The   Wind  relates  the  Story  of

JValdemar  Daae  and  his

Daughters,


WHEN  the  wind  sweeps  over  the  grass,  it  ripples
like  water;  when  it  sweeps  over  the  corn,  it
undulates  like  waves  of  the  sea.  All  that  is  the  wind's
dance.  But  listen  to  what  the  wind  tells.  It  sings  it
aloud,  and  it  is  repeated  amidst  the  trees  in  the  wood,
and  carried  through  the  loopholes  and  the  chinks  in  the
wall.  Look  how  the  wind  chases  the  skies  up  yonder,
as  if  they  were  a  flock  of  sheep !  Listen  how  the  wind
howls  below  through  the  half-open  gate,  as  if  it  were
the  warder  blowing  his  horn !  Strangely  does  it  sound
down  the  chimney  and  in  the  fireplace ;  the  fire  flickers
under  it ;  and  the  flames,  instead  of  ascending,  shoot
out  towards  the  room,  where  it  is  warm  and  comfortable
to  sit  and  listen  to  it.  Let  the  wind  speak.  It  knows
more  tales  and  adventures  than  all  of  us  put  together.
Hearken  now  to  what  it  is  about  to  relate.
It  blew  a  tremendous  blast :  that  was  a  prelude  to  its
story.
182  THE    SAND-HILLS    OF   JUTLAND.
"  There  lay  close  to  the  Great  Belt  an  old  castle  with
thick  red  walls,"  said  the  wind.  "  I  knew  every  stone  in
it.  I  had  seen  them  before,  when  they  were  in  [Marshal
Stig's  castle  at  the  Naes.  It  was  demolished.  The
stones  were  used  again,  and  became  new  walls  —  a  new
building  —  at  another  place,  and  that  was  Borreby  Cas-
tle as  it  now  stands.  I  have  seen  and  known  the  high-
born ladies  and  gentlemen,  the  various  generations  that
have  dwelt  in  it ;  and  now  I  shall  tell  about  Waldemar
Daae  and  his  Daughters.
