Kristuslegender. English Read online

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  CHRIST LEGENDS

  BY

  SELMA LAGERLOeF

  Translated from the Swedish

  BY

  VELMA SWANSTON HOWARD

  DECORATIONS BY BERTHA STUART

 

  NEW YORK

  HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY

  1908

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  Copyright, 1908,

  BY

  HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY

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  Published October, 1908

  THE QUINN & BODEN CO. PRESS RAHWAY, N. J.

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  CONTENTS

  THE HOLY NIGHT 1 THE EMPEROR'S VISION 13 THE WISE MEN'S WELL 25 BETHLEHEM'S CHILDREN 41 THE FLIGHT INTO EGYPT 73 IN NAZARETH 85 IN THE TEMPLE 95 SAINT VERONICA'S KERCHIEF 119 ROBIN REDBREAST 191 OUR LORD AND SAINT PETER 203 THE SACRED FLAME 221

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  The Holy Night]

  THE HOLY NIGHT

  When I was five years old I had such a great sorrow! I hardly know if Ihave had a greater since.

  It was then my grandmother died. Up to that time, she used to sit everyday on the corner sofa in her room, and tell stories.

  I remember that grandmother told story after story from morning tillnight, and that we children sat beside her, quite still, and listened.It was a glorious life! No other children had such happy times as wedid.

  It isn't much that I recollect about my grandmother. I remember that shehad very beautiful snow-white hair, and stooped when she walked, andthat she always sat and knitted a stocking.

  And I even remember that when she had finished a story, she used to layher hand on my head and say: "All this is as true, as true as that I seeyou and you see me."

  I also remember that she could sing songs, but this she did not do everyday. One of the songs was about a knight and a sea-troll, and had thisrefrain: "It blows cold, cold weather at sea."

  Then I remember a little prayer she taught me, and a verse of a hymn.

  Of all the stories she told me, I have but a dim and imperfectrecollection. Only one of them do I remember so well that I should beable to repeat it. It is a little story about Jesus' birth.

  Well, this is nearly all that I can recall about my grandmother, exceptthe thing which I remember best; and that is, the great loneliness whenshe was gone.

  I remember the morning when the corner sofa stood empty and when it wasimpossible to understand how the days would ever come to an end. That Iremember. That I shall never forget!

  And I recollect that we children were brought forward to kiss the handof the dead and that we were afraid to do it. But then some one said tous that it would be the last time we could thank grandmother for all thepleasure she had given us.

  And I remember how the stories and songs were driven from the homestead,shut up in a long black casket, and how they never came back again.

  I remember that something was gone from our lives. It seemed as if thedoor to a whole beautiful, enchanted world--where before we had beenfree to go in and out--had been closed. And now there was no one whoknew how to open that door.

  And I remember that, little by little, we children learned to play withdolls and toys, and to live like other children. And then it seemed asthough we no longer missed our grandmother, or remembered her.

  But even to-day--after forty years--as I sit here and gather togetherthe legends about Christ, which I heard out there in the Orient, thereawakes within me the little legend of Jesus' birth that my grandmotherused to tell, and I feel impelled to tell it once again, and to let italso be included in my collection.

  It was a Christmas Day and all the folks had driven to church exceptgrandmother and I. I believe we were all alone in the house. We had notbeen permitted to go along, because one of us was too old and the otherwas too young. And we were sad, both of us, because we had not beentaken to early mass to hear the singing and to see the Christmascandles.

  But as we sat there in our loneliness, grandmother began to tell astory.

  "There was a man," said she, "who went out in the dark night to borrowlive coals to kindle a fire. He went from hut to hut and knocked. 'Dearfriends, help me!' said he. 'My wife has just given birth to a child,and I must make a fire to warm her and the little one.'

  "But it was way in the night, and all the people were asleep. No onereplied.

  "The man walked and walked. At last he saw the gleam of a fire a longway off. Then he went in that direction, and saw that the fire wasburning in the open. A lot of sheep were sleeping around the fire, andan old shepherd sat and watched over the flock.

  "When the man who wanted to borrow fire came up to the sheep, he sawthat three big dogs lay asleep at the shepherd's feet. All three awokewhen the man approached and opened their great jaws, as though theywanted to bark; but not a sound was heard. The man noticed that the hairon their backs stood up and that their sharp, white teeth glistened inthe firelight. They dashed toward him. He felt that one of them bit athis leg and one at his hand and that one clung to his throat. But theirjaws and teeth wouldn't obey them, and the man didn't suffer the leastharm.

  "Now the man wished to go farther, to get what he needed. But the sheeplay back to back and so close to one another that he couldn't pass them.Then the man stepped upon their backs and walked over them and up to thefire. And not one of the animals awoke or moved."

  Thus far, grandmother had been allowed to narrate without interruption.But at this point I couldn't help breaking in. "Why didn't they do it,grandma?" I asked.

  "That you shall hear in a moment," said grandmother--and went on withher story.

  "When the man had almost reached the fire, the shepherd looked up. Hewas a surly old man, who was unfriendly and harsh toward human beings.And when he saw the strange man coming, he seized the long spiked staff,which he always held in his hand when he tended his flock, and threw itat him. The staff came right toward the man, but, before it reached him,it turned off to one side and whizzed past him, far out in the meadow."

  When grandmother had got this far, I interrupted her again. "Grandma,why wouldn't the stick hurt the man?" Grandmother did not bother aboutanswering me, but continued her story.

  "Now the man came up to the shepherd and said to him: 'Good man, helpme, and lend me a little fire! My wife has just given birth to a child,and I must make a fire to warm her and the little one.'

  "The shepherd would rather have said no, but when he pondered that thedogs couldn't hurt the man, and the sheep had not run from him, and thatthe staff had not wished to strike him, he was a little afraid, anddared not deny the man th
at which he asked.

  "'Take as much as you need!' he said to the man.

  "But then the fire was nearly burnt out. There were no logs or branchesleft, only a big heap of live coals; and the stranger had neither spadenor shovel, wherein he could carry the red-hot coals.

  "When the shepherd saw this, he said again: 'Take as much as you need!'And he was glad that the man wouldn't be able to take away any coals.

  "But the man stooped and picked coals from the ashes with his barehands, and laid them in his mantle. And he didn't burn his hands when hetouched them, nor did the coals scorch his mantle; but he carried themaway as if they had been nuts or apples."

  But here the story-teller was interrupted for the third time. "Grandma,why wouldn't the coals burn the man?"

  "That you shall hear," said grandmother, and went on:

  "And when the shepherd, who was such a cruel and hard-hearted man, sawall this, he began to wonder to himself: 'What kind of a night