Fairy Tales (Selection)

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Source: H. C. Andersen, Fairy Tales and Other Stories, revised and in part newly translated by W. A. Craigie (Oxford University Press, 1914), Internet Archive Source URL: https://archive.org/details/fairytalesandoth00andeuoft Translator: W. A. Craigie (ed. and trans.) (1914) Public domain basis: Selection of 14 tales: The Tinder-Box, The Princess on the Pea, Thumbelina, The Little Sea Maid, The Emperor's New Clothes, The Hardy Tin Soldier, The Wild Swans, The Nightingale, The Ugly Duckling, The Fir Tree, The Snow Queen, The Little Match Girl, The Swineherd, The Red Shoes. OCR text cleaned. Public domain (published 1914).

The Tinder-Box

THERE came a soldier marching along the high road — one, two ! one, two I He had his knapsack on his back and a sabre by his side, for he had been in the wars, and now he wanted to go home. And on the way he met with an old witch : she was very hideous, and her under lip hung down upon her breast. She said, * Good evening, soldier. What a fine sword you have, and what a big knapsack ! You're a proper soldier ! Now you shall have as much money as you like to have.' ' I thank you, you old witch ! ' said the soldier. * Do you see that great tree ? ' quoth the witch ; and she pointed to a tree which stood beside them. ' It 's quite hollow inside. You must climb to the top, and then you'll see a hole, through which you can let yourself down and get deep into the tree. I'll tie a rope round your body, so that I can pull you up again when you call me.' ' What am I to do down in the tree ? ' asked the soldier. ' Get money,' replied the witch. ' Listen to me. When you come down to the earth under the tree, you will find yourself in a great hall : it is quite light, for many hundred lamps are burning there. Then you will see three doors ; these you can open, for the keys are in the locks. If you go into the first chamber, you'll see a great chest in the middle of the floor ; on this chest sits a dog, and he 's got a pair of eyes as big as two tea-cups. But you need not care for that. I'll give you my blue-checked apron, and you can spread it out upon the floor ; then go up quickly and take the dog, and set him on my apron ; then open the chest, and take as many farthings as you like. They are of copper : if you prefer silver, you must go into the second chamber. But there sits a dog with a pair of eyes as big as mill-wheels. But do not you care for that. Set him upon my apron, and take some of the money. And if you want gold, you can have that too — in fact, as much as you can carry — if you go into the third chamber. But the dog that sits on the money-chest there has two eyes as big as the round tower of Copenhagen. He is a fierce dog, you may be sure ; but you needn't be afraid, for all that Only set him on my apron, and he won't hurt you ; and take out of the chest as much gold as you like.' ' That 's not so bad,' said the soldier. ' But what am I to give you, you old witch ? for you will not do it for nothing, I fancy.' * No,' replied the witch. ' not a single farthing will I have. You shall only bring me an old tinder-box which my grandmother forgot when she was down there last.' ' Then tie the rope round my body,' cried the soldier. * Here it is,' said the witch, ' and here 's my blue-checked apron.' Then the soldier climbed up into the tree, let himself slip down into the hole, and stood, as the witch had said, in the great hall where the many hundred lamps were burning. Now he opened the first door. Ugh ! there sat the dog with eyes as big as tea-cups, staring at him. ' You're a nice fellow ! ' exclaimed the soldier ; and he set him on the witch's apron, and took as many copper farthings as his pockets would hold, and then locked the chest, set the dog on it again, and went into the second chamber. Aha ! there sat the dog with eyes as big as mill-wheels. ' You should not stare so hard at me,' said the soldier ; ' you might strain your eyes.' And he set the dog upon the witch's apron. When he saw the silver money in the chest, he threw away all the copper money he had, and filled his pockets and his knapsack with silver only. Then he went into the third chamber. Oh, but that was horrid ! The dog there really had eyes as big as the round tower, and they turned round and round in his head like wheels. ' Good evening ! ' said the soldier ; and he touched his cap, for he had never seen such a dog as that before. When he had looked at him a little more closely, he thought, ' That will do,' and lifted him down to the floor, and opened the chest. Mercy ! what a quantity of gold was there ! He could buy with it the whole of Copenhagen, and the sugar-pigs of the cake-woman, and all the tin soldiers, whips, and rocking-horses in the whole world. Yes, that was a quantity of money ! Now the soldier threw away all the silver coin with which he had filled his pockets and his knapsack, and took gold instead : yes, all his pockets, his knapsack, his boots, and his cap were filled, so that he could scarcely walk. Now indeed he had plenty of money. He put the dog on the chest, shut the door, and then called up through the tree, ' Now pull me up, you old witch.' ; Have you the tinder-box ? ' asked the witch. ' Plague on it ! ' exclaimed the soldier, ' I had clean forgotten that.' And he went and brought it. The witch drew him up, and he stood on the high road again, with pockets, boots, knapsack, and cap full of gold. 4 What are you going to do with the tinder-box ? ' asked the soldier. ' That 's nothing to you,' retorted the witch. ' You've had your money — just give me the tinder-box.' * Nonsense ! ' said the soldier. ' Tell me directly what you're going to do with it, or I'll draw my sword and cut off your head.' 4 No ! ' cried the witch. So the soldier cut off her head. There^she lay ! But he tied up all his money in her apron, took it on his back like a bundle, put the tinder-box in his pocket, and went straight off towards the town. That was a splendid town ! He put up at the very best inn, asked for the finest rooms, and ordered his favourite dishes, for now he was rich, having got so much money. The servant who had to clean his boots certainly thought them a remarkably old pair for such a rich gentleman ; but he had not bought any new ones yet. The next day he procured proper boots and handsome clothes. Now our soldier had become a fine gentleman ; and the people told him of all the splendid things which were in their city, and about the king, and what a pretty princess the king's daughter was. ' Where can one get to see her ? ' asked the soldier. ' She is not to be seen at all,' said they all together ; * she lives in a great copper castle, with a great many walls and towers round about it ; no one but the king may go in and out there, for it has been prophesied that she shall marry a common soldier, and the Mng can't bear that.' * I should like to see her,* thought the soldier ; but he could not get leave to do so. Now he lived merrily, went to the theatre, drove in the king's garden, and gave much money to the poor ; and this was very kind of him, for he knew from old times how hard it is when one has not a shilling. Now he was rich, had fine clothes, and gained many friends, who all said he was a rare one, a true cavalier ; and that pleased the soldier well. But as he spent money every day and never earned any, he had at last only two shillings left ; and he was obliged to turn out of the fine rooms in which he had dwelt, and had to live in a little garret under the roof, and clean his boots for himself, and mend them with a darning-needle. None of his friends came to see him, for there were too many stairs to climb. It was quite dark one evening, and he could not even buy himself a candle, when it occurred to him that there was a candle-end in the tinder-box which he had taken out of the hollow tree into which the witch had helped him. He brought out the tinder-box and the candle-end ; but as soon as he struck fire and the sparks rose up from the flint, the door flew open, and the dog who had eyes as big as a couple of tea -cups, and whom he had seen in the tree, stood before him, and said, ' What are my lord's commands ? ' ' What is this ? ' said the soldier. ' That 's a famous tinder-box, if I can get everything with it that I want ! Bring me some money,' said he to the dog ; and whisk! the dog was gone, and whisk! he was back again, with a great bag full of shillings in his mouth. Now the soldier knew what a capital tinder-box this was. If he struck it once, the dog came who sat upon the chest of copper money ; if he struck it twice, the dog came who had the silver ; and if he struck it three times, then appeared the dog who had the gold. Now the soldier moved back into the fine rooms, and appeared again in handsome clothes ; and all his friends knew him again, and cared very much for him indeed. Once he thought to himself, ' It is a very strange thing that one cannot get to see the princess. They all say she is very beautiful ; but what is the use of that, if she has always to sit in the great copper castle with the many towers ? Can I not get to see her at all ? Where is my tinder-box ? ' And so he struck a light, and whisk! came the dog with eyes as big as tea-cups. ' It is midnight, certainly,' said the soldier, ' but I should very much like to see the princess, only for one little moment.' The dog was outside the door directly, and, before the soldier thought it, came back with the princess. She sat upon the dog's back and slept ; and every one could see she was a real princess, for she was so lovely. The soldier could not refrain from kissing her, for he was a thorough soldier. Then the dog ran back again with the princess. But when morning came, and the king and queen were drinking tea, the princess said she had had a strange dream the night before, about a dog and a soldier — that she had ridden upon the dog, and the soldier had kissed her. * That would be a fine history ! ' said the Queen. So one of the old court ladies had to watch the next night by the princess's bed, to see if this was really a dream, or what it might be. The soldier had a great longing to see the lovely princess again ; so the dog came in the night, took her away, and ran as fast as he could. But the old lady put on waterboots, and ran just as fast after him. When she saw that they both entered a great house, she thought, ' Now I know where it is ; ' and with a bit of chalk she drew a great cross on the door. Then she went home and lay down, and the dog came up with the princess ; but when he saw that there was a cross drawn on the door where the soldier lived, he took a piece of chalk too, and drew crosses on all the doors in the town. And that was cleverly done, for now the lady could not find the right door, because all the doors had crosses upon them. In the morning early came the King and the Queen, the old court lady and all the officers, to see where it was the princess had been. ' Here it is ! ' said the King, when he saw the first door with a cross upon it. 'No, my dear husband, it is there ! ' said the Queen, who descried another door which also showed a cross. ' But -there is one, and there is one ! ' said all, for wherever they looked there were crosses on the doors. So they saw that it would avail them nothing if they searched on. But the Queen was an exceedingly clever woman, who could do more than ride in a coach. She took her great gold scissors, cut a piece of silk into pieces, and made a neat little bag ; this bag she filled with fine wheat flour, and tied it on the princess's back ; and when that was done, she cut a little hole in the bag, so that the flour \vould be scattered along all the way which the princess should take. In the night the dog came again, took the princess on his back, and ran with her to the soldier, who loved her very much, and would gladly have been a prince, so that he might have her for his wife. The dog did not notice at all how the flour ran out in a stream from the castle to the windows of the soldier's house, where he ran up the wall with the princess. In the morning the King and the Queen saw well enough where their daughter had been, and they took the soldier and put him in prison. There he sat. Oh, but it was dark and disagreeable there ! And they said to him, ' To-morrow you shall be hanged.' That was not amusing to hear, and he had left his tinder-box at the inn. In the morning he could see, through the iron grating of the little window, how the people were hurrying out of the town to see him hanged. He heard the drums beat and saw the soldiers marching. All the people were running out, and among them was a shoemaker's boy with leather apron and slippers, and he gallopped so fast that one of his slippers flew off, and came right against the wall where the soldier sat looking through the iron grating. ' Halloo, you shoemaker's boy ! you needn't be in such a hurry,' cried the soldier to him : ' it will not begin till I come. But if you will run to where I lived, and bring me my tinder-box, you shall have four shillings ; but you must put your best leg foremost.' The shoemaker's boy wanted to get the four shillings, so he went and brought the tinder-box, and — well, we shall hear now what happened. Outside the town a great gallows had been built, and round it stood the soldiers and many hundred thousand people. The king and queen sat on a splendid throne, opposite to the judges and the whole council. The soldier already stood upon the ladder ; but as they were about to put the rofDe round his neck, he said that before a poor criminal suffered his punishment an innocent request was always granted to him. He wanted very much to smoke a pipe of tobacco, and it would be the last pipe he should smoke in the world. The king would not say ' No ' to this ; so the soldier took his tinder-box, and struck fire. One — two — three ! — and there suddenly stood all the dogs — the one with eyes as big as tea-cups, the one with eyes as large as mill-wheels, and the one whose eyes were as big as the round tower. ' Help me now, so that I may not be hanged,' said the soldier. And the dogs fell upon the judge and all the council, seized one by the leg and another by the nose, and tossed them all many feet into the air, so that they fell down and were all broken to pieces. ' I won't ! ' cried the King ; but the biggest dog took him and the Queen, and threw them after the others. Then the soldiers were afraid, and the people cried, ' Little soldier, you shall be our king, and marry the beautiful princess ! ' So they put the soldier into the king's coach, and all the three dogs danced in front and cried ' Hurrah ! ' and the boys whistled through their fingers, and the soldiers presented arms. The princess came out of the copper castle, and became queen, and she liked that well enough. The wedding lasted a week, and the three dogs sat at the table too, and opened their eyes wider than ever at all they saw.

The Princess On The Pea

THERE was once a Prince who wanted to marry a princess ; but she was to be a real princess. So he travelled about, all through the world, to find a real one, but everywhere there was something in the way. There were princesses enough, but whether they were real princesses he could not quite make out : there was always something that did not seem quite right. So he came home again, and was quite sad ; for he wished so much to have a real princess. One evening a terrible storm came on. It lightened and thundered, the rain streamed down ; it was quite fearful ! Then there was a knocking at the town-gate, and the old King went out to open it. '(\Q& C* • It was a Princess who stood outside the gate. But, mercy ! how she looked, from the rain and the rough weather ! The water ran down her hair and her clothes ; it ran in at the points of her shoes, and out at the heels ; and yet she declared that she was a real princess. ' Yes, we will soon find that out,' thought the old Queen. But she said nothing, only went into the bed-chamber, took all the bedding off, and put a pea on the bottom of the bedstead ; then she took twenty mattresses and laid them upon the pea, and then twenty eider-down quilts upon the mattresses. On this the Princess had to lie all night. In the morning she was asked how she had slept. ' Oh, miserably ! ' said the Princess. ' I scarcely closed my eyes all night long. Goodness knows what was in my bed. I lay upon something hard, so that I am black and blue all over. It is quite dreadful ! ' Now they saw that she was a real princess, for through the twenty mattresses and the twenty eider-down quilts she had felt the pea. No one but a real princess could be so tender-skinned. So the Prince took her for his wife, for now he knew that he had a true princess ; and the pea was put in the museum, and it is still to be seen there, unless somebody has carried it off. Look you, this is a true story.

Thumbelina

THERE was once a woman who wished for a very little child ; but she did not know where she should procure one. So she went to an old witch, and said, ' I do so very much wish for a little child ! can you not tell me where I can get one ? ' ' Oh ! that could easily be managed,' said the witch. ' There you have a barleycorn : that is not of the kind which grows in the countryman's field, and which the, chickens get to eat. Put it into a flower-pot, and you shall see what you shall see.' ' Thank you,' said the woman ; and she gave the witch a groat. Then she went home and planted the barleycorn, and immediately there grew up a great handsome flower, which looked like a tulip ; but the leaves were tightly closed, as though it were still a bud. ' It is a beautiful flower/ said the woman ; and she kissed its beautiful yellow and red leaves. But just as she kissed it the flower opened with a loud crack. It was a real tulip, as one could now see ; but in the middle of the flower there sat upon the green stamens a little maiden, delicate and graceful to behold. She was scarcely half a thumb's length in height, and therefore she was called Thumbelina. A neat polished walnut-shell served Thumbelina for a cradle, blue violet-leaves were her mattresses, with a rose-leaf for a coverlet. There she slept at night ; but in the daytime she played upon the table, where the woman had put a plate with a wreath of flowers around it, whose stalks stood in water ; on the water swam a great tulip-leaf, and on this the little maiden could sit, and row from one side of the plate to the other,, with two white horse-hairs for oars. That looked pretty indeed ! She could also sing, and, indeed, so delicately and sweetly, that the like had never been heard. One night as she lay in her pretty bed, there came a horrid old Toad hopping in at the window, in which one pane was broken. The Toad was very ugly, big, and damp : it hopped straight down upon the table, where Thumbelina lay sleeping under the red rose-leaf. ' That would be a handsome wife for my son,' said the Toad ; and she took the walnut-shell in which Thumbelina lay asleep, and hopped with it through the window down into the garden. There ran a great broad brook ; but the margin was swampy and soft, and here the Toad dwelt with her son. Ugh ! he was ugly, and looked just like his mother. 1 Croak ! croak ! brek kek-kex ! ' that was all he could say when he saw the graceful little maiden in the walnutshell. ' Don't speak so loud, or she will awake,' said the old Toad. ' She might run away from us yet, for she is as light as a bit of swan's-down. We will put her out in the brook upon one of the broad water-lily leaves. That will be just like an island for her, she is so small and light. Then she can't get away, while we put the state-room under the mud in order, where you are to live and keep house together.' Out in the brook there grew many water-lilies with broad green leaves, which looked as if they were floating on the water. The leaf which lay farthest out was also the greatest of all, and to that the old Toad swam out and laid the walnut-shell upon it with Thumbelina. The poor little thing woke early in the morning, and when she saw where she was, she began to cry very bitterly ; for there was water on every side of the great green leaf, and she could not get to land at all. The old Toad sat down in the mud, decking out her room with sedges and yellow water-lilies — it was to be made very pretty for the new daughter-inlaw ; then she swam out, with her ugly son, to the leaf on which Thumbelina was. They wanted to take her pretty bed, which was to be put in the bridal chamber before she went in there herself. The old Toad bowed low before her in the water, and said, ' Here is my son ; he will be your husband, and you will live splendidly together in the mud.' ' Croak ! croak ! brek-kek-kex ! ' was all the son could say. Then they took the elegant little bed, and swam away with it ; but Thumbelina sat all alone upon the green leaf and wept, for she did not like to live at the nasty Toad's, and have her ugly son for a husband. The little fishes swimming in the water below had both seen the Toad, and had also heard what she said ; therefore they stretched forth their heads, for they wanted to see the little girl. So soon as they saw her they considered her so pretty that they felt very sorry she should have to go down to the ugly Toad. No, that must never be ! They assembled together in the water around the green stalk which held the leaf on which the little maiden stood, and with their teeth they gnawed away the stalk, and so the leaf swam down the stream ; and away went Thumbelina far away, where the Toad could not get at her. Thumbelina sailed by many places, and the little birds which sat in the bushes saw her, and said, * What a lovely little girl ! ' The leaf swam away with her, farther and farther ; so Thumbelina travelled out of the country. A graceful little white butterfly continued to flutter round her, and at last alighted on the leaf. Thumbelina pleased him, and she was so delighted, for now the Toad could not reach her ; and it was so beautiful where she was floating along — the sun shone upon the water, it was just like shining gold. She took her girdle and bound one end of it round the butterfly, fastening the other end of the ribbon to the leaf. The leaf now glided onward much faster, and Thumbelina too, for she stood upon the leaf. There came a big Cockchafer flying up ; and he saw her, and immediately clasped his claws round her slender waist, and flew with her up into a tree. The green leaf went swimming down the brook, and the butterfly with it ; for he was fastened to the leaf, and could not get away from it. Mercy ! how frightened poor little Thumbelina was when THUMBELINA the Cockchafer flew with her up into the tree ! But especially she was sorry for the fine white butterfly whom she had bound fast to the leaf, for, if he could not free himself from it, he would be forced to starve to death. The Cockchafer, however, did not trouble himself at all about this. He seated himself with her upon the biggest green leaf of the tree, gave her the sweet part of the flowers to eat, and declared that she was very pretty, though she did not in the least resemble a cockchafer. Afterwards came all the other cockchafers who lived in the tree to pay a visit : they looked at Thumbelina, and the lady cockchafers shrugged their feelers and said, ' Why, she has not even more than two legs ! — that has a wretched appearance.' ' She has not any feelers ! ' cried another. ' Her waist is quite slender — fie ! she looks like a human creature — how ugly she is ! ' said all the lady cockchafers. And yet Thumbelina was very pretty. Even the Cock- AXDERSE.Y chafer who had carried her off thought so ; but when all the others declared she was ugly, he believed it at last, and would not have her at all — she might go whither she liked. Then they flew down with her from the tree, and set her upon a daisy, and she wept, because she was so ugly that the cockchafers would not have her ; and yet she was the loveliest little being one could imagine, and as tender and delicate as a rose-leaf. The whole summer through poor Thumbelina lived quite alone in the great wood. She wove herself a bed out of blades of grass, and hung it up under a large burdock leaf, so that she was protected from the rain ; she plucked the honey out of the flowers for food, and drank of the dew which stood every morning upon the leaves. Thus summer and autumn passed away ; but now came winter, the cold long winter. All the birds who had sung so sweetly to her flew away ; trees and flowers shed their leaves ; the great burdock leaf under which she had lived shrivelled up, and there remained nothing of it but a yellow withered stalk ; and she was dreadfully cold, for her clothes were torn, and she herself was so frail and delicate — poor little Thumbelina ! she was nearly frozen. It began to snow, and every snow-flake that fell upon her was like a whole shovel-full thrown upon one of us, for we are tall, and she was only an inch long. Then she wrapped herself in a dry leaf, but that would not warm her — she shivered with cold. Close to the wood into which she had now come lay a great corn-field, but the corn was gone long ago ; only the naked dry stubble stood up out of the frozen ground. These were just like a great forest for her to wander through; and, oh ! how she trembled with cold. Then she arrived at the door of the Field Mouse. This mouse had a little hole under the stubble. There the Field Mouse lived, warm and comfortable, and had a whole room-full of corn — a glorious kitchen and larder. Poor Thumbelina stood at the door just like a poor beggar girl, and begged for a little bit of a barleycorn, for she had not had the smallest morsel to eat for the last two days. ' You poor little creature,' said the Field Mouse — for after all she was a good old Field Mouse — ' come into my warm room and dine with me.' THUMBELINA As she was pleased with Thumbelina, she said, * If you like you may stay with me through the winter, but you must keep my room clean and neat, and tell me stories, for I am very fond of them.' And Thumbelina did as the kind old Field Mouse bade her, and had a very good time of it. ' Now we shall soon have a visitor,' said the Field Mouse. ' My neighbour is in the habit of visiting me once a week. He is even better off than I am, has great rooms, and a beautiful black velvety fur. If you could only get him for your husband you would be well provided for ; but he cannot see at all. You must tell him the very prettiest stories you know.' But Thumbelina did not care about this ; she would not have the neighbour at all, for he was a Mole. He came and paid his visits in his black velvet coat. The Field Mouse told how rich and how learned he was, and how his house was more than twenty times larger than hers ; that he had learning, but that he did not like the sun and beautiful flowers, and said nasty things about them, for he had never seen them. Thumbelina had to sing, and she sang ' Cockchafer, fly away,' and ' When the parson goes afield.' Then the Mole fell in love with her, because of her delicious voice ; but he said nothing, for he was a sedate man. A short time before, he had dug a long passage through the earth from his own house to theirs ; and Thumbelina and the Field Mouse obtained leave to walk in this passage as much as they wished. But he begged them not to be afraid of the dead bird which was lying in the passage. It was an entire bird, with wings and a beak. It certainly must have died only a short time before, when the winter began, and was now buried just where the Mole had made his passage. The Mole took a bit of decayed wood in his mouth, for that glimmers like fire in the dark ; and then he went first and lighted them through the long dark passage. When they came where the dead bird lay, the Mole thrust up his broad nose against the ceiling and pushed the earth, so that a great hole was made, through which the daylight could shine down. In the middle of the floor lay a dead Swallow, his beautiful wings pressed close against his sides, and his head and feet drawn in under his feathers : the poor bird had certainly died of cold. Thumbelina was very sorry for this ; she was very fond of all the little birds, who had sung and twittered so prettily for her through the summer ; but the Mole gave him a push with his short legs, and said, ' Now he doesn't pipe any more. It must be miserable to be bom a little bird. I'm thankful that none of my children can be that : such a bird has nothing but his " tweet-tweet ", and has to starve in the winter ! ' ' Yes, you may well say that, like a sensible man,' observed the Field Mouse. ' Of what use is all this " tweettweet " to a bird when the winter comes ? He must starve and freeze. But they say that 's very aristocratic.' Thumbelina said nothing ; but when the two others turned their backs on the bird, she bent down, put the feathers aside which covered his head, and kissed him upon his closed eyes. ' Perhaps it was he who sang so prettily to me in the summer,' she thought. * How much .pleasure he gave me, the dear beautiful bird ! ' The Mole now closed up the hole tKrough which the daylight shone in, and accompanied the ladies home. But at night Thumbelina could not sleep at all ; so she got up out of her bed, and wove a large beautiful carpet of hay, and carried it and spread it over the dead bird, and laid soft cotton, which she had found in the Field Mouse's room, at the bird's sides, so that he might lie warm in the cold ground. ' Farewell, you pretty little bird ! ' said she. ' Farewell ! and thanks to you for your beautiful song in the summer, when all the trees were green, and the sun shone down warmly upon us.' And then she laid her head on the bird's breast, but at once was greatly startled, for it felt as if something were beating inside there. That was the bird's heart. The bird was not dead ; he was only lying there torpid with cold ; and now he had been warmed, and came to life again. In autumn all the swallows fly away to warm countries ; but if one happens to be belated, it becomes so cold that it falls down as if dead, and lies where it falls, and then the cold snow covers it. Thumbelina fairly trembled, she was so startled ; for the bird was large, very large, compared with her, who was only an inch in height. But she took courage, laid the cotton closer round the poor bird, and brought a leaf of mint that she had used as her own coverlet, and laid it over the bird's head. The next night she crept out to him again — and now he was alive, but quite weak ; he could only open his eyes for a moment, and look at Thumbelina, who stood before him with a bit of decayed wood in her hand, for she had no other lantern. ' I thank you, you pretty little child,' said the sick Swallow ; ' I have been famously warmed. Soon I shall get my strength back again, and I shall be able to fly about in the warm sunshine.' ' Oh,' she said, ' it is so cold without. It snows and freezes. Stay in your warm bed, and I will nurse you.' Then she brought the Swallow water in the petal of a flower ; and the Swallow drank, and told her how he had torn one of his wings in a thorn bush, and thus had not been able to fly as fast as the other swallows, which had sped away, far away, to the warm countries. So at last he had fallen to the ground, but he could remember nothing more, and did not know at all how he had come where she had found him. The whole winter the Swallow remained there, and Thumbelina nursed and tended him heartily. Neither the Field Mouse nor the Mole heard anything about it, for they did not like the poor Swallow. So soon as the spring came, and the sun warmed the earth, the Swallow bade Thumbelina farewell, and she opened the hole which the Mole had made in the ceiling. The sun shone in upon them gloriously, and the Swallow asked if Thumbelina would go with him ; she could sit upon his back, and they would fly away far into the green wood. But Thumbelina knew that the old Field Mouse would be grieved if she left her. ' No, I cannot ! ' said Thumbelina. ' Farewell, farewell, you good, pretty girl ! ' said the Swallow ; and he flew out into the sunshine. Thumbelina looked after him, and the tears came into her eyes, for she was so fond of the poor Swallow. ' Tweet- weet ! tweet-weet ! ' sang the bird, and flew into the green forest. Thumbelina felt very sad. She did not get permission to go out into the warm sunshine. The corn which was sown in the field over the house of the Field Mouse grew up high into the air ; it was quite a thick wood for the poor girl, who was only an inch in height. ' Now you must work at your outfit this summer,' said -the Field Mouse to her ; for her neighbour, the tiresome Mole with the velvet coat, had proposed to her. * You shall have woollen and linen clothes both ; you will lack nothing when you have become the Mole's wife.' Thumbelina had to turn the spindle, and the Mole hired four spiders to spin and weave for her day and night. Every evening the Mole paid her a visit ; and he was always saying that when the summer should draw to a close, the sun would not shine nearly so hot, for that now it burned the earth almost as hard as a stone. Yes, when the summer should have gone, then he would keep his wedding day with Thumbelina. But she was not glad at all, for she did not like the tiresome Mole. Every morning when the sun rose, and every""evening when it went down, she crept out at the door ; and when the wind blew the corn ears apart, so that she could see the blue sky, she thought how bright and beautiful it was out here, and wished so much to see her dear Swallow again. But the Swallow did not come back ; he had doubtless flown far away, in the fair green forest. When autumn came on, Thumbelina had all her outfit ready. * In four weeks you shall celebrate your wedding,' said the Field Mouse to her. But Thumbelina wept, and declared she would not have the tiresome Mole. * Nonsense,' said the Field Mouse ; ' don't be obstinate, or I will bite you with my white teeth. He is a very fine man whom you will marry. The queen herself has not such a black velvet fur ; and his kitchen and cellar are full. Be thankful for your good fortune.' Now the wedding was to be held. The Mole had already come to fetch Thumbelina ; she was to live with him, deep under the earth, and never to come out into the warm sunshine, for that he did not like. The poor little thing was very sorrowful ; she was now to say farewell to the glorious sun, which, after all, she had been allowed by the Field Mouse to see from the threshold of the door. ' Farewell, thou bright sun ! ' she said, and stretched out her arms towards it, and walked a little way forth from the house of the Field Mouse, for now the corn had been reaped, and only the dry stubble stood in the fields. ' Farewell ! ' she repeated, and threw her little arms round a little red flower which still bloomed there. ' Greet the dear Swallow from me, if you see her again.' ' Tweet-weet ! tweet-weet ! ' a voice suddenly sounded over her head. She looked up ; it was the Swallow, who was just flying by. When he saw Thumbelina he was very glad ; and Thumbelina told him how loth she was to have the ugly Mole for her husband, and that she was to live deep under the earth, where the sun never shone. And she could not refrain from weeping. * The cold winter is coming now/ said the Swallow ; e I am going to fly far away into the warm countries. Will you come with me ? You can sit upon my back, only tie yourself fast with your sash, then we shall fly from the ugly Mole and his dark room — away, far away, over the mountains, to the warm countries, where the sun shines more beautifully than here, where it is always summer, and there are lovely flowers. Only fly with me, you dear little Thumbelina, you who saved my life when I lay frozen in the dark earthy passage.' ' Yes, I will go with you ! ' said Thumbelina, and she seated herself on the bird's back, with her feet on his outspread wings, and bound her girdle fast to one of his strongest feathers ; then the Swallow flew up into the air over forest and over sea, high up over the great mountains, where the snow always lies ; and Thumbelina felt cold in the bleak air, but then she crept under the bird's warm feathers, and only put out her little head to admire all the beauties beneath her. At last they came to the warm countries. There the sun shone far brighter than here ; the sky seemed twice as high ; in ditches and on the hedges grew the most beautiful blue and green grapes ; lemons and oranges hung in the woods ; the air was fragrant with myrtles and balsams, and on the roads the loveliest children ran about, playing with the gay butterflies. But the Swallow flew still farther, and it became more and more beautiful. Under the most glorious green trees by the blue lake stood a palace of dazzling white marble, from the olden time. Vines clustered around the lofty pillars ; at the top were many swallows' nests, and in one of these the Swallow lived who carried Thumbelina. ' Here is my house,' said the Swallow. ' But if you will select for yourself one of the splendid flowers which grow down yonder, then I will put you into it, and you shall have everything as nice as you can wish.' ' That is capital,' cried she, and clapped her little hands. A great marble pillar lay there, which had fallen to the ground and had been broken into three pieces ; but between these pieces grew the most beautiful great white flowers. The Swallow flew down with Thumbelina, and set her upon one of the broad leaves. But how great was the little maid's surprise ! There sat a little man in the midst of the flower, as white and transparent as if he had been made of glass ; he wore the daintiest of §bld crowns on his head, and the brightest wings on his shoulders ; he himself was not bigger than Thumbelina. He was the angel of the flower. In each of the flowers dwelt such a little man or woman, but this one was king over them all. i Heavens ! how beautiful he is 1 ' whispered Thumbelina to the Swallow. The little prince was very much frightened at the Swallow ; for it was quite a gigantic bird to him, who was so small. But when he saw Thumbelina, he became very glad ; she was the prettiest maiden he had ever seen. Therefore he took off his golden crown, and put it upon her, asked her name, and if she would be his wife, and then she should be queen of all the flowers. Now this was truly a different kind of man to the son of the Toad, and the Mole with the black velvet fur. She therefore said ' Yes ' to the charming prince. And out of every flower came a lady or a lord, so pretty to behold that it was a delight : each one brought Thumbelina a present ; but the best gift was a pair of beautiful wings which had belonged to a great white fly ; these were fastened to Thumbelina's back, and now she could fly from flower to flower. Then there was much rejoicing ; and the Swallow sat above them in her nest, and sung for them as well as she could ; but yet in her heart she was sad, for she was so fond of Thumbelina, and would have liked never to part from her. * You shall not be called Thumbelina ! ' said the Flower Angel to her ; * that is an ugly name, and you are too fair for it — we will call you Maia.' * Farewell, farewell ! J said the Swallow, and she flew away again from the warm countries, far away back to Denmark. There she had a little nest over the window of the man who can tell fairy tales. To him she sang ' Tweet-weet ! tweet-weet ! ' and from him we have the whole story.

