安徒生童話故事第46篇：老房子The Old House
安徒生童話故事第46篇：老房子The Old House
英語故事會出現學生認識或是不認識的單詞，而這個單詞的重複不斷出現，會加深同學們對單詞的記憶，這種記憶不同於一般的死記硬背，而是在潛移默化中，讓學生記住單詞，並且不枯燥。老房子是安徒生的童話故事，這篇童話故事主要講了什麼故事?歡迎大家閱讀下文學習。
街上有一幢很老很老的房子，它幾乎有三百年的歷史，這點人們在它的大梁上就可以看得出來;那上面刻著鬱金香和牽藤的啤酒花花紋——在這中間刻著的是它興建的年月。在那上面人們還可以看到整首用古老的字型刻出來的詩篇。在每個窗子上的桁條上還刻著做出譏笑樣子的臉譜。第二層樓比第一層樓向外突出很多;屋簷下有一個刻著龍頭的鉛水筧。雨水本來應該是從龍的嘴裡流出來的，但它卻從它的肚皮中冒出來了，因為水筧有一個洞。
街上所有的別的房子都是很新、很整齊的;它們的牆很光，窗玻璃很寬，人們可以看得出，它們不願意跟這座老房子有什麼來往。它們無疑地在想：“那個老垃圾堆作為街上的一個笑柄還能站得住多久呢?它的吊窗凸出牆外太遠，誰也不能從我們的窗子這邊看到那邊所發生的事情。它的樓梯寬得像宮殿裡的樓梯，高得像是要通到一個教堂的塔裡面去。它的鐵欄杆像一個家庭墓窖的門——上面還裝置著黃銅小球。這真可笑!”
它的對面也是整齊的新房子。它們也有同樣的看法。不過這兒有一個孩子坐在窗子裡面。他有一副紅潤的面孔和一對閃耀的眼睛。他特別喜歡這幢老房子，不論在太陽光裡或在月光裡都是這樣。他看到那些泥灰全都脫落了的牆壁，就坐著幻想出許多奇怪的圖景來——這條街、那些樓梯、吊窗和尖尖的山形牆，在古時會像一個什麼樣子呢?他可以看到拿著戟的兵士，以及形狀像龍和鮫的水筧。
這的確是一幢值得一看的房子!那裡面住著一個老人。他穿著一條天鵝絨的馬褲，一件有大黃銅釦子的上衣;他還戴著一副假髮①——人們一眼就可以看出這是真正的假髮。每天早晨有一個老僕人來為他打掃房間和跑腿。除此以外，這座老房子裡就只孤獨地住著這位穿天鵝絨馬褲的老人了。他偶爾來到窗子跟前，朝外面望一眼。這時這個小孩就對他點點頭，作為回答。他們就這樣相互認識了，而且成了朋友，雖然他們從來沒有講過一句話。不過事實上也沒有這個必要。小孩曾經聽到他的父母說過：“對面的那個老人很富有，不過他是非常孤獨的!”
在下一個星期天，這孩子用一張紙包了一點東西，走到門口。當那個為這老人跑腿的僕人走過時，他就對他說：“請聽著!你能不能把這東西帶給對面的那個老人呢?我有兩個錫兵②。這是其中的一個;我要送給他，因為我知道他是非常孤獨的。”
老僕人表示出高興的樣子。他點了點頭，於是就把錫兵帶到老房子裡去了。不久他就來問小孩，願意不願意親自去拜訪一次。他的爸爸媽媽准許他去。所以他就去拜訪那個老房子了。
臺階欄杆上的那些銅球比平時要光亮得多;人們很可能以為這是專門為了他的拜訪而擦亮的。那些雕刻出來的號手——因為門上都刻著號手，他們立在鬱金香花裡——都在使勁地吹喇叭;他們的雙頰比以前要圓得多。是的，他們在吹：“嗒-嗒-啦-啦!小朋友到來了!嗒-嗒-啦-啦!”於是門便開了。
整個走廊裡掛滿了古老的畫像：穿著鎧甲的騎士和穿著絲綢的女子。鎧甲發出響聲，綢衣在窸窸窣窣地顫動。接著就是一個樓梯。它高高地伸向上面去，然後就略微彎下一點。這時他就來到一個陽臺上。它的確快要坍塌了。處處是長長的裂痕和大洞，不過它們裡面卻長出了許多草和葉子。因為陽臺、院子和牆都長滿了那麼多的綠色植物，所以它們整個看起來像一個花園。但這還不過是一個陽臺。
這兒有些古舊的花盆;它們都有一個面孔和驢耳朵。花兒自由自在地隨處亂長。有一個花盆全被石竹花鋪滿了，這也就是說：長滿了綠葉子，冒出了許多嫩芽——它們在很清楚地說：“空氣撫愛著我，太陽吻著我，同時答應讓我在下星
期日開出一朵小花——下星期日開出一朵小花啦!”
