doyouknow?"why,whengrandmother'stearsfallupontherose,andsheislookingatit,theroserevives,andfillstheroomwithitsfragrance;thewallsvanishasinamist,andallaroundheristhegloriousgreenwood,whereinsummerthesunlightstreamsthroughthickfoliage;andgrandmother,whysheisyoungagain,acharmingmaiden,freshasarose,withround,rosycheeks,fair,brightringlets,andafigureprettyandgraceful;buttheeyes,thosemild,saintlyeyes,arethesame,-theyhavebeenlefttohersidesitsayoungman,tallandstrong;hegivesheraroseandshesmiles.grandmothercannotsmilelikethatnow.yes,sheissmilingatthememoryofthatday,andmanythoughtsandrecollectionsofthepast;butthehandsomeyoungmanisgone,andtherosehaswitheredintheoldbook,andgrandmotherissittingthere,againanoldwoman,lookingdownuponthewitheredroseinthebook.

grandmotherisdeadnow.shehadbeensittinginherarm-chair,tellingusalong,beautifultale;andwhenitwasfinished,shesaidshewastired,andleanedherheadbacktosleepawhile.wecouldhearhergentlebreathingassheslept;graduallyitbecamequieterandcalmer,andonhercountenancebeamedhappinessandpeace.itwasasiflightedupwitharayofsunshine.shesmiledoncemore,andthenpeoplesaidshewasdead.shewaslaidinablackcoffin,lookingmildandbeautifulinthewhitefoldsoftheshroudedlinen,thoughhereyeswereclosed;buteverywrinklehadvanished,herhairlookedwhiteandsilvery,andaroundhermouthlingeredasweetdidnotfeelatallafraidtolookatthecorpseofherwhohadbeensuchadear,goodgrandmother.thehymn-book,inwhichtherosestilllay,wasplacedunderherhead,forsoshehadwishedit;andthentheyburiedgrandmother.

onthegrave,closebythechurchyardwall,theyplantedarose-tree;itwassoonfullofroses,andthenightingalesatamongtheflowers,andsangoverthegrave.fromtheorganinthechurchsoundedthemusicandthewordsofthebeautifulpsalms,whichwerewrittenintheoldbookundertheheadofthedeadone.

themoonshonedownuponthegrave,butthedeadwasnotthere;everychildcouldgosafely,evenatnight,andpluckarosefromthetreebythechurchyardwall.thedeadknowmorethanwedowhoareliving.theyknowwhataterrorwouldcomeuponusifsuchastrangethingweretohappen,astheappearanceofadeadpersonamongyarebetteroffthanweare;thedeadreturnnomore.theearthhasbeenheapedonthecoffin,anditisearthonlythatlieswithinit.theleavesofthehymn-bookaredust;andtherose,withallitsrecollections,hascrumbledtodustalso.butoverthegravefreshrosesbloom,thenightingalesings,andtheorgansoundsandtherestilllivesaremembranceofoldgrandmother,withtheloving,gentleeyesthatalwayslookedyoung.eyescanneverdie.ourswillonceagainbeholddeargrandmother,youngandbeautifulaswhen,forthefirsttime,shekissedthefresh,redrose,thatisnowdustinthegrave.

theend.

1872

fairytalesofhanschristianandersen

holgerdanske

byhanschristianandersen

indenmarktherestandsanoldcastlenamedkronenburg,closebythesoundofelsinore,wherelargeships,bothenglish,russian,andprussian,passbyhundredseveryday.andtheysalutetheoldcastlewithcannons,"boom,boom,"whichisasiftheysaid,"good-day."andthecannonsoftheoldcastleanswer"boom,"whichmeans"manythanks."inwinternoshipssailby,forthewholesoundiscoveredwithiceasfarastheswedishcoast,andhasquitetheappearanceofahigh-road.thedanishandtheswedishflagswave,anddanesandswedessay,"good-day,"and"thankyou"toeachother,notwithcannons,butwithafriendlyshakeofthehand;andtheyexchangewhitebreadandbiscuitswitheachother,becauseforeignarticlestastethebest.

butthemostbeautifulsightofallistheoldcastleofkronenburg,whereholgerdanskesitsinthedeep,darkcellar,intowhichnoonegoes.heiscladinironandsteel,andrestshisheadonhisstrongarm;hislongbeardhangsdownuponthemarbletable,intowhichithasbecomefirmlyrooted;hesleepsanddreams,butinhisdreamsheseeseverythingthathappensindenmark.oneachchristmas-eveanangelcomestohimandtellshimthatallhehasdreamedistrue,andthathemaygotosleepagaininpeace,asdenmarkisnotyetinanyrealdanger;butshoulddangerevercome,thenholgerdanskewillrousehimself,andthetablewillburstasunderashedrawsouthisbeard.thenhewillcomeforthinhisstrength,andstrikeablowthatshallsoundinallthecountriesoftheworld.

