《安徒生童话英文版》第244章

　　how it shines!" said the maiden sparrow. "Isuppose that is 'the beautiful.' Peep! But here it is larger than apeacock." She still remembered what in her childhood's days her motherhad looked upon as the greatest among the beautiful. She flew downinto the courtyard: there everything was extremely fine. Palms andbranches were painted on the walls, and in the middle of the courtstood a great blooming rose-tree spreading out its fresh boughs,covered with roses, over a grave. Thither flew the maiden sparrow, forshe saw several of her own kind there. A "peep" and threefoot-scrapings- in this way she had often greeted throughout the year,and no one here had responded, for those who are once parted do notmeet every day; and so this greeting had become a habit with her.But to-day two old sparrows and a young one answered with a "peep" andthe thrice-repeated scrape with the left foot.

　　"Ah! Good-day! good-day!" They were two old ones from the nest anda little one of the family. "Do we meet here? It's a grand place,but there's not much to eat. This is 'the beautiful.' Peep!"

　　Many people came out of the side rooms where the beautifulmarble statues stood and approached the grave where lay the greatmaster who had created these works of art. All stood with enrapturedfaces round Thorwaldsen's grave, and a few picked up the fallenrose-leaves and preserved them. They had come from afar: one frommighty England, others from Germany and France. The fairest of theladies plucked one of the roses and hid it in her bosom. Then thesparrows thought that the roses reigned here, and that the house hadbeen built for their sake. That appeared to them to be really toomuch, but since all the people showed their love for the roses, theydid not wish to be behindhand. "Peep!" they said sweeping the groundwith their tails, and blinking with one eye at the roses, they had notlooked at them long before they were convinced that they were theirold neighbours. And so they really were. The painter who had drawn therose-bush near the ruined house, had afterwards obtained permission todig it up, and had given it to the architect, for finer roses hadnever been seen. The architect had planted it upon Thorwaldsen'sgrave, where it bloomed as an emblem of 'the beautiful' and yieldedfragrant red rose-leaves to be carried as mementoes to distant lands.

　　"Have you obtained an appointment here in the city?" asked thesparrows. The roses nodded; they recognized their grey neighboursand were pleased to see them again. "How glorious it is to live and tobloom, to see old friends again, and happy faces every day. It is asif every day were a festival." "Peep!" said the sparrows. "Yes, theyare really our old neighbours; we remember their origin near the pond.Peep! how they have got on. Yes, some succeed while they are asleep.Ah! there's a faded leaf; I can see that quite plainly." And theypecked at it till it fell off. But the tree stood there fresher andgreener than ever; the roses bloomed in the sunshine onThorwaldsen's grave and became associated with his immortal name.

　　THE END.

　　1872

　　FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

　　THE NIGHTINGALE

　　by Hans Christian Andersen

　　IN China, you know, the emperor is a Chinese, and all thoseabout him are Chinamen also. The story I am going to tell you happeneda great many years ago, so it is well to hear it now before it isforgotten. The emperor's palace was the most beautiful in the world.It was built entirely of porcelain, and very costly, but so delicateand brittle that whoever touched it was obliged to be careful. Inthe garden could be seen the most singular flowers, with pretty silverbells tied to them, which tinkled so that every one who passed couldnot help noticing the flowers. Indeed, everything in the emperor'sgarden was remarkable, and it extended so far that the gardenerhimself did not know where it ended. Those who travelled beyond itslimits knew that there was a noble forest, with lofty trees, slopingdown to the deep blue sea, and the great ships sailed under the shadowof its branches. In one of these trees lived a nightingale, who sangso beautifully that even the poor fishermen, who had so many otherthings to do, would stop and listen. Sometimes, when they went atnight to spread their nets, they would hear her sing, and say, "Oh, isnot that beautiful?"