《安徒生童话英文版》第287章

　　And he drew the artist away with him. At this moment he was ableto do so, for a fire ran in the blood of the young sculptor; achange had taken place in his soul; he felt a longing to tear from theold, the accustomed- to forget, if possible, his own individuality;and therefore it was that he followed Angelo.

　　In an out-of-the-way suburb of Rome lay a tavern much visited byartists. It was built on the ruins of some ancient baths. The greatyellow citrons hung down among the dark shining leaves, and covereda part of the old reddish-yellow walls. The tavern consisted of avaulted chamber, almost like a cavern, in the ruins. A lamp burnedthere before the picture of the Madonna. A great fire gleamed on thehearth, and roasting and boiling was going on there; without, underthe citron trees and laurels, stood a few covered tables.

　　The two artists were received by their friends with shouts ofwelcome. Little was eaten, but much was drunk, and the spirits ofthe company rose. Songs were sung and ditties were played on theguitar; presently the Salterello sounded, and the merry dance began.Two young Roman girls, who sat as models to the artists, took partin the dance and in the festivity. Two charming Bacchantes werethey; certainly not Psyches- not delicate, beautiful roses, but fresh,hearty, glowing carnations.

　　How hot it was on that day! Even after sundown it was hot. Therewas fire in the blood, fire in every glance, fire everywhere. Theair gleamed with gold and roses, and life seemed like gold and roses.

　　"At last you have joined us, for once," said his friends. "Now letyourself be carried by the waves within and around you."

　　"Never yet have I felt so well, so merry!" cried the young artist."You are right- you are all of you right. I was a fool- a dreamer. Manbelongs to reality, and not to fancy."

　　With songs and with sounding guitars the young people returnedthat evening from the tavern, through the narrow streets; the twoglowing carnations, daughters of the Campagna, went with them.

　　In Angelo's room, among a litter of colored sketches (studies) andglowing pictures, the voices sounded mellower, but not less merrily.On the ground lay many a sketch that resembled the daughters of theCampagna, in their fresh, hearty comeliness, but the two originalswere far handsomer than their portraits. All the burners of thesix-armed lamp flared and flamed; and the human flamed up from within,and appeared in the glare as if it were divine.

　　"Apollo! Jupiter! I feel myself raised to our heaven- to yourglory! I feel as if the blossom of life were unfolding itself in myveins at this moment!"

　　Yes, the blossom unfolded itself, and then burst and fell, andan evil vapor arose from it, blinding the sight, leading astray thefancy; the firework of the senses went out, and it became dark.

　　He was again in his own room. There he sat down on his bed andcollected his thoughts.

　　"Fie on thee!" these were the words that sounded out of hismouth from the depths of his heart. "Wretched man, go, begone!" Anda deep painful sigh burst from his bosom.

　　"Away! begone!" These, her words, the words of the livingPsyche, echoed through his heart, escaped from his lips. He buried hishead in the pillows, his thoughts grew confused, and he fell asleep.

　　In the morning dawn he started up, and collected his thoughtsanew. What had happened? Had all the past been a dream? The visit toher, the feast at the tavern, the evening with the purple carnationsof the Campagna?