Anne Lisbeth

by Hans Christian Andersen（1859）

　　ANNE LISBETH was a beautiful young woman， with a red and white complexion， glittering white teeth， and clear soft eyes； and her footstep was light in the dance， but her mind was lighter still. She had a little child， not at all pretty； so he was put out to be nursed by a laborer's wife， and his mother went to the count's castle. She sat in splendid rooms， richly decorated with silk and velvet； not a breath of air was allowed to blow upon her， and no one was allowed to speak to her harshly， for she was nurse to the count's child. He was fair and delicate as a prince， and beautiful as an angel； and how she loved this child！ Her own boy was provided for by being at the laborer's where the mouth watered more frequently than the pot boiled， and where in general no one was at home to take care of the child. Then he would cry， but what nobody knows nobody cares for； so he would cry till he was tired， and then fall asleep； and while we are asleep we can feel neither hunger nor thirst. Ah， yes； sleep is a capital invention.

　　As years went on， Anne Lisbeth's child GREw apace like weeds， although they said his growth had been stunted. He had become quite a member of the family in which he dwelt； they received money to keep him， so that his mother got rid of him altogether. She had become quite a lady； she had a comfortable home of her own in the town； and out of doors， when she went for a walk， she wore a bonnet； but she never walked out to see the laborer： that was too far from the town， and， indeed， she had nothing to go for， the boy now belonged to these laboring people. He had food， and he could also do something towards earning his living； he took care of Mary's red cow， for he knew how to tend cattle and make himself useful.

　　the GREat dog by the yard gate of a nobleman's mansion sits proudly on the top of his kennel when the sun shines， and barks at every one that passes； but if it rains， he creeps into his house， and there he is warm and dry. Anne Lisbeth's boy also sat in the sunshine on the top of the fence， cutting out a little toy. If it was spring-time， he knew of three strawberry-plants in blossom， which would certainly bear fruit. This was his most hopeful thought， though it often came to nothing. And he had to sit out in the rain in the worst weather， and get wet to the skin， and let the cold wind dry the clothes on his back afterwards. If he went near the farmyard belonging to the count， he was pushed and knocked about， for the men and the maids said he was so horrible ugly； but he was used to all this， for nobody loved him. This was how the world treated Anne Lisbeth's boy， and how could it be otherwise. It was his fate to be beloved by no one. Hitherto he had been a land crab； the land at last cast him adrift. He went to sea in a wretched vessel， and sat at the helm， while the skipper sat over the grog-can. He was dirty and ugly， half-frozen and half-starved； he always looked as if he never had enough to eat， which was really the case.

　　Late in the autumn， when the weather was rough， windy， and wet， and the cold penetrated through the thickest clothing， especially at sea， a wretched boat went out to sea with only two men on board， or， more correctly， a man and a half， for it was the skipper and his boy. There had only been a kind of twilight all day， and it soon GREw quite dark， and so bitterly cold， that the skipper took a dram to warm him. The bottle was old， and the glass too. It was perfect in the upper part， but the foot was broken off， and it had therefore been fixed upon a little carved block of wood， painted blue. A dram is a great comfort， and two are better still， thought the skipper， while the boy sat at the helm， which he held fast in his hard seamed hands. He was ugly， and his hair was matted， and he looked crippled and stunted； they called him the field-laborer's boy， though in the church register he was entered as Anne Lisbeth's son. The wind cut through the rigging， and the boat cut through the sea. The sails， filled by the wind， swelled out and carried them along in wild career. It was wet and rough above and below， and might still be worse. Hold！ what is that？ What has struck the boat？ Was it a waterspout， or a heavy sea rolling suddenly upon them？

　　“Heaven help us！” cried the boy at the helm， as the boat heeled over and lay on its beam ends. It had struck on a rock， which rose from the depths of the sea， and sank at once， like an old shoe in a puddle. “It sank at once with mouse and man，” as the saying is. There might have been mice on board， but only one man and a half， the skipper and the laborer's boy. No one saw it but the skimming sea-gulls and the fishes beneath the water； and even they did not see it properly， for they darted back with terror as the boat filled with water and sank. There it lay， scarcely a fathom below the surface， and those two were provided for， buried， and forgotten. The glass with the foot of blue wood was the only thing that did not sink， for the wood floated and the glass drifted away to be cast upon the shore and broken； where and when， is indeed of no consequence. It had served its purpose， and it had been loved， which Anne Lisbeth's boy had not been. But in heaven no soul will be able to say， “Never loved.”

　　Anne Lisbeth had now lived in the town many years； she was called “Madame，” and felt dignified in consequence； she remembered the old， noble days， in which she had driven in the carriage， and had associated with countess and baroness. Her beautiful， noble child had been a dear angel， and possessed the kindest heart； he had loved her so much， and she had loved him in return； they had kissed and loved each other， and the boy had been her joy， her second life. Now he was fourteen years of age， tall， handsome， and clever. She had not seen him since she carried him in her arms； neither had she been for years to the count's palace； it was quite a journey thither from the town.