The Little Sea Maid

out in the sea the water is as blue as the petals of the most beautiful corn-flower, and as clear as the purest glass. But it is very deep, deeper than any cable will sound ; many steeples must be placed one above the other to reach from the bottom to the surface of the water. And down there live the sea people. Now, you must not believe there is nothing down there but the bare sand ; no, — the strangest trees and plants grow there, so pliable in their stalks and leaves that at the least motion of the water they move just as if they had life. All fishes, great and small, glide among the twigs, just as here the birds do in the trees. In the deepest spot of all lies the Sea King's castle : the walls are of coral, and the tall pointed windows of the clearest amber ; mussel shells form the roof, and they open and shut according as the water flows. It looks lovely, for in each shell lie gleaming pearls, a single one of which would be a great ornament in a queen's diadem. The Sea King below there had been a widower for many years, while his old mother kept house for him. She was a clever woman, but proud of her rank, so she wore twelve oysters on her tail, while the other great people were only allowed to wear six. Beyond this she was deserving of great praise, especially because she was very fond of her granddaughters, the little sea princesses. These were six pretty children ; but the youngest was the most beautiful of all. Her skin was as clear and as fine as a rose leaf, her eyes were as blue as the deepest sea, but, like all the rest, she had no feet, for her body ended in a fish-tail. All day long they could play in the castle, down in the halls, where living flowers grew out of the walls. The great amber windows were opened, and then the fishes swam in to them, just as the swallows fly in to us when we open our windows ; but the fishes swam straight up to the princesses, ate out of their hands, and let themselves be stroked. Outside the castle was a great garden with bright red and dark blue flowers : the fruit glowed like gold, and the flowers like flames of fire ; and they continually kept moving their stalks and leaves. The earCh itself was the finest sand, but blue as the flame of brimstone. A peculiar blue radiance lay upon everything down there : one would have thought oneself high in the air, with the canopy of heaven above and around, rather than at the bottom of the deep sea. During a calm the sun could be seen ; it appeared like a purple flower, from which all light streamed out. Each of the little princesses had her own little place in the garden, where she might dig and plant at her good pleasure. One gave her flower-bed the form of a whale ; another thought it better to make hers like a little mermaid ; but the youngest made hers quite round, like the sun, and had only flowers which gleamed red as the sun itself. She was a strange child, quiet and thoughtful ; and when the other sisters made a display of the beautiful things they had received out of wrecked ships, she would have nothing beyond the red flowers which resembled the sun, except a pretty marble statue. This was a figure of a charming boy, hewn out of white clear stone, which had sunk down to the bottom of the sea from a wreck. She planted a pink weeping willow beside this statue ; the tree grew famously, and hung its fresh branches over the statue towards the blue sandy ground, where the shadow showed violet, and moved like the branches themselves ; it seemed as if the ends of the branches and the roots were playing together and wished to kiss each other. There was no greater pleasure for her than to hear of the world of men above them. The old grandmother had to tell all she knew of ships and towns, of men and animals. It seemed particularly beautiful to her that up on the earth the flowers shed fragrance, for they had none down at the bottom of the sea, and that the trees were green, and that the fishes which one saw there among the trees could sing so loud and clear that it was a pleasure to hear them. What the grandmother called fishes were the little birds ; otherwise they could not have understood her, for they had never seen a bird. ' When you have completed your fifteenth year,' said the grandmother, ' you shall have leave to rise up out of the sea, to sit on the rocks in the moonlight, and to see the great ships sailing by. Then you will see forests and towns ! ' In the next year one of the sisters was fifteen years of age, but each of the others was one year younger than the next ; so that the youngest had full five years to wait before she could come up from the bottom of the sea, and find out how our world looked. But one promised to tell the others what she had seen and what she had thought the most beautiful on the first day of her visit ; for their grandmother could not tell them enough — there was so much about which they wanted information. No one was more anxious about these things than the youngest — just that one who had the longest time to wait, and who was always quiet and thoughtful. Many a night she stood by the open window, and looked up through the dark blue water at the fishes splashing with their fins and tails. Moon and stars she could see ; they certainly shone quite faintly, but through the water they looked much larger than they appear in our eyes. When something like a black cloud passed among them, she knew that it was either a whale swimming over her head, or a ship with many people : they certainly did not think that a pretty little sea maid was standing down below stretching up her white hands towards the keel of their ship. Now the eldest princess was fifteen years old, and might mount up to the surface of the sea. When she came back, she had a hundred things to tell — but the finest thing, she said, was to lie in the moonshine on a sand-bank in the quiet sea, and to look at the neighbouring coast, with the large town, where the lights twinkled like a hundred stars, and to hear the music and the noise and clamour of carriages and men, to see the many church steeples, and to hear the sound of the bells. Just because she could not get up to these, she longed for them more than for anything. Oh, how the youngest sister listened ! and afterwards when she stood at the open window and looked up through the dark blue water, she thought of the great city with all its bustle and noise ; and then she thought she could hear - 6 ) '" ^<^ , : the church bells ringing, even down -to the depth where she was. .^ In the following year, the second sister received permission to mount upward through the water and to swim whither she pleased. She rose up just as the sun was setting ; and this spectacle, she said, was the most beautiful. The whole sky looked like gold, she said, and as to the clouds, she could not properly describe their beauty. They sailed away over her head, purple and violet -coloured, but far quicker than the clouds there flew a flight of wild swans, like a long white veil, over the water towards where the sun stood. She swam towards them ; but the sun sank, and the roseate hue faded on the sea and in the clouds. In the following year the next sister went up. She was the boldest of them all, and therefore she swam up a broad stream that poured its waters into the sea. She saw glorious green hills clothed with vines ; palaces and castles peeped forth from amid splendid woods ; she heard how all the birds sang ; and the sun shone so warm that she was often obliged to dive under the water to cool her glowing face. In a little bay she found a whole swarm of little mortals. They were quite naked, and splashed about in the water : she wanted to play with them, but they fled in affright, and a little black animal came — it was a dog, but she had never seen a dog — and it barked at her so terribly that she became frightened, and made out to the open sea. But she could never forget the glorious woods, the green hills, and the pretty children, who could swim in the water though they had not fish-tails. The fourth sister was not so bold : she remained out in the midst of the wild sea, and declared that just there it was most beautiful. One could see for many miles around, and the sky above looked like a bell of glass. She had seen ships, but only in the far distance — they looked like seagulls ; and the funny dolphins had thrown somersaults, and the great whales spouted out water from their nostrils, so that it looked like hundreds of fountains all around. Now came the turn of the fifth sister. Her birthday came in the winter, and so she saw what the others had not seen the first time. The sea looked quite green, and great icebergs were floating about ; each one appeared like a pearl, she said, and yet was much taller than the church steeples built by men. They showed themselves in the strangest forms, and shone like diamonds. She had seated herself upon one of the greatest of all, and let the wind play with her long hair ; and all the sailing ships tacked about in great alarm to get beyond where she sat ; but towards evening the sky became covered with clouds, it thundered and lightened, and the black waves lifted the great iceblocks high up, and let them glow in the red glare. On all the ships the sails were reefed, and there was fear and anguish. But she sat quietly upon her floating iceberg, and saw the forked blue flashes dart into the sea. Each of the sisters, as she came up for the first time to the surface of the water, was delighted with the new and beautiful sights she saw ; but as they now had permission, as grown-up girls, to go whenever they liked, it became indifferent to them. They wished themselves back again, and after a month had elapsed they said it was best of all down below, for there one felt so comfortably at home. Many an evening hour the five sisters took one another by the arm and rose up in a row over the water. They had splendid voices, more charming than any mortal could have ; and when a storm was approaching, so that they might expect that ships would go down, they swam on beforethe^ships and saT>g lny^]y f-tongg, whicfefjEpIci. how beautiful it was at the bottom of the sea, and exhorted the— sailors not to be afraid to come down. But these could not understand the words, and thought it was the storm sighing ; and they did not see the splendours below, for if the ships sank they were drowned, and came as corpses to the Sea King's palace. When the sisters thus rose up, arm in arm, in the evening time, through the water, the little sister stood all alone looking after them ; and she felt as if she must weep ; but the sea maid has no tears, and for this reason she suffers far more acutely. VOh, if I were only fifteen years old ! ' said she. 'I know I shall love the world up there very much, and the people who live and dwell there.' At last she was really fifteen years old. ' Now, you see, you are grown up,' said the grandmother, the old dowager. ' Come, let me adojrn you like your sisters.' And she put a wreath of white lilies in the little maid's hair, but each petal in the flower was half a pearl ; and the old lady let eight great oysters attach themselves to the .princess's tail, in token of ireT^high^rank., ' But that hurts so ! ' said the little-^ea maid. ' Yes, one must suffer something for the sake^pf rank,' replied the old lady. Oh, how glad she would have been to shake off all the tokens of rank and lay aside the heavy wreath ! Her red flowers in the garden suited her better ; but she could not help it. ' Farewell ! ' she said, and then she rose, light and clear as a water-bubble, up through the sea. The sun had just set when she lifted her head above the sea, but all the clouds still shone like roses and gold, and in the pale red sky the evening star gleamed bright and beautiful. The air was mild and fresh and the sea quite calm. There lay a great ship with three masts ; one single sail only was set, for not a breeze stirred, and around in the shrouds and on the yards sat the sailors. There was music and singing, and as the evening closed in, hundreds of coloured lanterns were lighted up, and looked as if the flags of every nation were waving in the air. The little sea maid swam straight to the cabin window, and each time the sea lifted her up she could look through the panes, which were clear as crystal, and see many people standing within dressed in their best. But the handsomest of all was the young prince with the great black eyes : he was certainly not much more than sixteen years old ; it was his birthday, and that was the cause of all this festivity. The sailors were dancing upon deck ; and when the young prince came out, more than a hundred rockets rose into the air ; they shone like day, so that the little sea maid was quite startled, and dived under the water ; but soon she put out her head again, and then it seemed just as if all the stars of heaven were falling down upon her. She had never seen such fireworks. Great suns whirled around, glorious fiery fishes flew up into the blue air, and everything was mirrored in the clear blue sea. The ship itself was so brightly lit up that every separate rope could be seen, and the people therefore appeared the more plainly. Oh, how handsome the young prince was ! And he pressed the people's hands and smiled, while the music rang out in the glorious night. It became late ; but the little sea maid could not turn her eyes from the ship and from the beautiful prince. The coloured lanterns were extinguished, rockets ceased to fly into the air, and no more cannons were fired ; but there was a murmuring and a buzzing deep down in the sea ; and she sat on the water, swaying up and down, so that she could look into the cabin. But as the ship got more way, one sail after another was spread. And now the waves rose higher, great clouds came up, and in the distance there was lightning. Oh ! it was going to be fearful weather, therefore the sailors furled the sails. The great ship flew in swift career over the wild sea : the waters rose up like great black mountains, which wanted to roll over the masts ; but like a swan the ship dived into the valleys between these high waves, and then let itself be lifted on high again. To the little sea maid this seemed merry sport, but to the sailors it appeared very differently. The ship groaned and creaked ; the thick planks were bent by the heavy blows ; the sea broke into the ship ; the mainmast snapped in two like a thin reed ; and the ship lay over on her side, while the water rushed into the hold. Now the little sea maid saw that the people were in peril ; she herself was obliged to take care to avoid the beams and fragments of the ship which were floating about on the waters. One moment it was so pitch dark that not a single object could be descried, but when it lightened it became so bright that she could distinguish every one on board. Every one was doing the best he could for himself. She looked particularly for the young prince, and when the ship parted she saw him sink into the sea. At first she was very glad, for now he would come down to her. But then she remembered that people could not live in the water, and that when he got down to her father's palace he would certainly be dead. No, he must not die : so she swam about among the beams and planks that strewed the surface, quite forgetting that one of them might have THE LITTLE SEA MAID crushed her. Diving down deep under the water, she again rose high up among the waves, and in this way she at last came to the prince, who could scarcely swim longer in that stormy sea. His arms and legs began to fail him, his beautiful eyes closed, and he would have died had the little sea maid not come. She held his head up over the water, and then allowed the waves to carry her and him whither they listed. When the morning came the storm had passed by. Of the ship not a fragment was to be seen. The sun came up red and shining out of the water ; it was as if its beams brought back the hue of life to the cheeks of the prince, but his eyes remained closed. The sea maid kissed his high fair forehead and put back his wet hair, and he seemed to her to be like the marble statue in her little garden : she kissed him again and hoped that he might live. Now she saw in front of her the dry land — high blue mountains, on whose summits the white snow gleamed as if swans were lying there. Down on the coast were glorious green forests, and a building — she could not tell whether it was a church or a convent — stood there. In its garden grew orange and citron trees, and high palms waved in front of the gate. The sea formed a little bay there ; it was quite calm, but very deep. Straight towards the rock where the fine white sand had been cast up, she swam with the handsome prince, and laid him upon the sand, taking especial care that his head was raised in the warm sunshine. Now all the bells rang in the great white building, and many young girls came walking through the garden. Then the little sea maid swam farther out between some high stones that stood up out of the water, laid some sea foam upon her hair and neck, so that no one could see her little face, and then she watched to see who would come to the poor prince. In a short time a young girl went that way. She seemed to be much startled, but only for a moment ; then she brought more people, and the sea maid perceived that the prince came back to life and that he smiled at all around him. But he did not cast a smile at her : he did not know THE LITTLE SEA MAID that she had saved him. And she felt very sorrowful ; and when he was taken away into the great .building, she dived mournfully under the water and returned to her father's palace. She had always been gentle and melancholy, but now she became much more so. Her sisters asked her what she had seen the first time she rose up to the surface, but she would tell them nothing. Many an evening and many a morning she went up to the place where she had left the prince. She saw how the fruits of the garden grew ripe and were gathered ; she saw how the snow melted on the high mountain ; but she did not see the prince, and so she always returned home more sorrowful still. Then her only comfort was to sit in her little garden, and to wind her arms round the beautiful marble statue that resembled the prince ; but she did not tend her flowers ; they grew as if in a wilderness over the paths, and trailed their long leaves and stalks up into the branches of trees, so that it became quite dark there. At last she could endure it no longer, and told all to one of her sisters, and then the others heard of it too ; but nobody knew of it beyond these and a few other sea maids, who told the secret to their intimate friends. One of these knew who the prince was ; she too had seen the festival on board the ship ; and she announced whence he came and where his kingdom lay. ' Come, little sister ! ' said the other princesses ; and, linking their arms together, they rose up in a long row out of the sea. at the place where they knew the prince's palace stood. This palace was built of a kind of bright yellow stone, with great marble staircases, one of which led directly down into the sea. Over the roof rose splendid gilt cupolas, and between the pillars which surrounded the whole dwelling stood marble statues which looked as if they were alive. Through the clear glass in the high windows one looked into the glorious halls, where costly silk hangings and tapestries were hung up, and all the walls were decked with splendid pictures, so that it was a perfect delight to see them. In the midst of the greatest of these halls a great fountain plashed; its jets shot high up towards the glass dome in the ceiling, through which the sun shone down upon the water and upon the lovely plants growing in the great basin. Now she knew where he lived, and many an evening and many a night she spent there on the water. She swam far closer to the land than any of the others would have dared to venture ; indeed, she went quite up the narrow channel under the splendid marble balcony, which threw a broad shadow upon the water. Here she sat and watched the young prince, who thought himself quite alone in the bright moonlight. Many an evening she saw him sailing, amid the sounds of music, in his costly boat with the waving flags ; she peeped up through the green reeds, and when the wind caught her silver-white veil, and any one saw it, they thought it was a white swan spreading out its wings. Many a night when the fishermen were on the sea with their torches, she heard much good told of the young prince ; and she rejoiced that she had saved his life when he was driven about, half dead, on the wild billows : she thought how quietly his head had reclined on her bosom, and how heartily she had kissed him ; but he knew nothing of it, and could not even dream of her. More and more she began to love mankind, and more and more she wished to be able to wander about among those whose world seemed far larger than her own. For they could fly over the sea in ships, and mount up the high hills far above the clouds, and the lands they possessed stretched out in woods and fields farther than her eyes could reach. There was much she wished to know, but her sisters could not answer all her questions ; therefore she applied to the old grandmother ; and the old lady knew the upper world, which she rightly called ' the countries above the sea ', very well. 1 If people are not drowned,' asked the little sea maid, ' can they live for ever ? Do they not die as we die down here in the sea ? ' * Yes,' replied the old lady. ' They too must die, and their life is even shorter than ours. We can live to be three hundred years old, but when we cease to exist here, we are turned into foam on the surface of the water, and have not even a grave down here among those we love. We^ have not an immortal soul ; we never receive another life ; we are like the green seaweed, which when once cut through can never bloom again. Men, on the contrary, have a soul which lives for ever, which lives on after the body has become dust ; it mounts up through _the deB^air,ji^ to all the shining stars- \ As we rise up outfbf the waters and behold all the lands of the earth, so they rise up to unknown glorious places which we can never see.' ' Why did we not receive an immortal soul ? ' asked the little sea maid, sorrowfully. ' I would gladly give all the hundreds of years I have to live to be a human being only for one day, and to have a hope of partaking the heavenly kingdom.' ' You must not think of that/ replied the old lady. ' We feel ourselves far more happy and far better than mankind yonder.' ' Then I am to die and to float as foam upon the sea, not hearing the music of the waves, nor seeing the pretty flowers and the red sun ? Can I not do anything to win an immortal soul ? ' ' No ! ' answered the grandmother. ' Only if a man were to love you so that you should be more to him than father or mother ; if he should cling to you with his every thought and with all his love, and let the priest lay his right hand in yours with a promise of faithfulness here and in all eternity, then his soul would be imparted to your body, and you would receive a share of the happiness of mankind. He would give a soul to you and yet retain his own. But that can never come to pass. What is considered beautiful here in the sea — the fish-tail — they would consider ugly on the earth : they don't understand it ; there one must have two clumsy supports which they call legs, to be called beautiful.' Then the little sea maid sighed, and looked mournfully upon her fish-tail. ' Let us be glad ! ' said the old lady. ' Let us dance and leap in the three hundred years we have to live. That is certainly long enough ; after that we can rest ourselves all the better. This evening we shall have a court ball1.' It was a splendid sight, such as is never seen on earth. The walls and the ceiling of the great dancing-saloon were of thick but transparent glass. Several hundreds of huge shells, pink and grass -green, stood on each side in rows, filled with a blue fire which lit up the whole hall and shone through the walls, so that the sea without was quite lit up ; one could see all the innumerable fishes, great and small, swimming towards the glass walls ; of some the scales gleamed with purple, while in others they shone like silver and gold. Through the midst of the 'hall flowed a broad stream, and on this the sea- men and sea women danced to their own charming songs. Such beautiful voices the people of the earth have not. The lit/tle sea maid sang the most .sweetly of all, and the whole court applauded her, and for a moment she felt gay in her heart, for she knew she had the loveliest voice of all in the sea or on the earth. But soon she thought again of the world above her ; she could not forget the charming prince, or her sorrow at not having an immortal soul like his. Therefore she crept out of her father's palace, and while everything within was joy and gladness, she sat melancholy in her little garden. Then she heard the bugle horn sounding through the waters, and thought, ' Now he is certainly sailing above, he whom I love more than father or mother, he on whom my wishes hang, and in whose hand I should like to lay my life's happiness. I will dare everything to win him and an immortal soul. While my sisters dance yonder in my father's palace, I will go to the sea witch of whom I have always been so much afraid : perhaps she can counsel and help me.' Now the little sea maid went out of her garden to the foaming whirlpools behind which the sorceress dwelt. She had never travelled that way before. No flowers grew there, no sea grass ; only the bare grey sand stretched out towards the whirlpools, where the water rushed round like roaring mill-wheels and tore down everything it seized into the deep. Through the midst of these rushing whirlpools she was obliged to pass to get into the domain of the witch ; and for a long way there was no other road except one which led over warm bubbling mud : this the witch called her peat-moss. Behind it lay her house in the midst of a singular forest, in which all the trees and bushes were polypes — half animals, half plants. They looked like hundred -headed snakes growing up out of the earth. All the branches were long slimy arms, with fingers like supple snakes, and they moved joint by joint from the root to the farthest point ; all that they could seize on in the water they held fast and never again let it go. The little sea maid stopped in front of them quite frightened ; her heart beat with fear, and she was nearly turning back ; but then she thought of the prince and the human soul, and her courage came back again. She bound her long flying hair closely around her head, so that the polypes might not seize it. She put her hands together on her breast, and then shot forward as a fish shoots through the water, among the ugly polypes, which stretched out their supple arms and fingers after her. She saw that each of them held something it had seized with hundreds of little arms, like strong iron bands. People who had perished at sea and had sunk deep down, looked forth as white skeletons from among the polypes' arms ; ships' rudders and chests they also held fast, and skeletons of land animals, and a little mermaid whom they had caught and strangled ; and this seemed the most terrible of all to our little princess. Now she came to a great marshy place in the wood, where fat water-snakes rolled about, showing their ugly cream-coloured bodies. In the midst of this marsh was a house built of white bones of shipwrecked men ; there sat the sea witch feeding a toad out of her mouth, just as a person might feed a little canary bird with sugar. She called the ugly fat water-snakes her little chickens, and allowed them to crawl upwards and all about her. ' I know what you want,' said the sea witch. * It is stupid of you, but you shall have your way, for it will bring you to grief, my pretty princess. You want to get rid of your fish-tail, and to have two supports instead of it, like those the people of the earth walk with, so that the young prince may fall in love with you, and you may get him and an immortal soul.' And with this the witch laughed loudly and disagreeably, so that the toad and the water-snakes tumbled down to the ground, where they crawled about. ' You come just in time,' said the witch : 'after to-morrow at sunrise I could not help you until another year had gone by. I will prepare a draught for you, with which you must swim to land to-morrow before the sun rises, and seat yourself there and drink it ; then your tail will part in two and shrink in and become what the people of the earth call beautiful legs, but it will hurt you — it will seem as if you were cut with a sharp sword. All who see you will declare you to be the prettiest human being they ever beheld. You will keep your graceful walk ; no dancer will be able to move so- lightly as you ; but every step you take will be as if you^trod upon sharp knives, and as if your blood must flow. If you will bear all this, I can help you.' * Yes ! ' said the little sea maid, with a trembling voice ; and she thought of the prince and the immortal soul. ' But, remember,' said the witch, * when you have once received a human form, you can never be a sea maid again ; you can. never return through the water to your sisters or to your father's palace ; and if you do not win the prince's love, so that he forgets father and mother for your sake, is attached to you heart and soul, and tells the priest to join your hands, you will not receive an immortal soul. On the first morning after JiaJias married another, your heart will breiiE^^^you~wiU_bejCjQiiie foam on the water:1 TTwill do it,' said the little sea maid ; but she became as pale as death. ' But you must pay me, too,' said the witch ; * and it is not a trifle that I ask. You have the finest voice of all here at the bottom of the water ; with that you think to enchant him ; but this voice you must give to me. The best thing you possess I will have for my costly draught ! I must give you my own blood in it, so that the draught may be sharp as a two-edged sword.' ' But if you take away my voice,' said the little sea maid, ' what will remain to me ? ' ' Your beautiful form/ replied the witch, ' your graceful walk, and your eloquent eyes : with those you can take captive a human heart. Well, have you lost your courage ? Put out your little tongue, and then I will cut it off for my payment, and then you shall have the strong draught.' f Let it be so,' said the little sea maid. And the witch put on her pot to brew the draught. ' Cleanliness is a good thing,' said she ; and she cleaned out the pot with the snakes, which she tied up in a big knot ; then she scratched herself , and let her black blood drop into it. The steam rose up in the strangest forms, enough to frighten the beholder. Every moment the witch threw something else into the pot ; and when it boiled thoroughly, there was a sound like the weeping of a crocodile. At last the draught was ready. It looked like the purest water. ' There you have it/ said the witch. And she cut off the little sea maid's tongue, so that now she was dumb, and could neither sing nor speak. ' If the polypes should lay hold of you when you are returning through my forest/ said the witch, ' just cast a single drop of this liquor upon them, and their arms and fingers will fly into a thousand pieces.' But the little sea maid had no need to do this : the polypes drew back in terror when they saw the shining liquor, that gleamed in her hand as if it were a twinkling star. In this way she soon passed through the forest, the moss, and the rushing whirlpools. She could see her father's palace. The torches were extinguished in the great dancing-hall, and they were certainly sleeping within, but she did not dare to go to them, now that she was dumb and was about to quit them for ever. She felt as if her heart would burst with sorrow. She crept into the garden, took a flower from each of her sisters' flower-beds, blew a thousand kisses towards the palace, and rose up through the dark blue sea. The sun had not yet risen when she beheld the prince's castle and mounted the splendid marble staircase. The moon shone beautifully clear. The little sea maid drank the burning sharp draught, and it seemed as if a twoedged sword went through her delicate body. She fell down in a swoon, and lay as if she were dead. When the sun shone out over the sea she awoke, and felt a sharp pain ; but just before her stood the handsome young prince. He fixed his coal-black eyes upon her, so that she cast down her own, and then she perceived that her fishtail was gone, and that she had the prettiest pair of white feet a little girl could have. But she had no clothes, so she shrouded herself in her long hair. The prince asked who she was and how she had come there ; and she looked at him mildly, but very mournfully, with her dark blue eyes, for she could not speak. Then he took her by the hand, and led her into the castle. Each step she took was, as the witch had told her, es if she had been treading on pointed needles and sharp knives, but she bore it gladly. At the prince's right hand she moved on, light as a soapbubble, and he, like all the rest, was astonished at her graceful swaying movements. She now received splendid clothes of silk and muslin. In the castle she was the most beautiful of all ; but she was dumb, and could neither sing nor speak. Lovely slaves, dressed in silk and gold, stepped forward, and sang before the prince and his royal parents ; one sang more charmingly than all the rest, and the prince smiled at her and clapped his hands. Then the little sea maid became sad ; she knew that she herself had sung far more sweetly, and thought, ' Oh ! if only he could know that I have given away my voice for ever to be with him/ Now the slaves danced pretty • waving dances to the loveliest music ; then the little sea maid lifted her beautiful white arms, stood on the tips of her toes, and glided dancing over the floor as no one had yet danced. At each movement her beauty became more apparent, and her eyes spoke more directly to the heart than the songs of the slaves. All were delighted, and especially the prince, who called her his little foundling ; and she danced again and again, although every time she touched the earth it seemed as if she were treading upon sharp knives. The prince said that she should always remain with him, and she received permission to sleep on a velvet cushion before his door. He had a page's dress made for her, that she might accompany him on horseback. They rode through the fragrant woods, where the green boughs swept their shoulders and the little birds sang in the fresh leaves. She climbed with the prince up the high mountains, and although her delicate feet bled so that even the others could see it, she laughed at it herself, and followed him until they saw the clouds sailing beneath them like a flock of birds travelling to distant lands. At home in the prince's castle, when the others slept at night, she went out on to the broad marble steps. It cooled her burning feet to stand in the cold sea water, and then she thought of the dear ones in the deep. Once, in the night-time, her sisters came arm in arm. Sadly they sang as they floated above the water ; and she beckoned to them, and they recognized her, and told her how she had grieved them all. Then they visited her every night ; and once she saw in the distance her old grandmother, who had not been above the surface for many years, and the sea king with his crown upon his head. They stretched out their hands towards her, but did not venture so near the land as her sisters. Day by day the prince grew more fond of her. He loved her as one loves a dear good child, but it never came into his head to make her his wife ; and yet she must become his wife, or she would not receive an immortal soul, and would have to become foam on the sea on his wedding morning. * Do you not love me best of them all ? ' the eyes of the little sea maid seemed to say, when he took her in his arms and kissed her fair forehead. ' Yes, you are the dearest to me 1 ' said the prince, ' for you have the best heart of them all. You are the most devoted to me, and are like a young girl whom I once saw, but whom I certainly shall not find again. I was on board a ship which was wrecked. The waves threw me ashore near a holy temple, where several young girls performed the service. The youngest of them found me by the shore and saved my life. I only saw her twice : she was the only one in the world I could love ; but you chase her picture out of my mind, you are so like her. She belongs to the holy temple, and therefore my good fortune has sent you to me. We will never part ! ' * Ah ! he does not know that I saved his life,' thought the little sea maid. 'I carried him over the sea to the wood where the temple stands. I sat there under the foam and looked to see if any one would come. I saw the beautiful girl whom he loves better than me.' And the sea maid sighed deeply — she could not weep. ' The maiden belongs to the holy temple,' he has said, ' and will never come out into the world — they will meet no more. I am with him and see him every day ; I will cherish him, love him, give up my life for him.' But now they said that the prince was to marry, and that the beautiful daughter of a neighbouring king was to be his wife, and that was why such- a beautiful ship was being prepared. The story was, that thu^. prince travelled to visit the land of the neighbouring king, but it was done that he might see the king's daughter. A great company was to go with him. The little sea maid shook her head and smiled; she knew the prince's thoughts far better than any of the others. ' I must travel,' he had said to her ; ' I must see the beautiful princess : my parents desire it, but they do not wish to compel me to bring her home as my bride. I cannot love her. She is not like the beautiful maiden in the temple, whom you resemble. If I were to choose a bride, I would rather choose you, my dear dumb foundling with the speaking eyes.' And he kissed her red lips and played with her long hair, so that she dreamed of happiness and of an immortal soul. * You are not afraid of the sea, my dumb child ? ' said he, when they stood on the superb ship which was to carry him to the country of the neighbouring king ; and he told her of storm and calm, of strange fishes in the deep, and of what the divers had seen there. And she smiled at his tales, for she knew better than any one what there was at the bottom of the sea. In the moonlight night, when all were asleep, except the steersman who stood by the helm, she sat on the side of the ship gazing down through the clear water. She fancied she saw her father's palace. High on the battlements stood her old grandmother, with the silver crown on her head, and looking through the rushing tide up to the vessel's keel. Then her sisters came forth over the water, and looked mournfully at her and wrung their white hands. She beckoned to them, smiled, and wished to tell them that she was well and happy ; but the cabin-boy approached her, and her sisters dived down, so that he thought the white objects he had seen were foam on the surface of the water. The next morning the ship sailed into the harbour of the neighbouring king's splendid city. All the church bells sounded, and from the high towers the trumpets were blown, while the soldiers stood there with flying colours and flashing bayonets. Each day brought some festivity with it ; balls and entertainments followed one another ; but the princess was not yet there. People said she was being educated in a holy temple far away, where she was learning every royal virtue. At last she arrived. The little sea maid was anxious to see the beauty of the princess, and was obliged to acknowledge it. A more lovely apparition she had never beheld. The princess's skin was pure and clear, and behind the long dark eyelashes there smiled a pair of faithful dark blue eyes. ' You are the lady who saved me when I lay like a corpse upon the shore ! ' said the prince ; and he folded his blushing bride to his heart. ' Oh, I am too, too happy ! ' he cried to the little sea maid. * The best hope I could have is fulfilled. You will rejoice at my happiness, for you are the most devoted to me of them all ! ' And the little sea maid kissed his hand ; and it seemed already to her as if her heart was broken, for his wedding morning was to bring death to her, and change her into foam on the sea. All the church bells were ringing, and heralds rode about the streets announcing the betrothal. On every altar fragrant oil was burning in gorgeous lamps of silver. The priests swung their censers, and bride and bridegroom laid hand in hand, and received the bishop's blessing. The little sea maid was dressed in cloth of gold, and held up the bride's train ; but her ears heard nothing of the festive music, her eye marked not the holy ceremony ; she thought of the night of her death, and of all that she had lost in this world. On the same evening the bride and bridegroom went on board the ship. The cannon roared, all the flags waved ; in the midst of the ship a costly tent of gold and purple, with the most beautiful cushions, had been set up, and there the married pair were to sleep in the cool still night. The sails swelled in the wind and the ship glided smoothly and lightly over the clear sea. When it grew dark, coloured lamps were lighted and the sailors danced merry dances on deck. The little sea maid thought of the first time when she had risen up out of the sea, and beheld a similar scene of splendour and joy ; and she joined in the whirling dance, and flitted on as the swallow flits away when he is pursued ; and all shouted and admired her, for she had danced so prettily. Her delicate feet w^ere cut as if with knives, but she did not feel it, for her heart was wounded far more painfully. She knew this was the last evening on which she should see him for whom she had left her friends and her home, and had given up her beautiful voice, and had suffered unheard-of pains every day, while he was utterly unconscious of all. It was the last evening she should breathe the same air with him, and behold the starry sky and the deep sea ; and everlasting night without thought or dream awaited her, for she had no soul, and could win none. And everything was merriment and gladness on the ship till past midnight, and she laughed and danced with thoughts of death in her heart. The prince kissed his beautiful bride, and she played with his raven hair, and hand in hand they went to rest in the splendid tent. It became quiet on the ship ; only the helmsman stood by the helm, and the little sea maid leaned her white arms upon the bulwark and gazed out towards the east for the morning dawn — the first ray, she knew, would kill her. Then she saw her sisters rising out of the flood ; they were pale, like herself ; their long beautiful hair no longer waved in the wind — it had been cut off. * We have given it to the witch, that she might bring you help, so that you may not die to-night. She has given us a knife ; here it is — look ! how sharp ! Before the sun rises you must thrust it into the heart of the prince, and when the warm blood falls upon your feet they will grow together again into a fish-tail, and you will become a sea maid again, and come back to us, and live your three hundred years before you become dead salt sea foam. Make haste ! He or you must die before the sun rises ! Our old grandmother mourns so that her white hair has fallen off, as ours did under the witch's scissors. Kill the prince and come back ! Make haste ! Do you see that red streak in the sky ? In a few minutes the sun will rise, and you must die ! ' And they gave a very mournful sigh, and vanished beneath the waves. The little sea maid drew back the purple curtain from the tent, and saw the beautiful bride lying with her head on the prince's breast ; and she bent down and kissed his brow, and gazed up to the sky where the morning red was gleaming brighter and brighter ; then she looked at the sharp knife, and again fixed her eyes upon the prince, who in his sleep murmured his bride's name. She only was in his thoughts, and the knife trembled in the sea maid's hands. But then she flung it far away into the waves — they gleamed red where it fell, and it seemed as if drops of blood spurted up out of the water. Once more she looked with half -extinguished eyes upon the prince ; then she threw herself from the ship into the sea, and felt her frame dissolving into foam. Now the sun rose up out of the sea. The rays fell mild and warm upon the cold sea foam, and the little sea maid felt nothing of death. She saw the bright sun, and over her head sailed hundreds of glorious ethereal beings — she could see them through the white sails of the ship and the red clouds of the sky ; their speech was melody, but of such a spiritual kind that no human ear could hear it, just as no earthly eye could see them ; without wings they floated through the air. The little sea maid found that she had a frame like these, and was rising more and more out of the foam. * Whither am I going ? ' she asked ; and her voice sounded like that of the other beings, so spiritual, that no earthly music could be compared to it. ' To the daughters of the air ! J replied the others. * A sea maid has no immortal soul, and can never gain one, except she win the love of a mortal. Her eternal existence depends upon the power of another. The daughters of the air have likewise no immortal soul, but they can make themselves one through good deeds. We fly to the hot countries, where the close pestilent air kills men, and there we bring coolness. We disperse the fragrance of the flowers through the air, and spread refreshment and health. After we have striven for three hundred years to accomplish all the good we can bring about, we receive an immortal soul and take part in the eternal happiness of men. You, poor little sea maid, have striven with your whole heart after the goal we pursue ; you have suffered and endured : you have by good works raised yourself to the world of spirits, and can gain an immortal soul after three hundred years.' And the little sea maid lifted her bright arms towards God's sun, and for the first time she felt tears. On the ship there was again life and noise. She saw the prince and his bride searching for her ; then they looked mournfully at the pearly foam, as if they knew that she had thrown herself into the waves. Invisible, she kissed the forehead of the bride, smiled to the prince, and mounted with the other children of the air on the rosy cloud which floated through the ether. 'After three hundred years we shall thus float into Paradise ! ' ' And we may even get there sooner,' whispered one. * Invisibly we float into the houses of men where children are, and for every day on which we find a good child that brings joy to its parents and deserves their love, our time of probation is shortened. The child does not know when we fly through the room ; and when we smile with joy at the child's conduct, a year is counted off from the three hundred ; but when we see a naughty or a wicked child, we shed tears of grief, and for every tear a day is added to our time of trial.'

