五金管件店铺名:特别英语小故事 安徒生童话04

',1)">
 
文章内容
THE SHOES OF FORTUNE
I. A Beginning
Every author has some peculiarity in his descriptions or in his style of
writing. Those who do not like him, magnify it, shrug up their shoulders, and
exclaim--there he is again! I, for my part, know very well how I can bring
about this movement and this exclamation. It would happen immediately if I
were to begin here, as I intended to do, with: "Rome has its Corso, Naples its
Toledo"--"Ah! that Andersen; there he is again!" they would cry; yet I must,
to please my fancy, continue quite quietly, and add: "But Copenhagen has its
East Street."
Here, then, we will stay for the present. In one of the houses not far from
the new market a party was invited--a very large party, in order, as is often
the case, to get a return invitation from the others. One half of the company
was already seated at the card-table, the other half awaited the result of the
stereotype preliminary observation of the lady of the house:
"Now let us see what we can do to amuse ourselves."
They had got just so far, and the conversation began to crystallise, as it
could but do with the scanty stream which the commonplace world supplied.
Amongst other things they spoke of the middle ages: some praised that period
as far more interesting, far more poetical than our own too sober present;
indeed Councillor Knap defended this opinion so warmly, that the hostess
declared immediately on his side, and both exerted themselves with unwearied
eloquence. The Councillor boldly declared the time of King Hans to be the
noblest and the most happy period.*
* A.D. 1482-1513
While the conversation turned on this subject, and was only for a moment
interrupted by the arrival of a journal that contained nothing worth reading,
we will just step out into the antechamber, where cloaks, mackintoshes,
sticks, umbrellas, and shoes, were deposited. Here sat two female figures, a
young and an old one. One might have thought at first they were servants come
to accompany their mistresses home; but on looking nearer, one soon saw they
could scarcely be mere servants; their forms were too noble for that, their
skin too fine, the cut of their dress too striking. Two fairies were they; the
younger, it is true, was not Dame Fortune herself, but one of the
waiting-maids of her handmaidens who carry about the lesser good things that
she distributes; the other looked extremely gloomy--it was Care. She always
attends to her own serious business herself, as then she is sure of having it
done properly.
They were telling each other, with a confidential interchange of ideas, where
they had been during the day. The messenger of Fortune had only executed a few
unimportant commissions, such as saving a new bonnet from a shower of rain,
etc.; but what she had yet to perform was something quite unusual.
"I must tell you," said she, "that to-day is my birthday; and in honor of it,
a pair of walking-shoes or galoshes has been entrusted to me, which I am to
carry to mankind. These shoes possess the property of instantly transporting
him who has them on to the place or the period in which he most wishes to be;
every wish, as regards time or place, or state of being, will be immediately
fulfilled, and so at last man will be happy, here below."
"Do you seriously believe it?" replied Care, in a severe tone of reproach.
"No; he will be very unhappy, and will assuredly bless the moment when he
feels that he has freed himself from the fatal shoes."
"Stupid nonsense!" said the other angrily. "I will put them here by the door.
Some one will make a mistake for certain and take the wrong ones--he will be a
happy man."
Such was their conversation.
II. What Happened to the Councillor
It was late; Councillor Knap, deeply occupied with the times of King Hans,
intended to go home, and malicious Fate managed matters so that his feet,
instead of finding their way to his own galoshes, slipped into those of
Fortune. Thus caparisoned the good man walked out of the well-lighted rooms
into East Street. By the magic power of the shoes he was carried back to the
times of King Hans; on which account his foot very naturally sank in the mud
and puddles of the street, there having been in those days no pavement in
Copenhagen.
"Well! This is too bad! How dirty it is here!" sighed the Councillor. "As to a
pavement, I can find no traces of one, and all the lamps, it seems, have gone
to sleep."
The moon was not yet very high; it was besides rather foggy, so that in the
darkness all objects seemed mingled in chaotic confusion. At the next corner
hung a votive lamp before a Madonna, but the light it gave was little better
than none at all; indeed, he did not observe it before he was exactly under
it, and his eyes fell upon the bright colors of the pictures which represented
the well-known group of the Virgin and the infant Jesus.
"That is probably a wax-work show," thought he; "and the people delay taking
down their sign in hopes of a late visitor or two."
A few persons in the costume of the time of King Hans passed quickly by him.
"How strange they look! The good folks come probably from a masquerade!"
Suddenly was heard the sound of drums and fifes; the bright blaze of a fire
shot up from time to time, and its ruddy gleams seemed to contend with the
bluish light of the torches. The Councillor stood still, and watched a most
strange procession pass by. First came a dozen drummers, who understood pretty
well how to handle their instruments; then came halberdiers, and some armed
with cross-bows. The principal person in the procession was a priest.
Astonished at what he saw, the Councillor asked what was the meaning of
all this mummery, and who that man was.
"That's the Bishop of Zealand," was the answer.
"Good Heavens! What has taken possession of the Bishop?" sighed the
Councillor, shaking his head. It certainly could not be the Bishop; even
though he was considered the most absent man in the whole kingdom, and people
told the drollest anecdotes about him. Reflecting on the matter, and without
looking right or left, the Councillor went through East Street and across the
Habro-Platz. The bridge leading to Palace Square was not to be found; scarcely
trusting his senses, the nocturnal wanderer discovered a shallow piece of
water, and here fell in with two men who very comfortably were rocking to and
fro in a boat.
"Does your honor want to cross the ferry to the Holme?" asked they.
"Across to the Holme!" said the Councillor, who knew nothing of the age in
which he at that moment was. "No, I am going to Christianshafen, to Little
Market Street."
Both men stared at him in astonishment.
"Only just tell me where the bridge is," said he. "It is really unpardonable
that there are no lamps here; and it is as dirty as if one had to wade through
a morass."
The longer he spoke with the boatmen, the more unintelligible did their
language become to him.
"I don't understand your Bornholmish dialect," said he at last, angrily, and
turning his back upon them. He was unable to find the bridge: there was no
railway either. "It is really disgraceful what a state this place is in,"
muttered he to himself. Never had his age, with which, however, he was always
grumbling, seemed so miserable as on this evening. "I'll take a
hackney-coach!" thought he. But where were the hackney-coaches? Not one
was to be seen.
"I must go back to the New Market; there, it is to be hoped, I shall find some
coaches; for if I don't, I shall never get safe to Christianshafen."
So off he went in the direction of East Street, and had nearly got to the end
of it when the moon shone forth.
"God bless me! What wooden scaffolding is that which they have set up there?"
cried he involuntarily, as he looked at East Gate, which, in those days, was
at the end of East Street.
