The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Yellow Fairy Book, by Various

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Title: The Yellow Fairy Book

Author: Various

Editor: Andrew Lang

Release Date: August, 1996  [Etext #640]
Last Updated: December 16, 2016

Language: English

Character set encoding: UTF-8

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YELLOW FAIRY BOOK ***




Produced by David Widger and Charles Keller for Tina





THE YELLOW FAIRY BOOK

By Various

Edited By Andrew Lang



Dedication

TO

JOAN, TODDLES, AND TINY

 Books Yellow, Red, and Green and Blue,
 All true, or just as good as true,
 And here’s the Yellow Book for YOU!

 Hard is the path from A to Z,
 And puzzling to a curly head,
 Yet leads to Books--Green, Blue, and Red.

 For every child should understand
 That letters from the first were planned
 To guide us into Fairy Land

 So labour at your Alphabet,
 For by that learning shall you get
 To lands where Fairies may be met.

 And going where this pathway goes,
 You too, at last, may find, who knows?
 The Garden of the Singing Rose.




PREFACE

The Editor thinks that children will readily forgive him for publishing
another Fairy Book. We have had the Blue, the Red, the Green, and here
is the Yellow. If children are pleased, and they are so kind as to say
that they are pleased, the Editor does not care very much for what other
people may say. Now, there is one gentleman who seems to think that it
is not quite right to print so many fairy tales, with pictures, and to
publish them in red and blue covers. He is named Mr. G. Laurence Gomme,
and he is president of a learned body called the Folk Lore Society. Once
a year he makes his address to his subjects, of whom the Editor is one,
and Mr. Joseph Jacobs (who has published many delightful fairy tales
with pretty pictures)(1) is another. Fancy, then, the dismay of Mr.
Jacobs, and of the Editor, when they heard their president say that he
did not think it very nice in them to publish fairy books, above all,
red, green, and blue fairy books! They said that they did not see any
harm in it, and they were ready to ‘put themselves on their country,’
and be tried by a jury of children. And, indeed, they still see no harm
in what they have done; nay, like Father William in the poem, they are
ready ‘to do it again and again.’


(1) You may buy them from Mr. Nutt, in the Strand.


Where is the harm? The truth is that the Folk Lore Society--made up of
the most clever, learned, and beautiful men and women of the country--is
fond of studying the history and geography of Fairy Land. This is
contained in very old tales, such as country people tell, and savages:

     ‘Little Sioux and little Crow,
      Little frosty Eskimo.’


These people are thought to know most about fairyland and its
inhabitants. But, in the Yellow Fairy Book, and the rest, are many tales
by persons who are neither savages nor rustics, such as Madame D’Aulnoy
and Herr Hans Christian Andersen. The Folk Lore Society, or its
president, say that THEIR tales are not so true as the rest, and should
not be published with the rest. But WE say that all the stories which
are pleasant to read are quite true enough for us; so here they are,
with pictures by Mr. Ford, and we do not think that either the pictures
or the stories are likely to mislead children.

As to whether there are really any fairies or not, that is a difficult
question. Professor Huxley thinks there are none. The Editor never saw
any himself, but he knows several people who have seen them--in the
Highlands--and heard their music. If ever you are in Nether Lochaber,
go to the Fairy Hill, and you may hear the music yourself, as grown-up
people have done, but you must goon a fine day. Again, if there are
really no fairies, why do people believe in them, all over the world? The
ancient Greeks believed, so did the old Egyptians, and the Hindoos, and
the Red Indians, and is it likely, if there are no fairies, that so
many different peoples would have seen and heard them? The Rev. Mr.
Baring-Gould saw several fairies when he was a boy, and was travelling
in the land of the Troubadours. For these reasons, the Editor thinks
that there are certainly fairies, but they never do anyone any
harm; and, in England, they have been frightened away by smoke and
schoolmasters. As to Giants, they have died out, but real Dwarfs are
common in the forests of Africa. Probably a good many stories not
perfectly true have been told about fairies, but such stories have also
been told about Napoleon, Claverhouse, Julius Caesar, and Joan of Arc,
all of whom certainly existed. A wise child will, therefore, remember
that, if he grows up and becomes a member of the Folk Lore Society, ALL
the tales in this book were not offered to him as absolutely truthful,
but were printed merely for his entertainment. The exact facts he can
learn later, or he can leave them alone.


There are Russian, German, French, Icelandic, Red Indian, and other
stories here. They were translated by Miss Cheape, Miss Alma, and Miss
Thyra Alleyne, Miss Sellar, Mr. Craigie (he did the Icelandic tales),
Miss Blackley, Mrs. Dent, and Mrs. Lang, but the Red Indian stories
are copied from English versions published by the Smithsonian Bureau of
Ethnology, in America. Mr. Ford did the pictures, and it is hoped that
children will find the book not less pleasing than those which have
already been submitted to their consideration. The Editor cannot say
‘good-bye’ without advising them, as they pursue their studies, to read
The Rose and the Ring, by the late Mr. Thackeray, with pictures by
the author. This book he thinks quite indispensable in every child’s
library, and parents should be urged to purchase it at the first
opportunity, as without it no education is complete.

                                        A. LANG.


CONTENTS

     The Cat and the Mouse in Partnership
     The Six Swans
     The Dragon of the North
     Story of the Emperor’s New Clothes
     The Golden Crab
     The Iron Stove
     The Dragon and his Grandmother
     The Donkey Cabbage
     The Little Green Frog
     The Seven-headed Serpent
     The Grateful Beasts
     The Giants and the Herd-boy
     The Invisible Prince
     The Crow
     How Six Men travelled through the Wide World
     The Wizard King
     The Nixy
     The Glass Mountain
     Alphege, or the Green Monkey
     Fairer-than-a-Fairy
     The Three Brothers
     The Boy and the Wolves, or the Broken Promise
     The Glass Axe
     The Dead Wife
     In the Land of Souls
     The White Duck
     The Witch and her Servants
     The Magic Ring
     The Flower Queen’s Daughter
     The Flying Ship
     The Snow-daughter and the Fire-son
     The Story of King Frost
     The Death of the Sun-hero
     The Witch
     The Hazel-nut Child
     The Story of Big Klaus and Little Klaus
     Prince Ring
     The Swineherd
     How to tell a True Princess
     The Blue Mountains
     The Tinder-box
     The Witch in the Stone Boat
     Thumbelina
     The Nightingale
     Hermod and Hadvor
     The Steadfast Tin-soldier
     Blockhead Hans
     A Story about a Darning-needle





THE YELLOW FAIRY BOOK




THE CAT AND THE MOUSE IN PARTNERSHIP

A cat had made acquaintance with a mouse, and had spoken so much of
the great love and friendship she felt for her, that at last the Mouse
consented to live in the same house with her, and to go shares in the
housekeeping. ‘But we must provide for the winter or else we shall
suffer hunger,’ said the Cat. ‘You, little Mouse, cannot venture
everywhere in case you run at last into a trap.’ This good counsel was
followed, and a little pot of fat was bought. But they did not know
where to put it. At length, after long consultation, the Cat said, ‘I
know of no place where it could be better put than in the church. No one
will trouble to take it away from there. We will hide it in a corner,
and we won’t touch it till we are in want.’ So the little pot was placed
in safety; but it was not long before the Cat had a great longing for
it, and said to the Mouse, ‘I wanted to tell you, little Mouse, that my
cousin has a little son, white with brown spots, and she wants me to be
godmother to it. Let me go out to-day, and do you take care of the house
alone.’

‘Yes, go certainly,’ replied the Mouse, ‘and when you eat anything
good, think of me; I should very much like a drop of the red christening
wine.’

But it was all untrue. The Cat had no cousin, and had not been asked to
be godmother. She went straight to the church, slunk to the little pot
of fat, began to lick it, and licked the top off. Then she took a walk
on the roofs of the town, looked at the view, stretched herself out in
the sun, and licked her lips whenever she thought of the little pot of
fat. As soon as it was evening she went home again.

‘Ah, here you are again!’ said the Mouse; ‘you must certainly have had
an enjoyable day.’

‘It went off very well,’ answered the Cat.

‘What was the child’s name?’ asked the Mouse.

‘Top Off,’ said the Cat drily.

‘Topoff!’ echoed the Mouse, ‘it is indeed a wonderful and curious name.
Is it in your family?’

‘What is there odd about it?’ said the Cat. ‘It is not worse than
Breadthief, as your godchild is called.’

Not long after this another great longing came over the Cat. She said to
the Mouse, ‘You must again be kind enough to look after the house alone,
for I have been asked a second time to stand godmother, and as this
child has a white ring round its neck, I cannot refuse.’

The kind Mouse agreed, but the Cat slunk under the town wall to the
church, and ate up half of the pot of fat. ‘Nothing tastes better,’ said
she, ‘than what one eats by oneself,’ and she was very much pleased with
her day’s work. When she came home the Mouse asked, ‘What was this child
called?’

‘Half Gone,’ answered the Cat.

‘Halfgone! what a name! I have never heard it in my life. I don’t
believe it is in the calendar.’

Soon the Cat’s mouth began to water once more after her licking
business. ‘All good things in threes,’ she said to the Mouse; ‘I have
again to stand godmother. The child is quite black, and has very white
paws, but not a single white hair on its body. This only happens once in
two years, so you will let me go out?’

‘Topoff! Halfgone!’ repeated the Mouse, ‘they are such curious names;
they make me very thoughtful.’

‘Oh, you sit at home in your dark grey coat and your long tail,’ said
the Cat, ‘and you get fanciful. That comes of not going out in the day.’

The Mouse had a good cleaning out while the Cat was gone, and made the
house tidy; but the greedy Cat ate the fat every bit up.

‘When it is all gone one can be at rest,’ she said to herself, and at
night she came home sleek and satisfied. The Mouse asked at once after
the third child’s name.

‘It won’t please you any better,’ said the Cat, ‘he was called Clean
Gone.’

‘Cleangone!’ repeated the Mouse. ‘I do not believe that name has been
printed any more than the others. Cleangone! What can it mean?’ She
shook her head, curled herself up, and went to sleep.

From this time on no one asked the Cat to stand godmother; but when
the winter came and there was nothing to be got outside, the Mouse
remembered their provision and said, ‘Come, Cat, we will go to our pot
of fat which we have stored away; it will taste very good.’

‘Yes, indeed,’ answered the Cat; ‘it will taste as good to you as if
you stretched your thin tongue out of the window.’

They started off, and when they reached it they found the pot in its
place, but quite empty!

‘Ah,’ said the Mouse,’ ‘now I know what has happened! It has all come
out! You are a true friend to me! You have eaten it all when you stood
godmother; first the top off, then half of it gone, then----’

‘Will you be quiet!’ screamed the Cat. ‘Another word and I will eat you
up.’

‘Clean-gone’ was already on the poor Mouse’s tongue, and scarcely was it
out than the Cat made a spring at her, seized and swallowed her.

You see that is the way of the world.




THE SIX SWANS

A king was once hunting in a great wood, and he hunted the game so
eagerly that none of his courtiers could follow him. When evening came
on he stood still and looked round him, and he saw that he had quite
lost himself. He sought a way out, but could find none. Then he saw an
old woman with a shaking head coming towards him; but she was a witch.

‘Good woman,’ he said to her, ‘can you not show me the way out of the
wood?’

‘Oh, certainly, Sir King,’ she replied, ‘I can quite well do that, but
on one condition, which if you do not fulfil you will never get out of
the wood, and will die of hunger.’

‘What is the condition?’ asked the King.

‘I have a daughter,’ said the old woman, ‘who is so beautiful that she
has not her equal in the world, and is well fitted to be your wife; if
you will make her lady-queen I will show you the way out of the wood.’

The King in his anguish of mind consented, and the old woman led him
to her little house where her daughter was sitting by the fire. She
received the King as if she were expecting him, and he saw that she was
certainly very beautiful; but she did not please him, and he could not
look at her without a secret feeling of horror. As soon as he had lifted
the maiden on to his horse the old woman showed him the way, and the
King reached his palace, where the wedding was celebrated.

The King had already been married once, and had by his first wife seven
children, six boys and one girl, whom he loved more than anything in the
world. And now, because he was afraid that their stepmother might not
treat them well and might do them harm, he put them in a lonely castle
that stood in the middle of a wood. It lay so hidden, and the way to it
was so hard to find, that he himself could not have found it out had
not a wise-woman given him a reel of thread which possessed a marvellous
property: when he threw it before him it unwound itself and showed him
the way. But the King went so often to his dear children that the Queen
was offended at his absence. She grew curious, and wanted to know what
he had to do quite alone in the wood. She gave his servants a great deal
of money, and they betrayed the secret to her, and also told her of the
reel which alone could point out the way. She had no rest now till she
had found out where the King guarded the reel, and then she made some
little white shirts, and, as she had learnt from her witch-mother, sewed
an enchantment in each of them.

And when the King had ridden off she took the little shirts and went
into the wood, and the reel showed her the way. The children, who saw
someone coming in the distance, thought it was their dear father coming
to them, and sprang to meet him very joyfully. Then she threw over each
one a little shirt, which when it had touched their bodies changed them
into swans, and they flew away over the forest. The Queen went home
quite satisfied, and thought she had got rid of her step-children; but
the girl had not run to meet her with her brothers, and she knew nothing
of her.

The next day the King came to visit his children, but he found no one
but the girl.

‘Where are your brothers?’ asked the King.

‘Alas! dear father,’ she answered, ‘they have gone away and left me all
alone.’ And she told him that looking out of her little window she had
seen her brothers flying over the wood in the shape of swans, and she
showed him the feathers which they had let fall in the yard, and which
she had collected. The King mourned, but he did not think that the Queen
had done the wicked deed, and as he was afraid the maiden would also be
taken from him, he wanted to take her with him. But she was afraid of
the stepmother, and begged the King to let her stay just one night
more in the castle in the wood. The poor maiden thought, ‘My home is no
longer here; I will go and seek my brothers.’ And when night came she
fled away into the forest. She ran all through the night and the next
day, till she could go no farther for weariness. Then she saw a little
hut, went in, and found a room with six little beds. She was afraid to
lie down on one, so she crept under one of them, lay on the hard floor,
and was going to spend the night there. But when the sun had set she
heard a noise, and saw six swans flying in at the window. They stood on
the floor and blew at one another, and blew all their feathers off, and
their swan-skin came off like a shirt. Then the maiden recognised her
brothers, and overjoyed she crept out from under the bed. Her brothers
were not less delighted than she to see their little sister again, but
their joy did not last long.

‘You cannot stay here,’ they said to her. ‘This is a den of robbers; if
they were to come here and find you they would kill you.’

‘Could you not protect me?’ asked the little sister.

‘No,’ they answered, ‘for we can only lay aside our swan skins for a
quarter of an hour every evening. For this time we regain our human
forms, but then we are changed into swans again.’

Then the little sister cried and said, ‘Can you not be freed?’

‘Oh, no,’ they said, ‘the conditions are too hard. You must not speak or
laugh for six years, and must make in that time six shirts for us out of
star-flowers. If a single word comes out of your mouth, all your labour
is vain.’ And when the brothers had said this the quarter of an hour
came to an end, and they flew away out of the window as swans.

But the maiden had determined to free her brothers even if it should
cost her her life. She left the hut, went into the forest, climbed
a tree, and spent the night there. The next morning she went out,
collected star-flowers, and began to sew. She could speak to no one, and
she had no wish to laugh, so she sat there, looking only at her work.

When she had lived there some time, it happened that the King of the
country was hunting in the forest, and his hunters came to the tree on
which the maiden sat. They called to her and said ‘Who are you?’

But she gave no answer.

‘Come down to us,’ they said, ‘we will do you no harm.’

But she shook her head silently. As they pressed her further with
questions, she threw them the golden chain from her neck. But they did
not leave off, and she threw them her girdle, and when this was no use,
her garters, and then her dress. The huntsmen would not leave her alone,
but climbed the tree, lifted the maiden down, and led her to the King.
The King asked, ‘Who are you? What are you doing up that tree?’

But she answered nothing.

He asked her in all the languages he knew, but she remained as dumb as
a fish. Because she was so beautiful, however, the King’s heart was
touched, and he was seized with a great love for her. He wrapped her up
in his cloak, placed her before him on his horse, and brought her to his
castle. There he had her dressed in rich clothes, and her beauty shone
out as bright as day, but not a word could be drawn from her. He set her
at table by his side, and her modest ways and behaviour pleased him
so much that he said, ‘I will marry this maiden and none other in the
world,’ and after some days he married her. But the King had a wicked
mother who was displeased with the marriage, and said wicked things of
the young Queen. ‘Who knows who this girl is?’ she said; ‘she cannot
speak, and is not worthy of a king.’

After a year, when the Queen had her first child, the old mother took
it away from her. Then she went to the King and said that the Queen had
killed it. The King would not believe it, and would not allow any harm
to be done her. But she sat quietly sewing at the shirts and troubling
herself about nothing. The next time she had a child the wicked mother
did the same thing, but the King could not make up his mind to believe
her. He said, ‘She is too sweet and good to do such a thing as that.
If she were not dumb and could defend herself, her innocence would be
proved.’ But when the third child was taken away, and the Queen was
again accused, and could not utter a word in her own defence, the King
was obliged to give her over to the law, which decreed that she must
be burnt to death. When the day came on which the sentence was to be
executed, it was the last day of the six years in which she must not
speak or laugh, and now she had freed her dear brothers from the power
of the enchantment. The six shirts were done; there was only the left
sleeve wanting to the last.

When she was led to the stake, she laid the shirts on her arm, and as
she stood on the pile and the fire was about to be lighted, she looked
around her and saw six swans flying through the air. Then she knew
that her release was at hand and her heart danced for joy. The swans
fluttered round her, and hovered low so that she could throw the shirts
over them. When they had touched them the swan-skins fell off, and her
brothers stood before her living, well and beautiful. Only the youngest
had a swan’s wing instead of his left arm. They embraced and kissed
each other, and the Queen went to the King, who was standing by in great
astonishment, and began to speak to him, saying, ‘Dearest husband, now
I can speak and tell you openly that I am innocent and have been falsely
accused.’

She told him of the old woman’s deceit, and how she had taken the three
children away and hidden them. Then they were fetched, to the great joy
of the King, and the wicked mother came to no good end.

But the King and the Queen with their six brothers lived many years in
happiness and peace.




THE DRAGON OF THE NORTH(2)

(2) ‘Der Norlands Drache,’ from Esthnische Mahrchen. Kreutzwald.

Very long ago, as old people have told me, there lived a terrible
monster, who came out of the North, and laid waste whole tracts
of country, devouring both men and beasts; and this monster was so
destructive that it was feared that unless help came no living creature
would be left on the face of the earth. It had a body like an ox, and
legs like a frog, two short fore-legs, and two long ones behind, and
besides that it had a tail like a serpent, ten fathoms in length. When
it moved it jumped like a frog, and with every spring it covered half a
mile of ground. Fortunately its habit, was to remain for several years
in the same place, and not to move on till the whole neighbourhood was
eaten up. Nothing could hunt it, because its whole body was covered with
scales, which were harder than stone or metal; its two great eyes shone
by night, and even by day, like the brightest lamps, and anyone who had
the ill luck to look into those eyes became as it were bewitched, and
was obliged to rush of his own accord into the monster’s jaws. In this
way the Dragon was able to feed upon both men and beasts without the
least trouble to itself, as it needed not to move from the spot where it
was lying. All the neighbouring kings had offered rich rewards to
anyone who should be able to destroy the monster, either by force
or enchantment, and many had tried their luck, but all had miserably
failed. Once a great forest in which the Dragon lay had been set on
fire; the forest was burnt down, but the fire did not do the monster the
least harm. However, there was a tradition amongst the wise men of the
country that the Dragon might be overcome by one who possessed King
Solomon’s signet-ring, upon which a secret writing was engraved. This
inscription would enable anyone who was wise enough to interpret it to
find out how the Dragon could be destroyed. Only no one knew where the
ring was hidden, nor was there any sorcerer or learned man to be found
who would be able to explain the inscription.

At last a young man, with a good heart and plenty of courage, set out to
search for the ring. He took his way towards the sunrising, because he
knew that all the wisdom of old time comes from the East. After some
years he met with a famous Eastern magician, and asked for his advice in
the matter. The magician answered:

‘Mortal men have but little wisdom, and can give you no help, but the
birds of the air would be better guides to you if you could learn their
language. I can help you to understand it if you will stay with me a few
days.’

The youth thankfully accepted the magician’s offer, and said, ‘I cannot
now offer you any reward for your kindness, but should my undertaking
succeed your trouble shall be richly repaid.’

Then the magician brewed a powerful potion out of nine sorts of herbs
which he had gathered himself all alone by moonlight, and he gave the
youth nine spoonfuls of it daily for three days, which made him able to
understand the language of birds.

At parting the magician said to him. ‘If you ever find Solomon’s ring
and get possession of it, then come back to me, that I may explain the
inscription on the ring to you, for there is no one else in the world
who can do this.’

From that time the youth never felt lonely as he walked along; he always
had company, because he understood the language of birds; and in this
way he learned many things which mere human knowledge could never have
taught him. But time went on, and he heard nothing about the ring. It
happened one evening, when he was hot and tired with walking, and had
sat down under a tree in a forest to eat his supper, that he saw two
gaily-plumaged birds, that were strange to him, sitting at the top of
the tree talking to one another about him. The first bird said:

‘I know that wandering fool under the tree there, who has come so far
without finding what he seeks. He is trying to find King Solomon’s lost
ring.’

The other bird answered, ‘He will have to seek help from the
Witch-maiden,(3) who will doubtless be able to put him on the right
track. If she has not got the ring herself, she knows well enough who
has it.’

(3) Hollenmadchen.


‘But where is he to find the Witch-maiden?’ said the first bird. ‘She
has no settled dwelling, but is here to-day and gone to-morrow. He might
as well try to catch the wind.’

The other replied, ‘I do not know, certainly, where she is at present,
but in three nights from now she will come to the spring to wash her
face, as she does every month when the moon is full, in order that
she may never grow old nor wrinkled, but may always keep the bloom of
youth.’

‘Well,’ said the first bird, ‘the spring is not far from here. Shall we
go and see how it is she does it?’

‘Willingly, if you like,’ said the other.

The youth immediately resolved to follow the birds to the spring, only
two things made him uneasy: first, lest he might be asleep when the
birds went, and secondly, lest he might lose sight of them, since he had
not wings to carry him along so swiftly. He was too tired to keep awake
all night, yet his anxiety prevented him from sleeping soundly, and when
with the earliest dawn he looked up to the tree-top, he was glad to
see his feathered companions still asleep with their heads under their
wings. He ate his breakfast, and waited until the birds should start,
but they did not leave the place all day. They hopped about from one
tree to another looking for food, all day long until the evening, when
they went back to their old perch to sleep. The next day the same thing
happened, but on the third morning one bird said to the other, ‘To-day
we must go to the spring to see the Witch-maiden wash her face.’ They
remained on the tree till noon; then they flew away and went towards the
south. The young man’s heart beat with anxiety lest he should lose sight
of his guides, but he managed to keep the birds in view until they again
perched upon a tree. The young man ran after them until he was quite
exhausted and out of breath, and after three short rests the birds at
length reached a small open space in the forest, on the edge of which
they placed themselves on the top of a high tree. When the youth had
overtaken them, he saw that there was a clear spring in the middle of
the space. He sat down at the foot of the tree upon which the birds
were perched, and listened attentively to what they were saying to each
other.

‘The sun is not down yet,’ said the first bird; ‘we must wait yet awhile
till the moon rises and the maiden comes to the spring. Do you think she
will see that young man sitting under the tree?’

‘Nothing is likely to escape her eyes, certainly not a young man, said
the other bird. ‘Will the youth have the sense not to let himself be
caught in her toils?’

‘We will wait,’ said the first bird, ‘and see how they get on together.’

The evening light had quite faded, and the full moon was already shining
down upon the forest, when the young man heard a slight rustling sound.
After a few moments there came out of the forest a maiden, gliding over
the grass so lightly that her feet seemed scarcely to touch the ground,
and stood beside the spring. The youth could not turn away his eyes
from the maiden, for he had never in his life seen a woman so beautiful.
Without seeming to notice anything, she went to the spring, looked up
to the full moon, then knelt down and bathed her face nine times, then
looked up to the moon again and walked nine times round the well, and as
she walked she sang this song:

          ‘Full-faced moon with light unshaded,
           Let my beauty ne’er be faded.
            Never let my cheek grow pale!
        While the moon is waning nightly,
           May the maiden bloom more brightly,
           May her freshness never fail!’

Then she dried her face with her long hair, and was about to go away,
when her eye suddenly fell upon the spot where the young man was
sitting, and she turned towards the tree. The youth rose and stood
waiting. Then the maiden said, ‘You ought to have a heavy punishment
because you have presumed to watch my secret doings in the moonlight.
But I will forgive you this time, because you are a stranger and knew no
better. But you must tell me truly who you are and how you came to this
place, where no mortal has ever set foot before.’

The youth answered humbly: ‘Forgive me, beautiful maiden, if I have
unintentionally offended you. I chanced to come here after long
wandering, and found a good place to sleep under this tree. At your
coming I did not know what to do, but stayed where I was, because I
thought my silent watching could not offend you.’

The maiden answered kindly, ‘Come and spend this night with us. You will
sleep better on a pillow than on damp moss.’

The youth hesitated for a little, but presently he heard the birds
saying from the top of the tree, ‘Go where she calls you, but take care
to give no blood, or you will sell your soul.’ So the youth went with
her, and soon they reached a beautiful garden, where stood a splendid
house, which glittered in the moonlight as if it was all built out of
gold and silver. When the youth entered he found many splendid chambers,
each one finer than the last. Hundreds of tapers burnt upon golden
candlesticks, and shed a light like the brightest day. At length they
reached a chamber where a table was spread with the most costly dishes.
At the table were placed two chairs, one of silver, the other of gold.
The maiden seated herself upon the golden chair, and offered the silver
one to her companion. They were served by maidens dressed in white,
whose feet made no sound as they moved about, and not a word was spoken
during the meal. Afterwards the youth and the Witch-maiden conversed
pleasantly together, until a woman, dressed in red, came in to remind
them that it was bedtime. The youth was now shown into another room,
containing a silken bed with down cushions, where he slept delightfully,
yet he seemed to hear a voice near his bed which repeated to him,
‘Remember to give no blood!’

The next morning the maiden asked him whether he would not like to
stay with her always in this beautiful place, and as he did not answer
immediately, she continued: ‘You see how I always remain young and
beautiful, and I am under no one’s orders, but can do just what I like,
so that I have never thought of marrying before. But from the moment I
saw you I took a fancy to you, so if you agree, we might be married and
might live together like princes, because I have great riches.’

The youth could not but be tempted with the beautiful maiden’s offer,
but he remembered how the birds had called her the witch, and their
warning always sounded in his ears. Therefore he answered cautiously,
‘Do not be angry, dear maiden, if I do not decide immediately on this
important matter. Give me a few days to consider before we come to an
understanding.’

‘Why not?’ answered the maiden. ‘Take some weeks to consider if you
like, and take counsel with your own heart.’ And to make the time
pass pleasantly, she took the youth over every part of her beautiful
dwelling, and showed him all her splendid treasures. But these treasures
were all produced by enchantment, for the maiden could make anything she
wished appear by the help of King Solomon’s signet ring; only none of
these things remained fixed; they passed away like the wind without
leaving a trace behind. But the youth did not know this; he thought they
were all real.

One day the maiden took him into a secret chamber, where a little gold
box was standing on a silver table. Pointing to the box, she said, ‘Here
is my greatest treasure, whose like is not to be found in the whole
world. It is a precious gold ring. When you marry me, I will give you
this ring as a marriage gift, and it will make you the happiest of
mortal men. But in order that our love may last for ever, you must give
me for the ring three drops of blood from the little finger of your left
hand.’

When the youth heard these words a cold shudder ran over him, for he
remembered that his soul was at stake. He was cunning enough, however,
to conceal his feelings and to make no direct answer, but he only asked
the maiden, as if carelessly, what was remarkable about the ring?

She answered, ‘No mortal is able entirely to understand the power
of this ring, because no one thoroughly understands the secret signs
engraved upon it. But even with my half-knowledge I can work great
wonders. If I put the ring upon the little finger of my left hand, then
I can fly like a bird through the air wherever I wish to go. If I put
it on the third finger of my left hand I am invisible, and I can see
everything that passes around me, though no one can see me. If I put the
ring upon the middle finger of my left hand, then neither fire nor water
nor any sharp weapon can hurt me. If I put it on the forefinger of my
left hand, then I can with its help produce whatever I wish. I can in a
single moment build houses or anything I desire. Finally, as long as I
wear the ring on the thumb of my left hand, that hand is so strong that
it can break down rocks and walls. Besides these, the ring has other
secret signs which, as I said, no one can understand. No doubt it
contains secrets of great importance. The ring formerly belonged to King
Solomon, the wisest of kings, during whose reign the wisest men lived.
But it is not known whether this ring was ever made by mortal hands: it
is supposed that an angel gave it to the wise King.’

When the youth heard all this he determined to try and get possession of
the ring, though he did not quite believe in all its wonderful gifts.
He wished the maiden would let him have it in his hand, but he did not
quite like to ask her to do so, and after a while she put it back into
the box. A few days after they were again speaking of the magic ring,
and the youth said, ‘I do not think it possible that the ring can have
all the power you say it has.’

Then the maiden opened the box and took the ring out, and it glittered
as she held it like the clearest sunbeam. She put it on the middle
finger of her left hand, and told the youth to take a knife and try as
hard as he could to cut her with it, for he would not be able to hurt
her. He was unwilling at first, but the maiden insisted. Then he tried,
at first only in play, and then seriously, to strike her with the knife,
but an invisible wall of iron seemed to be between them, and the maiden
stood before him laughing and unhurt. Then she put the ring on her third
finger, and in an instant she had vanished from his eyes. Presently she
was beside him again laughing, and holding the ring between her fingers.

‘Do let me try,’ said the youth, ‘whether I can do these wonderful
things.’

The maiden, suspecting no treachery, gave him the magic ring.

The youth pretended to have forgotten what to do, and asked what finger
he must put the ring on so that no sharp weapon could hurt him?’

‘Oh, the middle finger of your left hand,’ the maiden answered,
laughing.

She took the knife and tried to strike the youth, and he even tried to
cut himself with it, but found it impossible. Then he asked the maiden
to show him how to split stones and rocks with the help of the ring. So
she led him into a courtyard where stood a great boulder-stone. ‘Now,’
she said, ‘put the ring upon the thumb of your left hand, and you will
see how strong that hand has become. The youth did so, and found to his
astonishment that with a single blow of his fist the stone flew into a
thousand pieces. Then the youth bethought him that he who does not use
his luck when he has it is a fool, and that this was a chance which once
lost might never return. So while they stood laughing at the shattered
stone he placed the ring, as if in play, upon the third finger of his
left hand.

‘Now,’ said the maiden, ‘you are invisible to me until you take the ring
off again.’

But the youth had no mind to do that; on the contrary, he went farther
off, then put the ring on the little finger of his left hand, and soared
into the air like a bird.

When the maiden saw him flying away she thought at first that he was
still in play, and cried, ‘Come back, friend, for now you see I have
told you the truth.’ But the young man never came back.

Then the maiden saw she was deceived, and bitterly repented that she had
ever trusted him with the ring.

The young man never halted in his flight until he reached the dwelling
of the wise magician who had taught him the speech of birds. The
magician was delighted to find that his search had been successful,
and at once set to work to interpret the secret signs engraved upon the
ring, but it took him seven weeks to make them out clearly. Then he gave
the youth the following instructions how to overcome the Dragon of the
North: ‘You must have an iron horse cast, which must have little wheels
under each foot. You must also be armed with a spear two fathoms long,
which you will be able to wield by means of the magic ring upon your
left thumb. The spear must be as thick in the middle as a large tree,
and both its ends must be sharp. In the middle of the spear you must
have two strong chains ten fathoms in length. As soon as the Dragon has
made himself fast to the spear, which you must thrust through his jaws,
you must spring quickly from the iron horse and fasten the ends of the
chains firmly to the ground with iron stakes, so that he cannot get away
from them. After two or three days the monster’s strength will be so
far exhausted that you will be able to come near him. Then you can put
Solomon’s ring upon your left thumb and give him the finishing stroke,
but keep the ring on your third finger until you have come close to him,
so that the monster cannot see you, else he might strike you dead with
his long tail. But when all is done, take care you do not lose the ring,
and that no one takes it from you by cunning.’

The young man thanked the magician for his directions, and promised,
should they succeed, to reward him. But the magician answered, ‘I have
profited so much by the wisdom the ring has taught me that I desire no
other reward.’ Then they parted, and the youth quickly flew home through
the air. After remaining in his own home for some weeks, he heard people
say that the terrible Dragon of the North was not far off, and might
shortly be expected in the country. The King announced publicly that
he would give his daughter in marriage, as well as a large part of his
kingdom, to whosoever should free the country from the monster. The
youth then went to the King and told him that he had good hopes of
subduing the Dragon, if the King would grant him all he desired for the
purpose. The King willingly agreed, and the iron horse, the great spear,
and the chains were all prepared as the youth requested. When all was
ready, it was found that the iron horse was so heavy that a hundred men
could not move it from the spot, so the youth found there was nothing
for it but to move it with his own strength by means of the magic ring.
The Dragon was now so near that in a couple of springs he would be over
the frontier. The youth now began to consider how he should act, for if
he had to push the iron horse from behind he could not ride upon it as
the sorcerer had said he must. But a raven unexpectedly gave him this
advice: ‘Ride upon the horse, and push the spear against the ground,
as if you were pushing off a boat from the land.’ The youth did so, and
found that in this way he could easily move forwards. The Dragon had his
monstrous jaws wide open, all ready for his expected prey. A few paces
nearer, and man and horse would have been swallowed up by them! The
youth trembled with horror, and his blood ran cold, yet he did not lose
his courage; but, holding the iron spear upright in his hand, he brought
it down with all his might right through the monster’s lower jaw. Then
quick as lightning he sprang from his horse before the Dragon had time
to shut his mouth. A fearful clap like thunder, which could be heard for
miles around, now warned him that the Dragon’s jaws had closed upon
the spear. When the youth turned round he saw the point of the spear
sticking up high above the Dragon’s upper jaw, and knew that the other
end must be fastened firmly to the ground; but the Dragon had got his
teeth fixed in the iron horse, which was now useless. The youth now
hastened to fasten down the chains to the ground by means of the
enormous iron pegs which he had provided. The death struggle of the
monster lasted three days and three nights; in his writhing he beat his
tail so violently against the ground, that at ten miles’ distance the
earth trembled as if with an earthquake. When he at length lost power to
move his tail, the youth with the help of the ring took up a stone which
twenty ordinary men could not have moved, and beat the Dragon so hard
about the head with it that very soon the monster lay lifeless before
him.

You can fancy how great was the rejoicing when the news was spread
abroad that the terrible monster was dead. His conqueror was received
into the city with as much pomp as if he had been the mightiest of
kings. The old King did not need to urge his daughter to marry the
slayer of the Dragon; he found her already willing to bestow her hand
upon this hero, who had done all alone what whole armies had tried in
vain to do. In a few days a magnificent wedding was celebrated, at which
the rejoicings lasted four whole weeks, for all the neighbouring kings
had met together to thank the man who had freed the world from their
common enemy. But everyone forgot amid the general joy that they ought
to have buried the Dragon’s monstrous body, for it began now to have
such a bad smell that no one could live in the neighbourhood, and
before long the whole air was poisoned, and a pestilence broke out
which destroyed many hundreds of people. In this distress, the King’s
son-in-law resolved to seek help once more from the Eastern magician, to
whom he at once travelled through the air like a bird by the help of
the ring. But there is a proverb which says that ill-gotten gains never
prosper, and the Prince found that the stolen ring brought him ill-luck
after all. The Witch-maiden had never rested night nor day until she had
found out where the ring was. As soon as she had discovered by means of
magical arts that the Prince in the form of a bird was on his way to the
Eastern magician, she changed herself into an eagle and watched in the
air until the bird she was waiting for came in sight, for she knew him
at once by the ring which was hung round his neck by a ribbon. Then the
eagle pounced upon the bird, and the moment she seized him in her talons
she tore the ring from his neck before the man in bird’s shape had time
to prevent her. Then the eagle flew down to the earth with her prey, and
the two stood face to face once more in human form.

‘Now, villain, you are in my power!’ cried the Witch-maiden. ‘I favoured
you with my love, and you repaid me with treachery and theft. You stole
my most precious jewel from me, and do you expect to live happily as the
King’s son-in-law? Now the tables are turned; you are in my power, and I
will be revenged on you for your crimes.’

‘Forgive me! forgive me!’ cried the Prince; ‘I know too well how deeply
I have wronged you, and most heartily do I repent it.’

The maiden answered, ‘Your prayers and your repentance come too late,
and if I were to spare you everyone would think me a fool. You have
doubly wronged me; first you scorned my love, and then you stole my
ring, and you must bear the punishment.’

With these words she put the ring upon her left thumb, lifted the young
man with one hand, and walked away with him under her arm. This time
she did not take him to a splendid palace, but to a deep cave in a rock,
where there were chains hanging from the wall. The maiden now chained
the young man’s hands and feet so that he could not escape; then she
said in an angry voice, ‘Here you shall remain chained up until you die.
I will bring you every day enough food to prevent you dying of hunger,
but you need never hope for freedom any more.’ With these words she left
him.

The old King and his daughter waited anxiously for many weeks for the
Prince’s return, but no news of him arrived. The King’s daughter often
dreamed that her husband was going through some great suffering: she
therefore begged her father to summon all the enchanters and magicians,
that they might try to find out where the Prince was and how he could
be set free. But the magicians, with all their arts, could find out
nothing, except that he was still living and undergoing great suffering;
but none could tell where he was to be found. At last a celebrated
magician from Finland was brought before the King, who had found out
that the King’s son-in-law was imprisoned in the East, not by men, but
by some more powerful being. The King now sent messengers to the East to
look for his son-in-law, and they by good luck met with the old magician
who had interpreted the signs on King Solomon’s ring, and thus was
possessed of more wisdom than anyone else in the world. The magician
soon found out what he wished to know, and pointed out the place where
the Prince was imprisoned, but said: ‘He is kept there by enchantment,
and cannot be set free without my help. I will therefore go with you
myself.’