The Emperor's New Clothes

MANY years ago there lived an emperor, who cared so enormously for beautiful new clothes that he spent all his money upon them, that he might be very fine. He did not care about his soldiers, nor about the theatre, nor about driving in the park except to show his new clothes. He had a coat for every hour of the day ; and just as they say of a king, ' He is in council/ one always said of him, ' The emperor is in the wardrobe.' In the great city in which he lived it was always very merry ; every day a number of strangers arrived there. One day two cheats came : they gave themselves out as weavers, and declared that they could weave the finest stuff any one could imagine. Not only were their colours and patterns, they said, uncommonly beautiful, but the clothes made of the stuff possessed the wonderful quality that they became invisible to any one who was unfit for the office he held, or was incorrigibly stupid. 4 Those would be capital clothes ! ' thought the emperor. ' If I wore those, I should be able to find out what men in my empire are not fit for the places they have ; I could distinguish the clever from the stupid. Yes, the stuff must be woven for me directly ! ' And he gave the two cheats a great deal of cash in hand, that they might begin their work at once. As for them, they put up two looms, and pretended to be working ; but they had nothing at all on their looms. They at once demanded the finest silk and the costliest gold ; this they put into their own pockets, and worked at the empty looms till late into the night. * I should like to know how far they have got on with the stuff,' thought the emperor. But he felt quite uncomfortable when he thought that those who were not fit for their offices could not see it. He believed, indeed, that he had nothing to fear for himself, but yet he preferred first to send some one else to see how matters stood. All the people in the whole city knew what peculiar power the stuff possessed, and all were anxious to see how bad or how stupid their neighbours were. 1 1 will send my honest old minister to the weavers,' thought the emperor. ' He can judge best how the stuff looks, for he has sense, and no one discharges his office better than he.' Now the good old minister went out into the hall where the two cheats sat working at the empty looms. * Mercy preserve us ! ' thought the old minister, and he opened his eyes wide. ' I cannot see anything at all ! ' But he did not say this. Both the cheats begged him to be kind enough to come nearer, and asked if he did not approve of the colours and the pattern. Then they pointed to the empty loom, and the poor old minister went on opening his eyes ; but he could see nothing, for there was nothing to see. * Mercy ! ' thought he, ' can I indeed be so stupid ? THE EMPEROR'-S NEW CLOTHES I never thought that, and not a soul must know it. Am I not fit for my office ? — No, it will never do for me to tel) that I could not see the stuff.' ' Do you say nothing to it ? ' said one of the weavers. ' Oh, it is charming — quite enchanting ! * answered the old minister, as he peered through his spectacles. * What a fine pattern, and what colours ! Yes, I shall tell the emperor that I am very much pleased with it.' ' Well, we are glad of that,' said both the weavers ; and then they named the colours, and explained the strange pattern. The old minister listened attentively, that he might be able to repeat it when he went back to the emperor. And he did so. Now the cheats asked for more money, and more silk and gold, which they declared they wanted for weaving. They put all into their own pockets, and not a thread was put upon the loom ; but they continued to work at the empty frames as before. The emperor soon sent again, dispatching another honest statesman, to see how the weaving was going on, and if the stuff would soon be ready. He fared just like the first : he looked and looked, but, as there was nothing to be seen but the empty looms, he could see nothing. ' Is not that a pretty piece of stuff ? ' asked the two cheats ; and they displayed and explained the handsome pattern which was not there at all. * I am not stupid ! ' thought the man — ' it must be my good office, for which I am not fit. It is funny enough, but I must not let it be noticed.' And so he praised the stuff which he did not see, and expressed his pleasure at the beautiful colours and the charming pattern. ' Yes, it is enchanting,' he said to the emperor. All the people in the town were talking of the gorgeous stuff. The emperor wished to see it himself while it was still upon the loom. With a whole crowd of chosen men, among whom were also the two honest statesmen who had already been there, he went to the two cunning cheats, who were now weaving with might and main without fibre or thread. * Is that not splendid ? ' said the two old statesmen, who had already been there once. ' Does not your majesty remark the pattern and the colours ? ' And then they pointed to the empty loom, for they thought that the others could see the stuff. ' What 's this ? ' thought the emperor. ' I can see nothing at all ! That is terrible. Am I stupid ? Am I not fit to be emperor ? That would be the most dreadful thing ^ that could happen to me. — Oh, it is very pretty ! ' he said aloud. ' It has our exalted approbation.' And he nodded in a contented way, and gazed at the empty loom, for he would not say that he saw nothing. The whole suite whom he had with him looked anel looked, and saw nothing, any more than the rest ; but, like the emperor, they said, ' That is pretty ! ' and counselled him to wear these splendid new clothes for the first time at the great procession that was presently to take place. ' It is splendid, tasteful, excellent ! ' went from mouth to mouth. On all sides there seemed to be general rejoicing, and the emperor gave each of the cheats a cross to hang at his button-hole and the title of Imperial Court Weaver. The whole night before the morning on which the procession was to take place the cheats were up, and had lighted more than sixteen candles. The people could see that they were hard at work, completing the emperor's new clothes. They pretended to take the stuff down from the loom ; they made cuts in the air with great scissors ; they sewed with needles without thread ; and at last they said, ' Now the clothes are ready ! ' The emperor came himself with his noblest cavaliers ; and the two cheats lifted up one arm as if they were holding something, and said, ' See, here are the trousers ! here is the coat ! here is the cloak ! ' and so on. ' It is as light as a spider's web : one would think one had nothing on ; but that is just the beauty of it.' * Yes,' said all the cavaliers ; but they could not see anything, for nothing was there. ' Does your imperial majesty please to condescend to undress ? ' said the cheats ; ' then we will put you on the new clothes here in front of the great mirror.' The emperor took off his clothes, and the cheats pretended to put on him each of the new garments, and they took him round the waist, and seemed to fasten on something ; that was the train ; and the emperor turned round and round before the mirror. ' Oh, how well they look ! how capitally they fit ! ' said all. 4 What a pattern ! what colours ! That is a splendid dress ! ' * They are standing outside with the canopy which is to be borne above your majesty in the procession ! ' announced the head master of the ceremonies. ' Well, I am ready,' replied the emperor. * Does it not THE EMPEROR'S NEW CLOTHES suit me well ? ' And then he turned again to the mirror, for he wanted it to appear as if he contemplated his adornment with great interest. The chamberlains, who were to carry the train, stooped down with their hands towards the floor, just as if they were picking up the mantle ; then they pretended to be holding something up in the air. They did not dare to let it be noticed that they saw nothing. So the emperor went in procession under the rich canopy, and every one in the streets said, ' How incomparable are the emperor's new clothes ! what a train he has to his mantle ! how it fits him ! ' No one would let it be perceived that he could see nothing, for that would have shown that he was not fit for his office, or was very stupid. No clothes of the emperor's had ever had such a success as these. THE EMPEROR'S NEW CLOTHES ' But he has nothing on ! ' a little child cried out at last. ' Just hear what that innocent says ! said the father ; and one whispered to another what the child had said. 1 There is a little child that says he has nothing on.' ' But he has nothing on ! ' said the whole people at length. And the emperor shivered, for it seemed to him that they were right ; but he thought within himself, ' I must go through with the procession.' And so he carried himself still more proudly, and the chamberlains held on tighter than ever, and carried the train which did not exist at all.

Full Text (part 2)

The Hardy Tin Soldier

THERE were once five and twenty tin soldiers ; they were all brothers, for they had all been born of one old tin spoon. They shouldered their muskets, and looked straight before them : their uniform was red and blue, and very splendid. The first thing they had heard in the world, when the lid was taken off their box, had been the words ' Tin soldiers ' ! These words were uttered by a little boy, clapping his hands : the soldiers had been given to him, for it was his birthday ; and now he put them upon the table. Each soldier was exactly like the rest only one of them was a little different, he had but one leg, for he had been cast last of all, and there had not been enough tin to finish him ; but he stood as firmly upon his one leg as the others on their two ; and it was just this soldier who became remarkable. On the table on which they had been placed stood many other playthings, but the toy that attracted most attention was a neat castle of cardboard. Through the little windows one could see straight into the hall. Before the castle some little trees were placed round a little looking-glass, which was to represent a clear lake. Waxen swans swam on this lake, and were mirrored in it. This was all very pretty ; but the prettiest of all was a little lady, who stood at the open door of the castle : she was also cut out in paper, but she had a dress of the clearest gauze, and a little narrow blue ribbon over her shoulders, that looked like a scarf ; and in the middle of this ribbon was a shining tinsel rose as big as her whole face. The little lady stretched out both her arms, for she was a dancer ; and then she lifted one leg so high that the tin soldier could not see it at all, and thought that, like himself, she had but one leg. ' That would be the wife for me/ thought he ; J but she is very grand. She lives in a castle, and I have only a box, and there are five and twenty of us in that. It is no place for her. But I must try to make acquaintance with her.' And then he lay down at full length behind a snuff-box which was on the table ; there he could easily watch the little dainty lady, who continued to stand on one leg without losing her balance. When the evening came, all the other tin soldiers were it into their box, and the people in the house went to Now the toys began to play at ' visiting,' and at ' war,' and * giving balls.' The tin soldiers rattled in their box, for they wanted to join, but could not lift the lid. The nutcracker threw somersaults, and the pencil amused itself on the table : there was so much noise that the canary woke up, and began to speak too, and even in verse. The only two who did not stir from their places were the tin soldier and the dancing lady : she stood straight up on the point of one of her toes, and stretched out both her arms ; and he was just as enduring on his one leg ; and he never turned his eyes away from her. Now the clock struck twelve — and, bounce ! — the lid flew off the snuff-box ; but there was not snuff in it, but a little black goblin : you see it was a trick. * Tin soldier ! ' said the goblin, ' will you keep your eyes to yourself ? ' But the tin soldier pretended not to hear him. ' Just you wait till to-morrow ! ' said the goblin. But when the morning came, and the children got up, the tin soldier was placed in the window ; and whether it was the goblin or the draught that did it, all at once the window flew open, and the soldier fell head over heels out of the third story. That was a terrible passage ! He put his leg straight up, and stuck with his helmet downwards and his bayonet between the paving-stones. The servant-maid and the little boy came down directly to look for him, but though they almost trod upon him they could not see him. If the soldier had cried out ' Here I am ! ' they would have found him ; but he did not think it fitting to call out loudly, because he was in uniform. Now it began to rain ; the drops soon fell thicker, and at last it came down in a complete stream. When the rain was past, two street boys came by. * Just look ! ' said one of them, ' there lies a tin soldier. He shall go out sailing.' And they made a boat out of a newspaper, and put the tin soldier in the middle of it ; and so he sailed down the gutter, and the two boys ran beside him and clapped their hands. Goodness preserve us ! how the waves rose in that gutter, and how fast the stream ran ! But then it had been a heavy rain. The paper boat rocked up and down, and sometimes turned round so rapidly that the tin soldier trembled ; but he remained firm, and never changed countenance, but looked straight before him, and shouldered his musket. All at once the boat went into a long drain, and it became as dark as if he had been in his box. ' Where am I going now ? ' he thought. s Yes, yes, that 's the goblin's fault. Ah ! if the little lady only sat here with me in the boat, it might be twice as dark for what I should care.' Suddenly there came a great water-rat, which lived under the drain. ' Have you a passport ? ' said the rat. ' Give me your passport.' But the tin soldier kept silence, and held his musket tighter than ever. The boat went on, but the rat came after it. Ugh ! how he gnashed his teeth, and called out to the bits of straw and wood, ' Hold him ! hold him ! he hasn't paid toll — he hasn't shown his passport ! ' But the stream became stronger and stronger. The tin soldier could see the bright daylight where the arch ended ; but he heard a roaring noise, which might well frighten a bolder man. Only think — just where the tunnel ended, the drain ran into a great canal ; and for him that would have been as dangerous as for us to be carried down a great waterfall. Now he was already so near it that he could not stop. The boat was carried out, the poor tin soldier stiffening himself as much as he could, and no one could say that he moved an eyelid. The boat whirled round three or four times, and was full of water to the very edge — it must sink. The tin soldier stood up to his neck in water, and the boat sank deeper and deeper, awj the paper was loosened more and more ; and now the water closed over the soldier's head. Then he thought of the pretty little dancer, and how he should never see her again ; and it sounded in the soldier's ears : Farewell, farewell, thou warrior brave, For this day thou must die ! And now the paper parted, and the tin soldier fell out ; but at that moment he was snapped up by a great fish. Oh, how dark it was in that fish's body ! It was darker yet than in the drain tunnel ; and then it was very narrow too. But the tin soldier remained unmoved, and lay at full length shouldering his musket. The fish swam to and fro ; he made the most wonderful movements, and then became quite still. At last something flashed through him like lightning. The daylight shone quite clear, and a voice said aloud, ' The tin soldier ! ' The fish had been caught, carried to market, bought, and taken into the kitchen, where the cook cut him open with a large knife. She seized the soldier round the body with both her hands, and carried him into the room, where all were anxious to see the remarkable man who had travelled about in the inside of a fish ; but the tin soldier was not at all proud. They placed him on the table, and there — no ! What curious things may happen in the world ! The tin soldier was in the very room in which he had been before ! he saw the same children, and the same toys stood on the table ; and there was the pretty castle with the graceful little dancer. She was still balancing herself on one leg, and held the other extended in the air. She was hardy too. That moved the tin soldier : he was very nearly weeping tin tears, but that would not have been proper. He looked at her and she at him, but they said nothing to each other. Then one of the little boys took the tin soldier and flung him into the stove. He gave no reason for doing this. It must have been the fault of the goblin in the snuff-box. The tin soldier stood there quite illuminated, and felt a heat that was terrible ; but whether this heat proceeded from the real fire or from love he did not know. The colours had quite gone off from him ; but whether that had happened on the journey, or had been caused by grief, no one could say. He looked at the little lady, she looked at him, and he felt that he was melting ; but he still stood firm, shouldering his musket. Then suddenly the door flew open, and the draught of air caught the dancer, and she flew like a sylph just into the stove to the tin soldier, and flashed up in a flame, and she was gone. Then the tin soldier melted down into a lump, and when the servantmaid took the ashes out next day, she found him in the shape of a little tin heart. But of the dancer nothing remained but the tinsel rose, and that was burned as black as a coal.

