安徒生童话THE STORY OF THE YEAR.docx

安徒生童话THE STORY OF THE YEAR.docx

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安徒生童话THESTORYOFTHEYEAR

1872

FAIRYTALESOFHANSCHRISTIANANDERSEN

THESTORYOFTHEYEAR

byHansChristianAndersen

ITwasneartheendofJanuary,andaterriblefallofsnowwas

peltingdown,andwhirlingthroughthestreetsandlanes;the

windowswereplasteredwithsnowontheoutside,snowfellinmasses

fromtheroofs.Everyoneseemedinagreathurry;theyran,they

flew,fellintoeachother'sarms,holdingfastforamomentaslong

astheycouldstandsafely.Coachesandhorseslookedasiftheyhad

beenfrostedwithsugar.Thefootmenstoodwiththeirbacksagainst

thecarriages,soastoturntheirfacesfromthewind.Thefoot

passengerskeptwithintheshelterofthecarriages,whichcould

onlymoveslowlyoninthedeepsnow.Atlastthestormabated,and

anarrowpathwassweptcleaninfrontofthehouses;whentwopersons

metinthispaththeystoodstill,forneitherlikedtotakethefirst

stepononesideintothedeepsnowtolettheotherpasshim.There

theystoodsilentandmotionless,tillatlast,asifbytacit

consent,theyeachsacrificedalegandburieditinthedeepsnow.

Towardsevening,theweatherbecamecalm.Thesky,clearedfromthe

snow,lookedmoreloftyandtransparent,whilethestarsshonewith

newbrightnessandpurity.Thefrozensnowcrackledunderfoot,and

wasquitefirmenoughtobearthesparrows,whohoppeduponitin

themorningdawn.Theysearchedforfoodinthepathwhichhadbeen

swept,buttherewasverylittleforthem,andtheywereterribly

cold."Tweet,tweet,"saidonetoanother;theycallthisanew

year,butIthinkitisworsethanthelast.Wemightjustaswell

havekepttheoldyear;I'mquiteunhappy,andIhavearighttobe

so."

"Yes,youhave;andyetthepeopleranaboutandfiredoffguns,

tousherinthenewyear,"saidalittleshiveringsparrow."They

threwthingsagainstthedoors,andwerequitebesidethemselves

withjoy,becausetheoldyearhaddisappeared.Iwasgladtoo,for

Iexpectedweshouldhavesomewarmdays,butmyhopeshavecometo

nothing.Itfreezesharderthanever;Ithinkmankindhavemadea

mistakeinreckoningtime."

"Thattheyhave,"saidathird,anoldsparrowwithawhite

poll;"theyhavesomethingtheycallacalendar;it'saninvention

oftheirown,andeverythingmustbearrangedaccordingtoit,but

itwon'tdo.Whenspringcomes,thentheyearbegins.Itisthe

voiceofnature,andIreckonbythat."

"Butwhenwillspringcome?

"askedtheothers.

"Itwillcomewhenthestorkreturns,butheisveryuncertain,

andhereinthetownnooneknowsanythingaboutit.Inthecountry

theyhavemoreknowledge;shallweflyawaythereandwait?

weshall

benearertospringthen,certainly."

"Thatmaybeallverywell,"saidanothersparrow,whohadbeen

hoppingaboutforalongtime,chirping,butnotsayinganythingof

consequence,"butIhavefoundafewcomfortshereintownwhich,

I'mafraid,Ishouldmissoutinthecountry.Hereinthis

neighborhood,therelivesafamilyofpeoplewhohavebeensosensible

astoplacethreeorfourflower-potsagainstthewallinthe

court-yard,sothattheopeningsareallturnedinward,andthebottom

ofeachpointsoutward.Inthelatteraholehasbeencutlargeenough

formetoflyinandout.Iandmyhusbandhavebuiltanestinoneof

thesepots,andallouryoungones,whohavenowflownaway,were

broughtupthere.Thepeoplewholivethereofcoursemadethewhole

arrangementthattheymighthavethepleasureofseeingus,orthey

wouldnothavedoneit.Itpleasedthemalsotostrewbread-crumbsfor

us,andsowehavefood,andmayconsiderourselvesprovidedfor.SoI

thinkmyhusbandandIwillstaywhereweare;althoughwearenot

veryhappy,butweshallstay."

"Andwewillflyintothecountry,"saidtheothers,"toseeif

springiscoming."Andawaytheyflew.

Inthecountryitwasreallywinter,afewdegreescolderthan

inthetown.Thesharpwindsblewoverthesnow-coveredfields.The

farmer,wrappedinwarmclothing,satinhissleigh,andbeathisarms

acrosshischesttokeepoffthecold.Thewhiplayonhislap.The

horsesrantilltheysmoked.Thesnowcrackled,thesparrowshopped

aboutinthewheel-ruts,andshivered,crying,"Tweet,tweet;when

willspringcome?

Itisverylongincoming."

"Verylongindeed,"soundedoverthefield,fromthenearest

snow-coveredhill.Itmighthavebeentheechowhichpeopleheard,

orperhapsthewordsofthatwonderfuloldman,whosathighonaheap

ofsnow,regardlessofwindorweather.Hewasallinwhite;hehadon

apeasant'scoarsewhitecoatoffrieze.Hehadlongwhitehair,a

paleface,andlargeclearblueeyes."Whoisthatoldman?

"askedthe

sparrows.

