胖胖熊和他的伙伴们童话故事
【简介】感谢网友“胡说”参与投稿，以下是小编为大家准备了胖胖熊和他的伙伴们童话故事（共5篇），欢迎参阅。
篇1：胖胖熊和他的伙伴们童话故事
胖胖熊和他的伙伴们童话故事
胖胖熊买了一件新棉衣。
“我有新棉衣啦！我不怕感冒啦！”看啊，一大早他就穿着新棉衣跑了出来。
“哧——”胖胖熊顺着雪痕打着冰遛，真痛快呀！
“胖胖熊，胖胖熊，带着我滑好不好？”小鸭子摇摇摆摆地走过来说。
“好好，你拉着我的手，我拽你，走喽——”胖胖熊紧紧拉着小鸭子的手向远处滑去。
才滑了一会儿，听见远处有人喊：“胖胖熊，胖胖熊，也带我滑好不好？”原来是小黄鸡站在远处喊呢。
“好好，你拽着我的衣襟，我拉着你，走喽——”胖胖熊拉着小鸭子、小黄鸡在雪地上滑了起来。
“嘿，你们玩得好开心呀，也带我一个！”小花狗不等胖胖熊说话，也拽到了胖胖熊的新棉衣后。
滑了一会儿，胖胖熊感觉身后的重量越来越大，越走越吃力了，有几次险些摔倒。他只好停下来，说：“我一个一个带你们滑吧！”
“不好，不好，这样才热闹呢！”小花狗第一个反对。
“一个一个滑，哪有大家一起滑好玩啊！”小黄鸡也反对着不松手。
“那你们自己玩吧，我……不想带你们滑了！”胖胖熊说完就自己走了。
“胖胖熊真小气，以后我们不要和他玩了！”小花狗说。
“他那么胖，有的是力气，滑一会儿又怎么了？”小黄鸡撇着嘴说。
忽然，前面传来“扑通”一声，哦，是胖胖熊跌倒了。大家你看看我，我看看你，只在不远处看着他翻动着笨拙的身体，一点一点地想要站起来，谁也不想去扶。
“你们怎么只看热闹，也不扶他一下，胖胖熊病几天了，今天才好点能出来玩呢。”远处跑来了小松鼠，边说边扶起胖胖熊。
“没关系的，我才和他们玩了半天，他们也累了！哈哈，看我身后压出的.大坑，刚才真怕自己跌倒了，压坏身后的朋友呢！”胖胖熊憨憨地笑着说。
“你你……”小黄鸡快嘴地想说什么，却被小花狗打断了。
“哦，原来是因为这个，你才不敢拉我们呀，没关系，现在我们来拉你，大家一起来！”小花狗招呼着大家，组成了一个大大的拉拉队，拉着胖胖熊的新棉衣在雪地上奔跑着。
听——他们笑得多开心啊！
篇2：蓝莓婆婆和熊们在一起童话故事
蓝莓婆婆和熊们在一起童话故事
好多天都没睡过一个好觉了，黑熊倦容满面。
“哎呀，这么难看，怎么出门呀？”黑熊皱起来的眉宇间快搁得下一个鸡蛋了。
“不管了，我必须得出趟门。”黑熊戴上帽子的同时还戴上了一副宽边大墨镜，然后匆匆出门了。
“砰砰砰！”半个多小时后，山下的一座红色小木屋的门外，响起了很有礼貌但又有点儿急促的敲门声。
“嘎吱”一声，从半掩着的门后，露出了一张笑眯眯的脸：“早啊，黑熊！有事吗？”
“蓝莓婆婆，我可以进来吗？”门外，黑熊毕恭毕敬地问。
“当然可以！”黑熊被请进了屋。
“您能听我讲一个故事吗？”一进屋，黑熊就迫不及待地说。
“好啊，我就爱听故事。”蓝莓婆婆高兴地说。
黑熊的故事开始了——
在很高很高的山上，住者一头热衷于酿蜜的火块头熊，他酿的蜜所有熊都爱吃。可是有一天，大块头熊发现他的蜜无熊问津了。
后来，一头小熊从他的蝥坊经过，告诉大块头熊，山下来了一位蓝莓婆婆，她酿的蓝莓蜜好吃要了。
小熊走了，火块头熊的，心里乱了，看来他并不是唯一的酿蜜手。当夜，大块头熊就失眠了，难道蓝莓蜜真的就比他酿的蜜好吃？大块头熊怎么也睡不者了，索性爬了起来。
火块头熊下山了，凭着自己灵敏的嗅觉，摸索着进了一座小木屋。屋子不火，但里面堆放了许许多多火火小小的木桶。隔着木桶，他就闻到了一股不一殷的香味。不用猜，那一定是蓝莓蜜的香了。
什么嘛？闻起来香，不一定好吃！火块头熊心里这样说着，用一个指头蘸了一点儿蜜放到了嘴边。顿时，他的眼睛都直了！天哪，这是什么蜜？太好吃啦！他不禁在心里感叹道。
吃过蓝莓蜜后，大块头熊不得不承认蓝莓蜜味道更好，而对自己酿的蜜，大块头熊居然都不愿意尝了。
“我这是怎么啦？”火块头熊生气了，使劲拍打着自己的头。
不行，酿了这么多年的蜜，不能让蜜坊就这样关门！
几天后的一个晚上，夜黑风高，有一个高高大大的黑影在山下的小溪边未来回回，时不时还会百“哗哗哗”的倾倒声响起。这样的声音一直持续到凌晨。
第二天，火块头熊的蜜坊早早儿就开门了。然而事情并不像他料想的那样，一天的时间过去了，倒是百几头熊来过，可他们未了又走了，在是的时候还说：“蓝莓婆婆酿的蓝莓蜜多好吃啊，吃了还不收钱。唉，可惜吃不到了。
不知为什么，火块头熊听到这样的话，心里像被什么狠狠地蜇了一下，火辣辣地痛。接下来的日子，他的心里一直被什么东西给压着，好沉好沉，沉得他一直睡不着觉……
黑熊的故事讲到这里，他站了起来，用微微发抖的双手轻轻摘下了架在眼睛上的那副宽边大墨镜，他憔悴的模样完全暴露在了蓝莓婆婆面前。
蓝莓婆婆只看了一眼，嘴巴一咧，却笑了：“啊哈哈，好久没有听过这么好听的故事了！黑熊啊，谢谢你给我讲故事。”
黑熊先是愣了一下，继而哆嗦着嘴巴说：“蓝莓婆婆，您就不想说点儿别的什么吗？”
“呵呵，知道了。你是要说，讲了那么长时间的故事，口渴了，肚子饿了。是吧？”
“我……我是说……”黑熊急了，嘴唇动了又动，却说不出话来。那么坚强的黑熊，在蓝莓婆婆的`面前流泪了。
几天后，蓝莓婆婆的那些大大小小的木桶里灌满了从山上运下来的新鲜浓稠的蜂蜜，蓝莓婆婆又酿出了美味的蓝莓蜜。这下可好了，熊们都回来了。他们一口一口品尝着蓝莓蜜，都说自己是天底下最最幸福的熊。
再说黑熊给蓝莓婆婆讲过故事后，蓝莓婆婆就迷上了黑熊的故事，所以黑熊干脆不酿蜜了，每天只搜集那些发生在他身边的好玩的事，然后把它们编成一个又一个好听的故事。