So they all set out, guided by birds, and after some days came to the
cave where the unfortunate Prince had been chained up for nearly seven
years. He recognised the magician immediately, but the old man did not
know him, he had grown so thin. However, he undid the chains by the
help of magic, and took care of the Prince until he recovered and became
strong enough to travel. When he reached home he found that the old King
had died that morning, so that he was now raised to the throne. And now
after his long suffering came prosperity, which lasted to the end of his
life; but he never got back the magic ring, nor has it ever again been
seen by mortal eyes.

Now, if YOU had been the Prince, would you not rather have stayed with
the pretty witch-maiden?




STORY OF THE EMPEROR’S NEW CLOTHES(4)

(4) Andersen.

Many years ago there lived an Emperor who was so fond of new clothes
that he spent all his money on them in order to be beautifully dressed.
He did not care about his soldiers, he did not care about the theatre;
he only liked to go out walking to show off his new clothes. He had a
coat for every hour of the day; and just as they say of a king, ‘He is
in the council-chamber,’ they always said here, ‘The Emperor is in the
wardrobe.’

In the great city in which he lived there was always something going on;
every day many strangers came there. One day two impostors arrived
who gave themselves out as weavers, and said that they knew how to
manufacture the most beautiful cloth imaginable. Not only were the
texture and pattern uncommonly beautiful, but the clothes which were
made of the stuff possessed this wonderful property that they were
invisible to anyone who was not fit for his office, or who was
unpardonably stupid.

‘Those must indeed be splendid clothes,’ thought the Emperor. ‘If I
had them on I could find out which men in my kingdom are unfit for the
offices they hold; I could distinguish the wise from the stupid! Yes,
this cloth must be woven for me at once.’ And he gave both the impostors
much money, so that they might begin their work.

They placed two weaving-looms, and began to do as if they were working,
but they had not the least thing on the looms. They also demanded the
finest silk and the best gold, which they put in their pockets, and
worked at the empty looms till late into the night.

‘I should like very much to know how far they have got on with the
cloth,’ thought the Emperor. But he remembered when he thought about it
that whoever was stupid or not fit for his office would not be able
to see it. Now he certainly believed that he had nothing to fear for
himself, but he wanted first to send somebody else in order to see how
he stood with regard to his office. Everybody in the whole town knew
what a wonderful power the cloth had, and they were all curious to see
how bad or how stupid their neighbour was.

‘I will send my old and honoured minister to the weavers,’ thought
the Emperor. ‘He can judge best what the cloth is like, for he has
intellect, and no one understands his office better than he.’

Now the good old minister went into the hall where the two impostors sat
working at the empty weaving-looms. ‘Dear me!’ thought the old minister,
opening his eyes wide, ‘I can see nothing!’ But he did not say so.

Both the impostors begged him to be so kind as to step closer, and asked
him if it were not a beautiful texture and lovely colours. They pointed
to the empty loom, and the poor old minister went forward rubbing his
eyes; but he could see nothing, for there was nothing there.

‘Dear, dear!’ thought he, ‘can I be stupid? I have never thought that,
and nobody must know it! Can I be not fit for my office? No, I must
certainly not say that I cannot see the cloth!’

‘Have you nothing to say about it?’ asked one of the men who was
weaving.

‘Oh, it is lovely, most lovely!’ answered the old minister, looking
through his spectacles. ‘What a texture! What colours! Yes, I will tell
the Emperor that it pleases me very much.’

‘Now we are delighted at that,’ said both the weavers, and thereupon
they named the colours and explained the make of the texture.

The old minister paid great attention, so that he could tell the same to
the Emperor when he came back to him, which he did.

The impostors now wanted more money, more silk, and more gold to use in
their weaving. They put it all in their own pockets, and there came no
threads on the loom, but they went on as they had done before, working
at the empty loom. The Emperor soon sent another worthy statesman to
see how the weaving was getting on, and whether the cloth would soon
be finished. It was the same with him as the first one; he looked and
looked, but because there was nothing on the empty loom he could see
nothing.

‘Is it not a beautiful piece of cloth?’ asked the two impostors, and
they pointed to and described the splendid material which was not there.

‘Stupid I am not!’ thought the man, ‘so it must be my good office for
which I am not fitted. It is strange, certainly, but no one must be
allowed to notice it.’ And so he praised the cloth which he did not
see, and expressed to them his delight at the beautiful colours and the
splendid texture. ‘Yes, it is quite beautiful,’ he said to the Emperor.

Everybody in the town was talking of the magnificent cloth.

Now the Emperor wanted to see it himself while it was still on the
loom. With a great crowd of select followers, amongst whom were both
the worthy statesmen who had already been there before, he went to
the cunning impostors, who were now weaving with all their might, but
without fibre or thread.

‘Is it not splendid!’ said both the old statesmen who had already been
there. ‘See, your Majesty, what a texture! What colours!’ And then they
pointed to the empty loom, for they believed that the others could see
the cloth quite well.

‘What!’ thought the Emperor, ‘I can see nothing! This is indeed
horrible! Am I stupid? Am I not fit to be Emperor? That were the most
dreadful thing that could happen to me. Oh, it is very beautiful,’ he
said. ‘It has my gracious approval.’ And then he nodded pleasantly, and
examined the empty loom, for he would not say that he could see nothing.

His whole Court round him looked and looked, and saw no more than the
others; but they said like the Emperor, ‘Oh! it is beautiful!’ And they
advised him to wear these new and magnificent clothes for the first time
at the great procession which was soon to take place. ‘Splendid! Lovely!
Most beautiful!’ went from mouth to mouth; everyone seemed delighted
over them, and the Emperor gave to the impostors the title of Court
weavers to the Emperor.

Throughout the whole of the night before the morning on which the
procession was to take place, the impostors were up and were working by
the light of over sixteen candles. The people could see that they were
very busy making the Emperor’s new clothes ready. They pretended they
were taking the cloth from the loom, cut with huge scissors in the
air, sewed with needles without thread, and then said at last, ‘Now the
clothes are finished!’

The Emperor came himself with his most distinguished knights, and each
impostor held up his arm just as if he were holding something, and said,
‘See! here are the breeches! Here is the coat! Here the cloak!’ and so
on.

‘Spun clothes are so comfortable that one would imagine one had nothing
on at all; but that is the beauty of it!’

‘Yes,’ said all the knights, but they could see nothing, for there was
nothing there.

‘Will it please your Majesty graciously to take off your clothes,’ said
the impostors, ‘then we will put on the new clothes, here before the
mirror.’

The Emperor took off all his clothes, and the impostors placed
themselves before him as if they were putting on each part of his new
clothes which was ready, and the Emperor turned and bent himself in
front of the mirror.

‘How beautifully they fit! How well they sit!’ said everybody. ‘What
material! What colours! It is a gorgeous suit!’

‘They are waiting outside with the canopy which your Majesty is wont
to have borne over you in the procession,’ announced the Master of the
Ceremonies.

‘Look, I am ready,’ said the Emperor. ‘Doesn’t it sit well!’ And he
turned himself again to the mirror to see if his finery was on all
right.

The chamberlains who were used to carry the train put their hands near
the floor as if they were lifting up the train; then they did as if they
were holding something in the air. They would not have it noticed that
they could see nothing.

So the Emperor went along in the procession under the splendid canopy,
and all the people in the streets and at the windows said, ‘How
matchless are the Emperor’s new clothes! That train fastened to his
dress, how beautifully it hangs!’

No one wished it to be noticed that he could see nothing, for then he
would have been unfit for his office, or else very stupid. None of the
Emperor’s clothes had met with such approval as these had.

‘But he has nothing on!’ said a little child at last.

‘Just listen to the innocent child!’ said the father, and each one
whispered to his neighbour what the child had said.

‘But he has nothing on!’ the whole of the people called out at last.

This struck the Emperor, for it seemed to him as if they were right; but
he thought to himself, ‘I must go on with the procession now. And the
chamberlains walked along still more uprightly, holding up the train
which was not there at all.




THE GOLDEN CRAB(5)

(5) ‘Prinz Krebs,’ from Griechische Mahrchen. Schmidt.

Once upon a time there was a fisherman who had a wife and three
children. Every morning he used to go out fishing, and whatever fish he
caught he sold to the King. One day, among the other fishes, he caught
a golden crab. When he came home he put all the fishes together into
a great dish, but he kept the Crab separate because it shone so
beautifully, and placed it upon a high shelf in the cupboard. Now while
the old woman, his wife, was cleaning the fish, and had tucked up her
gown so that her feet were visible, she suddenly heard a voice, which
said:

          ‘Let down, let down thy petticoat
           That lets thy feet be seen.’

She turned round in surprise, and then she saw the little creature, the
Golden Crab.

‘What! You can speak, can you, you ridiculous crab?’ she said, for she
was not quite pleased at the Crab’s remarks. Then she took him up and
placed him on a dish.

When her husband came home and they sat down to dinner, they presently
heard the Crab’s little voice saying, ‘Give me some too.’ They were all
very much surprised, but they gave him something to eat. When the old
man came to take away the plate which had contained the Crab’s dinner,
he found it full of gold, and as the same thing happened every day he
soon became very fond of the Crab.

One day the Crab said to the fisherman’s wife, ‘Go to the King and tell
him I wish to marry his younger daughter.’

The old woman went accordingly, and laid the matter before the King, who
laughed a little at the notion of his daughter marrying a crab, but did
not decline the proposal altogether, because he was a prudent monarch,
and knew that the Crab was likely to be a prince in disguise. He said,
therefore, to the fisherman’s wife, ‘Go, old woman, and tell the Crab I
will give him my daughter if by to-morrow morning he can build a wall in
front of my castle much higher than my tower, upon which all the flowers
of the world must grow and bloom.’

The fisherman’s wife went home and gave this message.

Then the Crab gave her a golden rod, and said, ‘Go and strike with this
rod three times upon the ground on the place which the King showed you,
and to-morrow morning the wall will be there.’

The old woman did so and went away again.

The next morning, when the King awoke, what do you think he saw? The
wall stood there before his eyes, exactly as he had bespoken it!

Then the old woman went back to the King and said to him, ‘Your
Majesty’s orders have been fulfilled.’

‘That is all very well,’ said the King, ‘but I cannot give away my
daughter until there stands in front of my palace a garden in which
there are three fountains, of which the first must play gold, the second
diamonds, and the third brilliants.’

So the old woman had to strike again three times upon the ground with
the rod, and the next morning the garden was there. The King now gave
his consent, and the wedding was fixed for the very next day.

Then the Crab said to the old fisherman, ‘Now take this rod; go and
knock with it on a certain mountain; then a black man(6) will come out
and ask you what you wish for. Answer him thus: ‘’Your master, the King,
has sent me to tell you that you must send him his golden garment that
is like the sun.’’ Make him give you, besides, the queenly robes of gold
and precious stones which are like the flowery meadows, and bring them
both to me. And bring me also the golden cushion.’

(6) Ein Mohr.


The old man went and did his errand. When he had brought the precious
robes, the Crab put on the golden garment and then crept upon the golden
cushion, and in this way the fisherman carried him to the castle, where
the Crab presented the other garment to his bride. Now the ceremony
took place, and when the married pair were alone together the Crab made
himself known to his young wife, and told her how he was the son of the
greatest king in the world, and how he was enchanted, so that he became
a crab by day and was a man only at night; and he could also change
himself into an eagle as often as he wished. No sooner had he said this
than he shook himself, and immediately became a handsome youth, but the
next morning he was forced to creep back again into his crab-shell. And
the same thing happened every day. But the Princess’s affection for the
Crab, and the polite attention with which she behaved to him, surprised
the royal family very much. They suspected some secret, but though they
spied and spied, they could not discover it. Thus a year passed away,
and the Princess had a son, whom she called Benjamin. But her mother
still thought the whole matter very strange. At last she said to the
King that he ought to ask his daughter whether she would not like to
have another husband instead of the Crab? But when the daughter was
questioned she only answered:

‘I am married to the Crab, and him only will I have.’

Then the King said to her, ‘I will appoint a tournament in your honour,
and I will invite all the princes in the world to it, and if any one of
them pleases you, you shall marry him.’

In the evening the Princess told this to the Crab, who said to her,
‘Take this rod, go to the garden gate and knock with it, then a black
man will come out and say to you, ‘’Why have you called me, and what do
you require of me?’’ Answer him thus: ‘Your master the King has sent me
hither to tell you to send him his golden armour and his steed and the
silver apple.’’ And bring them to me.’

The Princess did so, and brought him what he desired.

The following evening the Prince dressed himself for the tournament.
Before he went he said to his wife, ‘Now mind you do not say when you
see me that I am the Crab. For if you do this evil will come of it.
Place yourself at the window with your sisters; I will ride by and throw
you the silver apple. Take it in your hand, but if they ask you who I
am, say that you do not know.’ So saying, he kissed her, repeated his
warning once more, and went away.

The Princess went with her sisters to the window and looked on at the
tournament. Presently her husband rode by and threw the apple up to her.
She caught it in her hand and went with it to her room, and by-and-by
her husband came back to her. But her father was much surprised that she
did not seem to care about any of the Princes; he therefore appointed a
second tournament.

The Crab then gave his wife the same directions as before, only this
time the apple which she received from the black man was of gold. But
before the Prince went to the tournament he said to his wife, ‘Now I
know you will betray me to-day.’

But she swore to him that she would not tell who he was. He then
repeated his warning and went away.

In the evening, while the Princess, with her mother and sisters, was
standing at the window, the Prince suddenly galloped past on his steed
and threw her the golden apple.

Then her mother flew into a passion, gave her a box on the ear, and
cried out, ‘Does not even that prince please you, you fool?’

The Princess in her fright exclaimed, ‘That is the Crab himself!’

Her mother was still more angry because she had not been told sooner,
ran into her daughter’s room where the crab-shell was still lying, took
it up and threw it into the fire. Then the poor Princess cried bitterly,
but it was of no use; her husband did not come back.

Now we must leave the Princess and turn to the other persons in the
story. One day an old man went to a stream to dip in a crust of bread
which he was going to eat, when a dog came out of the water, snatched
the bread from his hand, and ran away. The old man ran after him,
but the dog reached a door, pushed it open, and ran in, the old man
following him. He did not overtake the dog, but found himself above a
staircase, which he descended. Then he saw before him a stately palace,
and, entering, he found in a large hall a table set for twelve persons.
He hid himself in the hall behind a great picture, that he might see
what would happen. At noon he heard a great noise, so that he trembled
with fear. When he took courage to look out from behind the picture,
he saw twelve eagles flying in. At this sight his fear became still
greater. The eagles flew to the basin of a fountain that was there and
bathed themselves, when suddenly they were changed into twelve handsome
youths. Now they seated themselves at the table, and one of them took
up a goblet filled with wine, and said, ‘A health to my father!’ And
another said, ‘A health to my mother!’ and so the healths went round.
Then one of them said:

     ‘A health to my dearest lady,
           Long may she live and well!
       But a curse on the cruel mother
           That burnt my golden shell!’

And so saying he wept bitterly. Then the youths rose from the table,
went back to the great stone fountain, turned themselves into eagles
again, and flew away.

Then the old man went away too, returned to the light of day, and went
home. Soon after he heard that the Princess was ill, and that the only
thing that did her good was having stories told to her. He therefore
went to the royal castle, obtained an audience of the Princess, and told
her about the strange things he had seen in the underground palace. No
sooner had he finished than the Princess asked him whether he could find
the way to that palace.

‘Yes,’ he answered, ‘certainly.’

And now she desired him to guide her thither at once. The old man did
so, and when they came to the palace he hid her behind the great picture
and advised her to keep quite still, and he placed himself behind
the picture also. Presently the eagles came flying in, and changed
themselves into young men, and in a moment the Princess recognised her
husband amongst them all, and tried to come out of her hiding-place; but
the old man held her back. The youths seated themselves at the table;
and now the Prince said again, while he took up the cup of wine:

     ‘A health to my dearest lady,
           Long may she live and well!
       But a curse on the cruel mother
           That burnt my golden shell!’

Then the Princess could restrain herself no longer, but ran forward and
threw her arms round her husband. And immediately he knew her again, and
said:

‘Do you remember how I told you that day that you would betray me?
Now you see that I spoke the truth. But all that bad time is past. Now
listen to me: I must still remain enchanted for three months. Will you
stay here with me till that time is over?’

So the Princess stayed with him, and said to the old man, ‘Go back to
the castle and tell my parents that I am staying here.’

Her parents were very much vexed when the old man came back and told
them this, but as soon as the three months of the Prince’s enchantment
were over, he ceased to be an eagle and became once more a man, and they
returned home together. And then they lived happily, and we who hear the
story are happier still.




THE IRON STOVE(7)

(7) Grimm.

Once upon a time when wishes came true there was a king’s son who was
enchanted by an old witch, so that he was obliged to sit in a large iron
stove in a wood. There he lived for many years, and no one could free
him. At last a king’s daughter came into the wood; she had lost her way,
and could not find her father’s kingdom again. She had been wandering
round and round for nine days, and she came at last to the iron case. A
voice came from within and asked her, ‘Where do you come from, and where
do you want to go?’ She answered, ‘I have lost my way to my father’s
kingdom, and I shall never get home again.’ Then the voice from the iron
stove said, ‘I will help you to find your home again, and that in a very
short time, if you will promise to do what I ask you. I am a greater
prince than you are a princess, and I will marry you.’ Then she grew
frightened, and thought, ‘What can a young lassie do with an iron
stove?’ But as she wanted very much to go home to her father, she
promised to do what he wished.

He said, ‘You must come again, and bring a knife with you to scrape a
hole in the iron.’

Then he gave her someone for a guide, who walked near her and said
nothing, but he brought her in two hours to her house. There was great
joy in the castle when the Princess came back, and the old King fell on
her neck and kissed her. But she was very much troubled, and said, ‘Dear
father, listen to what has befallen me! I should never have come home
again out of the great wild wood if I had not come to an iron stove,
to whom I have had to promise that I will go back to free him and marry
him!’ The old King was so frightened that he nearly fainted, for she was
his only daughter. So they consulted together, and determined that the
miller’s daughter, who was very beautiful, should take her place. They
took her there, gave her a knife, and said she must scrape at the iron
stove. She scraped for twenty-four hours, but did not make the least
impression. When the day broke, a voice called from the iron stove, ‘It
seems to me that it is day outside.’ Then she answered, ‘It seems so to
me; I think I hear my father’s mill rattling.’

‘So you are a miller’s daughter! Then go away at once, and tell the
King’s daughter to come.’

Then she went away, and told the old King that the thing inside the
iron stove would not have her, but wanted the Princess. The old King was
frightened, and his daughter wept. But they had a swineherd’s daughter
who was even more beautiful than the miller’s daughter, and they gave
her a piece of gold to go to the iron stove instead of the Princess.
Then she was taken out, and had to scrape for four-and-twenty hours, but
she could make no impression. As soon as the day broke the voice from
the stove called out, ‘It seems to be daylight outside.’ Then she
answered, ‘It seems so to me too; I think I hear my father blowing his
horn.’ ‘So you are a swineherd’s daughter! Go away at once, and let the
King’s daughter come. And say to her that what I foretell shall come to
pass, and if she does not come everything in the kingdom shall fall into
ruin, and not one stone shall be left upon another.’ When the Princess
heard this she began to cry, but it was no good; she had to keep her
word. She took leave of her father, put a knife in her belt, and went
to the iron stove in the wood. As soon as she reached it she began to
scrape, and the iron gave way and before two hours had passed she had
made a little hole. Then she peeped in and saw such a beautiful youth
all shining with gold and precious stones that she fell in love with him
on the spot. So she scraped away harder than ever, and made the hole
so large that he could get out. Then he said, ‘You are mine, and I am
thine; you are my bride and have set me free!’ He wanted to take her
with him to his kingdom, but she begged him just to let her go once more
to her father; and the Prince let her go, but told her not to say more
than three words to her father, then to come back again. So she went
home, but alas! she said MORE THAN THREE WORDS; and immediately the iron
stove vanished and went away over a mountain of glass and sharp swords.
But the Prince was free, and was no longer shut up in it. Then she said
good-bye to her father, and took a little money with her, and went again
into the great wood to look for the iron stove; but she could not find
it. She sought it for nine days, and then her hunger became so great
that she did not know how she could live any longer. And when it was
evening she climbed a little tree and wished that the night would not
come, because she was afraid of the wild beasts. When midnight came she
saw afar off a little light, and thought, ‘Ah! if only I could reach
that!’ Then she got down from the tree and went towards the light. She
came to a little old house with a great deal of grass growing round, and
stood in front of a little heap of wood. She thought, ‘Alas! what am I
coming to?’ and peeped through the window; but she saw nothing inside
except big and little toads, and a table beautifully spread with roast
meats and wine, and all the dishes and drinking-cups were of silver.
Then she took heart and knocked. Then a fat toad called out:

          ‘Little green toad with leg like crook,
           Open wide the door, and look
           Who it was the latch that shook.’

And a little toad came forward and let her in. When she entered they
all bid her welcome, and made her sit down. They asked her how she came
there and what she wanted. Then she told everything that had happened
to her, and how, because she had exceeded her permission only to speak
three words, the stove had disappeared with the Prince; and how she had
searched a very long time, and must wander over mountain and valley till
she found him.

Then the old toad said:

          ‘Little green toad whose leg doth twist,
           Go to the corner of which you wist,
           And bring to me the large old kist.’

And the little toad went and brought out a great chest. Then they gave
her food and drink, and led her to a beautifully made bed of silk and
samite, on which she lay down and slept soundly. When the day dawned she
arose, and the old toad gave her three things out of the huge chest to
take with her. She would have need of them, for she had to cross a high
glass mountain, three cutting swords, and a great lake. When she had
passed these she would find her lover again. So she was given three
large needles, a plough-wheel, and three nuts, which she was to take
great care of. She set out with these things, and when she came to the
glass mountain which was so slippery she stuck the three needles behind
her feet and then in front, and so got over it, and when she was on the
other side put them carefully away.

Then she reached the three cutting swords, and got on her plough-wheel
and rolled over them. At last she came to a great lake, and, when she
had crossed that, arrived at a beautiful castle. She went in and gave
herself out as a servant, a poor maid who would gladly be engaged. But
she knew that the Prince whom she had freed from the iron stove in the
great wood was in the castle. So she was taken on as a kitchen-maid for
very small wages. Now the Prince was about to marry another princess,
for he thought she was dead long ago.

In the evening, when she had washed up and was ready, she felt in her
pocket and found the three nuts which the old toad had given her. She
cracked one and was going to eat the kernel, when behold! there was a
beautiful royal dress inside it! When the bride heard of this, she came
and begged for the dress, and wanted to buy it, saying that it was not a
dress for a serving-maid. Then she said she would not sell it unless she
was granted one favour--namely, to sleep by the Prince’s door. The bride
granted her this, because the dress was so beautiful and she had so few
like it. When it was evening she said to her bridegroom, ‘That stupid
maid wants to sleep by your door.’

‘If you are contented, I am,’ he said. But she gave him a glass of wine
in which she had poured a sleeping-draught. Then they both went to his
room, but he slept so soundly that she could not wake him. The maid wept
all night long, and said, ‘I freed you in the wild wood out of the iron
stove; I have sought you, and have crossed a glassy mountain, three
sharp swords, and a great lake before I found you, and will you not hear
me now?’ The servants outside heard how she cried the whole night, and
they told their master in the morning.

When she had washed up the next evening she bit the second nut, and
there was a still more beautiful dress inside. When the bride saw it she
wanted to buy it also. But the maid did not want money, and asked that
she should sleep again by the Prince’s door. The bride, however, gave
him a sleeping-draught, and he slept so soundly that he heard nothing.
But the kitchen-maid wept the whole night long, and said, ‘I have freed
you in a wood and from an iron stove; I sought you and have crossed a
glassy mountain, three sharp swords, and a great lake to find you, and
now you will not hear me!’ The servants outside heard how she cried the
whole night, and in the morning they told their master.

And when she had washed up on the third night she bit the third nut,
and there was a still more beautiful dress inside that was made of pure
gold. When the bride saw it she wanted to have it, but the maid would
only give it her on condition that she should sleep for the third
time by the Prince’s door. But the Prince took care not to drink
the sleeping-draught. When she began to weep and to say, ‘Dearest
sweetheart, I freed you in the horrible wild wood, and from an iron
stove,’ he jumped up and said, ‘You are right. You are mine, and I am
thine.’ Though it was still night, he got into a carriage with her, and
they took the false bride’s clothes away, so that she could not follow
them. When they came to the great lake they rowed across, and when they
reached the three sharp swords they sat on the plough-wheel, and on the
glassy mountain they stuck the three needles in. So they arrived at last
at the little old house, but when they stepped inside it turned into
a large castle. The toads were all freed, and were beautiful King’s
children, running about for joy. There they were married, and they
remained in the castle, which was much larger than that of the
Princess’s father’s. But because the old man did not like being left
alone, they went and fetched him. So they had two kingdoms and lived in
great wealth.

          A mouse has run,
           My story’s done.




THE DRAGON AND HIS GRANDMOTHER

There was once a great war, and the King had a great many soldiers, but
he gave them so little pay that they could not live upon it. Then three
of them took counsel together and determined to desert.

One of them said to the others, ‘If we are caught, we shall be hanged
on the gallows; how shall we set about it?’ The other said, ‘Do you see
that large cornfield there? If we were to hide ourselves in that, no
one could find us. The army cannot come into it, and to-morrow it is to
march on.’

They crept into the corn, but the army did not march on, but remained
encamped close around them. They sat for two days and two nights in
the corn, and grew so hungry that they nearly died; but if they were to
venture out, it was certain death.

They said at last, ‘What use was it our deserting? We must perish here
miserably.’

Whilst they were speaking a fiery dragon came flying through the air. It
hovered near them, and asked why they were hidden there.

They answered, ‘We are three soldiers, and have deserted because our pay
was so small. Now if we remain here we shall die of hunger, and if we
move out we shall be strung up on the gallows.’

‘If you will serve me for seven years,’ said the dragon, I will lead you
through the midst of the army so that no one shall catch you.’ ‘We have
no choice, and must take your offer,’ said they. Then the dragon seized
them in his claws, took them through the air over the army, and set them
down on the earth a long way from it.

He gave them a little whip, saying, ‘Whip and slash with this, and as
much money as you want will jump up before you. You can then live as
great lords, keep horses, and drive about in carriages. But after seven
years you are mine.’ Then he put a book before them, which he made all
three of them sign. ‘I will then give you a riddle,’ he said; ‘if you
guess it, you shall be free and out of my power.’ The dragon then flew
away, and they journeyed on with their little whip. They had as much
money as they wanted, wore grand clothes, and made their way into the
world. Wherever they went they lived in merrymaking and splendour, drove
about with horses and carriages, ate and drank, but did nothing wrong.

The time passed quickly away, and when the seven years were nearly ended
two of them grew terribly anxious and frightened, but the third
made light of it, saying, ‘Don’t be afraid, brothers, I wasn’t born
yesterday; I will guess the riddle.’

They went into a field, sat down, and the two pulled long faces. An old
woman passed by, and asked them why they were so sad. ‘Alas! what have
you to do with it? You cannot help us.’ ‘Who knows?’ she answered. ‘Only
confide your trouble in me.’

Then they told her that they had become the servants of the Dragon for
seven long years, and how he had given them money as plentifully as
blackberries; but as they had signed their names they were his, unless
when the seven years had passed they could guess a riddle. The old woman
said, ‘If you would help yourselves, one of you must go into the wood,
and there he will come upon a tumble-down building of rocks which looks
like a little house. He must go in, and there he will find help.’

The two melancholy ones thought, ‘That won’t save us!’ and they remained
where they were. But the third and merry one jumped up and went into the
wood till he found the rock hut. In the hut sat a very old woman, who
was the Dragon’s grandmother. She asked him how he came, and what was
his business there. He told her all that happened, and because she was
pleased with him she took compassion on him, and said she would help
him.

She lifted up a large stone which lay over the cellar, saying, ‘Hide
yourself there; you can hear all that is spoken in this room. Only sit
still and don’t stir. When the Dragon comes, I will ask him what the
riddle is, for he tells me everything; then listen carefully what he
answers.’

At midnight the Dragon flew in, and asked for his supper. His
grandmother laid the table, and brought out food and drink till he was
satisfied, and they ate and drank together. Then in the course of the
conversation she asked him what he had done in the day, and how many
souls he had conquered.

‘I haven’t had much luck to-day,’ he said, ‘but I have a tight hold on
three soldiers.’

‘Indeed! three soldiers!’ said she. ‘Who cannot escape you?’

‘They are mine,’ answered the Dragon scornfully, ‘for I shall only give
them one riddle which they will never be able to guess.’

‘What sort of a riddle is it?’ she asked.

‘I will tell you this. In the North Sea lies a dead sea-cat--that shall
be their roast meat; and the rib of a whale--that shall be their
silver spoon; and the hollow foot of a dead horse--that shall be their
wineglass.’

When the Dragon had gone to bed, his old grandmother pulled up the stone
and let out the soldier.

‘Did you pay attention to everything?’

‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘I know enough, and can help myself splendidly.’

Then he went by another way through the window secretly, and in all
haste back to his comrades. He told them how the Dragon had been
outwitted by his grandmother, and how he had heard from his own lips the
answer to the riddle.

Then they were all delighted and in high spirits, took out their whip,
and cracked so much money that it came jumping up from the ground.
When the seven years had quite gone, the Fiend came with his book, and,
pointing at the signatures, said, ‘I will take you underground with me;
you shall have a meal there. If you can tell me what you will get for
your roast meat, you shall be free, and shall also keep the whip.’

Then said the first soldier, ‘In the North Sea lies a dead sea-cat; that
shall be the roast meat.’

The Dragon was much annoyed, and hummed and hawed a good deal, and asked
the second, ‘But what shall be your spoon?’

‘The rib of a whale shall be our silver spoon.’

The Dragon-made a face, and growled again three times, ‘Hum, hum, hum,’
and said to the third, ‘Do you know what your wineglass shall be?’

‘An old horse’s hoof shall be our wineglass.’

Then the Dragon flew away with a loud shriek, and had no more power over
them. But the three soldiers took the little whip, whipped as much money
as they wanted, and lived happily to their lives end.



THE DONKEY CABBAGE

There was once a young Hunter who went boldly into the forest. He had a
merry and light heart, and as he went whistling along there came an ugly
old woman, who said to him, ‘Good-day, dear hunter! You are very merry
and contented, but I suffer hunger and thirst, so give me a trifle.’ The
Hunter was sorry for the poor old woman, and he felt in his pocket and
gave her all he could spare. He was going on then, but the old woman
stopped him and said, ‘Listen, dear hunter, to what I say. Because of
your kind heart I will make you a present. Go on your way, and in a
short time you will come to a tree on which sit nine birds who have a
cloak in their claws and are quarrelling over it. Then take aim with
your gun and shoot in the middle of them; they will let the cloak fall,
but one of the birds will be hit and will drop down dead. Take the cloak
with you; it is a wishing-cloak, and when you throw it on your shoulders
you have only to wish yourself at a certain place, and in the twinkling
of an eye you are there. Take the heart out of the dead bird and swallow
it whole, and early every morning when you get up you will find a gold
piece under your pillow.’

The Hunter thanked the wise woman, and thought to himself ‘These are
splendid things she has promised me, if only they come to pass!’ So
he walked on about a hundred yards, and then he heard above him in the
branches such a screaming and chirping that he looked up, and there
he saw a heap of birds tearing a cloth with their beaks and feet,
shrieking, tugging, and fighting, as if each wanted it for himself.
‘Well,’ said the Hunter, ‘this is wonderful! It is just as the old woman
said’; and he took his gun on his shoulder, pulled the trigger, and
shot into the midst of them, so that their feathers flew about. Then the
flock took flight with much screaming, but one fell dead, and the cloak
fluttered down. Then the Hunter did as the old woman had told him: he
cut open the bird, found its heart, swallowed it, and took the cloak
home with him. The next morning when he awoke he remembered the promise,
and wanted to see if it had come true. But when he lifted up his pillow,
there sparkled the gold piece, and the next morning he found another,
and so on every time he got up. He collected a heap of gold, but at
last he thought to himself, ‘What good is all my gold to me if I stay
at home? I will travel and look a bit about me in the world.’ So he took
leave of his parents, slung his hunting knapsack and his gun round him,
and journeyed into the world.

It happened that one day he went through a thick wood, and when he came
to the end of it there lay in the plain before him a large castle. At
one of the windows in it stood an old woman with a most beautiful maiden
by her side, looking out. But the old woman was a witch, and she said to
the girl, ‘There comes one out of the wood who has a wonderful treasure
in his body which we must manage to possess ourselves of, darling
daughter; we have more right to it than he. He has a bird’s heart in
him, and so every morning there lies a gold piece under his pillow.’

She told her how they could get hold of it, and how she was to coax it
from him, and at last threatened her angrily, saying, ‘And if you do not
obey me, you shall repent it!’

When the Hunter came nearer he saw the maiden, and said to himself, ‘I
have travelled so far now that I will rest, and turn into this beautiful
castle; money I have in plenty.’ But the real reason was that he had
caught sight of the lovely face.

He went into the house, and was kindly received and hospitably
entertained. It was not long before he was so much in love with the
witch-maiden that he thought of nothing else, and only looked in her
eyes, and whatever she wanted, that he gladly did. Then the old witch
said, ‘Now we must have the bird-heart; he will not feel when it is
gone.’ She prepared a drink, and when it was ready she poured it in a
goblet and gave it to the maiden, who had to hand it to the hunter.

‘Drink to me now, my dearest,’ she said. Then he took the goblet, and
when he had swallowed the drink the bird-heart came out of his mouth.
The maiden had to get hold of it secretly and then swallow it herself,
for the old witch wanted to have it. Thenceforward he found no more gold
under his pillow, and it lay under the maiden’s; but he was so much in
love and so much bewitched that he thought of nothing except spending
all his time with the maiden.

Then the old witch said, ‘We have the bird-heart, but we must also get
the wishing-cloak from him.’

The maiden answered, ‘We will leave him that; he has already lost his
wealth!’

The old witch grew angry, and said, ‘Such a cloak is a wonderful thing,
it is seldom to be had in the world, and have it I must and will.’ She
beat the maiden, and said that if she did not obey it would go ill with
her.

So she did her mother’s bidding, and, standing one day by the window,
she looked away into the far distance as if she were very sad.

‘Why are you standing there looking so sad?’ asked the Hunter.

‘Alas, my love,’ she replied, ‘over there lies the granite mountain
where the costly precious stones grow. I have a great longing to go
there, so that when I think of it I am very sad. For who can fetch them?
Only the birds who fly; a man, never.’

‘If you have no other trouble,’ said the Hunter, ‘that one I can easily
remove from your heart.’

So he wrapped her round in his cloak and wished themselves to the
granite mountain, and in an instant there they were, sitting on it! The
precious stones sparkled so brightly on all sides that it was a pleasure
to see them, and they collected the most beautiful and costly together.
But now the old witch had through her caused the Hunter’s eyes to become
heavy.

He said to the maiden, ‘We will sit down for a little while and rest; I
am so tired that I can hardly stand on my feet.’

So they sat down, and he laid his head on her lap and fell asleep. As
soon as he was sound asleep she unfastened the cloak from his shoulders,
threw it on her own, left the granite and stones, and wished herself
home again.

But when the Hunter had finished his sleep and awoke, he found that his
love had betrayed him and left him alone on the wild mountain. ‘Oh,’
said he, ‘why is faithlessness so great in the world?’ and he sat down
in sorrow and trouble, not knowing what to do.

But the mountain belonged to fierce and huge giants, who lived on it
and traded there, and he had not sat long before he saw three of them
striding towards him. So he lay down as if he had fallen into a deep
sleep.

The giants came up, and the first pushed him with his foot, and said,
‘What sort of an earthworm is that?’

The second said, ‘Crush him dead.’

But the third said contemptuously, ‘It is not worth the trouble! Let him
live; he cannot remain here, and if he goes higher up the mountain the
clouds will take him and carry him off.’

Talking thus they went away. But the Hunter had listened to their talk,
and as soon as they had gone he rose and climbed to the summit. When he
had sat there a little while a cloud swept by, and, seizing him, carried
him away. It travelled for a time in the sky, and then it sank down and
hovered over a large vegetable garden surrounded by walls, so that he
came safely to the ground amidst cabbages and vegetables. The Hunter
then looked about him, saying, ‘If only I had something to eat! I am so
hungry, and it will go badly with me in the future, for I see here
not an apple or pear or fruit of any kind--nothing but vegetables
everywhere.’ At last he thought, ‘At a pinch I can eat a salad; it does
not taste particularly nice, but it will refresh me.’ So he looked about
for a good head and ate it, but no sooner had he swallowed a couple
of mouthfuls than he felt very strange, and found himself wonderfully
changed. Four legs began to grow on him, a thick head, and two long
ears, and he saw with horror that he had changed into a donkey. But as
he was still very hungry and this juicy salad tasted very good to his
present nature, he went on eating with a still greater appetite. At last
he got hold of another kind of cabbage, but scarcely had swallowed it
when he felt another change, and he once more regained his human form.

The Hunter now lay down and slept off his weariness. When he awoke
the next morning he broke off a head of the bad and a head of the good
cabbage, thinking, ‘This will help me to regain my own, and to punish
faithlessness.’ Then he put the heads in his pockets, climbed the wall,
and started off to seek the castle of his love. When he had wandered
about for a couple of days he found it quite easily. He then browned his
face quickly, so that his own mother would not have known him, and went
into the castle, where he begged for a lodging.

‘I am so tired,’ he said, ‘I can go no farther.’

The witch asked, ‘Countryman, who are you, and what is your business?’

He answered, ‘I am a messenger of the King, and have been sent to seek
the finest salad that grows under the sun. I have been so lucky as to
find it, and am bringing it with me; but the heat of the sun is so great
that the tender cabbage threatens to grow soft, and I do not know if I
shall be able to bring it any farther.’

When the old witch heard of the fine salad she wanted to eat it, and
said, ‘Dear countryman, just let me taste the wonderful salad.’

‘Why not?’ he answered; ‘I have brought two heads with me, and will give
you one.’

So saying, he opened his sack and gave her the bad one. The witch
suspected no evil, and her mouth watered to taste the new dish, so that
she went into the kitchen to prepare it herself. When it was ready she
could not wait till it was served at the table, but she immediately took
a couple of leaves and put them in her mouth. No sooner, however, had
she swallowed them than she lost human form, and ran into the courtyard
in the shape of a donkey.

