安徒生童話:Anne Lisbeth安妮·莉絲貝特

Anne Lisbeth

by Hans Christian Andersen（1859）

ANNE LISBETH was a beautiful young woman， with a red and white complexion， glittering white teeth， and clear soft eyes； and her footstep was light in the dance， but her mind was lighter still. She had a little child， not at all pretty； so he was put out to be nursed by a laborer's wife， and his mother went to the count's castle. She sat in splendid rooms， richly decorated with silk and velvet； not a breath of air was allowed to blow upon her， and no one was allowed to speak to her harshly， for she was nurse to the count's child. He was fair and delicate as a prince， and beautiful as an angel； and how she loved this child！ Her own boy was provided for by being at the laborer's where the mouth watered more frequently than the pot boiled， and where in general no one was at home to take care of the child. Then he would cry， but what nobody knows nobody cares for； so he would cry till he was tired， and then fall asleep； and while we are asleep we can feel neither hunger nor thirst. Ah， yes； sleep is a capital invention.

As years went on， Anne Lisbeth's child GREw apace like weeds， although they said his growth had been stunted. He had become quite a member of the family in which he dwelt； they received money to keep him， so that his mother got rid of him altogether. She had become quite a lady； she had a comfortable home of her own in the town； and out of doors， when she went for a walk， she wore a bonnet； but she never walked out to see the laborer： that was too far from the town， and， indeed， she had nothing to go for， the boy now belonged to these laboring people. He had food， and he could also do something towards earning his living； he took care of Mary's red cow， for he knew how to tend cattle and make himself useful.

the GREat dog by the yard gate of a nobleman's mansion sits proudly on the top of his kennel when the sun shines， and barks at every one that passes； but if it rains， he creeps into his house， and there he is warm and dry. Anne Lisbeth's boy also sat in the sunshine on the top of the fence， cutting out a little toy. If it was spring-time， he knew of three strawberry-plants in blossom， which would certainly bear fruit. This was his most hopeful thought， though it often came to nothing. And he had to sit out in the rain in the worst weather， and get wet to the skin， and let the cold wind dry the clothes on his back afterwards. If he went near the farmyard belonging to the count， he was pushed and knocked about， for the men and the maids said he was so horrible ugly； but he was used to all this， for nobody loved him. This was how the world treated Anne Lisbeth's boy， and how could it be otherwise. It was his fate to be beloved by no one. Hitherto he had been a land crab； the land at last cast him adrift. He went to sea in a wretched vessel， and sat at the helm， while the skipper sat over the grog-can. He was dirty and ugly， half-frozen and half-starved； he always looked as if he never had enough to eat， which was really the case.

Late in the autumn， when the weather was rough， windy， and wet， and the cold penetrated through the thickest clothing， especially at sea， a wretched boat went out to sea with only two men on board， or， more correctly， a man and a half， for it was the skipper and his boy. There had only been a kind of twilight all day， and it soon GREw quite dark， and so bitterly cold， that the skipper took a dram to warm him. The bottle was old， and the glass too. It was perfect in the upper part， but the foot was broken off， and it had therefore been fixed upon a little carved block of wood， painted blue. A dram is a great comfort， and two are better still， thought the skipper， while the boy sat at the helm， which he held fast in his hard seamed hands. He was ugly， and his hair was matted， and he looked crippled and stunted； they called him the field-laborer's boy， though in the church register he was entered as Anne Lisbeth's son. The wind cut through the rigging， and the boat cut through the sea. The sails， filled by the wind， swelled out and carried them along in wild career. It was wet and rough above and below， and might still be worse. Hold！ what is that？ What has struck the boat？ Was it a waterspout， or a heavy sea rolling suddenly upon them？

“Heaven help us！” cried the boy at the helm， as the boat heeled over and lay on its beam ends. It had struck on a rock， which rose from the depths of the sea， and sank at once， like an old shoe in a puddle. “It sank at once with mouse and man，” as the saying is. There might have been mice on board， but only one man and a half， the skipper and the laborer's boy. No one saw it but the skimming sea-gulls and the fishes beneath the water； and even they did not see it properly， for they darted back with terror as the boat filled with water and sank. There it lay， scarcely a fathom below the surface， and those two were provided for， buried， and forgotten. The glass with the foot of blue wood was the only thing that did not sink， for the wood floated and the glass drifted away to be cast upon the shore and broken； where and when， is indeed of no consequence. It had served its purpose， and it had been loved， which Anne Lisbeth's boy had not been. But in heaven no soul will be able to say， “Never loved.”

Anne Lisbeth had now lived in the town many years； she was called “Madame，” and felt dignified in consequence； she remembered the old， noble days， in which she had driven in the carriage， and had associated with countess and baroness. Her beautiful， noble child had been a dear angel， and possessed the kindest heart； he had loved her so much， and she had loved him in return； they had kissed and loved each other， and the boy had been her joy， her second life. Now he was fourteen years of age， tall， handsome， and clever. She had not seen him since she carried him in her arms； neither had she been for years to the count's palace； it was quite a journey thither from the town.

