子上啄開一個洞，然后把孩子放在威金人的妻子的懷里。接著它就馬上飛到鸛鳥媽媽這邊來，把它所看到和做過的事情講給它聽。小鸛鳥們靜靜地聽這個故事，因為現在它們已經長得夠大，可以聽了。

　　“你看，公主并沒有死呀!她已經送一個小家伙到地面上來了，而且這小家伙現在還有人養!”

　　“我一開頭就說過，結果就會是這樣!”鸛鳥媽媽說。“現在請你想想你自己的孩子吧。我們旅行的時候快到了;我已經感到我的翅膀開始發癢了，杜鵑和夜鶯已經動身;我聽到鵪鶉說，一有順風，他們就走。我覺得，我們的孩子們一定得好好操練一下才對!”

　　嗨，威金人的妻子第二天早晨醒來，看見懷里有一個漂亮的孩子，她是多么高興呀，她吻她，摸她，但是孩子卻哭得厲害，用手臂和腿亂踢亂打，看樣子一點也不感到快樂。最后她哭得睡去了。當她睡著的時候，那副模樣兒才可愛呢。威金人的妻子真是高興極了，她感到非常愉快，非常舒服。于是她就幻想，她的丈夫和他的部下一定也會像這個小家伙一樣，某一天意外地回到家里來。

　　因此她就和全家的人忙著準備一切東西。她和她的女仆人所織的彩色長掛毯——上面有他們的異教神祗奧丁、多爾和佛列亞④的像——也掛起來了;奴隸們把那些作為裝飾品的舊盾牌也擦亮了;凳子上放好了墊子：堂屋中間的火爐旁邊放好了干柴，以便火隨時就可以點起來。威金人的妻子親自安排這些事情，因此到天黑的時候她就很困了。這天晚上她睡得很好。

　　她在天明前醒來的時候，真是驚恐極了，因為孩子已經不見了!她跳下床來，點起一根松枝，四處尋找。她發現在她的床腳頭有一只很丑的大青蛙，而沒有那個孩子。她一看到這東西就起惡心。于是她拿起一根粗棍子，想要把這兩棲動物打死。不過它用一種非常奇怪和悲哀的眼光望著她，結果她不忍下手。她又向屋子的四周望了一眼——青蛙發出一個低沉、哀哭的聲音。這使她打了一個寒顫。于是她從床邊一腳跳到窗子邊，立刻把窗子打開。這時太陽經出來了;陽光從窗子射到床上這只大青蛙的身上。忽然間，青蛙的大嘴仿佛在收縮，變得又小又紅;它的四肢在動，在伸、變成一個非�？蓯鄣纳�物。床上又是她自己可愛的孩子，而不再是一只奇丑的青蛙了。

　　“這是怎么回事情?”她說。“難道我做了一個噩夢不成?這不就是我的美麗的天使嗎?”

　　于是她吻她;把她緊緊地貼在自己的心上。不過這孩子像一只小野貓似地掙扎著，咬著。

　　威金人在這天和第二天的早晨都沒有回來，雖然他現在正是在回家的路上。風在朝相反的方向吹，朝有利于鸛鳥旅行的南方吹，一人的順風就是他人的逆風。

　　又過了兩天兩夜，威金人的妻子才弄明白她的孩子是怎么一回事：原來她身上附著一種可怕的魔力。在白天她美麗得像一個光明之女神，但是她卻有一個粗礦和野蠻的性格�？墒窃谕砩纤�就變成了一只丑惡的青蛙，非常安靜，只是嘆氣，睜著一對憂郁的眼睛。她身上有兩重不同的性格在輪流地變幻著。鸛鳥送來的這個小姑娘的外表在白天像母親，但是性情卻像父親。在晚間，恰恰相反，她父親的遺傳在她身體的外部表現出來，而她母親的性格和感情則主宰著她的內心，誰能把她從這種魔力中解放出來呢?

　　威金人的妻子為這件事感到焦慮和悲哀。她為這個小小的生物擔心。她覺得，在丈夫回來的時候，她不能把孩子的情況告訴他，因為他可能依照當時的習慣，把孩子放在公共的大路上，讓隨便什么人抱走。這個善良的威金女人不忍心這樣做，因此她就決定只讓威金人白天看到這個孩子。

　　有一天早晨，屋頂上響著鸛鳥拍翅的聲音。頭天晚上有100多對這類的鳥兒在操練.后來又在這兒休息;現在它們起身飛到南方去。

　　“所有的男子，準備!”它們喊著。“妻子和孩子們也要準備!”

　　“我真覺得輕快!”年輕的鸛鳥們說。“我的腿里發癢，好像肚皮里裝滿了活青蛙似的。啊，飛到外國去多么痛快啊!”

　　“你們必須成群結隊地飛行!”爸爸和媽媽說。“話不要講得太多，那會傷精神的!”

　　于是這些鸛鳥飛走了。。

　　在這同時，號角聲在荒地上響起來了，因為威金人和他的部下已經登岸了。他們滿載著戰利品，正向家里走來，這些戰利品是從高盧人的領海上劫掠來的。那兒的人，像住在不列顛的人一樣，在恐怖中唱：

　　上帝啊，請把我們從野蠻的諾曼人⑤手中救出來!

　　啊，在沼澤地上威金人的堡寨中，生活是多么活躍，多么愉快啊!大桶的蜜酒搬到堂屋里來了，火燒起來了，馬被斬了，這兒要熱鬧起來了。祭司把馬的熱血灑在奴隸們身上作為祭禮;火在熊熊地燒著，煙在屋頂下翻騰，煙灰從梁上落下來，不過這種情形他們早已經習慣了。許多客人到來了，他們得到許多貴重的禮物，他們之間的仇恨和惡意現在都忘掉了。他們痛快地喝酒，彼此把啃過的骨頭向對方臉上拋——這表示他們的高興。他們的歌手——他是一個樂師，也是一個武士——為他們唱了一首歌;因為他曾經和他們在一起，所以他們知道他唱的是什么。在這首歌里面，他們聽到他們的戰斗事跡和功勛。每一段歌的結尾都是同樣的疊句：

　　財富、敵友和生命都不能持久，

　　只有光榮的名字會永垂不朽。

　　他們擊著盾牌，或用刀子和骨頭敲著桌子。

　　威金人的妻子坐在寬廣的大廳里的十字凳上。她穿著綢衣服，戴著金臂環和大顆的琥珀珠：這是她最華貴的打扮。那個歌手在他的歌中也提到了她，并且還唱出她帶給她富有的丈夫的那些貴重的嫁妝。她的丈夫在白天的光中看到了這個可愛的孩子的美貌，感到萬分地高興。這個小生物的狂野動作特別討他的歡心。他說，這個女孩子長大的時候，可能成為一個堂堂的女英雄，敢于和巨人作戰，當一只熟練的手開玩笑地用快刀削掉她的眉毛的時候，她連眼睛都不眨一下。

　　蜜酒桶已經空了，新的一桶又運進來了，因為這群人一喝就要喝個痛快，而且他們能喝。那時有這樣一句諺語：“家畜知道在什么時候應該離開牧場，但是一個傻氣的人卻不知道他的胃能裝多少。”是的，他們知道，不過知和行卻是兩回事!他們也知道：“一個受歡迎的客人在人家坐久了，也會引起人家討厭的!”不過，他們仍然坐著不動，因為肉和蜜酒畢竟是好吃的東西!時間過得非常愉快!夜間，奴隸們睡在溫暖的灰里，舔著在油脂里浸過的手指。這是一個快樂的時代!

　　這一年，威金人又出征了，雖然晚秋的風暴已經開始在咆哮。他和他的武士們登上不列顛的海岸，照他的說法，這不過“只是過一次海”而已。他的妻子和那個女孩子留在家里。有一件事是可以肯定的：這位養母不久就會喜愛這只有溫柔的眼睛和發出嘆息的青蛙，勝過喜愛在她身邊打著、鬧著的那個漂亮女孩子。

　　秋天潮濕的濃霧——能夠把樹葉咬掉的“無嘴獸”——已經籠罩在灌木林和荒地上了。人們所謂的“沒有羽毛的鳥兒”——雪花——在紛亂地飛舞。冬天很快地到來了。麻雀占據了鸛鳥的窩;它們根據自己的看法，談論著那些離去了的主人。不過這對鸛鳥夫婦和它們的孩子現在在什么地方呢?

　　鸛鳥現在在埃及。那里太陽照得很暖和，正如這兒的晴朗的夏天一樣。附近一帶的羅望子樹和阿拉伯膠木已經開滿了花。穆罕默德的新月在清真寺的回屋頂上閃耀著;在那細長的尖塔上坐著許多對鸛鳥夫婦——它們做了一番長途旅行，現在正在休息。整群的鳥兒，在莊嚴的圓柱上，在倒坍的清真寺的拱門上，在被遺忘了的紀念碑上，筑了窩，這些窩一個接著一個地聯在一起。棗樹展開它的青枝綠葉，像一把陽傘�；野咨�的金字塔，在遙遠的沙漠上的晴空中聳立著，像大塊的陰影。在這兒，鴕鳥知道怎樣運用它們的長腿，獅子睜著巨大而靈敏的眼睛，注視著半埋在沙里的斯芬克斯大理石像，尼羅河的水位降低了;河床上全是青蛙——這景象，對鸛鳥的族人說來，是這國家里最值得看的東西。年輕的鸛鳥們以為這不過是視覺的幻影，因為這一切是太可愛了。

　　“這兒的情形就是如此。在我們溫暖的國度里，它永遠是這樣的!”鸛鳥媽媽說。小家伙們的肚皮馬上就覺得癢起來。

　　“還有什么別的東西可以看嗎?”它們問。“我們是不是還要飛向遙遠的內地去呢?”

　　“再也沒有什么別的東西可看了，”鸛鳥媽媽說。“這豐饒的地帶里現在只有莽莽的森林。那里面的樹木緊密地交織著，并且被多刺的爬藤連接在一起—一只有大象才能用粗笨的腳打開一條路。蛇對我們說來是太大了，而蜥蜴又太快了。假如你們要到沙漠里去，有一點兒風吹來，你們的眼睛便會塞滿了沙子;可是風猛刮起來的時候，你們可能被卷到沙柱⑥中去的。唉，最好還是待在這兒吧!這兒有的是青蛙和蝗蟲!我要在這兒住下來;你們也將要在這兒住下來!”

　　于是它們就住下來了。爸爸媽媽坐在一個尖塔頂上的窩里;休息了一會兒以后，它們就忙著理羽毛，在紅色的腿上磨嘴。

　　它們不時伸出頸項來，莊嚴地致敬禮，然后又把頭舉起來，露出高額角，展示美麗而柔滑的羽毛，射出聰明的光亮的棕色眼睛。年輕的女鸛鳥們在豐茂的蘆葦中高視闊步地走著，頑皮地瞧著別的年輕鸛鳥，交了一些朋友，每走三步就吞一只青蛙，或者用嘴銜著一條小蛇前后擺動——它們認為這東西對于它們的身體有益，而且味道很美。

　　年輕的男鸛鳥們開始吵鬧起來，用翅膀互相打著，用嘴互相啄著，有時甚至啄得流出血來。年輕的男鸛鳥和女鸛鳥就這么訂了婚。有時另一對也訂了婚。這就是它們生活的目的。于是它們就建筑一個新的窩，又開始新的吵鬧，因為在熱帶的國度里，人們的脾氣總是急躁的。不過這也很有趣，特別引起老年人的高興，因為自己的孩子所做的事情總是可愛的!這里每天都有太陽光，每天都有許多東西吃。它們除了娛樂以外，什么也不想。但是在它們埃及主人——它們這樣稱呼他——的宮殿里，愉快的事情可就沒有了。

　　那位富有的、威嚴的主人躺在床榻上;在這四壁五光十色的大廳里，他像一具木乃伊似的，僵直地伸展著四肢;看樣子，他像是躺在一朵郁金香里面一樣。他的家人和奴仆都站在他的周圍，因為他并沒有死，雖然人們不能肯定地說他是活著的。那朵產自北國沼澤地的，能治病的花兒，原是要由一個最愛他的女兒去采來送回家的;但是她永遠沒有送回來。他美麗的年輕女兒，穿著天鵝的羽衣，越過大海和陸地飛到那遙遠的北方去，以后永遠也沒有再回來。“她已經死了!”回來的那兩位天鵝姑娘報告說。她們編了一套完整的故事，內容是這樣的：

　　“我們三個人一起在空中高高地飛，一個獵人看到了我們，向我們射出話來。那箭射中了我們年輕的伙伴和朋友。她一邊唱著告別之歌，一邊就慢慢地落下來了。她作為一只要死的天鵝，落到樹林中的湖里去了。我們把地埋葬在湖岸旁的一株芬芳的、低垂的赤楊樹下。但是我們報了仇。燕子在那獵人的草屋頂下筑了一個窩;我們就在這燕子的翅膀下綁上了一把火。房子燒起來了;那個獵人就在房子里燒死了�；鸸庹盏胶�上，一直照到那株低垂的赤楊——她在赤楊樹根旁的泥土底下安息。她永遠也不能再回到埃及來了!”

　　這兩個人于是就哭起來。當鸛鳥爸爸聽到這個故事的時候，它的嘴就響起來，弄得很遠都可以聽得見。

　　“全是捏造的謊話!”它說。“我真想把我的嘴啄進她們的胸口里去!”

　　“可能會把你的嘴啄斷了!”鸛鳥媽媽說。“那時你的一副尊容才好看呢!你先想想自己和家庭吧!別的事情你都不用管!”

　　“不過明天早晨我要到那個圓屋頂上坐下來。學者和聰明人將要在那里集會，研究病人的情況：可能他們的結論比較更能接近真理。”

　　學者和聰明人都來了，講了許多話，許多高深的話;鸛鳥完全摸不著頭腦。而且這些話對于病人和在那個荒涼沼澤地的女兒也沒有什么好處。不過我們聽聽也沒有什么關系，因為在這個世界上我們得聽許多話。

　　不過把過去發生的事情再聽一次，了解清楚，也是完全應該的。這樣，我們就可以把整個事兒了解得更多一些，最低限度至少了解得和鸛鳥爸爸一樣多。

　　“愛產生生命!最高貴的愛情產生最美好的生命!只有通過愛才能把他的生命保住。”人們這樣說。那些學者說，這些話講得非常聰明，很有道理。

　　“這是一種非常好的想法!”鸛鳥爸爸立刻說。

　　“這話的意思我不太了解!”鸛鳥媽媽說。“而且這不能怪我，只能怪那個想法，不過讓它去吧，我有別的問題要考慮!”

　　那些學者討論著這種愛，那種愛，愛與愛之間的分別，鄰里之間的愛，父母和兒女之間的愛，植物和陽光之間的愛，太陽光怎樣吻著沼澤地，怎樣使嫩芽冒出來——這一切被闡釋得那么復雜和深奧，弄得鸛鳥爸爸完全沒有辦法聽懂，當然更談不上傳達出來了。學問把它壓得透不過氣來。它半閉著眼睛;第二天它若有所思地用一只腿立了一整天。這么多的學問，它真是負擔不了。

　　不過鸛鳥爸爸懂得一件事情：它聽到富貴貧賤的人都講出心里的話。他們說，這個病人躺下來，不能恢復健康;這對于成千成萬的人——對于整個國家——說來，是一樁極大的不幸。他們說，如果他能復元的話，那么大家都會感到快樂和幸福。“不過能使他恢復健康的那朵花兒，是生長在什么地方呢?”大家都探討過這個問題，查閱過高深的書籍，跟閃耀的星星，跟天氣和風探討過。他們探討過他們所能想到的種種法門。最后;學者和聰明人，正如我們已經說過的，都說：“愛產生生命——父親的生命”在這種場合之下，他們所說出的東西比他們所能理解的多。他們反復地說，并且開出藥方：“愛產生生命。”不過他們怎樣照這個藥方來準備這服藥呢?這時他們遇到了一個難題。

　　最后他們取得了一致的意見：只有全心全意愛她父親的那個公主能夠解決這個問題。他們后來想出了一個解決問題的辦法。是的，在這件事發生以前，許多年已經過去了：一天夜里，當新月正要落下去的時候，公主向沙漠里的大理石斯芬克斯像走去;她把石像基石入口前面的沙撥開，走過一條通向一個大金字塔的長廊。古代一個偉大的皇帝，躺在裝滿金銀財寶的木乃伊匣子里，就葬在這個金字塔里。在這里面，她把頭貼著死者，為的是要聽出在什么地方可以找到恢復父親的生命和健康的法寶。

　　這些事做完了以后，她做了一個夢：她必須到丹麥一塊很深的沼澤地去取回一朵蓮花，地點已經詳細地指點給她了。她可以用她的胸脯在深水里觸到這朵蓮花——它可以使她的父親恢復健康。

　　由于這個緣故，她才穿著天鵝的羽衣，飛出埃及，來到這荒野的沼澤地里來。這全部經過，鸛鳥爸爸和鸛鳥媽媽都知道得清清楚楚。現在我們也比以前知道得更詳細了。我們的沼澤王把她拖下去了;我們還知道，對于她家里的人說來，她算是永遠死掉了。他們中只有最聰明的人才像鸛鳥媽媽那樣說：“她會自己想辦法!”因此他們只有等待，因為他們再也沒有更好的辦法。

　　“我倒想把那兩個惡毒公主的天鵝羽衣偷走呢!”鸛鳥爸爸說，“好叫她們不能再飛到沼澤地去搗鬼。我將把那兩件天鵝羽衣藏起來，等到要用的時候再拿出來!”