Now the servant came into the kitchen, and when she saw the salad
standing there ready cooked she was about to carry it up, but on the
way, according to her old habit, she tasted it and ate a couple of
leaves. Immediately the charm worked, and she became a donkey, and ran
out to join the old witch, and the dish with the salad in it fell to
the ground. In the meantime, the messenger was sitting with the lovely
maiden, and as no one came with the salad, and she wanted very much to
taste it, she said, ‘I don’t know where the salad is.’

Then thought the Hunter, ‘The cabbage must have already begun to work.’
And he said, ‘I will go to the kitchen and fetch it myself.’

When he came there he saw the two donkeys running about in the
courtyard, but the salad was lying on the ground.

‘That’s all right,’ said he; ‘two have had their share!’ And lifting the
remaining leaves up, he laid them on the dish and brought them to the
maiden.

‘I am bringing you the delicious food my own self,’ he said, ‘so that
you need not wait any longer.’

Then she ate, and, as the others had done, she at once lost her human
form, and ran as a donkey into the yard.

When the Hunter had washed his face, so that the changed ones might know
him, he went into the yard, saying, ‘Now you shall receive a reward for
your faithlessness.’

He tied them all three with a rope, and drove them away till he came to
a mill. He knocked at the window, and the miller put his head out and
asked what he wanted.

‘I have three tiresome animals,’ he answered, ‘which I don’t want to
keep any longer. If you will take them, give them food and stabling, and
do as I tell you with them, I will pay you as much as you want.’

The miller replied, ‘Why not? What shall I do with them?’

Then the Hunter said that to the old donkey, which was the witch, three
beatings and one meal; to the younger one, which was the servant, one
beating and three meals; and to the youngest one, which was the maiden,
no beating and three meals; for he could not find it in his heart to let
the maiden be beaten.

Then he went back into the castle, and he found there all that he
wanted. After a couple of days the miller came and said that he must
tell him that the old donkey which was to have three beatings and only
one meal had died. ‘The two others,’ he added, ‘are certainly not dead,
and get their three meals every day, but they are so sad that they
cannot last much longer.’

Then the Hunter took pity on them, laid aside his anger, and told the
miller to drive them back again. And when they came he gave them some
of the good cabbage to eat, so that they became human again. Then the
beautiful maiden fell on her knees before him, saying, ‘Oh, my dearest,
forgive me the ill I have done you! My mother compelled me to do it;
it was against my will, for I love you dearly. Your wishing-cloak is
hanging in a cupboard, and as for the bird-heart I will make a drink and
give it back to you.’

But he changed his mind, and said, ‘Keep it; it makes no difference, for
I will take you to be my own dear true wife.’

And the wedding was celebrated, and they lived happy together till
death.




 THE LITTLE GREEN FROG(8)

(8) Cabinet des Fees.

In a part of the world whose name I forget lived once upon a time two
kings, called Peridor and Diamantino. They were cousins as well as
neighbours, and both were under the protection of the fairies; though it
is only fair to say that the fairies did not love them half so well as
their wives did.

Now it often happens that as princes can generally manage to get their
own way it is harder for them to be good than it is for common people.
So it was with Peridor and Diamantino; but of the two, the fairies
declared that Diamantino was much the worst; indeed, he behaved so badly
to his wife Aglantino, that the fairies would not allow him to live any
longer; and he died, leaving behind him a little daughter. As she was an
only child, of course this little girl was the heiress of the kingdom,
but, being still only a baby, her mother, the widow of Diamantino, was
proclaimed regent. The Queen-dowager was wise and good, and tried her
best to make her people happy. The only thing she had to vex her was
the absence of her daughter; for the fairies, for reasons of their own,
determined to bring up the little Princess Serpentine among themselves.

As to the other King, he was really fond of his wife, Queen Constance,
but he often grieved her by his thoughtless ways, and in order to punish
him for his carelessness, the fairies caused her to die quite suddenly.
When she was gone the King felt how much he had loved her, and his grief
was so great (though he never neglected his duties) that his subjects
called him Peridor the Sorrowful. It seems hardly possible that any
man should live like Peridor for fifteen years plunged in such depth of
grief, and most likely he would have died too if it had not been for the
fairies.

The one comfort the poor King had was his son, Prince Saphir, who was
only three years old at the time of his mother’s death, and great care
was given to his education. By the time he was fifteen Saphir had learnt
everything that a prince should know, and he was, besides, charming and
agreeable.

It was about this time that the fairies suddenly took fright lest his
love for his father should interfere with the plans they had made for
the young prince. So, to prevent this, they placed in a pretty little
room of which Saphir was very fond a little mirror in a black frame,
such as were often brought from Venice. The Prince did not notice
for some days that there was anything new in the room, but at last
he perceived it, and went up to look at it more closely. What was his
surprise to see reflected in the mirror, not his own face, but that of
a young girl as lovely as the morning! And, better still, every movement
of the girl, just growing out of childhood, was also reflected in the
wonderful glass.

As might have been expected, the young Prince lost his heart completely
to the beautiful image, and it was impossible to get him out of the
room, so busy was he in watching the lovely unknown. Certainly it was
very delightful to be able to see her whom he loved at any moment he
chose, but his spirits sometimes sank when he wondered what was to be
the end of this adventure.

The magic mirror had been for about a year in the Prince’s possession,
when one day a new subject of disquiet seized upon him. As usual, he was
engaged in looking at the girl, when suddenly he thought he saw a second
mirror reflected in the first, exactly like his own, and with the same
power. And in this he was perfectly right. The young girl had only
possessed it for a short time, and neglected all her duties for the sake
of the mirror. Now it was not difficult for Saphir to guess the reason
of the change in her, nor why the new mirror was consulted so often;
but try as he would he could never see the face of the person who was
reflected in it, for the young girl’s figure always came between. All he
knew was that the face was that of a man, and this was quite enough to
make him madly jealous. This was the doing of the fairies, and we must
suppose that they had their reasons for acting as they did.

When these things happened Saphir was about eighteen years old, and
fifteen years had passed away since the death of his mother. King
Peridor had grown more and more unhappy as time went on, and at last he
fell so ill that it seemed as if his days were numbered. He was so much
beloved by his subjects that this sad news was heard with despair by the
nation, and more than all by the Prince.

During his whole illness the King never spoke of anything but the Queen,
his sorrow at having grieved her, and his hope of one day seeing her
again. All the doctors and all the water-cures in the kingdom had been
tried, and nothing would do him any good. At last he persuaded them to
let him lie quietly in his room, where no one came to trouble him.

Perhaps the worst pain he had to bear was a sort of weight on his chest,
which made it very hard for him to breathe. So he commanded his servants
to leave the windows open in order that he might get more air. One day,
when he had been left alone for a few minutes, a bird with brilliant
plumage came and fluttered round the window, and finally rested on the
sill. His feathers were sky-blue and gold, his feet and his beak of such
glittering rubies that no one could bear to look at them, his eyes made
the brightest diamonds look dull, and on his head he wore a crown. I
cannot tell you what the crown was made of, but I am quite certain that
it was still more splendid than all the rest. As to his voice I can
say nothing about that, for the bird never sang at all. In fact, he did
nothing but gaze steadily at the King, and as he gazed, the King felt
his strength come back to him. In a little while the bird flew into the
room, still with his eyes fixed on the King, and at every glance the
strength of the sick man became greater, till he was once more as well
as he used to be before the Queen died. Filled with joy at his cure,
he tried to seize the bird to whom he owed it all, but, swifter than a
swallow, it managed to avoid him. In vain he described the bird to
his attendants, who rushed at his first call; in vain they sought the
wonderful creature both on horse and foot, and summoned the fowlers to
their aid: the bird could nowhere be found. The love the people bore
King Peridor was so strong, and the reward he promised was so large,
that in the twinkling of an eye every man, woman, and child had fled
into the fields, and the towns were quite empty.

All this bustle, however, ended in nothing but confusion, and, what
was worse, the King soon fell back into the same condition as he was in
before. Prince Saphir, who loved his father very dearly, was so unhappy
at this that he persuaded himself that he might succeed where the others
had failed, and at once prepared himself for a more distant search.
In spite of the opposition he met with, he rode away, followed by his
household, trusting to chance to help him. He had formed no plan, and
there was no reason that he should choose one path more than another.
His only idea was to make straight for those spots which were the
favourite haunts of birds. But in vain he examined all the hedges and
all the thickets; in vain he questioned everyone he met along the road.
The more he sought the less he found.

At last he came to one of the largest forests in all the world, composed
entirely of cedars. But in spite of the deep shadows cast by the
wide-spreading branches of the trees, the grass underneath was soft and
green, and covered with the rarest flowers. It seemed to Saphir that
this was exactly the place where the birds would choose to live, and
he determined not to quit the wood until he had examined it from end to
end. And he did more. He ordered some nets to be prepared and painted of
the same colours as the bird’s plumage, thinking that we are all easily
caught by what is like ourselves. In this he had to help him not only
the fowlers by profession, but also his attendants, who excelled in this
art. For a man is not a courtier unless he can do everything.

After searching as usual for nearly a whole day Prince Saphir began
to feel overcome with thirst. He was too tired to go any farther,
when happily he discovered a little way off a bubbling fountain of the
clearest water. Being an experienced traveller, he drew from his pocket
a little cup (without which no one should ever take a journey), and was
just about to dip it in the water, when a lovely little green frog,
much prettier than frogs generally are, jumped into the cup. Far from
admiring its beauty, Saphir shook it impatiently off; but it was no
good, for quick as lightning the frog jumped back again. Saphir, who was
raging with thirst, was just about to shake it off anew, when the little
creature fixed upon him the most beautiful eyes in the world, and said,
‘I am a friend of the bird you are seeking, and when you have quenched
your thirst listen to me.’

So the Prince drank his fill, and then, by the command of the Little
Green Frog, he lay down on the grass to rest himself.

‘Now,’ she began, ‘be sure you do exactly in every respect what I tell
you. First you must call together your attendants, and order them to
remain in a little hamlet close by until you want them. Then go, quite
alone, down a road that you will find on your right hand, looking
southwards. This road is planted all the way with cedars of Lebanon; and
after going down it a long way you will come at last to a magnificent
castle. And now,’ she went on, ‘attend carefully to what I am going to
say. Take this tiny grain of sand, and put it into the ground as close
as you can to the gate of the castle. It has the virtue both of opening
the gate and also of sending to sleep all the inhabitants. Then go at
once to the stable, and pay no heed to anything except what I tell you.
Choose the handsomest of all the horses, leap quickly on its back, and
come to me as fast as you can. Farewell, Prince; I wish you good
luck,’ and with these words the Little Frog plunged into the water and
disappeared.

The Prince, who felt more hopeful than he had done since he left home,
did precisely as he had been ordered. He left his attendants in the
hamlet, found the road the frog had described to him, and followed it
all alone, and at last he arrived at the gate of the castle, which was
even more splendid than he had expected, for it was built of crystal,
and all its ornaments were of massive gold. However, he had no thoughts
to spare for its beauty, and quickly buried his grain of sand in the
earth. In one instant the gates flew open, and all the dwellers inside
fell sound asleep. Saphir flew straight to the stable, and already had
his hand on the finest horse it contained, when his eye was caught by
a suit of magnificent harness hanging up close by. It occurred to
him directly that the harness belonged to the horse, and without ever
thinking of harm (for indeed he who steals a horse can hardly be blamed
for taking his saddle), he hastily placed it on the animal’s back.
Suddenly the people in the castle became broad awake, and rushed to the
stable. They flung themselves on the Prince, seized him, and dragged him
before their lord; but, luckily for the Prince, who could only find very
lame excuses for his conduct, the lord of the castle took a fancy to his
face, and let him depart without further questions.

Very sad, and very much ashamed of himself poor Saphir crept back to the
fountain, where the Frog was awaiting him with a good scolding.

‘Whom do you take me for?’ she exclaimed angrily. ‘Do you really believe
that it was just for the pleasure of talking that I gave you the advice
you have neglected so abominably?’

But the Prince was so deeply grieved, and apologised so very humbly,
that after some time the heart of the good little Frog was softened, and
she gave him another tiny little grain, but instead of being sand it was
now a grain of gold. She directed him to do just as he had done before,
with only this difference, that instead of going to the stable which
had been the ruin of his hopes, he was to enter right into the castle
itself, and to glide as fast as he could down the passages till he came
to a room filled with perfume, where he would find a beautiful maiden
asleep on a bed. He was to wake the maiden instantly and carry her off,
and to be sure not to pay any heed to whatever resistance she might
make.

The Prince obeyed the Frog’s orders one by one, and all went well for
this second time also. The gate opened, the inhabitants fell sound
asleep, and he walked down the passage till he found the girl on her
bed, exactly as he had been told he would. He woke her, and begged her
firmly, but politely, to follow him quickly. After a little persuasion
the maiden consented, but only on condition that she was allowed first
to put on her dress. This sounded so reasonable and natural that it did
not enter the Prince’s head to refuse her request.

But the maiden’s hand had hardly touched the dress when the palace
suddenly awoke from its sleep, and the Prince was seized and bound. He
was so vexed with his own folly, and so taken aback at the disaster,
that he did not attempt to explain his conduct, and things would have
gone badly with him if his friends the fairies had not softened the
hearts of his captors, so that they once more allowed him to leave
quietly. However, what troubled him most was the idea of having to meet
the Frog who had been his benefactress. How was he ever to appear before
her with this tale? Still, after a long struggle with himself, he made
up his mind that there was nothing else to be done, and that he deserved
whatever she might say to him. And she said a great deal, for she had
worked herself into a terrible passion; but the Prince humbly implored
her pardon, and ventured to point out that it would have been very hard
to refuse the young lady’s reasonable request. ‘You must learn to do as
you are told,’ was all the Frog would reply.

But poor Saphir was so unhappy, and begged so hard for forgiveness, that
at last the Frog’s anger gave way, and she held up to him a tiny diamond
stone. ‘Go back,’ she said, ‘to the castle, and bury this little diamond
close to the door. But be careful not to return to the stable or to the
bedroom; they have proved too fatal to you. Walk straight to the garden
and enter through a portico, into a small green wood, in the midst of
which is a tree with a trunk of gold and leaves of emeralds. Perched on
this tree you will see the beautiful bird you have been seeking so long.
You must cut the branch on which it is sitting, and bring it back to
me without delay. But I warn you solemnly that if you disobey my
directions, as you have done twice before, you have nothing more to
expect either of me or anyone else.’

With these words she jumped into the water, and the Prince, who had
taken her threats much to heart, took his departure, firmly resolved not
to deserve them. He found it all just as he had been told: the portico,
the wood, the magnificent tree, and the beautiful bird, which was
sleeping soundly on one of the branches. He speedily lopped off the
branch, and though he noticed a splendid golden cage hanging close by,
which would have been very useful for the bird to travel in, he left it
alone, and came back to the fountain, holding his breath and walking on
tip-toe all the way, for fear lest he should awake his prize. But what
was his surprise, when instead of finding the fountain in the spot where
he had left it, he saw in its place a little rustic palace built in
the best taste, and standing in the doorway a charming maiden, at whose
sight his mind seemed to give way.

‘What! Madam!’ he cried, hardly knowing what he said. ‘What! Is it you?’

The maiden blushed and answered: ‘Ah, my lord, it is long since I first
beheld your face, but I did not think you had ever seen mine.’

‘Oh, madam,’ replied he, ‘you can never guess the days and the hours I
have passed lost in admiration of you.’ And after these words they each
related all the strange things that had happened, and the more they
talked the more they felt convinced of the truth of the images they
had seen in their mirrors. After some time spent in the most tender
conversation, the Prince could not restrain himself from asking the
lovely unknown by what lucky chance she was wandering in the forest;
where the fountain had gone; and if she knew anything of the Frog to
whom he owed all his happiness, and to whom he must give up the bird,
which, somehow or other, was still sound asleep.

‘Ah, my lord,’ she replied, with rather an awkward air, ‘as to the Frog,
she stands before you. Let me tell you my story; it is not a long one. I
know neither my country nor my parents, and the only thing I can say for
certain is that I am called Serpentine. The fairies, who have taken
care of me ever since I was born, wished me to be in ignorance as to my
family, but they have looked after my education, and have bestowed on me
endless kindness. I have always lived in seclusion, and for the last two
years I have wished for nothing better. I had a mirror’--here shyness
and embarrassment choked her words--but regaining her self-control,
she added, ‘You know that fairies insist on being obeyed without
questioning. It was they who changed the little house you saw before you
into the fountain for which you are now asking, and, having turned me
into a frog, they ordered me to say to the first person who came to the
fountain exactly what I repeated to you. But, my lord, when you stood
before me, it was agony to my heart, filled as it was with thoughts of
you, to appear to your eyes under so monstrous a form. However, there
was no help for it, and, painful as it was, I had to submit. I desired
your success with all my soul, not only for your own sake, but also for
my own, because I could not get back my proper shape till you had become
master of the beautiful bird, though I am quite ignorant as to your
reason for seeking it.’

On this Saphir explained about the state of his father’s health, and all
that has been told before.

On hearing this story Serpentine grew very sad, and her lovely eyes
filled with tears.

‘Ah, my lord,’ she said, ‘you know nothing of me but what you have seen
in the mirror; and I, who cannot even name my parents, learn that you
are a king’s son.’

In vain Saphir declared that love made them equal; Serpentine would only
reply: ‘I love you too much to allow you to marry beneath your rank. I
shall be very unhappy, of course, but I shall never alter my mind. If
I do not find from the fairies that my birth is worthy of you, then,
whatever be my feelings, I will never accept your hand.’

The conversation was at this point, and bid fair to last some time
longer, when one of the fairies appeared in her ivory car, accompanied
by a beautiful woman past her early youth. At this moment the bird
suddenly awakened, and, flying on to Saphir’s shoulder (which it never
afterwards left), began fondling him as well as a bird can do. The fairy
told Serpentine that she was quite satisfied with her conduct, and made
herself very agreeable to Saphir, whom she presented to the lady she had
brought with her, explaining that the lady was no other than his Aunt
Aglantine, widow of Diamantino.

Then they all fell into each other’s arms, till the fairy mounted her
chariot, placed Aglantine by her side, and Saphir and Serpentine on the
front seat. She also sent a message to the Prince’s attendants that
they might travel slowly back to the Court of King Peridor, and that
the beautiful bird had really been found. This matter being comfortably
arranged, she started off her chariot. But in spite of the swiftness
with which they flew through the air, the time passed even quicker for
Saphir and Serpentine, who had so much to think about.

They were still quite confused with the pleasure of seeing each other,
when the chariot arrived at King Peridor’s palace. He had had himself
carried to a room on the roof, where his nurses thought that he would
die at any moment. Directly the chariot drew within sight of the castle
the beautiful bird took flight, and, making straight for the dying King,
at once cured him of his sickness. Then she resumed her natural shape,
and he found that the bird was no other than the Queen Constance, whom
he had long believed to be dead. Peridor was rejoiced to embrace his
wife and his son once more, and with the help of the fairies began to
make preparations for the marriage of Saphir and Serpentine, who turned
out to be the daughter of Aglantine and Diamantino, and as much a
princess as he was a prince. The people of the kingdom were delighted,
and everybody lived happy and contented to the end of their lives.




 THE SEVEN-HEADED SERPENT(9)

(9) ‘Die Siebenkopfige Schlange,’ from Schmidt’s Griechische Mahrchen.

Once upon a time there was a king who determined to take a long voyage.
He assembled his fleet and all the seamen, and set out. They went
straight on night and day, until they came to an island which was
covered with large trees, and under every tree lay a lion. As soon as
the King had landed his men, the lions all rose up together and tried
to devour them. After a long battle they managed to overcome the
wild beasts, but the greater number of the men were killed. Those who
remained alive now went on through the forest and found on the other
side of it a beautiful garden, in which all the plants of the world
flourished together.

There were also in the garden three springs: the first flowed with
silver, the second with gold, and the third with pearls. The men
unbuckled their knapsacks and filled them with those precious things. In
the middle of the garden they found a large lake, and when they reached
the edge of it the Lake began to speak, and said to them, ‘What men are
you, and what brings you here? Are you come to visit our king?’ But they
were too much frightened to answer.

Then the Lake said, ‘You do well to be afraid, for it is at your peril
that you are come hither. Our king, who has seven heads, is now asleep,
but in a few minutes he will wake up and come to me to take his bath!
Woe to anyone who meets him in the garden, for it is impossible to
escape from him. This is what you must do if you wish to save your
lives. Take off your clothes and spread them on the path which leads
from here to the castle. The King will then glide over something soft,
which he likes very much, and he will be so pleased with that that he
will not devour you. He will give you some punishment, but then he will
let you go.’

The men did as the Lake advised them, and waited for a time. At noon the
earth began to quake, and opened in many places, and out of the openings
appeared lions, tigers, and other wild beasts, which surrounded the
castle, and thousands and thousands of beasts came out of the castle
following their king, the Seven-headed Serpent. The Serpent glided over
the clothes which were spread for him, came to the Lake, and asked it
who had strewed those soft things on the path? The Lake answered that
it had been done by people who had come to do him homage. The King
commanded that the men should be brought before him. They came humbly on
their knees, and in a few words told him their story. Then he spoke to
them with a mighty and terrible voice, and said, ‘Because you have dared
to come here, I lay upon you the punishment. Every year you must bring
me from among your people twelve youths and twelve maidens, that I may
devour them. If you do not do this, I will destroy your whole nation.’

Then he desired one of his beasts to show the men the way out of the
garden, and dismissed them. They then left the island and went back to
their own country, where they related what had happened to them. Soon
the time came round when the king of the beasts would expect the
youths and maidens to be brought to him. The King therefore issued
a proclamation inviting twelve youths and twelve maidens to offer
themselves up to save their country; and immediately many young people,
far more than enough, hastened to do so. A new ship was built, and set
with black sails, and in it the youths and maidens who were appointed
for the king of the beasts embarked and set out for his country. When
they arrived there they went at once to the Lake, and this time the
lions did not stir, nor did the springs flow, and neither did the Lake
speak. So they waited then, and it was not long before the earth quaked
even more terribly than the first time. The Seven-headed Serpent came
without his train of beasts, saw his prey waiting for him, and devoured
it at one mouthful. Then the ship’s crew returned home, and the same
thing happened yearly until many years had passed.

Now the King of this unhappy country was growing old, and so was the
Queen, and they had no children. One day the Queen was sitting at the
window weeping bitterly because she was childless, and knew that the
crown would therefore pass to strangers after the King’s death. Suddenly
a little old woman appeared before her, holding an apple in her hand,
and said, ‘Why do you weep, my Queen, and what makes you so unhappy?’

‘Alas, good mother,’ answered the Queen, ‘I am unhappy because I have no
children.’

‘Is that what vexes you?’ said the old woman. ‘Listen to me. I am a nun
from the Spinning Convent,(10) and my mother when she died left me this
apple. Whoever eats this apple shall have a child.’

(10) Convent Gnothi.


The Queen gave money to the old woman, and bought the apple from her.
Then she peeled it, ate it, and threw the rind out of the window, and it
so happened that a mare that was running loose in the court below ate up
the rind. After a time the Queen had a little boy, and the mare also had
a male foal. The boy and the foal grew up together and loved each other
like brothers. In course of time the King died, and so did the Queen,
and their son, who was now nineteen years old, was left alone. One day,
when he and his horse were talking together, the Horse said to him,
‘Listen to me, for I love you and wish for your good and that of the
country. If you go on every year sending twelve youths and twelve
maidens to the King of the Beasts, your country will very soon be
ruined. Mount upon my back: I will take you to a woman who can direct
you how to kill the Seven-headed Serpent.’

Then the youth mounted his horse, who carried him far away to a mountain
which was hollow, for in its side was a great underground cavern. In the
cavern sat an old woman spinning. This was the cloister of the nuns, and
the old woman was the Abbess. They all spent their time in spinning, and
that is why the convent has this name. All round the walls of the cavern
there were beds cut out of the solid rock, upon which the nuns slept,
and in the middle a light was burning. It was the duty of the nuns to
watch the light in turns, that it might never go out, and if anyone of
them let it go out the others put her to death.

As soon as the King’s son saw the old Abbess spinning he threw himself
at her feet and entreated her to tell him how he could kill the
Seven-headed Serpent.

She made the youth rise, embraced him, and said, ‘Know, my son, that it
is I who sent the nun to your mother and caused you to be born, and with
you the horse, with whose help you will be able to free the world from
the monster. I will tell you what you have to do. Load your horse with
cotton, and go by a secret passage which I will show you, which is
hidden from the wild beasts, to the Serpent’s palace. You will find the
King asleep upon his bed, which is all hung round with bells, and
over his bed you will see a sword hanging. With this sword only it is
possible to kill the Serpent, because even if its blade breaks a new one
will grow again for every head the monster has. Thus you will be able
to cut off all his seven heads. And this you must also do in order to
deceive the King: you must slip into his bed-chamber very softly, and
stop up all the bells which are round his bed with cotton. Then take
down the sword gently, and quickly give the monster a blow on his tail
with it. This will make him waken up, and if he catches sight of you he
will seize you. But you must quickly cut off his first head, and then
wait till the next one comes up. Then strike it off also, and so go on
till you have cut off all his seven heads.’

The old Abbess then gave the Prince her blessing, and he set out upon
his enterprise, arrived at the Serpent’s castle by following the secret
passage which she had shown him, and by carefully attending to all her
directions he happily succeeded in killing the monster. As soon as
the wild beasts heard of their king’s death, they all hastened to the
castle, but the youth had long since mounted his horse and was already
far out of their reach. They pursued him as fast as they could, but they
found it impossible to overtake him, and he reached home in safety. Thus
he freed his country from this terrible oppression.



THE GRATEFUL BEASTS(11)

(11) From the Hungarian. Kletke.

There was once upon a time a man and woman who had three fine-looking
sons, but they were so poor that they had hardly enough food for
themselves, let alone their children. So the sons determined to set out
into the world and to try their luck. Before starting their mother gave
them each a loaf of bread and her blessing, and having taken a tender
farewell of her and their father the three set forth on their travels.

The youngest of the three brothers, whose name was Ferko, was a
beautiful youth, with a splendid figure, blue eyes, fair hair, and a
complexion like milk and roses. His two brothers were as jealous of him
as they could be, for they thought that with his good looks he would be
sure to be more fortunate than they would ever be.

One day all the three were sitting resting under a tree, for the sun
was hot and they were tired of walking. Ferko fell fast asleep, but the
other two remained awake, and the eldest said to the second brother,
‘What do you say to doing our brother Ferko some harm? He is so
beautiful that everyone takes a fancy to him, which is more than they do
to us. If we could only get him out of the way we might succeed better.’

‘I quite agree with you,’ answered the second brother, ‘and my advice
is to eat up his loaf of bread, and then to refuse to give him a bit
of ours until he has promised to let us put out his eyes or break his
legs.’

His eldest brother was delighted with this proposal, and the two wicked
wretches seized Ferko’s loaf and ate it all up, while the poor boy was
still asleep.

When he did awake he felt very hungry and turned to eat his bread, but
his brothers cried out, ‘You ate your loaf in your sleep, you glutton,
and you may starve as long as you like, but you won’t get a scrap of
ours.’

Ferko was at a loss to understand how he could have eaten in his sleep,
but he said nothing, and fasted all that day and the next night. But
on the following morning he was so hungry that he burst into tears, and
implored his brothers to give him a little bit of their bread. Then the
cruel creatures laughed, and repeated what they had said the day before;
but when Ferko continued to beg and beseech them, the eldest said at
last, ‘If you will let us put out one of your eyes and break one of your
legs, then we will give you a bit of our bread.’

At these words poor Ferko wept more bitterly than before, and bore the
torments of hunger till the sun was high in the heavens; then he could
stand it no longer, and he consented to allow his left eye to be put out
and his left leg to be broken. When this was done he stretched out his
hand eagerly for the piece of bread, but his brothers gave him such a
tiny scrap that the starving youth finished it in a moment and besought
them for a second bit.

But the more Ferko wept and told his brothers that he was dying of
hunger, the more they laughed and scolded him for his greed. So he
endured the pangs of starvation all that day, but when night came his
endurance gave way, and he let his right eye be put out and his right
leg broken for a second piece of bread.

After his brothers had thus successfully maimed and disfigured him for
life, they left him groaning on the ground and continued their journey
without him.

Poor Ferko ate up the scrap of bread they had left him and wept
bitterly, but no one heard him or came to his help. Night came on, and
the poor blind youth had no eyes to close, and could only crawl along
the ground, not knowing in the least where he was going. But when the
sun was once more high in the heavens, Ferko felt the blazing heat
scorch him, and sought for some cool shady place to rest his aching
limbs. He climbed to the top of a hill and lay down in the grass, and as
he thought under the shadow of a big tree. But it was no tree he leant
against, but a gallows on which two ravens were seated. The one was
saying to the other as the weary youth lay down, ‘Is there anything the
least wonderful or remarkable about this neighbourhood?’

‘I should just think there was,’ replied the other; ‘many things that
don’t exist anywhere else in the world. There is a lake down there below
us, and anyone who bathes in it, though he were at death’s door, becomes
sound and well on the spot, and those who wash their eyes with the dew
on this hill become as sharp-sighted as the eagle, even if they have
been blind from their youth.’

‘Well,’ answered the first raven, ‘my eyes are in no want of this
healing bath, for, Heaven be praised, they are as good as ever they
were; but my wing has been very feeble and weak ever since it was shot
by an arrow many years ago, so let us fly at once to the lake that I may
be restored to health and strength again.’ And so they flew away.

Their words rejoiced Ferko’s heart, and he waited impatiently till
evening should come and he could rub the precious dew on his sightless
eyes.

At last it began to grow dusk, and the sun sank behind the mountains;
gradually it became cooler on the hill, and the grass grew wet with dew.
Then Ferko buried his face in the ground till his eyes were damp with
dewdrops, and in a moment he saw clearer than he had ever done in his
life before. The moon was shining brightly, and lighted him to the lake
where he could bathe his poor broken legs.

Then Ferko crawled to the edge of the lake and dipped his limbs in the
water. No sooner had he done so than his legs felt as sound and strong
as they had been before, and Ferko thanked the kind fate that had led
him to the hill where he had overheard the ravens’ conversation. He
filled a bottle with the healing water, and then continued his journey
in the best of spirits.

He had not gone far before he met a wolf, who was limping disconsolately
along on three legs, and who on perceiving Ferko began to howl dismally.

‘My good friend,’ said the youth, ‘be of good cheer, for I can soon heal
your leg,’ and with these words he poured some of the precious water
over the wolf’s paw, and in a minute the animal was springing about
sound and well on all fours. The grateful creature thanked his
benefactor warmly, and promised Ferko to do him a good turn if he should
ever need it.

Ferko continued his way till he came to a ploughed field. Here he
noticed a little mouse creeping wearily along on its hind paws, for its
front paws had both been broken in a trap.

Ferko felt so sorry for the little beast that he spoke to it in the most
friendly manner, and washed its small paws with the healing water. In
a moment the mouse was sound and whole, and after thanking the kind
physician it scampered away over the ploughed furrows.

Ferko again proceeded on his journey, but he hadn’t gone far before a
queen bee flew against him, trailing one wing behind her, which had been
cruelly torn in two by a big bird. Ferko was no less willing to help
her than he had been to help the wolf and the mouse, so he poured some
healing drops over the wounded wing. On the spot the queen bee was
cured, and turning to Ferko she said, ‘I am most grateful for your
kindness, and shall reward you some day.’ And with these words she flew
away humming, gaily.

Then Ferko wandered on for many a long day, and at length reached
a strange kingdom. Here, he thought to himself, he might as well
go straight to the palace and offer his services to the King of the
country, for he had heard that the King’s daughter was as beautiful as
the day.

So he went to the royal palace, and as he entered the door the first
people he saw were his two brothers who had so shamefully ill-treated
him. They had managed to obtain places in the King’s service, and when
they recognised Ferko with his eyes and legs sound and well they were
frightened to death, for they feared he would tell the King of their
conduct, and that they would be hung.

No sooner had Ferko entered the palace than all eyes were turned on the
handsome youth, and the King’s daughter herself was lost in admiration,
for she had never seen anyone so handsome in her life before. His
brothers noticed this, and envy and jealousy were added to their fear,
so much so that they determined once more to destroy him. They went to
the King and told him that Ferko was a wicked magician, who had come to
the palace with the intention of carrying off the Princess.

Then the King had Ferko brought before him, and said, ‘You are accused
of being a magician who wishes to rob me of my daughter, and I condemn
you to death; but if you can fulfil three tasks which I shall set you to
do your life shall be spared, on condition you leave the country; but if
you cannot perform what I demand you shall be hung on the nearest tree.’

And turning to the two wicked brothers he said, ‘Suggest something for
him to do; no matter how difficult, he must succeed in it or die.’

They did not think long, but replied, ‘Let him build your Majesty in one
day a more beautiful palace than this, and if he fails in the attempt
let him be hung.’

The King was pleased with this proposal, and commanded Ferko to set to
work on the following day. The two brothers were delighted, for they
thought they had now got rid of Ferko for ever. The poor youth himself
was heart-broken, and cursed the hour he had crossed the boundary of
the King’s domain. As he was wandering disconsolately about the meadows
round the palace, wondering how he could escape being put to death, a
little bee flew past, and settling on his shoulder whispered in his ear,
‘What is troubling you, my kind benefactor? Can I be of any help to you?
I am the bee whose wing you healed, and would like to show my gratitude
in some way.’

Ferko recognised the queen bee, and said, ‘Alas! how could you help me?
for I have been set to do a task which no one in the whole world could
do, let him be ever such a genius! To-morrow I must build a palace more
beautiful than the King’s, and it must be finished before evening.’

‘Is that all?’ answered the bee, ‘then you may comfort yourself; for
before the sun goes down to-morrow night a palace shall be built unlike
any that King has dwelt in before. Just stay here till I come again and
tell you that it is finished.’ Having said this she flew merrily away,
and Ferko, reassured by her words, lay down on the grass and slept
peacefully till the next morning.

Early on the following day the whole town was on its feet, and everyone
wondered how and where the stranger would build the wonderful palace.
The Princess alone was silent and sorrowful, and had cried all night
till her pillow was wet, so much did she take the fate of the beautiful
youth to heart.

Ferko spent the whole day in the meadows waiting the return of the bee.
And when evening was come the queen bee flew by, and perching on his
shoulder she said, ‘The wonderful palace is ready. Be of good cheer,
and lead the King to the hill just outside the city walls.’ And humming
gaily she flew away again.

Ferko went at once to the King and told him the palace was finished. The
whole court went out to see the wonder, and their astonishment was great
at the sight which met their eyes. A splendid palace reared itself on
the hill just outside the walls of the city, made of the most exquisite
flowers that ever grew in mortal garden. The roof was all of crimson
roses, the windows of lilies, the walls of white carnations, the floors
of glowing auriculas and violets, the doors of gorgeous tulips and
narcissi with sunflowers for knockers, and all round hyacinths and other
sweet-smelling flowers bloomed in masses, so that the air was perfumed
far and near and enchanted all who were present.

This splendid palace had been built by the grateful queen bee, who had
summoned all the other bees in the kingdom to help her.

The King’s amazement knew no bounds, and the Princess’s eyes beamed with
delight as she turned them from the wonderful building on the delighted
Ferko. But the two brothers had grown quite green with envy, and only
declared the more that Ferko was nothing but a wicked magician.

The King, although he had been surprised and astonished at the way his
commands had been carried out, was very vexed that the stranger should
escape with his life, and turning to the two brothers he said, ‘He has
certainly accomplished the first task, with the aid no doubt of his
diabolical magic; but what shall we give him to do now? Let us make it
as difficult as possible, and if he fails he shall die.’

Then the eldest brother replied, ‘The corn has all been cut, but it has
not yet been put into barns; let the knave collect all the grain in the
kingdom into one big heap before to-morrow night, and if as much as a
stalk of corn is left let him be put to death.

The Princess grew white with terror when she heard these words; but
Ferko felt much more cheerful than he had done the first time, and
wandered out into the meadows again, wondering how he was to get out of
the difficulty. But he could think of no way of escape. The sun sank to
rest and night came on, when a little mouse started out of the grass
at Ferko’s feet, and said to him, ‘I’m delighted to see you, my kind
benefactor; but why are you looking so sad? Can I be of any help to you,
and thus repay your great kindness to me?’

Then Ferko recognised the mouse whose front paws he had healed, and
replied, ‘Alas I how can you help me in a matter that is beyond any
human power! Before to-morrow night all the grain in the kingdom has
to be gathered into one big heap, and if as much as a stalk of corn is
wanting I must pay for it with my life.’

‘Is that all?’ answered the mouse; ‘that needn’t distress you much. Just
trust in me, and before the sun sets again you shall hear that your task
is done.’ And with these words the little creature scampered away into
the fields.

Ferko, who never doubted that the mouse would be as good as its word,
lay down comforted on the soft grass and slept soundly till next
morning. The day passed slowly, and with the evening came the little
mouse and said, ‘Now there is not a single stalk of corn left in any
field; they are all collected in one big heap on the hill out there.’

Then Ferko went joyfully to the King and told him that all he demanded
had been done. And the whole Court went out to see the wonder, and were
no less astonished than they had been the first time. For in a heap
higher than the King’s palace lay all the grain of the country, and not
a single stalk of corn had been left behind in any of the fields. And
how had all this been done? The little mouse had summoned every other
mouse in the land to its help, and together they had collected all the
grain in the kingdom.

The King could not hide his amazement, but at the same time his wrath
increased, and he was more ready than ever to believe the two brothers,
who kept on repeating that Ferko was nothing more nor less than a wicked
magician. Only the beautiful Princess rejoiced over Ferko’s success, and
looked on him with friendly glances, which the youth returned.

The more the cruel King gazed on the wonder before him, the more
angry he became, for he could not, in the face of his promise, put the
stranger to death. He turned once more to the two brothers and said,
‘His diabolical magic has helped him again, but now what third task
shall we set him to do? No matter how impossible it is, he must do it or
die.’

The eldest answered quickly, ‘Let him drive all the wolves of the
kingdom on to this hill before to-morrow night. If he does this he may
go free; if not he shall be hung as you have said.’

At these words the Princess burst into tears, and when the King saw this
he ordered her to be shut up in a high tower and carefully guarded till
the dangerous magician should either have left the kingdom or been hung
on the nearest tree.

Ferko wandered out into the fields again, and sat down on the stump of
a tree wondering what he should do next. Suddenly a big wolf ran up to
him, and standing still said, ‘I’m very glad to see you again, my kind
benefactor. What are you thinking about all alone by yourself? If I can
help you in any way only say the word, for I would like to give you a
proof of my gratitude.’