anoldgrandfathersatandtoldhislittlegrandsonallthisaboutholgerdanske,andtheboyknewthatwhathisgrandfathertoldhimmustbetrue.astheoldmanrelatedthisstory,hewascarvinganimageinwoodtorepresentholgerdanske,tobefastenedtotheprowofaship;fortheoldgrandfatherwasacarverinwood,thatis,onewhocarvedfiguresfortheheadsofships,accordingtothenamesgiventothem.andnowhehadcarvedholgerdanske,whostoodthereerectandproud,withhislongbeard,holdinginonehandhisbroadbattle-axe,whilewiththeotherheleanedonthedanisholdgrandfathertoldthelittleboyagreatdealaboutdanishmenandwomenwhohaddistinguishedthemselvesinoldentimes,sothathefanciedheknewasmuchevenasholgerdanskehimself,who,afterall,couldonlydream;andwhenthelittlefellowwenttobed,hethoughtsomuchaboutitthatheactuallypressedhischinagainstthecounterpane,andimaginedthathehadalongbeardwhichhadbecomerootedtoit.buttheoldgrandfatherremainedsittingathisworkandcarvingawayatthelastpartofit,whichwasthedanisharms.andwhenhehadfinishedhelookedatthewholefigure,andthoughtofallhehadheardandread,andwhathehadthateveningrelatedtohislittlegrandson.thenhenoddedhishead,wipedhisspectaclesandputthemon,andsaid,"ah,yes;holgerdanskewillnotappearinmylifetime,buttheboywhoisinbedtheremayverylikelylivetoseehimwhentheeventreallycomestopass."andtheoldgrandfathernoddedagain;andthemorehelookedatholgerdanske,themoresatisfiedhefeltthathehadcarvedagoodimageofhim.itseemedtoglowwiththecoloroflife;thearmorglitteredlikeironandsteel.theheartsinthedanisharmsgrewmoreandmorered;whilethelions,withgoldcrownsontheirheads,wereleapingup."thatisthemostbeautifulcoatofarmsintheworld,"saidtheoldman."thelionsrepresentstrength;andthehearts,gentlenessandlove."andashegazedontheuppermostlion,hethoughtofkingcanute,whochainedgreatenglandtodenmark'sthrone;andhelookedatthesecondlion,andthoughtofwaldemar,whountieddenmarkandconqueredthevandals.thethirdlionremindedhimofmargaret,whouniteddenmark,sweden,andnorway.butwhenhegazedattheredhearts,theircolorsglowedmoredeeply,evenasflames,andhismemoryfollowedeachinturn.thefirstledhimtoadark,narrowprison,inwhichsataprisoner,abeautifulwoman,daughterofchristianthefourth,eleanorulfeld,andtheflamebecamearoseonherbosom,anditsblossomswerenotmorepurethantheheartofthisnoblestandbestofalldanishwomen."ah,yes;thatisindeedanobleheartinthedanisharms,"saidthegrandfather.andhisspiritfollowedthesecondflame,whichcarriedhimouttosea,wherecannonsroaredandtheshipslayshroudedinsmoke,andtheflamingheartattacheditselftothebreastofhvitfeldtintheformoftheribbonofanorder,asheblewhimselfandhisshipintotheairinordertosavethefleet.andthethirdflameledhimtogreenland'swretchedhuts,wherethepreacher,hansegede,ruledwithloveineverywordandaction.theflamewasasastaronhisbreast,andaddedanotherhearttothedanisharms.andastheoldgrandfather'sspiritfollowedthenexthoveringflame,heknewwhitheritwouldleadhim.inapeasantwoman'shumbleroomstoodfrederickthesixth,writinghisnamewithchalkonthebeam.theflametrembledonhisbreastandinhisheart,anditwasinthepeasant'sroomthathisheartbecameoneforthedanisharms.theoldgrandfatherwipedhiseyes,forhehadknownkingfrederick,withhissilverylocksandhishonestblueeyes,andhadlivedforhim,andhefoldedhishandsandremainedforsometimesilent.thenhisdaughtercametohimandsaiditwasgettinglate,thatheoughttorestforawhile,andthatthesupperwasonthetable.

"whatyouhavebeencarvingisverybeautiful,grandfather,"saidshe."holgerdanskeandtheoldcoatofarms;itseemstomeasifihaveseenthefacesomewhere."

"no,thatisimpossible,"repliedtheoldgrandfather;"butihaveseenit,andihavetriedtocarveitinwood,asihaveretaineditinmymemory.itwasalongtimeago,whiletheenglishfleetlayintheroads,onthesecondofapril,whenweshowedthatweweretrue,ancientdanes.iwasonboardthedenmark,insteenebille'ssquadron;ihadamanbymysidewhomeventhecannonballsseemedtofear.hesungoldsongsinamerryvoice,andfiredandfoughtasifheweresomethingmorethanaman.istillrememberhisface,butfromwhencehecame,orwhitherhewent,iknownot;nooneknows.ihaveoftenthoughtitmighthavebeenholgerdanskehimself,whohadswamdowntousfromkronenburgtohelpusinthehourofdanger.thatwasmyidea,andtherestandshislikeness."