The Wild Swans

FAR away, where the swallows fly when our winter comes on, lived a King who had eleven sons, and one daughter named Eliza. The eleven brothers were Princes, and each went to school with a star on his breast and his sword by his side. They wrote with pencils of diamond upon slates of gold, and learned by heart just as well as they read ; one could see directly that they were Princes. Their sister Eliza sat upon a little stool of plate glass, and had a picture-book which had been bought for the value of half a kingdom. Oh, the children were particularly well off ; but it was not always to remain so. Their father, who was King of the whole country, married a bad Queen who did not love the poor children at all. On the very first day they could notice this. In the whole palace there was great feasting, and the children were playing at receiving guests : but instead of these children receiving, as they had been accustomed to do, all the spare cake and all the roasted apples, they only had some sand given them in a tea-cup, and were told that they might make believe that was something good. The next week the Queen took the little sister Eliza into the country, to a peasant and his wife ; and but a short time had elapsed before she told the- King so many falsehoods about the poor Princes that h*, did not trouble himself any more about them. ' Fly out into the world and get your own living,' said the wicked Queen. ' Fly like great birds without a voice.' But she could not make, jt so _bad for them as shejwould have liked, for they became eleven magnificent jadld-e wans. With a strange cry they flew out of the palace windows, far over the park and into the wood. It was yet quite early morning when they came by the place where their sister Eliza lay asleep in the peasant's room. Here they hovered over the roof, turned their long necks, and flapped their wings ; but no one heard or saw it. They were obliged to fly on, high up towards the clouds, far away into the wide world ; there they flew into a great dark wood, which stretched away to the sea shore. Poor little Eliza stood in the peasant's room and played with a green leaf, for she had no other playthings. And she pricked a hole in the leaf, and looked through it up at the sun, and it seemed to her that she saw her brothers' clear eyes ; each time the warm sun shone upon her cheeks she thought of all the kisses they had given her. Each day passed just like the rest. When the wind swept through the great rose hedges outside the house, it seemed to whisper to them, ' What can be more beautiful than you ? ' But the roses shook their heads and answered, ' Eliza ! ' And when the old woman sat in front of her door on Sunday and read in her hymn-book, the wind turned the leaves and said to the book, ' Who can be more pious than you 1 ' and the hymn-book said, * Eliza ! ' And what the rose bushes and the hymn-book said was the simple truth. When she was fifteen years old she was to go home. And when the Queen saw how beautiful she was, she became spiteful and filled with hatred towards her. She would have been glad to change her into a wild swan, like her brothers, but she did not dare to do so at once, because the King wished to see his daughter. Early in the morning the Queen went into the bath, which was built of white marble, and decked with soft cushions and the most splendid tapestry ; and she took three toads and kissed them, and said to the first, ' Sit upon Eliza's head when she comes into the bath, that she may become as stupid as you. — Seat yourself upon her forehead/ she said to the second, ' that she may become as ugly as you, and her father may not know her. — Rest on her heart,' she whispered to the third, ' that she may receive an evil mind and suffer pain from it.' Then she put the toads into the clear water, which at once assumed a green colour ; and calling Eliza, caused her to undress and step into the water. And .while Eliza dived, one of the toads sat upon her hair, and the second on her forehead, and the third on her heart ; but she did not seem to notice it ; a,nd as soon as she rose, three red poppies were floating on the water. If the creatures had not been poisonous, and if the witch had not kissed them, they would have been changed into red roses. But at any rate they became flowers, because they had rested on the girl's head, and forehead, and heart. She was too good and -innocent for sorcery to have power over her. When the wicked Queen saw that, she rubbed Eliza with walnut juice, so that the girl became dark brown, and smeared an evil-smelling ointment on her face, and let her beautiful hair hang in confusion. It was quite impossible to recognize the pretty Eliza. When her father saw her he was much shocked, and declared this was not his daughter. No one but the yard dog and the swallows would recognize her ; but they were poor animals who had nothing to say in the matter. Then poor Eliza wept, and thought of her eleven brothers who were all away. Sorrowfully she crept out of the castle, and walked all day over field and moor till she came into the great wood. She did not know whither she wished to go, only she felt very downcast and longed for her brothers : they had certainly been, like herself, thrust forth into the world, and she would seek for them and find them. She had been only a short time in the wood when the night fell ; she quite lost the path, therefore she lay down upon the soft moss, said her evening prayer, and leaned her head against the stump of a tree. Deep silence reigned THE WILD SWANS around, the air was mild, and in the grass and in the moss gleamed like a green fire hundreds of glow- worms ; when she lightly touched one of the twigs with her hand, the shining insects fell down upon her like shooting stars. The whole night long she dreamed of her brothers. They were children again playing together, writing with their diamond pencils upon their golden slates, and looking at the beautiful picture-book which had cost half a kingdom. But on the slates they were not writing, as they had been accustomed to do, lines and letters, but the brave deeds they had done, and all they had seen and experienced ; and in the picture-book everything was alive — the birds sang, and the people went out of the book and spoke with Eliza and her brothers. But when the leaf was turned, they jumped back again directly, so that there should be no confusion. When she awoke, the sun was already standing high. She could certainly not see it, for the lofty trees spread their branches far and wide above her. But the rays played above them like a gauzy veil, there was a fragrance from the fresh verdure, and the birds almost perched upon her shoulders. She heard the plashing of water ; it was from a number of springs all flowing into a lake which had the most delightful sandy bottom. It was surrounded by thick growing bushes, but at one part the stags had made a large opening, and here Eliza went down to the water. The lake was so clear, that if the wind had not stirred the branches and the bushes, so that they moved, one would have thought they were painted upon the depths of the lake, so clearly was every leaf mirrored, whether the sun shone upon it or whether it lay in shadow. When Eliza saw her own face she was terrified — so brown and ugly was she ; but when she wetted her little hand and rubbed her eyes and her forehead, the white skin gleamed forth again. Then she undressed and went down into the fresh water : a more beautiful King's daughter than she was could not be found in the world. And when she had dressed herself again and plaited her long hair, she went to the bubbling spring, drank out of her hollow hand, and then wandered farther into the wood, not knowing whither she went. She thought of her dear thers, and thought that Heaven would certainly not her. It is God who lets the wild apples grow, to satisfy the hungry. He showed her a wild apple tree, with the boughs bending under the weight of the fruit. Here she took her midday meal, placed props under the boughs, and then went into the darkest part of the forest. There it was so still that she could hear her own footsteps, as well as the rustling of every dry leaf which bent under her feet. Not one bird was to be seen, not one ray of sunlight could find its way through the great dark boughs of the trees ; the lofty trunks stood so close together that when she looked before her it appeared as though she were surrounded by sets of palings one behind the other. Oh, here was a solitude such as she had never before known ! The night came on quite dark. Not a single glow-worm now gleamed in the grass. Sorrowfully she lay down to sleep. Then it seemed to her as if the branches of the trees parted above her head, and mild eyes of angels looked down upon her from on high. When the morning came, she did not know if it had really been so or if she had dreamed it. She went a few steps forward, and then she met an old woman with berries in her basket, and the old woman gave her a few of them. Eliza asked the dame if she had not seen eleven Princes riding through the wood. ' No,' replied the old woman, ' but yesterday I saw eleven swans swimming in the river close by, with golden crowns on their heads.' And she led Eliza a short distance farther, to a declivity, and at the foot of the slope a little river wound its way. The trees on its margin stretched their long leafy branches across towards each other, and where their natural growth would not allow them to come together, the roots had been torn out of the ground, and hung, intermingled with the branches, over the water. Eliza said farewell to the old woman, and went beside the river to the place where the stream flowed out to the great open ocean. The whole glorious sea lay before the young girl's eyes, but not one sail appeared on its surface, 'and not a boat was to be seen. How was she to proceed ? She looked at the innumerable little pebbles on the shore ; the water had worn them all round. Glass, ironstones, everything that was there had received its shape from the water, which was much softer than even her delicate hand. * It rolls on unweariedly, and thus what is hard becomes smooth. I will be just as unwearied. Thanks for your lesson, you clear rolling waves ; my heart tells me that one day you will lead me to my dear brothers.5 On the foam-covered sea grass lay eleven white swan feathers, which she collected into a bunch. Drops of water were upon them — whether they were dew-drops or tears nobody could tell. Solitary it was there on the strand, but she did not feel it, for the sea showed continual changes — more in a few hours than the lovely lakes can produce in a whole year. Then a great black cloud came. It seemed as if the sea would say, ' I can look angry, too ; ' and then the wind blew, and the waves turned their white side outward. But when the clouds gleamed red and the winds slept, the sea looked like a rose leaf ; sometimes it became green, sometimes white. But however quietly it might rest, there was still a slight motion on the shore ; the water rose gently like the breast of a sleeping child. When the sun was just about to set, Eliza saw eleven wild swans, with crowns on their heads, flying towards the land : they swept along one after the other, so that they looked like a long white band. Then Eliza ascended the slope and hid herself behind a bush. The swans alighted near her and flapped their great white wings. As soon as the sun had disappeared beneath the water, the swans' feathers fell off, and eleven handsome Princes, Eliza's brothers, stood there. She uttered a loud cry, for although they were greatly altered, she knew and felt that it must be they. And she sprang into their arms and called them by their names ; and the Princes felt supremely happy when they saw their little sister again ; and they knew her, though she was now tall and beautiful. They smiled and wept ; and soon they understood how cruel their stepmother had been to them all. ' We brothers,' said the eldest, * fly about as wild swans as long as the sun is in the sky, but directly it sinks down we receive our human form again. Therefore we must always take care that we have a resting-place for our feet when the sun sets ; for if at that moment we were flying up towards the clouds, we should sink down into the deep as men. We do not dwell here : there lies a land just as fair as this beyond the sea. But the way thither is long ; we must cross the great sea, and on our path there is no island where we could pass the night, only a little rock stands forth in the midst of the waives ; it is but just large enough that we can rest upon it close to each other. If the sea is rough, the foam spurts far over us, but we thank God for the rock. There we pass the night in our human form : but for this rock we could never visit our beloved native land, for we require two of the longest days in the year for our journey. Only once in each year is it granted to us to visit our home. For eleven days we may stay here and fly over the great wood, from whence we can see the palace in which we were born and in which our father lives, and the high church tower, beneath whose shade our mother lies buried. Here it seems to us as though the bushes and trees were our relatives ; here the wild horses career across the steppe, as we have seen them do in our childhood ; here the charcoal-burner sings the old songs to which we danced as children ; here is our fatherland : hither we feel ourselves drawn, and here we have found you, our dear little sister. Two days more we may stay here ; then we must away across the sea to a glorious land, but which is not our native land. How can we bear you away 1 for we have neither ship nor boat.' ' In what way can I release you ? ' asked the sister ; and they conversed nearly the whole night, only slumbering for a few hours. She was awakened by the rustling of the swans' wings above her head. Her brothers were again enchanted, and they flew in wide circles and at last far away ; but one of them, the youngest, remained behind, and the swan laid his head in her lap, and she stroked his wings ; and the whole day they remained together. Towards evening the others came back, and when the sun had gone down they stood there in their own shapes. * To-morrow we fly far away from here, and cannot come back until a whole year has gone by. But we cannot leave you thus ! Have you courage to come with us ? My arm is strong enough to carry you in the wood ; and should not all our wings be strong enough to fly with you over the sea ? ' ' Yes, take me with you/ said Eliza. The whole night they were occupied in weaving a net of the pliable willow bark and tough reeds ; and it was great and strong. On this net Eliza lay down ; and when the sun rose, and her brothers were changed into wild swans, they seized the net with their beaks, and flew with their beloved sister, who was still asleep, high up towards the clouds. The sunbeams fell exactly upon her face, so one of the swans flew over her head, that his broad wings might overshadow her. They were far away from the shore when Eliza awoke : she was still dreaming, so strange did it appear to her to be carried high through the air and over the sea. By her side lay a branch with beautiful ripe berries and a bundle of sweet-tasting roots. The youngest of the brothers had collected them and placed them there for her. She smiled at him thankfully, for she recognized him ; he it was who flew over her and shaded her with his wings. They were so high that the first ship they descried beneath them seemed like a white seagull lying upon the waters. A great cloud stood behind them — it was a perfect mountain ; and upon it Eliza saw her own shadow and those of the eleven swans ; there they flew on, gigantic in size. Here was a picture, a more splendid one than she had ever yet seen. But as the sun rose higher and the cloud was left farther behind them, the floating shadowy images vanished away. The whole day they flew onward through the air, like a whirring arrow, but their flight was slower than it was wont to be, for they had their sister to carry. Bad weather came on ; the evening drew near ; Eliza looked anxiously at the setting sun, for the lonely rock in the ocean could not be seen. It seemed to her as if the swans beat the air more strongly with their wings. Alas ! she was the cause that they did not advance fast enough. When the sun went down, they must become men and fall into the sea and drown. Then she prayed a prayer from the depths of her heart ; but still she could descry no rock. The dark clouds came nearer in a great black threatening body, rolling forward like a mass of lead, and the lightning burst forth, flash upon flash. Now the sun just touched the margin of the sea. Eliza's heart trembled. Then the swans darted downwards, so swiftly that she thought they were falling, but they paused again. The sun was half -hidden below^the water. And now for the first time she saw the little "rock beneath her, and it looked no larger than a seal might look, thrusting his head forth from the water. The sun sank very fast ; at last it appeared only like a star ; and then her foot touched the firm land. The sun was extinguished like the last spark in a piece of burned paper ; her brothers were standing around her, arm in arm, but there was not more than just enough room for her and for them. The sea beat against the rock and went over her like small rain ; the sky glowed in continual fire, and peal on peal the thunder rolled ; but sister and brothers held each other by the hand, and sang psalms, from which they gained comfort and courage. In the morning twilight the air was pure and calm. As soon as the sun rose the swans flew away with Eliza from the island. The sea still ran high, and when they soared up aloft, the white foam looked like millions of white swans swimming upon the water. When the sun mounted higher, Eliza saw before her, half -floating in the air, a mountainous country with shining masses of ice on its hills, and in the midst of it rose a castle, apparently a mile long, with row above row of elegant columns, while beneath waved the palm woods and bright flowers as large as mill-wheels. She asked if this was the country to which they were bound, but the swans shook their heads, for what she beheld was the gorgeous, everchanging palace of Fata Morgana, and into this they might bring no human being. As Eliza gazed at it, mountains, woods, and castle fell down, and twenty proud churches, all nearly alike, with high towers and pointed windows, stood before them. She fancied she heard the organs sounding, but it was the sea she heard. When she was quite near the churches they changed to a fleet sailing beneath her, but when she looked down it was only a sea mist gliding over the ocean. Thus she had a continual change before her eyes, till at last she saw the real land to which they were bound. There arose the most glorious blue mountains, with cedar forests, cities, and palaces. Long before the sun went down she sat on the rock, in front of a great cave overgrown with delicate green trailing plants looking like embroidered carpets. ' Now we shall see what you will dream of here to-night,' said the youngest brother ; and he showed her to her bed-chamber. ' Heaven grant that I may dream of a way to release you/ she replied. And this thought possessed her mightily, and she prayed ardently for help ; yes, even in her sleep she continued to pray. Then it seemed to her as if she were flying high in the air to the cloudy palace of Fata Morgana ; and the fairy came out to meet her, beautiful and radiant ; and yet the fairy was quite like the old woman who had given her the berries in the wood, and had told her of the swans with golden crowns on their heads. ' Your brothers can be released,' said she. ' But have you courage and perseverance ? Certainly, water is softer than your delicate hands, and yet it changes the shape of stones ; but it feels not the pain that your fingers will feel ; it has no heart, and does not suffer the agony and torment you will have to endure. Da you>see ^ the^tingingnettle which I hold in my hand ? Many of the same kind grow around the cave in which you sleep : those only, and those that grow upon churchyard graves, are serviceable, remember that. Those you must pluck, though they will burn your hands into blisters. Break these nettles to pieces with your feet, and you will have flax ; of this you must plait and weave eleven shirts of mail with long sleeves : throw these over the eleven swans, and the charm will be broken. But recollect well, from the moment you begin this work until it is finished, even though it should take years to accomplish, you must not speak. The first word vyou utter will pierce your brothers' hearts like a deadly daggeis — Their lives hang on your tongue. Remember all this ! ' And she touched her hand with the nettle ; it was like a burning fire, and Eliza woke with the smart. It was broad daylight ; and close by the spot where she had slept lay a nettle like the one she had seen in her dream. She fell upon her knees and prayed gratefully, and went forth from the cave to begin her work. With her delicate hands she groped among the ugly nettles. These stung like fire, burning^ great blisters on her arms and hands ; but she thought she would bear it gladly if she could only release her dear brothers. Then she bruised every nettle with her bare feet and plaited the green flax. When the sun had set her brothers came, and they were frightened when they found her dumb. They thought it was some new sorcery of their wicked stepmother's ; but when they saw her hands, they understood what she was doing for their sake, and the youngest brother wept. And where his tears dropped she felt no more pain, and the burning blisters vanished. She passed the night at her work, for she could not sleep till she had delivered her dear brothers. The whole of the following day, while the swans wrere away, she sat in solitude, but never had time flown so quickly with her as now. One shirt of mail was already finished, and now she began the second. Then a hunting horn sounded among the hills, and she was struck with fear. The noise came nearer and nearer ; she heard the barking dogs, and timidly she fled into the cave, bound into a bundle the nettles she had collected and prepared, and sat upon the bundle. Immediatelya great dog came bounding out of the thicket, and then another, and another : they barked loudly, ran back, and then came again. Only a few minutes had gone before all the huntsmen stood before the cave, and the handsomest of them was the King of the country. He came forward to Eliza, for he had never seen a more beautiful maiden. ' How did you come hither, you delightful child ? ' he asked. Eliza shook her head, for she might not speak — it would cost her brothers their deliverance and their lives. And she hid her hands under her apron, so that the King might not see what she was suffering. ' Come with me,' said he. ' You cannot stop here. If you are as good AS you are beautiful, I will dress you in velvet and silk, and place the golden crown on your head, and you shall dwell in my richest castle, and rule.' And then he lifted her on his horse. She wept and wrung her hands ; but the King said, ' I only wish for your happiness : one day you will thank me for this.' And then he galloped away among the mountains with her on his horse, and the hunters galloped at their heels. When the sun went down, the fair regal city lay before them, with its churches and cupolas ; and the King led her into the castle, where great fountains plashed in the lofty marble halls, and where walls and ceilings were covered with glorious pictures. But she had no eyes for all this — she only wept and mourned. Passively she let the women put royal robes upon her, and weave pearls in her hair, and draw dainty gloves over her blistered fingers. When she stood there in full array, she was dazzlingly beautiful, so that the Court bowed deeper than ever. And the King chose her for his bride, although the archbishop shook his head and whispered that .the beauteous forest maid was certainly a witch, who blinded the eyes and led astray the heart of the King. But the King gave no ear to this, but ordered that the music should sound, and the costliest dishes should be served, and the most beautiful maidens should dance before them. And she was led through fragrant gardens into gorgeous halls ; but never a smile came upon her lips or shone in her eyes : there she stood, a picture of grief. Then the King opened a little chamber close by, where she was to sleep. This chamber was decked with splendid green tapestry, and completely resembled the cave in which she had been. On the floor lay the bundle of flax which she had prepared from the nettles, and under the ceiling hung the shirt of mail she had completed. All these things one of the huntsmen had brought with him as curiosities. ' Here you may dream yourself back in your former home,' said the King. ' Here is the work which occupied you there, and now, in the midst of all your splendour, it will amuse you to think of that time.' When Eliza saw this that lay so near her heart, a smile played round her mouth and the crimson blood came back into her cheeks. She thought of her brothers' deliverance, and kissed the King's hand ; and he pressed her to his heart, and caused the marriage feast to be announced by all the church bells. The beautiful dumb girl out of the wood became the Queen of the country. Then the archbishop whispered evil words into the King's ear, but they did not sink into the King's heart. The marriage was to take place ; the archbishop himself was obliged to place the crown on her head, and with wicked spite he pressed the narrow circlet so tightly upon her browthat it pained her. But a heavier ring lay close around her heart — sorrow for her brothers ; she did not feel the bodily pain. Her mouth was dumb, for a single word would cost her brothers their lives, but her eyes glowed with love for the kind, handsome King, who did everything to rejoice her. She loved him with her whole heart, more and more every day. Oh that she had been able to confide in him and to tell him of her grief ! But she wras compelled to be dumb, and to finish her work in silence. Therefore at night she crept away from his side, and went quietly into the little chamber which was decorated like the cave, and wove one shirt of mail after another. But when she began the seventh she had no flax left. She knew that in the churchyard nettles were growing that she could use ; but she must pluck them herself, and how was she to go out there ? ' Oh, what is the pain in my fingers to the torment my heart endures ? ' thought she. ' I must venture it, and help will not be denied me ! ' With a trembling heart, as though the deed she purposed doing had been evil, she crept into the garden in the moonlight night, and went through the long avenues and through the deserted streets to the churchyard. There, on one of the broadest tombstones, she saw sitting a circle of lamias. These hideous wretches took off their ragged garments, as if they were going to bathe ; then with their skinny fingers they clawed open the fresh graves, and with fiendish greed they snatched up the corpses and ate the flesh. Eliza was obliged to pass close by them, and they fastened their evil glances upon her ; but she prayed silently, and collected the burning nettles, and carried them into the castle. Only one person had seen her, and that was the archbishop. He was awake while others slept. Now he felt sure his opinion was correct, that all was not as it should be with the Queen ; she was a witch, and thus she had bewitched the King and the whole people. In secret he told the King what he had seen and what he feared ; and when the hard words came from his tongue, the pictures of saints in the cathedral shook their heads, as though they could have said, ' It is not so ! Eliza is innocent ! ' But the archbishop interpreted this differently — he thought they were bearing witness against her, and shaking their heads at her sinfulness. Then two heavy tears rolled down the King's cheeks ; he went home with doubt in his heart, and at night pretended to be asleep ; but no quiet sleep came upon his eyes, for he noticed that Eliza got up. Every night she did this, and each time he followed her silently, and saw how she disappeared from her chamber. From day to day his face became darker. Eliza saw it, but did not understand the reason ; but it frightened her — and what did she not suffer in her heart for her brothers ? Her hot tears flowed upon the royal velvet and purple ; they lay there like sparkling diamonds, and all who saw the splendour wished they were Queens. In the meantime she had almost finished her work. Only one shirt of mail was still to be completed, but she had no flax left, and not a single nettle. Once more, for the last time, therefore, she must go to the churchyard, only to pluck a few handfuls. She thought with terror of this solitary wandering and of the horrible lamias, but her will was firm as her trust in Providence. Eliza went on, but the King and the archbishop followed her. They saw her vanish into the churchyard through the wicket gate ; and when they drew near, the lamias were sitting upon the gravestones as Eliza had seen them ; and the King turned aside, for he fancied her among them, whose head had rested against his breast that very evening. ' The people must judge her,' said he. And the people condemned her to suffer death by fire. Out of the gorgeous regal halls she was led into a dark damp cell, where the wind whistled through the grated window ; instead of velvet and silk they gave her the bundle of nettles which she had collected : on this she could lay her head ; and the hard burning coats of mail which she had woven were to be her coverlet. But nothing could have been given her that she liked better. She resumed her work and prayed. Without, the street boys were singing jeering songs about her, and not a soul comforted her with a kind word. But towards evening there came the whirring of swans' wings close by the grating — it was the youngest of her brothers. He had found his sister, and she sobbed aloud with joy, though she knew that the approaching night would probably be the last she had to live. But now the work was almost finished, and her brothers were here. Now came the archbishop, to stay with her in her last hour, for he had promised the King to do so. But she shook her head, and with looks and gestures she begged him to depart, for in this night she must finish her work, or else all would be in vain, all her tears, her pain, and her sleepless, nights. The archbishop withdrew uttering evil words against her ; but poor Eliza knew she was innocent, and continued her work. The little mice ran about on the floor, and dragged nettles to her feet in order to help her ; and the thrush perched beside the bars of the window and sang all night as merrily as it could, so that she might not lose heart. It was still twilight ; not till an hour afterwards would the sun rise. And the eleven brothers stood at the castle gate, and demanded to be brought before the King. That could not be, they were told, for it was still almost night ; the King was asleep, and might not be disturbed. They begged, they threatened, and the sentries came, yes, even the King himself came out, and asked wrhat was the meaning of this. At that moment the sun rose, and no more were the brothers to be seen, but eleven wild swans flew away over the castle. All the people came flocking out at the town gate, for they wanted to see the witch burned. An old horse drew the cart on which she sat. They had put upon her a garment of coarse sackcloth. Her lovely hair hung loose about her beautiful head ; her cheeks were as pale as death ; and her lips moved silently, while her fingers were engaged with the green flax. Even on the way to death she did not interrupt the work she had begun ; the ten shirts of mail lay at her feet, and she wrought at the eleventh. The mob derided her. * Look at the witch, how she mutters ! She has no hymn-book in her hand ; no, there she sits with her ugly sorcery — tear it in a thousand pieces ! ' And they all pressed upon her, and wanted to tear up the shirts of mail. Then eleven wild swans came flying up, and sat round about her on the cart, and beat with their wings ; and the mob gave way before them, terrified. ' That is a sign from heaven ! She is certainly innocent ! ' whispered many. But they did not dare to say it aloud. Now the executioner seized her by the hand ; then she hastily threw the eleven shirts over the swans, and immediately eleven handsome Princes stood there. But the youngest had a swan's wing instead of an arm, for a sleeve was wanting to his shirt — she had not quite finished it. { Now I may speak ! ' she said. ' I am innocent ! ' And the people who saw what happened bowed before her as before a saint ; but she sank lifeless into her brothers' arms, such an effect had suspense, anguish, and pain had upon her. t Yes, she is innocent,' said the eldest brother. And now he told everything that had taken place ; and while he spoke a fragrance arose as of millions of roses, for every piece of faggot in the pile had taken root and was sending forth shoots ; and a fragrant hedge stood there, tall and great, covered with red roses, and at the top a flower, white and shining, gleaming like a star. This flower the King plucked and placed in Eliza's bosom ; and she awoke with peace and happiness in her heart. And all the church bells rang of themselves, and the birds came in great flocks. And back to the castle such a marriage procession took place as no King had ever seen.