　　“I must make one effort to go，” said Anne Lisbeth， “to see my darling， the count's sweet child， and press him to my heart. Certainly he must long to see me， too， the young count； no doubt he thinks of me and loves me， as in those days when he would fling his angel-arms round my neck， and lisp 'Anne Liz.' It was music to my ears. Yes， I must make an effort to see him again.” She drove across the country in a grazier's cart， and then got out， and continued her journey on foot， and thus reached the count's castle. It was as GREat and magnificent as it had always been， and the garden looked the same as ever； all the servants were strangers to her， not one of them knew Anne Lisbeth， nor of what consequence she had once been there； but she felt sure the countess would soon let them know it， and her darling boy， too： how she longed to see him！

　　Now that Anne Lisbeth was at her journey's end， she was kept waiting a long time； and for those who wait， time passes slowly. But before the GREat people went in to dinner， she was called in and spoken to very graciously. She was to go in again after dinner， and then she would see her sweet boy once more. How tall， and slender， and thin he had grown； but the eyes and the sweet angel mouth were still beautiful. He looked at her， but he did not speak， he certainly did not know who she was. He turned round and was going away， but she seized his hand and pressed it to her lips.

　　“Well， well，” he said； and with that he walked out of the room. He who filled her every thought！ he whom she loved best， and who was her whole earthly pride！

　　Anne Lisbeth went forth from the castle into the public road， feeling mournful and sad； he whom she had nursed day and night， and even now carried about in her dreams， had been cold and strange， and had not a word or thought respecting her. A GREat black raven darted down in front of her on the high road， and croaked dismally.

　　“Ah，” said she， “what bird of ill omen art thou？” Presently she passed the laborer's hut； his wife stood at the door， and the two women spoke to each other.

　　“You look well，” said the woman； “you're fat and plump； you are well off.”

　　“Oh yes，” answered Anne Lisbeth.

　　“the boat went down with them，” continued the woman； “Hans the skipper and the boy were both drowned； so there's an end of them. I always thought the boy would be able to help me with a few dollars. He'll never cost you anything more， Anne Lisbeth.”

　　“So they were drowned，” repeated Anne Lisbeth； but she said no more， and the subject was dropped. She felt very low-spirited， because her count-child had shown no inclination to speak to her who loved him so well， and who had travelled so far to see him. The journey had cost money too， and she had derived no GREat pleasure from it. Still she said not a word of all this； she could not relieve her heart by telling the laborer's wife， lest the latter should think she did not enjoy her former position at the castle. Then the raven flew over her， screaming again as he flew.

　　“the black wretch！” said Anne Lisbeth， “he will end by frightening me today.” She had brought coffee and chicory with her， for she thought it would be a charity to the poor woman to give them to her to boil a cup of coffee， and then she would take a cup herself.

　　the woman prepared the coffee， and in the meantime Anne Lisbeth seated her in a chair and fell asleep. Then she dreamed of something which she had never dreamed before； singularly enough she dreamed of her own child， who had wept and hungered in the laborer's hut， and had been knocked about in heat and in cold， and who was now lying in the depths of the sea， in a spot only known by God. She fancied she was still sitting in the hut， where the woman was busy preparing the coffee， for she could smell the coffee-berries roasting. But suddenly it seemed to her that there stood on the threshold a beautiful young form， as beautiful as the count's child， and this apparition said to her， “The world is passing away； hold fast to me， for you are my mother after all； you have an angel in heaven， hold me fast；” and the child-angel stretched out his hand and seized her. Then there was a terrible crash， as of a world crumbling to pieces， and the angel-child was rising from the earth， and holding her by the sleeve so tightly that she felt herself lifted from the ground； but， on the other hand， something heavy hung to her feet and dragged her down， and it seemed as if hundreds of women were clinging to her， and crying， “If thou art to be saved， we must be saved too. Hold fast， hold fast.” And then they all hung on her， but there were too many； and as they clung the sleeve was torn， and Anne Lisbeth fell down in horror， and awoke. Indeed she was on the point of falling over in reality with the chair on which she sat； but she was so startled and alarmed that she could not remember what she had dreamed， only that it was something very dreadful.

　　they drank their coffee and had a chat together， and then Anne Lisbeth went away towards the little town where she was to meet the carrier， who was to drive her back to her own home. But when she came to him she found that he would not be ready to start till the evening of the next day. Then she began to think of the expense， and what the distance would be to walk. She remembered that the route by the sea-shore was two miles shorter than by the high road； and as the weather was clear， and there would be moonlight， she determined to make her way on foot， and to start at once， that she might reach home the next day.