Ferko at once recognised the wolf whose broken leg he had healed, and
told him what he had to do the following day if he wished to escape with
his life. ‘But how in the world,’ he added, ‘am I to collect all the
wolves of the kingdom on to that hill over there?’

‘If that’s all you want done,’ answered the wolf, ‘you needn’t worry
yourself. I’ll undertake the task, and you’ll hear from me again before
sunset to-morrow. Keep your spirits up.’ And with these words he trotted
quickly away.

Then the youth rejoiced greatly, for now he felt that his life was safe;
but he grew very sad when he thought of the beautiful Princess, and that
he would never see her again if he left the country. He lay down once
more on the grass and soon fell fast asleep.

All the next day he spent wandering about the fields, and toward
evening the wolf came running to him in a great hurry and said, ‘I have
collected together all the wolves in the kingdom, and they are waiting
for you in the wood. Go quickly to the King, and tell him to go to the
hill that he may see the wonder you have done with his own eyes. Then
return at once to me and get on my back, and I will help you to drive
all the wolves together.’

Then Ferko went straight to the palace and told the King that he was
ready to perform the third task if he would come to the hill and see it
done. Ferko himself returned to the fields, and mounting on the wolf’s
back he rode to the wood close by.

Quick as lightning the wolf flew round the wood, and in a minute many
hundred wolves rose up before him, increasing in number every moment,
till they could be counted by thousands. He drove them all before him on
to the hill, where the King and his whole Court and Ferko’s two brothers
were standing. Only the lovely Princess was not present, for she was
shut up in her tower weeping bitterly.

The wicked brothers stamped and foamed with rage when they saw the
failure of their wicked designs. But the King was overcome by a sudden
terror when he saw the enormous pack of wolves approaching nearer and
nearer, and calling out to Ferko he said, ‘Enough, enough, we don’t want
any more.’

But the wolf on whose back Ferko sat, said to its rider, ‘Go on! go
on!’ and at the same moment many more wolves ran up the hill, howling
horribly and showing their white teeth.

The King in his terror called out, ‘Stop a moment; I will give you half
my kingdom if you will drive all the wolves away.’ But Ferko pretended
not to hear, and drove some more thousands before him, so that everyone
quaked with horror and fear.

Then the King raised his voice again and called out, ‘Stop! you shall
have my whole kingdom, if you will only drive these wolves back to the
places they came from.’

But the wolf kept on encouraging Ferko, and said, ‘Go on! go on!’ So he
led the wolves on, till at last they fell on the King and on the wicked
brothers, and ate them and the whole Court up in a moment.

Then Ferko went straight to the palace and set the Princess free, and on
the same day he married her and was crowned King of the country. And the
wolves all went peacefully back to their own homes, and Ferko and his
bride lived for many years in peace and happiness together, and were
much beloved by great and small in the land.




 THE GIANTS AND THE HERD-BOY(12)

(12) From the Bukowniaer. Von Wliolocki.

There was once upon a time a poor boy who had neither father nor mother.
In order to gain a living he looked after the sheep of a great Lord. Day
and night he spent out in the open fields, and only when it was very
wet and stormy did he take refuge in a little hut on the edge of a
big forest. Now one night, when he was sitting on the grass beside his
flocks, he heard not very far from him the sound as of some one crying.
He rose up and followed the direction of the noise. To his dismay and
astonishment he found a Giant lying at the entrance of the wood; he was
about to run off as fast as his legs could carry him, when the Giant
called out: ‘Don’t be afraid, I won’t harm you. On the contrary, I will
reward you handsomely if you will bind up my foot. I hurt it when I was
trying to root up an oak-tree.’ The Herd-boy took off his shirt, and
bound up the Giant’s wounded foot with it. Then the Giant rose up and
said, ‘Now come and I will reward you. We are going to celebrate a
marriage to-day, and I promise you we shall have plenty of fun. Come and
enjoy yourself, but in order that my brothers mayn’t see you, put this
band round your waist and then you’ll be invisible.’ With these words
he handed the Herd-boy a belt, and walking on in front he led him to
a fountain where hundreds of Giants and Giantesses were assembled
preparing to hold a wedding. They danced and played different games till
midnight; then one of the Giants tore up a plant by its roots, and all
the Giants and Giantesses made themselves so thin that they disappeared
into the earth through the hole made by the uprooting of the plant. The
wounded Giant remained behind to the last and called out, ‘Herd-boy,
where are you?’ ‘Here I am, close to you,’ was the reply. ‘Touch me,’
said the Giant, ‘so that you too may come with us under ground.’ The
Herd-boy did as he was told, and before he could have believed it
possible he found himself in a big hall, where even the walls were
made of pure gold. Then to his astonishment he saw that the hall was
furnished with the tables and chairs that belonged to his master. In a
few minutes the company began to eat and drink.

The banquet was a very gorgeous one, and the poor youth fell to and ate
and drank lustily. When he had eaten and drunk as much as he could he
thought to himself, ‘Why shouldn’t I put a loaf of bread in my pocket?
I shall be glad of it to-morrow.’ So he seized a loaf when no one was
looking and stowed it away under his tunic. No sooner had he done so
than the wounded Giant limped up to him and whispered softly, ‘Herd-boy,
where are you?’ ‘Here I am,’ replied the youth. ‘Then hold on to me,’
said the Giant, ‘so that I may lead you up above again.’ So the Herd-boy
held on to the Giant, and in a few moments he found himself on the earth
once more, but the Giant had vanished. The Herd-boy returned to his
sheep, and took off the invisible belt which he hid carefully in his
bag.

The next morning the lad felt hungry, and thought he would cut off a
piece of the loaf he had carried away from the Giants’ wedding feast,
and eat it. But although he tried with all his might, he couldn’t cut
off the smallest piece. Then in despair he bit the loaf, and what was
his astonishment when a piece of gold fell out of his mouth and rolled
at his feet. He bit the bread a second and third time, and each time a
piece of gold fell out of his mouth; but the bread remained untouched.
The Herd-boy was very much delighted over his stroke of good fortune,
and, hiding the magic loaf in his bag, he hurried off to the nearest
village to buy himself something to eat, and then returned to his sheep.

Now the Lord whose sheep the Herd-boy looked after had a very lovely
daughter, who always smiled and nodded to the youth when she walked with
her father in his fields. For a long time the Herd-boy had made up his
mind to prepare a surprise for this beautiful creature on her birthday.
So when the day approached he put on his invisible belt, took a sack of
gold pieces with him, and slipping into her room in the middle of the
night, he placed the bag of gold beside her bed and returned to his
sheep. The girl’s joy was great, and so was her parents’ next day when
they found the sack full of gold pieces. The Herd-boy was so pleased to
think what pleasure he had given that the next night he placed another
bag of gold beside the girl’s bed. And this he continued to do for seven
nights, and the girl and her parents made up their minds that it must
be a good Fairy who brought the gold every night. But one night they
determined to watch, and see from their hiding place who the bringer of
the sack of gold really was.

On the eighth night a fearful storm of wind and rain came on while the
Herd-boy was on his way to bring the beautiful girl another bag of gold.
Then for the first time he noticed, just as he reached his master’s
house, that he had forgotten the belt which made him invisible. He
didn’t like the idea of going back to his hut in the wind and wet, so
he just stepped as he was into the girl’s room, laid the sack of
gold beside her, and was turning to leave the room, when his master
confronted him and said, ‘You young rogue, so you were going to steal
the gold that a good Fairy brings every night, were you?’ The Herd-boy
was so taken aback by his words, that he stood trembling before him,
and did not dare to explain his presence. Then his master spoke. ‘As you
have hitherto always behaved well in my service I will not send you to
prison; but leave your place instantly and never let me see your face
again.’ So the Herd-boy went back to his hut, and taking his loaf and
belt with him, he went to the nearest town. There he bought himself
some fine clothes, and a beautiful coach with four horses, hired two
servants, and drove back to his master. You may imagine how astonished
he was to see his Herd-boy returning to him in this manner! Then the
youth told him of the piece of good luck that had befallen him, and
asked him for the hand of his beautiful daughter. This was readily
granted, and the two lived in peace and happiness to the end of their
lives.




 THE INVISIBLE PRINCE

Once upon a time there lived a Fairy who had power over the earth, the
sea, fire, and the air; and this Fairy had four sons. The eldest, who
was quick and lively, with a vivid imagination, she made Lord of Fire,
which was in her opinion the noblest of all the elements. To the second
son, whose wisdom and prudence made amends for his being rather dull,
she gave the government of the earth. The third was wild and savage, and
of monstrous stature; and the Fairy, his mother, who was ashamed of
his defects, hoped to hide them by creating him King of the Seas. The
youngest, who was the slave of his passions and of a very uncertain
temper, became Prince of the Air.

Being the youngest, he was naturally his mother’s favourite; but this
did not blind her to his weaknesses, and she foresaw that some day he
would suffer much pain through falling in love. So she thought the best
thing she could do was to bring him up with a horror of women; and, to
her great delight, she saw this dislike only increased as he grew older.
From his earliest childhood he heard nothing but stories of princes who
had fallen into all sorts of troubles through love; and she drew
such terrible pictures of poor little Cupid that the young man had no
difficulty in believing that he was the root of all evil.

All the time that this wise mother could spare from filling her son
with hatred for all womenkind she passed in giving him a love of the
pleasures of the chase, which henceforth became his chief joy. For his
amusement she had made a new forest, planted with the most splendid
trees, and turned loose in it every animal that could be found in any of
the four quarters of the globe. In the midst of this forest she built a
palace which had not its equal for beauty in the whole world, and then
she considered that she had done enough to make any prince happy.

Now it is all very well to abuse the God of Love, but a man cannot
struggle against his fate. In his secret heart the Prince got tired of
his mother’s constant talk on this subject; and when one day she quitted
the palace to attend to some business, begging him never to go beyond
the grounds, he at once jumped at the chance of disobeying her.

Left to himself the Prince soon forgot the wise counsels of his mother,
and feeling very much bored with his own company, he ordered some of
the spirits of the air to carry him to the court of a neighbouring
sovereign. This kingdom was situated in the Island of Roses, where the
climate is so delicious that the grass is always green and the flowers
always sweet. The waves, instead of beating on the rocks, seemed to die
gently on the shore; clusters of golden bushes covered the land, and the
vines were bent low with grapes.

The King of this island had a daughter named Rosalie, who was more
lovely than any girl in the whole world. No sooner had the eyes of the
Prince of the Air rested on her than he forgot all the terrible woes
which had been prophesied to him ever since he was born, for in one
single moment the plans of years are often upset. He instantly began to
think how best to make himself happy, and the shortest way that occurred
to him was to have Rosalie carried off by his attendant spirits.

It is easy to imagine the feelings of the King when he found that his
daughter had vanished. He wept her loss night and day, and his only
comfort was to talk over it with a young and unknown prince, who had
just arrived at the Court. Alas! he did not know what a deep interest
the stranger had in Rosalie, for he too had seen her, and had fallen a
victim to her charms.

One day the King, more sorrowful than usual, was walking sadly along
the sea-shore, when after a long silence the unknown Prince, who was his
only companion, suddenly spoke. ‘There is no evil without a remedy,’ he
said to the unhappy father; ‘and if you will promise me your daughter in
marriage, I will undertake to bring her back to you.’

‘You are trying to soothe me by vain promises,’ answered the King. ‘Did
I not see her caught up into the air, in spite of cries which would have
softened the heart of any one but the barbarian who has robbed me of
her? The unfortunate girl is pining away in some unknown land, where
perhaps no foot of man has ever trod, and I shall see her no more. But
go, generous stranger; bring back Rosalie if you can, and live happy
with her ever after in this country, of which I now declare you heir.’

Although the stranger’s name and rank were unknown to Rosalie’s father,
he was really the son of the King of the Golden Isle, which had for
capital a city that extended from one sea to another. The walls, washed
by the quiet waters, were covered with gold, which made one think of the
yellow sands. Above them was a rampart of orange and lemon trees, and
all the streets were paved with gold.

The King of this beautiful island had one son, for whom a life of
adventure had been foretold at his birth. This so frightened his father
and mother that in order to comfort them a Fairy, who happened to be
present at the time, produced a little pebble which she told them to
keep for the Prince till he grew up, as by putting it in his mouth he
would become invisible, as long as he did not try to speak, for if he
did the stone would lose all its virtue. In this way the good fairy
hoped that the Prince would be protected against all dangers.

No sooner did the Prince begin to grow out of boyhood than he longed to
see if the other countries of the world were as splendid as the one in
which he lived. So, under pretence of visiting some small islands that
belonged to his father, he set out. But a frightful storm drove his ship
on to unknown shores, where most of his followers were put to death by
the savages, and the Prince himself only managed to escape by making use
of his magic pebble. By this means he passed through the midst of them
unseen, and wandered on till he reached the coast, where he re-embarked
on board his ship.

The first land he sighted was the Island of Roses, and he went at once
to the court of the King, Rosalie’s father. The moment his eyes beheld
the Princess, he fell in love with her like everyone else.

He had already spent several months in this condition when the Prince of
the Air whirled her away, to the grief and despair of every man on the
island. But sad though everybody was, the Prince of the Golden Isle was
perfectly inconsolable, and he passed both days and nights in bemoaning
his loss.

‘Alas!’ he cried; ‘shall I never see my lovely Princess again?’ Who
knows where she may be, and what fairy may have her in his keeping? I am
only a man, but I am strong in my love, and I will seek the whole world
through till I find her.’

So saying, he left the court, and made ready for his journey.

He travelled many weary days without hearing a single word of the lost
Princess, till one morning, as he was walking through a thick forest,
he suddenly perceived a magnificent palace standing at the end of a
pine avenue, and his heart bounded to think that he might be gazing on
Rosalie’s prison. He hastened his steps, and quickly arrived at the gate
of the palace, which was formed of a single agate. The gate swung
open to let him through, and he next passed successively three courts,
surrounded by deep ditches filled with running water, with birds of
brilliant plumage flying about the banks. Everything around was rare and
beautiful, but the Prince scarcely raised his eyes to all these wonders.
He thought only of the Princess and where he should find her, but in
vain he opened every door and searched in every corner; he neither saw
Rosalie nor anyone else. At last there was no place left for him to
search but a little wood, which contained in the centre a sort of hall
built entirely of orange-trees, with four small rooms opening out of
the corners. Three of these were empty except for statues and wonderful
things, but in the fourth the Invisible Prince caught sight of Rosalie.
His joy at beholding her again was, however, somewhat lessened by seeing
that the Prince of the Air was kneeling at her feet, and pleading his
own cause. But it was in vain that he implored her to listen; she only
shook her head. ‘No,’ was all she would say; ‘you snatched me from
my father whom I loved, and all the splendour in the world can never
console me. Go! I can never feel anything towards you but hate and
contempt.’ With these words she turned away and entered her own
apartments.

Unknown to herself the Invisible Prince had followed her, but fearing to
be discovered by the Princess in the presence of others, he made up his
mind to wait quietly till dark; and employed the long hours in writing a
poem to the Princess, which he laid on the bed beside her. This done, he
thought of nothing but how best to deliver Rosalie, and he resolved to
take advantage of a visit which the Prince of the Air paid every year to
his mother and brothers in order to strike the blow.

One day Rosalie was sitting alone in her room thinking of her troubles
when she suddenly saw a pen get up from off the desk and begin to write
all by itself on a sheet of white paper. As she did not know that it was
guided by an invisible hand she was very much astonished, and the moment
that the pen had ceased to move she instantly went over to the table,
where she found some lovely verses, telling her that another shared her
distresses, whatever they might be, and loved her with all his heart;
and that he would never rest until he had delivered her from the hands
of the man she hated. Thus encouraged, she told him all her story, and
of the arrival of a young stranger in her father’s palace, whose looks
had so charmed her that since that day she had thought of no one else.
At these words the Prince could contain himself no longer. He took the
pebble from his mouth, and flung himself at Rosalie’s feet.

When they had got over the first rapture of meeting they began to make
plans to escape from the power of the Prince of the Air. But this did
not prove easy, for the magic stone would only serve for one person at
a time, and in order to save Rosalie the Prince of the Golden Isle would
have to expose himself to the fury of his enemy. But Rosalie would not
hear of this.

‘No, Prince,’ she said; ‘since you are here this island no longer feels
a prison. Besides, you are under the protection of a Fairy, who always
visits your father’s court at this season. Go instantly and seek her,
and when she is found implore the gift of another stone with similar
powers. Once you have that, there will be no further difficulty in the
way of escape.’

The Prince of the Air returned a few days later from his mother’s
palace, but the Invisible Prince had already set out. He had, however,
entirely forgotten the road by which he had come, and lost himself for
so long in the forest, that when at last he reached home the Fairy had
already left, and, in spite of all his grief, there was nothing for it
but to wait till the Fairy’s next visit, and allow Rosalie to suffer
three months longer. This thought drove him to despair, and he had
almost made up his mind to return to the place of her captivity, when
one day, as he was strolling along an alley in the woods, he saw a
huge oak open its trunk, and out of it step two Princes in earnest
conversation. As our hero had the magic stone in his mouth they imagined
themselves alone, and did not lower their voices.

‘What!’ said one, ‘are you always going to allow yourself to be
tormented by a passion which can never end happily, and in your whole
kingdom can you find nothing else to satisfy you?’

‘What is the use,’ replied the other, ‘of being Prince of the Gnomes,
and having a mother who is queen over all the four elements, if I cannot
win the love of the Princess Argentine? From the moment that I first saw
her, sitting in the forest surrounded by flowers, I have never ceased
to think of her night and day, and, although I love her, I am quite
convinced that she will never care for me. You know that I have in my
palace the cabinets of the years. In the first, great mirrors reflect
the past; in the second, we contemplate the present; in the third, the
future can be read. It was here that I fled after I had gazed on the
Princess Argentine, but instead of love I only saw scorn and contempt.
Think how great must be my devotion, when, in spite of my fate, I still
love on!’

Now the Prince of the Golden Isle was enchanted with this conversation,
for the Princess Argentine was his sister, and he hoped, by means of her
influence over the Prince of the Gnomes, to obtain from his brother
the release of Rosalie. So he joyfully returned to his father’s palace,
where he found his friend the Fairy, who at once presented him with
a magic pebble like his own. As may be imagined, he lost no time in
setting out to deliver Rosalie, and travelled so fast that he soon
arrived at the forest, in the midst of which she lay a captive. But
though he found the palace he did not find Rosalie. He hunted high and
low, but there was no sign of her, and his despair was so great that
he was ready, a thousand times over, to take his own life. At last he
remembered the conversation of the two Princes about the cabinets of the
years, and that if he could manage to reach the oak tree, he would be
certain to discover what had become of Rosalie. Happily, he soon found
out the secret of the passage and entered the cabinet of the present,
where he saw reflected in the mirrors the unfortunate Rosalie sitting
on the floor weeping bitterly, and surrounded with genii, who never left
her night or day.

This sight only increased the misery of the Prince, for he did not
know where the castle was, nor how to set about finding it. However,
he resolved to seek the whole world through till he came to the right
place. He began by setting sail in a favourable wind, but his bad luck
followed him even on the sea. He had scarcely lost sight of the land
when a violent storm arose, and after several hours of beating about,
the vessel was driven on to some rocks, on which it dashed itself
to bits. The Prince was fortunate enough to be able to lay hold of a
floating spar, and contrived to keep himself afloat; and, after a long
struggle with the winds and waves, he was cast upon a strange island.
But what was his surprise, on reaching the shore, to hear sounds of the
most heartrending distress, mingled with the sweetest songs which had
ever charmed him! His curiosity was instantly roused, and he advanced
cautiously till he saw two huge dragons guarding the gate of a wood.
They were terrible indeed to look upon. Their bodies were covered with
glittering scales; their curly tails extended far over the land; flames
darted from their mouths and noses, and their eyes would have made the
bravest shudder; but as the Prince was invisible and they did not see
him, he slipped past them into the wood. He found himself at once in a
labyrinth, and wandered about for a long time without meeting anyone; in
fact, the only sight he saw was a circle of human hands, sticking out
of the ground above the wrist, each with a bracelet of gold, on which
a name was written. The farther he advanced in the labyrinth the more
curious he became, till he was stopped by two corpses lying in the
midst of a cypress alley, each with a scarlet cord round his neck and a
bracelet on his arm on which were engraved their own names, and those of
two Princesses.

The invisible Prince recognised these dead men as Kings of two large
islands near his own home, but the names of the Princesses were unknown
to him. He grieved for their unhappy fate, and at once proceeded to bury
them; but no sooner had he laid them in their graves, than their hands
started up through the earth and remained sticking up like those of
their fellows.

The Prince went on his way, thinking about this strange adventure, when
suddenly at the turn of the walk he perceived a tall man whose face was
the picture of misery, holding in his hands a silken cord of the exact
colour of those round the necks of the dead men. A few steps further
this man came up with another as miserable to the full as he himself;
they silently embraced, and then without a word passed the cords round
their throats, and fell dead side by side. In vain the Prince rushed to
their assistance and strove to undo the cord. He could not loosen it; so
he buried them like the others and continued his path.

He felt, however, that great prudence was necessary, or he himself might
become the victim of some enchantment; and he was thankful to slip past
the dragons, and enter a beautiful park, with clear streams and sweet
flowers, and a crowd of men and maidens. But he could not forget
the terrible things he had seen, and hoped eagerly for a clue to the
mystery. Noticing two young people talking together, he drew near
thinking that he might get some explanation of what puzzled him. And so
he did.

‘You swear,’ said the Prince, ‘that you will love me till you die, but I
fear your faithless heart, and I feel that I shall soon have to seek the
Fairy Despair, ruler of half this island. She carries off the lovers
who have been cast away by their mistresses, and wish to have done with
life. She places them in a labyrinth where they are condemned to walk
for ever, with a bracelet on their arms and a cord round their necks,
unless they meet another as miserable as themselves. Then the cord is
pulled and they lie where they fall, till they are buried by the first
passer by. Terrible as this death would be,’ added the Prince, ‘it would
be sweeter than life if I had lost your love.’

The sight of all these happy lovers only made the Prince grieve the
more, and he wandered along the seashore spending his days; but one day
he was sitting on a rock bewailing his fate, and the impossibility
of leaving the island, when all in a moment the sea appeared to raise
itself nearly to the skies, and the caves echoed with hideous screams.
As he looked a woman rose from the depths of the sea, flying madly
before a furious giant. The cries she uttered softened the heart of
the Prince; he took the stone from his mouth, and drawing his sword
he rushed after the giant, so as to give the lady time to escape. But
hardly had he come within reach of the enemy, than the giant touched him
with a ring that he held in his hand, and the Prince remained immovable
where he stood. The giant then hastily rejoined his prey, and, seizing
her in his arms, he plunged her into the sea. Then he sent some tritons
to bind chains about the Prince of the Golden Isle, and he too felt
himself borne to the depths of the ocean, and without the hope of ever
again seeing the Princess.

Now the giant whom the invisible had so rashly attacked was the Lord
of the Sea, and the third son of the Queen of the Elements, and he had
touched the youth with a magic ring which enabled a mortal to live under
water. So the Prince of the Golden Isle found, when bound in chains by
the tritons, he was carried through the homes of strange monsters
and past immense seaweed forests, till he reached a vast sandy space,
surrounded by huge rocks. On the tallest of the rocks sat the giant as
on a throne.

‘Rash mortal,’ said he, when the Prince was dragged before him, ‘you
have deserved death, but you shall live only to suffer more cruelly. Go,
and add to the number of those whom it is my pleasure to torture.’

At these words the unhappy Prince found himself tied to a rock; but he
was not alone in his misfortunes, for all round him were chained Princes
and Princesses, whom the giant had led captive. Indeed, it was his chief
delight to create a storm, in order to add to the list of his prisoners.

As his hands were fastened, it was impossible for the Prince of the
Golden Isle to make use of his magic stone, and he passed his nights and
days dreaming of Rosalie. But at last the time came when the giant took
it into his head to amuse himself by arranging fights between some
of his captives. Lots were drawn, and one fell upon our Prince, whose
chains were immediately loosened. The moment he was set free, he
snatched up his stone, and became invisible.

The astonishment of the giant at the sudden disappearance of the Prince
may well be imagined. He ordered all the passages to be watched, but it
was too late, for the Prince had already glided between two rocks. He
wandered for a long while through the forests, where he met nothing but
fearful monsters; he climbed rock after rock, steered his way from tree
to tree, till at length he arrived at the edge of the sea, at the foot
of a mountain that he remembered to have seen in the cabinet of the
present, where Rosalie was held captive.

Filled with joy, he made his way to the top of the mountain which
pierced the clouds, and there he found a palace. He entered, and in the
middle of a long gallery he discovered a crystal room, in the midst of
which sat Rosalie, guarded night and day by genii. There was no door
anywhere, nor any window. At this sight the Prince became more puzzled
than ever, for he did not know how he was to warn Rosalie of his return.
Yet it broke his heart to see her weeping from dawn till dark.

One day, as Rosalie was walking up and down her room, she was surprised
to see that the crystal which served for a wall had grown cloudy, as if
some one had breathed on it, and, what was more, wherever she moved
the brightness of the crystal always became clouded. This was enough to
cause the Princess to suspect that her lover had returned. In order
to set the Prince of the Air’s mind at rest she began by being very
gracious to him, so that when she begged that her captivity might be a
little lightened she should not be refused. At first the only favour she
asked was to be allowed to walk for one hour every day up and down the
long gallery. This was granted, and the Invisible Prince speedily took
the opportunity of handing her the stone, which she at once slipped
into her mouth. No words can paint the fury of her captor at her
disappearance. He ordered the spirits of the air to fly through all
space, and to bring back Rosalie wherever she might be. They instantly
flew off to obey his commands, and spread themselves over the whole
earth.

Meantime Rosalie and the Invisible Prince had reached, hand in hand,
a door of the gallery which led through a terrace into the gardens. In
silence they glided along, and thought themselves already safe, when
a furious monster dashed itself by accident against Rosalie and the
Invisible Prince, and in her fright she let go his hand. No one can
speak as long as he is invisible, and besides, they knew that the
spirits were all around them, and at the slightest sound they would
be recognised; so all they could do was to feel about in the hope that
their hands might once more meet.

But, alas! the joy of liberty lasted but a short time. The Princess,
having wandered in vain up and down the forest, stopped at last on the
edge of a fountain. As she walked she wrote on the trees: ‘If ever the
Prince, my lover, comes this way, let him know that it is here I dwell,
and that I sit daily on the edge of this fountain, mingling my tears
with its waters.’

These words were read by one of the genii, who repeated them to his
master. The Prince of the Air, in his turn making himself invisible, was
led to the fountain, and waited for Rosalie. When she drew near he
held out his hand, which she grasped eagerly, taking it for that of her
lover; and, seizing his opportunity, the Prince passed a cord round her
arms, and throwing off his invisibility cried to his spirits to drag her
into the lowest pit.

It was at this moment that the Invisible Prince appeared, and at the
sight of the Prince of the Genii mounting into the air, holding a silken
cord, he guessed instantly that he was carrying off Rosalie.

He felt so overwhelmed by despair that he thought for an instant of
putting an end to his life. ‘Can I survive my misfortunes?’ he cried. ‘I
fancied I had come to an end of my troubles, and now they are worse than
ever. What will become of me? Never can I discover the place where this
monster will hide Rosalie.’

The unhappy youth had determined to let himself die, and indeed his
sorrow alone was enough to kill him, when the thought that by means
of the cabinets of the years he might find out where the Princess was
imprisoned, gave him a little ray of comfort. So he continued to walk
on through the forest, and after some hours he arrived at the gate of a
temple, guarded by two huge lions. Being invisible, he was able to enter
unharmed. In the middle of the temple was an altar, on which lay a book,
and behind the altar hung a great curtain. The Prince approached the
altar and opened the book, which contained the names of all the lovers
in the world: and in it he read that Rosalie had been carried off by the
Prince of the Air to an abyss which had no entrance except the one that
lay by way of the Fountain of Gold.

Now, as the Prince had not the smallest idea where this fountain was to
be found, it might be thought that he was not much nearer Rosalie than
before. This was not, however, the view taken by the Prince.

‘Though every step that I take may perhaps lead me further from her,’
he said to himself, ‘I am still thankful to know that she is alive
somewhere.’

On leaving the temple the Invisible Prince saw six paths lying before
him, each of which led through the wood. He was hesitating which to
choose, when he suddenly beheld two people coming towards him, down
the track which lay most to his right. They turned out to be the Prince
Gnome and his friend, and the sudden desire to get some news of his
sister, Princess Argentine, caused the Invisible Prince to follow them
and to listen to their conversation.

‘Do you think,’ the Prince Gnome was saying, ‘do you think that I would
not break my chains if I could? I know that the Princess Argentine will
never love me, yet each day I feel her dearer still. And as if this
were not enough, I have the horror of feeling that she probably loves
another. So I have resolved to put myself out of my pain by means of the
Golden Fountain. A single drop of its water falling on the sand around
will trace the name of my rival in her heart. I dread the test, and yet
this very dread convinces me of my misfortune.’

It may be imagined that after listening to these words the Invisible
Prince followed Prince Gnome like his shadow, and after walking some
time they arrived at the Golden Fountain. The unhappy lover stooped down
with a sigh, and dipping his finger in the water let fall a drop on
the sand. It instantly wrote the name of Prince Flame, his brother. The
shock of this discovery was so real, that Prince Gnome sank fainting
into the arms of his friend.

Meanwhile the Invisible Prince was turning over in his mind how he could
best deliver Rosalie. As, since he had been touched by the Giant’s ring,
he had the power to live in the water as well as on land, he at once
dived into the fountain. He perceived in one corner a door leading into
the mountain, and at the foot of the mountain was a high rock on which
was fixed an iron ring with a cord attached. The Prince promptly guessed
that the cord was used to chain the Princess, and drew his sword and cut
it. In a moment he felt the Princess’s hand in his, for she had
always kept her magic pebble in her mouth, in spite of the prayers and
entreaties of the Prince of the Air to make herself visible.

So hand in hand the invisible Prince and Rosalie crossed the mountain;
but as the Princess had no power of living under water, she could not
pass the Golden Fountain. Speechless and invisible they clung together
on the brink, trembling at the frightful tempest the Prince of the Air
had raised in his fury. The storm had already lasted many days when
tremendous heat began to make itself felt. The lightning flashed, the
thunder rattled, fire bolts fell from heaven, burning up the forests and
even the fields of corn. In one instant the very streams were dried up,
and the Prince, seizing his opportunity, carried the Princess over the
Golden Fountain.

It took them a long time still to reach the Golden Isle, but at last
they got there, and we may be quite sure they never wanted to leave it
any more.




 THE CROW(13)

(13) From the Polish. Kletke.

Once upon a time there were three Princesses who were all three young
and beautiful; but the youngest, although she was not fairer than the
other two, was the most loveable of them all.

About half a mile from the palace in which they lived there stood a
castle, which was uninhabited and almost a ruin, but the garden which
surrounded it was a mass of blooming flowers, and in this garden the
youngest Princess used often to walk.

One day when she was pacing to and fro under the lime trees, a black
crow hopped out of a rose-bush in front of her. The poor beast was all
torn and bleeding, and the kind little Princess was quite unhappy about
it. When the crow saw this it turned to her and said:

‘I am not really a black crow, but an enchanted Prince, who has been
doomed to spend his youth in misery. If you only liked, Princess, you
could save me. But you would have to say good-bye to all your own people
and come and be my constant companion in this ruined castle. There is
one habitable room in it, in which there is a golden bed; there you will
have to live all by yourself, and don’t forget that whatever you may see
or hear in the night you must not scream out, for if you give as much as
a single cry my sufferings will be doubled.’

The good-natured Princess at once left her home and her family and
hurried to the ruined castle, and took possession of the room with the
golden bed.

When night approached she lay down, but though she shut her eyes tight
sleep would not come. At midnight she heard to her great horror some one
coming along the passage, and in a minute her door was flung wide open
and a troop of strange beings entered the room. They at once proceeded
to light a fire in the huge fireplace; then they placed a great cauldron
of boiling water on it. When they had done this, they approached the
bed on which the trembling girl lay, and, screaming and yelling all
the time, they dragged her towards the cauldron. She nearly died with
fright, but she never uttered a sound. Then of a sudden the cock crew,
and all the evil spirits vanished.

At the same moment the crow appeared and hopped all round the room with
joy. It thanked the Princess most heartily for her goodness, and said
that its sufferings had already been greatly lessened.

Now one of the Princess’s elder sisters, who was very inquisitive, had
found out about everything, and went to pay her youngest sister a visit
in the ruined castle. She implored her so urgently to let her spend the
night with her in the golden bed, that at last the good-natured little
Princess consented. But at midnight, when the odd folk appeared, the
elder sister screamed with terror, and from this time on the youngest
Princess insisted always on keeping watch alone.

So she lived in solitude all the daytime, and at night she would have
been frightened, had she not been so brave; but every day the crow came
and thanked her for her endurance, and assured her that his sufferings
were far less than they had been.

And so two years passed away, when one day the crow came to the Princess
and said: ‘In another year I shall be freed from the spell I am under
at present, because then the seven years will be over. But before I
can resume my natural form, and take possession of the belongings of
my forefathers, you must go out into the world and take service as a
maidservant.’

The young Princess consented at once, and for a whole year she served as
a maid; but in spite of her youth and beauty she was very badly treated,
and suffered many things. One evening, when she was spinning flax, and
had worked her little white hands weary, she heard a rustling beside her
and a cry of joy. Then she saw a handsome youth standing beside her; who
knelt down at her feet and kissed the little weary white hands.

‘I am the Prince,’ he said, ‘who you in your goodness, when I was
wandering about in the shape of a black crow, freed from the most awful
torments. Come now to my castle with me, and let us live there happily
together.’

So they went to the castle where they had both endured so much. But when
they reached it, it was difficult to believe that it was the same, for
it had all been rebuilt and done up again. And there they lived for a
hundred years, a hundred years of joy and happiness.




HOW SIX MEN TRAVELLED THROUGH THE WIDE WORLD

There was once upon a time a man who understood all sorts of arts; he
served in the war, and bore himself bravely and well; but when the war
was over, he got his discharge, and set out on his travels with three
farthings of his pay in his pocket. ‘Wait,’ he said; ‘that does not
please me; only let me find the right people, and the King shall yet
give me all the treasures of his kingdom.’ He strode angrily into the
forest, and there he saw a man standing who had uprooted six trees as
if they were straws. He said to him, ‘Will you be my servant and travel
with me?’

‘Yes,’ he answered; ‘but first of all I will take this little bundle
of sticks home to my mother,’ and he took one of the trees and wound
it round the other five, raised the bundle on his shoulders and bore it
off. Then he came back and went with his master, who said, ‘We two ought
to be able to travel through the wide world!’ And when they had gone a
little way they came upon a hunter, who was on his knees, his gun on his
shoulder, aiming at something. The master said to him, ‘Hunter, what are
you aiming at?’

He answered, ‘Two miles from this place sits a fly on a branch of an
oak; I want to shoot out its left eye.’

‘Oh, go with me,’ said the man; ‘if we three are together we shall
easily travel through the wide world.’

The hunter agreed and went with him, and they came to seven windmills
whose sails were going round quite fast, and yet there was not a breath
of wind, nor was a leaf moving. The man said, ‘I don’t know what is
turning those windmills; there is not the slightest breeze blowing.’ So
he walked on with his servants, and when they had gone two miles they
saw a man sitting on a tree, holding one of his nostrils and blowing out
of the other.

‘Fellow, what are you puffing at up there?’ asked the man.

He replied, ‘Two miles from this place are standing seven windmills;
see, I am blowing to drive them round.’

‘Oh, go with me,’ said the man; ‘if we four are together we shall easily
travel through the wide world.’

So the blower got down and went with him, and after a time they saw a
man who was standing on one leg, and had unstrapped the other and
laid it near him. Then said the master, ‘You have made yourself very
comfortable to rest!’

‘I am a runner,’ answered he; ‘and so that I shall not go too quickly,
I have unstrapped one leg; when I run with two legs, I go faster than a
bird flies.’

‘Oh, go with me; if we five are together, we shall easily travel through
the wide world.’ So he went with him, and, not long afterwards, they met
a man who wore a little hat, but he had it slouched over one ear.

‘Manners, manners!’ said the master to him; ‘don’t hang your hat over
one ear; you look like a madman!’

‘I dare not,’ said the other, ‘for if I were to put my hat on straight,
there would come such a frost that the very birds in the sky would
freeze and fall dead on the earth.’

‘Oh, go with me,’ said the master; ‘if we six are together, we shall
easily travel through the wide world.

Now the Six came to a town in which the King had proclaimed that whoever
should run with his daughter in a race, and win, should become her
husband; but if he lost, he must lose his head. This was reported to
the man who declared he would compete, ‘but,’ he said, ‘I shall let my
servant run for me.’

The King replied, ‘Then both your heads must be staked, and your head
and his must be guaranteed for the winner.’

When this was agreed upon and settled, the man strapped on the runner’s
other leg, saying to him, ‘Now be nimble, and see that we win!’ It was
arranged that whoever should first bring water out of a stream a long
way off, should be the victor. Then the runner got a pitcher, and the
King’s daughter another, and they began to run at the same time; but in
a moment, when the King’s daughter was only just a little way off,
no spectator could see the runner, and it seemed as if the wind had
whistled past. In a short time he reached the stream, filled his
pitcher with water, and turned round again. But, half way home, a great
drowsiness came over him; he put down his pitcher, lay down, and fell
asleep. He had, however, put a horse’s skull which was lying on the
ground, for his pillow, so that he should not be too comfortable and
might soon wake up.

In the meantime the King’s daughter, who could also run well, as well
as an ordinary man could, reached the stream, and hastened back with her
pitcher full of water. When she saw the runner lying there asleep, she
was delighted, and said, ‘My enemy is given into my hands!’ She emptied
his pitcher and ran on.

Everything now would have been lost, if by good luck the hunter had not
been standing on the castle tower and had seen everything with his sharp
eyes.

‘Ah,’ said he, ‘the King’s daughter shall not overreach us;’ and,
loading his gun, he shot so cleverly, that he shot away the horse’s
skull from under the runner’s head, without its hurting him. Then the
runner awoke, jumped up, and saw that his pitcher was empty and the
King’s daughter far ahead. But he did not lose courage, and ran back
to the stream with his pitcher, filled it once more with water, and was
home ten minutes before the King’s daughter arrived.

