The Complete Fairy Tales & Other Stories
By Hans Christian Andersen - online book

Oxford Complete Illustrated Edition all his stories written between 1835 and 1872.

Home Main Menu Order Support About Search

Share page  

Previous Contents Next

9i4              HIDDEN IS NOT FORGOTTEN
stateliest of them all was living here still; she was called Metta Mogens; she was the lady of the manor. One evening robbers came there ; they killed three of her men, and the watch-dog besides, and then they chained Lady Metta to the kennel with the dog-chain, and sat themselves down in the hall, and drank the wine from her cellar, and all the good ale. Lady Metta stood chained up like a dog, but she could not even bark.
Then the robber's boy came to her; he sneaked along quietly, so that he might not be noticed ; otherwise they would have killed him.
' Lady Metta Mogens,' said the boy,' can you remember when my father had to ride on the wooden horse in your husband's time ? You begged mercy for him then, but it had no effect; he had to sit till he was crippled ; but you slipped down, as I do now, and you placed a little stone under each of his feet, so that he could get some ease. No one saw it, or they pretended not to ; you were the young, gracious lady. My father has told me this, and I have kept it to myself, but have not forgotten it! now I will set you free, Lady Metba Mogens.' Then they took horses from the stable, and rode in rain and in wind, and got friendly help.
' That was a good return for the little bit of service to the old man,' said Metta Mogens.
1 Hidden is not forgotten ! ' said the boy.
The robbers were hanged.
There stood another old mansion, it stands there still; it was not Lady Metta Mogens' ; it belonged to another noble family.
It is in our own days. The sun shines on the gilt spire of the tower, little wooded islands lie like bouquets on the water, and round about them swim the wild swans. Roses grow in the garden. The lady of the house is herself the finest rose-leaf, shining in gladness, the gladness of good deeds, not out in the wide world, but inwardly in the heart, where they are hidden, but not forgotten.
She now goes from the house to an outlying cottage in the fields. In it lives a poor, pain-ridden girl. The window in the little room looked to the north, and the sun did not come there, she had only a view over a little bit of a field