　　“不過你打算把它們藏在什么地方呢?”鸛鳥媽媽問。

　　“藏在我們沼澤地的窩里!”他說。“我和我們年幼的孩子們可以一道把它們運走。如果這樣還有困難，我們可以在路上找到適當的地方把它們藏起來，直到我們下次旅行的時候再搬運。當然，那個公主只須有一件天鵝羽衣就夠了，但是有兩件也并不壞。在北國，人們總是不會嫌衣服多的。”

　　“誰也不會感謝你的!”鸛鳥媽媽說。“不過你是家長。與孵卵無關的事情，我都沒有意見!”

　　那個威金人的堡寨是在荒野沼澤地的近旁。在春天的時候，鸛鳥就向那兒飛去。人們替那個小女孩子起了一個名字，叫做赫爾珈。不過這個名字對于有這種脾氣和這種美貌的女子說來，是太柔和了。她的這種脾氣每過一個月就顯得更加突出。在幾年之內——在這期間，鸛鳥們往返做過好幾次同樣的旅行：秋天飛向尼羅河，春天飛回沼澤的湖地里來——這個小小的孩子就長成為一個大姑娘了。她在人們不知不覺之中變成了一個16歲的美女。雖然她的外表可愛，她的內心卻是非常殘暴，比那個艱苦、陰暗時代中的大多數人還要殘暴。

　　她喜歡把那為祭奠而殺死的馬的冒著熱氣的血，灑在她雪白的手上。在狂野中，她把祭司獻給神的一只黑公雞的頸項用牙齒咬斷。她一本正經地對她的養父說：

　　“你在睡著的時候，如果敵人到來，把繩子套在你的屋梁上、把你的屋子拉倒，我也不會喊醒你的，哪怕我有這個氣力也不會!我聽不見，因為你多少年以前，打在我耳朵上的巴掌，現在還在我的耳邊響!你知道，我永遠也忘記不了這件事!”

　　可是威金人不相信這話，因為他也像別的人一樣，被她的美迷住了。此外，他不知道脾氣和外貌是怎樣在小赫爾珈身上變幻著。

　　她騎馬可以不用馬鞍，好像她是生在馬身上似的。馬飛快地奔馳，她也不會掉下來，哪怕這匹馬跟別的馬在互相嘶叫、斗咬，她也不在乎。當威金人的船要靠岸的時候，她常常穿著衣服從懸崖上跳到海峽的波濤里，游過去迎接他。她把她美麗的長頭發剪下來，搓成弦裝在她的弓上。

　　“自己做的東西總是最好的!”她說。

　　照那個時代的標準，威金人的妻子是一個有堅強性格和意志的人。不過比起她的女兒來，她要算是一個軟弱和膽小的女人了。此外，她也知道，這個不幸的孩子身上附有一種魔力。

　　當她的母親站在走廊里或走進院子里來的時候，赫爾珈總是要故意惡作劇一番。她坐在井邊，擺動著手臂和腿。接著就一縱身跳到那個又窄又深的井里去。這時她青蛙的特性便使她下沉、上升，直到她最后像一頭貓似的又爬出來。她全身滴著水，走進大廳;落在地上的許多綠葉，在水滴里旋轉。

　　不過有一條線可以牽制住小赫爾珈，那就是黃昏的幽暗。在黃昏中，她就變得很安靜，很深沉;同時她也很容易接受使喚和指揮。這時某種內在的情感似乎把她吸向她的母親。太陽一下山，她的外表和內心就起著變化;于是她就安靜地、悲哀地坐著，收縮成為一只青蛙。的確，她的身體要比青蛙大得多，但她也就因此更難看。她的外表像一個長著青蛙頭和蹼的可憐的矮子。她的眼睛里露出一種非常陰郁的表情。她不能講話，只能像一個在夢中哭泣的孩子，發出一種空洞的呱呱聲。這時威金人的妻子就把她抱到膝上。她忘記了這種奇丑的外形，只是朝女兒那對悲哀的眼睛直望。她不只一次說過這樣的話：

　　“我倒希望你永遠是我可憐的青蛙啞巴孩子呢!你一變得美麗的時候，你的樣子就顯得更可怕。”

　　于是她寫出一些驅魔祛病的神秘文字，把它放在這可憐的孩子的身上，但是這并沒有產生出什么好的效果。

　　“誰也不會相信，她曾經是那么小，小得可以躺在一朵睡蓮的花瓣里!”鸛鳥爸爸說。“現在她長成為一個女人，跟她的埃及母親完全一模一樣。我們再也沒有看到這個母親!正如你和那最有學問的人的看法一樣，她完全不知道怎樣照料自己。我們年年在荒野的沼澤上空飛來飛去，但是從來沒有任何跡象表現出她仍然活在人間!是的，我現在可以告訴你，每年我比你先幾天到這兒來，修理窩和辦理許多其他事情。那時我就花一整夜工夫，像一只貓頭鷹或蝙蝠似的，在這湖上，在這廣闊的水上，飛來飛去，但是從來沒有得到一點結果。我和那幾個小家伙從尼羅河的國家運來那兩件羽衣，也就因此一直沒有機會使用。我們費了很大的勁，在三次旅行中把它們帶到這兒來�，F在它們墊在窩底上已經有好多年了。如果鬧起火災，把這座水房子燒掉了，那么羽衣也就完事了!”

　　“那么我們舒服的窩也就完事了!”鸛鳥媽媽說。“不過在這一點上，你動的腦筋似乎沒有比在什么羽毛衣、什么沼澤公主身上動得多!你最好還是鉆到泥巴里去，和她待在一起吧!自從我孵第一窩孩子的時候起，我就說過，對于你的孩子，你是一個最糟糕的父親。我只希望那個野蠻的女孩子不會在我們和我們孩子的翅膀上射一箭。她干起事情來是不考慮后果的。我希望她能想想：我們在這兒比她住得久!我們從來沒有忘記我們的義務：我們每年付出我們應該付的稅錢——一根羽毛、一個蛋、一只小雛。當她在外面蕩來蕩去的時候，你以為我像往時一樣，愿意走下來么?你以為我可以像在埃及那樣，成為那兒人們的一個玩伴，同時也不忘記我自己，偶爾朝罐子里和壺里東張西望一下嗎?不，我坐在這兒滿肚子都是生她的氣——她這個丫頭!我對你也生氣啦!你應該讓她躺在睡蓮里才好，讓她死掉才好!”

　　“你的心比你的嘴要慈善得多，”鸛鳥爸爸說。“我了解你，比你了解你自己要透徹得多!”

　　說完這話以后，它就跳了一下，重重地拍了兩下翅膀，把腿向后一伸，便飛走了——也可以說連翅膀都沒有動一下就滑走了。當它飛到相當遠的時候，就使勁地拍一下!太陽照在它白色的羽毛上;它把脖子和頭向前伸著!這表示它的速度和敏捷。

　　“它畢竟是一切鸛鳥中最漂亮的一只!”鸛鳥媽媽說，“但是這話我不愿意當它的面講!”

　　在這年秋天，威金人很早就帶著許多戰利品和俘虜回家來了。在俘虜之中有一個年輕的信仰基督的神甫;他是一個反對北歐異教神的人。

　　在那個時候，人們常常在客廳和閨房里談論著這個新的宗教。這個宗教正在所有的南方國家傳播，而且通過圣·安斯加里烏斯⑦已經傳播到斯里恩⑧的赫得埠去了。

　　連小赫爾珈也聽到了人們對這個白基督⑨的信仰。這個人為了愛人類，不惜犧牲自己的生命，來解救他們。不過對于她說來，正如俗話所說的，她只是一只耳朵進，一只耳朵出�？礃幼又挥挟斔�變成一只可憐的青蛙，待在一個緊閉的房間里的時候，才會懂得“愛”這個字的意義。不過威金人的妻子聽到過，而且還特別被那些在南方流傳著的、關于這個唯一真正上帝的兒子的故事和傳說感動過。

　　遠征回來的人也談起那些用昂貴的石頭為他所砌的許多壯麗的教堂——他這個傳播“愛”的人。他們帶回了兩個雕刻得很精致的、沉重的金容器，每只都發出特別的香氣，因為那都是香爐——基督的神甫在祭壇面前搖晃的香爐，在這祭壇面前流著的不是血而是酒;圣餐就是他的血——他為世世代代的后人所流的血。

　　這個基督的年輕的神甫被囚禁在威金人家里的陰森的石窖里;他的腳和手都被皮條綁著。威金人的妻子說，他非常好看，“簡直像巴爾都⑩!”他的不幸感動了她的心。不過年輕的赫爾珈說，他的腳應該用繩子捆住，然后再把他系在野牛的尾巴上。

　　“那么我就把狗放出來——好呀!讓它們在沼澤地和水潭上飛跑，向那荒地跑去!那才有趣呢!不過更有趣的是跟在這個人后面跑。”

　　但野蠻的威金人不愿意讓他這樣死去。他建議第二天把這神甫放在樹林里的處死石上。把他作為眾神的蔑視者和敵人，拿來活活地祭神。這將是第一次把一個活人獻給神。

　　年輕的赫爾珈要求親自把這犧牲者的血拿來灑在神像上和集會的人的身上。她磨快她那把明晃晃的刀子。當一只大惡狗——這樣的狗，威金人家里有的是——在她身邊跑過去的時候，她就把刀口捅進它的身體里去，“為了要試試這把刀子快不快!”她說。威金人的妻子悲哀地望著這個狂野和惡毒的女孩子。當黑夜到來，這個姑娘把美麗的形態換成了溫柔的心靈的時候，她就用溫暖的話語告訴赫爾珈說，在她心的深處她是感到多么悲哀。

　　這只外形古怪的丑青蛙，現在站在她的面前。她的棕色的、陰郁的眼睛盯著她的面孔，靜聽著她講話，仿佛她也有人的智力，能夠理解這些話似的。

　　“我從來沒有講過半個字，把我因為你而感到的痛苦告訴我的丈夫!”威金人的妻子說。“我心中對于你的憐憫比我自己能夠體會得到的要多得多。一個母親的愛是無邊際的!但是你的心里卻是一點愛的痕跡也沒有——你的心簡直像一塊寒冷的沼澤地!你從什么地方來到我家里的呢?”

　　于是這個可憐的怪物就奇怪地哆嗦起來，好像這句話觸動了聯系身體和靈魂的那根看不見的弦似的。大顆的淚珠在她的眼里亮著。

　　“你的艱苦的日子不久就會到來的!”威金人的妻子說。“對我說來，那也是一件可怕的事情!如果把你作為一個孩子放在大路上，讓夜風把你吹得睡去，那也許對于你是有好處的。”

　　威金人的妻子哭得流出悲痛的眼淚，懷著忿怒和苦痛的心情走開了。她走到那張掛在大梁上、把堂屋隔開的毛毯后面就不見了。

　　這只縮作一團的青蛙單獨蹲在一個角落里。周圍是一片深沉的靜寂;不過一種半抑制住的嘆息聲不時從她的胸中發出來。一種新的生命仿佛在痛苦中、在她心的深處萌芽了。她向前爬了一步，靜聽著。于是她又向前爬，用她笨拙的手握著那橫擱在門上的沉重的門閂。她靜靜地把門閂拉開，靜靜地把插銷抽掉。她把前房里那盞閃動著的燈拿起來。一種堅強的意志似乎使她鼓起了勇氣。她把地窖門上的鐵插銷取出來，然后輕輕地爬進囚室里去。他睡著了。她用冰冷和粘濕的手摸了他一下。他一睜開眼睛，看見這只奇丑可憎的動物的時候，就打了一個寒顫，好像看見了一個邪惡的幻象似的。她把刀子抽出來，割斷他的繩子.同時對他示意，叫他跟著她走。

　　他口中念出一些神圣的名字，同時劃了十字。這動物絲毫沒有改變它的形狀，于是他念出《圣經》上的話來：

　　“一個人能為窮困的人著想是有福的;在他困難的時候上帝就會救助他!⑾你是誰?你從什么地方得到這樣一個動物的形體的?但你卻是那么溫柔慈善!”

　　這個蛙形女子示意，叫他跟著她走。她領著他在掩蔽著他的帷簾后面，在一個靜寂無人的走廊上走，一直走到馬廄里去。她指著一匹馬給他看。他跳上馬，她也坐在他的面前，緊緊地抓住馬鬃。這囚徒懂得她的意思。他們趕著馬急速地奔上一條路——這條路他自己是決不會找得到的。他們向一塊廣闊的荒地上馳去。

　　他忘記了她丑惡的形體。他通過這個怪物的形象，感覺到上帝的仁慈和恩典。他虔誠地祈禱，虔誠地唱著贊美歌。這時她就發起抖來。難道是贊美歌和祈禱在她身上發生了作用，或者是那快要到來的寒冷的黎明，使她發抖嗎?她現在起了一種什么情感呢?她高高地站起來，想勒住馬，跳到地上。可是這位信仰基督的神甫用所有的氣力把她抱住，同時高聲地唱了一首圣詩，好像這就可以解除使她變成可憎的青蛙的那種魔力似的。馬更狂野地奔馳起來。天邊在發紅，初升的太陽從云塊里射出光彩。陽光一出現，青蛙也就變形了。赫爾珈又成了一個充滿邪惡精神的美女。他懷里抱著這樣一個絕美的姑娘，心中不禁感到非常驚駭。他跳下馬，把它勒住。他相信他現在又遇見了一種新的破壞性的魔力。不過年輕的赫爾珈也同時跳下馬來，站在地上。她身上的短短童裝只達到她的膝頭。她抽出腰間的快刀，跑到這位驚愕的神甫面前來。

　　“等著我吧!”她大聲說。“等著我吧，等著刀子捅進你身體里去吧!你簡直白得像草一樣!你這個奴隸!你這個沒有胡須的家伙!”

　　她逼近他。他們你死我活地斗爭著，不過上天似乎給了這個信仰基督的人一種看不見的力量。他牢牢地抱著她。他們旁邊的那株老櫟樹也來幫他的忙，因為它半露在地面上的根似乎要抱住這女孩子的腳——事實上已經把她纏住了。在他們附近有一股泉水在流動著。他把這新鮮的水灑到赫爾珈的臉上和頸上，命令那不潔的廢氣散開，同時依照基督的教規祝福她。可是這作為洗禮的水對于她不發生作用，因為信心的源泉還沒有從她內心里流出來。

　　但是，即使在這種情況下，他也表示出他的力量——他的行動產生一種超乎常人的力量，足以對付這種兇猛的魔氣。他的行動似乎降服了她：她垂下手，用驚奇的眼光和慘白的面孔望著他。在她看來，他似乎是一個知道一切秘密法術的、有威力的魔法師。他似乎在念那神秘的尤尼文⑿，在空中劃著魔術的符號!如果他在她面前揮著明晃晃的尖刀或利斧，她也決不會眨眼睛的。不過當他在她的眉間和胸口上劃著十字的時候，她就發起抖來，于是她就坐下來，垂著頭，像一只馴服的鳥兒一樣。

　　他溫柔地對她講起她頭天晚上為他所作的善行。那時她以一個面貌可憎的青蛙的形態向他走來，割斷他的羈絆，把他引向生命和光明的道路。他對她說，她被縛得比他還牢，但她也會和他一起走向生命和光明。他要把她帶到赫得埠去，帶到神圣的安斯加里烏斯那兒去。在這個城市里，他可以解除她身上的魔力。不過當他騎上馬、領著她走的時候，他不敢讓她坐在他前面，雖然她有這個意思。

　　“你應該坐在后面，不能坐在我的前面!”他說。“你的妖魁的美是從魔力中產生出來的——我害怕它。但是信心會使我得到勝利!”

　　于是他就跪下來，熱忱地祈禱著。

　　這時靜寂的山林仿佛變成了一個神圣的教堂。鳥兒開始唱著歌。好像它們也是新信徒中的一員。野薄荷發出香氣，好像就是龍涎香和供香。他高聲地念著福音：

　　“上天的光明現在降到我們身上，照著那些坐在黑暗中和死神的陰影里的人們，使他們走上安息的大道!”

　　于是他談起永恒的生命。當他正在講的時候，馱著他們沒命地奔馳的那匹馬也在一些高大的黑莓子下面停了下來，好使得那些成熟多汁的莓子落到小赫爾珈的手中，自動獻給她作為食品。

　　她耐心地讓神甫把她抱到馬上。她像一個夢游病者似地坐著，既沒有完全睡，也沒有完全醒來。這位信仰上帝的男子用樹皮把兩根枝子綁成一個十字架。他高高地把它舉起來，在森林中騎著馬向前走。他們越向前走，就發現樹木越濃密，簡直連路徑都找不到了。

　　路上長滿了野李樹，因此他們不得不繞著走。泉水沒有形成溪流，而是積成一潭死水。他們也得繞行過去。森林的涼風給人帶來了力量，令人神清氣爽。溫柔的話語也產生出同樣的力量——這些話語是憑信心、憑基督的愛、憑一種要把這迷途的孩子引到光明和生活的路上去的那種內心的渴望而講出來的。

　　人們說，雨點可以滴穿堅硬的石頭，海浪可以把石崖的尖角磨圓。滴到赫爾珈身上的慈悲的露水，也可以打穿她的堅硬，磨圓她的尖角。但是人們卻看不出效果;她自己也看不出來。不過埋在地里的種子，一接觸到新鮮的露水和溫暖的太陽光，知道不知道它身體里面已經有了生長和開花的力量呢?