黑熊的故事除了蓝莓婆婆爱听，熊们也爱听。每天，在山下的红色小木屋里，熊们在吃过蓝莓蜜后，和蓝莓婆婆一起托着下巴，入迷地听着黑熊讲那些有趣的故事……
——
带女儿去超市时，女儿想吃蓝莓，可是那天在超市却没有买到。看着她一脸的失望，我就决定给她讲一个关于蓝莓的故事。女儿听完这个故事，把所有的不高兴都忘记了。小童迷们，你们喜欢吗？下次吃蓝莓的时候会想起这个故事吗？
篇3：安徒生童话故事：一个贵族和他的女儿们
安徒生童话故事：一个贵族和他的女儿们
当风儿在草上吹过去的时候，田野就像一湖水，起了一片涟漪。当它在麦子上扫过去的时候，田野就像一个海，起了一层浪花，这叫做风的跳舞。不过请听它讲的故事吧：它是把故事唱出来的。故事在森林的树顶上的声音，同它通过墙上通风孔和隙缝时所发出的声音是不同的。你看，风是怎样在天上把云块像一群羊似地驱走!你听，风是怎样在敞开的大门里呼啸，简直像守门人在吹着号角!它从烟囱和壁炉口吹进来的声音是多么奇妙啊!火发出爆裂声，燃烧起来，把房间较远的角落都照明了。这里是那么温暖和舒适，坐在这儿听这些声音是多么愉快啊。让风儿自己来讲吧!因为它知道许多故事和童话——比我们任何人知道的都多。现在请听吧，请听它怎样讲吧。
“呼——呼——嘘!去吧!”这就是它的歌声的叠句。
“在那条‘巨带’①的岸边，立着一幢古老的房子;它有很厚的红墙，”风儿说。“我认识它的每一块石头;当它还是属于涅塞特的马尔斯克?斯蒂格②堡寨的时候，我就看见过它。它不得不被拆掉了!石头用在另一个地方，砌成新的墙，造成一幢新房子——这就是波列埠庄园：它现在还立在那儿。
“我认识和见过那里高贵的老爷和太太们，以及住在那里的后裔。现在我要讲一讲关于瓦尔得马尔?杜和他的女儿们的故事。
“他骄傲得不可一世，因为他有皇族的血统!他除了能猎取雄鹿和把满瓶的酒一饮而尽以外，还能做许多别的事情。他常常对自己说：‘事情自然会有办法。’
“他的太太穿着金线绣的衣服，高视阔步地在光亮的地板上走来走去。壁毯③是华丽的;家具是贵重的，而且还有精致的雕花。她带来许多金银器皿作为陪嫁。当地窖里已经藏满了东西的时候，里面还藏着德国啤酒。黑色的马在马厩里嘶鸣。那时这家人家很富有，波列埠的公馆有一种豪华的气象。
“那里住着孩子，有三个娇美的姑娘：意德、约翰妮和安娜?杜洛苔。我现在还记得她们的名字。
“她们是有钱的人，有身份的人，在豪华中出生，在豪华中长大。呼——嘘!去吧!”风儿唱着。接着它继续讲下去：“我在这儿看不见别的古老家族中常有的情景：高贵的太太跟她的女仆们坐在大厅里一起摇着纺车。她吹着洪亮的笛子，同时唱着歌——不老是那些古老的丹麦歌，而是一些异国的歌。这儿的生活是活跃的，招待是殷勤的;显贵的客人从远近各处地方到来，音乐在演奏着，酒杯在碰着，我也没有办法把这些声音淹没!”风儿说。“这儿只有夸张的傲慢神气和老爷派头;但是没有上帝!
“那正是五月一日的晚上，”风儿说。“我从西边来，我见到船只撞着尤兰西部的海岸而被毁。我匆忙地走过这生满了石楠植物和长满了绿树林的海岸，走过富恩岛。现在我在‘巨带’上扫过，呻吟着，叹息着。
“于是我在瑟兰岛的岸上，在波列埠的那座公馆的附近躺下来休息。那儿有一个青葱的栎树林，现在仍然还存在。
“附近的年轻人到栎树林下面来收捡树枝和柴草，收拾他们所能找到的最粗和最干的木柴。他们把木柴拿到村里来，聚成堆，点起火。于是男男女女就在周围跳着舞，唱着歌。
“我躺着一声不响，”风儿说。“不过我静静地把一根枝子——一个最漂亮的年轻人捡回来的枝子——拨了一下，于是他的那堆柴就烧起来，烧得比所有的柴堆都高。这样他就算是入选了，获得了‘街头山羊’的光荣称号，同时还可以在这些姑娘之中选择他的‘街头绵羊’。这儿的快乐和高兴，胜过波列埠那个豪富的公馆。
“那位贵族妇人，带着她的三个女儿，乘着一辆由六骑马拉着的、镀了金的车子，向这座公馆驰来。她的女儿是年轻和美丽的——是三朵迷人的花：玫瑰、百合和淡白的风信子。母亲本人则是一朵鲜嫩的郁金香。大家都停止了游戏，向她鞠躬和敬礼;但是她谁也不理，人们可以看出，这位贵妇人是一朵开在相当硬的梗子上的花。
“玫瑰、百合和淡白的风信子;是的，她们三个人我全都看见了!我想，有一天她们将会是谁的小绵羊呢?她们的'街头山羊'将会是一位漂亮的骑士，可能是一位王子!呼——嘘!去吧!去吧!
“是的，车子载着她们走了，农人们继续跳舞。在波列埠这地方，在卡列埠，在周围所有的村子里，人们都在庆祝夏天的到来。
“可是在夜里，当我再起身的时候，”风儿说。“那位贵族妇人躺下了，再也没有起来。她碰上这样的事情，正如许多人碰上这类的事情一样——并没有什么新奇。瓦尔得马尔?杜静静地、沉思地站了一会儿。‘最骄傲的树可以弯，但不一定就会折断，’他在心里说。女儿们哭起来;公馆里所有的人全都在揩眼泪。杜夫人去了——可是我也去了，呼——嘘!”风儿说。
“我又回来了。我常常回到富恩岛和'巨带'的沿岸来。我坐在波列埠的岸旁，坐在那美丽的栎树林附近：苍鹭在这儿做窠，斑鸠，甚至蓝乌鸦和黑颧鸟也都到这儿来。这还是开春不久：它们有的已经生了蛋，有的已经孵出了小雏。嗨，它们是在怎样飞，怎样叫啊!人们可以听到斧头的响声：一下，两下，三下。树林被砍掉了。瓦尔得马尔?杜想要建造一条华丽的船——一条有三层楼的战舰。国王一定会买它。因此他要砍掉这个作为水手的目标和飞鸟的隐身处的树林。苍鹭惊恐地飞走了，因为它的窠被毁掉了。苍鹭和其他的林中鸟都变得无家可归，慌乱地飞来飞去，愤怒地、惊恐地号叫，我了解它们的心情。乌鸦和穴乌用讥笑的口吻大声地号叫：‘离开窠儿吧!离开窠儿吧!离开吧!离开吧!’
