Waltey

Waltey

Rajski vrt

Andersenove pravljice · Hans Christian Andersen
Kupi e-knjigo Kupi tiskano izdajo

O besedilu

Rajski vrt

Vir
Andersenove pravljice
Avtor
Hans Christian Andersen
Jezik branja
English
Jezik izvirnika
Dansk
Čas branja
27 min branja
Obseg
22 strani
Naslov izvirnika
Paradisets have

O izvirniku

Andersenove pravljice

Literarne pravljice z nežnostjo, bolečino in ostrim občutkom za čudežno. Bralni jezik je English, izvirnik pa prihaja iz vira Andersenove pravljice v jeziku Dansk.

Besedilo

Rajski vrt

There was once a prince, and no one had so many books, or such beautiful ones, as he did. Everything that had happened in this world he could read about and see depicted in magnificent pictures. He could learn about every people and every country, but there was not a word about where the Garden of Paradise might be found; and that, that above all, was what occupied his thoughts.

When he was still very small, but about to begin his schooling, his grandmother had told him that every flower in the Garden of Paradise was the sweetest of cakes, and its stamens the finest wine. On one was written history, on another geography or the multiplication tables; you had only to eat the cake, and you knew your lesson. The more you ate, the more history, geography, and arithmetic you learned.

He believed it then; but as he grew into a bigger boy, learned more, and became much wiser, he came to understand that the beauty of the Garden of Paradise must be of a very different kind.

"Oh, why did Eve ever pluck fruit from the Tree of Knowledge! Why did Adam eat the forbidden fruit! If only it had been me, it would never have happened! Sin would never have entered the world!"

So he said then, and so he still said when he was seventeen! The Garden of Paradise filled all his thoughts. One day he went into the forest; he went alone, for that was his greatest pleasure.

Evening fell, the clouds gathered, and the rain came down as though the whole sky were a single sluice through which the water poured. It was as dark as the deepest well at night. Now he slipped on the wet grass, now he stumbled over the bare stones jutting from the rocky ground. Everything streamed with water; the poor prince had not a dry thread on him. He had to clamber over great boulders where water seeped out of the thick moss. He was on the point of collapsing when he heard a strange rushing sound, and before him he saw a great, brightly lit cave. A fire blazed in the middle, large enough to roast a stag, and indeed that was just what it was doing. A magnificent stag with towering antlers had been put on a spit and was turning slowly between two felled fir trees. An elderly woman, tall and strong as a man in disguise, sat by the fire, tossing on one piece of wood after another.

"Come closer!" she said. "Sit by the fire and get your clothes dry!" "There's a dreadful draught in here!" said the prince, sitting down on the floor.

"It will be worse still when my sons come home!" the woman replied. "You're in the Cave of the Winds. My sons are the four winds of the world. Do you understand?"

"Where are your sons?" asked the prince. "Well, it's not easy to answer a foolish question," said the woman. "My sons are off on their own, playing ball with the clouds up there in the great hall!" And she pointed up into the sky.

"Oh, I see!" said the prince. "But you speak rather harshly, and you're not as gentle as the women I usually see around me!" "Well, I dare say they have nothing else to do! I have to be harsh if I'm to keep my boys in order! And I can do it, stubborn as they are! Do you see those four sacks hanging on the wall? They're just as frightened of them as you used to be of the birch rod behind the looking glass. I can fold the boys up, let me tell you, and then into the sack they go. We stand on no ceremony here! There they sit, and they don't get out to go roaming until I see fit. But here comes one of them!"

It was the North Wind who entered, bringing an icy chill. Great hailstones bounced across the floor, and snowflakes whirled all around. He wore a jacket and trousers of bearskin, and a sealskin hood came down over his ears. Long icicles hung from his beard, and hailstone after hailstone slipped from the collar of his jacket.

"Don't go straight to the fire!" said the prince. "You could easily get frostbite on your face and hands!" "Frostbite!" said the North Wind, laughing loudly. "Frostbite! Why, that's my greatest pleasure! And what sort of a stripling are you? What brings you to the Cave of the Winds?"

"He is my guest!" said the old woman, "and if that explanation doesn't satisfy you, you can go into the sack! Now you know my judgment!" That did the trick, and the North Wind told them where he had come from, and where he had spent nearly a whole month.

"I come from the Polar Sea," he said. "I've been on 'Beeren-Eiland' with the Russian walrus hunters. I sat asleep on the rudder as they sailed out from the North Cape! Whenever I woke a little, the fulmar flew about my legs. It's a curious bird: it gives a brisk beat of its wings, then holds them out quite still, and that gives it all the speed it needs."

"Don't be so long-winded!" said the Mother of the Winds. "And so you came to Beeren-Eiland!" "It's lovely there! A floor made for dancing, flat as a plate! Half-thawed snow with a little moss, sharp stones, and skeletons of walruses and polar bears lay about, looking like giants' arms and legs, all green with mould. You would think the sun had never shone on them. I blew the mist aside a little so that the hut could be seen. It was a house built of wreckage and covered in walrus hide, with the fleshy side turned out, all red and green. A live polar bear sat growling on the roof. I went down to the shore and looked at the birds' nests, looked at the naked chicks screaming with their beaks wide open. Then I blew down those thousands of throats, and they learned to shut their mouths. Down below, the walruses rolled about like living entrails, or giant maggots with pigs' heads and tusks a yard long!" "You tell a good story, my boy!" said his mother. "You make my mouth water!"

"Then the hunt began! The harpoon was driven into the walrus's breast, and a steaming jet of blood spurted like a fountain over the ice. Then I thought it was time for a game of my own! I blew up a storm and made my sailing ships, the towering icebergs, squeeze the boats between them. Oh, how they whistled and screamed, but I whistled louder! They had to unload the dead walrus carcasses, chests, and ropes onto the ice. I whirled the snowflakes about them and let them drift south in their imprisoned vessels, along with their catch, to get a taste of salt water. They'll never come to Beeren-Eiland again!"

"So you've been doing harm!" said the Mother of the Winds. "The others can tell you what good I've done!" he said. "But here comes my brother from the west. I like him best of all; he has the tang of the sea about him and brings a blessed coolness with him!"

"Is that little Zephyr?" asked the prince. "Yes, that's Zephyr!" said the old woman. "But he's not so little, after all. In the old days he was a handsome boy, but those days are gone!"

He looked like a wild man, but he wore a padded cap to keep himself from getting hurt. In his hand he held a mahogany club, cut in the mahogany forests of America. Nothing less would do!

"Where have you come from?" asked his mother. "From the forest wilderness!" he said, "where thorny creepers make a fence between every tree, where the water snake lies in the wet grass, and human beings seem quite unnecessary!"