於是他走進一個房間。這兒的牆上全都糊滿了豬皮;豬皮上印著金花。牆兒說：鍍金消失得很快，但豬皮永遠不壞!
沿牆擺著許多高背靠椅;每張椅子都刻著花，而且還有扶手。
“請坐吧!請坐吧!”它們說。“啊，我的身體真要裂開了!
像那個老碗櫃一樣，我想我一定得了痛風病!我背上得了痛風病，噢!”
不一會兒孩子走進一個客廳，那個吊窗就在這兒，那個老人也在這兒。
“親愛的小朋友，多謝你送給我的錫兵!”老人說，“多謝你來看我!”
“謝謝!謝謝!”——也可以說是——“嘎!啪!”這是所有的傢俱講的話。它們的數目很多，當它們都來看這孩子的時候，它們幾乎擠做一團。
牆中央掛著一個美麗女子的畫像。她的樣子很年輕和快樂，但是卻穿著古時的衣服;她的頭髮和挺直的衣服都撲滿了粉。她既不說“謝謝”，也不說“啪”;她只是用溫和的眼睛望著這個小孩子。他當時就問這老人：“您從什麼地方弄到這張像的?”
“從對面的那個舊貨商人那裡!”老人說。“那兒掛著許多畫像。誰也不認識他們，也不願意去管他們，因為他們早就被埋葬掉了。不過從前我認識這個女子，現在她已經死了，而且死了半個世紀啦。”
在這幅畫下邊，在玻璃的後面，掛著一個枯萎了的花束。它們無疑也有半個世紀的歷史，因為它們的樣子也很古老。那個大鐘的擺搖來搖去;鐘上的針在轉動。這房間裡每件東西在時時刻刻地變老，但是人們卻不覺得。
小孩子說：“家裡的人說，你一直是非常孤獨的!”
“哎，”老人說，“舊時的回憶以及與回憶相聯的事情，都來拜訪，現在你也來拜訪了!我感到非常快樂!”
於是他從書架上取出一本畫冊：那裡面有許多我們現在見不到的華麗的馬車行列，許多打扮得像紙牌上的“賈克”的兵士和揮著旗子的市民。裁縫揮著的旗幟上繪著一把由兩隻獅子抬著的大剪刀;鞋匠揮著的旗子上繪有一隻雙頭鷹——不是靴子，因為鞋匠必須把一切東西安排得使人一看就說：“那是一雙。”是的，就是這樣的一本畫冊!
老人走到另外一個房間裡去拿出一些蜜餞、蘋果和硬殼果來——這個老房子裡的一切東西真是可愛。
“我再也忍受不了!”立在五斗櫃上的那個錫兵說。“這兒是那麼寂寞，那麼悲哀。一個慣於過家庭生活的人，在這兒實在住不下去!我再也忍受不了!日子已經夠長了，而晚間卻是更長!這兒的情形跟他們那兒的情形完全不一樣。你的爸爸和媽媽總是愉快地在一起聊天，你和別的一些可愛的孩子也發出高興的鬧聲。嗨!這個老人，他是多麼寂寞啊!你以為他會得到什麼吻麼?你以為會有人溫和地看他一眼麼?或者他會有一棵聖誕樹麼?他什麼也沒有，只有等死!我再也忍受不了!”
“你不能老是從悲哀的角度去看事情呀!”小孩子說。“我覺得這兒什麼東西都可愛!而且舊時的回憶以及與回憶相聯的事情都到這兒來拜訪!”