The Nightingale

IN China, you must know, the Emperor is a Chinaman, and all whom he has about him are Chinamen too. It happened a good many years ago, but that 's just why it 's worth while to hear the story, before it is forgotten. The Emperor's palace was the most splendid in the world ; it was made entirely of porcelain, very costly, but so delicate and brittle that one had to take care how one touched it. In the garden were to be seen the most wonderful flowers, and to the costliest of them silver bells were tied, which sounded, so that nobody should pass by without noticing the flowers. Yes, everything in the Emperor's garden was admirably arranged. And it extended so far, that the gardener himself did not know where the end was. If a man went on and on, he came into a glorious forest, with high trees and deep lakes. The wood extended straight down to the sea, which was blue and deep ; great ships could sail in beneath the branches of the trees ; and in the trees lived a Nightingale, which sang so splendidly that even the poor fisherman, who had many other things to do, stopped still and listened, when he had gone out at night to take up his nets, and heard the Nightingale. ' How beautiful that is ! ' he said ; but he was obliged to attend to his business, and thus forgot the bird. But when in the next night the bird sang again, and the fisherman heard it, he exclaimed again, ' How beautiful that is ! ' From all the countries of the. world travellers came to the city of the Emperor, and admired it, and the palace, and the garden, but when they heard the Nightingale, they said, ' That is the best of all ! ' And the travellers told of it when they came home ; and the learned men wrote many books about the town, the palace, and the garden. But they did not forget the Nightingale ; that was placed highest of all ; and those who were poets wrote most magnificent poems about the Nightingale in the wood by the deep lake. The books went through all the world, and a few of them once came to the Emperor. He sat in his golden chair, and read, and read : every m'oment he nodded his head, for it pleased him to peruse the masterly descriptions of the city, the palace, and the garden. ' But the Nightingale is the best of all,' it stood written there. ' What 's that ? ' exclaimed the Emperor. ' I don't know the Nightingale at all ! Is there such a bird in my empire, and even in my garden ? I've never heard of that. To think that I should have to learn such a thing for the first time from books ! ' And hereupon he called his cavalier. This cavalier was so grand that if any one lower in rank than himself dared to speak to him, or to ask him any question, he answered nothing but ' P ! ' — and that meant nothing. ' There is said to be a wonderful bird here called a Nightingale ! ' said the Emperor. ' They say it is the best thing in all my great empire. Why have I never heard anything about it ? ' ' I have never heard him named,' replied the cavalier. ' He has never been introduced at court.' ' I command that he shall appear this evening, and sing before me,' said the Emperor. ' All the world knows what I possess, and I do not know it myself ! ' ' I have never heard him mentioned,' said the cavalier. ' I will seek for him. I will find him.' But where was he to be found ? The cavalier ran up and down all the staircases, through halls and passages, but no one among all those whom he met had heard talk of the nightingale. And the cavalier ran back to the Emperor, and said that it must be a fable invented by the writers of books. 'Your Imperial Majesty cannot believe how much is written that is fiction, besides something that they call the black art.' ' But the book in which I read this,' said the Emperor, ' was sent to me by the high and mighty Emperor of Japan, and therefore it cannot be a falsehood. I will hear the Nightingale ! It must be here this evening ! It has my imperial favour ; and if it does not come, all the court shall be trampled upon after the court has supped ! ' * Tsing-pe ! ' said the cavalier ; and again he ran up and down all the staircases, and through all the halls and corridors ; and half the court ran with him, for the courtiers did not like being trampled upon. Then there was a great inquiry after the wonderful Nightingale, which all the world knew excepting the people at court. At last they met with a poor little girl in the kitchen, who said, ' The Nightingale ? I know it well ; yes, it can sing gloriously. Every evening I get leave to carry my poor sick mother the scraps from the table. She lives down by the strand, and when I get back and am tired, and rest in the wood, then I hear the Nightingale sing. And then the water comes into my eyes, and it is just as if my mother kissed me ! ' ' Little girl,' said the cavalier, ' I will get you a place in the kitchen, with permission to see the Emperor dine, if you will lead us to the Nightingale, for it is announced for this evening.' So they all went out into the wood where the Nightingale was accustomed to sing ; half the court went forth. When they were in the midst of their journey a cow began to low. ' Oh ! ' cried the court page, ' now we have it ! That shows a wonderful power in so small a creature ! I have certainly heard it before.' ' No, those are cows lowing ! ' said the little kitchengirl. * We are a long way from the place yet.' Now the frogs began to croak in the marsh. ' Glorious ! ' said the Chinese court preacher. ' Now I hear it — it sounds just like little church bells.' ' No, those are frogs ! ' said the little kitchen-maid. * But now I think we shall soon hear it.' And then the Nightingale began to sing. ' That is it ! ' exclaimed the little girl. ' Listen, listen ! and yonder it sits.' And she pointed to a little grey bird up in the boughs. ' Is it possible ? ' cried the cavalier. ' I should never have thought it looked like that ! How plain it looks ! It must certainly have lost its colour at seeing such grand people around.' ' Little Nightingale ! ' called the little kitchen-maid, quite loudly, ' our gracious Emperor wishes you to sing before him.' ^ ' With the greatest pleasure ! ' replied the Nightingale, and began to sing most delightfully. ' It sounds just like glass bells ! ' said the cavalier. ' And look at its little throat, how it 's working ! It 's wonderful that we should never have heard it before. That bird will be a great success at court.' ' Shall I sing once more before the Emperor ? ' asked the Nightingale, for it thought the Emperor was present. ' My excellent little Nightingale,' said the cavalier, ' I have great pleasure in inviting you to a court festival this evening, when you shall charm his Imperial Majesty with your beautiful singing.' ' My song sounds best in the green wood ! ' replied the Nightingale ; still it came willingly when it heard what the Emperor wished. The palace was festively adorned. The walls and the flooring, which were of porcelain, gleamed in the rays of thousands of golden lamps. The most glorious flowers, which could ring clearly, had been placed in the passages. There was a running to and fro, and a thorough draught, and all the bells rang so loudly that one could not hear oneself speak. In the midst of the great hall, where the Emperor sat, a golden perch had been placed, on which the Nightingale was to sit. The whole court was there, and the little kitchen-maid had got leave to stand behind the door, as she had now received the title of a real court cook. All were in full dress, and all looked at the little grey bird, to which the Emperor nodded. And the Nightingale sang so gloriously that the tears came into the Emperor's eyes, and the tears ran down over his cheeks ; and then the Nightingale sang still more sweetly, so that its song went straight to the heart. The Emperor was so much pleased that he said the Nightingale should have his golden slipper to wear round its neck. But the Nightingale declined this with thanks, saying it had already received a sufficient reward. ' I have seen tears in the Emperor's eyes — that is the real treasure to me. An Emperor's tears have a peculiar power. I am rewarded enough ! ' And then it sang again with a sweet glorious voice. ' That 's the most amiable coquetry I ever saw ! ' said the ladies who stood round about, and then they took water in their mouths to gurgle when any one spoke to them. They thought they should be nightingales too. And the lackeys and chambermaids reported that they were satisfied too ; and that was saying a good deal, for they are the most difficult to please. In short, the Nightingale achieved a real success. It was now to remain at court, to have its own cage, with liberty to go out twice every day and once at night. Twelve servants were appointed when the Nightingale went out, each of whom had a silken string fastened to the bird's leg, and which they held very tight. There was really no pleasure in an excursion of that kind. The whole city spoke of the wonderful bird, and when two people met, one said nothing but 'Nightin,5 and the other said ' gale ' ; and then they sighed, and understood one another. Eleven pedlars' children were named after the bird, but not one of them could sing a note. One day the Emperor received a large parcel, on which was written ' The Nightingale.5 ' There we have a new book about this celebrated bird,' said the Emperor. But it was not a book, but a little work of art, contained in a box, an artificial nightingale, which was to sing like the natural one, and was brilliantly ornamented with diamonds, rubies, and sapphires. So soon as the artificial bird was wound up, he could sing one of the pieces that the real one sang, and then his tail moved up and down, and shone with silver and gold. Round his neck hung a little ribbon, and on that was written, * The Emperor of Japan's nightingale is poor compared to that of the Emperor of China.' ' That is capital ! ' said they all, and he who had brought the artificial bird immediately received the title, Imperial Head-Nightingale-Bringer. ' Now they must sing together ; what a duet that will be ! ' And so they had to sing together ; but it did not sound very well, for the real Nightingale sang in its own way, and the artificial bird sang waltzes. ' That 's not his fault,' said the playmaster ; ' he 's quite perfect, and very much in my style.' Now the artificial bird was to sing alone. He had just as much success as the real one, and then it was much handsomer to look at — it shone like bracelets and breastpins. Three and thirty times over did it sing the same piece, and yet was not tired. The people would gladly have heard it again, but the Emperor said that the living Nightingale ought to sing something now. But where was it ? No one had noticed that it had flown away out of the open window, back to the green wood. ' But what in all the world is this ? ' said the Emperor. And all the courtiers abused the Nightingale, and declared that it was a very ungrateful creature. ' We have the best bird, after all,' said they. And so the artificial bird had to sing again, and that was the thirty-fourth time that they listened to the same piece. For all that they did not know it quite by heart, for it was so very difficult. And the playmaster praised the bird particularly ; yes, he declared that it was better than a nightingale, not only with regard to its plumage and the many beautiful diamonds, but inside as well. ' For you see, ladies and gentlemen, and above all, your Imperial Majesty, with a real nightingale one can never calculate what is coming, but in this artificial bird everything is settled. One can explain it ; one can open it and make people understand where the waltzes come from, how they go, and how one follows up another.' ' Those are quite our own ideas/ they all said. And the speaker received permission to show the bird to the people on the next Sunday. The people were to hear it sing too, the Emperor commanded ; and they did hear it, and were as much pleased as if they had all got tipsy upon tea, for that '& quite the Chinese fashion ; and they all said, ' Oh ! ' and held up their forefingers and nodded. But the poor fisherman who had heard the real Nightingale, said, 'It sounds pretty enough, and the melodies resemble each other, but there 's something wanting, though I know not what ! ' The real Nightingale was banished from the country and empire. The artificial bird had its place on a silken cushion close to the Emperor's bed ; all the presents it had received, gold and precious stones, were ranged about it ; in title it had advanced to be the High Imperial Night-Singer, and in rank to number one on the left hand ; for the Emperor considered that side the most important on which the heart is placed, and even in an Emperor the heart is on the left side ; and the playmaster wrote a work of fiveand-twenty volumes about the artificial bird ; it was very learned and very long, full of the most difficult Chinese words ; but yet all the people declared that they had read it and understood it, for fear of being considered stupid, and having their bodies trampled on. So a whole year went by. The Emperor, the court, and all the other Chinese knew every little twitter in the artificial bird's song by heart. But just for that reason it pleased them best — they could sing with it themselves, and they did so. The street boys sang, ' Tsi-tsi-tsi-glugglug ! ' and the Emperor himself sang it too. Yes, that was certainly famous. But one evening, when* the artificial bird was singing its best, and the Emperor lay in bed listening to it, something inside the bird said, ' Whizz ! ' Something cracked. c Whir-r-r ! ' All the wheels ran round, and then the music stopped. The Emperor immediately sprang out of bed, and caused his body physician to be called ; but what could he do ? Then they sent for a watchmaker, and after a good deal of talking and investigation, the bird was put into something like order ; but the watchmaker said that the bird must be carefully treated, for the barrels were worn, and it would be impossible to put new ones in in such a manner that the music would go. There was a great lamentation ; only once in a year was it permitted to let the bird sing, and that was almost too much. But then the playmaster made a little speech, full of hard words, and said this was just as good as before — and so of course it was as good as before. Now five years had gone by, and a real grief came upon the whole nation. The Chinese were really fond of their Emperor, and now he was ill, and couM not, it was said, live much longer. Already a new Emperor had been chosen, and the people stood out in the street and asked the cavalier how their old Emperor did. ' P ! ' said he, and shook his head. Cold and pale lay the Emperor in his great gorgeous bed ; the whole court thought him dead, and each one ran to pay homage to the new ruler. The chamberlains ran out to talk it over, and the ladies'-maids had a great coffee party. All about, in all the halls and passages, cloth had been laid down so that no footstep could be heard, and therefore it was quiet there, quite quiet. But the Emperor was not dead yet : stiff and pale he lay on the gorgeous bed with the long velvet curtains and the heavy gold tassels ; high up, a window stood open, and the moon shone in upon the Emperor and the artificial bird. The poor Emperor could scarcely breathe ; it was just as if something lay upon his chest : he opened his eyes, and then he saw that it was Death who sat upon his chest, and had put on his golden crown, and held in one hand the Emperor's sword, and in the other his beautiful banner. And all around, from among the folds of the splendid velvet curtains, strange heads peered forth ; a few very ugly, the rest quite lovely and mild. These were all the Emperor's bad and good deeds, that looked upon him now that Death sat upon his heart. ' Do you remember this ? ' whispered one after the other, * Do you remember that ? ' and then they told him so much that the perspiration ran from his forehead. ' I did not know that ! ' said the Emperor. * Music ! music ! the great Chinese drum ! ' he cried, * so that I need not hear all they say ! ' And they continued speaking, and Death nodded like a Chinaman to all they said. ' Music ! music ! ' cried the Emperor. ' You little precious golden bird, sing, sing ! I have given you gold and costly presents ; I have even hung my golden slipper around your neck — sing now, sing ! ' But the bird stood still ; no one was there to wind him up, and he could not sing without that; but Death continued to stare at the Emperor with his great hollow eyes, and it was quiet, fearfully quiet. Then there sounded from the window, suddenly, the most lovely song. It was the little live Nightingale, that sat outside on a spray. It had heard of the Emperor's sad plight, and had come to sing to him of comfort and hope. And as it sang the spectres grew paler and paler ; the blood ran quicker and more quickly through the Emperor's weak limbs ; and even Death listened, and said, ' Go on, little Nightingale, go on ! ' 'But will you give me that splendid golden sword ? Will you give me that rich banner ? Will you give me the Emperor's crown ? ' And Death gave up each of these treasures for a song. And the Nightingale sang on and on ; and it sang of the quiet churchyard where the white roses grow, where the elder-blossom smells sweet, and where the fresh grass is moistened by the tears of survivors. Then Death felt a longing to see his garden, and floated out at the window in the form of a cold white mist. ' Thanks ! thanks ! ' said the Emperor. * You heavenly little bird ! I know you well. I banished you from my country and empire, and yet you have charmed away the evil faces from my couch, and banished Death from my heart ! How can I reward you ? ' ' You have rewarded me ! ' replied the Nightingale. ' I have drawn tears from your eyes, when I sang the first time — I shall never forget that. Those are the jewels that rejoice a singer's heart. But now sleep and growfresh and strong again. I will sing you something.' . And it sang, and the Emperor fell into a sweet slumber. Ah ! how mild and refreshing that sleep was ! The sun shone upon him through the windows, when he awoke refreshed and restored : not one of his servants had yet returned, for they all thought he was dead ; only the Nightingale still sat beside him and sang. * You must always stay with me,' said the Emperor. You shall sing as you please ; and I'll break the artificial bird into a thousand pieces.' * Not so,* replied the Nightingale. ' It did well as long as it could ; keep it as you have done till now. I cannot build my nest in the palace to dwell in it, but let me come when I feel the wish ; then I will sit in the evening on the spray yonder by the window, and sing you something, so that you may be glad and thoughtful at once. I will sing of those who are happy and of those who suffer. I will sing of the good and the evil that remains hidden round about you. The little singing bird flies far around, to the poor fisherman, to the peasant's roof, to every one who dwells far away from you and from your court. I love your heart more than your crown, and yet the crown has an air of sanctity about it. I will come and sing to you — but one thing you must promise me.' ' Everything ! ' said the Emperor ; and he stood there in his imperial robes, which he had put on himself, and pressed the sword which was heavy with gold to his heart. ' One thing I beg of you : tell no one that you have a little bird who tells you everything. Then it will go all the better.' And the Nightingale flew away. The servants came in to look at their dead Emperor, and — yes, there they stood, and the Emperor said ' Good morning ! '

The Ugly Duckling

IT was glorious out in the country. It was summer, and the cornfields were yellow, and the oats were green ; the hay had been put up in stacks in the green meadows, and the stork went about on his long red legs, and chattered Egyptian, for this language he had learned from his mother. All around the fields and meadows were great forests, and in the midst of these forests lay deep lakes. Yes, it was really glorious out in the country. In the midst of the sunshine there lay an old manor, surrounded by deep canals, and from the wall down to the water grew great burdocks, so high that little children could stand upright under the loftiest of them. It was just as wild there as in the deepest wood. Here sat a Duck upon her nest, for she had to hatch her young ones ; but she was almost tired out before the little ones came ; and then she so seldom had visitors. The other ducks liked better to swim about in the canals than to run up to sit down under a burdock, and gossip with her. At last one egg-shell after another burst open. ' Piep ! piep ! ' it cried, and in all the eggs there were little creatures that stuck out their heads. ' Rap ! rap ! ' she said ; and they all came rapping out as fast as they could, looking all round them under the green leaves ; and the mother let them look as much as they chose, for green is good for the eyes. * How wide the world is ! ' said the young ones, for they certainly had much more room now than when they were in the eggs. ' Do you think this is all the world ? ' asked the mother. * That extends far across the other side of the garden, quite into the parson's field, but I have never been there yet. I hope you are all together/ she continued, and stood up. * No, I have not all. The largest egg still lies there. How long is that to last ? I am really tired of it.' And she sat down again. * Well, how goes it ? ' asked an old Duck who had come to pay her a visit. 1 It lasts a long time with that one egg,' said the Duck who sat there. ' It will not burst. Now, only look at the others ; are they not the prettiest ducklings one could possibly see ? They are all like their father : the bad fellow never comes to see me/ ' Let me see the egg which will not burst,' said the old visitor. ' Believe me, it is a turkey's egg. I was once cheated in that way, and had much anxiety and trouble with the young ones, for they are afraid of the water. I could not get them to venture in. I quacked and clucked, but it was no use. Let me see the egg. Yes, that's a turkey's egg ! Let it lie there, and teach the other children to swim.' * I think I will sit on it a little longer,' said the Duck. 'I've sat so long now that I can sit a few days more.' * Just as you please,' said the old Duck ; and she went away. At last the great egg burst. ' Piep ! piep ! ' said the little one, and crept forth. It was very large and very ugly. The Duck looked at it. ' It 's a very large duckling/ said she ; * none of the others look like that : can it really be a turkey chick ? Now we shall soon find it out. It must go into the water, even if I have to kick it in myself/ The next day the weather was splendidly bright, and the sun shone on all the green burdocks. The Mother-Duck went down to the water with all her little ones. Splash, she jumped into the water. ' Quack ! quack ! ' she said, and one duckling after another plunged in. The water closed over their heads, but they came up in an instant, and swam capitally ; their legs went of themselves, and there they were all in the water. The ugly grey Duckling swam with them. * No, it 's not a turkey,' said she ; ' look how well it can use its legs, and how upright it holds itself. It is my own child ! On the whole it 's quite pretty, if one looks at it rightly. Quack ! quack ! come with me, and I'll lead you out into the great world, and present you in the poultryyard ; but keep close to me, so that no one may tread on you, and take care of the cat ! ' And so they came into the poultry -yard. There was a terrible riot going on there, for two families were quarrelling about an eel's head, and the cat got it after all. ' See, that 's how it goes in the world ! ' said the Mother- Duck ; and she whetted her beak, for she, too, wanted the eel's head. ' Only use your legs,' she said. ' See that you can bustle about, and bow your heads before the old Duck yonder. She Js the grandest of all here ; she 's of Spanish blood — that 's why she 's so fat ; and do you see, she has a red rag round her leg ; that 's something particularly fine, and the greatest distinction a duck can enjoy : it signifies that one does not want to lose her, and that she 's to be recognized by man and beast. Shake yourselves — don't turn in your toes ; a well-brought-up duck turns its toes quite out, just like father and mother, so ! Now bend your necks and say " Rap ! " And they did so ; but the other ducks round about looked at them, and said quite boldly, * Look there ! now we're to have these hanging on as if there were not enough of us already ! And — fie ! — how that Duckling yonder looks ; we won't stand him ! ' And one duck flew up immediately, and bit it in the neck. ' Let it alone,' said the mother ; ' it does no harm to any one.' ' Yes, but it 's too large and peculiar,' said the Duck who had bitten it ; ' and therefore it must be buffeted.' ' Those are pretty children that the mother has there/ said the old Duck with the rag round her leg. ' They're all pretty but that one ; that was a failure. I wish she could alter it.' ' That cannot be done, my lady,' replied the Mother- Duck : ' it is not pretty, but it has a really good disposition, and swims as well as any other ; I may even say it swims better. I think it will grow up pretty, and become smaller in time ; it has lain too long in the egg, and therefore is not properly shaped/ And then she pinched it in the neck, and smoothed its feathers. ' Moreover, it is a drake,' she said, 4 and therefore it is not of so much consequence. I think he will be very strong : he will make his way all right.' ' The other ducklings are graceful enough,' said the old Duck. ' Make yourself at home ; and if you find an eel's head, you may bring it me.' And now they were at home. But the poor Duckling which had crept last out of the egg, and looked so ugly, was bitten and pushed and jeered at, as much by the ducks as by the chickens. ' It is too big ! ' they all said. And the turkey-cock, who had been born with spurs, and therefore thought himself an emperor, blew himself up like a ship in full sail, and bore straight down upon it ; then he gobbled, and grew quite red in the face. The poor Duckling did not know where it should stand or walk ; it was quite melancholy because it looked ugly, and was scoffed at by the whole yard. So it went on the first day ; and afterwards it became worse and worse. The poor Duckling was hunted about by every one ; even its brothers and sisters were quite angry with it, and said, ' If the cat would only catch you, you ugly creature ! ' And the mother said, ' If you were only far away ! ' And the ducks bit it, and the chickens beat it, and the girl who had to feed the poultry kicked at it with her foot. Then it ran and flew over the fence, and the little birds in the bushes flew up in fear. ' That is because I am so ugly ! ' thought the Duckling ; and it shut its eyes, but flew on farther ; thus it came out into the grea^ moor, where the wild ducks lived. Here it lay the whole night long ; and it was weary and downcast. Towards morning the wild ducks flew up, and looked at their new companion. ' What sort of a one are you ? ' they asked ; and the Duckling turned in every direction, and bowed as well as it could. ' You are remarkably ugly ! ' said the Wild Ducks. ' But that is very indifferent to us, so long as you I do not marry into our family.' ' Poor thing ! it certainly did not think of marrying, and only hoped to obtain leave to lie among the reeds and drink some of the swamp water. Thus it lay two whole days ; then came thither two wild geese, or, properly speaking, two wild ganders. It was not long since each had crept out of an egg, and that 's why they were so saucy. ' Listen, comrade,' said one of them. ' You're so ugly that I like you. Will you go with us, and become a bird of passage ? Near here, in another moor, there are a few sweet lovely wild geese, all unmarried, and all able to say " Rap ! " You've a chance of making your fortune, ugly as you are ! ' ' Piff ! paff ! ' resounded through the air ; and the two ganders fell down dead in the swamp, and the water became blood-red. * Piff ! paff ! ' it sounded again, and whole flocks of wild geese rose up from the reeds. And then there was another report. A great hunt was going on. The hunters were lying in wait all round the moor, and some were even sitting up in the branches of the trees, which spread far over the reeds. The blue smoke rose up like clouds among the dark trees, and was wafted far away across the water ; and the hunting dogs came — splash, splash ! — into the swamp, and the rushes and the reeds bent down on every side. That; was a fright for the poor Duckling ! It turned its head, and put it under its wing ; but at that moment a frightful great dog stood close by the Duckling. His tongue hung far out of his mouth and his eyes gleamed horrible and ugly ; he thrust out his nose close against the Duckling, showed his sharp teeth, and — splash, splash ! — on he went, without seizing it. ' Oh, Heaven be thanked ! ' sighed the Duckling. c I am so ugly, that even the dog does not like to bite me ! ' And so it lay quite quiet, while the shots rattled through the reeds and gun after gun was fired. At last, late in the day, silence was restored ; but the poor Duckling did not dare to rise up ; it waited several hours before it looked round, and then hastened away out of the marsh as fast as it could. It ran on over field and meadow ; there was such a storm raging that it was difficult to get from one place to another. Towards evening the Duck came to a little miserable peasant's hut. This hut was so dilapidated that it did not know on which side it should fall ; and that 's why it remained standing. The storm whistled round the Duckling in such a way that the poor creature was obliged to sit down, to resist it ; and the tempest grew worse and worse. Then the Duckling noticed that one of the hinges of the door had given way, and the door hung so slanting that the Duckling could slip through the opening into the room ; and it did so. Here lived an old woman, with her Tom Cat and her Hen. And the Tom Cat, whom she called Sonnie, could arch his back and purr, he could even give out sparks ; but for that one had to stroke his fur the wrong way. The Hen had quite little short legs, and therefore she was called Chickabiddy-shortshanks ; she laid good eggs, and the woman loved her as her own child. THE UGLY DUCKLING In the morning the strange Duckling was at once noticed, and the Tom Cat began to purr, and the-Hen to cluck. ' What 's this ? * said the woman, and looked all round ; but she could not see well, and therefore she thought the Duckling was a fat duck that had strayed. ' This is a rare prize ! ' she said. ' Now I shall have duck's eggs. I hope it is not a drake. We must try that.' And so the Duckling was admitted on trial for three weeks ; but no eggs came. And the Tom Cat was master of the house, and the Hen was the lady, and always said ' We and the world ! ' for they thought they were half the world, and by far the better half. The Duckling thought one might have a different opinion, but the Hen would not allow it. ' Can you lay eggs ? ' she asked. 'No.' ' Then you'll have the goodness to hold your tongue.' And the Tom Cat said, ' Can you curve your back, and purr, and give out sparks ? ' 'No.' ' Then you cannot have any opinion of your own when sensible people are speaking.' And the Duckling sat in a corner and was melancholy ; then the fresh air and the sunshine streamed in ; and it was seized with such a strange longing to swim on the water, that it could not help telling the Hen of it. * What are you thinking of ? ' cried the Hen. ' You have nothing to do, that ss why you have these fancies. Purr or lay eggs, and they will pass over.' ' But it is so charming to swim on the water ! ' said the Duckling, ' so refreshing to let it close above one's head, and to dive down to the bottom.' ' Yes, that must be a mighty pleasure truly,' quoth the Hen. * I fancy you must have gone crazy. Ask the Cat about it, — he 's the cleverest animal I know, — ask him if he likes to swim on the water, or to dive down : I won't speak about myself. Ask our mistress, the old woman; no one in the world is cleverer than she. Do you think she has any desire to swim, and to let the water close above her head ? ' ' You don't understand me,' said the Duckling. ' We don't understand you ? Then pray who is to understand you ? You surely don't pretend to be cleverer than the Tom Cat and the woman — I won't say anything of myself. Don't be conceited, child, and be grateful for all the kindness you have received. Did you not get into a warm room, and have you not fallen into company from which you may learn something ? But you are a chatterer, and it is not pleasant to associate with you. You may believe me, I speak for your good. I tell you disagreeable things, and by that one may always know one's true friends ! Only take care that you learn to lay eggs, or to purr and give out sparks ! ' ' I think I will go out into the wide world,' said the Duckling. ' Yes, do go,' replied the Hen. And the Duckling went away. It swam on the water, and dived, but it was slighted by every creature because of its ugliness. Now came the autumn. The leaves in the forest turned yellow and brown ; the wind caught them so that they danced about, and up in the air it was very cold. The clouds hung low, heavy with hail and snow-flakes, and on the fence stood the raven, crying, ' Croak ! croak ! ' for mere cold ; yes, it was enough to make one feel cold to think of this. The poor little Duckling certainly had not a good time. One evening — the sun was just setting in his beauty — there came a whole flock of great handsome birds out of the bushes ; the duckling had never before seen anything so beautiful ; they were dazzlingly white, with long flexible necks ; they were swans. They uttered a very peculiar cry, spread forth their glorious great wings, and flew away from that cold region to warmer lands, to open lakes. They mounted so high, so high ! and the ugly little Duckling felt quite strangely as it watched them. It turned round and round in the water like a wheel, stretched out its neck towards them, and muttered such a strange loud cry as' frightened itself. Oh ! it could not forget those beautiful, happy birds ; and so soon as it could see them no longer, it dived down to the very bottom, and when it came up again, it was quite beside itself. It knew not the name of those birds, and knew not whither they were flying ; but it loved them more than it had ever loved any one. It was not at all envious of them. How could it think of wishing to possess such loveliness as they had ? It would have been glad if only the ducks would have endured its company — the poor ugly creature ! And the winter grew cold, very cold ! The Duckling was forced to swim about in the water, to prevent the surface from freezing entirely ; but every night the hole in which it swam about became smaller and smaller. It froze so hard that the icy covering crackled again ; and the Duckling was obliged to use its legs continually to prevent the hole from freezing up. At last it become exhausted, and lay quite still, and thus froze fast into the ice. Early in the morning a peasant came by, and when he saw what had happened, he took his wooden shoe, broke " the ice-crust to pieces, and carried the Duckling home to his wife. Then it came to itself again. The children wanted to play with it ; but the Duckling thought they would do it an injury, and in its terror fluttered up into the milk-pan, so that the milk spurted down into the room. The woman - screamed and clapped her hands, at which the Duckling flew down into the butter-tub, and then into the meal-barrel and out again. How it looked then ! The woman screamed, and struck at it with the fire-tongs ; the children tumbled over one another, in their efforts to catch the Duckling ; and they laughed and screamed finely ! Happily the door stood open, and the poor creature was able to slip out between the shrubs into the newly -fallen snow ; and there it lay quite exhausted. But it would be too melancholy if I were to tell all the misery and care which the Duckling had to endure in the hard winter. It lay out on the swamp among the reeds, when the sun began to shine again and the larks to sing : it was a beautiful spring. Then all at once the Duckling raised its wings : they beat the air more strongly than before, and bore it strongly away ; and before it well knew how all this happened, it found itself in a great garden, where the apple trees stood in blossom, where the lilac flowers smelt sweet, and hung their long green branches down to the winding canals. Oh, here it was so beautiful, such a gladness of spring ! and from the thicket came three glorious white swans ; --they rustled their wings, and swam lightly on the water. The Duckling knew the splendid creatures, and felt oppressed by a peculiar sadness. ' I will fly a^ away to them, to the royal birds ! and they will kill me, because I, that am so ugly, dare to approach them. But it is of no consequence ! Better to be killed by them than to be pursued by ducks, and beaten by fowls, and pushed about by the girl who takes care of the poultryyard, and to suffer hunger in winter ! ' And it flew out into the water, and swam towards the beautiful swans : these looked at it, and came sailing down upon it with outspread wings. ' Kill me ! ' said the poor creature, and bent its head down upon the water, expecting nothing but death. But what was this that it saw in the clear water ? It beheld its own image ; and, lo ! it was no longer a clumsy dark grey bird, ugly and hateful to look at, but — a swan ! It matters nothing if one is born in a duck -yard, if one has only lain in a swan's egg. It felt quite glad at all the need and misfortune it hadsuffered, now it realized its happiness and all the splendour that surrounded it. And the great swans swam round it, and stroked it with their beaks. Into the garden came little children, who threw bread and corn into the water ; and the youngest cried, * There is a new one ! ' and the other children shouted joyously, " Yes, a new one has arrived ! ' And they clapped their hands and danced about, and ran to their father and mother ; and bread and cake were thrown into the water ; and they all said, c The new one is the most beautiful of all ! so young and handsome ! ' and the old swans bowed their heads before him. Then he felt quite ashamed, and hid his head under his wings, for he did not know what to do ; he was so happy, and yet not at all proud. He thought how he had been persecuted and despised ; and now he heard them saying that he was the most beautiful of all birds. Even the elder-tree bent its branches straight down into the water before him, and the sun shone warm and mild. Then his wings rustled, he lifted his slender neck, and cried rejoicingly from the depths of his heart, ' I never dreamed of so much happiness when I was still the ugly Duckling ! '

