And the old grandfather told him so much about distinguished men and women, that it appeared at last to the little grandson as if he knew as much as Holger Danske himself, who, after all, could only dream; and when the little fellow was in his bed, he thought so much of it, that he actually pressed his chin against the coverlet, and fancied he had a long beard that had grown fast to it.

But the old grandfather remained sitting at his work, and carved away at the last part of it; and this was the Danish coat of arms.  When he had finished, he looked at the whole, and thought of all he had read and heard, and that he had told this evening to the little boy; and he nodded, and wiped his spectacles, and put them on again, and said: 

“Yes, in my time Holger Danske will probably not come; but the boy in the bed yonder may get to see him, and be there when the struggle really comes.”

And the good old grandfather nodded again; and the more he looked at Holger Danske, the more plain did it become to him that it was a good image he had carved.  It seemed really to gain color, and the armor appeared to gleam like iron and steel; the hearts in the Danish arms became redder and redder, and the lions with the golden crowns on their heads leaped up. [Footnote:  The Danish arms consist of three lions and nine hearts.]

“That’s the most beautiful coat of arms there is in the world!” said the old man.  “The lions are strength, and the heart is gentleness and love!”

And he looked at the uppermost lion, and thought of King Canute, who bound great England to the throne of Denmark; and he looked at the second lion, and thought of Waldemar, who united Denmark and conquered the Wendish lands; and he glanced at the third lion, and remembered Margaret, who united Denmark, Sweden and Norway.  But while he looked at the red hearts, they gleamed more brightly than before; they became flames, and his heart followed each of them.

[Illustration:  Holger Danske]

The first heart led him into a dark, narrow prison; there sat a prisoner, a beautiful woman, the daughter of King Christian IV, Eleanor Ulfeld; [Footnote:  This princess was the wife of Corfitz Ulfeld, who was accused of high treason.  Her only crime was the most faithful love to her unhappy consort; but she was compelled to pass twenty-two years in a horrible dungeon, until her persecutor, Queen Sophia Amelia, was dead.] and the flame, which was shaped like a rose, attached itself to her bosom and blossomed, so that it became one with the heart of her, the noblest and best of all Danish women.

And his spirit followed the second flame, which led him out upon the sea, where the cannons thundered and the ships lay shrouded in smoke; and the flame fastened itself in the shape of a ribbon of honor on the breast of Hvitfeld, as he blew himself and his ship into the air, that he might save the fleet.[Footnote:  In the naval battle in Kjoge Bay between the Danes and the Swedes, in 1710, Hvitfeld’s ship, the Danebrog, took fire.  To save the town of Kjoge, and the Danish fleet, which was being driven by the wind toward his vessel, he blew himself and his whole crew into the air.]