　　the sun had set， and the evening bells sounded through the air from the tower of the village church， but to her it was not the bells， but the cry of the frogs in the marshes. Then they ceased， and all around became still； not a bird could be heard， they were all at rest， even the owl had not left her hiding place； deep silence reigned on the margin of the wood by the sea-shore. As Anne Lisbeth walked on she could hear her own footsteps in the sands； even the waves of the sea were at rest， and all in the deep waters had sunk into silence. There was quiet among the dead and the living in the deep sea. Anne Lisbeth walked on， thinking of nothing at all， as people say， or rather her thoughts wandered， but not away from her， for thought is never absent from us， it only slumbers. Many thoughts that have lain dormant are roused at the proper time， and begin to stir in the mind and the heart， and seem even to come upon us from above. It is written， that a good deed bears a blessing for its fruit； and it is also written， that the wages of sin is death. Much has been said and much written which we pass over or know nothing of. A light arises within us， and then forgotten things make themselves remembered； and thus it was with Anne Lisbeth. The germ of every vice and every virtue lies in our heart， in yours and in mine； they lie like little grains of seed， till a ray of sunshine， or the touch of an evil hand， or you turn the corner to the right or to the left， and the decision is made. The little seed is stirred， it swells and shoots up， and pours its sap into your blood， directing your course either for good or evil. Troublesome thoughts often exist in the mind， fermenting there， which are not realized by us while the senses are as it were slumbering； but still they are there. Anne Lisbeth walked on thus with her senses half asleep， but the thoughts were fermenting within her.

　　From one Shrove Tuesday to another， much may occur to weigh down the heart； it is the reckoning of a whole year； much may be forgotten， sins against heaven in word and thought， sins against our neighbor， and against our own conscience. We are scarcely aware of their existence； and Anne Lisbeth did not think of any of her errors. She had committed no crime against the law of the land； she was an honorable person， in a good position—that she knew.

　　She continued her walk along by the margin of the sea. What was it she saw lying there？ An old hat； a man's hat. Now when might that have been washed overboard？ She drew nearer， she stopped to look at the hat； “Ha！ what was lying yonder？” She shuddered； yet it was nothing save a heap of grass and tangled seaweed flung across a long stone， but it looked like a corpse. Only tangled grass， and yet she was frightened at it. As she turned to walk away， much came into her mind that she had heard in her childhood： old superstitions of spectres by the sea-shore； of the ghosts of drowned but unburied people， whose corpses had been washed up on the desolate beach. The body， she knew， could do no harm to any one， but the spirit could pursue the lonely wanderer， attach itself to him， and demand to be carried to the churchyard， that it might rest in consecrated ground. “Hold fast！ hold fast！” the spectre would cry； and as Anne Lisbeth murmured these words to herself， the whole of her dream was suddenly recalled to her memory， when the mother had clung to her， and uttered these words， when， amid the crashing of worlds， her sleeve had been torn， and she had slipped from the grasp of her child， who wanted to hold her up in that terrible hour. Her child， her own child， which she had never loved， lay now buried in the sea， and might rise up， like a spectre， from the waters， and cry， “Hold fast； carry me to consecrated ground！”

　　As these thoughts passed through her mind， fear gave speed to her feet， so that she walked faster and faster. Fear came upon her as if a cold， clammy hand had been laid upon her heart， so that she almost fainted. As she looked across the sea， all there GREw darker； a heavy mist came rolling onwards， and clung to bush and tree， distorting them into fantastic shapes. She turned and glanced at the moon， which had risen behind her. It looked like a pale， rayless surface， and a deadly weight seemed to hang upon her limbs. “Hold，” thought she； and then she turned round a second time to look at the moon. A white face appeared quite close to her， with a mist， hanging like a garment from its shoulders. “Stop！ carry me to consecrated earth，” sounded in her ears， in strange， hollow tones. The sound did not come from frogs or ravens； she saw no sign of such creatures. “A grave！ dig me a grave！” was repeated quite loud. Yes， it was indeed the spectre of her child. The child that lay beneath the ocean， and whose spirit could have no rest until it was carried to the churchyard， and until a grave had been dug for it in consecrated ground. She would go there at once， and there she would dig. She turned in the direction of the church， and the weight on her heart seemed to grow lighter， and even to vanish altogether； but when she turned to go home by the shortest way， it returned. “Stop！ stop！” and the words came quite clear， though they were like the croak of a frog， or the wail of a bird. “A grave！ dig me a grave！”

　　the mist was cold and damp， her hands and face were moist and clammy with horror， a heavy weight again seized her and clung to her， her mind became clear for thoughts that had never before been there.

　　In these northern regions， a beech-wood often buds in a single night and appears in the morning sunlight in its full glory of youthful GREen. So， in a single instant， can the consciousness of the sin that has been committed in thoughts， words， and actions of our past life， be unfolded to us. When once the conscience is awakened， it springs up in the heart spontaneously， and God awakens the conscience when we least expect it. Then we can find no excuse for ourselves； the deed is there and bears witness against us. The thoughts seem to become words， and to sound far out into the world. We are horrified at the thought of what we have carried within us， and at the consciousness that we have not overcome the evil which has its origin in thoughtlessness and pride. The heart conceals within itself the vices as well as the virtues， and they grow in the shallowest ground. Anne Lisbeth now experienced in thought what we have clothed in words. She was overpowered by them， and sank down and crept along for some distance on the ground. “A grave！ dig me a grave！” sounded again in her ears， and she would have gladly buried herself， if in the grave she could have found forgetfulness of her actions.