"What were you doing there?" "I watched the deep river, watched it plunge from the cliff, turn to spray, and fly towards the clouds to bear the rainbow. I saw the wild buffalo swimming in the river, but the current swept him away. He drifted along with a flock of wild ducks, which took to the air where the water plunged over the edge. The buffalo had to go down. I liked that, and I blew a storm, so that the ancient trees went sailing away and were splintered to pieces."

"And is that all you've been doing?" asked the old woman. "I've turned somersaults on the savannahs, patted the wild horses, and shaken down coconuts! Oh yes, I've stories to tell! But one shouldn't tell everything one knows. You know that well enough, old mother!" And he kissed his mother so heartily that she nearly fell backwards. He was certainly a wild boy.

Now the South Wind arrived in a turban and a flowing Bedouin cloak. "It's terribly cold in here!" he said, throwing wood on the fire. "You can tell the North Wind got here first!"

"It's hot enough here to roast a polar bear!" said the North Wind. "You're a polar bear yourself!" replied the South Wind. "Do you want to be put in the sack?" asked the old woman. "Sit down on that stone and tell us where you've been."

"In Africa, Mother!" he replied. "I went lion hunting with the Hottentots in the land of the Kaffirs! What grass grows on those plains, green as an olive! The gnu danced there, and the ostrich raced me, but I'm quicker on my feet. I came to the desert, to the yellow sand; it looks like the bottom of the sea. I met a caravan! They slaughtered their last camel to get water to drink, but they got very little. The sun burned overhead, and the sand scorched beneath their feet. The spreading desert had no end. Then I frolicked in the fine, loose sand and whirled it up into great pillars. What a dance that was! You should have seen how forlorn the dromedary looked, and the merchant pulled his caftan over his head. He flung himself down before me as before Allah, his god. Now they're buried, with a pyramid of sand over them all. When I blow it away some day, the sun will bleach their white bones, and travellers will be able to see that people have been there before. Otherwise you can hardly believe it in the desert!"

"Then you've done nothing but harm!" said his mother. "Into the sack, march!" And before he knew it, she had the South Wind by the waist and into the sack. It rolled about on the floor, but she sat down on it, and then it had to lie still.

"What lively boys she has!" said the prince. "Indeed I have," she replied, "and I can keep them in order! Here comes the fourth!" It was the East Wind, dressed as a Chinese man.

"So you've come from that quarter!" said his mother. "I thought you'd been to the Garden of Paradise." "I'm not flying there until tomorrow!" said the East Wind. "Tomorrow it will be a hundred years since I was there! I've just come from China, where I danced round the porcelain tower until all the bells rang. Down in the street the officials were being beaten, and bamboo canes were worn out on their shoulders. They were men of every rank, from the first to the ninth, and they cried, 'Many thanks, my fatherly benefactor!' But they didn't mean a word of it, and I rang the bells and sang, 'Tsing, tsang, tsu!'"

"You're in a mischievous mood!" said the old woman. "It's a good thing you're going to the Garden of Paradise tomorrow. It always improves your manners! Drink deep from the Fountain of Wisdom, and bring a little bottleful home for me!"

"I will!" said the East Wind. "But why have you put my brother from the south into the sack? Let him out! He must tell me about the Phoenix. The princess in the Garden of Paradise always wants to hear about that bird when I pay my visit every hundred years. Open the sack! Then you'll be my dearest mother, and I'll give you two pockets full of tea, as green and fresh as when I picked it on the spot!"

"Well, for the sake of the tea, and because you're my darling, I'll open the sack!" And she did, and the South Wind crept out, looking thoroughly crestfallen because the visiting prince had seen what had happened.

"Here's a palm leaf for the princess!" said the South Wind. "The old Phoenix, the only one in the world, gave me that leaf. With his beak he scratched his whole life story on it, all the hundred years he lived. Now she can read it for herself. I saw the Phoenix set fire to his own nest and sit there burning to death like a Hindu widow. How the dry branches crackled! What smoke, what fragrance! At last it all burst into flame. The old Phoenix turned to ashes, but his egg lay glowing red in the fire. It cracked with a tremendous bang, and the young bird flew out. Now he rules over all the birds and is the only Phoenix in the world. He has bitten a hole in the palm leaf I gave you; that's his greeting to the princess!"

"Now let's have something to eat!" said the Mother of the Winds. And they all sat down to eat the roasted stag. The prince sat beside the East Wind, and so they soon became good friends.

"Tell me," said the prince, "who is this princess everyone is talking about, and where is the Garden of Paradise?" "Ho, ho!" said the East Wind. "Do you want to go there? Then fly with me tomorrow! But I must tell you, no human being has been there since the days of Adam and Eve. You'll know about them from your Bible stories!"

"Of course!" said the prince. "When they were driven out, the Garden of Paradise sank into the earth, but it kept its warm sunshine, its gentle air, and all its splendour. The Queen of the Fairies lives there. There lies the Isle of Bliss, where Death never comes, where it is lovely to be! Sit on my back tomorrow, and I'll take you along. I think we can manage it! But you mustn't talk any more now, for I want to sleep!"

And then they all went to sleep. Early in the morning the prince awoke and was more than a little startled to find himself already high above the clouds. He was sitting on the back of the East Wind, who was holding him quite securely. They were so high in the air that forests and fields, rivers and lakes looked like a great, brightly coloured map.

"Good morning!" said the East Wind. "You might as well sleep a little longer, for there's not much to see on the flat country below us. Unless you feel like counting churches! They stand like chalk marks on the green board down there." The green board was what he called the fields and meadows.

"It was rude of me not to say goodbye to your mother and brothers!" said the prince. "When you're asleep, you're excused!" said the East Wind, and then they flew on faster still. You could hear it in the treetops: as they swept over the forests, every branch and leaf rattled. You could hear it on the sea and the lakes, for wherever they flew the waves rose higher, and the great ships bowed deep into the water like swimming swans.

Towards evening, as darkness fell, the great cities looked curious. Lights burned down below, now here, now there, just like the many little sparks you see when you burn a piece of paper, the ones that look like children coming out of school! And the prince clapped his hands, but the East Wind asked him not to do that; he had better hold tight, or he might easily fall off and be left hanging on a church spire.

The eagle in the dark forests flew swiftly, but the East Wind flew more swiftly still. The Cossack on his little horse galloped across the plains, but the prince sped on far faster.

"Now you can see the Himalayas!" said the East Wind. "That's the highest mountain in Asia. Soon we'll reach the Garden of Paradise!" Then they turned farther south, and soon the air was fragrant with spices and flowers. Figs and pomegranates grew wild, and the wild vines bore blue and red grapes. Here they both came down and stretched themselves out in the soft grass, where the flowers nodded to the wind as though to say, "Welcome back."