“在树林里，在一群工人旁边，站着瓦尔得马尔?杜和他的女儿们。他们听到这些鸟儿的狂叫，不禁大笑起来。只有一个人——那个最年轻的安娜?杜洛苔——心中感到难过。他们正要推倒一株砍掉的树，在这株树的枝桠上有一只黑颧鸟的窠，窠里的小颧鸟正在伸出头来——她替它们向大家求情，她含着眼泪向大家求情。这株有窠的树算是为颧鸟留下了。这不过只是一件很小的事情。
“有的树被砍掉了，有的树被锯掉了。接着一个有三层楼的船便建造起来了。建筑师是一个出身微贱的人，但是他有高贵的仪表。他的眼睛和前额说明他是多么聪明。瓦尔得马尔?杜喜欢听他谈话;他最大的女儿意德——她现在有15岁了——也是这样。当他正在为父亲建造船的时候，他也在为自己建造一个空中楼阁：他和意德将作为一对夫妇住在里面。如果这楼阁是由石墙所砌成、有壁垒和城壕、有树林和花园的话，这个幻想也许可能成为事实。不过，这位建筑师虽然有一个聪明的头脑，但却是一个穷鬼。的确，一只麻雀怎么能在鹤群中跳舞呢?呼——嘘!我飞走了，他也飞走了，因为他不能住在这儿。小小的意德也只好克服她的难过的心情。因为她非克制不可。”
“那些黑马在马厩里嘶鸣;它们值得一看，而且也有人在看它们。国王亲自派海军大将来检验这条新船，来布置购买它。海军大将也大为称赞这些雄赳赳的马儿。我听到这一切，”风儿说。“我陪着这些人走进敞开的门;我在他们脚前撒下一些草叶，像一条一条的黄金。瓦尔得马尔?杜想要有金子，海军大将想要有那些黑马——因此他才那样称赞它们，不过他的意思没有被听懂，结果船也没有买成。它躺在岸边，亮得放光，周围全是木板;它是一个挪亚式的方舟，但永远不曾下过水。呼——嘘!去吧!去吧!这真可惜。
“在冬天，田野上盖满了雪，'巨带'里结满了冰，我把冰块吹到岸上来，”风儿说。“乌鸦和大渡乌都来了，它们是一大群，一个比一个黑。它们落到岸边没有生命的、被遗忘了的、孤独的船上。它们用一种喑哑的调子，为那已经不再有的树林，为那被遗忘了的贵重的雀窠，为那些没有家的老老少少的雀子而哀鸣。这完全是因为那一大堆木头——那一条从来没有出过海的船的缘故。
“我把雪花搅得乱飞，雪花像巨浪似地围在船的四周，压在船的.上面!我让它听到我的声音，使它知道，风暴有些什么话要说。我知道，我在尽我的力量教它关于航行的技术。呼——嘘!去吧!
“冬天逝去了;冬天和夏天都逝去了。它们在逝去，像我一样，像雪花的飞舞，像玫瑰花的飞舞，像树叶的下落——逝去了!逝去了!人也逝去了!
“不过那几个女儿仍然很年轻，小小的意德是一朵玫瑰花，美丽得像那位建筑师初见到她的时候一样。她常常若有所思她站在花园的玫瑰树旁，没有注意到我在她松散的头发上撒下花朵;这时我就抚着她的棕色长头发。于是她就凝视那鲜红的太阳和那在花园的树林和阴森的灌木丛之间露出来的金色的天空。
“她的妹妹约翰妮像一朵百合花，亭亭玉立，高视阔步，和她的母亲一样，只是梗子脆了一点。她喜欢走过挂有祖先的画像的大厅。在画中那些仕女们都穿着丝绸和天鹅绒的衣服;她们的发髻上都戴着缀有(/wenxue/)珍珠的小帽。她们都是一群美丽的仕女，她们的丈夫不是穿着铠甲，就是穿着用松鼠皮做里子和有皱领④的大氅。他们腰间挂着长剑，但是并没有扣在股上。约翰妮的画像哪一天会在墙上挂起来呢?她高贵的丈夫将会是个什么样的人物呢?是的，这就是她心中所想着的、她低声对自己所讲着的事情。当我吹过长廊、走进大厅、然后又折转身来的时候，我听到了她的话。
“那朵淡白的风信子安娜?杜洛苔刚刚满14岁，是一个安静和深思的女子。她那副大而深蓝的眼睛有一种深思的表情，但她的嘴唇上仍然飘着一种稚气的微笑：我没有办法把它吹掉，也没有心思要这样做。
“我在花园里，在空巷里，在田野里遇见她。她在采摘花草;她知道，这些东西对她的父亲有用：她可以把它们蒸馏成为饮料。瓦尔得马尔?杜是一个骄傲自负的人，不过他也是一个有学问的人，知道很多东西。这不是一个秘密，人们都在谈论这事情。他的烟囱即使在夏天还有火冒出来。他的房门是锁着的，一连几天几夜都是这样。但是他不大喜欢谈这件事情——大自然的威力应该是在沉静中征服的。不久他就找出一件最大的秘密——制造赤金。
“这正是为什么烟囱一天到晚在冒烟、一天到晚在喷出火焰的缘故。是的，我也在场!”风儿说。“‘停止吧!停止吧!’我对着烟囱口唱：‘它的结果将会只是一阵烟、空气、一堆炭和炭灰!你将会把你自己烧得精光!呼——呼——呼——去吧!停止吧!’但是瓦尔得马尔?杜并不放其他的企图。
“马厩里那些漂亮的马儿——它们变成了什么呢?碗柜和箱子里的那些旧金银器皿、田野里的母牛、财产和房屋都变成了什么呢?——是的，它们可以熔化掉，可以在那金坩埚里熔化掉，但是那里面却变不出金子!