　　It was the first hour of her awakening， full of anguish and horror. Superstition made her alternately shudder with cold or burn with the heat of fever. Many things， of which she had feared even to speak， came into her mind. Silently， as the cloud-shadows in the moonshine， a spectral apparition flitted by her； she had heard of it before. Close by her galloped four snorting steeds， with fire FLASHing from their eyes and nostrils. They dragged a burning coach， and within it sat the wicked lord of the manor， who had ruled there a hundred years before. The legend says that every night， at twelve o'clock， he drove into his castleyard and out again. He was not as pale as dead men are， but black as a coal. He nodded， and pointed to Anne Lisbeth， crying out， “Hold fast！ hold fast！ and then you may ride again in a nobleman's carriage， and forget your child.”

　　She gathered herself up， and hastened to the churchyard； but black crosses and black ravens danced before her eyes， and she could not distinguish one from the other. The ravens croaked as the raven had done which she saw in the daytime， but now she understood what they said. “I am the raven-mother； I am the raven-mother，” each raven croaked， and Anne Lisbeth felt that the name also applied to her； and she fancied she should be transformed into a black bird， and have to cry as they cried， if she did not dig the grave. And she threw herself upon the earth， and with her hands dug a grave in the hard ground， so that the blood ran from her fingers. “A grave！ dig me a grave！” still sounded in her ears； she was fearful that the cock might crow， and the first red streak appear in the east， before she had finished her work； and then she would be lost. And the cock crowed， and the day dawned in the east， and the grave was only half dug. An icy hand passed over her head and face， and down towards her heart. “Only half a grave，” a voice wailed， and fled away. Yes， it fled away over the sea； it was the ocean spectre； and， exhausted and overpowered， Anne Lisbeth sunk to the ground， and her senses left her.

　　It was a bright day when she came to herself， and two men were raising her up； but she was not lying in the churchyard， but on the sea-shore， where she had dug a deep hole in the sand， and cut her hand with a piece of broken glass， whose sharp stern was stuck in a little block of painted wood. Anne Lisbeth was in a fever. Conscience had roused the memories of superstitions， and had so acted upon her mind， that she fancied she had only half a soul， and that her child had taken the other half down into the sea. Never would she be able to cling to the mercy of Heaven till she had recovered this other half which was now held fast in the deep water.

　　Anne Lisbeth returned to her home， but she was no longer the woman she had been. Her thoughts were like a confused， tangled skein； only one thread， only one thought was clear to her， namely that she must carry the spectre of the sea-shore to the churchyard， and dig a grave for him there； that by so doing she might win back her soul. Many a night she was missed from her home， and was always found on the sea-shore waiting for the spectre.

　　In this way a whole year passed； and then one night she vanished again， and was not to be found. The whole of the next day was spent in a useless search after her.

　　Towards evening， when the clerk entered the church to toll the vesper bell， he saw by the altar Anne Lisbeth， who had spent the whole day there. Her powers of body were almost exhausted， but her eyes FLASHed brightly， and on her cheeks was a rosy flush. The last rays of the setting sun shone upon her， and gleamed over the altar upon the shining clasps of the Bible， which lay open at the words of the prophet Joel， “Rend your hearts and not your garments， and turn unto the Lord.”

　　“That was just a chance，” people said； but do things happen by chance？ In the face of Anne Lisbeth， lighted up by the evening sun， could be seen peace and rest. She said she was happy now， for she had conquered. The spectre of the shore， her own child， had come to her the night before， and had said to her， “Thou hast dug me only half a grave： but thou hast now， for a year and a day， buried me altogether in thy heart， and it is there a mother can best hide her child！” And then he gave her back her lost soul， and brought her into the church. “Now I am in the house of God，” she said， “and in that house we are happy.”

　　When the sun set， Anne Lisbeth's soul had risen to that region where there is no more pain； and Anne Lisbeth's troubles were at an end.

安妮·莉丝贝特如奶似血，年轻开朗，长得很好看；牙齿白得发光，眼睛又明又亮，一双脚跳起舞来又轻又快，性情也活泼轻松！后果怎么样呢？——生了“一个讨厌的小仔子！”——可不是，他一点也不好看！他被送到了挖沟工人的妻子那里。安妮·莉丝贝特本人则住进了伯爵夫人的府第里面，坐在豪华的屋子里，穿的是丝绸、绒料的衣服；没有一丝微风可以吹到她身上，谁也不敢对她讲严厉的话，那会伤害她，她不能忍受伤害。她为伯爵的婴儿做奶母。那孩子真像一个王子，美丽得像一个天使。她多么喜欢这个婴孩啊！她自己的孩子，是啊，他在那一个家，在挖沟工人的家。那个家里，锅从没有烧开沸腾的时候，嘴却总是闹闹嚷嚷，家里常常没有人。小男孩哭起来，没有人听到，也就没有人动心1.他哭着便睡着了，在睡眠中人是感不到飢渴的，睡眠真是一个绝妙的发明。一年年过去了——是的，随着时间逝去，杂草便长了起来，人们都这么说，——安妮·莉丝贝特的孩子也长大了，可是，人们说他的发育可不算好。他是在这个家里长大的，成了这家的人。他们因此得到了抚养费。安妮·莉丝贝特完全摆脱掉了他。她是大城市里的夫人，在家中，生活温暖舒服，出门则要戴帽子。她从不到挖沟工人家去，离开她住的城市太远了，那儿也没有她甚么事，孩子是他们的，他们说，他能够找吃的。他要找点事做挣一口吃的，於是他便去看管玛兹·延森的红母牛。他满可以照料点甚么，做点甚么事了。