“I must make one effort to go，” said Anne Lisbeth， “to see my darling， the count's sweet child， and press him to my heart. Certainly he must long to see me， too， the young count； no doubt he thinks of me and loves me， as in those days when he would fling his angel-arms round my neck， and lisp 'Anne Liz.' It was music to my ears. Yes， I must make an effort to see him again.” She drove across the country in a grazier's cart， and then got out， and continued her journey on foot， and thus reached the count's castle. It was as GREat and magnificent as it had always been， and the garden looked the same as ever； all the servants were strangers to her， not one of them knew Anne Lisbeth， nor of what consequence she had once been there； but she felt sure the countess would soon let them know it， and her darling boy， too： how she longed to see him！

Now that Anne Lisbeth was at her journey's end， she was kept waiting a long time； and for those who wait， time passes slowly. But before the GREat people went in to dinner， she was called in and spoken to very graciously. She was to go in again after dinner， and then she would see her sweet boy once more. How tall， and slender， and thin he had grown； but the eyes and the sweet angel mouth were still beautiful. He looked at her， but he did not speak， he certainly did not know who she was. He turned round and was going away， but she seized his hand and pressed it to her lips.

“Well， well，” he said； and with that he walked out of the room. He who filled her every thought！ he whom she loved best， and who was her whole earthly pride！

Anne Lisbeth went forth from the castle into the public road， feeling mournful and sad； he whom she had nursed day and night， and even now carried about in her dreams， had been cold and strange， and had not a word or thought respecting her. A GREat black raven darted down in front of her on the high road， and croaked dismally.

“Ah，” said she， “what bird of ill omen art thou？” Presently she passed the laborer's hut； his wife stood at the door， and the two women spoke to each other.

“You look well，” said the woman； “you're fat and plump； you are well off.”

“Oh yes，” answered Anne Lisbeth.

“the boat went down with them，” continued the woman； “Hans the skipper and the boy were both drowned； so there's an end of them. I always thought the boy would be able to help me with a few dollars. He'll never cost you anything more， Anne Lisbeth.”

“So they were drowned，” repeated Anne Lisbeth； but she said no more， and the subject was dropped. She felt very low-spirited， because her count-child had shown no inclination to speak to her who loved him so well， and who had travelled so far to see him. The journey had cost money too， and she had derived no GREat pleasure from it. Still she said not a word of all this； she could not relieve her heart by telling the laborer's wife， lest the latter should think she did not enjoy her former position at the castle. Then the raven flew over her， screaming again as he flew.

“the black wretch！” said Anne Lisbeth， “he will end by frightening me today.” She had brought coffee and chicory with her， for she thought it would be a charity to the poor woman to give them to her to boil a cup of coffee， and then she would take a cup herself.

the woman prepared the coffee， and in the meantime Anne Lisbeth seated her in a chair and fell asleep. Then she dreamed of something which she had never dreamed before； singularly enough she dreamed of her own child， who had wept and hungered in the laborer's hut， and had been knocked about in heat and in cold， and who was now lying in the depths of the sea， in a spot only known by God. She fancied she was still sitting in the hut， where the woman was busy preparing the coffee， for she could smell the coffee-berries roasting. But suddenly it seemed to her that there stood on the threshold a beautiful young form， as beautiful as the count's child， and this apparition said to her， “The world is passing away； hold fast to me， for you are my mother after all； you have an angel in heaven， hold me fast；” and the child-angel stretched out his hand and seized her. Then there was a terrible crash， as of a world crumbling to pieces， and the angel-child was rising from the earth， and holding her by the sleeve so tightly that she felt herself lifted from the ground； but， on the other hand， something heavy hung to her feet and dragged her down， and it seemed as if hundreds of women were clinging to her， and crying， “If thou art to be saved， we must be saved too. Hold fast， hold fast.” And then they all hung on her， but there were too many； and as they clung the sleeve was torn， and Anne Lisbeth fell down in horror， and awoke. Indeed she was on the point of falling over in reality with the chair on which she sat； but she was so startled and alarmed that she could not remember what she had dreamed， only that it was something very dreadful.

they drank their coffee and had a chat together， and then Anne Lisbeth went away towards the little town where she was to meet the carrier， who was to drive her back to her own home. But when she came to him she found that he would not be ready to start till the evening of the next day. Then she began to think of the expense， and what the distance would be to walk. She remembered that the route by the sea-shore was two miles shorter than by the high road； and as the weather was clear， and there would be moonlight， she determined to make her way on foot， and to start at once， that she might reach home the next day.

the sun had set， and the evening bells sounded through the air from the tower of the village church， but to her it was not the bells， but the cry of the frogs in the marshes. Then they ceased， and all around became still； not a bird could be heard， they were all at rest， even the owl had not left her hiding place； deep silence reigned on the margin of the wood by the sea-shore. As Anne Lisbeth walked on she could hear her own footsteps in the sands； even the waves of the sea were at rest， and all in the deep waters had sunk into silence. There was quiet among the dead and the living in the deep sea. Anne Lisbeth walked on， thinking of nothing at all， as people say， or rather her thoughts wandered， but not away from her， for thought is never absent from us， it only slumbers. Many thoughts that have lain dormant are roused at the proper time， and begin to stir in the mind and the heart， and seem even to come upon us from above. It is written， that a good deed bears a blessing for its fruit； and it is also written， that the wages of sin is death. Much has been said and much written which we pass over or know nothing of. A light arises within us， and then forgotten things make themselves remembered； and thus it was with Anne Lisbeth. The germ of every vice and every virtue lies in our heart， in yours and in mine； they lie like little grains of seed， till a ray of sunshine， or the touch of an evil hand， or you turn the corner to the right or to the left， and the decision is made. The little seed is stirred， it swells and shoots up， and pours its sap into your blood， directing your course either for good or evil. Troublesome thoughts often exist in the mind， fermenting there， which are not realized by us while the senses are as it were slumbering； but still they are there. Anne Lisbeth walked on thus with her senses half asleep， but the thoughts were fermenting within her.