“谷仓和储藏室，酒窖和库房，现在空了。人数减少了，但是耗子却增多了。这一块玻璃裂了，那一块玻璃碎了;我可以不需通过门就能进去了，”风儿说。“烟囱一冒烟，就说明有人在煮饭。这儿的烟囱也在冒烟;不过为了炼赤金，却把所有的饭都耗费掉了。
“我吹进院子的门，像一个看门人吹着号角一样，不过这儿却没有什么看门人，”风儿说。“我把尖顶上的那个风信鸡吹得团团转。它嘎嘎地响着，像一个守望塔上的卫士在发出鼾声，可是这儿却没有什么卫士，这儿只有成群的耗子。‘贫穷’就躺在桌上，‘贫穷’就坐在衣橱里和橱柜里;门脱了榫头，裂缝出现了，我可以随便跑出跑进。”风儿说，“因此我什么全知道。
“在烟雾和灰尘中，在悲愁和失眠之夜，他的胡须和两鬓都变白了。他的皮肤变得枯黄;他追求金子，他的眼睛就发出那种贪图金子的光。
“我把烟雾和火灰向他的脸上和胡须上吹去;他没有得到金子，却得到了一堆债务。我从碎了的窗玻璃和大开的裂口吹进去。我吹进他女儿们的衣柜里去，那里面的衣服都褪了色，破旧了，因此她们老是穿着这几套衣服。这支歌不是在她们儿时的摇篮旁边唱的!豪富的日子现在变成了贫穷的生活!我是这座公馆里唯一高声唱歌的人!”风儿说。“我用雪把他们封在屋子里;人们说雪可以保持住温暖。他们没有木柴;那个供给他们木柴的树林已经被砍光了。天正下着严霜。我在裂缝和走廊里吹，我在三角墙上和屋顶上吹，为的是要运动一下。这三位出身高贵的小姐，冷得爬不起床来。父亲在破被子下缩成一团。吃的东西也没有了，烧的东西也没有了——这就是贵族的生活!呼——嘘!去吧!但是这正是杜老爷所办不到的事情。
“‘冬天过后春天就来了，’他说，‘贫穷过后快乐的时光就来了，但是快乐的时光必须等待!现在房屋和田地只剩下一张典契，这正是倒霉的时候。但是金子马上就会到来的——在复活节的时候就会到来!’
“我听到他望着蜘蛛网这样讲：‘你聪明的小织工，你教我坚持下去!人们弄破你的网，你会重新再织，把它完成!人们再毁掉它，你会坚决地又开始工作——又开始工作!人也应该是这样，气力绝不会白费。’
“这是复活节的早晨。钟在响，太阳在天空中嬉戏。瓦尔得马尔?杜在狂热的兴奋中守了一夜;他在熔化，冷凝，提炼和混和。我听到他像一个失望的灵魂在叹气，我听到他在祈祷，我注意到他在屏住呼吸。灯里的油燃尽了，可是他不注意。我吹着炭火;火光映着他惨白的面孔，使他泛出红光。他深陷的眼睛在眼窝里望，眼睛越睁越大，好像要跳出来似的。
“请看这个炼金术士的玻璃杯!那里面发出红光，它是赤热的，纯清的，沉重的!他用颤抖的手把它举起来，用颤抖的声音喊：‘金子!金子!’他的头脑有些昏沉——我很容易就把他吹倒，”风儿说。“不过我只是扇着那灼热的炭;我陪着他走到一个房间里去，他的女儿正在那儿冻得发抖。他的上衣上全是炭灰;他的胡须里，蓬松的头发上，也是炭灰。他笔直地站着，高高地举起放在易碎的玻璃杯里的贵重的宝物。‘炼出来了，胜利了!——金子，金子!’他叫着，把杯子举到空中，让它在太阳光中发出闪光。但是他的手在发抖;这位炼金术士的杯子落到地上，跌成一千块碎片。他的幸福的最后泡沫现在炸碎了!呼——嘘——嘘!去吧!我从这位炼金术士的家里走出去了。
篇4：安徒生童话故事第：一个贵族和他的女儿们The Story of the
“I passed on in my course,” said the Wind, “and he passed away also. He was not allowed to remain, and little Ida got over it, because she was obliged to do so. Proud, black horses, worth looking at, were neighing in the stable. And they were locked up; for the admiral, who had been sent by the king to inspect the new ship, and make arrangements for its purchase, was loud in admiration of these beautiful horses. I heard it all,” said the Wind, “for I accompanied the gentlemen through the open door of the stable, and strewed stalks of straw, like bars of gold, at their feet. Waldemar Daa wanted gold, and the admiral wished for the proud black horses; therefore he praised them so much. But the hint was not taken, and consequently the ship was not bought. It remained on the shore covered with boards,—a Noah’s ark that never got to the water—Whir-r-r-r—and that was a pity.
“In the winter, when the fields were covered with snow, and the water filled with large blocks of ice which I had blown up to the coast,” continued the Wind, “great flocks of crows and ravens, dark and black as they usually are, came and alighted on the lonely, deserted ship. Then they croaked in harsh accents of the forest that now existed no more, of the many pretty birds’ nests destroyed and the little ones left without a home; and all for the sake of that great bit of lumber, that proud ship, that never sailed forth. I made the snowflakes whirl till the snow lay like a great lake round the ship, and drifted over it. I let it hear my voice, that it might know what the storm has to say. Certainly I did my part towards teaching it seamanship.
“That winter passed away, and another winter and summer both passed, as they are still passing away, even as I pass away. The snow drifts onwards, the apple-blossoms are scattered, the leaves fall,—everything passes away, and men are passing away too. But the great man’s daughters are still young, and little Ida is a rose as fair to look upon as on the day when the shipbuilder first saw her. I often tumbled her long, brown hair, while she stood in the garden by the apple-tree, musing, and not heeding how I strewed the blossoms on her hair, and dishevelled it; or sometimes, while she stood gazing at the red sun and the golden sky through the opening branches of the dark, thick foliage of the garden trees. Her sister Joanna was bright and slender as a lily; she had a tall and lofty carriage and figure, though, like her mother, rather stiff in back. She was very fond of walking through the great hall, where hung the portraits of her ancestors. The women were represented in dresses of velvet and silk, with tiny little hats, embroidered with pearls, on their braided hair. They were all handsome women. The gentlemen appeared clad in steel, or in rich cloaks lined with squirrel’s fur; they wore little ruffs, and swords at their sides. Where would Joanna’s place be on that wall some day? and how would he look,—her noble lord and husband? This is what she thought of, and often spoke of in a low voice to herself. I heard it as I swept into the long hall, and turned round to come out again. Anna Dorothea, the pale hyacinth, a child of fourteen, was quiet and thoughtful; her large, deep, blue eyes had a dreamy look, but a childlike smile still played round her mouth. I was not able to blow it away, neither did I wish to do so. We have met in the garden, in the hollow lane, in the field and meadow, where she gathered herbs and flowers which she knew would be useful to her father in preparing the drugs and mixtures he was always concocting. Waldemar Daa was arrogant and proud, but he was also a learned man, and knew a great deal. It was no secret, and many opinions were expressed on what he did. In his fireplace there was a fire, even in summer time. He would lock himself in his room, and for days the fire would be kept burning; but he did not talk much of what he was doing. The secret powers of nature are generally discovered in solitude, and did he not soon expect to find out the art of making the greatest of all good things—the art of making gold? So he fondly hoped; therefore the chimney smoked and the fire crackled so constantly. Yes, I was there too,” said the Wind. “‘Leave it alone,’ I sang down the chimney; ‘leave it alone, it will all end in smoke, air, coals, and ashes, and you will burn your fingers.’ But Waldemar Daa did not leave it alone, and all he possessed vanished like smoke blown by me. The splendid black horses, where are they? What became of the cows in the field, the old gold and silver vessels in cupboards and chests, and even the house and home itself? It was easy to melt all these away in the gold-making crucible, and yet obtain no gold. And so it was. Empty are the barns and store-rooms, the cellars and cupboards; the servants decreased in number, and the mice multiplied. First one window became broken, and then another, so that I could get in at other places besides the door. ‘Where the chimney smokes, the meal is being cooked,’ says the proverb; but here a chimney smoked that devoured all the meals for the sake of gold. I blew round the courtyard,” said the Wind, “like a watchman blowing his home, but no watchman was there. I twirled the weather-cock round on the summit of the tower, and it creaked like the snoring of a warder, but no warder was there; nothing but mice and rats. Poverty laid the table-cloth; poverty sat in the wardrobe and in the larder. The door fell off its hinges, cracks and fissures made their appearance everywhere; so that I could go in and out at pleasure, and that is how I know all about it. Amid smoke