　　同樣，母親的歌聲不知不覺地印在孩子的心里，于是孩子就喃喃地學著這些聲音，雖然孩子不懂得其中的意義。這些聲音后來慢慢代表一種思想，它的意義也就愈變愈清楚了。上帝的話語，也跟這一樣，能發揮出創造的力量。

　　他們騎著馬走出森林，走過荒地，然后又走進沒有路的森林。在黃昏的時候，他們碰到了一群強盜。

　　“你是從什么地方偷來這個漂亮的姑娘的?”強盜們吼著。他們抓住馬的僵繩，把這兩個人從馬上拉下來，因為他們的人數很多。神甫除了他從赫爾珈身上取來的那把刀子以外，沒有帶別的武器。他揮著這把刀子來保衛自己。有一個強盜舉起斧頭，但是這位年輕的神甫避開了，否則他就會被砍著了。斧頭深深地砍進馬的脖頸里，弄得血花四濺，這動物就倒在地上。這時小赫爾珈好像是從她長期夢境中醒轉來了似的，急忙跑過來，倒在這個正在斷氣的動物身上。神甫站在她面前作為她的護衛者來保護她，不過另一個強盜把一個鐵錘向這基督的信徒的腦袋上打來。他打得那么猛烈，血和腦漿噴滿一地。神甫倒在地上死了。

　　這些強盜抓住赫爾珈的白手臂。這時太陽已經下山了，最后一絲陽光也消失了，于是她又變成了一只丑惡的青蛙。她半邊臉上張著一個白而帶綠的嘴，手臂變得又細又粘，長著鴨掌的大手張開來，像一把扇子。強盜們見了害怕、便把她放了。她站在他們中間，完全是一個可憎的怪物。她顯出青蛙的特性，跳得比她自己還要高，隨后就在叢林中不見了。這些強盜認為這一定是洛基⒀或者別的妖魔在惡作劇。他們恐懼地從這地方逃走。

　　圓圓的月亮已經升起來了，發出美麗的光輝。小赫爾珈披著一身難看的青蛙皮，從叢林里爬出來;她站在神甫的尸體和被砍死的馬的尸體旁邊，用哭泣的眼睛望著他們。青蛙的腦袋里發出呱呱的聲音，好像一個孩子忽然哭起來似的。她一下倒在神甫身上，一下倒在馬身上。她那變得更空更大的長著繭的手，現在捧著水，灑在他們身上。這時她懂得了：他們已經死了，永遠也活不轉來。不久野獸就會走來，咬他們的尸體。不成!決不能讓這樣的事情發生。因此她就掘著土，能掘多深就掘多深。她要為他們挖一個墳墓。

　　但是除了一根堅硬的樹枝和一雙手以外，她再也沒有其他的器具，手指間長著的蹼被撕開了，流出血來。最后她看出她的工作不會有什么結果，于是就取些水來，把死人的臉洗了，然后把新鮮的綠葉蓋在他的臉上。她搬來一些大樹枝架在他的身上，再用枯葉填滿其中的空隙，又盡力搬了一些大石頭來壓在他身上，最后又用青苔把空處填滿。這時她才相信，墳墓是堅固和安全的。這一夜就是在這種艱苦的工作中過去的。太陽沖出了云層。美麗的小赫爾珈站在那兒，完全是一個美的形象。她的雙手流著血，紅潤的少女的臉上第一次出現淚珠。

　　在這種轉變之中，她的兩重性格仿佛就在她的內心里斗爭。她整個身體在顫抖著。她向四周望，好像她是剛從一個噩夢中醒來似的。她跑向那株瘦長的山毛接，緊緊地抱著它作為倚靠;不一會兒她忽然像一只貓似地爬到樹頂上，抓住它不放，她像一個受了驚的松鼠，坐在那上面。她在寂靜的樹林中這樣呆了一整天。這兒一切都是沉寂的，而且像人們說的那樣，沒有生命。沒有生命!但是這兒卻有兩只蝴蝶在飛，在嬉戲，或互相追逐。周圍有許多蟻穴——每一個穴里有無數忙碌的小居民在成群地走來走去。天空中飛舞著數不清的、一群一群的蚊蚋。嗡嗡的蒼蠅、瓢蟲、金色的甲蟲以及其他有翅膀的小生物也飛過來了。蚯蚓從潮濕的地里爬出來，鼴鼠也跑出來了。除了這些東西以外，四周是一片靜寂——正如人們所說的和所理解的一樣，死一般的靜寂。

　　誰也沒有注意到赫爾珈，只有幾群喜鵲在她坐著的那株樹頂上飛著，叫著，這些鳥兒，懷著大膽的好奇心，在她身旁的枝子上向她跳過來，不過只要她一眨眼，它們就逃走了。它們不理解她，她也不理解她自己。

　　薄暮時，太陽開始下沉。她變了形，又重新活躍起來。她從樹上溜下來。等到太陽最后的光線消逝了，她又成了一只萎縮的青蛙;她手上仍然長著撕裂了的蹼。不過她的眼睛射出美麗的光彩;這種光彩，當她有一個美麗的人體的時候，是不曾有過的。這是一對溫和的、虔誠的、少女的眼睛。它們雖然是長在青蛙的臉上，卻代表一種深沉的感情，一顆溫柔的心。這對美麗的眼睛充滿了眼淚，流出安慰人的、大顆的淚珠。

　　在她建造的那個墳墓旁邊仍然有著那個由兩根樹枝綁成的十字架——這是那個死者的最后的作品。小赫爾珈把它拿起來，這時心中想起了一件事情：她把它插在石頭中間，豎在神甫和死馬的上面。她的悲哀的回憶使得她又流出眼淚來。她懷著難過的心情，在墳墓周圍的土上劃出許多十字，像一道好看的圍墻，當她用手劃這些十字的時候，手上的蹼就像撕碎了的手套似地脫落下來了。當她在泉水里洗濯并驚奇地望著她柔嫩的手的時候，她又在死者和她之間的空中劃了一些十字。于是她的嘴唇顫抖起來，她的舌頭在動;那個神圣的名字——她在樹林里騎著馬的時候，曾聽見人唱過許多次，念過許多次——也在她的嘴上飄出來了。她念：“耶穌基督!”

　　青蛙的皮脫落了，她又成了一個美麗的少女。但是她的頭倦怠地垂下來;她的肢體需要休息，于是她便睡去了。

　　但是睡眠的時間是很短促的。到半夜的時候，她醒轉來了。那匹死了的馬現在站在她面前，生命的光輝從它的眼里和砍傷的脖子上射出來。它旁邊站著那個被殺害了的神甫。像威金女人說過的一樣，他比“巴爾都還要好看得多”。然而他仿佛是站在火焰的中央。

　　他溫厚的大眼睛射出一種莊嚴的光輝，一種正義而銳利的目光。這種目光似乎透進這個被考驗者的心中的每一個角落。小赫爾珈顫抖起來;她的記憶蘇醒過來了.好像是在世界末日的那天一樣。神甫為她做過的每一件事，對她說過的每一個充滿了愛的字眼，現在似乎都有了生命。她懂得了，在考驗的日子里，當泥土和靈魂所造成的生物⒁在斗爭和掙扎著的時候，愛在保護著她。她現在認識到了，她一直是在憑感情用事，沒有切實地為自己做過任何工作。她所需要的一切都有了，而且上天在指導她。她在這能洞察人心的神力面前卑微地、羞慚地垂下頭來懺悔。在這片刻間，她似乎看到了一道純潔的火焰。一道圣靈的光。

　　“你這沼澤的女兒!”神甫說。“你是從土里，從沼地里出生的。但是你將從土里重生。你身體里的太陽光——它不是從太陽里產生的，而是從上帝產生的——將要自動地回到它原來的地方去。沒有任何靈魂是不能得救的，不過把生命變成永恒卻要花很多的時間。我是從死人的國度里來的。你將也會走過深沉的峽谷，而到達光華燦爛的山國——在那里只有慈悲和圓滿。我不能領你到赫得埠去接受基督的洗禮。你得渡過淹沒那深沼澤的水，拔起那給你生命和使你發育的生命之根。你得做出實際的行動才能獲得超升。”

　　他把她抱起來，放在馬上，同時給她一個金香爐——這跟她在威金人家里所看到的那個香爐一樣，發出非常強烈的香氣。這個被殺害的神甫額上的那塊傷口發出光來，像一頂王冠。他把十字架從墳上拿起來，高高地舉起。于是他們就開始馳騁起來，越過簌簌響的樹林，越過和戰馬一起被埋葬掉的古代英雄的墳墓。這些威武的人物都站起來，也向前奔馳，直到后來在山丘上停下來。他們額上那個有金鈕扣的寬大的金環在月光中發著光，他們的披肩在夜風中飄蕩著�？词貙毑氐娘w龍抬起頭來，凝望著這些騎士。

　　山精和村精在山里，在田野的溝里窺看。它們舉著紅色的、藍色的和綠色的火炬，像燒過了的紙灰里的火星一樣，擁擠成為一團。

　　他們馳過山林和荒地，河流和池塘，一直來到這荒野的沼澤。他們在這上面繞著圈子奔馳。這位信仰基督的神甫高高地舉著十字架：它像金子似的發亮：他的嘴唇唱著彌撒。小小的赫爾珈也跟著他一起唱，像一個孩子跟母親唱一樣。她搖晃著香爐。一股神圣的、強烈的異香從它里面飄出來，使得沼澤地里的蘆葦和草都開出了花朵。所有的嫩芽都從深泥底里冒出來。凡是有生命的東西都立起來了。一朵大睡蓮，像繡花地毯一樣展開花瓣。這花毯上躺著一個年輕美麗的、睡著的女人。小赫爾珈以為她在這平靜的水上看到的就是她自己的倒影。但是她看到的正是她的母親——沼澤王的妻子：從尼羅河上來的那位公主。

　　那個沒有生命的神甫下命令，叫把這個昏睡的女人抱到馬背上來。不過馬兒卻被她的重量壓塌了，好像它的身體只不過是飄在風中的一塊裹尸布似的。但是那個神圣的十字架增強了這個縹緲的幽靈的氣力，所以這三個人又能從沼澤向堅實的地上奔來。

　　這時威金人堡寨里的雞叫起來，這些幽靈就在風中飄來的煙霧里消逝了。但是母親和女兒面對面站著。

　　“我在深水中看到的是我自己嗎?”母親問。

　　“我在那光滑的水上看到的東西，就是我自己嗎?”女兒大聲說。

　　于是她們走攏來，心貼著心擁抱著。母親的心跳得最快;她懂得其中的道理。

　　“我的孩子!我心中的一朵花!我的在深水里長出來的蓮花!”

　　她又把她的孩子擁抱了一次，然后就哭起來。對于小赫爾珈說來，這眼淚就是新生命和愛的洗禮。

　　“我是穿著天鵝的羽衣到這兒來的，后來我把它脫掉了!”母親說。“我沉到滑動的泥濘里去了，沉到沼澤的污泥里去了。污泥像一堵墻，牢牢地把我抱住。但是不久我就感到一股新鮮的激流，一種力量——它拉著我越沉越深。我感到我眼皮上沉重地壓著睡意。我睡過去了，在做夢。我仿佛覺得自己又躺在埃及的金字塔里，然而那根搖擺著的赤楊殘株——它曾經在沼澤的水面上使得我害怕——卻一直站在我的面前。我望著它樹皮上的裂紋;它們射出種種不同顏色的光彩;形成象形的文字：我所望著的原來是一個木乃伊的匣子。匣子裂開了，一位1000歲的老國王從里面走出來。他具有木乃伊的形狀，黑得像漆，發出類似樹上蝸牛或沼澤地的肥泥的那種黑光，究竟他是沼澤王，還是金字塔里的木乃伊，我一點也不知道。他用雙臂抱住我，我覺得自己一定會死去;只有當我感到胸口上有點溫暖的時候，才恢復了知覺，我的胸口上立著一只小鳥，它拍著翅膀，喃喃地唱著歌。它從我的胸口上飛走，向那沉重漆黑的頂蓋飛去，但是一條長長的綠帶仍然把它和我系在一起。我聽到、同時也懂得它渴望的聲調：‘自由啊!陽光啊!到我的父親那兒去!’于是我就想起住在那充滿了陽光的故鄉的父親、我的生活和我的愛。于是我解開這條帶子，讓鳥兒向我的住在故鄉的父親飛去。從這一點鐘起，我就再也不做夢了。我睡了一覺，很長很深沉的一覺，直到此刻和諧的聲音和香氣把我喚醒、把我解放為止!”

　　這條系著母親的心和鳥兒翅膀的綠帶子，現在飄到什么地方去了呢?它現在落到什么地方去了呢?只有鸛鳥看到過它。這帶子就是那根綠梗子，它上面的一個蝴蝶結就是那朵鮮艷的花——孩子的搖籃。孩子長成為一個美女，重新躺在她母親的心上。

　　當母女兩人緊緊地擁抱著的時候，鸛鳥爸爸就在她們上面盤旋。后來它就一直飛到自己的窩里去，它把它藏了許多年的那兩件天鵝羽衣送來，向她們每人擲下一件。羽衣緊緊地裹著她們，于是她們就以兩只白天鵝的形態，從地上向高空飛起來。

　　“現在我們可以談談話了!”鸛鳥爸爸說，“我們現在能夠彼此了解，雖然我們嘴的形狀不大相同。你們今天晚上來了，這是再幸運不過的事情。明天我們——媽媽，我自己和孩子們——就要走了!我們要回到南方去!是的，請你們看看我吧!我是從尼羅河國度來的一個老朋友呀;媽媽也是一樣——它的心比它的嘴要慈善得多。它一直在說，公主會有辦法解救自己的;我和孩子們把天鵝的羽衣運到這兒來�？龋�我是多么高興啊!我現在還在這兒，這是多么幸運啊!天一亮，我們就要從這兒飛走，我們這一大群鸛鳥!我們在前頭飛，你們在后面飛，這樣你們就不會迷路了。當然，我和孩子們也會照顧你們的!”’

　　“還有那朵蓮花，我也得帶著，”這位埃及的公主說、“她也穿上天鵝的羽衣，和我一道飛!我把這朵心愛的花帶走，這樣一切問題就解決了。回家去啊!回家去啊!”

　　不過，赫爾珈說，她得先去看看她的養母——那個慈愛的威金女人，否則她就不愿離開丹麥這個國家了，關于她養母的每一個甜蜜的記憶，每一句慈愛的話，和養母為她所流的每一滴慈愛的眼淚，現在都回到她的心上來了。在這個時刻，她仿佛覺得她最愛的就是這個威金女人。

　　“是的，我們必須到威金人的家里去一趟!”鸛鳥爸爸說。“媽媽和孩子們都在那兒等我們!他們該會把眼睛睜得多么大，把翅膀拍得多么響啊!是的，你看，媽媽現在不喜歡羅唆了——媽媽的話總是簡單明了，而且用意是很好的!我馬上就要叫一聲，好讓它們知道我們來了!”

