in the garden all the apple-trees were in blossom．they had hurried up to get flowers before green leaves，and in the farm－yard all the ducklings were out and the cat with them：he licked real sunshine，licked it from his own paws；and if one looked along to the field， the corn stood magnificently green，and there was a twittering and a chirping of all the little birds， as if it were a great festival， and indeed one might also say that it was so， for it was sunday． the bells rang， and people in their best clothes went to church，and looked so well pleased；yes，there was something so pleasant about everything；it was certainly a day so warm and blessed， that one could say，“our lord is really very good to his people！”
but inside the church， the priest stood in the pulpit and spoke very loudly and very angrily； he said that the people were so ungodly， and that god would punish them for it， and when they died， the wicked should go down to hell， where they should burn for ever， and he said that their worm never died，and their fire was never quenched； and never did they get peace or rest． it was terrible to hear it，and he said it so positively； he de-scribed hell to them as a stinking hole， where all the world's filthiness flowed together， there was no air except the hot sulfur-flame， there was no bottom， they sank and sank in an everlasting silence． it was gruesome merely to listen to it，but the priest said it from the heart，and all the people in the church were quite terrified．
but outside all the little birds sang so happily，and the sun shone so warmly， it seemed as if every little flower said，“god is so very good to all of us．”yes， outside it was certainly not as the preacher had said.
in the evening towards bedtime， the clergyman saw his wife sitting silent and thoughtful．
“what ails yon？”he said to her．
“what ails me？”said she，“i cannot collect my thoughts properly， i cannot get clearly into my head what you said， that there were so many ungodly， and that they should burn for ever； for ever， o， how long！i am only a sinful woman，but i could not bear to let even the worst sinner burn for ever；how then should our lord be able to do it who is so infinitely good，and who knows how the evil comes both from without and from within？ no， i cannot think it， even although you say it．”
it was autumn， the leaves fell from the trees；the severe， earnest priest sat by the death－bed of his wife．
“if any one should get peace in the grave and mercy from god， it is you！” said the priest， and he folded her hands and read a psalm over her body．
and she was carried to her grave；two heavy tears rolled down over the cheeks of the earnest priest； and in his house it was quiet and lonely， the sunshine was extinguished； she had gone away．
it was night；a cold wind blew over the head of the priest，he opened his eyes，and it seemed as if the moon shone into his room， but the moon was not shining； it was a figure which stood before his bed； he saw the ghost of his dead wife；she looked at him sorrowfully， it seemed as if she wanted to say something．
