“DING-DONG！Ding-Dong！”It sounds up from the “bell-deep”in the Odense River．What river is that？ Every child in the town of Odense knows that it runs at the bottom of the gardens and flows on under the wooden bridges from the dam to the water－mill．In the river grow the yellow water－lilies and brown feathery reeds； the dark velvety reed－mace grows there， high and thick；old and decayed willows， slanting and tottering，hang far out over the stream beside the monks’ meadow and by the bleach-in ground；but opposite there are gardens upon gardens，each different from the rest， some with pretty flowers and bowers like little dolls’ pleasure grounds，others display－in only cabbage and other kitchen plants； and here and there the gardens cannot be seen at all， for the great elder trees that spread themselves out by the bank， and hang far out over the streaming waters， which are deeper here and there than an oar can fathom．Opposite the old nunnery is the deepest place， which is called the“bell－deep”，and there dwellls the “River－man”．He sleeps through the day while the sun shines down upon the water；but in starry and moonlit nights he shows himself．He is very old：grandmother says that she has heard her own grandmother tell of him； he is said to lead a solitary life，and to have nobody with whom he can converse save the great old church Bell． Once the Bell hung in the church tower；but now there is no trace left of the tower or of the church，which was called St．Alban's．
“Ding-dong！ Ding－dong！”sounded the Bell， when the tower still stood there；and one evening，while the sun was setting，and the Bell was swinging away bravely，it broke loose and came flying down through the air，the brilliant metal shining in the ruddy beam．
“Ding－dong！Ding-dong！ Now I'm going to bed！”sang the Bell，and flew down into the Odense River where it is deepest；and that is why the place is called the “bell－deep”．
But the Bell got neither rest nor sleep．Down in the River-man's haunt it sounds and rings， so that the tones sometimes pierce upward through the waters； and many people maintain that its strains forebode the death of some one；but that is not true， for then the Bell is only talking with the River－man， who is now no longer alone．
And what is the Bell！telling？ It is old， very old， the story goes；it was there long before grandmother's grand-mother was born；and yet it is but a child in comparison with the River－man， who is an old quiet personage， an oddity，with his hose of eel－skin， and his scaly jacket with the yellow lilies for buttons， and a wreath of reed in his hair and duckweed in his beard， and that is not very pretty．
What the Bell tells？ To repeat it all would require years and days；for year by year it is telling the old stories，sometimes short ones， sometimes long ones，accord-in to its whim；it tells of old times，of the dark hard times，thus：
“In the church of St．Alban， the monk mounted up into the tower where the bell hung．he was young and handsome， but thoughtful exceedingly． He looked through the loophole out upon the Odense River， when the bed of the water was yet broad and the monk's meadow was still a lake：he looked out over it， and over the rampart， and over the nuns’ hill opposite，where the convent lay， and the light gleamed forth from the nun's cell； he had known the nun right well，and he thought of her， and his heart beat quicker as he thought． Ding－dong！ Ding－dong ！”