　　鸛鳥爸爸嘴里弄出一個聲音。于是它和天鵝們就向威金人的堡寨飛去。

　　堡寨里的人還在熟睡。威金人的妻子是睡得最晚的一個，因為赫爾珈跟那個信仰基督的神甫在三天以前失蹤了，她心里非常焦急。一定是赫爾珈幫助他逃跑的，因為她拴在馬廄里的一匹馬不見了。一種什么力量使這樣的事情發生的呢?威金女人思量著她所聽到的關于那個白衣基督的奇跡和那些信仰他、追隨他的人。她的這些思想在夢里變成了事實。她仿佛覺得她仍然是睜著眼睛坐在床上思索，外面是漆黑一團。大風暴逼近來了：她聽到海中的巨浪在北海和卡特加海峽之間一下滾向東，一下滾向西。那條在海底下把整個地球盤著的巨蛇，現在在痙攣著。她夢見眾神滅亡的那一個晚上到來了;異教徒所謂的末日“拉格納洛克”⒂到來了：在這天，一切東西就要滅亡，甚至那些偉大的神祗也要滅亡。戰斗的號角吹起來了;眾神騎在虹上，穿著銀甲，要作最后一次戰斗。長著翅膀的女神⒃在他們前面飛;最后面跟著的是陣亡戰士的幽靈。在他們周圍，整個天空閃耀著北極光，然而黑暗仍然占著優勢。這是一個可怕的時刻。

　　在這驚恐的威金女人的身旁，小赫爾珈以可憎的青蛙的形態出現，坐在地上。她緊貼著她的養母，全身在發抖。這女人把她抱在膝上;雖然她的青蛙皮是難看極了，卻仍然親熱地擁抱著她�？罩邪l出棍棒和劍的回音，箭在噓噓地四射，好像天上有一陣冰雹要向她們打下來似的。這一時刻到來了：地球和天空要爆炸，星星要墜落，一切東西將要被蘇爾特的火海所吞沒。不過她知道，一個新的世界和新的天空將要出生;在海浪沖洗著的這一片荒涼的沙地上，泛著金黃色的麥田將要出現;一個不知名的上帝將會來統治著;從死者的王國里解救出來的那個溫和、慈愛的巴爾都將向他走去。他到來了。威金女人看到他，認出他的面孔——這就是那個信仰基督的、被俘的神甫。

　　“白基督!”她大聲地喊。在念出這個名字的同時，她吻了這個難看的青蛙孩子的前額。于是她的青蛙皮就脫落掉了，小赫爾珈現出了她全部的美;她的眼睛射出亮光，她從來沒有像現在這樣溫柔可愛，她吻了養母的手，為了她在那艱苦的受考驗的日子里所給予她的愛和關懷。她祝福她，她感謝她，為了她在她心中啟發了一個思想，為了她告訴了她一個她現在常常念的名字：“白基督”。于是美麗的赫爾珈變成了一只莊嚴的天鵝，飛起來。她展開雙翼，發出像一群候鳥掠過高空時的聲音。

　　威金女人這時醒過來了，外面的拍翅聲仍然可以聽得見。她知道，這正是鸛鳥離去的時候;她知道，她聽到的就是它們的聲音。她希望再看到它們一次，在它們動身的時候和它們說聲再會!因此她就站起來，走到陽臺上去。她看到鸛鳥在鄰屋的屋脊上一行一行地排列著。成群的鸛鳥在樹頂上，在庭院的上空盤旋著。不過在她的對面，在那口井邊——小赫爾珈常常坐在那邊，做出野蠻的樣子來恐嚇她——有兩只天鵝在用聰明的眼睛朝她望。于是她就記起了她的夢——這夢仍然在她的腦海中縈繞著，像真事一樣。她在想著變成了天鵝的小赫爾珈，她在想著那個信仰基督的神甫。于是她心里感到一種稀有的愉快。

　　那些天鵝拍著翅膀，彎下脖子，好像是在向她致敬。威金人的妻子向它們伸開雙臂，好像她懂得它們的意思。她噙著眼淚微笑，想起了許多事情。

　　所有的鸛鳥都升到空中，拍著翅膀，嘴里咯咯地響著，一齊向南方飛行。

　　“我們不再等待天鵝了，”鸛鳥媽媽說。“如果她們要同我們一道去，那最好馬上就來!我們不能等在這兒讓鷸鳥飛在我們前面。像我們這樣的整個家庭在一起飛要漂亮得多;不要像鷸鳥和千鳥那樣，男的在一邊飛，女的在另一邊飛——老實講，那太不像樣了!那兒的天鵝又在拍著翅膀干什么呢?”

　　“每一種鳥兒部有自己飛行的方式，”鸛鳥爸爸說。“天鵝成一條斜線飛，白鶴成一個三角形飛，鷸鳥成一個蛇形飛!”

　　“當我們在高空飛的時候，請不要提起蛇來吧!”鸛鳥媽媽說。“這只會叫我的小家伙們嘴饞，而又吃不到口!”

　　“這就是我所聽說過的那些高山嗎?”穿著天鵝羽衣的赫爾珈問。

　　“那是浮在我們下面的暴風雨的云塊，”媽媽說。

　　“那些升得很高的白云是什么呢?”赫爾珈問。

　　“你所看到的，是覆蓋著永不融化的積雪的高山，”媽媽說。

　　它們飛過高大雄偉的阿爾卑斯山脈，向蔚藍的地中海前進。

　　“非洲的陸地!埃及的海灘!”穿著天鵝羽衣的尼羅河的女兒歡呼著。這時她在高空中看到一條淡黃色的、波浪形的緞帶——她的祖國。

　　其他的鳥兒也都看到了這一情景，所以它們加快速度飛行。

　　“我已經能嗅到尼羅河的泥土和濕青蛙的氣味!”鸛鳥媽媽說。“這真叫我的喉嚨發癢!是的，現在你們可以嘗到一點了。你們將會看到禿鸛⒄、白鶴和朱鷺!它們都是屬于我們這個家族的，雖然它們一點也不及我們漂亮。它們喜歡擺架子，特別是朱鷺。它被埃及人慣壞了，他們把它裝滿香料，做成木乃伊。我自己倒是愿意裝滿青蛙呢;你們也會是這樣的，而你們也將做得到!與其死后大排場一番，倒不如活著時吃個痛快。這是我的看法，而我永遠是對的!”

　　“現在鸛鳥飛來了，”住在尼羅河岸上的那個富有的家庭里的人說。那位皇族的主人，在華麗的大廳里，躺在鋪著豹皮的柔軟的墊子上。他既沒有活，也沒有死，只是等待那從北國的沼澤地里采來的蓮花。他的親屬和仆人都守候在他的周圍。

　　這時有兩只美麗的白天鵝飛進廳堂里來了。它們是跟鸛鳥一起來的。它們脫掉光亮的羽衣，于是兩個美麗的女子就出現了。她們兩人的外貌一模一樣，像兩顆露珠。她們對這衰老的、慘白的老人彎下腰來，把她們的長頭發披在腦后。當赫爾珈彎下腰來望著她的外祖父的時候，他的雙頰就發出紅光，他的眼睛就有了光彩，他僵硬的四肢就獲得了生命力。這位老人站起來，變得年輕而又健康。女兒和外孫女把他緊緊地擁抱著。好像她們做了一個很長的噩夢，現在來祝他早安。

　　整個的宮廷里現在充滿了快樂。那只鸛鳥的窩里也充滿了快樂，不過主要是因為窩里現在有了很好的食物——數不清的青蛙。這時那些學者們就忙著記下關于這兩位公主和那朵能治病的花的簡要歷史。對于這個家庭和這個國家說來，這是一件幸福的大事。那對鸛鳥夫婦按照自己的一套方式把這故事講給它們的家族聽，不過它們得先吃飽，否則它們寧愿做點別的事情而不愿聽故事。

　　“嗯!你到底成為一個人物了!”鸛鳥媽媽低聲說。“這是不用懷疑的了!”

　　“咳，我成了什么人物呢?”鸛鳥爸爸問。“我做了什么呢?什么也沒有做!”

　　“你做的事情比任何人都多!沒有你和孩子們，那兩位公主恐怕永遠也看不到埃及了，也治不好那個老人的病了。你是一個了不起的人!你一定會得到一個博士學位，我們未來的孩子和孩子們的孩子將會繼承它、一代一代地傳下去，你的樣子很像一個埃及的博士——起碼在我的眼中是如此!”

　　學者和聰明人把貫串這整個事件的那個基本概念——他們這樣叫它——又向前發展了一步。“愛產生生命”——他們對這句話各人有各人的解釋。“這位埃及的公主是溫暖的太陽光;她下降到沼澤王那里去。他們的會合就產生了那朵花——”

　　“那段話我不能完全傳達出來!”鸛鳥爸爸說。它把它在屋頂上聽見的話;現在在窩里傳達出來。“他們講得那么深奧，那么聰明和有學問，所以他們馬上就得到了學位和禮品：甚至那個廚師長也受到了特別的表揚——可能是因為他的湯做得好的緣故。”

　　“你得到了什么呢?”鸛鳥媽媽問。“無疑，他們不應該把最重要的人物忘記，而重要的人物當然就是你呀!那批學者只是空口講白話。不過你無疑會得到你應該得到的東西的!”

　　在深夜，當那個幸福的家正在安靜地睡眠的時候，有一個人仍然醒著。這不是鸛鳥爸爸，雖然它是用一只腿站在窩里，似睡非睡地守望著。不，醒著的是小赫爾珈。她在陽臺上向前彎著腰，朝晴空里望。晴空里的星星又大又亮，它們的光彩比她在北國所看到的要大得多，晶瑩得多，但它們仍然是一樣的星星。她想起住在荒野沼澤地上的那個威金女人，想起她養母的溫柔的眼睛，想起這個慈愛的女人為那個可憐的青蛙孩子所流的眼淚——這個孩子現在立在美麗的明星下面，沐浴著尼羅河上的舒暢的春天空氣。她想起這個異教徒女人心中蘊藏著的愛。那個可憐的生物——它變成人的時候是一個可惡的動物，變成動物的時候樣子可憎，誰也不敢接近它——曾經得到了這種愛。她望著那閃耀著的星星;她記起那個死人額上射出的光輝。那時她跟他一起馳過樹林和沼澤地。聲音現在回到她的記憶中來了：她聽到他所講的話語——從愛的偉大源泉中發出的、擁抱著一切生物的話語。那時他們正在向前奔馳，她像著了魔似地坐在他前面。

　　是的，什么都獲得、爭取和贏到手了!小小的赫爾珈日日夜夜沉浸在深思之中——沉思她一切幸福的成果。她站在那兒沉思，就像一個孩子從贈送禮物給她的人面前急忙掉轉身來，去看她所得到的禮品——精美的禮品。在這不斷增長的幸福中，她似乎完全忘記了自己;這種幸�？赡艿絹�，而且一定會到來。的確，她曾經被奇跡帶到不斷增長的快樂和幸福中去過。有一天她完全沉醉到這種感受中去，甚至把幸福的賜予者也完全忘記了。這是因為她年少氣盛，所以才變得這樣荒唐!她的眼睛里露出這種神氣。這時她下面的院子里發生了一個巨大的響聲，把她從漫無邊際的思想中拉回來，她看到兩只巨大的鴕鳥在繞著一個小圈子跑。她以前從來沒有看見過這種動物——這樣龐大的鳥兒，這樣又笨又重，好像它們的翅膀被剪掉了似的。這兩只鳥兒似乎曾經受過傷害。因此她就問這究竟是怎么一回事情。這時她第一次聽到埃及人講到關于鴕鳥的故事。

　　鴕鳥曾經是一種漂亮的鳥兒，翅膀又大又強。有一天晚上，森林里強大的鳥兒對鴕鳥說：“兄弟，只要上帝準許，我們明天飛到河邊去喝水好嗎?”鴕鳥回答說：“好吧。”天明的時候，它們就起飛了。起初它們向太陽——上帝的眼睛——飛，越飛越高。鴕鳥遠遠地飛到別的鳥兒前面去了。鴕鳥驕傲地一直向太陽飛。它夸耀自己的氣力，一點也沒有想到造物主，也沒有想到這句話：“只要上帝準許!”這時懲罰的安琪兒忽然把掩著太陽的火焰的帷慢拉開。不一會兒，這只驕傲的鳥兒的翅膀就被燒焦了，于是它就悲慘地落到地上來。從那時起，鴕鳥和它的族人就再也不能飛起來了;它只能膽怯地在地上跑，繞著一個小圈子跑。這對于我們人類是一個警告，使我們在一切思想中，在一切行為中，要記起“只要上帝準許”這句話。

　　赫爾珈深思地垂下頭來，望著那跑著的鴕鳥，望著它的害怕的神情，望著它看到自己粗大的影子射到太陽照著的白墻上時產生的一種愚蠢的快感。她心中和思想中起了一種莊嚴的感覺，她已經被賜予了和獲得了豐富的生活和不斷增長的幸福。還有什么會發生呢?還有什么會到來呢?最好的東西是：“只要上帝準許!”

　　當鸛鳥在早春又要向北方飛去的時候，小小的赫爾珈把她的金手鐲脫下來，把自己的名字刻在上面，對鸛鳥爸爸招手，把這金圓環戴在它的頸項上，請求它帶給威金女人，使她知道自己的養女現在生活得很好，而且沒有忘記她。

　　“這東西戴起來太重了，”鸛鳥爸爸把金圓環戴到頸項上的時候想。“但是金子和榮譽是不能隨便扔到路上去的!鸛鳥帶來幸運;那兒的人們不得不承認這個事實!”

　　“你生下金子，我生下蛋!”鸛鳥媽媽說。“不過這類事兒你只是偶爾做一次，而我卻是年年生蛋。不過誰也不感謝我們——這真是太豈有此理!”

　　“不過我們自己心里知道呀，媽媽!”鸛鳥爸爸說。

　　“但是你不能把它戴在身上，”鸛鳥媽媽說。“它既不能給你順風，也不能給你飯吃。”

　　于是它們就飛走了。

　　在羅望子村里唱著歌的那只小夜鶯，很快地也要飛到北國去。小小的赫爾珈以前在那塊荒涼的沼澤地也聽到過它的歌聲。她現在也要它帶一件消息，因為當她穿著天鵝羽衣飛行的時候，她已經學會了鳥類的語言：她常常跟鸛鳥和燕子談話，夜鶯一定會懂得她的。因為她請求這只小鳥飛到尤蘭半島上那個山毛櫸樹林里去。她曾經在那兒用石頭和樹枝建造了一個墳墓。她請求夜鶯告訴一切別的小鳥在這墳墓周圍做窩，并且經常在那兒唱歌。

　　于是夜鶯便飛走了——時間也飛走了!

　　一只蒼鷹站在金字塔的頂上，望見秋天里的一群雄壯的駱駝，背著很多的東西。和它們一道的是一群服裝華麗的武士。他們騎在噴著鼻息的阿拉伯的駿馬上。這些白馬兒像銀子似地發亮，它們紅色的鼻孔在顫抖著，它們密密的馬鬃鋪到細長的腿上。華貴的客人們和一位阿拉伯的王子——他具有一個王子絕頂的美貌——現在朝這個豪華的大廳里走來。這屋子上面的鸛鳥窩都已經空了。因為住在窩里的主人都飛到遙遠的北國去了，但是它們不久就要回來的。的確，在這豪華、快樂、高興的一天，它們回來了。這兒一個婚禮正在進行。新嫁娘就是小小的赫爾珈;她身上的珍珠和絲綢射出光彩。新郎是阿拉伯的一位年輕工子。新郎和新娘一起坐在桌子的上端，坐在母親和外祖父之間。

　　但是她的視線并沒有集中在這新郎英俊的、棕色的、留著黑色卷須的面孔上。她也沒有看著他那雙凝視著她的、火熱的、深沉的眼睛。她正在朝上面望，望著天上照著的一顆明星。

　　這時空中發出一陣強健的翅膀的拍擊聲。鸛鳥們飛回來了。那對年老的鸛鳥夫婦，不管旅行得多么困倦，也不管多么需要休息，卻一直飛到陽臺的欄桿上來，因為它們知道，人們是在舉行一個多么盛大的宴會。它們在飛入這個國家的國境的時候，就已經聽說赫爾珈曾經把它們的像繪在墻上——因為它們也成了她的歷史的一部分。

　　“這倒想得很周到!”鸛鳥爸爸說。

　　“但是這所費有限!”鸛鳥媽媽說。“他們不可能連這點表示都沒有。”

　　赫爾珈一看到它們就站起來，走到陽臺上去，撫摸著鸛鳥的背。這對老夫婦垂下頭來。那些年輕的鸛鳥呆呆地在旁邊望著，也感到榮幸。

　　赫爾珈又抬起頭來望了望明亮的星星，星星的光顯得比以前更亮。在星星和她之間飄著一個比空氣還要純潔的形體，但是可以看得見。它在飄來了。這就是那個死去了的信仰基督的神甫。他也是來參加她的婚禮的——從天國里來的。

　　“天上的光華燦爛，超過地上所有的一切美景!”他說。

　　美麗的赫爾珈溫柔地、誠懇地祈求——她從來沒有這樣祈求過——準許她向天國望一眼，向天父望一眼，哪怕一分鐘也好。

　　于是他把她在和諧的音樂和思想的交流中帶到光華燦爛的景象中去。現在不僅在她的周圍是一片光明和和諧的音樂，而且在她的內心里也是這樣。語言無法把這表達出來。

　　“現在我們要回去了;客人在等著你!”他說。

　　“請再讓我看一眼吧!”她要求著。“只看短短的一分鐘!”

　　“我們必須回到人間去，客人都快要走光了。”

　　“請再讓我看一眼——最后一眼吧!”

　　美麗的赫爾珈又回到陽臺上來。但是屋子外面的火炬已經沒有了，洞房里的燈也滅了，鸛鳥也走了，客人也不見了，新郎也沒有了，一切在瞬息間都消逝了。

　　赫爾珈的心里這時起了一陣恐怖。她走過空洞的大廳，走進旁邊的一個房間里去。這兒睡著一些陌生的武士。她打開一個通到自己臥房的房門。當她正以為她在走進自己的房間里的時候，忽然發現自己是在花園里面。這里的情況和剛才的完全不一樣。天空中現出了朝霞，天快要亮了。

　　在天上過的三分鐘，恰恰是地上的一整夜!

　　于是她看到了那些鸛鳥。她喊著它們，用它們的語言講話。摑鳥爸爸把頭抬起來，聽著她講，然后便向她走近來。

　　“你講我們的語言!”它說。“你想要什么呢?你為什么在這兒出現呢——你，陌生的女人?”

　　“是我呀!——是赫爾珈呀!你不認識我么?三分鐘以前我們還在陽臺上一起講話呀!”

　　“那是一個誤會!”鸛鳥說。“你一定是在做夢!”