and the man raised himself half up，and stretched out his arms to her：“have you not been granted eternal rest either？do you suffer—you the best， the most pious？” and the departed one bowed her head for “yes”， and laid her hands on her breast．
“and can i obtain rest for you in the grave？”
“yes，”it answered him．
“and how？”
“ give me a hair， only a single hair， from the head of the sinner whose fire will never be quenched，the sinner whom god will thrust down into everlasting punishment．”
“yes， so easily can you be set free， you pure and pious soul！”
“then follow me！” said the departed．“it is so vouchsafed to us． by my side you can float whither your thoughts will；unseen by men we stand in their most secret 438corners， but with steady hand you must point to the one consecrated to everlasting pain， and before cock－crow he must be found．
and quickly， as if carried by thought， they were in the great town；and from the walls of the houses shone in letters of fire the names of the deadly sins：pride，avarice， drunkenness， self－indulgence，in short， the whole seven－hued rainbow of sin．
“yes，in there， as i thought，as i knew，” said the priest，“dwell those who are destined for eternal fire．”and they stood before the gorgeously lighted portal， where the broad stair was decorated with carpets and flowers，and dance-music sounded through the festive halls．the footman stood in silk and velvet with silver－mounted stick．
“our ball can compare with that of the king，” said he， and he turned to the crowd on the street； from top to toe the thought shone out of him，“poor pack， who stare in at the portal， you are common people compared with me，all of yon！”
“pride，” said the departed one．“do you see him？”
“yes， but he is a simpleton， only a fool，and will not be condemned to everlasting fire and pain！”
“only a fool！ sounded through the whole house of pride； they were all “only fools”there．
and they flew within the four bare walls of avarice，where， lean， chattering with cold， hungry and thirsty，the old one clung to his gold with all his thoughts；they saw how he sprang from his miserable couch，as in a fever， and took a loose stone out of the wall， where gold－money lay in a stoking-leg；he fingered his patched coat into which gold pieces were sewn， and the moist fingers trembled．
“he is ill，it is madness，a joyless madness，beset with fear and evil dreams．”
and they departed in haste，and stood by the couch－es of the criminals where they slept in long rows， side by side．
like a wild animal， one of them started up out of his sleep，uttering a horrid shriek；he dug his pointed elbow into his comrade， who turned sleepily．
“hold your tongue， you blockhead，and sleep！—it is the same every night！”