and ashes, sorrow, and sleepless nights, the hair and beard of the master of the house turned gray, and deep furrows showed themselves around his temples; his skin turned pale and yellow, while his eyes still looked eagerly for gold, the longed-for gold, and the result of his labor was debt instead of gain. I blew the smoke and ashes into his face and beard; I moaned through the broken window-panes, and the yawning clefts in the walls; I blew into the chests and drawers belonging to his daughters, wherein lay the clothes that had become faded and threadbare, from being worn over and over again. Such a song had not been sung, at the children’s cradle as I sung now. The lordly life had changed to a life of penury. I was the only one who rejoiced aloud in that castle,” said the Wind. “At last I snowed them up, and they say snow keeps people warm. It was good for them, for they had no wood, and the forest, from which they might have obtained it, had been cut down. The frost was very bitter, and I rushed through loop-holes and passages, over gables and roofs with keen and cutting swiftness. The three high-born daughters were lying in bed because of the cold, and their father crouching beneath his leather coverlet. Nothing to eat, nothing to burn, no fire on the hearth! Here was a life for high-born people! ‘Give it up, give it up!’ But my Lord Daa would not do that. ‘After winter, spring will come,’ he said, ‘after want, good times. We must not lose patience, we must learn to wait. Now my horses and lands are all mortgaged, it is indeed high time; but gold will come at last—at Easter.’
“I heard him as he thus spoke; he was looking at a spider’s web, and he continued, ‘Thou cunning little weaver, thou dost teach me perseverance. Let any one tear thy web, and thou wilt begin again and repair it. Let it be entirely destroyed, thou wilt resolutely begin to make another till it is completed. So ought we to do, if we wish to succeed at last.’
“It was the morning of Easter-day. The bells sounded from the neighboring church, and the sun seemed to rejoice in the sky. The master of the castle had watched through the night, in feverish excitement, and had been melting and cooling, distilling and mixing. I heard him sighing like a soul in despair; I heard him praying, and I noticed how he held his breath. The lamp burnt out, but he did not observe it. I blew up the fire in the coals on the hearth, and it threw a red glow on his ghastly white face, lighting it up with a glare, while his sunken eyes looked out wildly from their cavernous depths, and appeared to grow larger and more prominent, as if they would burst from their sockets. ‘Look at the alchymic glass,’ he cried; ‘something glows in the crucible, pure and heavy.’ He lifted it with a trembling hand, and exclaimed in a voice of agitation, ‘Gold! gold!’ He was quite giddy, I could have blown him down,” said the Wind; “but I only fanned the glowing coals, and accompanied him through the door to the room where his daughter sat shivering. His coat was powdered with ashes, and there were ashes in his beard and in his tangled hair. He stood erect, and held high in the air the brittle glass that contained his costly treasure. ‘Found! found! Gold! gold!’ he shouted, again holding the glass aloft, that it might flash in the sunshine; but his hand trembled, and the alchymic glass fell from it, clattering to the ground, and brake in a thousand pieces. The last bubble of his happiness had burst, with a whiz and a whir, and I rushed away from the gold-maker’s house.
“Late in the autumn, when the days were short, and the mist sprinkled cold drops on the berries and the leafless branches, I came back in fresh spirits, rushed through the air, swept the sky clear, and snapped off the dry twigs, which is certainly no great labor to do, yet it must be done. There was another kind of sweeping taking place at Waldemar Daa’s, in the castle of Borreby. His enemy, Owe Ramel, of Basnas, was there, with the mortgage of the house and everything it contained, in his pocket. I rattled the broken windows, beat against the old rotten doors, and whistled through cracks and crevices, so that Mr. Owe Ramel did not much like to remain there. Ida and Anna Dorothea wept bitterly, Joanna stood, pale and proud, biting her lips till the blood came; but what could that avail? Owe Ramel offered Waldemar Daa permission to remain in the house till the end of his life. No one thanked him for the offer, and I saw the ruined old gentleman lift his head, and throw it back more proudly than ever. Then I rushed against the house and the old lime-trees with such force, that one of the thickest branches, a decayed one, was broken off, and the branch fell at the entrance, and remained there. It might have been used as a broom, if any one had wanted to sweep the place out, and a grand sweeping-out there really was; I thought it would be so. It was hard for any one to preserve composure on such a day; but these people had strong wills, as unbending as their hard fortune. There was nothing they could call their own, excepting the clothes they wore. Yes, there was one thing more, an alchymist’s glass, a new one, which had been lately bought, and filled with what could be gathered from the ground of the treasure which had promised so much but failed in keeping its promise. Waldemar Daa hid the glass in his bosom, and, taking his stick in his hand, the once rich gentleman passed with his daughters out of the house of Borreby. I blew coldly upon his flustered cheeks, I stroked his gray beard and his long white hair, and I sang as well as I was able, ‘Whir-r-r, whir-r-r. Gone away! Gone away!’ Ida walked on one side of the old man, and Anna Dorothea on the other; Joanna turned round, as they left the entrance. Why? Fortune would not turn because she turned. She looked at the stone in the walls which had once formed part of the castle of Marck Stig, and perhaps she thought of his daughters and of the old song,—
‘The eldest and youngest, hand-in-hand,
Went forth alone to a distant land’.
These were only two; here there were three, and their father with them also. They walked along the high-road, where once they had driven in their splendid carriage; they went forth with their father as beggars. They wandered across an open field to a mud hut, which they rented for a dollar and a half a year, a new home, with bare walls and empty cupboards. Crows and magpies fluttered about them, and cried, as if in contempt, ‘Caw, caw, turned out of our nest—caw, caw,’ as they had done in the wood at Borreby, when the trees were felled. Daa and his daughters could not help hearing it, so I blew about their ears to drown the noise; what use was it that they should listen? So they went to live in the mud hut in the open field, and I wandered away, over moor and meadow, through bare bushes and leafless forests, to the open sea, to the broad shores in other lands, ‘Whir-r-r, whir-r-r! Away, away!’ year after year.”