"Are we in the Garden of Paradise now?" asked the prince. "Certainly not!" replied the East Wind. "But we'll soon be there. Do you see that cliff face and the great cave, where the vines hang like vast green curtains? We must go through there! Wrap yourself in your cloak. Here the sun burns hot, but one step inside and it's icy cold. A bird flying past the cave has one wing out here in the warm summer, and the other in there in the cold winter!"

"So that's the way to the Garden of Paradise?" asked the prince. Now they entered the cave. Oh, how icy cold it was! But it did not last long. The East Wind spread his wings, and they shone like the brightest fire. What caverns these were! Great masses of rock, dripping with water, hung above them in the strangest shapes. Sometimes the passage was so narrow that they had to crawl on hands and knees; sometimes it was as lofty and spacious as the open air. It looked like burial chapels with silent organ pipes and petrified banners.

"We seem to be taking the road of death to the Garden of Paradise!" said the prince. But the East Wind answered not a word. He pointed ahead, and the loveliest blue light shone towards them. The rocks overhead grew more and more mistlike, until at last they were as clear as a white cloud in the moonlight. Now they were in the loveliest gentle air, as fresh as on the mountains, as fragrant as among the roses of the valley.

A river flowed there, as clear as the air itself, and the fish were like silver and gold. Crimson eels that sent out blue sparks of fire with every movement darted about in the water, and the broad water-lily leaves had all the colours of the rainbow. The flower itself was a burning red-gold flame, nourished by the water just as oil keeps a lamp burning steadily. A solid marble bridge, yet carved as delicately and skilfully as though it were made of lace and glass beads, led across the water to the Isle of Bliss, where the Garden of Paradise bloomed.

The East Wind took the prince in his arms and carried him across. There the flowers and leaves sang the loveliest songs of his childhood, but with such rich, swelling beauty as no human voice on earth can ever sing.

Were these palm trees growing here, or gigantic water plants? The prince had never seen such lush and mighty trees. The strangest climbing plants hung in long garlands, such as are only seen painted in colours and gold in the margins of old books of saints, or twining through their initial letters. They were the most curious combinations of birds, flowers, and curling flourishes. In the grass nearby stood a flock of peacocks with their brilliant tails spread wide! Yes, surely that was what they were! But no: when the prince touched them, he found that they were not animals, but plants. They were great dock leaves, shining here like the beautiful tail of a peacock. Lions and tigers bounded like supple cats among green hedges fragrant as apple blossom, and the lions and tigers were tame. The wild wood pigeon, gleaming like the loveliest pearl, beat its wings against the lion's mane, and the antelope, usually so shy, stood nodding its head as though it too wanted to join in the play.

Now came the Fairy of Paradise. Her clothes shone like the sun, and her face was gentle as that of a happy mother rejoicing in her child. She was so young and beautiful, and the loveliest maidens followed her, each with a shining star in her hair.

The East Wind gave her the written leaf from the Phoenix, and her eyes sparkled with joy. She took the prince by the hand and led him into her palace, where the walls had the colours of the most magnificent tulip petal held against the sun. The ceiling itself was one great radiant flower, and the longer one gazed up into it, the deeper its cup appeared. The prince went to the window and looked through one of the panes; there he saw the Tree of Knowledge with the serpent, and Adam and Eve standing close beside it. "Haven't they been driven out?" he asked. The fairy smiled and explained that Time had burned its picture into every pane, but not as pictures were usually seen. No, there was life in them: the leaves of the trees stirred, and people came and went as in a reflection in a mirror. He looked through another pane, and there was Jacob's dream, with the ladder reaching straight into heaven, and angels with great wings floating up and down. Indeed, everything that had happened in this world lived and moved in the windowpanes. Only Time could burn in pictures of such marvellous art.

The fairy smiled and led him into a vast, lofty hall. Its walls seemed to be translucent paintings, with one face more beautiful than the next. There were millions of blessed souls, smiling and singing, their voices flowing together in a single melody. Those at the very top were so small that they seemed smaller than the tiniest rosebud drawn as a dot on paper. In the middle of the hall stood a great tree with luxuriant, drooping branches. Golden apples, large and small, hung like oranges among the green leaves. It was the Tree of Knowledge, whose fruit Adam and Eve had eaten. From every leaf dripped a shining red dewdrop, as though the tree were weeping tears of blood.

"Now let's get into the boat!" said the fairy. "We'll enjoy refreshments out on the swelling water! The boat rocks, yet it never leaves its place, while all the countries of the world glide past our eyes." And it was wonderful to see how the whole shore moved. There came the lofty, snow-covered Alps, with clouds and dark fir trees; the horn sounded deep and mournful, and the shepherd yodelled sweetly in the valley. Now banana trees bent their long, drooping branches over the boat, coal-black swans swam on the water, and the strangest animals and flowers appeared along the shore. It was New Holland, the fifth continent, gliding past with a view of the Blue Mountains. They heard the chanting of priests and saw the dance of the savages to the sound of drums and pipes of bone. The pyramids of Egypt, reaching into the clouds, overturned columns, and sphinxes half buried in sand sailed past. The northern lights blazed above the glaciers of the north, a firework display no one could imitate. The prince was blissfully happy; indeed, he saw a hundred times more than we can tell here.

"And may I stay here always?" he asked. "That depends on you!" replied the fairy. "If you do not let yourself be tempted, as Adam did, into doing what is forbidden, then you may stay here always!"

"I won't touch the apples on the Tree of Knowledge!" said the prince. "There are thousands of fruits here just as beautiful!" "Search your heart, and if you are not strong enough, go with the East Wind who brought you. He is flying back now and will not return for a hundred years. That time will pass for you in this place as though it were only a hundred hours, yet it is a long time for temptation and sin. Every evening, when I leave you, I must call to you, 'Follow me!' I must beckon to you with my hand, but stay behind. Do not come with me, for then your longing will grow with every step. You will enter the hall where the Tree of Knowledge grows. I shall be asleep beneath its fragrant, drooping branches; you will bend over me, and I must smile. But if you press a kiss upon my lips, Paradise will sink deep into the earth, and it will be lost to you. The harsh wind of the desert will howl about you, and cold rain drip from your hair. Sorrow and hardship will be your lot."

"I will stay!" said the prince, and the East Wind kissed his forehead and said, "Be strong, and we shall meet here again in a hundred years! Farewell! Farewell!" And the East Wind spread his great wings; they shone like summer lightning at harvest time, or the northern lights in the cold winter. "Farewell! Farewell!" rang out from flowers and trees. Storks and pelicans flew in a line like fluttering ribbons, accompanying him to the edge of the garden.