“是的，但是我看不見它們，也不認識它們!”錫兵說。
“我再也忍受不了!”
“你要忍受下去。”小孩子說。
這時老人帶著一副最愉快的面孔和最甜美的蜜餞、蘋果以及硬殼果走來了。小孩子便不再想起錫兵了。
這個小年輕人，懷著幸福和高興的心情，回到家來。許多日子、許多星期過去了。和對面那個老房子，又有許多往返不停的點頭。最後小孩子又走過去拜訪了。
那些雕刻的號手又吹起：“嗒-啦-啦，嗒-啦-啦!小朋友又來了!嗒-啦-啦!”接著那些騎士身上的劍和鎧甲又響起來了，那些綢衣服又沙沙地動起來了。那些豬皮又講起話來了，那些老椅子的背上又有痛風病了。噢!這跟頭一次來的時候完全一樣，因為在這兒，這一天，這一點鐘完全跟另一天，另一點鐘是一樣。
“我再也忍受不了!”錫兵說。“我已經哭出了錫眼淚!這兒是太悲哀了!我寧願上戰場，犧牲掉我的手和腳——這種生活總算還有點變化。我再也忍受不了!現在我才懂得，回憶以及與回憶相聯的事情來拜訪是一種什麼味道!我的回憶也來拜訪了。請相信我，結果並不是太愉快。我幾乎要從五斗櫃上跳下來了。你們在對面房子裡面的情形，我看得清清楚楚，好像你們就在這兒一樣。又是一個禮拜天的早晨——你們都很熟悉的一天!你們孩子們圍著桌子站著，唱你們每天早晨唱的聖詩。你們把手合在一起，莊嚴地站著;爸爸和媽媽也是同樣地莊嚴。於是門開了，小妹妹瑪利亞被領進來了——她還不到兩歲;無論什麼時候，只要她聽到音樂或歌聲，而且不管什麼音樂或歌聲，她就跳起舞來。她還不大會跳，但是她卻要馬上跳起來，雖然她跳得不合拍子，因為拍子是太長了。她先用一隻腿站著，把頭向前彎，然後又用另一隻腿站著，又把頭向前彎，可是這次卻彎得不好。你們都站著不做一聲，雖然這是很困難的。但是我在心裡卻笑起來了，因此我就從桌上滾下來了，而且還跌出一個包來——這個包現在還在——因為我笑是不對的。但是這一切，以及我所經歷過的許多事情，現在又來到我的心裡——這一定就是回憶以及與回憶相聯的事情了。請告訴我，你們仍然在禮拜天唱歌嗎?請告訴我一點關於小瑪利亞的訊息好嗎?我的老朋友——那另一個錫兵——現在怎樣了?是的，他一定是很快樂的!——我卻是再也忍受不了!”
“你已經被送給別人了!”小孩子說。“你應該安心下來。這一點你還看不出來嗎?”
這時那個老人拿著一個抽屜走進來。抽屜裡有許多東西可看：粉盒、香膏盒、舊撲克牌——它們都很大，還鍍著金，現在我們是看不到這樣的東西的。他還抽開了許多抽屜，拉開了一架鋼琴，鋼琴蓋上繪著風景畫。當這老人彈著的時候，鋼琴就發出粗啞的聲音。於是他就哼出一支歌來。
“是的，她也能唱這支歌!”他說。於是他就對這幅從舊貨商人那兒買來的畫點點頭。老人的眼睛變得明亮起來了。
“我要到戰場上去!我要到戰場上去!”錫兵儘量提高嗓子大叫;接著他就栽到地上去了。
是的，他到什麼地方去了呢?老人在找，小孩也在找，但是他不見了，他失蹤了。
“我會找到他的!”老人說。不過他永遠也沒有找到他，因為地板上有許多洞和裂口。錫兵滾到一個裂口裡去了。他躺在那裡，好像躺在一個沒有蓋土的墳墓裡一樣。
這一天過去了。小孩子回到家裡。一星期又過去了，接著又有許多星期過去了。窗子上都結了冰，小孩子得坐下來，在窗玻璃上用嘴哈氣融出一個小視孔來看看那座老房子。雪花飄進那些刻花和刻字中間去，把整個臺階都蓋住了，好像這座老房子裡沒有住著什麼人似的。的確，這裡現在沒有人，因為那個老人已經死了!
