Page:The fairy tales of Hans Christian Andersen (c1899).djvu/47

 the real sky, and the angels seemed to be flapping their wings. The fairy smiled at his astonished look, and explained that time had engraved its events on each pane, but they were not merely lifeless images, for the leaves rustled, and the persons went and came as in a looking-glass. He then looked through other panes, where he saw depicted the events of ancient history. For all that had happened in the world lived and moved upon these panes; time only could have engraved so cunning a masterpiece.

The fairy then led him into a lofty, noble hall, with transparent walls. Here were a number of portraits, each of which seemed more beautiful than the other. There were millions of happy faces whose laughing and singing seemed to melt into one harmonious whole; those above were so small that they appeared less than the smallest rosebud when represented on paper by a mere dot. In the midst of the hall stood a large tree with luxuriant drooping branches. Golden apples, both great and small, hung like china oranges amid the green leaves. From each leaf fell a sparkling red dewdrop, as if the tree were shedding tears of blood.

“We will now get into the boat,” said the fairy, “and enjoy the coolness of the water. The boat rocks, but does not stir from the spot, while all the countries of the earth glide past us.” And it was wonderful to behold how the whole coast moved. First came the lofty snow-capped Alps, overhung with clouds and overgrown with fir-trees. The horn was sounding its melancholy notes, while the shepherd was carolling in the vale. Then banana-trees flung their drooping branches over the boat; coal-black swans swam on the water, and flowers and animals of the strangest description might be seen on the shore. This was New Holland, the fifth part of the world, that glided past, with a view of the blue mountains. One could hear the hymns of the priests and see the savages dancing to the sound of drums and trumpets made of bones. Egypt's pyramids reaching to the clouds, overturned columns and sphinxes, half buried in the sand, followed in their turn. The aurora borealis next shined upon the extinguished volcanoes of the north. These were fireworks that nobody could have imitated! The prince was delighted; and he saw a hundred times more than what we have mentioned.

“Can I remain here for ever?” asked he.

“That depends on yourself,” replied the fairy. “If you do not long for what is forbidden, you may stay here for ever.”

“I will not touch the apple on the Tree of Knowledge,” said the prince; “here are thousands equally fine.”

“Examine your own heart, and if you do not feel sufficient strength, return with the East Wind who brought you hither. He is now about to fly back, and will not appear again in this place for the next hundred years. The time would seem to you here to be only a hundred hours, but even that is a long span for temptation and sin. Every evening, on leaving you, I shall be obliged to say: ‘Come with me!’ I shall make a sign with my hand, yet you must stay away. If once you followed, your longing would increase at every step. You would then enter the hall where grows the Tree of Knowledge. I sleep beneath its perfumed, drooping branches. You would bend over me, and I should be forced to smile. But if you pressed a kiss on my lips, then would the garden sink into the earth and be lost for you. The sharp winds of the desert would howl around you, the cold rain would trickle over your head, and sorrow and distress would fall to your lot.”

“I will remain here,” said the prince. And the East Wind kissed his forehead, saying, “Be firm, and then we shall meet again in a hundred years. Farewell! farewell!” And the East Wind spread his large wings, and they shined like the lightning in harvest time, or like the northern lights in a cold winter.

“Farewell! farewell!” sounded from the flowers and the trees. Storks and pelicans flew in long rows, like streaming ribbons, to accompany him to the boundaries of the garden.

“We will now begin our dances,” said the fairy. “At the close, when I’m dancing with you, and just as the sun is sinking, you will see me make a sign, and you will hear me say, ‘Come with me’ But do not do it. For a hundred years shall I be obliged to repeat the same thing every evening; and each time when it is over will you gain fresh strength. In the end you’ll cease to think about it. This evening will be the first time—and now you are warned.”

The fairy then led him into a large room made of white transparent lilies. The yellow stamina in each flower pictured a little golden harp that yielded a sweet music partaking of the combined sounds of stringed instruments and the tones of the flute. Lovely girls with slender, aerial figures, and dressed in lightest gauze, floated through the mazes of the dance, and sang of the delights of living and being immortal, and blooming for ever in the Garden of the World.

The sun now set. The whole sky was one mass of gold that imparted the tints of the richest