The Fir Tree

OUT in the forest stood a pretty little Fir Tree. It had a good place ; it could have sunlight, air there was in plenty, and all around grew many larger comrades — pines as well as firs. But the little Fir Tree was in such a hurry to grow. It did not care for the warm sun and the fresh air ; it took no notice of the peasant children, who went about talking together, when they had come out to look for strawberries and raspberries. Often they came with a whole pot-full, or had strung berries on a straw ; then they would sit down by the little Fir Tree and say, * How pretty and small that one is ! ' and the Tree did not like to hear that at all. Next year it had grown a great joint, and the following year it was longer still, for in fir trees one can always tell by the number of joints they have how many years they have been growing. * Oh, if I were only as great a tree as the others ! ' sighed the little Fir, ' then I would spread my branches far around, and look out from my crown into the wide world. The birds would then build nests in my boughs, and when the wind blew I could nod just as grandly as the others yonder.' It took no pleasure in the sunshine, in the birds, and in the red clouds that went sailing over it morning and evening. When it was winter, and the snow lay all around, white and sparkling, a hare would often come jumping along, and spring right over the little Fir Tree. Oh ! this made it so angry. But two winters went by, and when the third came the little Tree had grown so tall that the hare was obliged to run round it. ' Oh ! to grow, to grow, and become old ; that 's the only fine thing in the world,' thought the Tree. In the autumn woodcutters always came and felled a few of the largest trees ; that happened every year, and the little Fir Tree, that was now quite well grown, shuddered with fear, for the great stately trees fell to the ground with a crash, and their branches were cut off, so that the trees looked quite naked, long, and slender — they could hardly be recognized. But then they were laid upon wagons, and horses dragged them away out of the wood. Where were they going ? What destiny awaited them ? In the spring, when the Swallows and the Stork came, the Tree asked them, ' Do you know where they were taken ? Did you not meet them ? ' The Swallows knew nothing about it, but the Stork looked thoughtful, nodded his head, and said, ' Yes, I think so. I met many new ships when I flew out of Egypt ; on the ships were stately masts ; I fancy that these were the trees. They smelt like fir. I can assure you they're stately — very stately.' ' Oh that I were only big enough to go over the sea ! What kind of thing is this sea, and how does it look ? ' ' It would take too long to explain all that,' said the Stork, and he went away. ' Rejoice in thy youth,' said the Sunbeams ; ' rejoice in thy fresh growth, and in the young life that is within thee.' And the wind kissed the Tree, and the dew wept tears upon it ; but the Fir Tree did not understand that. When Christmas-time approached, quite young trees were felled, sometimes trees which were neither so old nor so large as this Fir Tree, that never rested but always wanted to go away. These young trees, which were just the most beautiful, kept all their branches ; they were put upon wagons, and horses dragged them away out of the wood. ' Where are they all going ? ' asked the Fir Tree. ' They are not greater than I — indeed, one of them was much smaller. Why do they keep all their branches ? Whither are they taken ? ' e We know that ! We know that I ' chirped the Sparrows. ' Yonder in the town we looked in at the windows. We know where they go. Oh ! they are dressed up in the greatest pomp and splendour that can be imagined. We have looked in at the windows, and have perceived that they are planted in the middle of the warm room, and adorned with the most beautiful things — gilt apples, honeycakes, playthings, and many hundreds of candles.' 6 And then ? ' asked the Fir Tree, and trembled through all its branches. ' And then ? What happens then ? ' ' Why, we have not seen anything more. But it was incomparable.' c Perhaps I may be destined to tread this glorious path one day ! ' cried the Fir Tree rejoicingly. ' That is even better than travelling across the sea. How painfully I long for it ! If it were only Christmas now ! Now I am great and grown up, like the rest who were led away last year. Oh, if I were only on the carriage ! If I were only in the warm room, among all the pomp and splendour ! And then ? Yes, then something even better will come, something far more charming, or else why should they adorn me so ? There must be something grander, something greater still to come ; but what ? Oh ! I'm suffering, I'm longing ! I don't know myself what is the matter with me ! ' ' Rejoice in us,' said Air and Sunshine. ' Rejoice in thy fresh youth here in the woodland.' But the Fir Tree did not rejoice at all, but it grew and grew ; winter and summer it stood there, green, dark green. The people who saw it said, ' That 's a handsome tree ! 'J and at Christmas -time it was felled before any one of the others. The axe cut deep into its marrow, and the Tree fell to the ground with a sigh : it felt a pain, a sensation of faintness, and could not think at all of happiness, for it was sad at parting from its home, from the place where it had grown up : it knew that it should never again see the dear old companions, the little bushes and flowers all around — perhaps not even the birds. The parting was not at all agreeable. The Tree only came to itself when it was unloaded in a yard, with other trees, and heard a man say, * This one is famous ; we only want this one ! ' Now two servants came in gay liveries, and carried the Fir Tree into a large beautiful saloon. All around the walls hung pictures, and by the great stove stood large Chinese vases with lions on the covers ; there were rocking-chairs, silken sofas, great tables covered with picture-books, and toys worth a hundred times a hundred dollars, at least the children said so. And the Fir Tree was put into a great tub filled with sand ; but no one could see that it was a tub, for it was hung round with green cloth, and stood on a large many-coloured carpet. Oh, how the Tree trembled ! What was to happen now ? The servants, and the young ladies also, decked it out. On one branch they hung little nets, cut out of coloured paper ; every net was filled with sweetmeats ; golden apples and walnuts hung down as if they grew there, and more than a hundred little candles, red, white, and blue, were fastened to the different boughs. Dolls that looked exactly like real people — the Tree had never seen such before — swung among the foliage, and high on the summit of the Tree was fixed a tinsel star. It was splendid, particularly splendid. ' This evening,' said all, ' this evening it will shine.' ' Oh,' thought the Tree, ' that it were evening already ! Oh that the lights may be soon lit up ! What will happen then ? I wonder if trees will come out of the forest to look at me ? Will the sparrows fly against the panes ? Shall I grow fast here, and stand adorned in summer and winter ? ' Yes, it knew all about it. But it had a regular bark-ache from mere longing, and the bark-ache is just as bad for a Tree as the headache for a person. At last the candles were lighted. What a brilliance, what splendour ! The Tree trembled so in all its branches that one of the candles set fire to a green twig, and it was really painful, THE FIR TREE ' Heaven preserve us ! ' cried the young ladies ; and they hastily put the fire out. Now the Tree might not even tremble. Oh, that was terrible ! It was so afraid of losing any of its ornaments, and it was quite bewildered with all the brilliance. And now the folding doors were thrown open, and a number of children rushed in as if they would have overturned the whole Tree ; the older people followed more deliberately. The little ones stood quite silent, but only for a minute ; then they shouted till the room rang r they danced gleefully round the Tree, and one present after another was plucked from it. ' What are they about ? ' thought the Tree. ' What 's going to be done ? ' And the candles burned down to the twigs, and as they burned down they were extinguished, and then the children received permission to plunder the Tree. Oh ! they rushed in upon it, so that every branch cracked again : if it had not been fastened by the top and by the golden star to the ceiling, it would have fallen down. The children danced about with their pretty toys. No one looked at the Tree except the old nursemaid, who came up and peeped among the branches, but only to see if a fig or an apple had not been forgotten. ' A story ! a story ! ' shouted the children : and they drew a little fat man towards the Tree ; and he sat down just beneath it, — ' for then we shall be in the green wood,' said he, ' and the tree may have the advantage of listening to my tale. But I can only tell one. Will you hear the story of Ivede-Avede, or of Humpty-Dumpty, who fell downstairs, and still was raised up to honour and married the Princess ? ' ' Ivede-Avede ! ' cried some, ' Humpty-Dumpty ! ' cried others, and there was a great crying and shouting. Only the Fir Tree was quite silent, and thought, ' Shall I not be in it ? shall I have nothing to do in it ? ' But it had been in the evening's amusement, and had done what was required of it. And the fat man told about Humpty-Dumpty, who fell downstairs, and yet was raised to honour and married the Princess. And the children clapped their hands, and cried, ' Tell another ! tell another ! ' for they wanted to hear about Ivede-Avede ; but they only got the story of Humpty- Dumpty. The Fir Tree stood quite silent and thoughtful ; never had the birds in the wood told such a story as that. Humpty-Dumpty fell downstairs, and yet came to honour and married the Princess ! * Yes, so it happens in the world ! ' thought the Fir Tree, and believed it must be true, because that was such a nice man who told it. ' Well, who can know ? Perhaps I shall fall downstairs too, and marry a Princess ! ' And it looked forward with pleasure to being adorned again, the next evening, with candles and toys, gold and fruit. * To-morrow I shall not tremble,' it thought. ' I will rejoice in all my splendour. To-morrow I shall hear the story of Humpty- Dumpty again, and, perhaps, that of Ivede-Avede too.' And the Tree stood all night quiet and thoughtful. In the morning the servants and the chambermaid came in. ' Now my splendour will begin afresh,' thought the Tree. But they dragged it out of the room, and upstairs to the garret, and here they put it in a dark corner where no daylight shone. ' What 's the meaning of this ? ' thought the Tree. ' What am I to do here ? What am I to get to know here ? ' And he leaned against the wall, and thought, and thought. And he had time enough, for days and nights went by, and nobody came up ; and when at length some one came, it was only to put some great boxes in a corner. Now the Tree stood quite hidden away, and one would think that it was quite forgotten. 1 Now it 's winter outside,' thought the Tree. ' The earth is hard and covered with snow, and people cannot plant me ; therefore I suppose I'm to be sheltered here until spring comes. How considerate that is ! How good people are ! If it were only not so dark here, and so terribly solitary ! — not even a little hare ! It was pretty out there in the wood, when the snow lay thick and the hare sprang past ; yes, even when he jumped over me, although I did not like that at the time. It is terribly lonely up here ! ' ' Piep ! piep ! ' said a little Mouse, and crept forward, and then came another little one. They smelt at the Fir Tree, and then slipped among the branches. ' It 's horribly cold,' said the two little Mice, ' or else it would be comfortable here. Don't you think so, you old Fir Tree ? ' 4 I'm not old at all,' said the Fir Tree. ' There are many much older than I.' ' Where do you come from ? ' asked the Mice. ' And what do you know ? ' They were dreadfully inquisitive. * Tell us about the most beautiful spot on earth. Have you been there ? Have you been in the store-room, where cheeses lie on the shelves, and hams hang from the ceiling, where one dances on tallow candles, and goes in thin and comes out fat ? ' ' I don't know that ! ' replied the Tree ; ' but I know the wood, where the sun shines, and where the birds sing.' And then it told all about its youth. And the little Mice had never heard anything of the kind ; and they listened and said, ' What a number of things you have seen ! How happy you must have been ! ' * I ? ' said the Fir Tree ; and it thought about what it had told. ' Yes, those were really quite happy times.' But then it told of the Christmas-eve, when it had been hung with sweetmeats and candles. ' Oh ! ' said the little Mice, ' how happy you have been, you old Fir Tree ! ' ' I'm not old at all,' said the Tree. ' I only came out of the wood this winter. I'm in my very best years.' ' What splendid stories you can tell ! ' said the little Mice. And next night they came with four other little Mice, to hear what the Tree had to relate ; and the more it said, the more clearly did it remember everything, and thought, ' Those were quite merry days ! But they may come again. Humpty-Dumpty fell downstairs, and yet he married the Princess. Perhaps I may marry a Princess too ! ' And then the Fir Tree thought of a pretty little birch tree that grew out in the forest : for the Fir Tree, that birch was a real Princess. ' Who 's Humpty-Dumpty ? ' asked the little Mice. And then the Fir Tree told the whole story. It could remember every single word ; and the little Mice were ready to leap to the very top of the tree with pleasure. Next night a great many more Mice came, and on Sunday two Rats even appeared ; but these thought the story was not pretty, and the little Mice were sorry for that, for now they also did not like it so much as before. ' Do you only know one story ? ' asked the Rats. ' Only that one,' replied the Tree. ' I heard that on the happiest evening of my life ; I did not think then how happy I was.' ' That 's an exceedingly poor story. Don't you know any about bacon and tallow candles — a store-room story ? ' 1 No,' said the Tree. 6 Then we'd rather not hear you,' said the Rats. And they went back to their own people. The little Mice at last stayed away also ; and then the Tree sighed and said, c It was very nice when they sat round me, the merry little Mice, and listened when I spoke to them. Now that 's past too. But I shall remember to be pleased when they take me out.' But when did that happen ? Why, it was one morning that people came and rummaged in the garret : the boxes were put away, and the Tree brought out ; they certainly threw it rather roughly on the floor, but a servant dragged it away at once to the stairs, where the daylight shone. ' Now life is beginning again ! ' thought the Tree. It felt the fresh air and the first sunbeams, and now it was out in the courtyard. Everything passed so quickly that the Tree quite forgot to look at itself, there was so much to look at all round. The courtyard was close to a garden, and here everything was blooming ; the roses hung fresh and fragrant over the little paling, the linden trees were in blossom, and the swallows cried, ' Quirre-virre-vit ! my husband 's come ! ' But it was not the Fir Tree that they meant. * Now I shall live ! ' said the Tree, rejoicingly, and spread its branches far out ; but, alas ! they were all withered and yellow ; and it lay in the corner among nettles and weeds. The tinsel star was still upon it, and shone in the bright sunshine. In the courtyard a couple of the merry children were playing, who had danced round the tree at Christmas-time, and had rejoiced over it. One of the youngest ran up and tore off the golden star. 6 Look what is sticking to the ugly old fir tree,' said the child, and he trod upon the branches till they cracked again under his boots. And the Tree looked at all the blooming flowers and the splendour of the garden, and then looked at itself, and wished it had remained in the dark corner of the garret ; it thought of its fresh youth in the wood, of the merry Christmas-eve, and of the little Mice which had listened so pleasantly to the story of Humpty-Dumpty. ' Past ! past ! ' said the poor Tree. ' Had I but rejoiced when I could have done so ! Past ! past ! ' And the servant came and chopped the Tree into little pieces ; a whole bundle lay there : it blazed brightly under the great brewing copper, and it sighed deeply, and each sigh was like a little shot : and the children who were at play there ran up and seated themselves at the fire, looked into it, and cried, ' Puff ! puff ! ' But at each explosion, which was a deep sigh, the tree thought of a summer day in the woods, or of a winter night there, when the stars beamed ; it thought of Christmas-eve and of Humpty-Dumpty, the only story it had ever heard or knew how to tell ; and then the Tree was burned. The boys played in the garden, and the youngest had on his breast a golden star, which the Tree had worn on its happiest evening. Now that was past, and the Tree's life was past, and the story is past too : past ! past ! — and that 's the way with all stories.

Full Text (part 3)

