The Danes Sketched by Themselves Volume I Part 20

He stepped into a bookseller's shop, and asked to look at a Directory.

After about half-an-hour's walk he entered a house in a small back street, and ascending to the third story, he rang at a door. A girl opened it, and, in answer to his inquiries, told him that the person he asked for was ill, and could not see anyone.

'But I must see him--I must speak to him,' cried the painter, almost forcing himself in.

He was then ushered into a darkened room, where he found his poor friend of bygone days looking pale and emaciated, lying perfectly still upon a sofa, in his old grey frock-coat and soiled boots. The kind anxiety with which the unexpected visitor asked about his health seemed equally to surprise and please the invalid.

'You!' he exclaimed, '_you_ here! Do you still take any interest in me?

Have you any regard left for me? I did you shameful injustice two years ago, when I saw your great masterpiece; and had not an enthusiastic word for what I have though, often since, thought of with the greatest admiration. Nay, within this very last hour I have wronged you, though in quite a different manner. I was dreaming of you, and I fancied you were speaking of me with scorn and derision--pulling me to pieces in a jesting conversation with a very satirical person, who vied with you in ridiculing me, and in mimicking all my oddities.'

'Forgive me--oh, forgive me! you dreamed the truth,' cried the painter, in great agitation, while he threw himself down by the sick man's couch, and embraced his knees.

An explanation ensued between the two friends who had so long been estranged from each other--mutual confessions were made--old feelings were revived in the hearts of both--and an entire reconciliation immediately took place. The unusual emotion, and the surprise at the event related to him, did not, as might have been expected, increase the illness of the nervous and debilitated invalid; on the contrary, the meeting with his former friend appeared to have had a good effect on his health, for in the course of a few weeks he had quite recovered.

The old lady's qualifications as a seer, or rather her strange faculty of beholding, to others invisible, apparitions, had been productive of good; but it was such an extraordinary revelation, agreeing so entirely with what both the reconciled friends knew to be the truth, that they could only look upon it as a proof of the reality of what was then beginning to be so much talked of--the magnetic clairvoyance.

They continued unalterable friends from that time. From that time, also, the artist felt an involuntary horror at ridiculing the absent, or making or listening to any censorious remarks upon them; he always fancied that the injured party might be standing _as a secret witness_ by his side, with one hand on his breast, and the other raised in an appeal to that great Judge, who alone can know what is pa.s.sing in every heart and every soul.

AGNETE AND THE MERMAN.

BY JENS BAGGESEN.

Agnete she was guileless.

She was beloved and true, But solitude, it charm'd her, And mirth she never knew-- She never knew-- She made the joy of all around Yet never felt it too.

Over the dark blue waves, Agnete, gazing, bends, When lo! a merman rising there From ocean's depths ascends; Up he ascends.

Yet still, Agnete's bending form With the soft billows blends.

His glossy hair, it seemed as spun Out of the purest gold, His beaming eye, it brightly glow'd With warmest love untold-- With love untold!

And his scale-cover'd bosom held A heart that was not cold.

The song he sang Agnete, On love and sorrow rang; His voice it was so melting soft, So sadly sweet he sang-- Sadly he sang.

It seemed as if his beating heart Upon his lips it sprang.

'And hearken, dear Agnete!

What I shall say to thee-- My heart, oh! it is breaking, sweet!

With longing after thee!

Still after thee!

Oh! wilt thou ease my sorrow, love, Oh! wilt thou smile on me?'

Two silver buckles lay Upon the rocky sh.o.r.e, And aught more rich, or aught more bright, No princess ever wore, No, never wore.

'My best beloved,'--so sang he-- 'Add these unto thy store!'

Then drew he from his breast A string of pearls so rare-- None richer, no, or none more pure Did princess ever wear-- Oh! ever wear.

'My best beloved,' so sang he, 'Accept this bracelet fair!'

Then from his finger drew he A ring of jewels fine-- And none more brilliant, none more rich, Midst princely gems might s.h.i.+ne; 'Here, here from mine.

My best beloved,' so sang he, 'Oh, place this upon thine!'

Agnete, on the deep sea Beholds the sky's soft hue, The waves they were so crystal clear, The ocean 'twas so blue!

Oh! so blue!

The merman smiled, and thus he sang, As near to her he drew:--

'Ah! hearken, my Agnete, What I to thee shall speak: For thee my heart is burning, love, For thee, my heart will break!

Oh! 'twill break!

Say, sweet, wilt thou be kind to me, And grant the love I seek?'

'Dear merman! hearken thou, Yes, I will list to thee!

If deep beneath the sparkling waves Thou'lt downward carry me-- Take thou me!

And bear me to thine ocean bow'r There, I will dwell with thee.'

Then stoppeth he her ears, Her mouth then stoppeth he; And with the lady he hath fled, Deep, deep beneath the sea!

Beneath the sea!

There kiss'd they, and embraced they, So fond, and safe, and free!

For full two years and more, Agnete, she lived there, And warm, untiring, faithful love They to each other bear; Such love they bear.

Within the merman's sh.e.l.ly bower Are born two children fair.

Agnete--she sat tranquilly.

And to her boys she sang; When hark! a sound of earth she hears, How solemnly it rang!

Ding--dong--dang!

It was the church's pa.s.sing bell In Holme Vale that clang.

Agnete, from the cradle, Springs suddenly away, She hastes to seek her merman dear, 'Loved merman, say I may-- Say--Oh say, That I, ere midnight's hour, may take To Holme's church my way?'

'Thou wishest ere the midnight To Holme church to go?

See then that thou, ere day, art back Here, to thy boys below-- Go--go--go!

But ere the morning light return Come to thy sons below!'

He stoppeth then her ears, Her mouth then stoppeth he; And upwards they together rise Till Holme Vale they see.

'Now part we!'

They part, and he descends again Beneath the deep blue sea.

Straight on to the churchyard, Agnete's footsteps hie: She meets--O G.o.d! her mother there, And turns again to fly.

'Why--O why?'

Her mother's voice her steps arrests Thus speaking with a sigh:--

'Oh hearken, my Agnete, What I shall say to thee, Where has thy distant dwelling been So long away from me?

Away from me!

Say, where hast thou, my child, been hid So long and secretly?'

'O mother! I have dwelt Beneath the boundless main, Within a merman's coral bower, And we have children twain, Beneath the main.

I came to pray--and then I go Back to the deep again!'