"Iknowwhoheis,"saidanoldraven,whosatonthefence,and

wascondescendingenoughtoacknowledgethatweareallequalinthe

sightofHeaven,evenaslittlebirds,andthereforehetalkedwith

thesparrows,andgavethemtheinformationtheywanted."Iknowwho

theoldmanis,"hesaid."ItisWinter,theoldmanoflastyear;

heisnotdeadyet,asthecalendarsays,butactsasguardianto

littlePrinceSpringwhoiscoming.Winterrulesherestill.Ugh!

thecoldmakesyoushiver,littleones,doesitnot?

"

"There!

DidInottellyouso?

"saidthesmallestofthesparrows.

"Thecalendarisonlyaninventionofman,andisnotarranged

accordingtonature.Theyshouldleavethesethingstous;weare

createdsomuchmorecleverthantheyare."

Oneweekpassed,andthenanother.Theforestlookeddark,the

hard-frozenlakelaylikeasheetoflead.Themountainshad

disappeared,foroverthelandhungdamp,icymists.Largeblackcrows

flewaboutinsilence;itwasasifnatureslept.Atlengtha

sunbeamglidedoverthelake,anditshonelikeburnishedsilver.

Butthesnowonthefieldsandthehillsdidnotglitterasbefore.

ThewhiteformofWintersattherestill,withhisun-wanderinggaze

fixedonthesouth.Hedidnotperceivethatthesnowycarpetseemed

tosinkasitwereintotheearth;thathereandtherealittle

greenpatchofgrassappeared,andthatthesepatcheswerecovered

withsparrows.

"Tee-wit,tee-wit;isspringcomingatlast?

"

Spring!

Howthecryresoundedoverfieldandmeadow,andthrough

thedark-brownwoods,wherethefreshgreenmossstillgleamedon

thetrunksofthetrees,andfromthesouthcamethetwofirst

storksflyingthroughtheair,andonthebackofeachsatalovely

littlechild,aboyandagirl.Theygreetedtheearthwithakiss,

andwherevertheyplacedtheirfeetwhiteflowerssprungupfrom

beneaththesnow.Handinhandtheyapproachedtheoldice-man,

Winter,embracedhimandclungtohisbreast;andastheydidso,ina

momentallthreewereenvelopedinathick,dampmist,darkandheavy,

thatclosedoverthemlikeaveil.Thewindarosewithmightyrustling

tone,andclearedawaythemist.Thenthesunshoneoutwarmly.Winter

hadvanishedaway,andthebeautifulchildrenofSpringsatonthe

throneoftheyear.

"Thisisreallyanewyear,"criedallthesparrows,"nowweshall

getourrights,andhavesomereturnforwhatwesufferedinwinter."

Whereverthetwochildrenwandered,greenbudsburstforthonbush

andtree,thegrassgrewhigher,andthecorn-fieldsbecamelovely

indelicategreen.

Thelittlemaidenstrewedflowersinherpath.Sheheldher

apronbeforeher:

itwasfullofflowers;itwasasiftheysprung

intolifethere,forthemoreshescatteredaroundher,themore

flowersdidheraproncontain.Eagerlysheshoweredsnowyblossoms

overappleandpeach-trees,sothattheystoodinfullbeautybefore

eventheirgreenleaveshadburstfromthebud.Thentheboyandthe

girlclappedtheirhands,andtroopsofbirdscameflyingby,noone

knewfromwhence,andtheyalltwitteredandchirped,singing

"Springhascome!

"Howbeautifuleverythingwas!

Manyanolddamecame

forthfromherdoorintothesunshine,andshuffledaboutwithgreat

delight,glancingatthegoldenflowerswhichglitteredeverywhere

inthefields,astheyusedtodoinheryoungdays.Theworldgrew

youngagaintoher,asshesaid,"Itisablessedtimeouthere

to-day."Theforestalreadyworeitsdressofdark-greenbuds.The

thymeblossomedinfreshfragrance.Primrosesandanemonessprung

forth,andvioletsbloomedintheshade,whileeverybladeofgrass

wasfullofstrengthandsap.Whocouldresistsittingdownonsuch

abeautifulcarpet?

andthentheyoungchildrenofSpringseated

themselves,holdingeachother'shands,andsang,andlaughed,and

grew.Agentlerainfelluponthemfromthesky,buttheydidnot

noticeit,fortherain-dropsweretheirowntearsofjoy.Theykissed

eachother,andwerebetrothed;andinthesamemomentthebudsofthe

treesunfolded,andwhenthesunrose,theforestwasgreen.Handin

handthetwowanderedbeneaththefreshpendantcanopyoffoliage,

whilethesun'sraysgleamedthroughtheopeningoftheshade,in

changingandvariedcolors.Thedelicateyoungleavesfilledtheair

withrefreshingodor.Merrilyrippledtheclearbrooksandrivulets

betweenthegreen,velvetyrushes,andoverthemany-coloredpebbles

beneath.Allnaturespokeofabundanceandplenty.Thecuckoosang,

andthelarkcarolled,foritwasnowbeautifulspring.Thecareful

willowshad,however,coveredtheirblossomswithwoollygloves;and

thiscarefulnessisrathertedious.Daysandweekswentby,andthe

heatincreased.Warmairwavedthecornasitgrewgoldeninthe

sun.Thewhitenorthernlilyspreaditslargegreenleavesoverthe

glossymirrorofthewoodlandlake,andthefishessoughtthe

shadowsbeneaththem.Inashelteredpartofthewood,thesunshone

uponthewallsofafarm-house,