"Now our dances begin!" said the fairy. "At the end, when I am dancing with you, you will see me beckon as the sun goes down. You will hear me call to you, 'Follow me!' But do not do it! For a hundred years I must repeat it every evening. Each time you have come through it, you will gain more strength, until at last you never think of it at all. Tonight is the first time. Now I have warned you!"

And the fairy led him into a great hall of white, translucent lilies. The yellow stamens in each were little golden harps, ringing with the sound of strings and the notes of flutes. The loveliest maidens, slender and light as air, dressed in flowing gauze through which their beautiful limbs could be seen, floated through the dance and sang of how glorious it was to live, how they would never die, and how the Garden of Paradise would bloom for ever.

And the sun went down. The whole sky turned to gold, giving the lilies the glow of the loveliest rose, and the prince drank the foaming wine the maidens offered him, and felt a bliss such as he had never known. He saw the far end of the hall open, and the Tree of Knowledge stood in a radiance that dazzled his eyes. The singing from within was soft and lovely as his mother's voice, and it was as though she sang, "My child! My beloved child!"

Then the fairy beckoned and called so tenderly, "Follow me! Follow me!" And he rushed towards her, forgetting his promise, forgetting it all on the very first evening, while she beckoned and smiled. The fragrance, the spicy fragrance all around, grew stronger; the harps sounded far more lovely, and it was as though the millions of smiling faces in the hall where the tree grew nodded and sang, "One should know all things! Man is lord of the earth!" And it was no longer tears of blood that fell from the leaves of the Tree of Knowledge, but sparkling red stars, or so it seemed to him. "Follow me, follow me!" came the trembling notes, and with every step the prince's cheeks burned hotter, his blood coursed more fiercely. "I must!" he said. "Surely it is no sin; it cannot be! Why should I not follow beauty and joy? I only want to see her sleeping! Nothing is lost if I merely refrain from kissing her, and I will not kiss her. I am strong; my will is firm!"

And the fairy cast off her radiant robe, bent back the branches, and a moment later was hidden within. “I have not sinned yet!” said the prince, “and I will not!” Then he drew the branches aside. She was already asleep, beautiful as only the fairy in the Garden of Paradise can be; she smiled in her dreams, and he bent over her and saw tears trembling among her lashes!

“Are you weeping for me?” he whispered. “Do not weep, lovely woman! Only now do I understand the bliss of Paradise. It streams through my blood, through my thoughts; I feel the strength and eternal life of the cherub in my earthly body. Let it be eternal night for me—a moment such as this is wealth enough!” And he kissed the tear from her eye; his lips touched hers— — — Then came a thunderclap, deeper and more terrible than any ever heard before, and everything collapsed: the lovely fairy, the blossoming Paradise sank, sank so deep, so deep. The prince saw it sinking into the black night; far away it shone like a little gleaming star! A deathly chill passed through his limbs; he closed his eyes and lay for a long time as though dead.

The cold rain fell on his face, the keen wind blew about his head, and his senses returned. “What have I done!” he sighed. “I have sinned like Adam! Sinned so that Paradise has sunk deep down below!” And he opened his eyes. He could still see the star far away, the star that sparkled like the sunken Paradise—it was the morning star in the heavens.

He rose and found himself in the great forest near the cave of the winds; and the mother of the winds sat beside him, looking angry and raising her arm.

“On the very first evening!” she said. “I thought as much! Yes, if you were my boy, into the sack you would go!” “And in he shall go!” said Death. He was a powerful old man with a scythe in his hand and great black wings. “He shall be laid in the coffin, but not yet; I am only marking him. Let him wander the world a little longer, atone for his sin, and grow good and better! I shall come one day. When he least expects it, I shall put him into the black coffin, set it on my head, and fly up towards the star. There, too, the Garden of Paradise blooms, and if he is good and devout, he shall enter it. But if his thoughts are evil and his heart still full of sin, he will sink with the coffin deeper than Paradise sank, and only once in a thousand years shall I fetch him again, so that he may sink still deeper or remain upon the star, the sparkling star up there!”

Izvirnik

Paradisets have

Naslednje strani prikazujejo izvirno besedilo za primerjavo.

Eventyr af Hans Christian Andersen

Der var en kongesøn, ingen havde så mange og så smukke bøger som han; alt hvad der var sket i denne verden kunne han læse sig til og se afbildet i prægtige billeder. Hvert folk og hvert land kunne han få besked om, men hvor Paradisets have var at finde, derom stod der ikke et ord; og den, just den var det, han tænkte mest på.

Hans bedstemoder havde fortalt ham, da han endnu var ganske lille, men skulle begynde sin skolegang, at hver blomst i Paradisets have var den sødeste kage, støvtrådene den fineste vin; på en stod historie, på en anden geografi eller tabeller, man behøvede kun at spise kage, så kunne man sin lektie; jo mere man spiste, des mere fik man ind af historie, geografi og tabeller.

Det troede han dengang; men alt, som han blev en større dreng, lærte mere og blev langt klogere, begreb han nok, at der måtte være en langt anderledes dejlighed i Paradisets have.

"Oh, hvorfor brød dog Eva af Kundskabens træ! hvorfor spiste Adam af den forbudne frugt! det skulle have været mig, da var det ikke sket! aldrig skulle synden være kommen ind i verden!"

Det sagde han dengang, og det sagde han endnu, da han var sytten år! Paradisets have fyldte hele hans tanke.

En dag gik han i skoven; han gik alene, for det var hans største fornøjelse.

Aftnen faldt på, skyerne trak sammen, det blev et regnvejr, som om hele himlen var en eneste sluse, hvorfra vandet styrtede; der var så mørkt, som det ellers er om natten i den dybeste brønd. Snart gled han i det våde græs, snart faldt han over de nøgne sten, der ragede frem fra klippegrunden. Alt drev af vand, der blev ikke en tør tråd på den stakkels prins. Han måtte kravle op over store stenblokke, hvor vandet sivede ud af det høje mos. Han var ved at segne om; da hørte han en forunderlig susen, og foran sig så han en stor, oplyst hule. Midt inde brændte en ild, så man kunne stege en hjort derved, og det blev der også; den prægtigste hjort, med sine høje takker, var stukket på spid og drejedes langsomt rundt mellem to omhuggede grantræer. En gammelagtig kone, høj og stærk, som var hun et udklædt mandfolk, sad ved ilden, og kastede det ene stykke brænde til efter det andet.

"Kom du kun nærmere!" sagde hun, "sæt dig ved ilden at du kan få dine klæder tørret!"