“every night，” he repeated，“yes， every night he comes and howls and suffocates me．in passion have i done one thing and another， an angry mind was i born with； it has brought me here a second time；but if i have done wrong，then i have had my punishment．only one thing have i not acknowledged． when i last came out of here and passed my master's farm，one thing and another boiled up in me，—i scratched a sulfur match along the wall， it ran a little too near the thatch of the roof， everything burned．passion came over it， as it comes over me．i helped to save the cattle and effects．nothing living was burned but a flock of pigeons，which flew into the fire，and the watch-dog． i had not thought of it． one could hear it howling，and that howl i always hear still，when i want to sleep，and when i fall asleep， then comes the dog， so big and shaggy； he lays himself on me， howls， presses me，and suffocates me． then listen to what i tell you； you can snore， snore the whole night， and i not a short quarter of an hour．” and the blood shone in his eyes， he threw himself over his comrade and hit him with clenched fist in the face．
“angry ads has gone mad again！” was the cry round about， and the other scoundrels caught hold of him，wrestled with him，and bent him so that his head sat between his legs where they bound it fast；the blood was almost springing out of his eyes and all his pores．
“you will kill him，”shouted the priest，“the miser－able one！” and whilst he， in order to hinder them，stretched out his hand over the sinner， who already in this world suffered too severely，the scene changed；they flew through rich halls， and through poor rooms； self－indus－gene，envy，all the deadly sins marched past them；an angel of judgment read their sins，their defense；this was but weak before god，but god reads the hearts，he knows everything， the evil which comes from within and from without， he who is mercy and love． the hand of the priest trembled，he dared not stretch it forth to pull a hair from the sinner's head．and the tears streamed from his eyes，like the water of mercy and love， which quench the ever-lasting fires of hell．and the cock crew．
“merciful god！the will give her that rest in the grave，which i have not been able to obtain．”
“i have it now！”said the dead one，“it was they hard words，they dark belief about god and his works，which drove me to the！learn to know men；even in the wicked there is something of god，something which will triumph，and quench the fire of hell．”
a kiss was pressed on the mouth of the priest，light beamed round about him；god's clear sun shone into the chamber， where his wife， gentle and loving， wakened him from a dream sent by god．
一个故事
花园里的苹果树都开了花。它们想要在绿叶没有长好以前就赶快开出花朵。院子里的小鸭都跑出来了，猫儿也跟着一起跑出来了：他是在舔着真正的太阳光——舔着他的脚爪上的太阳光。如果你朝田野里望，你可以看到一片青翠的小麦。所有的小鸟都在吱吱喳喳地叫，好像这是一个盛大的节日似的。的确，你也可以说这是一个节日，因为这是星期天。
教堂的钟声在响着。大家穿着最好的衣服到教堂去，而且都显出非常高兴的样子。是的，所有的东西都表现出一种愉快的神情。这的确是一个温暖和幸福的日子。人们可以说：“我们的上帝对我们真好！”
不过在教堂里，站在讲台上的牧师却是大叫大喊，非常生气。他说：人们都不信上帝，上帝一定要惩罚他们；他们死了以后，坏的就被打入地狱，而且在地狱里他们将永远被烈火焚烧。他还说，他们良心的责备将永远不停，他们的火焰也永远不灭，他们将永远得不到休息和安静。