　　“不是，不是!”她說。于是她就提起威金人的堡寨，沼澤地和回到這兒來的那次旅行。

　　鸛鳥爸爸眨了眨眼睛，說：“那是一個老故事。我聽說它發生在我曾祖母的曾祖母的那個時代里!的確，在埃及曾經有過那樣一個公主;她是從丹麥來的，不過她在結婚那天就不見了，以后就再也沒有回來，那是好幾百年以前的事!你自己可以在花園的石碑上讀到這個故事。那上面刻著天鵝和鸛鳥;石碑頂上就是你自己的大理石像。”

　　事情的經過就是如此。赫爾珈看見它，了解它。她跪下來。

　　太陽出來了。像在遠古的時代里一樣，青蛙一接觸到它的光線就不見了，變成一個美麗的人形。現在在太陽光的洗禮中，同樣一個美麗的、比空氣還要純潔的人形——一條光帶——向天上飄去!

　　她的身體化作塵土。赫爾珈站過的地方，現在只剩下一朵萎謝了的蓮花。

　　“這就是那個故事的一個新的結尾，”鸛鳥爸爸說。“我的確沒有想到!不過我倒不討厭它。”

　　“不過我們的孩子們對它會有什么意見呢?”鸛鳥媽媽問。

　　“是的，這倒是一個重要的問題!”鸛鳥爸爸說。

　�、俑鶕�古代希伯萊人的傳說，猶太人摩西生在埃及。那時埃及的國王，為了要消滅猶太種族，下命令說：凡是猶太人生下的男孩子都要殺死。摩西的母親因此就把摩西放在尼羅河上的一個方舟里。埃及國王的女兒看到這個美麗的孩子，就把他收來作為養子。他后來帶領猶太民族離開埃及到迦南去開始新的生活。事見《圣經·舊約全書·出埃及記》。

　　②威金人(Viking)是最先住在北歐的好戰的民族，被稱為北歐海盜，他們在第八世紀和第九世紀征服過英國，并曾在愛爾蘭建立一個王國。

　�、凼辶�(Hjoring)是現在丹麥的一個縣。

　�、苓@都是古代北歐神話中的神仙，與基督教無關。

　�、葸@是古代土著的北歐人，經常到法國和英國從事擄掠的活動。

　�、奚持�是沙漠中被旋風卷起成柱子形狀的沙子。

　�、呤�·安斯加里烏斯(St Ansgariu，801-865)是第一個到丹麥、瑞典和德國去宣傳基督教的神甫，他是法蘭克人。

　　⑧斯里恩(Slien)是德國普魯士境內位于波羅的海的一個海灣。

　　⑨即宣傳基督的教義的神甫，因為他穿著白色的長袍。

　�、獍蜖柖�(Baldur)是北歐神話中光明之神，他是一個美男子。

　�、弦姟妒ソ�·舊約全書·詩篇》第四十一篇第一節。通行中譯本中譯為：“眷顧貧窮的有福了，他遭難的日子，耶和華必搭救他。”

　�、羞@是北歐古時的一種文字。

　　⒀洛基(Loki)是北歐神話中的一個神仙。

　�、覔�基督教《圣經》上說，人是上帝用泥巴照自己的形狀捏成的，然后再把靈魂吹進去，使它有生命。見《舊約·創世紀》第一章。

　�、�“拉格納洛克”(Raglarok)是北歐神話中的神的末日。這時神的敵人蘇爾特(Surt)來與神作戰。戰爭結束后整個舊世界都被燒毀。

　�、�“女神”，在北歐神話中是一群決定戰爭勝負的女神。

　�、者@是產于非洲和東印度的一種鳥。

 

　　沼澤王的女兒英文版：

　　The Marsh King’s Daughter

　　THE storks relate to their little ones a great many stories, and they are all about moors and reed banks, and suited to their age and capacity. The youngest of them are quite satisfied with “kribble, krabble,” or such nonsense, and think it very grand; but the elder ones want something with a deeper meaning, or at least something about their own family.

　　We are only acquainted with one of the two longest and oldest stories which the storks relate—it is about Moses, who was exposed by his mother on the banks of the Nile, and was found by the king’s daughter, who gave him a good education, and he afterwards became a great man; but where he was buried is still unknown.

　　Every one knows this story, but not the second; very likely because it is quite an inland story. It has been repeated from mouth to mouth, from one stork-mamma to another, for thousands of years; and each has told it better than the last; and now we mean to tell it better than all.

　　The first stork pair who related it lived at the time it happened, and had their summer residence on the rafters of the Viking’s1 house, which stood near the wild moorlands of Wendsyssell; that is, to speak more correctly, the great moorheath, high up in the north of Jutland, by the Skjagen peak. This wilderness is still an immense wild heath of marshy ground, about which we can read in the “Official Directory.” It is said that in olden times the place was a lake, the ground of which had heaved up from beneath, and now the moorland extends for miles in every direction, and is surrounded by damp meadows, trembling, undulating swamps, and marshy ground covered with turf, on which grow bilberry bushes and stunted trees. Mists are almost always hovering over this region, which, seventy years ago, was overrun with wolves. It may well be called the Wild Moor; and one can easily imagine, with such a wild expanse of marsh and lake, how lonely and dreary it must have been a thousand years ago. Many things may be noticed now that existed then. The reeds grow to the same height, and bear the same kind of long, purple-brown leaves, with their feathery tips. There still stands the birch, with its white bark and its delicate, loosely hanging leaves; and with regard to the living beings who frequented this spot, the fly still wears a gauzy dress of the same cut, and the favorite colors of the stork are white, with black and red for stockings. The people, certainly, in those days, wore very different dresses to those they now wear, but if any of them, be he huntsman or squire, master or servant, ventured on the wavering, undulating, marshy ground of the moor, they met with the same fate a thousand years ago as they would now. The wanderer sank, and went down to the Marsh King, as he is named, who rules in the great moorland empire beneath. They also called him “Gunkel King,” but we like the name of “Marsh King” better, and we will give him that name as the storks do. Very little is known of the Marsh King’s rule, but that, perhaps, is a good thing.

　　In the neighborhood of the moorlands, and not far from the great arm of the North Sea and the Cattegat which is called the Lumfjorden, lay the castle of the Viking, with its water-tight stone cellars, its tower, and its three projecting storeys. On the ridge of the roof the stork had built his nest, and there the stork-mamma sat on her eggs and felt sure her hatching would come to something.

　　One evening, stork-papa stayed out rather late, and when he came home he seemed quite busy, bustling, and important. “I have something very dreadful to tell you,” said he to the stork-mamma.

　　“Keep it to yourself then,” she replied. “Remember that I am hatching eggs; it may agitate me, and will affect them.”

　　“You must know it at once,” said he. “The daughter of our host in Egypt has arrived here. She has ventured to take this journey, and now she is lost.”

　　“She who sprung from the race of the fairies, is it?” cried the mother stork. “Oh, tell me all about it; you know I cannot bear to be kept waiting at a time when I am hatching eggs.”

　　“Well, you see, mother,” he replied, “she believed what the doctors said, and what I have heard you state also, that the moor-flowers which grow about here would heal her sick father; and she has flown to the north in swan’s plumage, in company with some other swan-princesses, who come to these parts every year to renew their youth. She came, and where is she now!”

　　“You enter into particulars too much,” said the mamma stork, “and the eggs may take cold; I cannot bear such suspense as this.”

　　“Well,” said he, “I have kept watch; and this evening I went among the rushes where I thought the marshy ground would bear me, and while I was there three swans came. Something in their manner of flying seemed to say to me, ‘Look carefully now; there is one not all swan, only swan’s feathers.’ You know, mother, you have the same intuitive feeling that I have; you know whether a thing is right or not immediately.”

　　“Yes, of course,” said she; “but tell me about the princess; I am tired of hearing about the swan’s feathers.”

　　“Well, you know that in the middle of the moor there is something like a lake,” said the stork-papa. “You can see the edge of it if you raise yourself a little. Just there, by the reeds and the green banks, lay the trunk of an elder-tree; upon this the three swans stood flapping their wings, and looking about them; one of them threw off her plumage, and I immediately recognized her as one of the princesses of our home in Egypt. There she sat, without any covering but her long, black hair. I heard her tell the two others to take great care of the swan’s plumage, while she dipped down into the water to pluck the flowers which she fancied she saw there. The others nodded, and picked up the feather dress, and took possession of it. I wonder what will become of it? thought I, and she most likely asked herself the same question. If so, she received an answer, a very practical one; for the two swans rose up and flew away with her swan’s plumage. ‘Dive down now!’ they cried; ‘thou shalt never more fly in the swan’s plumage, thou shalt never again see Egypt; here, on the moor, thou wilt remain.’ So saying, they tore the swan’s plumage into a thousand pieces, the feathers drifted about like a snow-shower, and then the two deceitful princesses flew away.”

　　“Why, that is terrible,” said the stork-mamma; “I feel as if I could hardly bear to hear any more, but you must tell me what happened next.”

　　“The princess wept and lamented aloud; her tears moistened the elder stump, which was really not an elder stump but the Marsh King himself, he who in marshy ground lives and rules. I saw myself how the stump of the tree turned round, and was a tree no more, while long, clammy branches like arms, were extended from it. Then the poor child was terribly frightened, and started up to run away. She hastened to cross the green, slimy ground; but it will not bear any weight, much less hers. She quickly sank, and the elder stump dived immediately after her; in fact, it was he who drew her down. Great black bubbles rose up out of the moor-slime, and with these every trace of the two vanished. And now the princess is buried in the wild marsh, she will never now carry flowers to Egypt to cure her father. It would have broken your heart, mother, had you seen it.”

　　“You ought not to have told me,” said she, “at such a time as this; the eggs might suffer. But I think the princess will soon find help; some one will rise up to help her. Ah! if it had been you or I, or one of our people, it would have been all over with us.”

　　“I mean to go every day,” said he, “to see if anything comes to pass;” and so he did.

　　A long time went by, but at last he saw a green stalk shooting up out of the deep, marshy ground. As it reached the surface of the marsh, a leaf spread out, and unfolded itself broader and broader, and close to it came forth a bud.

　　One morning, when the stork-papa was flying over the stem, he saw that the power of the sun’s rays had caused the bud to open, and in the cup of the flower lay a charming child—a little maiden, looking as if she had just come out of a bath. The little one was so like the Egyptian princess, that the stork, at the first moment, thought it must be the princess herself, but after a little reflection he decided that it was much more likely to be the daughter of the princess and the Marsh King; and this explained also her being placed in the cup of a water-lily. “But she cannot be left to lie here,” thought the stork, “and in my nest there are already so many. But stay, I have thought of something: the wife of the Viking has no children, and how often she has wished for a little one. People always say the stork brings the little ones; I will do so in earnest this time. I shall fly with the child to the Viking’s wife; what rejoicing there will be!”

　　And then the stork lifted the little girl out of the flower-cup, flew to the castle, picked a hole with his beak in the bladder-covered, window, and laid the beautiful child in the bosom of the Viking’s wife. Then he flew back quickly to the stork-mamma and told her what he had seen and done; and the little storks listened to it all, for they were then quite old enough to do so. “So you see,” he continued, “that the princess is not dead, for she must have sent her little one up here; and now I have found a home for her.”

　　“Ah, I said it would be so from the first,” replied the stork-mamma; “but now think a little of your own family. Our travelling time draws near, and I sometimes feel a little irritation already under the wings. The cuckoos and the nightingale are already gone, and I heard the quails say they should go too as soon as the wind was favorable. Our youngsters will go through all the manoeuvres at the review very well, or I am much mistaken in them.”

　　The Viking’s wife was above measure delighted when she awoke the next morning and found the beautiful little child lying in her bosom. She kissed it and caressed it; but it cried terribly, and struck out with its arms and legs, and did not seem to be pleased at all. At last it cried itself to sleep; and as it lay there so still and quiet, it was a most beautiful sight to see. The Viking’s wife was so delighted, that body and soul were full of joy. Her heart felt so light within her, that it seemed as if her husband and his soldiers, who were absent, must come home as suddenly and unexpectedly as the little child had done. She and her whole household therefore busied themselves in preparing everything for the reception of her lord. The long, colored tapestry, on which she and her maidens had worked pictures of their idols, Odin, Thor, and Friga, was hung up. The slaves polished the old shields that served as ornaments; cushions were placed on the seats, and dry wood laid on the fireplaces in the centre of the hall, so that the flames might be fanned up at a moment’s notice. The Viking’s wife herself assisted in the work, so that at night she felt very tired, and quickly fell into a sound sleep. When she awoke, just before morning, she was terribly alarmed to find that the infant had vanished. She sprang from her couch, lighted a pine-chip, and searched all round the room, when, at last, in that part of the bed where her feet had been, lay, not the child, but a great, ugly frog. She was quite disgusted at this sight, and seized a heavy stick to kill the frog; but the creature looked at her with such strange, mournful eyes, that she was unable to strike the blow. Once more she searched round the room; then she started at hearing the frog utter a low, painful croak. She sprang from the couch and opened the window hastily; at the same moment the sun rose, and threw its beams through the window, till it rested on the couch where the great frog lay. Suddenly it appeared as if the frog’s broad mouth contracted, and became small and red. The limbs moved and stretched out and extended themselves till they took a beautiful shape; and behold there was the pretty child lying before her, and the ugly frog was gone. “How is this?” she cried, “have I had a wicked dream? Is it not my own lovely cherub that lies there.” Then she kissed it and fondled it; but the child struggled and fought, and bit as if she had been a little wild cat.

　　The Viking did not return on that day, nor the next; he was, however, on the way home; but the wind, so favorable to the storks, was against him; for it blew towards the south. A wind in favor of one is often against another.

　　After two or three days had passed, it became clear to the Viking’s wife how matters stood with the child; it was under the influence of a powerful sorcerer. By day it was charming in appearance as an angel of light, but with a temper wicked and wild; while at night, in the form of an ugly frog, it was quiet and mournful, with eyes full of sorrow. Here were two natures, changing inwardly and outwardly with the absence and return of sunlight. And so it happened that by day the child, with the actual form of its mother, possessed the fierce disposition of its father; at night, on the contrary, its outward appearance plainly showed its descent on the father’s side, while inwardly it had the heart and mind of its mother. Who would be able to loosen this wicked charm which the sorcerer had worked upon it? The wife of the Viking lived in constant pain and sorrow about it. Her heart clung to the little creature, but she could not explain to her husband the circumstances in which it was placed. He was expected to return shortly; and were she to tell him, he would very likely, as was the custom at that time, expose the poor child in the public highway, and let any one take it away who would. The good wife of the Viking could not let that happen, and she therefore resolved that the Viking should never see the child excepting by daylight.

　　One morning there sounded a rushing of storks’ wings over the roof. More than a hundred pair of storks had rested there during the night, to recover themselves after their excursion; and now they soared aloft, and prepared for the journey southward.

　　“All the husbands are here, and ready!” they cried; “wives and children also!”

　　“How light we are!” screamed the young storks in chorus. “Something pleasant seems creeping over us, even down to our toes, as if we were full of live frogs. Ah, how delightful it is to travel into foreign lands!”

　　“Hold yourselves properly in the line with us,” cried papa and mamma. “Do not use your beaks so much; it tries the lungs.” And then the storks flew away.

　　About the same time sounded the clang of the warriors’ trumpets across the heath. The Viking had landed with his men. They were returning home, richly laden with spoil from the Gallic coast, where the people, as did also the inhabitants of Britain, often cried in alarm, “Deliver us from the wild northmen.”

　　Life and noisy pleasure came with them into the castle of the Viking on the moorland. A great cask of mead was drawn into the hall, piles of wood blazed, cattle were slain and served up, that they might feast in reality, The priest who offered the sacrifice sprinkled the devoted parishioners with the warm blood; the fire crackled, and the smoke rolled along beneath the roof; the soot fell upon them from the beams; but they were used to all these things. Guests were invited, and received handsome presents. All wrongs and unfaithfulness were forgotten. They drank deeply, and threw in each other’s faces the bones that were left, which was looked upon as a sign of good feeling amongst them. A bard, who was a kind of musician as well as warrior, and who had been with the Viking in his expedition, and knew what to sing about, gave them one of his best songs, in which they heard all their warlike deeds praised, and every wonderful action brought forward with honor. Every verse ended with this refrain,—

　　“Gold and possessions will flee away,

　　Friends and foes must die one day;

　　Every man on earth must die,

　　But a famous name will never die.”

　　And with that they beat upon their shields, and hammered upon the table with knives and bones, in a most outrageous manner.

　　The Viking’s wife sat upon a raised cross seat in the open hall. She wore a silk dress, golden bracelets, and large amber beads. She was in costly attire, and the bard named her in his song, and spoke of the rich treasure of gold which she had brought to her husband. Her husband had already seen the wonderfully beautiful child in the daytime, and was delighted with her beauty; even her wild ways pleased him. He said the little maiden would grow up to be a heroine, with the strong will and determination of a man. She would never wink her eyes, even if, in joke, an expert hand should attempt to cut off her eye-brows with a sharp sword.

　　The full cask of mead soon became empty, and a fresh one was brought in; for these were people who liked plenty to eat and drink. The old proverb, which every one knows, says that “the cattle know when to leave their pasture, but a foolish man knows not the measure of his own appetite.” Yes, they all knew this; but men may know what is right, and yet often do wrong. They also knew “that even the welcome guest becomes wearisome when he sits too long in the house.” But there they remained; for pork and mead are good things. And so at the Viking’s house they stayed, and enjoyed themselves; and at night the bondmen slept in the ashes, and dipped their fingers in the fat, and licked them. Oh, it was a delightful time!