‘Look,’ said he, ‘I have only just exercised my legs; that was nothing
of a run.’

But the King was angry, and his daughter even more so, that she should
be carried away by a common, discharged soldier. They consulted together
how they could destroy both him and his companions.

‘Then,’ said the King to her, ‘I have found a way. Don’t be frightened;
they shall not come home again.’ He said to them, ‘You must now make
merry together, and eat and drink,’ and he led them into a room which
had a floor of iron; the doors were also of iron, and the windows were
barred with iron. In the room was a table spread with delicious food.
The King said to them, ‘Go in and enjoy yourselves,’ and as soon as
they were inside he had the doors shut and bolted. Then he made the cook
come, and ordered him to keep up a large fire under the room until the
iron was red-hot. The cook did so, and the Six sitting round the table
felt it grow very warm, and they thought this was because of their good
fare; but when the heat became still greater and they wanted to go out,
but found the doors and windows fastened, then they knew that the King
meant them harm and was trying to suffocate them.

‘But he shall not succeed,’ cried he of the little hat, ‘I will make a
frost come which shall make the fire ashamed and die out!’ So he put his
hat on straight, and at once there came such a frost that all the heat
disappeared and the food on the dishes began to freeze. When a couple of
hours had passed, and the King thought they must be quite dead from the
heat, he had the doors opened and went in himself to see.

But when the doors were opened, there stood all Six, alive and well,
saying they were glad they could come out to warm themselves, for the
great cold in the room had frozen all the food hard in the dishes. Then
the King went angrily to the cook, and scolded him, and asked him why he
had not done what he was told.

But the cook answered, ‘There is heat enough there; see for yourself.’
Then the King saw a huge fire burning under the iron room, and
understood that he could do no harm to the Six in this way. The King
now began again to think how he could free himself from his unwelcome
guests. He commanded the master to come before him, and said, ‘If you
will take gold, and give up your right to my daughter, you shall have as
much as you like.’

‘Oh, yes, your Majesty,’ answered he, ‘give me as much as my servant can
carry, and I will give up your daughter.’

The King was delighted, and the man said, ‘I will come and fetch it in
fourteen days.’

Then he called all the tailors in the kingdom together, and made them
sit down for fourteen days sewing at a sack. When it was finished, he
made the strong man who had uprooted the trees take the sack on his
shoulder and go with him to the King. Then the King said, ‘What a
powerful fellow that is, carrying that bale of linen as large as a house
on his shoulder!’ and he was much frightened, and thought ‘What a lot of
gold he will make away with!’ Then he had a ton of gold brought, which
sixteen of the strongest men had to carry; but the strong man seized it
with one hand, put it in the sack, saying, ‘Why don’t you bring me more?
That scarcely covers the bottom!’ Then the King had to send again and
again to fetch his treasures, which the strong man shoved into the sack,
and the sack was only half full.

‘Bring more,’ he cried, ‘these crumbs don’t fill it.’ So seven thousand
waggons of the gold of the whole kingdom were driven up; these the
strong man shoved into the sack, oxen and all.

‘I will no longer be particular,’ he said, ‘and will take what comes, so
that the sack shall be full.’

When everything was put in and there was not yet enough, he said, ‘I
will make an end of this; it is easy to fasten a sack when it is not
full.’ Then he threw it on his back and went with his companions.

Now, when the King saw how a single man was carrying away the wealth
of the whole country he was very angry, and made his cavalry mount
and pursue the Six, and bring back the strong man with the sack. Two
regiments soon overtook them, and called to them, ‘You are prisoners!
lay down the sack of gold or you shall be cut down.’

‘What do you say?’ said the blower, ‘we are prisoners? Before that, you
shall dance in the air!’ And he held one nostril and blew with the other
at the two regiments; they were separated and blown away in the blue sky
over the mountains, one this way, and the other that. A sergeant-major
cried for mercy, saying he had nine wounds, and was a brave fellow, and
did not deserve this disgrace. So the blower let him off, and he came
down without hurt. Then he said to him, ‘Now go home to the King, and
say that if he sends any more cavalry I will blow them all into the
air.’

When the King received the message, he said, ‘Let the fellows go; they
are bewitched.’ Then the Six brought the treasure home, shared it among
themselves, and lived contentedly till the end of their days.




 THE WIZARD KING(14)

(14) From Les fees illustres.

In very ancient times there lived a King, whose power lay not only in
the vast extent of his dominions, but also in the magic secrets of which
he was master. After spending the greater part of his early youth in
pleasure, he met a Princess of such remarkable beauty that he at once
asked her hand in marriage, and, having obtained it, considered himself
the happiest of men.

After a year’s time a son was born, worthy in every way of such
distinguished parents, and much admired by the whole Court. As soon as
the Queen thought him strong enough for a journey she set out with him
secretly to visit her Fairy godmother. I said secretly, because the
Fairy had warned the Queen that the King was a magician; and as from
time immemorial there had been a standing feud between the Fairies and
the Wizards, he might not have approved of his wife’s visit.

The Fairy godmother, who took the deepest interest in all the Queen’s
concerns, and who was much pleased with the little Prince, endowed him
with the power of pleasing everybody from his cradle, as well as with
a wonderful ease in learning everything which could help to make him
a perfectly accomplished Prince. Accordingly, to the delight of his
teachers, he made the most rapid progress in his education, constantly
surpassing everyone’s expectations. Before he was many years old,
however, he had the great sorrow of losing his mother, whose last words
were to advise him never to undertake anything of importance without
consulting the Fairy under whose protection she had placed him.

The Prince’s grief at the death of his mother was great, but it
was nothing compared to that of the King, his father, who was quite
inconsolable for the loss of his dear wife. Neither time nor reason
seemed to lighten his sorrow, and the sight of all the familiar faces
and things about him only served to remind him of his loss. He therefore
resolved to travel for change, and by means of his magic art was able
to visit every country he came to see under different shapes, returning
every few weeks to the place where he had left a few followers.

Having travelled from land to land in this fashion without finding
anything to rivet his attention, it occurred to him to take the form of
an eagle, and in this shape he flew across many countries and arrived
at length in a new and lovely spot, where the air seemed filled with the
scent of jessamine and orange flowers with which the ground was thickly
planted. Attracted by the sweet perfume he flew lower, and perceived
some large and beautiful gardens filled with the rarest flowers, and
with fountains throwing up their clear waters into the air in a hundred
different shapes. A wide stream flowed through the garden, and on it
floated richly ornamented barges and gondolas filled with people dressed
in the most elegant manner and covered with jewels.

In one of these barges sat the Queen of that country with her only
daughter, a maiden more beautiful than the Day Star, and attended by
the ladies of the Court. No more exquisitely lovely mortal was ever seen
than this Princess, and it needed all an eagle’s strength of sight to
prevent the King being hopelessly dazzled. He perched on the top of a
large orange tree, whence he was able to survey the scene and to gaze at
pleasure on the Princess’s charms.

Now, an eagle with a King’s heart in his breast is apt to be bold,
and accordingly he instantly made up his mind to carry off the lovely
damsel, feeling sure that having once seen her he could not live without
her.

He waited till he saw her in the act of stepping ashore, when, suddenly
swooping down, he carried her off before her equerry in attendance had
advanced to offer her his hand. The Princess, on finding herself in an
eagle’s talons, uttered the most heart-breaking shrieks and cries; but
her captor, though touched by her distress, would not abandon his lovely
prey, and continued to fly through the air too fast to allow of his
saying anything to comfort her.

At length, when he thought they had reached a safe distance, he began
to lower his flight, and gradually descending to earth, deposited
his burden in a flowery meadow. He then entreated her pardon for his
violence, and told her that he was about to carry her to a great kingdom
over which he ruled, and where he desired she should rule with him,
adding many tender and consoling expressions.

For some time the Princess remained speechless; but recovering herself
a little, she burst into a flood of tears. The King, much moved, said,
‘Adorable Princess, dry your tears. I implore you. My only wish is to
make you the happiest person in the world.’

‘If you speak truth, my lord,’ replied the Princess, ‘restore to me the
liberty you have deprived me of. Otherwise I can only look on you as my
worst enemy.’

The King retorted that her opposition filled him with despair, but that
he hoped to carry her to a place where all around would respect her, and
where every pleasure would surround her. So saying, he seized her once
more, and in spite of all her cries he rapidly bore her off to the
neighbourhood of his capital. Here he gently placed her on a lawn, and
as he did so she saw a magnificent palace spring up at her feet. The
architecture was imposing, and in the interior the rooms were handsome
and furnished in the best possible taste.

The Princess, who expected to be quite alone, was pleased at finding
herself surrounded by a number of pretty girls, all anxious to wait on
her, whilst a brilliantly-coloured parrot said the most agreeable things
in the world.

On arriving at this palace the King had resumed his own form, and
though no longer young, he might well have pleased any other than this
Princess, who had been so prejudiced against him by his violence that
she could only regard him with feelings of hatred, which she was at
no pains to conceal. The King hoped, however, that time might not only
soften her anger, but accustom her to his sight. He took the precaution
of surrounding the palace with a dense cloud, and then hastened to his
Court, where his prolonged absence was causing much anxiety.

The Prince and all the courtiers were delighted to see their beloved
King again, but they had to submit themselves to more frequent absences
than ever on his part. He made business a pretext for shutting himself
up in his study, but it was really in order to spend the time with the
Princess, who remained inflexible.

Not being able to imagine what could be the cause of so much obstinacy
the King began to fear, lest, in spite of all his precautions, she might
have heard of the charms of the Prince his son, whose goodness, youth
and beauty, made him adored at Court. This idea made him horribly
uneasy, and he resolved to remove the cause of his fears by sending the
Prince on his travels escorted by a magnificent retinue.

The Prince, after visiting several Courts, arrived at the one where the
lost Princess was still deeply mourned. The King and Queen received him
most graciously, and some festivities were revived to do him honour.

One day when the Prince was visiting the Queen in her own apartments he
was much struck by a most beautiful portrait. He eagerly inquired whose
it was, and the Queen, with many tears, told him it was all that was
left her of her beloved daughter, who had suddenly been carried off, she
knew neither where nor how.

The Prince was deeply moved, and vowed that he would search the world
for the Princess, and take no rest till he had found and restored her to
her mother’s arms. The Queen assured him of her eternal gratitude,
and promised, should he succeed, to give him her daughter in marriage,
together with all the estates she herself owned.

The Prince, far more attracted by the thoughts of possessing the
Princess than her promised dower, set forth in his quest after taking
leave of the King and Queen, the latter giving him a miniature of her
daughter which she was in the habit of wearing. His first act was
to seek the Fairy under whose protection he had been placed, and he
implored her to give him all the assistance of her art and counsel in
this important matter.

After listening attentively to the whole adventure, the Fairy asked
for time to consult her books. After due consideration she informed the
Prince that the object of his search was not far distant, but that it
was too difficult for him to attempt to enter the enchanted palace where
she was, as the King his father had surrounded it with a thick cloud,
and that the only expedient she could think of would be to gain
possession of the Princess’s parrot. This, she added, did not
appear impossible, as it often flew about to some distance in the
neighbourhood.

Having told the Prince all this, the Fairy went out in hopes of seeing
the parrot, and soon returned with the bird in her hand. She promptly
shut it up in a cage, and, touching the Prince with her wand,
transformed him into an exactly similar parrot; after which, she
instructed him how to reach the Princess.

The Prince reached the palace in safety, but was so dazzled at first by
the Princess’s beauty, which far surpassed his expectations, that he
was quite dumb for a time. The Princess was surprised and anxious, and
fearing the parrot, who was her greatest comfort, had fallen ill, she
took him in her hand and caressed him. This soon reassured the Prince,
and encouraged him to play his part well, and he began to say a thousand
agreeable things which charmed the Princess.

Presently the King appeared, and the parrot noticed with joy how much
he was disliked. As soon as the King left, the Princess retired to her
dressing-room, the parrot flew after her and overheard her lamentations
at the continued persecutions of the King, who had pressed her to
consent to their marriage. The parrot said so many clever and tender
things to comfort her that she began to doubt whether this could indeed
be her own parrot.

When he saw her well-disposed towards him, he exclaimed: ‘Madam, I
have a most important secret to confide to you, and I beg you not to be
alarmed by what I am about to say. I am here on behalf of the Queen your
mother, with the object of delivering your Highness; to prove which,
behold this portrait which she gave me herself.’ So saying he drew forth
the miniature from under his wing. The Princess’s surprise was great,
but after what she had seen and heard it was impossible not to indulge
in hope, for she had recognised the likeness of herself which her mother
always wore.

The parrot, finding she was not much alarmed, told her who he was, all
that her mother had promised him and the help he had already received
from a Fairy who had assured him that she would give him means to
transport the Princess to her mother’s arms.

When he found her listening attentively to him, he implored the Princess
to allow him to resume his natural shape. She did not speak, so he drew
a feather from his wing, and she beheld before her a Prince of such
surpassing beauty that it was impossible not to hope that she might owe
her liberty to so charming a person.

Meantime the Fairy had prepared a chariot, to which she harnessed two
powerful eagles; then placing the cage, with the parrot in it,
she charged the bird to conduct it to the window of the Princess’s
dressing-room. This was done in a few minutes, and the Princess,
stepping into the chariot with the Prince, was delighted to find her
parrot again.

As they rose through the air the Princess remarked a figure mounted on
an eagle’s back flying in front of the chariot. She was rather alarmed,
but the Prince reassured her, telling her it was the good Fairy to
whom she owed so much, and who was now conducting her in safety to her
mother.

That same morning the King woke suddenly from a troubled sleep. He
had dreamt that the Princess was being carried off from him, and,
transforming himself into an eagle, he flew to the palace. When he
failed to find her he flew into a terrible rage, and hastened home to
consult his books, by which means he discovered that it was his son
who had deprived him of this precious treasure. Immediately he took the
shape of a harpy, and, filled with rage, was determined to devour his
son, and even the Princess too, if only he could overtake them.

He set out at full speed; but he started too late, and was further
delayed by a strong wind which the Fairy raised behind the young couple
so as to baffle any pursuit.

You may imagine the rapture with which the Queen received the daughter
she had given up for lost, as well as the amiable Prince who had rescued
her. The Fairy entered with them, and warned the Queen that the Wizard
King would shortly arrive, infuriated by his loss, and that nothing
could preserve the Prince and Princess from his rage and magic unless
they were actually married.

The Queen hastened to inform the King her husband, and the wedding took
place on the spot.

As the ceremony was completed the Wizard King arrived. His despair at
being so late bewildered him so entirely that he appeared in his natural
form and attempted to sprinkle some black liquid over the bride and
bridegroom, which was intended to kill them, but the Fairy stretched out
her wand and the liquid dropped on the Magician himself. He fell down
senseless, and the Princess’s father, deeply offended at the cruel
revenge which had been attempted, ordered him to be removed and locked
up in prison.

Now as magicians lose all their power as soon as they are in prison, the
King felt himself much embarrassed at being thus at the mercy of
those he had so greatly offended. The Prince implored and obtained his
father’s pardon, and the prison doors were opened.

No sooner was this done than the Wizard King was seen in the air under
the form of some unknown bird, exclaiming as he flew off that he would
never forgive either his son or the Fairy the cruel wrong they had done
him.

Everyone entreated the Fairy to settle in the kingdom where she now was,
to which she consented. She built herself a magnificent palace, to which
she transported her books and fairy secrets, and where she enjoyed the
sight of the perfect happiness she had helped to bestow on the entire
royal family.




 THE NIXY(15)

(15) From the German. Kletke.

There was once upon a time a miller who was very well off, and had as
much money and as many goods as he knew what to do with. But sorrow
comes in the night, and the miller all of a sudden became so poor
that at last he could hardly call the mill in which he sat his own. He
wandered about all day full of despair and misery, and when he lay down
at night he could get no rest, but lay awake all night sunk in sorrowful
thoughts.

One morning he rose up before dawn and went outside, for he thought his
heart would be lighter in the open air. As he wandered up and down on
the banks of the mill-pond he heard a rustling in the water, and when he
looked near he saw a white woman rising up from the waves.

He realised at once that this could be none other than the nixy of the
mill-pond, and in his terror he didn’t know if he should fly away or
remain where he was. While he hesitated the nixy spoke, called him by
his name, and asked him why he was so sad.

When the miller heard how friendly her tone was, he plucked up heart and
told her how rich and prosperous he had been all his life up till now,
when he didn’t know what he was to do for want and misery.

Then the nixy spoke comforting words to him, and promised that she would
make him richer and more prosperous than he had ever been in his life
before, if he would give her in return the youngest thing in his house.

The miller thought she must mean one of his puppies or kittens, so
promised the nixy at once what she asked, and returned to his mill full
of hope. On the threshold he was greeted by a servant with the news that
his wife had just given birth to a boy.

The poor miller was much horrified by these tidings, and went in to
his wife with a heavy heart to tell her and his relations of the fatal
bargain he had just struck with the nixy. ‘I would gladly give up all
the good fortune she promised me,’ he said, ‘if I could only save my
child.’ But no one could think of any advice to give him, beyond taking
care that the child never went near the mill-pond.

So the boy throve and grew big, and in the meantime all prospered with
the miller, and in a few years he was richer than he had ever been
before. But all the same he did not enjoy his good fortune, for he could
not forget his compact with the nixy, and he knew that sooner or later
she would demand his fulfilment of it. But year after year went by, and
the boy grew up and became a great hunter, and the lord of the land took
him into his service, for he was as smart and bold a hunter as you would
wish to see. In a short time he married a pretty young wife, and lived
with her in great peace and happiness.

One day when he was out hunting a hare sprang up at his feet, and ran
for some way in front of him in the open field. The hunter pursued it
hotly for some time, and at last shot it dead. Then he proceeded to
skin it, never noticing that he was close to the mill-pond, which from
childhood up he had been taught to avoid. He soon finished the skinning,
and went to the water to wash the blood off his hands. He had hardly
dipped them in the pond when the nixy rose up in the water, and seizing
him in her wet arms she dragged him down with her under the waves.

When the hunter did not come home in the evening his wife grew very
anxious, and when his game bag was found close to the mill-pond she
guessed at once what had befallen him. She was nearly beside herself
with grief, and roamed round and round the pond calling on her husband
without ceasing. At last, worn out with sorrow and fatigue, she fell
asleep and dreamt that she was wandering along a flowery meadow, when
she came to a hut where she found an old witch, who promised to restore
her husband to her.

When she awoke next morning she determined to set out and find the
witch; so she wandered on for many a day, and at last she reached the
flowery meadow and found the hut where the old witch lived. The poor
wife told her all that had happened and how she had been told in a dream
of the witch’s power to help her.

The witch counselled her to go to the pond the first time there was a
full moon, and to comb her black hair with a golden comb, and then to
place the comb on the bank. The hunter’s wife gave the witch a handsome
present, thanked her heartily, and returned home.

Time dragged heavily till the time of the full moon, but it passed at
last, and as soon as it rose the young wife went to the pond, combed
her black hair with a golden comb, and when she had finished, placed the
comb on the bank; then she watched the water impatiently. Soon she heard
a rushing sound, and a big wave rose suddenly and swept the comb off the
bank, and a minute after the head of her husband rose from the pond and
gazed sadly at her. But immediately another wave came, and the head sank
back into the water without having said a word. The pond lay still and
motionless, glittering in the moonshine, and the hunter’s wife was not a
bit better off than she had been before.

In despair she wandered about for days and nights, and at last, worn out
by fatigue, she sank once more into a deep sleep, and dreamt exactly the
same dream about the old witch. So next morning she went again to the
flowery meadow and sought the witch in her hut, and told her of her
grief. The old woman counselled her to go to the mill-pond the next
full moon and play upon a golden flute, and then to lay the flute on the
bank.

As soon as the next moon was full the hunter’s wife went to the
mill-pond, played on a golden flute, and when she had finished placed it
on the bank. Then a rushing sound was heard, and a wave swept the flute
off the bank, and soon the head of the hunter appeared and rose up
higher and higher till he was half out of the water. Then he gazed sadly
at his wife and stretched out his arms towards her. But another rushing
wave arose and dragged him under once more. The hunter’s wife, who had
stood on the bank full of joy and hope, sank into despair when she saw
her husband snatched away again before her eyes.

But for her comfort she dreamt the same dream a third time, and betook
herself once more to the old witch’s hut in the flowery meadow. This
time the old woman told her to go the next full moon to the mill-pond,
and to spin there with a golden spinning-wheel, and then to leave the
spinning-wheel on the bank.

The hunter’s wife did as she was advised, and the first night the moon
was full she sat and spun with a golden spinning-wheel, and then left
the wheel on the bank. In a few minutes a rushing sound was heard in the
waters, and a wave swept the spinning-wheel from the bank. Immediately
the head of the hunter rose up from the pond, getting higher and higher
each moment, till at length he stepped on to the bank and fell on his
wife’s neck.

But the waters of the pond rose up suddenly, overflowed the bank where
the couple stood, and dragged them under the flood. In her despair the
young wife called on the old witch to help her, and in a moment the
hunter was turned into a frog and his wife into a toad. But they were
not able to remain together, for the water tore them apart, and when the
flood was over they both resumed their own shapes again, but the hunter
and the hunter’s wife found themselves each in a strange country, and
neither knew what had become of the other.

The hunter determined to become a shepherd, and his wife too became a
shepherdess. So they herded their sheep for many years in solitude and
sadness.

Now it happened once that the shepherd came to the country where the
shepherdess lived. The neighbourhood pleased him, and he saw that the
pasture was rich and suitable for his flocks. So he brought his sheep
there, and herded them as before. The shepherd and shepherdess became
great friends, but they did not recognise each other in the least.

But one evening when the moon was full they sat together watching their
flocks, and the shepherd played upon his flute. Then the shepherdess
thought of that evening when she had sat at the full moon by the
mill-pond and had played on the golden flute; the recollection was too
much for her, and she burst into tears. The shepherd asked her why she
was crying, and left her no peace till she told him all her story. Then
the scales fell from the shepherd’s eyes, and he recognised his wife,
and she him. So they returned joyfully to their own home, and lived in
peace and happiness ever after.




THE GLASS MOUNTAIN(16)

(16) From the Polish. Kletke.

Once upon a time there was a Glass Mountain at the top of which stood
a castle made of pure gold, and in front of the castle there grew an
apple-tree on which there were golden apples.

Anyone who picked an apple gained admittance into the golden castle, and
there in a silver room sat an enchanted Princess of surpassing fairness
and beauty. She was as rich too as she was beautiful, for the cellars of
the castle were full of precious stones, and great chests of the finest
gold stood round the walls of all the rooms.

Many knights had come from afar to try their luck, but it was in vain
they attempted to climb the mountain. In spite of having their horses
shod with sharp nails, no one managed to get more than half-way up, and
then they all fell back right down to the bottom of the steep slippery
hill. Sometimes they broke an arm, sometimes a leg, and many a brave man
had broken his neck even.

The beautiful Princess sat at her window and watched the bold knights
trying to reach her on their splendid horses. The sight of her always
gave men fresh courage, and they flocked from the four quarters of the
globe to attempt the work of rescuing her. But all in vain, and for
seven years the Princess had sat now and waited for some one to scale
the Glass Mountain.

A heap of corpses both of riders and horses lay round the mountain, and
many dying men lay groaning there unable to go any farther with their
wounded limbs. The whole neighbourhood had the appearance of a vast
churchyard. In three more days the seven years would be at an end,
when a knight in golden armour and mounted on a spirited steed was seen
making his way towards the fatal hill.

Sticking his spurs into his horse he made a rush at the mountain, and
got up half-way, then he calmly turned his horse’s head and came down
again without a slip or stumble. The following day he started in the
same way; the horse trod on the glass as if it had been level earth,
and sparks of fire flew from its hoofs. All the other knights gazed in
astonishment, for he had almost gained the summit, and in another moment
he would have reached the apple-tree; but of a sudden a huge eagle rose
up and spread its mighty wings, hitting as it did so the knight’s horse
in the eye.

The beast shied, opened its wide nostrils and tossed its mane, then
rearing high up in the air, its hind feet slipped and it fell with its
rider down the steep mountain side. Nothing was left of either of them
except their bones, which rattled in the battered golden armour like dry
peas in a pod.

And now there was only one more day before the close of the seven years.
Then there arrived on the scene a mere schoolboy--a merry, happy-hearted
youth, but at the same time strong and well-grown. He saw how many
knights had broken their necks in vain, but undaunted he approached the
steep mountain on foot and began the ascent.

For long he had heard his parents speak of the beautiful Princess who
sat in the golden castle at the top of the Glass Mountain. He listened
to all he heard, and determined that he too would try his luck. But
first he went to the forest and caught a lynx, and cutting off the
creature’s sharp claws, he fastened them on to his own hands and feet.

Armed with these weapons he boldly started up the Glass Mountain.

The sun was nearly going down, and the youth had not got more than
half-way up. He could hardly draw breath he was so worn out, and his
mouth was parched by thirst. A huge black cloud passed over his head,
but in vain did he beg and beseech her to let a drop of water fall on
him. He opened his mouth, but the black cloud sailed past and not as
much as a drop of dew moistened his dry lips.

His feet were torn and bleeding, and he could only hold on now with his
hands. Evening closed in, and he strained his eyes to see if he could
behold the top of the mountain. Then he gazed beneath him, and what a
sight met his eyes! A yawning abyss, with certain and terrible death at
the bottom, reeking with half-decayed bodies of horses and riders! And
this had been the end of all the other brave men who like himself had
attempted the ascent.

It was almost pitch dark now, and only the stars lit up the Glass
Mountain. The poor boy still clung on as if glued to the glass by his
blood-stained hands. He made no struggle to get higher, for all his
strength had left him, and seeing no hope he calmly awaited death.
Then all of a sudden he fell into a deep sleep, and forgetful of his
dangerous position, he slumbered sweetly. But all the same, although he
slept, he had stuck his sharp claws so firmly into the glass that he was
quite safe not to fall.

Now the golden apple-tree was guarded by the eagle which had overthrown
the golden knight and his horse. Every night it flew round the Glass
Mountain keeping a careful look-out, and no sooner had the moon emerged
from the clouds than the bird rose up from the apple-tree, and circling
round in the air, caught sight of the sleeping youth.

Greedy for carrion, and sure that this must be a fresh corpse, the bird
swooped down upon the boy. But he was awake now, and perceiving the
eagle, he determined by its help to save himself.

The eagle dug its sharp claws into the tender flesh of the youth, but he
bore the pain without a sound, and seized the bird’s two feet with his
hands. The creature in terror lifted him high up into the air and began
to circle round the tower of the castle. The youth held on bravely. He
saw the glittering palace, which by the pale rays of the moon looked
like a dim lamp; and he saw the high windows, and round one of them a
balcony in which the beautiful Princess sat lost in sad thoughts. Then
the boy saw that he was close to the apple-tree, and drawing a small
knife from his belt, he cut off both the eagle’s feet. The bird rose up
in the air in its agony and vanished into the clouds, and the youth fell
on to the broad branches of the apple-tree.

Then he drew out the claws of the eagle’s feet that had remained in his
flesh, and put the peel of one of the golden apples on the wound, and
in one moment it was healed and well again. He pulled several of the
beautiful apples and put them in his pocket; then he entered the castle.
The door was guarded by a great dragon, but as soon as he threw an apple
at it, the beast vanished.

At the same moment a gate opened, and the youth perceived a courtyard
full of flowers and beautiful trees, and on a balcony sat the lovely
enchanted Princess with her retinue.

As soon as she saw the youth, she ran towards him and greeted him as her
husband and master. She gave him all her treasures, and the youth became
a rich and mighty ruler. But he never returned to the earth, for only
the mighty eagle, who had been the guardian of the Princess and of the
castle, could have carried on his wings the enormous treasure down to
the world. But as the eagle had lost its feet it died, and its body was
found in a wood on the Glass Mountain.

. . . . . . .

One day when the youth was strolling about in the palace garden with the
Princess, his wife, he looked down over the edge of the Glass Mountain
and saw to his astonishment a great number of people gathered there. He
blew his silver whistle, and the swallow who acted as messenger in the
golden castle flew past.

‘Fly down and ask what the matter is,’ he said to the little bird, who
sped off like lightning and soon returned saying:

‘The blood of the eagle has restored all the people below to life. All
those who have perished on this mountain are awakening up to-day, as
it were from a sleep, and are mounting their horses, and the whole
population are gazing on this unheard-of wonder with joy and amazement.’




 ALPHEGE, OR THE GREEN MONKEY

Many years ago there lived a King, who was twice married. His first
wife, a good and beautiful woman, died at the birth of her little son,
and the King her husband was so overwhelmed with grief at her loss that
his only comfort was in the sight of his heir.

When the time for the young Prince’s christening came the King chose
as godmother a neighbouring Princess, so celebrated for her wisdom and
goodness that she was commonly called ‘the Good Queen.’ She named the
baby Alphege, and from that moment took him to her heart.

Time wipes away the greatest griefs, and after two or three years the
King married again. His second wife was a Princess of undeniable beauty,
but by no means of so amiable a disposition as the first Queen. In due
time a second Prince was born, and the Queen was devoured with rage at
the thought that Prince Alphege came between her son and the throne. She
took care however to conceal her jealous feelings from the King.

At length she could control herself no longer, so she sent a trusty
servant to her old and faithful friend the Fairy of the Mountain, to beg
her to devise some means by which she might get rid of her stepson.

The Fairy replied that, much as she desired to be agreeable to the Queen
in every way, it was impossible for her to attempt anything against the
young Prince, who was under the protection of some greater Power than
her own.

The ‘Good Queen’ on her side watched carefully over her godson. She was
obliged to do so from a distance, her own country being a remote one,
but she was well informed of all that went on and knew all about the
Queen’s wicked designs. She therefore sent the Prince a large and
splendid ruby, with injunctions to wear it night and day as it would
protect him from all attacks, but added that the talisman only retained
its power as long as the Prince remained within his father’s dominions.
The Wicked Queen knowing this made every attempt to get the Prince out
of the country, but her efforts failed, till one day accident did what
she was unable to accomplish.

The King had an only sister who was deeply attached to him, and who was
married to the sovereign of a distant country. She had always kept up
a close correspondence with her brother, and the accounts she heard of
Prince Alphege made her long to become acquainted with so charming a
nephew. She entreated the King to allow the Prince to visit her, and
after some hesitation which was overruled by his wife, he finally
consented.

Prince Alphege was at this time fourteen years old, and the handsomest
and most engaging youth imaginable. In his infancy he had been placed
in the charge of one of the great ladies of the Court, who, according
to the prevailing custom, acted first as his head nurse and then as his
governess. When he outgrew her care her husband was appointed as his
tutor and governor, so that he had never been separated from this
excellent couple, who loved him as tenderly as they did their only
daughter Zayda, and were warmly loved by him in return.

When the Prince set forth on his travels it was but natural that this
devoted couple should accompany him, and accordingly he started with
them and attended by a numerous retinue.

For some time he travelled through his father’s dominions and all went
well; but soon after passing the frontier they had to cross a desert
plain under a burning sun. They were glad to take shelter under a group
of trees near, and here the Prince complained of burning thirst. Luckily
a tiny stream ran close by and some water was soon procured, but no
sooner had he tasted it than he sprang from his carriage and disappeared
in a moment. In vain did his anxious followers seek for him, he was
nowhere to be found.

As they were hunting and shouting through the trees a black monkey
suddenly appeared on a point of rock and said: ‘Poor sorrowing people,
you are seeking your Prince in vain. Return to your own country and know
that he will not be restored to you till you have for some time failed
to recognise him.’

With these words he vanished, leaving the courtiers sadly perplexed; but
as all their efforts to find the Prince were useless they had no choice
but to go home, bringing with them the sad news, which so greatly
distressed the King that he fell ill and died not long after.

The Queen, whose ambition was boundless, was delighted to see the crown
on her son’s head and to have the power in her own hands. Her hard rule
made her very unpopular, and it was commonly believed that she had
made away with Prince Alphege. Indeed, had the King her son not been
deservedly beloved a revolution would certainly have arisen.

Meantime the former governess of the unfortunate Alphege, who had lost
her husband soon after the King’s death, retired to her own house with
her daughter, who grew up a lovely and most loveable girl, and both
continued to mourn the loss of their dear Prince.

The young King was devoted to hunting, and often indulged in his
favourite pastime, attended by the noblest youths in his kingdom.

One day, after a long morning’s chase he stopped to rest near a brook in
the shade of a little wood, where a splendid tent had been prepared
for him. Whilst at luncheon he suddenly spied a little monkey of the
brightest green sitting on a tree and gazing so tenderly at him that
he felt quite moved. He forbade his courtiers to frighten it, and the
monkey, noticing how much attention was being paid him, sprang from
bough to bough, and at length gradually approached the King, who offered
him some food. The monkey took it very daintily and finally came to the
table. The King took him on his knees, and, delighted with his capture,
brought him home with him. He would trust no one else with its care, and
the whole Court soon talked of nothing but the pretty green monkey.

One morning, as Prince Alphege’s governess and her daughter were alone
together, the little monkey sprang in through an open window. He had
escaped from the palace, and his manners were so gentle and caressing
that Zayda and her mother soon got over the first fright he had given
them. He had spent some time with them and quite won their hearts by
his insinuating ways, when the King discovered where he was and sent to
fetch him back. But the monkey made such piteous cries, and seemed so
unhappy when anyone attempted to catch him, that the two ladies begged
the King to leave him a little longer with them, to which he consented.

One evening, as they sat by the fountain in the garden, the little
monkey kept gazing at Zayda with such sad and loving eyes that she and
her mother could not think what to make of it, and they were still more
surprised when they saw big tears rolling down his cheeks.

Next day both mother and daughter were sitting in a jessamine bower in
the garden, and they began to talk of the green monkey and his strange
ways. The mother said, ‘My dear child, I can no longer hide my feelings
from you. I cannot get the thought out of my mind that the green monkey
is no other than our beloved Prince Alphege, transformed in this strange
fashion. I know the idea sounds wild, but I cannot get it out of my
heart, and it leaves me no peace.’

As she spoke she glanced up, and there sat the little monkey, whose
tears and gestures seemed to confirm her words.

The following night the elder lady dreamt that she saw the Good Queen,
who said, ‘Do not weep any longer but follow my directions. Go into
your garden and lift up the little marble slab at the foot of the great
myrtle tree. You will find beneath it a crystal vase filled with a
bright green liquid. Take it with you and place the thing which is at
present most in your thoughts into a bath filled with roses and rub it
well with the green liquid.’

At these words the sleeper awoke, and lost no time in rising and
hurrying to the garden, where she found all as the Good Queen had
described. Then she hastened to rouse her daughter and together they
prepared the bath, for they would not let their women know what they
were about. Zayda gathered quantities of roses, and when all was ready
they put the monkey into a large jasper bath, where the mother rubbed
him all over with the green liquid.

Their suspense was not long, for suddenly the monkey skin dropped off,
and there stood Prince Alphege, the handsomest and most charming of
men. The joy of such a meeting was beyond words. After a time the ladies
begged the Prince to relate his adventures, and he told them of all his
sufferings in the desert when he was first transformed. His only comfort
had been in visits from the Good Queen, who had at length put him in the
way of meeting his brother.

Several days were spent in these interesting conversations, but at
length Zayda’s mother began to think of the best means for placing the
Prince on the throne, which was his by right.

The Queen on her side was feeling very anxious. She had felt sure from
the first that her son’s pet monkey was no other than Prince Alphege,
and she longed to put an end to him. Her suspicions were confirmed by
the Fairy of the Mountain, and she hastened in tears to the King, her
son.

‘I am informed,’ she cried, ‘that some ill-disposed people have raised
up an impostor in the hopes of dethroning you. You must at once have him
put to death.’

The King, who was very brave, assured the Queen that he would soon
punish the conspirators. He made careful inquiries into the matter, and
thought it hardly probable that a quiet widow and a young girl would
think of attempting anything of the nature of a revolution.

He determined to go and see them, and to find out the truth for himself;
so one night, without saying anything to the Queen or his ministers, he
set out for the palace where the two ladies lived, attended only by a
small band of followers.

The two ladies were at the moment deep in conversation with Prince
Alphege, and hearing a knocking so late at night begged him to keep out
of sight for a time. What was their surprise when the door was opened to
see the King and his suite.

‘I know,’ said the King, ‘that you are plotting against my crown and
person, and I have come to have an explanation with you.’

As she was about to answer Prince Alphege, who had heard all, came
forward and said, ‘It is from me you must ask an explanation, brother.’
He spoke with such grace and dignity that everyone gazed at him with
mute surprise.

At length the King, recovering from his astonishment at recognising the
brother who had been lost some years before, exclaimed, ‘Yes, you are
indeed my brother, and now that I have found you, take the throne to
which I have no longer a right.’ So saying, he respectfully kissed the
Prince’s hand.

Alphege threw himself into his arms, and the brothers hastened to the
royal palace, where in the presence of the entire court he received
the crown from his brother’s hand. To clear away any possible doubt, he
showed the ruby which the Good Queen had given him in his childhood. As
they were gazing at it, it suddenly split with a loud noise, and at the
same moment the Wicked Queen expired.

King Alphege lost no time in marrying his dear and lovely Zayda, and
his joy was complete when the Good Queen appeared at his wedding. She
assured him that the Fairy of the Mountain had henceforth lost all
power over him, and after spending some time with the young couple,
and bestowing the most costly presents on them, she retired to her own
country.

King Alphege insisted on his brother sharing his throne, and they all
lived to a good old age, universally beloved and admired.




 FAIRER-THAN-A-FAIRY

Once there lived a King who had no children for many years after his
marriage. At length heaven granted him a daughter of such remarkable
beauty that he could think of no name so appropriate for her as
‘Fairer-than-a-Fairy.’

It never occurred to the good-natured monarch that such a name was
certain to call down the hatred and jealousy of the fairies in a body on
the child, but this was what happened. No sooner had they heard of this
presumptuous name than they resolved to gain possession of her who bore
it, and either to torment her cruelly, or at least to conceal her from
the eyes of all men.

The eldest of their tribe was entrusted to carry out their revenge. This
Fairy was named Lagree; she was so old that she only had one eye and one
tooth left, and even these poor remains she had to keep all night in a
strengthening liquid. She was also so spiteful that she gladly devoted
all her time to carrying out all the mean or ill-natured tricks of the
whole body of fairies.