"Her er en slem træk!" sagde prinsen og satte sig på gulvet.

"Det bliver værre endnu, når mine sønner kommer hjem!" svarede konen. "Du er her i vindenes hule, mine sønner er verdens de fire vinde, kan du forstå det?"

"Hvor er dine sønner?" spurgte prinsen.

"Ja, det er ikke godt at svare, når man spørger dumt," sagde konen. "Mine sønner er på egen hånd, de spiller langbold med skyerne deroppe i storstuen!" og så pegede hun op i vejret.

"Nå så!" sagde prinsen. "I taler ellers noget hårdt og er ikke så mild, som de fruentimmere, jeg ellers ser omkring mig!"

"Ja, de har nok ikke andet at gøre! Jeg må være hård, skal jeg holde mine drenge i ave! men det kan jeg, skønt de har stive nakker! ser du de fire sække, der hænger på væggen; dem er de lige så bange for, som du har været det for riset bag spejlet. Jeg kan bukke drengene sammen, skal jeg sige dig, og så kommer de i posen; dér gør vi ingen omstændigheder! dér sidder de og kommer ikke ud at føjte, før jeg finder for godt. Men der har vi den ene!"

Det var Nordenvinden, som trådte ind med en isnende kulde, store hagl hoppede hen ad gulvet, og snefnuggene fygede rundt om. Han var klædt i bjørneskindsbukser og trøje; en hætte af sælhundeskind gik ned over ørene; lange istapper hang ham ved skægget, og det ene hagl efter det andet gled ham ned fra trøjekraven.

"Gå ikke straks til ilden!" sagde prinsen. "De kan så let få frost i ansigtet og hænderne!"

"Frost!" sagde Nordenvinden og lo ganske højt. "Frost! det er just min største fornøjelse! Hvad er ellers du for et skrinkelben! Hvor kommer du i vindenes hule!"

"Han er min gæst!" sagde den gamle, "og er du ikke fornøjet med den forklaring, så kan du komme i posen! - Nu kender du min dømmekraft!"

Se det hjalp, og Nordenvinden fortalte hvorfra han kom, og hvor han nu havde været næsten en hel måned.

"Fra Polarhavet kommer jeg," sagde han, "jeg har været på 'Beeren-Eiland' med de russiske hvalrosfangere. Jeg sad og sov på roret, da de sejlede ud fra Nordkap! når jeg imellem vågnede lidt, fløj stormfuglen mig om benene! det er en løjerlig fugl, den gør et rask slag med vingerne og så holder den dem ubevægelig udstrakt og har da fart nok."

"Gør det bare ikke så vidtløftigt!" sagde vindenes moder. "Og så kom du da til Beeren-Eiland!"

"Der er dejligt! det er et gulv til at danse på, fladt, som en tallerken! halvtøet sne med lidt mos, skarpe sten og benrade af hvalrosser og isbjørne lå der, de så ud som kæmpers arme og ben, med muggen grønhed. Man skulle tro, at Solen aldrig havde lyst på dem. Jeg pustede lidt til tågen for at man kunne se skuret: Det var et hus, rejst af vrag og betrukket med hvalroshud; kødsiden vendte ud, den var fuld af rødt og grønt; på taget sad en levende isbjørn og brummede. Jeg gik til stranden, så på fuglerederne, så på de nøgne unger, der skreg og gabede; da blæste jeg ned i de tusinde struber, og de lærte at lukke munden. Nederst væltede sig hvalrosserne, som levende indvolde eller kæmpemaddiker med svinehoveder og alenlange tænder!" -

"Du fortæller godt, min dreng!" sagde moderen. "Jeg får vandet i munden ved at høre på dig!"

"Så gik det på fangst! Harpunen blev sat i hvalrossens bryst, så den dampende blodstråle stod som et springvand over isen. Da tænkte jeg også på mit spil! jeg blæste op, lod mine sejlere, de klippehøje isfjelde, klemme bådene inde; huj hvor man peb, og hvor man skreg, men jeg peb højere! de døde hvalkroppe, kister og tovværk måtte de pakke ud på isen! jeg rystede snefnuggene om dem og lod dem i de indeklemte fartøjer drive syd på med fangsten, for der at smage saltvand. De kommer aldrig mere til Beeren-Eiland!"

"Så har du jo gjort ondt!" sagde vindenes moder.

"Hvad godt jeg har gjort, kan de andre fortælle!" sagde han, "men der har vi min broder fra vesten, ham kan jeg bedst lide af dem alle sammen, han smager af søen og har en velsignet kulde med sig!"

"Er det den lille Zefyr?" spurgte prinsen.

"Ja vist er det Zefyr!" sagde den gamle, "men han er ikke så lille endda. I gamle dage var han en smuk dreng, men nu er det forbi!"

Han så ud som en vildmand, men han havde en faldhat på for ikke at komme til skade. I hånden holdt han en mahognikølle, hugget i de amerikanske mahogniskove. Mindre kunne det ikke være!

"Hvor kommer du fra?" spurgte hans moder.

"Fra skovørknerne!" sagde han, "hvor de tornede lianer gør et gærde mellem hvert træ, hvor vandslangen ligger i det våde græs, og menneskene synes unødvendige!"

"Hvad bestilte du der?"

"Jeg så på den dybe flod, så hvor den styrtede fra klippen, blev støv og fløj mod skyerne, for at bære regnbuen. Jeg så den vilde bøffel svømme i floden, men strømmen rev ham med sig; han drev med vildændernes flok, der fløj i vejret, hvor vandet styrtede; bøffelen måtte ned, det syntes jeg om, og blæste storm, så de urgamle træer sejlede og blev til spåner."

"Og andet har du ikke bestilt?" spurgte den gamle.

"Jeg har slået kolbøtter i savannerne, jeg har klappet de vilde heste og rystet kokosnødder! jo, jo, jeg har historier at fortælle! men man skal ikke sige alt, hvad man ved. Det kender du nok, du gamle!" og så kyssede han sin moder, så hun nær var gået bag over; han var rigtig nok en vild dreng.

Nu kom Søndenvinden med turban og flyvende beduinkappe.

"Her er dygtigt koldt herinde!" sagde han, og kastede brænde til ilden, "man kan mærke, at Nordenvinden er kommen først!"

"Her er så hedt at man kan stege en isbjørn!" sagde Nordenvinden.

"Du er selv en isbjørn!" svarede Søndenvinden.

"Vil I puttes i posen!" spurgte den gamle, - "Sæt dig på stenen der og fortæl, hvor du har været."