From one Shrove Tuesday to another， much may occur to weigh down the heart； it is the reckoning of a whole year； much may be forgotten， sins against heaven in word and thought， sins against our neighbor， and against our own conscience. We are scarcely aware of their existence； and Anne Lisbeth did not think of any of her errors. She had committed no crime against the law of the land； she was an honorable person， in a good position—that she knew.

She continued her walk along by the margin of the sea. What was it she saw lying there？ An old hat； a man's hat. Now when might that have been washed overboard？ She drew nearer， she stopped to look at the hat； “Ha！ what was lying yonder？” She shuddered； yet it was nothing save a heap of grass and tangled seaweed flung across a long stone， but it looked like a corpse. Only tangled grass， and yet she was frightened at it. As she turned to walk away， much came into her mind that she had heard in her childhood： old superstitions of spectres by the sea-shore； of the ghosts of drowned but unburied people， whose corpses had been washed up on the desolate beach. The body， she knew， could do no harm to any one， but the spirit could pursue the lonely wanderer， attach itself to him， and demand to be carried to the churchyard， that it might rest in consecrated ground. “Hold fast！ hold fast！” the spectre would cry； and as Anne Lisbeth murmured these words to herself， the whole of her dream was suddenly recalled to her memory， when the mother had clung to her， and uttered these words， when， amid the crashing of worlds， her sleeve had been torn， and she had slipped from the grasp of her child， who wanted to hold her up in that terrible hour. Her child， her own child， which she had never loved， lay now buried in the sea， and might rise up， like a spectre， from the waters， and cry， “Hold fast； carry me to consecrated ground！”

As these thoughts passed through her mind， fear gave speed to her feet， so that she walked faster and faster. Fear came upon her as if a cold， clammy hand had been laid upon her heart， so that she almost fainted. As she looked across the sea， all there GREw darker； a heavy mist came rolling onwards， and clung to bush and tree， distorting them into fantastic shapes. She turned and glanced at the moon， which had risen behind her. It looked like a pale， rayless surface， and a deadly weight seemed to hang upon her limbs. “Hold，” thought she； and then she turned round a second time to look at the moon. A white face appeared quite close to her， with a mist， hanging like a garment from its shoulders. “Stop！ carry me to consecrated earth，” sounded in her ears， in strange， hollow tones. The sound did not come from frogs or ravens； she saw no sign of such creatures. “A grave！ dig me a grave！” was repeated quite loud. Yes， it was indeed the spectre of her child. The child that lay beneath the ocean， and whose spirit could have no rest until it was carried to the churchyard， and until a grave had been dug for it in consecrated ground. She would go there at once， and there she would dig. She turned in the direction of the church， and the weight on her heart seemed to grow lighter， and even to vanish altogether； but when she turned to go home by the shortest way， it returned. “Stop！ stop！” and the words came quite clear， though they were like the croak of a frog， or the wail of a bird. “A grave！ dig me a grave！”

the mist was cold and damp， her hands and face were moist and clammy with horror， a heavy weight again seized her and clung to her， her mind became clear for thoughts that had never before been there.

In these northern regions， a beech-wood often buds in a single night and appears in the morning sunlight in its full glory of youthful GREen. So， in a single instant， can the consciousness of the sin that has been committed in thoughts， words， and actions of our past life， be unfolded to us. When once the conscience is awakened， it springs up in the heart spontaneously， and God awakens the conscience when we least expect it. Then we can find no excuse for ourselves； the deed is there and bears witness against us. The thoughts seem to become words， and to sound far out into the world. We are horrified at the thought of what we have carried within us， and at the consciousness that we have not overcome the evil which has its origin in thoughtlessness and pride. The heart conceals within itself the vices as well as the virtues， and they grow in the shallowest ground. Anne Lisbeth now experienced in thought what we have clothed in words. She was overpowered by them， and sank down and crept along for some distance on the ground. “A grave！ dig me a grave！” sounded again in her ears， and she would have gladly buried herself， if in the grave she could have found forgetfulness of her actions.

It was the first hour of her awakening， full of anguish and horror. Superstition made her alternately shudder with cold or burn with the heat of fever. Many things， of which she had feared even to speak， came into her mind. Silently， as the cloud-shadows in the moonshine， a spectral apparition flitted by her； she had heard of it before. Close by her galloped four snorting steeds， with fire FLASHing from their eyes and nostrils. They dragged a burning coach， and within it sat the wicked lord of the manor， who had ruled there a hundred years before. The legend says that every night， at twelve o'clock， he drove into his castleyard and out again. He was not as pale as dead men are， but black as a coal. He nodded， and pointed to Anne Lisbeth， crying out， “Hold fast！ hold fast！ and then you may ride again in a nobleman's carriage， and forget your child.”