With her large experience, added to her native spite, she found but
little difficulty in carrying off Fairer-than-a-Fairy. The poor child,
who was only seven years old, nearly died of fear on finding herself
in the power of this hideous creature. However, when after an hour’s
journey underground she found herself in a splendid palace with lovely
gardens, she felt a little reassured, and was further cheered when she
discovered that her pet cat and dog had followed her.

The old Fairy led her to a pretty room which she said should be hers, at
the same time giving her the strictest orders never to let out the fire
which was burning brightly in the grate. She then gave two glass bottles
into the Princess’s charge, desiring her to take the greatest care of
them, and having enforced her orders with the most awful threats in case
of disobedience, she vanished, leaving the little girl at liberty to
explore the palace and grounds and a good deal relieved at having only
two apparently easy tasks set her.

Several years passed, during which time the Princess grew accustomed to
her lonely life, obeyed the Fairy’s orders, and by degrees forgot all
about the court of the King her father.

One day, whilst passing near a fountain in the garden, she noticed
that the sun’s rays fell on the water in such a manner as to produce
a brilliant rainbow. She stood still to admire it, when, to her great
surprise, she heard a voice addressing her which seemed to come from the
centre of its rays. The voice was that of a young man, and its sweetness
of tone and the agreeable things it uttered, led one to infer that its
owner must be equally charming; but this had to be a mere matter of
fancy, for no one was visible.

The beautiful Rainbow informed Fairer-than-a-Fairy that he was young,
the son of a powerful king, and that the Fairy, Lagree, who owed his
parents a grudge, had revenged herself by depriving him of his natural
shape for some years; that she had imprisoned him in the palace, where
he had found his confinement hard to bear for some time, but now, he
owned, he no longer sighed for freedom since he had seen and learned to
love Fairer-than-a-Fairy.

He added many other tender speeches to this declaration, and the
Princess, to whom such remarks were a new experience, could not help
feeling pleased and touched by his attentions.

The Prince could only appear or speak under the form of a Rainbow, and
it was therefore necessary that the sun should shine on water so as to
enable the rays to form themselves.

Fairer-than-a-Fairy lost no moment in which she could meet her lover,
and they enjoyed many long and interesting interviews. One day, however,
their conversation became so absorbing and time passed so quickly that
the Princess forgot to attend to the fire, and it went out. Lagree, on
her return, soon found out the neglect, and seemed only too pleased to
have the opportunity of showing her spite to her lovely prisoner. She
ordered Fairer-than-a-Fairy to start next day at dawn to ask Locrinos
for fire with which to relight the one she had allowed to go out.

Now this Locrinos was a cruel monster who devoured everyone he came
across, and especially enjoyed a chance of catching and eating any young
girls. Our heroine obeyed with great sweetness, and without having been
able to take leave of her lover she set off to go to Locrinos as to
certain death. As she was crossing a wood a bird sang to her to pick up
a shining pebble which she would find in a fountain close by, and to use
it when needed. She took the bird’s advice, and in due time arrived at
the house of Locrinos. Luckily she only found his wife at home, who was
much struck by the Princess’s youth and beauty and sweet gentle manners,
and still further impressed by the present of the shining pebble.

She readily let Fairer-than-a-Fairy have the fire, and in return for
the stone she gave her another, which, she said, might prove useful some
day. Then she sent her away without doing her any harm.

Lagree was as much surprised as displeased at the happy result of this
expedition, and Fairer-than-a Fairy waited anxiously for an opportunity
of meeting Prince Rainbow and telling him her adventures. She found,
however, that he had already been told all about them by a Fairy who
protected him, and to whom he was related.

The dread of fresh dangers to his beloved Princess made him devise
some more convenient way of meeting than by the garden fountain, and
Fairer-than-a-Fairy carried out his plan daily with entire success.
Every morning she placed a large basin full of water on her window-sill,
and as soon as the sun’s rays fell on the water the Rainbow appeared
as clearly as it had ever done in the fountain. By this means they were
able to meet without losing sight of the fire or of the two bottles in
which the old Fairy kept her eye and her tooth at night, and for some
time the lovers enjoyed every hour of sunshine together.

One day Prince Rainbow appeared in the depths of woe. He had just heard
that he was to be banished from this lovely spot, but he had no idea
where he was to go. The poor young couple were in despair, and only
parted with the last ray of sunshine, and in hopes of meeting next
morning. Alas! next day was dark and gloomy, and it was only late in the
afternoon that the sun broke through the clouds for a few minutes.

Fairer-than-a-Fairy eagerly ran to the window, but in her haste she
upset the basin, and spilt all the water with which she had carefully
filled it overnight. No other water was at hand except that in the two
bottles. It was the only chance of seeing her lover before they were
separated, and she did not hesitate to break the bottle and pour their
contents into the basin, when the Rainbow appeared at once. Their
farewells were full of tenderness; the Prince made the most ardent and
sincere protestations, and promised to neglect nothing which might help
to deliver his dear Fairer-than-a-Fairy from her captivity, and implored
her to consent to their marriage as soon as they should both be free.
The Princess, on her side, vowed to have no other husband, and declared
herself willing to brave death itself in order to rejoin him.

They were not allowed much time for their adieus; the Rainbow vanished,
and the Princess, resolved to run all risks, started off at once, taking
nothing with her but her dog, her cat, a sprig of myrtle, and the stone
which the wife of Locrinos gave her.

When Lagree became aware of her prisoner’s flight she was furious, and
set off at full speed in pursuit. She overtook her just as the poor
girl, overcome by fatigue, had lain down to rest in a cave which the
stone had formed itself into to shelter her. The little dog who was
watching her mistress promptly flew at Lagree and bit her so severely
that she stumbled against a corner of the cave and broke off her only
tooth. Before she had recovered from the pain and rage this caused her,
the Princess had time to escape, and was some way on her road. Fear gave
her strength for some time, but at last she could go no further, and
sank down to rest. As she did so, the sprig of myrtle she carried
touched the ground, and immediately a green and shady bower sprang up
round her, in which she hoped to sleep in peace.

But Lagree had not given up her pursuit, and arrived just as
Fairer-than-a-Fairy had fallen fast asleep. This time she made sure of
catching her victim, but the cat spied her out, and, springing from one
of the boughs of the arbour she flew at Lagree’s face and tore out her
only eye, thus delivering the Princess for ever from her persecutor.

One might have thought that all would now be well, but no sooner had
Lagree been put to fight than our heroine was overwhelmed with hunger
and thirst. She felt as though she should certainly expire, and it was
with some difficulty that she dragged herself as far as a pretty little
green and white house, which stood at no great distance. Here she was
received by a beautiful lady dressed in green and white to match the
house, which apparently belonged to her, and of which she seemed the
only inhabitant.

She greeted the fainting Princess most kindly, gave her an excellent
supper, and after a long night’s rest in a delightful bed told her that
after many troubles she should finally attain her desire.

As the green and white lady took leave of the Princess she gave her a
nut, desiring her only to open it in the most urgent need.

After a long and tiring journey Fairer-than-a-Fairy was once more
received in a house, and by a lady exactly like the one she had quitted.
Here again she received a present with the same injunctions, but instead
of a nut this lady gave her a golden pomegranate. The mournful Princess
had to continue her weary way, and after many troubles and hardships she
again found rest and shelter in a third house exactly similar to the two
others.

These houses belonged to three sisters, all endowed with fairy gifts,
and all so alike in mind and person that they wished their houses and
garments to be equally alike. Their occupation consisted in helping
those in misfortune, and they were as gentle and benevolent as Lagree
had been cruel and spiteful.

The third Fairy comforted the poor traveller, begged her not to lose
heart, and assured her that her troubles should be rewarded.

She accompanied her advice by the gift of a crystal smelling-bottle,
with strict orders only to open it in case of urgent need.
Fairer-than-a-Fairy thanked her warmly, and resumed her way cheered by
pleasant thoughts.

After a time her road led through a wood, full of soft airs and sweet
odours, and before she had gone a hundred yards she saw a wonderful
silver Castle suspended by strong silver chains to four of the
largest trees. It was so perfectly hung that a gentle breeze rocked it
sufficiently to send you pleasantly to sleep.

Fairer-than-a-Fairy felt a strong desire to enter this Castle, but
besides being hung a little above the ground there seemed to be neither
doors nor windows. She had no doubt (though really I cannot think why)
that the moment had come in which to use the nut which had been given
her. She opened it, and out came a diminutive hall porter at whose belt
hung a tiny chain, at the end of which was a golden key half as long as
the smallest pin you ever saw.

The Princess climbed up one of the silver chains, holding in her hand
the little porter who, in spite of his minute size, opened a secret door
with his golden key and let her in. She entered a magnificent room which
appeared to occupy the entire Castle, and which was lighted by gold and
jewelled stars in the ceiling. In the midst of this room stood a couch,
draped with curtains of all the colours of the rainbow, and suspended by
golden cords so that it swayed with the Castle in a manner which rocked
its occupant delightfully to sleep.

On this elegant couch lay Prince Rainbow, looking more beautiful than
ever, and sunk in profound slumber, in which he had been held ever since
his disappearance.

Fairy-than-a-Fairy, who now saw him for the first time in his real
shape, hardly dared to gaze at him, fearing lest his appearance might
not be in keeping with the voice and language which had won her heart.
At the same time she could not help feeling rather hurt at the apparent
indifference with which she was received.

She related all the dangers and difficulties she had gone through, and
though she repeated the story twenty times in a loud clear voice, the
Prince slept on and took no heed. She then had recourse to the golden
pomegranate, and on opening it found that all the seeds were as many
little violins which flew up in the vaulted roof and at once began
playing melodiously.

The Prince was not completely roused, but he opened his eyes a little
and looked all the handsomer.

Impatient at not being recognised, Fairer-than-a-Fairy now drew out her
third present, and on opening the crystal scent-bottle a little syren
flew out, who silenced the violins and then sang close to the Prince’s
ear the story of all his lady love had suffered in her search for him.
She added some gentle reproaches to her tale, but before she had got
far he was wide awake, and transported with joy threw himself at the
Princess’s feet. At the same moment the walls of the room expanded and
opened out, revealing a golden throne covered with jewels. A magnificent
Court now began to assemble, and at the same time several elegant
carriages filled with ladies in magnificent dresses drove up. In the
first and most splendid of these carriages sat Prince Rainbow’s mother.
She fondly embraced her son, after which she informed him that his
father had been dead for some years, that the anger of the Fairies was
at length appeased, and that he might return in peace to reign over his
people, who were longing for his presence.

The Court received the new King with joyful acclamations which would
have delighted him at any other time, but all his thoughts were full of
Fairer-than-a-Fairy. He was just about to present her to his mother and
the Court, feeling sure that her charms would win all hearts, when the
three green and white sisters appeared.

They declared the secret of Fairy-than-a-Fairy’s royal birth, and the
Queen taking the two lovers in her carriage set off with them for the
capital of the kingdom.

Here they were received with tumultuous joy. The wedding was celebrated
without delay, and succeeding years diminished neither the virtues,
beauty, nor the mutual affection of King Rainbow and his Queen,
Fairer-than-a-Fairy.




 THE THREE BROTHERS(17)

(17) From the Polish. Kletke.

There was once upon a time a witch, who in the shape of a hawk used
every night to break the windows of a certain village church. In the
same village there lived three brothers, who were all determined to kill
the mischievous hawk. But in vain did the two eldest mount guard in the
church with their guns; as soon as the bird appeared high above their
heads, sleep overpowered them, and they only awoke to hear the windows
crashing in.

Then the youngest brother took his turn of guarding the windows, and to
prevent his being overcome by sleep he placed a lot of thorns under his
chin, so that if he felt drowsy and nodded his head, they would prick
him and keep him awake.

The moon was already risen, and it was as light as day, when suddenly he
heard a fearful noise, and at the same time a terrible desire to sleep
overpowered him.

His eyelids closed, and his head sank on his shoulders, but the thorns
ran into him and were so painful that he awoke at once. He saw the hawk
swooping down upon the church, and in a moment he had seized his gun
and shot at the bird. The hawk fell heavily under a big stone, severely
wounded in its right wing. The youth ran to look at it, and saw that
a huge abyss had opened below the stone. He went at once to fetch his
brothers, and with their help dragged a lot of pine-wood and ropes to
the spot. They fastened some of the burning pine-wood to the end of the
rope, and let it slowly down to the bottom of the abyss. At first it was
quite dark, and the flaming torch only lit up dirty grey stone walls.
But the youngest brother determined to explore the abyss, and letting
himself down by the rope he soon reached the bottom. Here he found a
lovely meadow full of green trees and exquisite flowers.

In the middle of the meadow stood a huge stone castle, with an iron gate
leading to it, which was wide open. Everything in the castle seemed
to be made of copper, and the only inhabitant he could discover was
a lovely girl, who was combing her golden hair; and he noticed that
whenever one of her hairs fell on the ground it rang out like pure
metal. The youth looked at her more closely, and saw that her skin was
smooth and fair, her blue eyes bright and sparkling, and her hair as
golden as the sun. He fell in love with her on the spot, and kneeling at
her feet, he implored her to become his wife.

The lovely girl accepted his proposal gladly; but at the same time she
warned him that she could never come up to the world above till her
mother, the old witch, was dead. And she went on to tell him that the
only way in which the old creature could be killed was with the sword
that hung up in the castle; but the sword was so heavy that no one could
lift it.

Then the youth went into a room in the castle where everything was made
of silver, and here he found another beautiful girl, the sister of his
bride. She was combing her silver hair, and every hair that fell on the
ground rang out like pure metal. The second girl handed him the sword,
but though he tried with all his strength he could not lift it. At last
a third sister came to him and gave him a drop of something to drink,
which she said would give him the needful strength. He drank one drop,
but still he could not lift the sword; then he drank a second, and the
sword began to move; but only after he had drunk a third drop was he
able to swing the sword over his head.

Then he hid himself in the castle and awaited the old witch’s arrival.
At last as it was beginning to grow dark she appeared. She swooped down
upon a big apple-tree, and after shaking some golden apples from it, she
pounced down upon the earth. As soon as her feet touched the ground she
became transformed from a hawk into a woman. This was the moment the
youth was waiting for, and he swung his mighty sword in the air with all
his strength and the witch’s head fell off, and her blood spurted up on
the walls.

Without fear of any further danger, he packed up all the treasures of
the castle into great chests, and gave his brothers a signal to pull
them up out of the abyss. First the treasures were attached to the rope
and then the three lovely girls. And now everything was up above and
only he himself remained below. But as he was a little suspicious of his
brothers, he fastened a heavy stone on to the rope and let them pull it
up. At first they heaved with a will, but when the stone was half way
up they let it drop suddenly, and it fell to the bottom broken into a
hundred pieces.

‘So that’s what would have happened to my bones had I trusted myself to
them,’ said the youth sadly; and he began to cry bitterly, not because
of the treasures, but because of the lovely girl with her swanlike neck
and golden hair.

For a long time he wandered sadly all through the beautiful underworld,
and one day he met a magician who asked him the cause of his tears. The
youth told him all that had befallen him, and the magician said:

‘Do not grieve, young man! If you will guard the children who are hidden
in the golden apple-tree, I will bring you at once up to the earth.
Another magician who lives in this land always eats my children up. It
is in vain that I have hidden them under the earth and locked them into
the castle. Now I have hidden them in the apple-tree; hide yourself
there too, and at midnight you will see my enemy.’

The youth climbed up the tree, and picked some of the beautiful golden
apples, which he ate for his supper.

At midnight the wind began to rise, and a rustling sound was heard at
the foot of the tree. The youth looked down and beheld a long thick
serpent beginning to crawl up the tree. It wound itself round the stem
and gradually got higher and higher. It stretched its huge head, in
which the eyes glittered fiercely, among the branches, searching for the
nest in which the little children lay. They trembled with terror when
they saw the hideous creature, and hid themselves beneath the leaves.

Then the youth swung his mighty sword in the air, and with one blow cut
off the serpent’s head. He cut up the rest of the body into little bits
and strewed them to the four winds.

The father of the rescued children was so delighted over the death of
his enemy that he told the youth to get on his back, and in this way he
carried him up to the world above.

With what joy did he hurry now to his brothers’ house! He burst into a
room where they were all assembled, but no one knew who he was. Only his
bride, who was serving as cook to her sisters, recognised her lover at
once.

His brothers, who had quite believed he was dead, yielded him up his
treasures at once, and flew into the woods in terror. But the good youth
forgave them all they had done, and divided his treasures with them.
Then he built himself a big castle with golden windows, and there he
lived happily with his golden-haired wife till the end of their lives.




 THE BOY AND THE WOLVES, OR THE BROKEN PROMISE(18)

(18) A North American Indian story.

Once upon a time an Indian hunter built himself a house in the middle
of a great forest, far away from all his tribe; for his heart was gentle
and kind, and he was weary of the treachery and cruel deeds of those
who had been his friends. So he left them, and took his wife and three
children, and they journeyed on until they found a spot near to a clear
stream, where they began to cut down trees, and to make ready their
wigwam. For many years they lived peacefully and happily in this
sheltered place, never leaving it except to hunt the wild animals, which
served them both for food and clothes. At last, however, the strong man
felt sick, and before long he knew he must die.

So he gathered his family round him, and said his last words to them.
‘You, my wife, the companion of my days, will follow me ere many moons
have waned to the island of the blest. But for you, O my children, whose
lives are but newly begun, the wickedness, unkindness, and ingratitude
from which I fled are before you. Yet I shall go hence in peace, my
children, if you will promise always to love each other, and never to
forsake your youngest brother.

‘Never!’ they replied, holding out their hands. And the hunter died
content.

Scarcely eight moons had passed when, just as he had said, the wife went
forth, and followed her husband; but before leaving her children she
bade the two elder ones think of their promise never to forsake the
younger, for he was a child, and weak. And while the snow lay thick upon
the ground, they tended him and cherished him; but when the earth showed
green again, the heart of the young man stirred within him, and he
longed to see the wigwams of the village where his father’s youth was
spent.

Therefore he opened all his heart to his sister, who answered: ‘My
brother, I understand your longing for our fellow-men, whom here we
cannot see. But remember our father’s words. Shall we not seek our own
pleasures, and forget the little one?’

But he would not listen, and, making no reply, he took his bow and
arrows and left the hut. The snows fell and melted, yet he never
returned; and at last the heart of the girl grew cold and hard, and her
little boy became a burden in her eyes, till one day she spoke thus to
him: ‘See, there is food for many days to come. Stay here within the
shelter of the hut. I go to seek our brother, and when I have found him
I shall return hither.’

But when, after hard journeying, she reached the village where her
brother dwelt, and saw that he had a wife and was happy, and when she,
too, was sought by a young brave, then she also forgot the boy alone in
the forest, and thought only of her husband.

Now as soon as the little boy had eaten all the food which his sister
had left him, he went out into the woods, and gathered berries and dug
up roots, and while the sun shone he was contented and had his fill. But
when the snows began and the wind howled, then his stomach felt empty
and his limbs cold, and he hid in trees all the night, and only crept
out to eat what the wolves had left behind. And by-and-by, having no
other friends, he sought their company, and sat by while they devoured
their prey, and they grew to know him, and gave him food. And without
them he would have died in the snow.

But at last the snows melted, and the ice upon the great lake, and
as the wolves went down to the shore, the boy went after them. And it
happened one day that his big brother was fishing in his canoe near the
shore, and he heard the voice of a child singing in the Indian tone--

     ‘My brother, my brother!
      I am becoming a wolf,
      I am becoming a wolf!’

And when he had so sung he howled as wolves howl. Then the heart of
the elder sunk, and he hastened towards him, crying, ‘Brother, little
brother, come to me;’ but he, being half a wolf, only continued his
song. And the louder the elder called him, ‘Brother, little brother,
come to me,’ the swifter he fled after his brothers the wolves, and
the heavier grew his skin, till, with a long howl, he vanished into the
depths of the forest.

So, with shame and anguish in his soul, the elder brother went back to
his village, and, with his sister, mourned the little boy and the broken
promise till the end of his life.




 THE GLASS AXE(19)

(19) From the Hungarian. Kletke.

There was once upon a time a King and Queen who had everything they
could possibly wish for in this world except a child. At last, after
twelve years, the Queen gave birth to a son; but she did not live long
to enjoy her happiness, for on the following day she died. But before
her death she called her husband to her and said, ‘Never let the child
put his feet on the ground, for as soon as he does so he will fall into
the power of a wicked Fairy, who will do him much harm.’ And these were
the last words the poor Queen spoke.

The boy throve and grew big, and when he was too heavy for his nurse
to carry, a chair was made for him on little wheels, in which he could
wander through the palace gardens without help; at other times he was
carried about on a litter, and he was always carefully watched and
guarded for fear he should at any time put his feet to the ground.

But as this sort of life was bad for his health, the doctors ordered him
horse exercise, and he soon became a first-rate rider, and used to go
out for long excursions on horseback, accompanied always by his father’s
stud-groom and a numerous retinue.

Every day he rode through the neighbouring fields and woods, and always
returned home in the evening safe and well. In this way many years
passed, and the Prince grew to manhood, and hardly anyone remembered the
Queen’s warning, though precautions were still taken, more from use and
wont than for any other reason.

One day the Prince and his suite went out for a ride in a wood where his
father sometimes held a hunt. Their way led through a stream whose banks
were overgrown with thick brushwood. Just as the horsemen were about
to ford the river, a hare, startled by the sound of the horses’ hoofs,
started up from the grass and ran towards the thicket. The young Prince
pursued the little creature, and had almost overtaken it, when the girth
of his saddle suddenly broke in two and he fell heavily to the ground.
No sooner had his foot touched the earth than he disappeared before the
eyes of the horrified courtiers.

They sought for him far and near, but all in vain, and they were forced
to recognise the power of the evil Fairy, against which the Queen had
warned them on her death-bed. The old King was much grieved when they
brought him the news of his son’s disappearance, but as he could do
nothing to free him from his fate, he gave himself up to an old age of
grief and loneliness, cherishing at the same time the hope that some
lucky chance might one day deliver the youth out of the hands of his
enemy.

Hardly had the Prince touched the ground than he felt himself violently
seized by an unseen power, and hurried away he knew not whither. A whole
new world stretched out before him, quite unlike the one he had left.
A splendid castle surrounded by a huge lake was the abode of the Fairy,
and the only approach to it was over a bridge of clouds. On the other
side of the lake high mountains rose up, and dark woods stretched
along the banks; over all hung a thick mist, and deep silence reigned
everywhere.

No sooner had the Fairy reached her own domain than she made herself
visible, and turning to the Prince she told him that unless he obeyed
all her commands down to the minutest detail he would be severely
punished. Then she gave him an axe made of glass, and bade him cross the
bridge of clouds and go into the wood beyond and cut down all the trees
there before sunset. At the same time she cautioned him with many angry
words against speaking to a black girl he would most likely meet in the
wood.

The Prince listened to her words meekly, and when she had finished took
up the glass axe and set out for the forest. At every step he seemed to
sink into the clouds, but fear gave wings to his feet, and he crossed
the lake in safety and set to work at once.

But no sooner had he struck the first blow with his axe than it broke
into a thousand pieces against the tree. The poor youth was so terrified
he did not know what to do, for he was in mortal dread of the punishment
the wicked old Fairy would inflict on him. He wandered to and fro in the
wood, not knowing where he was going, and at last, worn out by fatigue
and misery, he sank on the ground and fell fast asleep.

He did not know how long he had slept when a sudden sound awoke him, and
opening his eyes he saw a black girl standing beside him. Mindful of
the Fairy’s warning he did not dare to address her, but she on her part
greeted him in the most friendly manner, and asked him at once if he
were under the power of the wicked Fairy. The Prince nodded his head
silently in answer.

Then the black girl told him that she too was in the power of the Fairy,
who had doomed her to wander about in her present guise until some youth
should take pity on her and bear her in safety to the other side of the
river which they saw in the distance, and on the other side of which the
Fairy’s domain and power ended.

The girl’s words so inspired the Prince with confidence that he told her
all his tale of woe, and ended up by asking her advice as to how he was
to escape the punishment the Fairy would be sure to inflict on him when
she discovered that he had not cut down the trees in the wood and that
he had broken her axe.

‘You must know,’ answered the black girl, ‘that the Fairy in whose power
we both are is my own mother, but you must not betray this secret, for
it would cost me my life. If you will only promise to try and free me
I will stand by you, and will accomplish for you all the tasks which my
mother sets you.’

The Prince promised joyfully all she asked; then having once more warned
him not to betray her confidence, she handed him a draught to drink
which very soon sunk his senses in a deep slumber.

His astonishment was great when he awoke to find the glass axe whole and
unbroken at his side, and all the trees of the wood lying felled around
him!

He made all haste across the bridge of clouds, and told the Fairy that
her commands were obeyed. She was much amazed when she heard that all
the wood was cut down, and saw the axe unbroken in his hand, and
since she could not believe that he had done all this by himself, she
questioned him narrowly if he had seen or spoken to the black girl. But
the Prince lied manfully, and swore he had never looked up from his work
for a moment. Seeing she could get nothing more out of him, she gave him
a little bread and water, and showing him to a small dark cupboard she
told him he might sleep there.

Morning had hardly dawned when the Fairy awoke the Prince, and giving
him the glass axe again she told him to cut up all the wood he had
felled the day before, and to put it in bundles ready for firewood; at
the same time she warned him once more against approaching or speaking a
word to the black girl if he met her in the wood.

Although his task was no easier than that of the day before, the youth
set out much more cheerfully, because he knew he could count an the help
of the black girl. With quicker and lighter step he crossed the bridge
of clouds, and hardly had he reached the other side than his friend
stood before him and greeted him cheerfully. When she heard what the
Fairy demanded this time, she answered smilingly, ‘Never fear,’ and
handed him another draught, which very soon caused the Prince to sink
into a deep sleep.

When he awoke everything, was done. All the trees of the wood were cut
up into firewood and arranged in bundles ready for use.

He returned to the castle as quickly as he could, and told the Fairy
that her commands were obeyed. She was even more amazed than she had
been before, and asked him again if he had either seen or spoken to the
black girl; but the Prince knew better than to betray his word, and once
more lied freely.

On the following day the Fairy set him a third task to do, even harder
than the other two. She told him he must build a castle on the other
side of the lake, made of nothing but gold, silver, and precious stones,
and unless he could accomplish this within an hour, the most frightful
doom awaited him.

The Prince heard her words without anxiety, so entirely did he rely on
the help of his black friend. Full of hope he hurried across the bridge,
and recognised at once the spot where the castle was to stand, for
spades, hammers, axes, and every other building implement lay scattered
on the ground ready for the workman’s hand, but of gold, silver, and
precious stones there was not a sign. But before the Prince had time
to feel despondent the black girl beckoned to him in the distance from
behind a rock, where she had hidden herself for fear her mother should
catch sight of her. Full of joy the youth hurried towards her, and
begged her aid and counsel in the new piece of work he had been given to
do.

But this time the Fairy had watched the Prince’s movements from
her window, and she saw him hiding himself behind the rock with her
daughter. She uttered a piercing shriek so that the mountains re-echoed
with the sound of it, and the terrified pair had hardly dared to look
out from their hiding-place when the enraged woman, with her dress and
hair flying in the wind, hurried over the bridge of clouds. The Prince
at once gave himself up for lost, but the girl told him to be of good
courage and to follow her as quickly as he could. But before they left
their shelter she broke off a little bit of the rock, spoke some magic
words over it, and threw it in the direction her mother was coming from.
In a moment a glittering palace arose before the eyes of the Fairy which
blinded her with its dazzling splendour, and with its many doors and
passages prevented her for some time from finding her way out of it.

In the meantime the black girl hurried on with the Prince, hastening to
reach the river, where once on the other side they would for ever be out
of the wicked Fairy’s power. But before they had accomplished half the
way they heard again the rustle of her garments and her muttered curses
pursuing them closely.

The Prince was terrified; he dared not look back, and he felt his
strength giving way. But before he had time to despair the girl uttered
some more magic words, and immediately she herself was changed into a
pond, and the Prince into a duck swimming on its surface.

When the Fairy saw this her rage knew no bounds, and she used all her
magic wits to make the pond disappear; she caused a hill of sand to
arise at her feet, meaning it to dry up the water at once. But the sand
hill only drove the pond a little farther away, and its waters seemed to
increase instead of diminishing. When the old woman saw that the powers
of her magic were of so little avail, she had recourse to cunning. She
threw a lot of gold nuts into the pond, hoping in this way to catch
the duck, but all her efforts were fruitless, for the little creature
refused to let itself be caught.

Then a new idea struck the wicked old woman, and hiding herself behind
the rock which had sheltered the fugitives, she waited behind it,
watching carefully for the moment when the Prince and her daughter
should resume their natural forms and continue their journey.

She had not to wait long, for as soon as the girl thought her mother was
safely out of the way, she changed herself and the Prince once more into
their human shape, and set out cheerfully for the river.

But they had not gone many steps when the wicked Fairy hurried after
them, a drawn dagger in her hand, and was close upon them, when
suddenly, instead of the Prince and her daughter, she found herself in
front of a great stone church, whose entrance was carefully guarded by a
huge monk.

Breathless with rage and passion, she tried to plunge her dagger into
the monk’s heart, but it fell shattered in pieces at her feet. In her
desperation she determined to pull down the church, and thus to destroy
her two victims for ever. She stamped three times on the ground, and the
earth trembled, and both the church and the monk began to shake. As soon
as the Fairy saw this she retreated to some distance from the building,
so as not to be hurt herself by its fall. But once more her scheme was
doomed to failure, for hardly had she gone a yard from the church than
both it and the monk disappeared, and she found herself in a wood black
as night, and full of wolves and bears and wild animals of all sorts and
descriptions.

Then her wrath gave place to terror, for she feared every moment to be
torn in pieces by the beasts who one and all seemed to defy her power.
She thought it wisest to make her way as best she could out of the
forest, and then to pursue the fugitives once more and accomplish their
destruction either by force or cunning.

In the meantime the Prince and the black girl had again assumed their
natural forms, and were hurrying on as fast as they could to reach the
river. But when they got there they found that there was no way in which
they could cross it, and the girl’s magic art seemed no longer to
have any power. Then turning to the Prince she said, ‘The hour for my
deliverance has not yet come, but as you promised to do all you could to
free me, you must do exactly as I bid you now. Take this bow and arrow
and kill every beast you see with them, and be sure you spare no living
creature.’

With these words she disappeared, and hardly had she done so than a
huge wild boar started out of the thicket near and made straight for the
Prince. But the youth did not lose his presence of mind, and drawing
his bow he pierced the beast with his arrow right through the skull. The
creature fell heavily on the ground, and out of its side sprang a little
hare, which ran like the wind along the river bank. The Prince drew his
bow once more, and the hare lay dead at his feet; but at the same moment
a dove rose up in the air, and circled round the Prince’s head in the
most confiding manner. But mindful of the black girl’s commands, he
dared not spare the little creature’s life, and taking another arrow
from his quiver he laid it as dead as the boar and the hare. But when
he went to look at the body of the bird he found instead of the dove a
round white egg lying on the ground.

While he was gazing on it and wondering what it could mean, he heard the
sweeping of wings above him, and looking up he saw a huge vulture with
open claws swooping down upon him. In a moment he seized the egg and
flung it at the bird with all his might, and lo and behold! instead of
the ugly monster the most beautiful girl he had ever seen stood before
the astonished eyes of the Prince.

But while all this was going on the wicked old Fairy had managed to
make her way out of the wood, and was now using the last resource in her
power to overtake her daughter and the Prince. As soon as she was in the
open again she mounted her chariot, which was drawn by a fiery dragon,
and flew through the air in it. But just as she got to the river she saw
the two lovers in each other’s arms swimming through the water as easily
as two fishes.

Quick as lightning, and forgetful of every danger, she flew down upon
them. But the waters seized her chariot and sunk it in the lowest
depths, and the waves bore the wicked old woman down the stream till she
was caught in some thorn bushes, where she made a good meal for all the
little fishes that were swimming about.

And so at last the Prince and his lovely Bride were free. They hurried
as quickly as they could to the old King, who received them with joy and
gladness. On the following day a most gorgeous wedding feast was held,
and as far as we know the Prince and his bride lived happily for ever
afterwards.




THE DEAD WIFE(20)

(20) From the Iroquois.

Once upon a time there were a man and his wife who lived in the forest,
very far from the rest of the tribe. Very often they spent the day in
hunting together, but after a while the wife found that she had so many
things to do that she was obliged to stay at home; so he went alone,
though he found that when his wife was not with him he never had any
luck. One day, when he was away hunting, the woman fell ill, and in a
few days she died.

Her husband grieved bitterly, and buried her in the house where she had
passed her life; but as the time went on he felt so lonely without her
that he made a wooden doll about her height and size for company, and
dressed it in her clothes. He seated it in front of the fire, and tried
to think he had his wife back again. The next day he went out to hunt,
and when he came home the first thing he did was to go up to the doll
and brush off some of the ashes from the fire which had fallen on its
face. But he was very busy now, for he had to cook and mend, besides
getting food, for there was no one to help him. And so a whole year
passed away.

At the end of that time he came back from hunting one night and found
some wood by the door and a fire within. The next night there was not
only wood and fire, but a piece of meat in the kettle, nearly ready for
eating. He searched all about to see who could have done this, but could
find no one. The next time he went to hunt he took care not to go far,
and came in quite early. And while he was still a long way off he saw a
woman going into the house with wood on her shoulders. So he made haste,
and opened the door quickly, and instead of the wooden doll, his wife
sat in front of the fire.

Then she spoke to him and said, ‘The Great Spirit felt sorry for you,
because you would not be comforted, so he let me come back to you, but
you must not stretch out your hand to touch me till we have seen the
rest of our people. If you do, I shall die.’

So the man listened to her words, and the woman dwelt there, and brought
the wood and kindled the fire, till one day her husband said to her, ‘It
is now two years since you died. Let us now go back to our tribe. Then
you will be well, and I can touch you.’

And with that he prepared food for the journey, a string of deer’s flesh
for her to carry, and one for himself; and so they started. Now the camp
of the tribe was distant six days’ journey, and when they were yet one
day’s journey off it began to snow, and they felt weary and longed for
rest. Therefore they made a fire, cooked some food, and spread out their
skins to sleep.

Then the heart of the man was greatly stirred, and he stretched out his
arms to his wife, but she waved her hands and said, ‘We have seen no one
yet; it is too soon.’

But he would not listen to her, and caught her to him, and behold! he
was clasping the wooden doll. And when he saw it was the doll he pushed
it from him in his misery and rushed away to the camp, and told them all
his story. And some doubted, and they went back with him to the place
where he and his wife had stopped to rest, and there lay the doll, and
besides, they saw in the snow the steps of two people, and the foot of
one was like the foot of the doll. And the man grieved sore all the days
of his life.




IN THE LAND OF SOULS (21)

(21) From the Red Indian.

Far away, in North America, where the Red Indians dwell, there lived a
long time ago a beautiful maiden, who was lovelier than any other girl
in the whole tribe. Many of the young braves sought her in marriage, but
she would listen to one only--a handsome chief, who had taken her fancy
some years before. So they were to be married, and great rejoicings were
made, and the two looked forward to a long life of happiness together,
when the very night before the wedding feast a sudden illness seized the
girl, and, without a word to her friends who were weeping round her, she
passed silently away.

The heart of her lover had been set upon her, and the thought of her
remained with him night and day. He put aside his bow, and went neither
to fight nor to hunt, but from sunrise to sunset he sat by the place
where she was laid, thinking of his happiness that was buried there.
At last, after many days, a light seemed to come to him out of the
darkness. He remembered having heard from the old, old people of the
tribe, that there was a path that led to the Land of Souls--that if you
sought carefully you could find it.

So the next morning he got up early, and put some food in his pouch and
slung an extra skin over his shoulders, for he knew not how long
his journey would take, nor what sort of country he would have to go
through. Only one thing he knew, that if the path was there, he would
find it. At first he was puzzled, as there seemed no reason he should go
in one direction more than another. Then all at once he thought he had
heard one of the old men say that the Land of Souls lay to the south,
and so, filled with new hope and courage, he set his face southwards.
For many, many miles the country looked the same as it did round his own
home. The forests, the hills, and the rivers all seemed exactly like the
ones he had left. The only thing that was different was the snow, which
had lain thick upon the hills and trees when he started, but grew less
and less the farther he went south, till it disappeared altogether. Soon
the trees put forth their buds, and flowers sprang up under his feet,
and instead of thick clouds there was blue sky over his head, and
everywhere the birds were singing. Then he knew that he was in the right
road.

The thought that he should soon behold his lost bride made his heart
beat for joy, and he sped along lightly and swiftly. Now his way led
through a dark wood, and then over some steep cliffs, and on the top of
these he found a hut or wigwam. An old man clothed in skins, and holding
a staff in his hand, stood in the doorway; and he said to the young
chief who was beginning to tell his story, ‘I was waiting for you,
wherefore you have come I know. It is but a short while since she whom
you seek was here. Rest in my hut, as she also rested, and I will tell
you what you ask, and whither you should go.’

On hearing these words, the young man entered the hut, but his heart was
too eager within him to suffer him to rest, and when he arose, the old
man rose too, and stood with him at the door. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘at the
water which lies far out yonder, and the plains which stretch beyond.
That is the Land of Souls, but no man enters it without leaving his body
behind him. So, lay down your body here; your bow and arrows, your skin
and your dog. They shall be kept for you safely.’

Then he turned away, and the young chief, light as air, seemed hardly to
touch the ground; and as he flew along the scents grew sweeter and the
flowers more beautiful, while the animals rubbed their noses against
him, instead of hiding as he approached, and birds circled round him,
and fishes lifted up their heads and looked as he went by. Very soon he
noticed with wonder, that neither rocks nor trees barred his path. He
passed through them without knowing it, for indeed, they were not rocks
and trees at all, but only the souls of them; for this was the Land of
Shadows.

So he went on with winged feet till he came to the shores of a great
lake, with a lovely island in the middle of it; while on the bank of the
lake was a canoe of glittering stone, and in the canoe were two shining
paddles.