He found, however, a little side-door open, and through this he went, and
stepped into our New Market of the present time. It was a huge desolate plain;
some wild bushes stood up here and there, while across the field flowed a
broad canal or river. Some wretched hovels for the Dutch sailors, resembling
great boxes, and after which the place was named, lay about in confused
disorder on the opposite bank.
"I either behold a fata morgana, or I am regularly tipsy," whimpered out the
Councillor. "But what's this?"
He turned round anew, firmly convinced that he was seriously ill. He gazed at
the street formerly so well known to him, and now so strange in appearance,
and looked at the houses more attentively: most of them were of wood, slightly
put together; and many had a thatched roof.
"No--I am far from well," sighed he; "and yet I drank only one glass of punch;
but I cannot suppose it--it was, too, really very wrong to give us punch and
hot salmon for supper. I shall speak about it at the first opportunity. I have
half a mind to go back again, and say what I suffer. But no, that would be too
silly; and Heaven only knows if they are up still."
He looked for the house, but it had vanished.
"It is really dreadful," groaned he with increasing anxiety; "I cannot
recognise East Street again; there is not a single decent shop from one end to
the other! Nothing but wretched huts can I see anywhere; just as if I were at
Ringstead. Oh! I am ill! I can scarcely bear myself any longer. Where the
deuce can the house be? It must be here on this very spot; yet there is not
the slightest idea of resemblance, to such a degree has everything changed
this night! At all events here are some people up and stirring. Oh! oh! I am
certainly very ill."
He now hit upon a half-open door, through a chink of which a faint light
shone. It was a sort of hostelry of those times; a kind of public-house. The
room had some resemblance to the clay-floored halls in Holstein; a pretty
numerous company, consisting of seamen, Copenhagen burghers, and a few
scholars, sat here in deep converse over their pewter cans, and gave little
heed to the person who entered.
"By your leave!" said the Councillor to the Hostess, who came bustling towards
him. "I've felt so queer all of a sudden; would you have the goodness to send
for a hackney-coach to take me to Christianshafen?"
The woman examined him with eyes of astonishment, and shook her head; she then
addressed him in German. The Councillor thought she did not understand Danish,
and therefore repeated his wish in German. This, in connection with his
costume, strengthened the good woman in the belief that he was a foreigner.
That he was ill, she comprehended directly; so she brought him a pitcher of
water, which tasted certainly pretty strong of the sea, although it had been
fetched from the well.
The Councillor supported his head on his hand, drew a long breath, and thought
over all the wondrous things he saw around him.
"Is this the Daily News of this evening?" he asked mechanically, as he saw the
Hostess push aside a large sheet of paper.
The meaning of this councillorship query remained, of course, a riddle to her,
yet she handed him the paper without replying. It was a coarse wood-cut,
representing a splendid meteor "as seen in the town of Cologne," which was to
be read below in bright letters.
"That is very old!" said the Councillor, whom this piece of antiquity began to
make considerably more cheerful. "Pray how did you come into possession of
this rare print? It is extremely interesting, although the whole is a mere
fable. Such meteorous appearances are to be explained in this way--that they
are the reflections of the Aurora Borealis, and it is highly probable they are
caused principally by electricity."
Those persons who were sitting nearest him and heard his speech, stared at him
in wonderment; and one of them rose, took off his hat respectfully, and said
with a serious countenance, "You are no doubt a very learned man, Monsieur."
"Oh no," answered the Councillor, "I can only join in conversation on this
topic and on that, as indeed one must do according to the demands of the world
at present."
"Modestia is a fine virtue," continued the gentleman; "however, as to your
speech, I must say mihi secus videtur: yet I am willing to suspend my
judicium."
"May I ask with whom I have the pleasure of speaking?" asked the Councillor.
"I am a Bachelor in Theologia," answered the gentleman with a stiff reverence.
This reply fully satisfied the Councillor; the title suited the dress. "He is
certainly," thought he, "some village schoolmaster--some queer old fellow,
such as one still often meets with in Jutland."
"This is no locus docendi, it is true," began the clerical gentleman; "yet I
beg you earnestly to let us profit by your learning. Your reading in the
ancients is, sine dubio, of vast extent?"
"Oh yes, I've read something, to be sure," replied the Councillor. "I like
reading all useful works; but I do not on that account despise the modern
ones; 'tis only the unfortunate 'Tales of Every-day Life' that I cannot
bear--we have enough and more than enough such in reality."
"'Tales of Every-day Life?'" said our Bachelor inquiringly.
"I mean those new fangled novels, twisting and writhing themselves in the dust
of commonplace, which also expect to find a reading public."
"Oh," exclaimed the clerical gentleman smiling, "there is much wit in them;
besides they are read at court. The King likes the history of Sir Iffven and
Sir Gaudian particularly, which treats of King Arthur, and his Knights of the
Round Table; he has more than once joked about it with his high vassals."
"I have not read that novel," said the Councillor; "it must be quite a new
one, that Heiberg has published lately."
"No," answered the theologian of the time of King Hans: "that book is not
written by a Heiberg, but was imprinted by Godfrey von Gehmen."
"Oh, is that the author's name?" said the Councillor. "It is a very old name,
and, as well as I recollect, he was the first printer that appeared in
Denmark."
"Yes, he is our first printer," replied the clerical gentleman hastily.
So far all went on well. Some one of the worthy burghers now spoke of the
dreadful pestilence that had raged in the country a few years back, meaning
that of 1484. The Councillor imagined it was the cholera that was meant, which
people made so much fuss about; and the discourse passed off satisfactorily
enough. The war of the buccaneers of 1490 was so recent that it could not fail
being alluded to; the English pirates had, they said, most shamefully taken
their ships while in the roadstead; and the Councillor, before whose eyes the
Herostratic* event of 1801 still floated vividly, agreed entirely with the
others in abusing the rascally English. With other topics he was not so
fortunate; every moment brought about some new confusion, and threatened to
become a perfect Babel; for the worthy Bachelor was really too ignorant, and
the simplest observations of the Councillor sounded to him too daring and
phantastical. They looked at one another from the crown of the head to the
soles of the feet; and when matters grew to too high a pitch, then the
Bachelor talked Latin, in the hope of being better understood--but it was of
no use after all.
* Herostratus, or Eratostratus--an Ephesian, who wantonly set fire to the
famous temple of Diana, in order to commemorate his name by so uncommon an
action.
"What's the matter?" asked the Hostess, plucking the Councillor by the sleeve;
and now his recollection returned, for in the course of the conversation he
had entirely forgotten all that had preceded it.
"Merciful God, where am I!" exclaimed he in agony; and while he so thought,
all his ideas and feelings of overpowering dizziness, against which he
struggled with the utmost power of desperation, encompassed him with renewed
force. "Let us drink claret and mead, and Bremen beer," shouted one of the
guests--"and you shall drink with us!"