黃昏的時候，門外停著一輛馬車。人們把他放進棺材，抬上馬車。他不久就要給埋進他鄉下的墳墓裡，他現在就要被運到那兒去，可是沒有人來送葬，因為他所有的朋友都已經死了。當棺材被運走的時候，小孩子在後面用手對他飛吻。
幾天以後，這座老房子裡舉行一次拍賣。小孩子從他的窗子裡看到那些古老的騎士和女子、那些有長耳朵的花盆、那些古舊的椅子和碗櫃，統統都被人搬走了。有的搬到這兒去，有的搬到那兒去。她的畫像——在那個舊貨商店裡找來的——仍然回到那個舊貨商店裡去了，而且一直掛在那裡，因為誰也不認識她，誰也不願意要一張老畫。
到了春天，這座房子就被拆掉了，因為人們說它是一堆爛垃圾。人們可以從街上一眼就看到牆上貼著豬皮的那個房間。這些皮已經被拉下來了，並且被撕碎了。陽臺上那些綠色植物凌亂地在倒下的屋樑間懸著。現在人們要把這塊地方掃清。
“這才好啦!”周圍的房子說。
一幢漂亮的新房子建立起來了;它有寬大的窗子和平整的白牆。不過那座老房子原來所在的地方恰恰成了一個小花園。鄰近的牆上長滿了野生的葡萄藤。花園前面有一道鐵欄杆和一個鐵門。它們的樣子很莊嚴。行人在它們面前停下步子，朝裡面望。
麻雀成群地棲在葡萄藤上，嘰嘰喳喳地互相叫著。不過它們不是談著關於那幢老房子的事情，因為它們記不清那些事。許多年已經過去了，那個小孩子已經長大成人，長成了一個像他父母所期望的有能力的人。他剛結婚不久。他要同他的妻子搬進這幢有小花園的房子裡來。當她正在栽一棵她認為很美麗的野花的時候，他站在她的身邊。她用小巧的手栽著花，用指頭在花周圍緊按上些泥土。
“噢!這是什麼?”她覺得有件什麼東西刺著了她。
有一件尖東西在柔軟的泥土裡冒出來了。想想看吧!這就是那個錫兵——在那個老人房間裡跑掉的錫兵。他曾經在爛木頭和垃圾裡混了很久，最後又在土裡睡了許多年。
年輕的妻子先用一片綠葉子、然後又用她美麗的、噴香的手帕把錫兵擦乾淨。錫兵好像是從昏睡中恢復了知覺。
“讓我瞧瞧他吧!”年輕人說。於是他笑起來，搖著頭。
“啊!這不可能就是他，但是他使我記起了我小時候跟一個錫兵的一段故事!”
於是他就對他的妻子講了關於那座老房子、那個老人和錫兵的故事。他把錫兵送給了老人，因為他是那麼孤獨。他講得那麼仔細，好像是真事一樣。年輕的妻子不禁為那座老房子和那個老人流出淚來。
“這也許就是那個錫兵!”她說。“讓我把他儲存起來，以便記住你所告訴我的這些事情。但是你得把那個老人的墳指給我看!”
“我不知道它在什麼地方呀，”他說，“誰也不知道它!他所有的朋友都死了;沒有誰去照料它，而我自己那時還不過是一個小孩了!”
“那麼他一定是一個非常孤獨的人了!”她說。
“是的，可怕地孤獨!”錫兵說，“不過他居然沒有被人忘記掉，倒也真使人高興!”
“高興!”旁邊一個聲音喊。但是除了錫兵以外，誰也看不出這就是過去貼在牆上的一塊豬皮。它上面的鍍金已經全沒有了。它的樣子很像潮溼的泥土，但它還是有它的意見。它說：
鍍金消失得很快，
但豬皮永遠不壞!
