安徒生童话-第151章

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marble　staircase；　coveredwith　soft　carpets　and　adorned　with　many　a　statue。　Then　he　went　onthrough　richly…furnished　chambers；　over　mosaic　floors；　amid　gorgeouspictures。　All　this　pomp　and　luxury　seemed　to　weary　him；　but　soon　hefelt　relieved；　for　the　princely　old　master　of　the　house　received　himmost　graciously；；　almost　heartily；　and　when　he　took　his　leave　he　wasrequested　to　step　into　the　Signora's　apartment；　for　she；　too；　wishedto　see　him。　The　servants　led　him　through　more　luxurious　halls　andchambers　into　her　room；　where　she　appeared　the　chief　and　leadingornament。

She　spoke　to　him。　No　hymn　of　supplication；　no　holy　chant；　couldmelt　his　soul　like　the　sound　of　her　voice。　He　took　her　hand　and　liftedit　to　his　lips。　No　rose　was　softer；　but　a　fire　thrilled　through　himfrom　this　rose…　a　feeling　of　power　came　upon　him；　and　words　pouredfrom　his　tongue…　he　knew　not　what　he　said。　Does　the　crater　of　thevolcano　know　that　the　glowing　lava　is　pouring　from　it？　He　confessedwhat　he　felt　for　her。　She　stood　before　him　astonished；　offended；proud；　with　contempt　in　her　face；　an　expression　of　disgust；　as　ifshe　had　suddenly　touched　a　cold　unclean　reptile。　Her　cheeksreddened；　her　lips　grew　white；　and　her　eyes　flashed　fire；　thoughthey　were　dark　as　the　blackness　of　night。

〃Madman！〃　she　cried；　〃away！　begone！〃

And　she　turned　her　back　upon　him。　Her　beautiful　face　wore　anexpression　like　that　of　the　stony　countenance　with　the　snaky　locks。

Like　a　stricken；　fainting　man；　he　tottered　down　the　staircaseand　out　into　the　street。　Like　a　man　walking　in　his　sleep；　he　found　hisway　back　to　his　dwelling。　Then　he　woke　up　to　madness　and　agony；　andseized　his　hammer；　swung　it　high　in　the　air；　and　rushed　forward　toshatter　the　beautiful　marble　image。　But；　in　his　pain；　he　had　notnoticed　that　his　friend　Angelo　stood　beside　him；　and　Angelo　heldback　his　arm　with　a　strong　grasp；　crying；

〃Are　you　mad？　What　are　you　about？〃

They　struggled　together。　Angelo　was　the　stronger；　and；　with　a　deepsigh　of　exhaustion；　the　young　artist　threw　himself　into　a　chair。

〃What　has　happened？〃　asked　Angelo。　〃mand　yourself。　Speak！〃

But　what　could　he　say？　How　could　he　explain？　And　as　Angelo　couldmake　no　sense　of　his　friend's　incoherent　words；　he　forbore　to　questionhim　further；　and　merely　said；

〃Your　blood　grows　thick　from　your　eternal　dreaming。　Be　a　man；　asall　others　are；　and　don't　go　on　living　in　ideals；　for　that　is　whatdrives　men　crazy。　A　jovial　feast　will　make　you　sleep　quietly　andhappily。　Believe　me；　the　time　will　e　when　you　will　be　old；　and　yoursinews　will　shrink；　and　then；　on　some　fine　sunshiny　day；　wheneverything　is　laughing　and　rejoicing；　you　will　lie　there　a　fadedplant；　that　will　grow　no　more。　I　do　not　live　in　dreams；　but　inreality。　e　with　me。　Be　a　man！〃

And　he　drew　the　artist　away　with　him。　At　this　moment　he　was　ableto　do　so；　for　a　fire　ran　in　the　blood　of　the　young　sculptor；　achange　had　taken　place　in　his　soul；　he　felt　a　longing　to　tear　from　theold；　the　accustomed…　to　forget；　if　possible；　his　own　individuality；and　therefore　it　was　that　he　followed　Angelo。