Two maidens approached. One wore a cap of two staring colors, denoting the
class of persons to which she belonged. They poured out the liquor, and made
the most friendly gesticulations; while a cold perspiration trickled down the
back of the poor Councillor.
"What's to be the end of this! What's to become of me!" groaned he; but he was
forced, in spite of his opposition, to drink with the rest. They took hold of
the worthy man; who, hearing on every side that he was intoxicated, did not in
the least doubt the truth of this certainly not very polite assertion; but on
the contrary, implored the ladies and gentlemen present to procure him a
hackney-coach: they, however, imagined he was talking Russian.
Never before, he thought, had he been in such a coarse and ignorant company;
one might almost fancy the people had turned heathens again. "It is the most
dreadful moment of my life: the whole world is leagued against me!" But
suddenly it occurred to him that he might stoop down under the table, and then
creep unobserved out of the door. He did so; but just as he was going, the
others remarked what he was about; they laid hold of him by the legs; and now,
happily for him, off fell his fatal shoes--and with them the charm was at an
end.
The Councillor saw quite distinctly before him a lantern burning, and behind
this a large handsome house. All seemed to him in proper order as usual; it
was East Street, splendid and elegant as we now see it. He lay with his feet
towards a doorway, and exactly opposite sat the watchman asleep.
"Gracious Heaven!" said he. "Have I lain here in the street and dreamed? Yes;
'tis East Street! How splendid and light it is! But really it is terrible
what an effect that one glass of punch must have had on me!"
Two minutes later, he was sitting in a hackney-coach and driving to
Frederickshafen. He thought of the distress and agony he had endured, and
praised from the very bottom of his heart the happy reality--our own
time--which, with all its deficiencies, is yet much better than that in which,
so much against his inclination, he had lately been.
III. The Watchman's Adventure
"Why, there is a pair of galoshes, as sure as I'm alive!" said the watchman,
awaking from a gentle slumber. "They belong no doubt to the lieutenant who
lives over the way. They lie close to the door."
The worthy man was inclined to ring and deliver them at the house, for there
was still a light in the window; but he did not like disturbing the other
people in their beds, and so very considerately he left the matter alone.
"Such a pair of shoes must be very warm and comfortable," said he; "the
leather is so soft and supple." They fitted his feet as though they had been
made for him. "'Tis a curious world we live in," continued he, soliloquizing.
"There is the lieutenant, now, who might go quietly to bed if he chose, where
no doubt he could stretch himself at his ease; but does he do it? No; he
saunters up and down his room, because, probably, he has enjoyed too many of
the good things of this world at his dinner. That's a happy fellow! He has
neither an infirm mother, nor a whole troop of everlastingly hungry children
to torment him. Every evening he goes to a party, where his nice supper costs
him nothing: would to Heaven I could but change with him! How happy should I
be!"
While expressing his wish, the charm of the shoes, which he had put on, began
to work; the watchman entered into the being and nature of the lieutenant. He
stood in the handsomely furnished apartment, and held between his fingers a
small sheet of rose-colored paper, on which some verses were written--written
indeed by the officer himself; for who has not, at least once in his life,
had a lyrical moment? And if one then marks down one's thoughts, poetry is
produced. But here was written:
OH, WERE I RICH!
"Oh, were I rich! Such was my wish, yea such
When hardly three feet high, I longed for much.
Oh, were I rich! an officer were I,
With sword, and uniform, and plume so high.
And the time came, and officer was I!
But yet I grew not rich. Alas, poor me!
Have pity, Thou, who all man's wants dost see.
"I sat one evening sunk in dreams of bliss,
A maid of seven years old gave me a kiss,
I at that time was rich in poesy
And tales of old, though poor as poor could be;
But all she asked for was this poesy.
Then was I rich, but not in gold, poor me!
As Thou dost know, who all men's hearts canst see.
"Oh, were I rich! Oft asked I for this boon.
The child grew up to womanhood full soon.
She is so pretty, clever, and so kind
Oh, did she know what's hidden in my mind--
A tale of old. Would she to me were kind!
But I'm condemned to silence! oh, poor me!
As Thou dost know, who all men's hearts canst see.
"Oh, were I rich in calm and peace of mind,
My grief you then would not here written find!
O thou, to whom I do my heart devote,
Oh read this page of glad days now remote,
A dark, dark tale, which I tonight devote!
Dark is the future now. Alas, poor me!
Have pity Thou, who all men's pains dost see."
Such verses as these people write when they are in love! But no man in his
senses ever thinks of printing them. Here one of the sorrows of life, in which
there is real poetry, gave itself vent; not that barren grief which the poet
may only hint at, but never depict in its detail--misery and want: that animal
necessity, in short, to snatch at least at a fallen leaf of the bread-fruit
tree, if not at the fruit itself. The higher the position in which one finds
oneself transplanted, the greater is the suffering. Everyday necessity is the
stagnant pool of life--no lovely picture reflects itself therein. Lieutenant,
love, and lack of money--that is a symbolic triangle, or much the same as the
half of the shattered die of Fortune. This the lieutenant felt most
poignantly, and this was the reason he leant his head against the window, and
sighed so deeply.
"The poor watchman out there in the street is far happier than I. He knows not
what I term privation. He has a home, a wife, and children, who weep with him
over his sorrows, who rejoice with him when he is glad. Oh, far happier were
I, could I exchange with him my being--with his desires and with his hopes
perform the weary pilgrimage of life! Oh, he is a hundred times happier than
I!"
In the same moment the watchman was again watchman. It was the shoes that
caused the metamorphosis by means of which, unknown to himself, he took upon
him the thoughts and feelings of the officer; but, as we have just seen, he
felt himself in his new situation much less contented, and now preferred the
very thing which but some minutes before he had rejected. So then the watchman
was again watchman.
"That was an unpleasant dream," said he; "but 'twas droll enough altogether. I
fancied that I was the lieutenant over there: and yet the thing was not very
much to my taste after all. I missed my good old mother and the dear little
ones; who almost tear me to pieces for sheer love."
He seated himself once more and nodded: the dream continued to haunt him, for
he still had the shoes on his feet. A falling star shone in the dark
firmament.
"There falls another star," said he: "but what does it matter; there are
always enough left. I should not much mind examining the little glimmering
things somewhat nearer, especially the moon; for that would not slip so easily
through a man's fingers. When we die--so at least says the student, for whom
my wife does the washing--we shall fly about as light as a feather from one
such a star to the other. That's, of course, not true: but 'twould be pretty
enough if it were so. If I could but once take a leap up there, my body might
stay here on the steps for what I care."
Behold--there are certain things in the world to which one ought never to give
utterance except with the greatest caution; but doubly careful must one be
when we have the Shoes of Fortune on our feet. Now just listen to what
happened to the watchman.
