O. T., A Danish Romance. Ганс Христиан АндерсенЧитать онлайн книгу.
rolled past these beautiful red flowers.
“That is a proud color!” said the Kammerjunker, who rode near them upon his brown steed, “a proud color! but they are manured with the blood of Andalusian horses. It was just here where the battle between these beasts took place. You know that sit the year 1808 the Spaniards lay in Funen; the English ships were cruising about in the Belt, and Romana fled with his whole army on board, but they could net take their horses with them. These were the most splendid Andalusian creatures that eyes ever saw. The Spaniards took off their bridles, and left them here to scamper about the fields like wild horses. The horses of Nyborg chanced also to graze here, and as soon as the Andalusian steeds became aware of ours they arranged themselves in a row, and fell upon the Danish horses: that was a combat! At length they fell upon each other, and fought until they fell bleeding to earth. Whilst still a boy I saw little skull of one of these beasts. This is the last adventure left us from the visit of the Spaniards to Denmark. In the village through which we shall now pass are some outer remembrances. Remark the young lads and lasses,—they are of a darker complexion than the inhabitants of other Funen valleys; that is Spanish blood, it is said. It was in this village that the story took its rise of the preacher’s servant-girl, who wept and was so inconsolable at the departure of the Spaniards. But not on account of her bridegroom did she weep,—not over her own condition. The preacher consoled her, and then she said she only wept to think that if the innocent child resembled its father it certainly would speak Spanish, and then not a soul would understand it! Yes, such histories as this have we in Funen!” said he laughingly to Otto.
With similar relations, and some agricultural observations, according as they were called forth by surrounding objects, did our excellent landed proprietor amuse our young gentlemen. They were already distant several miles from Nyborg, when he suddenly broke off in the midst of a very interesting discourse upon a characteristic of a true inhabitant of Funen, which is, that whenever he passes a field of buckwheat he moves his mouth as if chewing, and made Wilhelm observe a Viennese carriage, which approached them by a neighboring road. To judge from the coachman and the horses, it must be the family from the hall.
This was the case—they returned from paying a visit. Where the roads crossed they met each other. Otto immediately recognized Miss Sophie, and near to her sat an elderly lady, with a gentle, good-humored countenance; this was the mother. Now there was surprise and joy. Sophie blushed—this blush could not have reference to the brother; was it then the Kammerjunker? No: that appeared impossible! therefore, it must concern Otto. The mother extended her hand to him with a welcome, whilst at the same time she invited the Kammerjunker to spend the afternoon with them. There lay, in the manner with which she proposed this, so much attention and consideration, that Otto felt the man was here held in greater esteem, and was otherwise regarded than he, during their short acquaintance, had imagined possible.
Sophie added, smiling, “You must stay!” To which the Kammerjunker replied with an apology for his travelling-dress.
“We are not strangers!” said the mother; “it is only a family meal! You see the usual circle. You, Mr. Thostrup,” added she, with a most obliging manner, “I know so well from Wilhelm’s letters, that we are no strangers. The gentlemen are acquainted with each other!”
“I accept the invitation,” said the Kammerjunker, “and I will now show you into what a gallop I can put my steed! It is Carl Rise,2 as you see, young lady—you called him so yourself!”
“Yes, ride forward,” said Sophie, smiling. “By that means you will oblige my sister. She might otherwise be quite frightened, did she see such a mighty caravan approach the house, did she had not properly prepared the dinner-table.”
“As my gracious young lady commands!” said the rider, and sprang forward.
The country became more woody; the road passed various small lakes, almost overgrown with water-lilies and shaded by old trees; the old-fashioned, indented gable-ends of the hall now peeped forth. They drove through an avenue of wild chestnut-trees; the stone pavement here threatened to smash the carriage axles. On the right lay the forge, through the open door of which flew the sparks. A little girl, with bare feet, opened a gate, and they now found themselves in a large open space before the red-painted out-buildings. The ground was covered with straw, and all the cows of the farm were collected here for milking. Here they were obliged to drive, step by step, until by the gateway they reached the larger courtyard, which was inclosed by the barns and the principal building itself. This was surrounded by broad ditches, almost grown over with reeds. Over a solid bridge, resting upon pillars of masonry, and through a principal wing which bore the armorial bearings and initials of the old possessor, they arrived in the innermost court, which was shut in by three wings, the antique one already mentioned, and two others: the fourth side was inclosed by a low trellis-work which adjoined the garden, where the canals lost themselves in a small lake.
“That is an interesting old court!” exclaimed Otto.
“O, that is not to be compared with the Kammerjunker’s!” returned Wilhelm: “you should first see his!”
“Yes, you must come over some of these days,” said the Kammerjunker. “Silence, Fingal! Silence, Valdine!” cried he to the barking dogs. A couple of turkey-cocks spread their feathers out, and gobbled with all their might. Men and women servants stood at the door: that was their reception!
“Thostrup will have the red room, will he not?” said Wilhelm, and the friends ascended the stairs together.
A pale young girl, not free from freckles, but with eyes full of soul, hastened toward them; this was Wilhelm’s youngest sister. She pressed her brother to her breast, and took Otto’s hand with kindness. She is not beautiful! was the first impression she made upon him. His chamber was vaulted, and the walls painted in the style of Gobelin tapestry; they represented the whole of Olympus. On the left was an old fire-place, with decorations and a gilt inscription; on the right stood an antiquated canopy-bed, with red damask hangings. The view was confined to the moat and the interior court. But a few minutes and Otto and Wilhelm were summoned to table. A long gallery through two wings of the hall, on one side windows, on the other entrances to the rooms, led to the dining-room. The whole long passage was a picture-gallery. Portraits the size of life, representing noble knights and ladies shining forth in red powdered periwigs, children adorned like their elders, with tulips in their hands, and great hounds by their sides, together with some historical pieces, decorated the walls.
“Have we no garland on the table?” asked Sophie, as she entered the dining-room with the others.
“Only a weak attempt to imitate my sister!” said Louise, smiling.
“But there is not a single flower in the garland! What economy! And yet it is sweet!”
“How tasteful!” exclaimed Otto, examining the garland which Louise had laid.
All kinds of green leaves, with their innumerable shades, a few yellow linden-leaves, and some from the copper-beech, formed, through their varied forms and colors, a tasteful garland upon the white table-cloth.
“You receive a thistle and a withered leaf!” whispered Wilhelm, as Otto seated himself.
“But yet the most beautiful!” answered he. “The copper beech contrasts so sweetly with the whitish-green thistle and the yellow leaf.”
“My sister Sophie,” said Louise, “lays us each day a different garland;—it is such a pretty decoration! If she is not here we get none; that would have been the case to-day, but when I learned that Wilhelm was coming, and that we,” she added, with a friendly glance, “should have two other guests, I in great haste, made an attempt, and”—
“And wished to show how nicely it could be made without robbing your flowers!” interrupted Sophie, laughing. “In reality, I am very cruel! I cut all the heads of her favorites off. To-morrow, as a parody upon her garland of to-day, will I make one of green cabbage and pea-shells!”
“Madeira or port wine?” asked the Kammerjunker, and led the conversation from flowers to articles of food and drink.
“One feels one’s self comfortable here at the hall! Miss Louise
Translator’s Note: Name of one of the heroes in Waldemar the Conqueror, a romance by Ingemann.