引導語：人在一生中可以在無意中做過一些好事或者經(jīng)歷過某些重大感情的起伏。這些情況有的為人所知，有的完全被忘掉，有的只是隱藏在個人心的深處。下面就是小編整理的《藏著并不等于遺忘》安徒生童話故事中英文版本的，歡迎大家閱讀!

　　從前有一座古老的房子;它的四周環(huán)繞著一條泥濘的壕溝，溝上有一座吊橋，這座橋吊著的時候比放下的時候多，因為平時來訪的客人并沒有多少算得上是貴客。屋檐下有許多專為開槍用的槍眼——如果敵人走得很近的話，也可以從這些槍眼里把開水或白熱的鉛淋到他們頭上去。屋子里的梁都很高;這是很好的，因為爐子里燒著粗大而潮濕的木頭，這樣就可以使爐子里的煙有地方可去。墻上掛著的是一些穿著鎧甲的男人的畫像，以及莊嚴的、穿著一大堆衣服的太太們的畫像。不過他們之中最尊貴的一位仍然住在這里。她叫做美特·莫根斯。她是這個公館里的女主人。

　　有一天晚上來了一群強盜。他們打死了她家里的三個人，還加上一條看家狗。接著他們就用拴狗的鏈子把美特太太套在狗屋上;他們自己則在客廳里坐下來，喝著從她的酒窖里取出來的酒——都是非常好的麥芽酒。

　　美特太太被狗鏈子套著，但是她卻不能做出狗吠聲來。

　　強盜的小廝走到她身邊來。他是在偷偷地走，因為他決不能讓別人看見，否則別人就會把他打死。

　　“美特·莫根斯太太!”小廝說，“你記不記得，你的丈夫活著的時候，我的父親得騎上木馬①?那時你替他求情，但是沒有結果。他只好騎，一直騎到他變成殘廢。但是你偷偷地走過來，像我現(xiàn)在一樣;你親手在他的腳下墊兩塊石頭，使他能夠得到休息。誰也沒有看見這件事情，或者人們看見了也裝做沒看見。你那時是一個年輕的仁慈的太太。這件事情是我的父親告訴我的。我沒有對任何人說過，但是我并沒有忘記!美特·莫根斯太太，現(xiàn)在我要釋放你!”

　　他們兩人從馬廄里牽出馬來，在風雨中騎走了，并且得到了人們善意的幫助。

　　“我為那個老人幫的一點小忙，現(xiàn)在所得到的報酬倒是不少!”美特·莫根斯說。

　　“不說并不等于忘記!”小廝說。

　　強盜們后來都得到了絞刑的處罰。

　　另外還有一幢老房子;它現(xiàn)在仍然存在。它不是屬于美特·莫根斯太太的，而是屬于另外一個貴族家庭。

　　事情發(fā)生在我們的這個時代里。太陽照著塔上的金頂，長滿了樹的小島浮在水上像一些花束，野天鵝在這些島的周圍

　　游來游去�；▓@里長著許多玫瑰。屋子的女主人本身就是一朵最美麗的玫瑰，它在快樂中——在與人為善的快樂中——射出光輝。她所做的好事并不表現(xiàn)在世人的眼中，而是藏在人的心里——藏著并不等于忘記。

　　她現(xiàn)在從這屋子走到田野上一個孤獨的小茅棚子里去。茅棚里住著一個窮困的、癱瘓的女子。小房間里的窗子是向北開的，太陽光照不進來。她只能看見被一道很高的溝沿隔斷的一小片田野�？墒墙裉煊刑�陽光射進來。她的房間里有上帝的溫暖的、快樂的.陽光射進來。陽光是從南邊的窗子射進來的，而南邊起初有一堵墻。

　　這個癱瘓病患者坐在溫暖的太陽光里，望著樹林和海岸。世界現(xiàn)在變得這樣廣闊和美麗，而這只須那幢房子里的好太太說一句話就可以辦得到。

　　“說那一句話是多么容易，幫那一點忙是多么輕松!”她說，“可是我所得到的快樂是無邊的偉大和幸福!”

　　正因為如此，她才做了那么多的好事，關心窮人屋子里和富人屋子里的一切人們——因為富人的屋子里也有痛苦的人。她的善行沒有人看見，是隱藏著的，但是上帝并沒有忘記。

　　還有一幢老房子;它是坐落在一個熱鬧的大城市里。這幢房子里有房間和客廳，不過我們卻不必進去;我們只須去看看廚房就得了。它里面是既溫暖而又明朗，既干凈而又整齊。銅器皿閃著光，桌子很亮，洗碗槽像剛剛擦過的案板一樣干凈。這一切是一個什么都干的女傭人做的，但是她還騰出時間把自己打扮一番，好像她是要到教堂里去做禮拜似的。她的帽子上有一個蝴蝶結——一個黑蝴蝶結。這說明她在服喪。但是她并沒有要哀悼的人，因為她既沒有父親，也沒有母親;既沒有親戚，也沒有戀人;她是一個貧寒的女子。她只有一次跟一個窮苦的年輕人訂過婚。他們彼此相親相愛。有一次他來看她。

　　“我們兩人什么也沒有!”他說。“對面的那個寡婦對我說過熱情的話語。她將使我富有，但是我心里只有你。你覺得我怎么辦好!”

　　“你覺得怎樣能使你幸福就怎樣辦吧!”女子說。“請你對她和善些，親愛些;不過請你記住，從我們分手的這個時刻起，我們兩個人就不能再常常見面了!”

　　好幾年過去了。她在街上遇見了她從前的朋友和戀人。他顯出一副又病又愁苦的樣子。她的心中很難過，忍不住要問一聲：“你近來怎么樣?”