　　Once more in the same year the Viking went forth, though the storms of autumn had already commenced to roar. He went with his warriors to the coast of Britain; he said that it was but an excursion of pleasure across the water, so his wife remained at home with the little girl. After a while, it is quite certain the foster-mother began to love the poor frog, with its gentle eyes and its deep sighs, even better than the little beauty who bit and fought with all around her.

　　The heavy, damp mists of autumn, which destroy the leaves of the wood, had already fallen upon forest and heath. Feathers of plucked birds, as they call the snow, flew about in thick showers, and winter was coming. The sparrows took possession of the stork’s nest, and conversed about the absent owners in their own fashion; and they, the stork pair and all their young ones, where were they staying now? The storks might have been found in the land of Egypt, where the sun’s rays shone forth bright and warm, as it does here at midsummer. Tamarinds and acacias were in full bloom all over the country, the crescent of Mahomet glittered brightly from the cupolas of the mosques, and on the slender pinnacles sat many of the storks, resting after their long journey. Swarms of them took divided possession of the nests—nests which lay close to each other between the venerable columns, and crowded the arches of temples in forgotten cities. The date and the palm lifted themselves as a screen or as a sun-shade over them. The gray pyramids looked like broken shadows in the clear air and the far-off desert, where the ostrich wheels his rapid flight, and the lion, with his subtle eyes, gazes at the marble sphinx which lies half buried in sand. The waters of the Nile had retreated, and the whole bed of the river was covered with frogs, which was a most acceptable prospect for the stork families. The young storks thought their eyes deceived them, everything around appeared so beautiful.

　　“It is always like this here, and this is how we live in our warm country,” said the stork-mamma; and the thought made the young ones almost beside themselves with pleasure.

　　“Is there anything more to see?” they asked; “are we going farther into the country?”

　　“There is nothing further for us to see,” answered the stork-mamma. “Beyond this delightful region there are immense forests, where the branches of the trees entwine round each other, while prickly, creeping plants cover the paths, and only an elephant could force a passage for himself with his great feet. The snakes are too large, and the lizards too lively for us to catch. Then there is the desert; if you went there, your eyes would soon be full of sand with the lightest breeze, and if it should blow great guns, you would most likely find yourself in a sand-drift. Here is the best place for you, where there are frogs and locusts; here I shall remain, and so must you.” And so they stayed.

　　The parents sat in the nest on the slender minaret, and rested, yet still were busily employed in cleaning and smoothing their feathers, and in sharpening their beaks against their red stockings; then they would stretch out their necks, salute each other, and gravely raise their heads with the high-polished forehead, and soft, smooth feathers, while their brown eyes shone with intelligence. The female young ones strutted about amid the moist rushes, glancing at the other young storks and making acquaintances, and swallowing a frog at every third step, or tossing a little snake about with their beaks, in a way they considered very becoming, and besides it tasted very good. The young male storks soon began to quarrel; they struck at each other with their wings, and pecked with their beaks till the blood came. And in this manner many of the young ladies and gentlemen were betrothed to each other: it was, of course, what they wanted, and indeed what they lived for. Then they returned to a nest, and there the quarrelling began afresh; for in hot countries people are almost all violent and passionate. But for all that it was pleasant, especially for the old people, who watched them with great joy: all that their young ones did suited them. Every day here there was sunshine, plenty to eat, and nothing to think of but pleasure. But in the rich castle of their Egyptian host, as they called him, pleasure was not to be found. The rich and mighty lord of the castle lay on his couch, in the midst of the great hall, with its many colored walls looking like the centre of a great tulip; but he was stiff and powerless in all his limbs, and lay stretched out like a mummy. His family and servants stood round him; he was not dead, although he could scarcely be said to live. The healing moor-flower from the north, which was to have been found and brought to him by her who loved him so well, had not arrived. His young and beautiful daughter who, in swan’s plumage, had flown over land and seas to the distant north, had never returned. She is dead, so the two swan-maidens had said when they came home; and they made up quite a story about her, and this is what they told,—

　　“We three flew away together through the air,” said they: “a hunter caught sight of us, and shot at us with an arrow. The arrow struck our young friend and sister, and slowly singing her farewell song she sank down, a dying swan, into the forest lake. On the shores of the lake, under a spreading birch-tree, we laid her in the cold earth. We had our revenge; we bound fire under the wings of a swallow, who had a nest on the thatched roof of the huntsman. The house took fire, and burst into flames; the hunter was burnt with the house, and the light was reflected over the sea as far as the spreading birch, beneath which we laid her sleeping dust. She will never return to the land of Egypt.” And then they both wept. And stork-papa, who heard the story, snapped with his beak so that it might be heard a long way off.

　　“Deceit and lies!” cried he; “I should like to run my beak deep into their chests.”

　　“And perhaps break it off,” said the mamma stork, “then what a sight you would be. Think first of yourself, and then of your family; all others are nothing to us.”

　　“Yes, I know,” said the stork-papa; “but to-morrow I can easily place myself on the edge of the open cupola, when the learned and wise men assemble to consult on the state of the sick man; perhaps they may come a little nearer to the truth.” And the learned and wise men assembled together, and talked a great deal on every point; but the stork could make no sense out of anything they said; neither were there any good results from their consultations, either for the sick man, or for his daughter in the marshy heath. When we listen to what people say in this world, we shall hear a great deal; but it is an advantage to know what has been said and done before, when we listen to a conversation. The stork did, and we know at least as much as he, the stork.

　　“Love is a life-giver. The highest love produces the highest life. Only through love can the sick man be cured.” This had been said by many, and even the learned men acknowledged that it was a wise saying.

　　“What a beautiful thought!” exclaimed the papa stork immediately.

　　“I don’t quite understand it,” said the mamma stork, when her husband repeated it; “however, it is not my fault, but the fault of the thought; whatever it may be, I have something else to think of.”

　　Now the learned men had spoken also of love between this one and that one; of the difference of the love which we have for our neighbor, to the love that exists between parents and children; of the love of the plant for the light, and how the germ springs forth when the sunbeam kisses the ground. All these things were so elaborately and learnedly explained, that it was impossible for stork-papa to follow it, much less to talk about it. His thoughts on the subject quite weighed him down; he stood the whole of the following day on one leg, with half-shut eyes, thinking deeply. So much learning was quite a heavy weight for him to carry. One thing, however, the papa stork could understand. Every one, high and low, had from their inmost hearts expressed their opinion that it was a great misfortune for so many thousands of people—the whole country indeed—to have this man so sick, with no hopes of his recovery. And what joy and blessing it would spread around if he could by any means be cured! But where bloomed the flower that could bring him health? They had searched for it everywhere; in learned writings, in the shining stars, in the weather and wind. Inquiries had been made in every by-way that could be thought of, until at last the wise and learned men has asserted, as we have been already told, that “love, the life-giver, could alone give new life to a father;” and in saying this, they had overdone it, and said more than they understood themselves. They repeated it, and wrote it down as a recipe, “Love is a life-giver.” But how could such a recipe be prepared—that was a difficulty they could not overcome. At last it was decided that help could only come from the princess herself, whose whole soul was wrapped up in her father, especially as a plan had been adopted by her to enable her to obtain a remedy.

　　More than a year had passed since the princess had set out at night, when the light of the young moon was soon lost beneath the horizon. She had gone to the marble sphinx in the desert, shaking the sand from her sandals, and then passed through the long passage, which leads to the centre of one of the great pyramids, where the mighty kings of antiquity, surrounded with pomp and splendor, lie veiled in the form of mummies. She had been told by the wise men, that if she laid her head on the breast of one of them, from the head she would learn where to find life and recovery for her father. She had performed all this, and in a dream had learnt that she must bring home to her father the lotus flower, which grows in the deep sea, near the moors and heath in the Danish land. The very place and situation had been pointed out to her, and she was told that the flower would restore her father to health and strength. And, therefore, she had gone forth from the land of Egypt, flying over to the open marsh and the wild moor in the plumage of a swan.

　　The papa and mamma storks knew all this, and we also know it now. We know, too, that the Marsh King has drawn her down to himself, and that to the loved ones at home she is forever dead. One of the wisest of them said, as the stork-mamma also said, “That in some way she would, after all, manage to succeed;” and so at last they comforted themselves with this hope, and would wait patiently; in fact, they could do nothing better.

　　“I should like to get away the swan’s feathers from those two treacherous princesses,” said the papa stork; “then, at least, they would not be able to fly over again to the wild moor, and do more wickedness. I can hide the two suits of feathers over yonder, till we find some use for them.”

　　“But where will you put them?” asked the mamma stork.

　　“In our nest on the moor. I and the young ones will carry them by turns during our flight across; and as we return, should they prove too heavy for us, we shall be sure to find plenty of places on the way in which we can conceal them till our next journey. Certainly one suit of swan’s feathers would be enough for the princess, but two are always better. In those northern countries no one can have too many travelling wrappers.”

　　“No one will thank you for it,” said stork-mamma; “but you are master; and, excepting at breeding time, I have nothing to say.”

　　In the Viking’s castle on the wild moor, to which the storks directed their flight in the following spring, the little maiden still remained. They had named her Helga, which was rather too soft a name for a child with a temper like hers, although her form was still beautiful. Every month this temper showed itself in sharper outlines; and in the course of years, while the storks still made the same journeys in autumn to the hill, and in spring to the moors, the child grew to be almost a woman, and before any one seemed aware of it, she was a wonderfully beautiful maiden of sixteen. The casket was splendid, but the contents were worthless. She was, indeed, wild and savage even in those hard, uncultivated times. It was a pleasure to her to splash about with her white hands in the warm blood of the horse which had been slain for sacrifice. In one of her wild moods she bit off the head of the black cock, which the priest was about to slay for the sacrifice. To her foster-father she said one day, “If thine enemy were to pull down thine house about thy ears, and thou shouldest be sleeping in unconscious security, I would not wake thee; even if I had the power I would never do it, for my ears still tingle with the blow that thou gavest me years ago. I have never forgotten it.” But the Viking treated her words as a joke; he was, like every one else, bewitched with her beauty, and knew nothing of the change in the form and temper of Helga at night. Without a saddle, she would sit on a horse as if she were a part of it, while it rushed along at full speed; nor would she spring from its back, even when it quarrelled with other horses and bit them. She would often leap from the high shore into the sea with all her clothes on, and swim to meet the Viking, when his boat was steering home towards the shore. She once cut off a long lock of her beautiful hair, and twisted it into a string for her bow. “If a thing is to be done well,” said she, “I must do it myself.”

　　The Viking’s wife was, for the time in which she lived, a woman of strong character and will; but, compared to her daughter, she was a gentle, timid woman, and she knew that a wicked sorcerer had the terrible child in his power. It was sometimes as if Helga acted from sheer wickedness; for often when her mother stood on the threshold of the door, or stepped into the yard, she would seat herself on the brink of the well, wave her arms and legs in the air, and suddenly fall right in. Here she was able, from her frog nature, to dip and dive about in the water of the deep well, until at last she would climb forth like a cat, and come back into the hall dripping with water, so that the green leaves that were strewed on the floor were whirled round, and carried away by the streams that flowed from her.

　　But there was one time of the day which placed a check upon Helga. It was the evening twilight; when this hour arrived she became quiet and thoughtful, and allowed herself to be advised and led; then also a secret feeling seemed to draw her towards her mother. And as usual, when the sun set, and the transformation took place, both in body and mind, inwards and outwards, she would remain quiet and mournful, with her form shrunk together in the shape of a frog. Her body was much larger than those animals ever are, and on this account it was much more hideous in appearance; for she looked like a wretched dwarf, with a frog’s head, and webbed fingers. Her eyes had a most piteous expression; she was without a voice, excepting a hollow, croaking sound, like the smothered sobs of a dreaming child.

　　Then the Viking’s wife took her on her lap, and forgot the ugly form, as she looked into the mournful eyes, and often said, “I could wish that thou wouldst always remain my dumb frog child, for thou art too terrible when thou art clothed in a form of beauty.” And the Viking woman wrote Runic characters against sorcery and spells of sickness, and threw them over the wretched child; but they did no good.

　　“One can scarcely believe that she was ever small enough to lie in the cup of the water-lily,” said the papa stork; “and now she is grown up, and the image of her Egyptian mother, especially about the eyes. Ah, we shall never see her again; perhaps she has not discovered how to help herself, as you and the wise men said she would. Year after year have I flown across and across the moor, but there was no sign of her being still alive. Yes, and I may as well tell you that you that each year, when I arrived a few days before you to repair the nest, and put everything in its place, I have spent a whole night flying here and there over the marshy lake, as if I had been an owl or a bat, but all to no purpose. The two suit of swan’s plumage, which I and the young ones dragged over here from the land of the Nile, are of no use; trouble enough it was to us to bring them here in three journeys, and now they are lying at the bottom of the nest; and if a fire should happen to break out, and the wooden house be burnt down, they would be destroyed.”

　　“And our good nest would be destroyed, too,” said the mamma stork; “but you think less of that than of your plumage stuff and your moor-princess. Go and stay with her in the marsh if you like. You are a bad father to your own children, as I have told you already, when I hatched my first brood. I only hope neither we nor our children may have an arrow sent through our wings, owing to that wild girl. Helga does not know in the least what she is about. We have lived in this house longer than she has, she should think of that, and we have never forgotten our duty. We have paid every year our toll of a feather, an egg, and a young one, as it is only right we should do. You don’t suppose I can wander about the court-yard, or go everywhere as I used to do in old times. I can do it in Egypt, where I can be a companion of the people, without forgetting myself. But here I cannot go and peep into the pots and kettles as I do there. No, I can only sit up here and feel angry with that girl, the little wretch; and I am angry with you, too; you should have left her lying in the water lily, then no one would have known anything about her.”

　　“You are far better than your conversation,” said the papa stork; “I know you better than you know yourself.” And with that he gave a hop, and flapped his wings twice, proudly; then he stretched his neck and flew, or rather soared away, without moving his outspread wings. He went on for some distance, and then he gave a great flap with his wings and flew on his course at a rapid rate, his head and neck bending proudly before him, while the sun’s rays fell on his glossy plumage.

　　“He is the handsomest of them all,” said the mamma stork, as she watched him; “but I won’t tell him so.”

　　Early in the autumn, the Viking again returned home laden with spoil, and bringing prisoners with him. Among them was a young Christian priest, one of those who contemned the gods of the north. Often lately there had been, both in hall and chamber, a talk of the new faith which was spreading far and wide in the south, and which, through the means of the holy Ansgarius, had already reached as far as Hedeby on the Schlei. Even Helga had heard of this belief in the teachings of One who was named Christ, and who for the love of mankind, and for their redemption, had given up His life. But to her all this had, as it were, gone in one ear and out the other. It seemed that she only understood the meaning of the word “love,” when in the form of a miserable frog she crouched together in the corner of the sleeping chamber; but the Viking’s wife had listened to the wonderful story, and had felt herself strangely moved by it.

　　On their return, after this voyage, the men spoke of the beautiful temples built of polished stone, which had been raised for the public worship of this holy love. Some vessels, curiously formed of massive gold, had been brought home among the booty. There was a peculiar fragrance about them all, for they were incense vessels, which had been swung before the altars in the temples by the Christian priests. In the deep stony cellars of the castle, the young Christian priest was immured, and his hands and feet tied together with strips of bark. The Viking’s wife considered him as beautiful as Baldur, and his distress raised her pity; but Helga said he ought to have ropes fastened to his heels, and be tied to the tails of wild animals.

　　“I would let the dogs loose after him” she said; “over the moor and across the heath. Hurrah! that would be a spectacle for the gods, and better still to follow in its course.”

　　But the Viking would not allow him to die such a death as that, especially as he was the disowned and despiser of the high gods. In a few days, he had decided to have him offered as a sacrifice on the blood-stone in the grove. For the first time, a man was to be sacrificed here. Helga begged to be allowed to sprinkle the assembled people with the blood of the priest. She sharpened her glittering knife; and when one of the great, savage dogs, who were running about the Viking’s castle in great numbers, sprang towards her, she thrust the knife into his side, merely, as she said, to prove its sharpness.

　　The Viking’s wife looked at the wild, badly disposed girl, with great sorrow; and when night came on, and her daughter’s beautiful form and disposition were changed, she spoke in eloquent words to Helga of the sorrow and deep grief that was in her heart. The ugly frog, in its monstrous shape, stood before her, and raised its brown mournful eyes to her face, listening to her words, and seeming to understand them with the intelligence of a human being.

　　“Never once to my lord and husband has a word passed my lips of what I have to suffer through you; my heart is full of grief about you,” said the Viking’s wife. “The love of a mother is greater and more powerful than I ever imagined. But love never entered thy heart; it is cold and clammy, like the plants on the moor.”

　　Then the miserable form trembled; it was as if these words had touched an invisible bond between body and soul, for great tears stood in the eyes.