　　大庄子漂洗衣服的坝子上，看门狗在自己的棚子顶上，在太阳光中高傲地蹲着，对每个经过的人都吠几声。遇到下雨天，它便缩在棚子里，乾燥、舒适。安妮·莉丝贝特的孩子在阳光里坐在沟边上，手里削着拴牛的桩子。春天，他发觉三棵草莓开花了。它们一定会结果的，这是他最高兴的想法。但是，一颗草莓也没有结。下大雨、下小雨，他都坐在雨里，浑身被淋得湿透，身上的衣服又被刺骨的风吹乾。他回到牛主人的院子的时候，总是被人推来搡去。姑娘和小伙子们都说他又怪又丑，他习以为常了——从来没有被人爱过！

　　安妮·莉丝贝特的孩子的日子过得怎么样？他将怎么个活法？他命中注定的是：“从来没有被人爱过。”

　　他被从陆地抛到船上，入了海，在一艘破败的船上打工，船老闆喝酒的时候，他看着舵。他又髒又丑，寒饥交迫，人们会以为他从来没有吃饱过肚子，他也的确从未吃饱过。岁已深，天气恶劣，潮湿，刮起了大风；风刺穿厚厚的衣服，特别是在海上。一艘破败的船在航行，船上只有两个人，是啊，你也可以说只有一个半人，那就是船主和他的夥计。那一天，整天都是乌黑的，接着又更加黑起来，寒气刺骨。船老闆喝了些烧酒，暖暖自己的身体；酒瓶已经空了，连杯子也一样。杯子上半截是完整的，腿却折掉了，它被换了装在一个涂了蓝漆的木坨子上。船老闆的意思是，一瓶烧酒使人感觉不错，两瓶就更令人舒畅。孩子守着舵，用一双满是油污长满老茧的手握着它。他很丑，头发又硬又乱，他腰弯背弓，衰老颓丧。这是挖沟工人的儿子，教堂的出生登记簿上他则是安妮·莉丝贝特的儿子。

　　风肆意地吹，船肆意地跑！帆兜满了风，风来了劲儿，把船吹得像飞一样地跑，——四周是那么狂乱。狂风暴雨在摧打，可是更严重的还在后头呢——停下！—— 怎么回事儿？甚么东西把船撞了一下，甚么东西破了，甚么东西把船抓住了？它在打转转！是天倾斜了吗，是狂浪袭来吗？——坐在舵旁的孩子高声叫喊起来：“耶苏啊！”船撞在海底一块巨大的礁石上了，像只破鞋在村子里的水潭里沉落下去；像人们常说的那样，连人带鼠一起沉下去。老鼠是有的，可是人却只有一个半：船老闆和挖沟工人的孩子。除了高声尖叫的海鸥和海底下的鱼之外，谁也没有看见船的沉没。再说，它们并没有看得完全真切，因为在海浪涌进这沉没的船只的时候，它们都惊恐地逃向四边去了。船沉落到水下也不过一法恩2的地方；两人就躺在那里：隐存下了，被人遗忘掉了！只有那只装在蓝漆的木坨子上的杯子没有沉，木座子让它漂着。杯子被逐着会被击碎、会被冲向海滩，——何处，何时？是啊，要知道这并没有甚么下文！它的服务已经到头，它被人喜爱过了。安妮·莉丝贝特的孩子却没有！只是在天国里再没有魂灵会说：“从来没有被人爱过！”

　　安妮·莉丝贝特在大城市里，而且已经许多年了，被人称为夫人，特别是当她回忆起往事，在谈起昔日在伯爵家里的日子，谈到她乘马车，能和伯爵夫人及男爵夫人谈话的那些日子的时候，她便昂起头挺起脖子说她那甜蜜的公爵少爷是上帝最漂亮的天使，最美丽的生灵，他喜欢她，她喜欢他；他们相互亲吻过，相互拥抱过，他是她的欢乐，她的半个生命。现在他已经长大了，十四岁了，有了学识，有了仪表；当年她把他抱在手臂里，后来她一直没有见到他；她多年没有去公爵的府第了，要去那边有很长的一段路程。“我决计要去一次！”安妮·莉丝贝特说道，“我得去我那乖孩子那里，去看我那可爱的伯爵孩子！是啊，他必定也很想念我的，一定惦记着我的，喜欢我的，就像他当年用他那天使般的胳膊抱着我的脖子喊：”安——莉丝！“的时候一个样，那声音就像小提琴的声音！是的，我决计要去再看看他。”她乘牛车，她步行，她来到了伯爵府，伯爵府第和往昔任何时候一样还那么宏伟华丽。那外面的花园也和从前一个样，可是府里的人全都是陌生的，没有一个知道甚么安妮·莉丝贝特，他们不明白她曾经一度在此地的作用；伯爵夫人肯定告诉他们的，她自己的孩子也会的；她多么想念他啊！现在，安妮·莉丝贝特到了这里。她不得不久久地等着，等待的时间是漫长的！主人就餐以前，她被叫到了伯爵夫人那里，对她谈得满好。餐后她要看到她的可爱的孩子，於是她又被唤了进去。