　　“各方面都好!”他說。“我的妻子是一個正直和善良的人，但是我的心中只想著你。我跟自己作過斗爭，這斗爭現(xiàn)在快要結束了。我們只有在上帝面前再見了。”

　　一個星期過去了。這天早晨報紙上有一個消息，說他已經(jīng)死了;因此她現(xiàn)在服喪。她的戀人死了;報上說他留下一個妻子和前夫的三個孩子。銅鐘發(fā)出的聲音很嘈雜，但是銅的質地是純凈的。

　　她的黑蝴蝶結表示哀悼的意思，但是這個女子的面孔顯得更悲哀。這悲哀藏在心里，但永遠不會遺忘。

　　嗨，現(xiàn)在有三個故事了——一根梗子上的三片花瓣。你還希望有更多這樣的苜�；ò陠�?在心的書上有的是：它們被藏著，但并沒有被遺忘。

　�、衮T木馬(Traehest)是古時的一種刑罰。犯人被綁在一個木凳子上，腳不落地，非常痛苦。

 

　　《藏著并不等于遺忘》英文版：

　　“Delaying Is Not Forgetting”

　　THERE was an old mansion surrounded by a marshy ditch with a drawbridge which was but seldom let down:—not all guests are good people. Under the roof were loopholes to shoot through, and to pour down boiling water or even molten lead on the enemy, should he approach. Inside the house the rooms were very high and had ceilings of beams, and that was very useful considering the great deal of smoke which rose up from the chimney fire where the large, damp logs of wood smouldered. On the walls hung pictures of knights in armour and proud ladies in gorgeous dresses; the most stately of all walked about alive. She was called Meta Mogen; she was the mistress of the house, to her belonged the castle.

　　Towards the evening robbers came; they killed three of her people and also the yard-dog, and attached Mrs. Meta to the kennel by the chain, while they themselves made good cheer in the hall and drank the wine and the good ale out of her cellar. Mrs. Meta was now on the chain, she could not even bark.

　　But lo! the servant of one of the robbers secretly approached her; they must not see it, otherwise they would have killed him.

　　“Mrs. Meta Mogen,” said the fellow, “do you still remember how my father, when your husband was still alive, had to ride on the wooden horse? You prayed for him, but it was no good, he was to ride until his limbs were paralysed; but you stole down to him, as I steal now to you, you yourself put little stones under each of his feet that he might have support, nobody saw it, or they pretended not to see it, for you were then the young gracious mistress. My father has told me this, and I have not forgotten it! Now I will free you, Mrs. Meta Mogen!”

　　Then they pulled the horses out of the stable and rode off in rain and wind to obtain the assistance of friends.

　　“Thus the small service done to the old man was richly rewarded!” said Meta Mogen.

　　“Delaying is not forgetting,” said the fellow.

　　The robbers were hanged.

　　There was an old mansion, it is still there; it did not belong to Mrs. Meta Mogen, it belonged to another old noble family.

　　We are now in the present time. The sun is shining on the gilt knob of the tower, little wooded islands lie like bouquets on the water, and wild swans are swimming round them. In the garden grow roses; the mistress of the house is herself the finest rose petal, she beams with joy, the joy of good deeds: however, not done in the wide world, but in her heart, and what is preserved there is not forgotten. Delaying is not forgetting!

　　Now she goes from the mansion to a little peasant hut in the field. Therein lives a poor paralysed girl; the window of her little room looks northward, the sun does not enter here. The girl can only see a small piece of field which is surrounded by a high fence. But to-day the sun shines here—the warm, beautiful sun of God is within the little room; it comes from the south through the new window, where formerly the wall was.

　　The paralysed girl sits in the warm sunshine and can see the wood and the lake; the world had become so large, so beautiful, and only through a single word from the kind mistress of the mansion.

　　“The word was so easy, the deed so small,” she said, “the joy it afforded me was infinitely great and sweet!”

　　And therefore she does many a good deed, thinks of all in the humble cottages and in the rich mansions, where there are also afflicted ones. It is concealed and hidden, but God does not forget it. Delayed is not forgotten!

　　An old house stood there; it was in the large town with its busy traffic. There are rooms and halls in it, but we do not enter them, we remain in the kitchen, where it is warm and light, clean and tidy; the copper utensils are shining, the table as if polished with beeswax; the sink looks like a freshly scoured meatboard. All this a single servant has done, and yet she has time to spare as if she wished to go to church; she wears a bow on her cap, a black bow, that signifies mourning. But she has no one to mourn, neither father nor mother, neither relations nor sweetheart. She is a poor girl. One day she was engaged to a poor fellow; they loved each other dearly.

　　One day he came to her and said:

　　“We both have nothing! The rich widow over the way in the basement has made advances to me; she will make me rich, but you are in my heart; what do you advise me to do?”

　　“I advise you to do what you think will turn out to your happiness,” said the girl. “Be kind and good to her, but remember this; from the hour we part we shall never see each other again.”

　　Years passed; then one day she met the old friend and sweetheart in the street; he looked ill and miserable, and she could not help asking him, “How are you?”

　　“Rich and prospering in every respect,” he said; “the woman is brave and good, but you are in my heart. I have fought the battle, it will soon be ended; we shall not see each other again now until we meet before God!”

　　A week has passed; this morning his death was in the newspaper, that is the reason of the girl’s mourning! Her old sweetheart is dead and has left a wife and three step-children, as the paper says; it sounds as if there is a crack, but the metal is pure.

　　The black bow signifies mourning, the girl’s face points to the same in a still higher degree; it is preserved in the heart and will never be forgotten. Delaying is not forgetting!

　　These are three stories you see, three leaves on the same stalk. Do you wish for some more trefoil leaves? In the little heartbook are many more of them. Delaying is not forgetting!

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