不過錫兵不相信這套理論。
①古時歐洲的紳士和富有的人常常戴著假髮，以掩住禿頂，同時也藉此顯得尊嚴一些。
②錫兵，這裡是指用鍍錫鐵皮做成的玩具兵。
老房子英文版：
The Old House
AVERY old house stood once in a street with several that were quite new and clean. The date of its erection had been carved on one of the beams, and surrounded by scrolls formed of tulips and hop-tendrils; by this date it could be seen that the old house was nearly three hundred years old. Verses too were written over the windows in old-fashioned letters, and grotesque faces, curiously carved, grinned at you from under the cornices. One story projected a long way over the other, and under the roof ran a leaden gutter, with a dragon’s head at the end. The rain was intended to pour out at the dragon’s mouth, but it ran out of his body instead, for there was a hole in the gutter. The other houses in the street were new and well built, with large window panes and smooth walls. Any one could see they had nothing to do with the old house. Perhaps they thought, “How long will that heap of rubbish remain here to be a disgrace to the whole street. The parapet projects so far forward that no one can see out of our windows what is going on in that direction. The stairs are as broad as the staircase of a castle, and as steep as if they led to a church-tower. The iron railing looks like the gate of a cemetery, and there are brass knobs upon it. It is really too ridiculous.”
Opposite to the old house were more nice new houses, which had just the same opinion as their neighbors.
At the window of one of them sat a little boy with fresh rosy cheeks, and clear sparkling eyes, who was very fond of the old house, in sunshine or in moonlight. He would sit and look at the wall from which the plaster had in some places fallen off, and fancy all sorts of scenes which had been in former times. How the street must have looked when the houses had all gable roofs, open staircases, and gutters with dragons at the spout. He could even see soldiers walking about with halberds. Certainly it was a very good house to look at for amusement.
An old man lived in it, who wore knee-breeches, a coat with large brass buttons, and a wig, which any one could see was a real wig. Every morning an old man came to clean the rooms, and to wait upon him, otherwise the old man in the knee-breeches would have been quite alone in the house. Sometimes he came to one of the windows and looked out; then the little boy nodded to him, and the old man nodded back again, till they became acquainted, and were friends, although they had never spoken to each other; but that was of no consequence.
The little boy one day heard his parents say, “The old man opposite is very well off, but is terribly lonely.” The next Sunday morning the little boy wrapped something in a piece of paper and took it to the door of the old house, and said to the attendant who waited upon the old man, “Will you please give this from me to the gentleman who lives here; I have two tin soldiers, and this is one of them, and he shall have it, because I know he is terribly lonely.”
And the old attendant nodded and looked very pleased, and then he carried the tin soldier into the house.
Afterwards he was sent over to ask the little boy if he would not like to pay a visit himself. His parents gave him permission, and so it was that he gained admission to the old house.
The brassy knobs on the railings shone more brightly than ever, as if they had been polished on account of his visit; and on the door were carved trumpeters standing in tulips, and it seemed as if they were blowing with all their might, their cheeks were so puffed out. “Tanta-ra-ra, the little boy is coming; Tanta-ra-ra, the little boy is coming.”
Then the door opened. All round the hall hung old portraits of knights in armor, and ladies in silk gowns; and the armor rattled, and the silk dresses rustled. Then came a staircase which went up a long way, and then came down a little way and led to a balcony, which was in a very ruinous state. There were large holes and long cracks, out of which grew grass and leaves, indeed the whole balcony, the courtyard, and the walls were so overgrown with green that they looked like a garden. In the balcony stood flower-pots, on which were heads having asses’ ears, but the flowers in them grew just as they pleased. In one pot pinks were growing all over the sides, at least the green leaves were shooting forth stalk and stem, and saying as plainly as they could speak, “The air has fanned me, the sun has kissed me, and I am promised a little flower for next Sunday—really for next Sunday.”
Then they entered a room in which the walls were covered with leather, and the leather had golden flowers stamped upon it.
“Gilding will fade in damp weather,To endure, there is nothing like leather,”said the walls. Chairs handsomely carved, with elbows on each side, and with very high backs, stood in the room, and as they creaked they seemed to say, “Sit down. Oh dear, how I am creaking. I shall certainly have the gout like the old cupboard. Gout in my back, ugh.”
And then the little boy entered the room where the old man sat.
“Thank you for the tin soldier my little friend,” said the old man, “and thank you also for coming to see me.”
“Thanks, thanks,” or “Creak, creak,” said all the furniture.
There was so much that the pieces of furniture stood in each other’s way to get a sight of the little boy.