　　他长得多么神气！高高的、瘦瘦的。可是那一双漂亮的眼睛还是一样，还有那天使的嘴！他望着她，但是他没有说一句话。他显然不认识她。他转过身去，想走开；这时她拉住他的手，把手拉了贴在自己的嘴上。“噢，这就可以了！”他说道，接着他便走出了大厅。他，她癡心想念的人；他，她疼爱，最最疼爱的人；他，她在尘世间最大的骄傲。

　　安妮·莉丝贝特走到伯爵府第外，来到了宽敞的大道上。她很悲伤；他对她过於冷淡了，不想看她，连一个字也没有说。他，她曾经日夜抱过的他，总是想念着的他。

　　一只很大的漆黑的渡鸦落在道上她的前面，叫了又叫。“唉呀！”她说道，“你这叫人倒霉的鸟！”

　　她走过挖沟工人的屋子；妇人站在门外，於是她们交谈起来。“你的光景不错呀！”挖沟工人的妻子说道，“你又肥又胖的，日子很好啊！”“就这么回事罢了！”安妮·莉丝贝特说道。“他们随船一块儿完了！”挖沟工人的妻子说道。“船老闆拉尔斯和孩子两人一起淹死了。他们算是到了头了。我先前还以为有一天孩子会挣几个钱帮帮我的。你不用在他身上花费一个子了，安妮·莉丝贝特！”“他们淹死掉了！”安妮·莉丝贝特说道，於是她们便不再谈这件事。安妮·莉丝贝特很悲伤，因为她的伯爵孩子竟不高兴和她，这个爱他、不辞远道而去的她讲话；跑这一趟也是很费钱的呀。她没有得到多大的欢乐，可是她在这里一个字也没有提这件事。她不想把这事告诉挖沟工人的妻子来宽自己的心，她听了会以为她已经不被伯爵家看得起了。这时渡鸦又在她头上叫起来。“这个捣乱的黑傢伙，”安妮·莉丝贝特说道，“今天你可把我吓着了！”

　　她带着咖啡豆和菊苣3，把这东西给挖沟工人的妻子煮一点咖啡会是一件善事，安妮·莉丝贝特还可以喝上一杯。挖沟工人的妻子去煮咖啡，安妮·莉丝贝特便坐在一条凳子上睡着了。接着她梦到了一件她从来没有梦见过的事，奇怪极了：她梦见了自己的那个在这间屋子里挨过飢饿、哭叫无人理睬的孩子。这孩子现在躺在深深的海底，甚么地方，只有上帝才知道。她梦见她坐在她所坐的那个地方，挖沟工人的妻子去煮咖啡，她闻到咖啡豆的气味；门口站着那么一个漂亮的孩子，他和伯爵的孩子一样好看。小傢伙说：“现在世界要完了！牢牢地背住我！因为你毕竟是我的母亲！在天国里你有一个天使！牢牢地背住我！”

　　接着他拉住了她，但是这时响起了一声巨大的爆炸声，一定是世界爆裂了，天使升了起来，紧紧地拉住了她的衬衣袖子，抓得如此地紧，让她觉得她也从地球上往上升了起来。可是她的脚上却有一种很重的东西拖住她，这东西还压着她的背，就好像有好几百个妇女紧紧地拽着她。她们还说，“要是你也能得救，我们也应该得救！抓牢了！抓牢了！”接着她们都一齐拽住她。太重了，“嘶——喇！”地响了一声，她的袖子碎了，安妮·莉丝贝特重重地摔了下去，把她一下摔醒了——她差一点从坐的凳子上摔落下来。她头昏昏沉沉，一点儿也记不得她都梦见了些甚么，只知道很可怕。

　　接着咖啡喝完了，话也讲了不少。於是安妮·莉丝贝特便走向最邻近的小城，在那里她要找赶车子的人，要在当天晚上搭车回自己家去。她找到赶车人，他说要在第二天晚上才能动身。她算了一下，留下来要花她多少钱，计算了一下路程，想着，要是顺着海边而不顺着车道走，路程要短差不多十好几里；这时正是天高气爽的时节，又是月圆的时候，安妮·莉丝贝特愿意自己走；第二天她便可以到家了。

　　太阳落下去了，晚钟正在响着，——不对，不是教堂的钟声，而是派得·奥克斯的青蛙4在池塘里叫。很快，它们也不叫了，一片寂静，连一声鸟叫都听不见，鸟儿全都休息了。猫头鹰一定也不在巢里，她经过的树林和海滩都是静悄悄的，她可以听到她自己走在沙上的脚步声。海上没有水波，外面深海中更是一片寂静，海里有生命的和已死掉的全都哑无声息。