　　“A bitter time will come for thee at last,” continued the Viking’s wife; “and it will be terrible for me too. It had been better for thee if thou hadst been left on the high-road, with the cold night wind to lull thee to sleep.” And the Viking’s wife shed bitter tears, and went away in anger and sorrow, passing under the partition of furs, which hung loose over the beam and divided the hall.

　　The shrivelled frog still sat in the corner alone. Deep silence reigned around. At intervals, a half-stifled sigh was heard from its inmost soul; it was the soul of Helga. It seemed in pain, as if a new life were arising in her heart. Then she took a step forward and listened; then stepped again forward, and seized with her clumsy hands the heavy bar which was laid across the door. Gently, and with much trouble, she pushed back the bar, as silently lifted the latch, and then took up the glimmering lamp which stood in the ante-chamber of the hall. It seemed as if a stronger will than her own gave her strength. She removed the iron bolt from the closed cellar-door, and slipped in to the prisoner. He was slumbering. She touched him with her cold, moist hand, and as he awoke and caught sight of the hideous form, he shuddered as if he beheld a wicked apparition. She drew her knife, cut through the bonds which confined his hands and feet, and beckoned to him to follow her. He uttered some holy names and made the sign of the cross, while the form remained motionless by his side.

　　“Who art thou?” he asked, “whose outward appearance is that of an animal, while thou willingly performest acts of mercy?”

　　The frog-figure beckoned to him to follow her, and led him through a long gallery concealed by hanging drapery to the stables, and then pointed to a horse. He mounted upon it, and she sprang up also before him, and held tightly by the animal’s mane. The prisoner understood her, and they rode on at a rapid trot, by a road which he would never have found by himself, across the open heath. He forgot her ugly form, and only thought how the mercy and loving-kindness of the Almighty was acting through this hideous apparition. As he offered pious prayers and sang holy songs of praise, she trembled. Was it the effect of prayer and praise that caused this? or, was she shuddering in the cold morning air at the thought of approaching twilight? What were her feelings? She raised herself up, and wanted to stop the horse and spring off, but the Christian priest held her back with all his might, and then sang a pious song, as if this could loosen the wicked charm that had changed her into the semblance of a frog.

　　And the horse galloped on more wildly than before. The sky painted itself red, the first sunbeam pierced through the clouds, and in the clear flood of sunlight the frog became changed. It was Helga again, young and beautiful, but with a wicked demoniac spirit. He held now a beautiful young woman in his arms, and he was horrified at the sight. He stopped the horse, and sprang from its back. He imagined that some new sorcery was at work. But Helga also leaped from the horse and stood on the ground. The child’s short garment reached only to her knee. She snatched the sharp knife from her girdle, and rushed like lightning at the astonished priest. “Let me get at thee!” she cried; “let me get at thee, that I may plunge this knife into thy body. Thou art pale as ashes, thou beardless slave.” She pressed in upon him. They struggled with each other in heavy combat, but it was as if an invisible power had been given to the Christian in the struggle. He held her fast, and the old oak under which they stood seemed to help him, for the loosened roots on the ground became entangled in the maiden’s feet, and held them fast. Close by rose a bubbling spring, and he sprinkled Helga’s face and neck with the water, commanded the unclean spirit to come forth, and pronounced upon her a Christian blessing. But the water of faith has no power unless the well-spring of faith flows within. And yet even here its power was shown; something more than the mere strength of a man opposed itself, through his means, against the evil which struggled within her. His holy action seemed to overpower her. She dropped her arms, glanced at him with pale cheeks and looks of amazement. He appeared to her a mighty magician skilled in secret arts; his language was the darkest magic to her, and the movements of his hands in the air were as the secret signs of a magician’s wand. She would not have blinked had he waved over her head a sharp knife or a glittering axe; but she shrunk from him as he signed her with the sign of the cross on her forehead and breast, and sat before him like a tame bird, with her head bowed down. Then he spoke to her, in gentle words, of the deed of love she had performed for him during the night, when she had come to him in the form of an ugly frog, to loosen his bonds, and to lead him forth to life and light; and he told her that she was bound in closer fetters than he had been, and that she could recover also life and light by his means. He would take her to Hedeby2 to St. Ansgarius, and there, in that Christian town, the spell of the sorcerer would be removed. But he would not let her sit before him on the horse, though of her own free will she wished to do so. “Thou must sit behind me, not before me,” said he. “Thy magic beauty has a magic power which comes from an evil origin, and I fear it; still I am sure to overcome through my faith in Christ.” Then he knelt down, and prayed with pious fervor. It was as if the quiet woodland were a holy church consecrated by his worship. The birds sang as if they were also of this new congregation; and the fragrance of the wild flowers was as the ambrosial perfume of incense; while, above all, sounded the words of Scripture, “A light to them that sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide their feet into the way of peace.” And he spoke these words with the deep longing of his whole nature.

　　Meanwhile, the horse that had carried them in wild career stood quietly by, plucking at the tall bramble-bushes, till the ripe young berries fell down upon Helga’s hands, as if inviting her to eat. Patiently she allowed herself to be lifted on the horse, and sat there like a somnambulist—as one who walked in his sleep. The Christian bound two branches together with bark, in the form of a cross, and held it on high as they rode through the forest. The way gradually grew thicker of brushwood, as they rode along, till at last it became a trackless wilderness. Bushes of the wild sloe here and there blocked up the path, so that they had to ride over them. The bubbling spring formed not a stream, but a marsh, round which also they were obliged to guide the horse; still there were strength and refreshment in the cool forest breeze, and no trifling power in the gentle words spoken in faith and Christian love by the young priest, whose inmost heart yearned to lead this poor lost one into the way of light and life. It is said that rain-drops can make a hollow in the hardest stone, and the waves of the sea can smooth and round the rough edges of the rocks; so did the dew of mercy fall upon Helga, softening what was hard, and smoothing what was rough in her character. These effects did not yet appear; she was not herself aware of them; neither does the seed in the lap of earth know, when the refreshing dew and the warm sunbeams fall upon it, that it contains within itself power by which it will flourish and bloom. The song of the mother sinks into the heart of the child, and the little one prattles the words after her, without understanding their meaning; but after a time the thoughts expand, and what has been heard in childhood seems to the mind clear and bright. So now the “Word,” which is all-powerful to create, was working in the heart of Helga.

　　They rode forth from the thick forest, crossed the heath, and again entered a pathless wood. Here, towards evening, they met with robbers.

　　“Where hast thou stolen that beauteous maiden?” cried the robbers, seizing the horse by the bridle, and dragging the two riders from its back.

　　The priest had nothing to defend himself with, but the knife he had taken from Helga, and with this he struck out right and left. One of the robbers raised his axe against him; but the young priest sprang on one side, and avoided the blow, which fell with great force on the horse’s neck, so that the blood gushed forth, and the animal sunk to the ground. Then Helga seemed suddenly to awake from her long, deep reverie; she threw herself hastily upon the dying animal. The priest placed himself before her, to defend and shelter her; but one of the robbers swung his iron axe against the Christian’s head with such force that it was dashed to pieces, the blood and brains were scattered about, and he fell dead upon the ground. Then the robbers seized beautiful Helga by her white arms and slender waist; but at that moment the sun went down, and as its last ray disappeared, she was changed into the form of a frog. A greenish white mouth spread half over her face; her arms became thin and slimy; while broad hands, with webbed fingers, spread themselves out like fans. Then the robbers, in terror, let her go, and she stood among them, a hideous monster; and as is the nature of frogs to do, she hopped up as high as her own size, and disappeared in the thicket. Then the robbers knew that this must be the work of an evil spirit or some secret sorcery, and, in a terrible fright, they ran hastily from the spot.

　　The full moon had already risen, and was shining in all her radiant splendor over the earth, when from the thicket, in the form of a frog, crept poor Helga. She stood still by the corpse of the Christian priest, and the carcase of the dead horse. She looked at them with eyes that seemed to weep, and from the frog’s head came forth a croaking sound, as when a child bursts into tears. She threw herself first upon one, and then upon the other; brought water in her hand, which, from being webbed, was large and hollow, and poured it over them; but they were dead, and dead they would remain. She understood that at last. Soon wild animals would come and tear their dead bodies; but no, that must not happen. Then she dug up the earth, as deep as she was able, that she might prepare a grave for them. She had nothing but a branch of a tree and her two hands, between the fingers of which the webbed skin stretched, and they were torn by the work, while the blood ran down her hands. She saw at last that her work would be useless, more than she could accomplish; so she fetched more water, and washed the face of the dead, and then covered it with fresh green leaves; she also brought large boughs and spread over him, and scattered dried leaves between the branches. Then she brought the heaviest stones that she could carry, and laid them over the dead body, filling up the crevices with moss, till she thought she had fenced in his resting-place strongly enough. The difficult task had employed her the whole night; and as the sun broke forth, there stood the beautiful Helga in all her loveliness, with her bleeding hands, and, for the first time, with tears on her maiden cheeks. It was, in this transformation, as if two natures were striving together within her; her whole frame trembled, and she looked around her as if she had just awoke from a painful dream. She leaned for support against the trunk of a slender tree, and at last climbed to the topmost branches, like a cat, and seated herself firmly upon them. She remained there the whole day, sitting alone, like a frightened squirrel, in the silent solitude of the wood, where the rest and stillness is as the calm of death.

　　Butterflies fluttered around her, and close by were several ant-hills, each with its hundreds of busy little creatures moving quickly to and fro. In the air, danced myriads of gnats, swarm upon swarm, troops of buzzing flies, ladybirds, dragon-flies with golden wings, and other little winged creatures. The worm crawled forth from the moist ground, and the moles crept out; but, excepting these, all around had the stillness of death: but when people say this, they do not quite understand themselves what they mean. None noticed Helga but a flock of magpies, which flew chattering round the top of the tree on which she sat. These birds hopped close to her on the branches with bold curiosity. A glance from her eyes was a signal to frighten them away, and they were not clever enough to find out who she was; indeed she hardly knew herself.

　　When the sun was near setting, and the evening’s twilight about to commence, the approaching transformation aroused her to fresh exertion. She let herself down gently from the tree, and, as the last sunbeam vanished, she stood again in the wrinkled form of a frog, with the torn, webbed skin on her hands, but her eyes now gleamed with more radiant beauty than they had ever possessed in her most beautiful form of loveliness; they were now pure, mild maidenly eyes that shone forth in the face of a frog. They showed the existence of deep feeling and a human heart, and the beauteous eyes overflowed with tears, weeping precious drops that lightened the heart.

　　On the raised mound which she had made as a grave for the dead priest, she found the cross made of the branches of a tree, the last work of him who now lay dead and cold beneath it. A sudden thought came to Helga, and she lifted up the cross and planted it upon the grave, between the stones that covered him and the dead horse. The sad recollection brought the tears to her eyes, and in this gentle spirit she traced the same sign in the sand round the grave; and as she formed, with both her hands, the sign of the cross, the web skin fell from them like a torn glove. She washed her hands in the water of the spring, and gazed with astonishment at their delicate whiteness. Again she made the holy sign in the air, between herself and the dead man; her lips trembled, her tongue moved, and the name which she in her ride through the forest had so often heard spoken, rose to her lips, and she uttered the words, “Jesus Christ.” Then the frog skin fell from her; she was once more a lovely maiden. Her head bent wearily, her tired limbs required rest, and then she slept.

　　Her sleep, however, was short. Towards midnight, she awoke; before her stood the dead horse, prancing and full of life, which shone forth from his eyes and from his wounded neck. Close by his side appeared the murdered Christian priest, more beautiful than Baldur, as the Viking’s wife had said; but now he came as if in a flame of fire. Such gravity, such stern justice, such a piercing glance shone from his large, gentle eyes, that it seemed to penetrate into every corner of her heart. Beautiful Helga trembled at the look, and her memory returned with a power as if it had been the day of judgment. Every good deed that had been done for her, every loving word that had been said, were vividly before her mind. She understood now that love had kept her here during the day of her trial; while the creature formed of dust and clay, soul and spirit, had wrestled and struggled with evil. She acknowledged that she had only followed the impulses of an evil disposition, that she had done nothing to cure herself; everything had been given her, and all had happened as it were by the ordination of Providence. She bowed herself humbly, confessed her great imperfections in the sight of Him who can read every fault of the heart, and then the priest spoke. “Daughter of the moorland, thou hast come from the swamp and the marshy earth, but from this thou shalt arise. The sunlight shining into thy inmost soul proves the origin from which thou hast really sprung, and has restored the body to its natural form. I am come to thee from the land of the dead, and thou also must pass through the valley to reach the holy mountains where mercy and perfection dwell. I cannot lead thee to Hedeby that thou mayst receive Christian baptism, for first thou must remove the thick veil with which the waters of the moorland are shrouded, and bring forth from its depths the living author of thy being and thy life. Till this is done, thou canst not receive consecration.”

　　Then he lifted her on the horse and gave her a golden censer, similar to those she had already seen at the Viking’s house. A sweet perfume arose from it, while the open wound in the forehead of the slain priest, shone with the rays of a diamond. He took the cross from the grave, and held it aloft, and now they rode through the air over the rustling trees, over the hills where warriors lay buried each by his dead war-horse; and the brazen monumental figures rose up and galloped forth, and stationed themselves on the summits of the hills. The golden crescent on their foreheads, fastened with golden knots, glittered in the moonlight, and their mantles floated in the wind. The dragon, that guards buried treasure, lifted his head and gazed after them. The goblins and the satyrs peeped out from beneath the hills, and flitted to and fro in the fields, waving blue, red, and green torches, like the glowing sparks in burning paper. Over woodland and heath, flood and fen, they flew on, till they reached the wild moor, over which they hovered in broad circles. The Christian priest held the cross aloft, and it glittered like gold, while from his lips sounded pious prayers. Beautiful Helga’s voice joined with his in the hymns he sung, as a child joins in her mother’s song. She swung the censer, and a wonderful fragrance of incense arose from it; so powerful, that the reeds and rushes of the moor burst forth into blossom. Each germ came forth from the deep ground: all that had life raised itself. Blooming water-lilies spread themselves forth like a carpet of wrought flowers, and upon them lay a slumbering woman, young and beautiful. Helga fancied that it was her own image she saw reflected in the still water. But it was her mother she beheld, the wife of the Marsh King, the princess from the land of the Nile.

　　The dead Christian priest desired that the sleeping woman should be lifted on the horse, but the horse sank beneath the load, as if he had been a funeral pall fluttering in the wind. But the sign of the cross made the airy phantom strong, and then the three rode away from the marsh to firm ground.

　　At the same moment the cock crew in the Viking’s castle, and the dream figures dissolved and floated away in the air, but mother and daughter stood opposite to each other.

　　“Am I looking at my own image in the deep water?” said the mother.

　　“Is it myself that I see represented on a white shield?” cried the daughter.

　　Then they came nearer to each other in a fond embrace. The mother’s heart beat quickly, and she understood the quickened pulses. “My child!” she exclaimed, “the flower of my heart—my lotus flower of the deep water!” and she embraced her child again and wept, and the tears were as a baptism of new life and love for Helga. “In swan’s plumage I came here,” said the mother, “and here I threw off my feather dress. Then I sank down through the wavering ground, deep into the marsh beneath, which closed like a wall around me; I found myself after a while in fresher water; still a power drew me down deeper and deeper. I felt the weight of sleep upon my eyelids. Then I slept, and dreams hovered round me. It seemed to me as if I were again in the pyramids of Egypt, and yet the waving elder trunk that had frightened me on the moor stood ever before me. I observed the clefts and wrinkles in the stem; they shone forth in strange colors, and took the form of hieroglyphics. It was the mummy case on which I gazed. At last it burst, and forth stepped the thousand years’ old king, the mummy form, black as pitch, black as the shining wood-snail, or the slimy mud of the swamp. Whether it was really the mummy or the Marsh King I know not. He seized me in his arms, and I felt as if I must die. When I recovered myself, I found in my bosom a little bird, flapping its wings, twittering and fluttering. The bird flew away from my bosom, upwards towards the dark, heavy canopy above me, but a long, green band kept it fastened to me. I heard and understood the tenor of its longings. Freedom! sunlight! to my father! Then I thought of my father, and the sunny land of my birth, my life, and my love. Then I loosened the band, and let the bird fly away to its home—to a father. Since that hour I have ceased to dream; my sleep has been long and heavy, till in this very hour, harmony and fragrance awoke me, and set me free.”

　　The green band which fastened the wings of the bird to the mother’s heart, where did it flutter now? whither had it been wafted? The stork only had seen it. The band was the green stalk, the cup of the flower the cradle in which lay the child, that now in blooming beauty had been folded to the mother’s heart.

　　And while the two were resting in each other’s arms, the old stork flew round and round them in narrowing circles, till at length he flew away swiftly to his nest, and fetched away the two suits of swan’s feathers, which he had preserved there for many years. Then he returned to the mother and daughter, and threw the swan’s plumage over them; the feathers immediately closed around them, and they rose up from the earth in the form of two white swans.

　　“And now we can converse with pleasure,” said the stork-papa; “we can understand one another, although the beaks of birds are so different in shape. It is very fortunate that you came to-night. To-morrow we should have been gone. The mother, myself and the little ones, we’re about to fly to the south. Look at me now: I am an old friend from the Nile, and a mother’s heart contains more than her beak. She always said that the princess would know how to help herself. I and the young ones carried the swan’s feathers over here, and I am glad of it now, and how lucky it is that I am here still. When the day dawns we shall start with a great company of other storks. We’ll fly first, and you can follow in our track, so that you cannot miss your way. I and the young ones will have an eye upon you.”

