Page:The fairy tales of Hans Christian Andersen (c1899).djvu/282

 The wooden image cast its giant shadow upon the wall, and even on a part of the ceiling. It seemed to be the real Holger Danske himself standing there; for the shadow moved, though it might only be the flickering light of the lamp that caused such an illusion. And his daughter-in-law kissed the old grandfather, and led him to the great arm-chair before the table; and she and her husband, the son of the old grandfather, and father to the little boy who lay in bed, supped with him, while the old man descanted upon the Danish lions and the Danish hearts, the emblems of strength and mercy, and expounded very clearly that there was another kind of strength, that lay not in the sword, and pointed to a shelf containing some old books, amongst which might be found a complete set of Holberg's comedies, that have been so much read, because they are so amusing, and one can fancy one recognises all the characters of bygone ages delineated in their pages.

"You see, he, too, knew how to fight," said the old grandfather; "he scourged people's follies and failings as long as he could." And the grandfather nodded in the direction of the looking-glass, near which stood an almanack with a print of the round tower, saying: "Tycho Brahe was another of those who used the sword not to hack and hew flesh, but to clear a simpler road between all the stars in heaven. And then he, whose father belonged to my craft—he, the son of the old image-carver—he, whom we have ourselves seen, with his white locks and broad shoulders, and whose name is celebrated throughout all the lands of the world—ay, he is a sculptor, while I am only an image-carver! Yes; Holger Danske can come in many shapes, so that Denmark's strength shall be manifest through all the lands of the earth. Now, shall we drink Bertel's health?"

But the little boy in bed saw old Kronenburg and the Sound of Elsinore quite plainly, and the real Holger Danske, who sat below in the cellar, with his beard rooted to the table, dreaming of all that happens up above here. Holger Danske likewise dreamed of the humble little room where sat the carver of images: he heard the conversation that took place, and nodded in his dream, saying: "Ay, do but remember me, you Danish people! Bear me in your memory! I will come in the hour of need!"

And the bright daylight now shone outside Kronenburg, and the wind bore the sound of the huntsmen's bugles from the neighbouring land. The ships sailed past, and saluted the fortress—"Boom! boom!" And Kronenburg answered, "Boom! boom!" But Holger Danske did not wake, loud as the cannons had roared; for they meant nothing but—"Good-morning!" and "Your servant!" They must fire in another sort of manner before he awakes; but wake he will, if necessary, for there is plenty of strength yet in Holger Danske.