　　安妮·莉丝贝特走着，甚么都不想，就像人们说的那样，她脱离了自己的思想，但是，思想并没有脱离她。思想从来没有离开过我们，它们只是在打盹，那些在停滞的支配着人的活思想和那些还没有活跃起来的思想都是这样。思想当然能活动起来，它们可以在心里活动，在我们的头脑中活动或者跑来控制着我们。“善有善报！”都是这么写的：“罪恶中则伏着死机！”也是这么写的！写过的东西许多许多，说过的话许多许多，可是有人不知道，有人记不住，安妮·莉丝贝特便是这样；不过报应是会来的，会来的！

　　所有的罪恶，所有的德行都藏在我们心里！在你的、我的心里！它们像眼看不见的小种籽。后来有了从那面射来的阳光，有一只罪恶的手在引着你，你在街角拐弯，朝右还是朝左。是的，这一转便有了决定，小种籽开始动起来。它因此而膨胀起来，开始出芽，把自己的浆汁注入你的血液之中，你就开始了自己的行程。这是些惴惴不安的思想，人在似睡非睡的状态中行走的时候，它们蛰伏着，但是蠢蠢欲动。安妮·莉丝贝特在似睡非睡中走着，思想在酝酿欲动。从一个燃烛弥撒5到下一个燃烛弥撒之间，心的算盘上记下了许多东西。这是一年的账。对上帝、对我们身旁的人，对我们自己的良心的恶言恶意，都被遗忘了；这些我们不再想起，安妮 ·莉丝贝特也没有想。她没有触犯过国家的法律，她很受人看重，善良和诚实，她自己知道。这会儿她正在海边这么走着，——那儿有甚么东西？她停止了；是甚么东西被冲到了岸上？是一顶破旧的男人帽。落水遇难的人是谁？她走近一些，站住瞧了瞧，——唉呀，那里躺着的是甚么呀！她被吓坏了。可是并没有吓人的东西，只是一堆海草、苇秆缠住了横在那里的一大块长条石，看上去就像是一个人！可是她被吓坏了，在她继续往前走的时候，她想起了她还是一个孩子的时候听到的那许多关於“滩魂”的迷信传说，就是那些被冲到荒滩上而没有埋葬掉的游魂。“滩屍”，就是那死屍，那没有甚么，可是它的游魂，“滩魂”却会跟随单独的过客，紧紧地附在过客身上，要他背它到教堂坟园埋在基督的土地上。“背牢！背牢！”它这样喊叫。在安妮·莉丝贝特重複这几个字的时候，她突然想起了她的梦，非常清晰，活生生地，那些母亲怎么样紧紧拽住她，口里喊着：“抓牢！抓牢！”世界怎样沉下去，她的衣袖怎样被撕碎，她又怎样从那在末日来临的那一刻要救她上去的孩子那里甩脱。她的孩子，她自己的骨肉，他，她从来没有爱过，是的，连想都没有想过。这个孩子现在落到了海底，这个孩子会像滩魂一样来喊：“背牢！背牢！把我带到基督的土地上去！”她正在想的时候，恐惧在后面紧紧地追赶着她，於是她加快了步伐。恐惧像一只冷酷潮湿的手压到她的心房上，压得她快窒息掉。她朝海望出去，那边变得昏沉起来。一阵浓雾涌起来，盖住了矮丛和树林，那形状令人看了奇怪。她转过身来看身后的月亮，它像一个无光的苍白圆盘，就好像有甚么东西重重拽住她躯体的各个部位：背牢！背牢！她想道。而当她再次转身来看月亮的时候，她觉得它的白色的脸庞就紧挨在她的身旁，稠浓的雾像一块裹屍体的纱垂在她的肩上。“背牢！把我带进基督的土地里去！”她能听到这样的声音。她真的也听到一个十分空洞、十分奇特的声音。它不是池塘里青蛙的声音，也不是渡鸦、乌鸦的声音。因为你知道，这些东西她并没有看到，“把我葬掉，把我葬掉！”这样的声音在响着。是的，这是她那躺在海底的孩子的滩魂，要不是把它背去教堂的坟园和墓地，把它葬到基督的土地里，它是不会得到安宁的。她要到那里去，她要在那里掘坟。她朝着教堂所在的方向走去，这时她觉得背上的负担轻了一些。它消失了。於是她折回身来，走上那最短的路回家，可是这时，那负担又沉重起来了：“背牢！背牢！”——听去就像是青蛙的呱呱声，又像是鸟的悲鸣，声音非常地清楚，“把我葬掉！把我葬掉！”

　　雾气很冷很湿，她的手和脸由於恐惧而发冷发湿。她身体的外面，四周向她紧逼，她的体内则变成一个她从来没有体验过的漫无边际的思想的空间。

　　在北国这边，成片的山毛榉会在一个春天的夜晚完全绽吐出新芽，在第二天的阳光中，这些树木便焕发出它们的青春嫩绿的光辉。我们内心昔日的思想、语言和行动播下的罪恶的种子，也会在一秒间发芽生长出来。它在良心苏醒的一刻发芽生长；是上帝在我们最意想不到的时候唤醒它的。这时甚么借口也没有了，事实就在那儿作证，思想有了语言，这语言世界各处都可以听到。隐藏在我们内心尚未泯灭的东西使得我们恐惧，我们的傲慢和放纵自己的思想所播下的东西使我们恐惧。心藏着所有的德行，但也保留着一切罪过，它们在最贫瘠的土壤里也会生长。