Yes， that is how the Bell told the story．
“Into the tower came also the silly man－servant of the bishop； and when I， the Bell， who am made of met－al，rang hard and loud， and swung to and fro， I might have beaten out his brains． He sat down close under me，and played with two little sticks as if they had been a stringed instrument； and he sang to it．’Now I may sing it out aloud， though at other times I may not whisper it．I may sing of everything that is kept concealed behind lock and bars． There it is cold and wet． The rats are eating them up alive！Nobody knows of it！Nobody hears of it！Not even now， for the Bell is ringing and singing its loud Ding-dong！Ding-dong！
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“There was a King；they called him Canute．He bowed himself before bishop and monk；but when he of－fended the free peasants with heavy taxes and hard words，they seized their weapons and put him to flight like a wild beast．He sought shelter in the church， and shut gate and door behind him． The violent band surrounded the church； I heard tell of it．The crows， ravens， and magpies started up in terror at the yelling and shouting that sounded around．They flew into the tower and out again，they looked down upon the throng below， and they alsolooked into the windows of the church， and screamed out aloud what they saw there．King Canute knelt before the altar in prayer， his brothers Eric and Benedict stood by him as a guard with drawn swords；but the King's servant，the treacherous Blake，betrayed his master；the throng in front of the church knew where they could hit the King，and one of them flung a stone through a pane of glass，and the King lay there dead！ The cries and screams of the sav－age horde and of the birds sounded through the air， and I joined in it also； for I sang Ding－dong！ Ding－dong！”
“The church bell hangs high and looks far around，gets visits from the birds and understands their language；the wind roars in upon it through windows and loopholes；and the wind knows everything， for he gets it from the air，which encircles all living things；the air makes its way into men's lungs，it knows everything that finds utterance there，every word and every sigh．The air knows it， the wind tells it，and the church Bell understands his tongue，and rings it out into the world，‘ Ding-dong！ Ding-dong！’
“But it was too much for me to hear and to know； I was not able to ring it out．I became so tired，so heavy，that the beam broke， and I flew out into the shining air down where the water is deepest，and where the River－man lives， solitary and alone； and year by year I tell him what I have heard and what I know．‘Ding－dong！Ding－dong！’
Thus it sounds out of the bell－deep in the Odense River：that is what grandmother told us．
But our schoolmaster says that there is no bell that rings down there， for it can't do so； and that no River－man dwells there， for there are no River-men！And when all the other church bells are sounding sweetly， he says that it is not really the bells that are souding， but that it is the air itself which sends forth the notes；and grand-mother said to us that the Bell itself said it was the air who told it him， consequently they are agreed on that point，and this much is sure．