And what became of Waldemar Daa and his daughters? Listen; the Wind will tell us:
“The last I saw of them was the pale hyacinth, Anna Dorothea. She was old and bent then; for fifty years had passed and she had outlived them all. She could relate the history. Yonder, on the heath, near the town of Wiborg, in Jutland, stood the fine new house of the canon. It was built of red brick, with projecting gables. It was inhabited, for the smoke curled up thickly from the chimneys. The canon’s gentle lady and her beautiful daughters sat in the bay-window, and looked over the hawthorn hedge of the garden towards the brown heath. What were they looking at? Their glances fell upon a stork’s nest, which was built upon an old tumbledown hut. The roof, as far as one existed at all, was covered with moss and lichen. The stork’s nest covered the greater part of it, and that alone was in a good condition; for it was kept in order by the stork himself. That is a house to be looked at, and not to be touched,” said the Wind. “For the sake of the stork’s nest it had been allowed to remain, although it is a blot on the landscape. They did not like to drive the stork away; therefore the old shed was left standing, and the poor woman who dwelt in it allowed to stay. She had the Egyptian bird to thank for that; or was it perchance her reward for having once interceded for the preservation of the nest of its black brother in the forest of Borreby? At that time she, the poor woman, was a young child, a white hyacinth in a rich garden. She remembered that time well; for it was Anna Dorothea.
“‘O-h, o-h,’ she sighed; for people can sigh like the moaning of the wind among the reeds and rushes. ‘O-h, o-h,’ she would say, ‘no bell sounded at thy burial, Waldemar Daa. The poor school-boys did not even sing a psalm when the former lord of Borreby was laid in the earth to rest. O-h, everything has an end, even misery. Sister Ida became the wife of a peasant; that was the hardest trial which befell our father, that the husband of his own daughter should be a miserable serf, whom his owner could place for punishment on the wooden horse. I suppose he is under the ground now; and Ida—alas! alas! it is not ended yet; miserable that I am! Kind Heaven, grant me that I may die.’
“That was Anna Dorothea’s prayer in the wretched hut that was left standing for the sake of the stork. I took pity on the proudest of the sisters,” said the Wind. “Her courage was like that of a man; and in man’s clothes she served as a sailor on board ship. She was of few words, and of a dark countenance; but she did not know how to climb, so I blew her overboard before any one found out that she was a woman; and, in my opinion, that was well done,” said the Wind.
On such another Easter morning as that on which Waldemar Daa imagined he had discovered the art of making gold, I heard the tones of a psalm under the stork’s nest, and within the crumbling walls. It was Anna Dorothea’s last song. There was no window in the hut, only a hole in the wall; and the sun rose like a globe of burnished gold, and looked through. With what splendor he filled that dismal dwelling! Her eyes were glazing, and her heart breaking; but so it would have been, even had the sun not shone that morning on Anna Dorothea. The stork’s nest had secured her a home till her death. I sung over her grave; I sung at her father’s grave. I know where it lies, and where her grave is too, but nobody else knows it.
“New times now; all is changed. The old high-road is lost amid cultivated fields; the new one now winds along over covered graves; and soon the railway will come, with its train of carriages, and rush over graves where lie those whose very names are forgoten. All passed away, passed away!
“This is the story of Waldemar Daa and his daughters. Tell it better, any of you, if you know how,” said the Wind; and he rushed away, and was gone.
篇5：安徒生童话故事第：一个贵族和他的女儿们The Story of the
当风儿在草上吹过去的时候，田野就像一湖水，起了一片涟漪。当它在麦子上扫过去的时候，田野就像一个海，起了一层浪花，这叫做风的跳舞。不过请听它讲的故事吧：它是把故事唱出来的。故事在森林的树顶上的声音，同它通过墙上通风孔和隙缝时所发出的声音是不同的。你看，风是怎样在天上把云块像一群羊似地驱走!你听，风是怎样在敞开的大门里呼啸，简直像守门人在吹着号角!它从烟囱和壁炉口吹进来的声音是多么奇妙啊!火发出爆裂声，燃烧起来，把房间较远的角落都照明了。这里是那么温暖和舒适，坐在这儿听这些声音是多么愉快啊。让风儿自己来讲吧!因为它知道许多故事和童话——比我们任何人知道的都多。现在请听吧，请听它怎样讲吧。
“呼——呼——嘘!去吧!”这就是它的歌声的叠句。
“在那条‘巨带’①的岸边，立着一幢古老的房子;它有很厚的红墙，”风儿说。“我认识它的每一块石头;当它还是属于涅塞特的马尔斯克·斯蒂格②堡寨的时候，我就看见过它。它不得不被拆掉了!石头用在另一个地方，砌成新的墙，造成一幢新房子——这就是波列埠庄园：它现在还立在那儿。
“我认识和见过那里高贵的老爷和太太们，以及住在那里的后裔。现在我要讲一讲关于瓦尔得马尔·杜和他的女儿们的故事。
“他骄傲得不可一世，因为他有皇族的血统!他除了能猎取雄鹿和把满瓶的酒一饮而尽以外，还能做许多别的事情。他常常对自己说：‘事情自然会有办法。’
“他的太太穿着金线绣的衣服，高视阔步地在光亮的地板上走来走去。壁毯③是华丽的;家具是贵重的，而且还有精致的雕花。她带来许多金银器皿作为陪嫁。当地窖里已经藏满了东西的时候，里面还藏着德国啤酒。黑色的马在马厩里嘶鸣。那时这家人家很富有，波列埠的公馆有一种豪华的气象。
“那里住着孩子，有三个娇美的姑娘：意德、约翰妮和安娜·杜洛苔。我现在还记得她们的名字。
“她们是有钱的人，有身份的人，在豪华中出生，在豪华中长大。呼——嘘!去吧!”风儿唱着。接着它继续讲下去：“我在这儿看不见别的古老家族中常有的情景：高贵的太太跟她的女仆们坐在大厅里一起摇着纺车。她吹着洪亮的笛子，同时唱着歌——不老是那些古老的丹麦歌，而是一些异国的歌。这儿的生活是活跃的，招待是殷勤的;显贵的客人从远近各处地方到来，音乐在演奏着，酒杯在碰着，我也没有办法把这些声音淹没!”风儿说。“这儿只有夸张的傲慢神气和老爷派头;但是没有上帝!