She gathered herself up， and hastened to the churchyard； but black crosses and black ravens danced before her eyes， and she could not distinguish one from the other. The ravens croaked as the raven had done which she saw in the daytime， but now she understood what they said. “I am the raven-mother； I am the raven-mother，” each raven croaked， and Anne Lisbeth felt that the name also applied to her； and she fancied she should be transformed into a black bird， and have to cry as they cried， if she did not dig the grave. And she threw herself upon the earth， and with her hands dug a grave in the hard ground， so that the blood ran from her fingers. “A grave！ dig me a grave！” still sounded in her ears； she was fearful that the cock might crow， and the first red streak appear in the east， before she had finished her work； and then she would be lost. And the cock crowed， and the day dawned in the east， and the grave was only half dug. An icy hand passed over her head and face， and down towards her heart. “Only half a grave，” a voice wailed， and fled away. Yes， it fled away over the sea； it was the ocean spectre； and， exhausted and overpowered， Anne Lisbeth sunk to the ground， and her senses left her.

It was a bright day when she came to herself， and two men were raising her up； but she was not lying in the churchyard， but on the sea-shore， where she had dug a deep hole in the sand， and cut her hand with a piece of broken glass， whose sharp stern was stuck in a little block of painted wood. Anne Lisbeth was in a fever. Conscience had roused the memories of superstitions， and had so acted upon her mind， that she fancied she had only half a soul， and that her child had taken the other half down into the sea. Never would she be able to cling to the mercy of Heaven till she had recovered this other half which was now held fast in the deep water.

Anne Lisbeth returned to her home， but she was no longer the woman she had been. Her thoughts were like a confused， tangled skein； only one thread， only one thought was clear to her， namely that she must carry the spectre of the sea-shore to the churchyard， and dig a grave for him there； that by so doing she might win back her soul. Many a night she was missed from her home， and was always found on the sea-shore waiting for the spectre.

In this way a whole year passed； and then one night she vanished again， and was not to be found. The whole of the next day was spent in a useless search after her.

Towards evening， when the clerk entered the church to toll the vesper bell， he saw by the altar Anne Lisbeth， who had spent the whole day there. Her powers of body were almost exhausted， but her eyes FLASHed brightly， and on her cheeks was a rosy flush. The last rays of the setting sun shone upon her， and gleamed over the altar upon the shining clasps of the Bible， which lay open at the words of the prophet Joel， “Rend your hearts and not your garments， and turn unto the Lord.”

“That was just a chance，” people said； but do things happen by chance？ In the face of Anne Lisbeth， lighted up by the evening sun， could be seen peace and rest. She said she was happy now， for she had conquered. The spectre of the shore， her own child， had come to her the night before， and had said to her， “Thou hast dug me only half a grave： but thou hast now， for a year and a day， buried me altogether in thy heart， and it is there a mother can best hide her child！” And then he gave her back her lost soul， and brought her into the church. “Now I am in the house of God，” she said， “and in that house we are happy.”

When the sun set， Anne Lisbeth's soul had risen to that region where there is no more pain； and Anne Lisbeth's troubles were at an end.

安妮·莉絲貝特如奶似血，年輕開朗，長得很好看；牙齒白得發光，眼睛又明又亮，一雙腳跳起舞來又輕又快，性情也活潑輕鬆！後果怎麼樣呢？——生了“一個討厭的小仔子！”——可不是，他一點也不好看！他被送到了挖溝工人的妻子那裏。安妮·莉絲貝特本人則住進了伯爵夫人的府第裏面，坐在豪華的屋子裏，穿的是絲綢、絨料的衣服；沒有一絲微風可以吹到她身上，誰也不敢對她講嚴厲的話，那會傷害她，她不能忍受傷害。她爲伯爵的嬰兒做奶母。那孩子真像一個王子，美麗得像一個天使。她多麼喜歡這個嬰孩啊！她自己的孩子，是啊，他在那一個家，在挖溝工人的家。那個家裏，鍋從沒有燒開沸騰的時候，嘴卻總是鬧鬧嚷嚷，家裏常常沒有人。小男孩哭起來，沒有人聽到，也就沒有人動心1.他哭着便睡着了，在睡眠中人是感不到飢渴的，睡眠真是一個絕妙的發明。一年年過去了——是的，隨着時間逝去，雜草便長了起來，人們都這麼說，——安妮·莉絲貝特的孩子也長大了，可是，人們說他的發育可不算好。他是在這個家裏長大的，成了這家的人。他們因此得到了撫養費。安妮·莉絲貝特完全擺脫掉了他。她是大城市裏的夫人，在家中，生活溫暖舒服，出門則要戴帽子。她從不到挖溝工人家去，離開她住的城市太遠了，那兒也沒有她甚麼事，孩子是他們的，他們說，他能夠找吃的。他要找點事做掙一口吃的，於是他便去看管瑪茲·延森的紅母牛。他滿可以照料點甚麼，做點甚麼事了。