In　an　out…of…the…way　suburb　of　Rome　lay　a　tavern　much　visited　byartists。　It　was　built　on　the　ruins　of　some　ancient　baths。　The　greatyellow　citrons　hung　down　among　the　dark　shining　leaves；　and　covereda　part　of　the　old　reddish…yellow　walls。　The　tavern　consisted　of　avaulted　chamber；　almost　like　a　cavern；　in　the　ruins。　A　lamp　burnedthere　before　the　picture　of　the　Madonna。　A　great　fire　gleamed　on　thehearth；　and　roasting　and　boiling　was　going　on　there；　without；　underthe　citron　trees　and　laurels；　stood　a　few　covered　tables。

The　two　artists　were　received　by　their　friends　with　shouts　ofwele。　Little　was　eaten；　but　much　was　drunk；　and　the　spirits　ofthe　pany　rose。　Songs　were　sung　and　ditties　were　played　on　theguitar；　presently　the　Salterello　sounded；　and　the　merry　dance　began。Two　young　Roman　girls；　who　sat　as　models　to　the　artists；　took　partin　the　dance　and　in　the　festivity。　Two　charming　Bacchantes　werethey；　certainly　not　Psyches…　not　delicate；　beautiful　roses；　but　fresh；hearty；　glowing　carnations。

How　hot　it　was　on　that　day！　Even　after　sundown　it　was　hot。　Therewas　fire　in　the　blood；　fire　in　every　glance；　fire　everywhere。　Theair　gleamed　with　gold　and　roses；　and　life　seemed　like　gold　and　roses。

〃At　last　you　have　joined　us；　for　once；〃　said　his　friends。　〃Now　letyourself　be　carried　by　the　waves　within　and　around　you。〃

〃Never　yet　have　I　felt　so　well；　so　merry！〃　cried　the　young　artist。〃You　are　right…　you　are　all　of　you　right。　I　was　a　fool…　a　dreamer。　Manbelongs　to　reality；　and　not　to　fancy。〃

With　songs　and　with　sounding　guitars　the　young　people　returnedthat　evening　from　the　tavern；　through　the　narrow　streets；　the　twoglowing　carnations；　daughters　of　the　Campagna；　went　with　them。

In　Angelo's　room；　among　a　litter　of　colored　sketches　（studies）　andglowing　pictures；　the　voices　sounded　mellower；　but　not　less　merrily。On　the　ground　lay　many　a　sketch　that　resembled　the　daughters　of　theCampagna；　in　their　fresh；　hearty　eliness；　but　the　two　originalswere　far　handsomer　than　their　portraits。　All　the　burners　of　thesix…armed　lamp　flared　and　flamed；　and　the　human　flamed　up　from　within；and　appeared　in　the　glare　as　if　it　were　divine。

〃Apollo！　Jupiter！　I　feel　myself　raised　to　our　heaven…　to　yourglory！　I　feel　as　if　the　blossom　of　life　were　unfolding　itself　in　myveins　at　this　moment！〃

Yes；　the　blossom　unfolded　itself；　and　then　burst　and　fell；　andan　evil　vapor　arose　from　it；　blinding　the　sight；　leading　astray　thefancy；　the　firework　of　the　senses　went　out；　and　it　became　dark。

He　was　again　in　his　own　room。　There　he　sat　down　on　his　bed　andcollected　his　thoughts。

〃Fie　on　thee！〃　these　were　the　words　that　sounded　out　of　hismouth　from　the　depths　of　his　heart。　〃Wretched　man；　go；　begone！〃　Anda　deep　painful　sigh　burst　from　his　bosom。

〃Away！　begone！〃　These；　her　words；　the　words　of　the　livingPsyche；　echoed　through　his　heart；　escaped　from　his　lips。　He　buried　hishead　in　the　pillows；　his　thoughts　grew　confused；　and　he　fell　asleep。

In　the　morning　dawn　he　started　up；　and　collected　his　thoughtsanew。　What　had　happened？　Had　all　the　past　been　a　dream？　The　visit　toher；　the　feast　at　the　tavern；　the　evening　with　the　purple　carnationsof　the　Campagna？　No；　it　was　all　real…　a　reality　he　had　never　beforeexperienced。