“那正是五月一日的晚上，”风儿说。“我从西边来，我见到船只撞着尤兰西部的海岸而被毁。我匆忙地走过这生满了石楠植物和长满了绿树林的海岸，走过富恩岛。现在我在‘巨带’上扫过，呻吟着，叹息着。
“于是我在瑟兰岛的岸上，在波列埠的那座公馆的附近躺下来休息。那儿有一个青葱的栎树林，现在仍然还存在。
“附近的年轻人到栎树林下面来收捡树枝和柴草，收拾他们所能找到的最粗和最干的木柴。他们把木柴拿到村里来，聚成堆，点起火。于是男男女女就在周围跳着舞，唱着歌。
“我躺着一声不响，”风儿说。“不过我静静地把一根枝子——一个最漂亮的年轻人捡回来的枝子——拨了一下，于是他的那堆柴就烧起来，烧得比所有的柴堆都高。这样他就算是入选了，获得了‘街头山羊’的光荣称号，同时还可以在这些姑娘之中选择他的‘街头绵羊’。这儿的快乐和高兴，胜过波列埠那个豪富的公馆。
“那位贵族妇人，带着她的三个女儿，乘着一辆由六骑马拉着的、镀了金的车子，向这座公馆驰来。她的女儿是年轻和美丽的——是三朵迷人的花：玫瑰、百合和淡白的风信子。母亲本人则是一朵鲜嫩的郁金香。大家都停止了游戏，向她鞠躬和敬礼;但是她谁也不理，人们可以看出，这位贵妇人是一朵开在相当硬的梗子上的花。
“玫瑰、百合和淡白的风信子;是的，她们三个人我全都看见了!我想，有一天她们将会是谁的小绵羊呢?她们的'街头山羊'将会是一位漂亮的骑士，可能是一位王子!呼——嘘!去吧!去吧!
“是的，车子载着她们走了，农人们继续跳舞。在波列埠这地方，在卡列埠，在周围所有的村子里，人们都在庆祝夏天的到来。
“可是在夜里，当我再起身的时候，”风儿说。“那位贵族妇人躺下了，再也没有起来。她碰上这样的事情，正如许多人碰上这类的事情一样——并没有什么新奇。瓦尔得马尔·杜静静地、沉思地站了一会儿。‘最骄傲的树可以弯，但不一定就会折断，’他在心里说。女儿们哭起来;公馆里所有的人全都在揩眼泪。杜夫人去了——可是我也去了，呼——嘘!”风儿说。
“我又回来了。我常常回到富恩岛和'巨带'的沿岸来。我坐在波列埠的岸旁，坐在那美丽的栎树林附近：苍鹭在这儿做窠，斑鸠，甚至蓝乌鸦和黑颧鸟也都到这儿来。这还是开春不久：它们有的已经生了蛋，有的已经孵出了小雏。嗨，它们是在怎样飞，怎样叫啊!人们可以听到斧头的响声：一下，两下，三下。树林被砍掉了。瓦尔得马尔·杜想要建造一条华丽的船——一条有三层楼的战舰。国王一定会买它。因此他要砍掉这个作为水手的目标和飞鸟的隐身处的树林。苍鹭惊恐地飞走了，因为它的窠被毁掉了。苍鹭和其他的林中鸟都变得无家可归，慌乱地飞来飞去，愤怒地、惊恐地号叫，我了解它们的心情。乌鸦和穴乌用讥笑的口吻大声地号叫：‘离开窠儿吧!离开窠儿吧!离开吧!离开吧!’
“在树林里，在一群工人旁边，站着瓦尔得马尔·杜和他的女儿们。他们听到这些鸟儿的狂叫，不禁大笑起来。只有一个人——那个最年轻的安娜·杜洛苔——心中感到难过。他们正要推倒一株砍掉的树，在这株树的枝桠上有一只黑颧鸟的窠，窠里的小颧鸟正在伸出头来——她替它们向大家求情，她含着眼泪向大家求情。这株有窠的树算是为颧鸟留下了。这不过只是一件很小的事情。
“有的树被砍掉了，有的树被锯掉了。接着一个有三层楼的船便建造起来了。建筑师是一个出身微贱的人，但是他有高贵的仪表。他的眼睛和前额说明他是多么聪明。瓦尔得马尔·杜喜欢听他谈话;他最大的女儿意德——她现在有15岁了——也是这样。当他正在为父亲建造船的时候，他也在为自己建造一个空中楼阁：他和意德将作为一对夫妇住在里面。如果这楼阁是由石墙所砌成、有壁垒和城壕、有树林和花园的话，这个幻想也许可能成为事实。不过，这位建筑师虽然有一个聪明的头脑，但却是一个穷鬼。的确，一只麻雀怎么能在鹤群中跳舞呢?呼——嘘!我飞走了，他也飞走了，因为他不能住在这儿。小小的意德也只好克服她的难过的心情。因为她非克制不可。”
“那些黑马在马厩里嘶鸣;它们值得一看，而且也有人在看它们。国王亲自派海军大将来检验这条新船，来布置购买它。海军大将也大为称赞这些雄赳赳的马儿。我听到这一切，”风儿说。“我陪着这些人走进敞开的门;我在他们脚前撒下一些草叶，像一条一条的黄金。瓦尔得马尔·杜想要有金子，海军大将想要有那些黑马——因此他才那样称赞它们，不过他的意思没有被听懂，结果船也没有买成。它躺在岸边，亮得放光，周围全是木板;它是一个挪亚式的方舟，但永远不曾下过水。呼——嘘!去吧!去吧!这真可惜。
“在冬天，田野上盖满了雪，'巨带'里结满了冰，我把冰块吹到岸上来，”风儿说。“乌鸦和大渡乌都来了，它们是一大群，一个比一个黑。它们落到岸边没有生命的、被遗忘了的、孤独的船上。它们用一种喑哑的调子，为那已经不再有的树林，为那被遗忘了的贵重的雀窠，为那些没有家的老老少少的雀子而哀鸣。这完全是因为那一大堆木头——那一条从来没有出过海的船的缘故。
“我把雪花搅得乱飞，雪花像巨浪似地围在船的四周，压在船的上面!我让它听到我的声音，使它知道，风暴有些什么话要说。我知道，我在尽我的力量教它关于航行的技术。呼——嘘!去吧!
“冬天逝去了;冬天和夏天都逝去了。它们在逝去，像我一样，像雪花的飞舞，像玫瑰花的飞舞，像树叶的下落——逝去了!逝去了!人也逝去了!