大莊子漂洗衣服的壩子上，看門狗在自己的棚子頂上，在太陽光中高傲地蹲着，對每個經過的人都吠幾聲。遇到下雨天，它便縮在棚子裏，乾燥、舒適。安妮·莉絲貝特的孩子在陽光裏坐在溝邊上，手裏削着拴牛的樁子。春天，他發覺三棵草莓開花了。它們一定會結果的，這是他最高興的想法。但是，一顆草莓也沒有結。下大雨、下小雨，他都坐在雨裏，渾身被淋得溼透，身上的衣服又被刺骨的風吹乾。他回到牛主人的院子的時候，總是被人推來搡去。姑娘和小夥子們都說他又怪又醜，他習以爲常了——從來沒有被人愛過！

安妮·莉絲貝特的孩子的日子過得怎麼樣？他將怎麼個活法？他命中註定的是：“從來沒有被人愛過。”

他被從陸地拋到船上，入了海，在一艘破敗的船上打工，船老闆喝酒的時候，他看着舵。他又髒又醜，寒飢交迫，人們會以爲他從來沒有吃飽過肚子，他也的確從未吃飽過。歲已深，天氣惡劣，潮溼，颳起了大風；風刺穿厚厚的衣服，特別是在海上。一艘破敗的船在航行，船上只有兩個人，是啊，你也可以說只有一個半人，那就是船主和他的夥計。那一天，整天都是烏黑的，接着又更加黑起來，寒氣刺骨。船老闆喝了些燒酒，暖暖自己的身體；酒瓶已經空了，連杯子也一樣。杯子上半截是完整的，腿卻折掉了，它被換了裝在一個塗了藍漆的木坨子上。船老闆的意思是，一瓶燒酒使人感覺不錯，兩瓶就更令人舒暢。孩子守着舵，用一雙滿是油污長滿老繭的手握着它。他很醜，頭髮又硬又亂，他腰彎背弓，衰老頹喪。這是挖溝工人的兒子，教堂的出生登記簿上他則是安妮·莉絲貝特的兒子。

風肆意地吹，船肆意地跑！帆兜滿了風，風來了勁兒，把船吹得像飛一樣地跑，——四周是那麼狂亂。狂風暴雨在摧打，可是更嚴重的還在後頭呢——停下！—— 怎麼回事兒？甚麼東西把船撞了一下，甚麼東西破了，甚麼東西把船抓住了？它在打轉轉！是天傾斜了嗎，是狂浪襲來嗎？——坐在舵旁的孩子高聲叫喊起來：“耶蘇啊！”船撞在海底一塊巨大的礁石上了，像只破鞋在村子裏的水潭裏沉落下去；像人們常說的那樣，連人帶鼠一起沉下去。老鼠是有的，可是人卻只有一個半：船老闆和挖溝工人的孩子。除了高聲尖叫的海鷗和海底下的魚之外，誰也沒有看見船的沉沒。再說，它們並沒有看得完全真切，因爲在海浪涌進這沉沒的船隻的時候，它們都驚恐地逃向四邊去了。船沉落到水下也不過一法恩2的地方；兩人就躺在那裏：隱存下了，被人遺忘掉了！只有那隻裝在藍漆的木坨子上的杯子沒有沉，木座子讓它漂着。杯子被逐着會被擊碎、會被衝向海灘，——何處，何時？是啊，要知道這並沒有甚麼下文！它的服務已經到頭，它被人喜愛過了。安妮·莉絲貝特的孩子卻沒有！只是在天國裏再沒有魂靈會說：“從來沒有被人愛過！”

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安妮·莉絲貝特在大城市裏，而且已經許多年了，被人稱爲夫人，特別是當她回憶起往事，在談起昔日在伯爵家裏的日子，談到她乘馬車，能和伯爵夫人及男爵夫人談話的那些日子的時候，她便昂起頭挺起脖子說她那甜蜜的公爵少爺是上帝最漂亮的天使，最美麗的生靈，他喜歡她，她喜歡他；他們相互親吻過，相互擁抱過，他是她的歡樂，她的半個生命。現在他已經長大了，十四歲了，有了學識，有了儀表；當年她把他抱在手臂裏，後來她一直沒有見到他；她多年沒有去公爵的府第了，要去那邊有很長的一段路程。“我決計要去一次！”安妮·莉絲貝特說道，“我得去我那乖孩子那裏，去看我那可愛的伯爵孩子！是啊，他必定也很想念我的，一定惦記着我的，喜歡我的，就像他當年用他那天使般的胳膊抱着我的脖子喊：”安——莉絲！“的時候一個樣，那聲音就像小提琴的聲音！是的，我決計要去再看看他。”她乘牛車，她步行，她來到了伯爵府，伯爵府第和往昔任何時候一樣還那麼宏偉華麗。那外面的花園也和從前一個樣，可是府裏的人全都是陌生的，沒有一個知道甚麼安妮·莉絲貝特，他們不明白她曾經一度在此地的作用；伯爵夫人肯定告訴他們的，她自己的孩子也會的；她多麼想念他啊！現在，安妮·莉絲貝特到了這裏。她不得不久久地等着，等待的時間是漫長的！主人就餐以前，她被叫到了伯爵夫人那裏，對她談得滿好。餐後她要看到她的可愛的孩子，於是她又被喚了進去。