As to ourselves, we all know the speed produced by the employment of steam; we
have experienced it either on railroads, or in boats when crossing the sea;
but such a flight is like the travelling of a sloth in comparison with the
velocity with which light moves. It flies nineteen million times faster than
the best race-horse; and yet electricity is quicker still. Death is an
electric shock which our heart receives; the freed soul soars upwards on the
wings of electricity. The sun's light wants eight minutes and some seconds to
perform a journey of more than twenty million of our Danish* miles; borne by
electricity, the soul wants even some minutes less to accomplish the same
flight. To it the space between the heavenly bodies is not greater than the
distance between the homes of our friends in town is for us, even if they live
a short way from each other; such an electric shock in the heart, however,
costs us the use of the body here below; unless, like the watchman of East
Street, we happen to have on the Shoes of Fortune.
* A Danish mile is nearly 4 3/4 English.
In a few seconds the watchman had done the fifty-two thousand of our miles up
to the moon, which, as everyone knows, was formed out of matter much lighter
than our earth; and is, so we should say, as soft as newly-fallen snow. He
found himself on one of the many circumjacent mountain-ridges with which we
are acquainted by means of Dr. Madler's "Map of the Moon." Within, down it
sunk perpendicularly into a caldron, about a Danish mile in depth; while below
lay a town, whose appearance we can, in some measure, realize to ourselves by
beating the white of an egg in a glass of water. The matter of which it was
built was just as soft, and formed similar towers, and domes, and pillars,
transparent and rocking in the thin air; while above his head our earth was
rolling like a large fiery ball.
He perceived immediately a quantity of beings who were certainly what we call
"men"; yet they looked different to us. A far more correct imagination than
that of the pseudo-Herschel* had created them; and if they had been placed in
rank and file, and copied by some skilful painter's hand, one would, without
doubt, have exclaimed involuntarily, "What a beautiful arabesque!"
*This relates to a book published some years ago in Germany, and said to be by
Herschel, which contained a description of the moon and its inhabitants,
written with such a semblance of truth that many were deceived by the
imposture.
Probably a translation of the celebrated Moon hoax, written by Richard A.
Locke, and originally published in New York.
They had a language too; but surely nobody can expect that the soul of the
watchman should understand it. Be that as it may, it did comprehend it; for in
our souls there germinate far greater powers than we poor mortals, despite all
our cleverness, have any notion of. Does she not show us--she the queen in the
land of enchantment--her astounding dramatic talent in all our dreams? There
every acquaintance appears and speaks upon the stage, so entirely in
character, and with the same tone of voice, that none of us, when awake, were
able to imitate it. How well can she recall persons to our mind, of whom we
have not thought for years; when suddenly they step forth "every inch a man,"
resembling the real personages, even to the finest features, and become the
heroes or heroines of our world of dreams. In reality, such remembrances are
rather unpleasant: every sin, every evil thought, may, like a clock with alarm
or chimes, be repeated at pleasure; then the question is if we can trust
ourselves to give an account of every unbecoming word in our heart and on our
lips.
The watchman's spirit understood the language of the inhabitants of the moon
pretty well. The Selenites* disputed variously about our earth, and expressed
their doubts if it could be inhabited: the air, they said, must certainly be
too dense to allow any rational dweller in the moon the necessary free
respiration. They considered the moon alone to be inhabited: they imagined it
was the real heart of the universe or planetary system, on which the genuine
Cosmopolites, or citizens of the world, dwelt. What strange things men--no,
what strange things Selenites sometimes take into their heads!
* Dwellers in the moon.
About politics they had a good deal to say. But little Denmark must take care
what it is about, and not run counter to the moon; that great realm, that
might in an ill-humor bestir itself, and dash down a hail-storm in our faces,
or force the Baltic to overflow the sides of its gigantic basin.
We will, therefore, not listen to what was spoken, and on no condition run in
the possibility of telling tales out of school; but we will rather proceed,
like good quiet citizens, to East Street, and observe what happened meanwhile
to the body of the watchman.
He sat lifeless on the steps: the morning-star,* that is to say, the heavy
wooden staff, headed with iron spikes, and which had nothing else in common
with its sparkling brother in the sky, had glided from his hand; while his
eyes were fixed with glassy stare on the moon, looking for the good old fellow
of a spirit which still haunted it.
*The watchmen in Germany, had formerly, and in some places they still carry
with them, on their rounds at night, a sort of mace or club, known in ancient
times by the above denomination.
"What's the hour, watchman?" asked a passer-by. But when the watchman gave no
reply, the merry roysterer, who was now returning home from a noisy drinking
bout, took it into his head to try what a tweak of the nose would do, on which
the supposed sleeper lost his balance, the body lay motionless, stretched out
on the pavement: the man was dead. When the patrol came up, all his comrades,
who comprehended nothing of the whole affair, were seized with a dreadful
fright, for dead he was, and he remained so. The proper authorities were
informed of the circumstance, people talked a good deal about it, and in the
morning the body was carried to the hospital.
Now that would be a very pretty joke, if the spirit when it came back and
looked for the body in East Street, were not to find one. No doubt it would,
in its anxiety, run off to the police, and then to the "Hue and Cry" office,
to announce that "the finder will be handsomely rewarded," and at last away to
the hospital; yet we may boldly assert that the soul is shrewdest when it
shakes off every fetter, and every sort of leading-string--the body only makes
it stupid.
The seemingly dead body of the watchman wandered, as we have said, to the
hospital, where it was brought into the general viewing-room: and the first
thing that was done here was naturally to pull off the galoshes--when the
spirit, that was merely gone out on adventures, must have returned with the
quickness of lightning to its earthly tenement. It took its direction towards
the body in a straight line; and a few seconds after, life began to show
itself in the man. He asserted that the preceding night had been the worst
that ever the malice of fate had allotted him; he would not for two silver
marks again go through what he had endured while moon-stricken; but now,
however, it was over.
The same day he was discharged from the hospital as perfectly cured; but the
Shoes meanwhile remained behind.
IV. A Moment of Head Importance--An Evening's "Dramatic Readings"--A Most
Strange Journey
Every inhabitant of Copenhagen knows, from personal inspection, how the
entrance to Frederick's Hospital looks; but as it is possible that others, who
are not Copenhagen people, may also read this little work, we will beforehand
give a short description of it.
The extensive building is separated from the street by a pretty high railing,
the thick iron bars of which are so far apart, that in all seriousness, it is
said, some very thin fellow had of a night occasionally squeezed himself
through to go and pay his little visits in the town. The part of the body most
difficult to manage on such occasions was, no doubt, the head; here, as is so
often the case in the world, long-headed people get through best. So much,
then, for the introduction.