The chief jumped straight into the canoe, and seizing the paddles pushed
off from the shore, when to his joy and wonder he saw following him in
another canoe exactly like his own the maiden for whose sake he had made
this long journey. But they could not touch each other, for between them
rolled great waves, which looked as if they would sink the boats, yet
never did. And the young man and the maiden shrank with fear, for down
in the depths of the water they saw the bones of those who had died
before, and in the waves themselves men and women were struggling, and
but few passed over. Only the children had no fear, and reached the
other side in safety. Still, though the chief and the young girl quailed
in terror at these horrible sights and sounds, no harm came to them,
for their lives had been free from evil, and the Master of Life had said
that no evil should happen unto them. So they reached unhurt the shore
of the Happy Island, and wandered through the flowery fields and by the
banks of rushing streams, and they knew not hunger nor thirst; neither
cold nor heat. The air fed them and the sun warmed them, and they forgot
the dead, for they saw no graves, and the young man’s thoughts turned
not to wars, neither to the hunting of animals. And gladly would these
two have walked thus for ever, but in the murmur of the wind he heard
the Master of Life saying to him, ‘Return whither you came, for I have
work for you to do, and your people need you, and for many years you
shall rule over them. At the gate my messenger awaits you, and you shall
take again your body which you left behind, and he will show you what
you are to do. Listen to him, and have patience, and in time to come you
shall rejoin her whom you must now leave, for she is accepted, and will
remain ever young and beautiful, as when I called her hence from the
Land of Snows.’




THE WHITE DUCK

Once upon a time a great and powerful King married a lovely Princess. No
couple were ever so happy; but before their honeymoon was over they were
forced to part, for the King had to go on a warlike expedition to a far
country, and leave his young wife alone at home. Bitter were the tears
she shed, while her husband sought in vain to soothe her with words of
comfort and counsel, warning her, above all things, never to leave
the castle, to hold no intercourse with strangers, to beware of evil
counsellors, and especially to be on her guard against strange women.
And the Queen promised faithfully to obey her royal lord and master in
these four matters.

So when the King set out on his expedition she shut herself up with
her ladies in her own apartments, and spent her time in spinning and
weaving, and in thinking of her royal husband. Often she was very sad
and lonely, and it happened that one day while she was seated at the
window, letting salt tears drop on her work, an old woman, a kind,
homely-looking old body, stepped up to the window, and, leaning upon her
crutch, addressed the Queen in friendly, flattering tones, saying:

‘Why are you sad and cast down, fair Queen? You should not mope all day
in your rooms, but should come out into the green garden, and hear the
birds sing with joy among the trees, and see the butterflies fluttering
above the flowers, and hear the bees and insects hum, and watch
the sunbeams chase the dew-drops through the rose-leaves and in the
lily-cups. All the brightness outside would help to drive away your
cares, O Queen.’

For long the Queen resisted her coaxing words, remembering the promise
she had given the King, her husband; but at last she thought to herself:
After all, what harm would it do if I were to go into the garden for a
short time and enjoy myself among the trees and flowers, and the singing
birds and fluttering butterflies and humming insects, and look at
the dew-drops hiding from the sunbeams in the hearts of the roses and
lilies, and wander about in the sunshine, instead of remaining all
day in this room? For she had no idea that the kind-looking old woman
leaning on her crutch was in reality a wicked witch, who envied the
Queen her good fortune, and was determined to ruin her. And so, in all
ignorance, the Queen followed her out into the garden and listened to
her smooth, flattering words. Now, in the middle of the garden there was
a pond of water, clear as crystal, and the old woman said to the Queen:

‘The day is so warm, and the sun’s rays so scorching, that the water in
the pond looks very cool and inviting. Would you not like to bathe in
it, fair Queen?’

‘No, I think not,’ answered the Queen; but the next moment she regretted
her words, and thought to herself: Why shouldn’t I bathe in that cool,
fresh water? No harm could come of it. And, so saying, she slipped off
her robes and stepped into the water. But scarcely had her tender feet
touched the cool ripples when she felt a great shove on her shoulders,
and the wicked witch had pushed her into the deep water, exclaiming:

‘Swim henceforth, White Duck!’

And the witch herself assumed the form of the Queen, and decked herself
out in the royal robes, and sat among the Court ladies, awaiting the
King’s return. And suddenly the tramp of horses’ hoofs was heard, and
the barking of dogs, and the witch hastened forward to meet the royal
carriages, and, throwing her arms round the King’s neck, kissed him.
And in his great joy the King did not know that the woman he held in his
arms was not his own dear wife, but a wicked witch.

In the meantime, outside the palace walls, the poor White Duck swam up
and down the pond; and near it laid three eggs, out of which there came
one morning two little fluffy ducklings and a little ugly drake. And the
White Duck brought the little creatures up, and they paddled after her
in the pond, and caught gold-fish, and hopped upon the bank and waddled
about, ruffling their feathers and saying ‘Quack, quack’ as they
strutted about on the green banks of the pond. But their mother used to
warn them not to stray too far, telling them that a wicked witch lived
in the castle beyond the garden, adding, ‘She has ruined me, and she
will do her best to ruin you.’ But the young ones did not listen to
their mother, and, playing about the garden one day, they strayed close
up to the castle windows. The witch at once recognised them by their
smell, and ground her teeth with anger; but she hid her feelings, and,
pretending to be very kind she called them to her and joked with them,
and led them into a beautiful room, where she gave them food to eat, and
showed them a soft cushion on which they might sleep. Then she left them
and went down into the palace kitchens, where she told the servants to
sharpen the knives, and to make a great fire ready, and hang a large
kettleful of water over it.

In the meantime the two little ducklings had fallen asleep, and the
little drake lay between them, covered up by their wings, to be kept
warm under their feathers. But the little drake could not go to sleep,
and as he lay there wide awake in the night he heard the witch come to
the door and say:

‘Little ones, are you asleep?’

And the little drake answered for the other two:

          ‘We cannot sleep, we wake and weep,
           Sharp is the knife, to take our life;
           The fire is hot, now boils the pot,
           And so we wake, and lie and quake.’

‘They are not asleep yet,’ muttered the witch to herself; and she walked
up and down in the passage, and then came back to the door, and said:

‘Little ones, are you asleep?’

And again the little drake answered for his sisters:

          ‘We cannot sleep, we wake and weep,
           Sharp is the knife, to take our life;
           The fire is hot, now boils the pot,
           And so we wake, and lie and quake.’

‘Just the same answer,’ muttered the witch; ‘I think I’ll go in and
see.’ So she opened the door gently, and seeing the two little ducklings
sound asleep, she there and then killed them.

The next morning the White Duck wandered round the pond in a distracted
manner, looking for her little ones; she called and she searched, but
could find no trace of them. And in her heart she had a foreboding that
evil had befallen them, and she fluttered up out of the water and flew
to the palace. And there, laid out on the marble floor of the court,
dead and stone cold, were her three children. The White Duck threw
herself upon them, and, covering up their little bodies with her wings,
she cried:

          ‘Quack, quack--my little loves!
           Quack, quack--my turtle-doves!
            I brought you up with grief and pain,
           And now before my eyes you’re slain.

           I gave you always of the best;
           I kept you warm in my soft nest.
            I loved and watched you day and night--
           You were my joy, my one delight.’


The King heard the sad complaint of the White Duck, and called to the
witch: ‘Wife, what a wonder is this? Listen to that White Duck.’

But the witch answered, ‘My dear husband, what do you mean? There is
nothing wonderful in a duck’s quacking. Here, servants! Chase that duck
out of the courtyard.’ But though the servants chased and chevied, they
could not get rid of the duck; for she circled round and round, and
always came back to the spot where her children lay, crying:

          ‘Quack, quack--my little loves!
           Quack, quack--my turtle-doves!
            The wicked witch your lives did take--
           The wicked witch, the cunning snake.
            First she stole my King away,
           Then my children did she slay.
            Changed me, from a happy wife,
           To a duck for all my life.
            Would I were the Queen again;
           Would that you had never been slain.’

And as the King heard her words he began to suspect that he had been
deceived, and he called out to the servants, ‘Catch that duck, and bring
it here.’ But, though they ran to and fro, the duck always fled past
them, and would not let herself be caught. So the King himself stepped
down amongst them, and instantly the duck fluttered down into his hands.
And as he stroked her wings she was changed into a beautiful woman, and
he recognised his dear wife. And she told him that a bottle would be
found in her nest in the garden, containing some drops from the spring
of healing. And it was brought to her; and the ducklings and little
drake were sprinkled with the water, and from the little dead bodies
three lovely children arose. And the King and Queen were overjoyed when
they saw their children, and they all lived happily together in the
beautiful palace. But the wicked witch was taken by the King’s command,
and she came to no good end.




THE WITCH AND HER SERVANTS(22)

(22) From the Russian. Kletke.

Long time ago there lived a King who had three sons; the eldest was
called Szabo, the second Warza, and the youngest Iwanich.

One beautiful spring morning the King was walking through his
gardens with these three sons, gazing with admiration at the various
fruit-trees, some of which were a mass of blossom, whilst others were
bowed to the ground laden with rich fruit. During their wanderings they
came unperceived on a piece of waste land where three splendid trees
grew. The King looked on them for a moment, and then, shaking his head
sadly, he passed on in silence.

The sons, who could not understand why he did this, asked him the reason
of his dejection, and the King told them as follows:

‘These three trees, which I cannot see without sorrow, were planted by
me on this spot when I was a youth of twenty. A celebrated magician, who
had given the seed to my father, promised him that they would grow into
the three finest trees the world had ever seen. My father did not live
to see his words come true; but on his death-bed he bade me transplant
them here, and to look after them with the greatest care, which I
accordingly did. At last, after the lapse of five long years, I noticed
some blossoms on the branches, and a few days later the most exquisite
fruit my eyes had ever seen.

‘I gave my head-gardener the strictest orders to watch the trees
carefully, for the magician had warned my father that if one unripe
fruit were plucked from the tree, all the rest would become rotten at
once. When it was quite ripe the fruit would become a golden yellow.

‘Every day I gazed on the lovely fruit, which became gradually more
and more tempting-looking, and it was all I could do not to break the
magician’s commands.

‘One night I dreamt that the fruit was perfectly ripe; I ate some of it,
and it was more delicious than anything I had ever tasted in real life.
As soon as I awoke I sent for the gardener and asked him if the fruit on
the three trees had not ripened in the night to perfection.

‘But instead of replying, the gardener threw himself at my feet and
swore that he was innocent. He said that he had watched by the trees all
night, but in spite of it, and as if by magic, the beautiful trees had
been robbed of all their fruit.

‘Grieved as I was over the theft, I did not punish the gardener, of
whose fidelity I was well assured, but I determined to pluck off all the
fruit in the following year before it was ripe, as I had not much belief
in the magician’s warning.

‘I carried out my intention, and had all the fruit picked off the tree,
but when I tasted one of the apples it was bitter and unpleasant, and
the next morning the rest of the fruit had all rotted away.

‘After this I had the beautiful fruit of these trees carefully guarded
by my most faithful servants; but every year, on this very night, the
fruit was plucked and stolen by an invisible hand, and next morning not
a single apple remained on the trees. For some time past I have given up
even having the trees watched.’

When the King had finished his story, Szabo, his eldest son, said to
him: ‘Forgive me, father, if I say I think you are mistaken. I am sure
there are many men in your kingdom who could protect these trees from
the cunning arts of a thieving magician; I myself, who as your eldest
son claim the first right to do so, will mount guard over the fruit this
very night.’

The King consented, and as soon as evening drew on Szabo climbed up on
to one of the trees, determined to protect the fruit even if it cost him
his life. So he kept watch half the night; but a little after midnight
he was overcome by an irresistible drowsiness, and fell fast asleep.
He did not awake till it was bright daylight, and all the fruit on the
trees had vanished.

The following year Warza, the second brother, tried his luck, but with
the same result. Then it came to the turn of the third and youngest son.

Iwanich was not the least discouraged by the failure of his elder
brothers, though they were both much older and stronger than he was,
and when night came climbed up the tree as they had done, The moon had
risen, and with her soft light lit up the whole neighbourhood, so that
the observant Prince could distinguish the smallest object distinctly.

At midnight a gentle west wind shook the tree, and at the same moment
a snow-white swan-like bird sank down gently on his breast. The
Prince hastily seized the bird’s wings in his hands, when, lo! to his
astonishment he found he was holding in his arms not a bird but the most
beautiful girl he had ever seen.

‘You need not fear Militza,’ said the beautiful girl, looking at the
Prince with friendly eyes. ‘An evil magician has not robbed you of your
fruit, but he stole the seed from my mother, and thereby caused her
death. When she was dying she bade me take the fruit, which you have no
right to possess, from the trees every year as soon as it was ripe.
This I would have done to-night too, if you had not seized me with such
force, and so broken the spell I was under.’

Iwanich, who had been prepared to meet a terrible magician and not a
lovely girl, fell desperately in love with her. They spent the rest of
the night in pleasant conversation, and when Militza wished to go away
he begged her not to leave him.

‘I would gladly stay with you longer,’ said Militza, ‘but a wicked witch
once cut off a lock of my hair when I was asleep, which has put me in
her power, and if morning were still to find me here she would do me
some harm, and you, too, perhaps.’

Having said these words, she drew a sparkling diamond ring from her
finger, which she handed to the Prince, saying: ‘Keep this ring in
memory of Militza, and think of her sometimes if you never see her
again. But if your love is really true, come and find me in my own
kingdom. I may not show you the way there, but this ring will guide you.

‘If you have love and courage enough to undertake this journey, whenever
you come to a cross-road always look at this diamond before you settle
which way you are going to take. If it sparkles as brightly as ever go
straight on, but if its lustre is dimmed choose another path.’

Then Militza bent over the Prince and kissed him on his forehead, and
before he had time to say a word she vanished through the branches of
the tree in a little white cloud.

Morning broke, and the Prince, still full of the wonderful apparition,
left his perch and returned to the palace like one in a dream, without
even knowing if the fruit had been taken or not; for his whole mind was
absorbed by thoughts of Militza and how he was to find her.

As soon as the head-gardener saw the Prince going towards the palace he
ran to the trees, and when he saw them laden with ripe fruit he hastened
to tell the King the joyful news. The King was beside himself for joy,
and hurried at once to the garden and made the gardener pick him some of
the fruit. He tasted it, and found the apple quite as luscious as it
had been in his dream. He went at once to his son Iwanich, and after
embracing him tenderly and heaping praises on him, he asked him how
he had succeeded in protecting the costly fruit from the power of the
magician.

This question placed Iwanich in a dilemma. But as he did not want the
real story to be known, he said that about midnight a huge wasp had
flown through the branches, and buzzed incessantly round him. He had
warded it off with his sword, and at dawn, when he was becoming quite
worn out, the wasp had vanished as suddenly as it had appeared.

The King, who never doubted the truth of this tale, bade his son go to
rest at once and recover from the fatigues of the night; but he himself
went and ordered many feasts to be held in honour of the preservation of
the wonderful fruit.

The whole capital was in a stir, and everyone shared in the King’s joy;
the Prince alone took no part in the festivities.

While the King was at a banquet, Iwanich took some purses of gold, and
mounting the quickest horse in the royal stable, he sped off like the
wind without a single soul being any the wiser.

It was only on the next day that they missed him; the King was very
distressed at his disappearance, and sent search-parties all over the
kingdom to look for him, but in vain; and after six months they gave him
up as dead, and in another six months they had forgotten all about him.
But in the meantime the Prince, with the help of his ring, had had a
most successful journey, and no evil had befallen him.

At the end of three months he came to the entrance of a huge forest,
which looked as if it had never been trodden by human foot before, and
which seemed to stretch out indefinitely. The Prince was about to enter
the wood by a little path he had discovered, when he heard a voice
shouting to him: ‘Hold, youth! Whither are you going?’

Iwanich turned round, and saw a tall, gaunt-looking man, clad in
miserable rags, leaning on a crooked staff and seated at the foot of
an oak tree, which was so much the same colour as himself that it was
little wonder the Prince had ridden past the tree without noticing him.

‘Where else should I be going,’ he said, ‘than through the wood?’

‘Through the wood?’ said the old man in amazement. ‘It’s easily seen
that you have heard nothing of this forest, that you rush so blindly to
meet your doom. Well, listen to me before you ride any further; let me
tell you that this wood hides in its depths a countless number of the
fiercest tigers, hyenas, wolves, bears, and snakes, and all sorts of
other monsters. If I were to cut you and your horse up into tiny morsels
and throw them to the beasts, there wouldn’t be one bit for each hundred
of them. Take my advice, therefore, and if you wish to save your life
follow some other path.’

The Prince was rather taken aback by the old man’s words, and considered
for a minute what he should do; then looking at his ring, and perceiving
that it sparkled as brightly as ever, he called out: ‘If this wood held
even more terrible things than it does, I cannot help myself, for I must
go through it.’

Here he spurred his horse and rode on; but the old beggar screamed so
loudly after him that the Prince turned round and rode back to the oak
tree.

‘I am really sorry for you,’ said the beggar, ‘but if you are quite
determined to brave the dangers of the forest, let me at least give you
a piece of advice which will help you against these monsters.

‘Take this bagful of bread-crumbs and this live hare. I will make you
a present of them both, as I am anxious to save your life; but you must
leave your horse behind you, for it would stumble over the fallen trees
or get entangled in the briers and thorns. When you have gone about a
hundred yards into the wood the wild beasts will surround you. Then you
must instantly seize your bag, and scatter the bread-crumbs among them.
They will rush to eat them up greedily, and when you have scattered the
last crumb you must lose no time in throwing the hare to them; as soon
as the hare feels itself on the ground it will run away as quickly as
possible, and the wild beasts will turn to pursue it. In this way you
will be able to get through the wood unhurt.’

Iwanich thanked the old man for his counsel, dismounted from his horse,
and, taking the bag and the hare in his arms, he entered the forest. He
had hardly lost sight of his gaunt grey friend when he heard growls and
snarls in the thicket close to him, and before he had time to think he
found himself surrounded by the most dreadful-looking creatures. On
one side he saw the glittering eye of a cruel tiger, on the other the
gleaming teeth of a great she-wolf; here a huge bear growled fiercely,
and there a horrible snake coiled itself in the grass at his feet.

But Iwanich did not forget the old man’s advice, and quickly put his
hand into the bag and took out as many bread-crumbs as he could hold in
his hand at a time. He threw them to the beasts, but soon the bag grew
lighter and lighter, and the Prince began to feel a little frightened.
And now the last crumb was gone, and the hungry beasts thronged round
him, greedy for fresh prey. Then he seized the hare and threw it to
them.

No sooner did the little creature feel itself on the ground than it
lay back its ears and flew through the wood like an arrow from a bow,
closely pursued by the wild beasts, and the Prince was left alone. He
looked at his ring, and when he saw that it sparkled as brightly as ever
he went straight on through the forest.

He hadn’t gone very far when he saw a most extraordinary looking man
coming towards him. He was not more than three feet high, his legs
were quite crooked, and all his body was covered with prickles like a
hedgehog. Two lions walked with him, fastened to his side by the two
ends of his long beard.

He stopped the Prince and asked him in a harsh voice: ‘Are you the man
who has just fed my body-guard?’

Iwanich was so startled that he could hardly reply, but the little man
continued: ‘I am most grateful to you for your kindness; what can I give
you as a reward?’

‘All I ask,’ replied Iwanich, ‘is, that I should be allowed to go
through this wood in safety.’

‘Most certainly,’ answered the little man; ‘and for greater security I
will give you one of my lions as a protector. But when you leave this
wood and come near a palace which does not belong to my domain, let the
lion go, in order that he may not fall into the hands of an enemy and be
killed.’

With these words he loosened the lion from his beard and bade the beast
guard the youth carefully.

With this new protector Iwanich wandered on through the forest, and
though he came upon a great many more wolves, hyenas, leopards, and
other wild beasts, they always kept at a respectful distance when they
saw what sort of an escort the Prince had with him.

Iwanich hurried through the wood as quickly as his legs would carry him,
but, nevertheless, hour after hour went by and not a trace of a green
field or a human habitation met his eyes. At length, towards evening,
the mass of trees grew more transparent, and through the interlaced
branches a wide plain was visible.

At the exit of the wood the lion stood still, and the Prince took leave
of him, having first thanked him warmly for his kind protection. It had
become quite dark, and Iwanich was forced to wait for daylight before
continuing his journey.

He made himself a bed of grass and leaves, lit a fire of dry branches,
and slept soundly till the next morning.

Then he got up and walked towards a beautiful white palace which he saw
gleaming in the distance. In about an hour he reached the building, and
opening the door he walked in.

After wandering through many marble halls, he came to a huge staircase
made of porphyry, leading down to a lovely garden.

The Prince burst into a shout of joy when he suddenly perceived Militza
in the centre of a group of girls who were weaving wreaths of flowers
with which to deck their mistress.

As soon as Militza saw the Prince she ran up to him and embraced him
tenderly; and after he had told her all his adventures, they went into
the palace, where a sumptuous meal awaited them. Then the Princess
called her court together, and introduced Iwanich to them as her future
husband.

Preparations were at once made for the wedding, which was held soon
after with great pomp and magnificence.

Three months of great happiness followed, when Militza received one day
an invitation to visit her mother’s sister.

Although the Princess was very unhappy at leaving her husband, she did
not like to refuse the invitation, and, promising to return in seven
days at the latest, she took a tender farewell of the Prince, and
said: ‘Before I go I will hand you over all the keys of the castle. Go
everywhere and do anything you like; only one thing I beg and beseech
you, do not open the little iron door in the north tower, which is
closed with seven locks and seven bolts; for if you do, we shall both
suffer for it.’

Iwanich promised what she asked, and Militza departed, repeating her
promise to return in seven days.

When the Prince found himself alone he began to be tormented by pangs
of curiosity as to what the room in the tower contained. For two days he
resisted the temptation to go and look, but on the third he could stand
it no longer, and taking a torch in his hand he hurried to the tower,
and unfastened one lock after the other of the little iron door until it
burst open.

What an unexpected sight met his gaze! The Prince perceived a small room
black with smoke, lit up feebly by a fire from which issued long blue
flames. Over the fire hung a huge cauldron full of boiling pitch, and
fastened into the cauldron by iron chains stood a wretched man screaming
with agony.

Iwanich was much horrified at the sight before him, and asked the man
what terrible crime he had committed to be punished in this dreadful
fashion.

‘I will tell you everything,’ said the man in the cauldron; ‘but first
relieve my torments a little, I implore you.’

‘And how can I do that?’ asked the Prince.

‘With a little water,’ replied the man; ‘only sprinkle a few drops over
me and I shall feel better.’

The Prince, moved by pity, without thinking what he was doing, ran
to the courtyard of the castle, and filled a jug with water, which he
poured over the man in the cauldron.

In a moment a most fearful crash was heard, as if all the pillars of the
palace were giving way, and the palace itself, with towers and doors,
windows and the cauldron, whirled round the bewildered Prince’s head.
This continued for a few minutes, and then everything vanished into
thin air, and Iwanich found himself suddenly alone upon a desolate heath
covered with rocks and stones.

The Prince, who now realised what his heedlessness had done, cursed too
late his spirit of curiosity. In his despair he wandered on over the
heath, never looking where he put his feet, and full of sorrowful
thoughts. At last he saw a light in the distance, which came from a
miserable-looking little hut.

The owner of it was none other than the kind-hearted gaunt grey beggar
who had given the Prince the bag of bread-crumbs and the hare. Without
recognising Iwanich, he opened the door when he knocked and gave him
shelter for the night.

On the following morning the Prince asked his host if he could get him
any work to do, as he was quite unknown in the neighbourhood, and had
not enough money to take him home.

‘My son,’ replied the old man, ‘all this country round here is
uninhabited; I myself have to wander to distant villages for my living,
and even then I do not very often find enough to satisfy my hunger. But
if you would like to take service with the old witch Corva, go straight
up the little stream which flows below my hut for about three hours, and
you will come to a sand-hill on the left-hand side; that is where she
lives.’

Iwanich thanked the gaunt grey beggar for his information, and went on
his way.

After walking for about three hours the Prince came upon a
dreary-looking grey stone wall; this was the back of the building and
did not attract him; but when he came upon the front of the house
he found it even less inviting, for the old witch had surrounded her
dwelling with a fence of spikes, on every one of which a man’s skull was
stuck. In this horrible enclosure stood a small black house, which had
only two grated windows, all covered with cobwebs, and a battered iron
door.

The Prince knocked, and a rasping woman’s voice told him to enter.

Iwanich opened the door, and found himself in a smoke-begrimed kitchen,
in the presence of a hideous old woman who was warming her skinny hands
at a fire. The Prince offered to become her servant, and the old hag
told him she was badly in want of one, and he seemed to be just the
person to suit her.

When Iwanich asked what his work, and how much his wages would be, the
witch bade him follow her, and led the way through a narrow damp
passage into a vault, which served as a stable. Here he perceived two
pitch-black horses in a stall.

‘You see before you,’ said the old woman, ‘a mare and her foal; you have
nothing to do but to lead them out to the fields every day, and to see
that neither of them runs away from you. If you look after them both for
a whole year I will give you anything you like to ask; but if, on the
other hand, you let either of the animals escape you, your last hour is
come, and your head shall be stuck on the last spike of my fence. The
other spikes, as you see, are already adorned, and the skulls are all
those of different servants I have had who have failed to do what I
demanded.’

Iwanich, who thought he could not be much worse off than he was already,
agreed to the witch’s proposal.

At daybreak nest morning he drove his horses to the field, and brought
them back in the evening without their ever having attempted to break
away from him. The witch stood at her door and received him kindly, and
set a good meal before him.

So it continued for some time, and all went well with the Prince.

Early every morning he led the horses out to the fields, and brought
them home safe and sound in the evening.

One day, while he was watching the horses, he came to the banks of a
river, and saw a big fish, which through some mischance had been cast on
the land, struggling hard to get back into the water.

Iwanich, who felt sorry for the poor creature, seized it in his arms and
flung it into the stream. But no sooner did the fish find itself in the
water again, than, to the Prince’s amazement, it swam up to the bank and
said:

‘My kind benefactor, how can I reward you for your goodness?’

‘I desire nothing,’ answered the Prince. ‘I am quite content to have
been able to be of some service to you.’

‘You must do me the favour,’ replied the fish, ‘to take a scale from my
body, and keep it carefully. If you should ever need my help, throw it
into the river, and I will come to your aid at once.’

Iwanich bowed, loosened a scale from the body of the grateful beast, put
it carefully away, and returned home.

A short time after this, when he was going early one morning to the
usual grazing place with his horses, he noticed a flock of birds
assembled together making a great noise and flying wildly backwards and
forwards.

Full of curiosity, Iwanich hurried up to the spot, and saw that a large
number of ravens had attacked an eagle, and although the eagle was big
and powerful and was making a brave fight, it was overpowered at last by
numbers, and had to give in.

But the Prince, who was sorry for the poor bird, seized the branch of
a tree and hit out at the ravens with it; terrified at this unexpected
onslaught they flew away, leaving many of their number dead or wounded
on the battlefield.

As soon as the eagle saw itself free from its tormentors it plucked a
feather from its wing, and, handing it to the Prince, said: ‘Here, my
kind benefactor, take this feather as a proof of my gratitude; should
you ever be in need of my help blow this feather into the air, and I
will help you as much as is in my power.’

Iwanich thanked the bird, and placing the feather beside the scale he
drove the horses home.

Another day he had wandered farther than usual, and came close to a
farmyard; the place pleased the Prince, and as there was plenty of good
grass for the horses he determined to spend the day there. Just as he
was sitting down under a tree he heard a cry close to him, and saw a fox
which had been caught in a trap placed there by the farmer.

In vain did the poor beast try to free itself; then the good-natured
Prince came once more to the rescue, and let the fox out of the trap.

The fox thanked him heartily, tore two hairs out of his bushy tail, and
said: ‘Should you ever stand in need of my help throw these two hairs
into the fire, and in a moment I shall be at your side ready to obey
you.’

Iwanich put the fox’s hairs with the scale and the feather, and as it
was getting dark he hastened home with his horses.

In the meantime his service was drawing near to an end, and in three
more days the year was up, and he would be able to get his reward and
leave the witch.

On the first evening of these last three days, when he came home and was
eating his supper, he noticed the old woman stealing into the stables.

The Prince followed her secretly to see what she was going to do. He
crouched down in the doorway and heard the wicked witch telling the
horses to wait next morning till Iwanich was asleep, and then to go and
hide themselves in the river, and to stay there till she told them to
return; and if they didn’t do as she told them the old woman threatened
to beat them till they bled.

When Iwanich heard all this he went back to his room, determined that
nothing should induce him to fall asleep next day. On the following
morning he led the mare and foal to the fields as usual, but bound a
cord round them both which he kept in his hand.

But after a few hours, by the magic arts of the old witch, he was
overpowered by sleep, and the mare and foal escaped and did as they had
been told to do. The Prince did not awake till late in the evening; and
when he did, he found, to his horror, that the horses had disappeared.
Filled with despair, he cursed the moment when he had entered the
service of the cruel witch, and already he saw his head sticking up on
the sharp spike beside the others.

Then he suddenly remembered the fish’s scale, which, with the eagle’s
feather and the fox’s hairs, he always carried about with him. He drew
the scale from his pocket, and hurrying to the river he threw it in. In
a minute the grateful fish swam towards the bank on which Iwanich was
standing, and said: ‘What do you command, my friend and benefactor?’

The Prince replied: ‘I had to look after a mare and foal, and they have
run away from me and have hidden themselves in the river; if you wish to
save my life drive them back to the land.’

‘Wait a moment,’ answered the fish, ‘and I and my friends will soon
drive them out of the water.’ With these words the creature disappeared
into the depths of the stream.

Almost immediately a rushing hissing sound was heard in the waters, the
waves dashed against the banks, the foam was tossed into the air, and
the two horses leapt suddenly on to the dry land, trembling and shaking
with fear.

Iwanich sprang at once on to the mare’s back, seized the foal by its
bridle, and hastened home in the highest spirits.

When the witch saw the Prince bringing the horses home she could hardly
conceal her wrath, and as soon as she had placed Iwanich’s supper before
him she stole away again to the stables. The Prince followed her, and
heard her scolding the beasts harshly for not having hidden themselves
better. She bade them wait next morning till Iwanich was asleep and then
to hide themselves in the clouds, and to remain there till she called.
If they did not do as she told them she would beat them till they bled.

The next morning, after Iwanich had led his horses to the fields, he
fell once more into a magic sleep. The horses at once ran away and hid
themselves in the clouds, which hung down from the mountains in soft
billowy masses.

When the Prince awoke and found that both the mare and the foal had
disappeared, he bethought him at once of the eagle, and taking the
feather out of his pocket he blew it into the air.

In a moment the bird swooped down beside him and asked: ‘What do you
wish me to do?’

‘My mare and foal,’ replied the Prince, ‘have run away from me, and have
hidden themselves in the clouds; if you wish to save my life, restore
both animals to me.’

‘Wait a minute,’ answered the eagle; ‘with the help of my friends I will
soon drive them back to you.’

With these words the bird flew up into the air and disappeared among the
clouds.

Almost directly Iwanich saw his two horses being driven towards him by
a host of eagles of all sizes. He caught the mare and foal, and having
thanked the eagle he drove them cheerfully home again.

The old witch was more disgusted than ever when she saw him appearing,
and having set his supper before him she stole into the stables, and
Iwanich heard her abusing the horses for not having hidden themselves
better in the clouds. Then she bade them hide themselves next morning,
as soon as Iwanich was asleep, in the King’s hen-house, which stood on
a lonely part of the heath, and to remain there till she called. If they
failed to do as she told them she would certainly beat them this time
till they bled.

On the following morning the Prince drove his horses as usual to the
fields. After he had been overpowered by sleep, as on the former days,
the mare and foal ran away and hid themselves in the royal hen house.

When the Prince awoke and found the horses gone he determined to appeal
to the fox; so, lighting a fire, he threw the two hairs into it, and
in a few moments the fox stood beside him and asked: ‘In what way can I
serve you?’

‘I wish to know,’ replied Iwanich, ‘where the King’s hen-house is.’

‘Hardly an hour’s walk from here,’ answered the fox, and offered to show
the Prince the way to it.

While they were walking along the fox asked him what he wanted to do
at the royal hen-house. The Prince told him of the misfortune that had
befallen him, and of the necessity of recovering the mare and foal.

‘That is no easy matter,’ replied the fox. ‘But wait a moment. I have
an idea. Stand at the door of the hen-house, and wait there for your
horses. In the meantime I will slip in among the hens through a hole in
the wall and give them a good chase, so that the noise they make will
arouse the royal henwives, and they will come to see what is the matter.
When they see the horses they will at once imagine them to be the cause
of the disturbance, and will drive them out. Then you must lay hands on
the mare and foal and catch them.

All turned out exactly as the sly fox had foreseen. The Prince swung
himself on the mare, seized the foal by its bridle, and hurried home.

While he was riding over the heath in the highest of spirits the mare
suddenly said to her rider: ‘You are the first person who has ever
succeeded in outwitting the old witch Corva, and now you may ask what
reward you like for your service. If you promise never to betray me I
will give you a piece of advice which you will do well to follow.’

The Prince promised never to betray her confidence, and the mare
continued: ‘Ask nothing else as a reward than my foal, for it has not
its like in the world, and is not to be bought for love or money; for it
can go from one end of the earth to another in a few minutes. Of course
the cunning Corva will do her best to dissuade you from taking the foal,
and will tell you that it is both idle and sickly; but do not believe
her, and stick to your point.’

Iwanich longed to possess such an animal, and promised the mare to
follow her advice.

This time Corva received him in the most friendly manner, and set a
sumptuous repast before him. As soon as he had finished she asked him
what reward he demanded for his year’s service.

‘Nothing more nor less,’ replied the Prince, ‘than the foal of your
mare.’

The witch pretended to be much astonished at his request, and said that
he deserved something much better than the foal, for the beast was lazy
and nervous, blind in one eye, and, in short, was quite worthless.

But the Prince knew what he wanted, and when the old witch saw that he
had made up his mind to have the foal, she said, ‘I am obliged to keep
my promise and to hand you over the foal; and as I know who you are and
what you want, I will tell you in what way the animal will be useful to
you. The man in the cauldron of boiling pitch, whom you set free, is a
mighty magician; through your curiosity and thoughtlessness Militza came
into his power, and he has transported her and her castle and belongings
into a distant country.

‘You are the only person who can kill him; and in consequence he fears
you to such an extent that he has set spies to watch you, and they
report your movements to him daily.

‘When you have reached him, beware of speaking a single word to him, or
you will fall into the power of his friends. Seize him at once by the
beard and dash him to the ground.’

Iwanich thanked the old witch, mounted his foal, put spurs to its sides,
and they flew like lightning through the air.

Already it was growing dark, when Iwanich perceived some figures in the
distance; they soon came up to them, and then the Prince saw that it
was the magician and his friends who were driving through the air in a
carriage drawn by owls.

When the magician found himself face to face with Iwanich, without hope
of escape, he turned to him with false friendliness and said: ‘Thrice my
kind benefactor!’

But the Prince, without saying a word, seized him at once by his beard
and dashed him to the ground. At the same moment the foal sprang on the
top of the magician and kicked and stamped on him with his hoofs till he
died.

Then Iwanich found himself once more in the palace of his bride, and
Militza herself flew into his arms.

From this time forward they lived in undisturbed peace and happiness
till the end of their lives.




THE MAGIC RING

Once upon a time there lived an old couple who had one son called
Martin. Now when the old man’s time had come, he stretched himself out
on his bed and died. Though all his life long he had toiled and moiled,
he only left his widow and son two hundred florins. The old woman
determined to put by the money for a rainy day; but alas! the rainy day
was close at hand, for their meal was all consumed, and who is prepared
to face starvation with two hundred florins at their disposal? So the
old woman counted out a hundred of her florins, and giving them to
Martin, told him to go into the town and lay in a store of meal for a
year.

So Martin started off for the town. When he reached the meat-market he
found the whole place in turmoil, and a great noise of angry voices and
barking of dogs. Mixing in the crowd, he noticed a stag-hound which the
butchers had caught and tied to a post, and which was being flogged in
a merciless manner. Overcome with pity, Martin spoke to the butchers,
saying:

‘Friends, why are you beating the poor dog so cruelly?’

‘We have every right to beat him,’ they replied; ‘he has just devoured a
newly-killed pig.’

‘Leave off beating him,’ said Martin, ‘and sell him to me instead.’

‘If you choose to buy him,’ answered the butchers derisively; ‘but for
such a treasure we won’t take a penny less than a hundred florins.’

‘A hundred!’ exclaimed Martin. ‘Well, so be it, if you will not take
less;’ and, taking the money out of his pocket, he handed it over in
exchange for the dog, whose name was Schurka.

When Martin got home, his mother met him with the question:

‘Well, what have you bought?’

‘Schurka, the dog,’ replied Martin, pointing to his new possession.
Whereupon his mother became very angry, and abused him roundly. He ought
to be ashamed of himself, when there was scarcely a handful of meal in
the house, to have spent the money on a useless brute like that. On the
following day she sent him back to the town, saying, ‘Here, take our
last hundred florins, and buy provisions with them. I have just emptied
the last grains of meal out of the chest, and baked a bannock; but it
won’t last over to-morrow.’

Just as Martin was entering the town he met a rough-looking peasant who
was dragging a cat after him by a string which was fastened round the
poor beast’s neck.

‘Stop,’ cried Martin; ‘where are you dragging that poor cat?’

‘I mean to drown him,’ was the answer.

‘What harm has the poor beast done?’ said Martin.

‘It has just killed a goose,’ replied the peasant.

‘Don’t drown him, sell him to me instead,’ begged Martin.

‘Not for a hundred florins,’ was the answer.

‘Surely for a hundred florins you’ll sell it?’ said Martin. ‘See! here
is the money;’ and, so saying, he handed him the hundred florins, which
the peasant pocketed, and Martin took possession of the cat, which was
called Waska.

When he reached his home his mother greeted him with the question:

‘Well, what have you brought back?’

‘I have brought this cat, Waska,’ answered Martin.

‘And what besides?’

‘I had no money over to buy anything else with,’ replied Martin.

‘You useless ne’er-do-weel!’ exclaimed his mother in a great passion.
‘Leave the house at once, and go and beg your bread among strangers;’
and as Martin did not dare to contradict her, he called Schurka and
Waska and started off with them to the nearest village in search of
work. On the way he met a rich peasant, who asked him where he was
going.

‘I want to get work as a day labourer,’ he answered.

‘Come along with me, then. But I must tell you I engage my labourers
without wages. If you serve me faithfully for a year, I promise you it
shall be for your advantage.’

So Martin consented, and for a year he worked diligently, and served
his master faithfully, not sparing himself in any way. When the day of
reckoning had come the peasant led him into a barn, and pointing to two
full sacks, said: ‘Take whichever of these you choose.’