The Snow Queen

IN SEVEN STORIES FIRST STORY WHICH TREATS OF THE MlRROR AND FRAGMENTS LOOK you, now we're going tojbfigin. When we are at the end of the story we shall know more than we do now, for he was a bad goblin. He was one of the very worst, for he was the devil himself. One day he was in very high spirits, for he had made a mirror which had this peculiarity, that everything good and beautiful that was reflected in it shrank together into almost nothing, but that whatever was worthless and looked ugly became prominent and looked worse than ever. The most lovely landscapes seen in this mirror looked like boiled spinach, and the best people became hideous, or stood on their heads and had no stomachs ; their faces were so distorted as to be unrecognizable, and a single freckle was shown spread out over nose and mouth. That was very amusing, the devil said. When a good pious thought passed through any person's mind, there came a grin in the mirror, so that the devil chuckled at his artistic invention. Those who went to the goblin school — for he kept a goblin school — declared everywhere that a wonder had been wrought. For now, they asserted, one could see, for the first time, how the world and the people in it really looked. They ran about with the mirror, and at last there was not a single country or person that had not been distorted in it. Now they wanted to fly up to heaven, to sneer and scoff at the angels themselves. The higher they flew with the mirror, the more it grinned ; they could scarcely hold it fast. They flew higher and higher, and then the mirror trembled so terribly amid its grinning that it fell down out of their hands to the earth, where it was shattered into a hundred million million and more fragments. And now this mirror occasioned much more unhappiness than before ; for some of the fragments were scarcely so large as a barleycorn, and these flew about in the world, and whenever they flew into any one's eye they stuck there, and those people saw everything wrongly, or had only eyes for the bad side of a thing, for every little fragment of the mirror had retained the same power which the whole glass possessed. A few persons even got a fragment of the mirror into their hearts, and that was terrible indeed, for such a heart became a block of ice. A few fragments of the mirror were so large that they were used as window-panes, but it was a bad thing to look at one's friends through these panes ; other pieces were made into spectacles, and then it went badly when people put on these spectacles to see rightly and to be just ; and the demon laughed till his paunch shook, for it tickled him so. But without, some little fragments of glass still floated about in the air-^and now we shall hear. SECOND STORY A LITTLE BOY AND A LITTLE GIRL IN the great town, where there are many houses and so many people that there is not room enough for every one to have a little garden, and where consequently most persons are compelled to be content with some flowers in flowerpots, were two poor children who possessed a garden somewhat larger than a flower-pot. They were not brother and sister, but they loved each other quite as much as if they had been. Their parents lived just opposite each other in two garrets, there' where the roof of one neighbour's house joined that of another ; and where the water-pipe ran between the two houses was a little window ; one had only to step across the pipe to get from one window to the other. The parents of each child had a great box, in which grew kitchen herbs that they used, and a little rose bush ; there was one in each box, and they grew famously, Now, it occurred to the parents to place the boxes across the pipe, so that they reached from one window to another, and looked quite like two embankments of flowers. Pea plants hung down over the boxes, and the rose bushes shot forth long twigs, which clustered round the windows and bent down towards each other : it was almost like a triumphal arch of flowers and leaves. As the boxes were very high, and the children knew that they might not creep upon them, they often obtained permission to step out upon the roof behind the boxes, and to sit upon their little stools under the roses, and there they could play capitally. In the winter there was an end of this amusement. The windows were sometimes quite frozen all over. But then they warmed copper farthings on the stove, and held the warm coins against the frozen pane ; and this made a capital peep-hole, so round, so round ! and behind it gleamed a pretty, mild eye at each window ; and these eyes belonged to the little boy and the little girl. ,. His. .name was Kay and the little girl's was Gerda. In the summer they could get to"~one another at one bound ; but in the winter they had to go down and up the long staircase, while the snow was pelting without. ' Those are the white bees swarming,' said the old grandmother. ' Have they a Queen-bee ? ' asked the little boy. For he knew that there is one among the real bees. * Yes, they have one,' replied grandmamma. * She always flies where they swarm thickest. She is the largest of them all, and never remains quiet upon the earth ; she flies up again into the black cloud. Many a midnight she is flying through the streets of the town, and looks in at the windows, and then they freeze in such a strange way, and look like flowers.' ' Yes, I've seen that ! ' cried both the children ; and now they knew that it was true. ' Can the Snow Queen come in here ? ' asked the little girl. * Only let her come,' cried the boy ; * I'll set her upon the warm stove, and then she'll melt,' But grandmother smoothed his hair, and told some other tales. In the evening, when little Kay was at home and half undressed, he clambered upon the chair by the window, and looked through the little hole. A few flakes of snow were falling outside, and one of them, the largest of them all, remained lying on the edge of one of the flower -boxes. The snowflake grew larger and larger, and at last became a maiden clothed in the finest white gauze, made out of millions of starry flakes. She was beautiful and delicate, but of ice — of shining, glittering ice. Yet she was alive ; her eyes flashed like two clear stars, but there was no peace or rest in them. She nodded towards the window, and beckoned with her hand. The little boy was frightened, and sprang down from the chair ; then it seemed as if a great bird flew by outside, in front of the window. Next day there was a clear frost, then there was a thaw, and then the spring came ; the sun shone, the green sprouted forth, the swallows built nests, the windows were opened, and the little children again sat in their garden high up in the roof, over all the floors. How splendidly the roses bloomed this summer ! The little girl had learned a psalm, in which mention was made THE SNOW QUEEft of roses ; and, in speaking of roses-, she thought of her own ; and she sang it to the little boy, and he sang, too,— The roses in the valleys grow Where we the infant Christ shall know. And the little ones held each other by the hand, kissed the roses, looked at God's bright sunshine, and spoke to it, as if the Christ-child were there. What splendid summer days those were ! How beautiful it was without, among trip fresh rose bushes, which seemed as if they would never Ieav0 off blooming ! Kay and Gerda sat and looked at the picture-book of beasts and birds. Then it was, while the clock was just striking five on the church tower, that Kay said, ' Oh ! something struck my heart and pricked me in the eye/ The little girl fell upon his neck ; he blinked his eyes. No, there was nothing at all to be seen. ' I think it is gone/ said he ; but it was not gone. It was just one of those glass fragments which sprang from the mirror — the magic mirror that we remember well, the ugly glass that made everything great and good which was mirrored in it to seem small and mean, but in which the mean and the wicked things were brought out in relief, and every fault was noticeable at once. Poor little Kay had also received a splinter just in his heart, ancpfchat will now soon become like a lump of ice. It did not hurt him now, but the splinter was still there; ' Why do you cry ? ' he asked. ' You look ugly like that. There 's nothing the matter with me. Oh, fie ! ' he suddenly exclaimed, * that rose is worm-eaten, and this one is quite crooked. After all, they're ugly roses. They're like the box in which they stand.' And then he kicked the box with his foot, and tore both the roses off. ' Kay, what are you about ? ' cried the little girl. And when he noticed her fright he tore off another rose, and then sprang in at his own window, away from pretty little Gerda. When she afterwards came with her picture-book, he said it was only fit for babies in arms ; and when grandmother told stories he always came in with a but ; and when he could manage it, he would get behind her, put on a pair of spectacles, and talk just as she did ; he could do that very cleverly, and the people laughed at him. Soon he could mimic the speech and the gait of everybody in the street. Everything that was peculiar or ugly about them Kay could imitate ; and people said, ' That boy must certainly have a remarkable head.' But it was the glass he had got in his eye, the glass that stuck deep in his heart ; so it happened that he even teased little Gerda, who loved him with all her heart. His games now became quite different from what they were before ; they became quite sensible. "One winter's day when it snowed he came out with a great burning-glass, held up the blue tail of his coat, and let the snowflakes fall upon it. ' Now look at the glass, Gerda,' said he. And every flake of snow was magnified, and looked like a splendid flower, or a star with ten points : it was beautiful to behold. ' See how clever that is,' said Kay. ' That 's much more interesting than real flowers ; and there is not a single fault in it — they're quite regular until they begin to melt.' Soon after Kay came in thick gloves, and with his sledge upon his back. He called up to Gerda, ' I've got leave to go into the great square, where the other boys play,' and he was gone. In the great square the boldest among the boys often tied their sledges to the country people's carts, and thus rode with them a good way. They went capitally. When they were in the midst of their playing there came a great sledge. It was painted quite white, and in it sat somebody wrapped in a rough white fur, and with a white rough cap on his head. The sledge drove twice round the square, and Kay bound his little sledge to it, and so he drove on with it. It went faster and faster, straight into the next street. The man who drove turned round and nodded in a friendly way to Kay ; it was as if they knew one another : each time when Kay wanted to cast loose his little sledge, the stranger nodded again, and then Kay remained where he was, and thus they drove out at the town gate. Then the snow began to fall so rapidly that the boy could not see a hand's breadth before him, but still he drove on. Now he hastily dropped the cord, so as to get loose from the great sledge, but that was no use, for his sledge was fast bound to the other, and they went on like the wind. Then he called out quite loudly, but nobody heard him ; and the snow beat down, and the sledge flew onward ; every now and then it gave a jump, and they seemed to be flying over hedges and ditches. The boy was quite frightened. He wanted to say his prayer^ "But the multiplication table. The snowflakes became larger and larger, at last they looked like great white fowls. All at once they sprang aside and the great sledge stopped, and the person who had driven it rose up. The fur and the cap were made altogether of ice. It was a lady, tall and slender, and brilliantly white : it was the Snow Queen. 4 We have driven well ! ' said she. * But why do you tremble with cold ? Creep into my fur.' And she seated him beside her in her own sledge, and wrapped the fur round him, and he felt as if he sank into a snow-drift. ' Are you still cold ? ' asked she, and then she kissed him on the forehead. Oh, that was colder than ice ; it went quite through to his heart, half of which was already a lump of ice : he felt as if he were going to die ; but only for a moment ; for then he seemed quite well, and he did not notice the cold all about him. ' My sledge ! don't forget my sledge.' That was the first thing he thought of ; and it was bound fast to one of the white chickens, and this chicken flew behind him with the sledge upon its back. The Snow Queen kissed Kay again, and then he had forgotten little Gerda, his grandmother, and all at home. ' Now you shall have no more kisses,' said she, ' for if you did I should kiss you to death.' Kay looked at her. She was so beautiful, he could not imagine a more sensible or lovely face ; she did not appear to him to be made of ice now as before, when she sat at the window and beckoned to him. In his eyes she was perfect ; he did not feel at all afraid. He told her that he could do mental arithmetic as far as fractions, that he knew the number of square miles, and the number of inhabitants in the country. And she always smiled, and then it seemed to him that what he knew was not enough, and he looked up into the wide sky, and she flew with him high up upon the black cloud, and the storm blew and whistled ; it seemed as though the wind sang old songs. They flew over woods and lakes, over sea and land : below them roared the cold wind, the wolves howled, the snow crackled ; over them flew the black screaming crows ; but above all the moon shone bright and clear, and Kay looked at the long, long winter night p by day he slept at the feet of the Queen. THIRD STORY THE FLOWER GARDEN OF THE WOMAN WHO COULD CONJURE BUT how did it fare with little Gerda when Kay did not return ? What could have become of him ? No one knew, no one could give information. The boys only told that they had seen him bind his sledge to another very large one, which had driven along the street and out at the town gate. Nobody knew what had become of him ; many tears were shed, and little Gerda especially wept long and bitterly : then they said he was dead — he had been drowned in the river which flowed close by their town. Oh, those were very dark long winter days ! But now spring came, with warmer sunshine. ' Kay is dead and gone,' said little Gerda. ' I don't believe it/ said the Sunshine. _ ' He is dead and gone,' saicTshelx) the Swallows. ' We don't believe it,' they replied ; and at last little Gerda did not believe it herself. ' I will put on my new red shoes,' she said one morning, ' those that Kay has never seen ; and then I will go down to the river, and ask for him.' It was still very early ; she kissed the old grandmother, who was still asleep, put on her red shoes, and went quite alone out of the town gate towards the river. ' Is it true that you have taken away my little playmate from me ? I will give you my red shoes if you will give him back to me ! ' And it seemed to her as if the waves nodded quite strangely ; and then she took her red shoes, that she liked best of anything she possessed, and threw them both into the river ; but they fell close to the shore, and the little wavelets carried them back to her, to the land. It seemed as if the river would not take from her the dearest things she possessed because it had not her little Kay ; but she thought she had not thrown the shoes far enough out ; so she crept into a boat that lay among the reeds ; she went to the other end of the boat, and threw the shoes from thence into the water ; but the boat was not bound fast, and at the movement she made it glided away from the shore. She noticed it, and hurried to get back, but before she reached the other end the boat was a yard from the bank, and it drifted away faster than before. Then little Gerda was very much frightened, and began to cry ; but no one heard her except the Sparrows, and they could not carry her to land ; but they flew along by the shore, and sang, as if to console her, ' Here we are ! here we are ! ' The boat drove on with the stream, and little Gerda sat quite still, with only her stockings on her feet ; her little red shoes floated along behind her, but they could not come up to the boat, for that made more way. It was very pretty on both shores. There were beautiful flowers, old trees, and slopes with sheep and cows ; but not one person was to be seen. ' Perhaps the river will carry me to little Kay/ thought Gerda. And then she became more cheerful, and rose up, and for many hours she watched the charming green banks ; then she came to a great cherry orchard, in which stood a little house with remarkable blue and red windows ; it had a thatched roof, and without stood two wooden soldiers, who presented arms to those who sailed past. Gerda called to them, fo she thought they were alive, but of course they did not answer. She came quite close to them ; the river carried the boat towards the shore. Gerda called still louder, and then there came out of the house an old, old woman leaning on a crutch : she had on a great sun-hat, painted over with the finest flowers. ' You poor little child ! ' said the old woman, ' how did you manage to come on the great rolling river, and to float thus far out into the world ? ' And then the old woman went quite into the water, seized the boat with her crutch-stick, drew it to land, and lifted little Gerda out. And Gerda wa.s glad to be on dry land again, though she felt a little afraid of the strange old woman. ' Come and tell me who you are, arid how you came here,' said the old lady. And Gerda told her everything ; and the old woman shook her head, and said, ' Hem ! hem ! ' And when Gerda had told everything, and asked if she had not seen little Kay, the woman said that he had not yet come by, but that he probably would soon come. Gerda was not to be sorrowful, but to look at the flowers and taste the cherries, for they were better than any picture-book, for each one of them could tell a story. Then she took Gerda by the hand and led her into the little house, and the old woman locked the door. The windows were very high, and the panes were red, blue, and yellow ; the daylight shone in a remarkable way, with different colours. On the table stood the finest cherries, and Gerda ate as many of them as she liked, for she had leave to do so. While she was eating them, the old lady combed her hair with a golden comb, and the hair hung in ringlets of pretty yellow round the friendly little face, which looked as blooming as a rose. ' I have long wished for such a dear little girl as you,' said the old lady. * Now you shall see how well we shall live with one another.' And as the ancient dame combed her hair, Gerda forgot her adopted brother Kay more and more ; for this old woman could conjure, but she was not a wicked witch. She only practised a little magic for her own amusement, and wanted to keep little Gerda. Therefore she went into the garden, stretched out her crutch towards all the rosebushes, and, beautiful as they were, they all sank into the earth, and one could not tell where they had stood. The old woman was afraid that if the little girl saw roses, she would think of her own, and remember little Kay, and run away. Now Gerda was led out into the flower-garden. What fragrance was there, and what loveliness ! Every conceivable flower was there in full bloom ; there were some for every season : no picture-book could be gayer and prettier. Gerda jumped high for joy, and played till the sun went down behind the high cherry-trees ; then she was put into a lovely bed with red silk pillows stuffed with blue violets, and she slept there, and dreamed as gloriously as a Queen on her wedding-day. THE SNOW QUEEN One day she played again with the flowers in the warm sunshine ; and thus many days went by. Gerda knew every flower ; but, as many as there were of them, it still seemed to her as if one were wanting, but which one she did not know. One day she sat looking at the old lady's hat with the painted flowers, and the prettiest of them all was a rose. The old lady had forgotten to take it out of her hat when she caused the others to disappear. But so it always is when one does not keep one's wits about one. ' What, are there no roses here ? ' cried Gerda. And she went among the beds, and searched and searched, but there was not one to be found. Then she sat down and wept : her tears fell just upon a spot where a rose-bush lay buried, and when the warm tears moistened the earth, the bush at once sprouted up as blooming as when it had sunk ; and Gerda embraced it, and kissed the Roses, and thought of the beautiful roses at home, and also of little Kay. ' Oh, how I have been detained ! ' said the little girl. * I wanted to seek for little Kay ! Do you not know where he is ? ' she asked the Roses. ' Do you think he is dead ? ' * He is not dead,' the Roses answered. ' We have been in the ground. All the dead people are there, but Kay is not there.' ' Thank you/ said little Gerda ; and she went to the other flowers, looked into their cups, and asked, ' Do you not know where little Kay is ? ' But every flower stood in the sun thinking only of her own story or fairy tale : Gerda heard many, many of them ; but not one knew anything of Kay. And what did the Tiger-Lily say ? * Do you hear the drum " Rub-dub " ? There are only two notes, always " rub-dub ! " Hear the morning song of the women, hear the call of the priests. The Hindoo widow stands in her long red mantle on the funeral pile ; the flames rise up around her and her dead husband ; but the Hindoo woman is thinking of the living one here in the circle, of him whose eyes burn hotter than flames, whose fiery glances have burned in her soul more ardently than the flames themselves, which are soon to burn her body to ashes. Can the flame of the heart die in the flame of the funeral pile ? ' ' I don't understand that at all ! ' said little Gerda. 4 That 's my story/ said the Lily. What says the Convolvulus ? * Over the narrow road looms an old knightly castle : thickly the ivy grows over the crumbling red walls, leaf by leaf up to the balcony, and there stands a beautiful girl ; she bends over the balustrade and looks down at the road. No rose on its branch is fresher than she ; no apple blossom wafted onward by the wind floats more lightly along. How her costly silks rustle ! " Comes he not yet ? " ' Is it Kay whom you mean ? ' asked little Gerda. ' I'm only speaking of my own story — my dream,' replied the Convolvulus. What said the little Snowdrop ? 4 Between the trees a long board hangs by ropes ; that is a swing. Two pretty little girls, with clothes white as snow and long green silk ribbons on their hats, are sitting upon it, swinging ; their brother, who is greater than they, stands in the swing, and has slung his arm round the rope to hold himself, for in one hand he has a little saucer, and in the other a clay pipe ; he is blowing bubbles. The swing flies, and the bubbles rise with beautiful changing colours ; the last still hangs from the pipe-bowl, swaying in the wind. The swing flies on : the little black dog, light as the bubbles, stands up on his hind legs and wants to be taken into the swing ; it flies on, and the dog falls, barks, and grows angry, for he is teased, and the bubble bursts. A swinging board and a bursting bubble — that is my song.' ' It may be very pretty, what you're telling, but you speak it so mournfully, and you don't mention little Kay at all.' What do the Hyacinths say ? ' There were three beautiful sisters, transparent and delicate. The dress of one was red, that of the second blue, and that of the third quite white ; hand in hand they danced by the calm lake in the bright moonlight. They were not elves, they were human beings. It was so sweet and fragrant there ! The girls disappeared in the forest, and the sweet fragrance became stronger : three coffins, with the three beautiful maidens lying in them, glided from the wood-thicket across the lake ; the glow-worms flew gleaming about them like little hovering lights . Are the dancing girls sleeping, or are they dead ? The flower-scent says they are dead and the evening bell tolls their knell.' ' You make me quite sorrowful,' said little Gerda. ' You scent so strongly, I cannot help thinking of the dead maidens. Ah ! is little Kay really dead ? The roses have been down in the earth, and they say no.' ' Kling ! klang ! ' tolled the Hyacinth Bells. ' We are not tolling for little Kay — we don't know him ; we only sing our song, the only one we know/ And Gerda went to the Buttercup, gleaming forth from the green leaves. ' You are a little bright sun/ said Gerda. ' Tell me, if you know, where I may find my companion.' And the Buttercup shone so gaily, and looked back at Gerda. What song might the Buttercup sing ? It was not about Kay. ' In a little courtyard the clear sun shone warm on the first day of spring. The sunbeams glided down the white wall of the neighbouring house ; close by grew the first yellow flower, glancing like gold in the bright sun's ray. The old grandmother sat out of doors in her chair ; her granddaughter, a poor handsome maidservant, was coming home for a short visit : she kissed her grandmother. There was gold, heart's gold, in that blessed kiss, gold in the mouth, gold in the south, gold in the morning hour. See, that 's my little story,' said the Buttercup. ' My poor old grandmother ! ' sighed Gerda. ' Yes, she is surely longing for me and grieving for me, just as she did for little Kay. But I shall soon go home and take Kay with me. There is no use of my asking the flowers, they only know their own song, and give me no information.' And then she tied her little frock round her, that she might run the faster ; but the Jonquil struck against her leg as she sprang over it, and she stopped to look at the tall yellow flower, and asked, ' Do you, perhaps, know anything of little Kay ? ' And she bent quite down to the flower, and what did it say ? ' I can see myself ! I can see myself ! ' said the Jonquil. ' Oh ! oh ! how I smell ! Up in the little room in the gable stands a little dancing girl : she stands sometimes on one foot, sometimes on both ; she seems to tread on all the world. She 's nothing but an ocular delusion : she pours water out of a teapot on a bit of stuff — it is her bodice. " Cleanliness is a fine thing," she says ; her white frock hangs on a hook ; it has been washed in the teapot too, and dried on the roof : she puts it on and ties her saffron handkerchief round her neck, and the dress looks all the whiter. Point your toes ! look how she seems to stand on a stalk. I can see myself ! I can see myself ! ' * I don't care at all about that, ' said Gerda. ' That is nothing to tell me about/ And then she ran to the end of the garden. The door was locked, but she pressed against the rusty lock, and it broke off, the door sprang open, and little Gerda ran with naked feet out into the wide world. She looked back three times, but no one was there to pursue her ; at last she could run no longer, and seated herself on a great stone, and when she looked round the summer was over — it was late in autumn : one could not notice that in the beautiful garden, where there was always sunshine, and the flowers of every season always bloomed. ' Alas ! how I have loitered ! ' said little Gerda. ' Autumn has come. I may not rest again.' And she rose up to go on. Oh ! how sore and tired her little feet were. All around it looked cold and bleak ; the long willow leaves were quite yellow, and the mist dropped from them like water ; one leaf after another dropped ; only the sloe-thorn still bore fruit, but the sloes were sour, and set the teeth on edge. Oh ! how grey and gloomy it looked, the wide world ! FOURTH STORY THE PRINCE AND PRINCESS GERDA was compelled to rest again ; then there came hopping across the snow, just opposite the spot where she was sitting, a great Crow. This Crow had long been sitting looking at her, nodding its head — now it said, ' Krah ! krah ! Good day ! good day ! ' It could not pronounce better, but it felt friendly towards the little girl, and asked where she was going all alone in the wide world. The word ' alone ' Gerda understood very well, and felt how much it expressed ; and she told the Crow the whole story of her life and fortunes, and asked if it had not seen Kay. And the/Cfo\3 nodded very gravely, and said, 4 That may be ! that may be 1 ' ' What, do you think so ? ' cried the little girl, and nearly pressed the Crow to death, she kissed it so. ' Gently, gently ! ' said the Crow. ' I think I know : I believe it may be little Kay, but he has certainly forgotten you, with the Princess.' ' Does he live with a Princess ? ' asked Gerda. ' Yes ; listen/ said the Crow. * But it 's so difficult for me to speak your language. If you know the Crows' language, I can tell it much better.' ' No, I never learned it,' said Gerda ; ' but my grandmother understood it, and could speak the language too. I only wish I had learned it.' * That doesn't matter,' said the Crow. ' I shall tell you as well as I can.' And then the Crow told what it knew. ' In the country in which we now are, lives a Princess who is quite wonderfully clever, but then she has read all the newspapers in the world, and has forgotten them again, she is so clever. Lately she was sitting on the throne — and that 's not so pleasant as is generally supposed — and she began to sing a song, and it was just this, " Why should I not marry now ? " You see, there was something in that,' said the Crow. * And so she wanted to marry, but she wished for a husband who could answer when he was spoken to, not one who only stood and looked handsome, for that is so tiresome. And so she had all her maids of honour summoned, and when they heard her intention they were very glad. " I like that," said they ; "I thought the very same thing the other day." You may be sure that every word I am telling you is true,' added the Crow. ' I have a tame sweetheart who goes about freely in the castle, and she told me everything.' Of course the sweetheart was a crow, for one crow always finds out another, and birds of a feather flock together. ' Newspapers were published directly, with a border of hearts and the Princess's initials. One could read in them that every young man who was good-looking might come to the castle and speak with the Princess, and him who spoke so that one could hear he was at home there, and who spoke best, the Princess would choose for her husband. Yes, yes,' said the Crow, * you may believe me. It 's as true as I sit here. Young men came flocking in ; there was a great crowding and much running to and fro, but no one succeeded the first or second day. They could all speak well when they were out in the streets, but when they entered at the palace gates, and saw the guards standing in their silver lace, and went up the staircase, and saw the lackeys in their golden liveries, and the great lighted halls, they became confused. And when they stood before the throne itself, on which the Princess sat, they could do nothing but repeat the last word she had spoken, and she did not care to hear her own words again. It was just as if the people in there had taken some narcotic and fallen asleep, till they got into the street again, for not till then were they able to speak. There stood a whole row of them, from the town gate to the palace gate. I went in myself to see it,' said the Crow. ' They were hungry and thirsty, but in the palace they did not receive so much as a glass of lukewarm water. A few of the wisest had brought bread and butter with them, but they would not share with their neighbours, for they thought " Let him look hungry, and the Princess won't have him." ' But Kay, little Kay ? ' asked Gerda. ' When did he come ? Was he among the crowd ? ' ( Wait, wait ! We're just coming to him. It was on the third day that there came a little personage, without horse or carriage, walking quite merrily up to the castle ; his eyes sparkled like yours, he had fine long hair, but his clothes were shabby.' ' That was Kay ! ' cried Gerda, rejoicingly. ' Oh, then I have found him ! ' And she clapped her hands. ' He had a little knapsack on his back,' observed the Crow. ' No, that must certainly have been his sledge,' said Gerda, ' for he went away with a sledge.' * That may well be,' said the Crow, ' for I did not look to it very closely. But this much I know from my tame sweetheart, that when he passed under the palace gate and saw the Life Guards in silver, and mounted the staircase and saw the lackeys in gold, he was not in the least embarrassed. He nodded, and said to them, " It must be tedious work standing on the stairs — I'd rather go in." The halls shone full of lights ; privy councillors and Excellencies walked about with bare feet, and carried golden vessels ; any one might have become solemn ; and his boots creaked most noisily, but he was not embarrassed.' ' That is certainly Kay ! ' cried Gerda. ' He had new boots on ; I've heard them creak in grandmother's room.' * Yes, certainly they creaked,' resumed the Crow. ' And he went boldly in to the Princess herself, who sat on a pearl that was as big as a spinning-wheel ; and all the maids of honour with their attendants, and the attendants' attendants, and all the cavaliers with their followers, and the followers of their followers, who themselves kept a page apiece, were standing round ; and the nearer they stood to the door, the prouder they looked. The followers' followers' pages, who always went in slippers, could hardly be looked at, so proudly did they stand in the doorway ! ' ' That must be terrible ! ' faltered little Gerda. ' And yet Kay won the Princess ? ' * If I had not been a crow, I would have married her myself, notwithstanding that I am engaged. They say he spoke as well as I can when I speak the crows' language ; I heard that from my tame sweetheart. He was merry and agreeable ; he had not come to woo, but only to hear the wisdom of the Princess ; and he approved of her, and she of him.' ' Yes, certainly that was Kay ! ' said Gerda. ' He was so clever, he could do mental arithmetic up to fractions. Oh ! won't you lead me to the castle too ? ' ' That 's easily said,' replied the Crow. ' But how are we to manage it ? I'll talk it over with my tame sweetheart ; she can probably advise us ; for this I must tell you — a little girl like yourself will never get leave to go quite in.' ' Yes, I shall get leave,' said Gerda. * When Kay hears that I'm there he'll come out directly, and bring me in.' * Wait for me yonder at the stile,' said the Crow ; and it wagged its head and flew away. It was already late in the evening when the Crow came back. ' Rare ! rare ! ' it said. ' I'm to greet you kindly from my sweetheart, and here 's a little loaf for you. She took it from the kitchen. There's plenty of bread there, and you must be hungry. You can't possibly get into the palace, for you are barefoot, and the guards in silver and the lackeys in gold would not allow it. But don't cry ; you shall go up. My sweetheart knows a little back staircase that leads up to the bedroom, and she knows where she can get the key.' And they went into the garden, into the great avenue, where one leaf was falling down after another ; and when the lights were extinguished in the palace one after the other, the Crow led Gerda to a back door, which stood ajar. Oh, how Gerda's heart beat with fear and longing ! It was just as if she had been going to do something wicked ; and yet she only wanted to know if it was little Kay. Yes, it must be he. She thought so deeply of his clear eyes and his long hair, she could fancy she saw how he smiled as he had smiled at home when they sat among the roses. He would certainly be glad to see her ; to hear what a long distance she had come for his sake ; to know how sorry they had all been at home when he did not come back. Oh, what a fear and what a joy that was ! Now they were on the staircase. A little lamp was burning upon a cupboard, and in the middle of the floor stood the tame Crow turning her head on every side and looking at Gerda, who curtsied as her grandmother had taught her to do. 4 My betrothed has spoken to me very favourably of you, my little lady,' said the tame Crow. ' Your history, as it may be called, is very moving. Will you take the lamp ? then I will precede you. We will go the straight way, for we shall meet nobody.' ' I feel as if some one were coming after us,' said Gerda, as something rushed by her : it seemed like shadows on the wall ; horses with flying manes and thin legs, hunters, and ladies and gentlemen on horseback. ' These are only dreams,' said the Crow ; ' they are coming to carry the high masters' thoughts out hunting. That 's all the better, for you may look at them the more closely, in bed. But I hope, when you come to honour and dignity, you will show a grateful heart.' ' Of that we may be sure ! ' observed the Crow from the wood. ^ Now they came into the first hall : it was hung with rose-coloured satin, and artificial flowers were worked on the walls ; and here the dreams already came flitting by them, but they moved so quickly that Gerda could not see the high-born lords and ladies. Each hall was more splendid than the last ; yes, one could almost become bewildered ! Now they were in the bedchamber. Here the ceiling was like a great palm-tree with leaves of glass, of costly glass, and in the middle of the floor two beds hung on a thick stalk of gold, and each of them looked like a lily. One of them was white, and in that lay the Princess ; the other was red, and in that Gerda was to seek little Kay. She bent one of the red leaves aside, and then she saw a little brown neck. Oh, that was Kay ! She called out his name quite loud, and held the lamp towards him. The dreams rushed into the room again on horseback — he awoke, turned his head, and — it was not little Kay ! The Prince was only like him in the neck ; but he was young and good-looking, and the Princess looked up, blinking, from the white lily, and asked who was there. Then little Gerda wept, and told her whole history, and all that the Crows had done for her. ' You poor child ! ' said the Prince and Princess. And they praised the Crows, and said that they were not angry with them at all, but the Crows were not to do it again. However, they should be rewarded. ' Will you fly out free ? ' asked the Princess, ' or will you have fixed positions as court crows, with the right to everything that is left in the kitchen ? ' And the two Crows bowed, and begged for fixed positions, for they thought of their old age, and said, ' It is so good to have some provisions for one's old days/ as they called them. And the Prince got up out of his bed, and let Gerda sleep in it, and he could not do more than that. She folded her little hands, and thought, ' How good men and animals are ! ' and then she shut her eyes and went quietly to sleep. All the dreams came flying in again, looking like angels, and they drew a little sledge, on which Kay sat nodding ; but all this was only a dream, and therefore it was gone again as soon as she awoke. The next day she was clothed from head to foot in silk and velvet ; and an offer was made her that she should stay in the castle and enjoy pleasant times ; but she only begged for a little carriage, with a horse to draw it, and a pair of little boots ; then she would drive out into the world and seek for Kay. And she received not only boots, but a muff likewise, and was neatly dressed ; and when she was ready to depart a coach made of pure gold stopped before the door. Upon it shone like a star the coat of arms of the Prince and Princess ; coachman, footmen, and outriders — for there were outriders too — sat on horseback with gold crowns on their heads. The Prince and Princess themselves helped her into the carriage, and wished her all good fortune. The forest Crow, who was now married, accompanied her the first three miles ; he sat by Gerda' s side, for he could not bear riding backwards : the other Crow stood in the doorway flapping her wings : she did not go with them, for she suffered from headache, that had come on since she had obtained a fixed position and was allowed to eat too much. The coach was lined with sugar-biscuits, and in the seat there were gingerbread -nuts and fruit. ' Farewell, farewell ! ' cried the Prince and Princess ; and little Gerda wept, and the Crow wept. So they went on for the first three miles ; and then the Crow said good-bye, and that was the heaviest parting of all. The Crow flew up on a tree, and beat his black wings as long as he could see the coach, which glittered like the bright sunshine. FIFTH STORY THE LITTLE ROBBER GIRL THEY drove on through the thick forest, but the coach gleamed like a torch, dazzling the robbers' eyes, so that they could not bear it. ' That is gold ! that is gold ! ' cried they, and rushed forward, and seized the horses, killed the postilions, the coachman, and the footmen, and then pulled little Gerda out of the carriage. ' She is fat — she is pretty — she is fed with nut-kernels ! ' said the old robber woman, who had a very long stiff beard, and shaggy eyebrows that hung down over her eyes. ' She 's as good as a little pet lamb ; how I shall relish her ! ' And she drew out her shining knife, that gleamed in a horrible way. ' Oh ! ' screamed the old woman at the same moment ; for her own daughter who hung at her back bit her ear in a very naughty and spiteful manner. * You ugly brat ! ' screamed the old woman ; and she had not time to kill Gerda. ' She shall play with me ! ' said the little robber girl. ' She shall give me her muff and her pretty dress, and sleep with me in my bed ! ' And then the girl gave another bite, so that the woman jumped high up, and turned right round, and all the robbers laughed, and said, ' Look how she dances with her calf.' ' I want to go into the carriage,' said the little robber girl. And she would have her own way, for she was spoiled, and very obstinate ; and she and Gerda sat in the carriage, and drove over stock and stone deep into the forest. The little robber girl was as big as Gerda, but stronger and more broad-shouldered ; and she had a brown skin ; her eyes were quite black, and they looked almost mournful. She clasped little Gerda round the waist, and said, * They shall not kill you as long as I am not angry with you. I suppose you are a Princess ? ' ( No,' replied Gerda. And she told all that had happened to her, and how fond she was of little Kay. The robber girl looked at her seriously, nodded slightly, and said, ' They shall not kill you even if I do get angry with you, for then I will do it myself.' And then she dried Gerda's eyes, and put her two hands into the beautiful muff that was so soft and warm. Now the coach stopped, and they were in the courtyard of a robber castle. It had split from the top to the bottom; ravens and crows flew out of the great holes, and big bulldogs — each of which looked as if he could devour a man — jumped high up, but they did not bark, for that was forbidden. In the great old smoky hall a bright fir© burned upon the stone floor ; the smoke passed along under the ceiling, and had to seek an exit for itself. A great cauldron of soup was boiling and hares and rabbits were roasting on the spit. ' You shall sleep to-night with me and all my little animals/ said the robber girl. They got something to eat and drink, and then went to a corner, where straw and carpets were spread out. Above these sat on laths and perches more than a hundred pigeons, that all seemed asleep, but they turned a little when the two little girls came. c All these belong to me,' said the little robber girl ; and she quickly seized one of the nearest, held it by the feet, and shook it so that it flapped its wings. ' Kiss it ! ' she cried, and beat it in Gerda's face. ' There sit the wood rascals,' she continued, pointing to a number of laths that had been nailed in front of a hole in the wall. ' Those are wood rascals, those two ; they fly' away directly if one does not keep them well locked up. And here 's my old sweetheart " Ba ".' And she pulled out by the horn a Reindeer, that was tied up, and had a polished copper ring round its neck. ' We're obliged to keep him tight too, or he'd run away from us. Every evening I tickle his neck with a sharp knife, and he 's very frightened at that/ And the little girl drew a long knife from a cleft in the wall, and let it glide over the Reindeer's neck ; the poor creature kicked out its legs, and the little robber girl laughed, and drew Gerda into bed with her. ' Do you keep the knife beside you while you're asleep ? ' asked Gerda, and looked at it in rather a frightened way. ' I always sleep with my knife,' replied the robber girl. ' One does not know what may happen. But now tell me again what you told me just now about little Kay, and why you came out into the wide world.' And Gerda told it again from the beginning ; and the Wood Pigeons cooed above them in their cage, and the other pigeons slept. The little robber girl put her arm round Gerda's neck, held her knife in the other hand, and slept so that one could hear her ; but Gerda could not close her eyes at all — she did not know whether she was to live or die. The robbers sat round the fire, singing and drinking, and the old robber woman tumbled about. It was quite terrible for a little girl to behold. Then the Wood Pigeons said, ' Coo ! coo ! we have seen little Kay. A white hen was carrying his sledge : he sat in the Snow Queen's carriage, which drove close by the forest as we lay in our nests. She blew upon us young pigeons, and all died except us two. Coo ! coo ! ' * What are you saying there ? ' asked Gerda. ' Whither was the Snow Queen travelling ? Do you know anything about it ? ' ' She was probably journeying to Lapland, for there they have always ice and snow. Ask the Reindeer that is tied up with the cord.' ' There is ice and snow yonder, and it is glorious and fine/ said the Reindeer. * There one may run about free in great glittering plains. There the Snow Queen has her summer tent ; but her strong castle is up towards the North Pole, on the island that 's called Spitzbergen.' ' Oh, Kay, little Kay ! ' cried Gerda. ' You must lie still,' exclaimed the robber girl, ' or I shall thrust my knife into your body.' In the morning Gerda told her all that the Wood Pigeons had said, and the robber girl looked quite serious, and nodded her head and said, * That 's all the same, that 's all the same ! J ' Do you know where Lapland is ? ' she asked the Reindeer. 1 Who should know better than I ? ' the creature replied, and its eyes sparkled in its head. * I was born and bred there ; I ran about there in the snow-fields.' 4 Listen ! 5 said the robber girl to Gerda. ' You see all our men have gone away. Only mother is here still, and she'll stay ; but towards noon she drinks out of the big bottle, and then she sleeps for a little while ; then I'll do something for you.' Then she sprang out of bed, and clasped her mother round the neck and pulled her beard, crying ' Good morning, my own old nanny-goat.' And her mother filliped her nose till it was red and blue ; but it was all done for pure love. When the mother had drunk out of her bottle and had gone to sleep upon it, the robber girl went to the Reindeer, and said, * I should like very much to tickle you a few times more with the knife, for you are very funny then ; but it 's all the same. I'll loosen your cord and help you out, so that you may run to Lapland ; but you must use your legs well, and carry this little girl to the palace of the Snow Queen, where her playfellow is. You've heard what she told me, for she spoke loud enough, and you were listening.' The Reindeer sprang up high for joy. The robber girl lifted little Gerda on its back, and had the forethought to tie her fast, and even to give her a little cushion as a saddle. * There are your fur boots for you,' she said, ' for it 's growing cold ; but I shall keep the muff, for that 's so veiy pretty. Still, you shall not be cold, for all that : here 's my mother's big mufflers — they'H- just reach up to your elbows. Now your hands look just like my ugly mother's.' And Gerda wept for joy. ' I can't bear to see you whimper,' said the little robber girl. * No, you just ought to look very glad. And here are two loaves and a ham for you, so you won't be hungry.' These were tied on the Reindeer's back . The little robber girl opened the door, coaxed in all the big dogs, and then cut the rope with her sharp knife, and said to the Reindeer, ' Now run, but take good care of the little girl.' And Gerda stretched out her hands with the big mufflers towards the little robber girl, and said, ' Farewell ! ' And the Reindeer ran over stock and stone, away through the great forest, over marshes and steppes, as quick as it could go. The wolves howled and the ravens croaked. ' Hiss ! hiss ! ' it went in the air. It seemed as if the sky were flashing fire. ' Those are my old Northern Lights,' said the Reindeer. ' Look how they glow ! ' And then it ran on faster than ever, day and night. The loaves were eaten, and the ham as well, and then they were in Lapland. SIXTH STORY THE LAPLAND WOMAN AND THE FINLAND WOMAN AT a little hut they stopped. It was very humble ; the roof sloped down almost to the ground, and the door was so low that the family had to creep on their stomachs when they wanted to go in or out. No one was in the house but an old Lapland woman, cooking fish on a train-oil lamp ; and the Reindeer told Gerda's whole history, but it related its own first, for this seemed to the Reindeer the more important of the two. Gerda was so exhausted by the cold that she could not speak. * Oh, you poor things,' said the Lapland woman, ' you've a long way to run yet ! You must go more than a hundred miles into Finmark, for the Snow Queen is there, staying in the country, and burning Bengal lights every evening. I'll write a few words on a dried cod, for I have no paper, and I'll give you that as a letter to the Finland woman ; she can give you better information than I.' And when Gerda had been warmed and refreshed with food and drink, the Lapland woman wrote a few words on a dried codfish, and telling Gerda to take care of it, tied her again on the Reindeer, and the Reindeer sprang away. Flash ! flash ! it went high in the air ; the whole night long the most beautiful blue Northern Lights were burning. And then they got to Finmark, and knocked at the chimney of the Finland woman, for she had not even a door. There was such a heat in the chimney that the woman herself went about almost naked. She was little and very dirty. She at once loosened little Gerda's dress and took off the child's mufflers and boots ; otherwise it would have been too hot for her to bear. Then she laid a piece of ice on the Reindeer's head, and read what was written on the codfish ; she read it three times, and when she knew it by heart, she popped the fish into the soup -cauldron, for it was eatable, and she never wasted anything. Now the Reindeer first told his own history, and then little Gerda's ; and the Finland woman blinked with her clever eyes, but said nothing. ' You are very clever,' said the Reindeer : ' I know you can tie all the winds of the world together with a bit of twine : if the seaman unties one knot, he has a good wind ; if he loosens the second, it blows hard ; but if he unties the third and the fourth, there comes such a tempest that the forests are thrown down. Won't you give the little girl a draught, so that she may get twelve men's power, and overcome the Snow Queen ? ' ' Twelve men's power ! ' repeated the Finland woman. ' Great use that would be ! ' And she went to a shelf, and brought out a great rolled -up fur, and unrolled it ; wonderful characters were written upon it, and the Finland woman read until the water ran down over her forehead. But the Reindeer again begged so hard for little Gerda, and Gerda looked at the Finland woman with such beseeching eyes full of tears, that she began to blink again with her own, and drew the Reindeer into a corner, and whispered to him, while she laid fresh ice upon his head, * Little Kay is certainly at the Snow Queen's, and finds everything there to his taste and liking, and thinks it the best place in the world ; but that is because he has a splinter of glass in his eye, and a little fragment in his heart ; but these must be got out, or he will never be a human being again, and the Snow Queen will keep her power over him.' ' But cannot you give something to little Gerda, so as to give her power over all this ? ' c I can give her no greater power than she possesses already : don't you see how great that is ? Don't you see how men and animals are obliged to serve her, and how she gets on so well in the world, with her naked feet ? She must not learn her power from us : it consists in this, that she is a dear innocent child. If she herself cannot penetrate to the Snow Queen and get the glass out of little Kay, we can be of no use ! Two miles from here the Snow Queen's garden begins ; you can carry the little girl thither : set her down by the great bush that stands with its red berries in the snow. Don't stand gossiping, but make haste, and get back here ! ' And then the Finland woman lifted little Gerda on the Reindeer, which ran as fast as it could. ' Oh, I haven't my boots ! I haven't my mufflers ! ' cried Gerda. She soon noticed that in the cutting cold ; but the Reindeer dare not stop : it ran till it came to the bush with the red berries ; there it set Gerda down, and kissed her on the mouth, and great bright tears ran over the creature's cheeks ; and then it ran back, as fast as it could. There stood poor Gerda without shoes, without gloves, in the midst of the terrible cold Finmark. She ran forward as fast as possible ; then came a whole regiment of snowflakes ; but they did not fall down from the sky, for that was quite bright, and shone with the Northern Lights : the snowflakes ran along the ground, and the nearer they came the larger they grew. Gerda still remembered how large and beautiful the snowflakes had appeared when she looked at them through the burningglass. But here they were certainly far longer and much more terrible — they were alive. They were the advanced posts of the Snow Queen, and had the strangest shapes. A few looked like ugly great porcupines ; others like knots formed of snakes, which stretched forth their heads ; and others like little fat bears, whose hair stood on end : all were brilliantly white, all were living snowflakes. Then little Gerda said her prayer ; and the cold was so great that she could see her own breath, which went forth out of her mouth like smoke. • The breath became thicker and thicker, and formed itself kito little angels, who grew and grew whenever they touched the earth ; and all had helmets on their heads and shields and spears in their hands ; their number increased more and more, and when Gerda had finished her prayer a whole legion stood round about her, and struck with their spears at the terrible snowflakes, so that these were shattered into a thousand pieces ; and little Gerda could go forward afresh, with good courage. The angels stroked her hands and feet, and then she felt less how cold it was, and hastened on to the Snow Queen's palace. But now we must see what Kay is doing. He certainly was not thinking of little Gerda, and least of all that she was standing in front of the palace. SEVENTH STORY OF THE SNOW QUEEN'S CASTLE, AND WHAT HAPPENED THERE AT LAST THE walls of the palace were formed of the drifting snow, and the windows and doors of the cutting winds. There were more than a hundred halls, all blown together by the snow : the greatest of these extended for several miles ; the strong Northern Lights illumined them all, and how great and empty, how icily cold and shining they all were ! Never was merriment there, not even a little bears' ball, at which the storm could have played the music, while the bears walked about on their hind legs and showed off their pretty manners ; never any little coffee gossip among the young lady white foxes. Empty, vast, and cold were the halls of the Snow Queen. The Northern Lights flamed so brightly that one could count them where they stood highest and lowest. In the midst of this immense empty snow hall was a frozen lake, which had burst into a thousand pieces ; but each piece was like the rest, so that it was a perfect work of art ; and in the middle of the lake sat the Snow Queen when she was at home, and then she said ANDBBSEN that she sat in the mirror of reason, and that this was the only one, and the best in the world. Little Kay was quite blue with cold — indeed, almost black, but he did not notice it, for she had kissed the cold shudderings away from him ; and his heart was like a lump of ice. He dragged a few sharp flat pieces of ice to and fro, joining them together in all kinds of ways, for he wanted to achieve something with them. It was just like when we have little tablets of wood, and lay them together to form figures — what we call the Chinese puzzle. Kay also went and laid figures, and, indeed, very artistic ones. That was the icy game of reason. In his eyes these figures were very remarkable and of the highest importance ; that was because of the fragment of glass sticking in his eye. He laid out the figures so that they formed a word — but he could never manage to lay down the word as he wished to have it — the word ' Eternity '. And the Snow Queen had said, ' If you can find out this figure, you shall be your own master, and I will give you the whole world and a new pair of skates.' But he could not. ' Now I'll hasten away to the warm lands,' said the Snow Queen. ' I will go and look into the black pots ' : these were the volcanoes, Etna and Vesuvius, as they are called. ' I shall make them a little white ! That 's necessary ; that will do the grapes and lemons good/ And the Snow Queen flew away, and Kay sat quite alone in the great icy hall that was miles in extent, and looked at his pieces of ice, and thought so deeply that cracks were heard inside him : he sat quite stiff and still, one would have thought that he was frozen to death. Then it happened that little Gerda stepped through the great gate into the wide hall. Here reigned cutting winds, but she prayed a prayer, and the winds lay down as if they would have gone to sleep ; and she stepped into the great empty cold halls, and beheld Kay ; she knew him, and flew to him and embraced him, and held him fast, and called out, ' Kay, dear little Kay ! at last I have found you ! ' But he sat quite still, stiff and cold. Then little Gerda wept hot tears, that fell upon his breast ; they penetrated into his heart, they thawed the lump of ice, and consumed the little piece of glass in it. He looked at her, and she sang : Roses bloom and roses decay, But we the Christ-child shall see one day. Then Kay burst into tears ; he wept so that the splinter of glass came out of his eye. Now he recognized her, and cried rejoicingly, ' Gerda, dear Gerda ! where have you been all this time ? And where have I been ? ' And he looked all around him. ' How cold it is here ! how large and empty ! ' And he clung to Gerda, and she laughed and wept for joy. It was so glorious that even the pieces of ice round about danced for joy ; and when they were tired and lay down, they formed themselves just into the letters of which the Snow Queen had said that if he found them out he should be his own master, and she would give him the whole world and a new pair of skates. And Gerda kissed his cheeks, and they became blooming ; she kissed his eyes, and they shone like her own ; she kissed his hands and feet, and he became well and merry. The Snow Queen might now come home ; his letter of release stood written in shining characters of ice. And they took one another by the hand, and wandered forth from the great palace of ice. They spoke of the grandmother, and of the roses on the roof ; and where they went the winds rested and the sun burst forth ; and when they came to the bush with the red berries, the Reindeer was standing there waiting : it had brought another young reindeer, which gave the children warm milk, and kissed them on the mouth. Then they carried Kay and Gerda, first to the Finnish woman, where they warmed themselves thoroughly in the hot room, and received instructions for their journey home, and then to the Lapland woman, who had made their new clothes and put their sledge in order. The Reindeer and the young one sprang at their side, and followed them as far as the boundary of the country. There the first green sprouted forth, and there they took leave of the two reindeer and the Lapland woman. ' Farewell ! ' said all. And the first little birds began to twitter, the forest was decked with green buds, and out of it on a beautiful horse (which Gerda knew, for it was the same that had drawn her golden coach) a young girl came riding, with a shining red cap on her head and a pair of pistols in the holsters. This was the little robber girl, who had grown tired of staying at home, and wished to go first to the north, and if that did not suit her, to some other region. She knew Gerda at once, and Gerda knew her too ; and it was a right merry meeting. ' You are a fine fellow to gad about ! ' she said to little Kay. ' I should like to know if you deserve that one should run to the end of the world after you ? ' But Gerda patted her cheeks, and asked after the Prince and Princess. * They've gone to foreign countries,' said the robber girl. f But the Crow ? ' said Gerda. 1 Why, the Crow is dead,' answered the other. ' The tame one has become a widow, and goes about with an end of black worsted thread round her leg. She complains most lamentably, but it 's all talk. But now tell me how you have fared, and how you caught him.' And Gerda and Kay told their story. ' Snip-snap-snurre-basse-lurre ! ' said the robber girl. And she took them both by the hand, and promised that if she ever came through their town, she would come up and pay them a visit. And then she rode away into the wide world. But Gerda and Kay went hand in hand, and as they went it became beautiful spring, with green and with flowers. The church bells sounded, and they recognized the high steeples and the great town : it was the one in which they lived ; and they went to the grandmother's door, and up the stairs, and into the room, where everything remained in its usual place. The big clock was going ' Tick ! tack ! ' and the hands were turning ; but as they went through the rooms they noticed that they had become grown-up people. The roses out on the roof gutter were blooming in at the open window, and there stood the little children's chairs, and Kay and Gerda sat each upon their own, and held each other by the hand. They had forgotten THE SNOW QUEEN the cold empty splendour at the Snow' Queen's like a heavy dream. The grandmother was sitting in -God's bright sunshine, and read aloud out of the Bible, ' Except ye become as little children, ye shall in no wise enter intpjthe kingdom of God.' And Kay and Gerda looked into each other's eyes, and all at once they understood the old hymn — Roses bloom and roses decay, But we the Christ-child shall see one day. There they both sat, grown up, and yet children — children in heart — and it was summer, warm, delightful summer.