One of the young men, whose head, in a physical sense only, might be said to
be of the thickest, had the watch that evening. The rain poured down in
torrents; yet despite these two obstacles, the young man was obliged to go
out, if it were but for a quarter of an hour; and as to telling the
door-keeper about it, that, he thought, was quite unnecessary, if, with a
whole skin, he were able to slip through the railings. There, on the floor lay
the galoshes, which the watchman had forgotten; he never dreamed for a moment
that they were those of Fortune; and they promised to do him good service in
the wet; so he put them on. The question now was, if he could squeeze himself
through the grating, for he had never tried before. Well, there he stood.
"Would to Heaven I had got my head through!" said he, involuntarily; and
instantly through it slipped, easily and without pain, notwithstanding it was
pretty large and thick. But now the rest of the body was to be got through!
"Ah! I am much too stout," groaned he aloud, while fixed as in a vice. "I had
thought the head was the most difficult part of the matter--oh! oh! I really
cannot squeeze myself through!"
He now wanted to pull his over-hasty head back again, but he could not. For
his neck there was room enough, but for nothing more. His first feeling was of
anger; his next that his temper fell to zero. The Shoes of Fortune had placed
him in the most dreadful situation; and, unfortunately, it never occurred to
him to wish himself free. The pitch-black clouds poured down their contents in
still heavier torrents; not a creature was to be seen in the streets. To reach
up to the bell was what he did not like; to cry aloud for help would have
availed him little; besides, how ashamed would he have been to be found caught
in a trap, like an outwitted fox! How was he to twist himself through! He saw
clearly that it was his irrevocable destiny to remain a prisoner till dawn,
or, perhaps, even late in the morning; then the smith must be fetched to file
away the bars; but all that would not be done so quickly as he could think
about it. The whole Charity School, just opposite, would be in motion; all the
new booths, with their not very courtier-like swarm of seamen, would join them
out of curiosity, and would greet him with a wild "hurrah!" while he was
standing in his pillory: there would be a mob, a hissing, and rejoicing, and
jeering, ten times worse than in the rows about the Jews some years ago--"Oh,
my blood is mounting to my brain; 'tis enough to drive one mad! I shall go
wild! I know not what to do. Oh! were I but loose; my dizziness would then
cease; oh, were my head but loose!"
You see he ought to have said that sooner; for the moment he expressed the
wish his head was free; and cured of all his paroxysms of love, he hastened
off to his room, where the pains consequent on the fright the Shoes had
prepared for him, did not so soon take their leave.
But you must not think that the affair is over now; it grows much worse.
The night passed, the next day also; but nobody came to fetch the Shoes.
In the evening "Dramatic Readings" were to be given at the little theatre in
King Street. The house was filled to suffocation; and among other pieces to be
recited was a new poem by H. C. Andersen, called, My Aunt's Spectacles; the
contents of which were pretty nearly as follows:
"A certain person had an aunt, who boasted of particular skill in
fortune-telling with cards, and who was constantly being stormed by persons
that wanted to have a peep into futurity. But she was full of mystery about
her art, in which a certain pair of magic spectacles did her essential
service. Her nephew, a merry boy, who was his aunt's darling, begged so long
for these spectacles, that, at last, she lent him the treasure, after having
informed him, with many exhortations, that in order to execute the interesting
trick, he need only repair to some place where a great many persons were
assembled; and then, from a higher position, whence he could overlook the
crowd, pass the company in review before him through his spectacles.
Immediately 'the inner man' of each individual would be displayed before him,
like a game of cards, in which he unerringly might read what the future of
every person presented was to be. Well pleased the little magician hastened
away to prove the powers of the spectacles in the theatre; no place seeming to
him more fitted for such a trial. He begged permission of the worthy audience,
and set his spectacles on his nose. A motley phantasmagoria presents itself
before him, which he describes in a few satirical touches, yet without
expressing his opinion openly: he tells the people enough to set them all
thinking and guessing; but in order to hurt nobody, he wraps his witty
oracular judgments in a transparent veil, or rather in a lurid thundercloud,
shooting forth bright sparks of wit, that they may fall in the powder-magazine
of the expectant audience."
The humorous poem was admirably recited, and the speaker much applauded. Among
the audience was the young man of the hospital, who seemed to have forgotten
his adventure of the preceding night. He had on the Shoes; for as yet no
lawful owner had appeared to claim them; and besides it was so very dirty
out-of-doors, they were just the thing for him, he thought.
The beginning of the poem he praised with great generosity: he even found the
idea original and effective. But that the end of it, like the Rhine, was very
insignificant, proved, in his opinion, the author's want of invention; he was
without genius, etc. This was an excellent opportunity to have said something
clever.
Meanwhile he was haunted by the idea--he should like to possess such a pair of
spectacles himself; then, perhaps, by using them circumspectly, one would be
able to look into people's hearts, which, he thought, would be far more
interesting than merely to see what was to happen next year; for that we
should all know in proper time, but the other never.
"I can now," said he to himself, "fancy the whole row of ladies and gentlemen
sitting there in the front row; if one could but see into their hearts--yes,
that would be a revelation--a sort of bazar. In that lady yonder, so strangely
dressed, I should find for certain a large milliner's shop; in that one the
shop is empty, but it wants cleaning plain enough. But there would also be
some good stately shops among them. Alas!" sighed he, "I know one in which all
is stately; but there sits already a spruce young shopman, which is the only
thing that's amiss in the whole shop. All would be splendidly decked out, and
we should hear, 'Walk in, gentlemen, pray walk in; here you will find all you
please to want.' Ah! I wish to Heaven I could walk in and take a trip right
through the hearts of those present!"
And behold! to the Shoes of Fortune this was the cue; the whole man shrunk
together and a most uncommon journey through the hearts of the front row of
spectators, now began. The first heart through which he came, was that of a
middle-aged lady, but he instantly fancied himself in the room of the
"Institution for the cure of the crooked and deformed," where casts of
mis-shapen limbs are displayed in naked reality on the wall. Yet there was
this difference, in the institution the casts were taken at the entry of the
patient; but here they were retained and guarded in the heart while the sound
persons went away. They were, namely, casts of female friends, whose bodily or
mental deformities were here most faithfully preserved.
With the snake-like writhings of an idea he glided into another female heart;
but this seemed to him like a large holy fane.* The white dove of innocence
fluttered over the altar. How gladly would he have sunk upon his knees; but he
must away to the next heart; yet he still heard the pealing tones of the
organ, and he himself seemed to have become a newer and a better man; he felt
unworthy to tread the neighboring sanctuary which a poor garret, with a sick
bed-rid mother, revealed. But God's warm sun streamed through the open window;
lovely roses nodded from the wooden flower-boxes on the roof, and two sky-blue
birds sang rejoicingly, while the sick mother implored God's richest blessings
on her pious daughter.