他長得多麼神氣！高高的、瘦瘦的。可是那一雙漂亮的眼睛還是一樣，還有那天使的嘴！他望着她，但是他沒有說一句話。他顯然不認識她。他轉過身去，想走開；這時她拉住他的手，把手拉了貼在自己的嘴上。“噢，這就可以了！”他說道，接着他便走出了大廳。他，她癡心想念的人；他，她疼愛，最最疼愛的人；他，她在塵世間最大的驕傲。

安妮·莉絲貝特走到伯爵府第外，來到了寬敞的大道上。她很悲傷；他對她過於冷淡了，不想看她，連一個字也沒有說。他，她曾經日夜抱過的他，總是想念着的他。

一隻很大的漆黑的渡鴉落在道上她的前面，叫了又叫。“唉呀！”她說道，“你這叫人倒黴的鳥！”

她走過挖溝工人的屋子；婦人站在門外，於是她們交談起來。“你的光景不錯呀！”挖溝工人的妻子說道，“你又肥又胖的，日子很好啊！”“就這麼回事罷了！”安妮·莉絲貝特說道。“他們隨船一塊兒完了！”挖溝工人的妻子說道。“船老闆拉爾斯和孩子兩人一起淹死了。他們算是到了頭了。我先前還以爲有一天孩子會掙幾個錢幫幫我的。你不用在他身上花費一個子了，安妮·莉絲貝特！”“他們淹死掉了！”安妮·莉絲貝特說道，於是她們便不再談這件事。安妮·莉絲貝特很悲傷，因爲她的伯爵孩子竟不高興和她，這個愛他、不辭遠道而去的她講話；跑這一趟也是很費錢的呀。她沒有得到多大的歡樂，可是她在這裏一個字也沒有提這件事。她不想把這事告訴挖溝工人的妻子來寬自己的心，她聽了會以爲她已經不被伯爵家看得起了。這時渡鴉又在她頭上叫起來。“這個搗亂的黑傢伙，”安妮·莉絲貝特說道，“今天你可把我嚇着了！”

她帶着咖啡豆和菊苣3，把這東西給挖溝工人的妻子煮一點咖啡會是一件善事，安妮·莉絲貝特還可以喝上一杯。挖溝工人的妻子去煮咖啡，安妮·莉絲貝特便坐在一條凳子上睡着了。接着她夢到了一件她從來沒有夢見過的事，奇怪極了：她夢見了自己的那個在這間屋子裏捱過飢餓、哭叫無人理睬的孩子。這孩子現在躺在深深的海底，甚麼地方，只有上帝才知道。她夢見她坐在她所坐的那個地方，挖溝工人的妻子去煮咖啡，她聞到咖啡豆的氣味；門口站着那麼一個漂亮的孩子，他和伯爵的孩子一樣好看。小傢伙說：“現在世界要完了！牢牢地背住我！因爲你畢竟是我的母親！在天國裏你有一個天使！牢牢地背住我！”

接着他拉住了她，但是這時響起了一聲巨大的爆炸聲，一定是世界爆裂了，天使升了起來，緊緊地拉住了她的襯衣袖子，抓得如此地緊，讓她覺得她也從地球上往上升了起來。可是她的腳上卻有一種很重的東西拖住她，這東西還壓着她的背，就好像有好幾百個婦女緊緊地拽着她。她們還說，“要是你也能得救，我們也應該得救！抓牢了！抓牢了！”接着她們都一齊拽住她。太重了，“嘶——喇！”地響了一聲，她的袖子碎了，安妮·莉絲貝特重重地摔了下去，把她一下摔醒了——她差一點從坐的凳子上摔落下來。她頭昏昏沉沉，一點兒也記不得她都夢見了些甚麼，只知道很可怕。

接着咖啡喝完了，話也講了不少。於是安妮·莉絲貝特便走向最鄰近的小城，在那裏她要找趕車子的人，要在當天晚上搭車回自己家去。她找到趕車人，他說要在第二天晚上才能動身。她算了一下，留下來要花她多少錢，計算了一下路程，想着，要是順着海邊而不順着車道走，路程要短差不多十好幾裏；這時正是天高氣爽的時節，又是月圓的時候，安妮·莉絲貝特願意自己走；第二天她便可以到家了。

太陽落下去了，晚鐘正在響着，——不對，不是教堂的鐘聲，而是派得·奧克斯的青蛙4在池塘裏叫。很快，它們也不叫了，一片寂靜，連一聲鳥叫都聽不見，鳥兒全都休息了。貓頭鷹一定也不在巢裏，她經過的樹林和海灘都是靜悄悄的，她可以聽到她自己走在沙上的腳步聲。海上沒有水波，外面深海中更是一片寂靜，海里有生命的和已死掉的全都啞無聲息。

安妮·莉絲貝特走着，甚麼都不想，就像人們說的那樣，她脫離了自己的思想，但是，思想並沒有脫離她。思想從來沒有離開過我們，它們只是在打盹，那些在停滯的支配着人的活思想和那些還沒有活躍起來的思想都是這樣。思想當然能活動起來，它們可以在心裏活動，在我們的頭腦中活動或者跑來控制着我們。“善有善報！”都是這麼寫的：“罪惡中則伏着死機！”也是這麼寫的！寫過的東西許多許多，說過的話許多許多，可是有人不知道，有人記不住，安妮·莉絲貝特便是這樣；不過報應是會來的，會來的！