The Little Match Girl

IT was terribly cold ; it snowed and was already almost dark, and evening came on, the last evening of the year. In the cold and gloom a poor little girl, bareheaded and barefoot, was walking through the streets. When she left her own house she certainly had had slippers on ; but of what use were they ? They were very big slippers, and her mother had used them till then, so big were they. The little maid lost them as she slipped across the road, where two carriages were rattling by terribly fast. One slipper was not to be found again, and a boy had seized the other, and run away with it. He said he could use it very well as a cradle, some day when he had children of his own. So now the little girl went with her little naked feet, which were quite red and blue with the cold. In an old apron she carried a number of matches, and a bundle of them in her hand. No one had bought anything of her all day, and no one had given her a farthing. ^ Shivering with cold and hunger she crept along, a picture of misery, poor little girl ! The snowflakes covered her long fair hair, which fell in pretty curls over her neck ; but she did not think of that now. In all the windows lights were shining, and there was a glorious smell of roast goose, for it was New Year's Eve. Yes, she thought of that! In a corner formed by two houses, one of which projected beyond the other, she sat down, cowering. She had drawn up her little feet, but she was still colder, and she did not dare to go home, for she had sold no matches, and did not bring a farthing of money. From her father she would certainly receive a beating, and besides, it was cold at home, for they had nothing over them but a roof through which the wind whistled, though the largest rents had been stopped with straw and rags. Her little hands were almost benumbed with the cold. Ah ! a match might do her good, if she could only draw one from the bundle, and rub it against the wall, and warm her hands at it. She drew one out. R-r-atch ! how it sputtered and burned ! It was a warm, bright flame, like a little candle, when she held her hands over it ; it was a wonderful little light ! It really seemed to the little girl as if she sat before a great polished stove, with bright brass feet and a brass cover. How the fire burned ! how comfortable it was ! but the little flame went out, the stove vanished, and she had only the remains of the burned match in her hand. A second was rubbed against the wall. It burned up, and when the light fell upon the wall it became transparent like a thin veil, and she could see through it into the room. On the table a snow-white cloth was spread ; upon it stood a shining dinner service ; the roast goose smoked gloriously, stuffed with apples and dried plums. And what was still more splendid to behold, the goose hopped down from the dish, and waddled along the floor, with a knife and fork in its breast, to the little girl. Then the match went out, and only the thick, damp, cold wall was before her. She lighted another match. Then she was sitting THE LITTLE MATCH GIRL under a beautiful Christmas tree ; it was greater and more ornamented than the one she had seen through the glass door last Christmas at the rich merchant's. Thousands of candles burned upon the green branches, and coloured pictures like those in the print shops looked down upon them. The little girl stretched forth her hand towards them ; then the match went out. The Christmas lights mounted higher. She saw them now as stars in the sky : one of them fell down, forming a long line of fire. ' Now some one is dying/ thought the little girl, for her old grandmother, the only person who had loved her, and who was now dead, had told her that when a star fell down a soul mounted up to God. She rubbed another match against the wall ; it became bright again, and in the brightness the old grandmother stood clear and shining, mild and lovely. ' Grandmother ! ' cried the child. ' Oh ! take me with you ! I know you will go when the match is burned out. You will vanish like the warm fire, the beautiful roast goose, and the great glorious Christmas ^ree ! ' And she hastily rubbed the whole bundle of matches, for she wished to hold her grandmother fast. And the matches burned with such a glow that it became brighter than in the middle of the day ; grandmother had never been so large or so beautiful. She took the little girl in her arms, and both flew in brightness and joy above the earth, very, very high, and up there was neither cold, nor hunger, nor care — they were with God ! But in the corner, leaning against the wall, sat in the cold morning hours the poor girl with red cheeks and smiling mouth, frozen to death on the last evening of the Old Year. The New Year's sun rose upon a little corpse ! The child sat there, stiff and cold, with the matches of which one bundle was burned. ' She wanted to warm herself,' the people said. No one imagined what a beautiful thing she had seen, and in what glory she had gone in with her grandmother to the New Year's joy.

The Swineherd

THERE was once a poor Prince, who had a kingdom which was quite small, but still it was large enough that he could marry upon it, and that is what he wanted to do. Now, it was certainly somewhat bold of him to say to the Emperor's daughter, ' Will you have me ? ' But he did venture it, for his name was famous far and wide : there were hundreds of Princesses who would have been glad to say yes ; but did she say so ? Well, we shall see. On the grave of the Prince's father there grew a rose bush, a very beautiful rose bush. It bloomed only every fifth year, and even then it bore only a single rose, but what a rose that was ! It was so sweet that whoever smelt at it forgot all sorrow and trouble. And then he had a nightingale, which could sing as if all possible melodies were collected in its little throat. This rose and this nightingale the Princess was to have, and therefore they were put into great silver cases and sent to her. The Emperor caused the presents to be carried before him into the great hall where the Princess was playing at ' visiting ' with her maids of honour (they did nothing else), and when she saw the great silver cases with the presents in them, she clapped her hands with joy. ' If it were only a little pussy-cat ! ' said she. But then came out the splendid rose. ' Oh, how pretty it is made ! ' said all the court ladies. ' It is more than pretty,' said the Emperor, ' it is charming.' But the Princess felt it, and then she almost began to cry. ' Fie, papa ! ' she said, ' it is not artificial, it 's a natural rose ! ' ' Fie,' said all the court ladies, ' it 5s a natural one ! ' ' Let us first see what is in the other case before we get angry,' said the Emperor. And then the nightingale came out ; it sang so beautifully that they did not at once know what to say against it. Superbe ! charmant ! ' said the maids of honour, for they all spoke French, the one worse than the other. ' How that bird reminds me of the late Empress's musical snuff-box,' said an old cavalier. ' Yes, it is the same tone, the same expression.' * Yes,' said the Emperor ; and then he wept like a little child. ' I really hope it is not a natural bird,' said the Princess. ' Yes, it is a natural bird,' said they who had brought it. ' Then let the bird fly away,' said the Princess ; and she would by no means allow the Prince to come. But the Prince was not at all dismayed. He stained his face brown and black, drew his hat down over his brows, and knocked at the door. ' Good day, Emperor,' he said : ' could I not be employed here in the castle ? ' * Well,' replied the Emperor, ' but there are so many who want places ; but let me see, I want some one who can keep the pigs, for we have many of them.' So the Prince was appointed the Emperor's swineherd. He received a miserable small room down by the pig-sty, and here he was obliged to stay ; but all day long he sat and worked, and when it was evening he had finished a neat little pot, with bells all round it, and when the pot boiled these bells rang out prettily and played the old melody — Oh, my darling Augustine, All is lost, all is lost. But the cleverest thing about the whole arrangement was, that by holding one's finger in the steam from the pot, one could at once smell what food was being cooked at every hearth in the town. That was quite a different thing from the rose. Now the Princess came with all her maids of honour, and when she heard the melody she stood still and looked quite pleased ; for she, too, could play ' Oh, my darling Augustine.' It was the only thing she could play, but then she played it with one finger. ' Why, that is what I play ! ' she cried. ' He must be an educated swineherd ! Hark-ye : go down and ask the price of the instrument.' So one of the maids of honour had to go down ; but first she put on a pair of pattens. ' What do you want for the pot ? ' inquired the lady. ' I want ten kisses from the Princess/ replied the swineherd. ' Heaven preserve us ! ' exclaimed the maid of honour. * Well, I won't sell it for less,' said the swineherd. ' Well, what did he say ? ' asked the Princess. ' I really can't repeat it, it is so shocking,' replied the lady. * Well, you can whisper it in my ear.' And the lady whispered it to her. — ' He is very rude,' declared the Princess ; and she went away. But when she had gone a little way, the bells sounded so prettily — Oh, my darling Augustine, All is lost, all is lost. ' Hark-ye,' said the Princess : ' ask him if he will take ten kisses from my maids of honour.' ' No, thanks,' replied the swineherd : ' ten kisses from the Princess, or I shall keep my pot.' ' How tiresome that is ! ' cried the Princess. ' But at least you must stand round me, so that nobody sees it.' And the maids of honour stood round her, and spread out their dresses, and then the swineherd received ten kisses, and she received the pot. Then there was rejoicing ! All the evening and all the day long the pot was kept boiling ; there was not a kitchen hearth in the whole town of which they did not know what it had cooked, at the shoemaker's as well as the chamber Iain's. The ladies danced with pleasure, and clapped their hands. ' We know who will have sweet soup and pancakes for dinner, and who has hasty pudding and cutlets ; how interesting that is ! ' ' Very interesting ! ' said the head lady -superintendent. 1 Yes, but keep counsel, for I'm the Emperor's daughter.' ' Yes, certainly,' said all. The swineherd, that is to say, the Prince — but of course they did not know but that he was a real swineherd — let no day pass by without doing something, and so he made THE SWINEHERD a rattle ; when any person swung this rattle, he could play all the waltzes, hops, and polkas that have been known since the creation of the world. * But that is superbe ! ' cried the Princess, as she went past. ' I have never heard a finer composition. Hark-ye : go down and ask what the instrument costs ; but I give no more kisses.' ' He demands a hundred kisses from the Princess/ said the maid of honour who had gone' down to make the inquiry. ' I think he must be mad ! ' exclaimed the Princess ; and she went away ; but when she had gone a little distance she stood still. ' One must encourage art,' she observed. ' I am the Emperor's daughter ! Tell him he shall receive ten kisses, like last time, and he may take the rest from my maids of honour.' ' Ah, but we don't like to do it ! ' said the maids of honour. ' That 's all nonsense ! ' retorted the Princess, ' and if I can allow myself to be kissed, you can too : remember, I give you board and wages.' And so the maids of honour had to go down to him again. ' A hundred kisses from the Princess,' said he, : or each shall keep his own.' ' Stand round me,' said she then ; and all the maids of honour stood round her while he kissed the Princess. ' What is that crowd down by the pig-sty ? ' asked the Emperor, who had stepped out to the balcony. He rubbed his eyes, and put on his spectacles. ' Why, those are the maids of honour, at their tricks, yonder ; I shall have to go down to them.' And he pulled up his slippers behind, for they were shoes that he had trodden down at heel. Gracious mercy, how he hurried ! So soon as he came down in the courtyard, he went quite softly, and the maids of honour were too busy counting the kisses, and seeing fair play, to notice the Emperor. Then he stood on tiptoe. ' What 's that ? ' said he, when he saw that there was kissing going on ; and he hit them on the head with his slipper, just as the swineherd was taking the eightysixth kiss. ' Be off ! ' said the Emperor, for he was angry. And the Princess and the swineherd were both expelled from his dominions. So there she stood and cried, the rain streamed down, and the swineherd scolded. ' Oh, miserable wretch that I am ! ' said the Princess ; * if I had only taken the handsome Prince ! Oh, how unhappy I am ! ' Then the swineherd went behind a tree, washed the stains from his face, threw away the shabby clothes, and stepped forth in his princely attire, so handsome that the Princess was fain to bow before him. ' I have come to this, that I despise you,' said he. ' You would not have an honest Prince ; you did not value the rose and the nightingale, but for a plaything you kissed the swineherd, and now you have your reward.' And then he went into his kingdom and shut the door in her face, and put the bar on. So now she might stand outside and sing — Oh, my darling Augustine, All is lost, all is lost.

The Red Shoes

THERE was once a little girl ; a very nice pretty little girl. But in summer she had to go barefoot, because she was poor, and in winter she wore thick wooden shoes, so that her little instep became quite red, altogether red. In the middle of the village lived an old shoemaker's wife : she sat and sewed, as well as she could, a pair of little shoes, of old strips of red cloth ; they were clumsy enough, but well meant, and the little girl was to have them. The little girl's name was Karen. On the day when her mother was buried she received the red shoes and wore them for the first time. They were certainly not suited for mourning ; but she had no others, and therefore thrust her little bare feet into them and walked behind the plain deal coffin. Suddenly a great carriage came by, and in the carriage sat an old lady : she looked at the little* girl and felt pity for her, and said to the clergyman, ' Give me the little girl, and I will provide for her.' Karen thought this was for the sake of the shoes ; but the old lady declared they were hideous ; and they were burned. But Karen herself was clothed neatly and properly : she was taught to read and to sew, and the people said she was agreeable. But her mirror said, ' You are much more than agreeable ; you are beautiful.' Once the Queen travelled through the country, and had her little daughter with her ; and the daughter was a Princess. And the people flocked towards the castle, and Karen too was among them ; and the little Princess stood in a fine white dress at a window, and let herself be gazed at. She had neither train nor golden crown, but she wore splendid red morocco shoes ; they were certainly far handsomer than those the shoemaker's wife had made for little Karen. Nothing in the world can compare with red shoes ! Now Karen was old enough to be confirmed : new clothes were made for her, and she was to have new shoes. The rich shoemaker in the town took the measure of her little feet ; this was done in his own house, in his little room, and there stood great glass cases with neat shoes and shining boots. It had quite a charming appearance, but the old lady could not see well, and therefore took no pleasure in it. Among the shoes stood a red pair, just like those which the Princess had worn. How beautiful they were ! The shoemaker also said they had been made for a Count's child, but they had not fitted. ' That must be patent leather, ' observed the old lady, 1 the shoes shine so ! ' ' Yes, they shine ! ' replied Karen ; and they fitted her, and were bought. But the old lady did not know that they were red ; for she would never have allowed Karen to go to her confirmation in red shoes ; but that is what Karen did. Every one was looking at her shoes. And when she went up the floor of the church, towards the door of the choir, is seemed to her as if the old figures on the tombstones, the portraits of clergymen and clergymen's wives, in their stiff collars and long black garments, fixed their eyes upon her red shoes. And she thought of her shoes only, when the priest laid his hand upon her head and spoke holy words. And the organ pealed solemnly, the children sang with their fresh sweet voices, and the old precentor sang too ; but Karen thought only of her red shoes. In the afternoon the old lady was informed by every one that the shoes were red ; and she said it was naughty and unsuitable, and that when Karen went to church in future, she should always go in black shoes, even if they were old. Next Sunday was Sacrament Sunday. And Karen looked at the black shoes, and looked at the red ones — looked at them again — and put on the red ones. The sun shone gloriously ; Karen and the old lady went along the footpath through the fields, and it was rather dusty. By the church door stood an old invalid soldier with a crutch and a long beard ; the beard was rather red than white, for it was red altogether ; and he bowed down almost to the ground, and asked the old lady if he might dust her shoes. And Karen also stretched out her little foot. ' Look, what pretty dancing-shoes \J said the old soldier. ' Fit so tightly when you dance ! ' And he tapped the soles with his hand. And the old lady gave the soldier an alms, and went into the church with Karen. And every one in the church looked at Karen's red shoes, and all the pictures looked at them. And while Karen knelt in the church she only thought of her red shoes ; and she forgot to sing her psalm, and forgot to say her prayer. Now all the people went out of church, and the old lady stepped into her carriage. Karen lifted up her foot to step in too ; then the old soldier said, ' Look, what beautiful dancing-shoes ! ' And Karen could not resist : she was obliged to dance a few steps ; and when she once began, her legs went on dancing. It was just as though the shoes had obtained power over her. She danced round the corner of the church — she could not help it ; the coachman was obliged to run behind her and seize her : he lifted her into the carriage, but her feet went on dancing, so that she kicked the good old lady violently. At last they took off her shoes, and her legs became quiet. At home the shoes were put away in a cupboard ; but Karen could not resist looking at them. Now the old lady became very ill, and it was said she would not recover. She had to be nursed and waited on ; and this was no one's duty so much as Karen's. But there was to be a great ball in the town, and Karen was invited. She looked at the old lady who could not recover ; she looked at the red shoes, and thought there would be no harm in it. She put on the shoes, and that she might very well do ; but then she went to the ball and began to dance. But when she wished to go to the right hand, the shoes danced to the left, and when she wanted to go upstairs the shoes danced downwards, down into the street and out at the town gate. She danced, and was obliged to dance, straight out into the dark wood. There was something glistening up among the trees, and she thought it was the moon, for she saw a face. But it was the old soldier with the red beard : he sat and nodded, and said, * Look, what beautiful dancing-shoes ! ' Then she was frightened, and wanted to throw away the red shoes ; but they clung fast to her. And she tore off her stockings ; but the shoes had grown fast to her feet. And she danced and was compelled to go dancing over field and meadow, in rain and sunshine, by night and by day ; but it was most dreadful at night. She danced into the open churchyard ; but the dead there did not dance ; they had something better to do. She wished to sit down on the poor man's grave, where the bitter tansy grows ; but there was no peace nor rest for her. And when she danced towards the open church door, she saw there an angel in long white garments, with wings that reached from his shoulders to his feet ; his countenance was serious and stern, and in his hand he held a sword that was broad and gleaming. ' Thou shalt dance ! ' he said — ' dance in thy red shoes, till thou art pale and cold, and till thy body shrivels to a skeleton. Thou shalt dance from door to door ; and where proud, haughty children dwell, shalt thou knock, that they may hear thee, and be afraid of thee ! Thou shalt dance, dance ! ' ' Mercy ! ' cried Karen. But she did not hear what the angel answered, for the shoes carried her away — carried her through the gate on to the field, over stock and stone, and she was always obliged to dance. One morning she danced past a door which she knew well. There was a sound of psalm-singing within and a coffin was carried out, adorned with flowers. Then she knew that the old lady was dead, and she felt that she was deserted by all, and condemned by the angel of God. She danced, and was compelled to dance — to dance in the dark night. The shoes carried her on over thorn and brier ; she scratched herself till she bled ; she danced away across the heath to a little lonely house. Here she knew the executioner dwelt ; and she tapped with her fingers on the panes, and called, 'Come out, come out ! I cannot. come in, for I must dance ! ' And the executioner said, ' You probably don't know who I am ? I cut off the bad people's heads with my axe, and mark how my axe rings ! ' ' Do not strike off my head,' said Karen, ' for if you do I cannot repent of my sin. But strike off my feet with the red shoes ! ' And then she confessed all her sin, and the executioner cut off her feet with the red shoes ; but the shoes danced away with the little feet over the fields and into the deep forest. And he cut her a pair of wooden feet, with crutches, and taught her a psalm, which the criminals always sing ; and she kissed the hand that had held the axe, and went away across the heath. ' Now I have suffered pain enough for the red shoes/ said she. ' Now I will go into the church, that they may see me.' And she went quickly towards the church door ; but when she came there the red shoes danced before her, so that she was frightened, and turned back. The whole week through she was sorrowful, and wept many bitter tears ; but when Sunday came, she said, ' Now I have suffered and striven enough ! I think that I am just as good as many of those who sit in the church and carry their heads high.' And then she went boldly on ; but she did not get farther than the churchyard gate before she saw the red shoes dancing along before her : then she was seized with terror, and turned back, and repented of her sin right heartily. And she went to the parsonage, and begged to be taken there as a servant. She promised to be industrious, and to do all she could ; she did not care for wages, and only wished to be under a roof and with good people. The clergyman's wife pitied her, and took her into her service. And she was industrious and thoughtful. Silently she sat and listened when in the evening the pastor read the Bible aloud. All the little ones were very fond of her ; but when they spoke of dress and splendour and beauty she would shake her head. Next Sunday they all went to church, and she was asked if she wished to go too ; but she looked sadly, with tears in her eyes, at her crutches. And then the others went to hear God's Word ; but she went alone into her little room, which was only large enough to contain her bed and a chair. And here she sat with her hymn-book ; and as she read it with a pious mind, the wind bore the notes of the organ over to her from the church ; and she lifted up her face, wet with tears, and said, ' 0 Lord, help me ! ' Then the sun shone so brightly ; and before her stood the angel in white garments, the same she had seen that night at the church door. But he no longer grasped the sharp sword : he held a green branch covered with roses ; and he touched the ceiling, and it rose up high, and wherever he touched it a golden star gleamed forth ; and he touched the walls, and they spread forth widely, and she saw the organ which was pealing its rich sounds ; ajid she saw the old pictures of clergymen and their wives ; and the congregation sat in the decorated seats, and sang from their hymnbooks. The church had come to the poor girl in her narrow room, or her chamber had become a church. She sat in the pew with the rest of the clergyman's people ; and when they had finished the psalm, and looked up, they nodded and said, ' That was right, that you came here, Karen.' ' It was mercy ! ' said she. And the organ sounded its glorious notes ; and the children's voices singing in chorus sounded sweet and lovely ; the clear sunshine streamed so warm through the window upon the chair in which Karen sat ; and her heart became so filled with sunshine, peace, and joy, that it broke. Her soul flew on the sunbeams to heaven ; and there was nobody who asked after the RED SHOES.