* temple
幸运的套鞋
１．开端
在哥本哈根东街离皇家新市场①不远的一幢房子里，有人开了一个盛大的晚会，因为如果一个人想被回请的话，他自己也得偶尔请请客才成呀。有一半的客人已经坐在桌子旁玩扑克牌，另一半的客人们却在等待女主人布置下一步的消遣："唔，我们现在想点什么来玩玩吧！"他们的晚会只发展到这个地步，他们尽可能地聊天。在许多话题中间，他们忽然谈到"中世纪"这个题目上来。有人认为那个时代比我们这个时代要好得多。是的，司法官克那卜热烈地赞成这个意见，女主人也马上随声附和。他们两人竭力地反对奥尔斯德特在《年鉴》上发表的一篇论古代和近代的文章。
①这是哥本哈根市中心的一个大广场，非常热闹。
这篇文章基本上称赞现代。但司法官却认为汉斯①王朝是一个最可爱、最幸福的时代。
①汉斯（Ｈａｎｓ，１４５５-１５１３）是丹麦的国王，１４８１年兼做瑞典的国王。
谈话既然走向两个极端，除了有人送来一份内容不值一读的报纸以外，没有什么东西打断它——我们暂且到放外套、手杖、雨伞和套鞋的前房去看一下吧。这儿坐着两个女仆人——一个年轻，一个年老。你很可能以为她们是来接她们的女主人——一位老小姐或一位寡妇——回家的。不过，假如你仔细看一下的话，你马上会发现她们并不是普通的佣人：她们的手很娇嫩，行动举止很大方。她们的确是这样；她们的衣服的式样也很特别。她们原来是两个仙女。年轻的这个并不是幸运女神本人，而是替女神传送幸运小礼物的一个女仆。年长的那个的外表非常庄严——她是忧虑女神。无论做什么事情，她总是亲自出马，因为只有这样她才放心。
她们谈着她们这天到一些什么地方去过。幸运女神的女仆只做了几件不太重要的事情，例如：她从一阵骤雨中救出了一顶崭新的女帽，使一个老实人从一个地位很高的糊涂蛋那里得到一声问候，以及其他类似的事情。不过她马上就要做的一件事情却很不平常。
"我还得告诉你，"她说，"今天是我的生日。为了庆祝这个日子，我奉命把一双幸运的套鞋送到人间去。这双套鞋有一种特性：凡是穿着它的人马上就可以到他最喜欢的地方和时代里去，他对于时间或地方所作的一切希望，都能得到满足；因此下边的凡人也可以得到一次幸福！"
"请相信我，"忧虑女神说，"他一定会感到苦恼。当他一脱下这双套鞋时，他一定会说谢天谢地！"
"你这是说的什么话？"对方说。"我现在要把这双套鞋放在门口。谁要是错穿了它，就会变得幸福！"
这就是她们的对话。
２．司法官的遭遇
时间已经不早了。醉心于汉斯的朝代的司法官克那卜想要回家去。事情凑巧得很：他没有穿上自己的套鞋，而穿上了幸运的套鞋。他向东街走去。不过，这双套鞋的魔力使他回到３００年前国王汉斯的朝代里去了，因此他的脚就踩着了街上的泥泞和水坑，因为在那个时代里，街道是没有铺石的。
"这真是可怕——脏极了！"司法官说。"所有的铺道全不见了，路灯也没有了！"
月亮出来还没有多久，空气也相当沉闷，因此周围的一切东西都变成漆黑一团。在最近的一个街角里，有一盏灯在圣母像面前照着，不过灯光可以说是有名无实：他只有走到灯下面去才能注意到它，才能看见抱着孩子的圣母画像。
"这可能是一个美术馆，"他想，"而人们却忘记把它的招牌拿进去。"
有一两个人穿着那个时代的服装在他身边走过去了。
"他们的样子真有些古怪，"他说。"他们一定是刚刚参加过一个化装跳舞会。"
这时忽然有一阵鼓声和笛声飘来，也有火把在闪耀着。司法官停下步子，看到一个奇怪的游行行列走过去了，前面一整排鼓手，熟练地敲着鼓。后面跟着来的是一群拿着长弓和横弓的卫士。行列的带队人是一位教会的首长。惊奇的司法官不禁要问，这场面究竟是为了什么，这个人究竟是谁？
"这是西兰①的主教！"
①丹麦全国分做三大区，西兰（Ｓｊａｅｌｌａｎｄ）是其中的一区。
"老天爷！主教有什么了不起的事儿要这样做？"司法官叹了一口气，摇了摇头。这不可能是主教！
司法官思索着这个问题，眼睛也不向左右看；他一直走过东街，走到高桥广场。通到宫前广场的那座桥已经不见了，他只模糊地看到一条很长的溪流。最后他遇见两个人，坐在一条船里。
"您先生是不是摆渡到霍尔姆去？"他们问。
"到霍尔姆去？"司法官说。他完全不知道他在一个什么时代里走路。"我要到克利斯仙码头、到小市场去呀！"
那两个人呆呆地望着他。
"请告诉我桥在什么地方？"他说。"这儿连路灯也没有，真是说不过去。而且遍地泥泞，使人觉得好像是在沼泽地里走路似的！"
的确他跟这两个船夫越谈越糊涂。
"我不懂得你们波尔霍尔姆的土话！"他最后生气地说，而且还把背掉向他们。他找不到那座桥，甚至连桥栏杆也没有了。
"这里的情形太不像话！"他说。他从来没有想到他的时代会像今晚这样悲惨。
"我想我还是叫一辆马车吧！"他想，可是马车到什么地方去了呢？——一辆也看不见。"我看我还是回到皇家新市场去吧，那儿停着许多马车；不然的话，我恐怕永远走不到克利斯仙码头了。"
现在他向东街走去。当他快要走完的时候，月亮忽然出来了。
"我的天，他们在这儿搭了一个什么架子？"他看到东门的时候说。东门在那时代恰恰是在东街的尽头。
最后他找到一个门。穿过这个门，他就来到我们的新市场，不过那时它是一片广大的草地，草地上有几簇灌木丛，还有一条很宽的运河或溪流在中间流过去。对面岸上有几座不像样的木栅，它们是专为荷兰来的船长们搭起来的，因此这地方也叫做荷兰草地。
"要么我现在看到了大家所谓的虚无乡，要么我大概是喝醉了，"司法官叹了口气说。"这到底是什么呢？这到底是什么呢？"
他往回走，心中想自己一定是病了。他在街上一边走，一边更仔细地看看街上的房子。这大多数都是木房子，有许多还盖着草顶。
