ah,yes,everythingwillbeforgotten!"andthentheconversationturnedonothermatters.
buttheyoungestchildintheroom,aboy,withlarge,earnesteyes,mounteduponachairbehindthewindowcurtains,andlookedoutintotheyard,wherethemoonwaspouringafloodoflightontheoldgravestone,-thestonethathadalwaysappearedtohimsodullandflat,butwhichlaytherenowlikeagreatleafoutofabookofhistory.allthattheboyhadheardofoldprebenandhiswifeseemedclearlydefinedonthestone,andashegazedonit,andglancedattheclear,brightmoonshininginthepureair,itwasasifthelightofgod'scountenancebeamedoverhisbeautifulworld.
"forgotten!everythingwillbeforgotten!"stillechoedthroughtheroom,andinthesamemomentaninvisiblespiritwhisperedtotheheartoftheboy,"preservecarefullytheseedthathasbeenentrustedtothee,thatitmaygrowandthrive.guarditwell.throughthee,mychild,shalltheobliteratedinscriptionontheold,weather-beatengrave-stonegoforthtofuturegenerationsinclear,goldencharacters.theoldpairshallagainwanderthroughthestreetsarm-in-arm,orsitwiththeirfresh,healthycheeksonthebenchunderthelime-tree,andsmileandnodatrichandpoor.theseedofthishourshallripeninthecourseofyearsintoabeautifulpoem.thebeautifulandthegoodareneverforgotten,theylivealwaysinstoryorinsong."
theend.
1872
fairytalesofhanschristianandersen
theoldhouse
byhanschristianandersen
averyoldhousestoodonceinastreetwithseveralthatwerequitenewandclean.thedateofitserectionhadbeencarvedononeofthebeams,andsurroundedbyscrollsformedoftulipsandhop-tendrils;bythisdateitcouldbeseenthattheoldhousewasnearlythreehundredyearsold.versestoowerewrittenoverthewindowsinold-fashionedletters,andgrotesquefaces,curiouslycarved,grinnedatyoufromunderthecornices.onestoryprojectedalongwayovertheother,andundertheroofranaleadengutter,withadragon'sheadattheend.therainwasintendedtopouroutatthedragon'smouth,butitranoutofhisbodyinstead,fortherewasaholeinthegutter.theotherhousesinthestreetwerenewandwellbuilt,withlargewindowpanesandsmoothwalls.anyonecouldseetheyhadnothingtodowiththeoldhouse.perhapstheythought,"howlongwillthatheapofrubbishremainheretobeadisgracetothewholestreet.theparapetprojectssofarforwardthatnoonecanseeoutofourwindowswhatisgoingoninthatdirection.thestairsareasbroadasthestaircaseofacastle,andassteepasiftheyledtoachurch-tower.theironrailinglookslikethegateofacemetery,andtherearebrassknobsuponit.itisreallytooridiculous."
oppositetotheoldhouseweremorenicenewhouses,whichhadjustthesameopinionastheirneighbors.
atthewindowofoneofthemsatalittleboywithfreshrosycheeks,andclearsparklingeyes,whowasveryfondoftheoldhouse,insunshineorinmoonlight.hewouldsitandlookatthewallfromwhichtheplasterhadinsomeplacesfallenoff,andfancyallsortsofsceneswhichhadbeeninformertimes.howthestreetmusthavelookedwhenthehouseshadallgableroofs,openstaircases,andgutterswithdragonsatthespout.hecouldevenseesoldierswalkingaboutwithhalberds.certainlyitwasaverygoodhousetolookatforamusement.
anoldmanlivedinit,whoworeknee-breeches,acoatwithlargebrassbuttons,andawig,whichanyonecouldseewasarealwig.everymorninganoldmancametocleantherooms,andtowaituponhim,otherwisetheoldmanintheknee-breecheswouldhavebeenquitealoneinthehouse.sometimeshecametooneofthewindowsandlookedout;thenthelittleboynoddedtohim,andtheoldmannoddedbackagain,tilltheybecameacquainted,andwerefriends,althoughtheyhadneverspokentoeachother;butthatwasofnoconsequence.
thelittleboyonedayheardhisparentssay,"theoldmanoppositeisverywelloff,butisterriblylonely."thenextsundaymorningthelittleboywrappedsomethinginapieceofpaperandtookittothedooroftheoldhouse,andsaidtotheattendantwhowaitedupontheoldman,"willyoupleasegivethisfrommetothegentlemanwholiveshere;ihavetwotinsoldiers,andthisisoneofthem,andheshallhaveit,becauseiknowheisterriblylonely."
andtheoldattendantnoddedandlookedverypleased,andthenhecarriedthetinsoldierintothehouse.
afterwardshewassentovertoaskthelittleboyifhewouldnotliketopayavisithimself.hisparentsgavehimpermission,andsoitwasthathegainedadmissiontotheoldhouse.
thebrassyknobsontherailingsshonemorebrightlythanever,asiftheyhadbeenpolishedonaccountofhisvisit;andonthedoorwerecarvedtrumpetersstandingintulips,anditseemedasiftheywereblowingwithalltheirmight,theircheeksweresopuffedout."tanta-ra-ra,thelittleboyiscoming;tanta-ra-ra,thelittleboyiscoming."
thenthedooropened.allroundthehallhungoldportraitsofknightsinarmor,andladiesinsilkgowns;andthearmorrattled,andthesilkdressesrustled.thencameastaircasewhichwentupalongway,andthencamedownalittlewayandledtoabalcony,whichwasinaveryruinousstate.therewerelargeholesandlongcracks,outofwhichgrewgrassandleaves,indeedthewholebalcony,thecourtyard,andthewallsweresoovergrownwithgreenthattheylookedlikeagarden.inthebalconystoodflower-pots,onwhichwereheadshavingasses'ears,buttheflowersinthemgrewjustastheyonepotpinksweregrowingalloverthesides,atleastthegreenleaveswereshootingforthstalkandstem,andsayingasplainlyastheycouldspeak,"theairhasfannedme,thesunhaskissedme,andiampromisedalittleflowerfornextsunday-reallyfornextsunday."
thentheyenteredaroominwhichthewallswerecoveredwithleather,andtheleatherhadgoldenflowersstampeduponit.
"gildingwillfadeindampweather,
toendure,thereisnothinglikeleather,"saidthewalls.chairshandsomelycarved,withelbowsoneachside,andwithveryhighbacks,stoodintheroom,andastheycreakedtheyseemedtosay,"sitdown.ohdear,howiamcreaking.ishallcertainlyhavethegoutliketheoldcupboard.goutinmyback,ugh."
andthenthelittleboyenteredtheroomwheretheoldmansat.
"thankyouforthetinsoldiermylittlefriend,"saidtheoldman,"andthankyoualsoforcomingtoseeme."
"thanks,thanks,"or"creak,creak,"saidallthefurniture.
therewassomuchthatthepiecesoffurniturestoodineachother'swaytogetasightofthelittleboy.
onthewallnearthecentreoftheroomhungthepictureofabeautifullady,youngandgay,dressedinthefashionoftheoldentimes,withpowderedhair,andafull,stiffskirt.shesaidneither"thanks"nor"creak,"butshelookeddownuponthelittleboywithhermildeyes;andthenhesaidtotheoldman,
"wheredidyougetthatpicture?"