听他的这番讲道真叫人害怕，而且他讲得那么肯定。他把地狱描写成为一个腐臭的地洞；世界上所有的脏东西都流进里面去；那里面除了磷火以外，一点儿空气也没有；它是一个无底洞，不声不响地往下沉，永远往下沉。就是光听这个故事，也够叫人心惊胆战的了。但是牧师的这番话语是从心里讲出来的，所以教堂里的听众都给吓得魂不附体。
但是外面的许多小鸟却唱得非常愉快，太阳光也非常温暖，每一朵小花都好像在说：“上帝对我们大家太好了。”是的，外面的情形一点也不像牧师描写得那么糟。
在晚上要睡觉的时候，牧师看见他的太太坐着一声不响，好像有什么心事似的。
“你在想什么呢？”他问她。
“我在想什么？”她说。“我觉得我想不通，我不能同意你所讲的话。你把不敬上帝的人说得那么多，你说他们要永远受火烧的刑罚。永远，唉，永远到什么时候呢？连像我这样一个有罪的女人都不忍让最坏的恶人永远受着火刑，我们的上帝怎么能呢？他是那么仁慈，他知道罪过的形成有内在的原因，也有外在的原因。不，虽然你说得千真万确，我却没有办法相信。”
这时正是秋天，叶子从树上落下来。这位严峻和认真的牧师坐在一个死人的旁边；死者怀着虔诚的信心把眼睛合上了。这就是牧师的妻子。
“如果说世上有一个人应该得到上帝的慈悲和墓中的安息的话，这个人就是你！”牧师说。他把他的双手合起来，对死者的尸体念了一首圣诗。
她被抬到墓地里去，这位一本正经的牧师的脸上滚下了两滴眼泪。他家里现在是静寂无声，太阳光消逝了，因为没有了她。
这正是黑夜，一阵冷风吹到牧师的头上来，他把眼睛睁开；这好像月亮已经照进他的房间里来了，但是并没有月亮在照着。在他的床面前站着一个人形。这就是他的死去了的妻子的幽灵。她用一种非常悲哀的眼光望着他，好像她有一件什么事情要说似的。
他直起一半身子，把手向她伸过来：“你没有得到永恒的安息吗？你在受苦吗？你——最善良的、最虔诚的人！”
死者低下头，作为一个肯定的回答。她把双手按在胸口。
“我能想办法使你在墓里得到安息吗？”
“能！”幽灵回答说。
“怎样能呢？”
“你只须给我一根头发，一根被不灭的火所烧着的罪人头上的头发——这是一个上帝要打下地狱、永远受苦的罪人！”
“你，纯洁而虔诚的人，你把得救看得这样容易！”
“跟着我来吧！”死者说，“上帝给了我们这种力量。只要你心中想到什么地方去，你就可以从我身边飞到什么地方去。凡人看不见我们，我们可以飞到他们最秘密的角落里去。你必须用肯定的手，指出那个注定永远受苦的人，而且你必须在鸡叫以前就把这个人指出来。”
他们好像是被思想的翅膀托着似的，很快地就飞到一个大城市里去了。所有房子的墙上都燃着火焰所写成的几件大罪的名称：骄傲、贪婪、酗酒、任性——总之，是一整条7种颜色的罪孽所组成的长虹。
“是的，”牧师说，“在这些房子里面，我相信——同时我也知道——就住着那些注定要永远受火刑的人。”
他们站在一个灯火辉煌的、漂亮的大门口。宽广的台阶上铺着地毯和摆满花朵，欢乐的大厅里飘出跳舞的音乐。侍者穿着丝绸和天鹅绒的衣服，手中拿着包银的手杖。
“我们的舞会比得上皇帝的舞会，”他说。他向街上的人群望了一眼；他的全身——从头到脚——射出这样一个思想：“你们这群可怜的东西，你们朝门里望；比起我来，你们简直是一群叫花子！”
“这是骄傲！”死者说，“你看到他没有？”
“看到了，但是他不过是一个傻瓜，一个呆子。他不会受永恒的火刑和痛苦的。”
“他不过是一个傻子！”整个“骄傲”的屋子发出这样的一个声音。他们都“只不过是傻子”。
他们飞到“贪婪”的四堵墙里面去。这里有一个干瘦的老家伙，又饥又渴，冻得发抖，但是他却聚精会神地抱着他的金子。他们看到他怎样像发热似地从一个破烂的睡榻上跳下来，挪开墙上一块活动的石头，因为那里面藏着他的装在一只袜子里的许多金币。他抚摸着褴褛的上衣，因为它里面也缝的有金币；他的潮湿的手指在发抖。
“他病了。他害的是一种疯病，一种没有乐趣的、充满了恐怖和噩梦的疯病。”
他们匆忙地走开了。他们站在一批罪犯的木板床旁边。这些人紧挨着睡成一排。
他们之中有一个人像一只野兽似地从睡梦中跳起来，发出一个可怕的尖叫声。他用他的瘦削的手肘把他旁边的一个人推了几下。这人在睡梦中翻了一个身，说：
“闭住嘴吧，你这个畜生，赶快睡呀！你每天晚上总是来这一套！”
“每天晚上？”他重复着说。“是的，他每天晚上总是来对我乱叫，折磨着我。我一发起脾气来，不做这就要做那，我生下来就是脾气坏的。这已经是我第二次被关在这儿了。不过，假如说我做了坏事，我已经得到了惩罚。只有一件事情我没有承认。上次我从牢里出来的时候，从我主人的田庄附近走过，心里不知怎的忽然闹起别扭来。我在墙上划了一根火柴——我划得离开草顶太近，立刻就烧起来了。火燎起来正好像脾气在我身上发作一样。我尽量帮忙救这屋子里的牲口和家具。除了飞进火里去的一群鸽子和套在链子上的看门狗以外，什么活东西也没有烧死。我没有想到这只狗，人们可以听见它在号叫——我现在在睡觉的时候还能听见它号叫。我一睡着，这只毛茸茸的大狗子就来了。它躺在我身上号叫，压着我，使我喘不过气来。我告诉你吧：你可以睡得打呼噜，一整夜打呼噜，但是我只能睡短短的一刻钟。”
这人的眼睛里射出血丝。他倒到他的朋友身上，紧捏着一个拳头朝他的脸上打来。
“疯子又发作了！”周围的人齐声说。其余的罪犯都把他抓住，和他揪作一团。他们把他弯过来，使他的头夹在两腿中间，然后再把他紧紧地绑住。他的一双眼睛和全身的毛孔几乎都要喷出血来了。
“你们这样会把他弄死的，”牧师大声说，“可怜的东西！”他向这个受够了苦的罪人身上伸出一只保护的手来；正在这时候，情景变了。他们飞过富丽的大厅，他们飞过贫穷的房间。“任性”、“嫉妒”和其他主要的“罪孽”都在他们身边走过。一个作为裁判官的安琪儿宣读这些东西的罪过和辩护。在上帝面前，这并不是重要的事情，因为上帝能够洞察人的内心；他知道心里心外的一切罪过；他本身就是慈悲和博爱。牧师的手颤抖起来，他不敢伸出手在这罪人的头上拔下一根头发。眼泪像慈悲和博爱的水一样，从他的眼睛里流出来，把地狱里的永恒的火滴熄了。
这时鸡叫了。
“慈悲的上帝！只有您能让她在墓里安息，我做不到这件事情。”
“我现在已经得到安息了，”死者说。“因为你说出那样骇人的话语，你对他和他的造物感到那样悲观，所以我才不得不到你这儿来！好好地把人类认识一下吧，就是最坏的人身上也有一点上帝的成份——这点成份可以战胜和熄灭地狱里的火。”
牧师的嘴上得到了一个吻，他的周围充满了阳光。上帝的明朗的太阳光射进房间里来。
他的活着的、温柔和蔼的妻子把他从上帝送来的一个梦中唤醒。
这个小故事是从1851年哥本哈根出版的安徒生写的一本游记《在瑞典》中选出来的，为该书的第8章。安徒生儿时受父母的影响，信奉上帝，但他在这里不是宣扬宗教，而是表达他个人的信念：“好好地把人类认识一下吧，就是最坏的人身上也有一点上帝的成分——这点成分可以战胜和熄灭地狱里的火。”他对人类充满了希望，虽然人类的邪恶和弱点他已经体会很深；而且对此也写了不少的作品加以鞭挞。