In　the　purple　air　gleamed　the　bright　Star；　and　its　beams　fell　uponhim　and　upon　the　marble　Psyche。　He　trembled　as　he　looked　at　thatpicture　of　immortality；　and　his　glance　seemed　impure　to　him。　Hethrew　the　cloth　over　the　statue；　and　then　touched　it　once　more　tounveil　the　form…　but　he　was　not　able　to　look　again　at　his　own　work。

Gloomy；　quiet；　absorbed　in　his　own　thoughts；　he　sat　therethrough　the　long　day；　he　heard　nothing　of　what　was　going　on　aroundhim；　and　no　man　guessed　what　was　passing　in　this　human　soul。

And　days　and　weeks　went　by；　but　the　nights　passed　more　slowly　thanthe　days。　The　flashing　Star　beheld　him　one　morning　as　he　rose；　paleand　trembling　with　fever；　from　his　sad　couch；　then　he　steppedtowards　the　statue；　threw　back　the　covering；　took　one　long；sorrowful　gaze　at　his　work；　and　then；　almost　sinking　beneath　theburden；　he　dragged　the　statue　out　into　the　garden。　In　that　place　wasan　old　dry　well；　now　nothing　but　a　hole。　Into　this　he　cast　the　Psyche；threw　earth　in　above　her；　and　covered　up　the　spot　with　twigs　andtles。

〃Away！　begone！〃　Such　was　the　short　epitaph　he　spoke。

The　Star　beheld　all　this　from　the　pink　morning　sky；　and　its　beamtrembled　upon　two　great　tears　upon　the　pale　feverish　cheeks　of　theyoung　man；　and　soon　it　was　said　that　he　was　sick　unto　death；　and　helay　stretched　upon　a　bed　of　pain。

The　convent　Brother　Ignatius　visited　him　as　a　physician　and　afriend；　and　brought　him　words　of　fort；　of　religion；　and　spoke　tohim　of　the　peace　and　happiness　of　the　church；　of　the　sinfulness　ofman；　of　rest　and　mercy　to　be　found　in　heaven。

And　the　words　fell　like　warm　sunbeams　upon　a　teeming　soil。　Thesoil　smoked　and　sent　up　clouds　of　mist；　fantastic　pictures；　picturesin　which　there　was　reality；　and　from　these　floating　islands　helooked　across　at　human　life。　He　found　it　vanity　and　delusion…　andvanity　and　delusion　it　had　been　to　him。　They　told　him　that　art　was　asorcerer；　betraying　us　to　vanity　and　to　earthly　lusts；　that　we　arefalse　to　ourselves；　unfaithful　to　our　friends；　unfaithful　towardsHeaven；　and　that　the　serpent　was　always　repeating　within　us；　〃Eat；　andthou　shalt　bee　as　God。〃

And　it　appeared　to　him　as　if　now；　for　the　first　time；　he　knewhimself；　and　had　found　the　way　that　leads　to　truth　and　to　peace。　Inthe　church　was　the　light　and　the　brightness　of　God…　in　the　monk's　cellhe　should　find　the　rest　through　which　the　tree　of　human　life　mightgrow　on　into　eternity。

Brother　Ignatius　strengthened　his　longings；　and　thedetermination　became　firm　within　him。　A　child　of　the　world　became　aservant　of　the　church…　the　young　artist　renounced　the　world；　andretired　into　the　cloister。

The　brothers　came　forward　affectionately　to　wele　him；　and　hisinauguration　was　as　a　Sunday　feast。　Heaven　seemed　to　him　to　dwell　inthe　sunshine　of　the　church；　and　to　beam　upon　him　from　the　holypictures　and　from　the　cross。　And　when；　in　the　evening；　at　the　sunsethour；　he　stood　in　his　little　cell；　and；　opening　the　window；　looked　outupon　old　Rome；　upon　the　desolated　temples；　and