On the wall near the centre of the room hung the picture of a beautiful lady, young and gay, dressed in the fashion of the olden times, with powdered hair, and a full, stiff skirt. She said neither “thanks” nor “creak,” but she looked down upon the little boy with her mild eyes; and then he said to the old man,
“Where did you get that picture?”
“From the shop opposite,” he replied. “Many portraits hang there that none seem to trouble themselves about. The persons they represent have been dead and buried long since. But I knew this lady many years ago, and she has been dead nearly half a century.”
Under a glass beneath the picture hung a nosegay of withered flowers, which were no doubt half a century old too, at least they appeared so.
And the pendulum of the old clock went to and fro, and the hands turned round; and as time passed on, everything in the room grew older, but no one seemed to notice it.
“They say at home,” said the little boy, “that you are very lonely.”
“Oh,” replied the old man, “I have pleasant thoughts of all that has passed, recalled by memory; and now you are come to visit me, and that is very pleasant.”
Then he took from the book-case, a book full of pictures representing long processions of wonderful coaches, such as are never seen at the present time. Soldiers like the knave of clubs, and citizens with waving banners. The tailors had a flag with a pair of scissors supported by two lions, and on the shoemakers’ flag there were not boots, but an eagle with two heads, for the shoemakers must have everything arranged so that they can say, “This is a pair.” What a picture-book it was; and then the old man went into another room to fetch apples and nuts. It was very pleasant, certainly, to be in that old house.
“I cannot endure it,” said the tin soldier, who stood on a shelf, “it is so lonely and dull here. I have been accustomed to live in a family, and I cannot get used to this life. I cannot bear it. The whole day is long enough, but the evening is longer. It is not here like it was in your house opposite, when your father and mother talked so cheerfully together, while you and all the dear children made such a delightful noise. No, it is all lonely in the old man’s house. Do you think he gets any kisses? Do you think he ever has friendly looks, or a Christmas tree? He will have nothing now but the grave. Oh, I cannot bear it.”
“You must not look only on the sorrowful side,” said the little boy; “I think everything in this house is beautiful, and all the old pleasant thoughts come back here to pay visits.”
“Ah, but I never see any, and I don’t know them,” said the tin soldier, “and I cannot bear it.”
“You must bear it,” said the little boy. Then the old man came back with a pleasant face; and brought with him beautiful preserved fruits, as well as apples and nuts; and the little boy thought no more of the tin soldier. How happy and delighted the little boy was; and after he returned home, and while days and weeks passed, a great deal of nodding took place from one house to the other, and then the little boy went to pay another visit. The carved trumpeters blew “Tanta-ra-ra. There is the little boy. Tanta-ra-ra.” The swords and armor on the old knight’s pictures rattled. The silk dresses rustled, the leather repeated its rhyme, and the old chairs had the gout in their backs, and cried, “Creak;” it was all exactly like the first time; for in that house, one day and one hour were just like another. “I cannot bear it any longer,” said the tin soldier; “I have wept tears of tin, it is so melancholy here. Let me go to the wars, and lose an arm or a leg, that would be some change; I cannot bear it. Now I know what it is to have visits from one’s old recollections, and all they bring with them. I have had visits from mine, and you may believe me it is not altogether pleasant. I was very nearly jumping from the shelf. I saw you all in your house opposite, as if you were really present. It was Sunday morning, and you children stood round the table, singing the hymn that you sing every morning. You were standing quietly, with your hands folded, and your father and mother. You were standing quietly, with your hands folded, and your father and mother were looking just as serious, when the door opened, and your little sister Maria, who is not two years old, was brought into the room. You know she always dances when she hears music and singing of any sort; so she began to dance immediately, although she ought not to have done so, but she could not get into the right time because the tune was so slow; so she stood first on one leg and then on the other, and bent her head very low, but it would not suit the music. You all stood looking very grave, although it was very difficult to do so, but I laughed so to myself that I fell down from the table, and got a bruise, which is there still; I know it was not right to laugh. So all this, and everything else that I have seen, keeps running in my head, and these must be the old recollections that bring so many thoughts with them. Tell me whether you still sing on Sundays, and tell me about your little sister Maria, and how my old comrade is, the other tin soldier. Ah, really he must be very happy; I cannot endure this life.”