所有的罪惡，所有的德行都藏在我們心裏！在你的、我的心裏！它們像眼看不見的小種籽。後來有了從那面射來的陽光，有一隻罪惡的手在引着你，你在街角拐彎，朝右還是朝左。是的，這一轉便有了決定，小種籽開始動起來。它因此而膨脹起來，開始出芽，把自己的漿汁注入你的血液之中，你就開始了自己的行程。這是些惴惴不安的思想，人在似睡非睡的狀態中行走的時候，它們蟄伏着，但是蠢蠢欲動。安妮·莉絲貝特在似睡非睡中走着，思想在醞釀欲動。從一個燃燭彌撒5到下一個燃燭彌撒之間，心的算盤上記下了許多東西。這是一年的賬。對上帝、對我們身旁的人，對我們自己的良心的惡言惡意，都被遺忘了；這些我們不再想起，安妮 ·莉絲貝特也沒有想。她沒有觸犯過國家的法律，她很受人看重，善良和誠實，她自己知道。這會兒她正在海邊這麼走着，——那兒有甚麼東西？她停止了；是甚麼東西被衝到了岸上？是一頂破舊的男人帽。落水遇難的人是誰？她走近一些，站住瞧了瞧，——唉呀，那裏躺着的是甚麼呀！她被嚇壞了。可是並沒有嚇人的東西，只是一堆海草、葦稈纏住了橫在那裏的一大塊長條石，看上去就像是一個人！可是她被嚇壞了，在她繼續往前走的時候，她想起了她還是一個孩子的時候聽到的那許多關於“灘魂”的迷信傳說，就是那些被衝到荒灘上而沒有埋葬掉的遊魂。“灘屍”，就是那死屍，那沒有甚麼，可是它的遊魂，“灘魂”卻會跟隨單獨的過客，緊緊地附在過客身上，要他背它到教堂墳園埋在基督的土地上。“背牢！背牢！”它這樣喊叫。在安妮·莉絲貝特重複這幾個字的時候，她突然想起了她的夢，非常清晰，活生生地，那些母親怎麼樣緊緊拽住她，口裏喊着：“抓牢！抓牢！”世界怎樣沉下去，她的衣袖怎樣被撕碎，她又怎樣從那在末日來臨的那一刻要救她上去的孩子那裏甩脫。她的孩子，她自己的骨肉，他，她從來沒有愛過，是的，連想都沒有想過。這個孩子現在落到了海底，這個孩子會像灘魂一樣來喊：“背牢！背牢！把我帶到基督的土地上去！”她正在想的時候，恐懼在後面緊緊地追趕着她，於是她加快了步伐。恐懼像一隻冷酷潮溼的手壓到她的心房上，壓得她快窒息掉。她朝海望出去，那邊變得昏沉起來。一陣濃霧涌起來，蓋住了矮叢和樹林，那形狀令人看了奇怪。她轉過身來看身後的月亮，它像一個無光的蒼白圓盤，就好像有甚麼東西重重拽住她軀體的各個部位：背牢！背牢！她想道。而當她再次轉身來看月亮的時候，她覺得它的白色的臉龐就緊挨在她的身旁，稠濃的霧像一塊裹屍體的紗垂在她的肩上。“背牢！把我帶進基督的土地裏去！”她能聽到這樣的聲音。她真的也聽到一個十分空洞、十分奇特的聲音。它不是池塘裏青蛙的聲音，也不是渡鴉、烏鴉的聲音。因爲你知道，這些東西她並沒有看到，“把我葬掉，把我葬掉！”這樣的聲音在響着。是的，這是她那躺在海底的孩子的灘魂，要不是把它背去教堂的墳園和墓地，把它葬到基督的土地裏，它是不會得到安寧的。她要到那裏去，她要在那裏掘墳。她朝着教堂所在的方向走去，這時她覺得背上的負擔輕了一些。它消失了。於是她折回身來，走上那最短的路回家，可是這時，那負擔又沉重起來了：“背牢！背牢！”——聽去就像是青蛙的呱呱聲，又像是鳥的悲鳴，聲音非常地清楚，“把我葬掉！把我葬掉！”

霧氣很冷很溼，她的手和臉由於恐懼而發冷發溼。她身體的外面，四周向她緊逼，她的體內則變成一個她從來沒有體驗過的漫無邊際的思想的空間。

在北國這邊，成片的山毛櫸會在一個春天的夜晚完全綻吐出新芽，在第二天的陽光中，這些樹木便煥發出它們的青春嫩綠的光輝。我們內心昔日的思想、語言和行動播下的罪惡的種子，也會在一秒間發芽生長出來。它在良心甦醒的一刻發芽生長；是上帝在我們最意想不到的時候喚醒它的。這時甚麼藉口也沒有了，事實就在那兒作證，思想有了語言，這語言世界各處都可以聽到。隱藏在我們內心尚未泯滅的東西使得我們恐懼，我們的傲慢和放縱自己的思想所播下的東西使我們恐懼。心藏着所有的德行，但也保留着一切罪過，它們在最貧瘠的土壤裏也會生長。