“Be cautious， cautious， and take good heed to they－self，”they both say．
The air knows everything． It is around us，it is in us，it talks of our thoughts and of our deeds， and it speakslonger of them than does the Bell down in the depths of the Odense River where the River－man dwells；it rings it out int the vault of heaven，far，far out，for ever and ever，till the heaven bells sound“Ding-dong！Ding－dong！”
钟渊
“叮当！叮当！”这个声音是从奥登塞河里的钟渊那儿飘上来的……这是一条什么河呢，奥登塞城里的每个孩子都知道它：它在许多花圃底下流；它在木桥底下流，从水闸那儿一直流到水推磨坊那儿去。这条河里长着许多黄色的水仙花和棕色的细芦苇，还有像天鹅绒一样软的、又高又大的黑香蒲，还有衰老的、布满裂痕的、摇摇欲坠的柳树——它们垂向“修道士沼泽”和“苍白人草地”的水上。不过对面是一片花圃，每个花圃都不相同。有些花圃开满了美丽的花朵，上面还有整齐清洁的凉亭，像玩偶的房子；有些花圃只是长着白菜和其他的蔬菜。有些花圃简直看不见，因为高大的接骨木树丛展开它们的枝叶，高高地垂在流动的水上——有些地方水深得连我们的桨都达不到底。那座古老的女修道院对面的地方，是最深的地方——人们把它叫做“钟渊”。在这儿住着“河人”。在白天，当太阳照在水上的时候，河人就睡着了。不过在满天繁星、月光皎洁的夜里，他就出现了。他是一个很老的人：曾祖母说，她曾经听到自己的祖母说过他的故事。据说他过着一种孤寂的生活；除了教堂里那口古老的大钟以外，没有什么人和他谈话。这口钟曾经挂在那个教堂的塔上，不过这个名叫圣·亚尔般教堂的地方，现在既没有塔，也没有任何教堂的影子。
“叮当！叮当！”当那个塔还存在着的时候，钟声就这样响着。有一天傍晚，当太阳正在落下去的时候，这口钟就剧烈地震动起来了，最后它震断了绳子，向空中飞去，它辉煌的铁身在晚霞中放射出光彩。
“叮当！叮当！现在我要去睡了！”钟唱着，于是它飞到奥登塞河里去，沉到它最深的底下。从那时起，这块地方就叫做“钟渊”。不过钟在这块地方既不休息，也不睡觉。它在“河人”的地方发出嘹亮的声音来；有时它的调子透过水，浮到水面上来。许多人说，它的调子预告着又有一个什么人要死了，但是事实并不是这样；不是的，它不过是在跟“河人”唱唱歌和谈谈话罢了。“河人”现在不再孤独了。
钟在谈些什么呢？根据大家的传说，它很老，非常地老，在祖母的祖母没有出生以前它就在那儿。不过，就年龄来说，在“河人”面前，它还不过是一个孩子。“河人”是一个年老的、安静的、古怪的人物。他穿着一条鳝鱼皮做的裤子，一件鱼鳞缀成的上衣，用黄水仙花作钮扣，头发上插着芦苇，胡子上插着青浮草。这副样儿并不太好看。
把钟讲的话再讲一遍，恐怕需要许多许多年和许多许多天的时间，因为它是在年复一年地讲着同样的故事，有时讲得长，有时讲得短，完全看它的兴致而定。它讲着关于远古时代的事情，关于那些艰苦、黑暗时代的事情。
“在圣·亚尔般教堂里，修道士爬到挂着钟的高塔楼上面去。他是一个年轻而漂亮的人，但是他非常喜欢沉思。他从窗口向奥登塞河凝望。那时河床比现在的还要宽；那时沼泽地还是一个湖。他朝河上望，朝绿色的城堡望，朝对面的修女山上望——这儿有一座修女庵，亮光从一个修女的房间里射出来。他认识这位修女，他在想念着她；他一思念她，他的心就剧烈地跳起来。叮当！叮当！”
是的，钟讲的就是这样的故事。
“主教的那个傻佣人也爬到钟塔上来。当我——又粗又重的铁制的钟——在前后摇摆着的时候，我很可能击破他的前额。他坐得离我很近。他弹着两根棍子，好像那就是一个琴似的。他一边弹一边唱：‘现在我可以大声唱了，唱那些在别的时候我连小声都不敢讲的事情。我可以把藏在监牢铁栏杆后面的一切事情都唱出来！那儿是又冷又潮！耗子把活生生的人吃掉！谁也不知道这些事情！谁也没有听到这些事情！甚至现在还没有人听到，因此钟在这么高声地响着：叮当！叮当！’
“从前有一个国王；人们把他叫做克努特。他见了主教和修道士就行礼；不过当他用沉重的赋税和粗暴的话语把温德尔的居民弄得受不了的时候，他们就拿起武器和棍棒，把他像野兽似地赶走。他逃到教堂里去，把大门和小门都关起来。暴乱的群众把教堂包围——我听到人们这样讲：乌鸦、渡乌和喜鹊，被这些呼声和叫声所吓住，都飞进塔楼里面去，又飞出来。它们望望下边的人群，又从教堂里的窗口瞧瞧里面的情景，于是便把它们所看到的东西大声地喊出来。国王克努特在祭台面前跪着祈祷，他的兄弟爱力克和本奈蒂克特立在他身边，把刀子抽出来护卫他。不过国王的仆人——那个不忠的布勒克——背叛了他的主人：外面的人因此知道，怎样可以打中国王。有一个人从窗子扔进去一块石头，国王就倒下来死了。这一堆狂野的人群和鸟儿的叫声响彻了云霄。我也一同叫起来，我唱着，发出‘叮当！叮当！’的声音。
“教堂的钟高高地悬着，向四周观看。它招引鸟儿来拜访，它懂得它们的语言。风从洞口和百叶窗吹进来，从一切罅缝里吹进来。风什么东西都知道，它是从围绕着一切生物的空气那儿听来的，因为空气能钻进人的肺里面去，知道一切声音，每一个字和每一声叹息。空气知道这件事，因为风把它说出来，而教堂的钟懂得它的话语，因而向全世界唱：‘叮当！叮当！’
“不过要我来倾听和了解这许多的事情，未免太过分了。我无法把它们都唱出来！我现在是这样疲倦，这样沉重，弄得把横梁都折断了，结果我飞到阳光闪耀的空中去，然后沉到河里最深的地方，沉到‘河人’孤独地住着的那个地方。在那里，我年复一年地告诉他我听到和知道的东西：‘叮当！叮当！’”
这就是奥登塞河的钟渊所发出的响声——曾祖母是这样说的。
不过我们的老师却这样说：河里没有这样一口钟，因为这是不可能的！河里也没有“河人”住着，因为不可能有“河人”！他说，当一切教堂的钟都发出愉快的声音的时候，那事实上并不是钟，而是空气的震荡声。发出声音的是空气呀。——曾祖母也告诉过我们说，钟曾经这样讲过。在这一点上，他们都有一致的意见，因此这是可以肯定的！
“请你当心，请你当心，请你好好地注意！”他们两人都这样说。
空气知道所有的事情！它围绕着我们，它在我们的身体里面，它谈论着我们的思想和我们的行动。比起沉在“河人”所住的奥登塞河深处的那口钟来，它能谈论得更久。它飘向遥远的天空，永无休止，直到天上的钟发出“叮当！叮当！”的声音。
这个小品发表在1857年出版的《丹麦大众历书》上。这篇作品，来源于一个关于奥登塞河的“河人”和亚尔般教堂上的钟自动坠落河中的传说：那口钟自动投进河中的来势很猛，甚至在河床上弄出了一个大洞，到今天还可能看见。钟发出“叮当”的声音，据说是因为它在控诉教堂的敲钟人爱斯基尔德，此人贪污了用于铸钟的银两。安徒生在这里当然不是为这口钟申冤，而是通过它所发出的声音说明一个事实：人间心灵和生活上的“隐秘”不可能保密。钟声实际上是由空气震荡所形成。“空气知道所有的事情！它围绕着我们，它在我们的身体里面，它谈论着我们的思想和行动……它飘向天空，永无休止，直到天上的钟发出叮当！叮当的声音。”这倒有点近似我们的一个成语：“若要人不知，除非己莫为！”