The Sunbeam And The Captive, Fairy Tales, Fairy Tales
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1872FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSENTHE SUNBEAM AND THE CAPTIVEby Hans Christian AndersenIT is autumn. We stand on the ramparts, and look out over the sea.We look at the numerous ships, and at the Swedish coast on theopposite side of the sound, rising far above the surface of the waterswhich mirror the glow of the evening sky. Behind us the wood issharply defined; mighty trees surround us, and the yellow leavesflutter down from the branches. Below, at the foot of the wall, standsa gloomy looking building enclosed in palisades. The space betweenis dark and narrow, but still more dismal must it be behind the irongratings in the wall which cover the narrow loopholes or windows,for in these dungeons the most depraved of the criminals are confined.A ray of the setting sun shoots into the bare cells of one of thecaptives, for God's sun shines upon the evil and the good. Thehardened criminal casts an impatient look at the bright ray. Then alittle bird flies towards the grating, for birds twitter to the justas well as to the unjust. He only cries, "Tweet, tweet," and thenperches himself near the grating, flutters his wings, pecks afeather from one of them, puffs himself out, and sets his featherson end round his breast and throat. The bad, chained man looks at him,and a more gentle expression comes into his hard face. In his breastthere rises a thought which he himself cannot rightly analyze, but thethought has some connection with the sunbeam, with the bird, andwith the scent of violets, which grow luxuriantly in spring at thefoot of the wall. Then there comes the sound of the hunter's horn,merry and full. The little bird starts, and flies away, the sunbeamgradually vanishes, and again there is darkness in the room and in theheart of that bad man. Still the sun has shone into that heart, andthe twittering of the bird has touched it.Sound on, ye glorious strains of the hunter's horn; continueyour stirring tones, for the evening is mild, and the surface of thesea, heaving slowly and calmly, is smooth as a mirror.THE END.
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