　　“And the lotus-flower which I was to take with me,” said the Egyptian princess, “is flying here by my side, clothed in swan’s feathers. The flower of my heart will travel with me; and so the riddle is solved. Now for home! now for home!”

　　But Helga said she could not leave the Danish land without once more seeing her foster-mother, the loving wife of the Viking. Each pleasing recollection, each kind word, every tear from the heart which her foster-mother had wept for her, rose in her mind, and at that moment she felt as if she loved this mother the best.

　　“Yes, we must go to the Viking’s castle,” said the stork; “mother and the young ones are waiting for me there. How they will open their eyes and flap their wings! My wife, you see, does not say much; she is short and abrupt in her manner; but she means well, for all that. I will flap my wings at once, that they may hear us coming.” Then stork-papa flapped his wings in first-rate style, and he and the swans flew away to the Viking’s castle.

　　In the castle, every one was in a deep sleep. It had been late in the evening before the Viking’s wife retired to rest. She was anxious about Helga, who, three days before, had vanished with the Christian priest. Helga must have helped him in his flight, for it was her horse that was missed from the stable; but by what power had all this been accomplished? The Viking’s wife thought of it with wonder, thought on the miracles which they said could be performed by those who believed in the Christian faith, and followed its teachings. These passing thoughts formed themselves into a vivid dream, and it seemed to her that she was still lying awake on her couch, while without darkness reigned. A storm arose; she heard the lake dashing and rolling from east and west, like the waves of the North Sea or the Cattegat. The monstrous snake which, it is said, surrounds the earth in the depths of the ocean, was trembling in spasmodic convulsions. The night of the fall of the gods was come, “Ragnorock,” as the heathens call the judgment-day, when everything shall pass away, even the high gods themselves. The war trumpet sounded; riding upon the rainbow, came the gods, clad in steel, to fight their last battle on the last battle-field. Before them flew the winged vampires, and the dead warriors closed up the train. The whole firmament was ablaze with the northern lights, and yet the darkness triumphed. It was a terrible hour. And, close to the terrified woman, Helga seemed to be seated on the floor, in the hideous form of a frog, yet trembling, and clinging to her foster-mother, who took her on her lap, and lovingly caressed her, hideous and frog-like as she was. The air was filled with the clashing of arms and the hissing of arrows, as if a storm of hail was descending upon the earth. It seemed to her the hour when earth and sky would burst asunder, and all things be swallowed up in Saturn’s fiery lake; but she knew that a new heaven and a new earth would arise, and that corn-fields would wave where now the lake rolled over desolate sands, and the ineffable God reign. Then she saw rising from the region of the dead, Baldur the gentle, the loving, and as the Viking’s wife gazed upon him, she recognized his countenance. It was the captive Christian priest. “White Christian!” she exclaimed aloud, and with the words, she pressed a kiss on the forehead of the hideous frog-child. Then the frog-skin fell off, and Helga stood before her in all her beauty, more lovely and gentle-looking, and with eyes beaming with love. She kissed the hands of her foster-mother, blessed her for all her fostering love and care during the days of her trial and misery, for the thoughts she had suggested and awoke in her heart, and for naming the Name which she now repeated. Then beautiful Helga rose as a mighty swan, and spread her wings with the rushing sound of troops of birds of passage flying through the air.

　　Then the Viking’s wife awoke, but she still heard the rushing sound without. She knew it was the time for the storks to depart, and that it must be their wings which she heard. She felt she should like to see them once more, and bid them farewell. She rose from her couch, stepped out on the threshold, and beheld, on the ridge of the roof, a party of storks ranged side by side. Troops of the birds were flying in circles over the castle and the highest trees; but just before her, as she stood on the threshold and close to the well where Helga had so often sat and alarmed her with her wildness, now stood two swans, gazing at her with intelligent eyes. Then she remembered her dream, which still appeared to her as a reality. She thought of Helga in the form of a swan. She thought of a Christian priest, and suddenly a wonderful joy arose in her heart. The swans flapped their wings and arched their necks as if to offer her a greeting, and the Viking’s wife spread out her arms towards them, as if she accepted it, and smiled through her tears. She was roused from deep thought by a rustling of wings and snapping of beaks; all the storks arose, and started on their journey towards the south.

　　“We will not wait for the swans,” said the mamma stork; “if they want to go with us, let them come now; we can’t sit here till the plovers start. It is a fine thing after all to travel in families, not like the finches and the partridges. There the male and the female birds fly in separate flocks, which, to speak candidly, I consider very unbecoming.”

　　“What are those swans flapping their wings for?”

　　“Well, every one flies in his own fashion,” said the papa stork. “The swans fly in an oblique line; the cranes, in the form of a triangle; and the plovers, in a curved line like a snake.”

　　“Don’t talk about snakes while we are flying up here,” said stork-mamma. “It puts ideas into the children’s heads that can not be realized.”

　　“Are those the high mountains I have heard spoken of?” asked Helga, in the swan’s plumage.

　　“They are storm-clouds driving along beneath us,” replied her mother.

　　“What are yonder white clouds that rise so high?” again inquired Helga.

　　“Those are mountains covered with perpetual snows, that you see yonder,” said her mother. And then they flew across the Alps towards the blue Mediterranean.

　　“Africa’s land! Egyptia’s strand!” sang the daughter of the Nile, in her swan’s plumage, as from the upper air she caught sight of her native land, a narrow, golden, wavy strip on the shores of the Nile; the other birds espied it also and hastened their flight.

　　“I can smell the Nile mud and the wet frogs,” said the stork-mamma, “and I begin to feel quite hungry. Yes, now you shall taste something nice, and you will see the marabout bird, and the ibis, and the crane. They all belong to our family, but they are not nearly so handsome as we are. They give themselves great airs, especially the ibis. The Egyptians have spoilt him. They make a mummy of him, and stuff him with spices. I would rather be stuffed with live frogs, and so would you, and so you shall. Better have something in your inside while you are alive, than to be made a parade of after you are dead. That is my opinion, and I am always right.”

　　“The storks are come,” was said in the great house on the banks of the Nile, where the lord lay in the hall on his downy cushions, covered with a leopard skin, scarcely alive, yet not dead, waiting and hoping for the lotus-flower from the deep moorland in the far north. Relatives and servants were standing by his couch, when the two beautiful swans who had come with the storks flew into the hall. They threw off their soft white plumage, and two lovely female forms approached the pale, sick old man, and threw back their long hair, and when Helga bent over her grandfather, redness came back to his cheeks, his eyes brightened, and life returned to his benumbed limbs. The old man rose up with health and energy renewed; daughter and grandchild welcomed him as joyfully as if with a morning greeting after a long and troubled dream.

　　Joy reigned through the whole house, as well as in the stork’s nest; although there the chief cause was really the good food, especially the quantities of frogs, which seemed to spring out of the ground in swarms.

　　Then the learned men hastened to note down, in flying characters, the story of the two princesses, and spoke of the arrival of the health-giving flower as a mighty event, which had been a blessing to the house and the land. Meanwhile, the stork-papa told the story to his family in his own way; but not till they had eaten and were satisfied; otherwise they would have had something else to do than to listen to stories.

　　“Well,” said the stork-mamma, when she had heard it, “you will be made something of at last; I suppose they can do nothing less.”

　　“What could I be made?” said stork-papa; “what have I done?— just nothing.”

　　“You have done more than all the rest,” she replied. “But for you and the youngsters the two young princesses would never have seen Egypt again, and the recovery of the old man would not have been effected. You will become something. They must certainly give you a doctor’s hood, and our young ones will inherit it, and their children after them, and so on. You already look like an Egyptian doctor, at least in my eyes.”

　　“I cannot quite remember the words I heard when I listened on the roof,” said stork-papa, while relating the story to his family; “all I know is, that what the wise men said was so complicated and so learned, that they received not only rank, but presents; even the head cook at the great house was honored with a mark of distinction, most likely for the soup.”

　　“And what did you receive?” said the stork-mamma. “They certainly ought not to forget the most important person in the affair, as you really are. The learned men have done nothing at all but use their tongues. Surely they will not overlook you.”

　　Late in the night, while the gentle sleep of peace rested on the now happy house, there was still one watcher. It was not stork-papa, who, although he stood on guard on one leg, could sleep soundly. Helga alone was awake. She leaned over the balcony, gazing at the sparkling stars that shone clearer and brighter in the pure air than they had done in the north, and yet they were the same stars. She thought of the Viking’s wife in the wild moorland, of the gentle eyes of her foster-mother, and of the tears she had shed over the poor frog-child that now lived in splendor and starry beauty by the waters of the Nile, with air balmy and sweet as spring. She thought of the love that dwelt in the breast of the heathen woman, love that had been shown to a wretched creature, hateful as a human being, and hideous when in the form of an animal. She looked at the glittering stars, and thought of the radiance that had shone forth on the forehead of the dead man, as she had fled with him over the woodland and moor. Tones were awakened in her memory; words which she had heard him speak as they rode onward, when she was carried, wondering and trembling, through the air; words from the great Fountain of love, the highest love that embraces all the human race. What had not been won and achieved by this love?

　　Day and night beautiful Helga was absorbed in the contemplation of the great amount of her happiness, and lost herself in the contemplation, like a child who turns hurriedly from the giver to examine the beautiful gifts. She was over-powered with her good fortune, which seemed always increasing, and therefore what might it become in the future? Had she not been brought by a wonderful miracle to all this joy and happiness? And in these thoughts she indulged, until at last she thought no more of the Giver. It was the over-abundance of youthful spirits unfolding its wings for a daring flight. Her eyes sparkled with energy, when suddenly arose a loud noise in the court below, and the daring thought vanished. She looked down, and saw two large ostriches running round quickly in narrow circles; she had never seen these creatures before,—great, coarse, clumsy-looking birds with curious wings that looked as if they had been clipped, and the birds themselves had the appearance of having been roughly used. She inquired about them, and for the first time heard the legend which the Egyptians relate respecting the ostrich.

　　Once, say they, the ostriches were a beautiful and glorious race of birds, with large, strong wings. One evening the other large birds of the forest said to the ostrich, “Brother, shall we fly to the river to-morrow morning to drink, God willing?” and the ostrich answered, “I will.”

　　With the break of day, therefore, they commenced their flight; first rising high in the air, towards the sun, which is the eye of God; still higher and higher the ostrich flew, far above the other birds, proudly approaching the light, trusting in its own strength, and thinking not of the Giver, or saying, “if God will.”When suddenly the avenging angel drew back the veil from the flaming ocean of sunlight, and in a moment the wings of the proud bird were scorched and shrivelled, and they sunk miserably to the earth. Since that time the ostrich and his race have never been able to rise in the air; they can only fly terror-stricken along the ground, or run round and round in narrow circles. It is a warning to mankind, that in all our thoughts and schemes, and in every action we undertake, we should say, “if God will.”

　　Then Helga bowed her head thoughtfully and seriously, and looked at the circling ostrich, as with timid fear and simple pleasure it glanced at its own great shadow on the sunlit walls. And the story of the ostrich sunk deeply into the heart and mind of Helga: a life of happiness, both in the present and in the future, seemed secure for her, and what was yet to come might be the best of all, God willing.

　　Early in the spring, when the storks were again about to journey northward, beautiful Helga took off her golden bracelets, scratched her name on them, and beckoned to the stork-father. He came to her, and she placed the golden circlet round his neck, and begged him to deliver it safely to the Viking’s wife, so that she might know that her foster-daughter still lived, was happy, and had not forgotten her.

　　“It is rather heavy to carry,” thought stork-papa, when he had it on his neck; “but gold and honor are not to be flung into the street. The stork brings good fortune—they’ll be obliged to acknowledge that at last.”

　　“You lay gold, and I lay eggs,” said stork-mamma; “with you it is only once in a way, I lay eggs every year But no one appreciates what we do; I call it very mortifying.”

　　“But then we have a consciousness of our own worth, mother,” replied stork-papa.

　　“What good will that do you?” retorted stork-mamma; “it will neither bring you a fair wind, nor a good meal.”

　　“The little nightingale, who is singing yonder in the tamarind grove, will soon be going north, too.” Helga said she had often heard her singing on the wild moor, so she determined to send a message by her. While flying in the swan’s plumage she had learnt the bird language; she had often conversed with the stork and the swallow, and she knew that the nightingale would understand. So she begged the nightingale to fly to the beechwood, on the peninsula of Jutland, where a mound of stone and twigs had been raised to form the grave, and she begged the nightingale to persuade all the other little birds to build their nests round the place, so that evermore should resound over that grave music and song. And the nightingale flew away, and time flew away also.

　　In the autumn, an eagle, standing upon a pyramid, saw a stately train of richly laden camels, and men attired in armor on foaming Arabian steeds, whose glossy skins shone like silver, their nostrils were pink, and their thick, flowing manes hung almost to their slender legs. A royal prince of Arabia, handsome as a prince should be, and accompanied by distinguished guests, was on his way to the stately house, on the roof of which the storks’ empty nests might be seen. They were away now in the far north, but expected to return very soon. And, indeed, they returned on a day that was rich in joy and gladness.

　　A marriage was being celebrated, in which the beautiful Helga, glittering in silk and jewels, was the bride, and the bridegroom the young Arab prince. Bride and bridegroom sat at the upper end of the table, between the bride’s mother and grandfather. But her gaze was not on the bridegroom, with his manly, sunburnt face, round which curled a black beard, and whose dark fiery eyes were fixed upon her; but away from him, at a twinkling star, that shone down upon her from the sky. Then was heard the sound of rushing wings beating the air. The storks were coming home; and the old stork pair, although tired with the journey and requiring rest, did not fail to fly down at once to the balustrades of the verandah, for they knew already what feast was being celebrated. They had heard of it on the borders of the land, and also that Helga had caused their figures to be represented on the walls, for they belonged to her history.

　　“I call that very sensible and pretty,” said stork-papa.

　　“Yes, but it is very little,” said mamma stork; “they could not possibly have done less.”

　　But, when Helga saw them, she rose and went out into the verandah to stroke the backs of the storks. The old stork pair bowed their heads, and curved their necks, and even the youngest among the young ones felt honored by this reception.

　　Helga continued to gaze upon the glittering star, which seemed to glow brighter and purer in its light; then between herself and the star floated a form, purer than the air, and visible through it. It floated quite near to her, and she saw that it was the dead Christian priest, who also was coming to her wedding feast—coming from the heavenly kingdom.

　　“The glory and brightness, yonder, outshines all that is known on earth,” said he.

　　Then Helga the fair prayed more gently, and more earnestly, than she had ever prayed in her life before, that she might be permitted to gaze, if only for a single moment, at the glory and brightness of the heavenly kingdom. Then she felt herself lifted up, as it were, above the earth, through a sea of sound and thought; not only around her, but within her, was there light and song, such as words cannot express.

　　“Now we must return;” he said; “you will be missed.”

　　“Only one more look,” she begged; “but one short moment more.”

　　“We must return to earth; the guests will have all departed. Only one more look!—the last!”

　　Then Helga stood again in the verandah. But the marriage lamps in the festive hall had been all extinguished, and the torches outside had vanished. The storks were gone; not a guest could be seen; no bridegroom—all in those few short moments seemed to have died. Then a great dread fell upon her. She stepped from the verandah through the empty hall into the next chamber, where slept strange warriors. She opened a side door, which once led into her own apartment, but now, as she passed through, she found herself suddenly in a garden which she had never before seen here, the sky blushed red, it was the dawn of morning. Three minutes only in heaven, and a whole night on earth had passed away! Then she saw the storks, and called to them in their own language.

　　Then stork-papa turned his head towards here, listened to her words, and drew near. “You speak our language,” said he, “what do you wish? Why do you appear,—you—a strange woman?”

　　“It is I—it is Helga! Dost thou not know me? Three minutes ago we were speaking together yonder in the verandah.”

　　“That is a mistake,” said the stork, “you must have dreamed all this.”

　　“No, no,” she exclaimed. Then she reminded him of the Viking’s castle, of the great lake, and of the journey across the ocean.

　　Then stork-papa winked his eyes, and said, “Why that’s an old story which happened in the time of my grandfather. There certainly was a princess of that kind here in Egypt once, who came from the Danish land, but she vanished on the evening of her wedding day, many hundred years ago, and never came back. You may read about it yourself yonder, on a monument in the garden. There you will find swans and storks sculptured, and on the top is a figure of the princess Helga, in marble.”

　　And so it was; Helga understood it all now, and sank on her knees. The sun burst forth in all its glory, and, as in olden times, the form of the frog vanished in his beams, and the beautiful form stood forth in all its loveliness; so now, bathed in light, rose a beautiful form, purer, clearer than air—a ray of brightness—from the Source of light Himself. The body crumbled into dust, and a faded lotus-flower lay on the spot on which Helga had stood.

　　“Now that is a new ending to the story,” said stork-papa; “I really never expected it would end in this way, but it seems a very good ending.”

　　“And what will the young ones say to it, I wonder?” said stork-mamma.

　　“Ah, that is a very important question,” replied the stork.

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