the Story of the Wind 风所讲的关於瓦尔德玛·多伊和他的女儿们的事

　　“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.