"I Afrika, min moder!" svarede han. "Jeg var med hottentotterne på løvejagt i kaffernes land! hvilket græs der gror på sletten, grønt som en oliven! der dansede gnuen, og strudsen løb væddeløb med mig, men jeg er dog raskere til bens. Jeg kom til ørknen til det gule sand; der ser ud, som på havets bund. Jeg traf en karavane! de slagtede deres sidste kamel for at få vand at drikke, men det var kun lidt de fik. Solen brændte foroven, og sandet stegte forneden. Ingen grænse havde den udstrakte ørken. Da boltrede jeg mig i det fine, løse sand og hvirvlede det op i store støtter, det var en dans! Du skulle have set hvor forknyt dromedaren stod, og købmanden trak kaftanen over hovedet. Han kastede sig ned for mig som for Allah, sin gud. Nu er de begravet, der står en pyramide af sand over dem alle sammen, når jeg engang blæser den bort, skal Solen blege de hvide ben, da kan de rejsende se, her har før været mennesker. Ellers kan man ikke tro det i ørknen!"

"Du har altså kun gjort ondt!" sagde moderen. "March i posen!" og før han vidste det, havde hun Søndenvinden om livet og i posen, den væltede rundt omkring på gulvet, men hun satte sig på den, og da måtte den ligge stille.

"Det er nogle raske drenge, hun har!" sagde prinsen.

"Ja såmænd," svarede hun, "og ave dem kan jeg! der har vi den fjerde!"

Det var Østenvinden, han var klædt som en kineser.

"Nå, kommer du fra den kant!" sagde moderen, "jeg troede, du havde været i Paradisets have."

"Der flyver jeg først hen i morgen!" sagde Østenvinden, "i morgen er det hundrede år siden jeg var der! jeg kommer nu fra Kina, hvor jeg har danset om porcelænstårnet, så alle klokkerne klingede. Nede på gaden fik embedsmændene prygl, bambusrør blev slidt på deres skuldre, og det var folk fra den første til den niende grad, de skreg: Mange tak, min faderlige velgører! men de mente ikke noget med det, og jeg ringede med klokkerne og sang tsing, tsang, tsu!"

"Du er kåd på det!" sagde den gamle, "det er godt du i morgen kommer til Paradisets have, det hjælper altid på din dannelse! drik så dygtig af Visdommens Kilde og tag en lille flaske fuld hjem med til mig!"

"Det skal jeg!" sagde Østenvinden. "Men hvorfor har du nu puttet min broder fra sønden ned i posen, frem med ham! han skal fortælle mig om fugl Føniks, den fugl vil prinsessen i Paradisets have altid høre om, når jeg hvert hundrede år gør visit. Luk posen op! så er du min sødeste moder, og jeg skal forære dig to lommer fulde af te, så grøn og frisk, som jeg har plukket den på stedet!"

"Nå, for teens skyld og fordi du er min kæledægge, vil jeg åbne posen!" det gjorde hun, og Søndenvinden krøb ud, men han så ganske slukøret ud, fordi den fremmede prins havde set det.

"Der har du et palmeblad til prinsessen!" sagde Søndenvinden, "det blad har den gamle fugl Føniks, den eneste der var i verden, givet mig; han har med sit næb ridset deri sin hele levnedsbeskrivelse, de hundrede år han levede; nu kan hun selv læse sig det til. Jeg så, hvor fugl Føniks selv stak ild i sin rede og sad og brændte op, som en hindus kone. Hvor dog de tørre grene knagede, der var en røg og en duft. Til sidst slog alt op i lue, den gamle fugl Føniks blev til aske, men hans æg lå gloende rødt i ilden, det revnede med et stort knald, og ungen fløj ud, nu er den regent over alle fuglene og den eneste fugl Føniks i verden. Han har bidt hul i palmebladet, jeg gav dig, det er hans hilsen til prinsessen!"

"Lad os nu få noget at leve af!" sagde vindenes moder, og så satte de sig alle til at spise af den stegte hjort, og prinsen sad ved siden af Østenvinden, og derfor blev de snart gode venner.

"Hør, sig mig engang," sagde prinsen. "Hvad er det for en prinsesse, her bliver talt så meget om, og hvor ligger Paradisets have!"

"Ho, ho!" sagde Østenvinden, "vil du derhen, ja så flyv du med mig i morgen! men det må jeg ellers sige dig, der har ingen mennesker været siden Adam og Evas tid. Dem kender du jo nok af din bibelhistorie!"

"Ja vist!" sagde prinsen.

"Dengang de blev forjaget, sank Paradisets have ned i jorden, men den beholdt sit varme solskin, sin milde luft og al sin herlighed. Feernes dronning bor derinde; der ligger Lyksalighedens Ø, hvor Døden aldrig kommer, hvor der er dejligt at være! Sæt dig på min ryg i morgen, så skal jeg tage dig med; jeg tænker, det nok lader sig gøre! men nu må du ikke snakke mere, for jeg vil sove!"

Og så sov de alle sammen.

I den tidlige morgenstund vågnede prinsen og blev ikke lidt betuttet ved at han allerede var højt oppe over skyerne. Han sad på ryggen af Østenvinden, der nok så ærligt holdt på ham; de var så højt i vejret, at skove og marker, floder og søer tog sig ud som på et stort illumineret landkort.

"Godmorgen!" sagde Østenvinden. "Du kunne ellers gerne sove lidt endnu, for der er ikke meget at se på det flade land under os. Uden du har lyst til at tælle kirker! de står som kridtprikker nede på det grønne bræt." Det var marker og enge, han kaldte det grønne bræt.

"Det var uartigt, at jeg ikke fik sagt farvel til din moder og dine brødre!" sagde prinsen.

"Når man sover, er man undskyldt!" sagde Østenvinden, og derpå fløj de endnu raskere af sted: Man kunne høre det på toppene af skovene, når de fór henover dem, raslede alle grene og blade; man kunne høre det på havet og søerne, thi hvor de fløj, væltede bølgerne højere, og de store skibe nejede dybt ned i vandet, som svømmende svaner.

Mod aften, da det blev mørkt, så det morsomt ud med de store byer; lysene brændte dernede, snart her, snart der, det var akkurat, som når man har brændt et stykke papir og ser de mange små ildgnister, hvor de er børn og går af skole! Og prinsen klappede i hænderne, men Østenvinden bad ham lade være med det, hellere holde sig fast, ellers kunne han let falde ned og blive hængende på et kirkespir.

Ørnen i de sorte skove fløj nok så let, men Østenvinden fløj lettere. Kosakken på sin lille hest jog af sted over sletterne, men prinsen jog anderledes af sted.