“You are given away,” said the little boy; “you must stay. Don’t you see that?” Then the old man came in, with a box containing many curious things to show him. Rouge-pots, scent-boxes, and old cards, so large and so richly gilded, that none are ever seen like them in these days. And there were smaller boxes to look at, and the piano was opened, and inside the lid were painted landscapes. But when the old man played, the piano sounded quite out of tune. Then he looked at the picture he had bought at the broker’s, and his eyes sparkled brightly as he nodded at it, and said, “Ah, she could sing that tune.”
“I will go to the wars! I will go to the wars!” cried the tin soldier as loud as he could, and threw himself down on the floor. Where could he have fallen? The old man searched, and the little boy searched, but he was gone, and could not be found. “I shall find him again,” said the old man, but he did not find him. The boards of the floor were open and full of holes. The tin soldier had fallen through a crack between the boards, and lay there now in an open grave. The day went by, and the little boy returned home; the week passed, and many more weeks. It was winter, and the windows were quite frozen, so the little boy was obliged to breathe on the panes, and rub a hole to peep through at the old house. Snow drifts were lying in all the scrolls and on the inscriptions, and the steps were covered with snow as if no one were at home. And indeed nobody was home, for the old man was dead. In the evening, a hearse stopped at the door, and the old man in his coffin was placed in it. He was to be taken to the country to be buried there in his own grave; so they carried him away; no one followed him, for all his friends were dead; and the little boy kissed his hand to the coffin as the hearse moved away with it. A few days after, there was an auction at the old house, and from his window the little boy saw the people carrying away the pictures of old knights and ladies, the flower-pots with the long ears, the old chairs, and the cup-boards. Some were taken one way, some another. Her portrait, which had been bought at the picture dealer’s, went back again to his shop, and there it remained, for no one seemed to know her, or to care for the old picture. In the spring; they began to pull the house itself down; people called it complete rubbish. From the street could be seen the room in which the walls were covered with leather, ragged and torn, and the green in the balcony hung straggling over the beams; they pulled it down quickly, for it looked ready to fall, and at last it was cleared away altogether. “What a good riddance,” said the neighbors’ houses. Very shortly, a fine new house was built farther back from the road; it had lofty windows and smooth walls, but in front, on the spot where the old house really stood, a little garden was planted, and wild vines grew up over the neighboring walls; in front of the garden were large iron railings and a great gate, which looked very stately. People used to stop and peep through the railings. The sparrows assembled in dozens upon the wild vines, and chattered all together as loud as they could, but not about the old house; none of them could remember it, for many years had passed by, so many indeed, that the little boy was now a man, and a really good man too, and his parents were very proud of him. He was just married, and had come, with his young wife, to reside in the new house with the garden in front of it, and now he stood there by her side while she planted a field flower that she thought very pretty. She was planting it herself with her little hands, and pressing down the earth with her fingers. “Oh dear, what was that?” she exclaimed, as something pricked her. Out of the soft earth something was sticking up. It was—only think!—it was really the tin soldier, the very same which had been lost up in the old man’s room, and had been hidden among old wood and rubbish for a long time, till it sunk into the earth, where it must have been for many years. And the young wife wiped the soldier, first with a green leaf, and then with her fine pocket-handkerchief, that smelt of such beautiful perfume. And the tin soldier felt as if he was recovering from a fainting fit. “Let me see him,” said the young man, and then he smiled and shook his head, and said, “It can scarcely be the same, but it reminds me of something that happened to one of my tin soldiers when I was a little boy.” And then he told his wife about the old house and the old man, and of the tin soldier which he had sent across, because he thought the old man was lonely; and he related the story so clearly that tears came into the eyes of the young wife for the old house and the old man. “It is very likely that this is really the same soldier,” said she, and I will take care of him, and always remember what you have told me; but some day you must show me the old man’s grave.”
“I don’t know where it is,” he replied; “no one knows. All his friends are dead; no one took care of him, and I was only a little boy.”
“Oh, how dreadfully lonely he must have been,” said she.
“Yes, terribly lonely,” cried the tin soldier; “still it is delightful not to be forgotten.”