“不过那几个女儿仍然很年轻，小小的意德是一朵玫瑰花，美丽得像那位建筑师初见到她的时候一样。她常常若有所思她站在花园的玫瑰树旁，没有注意到我在她松散的头发上撒下花朵;这时我就抚着她的棕色长头发。于是她就凝视那鲜红的太阳和那在花园的树林和阴森的灌木丛之间露出来的金色的天空。
“她的妹妹约翰妮像一朵百合花，亭亭玉立，高视阔步，和她的母亲一样，只是梗子脆了一点。她喜欢走过挂有祖先的画像的大厅。在画中那些仕女们都穿着丝绸和天鹅绒的衣服;她们的发髻上都戴着缀有珍珠的小帽。她们都是一群美丽的仕女，她们的丈夫不是穿着铠甲，就是穿着用松鼠皮做里子和有皱领④的大氅。他们腰间挂着长剑，但是并没有扣在股上。约翰妮的画像哪一天会在墙上挂起来呢?她高贵的丈夫将会是个什么样的人物呢?是的，这就是她心中所想着的、她低声对自己所讲着的事情。当我吹过长廊、走进大厅、然后又折转身来的时候，我听到了她的话。
“那朵淡白的风信子安娜·杜洛苔刚刚满14岁，是一个安静和深思的女子。她那副大而深蓝的眼睛有一种深思的表情，但她的嘴唇上仍然飘着一种稚气的微笑：我没有办法把它吹掉，也没有心思要这样做。
“我在花园里，在空巷里，在田野里遇见她。她在采摘花草;她知道，这些东西对她的父亲有用：她可以把它们蒸馏成为饮料。瓦尔得马尔·杜是一个骄傲自负的人，不过他也是一个有学问的人，知道很多东西。这不是一个秘密，人们都在谈论这事情。他的烟囱即使在夏天还有火冒出来。他的房门是锁着的，一连几天几夜都是这样。但是他不大喜欢谈这件事情——大自然的威力应该是在沉静中征服的。不久他就找出一件最大的秘密——制造赤金。
“这正是为什么烟囱一天到晚在冒烟、一天到晚在喷出火焰的缘故。是的，我也在场!”风儿说。“‘停止吧!停止吧!’我对着烟囱口唱：‘它的结果将会只是一阵烟、空气、一堆炭和炭灰!你将会把你自己烧得精光!呼——呼——呼——去吧!停止吧!’但是瓦尔得马尔·杜并不放其他的企图。
“马厩里那些漂亮的马儿——它们变成了什么呢?碗柜和箱子里的那些旧金银器皿、田野里的母牛、财产和房屋都变成了什么呢?——是的，它们可以熔化掉，可以在那金坩埚里熔化掉，但是那里面却变不出金子!
“谷仓和储藏室，酒窖和库房，现在空了。人数减少了，但是耗子却增多了。这一块玻璃裂了，那一块玻璃碎了;我可以不需通过门就能进去了，”风儿说。“烟囱一冒烟，就说明有人在煮饭。这儿的烟囱也在冒烟;不过为了炼赤金，却把所有的饭都耗费掉了。
“我吹进院子的门，像一个看门人吹着号角一样，不过这儿却没有什么看门人，”风儿说。“我把尖顶上的那个风信鸡吹得团团转。它嘎嘎地响着，像一个守望塔上的卫士在发出鼾声，可是这儿却没有什么卫士，这儿只有成群的耗子。‘贫穷’就躺在桌上，‘贫穷’就坐在衣橱里和橱柜里;门脱了榫头，裂缝出现了，我可以随便跑出跑进。”风儿说，“因此我什么全知道。
“在烟雾和灰尘中，在悲愁和失眠之夜，他的胡须和两鬓都变白了。他的皮肤变得枯黄;他追求金子，他的眼睛就发出那种贪图金子的光。
“我把烟雾和火灰向他的脸上和胡须上吹去;他没有得到金子，却得到了一堆债务。我从碎了的窗玻璃和大开的裂口吹进去。我吹进他女儿们的衣柜里去，那里面的衣服都褪了色，破旧了，因此她们老是穿着这几套衣服。这支歌不是在她们儿时的摇篮旁边唱的!豪富的日子现在变成了贫穷的生活!我是这座公馆里唯一高声唱歌的人!”风儿说。“我用雪把他们封在屋子里;人们说雪可以保持住温暖。他们没有木柴;那个供给他们木柴的树林已经被砍光了。天正下着严霜。我在裂缝和走廊里吹，我在三角墙上和屋顶上吹，为的是要运动一下。这三位出身高贵的小姐，冷得爬不起床来。父亲在破被子下缩成一团。吃的东西也没有了，烧的东西也没有了——这就是贵族的生活!呼——嘘!去吧!但是这正是杜老爷所办不到的事情。
“‘冬天过后春天就来了，’他说，‘贫穷过后快乐的时光就来了，但是快乐的时光必须等待!现在房屋和田地只剩下一张典契，这正是倒霉的时候。但是金子马上就会到来的——在复活节的时候就会到来!’
“我听到他望着蜘蛛网这样讲：‘你聪明的小织工，你教我坚持下去!人们弄破你的网，你会重新再织，把它完成!人们再毁掉它，你会坚决地又开始工作——又开始工作!人也应该是这样，气力绝不会白费。’
“这是复活节的早晨。钟在响，太阳在天空中嬉戏。瓦尔得马尔·杜在狂热的兴奋中守了一夜;他在熔化，冷凝，提炼和混和。我听到他像一个失望的灵魂在叹气，我听到他在祈祷，我注意到他在屏住呼吸。灯里的油燃尽了，可是他不注意。我吹着炭火;火光映着他惨白的面孔，使他泛出红光。他深陷的眼睛在眼窝里望，眼睛越睁越大，好像要跳出来似的。
“请看这个炼金术士的玻璃杯!那里面发出红光，它是赤热的，纯清的，沉重的!他用颤抖的手把它举起来，用颤抖的声音喊：‘金子!金子!’他的头脑有些昏沉——我很容易就把他吹倒，”风儿说。“不过我只是扇着那灼热的炭;我陪着他走到一个房间里去，他的女儿正在那儿冻得发抖。他的上衣上全是炭灰;他的胡须里，蓬松的头发上，也是炭灰。他笔直地站着，高高地举起放在易碎的玻璃杯里的贵重的宝物。‘炼出来了，胜利了!——金子，金子!’他叫着，把杯子举到空中，让它在太阳光中发出闪光。但是他的手在发抖;这位炼金术士的杯子落到地上，跌成一千块碎片。他的幸福的最后泡沫现在炸碎了!呼——嘘——嘘!去吧!我从这位炼金术士的家里走出去了。
“岁暮的时候，日子很短;雾降下来了，在红浆果和光赤的枝子上凝成水滴。我精神饱满地回来了，我横渡高空，扫过青天，折断干枝——这倒不是一件很艰难的工作，但是非做不可。在波列埠的公馆里，在瓦尔得马尔·杜的家里，现在有了另一种大扫除。他的敌人，巴斯纳斯的奥微·拉美尔拿着房子的典押契据和家具的出卖契据到来了。我在碎玻璃窗上敲，腐朽的门上打，在裂缝里面呼啸：呼——嘘!我要使奥微·拉美尔不喜欢在这儿待下来。意德和安娜·杜洛苔哭得非常伤心;亭亭玉立的约翰妮脸上发白，她咬着拇指，一直到血流出来——但这又有什么用呢?奥微·拉美尔准许瓦尔得马尔·杜在这儿一直住到死，可是并没有人因此感谢他。我在静静地听。我看到这位无家可归的绅士仰起头来，显出一副比平时还要骄傲的神气。我向这公馆和那些老婆提树袭来，折断了一根最粗的枝子——一根还没有腐朽的枝子。这枝子躺在门口，像是一把扫帚，人们可以用它把这房子扫得精光，事实上人们也在扫了——我想这很好。
“这是艰难的日子，这是不容易保持镇定的时刻;但是他们的意志是坚强的，他们的骨关是硬的。