"Nu kan du se Himalaya!" sagde Østenvinden, "det er det højeste bjerg i Asien; snart skal vi nu komme til Paradisets have!" så drejede de mere sydligt, og snart duftede der af krydderier og blomster. Figen og granatæbler voksede vildt, og den vilde vinranke havde blå og røde druer. Her steg de begge to ned, strakte sig i det bløde græs, hvor blomsterne nikkede til vinden ligesom de ville sige: "Velkommen tilbage."

"Er vi nu i Paradisets have?" spurgte prinsen.

"Nej vist ikke!" svarede Østenvinden, "men nu skal vi snart komme der. Ser du fjeldvæggen der og den store hule, hvor vinrankerne hænger som store grønne gardiner. Der skal vi ind igennem! Svøb dig i din kappe, her brænder Solen, men ét skridt og det er isnende koldt. Fuglen, som strejfer forbi hulen, har den ene vinge herude i den varme sommer og den anden derinde i den kolde vinter!"

"Så, det er vejen til Paradisets have?" spurgte prinsen.

Nu gik de ind i hulen! hu, hvor der var isnende koldt, men det varede dog ikke længe. Østenvinden bredte sine vinger ud, og de lyste som den klareste ild; nej hvilke huler! de store stenblokke, som vandet dryppede fra, hang over dem i de forunderligste skikkelser; snart var der så snævert, at de måtte krybe på hænder og fødder, snart så højt og udstrakt, som i den frie luft. Det så ud som gravkapeller med stumme orgelpiber og forstenede faner.

"Vi går nok dødens vej til Paradisets have!" sagde prinsen, men Østenvinden svarede ikke et ord, pegede fremad, og det dejligste blå lys strålede dem i møde; stenblokkene oven over blev mere og mere en tåge, der til sidst var klar, som en hvid sky i måneskin. Nu var de i den dejligste milde luft, så frisk som på bjergene, så duftende, som ved dalens roser.

Der strømmede en flod, så klar, som luften selv, og fiskene var som sølv og guld; purpurrøde ål, der skød blå ildgnister ved hver bøjning, spillede dernede i vandet og de brede åkandeblade havde regnbuens farver, blomsten selv var en rødgul brændende lue, som vandet gav næring, ligesom olien får lampen bestandigt til at brænde! en fast bro af marmor, men så kunstigt og fint udskåren, som var den gjort af kniplinger og glasperler, førte over vandet til Lyksalighedens Ø, hvor Paradisets have blomstrede.

Østenvinden tog prinsen på sine arme og bar ham derover. Der sang blomster og blade de skønneste sange fra hans barndom, men så svulmende dejligt, som ingen menneskelig stemme her kan synge.

Var det palmetræer, eller kæmpestore vandplanter, her groede! så saftige og store træer havde prinsen aldrig før set; i lange kranse hang der de forunderligste slyngplanter, som de kun findes afbildet med farver og guld på randen af de gamle helgenbøger eller sno sig der gennem begyndelses­bogstaverne. Det var de sælsomste sammensætninger af fugle, blomster og snørkler. I græsset tæt ved stod en flok påfugle med udbredte strålende haler! Jo det var rigtignok så! nej da prinsen rørte ved dem, mærkede han, at det ikke var dyr, men planter: Det var store skræpper, der her strålede som påfuglens dejlige hale. Løven og tigeren sprang lig smidige katte mellem grønne hække, der duftede som æbletræets blomster, og løven og tigeren var tamme, den vilde skovdue, skinnende som den skønneste perle, baskede med sine vinger løven på manken, og antilopen, der ellers er så sky, stod og nikkede med hovedet, ligesom den også ville lege med.

Nu kom Paradisets fe; hendes klæder strålede som Solen, og hendes ansigt var mildt, som en glad moders, når hun ret er lykkelig over sit barn. Hun var så ung og smuk, og de dejligste piger, hver med en lysende stjerne i håret, fulgte hende.

Østenvinden gav hende det skrevne blad fra fugl Føniks, og hendes øjne funklede af glæde; hun tog prinsen ved hånden og førte ham ind i sit slot, hvor væggene havde farver, som det prægtigste tulipanblad, holdt mod Solen, loftet selv var én stor strålende blomst, og jo mere man stirrede op i den, desto dybere syntes dens bæger. Prinsen trådte hen til vinduet og så igennem en af ruderne, da så han Kundskabens træ med slangen, og Adam og Eva stod tæt derved. "Er de ikke forjaget?" spurgte han, og feen smilede, og forklarede ham at på hver rude havde Tiden således brændt sit billede, men ikke, som man plejede at se det, nej der var liv deri, træernes blade rørte sig, menneskene kom og gik, som i et spejlbillede. Og han så gennem en anden rude, og der var Jakobs drøm, hvor stigen gik lige ind i himlen, og englene med store vinger svævede op og ned. Ja, alt hvad der var sket i denne verden levede og rørte sig i glasruderne; så kunstige malerier kunne kun tiden indbrænde.

Feen smilede og førte ham ind i en sal, stor og høj; dens vægge syntes transparente malerier, med det ene ansigt dejligere, end det andet; det var millioner lykkelige, der smilede og sang, så det flød sammen i én melodi; de allerøverste var så små, at de syntes mindre, end den mindste rosenknop, når den tegnes som en prik på papiret. Og midt i salen stod et stort træ med hængende yppige grene; gyldne æbler, store og små, hang som appelsiner mellem de grønne blade. Det var Kundskabens træ, af hvis frugt Adam og Eva havde spist. Fra hvert blad dryppede en skinnende rød dugdråbe; det var, som om træet græd blodige tårer.

"Lad os nu stige i båden!" sagde feen, "der vil vi nyde forfriskninger ude på det svulmende vand! Båden gynger, kommer dog ikke af stedet, men alle verdens lande glider forbi vore øjne." Og det var underligt at se, hvorledes hele kysten bevægede sig. Der kom de høje snebedækkede Alper, med skyer og sorte grantræer, hornet klang så dybt vemodigt, og hyrden jodlede smukt i dalen. Nu bøjede banantræerne deres lange, hængende grene ned over båden, kulsorte svaner svømmede på vandet, og de sælsomste dyr og blomster viste sig på strandbredden: Det var Ny-Holland, den femte verdensdel, der med en udsigt til de blå bjerge gled forbi. Man hørte præsternes sang og så de vildes dans til lyden af trommer og bentuber. Ægypternes pyramider, der ragede ind i skyerne, omstyrtede søjler og sfinkser, halv begravet i sandet, sejlede forbi. Nordlysene brændte over Nordens jøkler, det var et fyrværkeri, som ingen kunne gøre efter. Prinsen var så lyksalig, ja han så jo hundrede gange mere, end hvad vi her fortæller.