“Delightful indeed,” cried a voice quite near to them; no one but the tin soldier saw that it came from a rag of the leather which hung in tatters; it had lost all its gilding, and looked like wet earth, but it had an opinion, and it spoke it thus:—
“Gilding will fade in damp weather,
To endure, there is nothing like leather.”
But the tin soldier did not believe any such thing.
拓展：
安徒生童話故事：傷心事
我們是住在鄉下的一位紳士的邸宅裡。恰巧主人要出去幾天。在這同時，有一位太太從鄰近的小鎮裡到來了。她帶著一隻哈巴狗；據她說，她來的`目的是為了要處理她在製革廠的幾份股子。她把所有的檔案都帶來了；我們都建議她把這些檔案放在一個封套裡，在上面寫出業主的地址：“作戰兵站總監，爵士”等等。
她認真聽我們講，同時拿起筆，沉思了一會兒，於是就要求我們把這意見又慢慢地念一次。我們同意，於是她就寫起來。當她寫到“作戰兵站總監”的時候，她把筆停住了，長嘆了一口氣說：“不過我只是一個女人！”
當她在寫的時候，她把那隻哈巴狗放在地上。它狺狺地叫起來。她是為了它的娛樂和健康才把它帶來的，因此人們不應該把它放在地上。它外表的特點是一個朝天的鼻子和一個肥胖的背。
“它並不咬人！”太太說，“它沒有牙齒。它是像家裡的一個成員，忠心而脾氣很壞。不過這是因為我的孫子常常開它的玩笑的原故：他們做結婚的遊戲，要它扮作新娘。可憐的小老頭兒，這使它太吃不消了！”
她把她的檔案交出去了，又把她的哈巴狗抱在懷裡。這就是故事的頭一部分，可以刪去。
“哈巴狗死掉了！”這是故事的第二部分。
這是一個星期以後的事情：我們來到城裡，在一個客棧裡安住下來。
我們的窗子面對著製革廠的院子。院子用木欄柵隔做兩部。一部裡面掛著許多皮革——生皮和制好了的皮。這兒一切製革的必需器一具都有，而且是屬於這個寡一婦的。哈巴狗在早晨死去了，同時被埋葬在這個院子裡。寡一婦的孫子們（也就是製革廠老闆的未亡人的孫子們，因為哈巴狗從來沒有結過婚）掩好了這座墳。它是一座很美的墳——躺在它裡面一定是很愉快的。
墳的四周鑲了一些花盆的碎片，上面還撒了一些沙子。墳頂上還插了半個啤酒瓶，瓶頸朝上——這並沒有什麼象徵的意義。
孩子們在墳的周圍跳舞。他們中間的一個孩子——一個很實際的、7歲的小孩子——提議開一個哈巴狗墳墓展覽會，讓街上所有的人都來看。門票價是一個褲子扣，因為這是每個男孩子都有的東西，而且還可以有多餘的來替女孩子買門票。這個提議得到全體一致透過。
街上所有的孩子——甚至后街上的孩子——都湧到這地方來，獻出他們的扣子，這天下午人們可以看到許多孩子只有一根揹帶吊著他們的褲子，但是他們卻看到了哈巴狗的墳墓，而這也值得出那麼多的代價一看。
不過在製革廠的外面，緊一靠著入口的地方，站著一個衣服檻樓的女孩子。她很可愛，她的捲髮很美麗，她的眼睛又藍又亮，使人看到感覺愉快。她一句話也不說，但是她也不哭。每次那個門一開啟的時候，她就朝裡面悵然地望很久。她沒有一個釦子——這點她知道得清清楚楚，因此她就悲哀地呆在外面，一直等到別的孩子們都參觀了墳墓、離去了為止。然後她就坐下來，把她那雙棕色*的小手矇住自己的眼睛，大哭一場；只有她一個人沒有看過哈巴狗的墳墓。就她說來，這是一件傷心事，跟成年人常常所感到的傷心事差不多。
我們在上面看到這情景，而且是高高地在上面觀看。這件傷心事，像我們自己和許多別人的傷心事一樣，使得我們微笑！這就是整個的故事。任何人如果不瞭解它，可以到這個寡一婦的製革廠去買一份股子。