"不成，我病了！"他叹了一口气。"我不过只喝了一杯混合酒！不过这已经够使我醉了；此外拿热鲑鱼给我们下酒也的确太糟糕。我要向女主人——事务官的太太抗议！不过，假如我回去，把实际情况告诉他们，那也有点可笑，而且他们有没有起床还是问题。"
他寻找这家公馆，可是没有办法找到。
"这真可怕极了！"他叫起来。"我连东街都不认识了。一个店铺也没有。我只能看到一些可怜的破屋子，好像我是在罗斯基尔特或林斯德特一样！哎呀，我病了！这没有什么隐瞒的必要。可是事务官的公馆在什么地方呢？它已经完全变了样子；不过里面还有人没睡。哎呀，我是病了！"
他走到一扇半开的门前，灯光从一个隙缝里射出来。这是那时的一个酒店——一种啤酒店。里面的房间很像荷尔斯泰因的前房①。有一堆人，包括水手、哥本哈根的居民和一两个学者坐在里面。他们一边喝酒，一边聊天。他们对于这位新来的客人一点也不在意。
①石勒苏益格-荷尔斯泰因（ＳｃｈｔｅｓｗｉｇＨｏｌｓｔｅｉｎ）是德国北部的一个州。荷尔斯泰因的前房是一种宽大的房间，里面的陈设全是些粗大的家具、箱子和柜子等。
"请您原谅，"司法官对着向他走来的老板娘说，"我有点不舒服！您能不能替我雇一辆马车，把我送到克利斯仙码头去？"
老板娘看了他一眼，摇摇头，然后用德文和他讲话。
司法官猜想她大概不会讲丹麦文，因此把他的要求又用德文讲了一遍。他的口音和他的装束使得老板娘相信他是一个外国人。她马上懂得了他有些不舒服，因此倒了一杯水给他喝。水很咸，因为那是从外边井里取来的。
司法官用手支着头，深深地吸了一口气，思索着在他周围所发生的一些怪事情。
"这是今天的日历吗？"当他看到老板娘把一大张纸撕掉的时候，为了要打破沉寂，他说。
她不懂得他的意思，不过她把这张纸递给了他。这是一张描绘诃龙城上空所常见的一种幻象的木刻。
"这是一张非常老的东西呀！"司法官说。他看到这件古物，感到非常高兴。"您怎样弄到这张稀有的古画的？虽然它代表一个寓言，但是它是非常有趣的！现在人们把这些常见的幻象解释成为北极光；可能它是由电光所形成的！"
坐在他身旁和听他讲话的人，都莫明其妙地望着他。其中有一位站起来，恭恭敬敬地摘下帽子，做出一种很庄严的表情，说：
"先生，足下一定是当代的一位大学者！"
"哦，岂敢！"司法官回答说，"我所了解的只不过是一知半解，事实上这些事情大家都应该知道的！"
"Ｍｏｄｅｓｔｉａ①是一种美德！"这人说。"不过我对于您的说法很觉得Ｍｉｈｉｓｅｃｕｓｖｉｄｅｔｕｒ②；但我很希望能不下这个ｊｕｄｉｃｉ－ｕｍ③。"
"请问我现在很荣幸地得以交谈的这位先生是作何贵干？"司法官问。
"敝人是一个神学学士。"这人回答说。
①拉丁文，"谦虚"的意思。
②拉丁文，"不以为然"的意思。
③拉丁文，"判断"的意思。
这句回答对于司法官说来已经够了，他的头衔与他的服装很相称。他想，这一定是一个老乡村教师——一位像我们在尤兰①还能碰得见的怪物。
"此地的确并不是ｌｏｃｕｓｄｏｃｅｎｄｉ②，"这人说。"但我希望足下多发表一点意见来启发我们。足下的古典书籍一定读得不少。"
"唔，不错，"司法官说。"我是喜欢读有用的古典著作的；不过我也喜欢读近代的著作——只是《每日故事集》③是一本例外；老实讲，这类书我们太多了。"
"《每日故事集》？"我们的学士问。
"是的，我指的是一般的流行小说。"
"原来如此！"这人微笑了一下，"这些书写得很聪明，宫里的人都喜欢读。皇上特别喜欢读关于伊文及哥甸先生的传奇。这书描写亚瑟王及其圆桌骑士的故事。他常常跟大臣们把这故事作为谈笑的资料④。"
"这本书我倒还没有读过！"司法官说，"这一定是海贝尔格所出版的一本新书了。"
①尤兰（Ｊｕｔｌａｎｄ）是丹麦的一个省份。
②拉丁文，"文教地区"的意思。
③《每日故事集》（Ｈｖｅｒｄａｇｓｈｉｓｔｏｒｉｅｒｎｅ）是丹麦作家ＧｙｌｌｅｍｂｏｕｒｇＥｈｒｅｎｓｖüｒｄ的第一部小说。
④亚瑟王的圆桌骑士是在欧洲流传很广的关于一群骑士的冒险故事。这儿是指丹麦国王汉斯与他的一个喜欢读这故事的朝臣奥托·路德的一段对话。国王汉斯说："这本书里所描写的伊文和哥甸先生真是了不起的骑士，像这样的骑士现在再也找不到了！"奥托·路德回答说："如果还有像亚瑟王那样的国王，当然可以找到像伊文和哥甸那样的骑士的！'（见丹麦作家荷尔堡著《丹麦王国史》）
"不对，"学士说，"这书并不是由海贝尔格出版的，而是由高得夫里·冯·格曼①出版的。"
"真的？他就是作者本人吗？"司法官问。"这是一个很老的名字！这不也是丹麦第一个印刷所的名字吗？"
"是的，他是我国印刷业的始祖。"这人回答说。
谈话一直进行得还不坏。这时另外有一位开始谈到从前流行过一两年的瘟疫：他指的是１４８４年的那次瘟疫。司法官以为他是在谈霍乱病，所以他们的谈话还勉强可以进行下去。
１４９０年的海寇战争离那时还没有多久，因此他们自然也要谈到这个题目。他们说：英国的海盗居然从船坞里把船都抢走了。司法官亲身经历过１８０１年的事件，因此他也理直气壮地提出反英的意见。除此以外，谈话进行得可不太好：每一分钟总有一次抬杠。那位了不起的学士不禁有些糊涂起来：司法官的最简单的话语在他听来不是显得太粗鲁，就是太荒唐。他们互相呆望着。事情一僵的时候，学士就讲起拉丁文来。他以为这样别人就可以懂得他的话了；不过事实上这一点用也没有。
"现在您的感觉怎样？"老板娘问，把司法官的袖子拉了一下。
现在他恢复了记忆力：在他刚才谈话的时候，他把先前所发生的事情完全忘记了。
①这是汉斯王朝的丹麦第一个印刷匠。他在１４９５年出版的《丹麦诗韵》（ＤｅｎＤａｎｓｋｅＲｉｍｋｒｏｎｉｋｅ）是第一部用丹麦文印的书。