"Og altid kan jeg blive her?" spurgte han.

"Det beror på dig selv!" svarede feen. "Dersom du ikke som Adam, lader dig friste til at gøre det forbudne, da kan du altid blive her!"

"Jeg skal ikke røre æblerne på Kundskabens træ!" sagde prinsen. "Her er jo tusinde frugter, skønne, som de!"

"Prøv dig selv, og er du ikke stærk nok, så følg med Østenvinden, som bragte dig; han flyver nu tilbage og kommer her ej i hundrede år; den tid vil på dette sted gå for dig, som var det kun hundrede timer, men det er lang tid for fristelsen og synden. Hver aften, når jeg går fra dig, må jeg tilråbe dig 'følg med!' jeg må vinke med hånden ad dig, men bliv tilbage. Gå ikke med, thi da vil ved hvert skridt din længsel blive større: Du kommer i salen, hvor Kundskabens træ gror; jeg sover under dens duftende hængende grene, du vil bøje dig over mig, og jeg må smile, men trykker du et kys på min mund, da synker Paradiset dybt i jorden, og det er tabt for dig, ørknens skarpe vind vil omsuse dig, den kolde regn dryppe fra dit hår. Sorg og trængsel bliver din arvelod."

"Jeg bliver her!" sagde prinsen, og Østenvinden kyssede ham på panden og sagde "vær stærk, så samles vi her igen om hundrede år! farvel! farvel!" og Østenvinden bredte sine store vinger ud; de lyste, som kornmoden i høsten, eller nordlyset i den kolde vinter. "Farvel! farvel!" klang det fra blomster og træer. Storke og pelikaner fløj i række, som flagrende bånd, og fulgte med til grænsen af haven.

"Nu begynder vore danse!" sagde feen, "ved slutningen, hvor jeg danser med dig, vil du se, idet Solen synker, at jeg vinker ad dig, du vil høre mig tilråbe dig: Følg med! men gør det ikke! i hundred år må jeg hver aften gentage det; for hver gang den tid er omme, vinder du mere kraft, til sidst tænker du aldrig derpå. I aften er det første gang; nu har jeg advaret dig!"

Og feen førte ham ind i en stor sal af hvide gennemsigtige liljer, de gule støvtråde i hver var en lille guldharpe, som klang med strengelyd og fløjtetoner. De skønneste piger, svævende og slanke, klædt i bølgende flor, så man så de dejlige lemmer, svævede i danse, og sang om hvor herligt det var at leve, at de aldrig ville dø, og at Paradisets have skulle evig blomstre.

Og Solen gik ned, den hele himmel blev et guld, der gav liljerne skær som den dejligste rose, og prinsen drak af den skummende vin, pigerne rakte ham, og han følte en lyksalighed, som aldrig før; han så, hvor salens baggrund åbnede sig, og Kundskabens træ stod i en glans, der blændede hans øje; sangen derfra var blød og dejlig, som hans moders stemme, og det var, som hun sang: "mit barn! mit elskede barn!"

Da vinkede feen og råbte så kærligt "følg mig! følg mig!" og han styrtede hen imod hende, glemte sit løfte, glemte det alt den første aften, og hun vinkede og smilede. Duften, den krydrede duft rundt om blev mere stærk, harperne tonede langt dejligere, og det var, som de millioner smilende hoveder i salen, hvor træet groede, nikkede og sang: "Alt bør man kende! Mennesket er Jordens herre" og det var ikke længere blodtårer, der faldt fra bladene på Kundskabens træ, det var røde, funklende stjerner, syntes ham. "Følg mig, følg mig!" lød de bævende toner, og ved hvert skridt brændte prinsens kinder hedere, hans blod bevægede sig stærkere! "jeg må!" sagde han, "det er jo ingen synd, kan ikke være det! hvorfor ikke følge skønhed og glæde! se hende sove vil jeg! der er jo intet tabt, når jeg kun lader være at kysse hende, og det gør jeg ikke, jeg er stærk, jeg har en fast vilje!"

Og feen kastede sin strålende dragt, bøjede grenene tilbage, og et øjeblik efter var hun skjult derinde.

"Jeg har endnu ikke syndet!" sagde prinsen, "og vil det ikke heller;" og så drog han grenene til side, der sov hun allerede, dejlig, som kun feen i Paradisets have kan være det; hun smilede i drømme, han bøjede sig ned over hende og så tårerne bæve mellem hendes øjenhår!

"Græder du over mig?" hviskede han, "græd ikke, du dejlige kvinde! Nu begriber jeg først Paradisets lykke, den strømmer gennem mit blod, gennem min tanke, kerubens kraft og evige liv føler jeg i mit jordiske legeme, lad det blive evig nat for mig, et minut, som dette, er rigdom nok!" og han kyssede tåren af hendes øje, hans mund rørte ved hendes – –

- Da lød der et tordenskrald, så dybt og skrækkeligt, som ingen har hørt det før, og alt styrtede sammen: den dejlige fe, det blomstrende Paradis sank, det sank så dybt, så dybt, prinsen så det synke i den sorte nat; som en lille skinnende stjerne strålede det langt borte! Dødskulde gik gennem hans lemmer, han lukkede sit øje og lå længe, som død.

Den kolde regn faldt på hans ansigt, den skarpe vind blæste om hans hoved, da vendte hans tanker tilbage. "Hvad har jeg gjort!" sukkede han, "jeg har syndet som Adam! syndet, så Paradiset er sunket dybt der ned!" og han åbnede sit øje, stjernen, langt borte, stjernen, der funklede som det sunkne Paradis, så han endnu - det var morgenstjernen på himlen.

Han rejste sig op og var i den store skov nær ved vindenes hule; og vindenes moder sad ved hans side, hun så vred ud, og løftede sin arm i vejret.

"Allerede den første aften!" sagde hun, "det tænkte jeg nok! ja, var du min dreng, så skulle du nu i posen!"

"Der skal han komme!" sagde Døden; det var en stærk gammel mand med en le i hånden og med store sorte vinger. "I ligkisten skal han lægges, men ikke nu; jeg mærker ham kun, lad ham da en stund endnu vandre om i verden, afsone sin synd, blive god og bedre! - jeg kommer engang. Når han da mindst venter det, putter jeg ham i den sorte ligkiste, sætter den på mit hoved og flyver op mod stjernen; også der blomstrer Paradisets have, og er han god og from, da skal han træde derind, men er hans tanke ond og hjertet endnu fuldt af synd, synker han med kisten dybere, end Paradiset sank, og kun hver tusinde år henter jeg ham igen, for at han må synke dybere eller blive på stjernen, den funklende stjerne deroppe!"