UNDER THE WILLOW-TREE [5]
to stand in rows or rank and file. Gables, with little towers,
ornamented columns, and statues, can be seen even to the city gate;
and from the singular-shaped roofs, waterspouts, formed like
dragons, or long lean dogs, extend far across to the middle of the
street. Here, in the market-place, stood Knud, with his knapsack on
his back, close to one of the old fountains which are so beautifully
adorned with figures, scriptural and historical, and which spring up
between the sparkling jets of water. A pretty servant-maid was just
filling her pails, and she gave Knud a refreshing draught; she had a
handful of roses, and she gave him one, which appeared to him like a
good omen for the future. From a neighboring church came the sounds of
music, and the familiar tones reminded him of the organ at home at
Kjoge; so he passed into the great cathedral. The sunshine streamed
through the painted glass windows, and between two lofty slender
pillars. His thoughts became prayerful, and calm peace rested on his
soul. He next sought and found a good master in Nuremberg, with whom
he stayed and learnt the German language.
The old moat round the town had been converted into a number of
little kitchen gardens; but the high walls, with their heavy-looking
towers, are still standing. Inside these walls the ropemaker twisted
his ropes along a walk built like a gallery, and in the cracks and
crevices of the walls elderbushes grow and stretch their green
boughs over the small houses which stand below. In one of these houses
lived the master for whom Knud worked; and over the little garret
window where he sat, the elder-tree waved its branches. Here he
dwelt through one summer and winter, but when spring came again, he
could endure it no longer. The elder was in blossom, and its fragrance
was so homelike, that he fancied himself back again in the gardens
of Kjoge. So Knud left his master, and went to work for another who
lived farther in the town, where no elder grew. His workshop was quite
close to one of the old stone bridges, near to a water-mill, round
which the roaring stream rushed and foamed always, yet restrained by
the neighboring houses, whose old, decayed balconies hung over, and
seemed ready to fall into the water. Here grew no elder; here was
not even a flower-pot, with its little green plant; but just
opposite the workshop stood a great willow-tree, which seemed to
hold fast to the house for fear of being carried away by the water. It
stretched its branches over the stream just as those of the
willow-tree in the garden at Kjoge had spread over the river. Yes,
he had indeed gone from elder-mother to willow-father. There was a
something about the tree here, especially in the moonlight nights,
that went direct to his heart; yet it was not in reality the
moonlight, but the old tree itself. However, he could not endure it:
and why? Ask the willow, ask the blossoming elder! At all events, he
bade farewell to Nuremberg and journeyed onwards. He never spoke of
Joanna to any one; his sorrow was hidden in his heart. The old
childish story of the two cakes had a deep meaning for him. He
understood now why the gingerbread man had a bitter almond in his left
side; his was the feeling of bitterness, and Joanna, so mild and
friendly, was represented by the honeycake maiden. As he thought
upon all this, the strap of his knapsack pressed across his chest so
that he could hardly breathe; he loosened it, but gained no relief. He
saw but half the world around him; the other half he carried with
him in his inward thoughts; and this is the condition in which he left
Nuremberg. Not till he caught sight of the lofty mountains did the
world appear more free to him; his thoughts were attracted to outer
objects, and tears came into his eyes. The Alps appeared to him like
the wings of earth folded together; unfolded, they would display the
variegated pictures of dark woods, foaming waters, spreading clouds,
and masses of snow. "At the last