"我的天！我是在什么地方？"他说。他一想起这个问题就觉得头昏。
"我得喝点红葡萄酒！蜜酒和卜列门啤酒也好。"有一位客人说，"请您也来跟我们一起喝吧。"
这时两个女孩子走进来了，其中一个戴着一顶有两种颜色的帽子。她们倒出酒来，行了曲膝礼。司法官的背上冷了半截。"这是怎么一回事儿？"他说。但是他不得不和他们一起喝酒。他们对这位好先生非常客气，弄得他简直不晓得怎样办才好。有一个人说他醉了，他对这句话没有丝毫的怀疑，他要求他们替他喊一辆"德洛西基"①来。于是大家就以为他在讲莫斯科方言了。
他从来没有跟这样一群粗鲁和庸俗的人混在一起过。
他想：这真叫人相信这个国家退化到野蛮时代了。"这真是我一生中最可怕的时刻。"
不过，在这同时，他的灵机一动，想要钻进桌子底下，偷偷地爬到门那儿溜出去。但是当他刚刚一爬到门口的时候，别人就发现了他的活动。大家抱住他的双脚。这时，也算是他的运气，他的一双套鞋被拉掉了——因此整个的幻景也就消逝了。
司法官现在清楚地看见他面前点着一盏很亮的灯，灯后面有一幢大房子。他认识这房子和它周围的别的房子。这就是我们大家所知道的东街。他躺在地上，双脚正对着大门。看门人坐在他对面，在打盹。
①"德洛西基"（ｄｒｏｓａｈｋｙ）是过去俄国的一种马车。
"我的天！难道我一直是躺在街上做梦么？"他说。"是的，这是东街！真是光明快乐，丰富多采！可怕得很，那杯混合酒居然把我弄得那样醉！"
两分钟以后，他坐进了一辆马车，向克利斯仙码头驰去。
他把他刚才经历过的不安和苦恼思索了一下，他不禁衷心地称赞幸福的现实——我们所处的这个时代。我们这个时代虽然缺点不少，比起他刚才进入的那个时代究竟好得多。
你看，司法官的想法并不是没有道理的。
３．守夜人的故事
"咳，这儿有一双套鞋！"守夜人说。"这一定是楼上的那位中尉的套鞋。恰恰放在门边！"
这位老实人倒是很想按按门铃，把套鞋交给原主的，因为楼上的灯还是亮着。不过他不愿意把屋子里的人吵醒，所以就不这样做了。
"穿上这样一双东西一定很暖和！"他说。"皮子是这样柔软！"鞋子恰恰适合他的脚。"这个世界也真是滑稽！中尉现在可能已经在他温暖的床上睡了，但是你相信他会睡吗？他正在房间里走来走去呢。他真是一个幸福的人！他既没有妻子，也没有孩子！他每天晚上总是去参加一个什么晚会。我希望我能像他，这样我也可以成为一个幸福的人了！"
当他说出了他的愿望以后，他所穿上的这双套鞋就立刻产生效果：这个守夜人在身体和思想方面就变成了那位中尉。他现在是在楼上的房间里，手指间夹着一小张粉红色的纸，纸上写的是一首诗——中尉亲手写的一首诗，因为人们在一生中谁都有过富有诗意的一瞬间。如果一个人把这一瞬间的思想写下来，那么他就可说是在作诗了。下面是中尉写的诗："让我发财吧！"
"让我发财吧！"我祈祷过好几次，
那时我不过是一两尺高的孩子。
让我发财吧！我要成一个军官，
戴上羽毛，穿起制服，挂上宝剑。
后来我居然也当上了军官，
可是很不幸，我一直没有发财！
上帝呀，请您伸出援助的手来！
有天晚上——我是既幸福又年青，
一个七岁的姑娘吻了我的嘴唇，
因为我是一个拥有故事和童话的富人，
可是说到钱财，我仍然是穷得要命。
不过孩子对于童话却非常欢迎，
所以我很富有，只是，唉，没有钱，
我们的上帝清清楚楚知道这一点！
我仍向上帝祈祷："让我发财吧！"
那个七岁的姑娘现在已经长大。
她是那么美丽、聪明和善良；
唯愿她知道我心中对她的向往，
唯愿她对我好，像从前那样。
但是我很穷，不敢对她表示：
这就是我们的上帝的意旨！
只要我发财，过得舒服和愉快，
我也就不在纸上写下我的悲哀。
我热恋的人啊，如果你对我了解，
请读这首诗——它代表我的青春时代。
不过最好你还是对我不要了解，
因为我很穷，前途是一团漆黑——
愿我们的上帝祝福你！
是的，当一个人在恋爱的时候，他会写诗的，不过头脑清醒的人不至于把这种诗印出来罢了。这位中尉是正在恋爱和穷困之中，而且他的恋爱还是一个三角——也可以说是一个打碎了的幸福的四角的一半。中尉尖锐地感觉到自己的处境，因此他把头靠着窗框，深深地叹了一口气。
"街上那个穷苦的守夜人比我要快乐得多。他不知道我所谓的'穷困'。他有一个家、一个老婆和许多孩子——他们为他的苦恼而流眼泪，为他的快乐而欢笑。啊！如果我能变成他，我会比现在要幸福得多，因为他的确比我幸福！"
在一瞬间，守夜人又恢复到守夜人的原状。原来他是由于"幸运的套鞋"的魔力才变成中尉的；我们已经知道他并不感到满意，而情愿回复他的本来面目。因此守夜人又变成了守夜人。
"这真是一个丑恶的梦！"他说，"但是也够滑稽。我觉得我曾经变成了楼上的中尉，但这并不是一件很痛快的事情。我想念我的老婆和孩子们，他们这时正准备着大批的吻，要把我亲个半死。"
他又坐下来，点点头。这梦并不马上在他的思想中消逝，因为他脚上仍然穿着那双套鞋。这时天上有一颗流星滑落下来了。
"它落下来了！"他说。"但是落也落不完的，多着呢。我倒想更仔细地瞧瞧这些东西，特别是这一轮月亮，因为它不会从手里滑走的。我的女人经常替一位大学生洗衣服，那位大学生常常说，我们死了以后，就从这颗星飞到那颗星。这话并不可靠，不过，假如真是这样，那倒也很妙。如果我能飞到那儿去，即使我的躯壳躺在楼梯上，我也不在乎。"
在这世界上，有些话我们说出来的时候，必须万分谨慎，尤其是当我们穿上了"幸运的套鞋"的时候。请听听发生在守夜人身上的故事吧。
就我们人说来，我们差不多都知道蒸汽输送东西是多么迅速；这种事我们已经在铁道上或在海上的轮船中试验过。但是跟光线的速度比起来，这不过只等于树懒①的动作或蜗牛的爬行罢了。光比最快的骏马还要快１９００万倍，可是电的速