我們這裏用語言講的這些東西，在安妮·莉絲貝特的思想中翻騰着。她因此疲憊不堪，倒在了地上，往前爬了一小段。“把我葬掉！把我葬掉！”有聲音這樣說。若是墳墓能令人徹底忘卻一切，她倒願意自己把自己埋葬掉。——這是帶有驚恐不安的嚴肅而清醒的時刻；迷信思想時冷時熱地在她的血液中流淌。她從來不想講的許許多多事，聚集到她的思想中來了。一個她從前聽說過的幻景，無聲無息地像雲的影子一樣從她身邊馳過。四頭喘息急促的馬緊靠着她奔了過去，它們的眼睛和鼻孔射出火，火照亮着它們。它們拉着一輛熾熱發光的車子，車子裏坐着那個一百年以前在這一帶橫行霸道的狠惡地主。他，傳說每天夜裏都要奔進他的莊子裏，接着又奔出來，他不像人們說的那樣是白的。不是，這個死人黑得像一塊炭，一塊熄滅了的炭。他對安妮·莉絲貝特點一點頭，向她招手：“背牢！背牢！這樣你又可以坐進伯爵家的車子，忘掉了你的孩子了！”

她更加急促地跑開了，她來到教堂墳園；可是黑色的十字架和黑色的渡鴉在她眼裏摻混在一起。渡鴉的叫聲和它們今天的叫聲是一樣的，可是現在她明白了它們的叫聲的含義：“我是渡鴉媽媽！我是渡鴉媽媽！”它們都這麼叫。安妮·莉絲貝特知道，這個名字和她也很有關係，她也許也會變成這樣一隻黑鳥，而必定要像它們那樣叫個不停，如果她不把墳挖成的話。

她伏到了地上，甩雙手挖那堅實的土地，手指都冒出了血。“把我葬掉！把我葬掉！”這聲音不斷響着。她害怕公雞鳴叫，害怕東方的第一道紅光，因爲如果在她的挖掘完畢之前雞鳴日出，那麼她便完了。可是，公雞啼起來了，東方發亮了——墳卻只挖了一半，一隻冰冷的手從她的頭和臉往下一直垂滑到了她的心所在的地方。“只挖了一半！”有聲音歎息說，它漸漸地消失了，沉落到了海底；是的，這是灘魂！安妮·莉絲貝特癱了，被甚麼迷住，倒到了地上。她沒有了思想，沒有了知覺。

她醒過來的時候，天已大亮。兩個年輕小夥子把她擡起，她沒有躺在教堂的墳園裏，而是在海灘上。她在那裏，在她身前挖了一個大坑，手指被一塊破玻璃杯劃破流了血；那隻杯子的銳利的腳是換裝在一個塗了藍漆的木坨子上的。安妮·莉絲貝特病了；良心和迷信混在一起，纏着分不開來。結果她知道，現在只剩了半個魂靈，另一半已被她的孩子帶到了海底；要是她不能再找回落到海里的那一半，她便永遠也飛不上天國得到天父的仁慈了。安妮·莉絲貝特回到家裏，她已再不是原來那樣的人了。她的思想就像一團亂纏在一起的麻，她只能抽出一條思緒來，那一根，把灘魂背到教堂的墳園裏去，給它挖一個墳，這樣好把她的整個魂靈收回來。好多個夜晚她都不在家裏，別人總是在海灘上找見她，她在那裏等着那灘魂。整整的一年便這樣過去了，接着有一天夜晚，她又不見了，怎麼也找不到她，第二天一整天到處找她也無下落。

到了傍晚，牧師去教堂準備敲暮鍾，他看到安妮·莉絲貝特躺在祭壇前面。她從一大清早便來到這裏，完全精疲力竭。但是她的眼睛明亮，她的面頰有一層紅暈；最後的霞光照進她的身裏；照在祭壇臺子上放着的聖經的閃光的扣子6上。聖經攤開的地方是先知約珥的一句話：“撕碎你們的心腸，而不是你們的衣服，轉歸向主，你們的上帝！”7——“這真是巧合！”大夥兒說，許多事就是巧合。

陽光照亮了安妮·莉絲貝特的臉，顯現出平靜和仁慈。她非常好，她說道。現在她得到了她的魂靈了！夜裏，那灘魂，她自己的孩子來到了她的身旁。它說道；你只挖了半個墳——爲了我，但是你一年到頭都把我埋藏在你的心中，一位母親在這裏保藏她的孩子是最好的。所以它便把她失去的那一半魂靈還給了她，把她領到教堂裏來了。“現在我已經在上帝的房子裏了！”她說道，“在裏面人們是幸福的！”

太陽完全落下去之後，安妮·莉絲貝特完全升上去了。在這裏經過一番苦鬥之後，那邊是沒有恐懼的，而安妮·莉絲貝特是苦鬥過了的。

1丹麥諺語：“耳不聞，心不動。”

2丹麥的長度計算法之一，以雙手伸開的全長爲一法恩。這種計算方法現已被廢棄。

3菊苣的根烘乾後可以佐咖啡用。

4這是一種俗稱鍾蛙的小蛙，叫聲清脆。一位叫派得·奧克斯的御廚師長把它引進丹麥，因此這種小蛙也被稱作派得·奧克斯娃。

5在丹麥每年2月2日基督教會舉行燃燭彌撒。

6在西方昔日的珍貴的精裝書的邊上大多有一個金屬的扣子，可以把書扣起來。這點和我國的線裝書的“函”相像。

7聖經舊約《約珥書》第2章第13句。