　　我们这里用语言讲的这些东西，在安妮·莉丝贝特的思想中翻腾着。她因此疲惫不堪，倒在了地上，往前爬了一小段。“把我葬掉！把我葬掉！”有声音这样说。若是坟墓能令人彻底忘却一切，她倒愿意自己把自己埋葬掉。——这是带有惊恐不安的严肃而清醒的时刻；迷信思想时冷时热地在她的血液中流淌。她从来不想讲的许许多多事，聚集到她的思想中来了。一个她从前听说过的幻景，无声无息地像云的影子一样从她身边驰过。四头喘息急促的马紧靠着她奔了过去，它们的眼睛和鼻孔射出火，火照亮着它们。它们拉着一辆炽热发光的车子，车子里坐着那个一百年以前在这一带横行霸道的狠恶地主。他，传说每天夜里都要奔进他的庄子里，接着又奔出来，他不像人们说的那样是白的。不是，这个死人黑得像一块炭，一块熄灭了的炭。他对安妮·莉丝贝特点一点头，向她招手：“背牢！背牢！这样你又可以坐进伯爵家的车子，忘掉了你的孩子了！”

　　她更加急促地跑开了，她来到教堂坟园；可是黑色的十字架和黑色的渡鸦在她眼里掺混在一起。渡鸦的叫声和它们今天的叫声是一样的，可是现在她明白了它们的叫声的含义：“我是渡鸦妈妈！我是渡鸦妈妈！”它们都这么叫。安妮·莉丝贝特知道，这个名字和她也很有关系，她也许也会变成这样一只黑鸟，而必定要像它们那样叫个不停，如果她不把坟挖成的话。

　　她伏到了地上，甩双手挖那坚实的土地，手指都冒出了血。“把我葬掉！把我葬掉！”这声音不断响着。她害怕公鸡鸣叫，害怕东方的第一道红光，因为如果在她的挖掘完毕之前鸡鸣日出，那么她便完了。可是，公鸡啼起来了，东方发亮了——坟却只挖了一半，一只冰冷的手从她的头和脸往下一直垂滑到了她的心所在的地方。“只挖了一半！”有声音歎息说，它渐渐地消失了，沉落到了海底；是的，这是滩魂！安妮·莉丝贝特瘫了，被甚么迷住，倒到了地上。她没有了思想，没有了知觉。

　　她醒过来的时候，天已大亮。两个年轻小伙子把她抬起，她没有躺在教堂的坟园里，而是在海滩上。她在那里，在她身前挖了一个大坑，手指被一块破玻璃杯划破流了血；那只杯子的锐利的脚是换装在一个涂了蓝漆的木坨子上的。安妮·莉丝贝特病了；良心和迷信混在一起，缠着分不开来。结果她知道，现在只剩了半个魂灵，另一半已被她的孩子带到了海底；要是她不能再找回落到海里的那一半，她便永远也飞不上天国得到天父的仁慈了。安妮·莉丝贝特回到家里，她已再不是原来那样的人了。她的思想就像一团乱缠在一起的麻，她只能抽出一条思绪来，那一根，把滩魂背到教堂的坟园里去，给它挖一个坟，这样好把她的整个魂灵收回来。好多个夜晚她都不在家里，别人总是在海滩上找见她，她在那里等着那滩魂。整整的一年便这样过去了，接着有一天夜晚，她又不见了，怎么也找不到她，第二天一整天到处找她也无下落。

　　到了傍晚，牧师去教堂准备敲暮钟，他看到安妮·莉丝贝特躺在祭坛前面。她从一大清早便来到这里，完全精疲力竭。但是她的眼睛明亮，她的面颊有一层红晕；最后的霞光照进她的身里；照在祭坛台子上放着的圣经的闪光的扣子6上。圣经摊开的地方是先知约珥的一句话：“撕碎你们的心肠，而不是你们的衣服，转归向主，你们的上帝！”7——“这真是巧合！”大夥儿说，许多事就是巧合。

　　阳光照亮了安妮·莉丝贝特的脸，显现出平静和仁慈。她非常好，她说道。现在她得到了她的魂灵了！夜里，那滩魂，她自己的孩子来到了她的身旁。它说道；你只挖了半个坟——为了我，但是你一年到头都把我埋藏在你的心中，一位母亲在这里保藏她的孩子是最好的。所以它便把她失去的那一半魂灵还给了她，把她领到教堂里来了。“现在我已经在上帝的房子里了！”她说道，“在里面人们是幸福的！”

　　太阳完全落下去之后，安妮·莉丝贝特完全升上去了。在这里经过一番苦斗之后，那边是没有恐惧的，而安妮·莉丝贝特是苦斗过了的。