Such things have
nothing to do with people, but warnings and spirits are in the gospel,
too. What do you say?"
"I, oh, I don't know--what do you really mean?"
"You surely don't love nature?"
"But, quite the contrary."
"I don't mean nature, as you see it from benches placed where there is
a fine view on hills up which they have built steps; where it is like
a set scene, but nature every day, always."
"Just so! I can take joy in every leaf, every twig, every beam of
light, every shadow. There isn't a hill so barren, nor a turf-pit so
square, nor a road so monotonous, that I cannot for a moment fall in
love with it."
"But what joy can you take in a tree or a bush, if you don't imagine
that a living being dwells within it, that opens and closes the
flowers and smooths the leaves? When you see a lake, a deep, clear
lake, don't you love it for this reason, that you imagine creatures
living deep, deep down below, that have their own joys and sorrows,
that have their own strange life with strange yearnings? And what, for
instance, is there beautiful about the green hill of Berdbjerg, if you
don't imagine, that inside very tiny creatures swarm and buzz, and
sigh when the sun rises, but begin to dance and play with their
beautiful treasure-troves, as soon as evening comes."
"How wonderfully beautiful that is! And you see that?"
"But you?"
"Yes, I can't explain it, but there is something in the color, in the
movements, and in the shapes, and then in the life which lives in
them; in the sap which rises in trees and flowers, in the sun and rain
that make them grow, in the sand which blows together in hills, and in
the showers of rain that furrow and fissure the hillsides.
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