Martin examined the contents of the sacks, and seeing that one was full
of silver and the other of sand, he said to himself:

‘There must be some trick about this; I had better take the sand.’ And
throwing the sack over his shoulders he started out into the world,
in search of fresh work. On and on he walked, and at last he reached
a great gloomy wood. In the middle of the wood he came upon a meadow,
where a fire was burning, and in the midst of the fire, surrounded by
flames, was a lovely damsel, more beautiful than anything that Martin
had ever seen, and when she saw him she called to him:

‘Martin, if you would win happiness, save my life. Extinguish the flames
with the sand that you earned in payment of your faithful service.’

‘Truly,’ thought Martin to himself, ‘it would be more sensible to save a
fellow-being’s life with this sand than to drag it about on one’s back,
seeing what a weight it is.’ And forthwith he lowered the sack from his
shoulders and emptied its contents on the flames, and instantly the
fire was extinguished; but at the same moment lo! and behold the lovely
damsel turned into a Serpent, and, darting upon him, coiled itself round
his neck, and whispered lovingly in his ear:

‘Do not be afraid of me, Martin; I love you, and will go with you
through the world. But first you must follow me boldly into my Father’s
Kingdom, underneath the earth; and when we get there, remember this--he
will offer you gold and silver, and dazzling gems, but do not touch
them. Ask him, instead, for the ring which he wears on his little
finger, for in that ring lies a magic power; you have only to throw it
from one hand to the other, and at once twelve young men will appear,
who will do your bidding, no matter how difficult, in a single night.’

So they started on their way, and after much wandering they reached
a spot where a great rock rose straight up in the middle of the road.
Instantly the Serpent uncoiled itself from his neck, and, as it touched
the damp earth, it resumed the shape of the lovely damsel. Pointing to
the rock, she showed him an opening just big enough for a man to wriggle
through. Passing into it, they entered a long underground passage, which
led out on to a wide field, above which spread a blue sky. In the middle
of the field stood a magnificent castle, built out of porphyry, with a
roof of gold and with glittering battlements. And his beautiful guide
told him that this was the palace in which her father lived and reigned
over his kingdom in the Under-world.

Together they entered the palace, and were received by the King with
great kindness. Turning to his daughter, he said:

‘My child, I had almost given up the hope of ever seeing you again.
Where have you been all these years?’

‘My father,’ she replied, ‘I owe my life to this youth, who saved me
from a terrible death.’

Upon which the King turned to Martin with a gracious smile, saying: ‘I
will reward your courage by granting you whatever your heart desires.
Take as much gold, silver, and precious stones as you choose.’

‘I thank you, mighty King, for your gracious offer,’ answered Martin,’
‘but I do not covet either gold, silver, or precious stones; yet if you
will grant me a favour, give me, I beg, the ring from off the little
finger of your royal hand. Every time my eye falls on it I shall think
of your gracious Majesty, and when I marry I shall present it to my
bride.’

So the King took the ring from his finger and gave it to Martin, saying:
‘Take it, good youth; but with it I make one condition--you are never
to confide to anyone that this is a magic ring. If you do, you will
straightway bring misfortune on yourself.’

Martin took the ring, and, having thanked the King, he set out on the
same road by which he had come down into the Under-world. When he had
regained the upper air he started for his old home, and having found his
mother still living in the old house where he had left her, they settled
down together very happily. So uneventful was their life that it
almost seemed as if it would go on in this way always, without let or
hindrance. But one day it suddenly came into his mind that he would like
to get married, and, moreover, that he would choose a very grand wife--a
King’s daughter, in short. But as he did not trust himself as a wooer,
he determined to send his old mother on the mission.

‘You must go to the King,’ he said to her, ‘and demand the hand of his
lovely daughter in marriage for me.’

‘What are you thinking of, my son?’ answered the old woman, aghast at
the idea. ‘Why cannot you marry someone in your own rank? That would be
far more fitting than to send a poor old woman like me a-wooing to the
King’s Court for the hand of a Princess. Why, it is as much as our heads
are worth. Neither my life nor yours would be worth anything if I went
on such a fool’s errand.’

‘Never fear, little mother,’ answered Martin. ‘Trust me; all will be
well. But see that you do not come back without an answer of some kind.’

And so, obedient to her son’s behest, the old woman hobbled off to the
palace, and, without being hindered, reached the courtyard, and began to
mount the flight of steps leading to the royal presence chamber. At
the head of the landing rows of courtiers were collected in magnificent
attire, who stared at the queer old figure, and called to her, and
explained to her, with every kind of sign, that it was strictly
forbidden to mount those steps. But their stern words and forbidding
gestures made no impression whatever on the old woman, and she
resolutely continued to climb the stairs, bent on carrying out her son’s
orders. Upon this some of the courtiers seized her by the arms, and held
her back by sheer force, at which she set up such a yell that the King
himself heard it, and stepped out on to the balcony to see what was the
matter. When he beheld the old woman flinging her arms wildly about, and
heard her scream that she would not leave the place till she had laid
her case before the King, he ordered that she should be brought into
his presence. And forthwith she was conducted into the golden presence
chamber, where, leaning back amongst cushions of royal purple, the King
sat, surrounded by his counsellors and courtiers. Courtesying low, the
old woman stood silent before him. ‘Well, my good old dame, what can I
do for you?’ asked the King.

‘I have come,’ replied Martin’s mother--‘and your Majesty must not be
angry with me--I have come a-wooing.’

‘Is the woman out of her mind?’ said the King, with an angry frown.

But Martin’s mother answered boldly: ‘If the King will only listen
patiently to me, and give me a straightforward answer, he will see that
I am not out of my mind. You, O King, have a lovely daughter to give
in marriage. I have a son--a wooer--as clever a youth and as good a
son-in-law as you will find in your whole kingdom. There is nothing that
he cannot do. Now tell me, O King, plump and plain, will you give your
daughter to my son as wife?’ The King listened to the end of the old
woman’s strange request, but every moment his face grew blacker, and his
features sterner; till all at once he thought to himself, ‘Is it worth
while that I, the King, should be angry with this poor old fool?’ And
all the courtiers and counsellors were amazed when they saw the hard
lines round his mouth and the frown on his brow grow smooth, and heard
the mild but mocking tones in which he answered the old woman, saying:

‘If your son is as wonderfully clever as you say, and if there is
nothing in the world that he cannot do, let him build a magnificent
castle, just opposite my palace windows, in four and twenty hours. The
palace must be joined together by a bridge of pure crystal. On each
side of the bridge there must be growing trees, having golden and silver
apples, and with birds of Paradise among the branches. At the right of
the bridge there must be a church, with five golden cupolas; in this
church your son shall be wedded to my daughter, and we will keep the
wedding festivities in the new castle. But if he fails to execute this
my royal command, then, as a just but mild monarch, I shall give orders
that you and he are taken, and first dipped in tar and then in feathers,
and you shall be executed in the market-place for the entertainment of
my courtiers.’

And a smile played round the King’s lips as he finished speaking, and
his courtiers and counsellors shook with laughter when they thought of
the old woman’s folly, and praised the King’s wise device, and said to
each other, ‘What a joke it will be when we see the pair of them tarred
and feathered! The son is just as able to grow a beard on the palm of
his hand as to execute such a task in twenty-four hours.’

Now the poor old woman was mortally afraid and, in a trembling voice she
asked:

‘Is that really your royal will, O King? Must I take this order to my
poor son?’

‘Yes, old dame; such is my command. If your son carries out my order,
he shall be rewarded with my daughter; but if he fails, away to the
tar-barrel and the stake with you both!’

On her way home the poor old woman shed bitter tears, and when she saw
Martin she told him what the King had said, and sobbed out:

‘Didn’t I tell you, my son, that you should marry someone of your own
rank? It would have been better for us this day if you had. As I told
you, my going to Court has been as much as our lives are worth, and
now we will both be tarred and feathered, and burnt in the public
market-place. It is terrible!’ and she moaned and cried.

‘Never fear, little mother,’ answered Martin; ‘trust me, and you will
see all will be well. You may go to sleep with a quiet mind.’

And, stepping to the front of the hut, Martin threw his ring from the
palm of one hand into the other, upon which twelve youths instantly
appeared, and demanded what he wanted them to do. Then he told them the
King’s commands, and they answered that by next morning all should be
accomplished exactly as the King had ordered.

Next morning when the King awoke, and looked out of his window, to his
amazement he beheld a magnificent castle, just opposite his own palace,
and joined to it a bridge of pure crystal.

At each side of the bridge trees were growing, from whose branches hung
golden and silver apples, among which birds of Paradise perched. At the
right, gleaming in the sun, were the five golden cupolas of a splendid
church, whose bells rang out, as if they would summon people from all
corners of the earth to come and behold the wonder. Now, though the King
would much rather have seen his future son-in-law tarred, feathered, and
burnt at the stake, he remembered his royal oath, and had to make the
best of a bad business. So he took heart of grace, and made Martin a
Duke, and gave his daughter a rich dowry, and prepared the grandest
wedding-feast that had ever been seen, so that to this day the old
people in the country still talk of it.

After the wedding Martin and his royal bride went to dwell in the
magnificent new palace, and here Martin lived in the greatest comfort
and luxury, such luxury as he had never imagined. But though he was as
happy as the day was long, and as merry as a grig, the King’s daughter
fretted all day, thinking of the indignity that had been done her in
making her marry Martin, the poor widow’s son, instead of a rich young
Prince from a foreign country. So unhappy was she that she spent all her
time wondering how she should get rid of her undesirable husband.
And first she determined to learn the secret of his power, and, with
flattering, caressing words, she tried to coax him to tell her how he
was so clever that there was nothing in the world that he could not do.
At first he would tell her nothing; but once, when he was in a yielding
mood, she approached him with a winning smile on her lovely face, and,
speaking flattering words to him, she gave him a potion to drink, with
a sweet, strong taste. And when he had drunk it Martin’s lips were
unsealed, and he told her that all his power lay in the magic ring that
he wore on his finger, and he described to her how to use it, and, still
speaking, he fell into a deep sleep. And when she saw that the potion
had worked, and that he was sound asleep, the Princess took the magic
ring from his finger, and, going into the courtyard, she threw it from
the palm of one hand into the other.

On the instant the twelve youths appeared, and asked her what she
commanded them to do. Then she told them that by the next morning they
were to do away with the castle, and the bridge, and the church, and
put in their stead the humble hut in which Martin used to live with his
mother, and that while he slept her husband was to be carried to his old
lowly room; and that they were to bear her away to the utmost ends of
the earth, where an old King lived who would make her welcome in his
palace, and surround her with the state that befitted a royal Princess.

‘You shall be obeyed,’ answered the twelve youths at the same moment.
And lo and behold! the following morning, when the King awoke and looked
out of his window he beheld to his amazement that the palace, bridge,
church, and trees had all vanished, and there was nothing in their place
but a bare, miserable-looking hut.

Immediately the King sent for his son-in-law, and commanded him to
explain what had happened. But Martin looked at his royal father-in-law,
and answered never a word. Then the King was very angry, and, calling
a council together, he charged Martin with having been guilty of
witchcraft, and of having deceived the King, and having made away with
the Princess; and he was condemned to imprisonment in a high stone
tower, with neither meat nor drink, till he should die of starvation.

Then, in the hour of his dire necessity, his old friends Schurka (the
dog) and Waska (the cat) remembered how Martin had once saved them from
a cruel death; and they took counsel together as to how they should help
him. And Schurka growled, and was of opinion that he would like to tear
everyone in pieces; but Waska purred meditatively, and scratched the
back of her ear with a velvet paw, and remained lost in thought. At the
end of a few minutes she had made up her mind, and, turning to Schurka,
said: ‘Let us go together into the town, and the moment we meet a baker
you must make a rush between his legs and upset the tray from off his
head; I will lay hold of the rolls, and will carry them off to our
master.’ No sooner said than done. Together the two faithful creatures
trotted off into the town, and very soon they met a baker bearing a tray
on his head, and looking round on all sides, while he cried:

     ‘Fresh rolls, sweet cake,
           Fancy bread of every kind.
       Come and buy, come and take,
           Sure you’ll find it to your mind,’


At that moment Schurka made a rush between his legs--the baker stumbled,
the tray was upset, the rolls fell to the ground, and, while the man
angrily pursued Schurka, Waska managed to drag the rolls out of sight
behind a bush. And when a moment later Schurka joined her, they set off
at full tilt to the stone tower where Martin was a prisoner, taking the
rolls with them. Waska, being very agile, climbed up by the outside to
the grated window, and called in an anxious voice:

‘Are you alive, master?’

‘Scarcely alive--almost starved to death,’ answered Martin in a weak
voice. ‘I little thought it would come to this, that I should die of
hunger.’

‘Never fear, dear master. Schurka and I will look after you,’ said
Waska. And in another moment she had climbed down and brought him back a
roll, and then another, and another, till she had brought him the whole
tray-load. Upon which she said: ‘Dear master, Schurka and I are going
off to a distant kingdom at the utmost ends of the earth to fetch you
back your magic ring. You must be careful that the rolls last till our
return.’

And Waska took leave of her beloved master, and set off with Schurka
on their journey. On and on they travelled, looking always to right
and left for traces of the Princess, following up every track, making
inquiries of every cat and dog they met, listening to the talk of every
wayfarer they passed; and at last they heard that the kingdom at the
utmost ends of the earth where the twelve youths had borne the Princess
was not very far off. And at last one day they reached that distant
kingdom, and, going at once to the palace, they began to make friends
with all the dogs and cats in the place, and to question them about
the Princess and the magic ring; but no one could tell them much about
either. Now one day it chanced that Waska had gone down to the palace
cellar to hunt for mice and rats, and seeing an especially fat, well-fed
mouse, she pounced upon it, buried her claws in its soft fur, and was
just going to gobble it up, when she was stopped by the pleading tones
of the little creature, saying, ‘If you will only spare my life I may be
of great service to you. I will do everything in my power for you; for I
am the King of the Mice, and if I perish the whole race will die out.’

‘So be it,’ said Waska. ‘I will spare your life; but in return you must
do something for me. In this castle there lives a Princess, the wicked
wife of my dear master. She has stolen away his magic ring. You must get
it away from her at whatever cost; do you hear? Till you have done this
I won’t take my claws out of your fur.’

‘Good!’ replied the mouse; ‘I will do what you ask.’ And, so saying,
he summoned all the mice in his kingdom together. A countless number
of mice, small and big, brown and grey, assembled, and formed a circle
round their king, who was a prisoner under Waska’s claws. Turning to
them he said: ‘Dear and faithful subjects, who ever among you will steal
the magic ring from the strange Princess will release me from a cruel
death; and I shall honour him above all the other mice in the kingdom.’

Instantly a tiny mouse stepped forward and said: ‘I often creep about
the Princess’s bedroom at night, and I have noticed that she has a ring
which she treasures as the apple of her eye. All day she wears it on her
finger, and at night she keeps it in her mouth. I will undertake, sire,
to steal away the ring for you.’

And the tiny mouse tripped away into the bedroom of the Princess, and
waited for nightfall; then, when the Princess had fallen asleep, it
crept up on to her bed, and gnawed a hole in the pillow, through which
it dragged one by one little down feathers, and threw them under the
Princess’s nose. And the fluff flew into the Princess’s nose, and into
her mouth, and starting up she sneezed and coughed, and the ring fell
out of her mouth on to the coverlet. In a flash the tiny mouse had
seized it, and brought it to Waska as a ransom for the King of the Mice.
Thereupon Waska and Schurka started off, and travelled night and day
till they reached the stone tower where Martin was imprisoned; and the
cat climbed up the window, and called out to him:

‘Martin, dear master, are you still alive?’

‘Ah! Waska, my faithful little cat, is that you?’ replied a weak voice.
‘I am dying of hunger. For three days I have not tasted food.’

‘Be of good heart, dear master,’ replied Waska; ‘from this day forth you
will know nothing but happiness and prosperity. If this were a moment to
trouble you with riddles, I would make you guess what Schurka and I have
brought you back. Only think, we have got you your ring!’

At these words Martin’s joy knew no bounds, and he stroked her fondly,
and she rubbed up against him and purred happily, while below Schurka
bounded in the air, and barked joyfully. Then Martin took the ring, and
threw it from one hand into the other, and instantly the twelve youths
appeared and asked what they were to do.

‘Fetch me first something to eat and drink, as quickly as possible; and
after that bring musicians hither, and let us have music all day long.’

Now when the people in the town and palace heard music coming from the
tower they were filled with amazement, and came to the King with the
news that witchcraft must be going on in Martin’s Tower, for, instead
of dying of starvation, he was seemingly making merry to the sound of
music, and to the clatter of plates, and glass, and knives and forks;
and the music was so enchantingly sweet that all the passers-by stood
still to listen to it. On this the King sent at once a messenger to
the Starvation Tower, and he was so astonished with what he saw that he
remained rooted to the spot. Then the King sent his chief counsellors,
and they too were transfixed with wonder. At last the King came himself,
and he likewise was spellbound by the beauty of the music.

Then Martin summoned the twelve youths, spoke to them, saying, ‘Build up
my castle again, and join it to the King’s Palace with a crystal bridge;
do not forget the trees with the golden and silver apples, and with the
birds of Paradise in the branches; and put back the church with the five
cupolas, and let the bells ring out, summoning the people from the four
corners of the kingdom. And one thing more: bring back my faithless
wife, and lead her into the women’s chamber.’

And it was all done as he commanded, and, leaving the Starvation Tower,
he took the King, his father-in-law, by the arm, and led him into the
new palace, where the Princess sat in fear and trembling, awaiting her
death. And Martin spoke to the King, saying, ‘King and royal father, I
have suffered much at the hands of your daughter. What punishment shall
be dealt to her?’

Then the mild King answered: ‘Beloved Prince and son-in-law, if you love
me, let your anger be turned to grace--forgive my daughter, and restore
her to your heart and favour.’

And Martin’s heart was softened and he forgave his wife, and they lived
happily together ever after. And his old mother came and lived with him,
and he never parted with Schurka and Waska; and I need hardly tell you
that he never again let the ring out of his possession.




THE FLOWER QUEEN’S DAUGHTER(23)

(23) From the Bukowinaer. Von Wliolocki.

A young Prince was riding one day through a meadow that stretched for
miles in front of him, when he came to a deep open ditch. He was turning
aside to avoid it, when he heard the sound of someone crying in the
ditch. He dismounted from his horse, and stepped along in the direction
the sound came from. To his astonishment he found an old woman, who
begged him to help her out of the ditch. The Prince bent down and lifted
her out of her living grave, asking her at the same time how she had
managed to get there.

‘My son,’ answered the old woman, ‘I am a very poor woman, and soon
after midnight I set out for the neighbouring town in order to sell my
eggs in the market on the following morning; but I lost my way in the
dark, and fell into this deep ditch, where I might have remained for
ever but for your kindness.’

Then the Prince said to her, ‘You can hardly walk; I will put you on my
horse and lead you home. Where do you live?’

‘Over there, at the edge of the forest in the little hut you see in the
distance,’ replied the old woman.

The Prince lifted her on to his horse, and soon they reached the hut,
where the old woman got down, and turning to the Prince said, ‘Just wait
a moment, and I will give you something.’ And she disappeared into her
hut, but returned very soon and said, ‘You are a mighty Prince, but
at the same time you have a kind heart, which deserves to be rewarded.
Would you like to have the most beautiful woman in the world for your
wife?’

‘Most certainly I would,’ replied the Prince.

So the old woman continued, ‘The most beautiful woman in the whole world
is the daughter of the Queen of the Flowers, who has been captured by a
dragon. If you wish to marry her, you must first set her free, and this
I will help you to do. I will give you this little bell: if you ring it
once, the King of the Eagles will appear; if you ring it twice, the King
of the Foxes will come to you; and if you ring it three times, you will
see the King of the Fishes by your side. These will help you if you are
in any difficulty. Now farewell, and heaven prosper your undertaking.’
She handed him the little bell, and there disappeared hut and all, as
though the earth had swallowed her up.

Then it dawned on the Prince that he had been speaking to a good fairy,
and putting the little bell carefully in his pocket, he rode home and
told his father that he meant to set the daughter of the Flower Queen
free, and intended setting out on the following day into the wide world
in search of the maid.

So the next morning the Prince mounted his fine horse and left his home.
He had roamed round the world for a whole year, and his horse had died
of exhaustion, while he himself had suffered much from want and misery,
but still he had come on no trace of her he was in search of. At last
one day he came to a hut, in front of which sat a very old man. The
Prince asked him, ‘Do you not know where the Dragon lives who keeps the
daughter of the Flower Queen prisoner?’

‘No, I do not,’ answered the old man. ‘But if you go straight along
this road for a year, you will reach a hut where my father lives, and
possibly he may be able to tell you.’

The Prince thanked him for his information, and continued his journey
for a whole year along the same road, and at the end of it came to
the little hut, where he found a very old man. He asked him the same
question, and the old man answered, ‘No, I do not know where the Dragon
lives. But go straight along this road for another year, and you will
come to a hut in which my father lives. I know he can tell you.’

And so the Prince wandered on for another year, always on the same road,
and at last reached the hut where he found the third old man. He put
the same question to him as he had put to his son and grandson; but this
time the old man answered, ‘The Dragon lives up there on the mountain,
and he has just begun his year of sleep. For one whole year he is always
awake, and the next he sleeps. But if you wish to see the Flower Queen’s
daughter go up the second mountain: the Dragon’s old mother lives there,
and she has a ball every night, to which the Flower Queen’s daughter
goes regularly.’

So the Prince went up the second mountain, where he found a castle all
made of gold with diamond windows. He opened the big gate leading into
the courtyard, and was just going to walk in, when seven dragons rushed
on him and asked him what he wanted?

The Prince replied, ‘I have heard so much of the beauty and kindness of
the Dragon’s Mother, and would like to enter her service.’

This flattering speech pleased the dragons, and the eldest of them said,
‘Well, you may come with me, and I will take you to the Mother Dragon.’

They entered the castle and walked through twelve splendid halls, all
made of gold and diamonds. In the twelfth room they found the Mother
Dragon seated on a diamond throne. She was the ugliest woman under the
sun, and, added to it all, she had three heads. Her appearance was a
great shock to the Prince, and so was her voice, which was like the
croaking of many ravens. She asked him, ‘Why have you come here?’

The Prince answered at once, ‘I have heard so much of your beauty and
kindness, that I would very much like to enter your service.’

‘Very well,’ said the Mother Dragon; ‘but if you wish to enter my
service, you must first lead my mare out to the meadow and look after
her for three days; but if you don’t bring her home safely every
evening, we will eat you up.’

The Prince undertook the task and led the mare out to the meadow.

But no sooner had they reached the grass than she vanished. The Prince
sought for her in vain, and at last in despair sat down on a big stone
and contemplated his sad fate. As he sat thus lost in thought, he
noticed an eagle flying over his head. Then he suddenly bethought him of
his little bell, and taking it out of his pocket he rang it once. In a
moment he heard a rustling sound in the air beside him, and the King of
the Eagles sank at his feet.

‘I know what you want of me,’ the bird said. ‘You are looking for the
Mother Dragon’s mare who is galloping about among the clouds. I will
summon all the eagles of the air together, and order them to catch the
mare and bring her to you.’ And with these words the King of the Eagles
flew away. Towards evening the Prince heard a mighty rushing sound in
the air, and when he looked up he saw thousands of eagles driving the
mare before them. They sank at his feet on to the ground and gave the
mare over to him. Then the Prince rode home to the old Mother Dragon,
who was full of wonder when she saw him, and said, ‘You have succeeded
to-day in looking after my mare, and as a reward you shall come to my
ball to-night.’ She gave him at the same time a cloak made of copper,
and led him to a big room where several young he-dragons and she-dragons
were dancing together. Here, too, was the Flower Queen’s beautiful
daughter. Her dress was woven out of the most lovely flowers in the
world, and her complexion was like lilies and roses. As the Prince was
dancing with her he managed to whisper in her ear, ‘I have come to set
you free!’

Then the beautiful girl said to him, ‘If you succeed in bringing the
mare back safely the third day, ask the Mother Dragon to give you a foal
of the mare as a reward.’

The ball came to an end at midnight, and early next morning the Prince
again led the Mother Dragon’s mare out into the meadow. But again she
vanished before his eyes. Then he took out his little bell and rang it
twice.

In a moment the King of the Foxes stood before him and said: ‘I know
already what you want, and will summon all the foxes of the world
together to find the mare who has hidden herself in a hill.’

With these words the King of the Foxes disappeared, and in the evening
many thousand foxes brought the mare to the Prince.

Then he rode home to the Mother-Dragon, from whom he received this time
a cloak made of silver, and again she led him to the ball-room.

The Flower Queen’s daughter was delighted to see him safe and sound,
and when they were dancing together she whispered in his ear: ‘If you
succeed again to-morrow, wait for me with the foal in the meadow. After
the ball we will fly away together.’

On the third day the Prince led the mare to the meadow again; but once
more she vanished before his eyes. Then the Prince took out his little
bell and rang it three times.

In a moment the King of the Fishes appeared, and said to him: ‘I know
quite well what you want me to do, and I will summon all the fishes
of the sea together, and tell them to bring you back the mare, who is
hiding herself in a river.’

Towards evening the mare was returned to him, and when he led her home
to the Mother Dragon she said to him:

‘You are a brave youth, and I will make you my body-servant. But what
shall I give you as a reward to begin with?’

The Prince begged for a foal of the mare, which the Mother Dragon at
once gave him, and over and above, a cloak made of gold, for she had
fallen in love with him because he had praised her beauty.

So in the evening he appeared at the ball in his golden cloak; but
before the entertainment was over he slipped away, and went straight to
the stables, where he mounted his foal and rode out into the meadow to
wait for the Flower Queen’s daughter. Towards midnight the beautiful
girl appeared, and placing her in front of him on his horse, the
Prince and she flew like the wind till they reached the Flower Queen’s
dwelling. But the dragons had noticed their flight, and woke their
brother out of his year’s sleep. He flew into a terrible rage when
he heard what had happened, and determined to lay siege to the Flower
Queen’s palace; but the Queen caused a forest of flowers as high as the
sky to grow up round her dwelling, through which no one could force a
way.

When the Flower Queen heard that her daughter wanted to marry the
Prince, she said to him: ‘I will give my consent to your marriage
gladly, but my daughter can only stay with you in summer. In winter,
when everything is dead and the ground covered with snow, she must come
and live with me in my palace underground.’ The Prince consented to
this, and led his beautiful bride home, where the wedding was held with
great pomp and magnificence. The young couple lived happily together
till winter came, when the Flower Queen’s daughter departed and went
home to her mother. In summer she returned to her husband, and their
life of joy and happiness began again, and lasted till the approach of
winter, when the Flower Queen’s daughter went back again to her mother.
This coming and going continued all her life long, and in spite of it
they always lived happily together.




THE FLYING SHIP(24)

(24) From the Russian.

Once upon a time there lived an old couple who had three sons; the two
elder were clever, but the third was a regular dunce. The clever sons
were very fond of their mother, gave her good clothes, and always spoke
pleasantly to her; but the youngest was always getting in her way,
and she had no patience with him. Now, one day it was announced in the
village that the King had issued a decree, offering his daughter, the
Princess, in marriage to whoever should build a ship that could fly.
Immediately the two elder brothers determined to try their luck, and
asked their parents’ blessing. So the old mother smartened up their
clothes, and gave them a store of provisions for their journey, not
forgetting to add a bottle of brandy. When they had gone the poor
Simpleton began to tease his mother to smarten him up and let him start
off.

‘What would become of a dolt like you?’ she answered. ‘Why, you would be
eaten up by wolves.’

But the foolish youth kept repeating, ‘I will go, I will go, I will go!’

Seeing that she could do nothing with him, the mother gave him a crust
of bread and a bottle of water, and took no further heed of him.

So the Simpleton set off on his way. When he had gone a short distance
he met a little old manikin. They greeted one another, and the manikin
asked him where he was going.

‘I am off to the King’s Court,’ he answered. ‘He has promised to give
his daughter to whoever can make a flying ship.’

‘And can you make such a ship?’

‘Not I.’

‘Then why in the world are you going?’

‘Can’t tell,’ replied the Simpleton.

‘Well, if that is the case,’ said the manikin, ‘sit down beside me; we
can rest for a little and have something to eat. Give me what you have
got in your satchel.’

Now, the poor Simpleton was ashamed to show what was in it. However, he
thought it best not to make a fuss, so he opened the satchel, and could
scarcely believe his own eyes, for, instead of the hard crust, he saw
two beautiful fresh rolls and some cold meat. He shared them with the
manikin, who licked his lips and said:

‘Now, go into that wood, and stop in front of the first tree, bow three
times, and then strike the tree with your axe, fall on your knees on
the ground, with your face on the earth, and remain there till you are
raised up. You will then find a ship at your side, step into it and fly
to the King’s Palace. If you meet anyone on the way, take him with you.’

The Simpleton thanked the manikin very kindly, bade him farewell, and
went into the road. When he got to the first tree he stopped in front of
it, did everything just as he had been told, and, kneeling on the ground
with his face to the earth, fell asleep. After a little time he was
aroused; he awoke and, rubbing his eyes, saw a ready-made ship at his
side, and at once got into it.

And the ship rose and rose, and in another minute was flying through the
air, when the Simpleton, who was on the look out, cast his eyes down to
the earth and saw a man beneath him on the road, who was kneeling with
his ear upon the damp ground.

‘Hallo!’ he called out, ‘what are you doing down there?’

‘I am listening to what is going on in the world,’ replied the man.

‘Come with me in my ship,’ said the Simpleton.

So the man was only too glad, and got in beside him; and the ship flew,
and flew, and flew through the air, till again from his outlook the
Simpleton saw a man on the road below, who was hopping on one leg, while
his other leg was tied up behind his ear. So he hailed him, calling out:

‘Hallo! what are you doing, hopping on one leg?’

‘I can’t help it,’ replied the man. ‘I walk so fast that unless I tied
up one leg I should be at the end of the earth in a bound.’

‘Come with us on my ship,’ he answered; and the man made no objections,
but joined them; and the ship flew on, and on, and on, till suddenly the
Simpleton, looking down on the road below, beheld a man aiming with a
gun into the distance.

‘Hallo!’ he shouted to him, ‘what are you aiming at? As far as eye can
see, there is no bird in sight.’

‘What would be the good of my taking a near shot?’ replied the man; ‘I
can hit beast or bird at a hundred miles’ distance. That is the kind of
shot I enjoy.’

‘Come into the ship with us,’ answered the Simpleton; and the man was
only too glad to join them, and he got in; and the ship flew on, farther
and farther, till again the Simpleton from his outlook saw a man on the
road below, carrying on his back a basket full of bread. And he waved to
him, calling out:

‘Hallo! where are you going?’

‘To fetch bread for my breakfast.’

‘Bread? Why, you have got a whole basket-load of it on your back.’

‘That’s nothing,’ answered the man; ‘I should finish that in one
mouthful.’

‘Come along with us in my ship, then.’

And so the glutton joined the party, and the ship mounted again into the
air, and flew up and onward, till the Simpleton from his outlook saw
a man walking by the shore of a great lake, and evidently looking for
something.

‘Hallo!’ he cried to him,’ what are you seeking?

‘I want water to drink, I’m so thirsty,’ replied the man.

‘Well, there’s a whole lake in front of you; why don’t you drink some of
that?’

‘Do you call that enough?’ answered the other. ‘Why, I should drink it
up in one gulp.’

‘Well, come with us in the ship.’

And so the mighty drinker was added to the company; and the ship flew
farther, and even farther, till again the Simpleton looked out, and this
time he saw a man dragging a bundle of wood, walking through the forest
beneath them.

‘Hallo!’ he shouted to him, ‘why are you carrying wood through a
forest?’

‘This is not common wood,’ answered the other.

‘What sort of wood is it, then?’ said the Simpleton.

‘If you throw it upon the ground,’ said the man, ‘it will be changed
into an army of soldiers.’

‘Come into the ship with us, then.’

And so he too joined them; and away the ship flew on, and on, and on,
and once more the Simpleton looked out, and this time he saw a man
carrying straw upon his back.

‘Hallo! Where are you carrying that straw to?’

‘To the village,’ said the man.

‘Do you mean to say there is no straw in the village?’

‘Ah! but this is quite a peculiar straw. If you strew it about even in
the hottest summer the air at once becomes cold, and snow falls, and the
people freeze.’

Then the Simpleton asked him also to join them.

At last the ship, with its strange crew, arrived at the King’s Court.
The King was having his dinner, but he at once despatched one of his
courtiers to find out what the huge, strange new bird could be that had
come flying through the air. The courtier peeped into the ship, and,
seeing what it was, instantly went back to the King and told him that it
was a flying ship, and that it was manned by a few peasants.

Then the King remembered his royal oath; but he made up his mind that
he would never consent to let the Princess marry a poor peasant. So he
thought and thought, and then said to himself:

‘I will give him some impossible tasks to perform; that will be the best
way of getting rid of him.’ And he there and then decided to despatch
one of his courtiers to the Simpleton, with the command that he was
to fetch the King the healing water from the world’s end before he had
finished his dinner.

But while the King was still instructing the courtier exactly what
he was to say, the first man of the ship’s company, the one with the
miraculous power of hearing, had overheard the King’s words, and hastily
reported them to the poor Simpleton.

‘Alas, alas!’ he cried; ‘what am I to do now? It would take me quite a
year, possibly my whole life, to find the water.’

‘Never fear,’ said his fleet-footed comrade, ‘I will fetch what the King
wants.’

Just then the courtier arrived, bearing the King’s command.

‘Tell his Majesty,’ said the Simpleton, ‘that his orders shall be
obeyed; ‘and forthwith the swift runner unbound the foot that was strung
up behind his ear and started off, and in less than no time had reached
the world’s end and drawn the healing water from the well.

‘Dear me,’ he thought to himself, ‘that’s rather tiring! I’ll just rest
for a few minutes; it will be some little time yet before the King has
got to dessert.’ So he threw himself down on the grass, and, as the sun
was very dazzling, he closed his eyes, and in a few seconds had fallen
sound asleep.

In the meantime all the ship’s crew were anxiously awaiting him; the
King’s dinner would soon be finished, and their comrade had not yet
returned. So the man with the marvellous quick hearing lay down and,
putting his ear to the ground, listened.

‘That’s a nice sort of fellow!’ he suddenly exclaimed. ‘He’s lying on
the ground, snoring hard!’

At this the marksman seized his gun, took aim, and fired in the
direction of the world’s end, in order to awaken the sluggard. And a
moment later the swift runner reappeared, and, stepping on board the
ship, handed the healing water to the Simpleton. So while the King was
still sitting at table finishing his dinner news was brought to him that
his orders had been obeyed to the letter.

What was to be done now? The King determined to think of a still more
impossible task. So he told another courtier to go to the Simpleton with
the command that he and his comrades were instantly to eat up twelve
oxen and twelve tons of bread. Once more the sharp-eared comrade
overheard the King’s words while he was still talking to the courtier,
and reported them to the Simpleton.

‘Alas, alas!’ he sighed; ‘what in the world shall I do? Why, it would
take us a year, possibly our whole lives, to eat up twelve oxen and
twelve tons of bread.’

‘Never fear,’ said the glutton. ‘It will scarcely be enough for me, I’m
so hungry.’

So when the courtier arrived with the royal message he was told to take
back word to the King that his orders should be obeyed. Then twelve
roasted oxen and twelve tons of bread were brought alongside of the
ship, and at one sitting the glutton had devoured it all.

‘I call that a small meal,’ he said. ‘I wish they’d brought me some
more.’

Next, the King ordered that forty casks of wine, containing forty
gallons each, were to be drunk up on the spot by the Simpleton and his
party. When these words were overheard by the sharp-eared comrade and
repeated to the Simpleton, he was in despair.

‘Alas, alas!’ he exclaimed; ‘what is to be done? It would take us a
year, possibly our whole lives, to drink so much.’

‘Never fear,’ said his thirsty comrade. ‘I’ll drink it all up at a
gulp, see if I don’t.’ And sure enough, when the forty casks of wine
containing forty gallons each were brought alongside of the ship, they
disappeared down the thirsty comrade’s throat in no time; and when they
were empty he remarked:

‘Why, I’m still thirsty. I should have been glad of two more casks.’

Then the King took counsel with himself and sent an order to the
Simpleton that he was to have a bath, in a bath-room at the royal
palace, and after that the betrothal should take place. Now the
bath-room was built of iron, and the King gave orders that it was to
be heated to such a pitch that it would suffocate the Simpleton. And so
when the poor silly youth entered the room, he discovered that the iron
walls were red hot. But, fortunately, his comrade with the straw on his
back had entered behind him, and when the door was shut upon them he
scattered the straw about, and suddenly the red-hot walls cooled down,
and it became so very cold that the Simpleton could scarcely bear to
take a bath, and all the water in the room froze. So the Simpleton
climbed up upon the stove, and, wrapping himself up in the bath
blankets, lay there the whole night. And in the morning when they opened
the door there he lay sound and safe, singing cheerfully to himself.

Now when this strange tale was told to the King he became quite sad,
not knowing what he should do to get rid of so undesirable a son-in-law,
when suddenly a brilliant idea occurred to him.

‘Tell the rascal to raise me an army, now at this instant!’ he exclaimed
to one of his courtiers. ‘Inform him at once of this, my royal will.’
And to himself he added, ‘I think I shall do for him this time.’

As on former occasions, the quick-eared comrade had overheard the King’s
command and repeated it to the Simpleton.

‘Alas, alas!’ he groaned; ‘now I am quite done for.’

‘Not at all,’ replied one of his comrades (the one who had dragged the
bundle of wood through the forest). ‘Have you quite forgotten me?’

In the meantime the courtier, who had run all the way from the palace,
reached the ship panting and breathless, and delivered the King’s
message.

‘Good!’ remarked the Simpleton. ‘I will raise an army for the King,’ and
he drew himself up. ‘But if, after that, the King refuses to accept me
as his son-in-law, I will wage war against him, and carry the Princess
off by force.’

During the night the Simpleton and his comrade went, together into a big
field, not forgetting to take the bundle of wood with them, which the
man spread out in all directions--and in a moment a mighty army stood
upon the spot, regiment on regiment of foot and horse soldiers; the
bugles sounded and the drums beat, the chargers neighed, and their
riders put their lances in rest, and the soldiers presented arms.

In the morning when the King awoke he was startled by these warlike
sounds, the bugles and the drums, and the clatter of the horses, and the
shouts of the soldiers. And, stepping to the window, he saw the lances
gleam in the sunlight and the armour and weapons glitter. And the proud
monarch said to himself, ‘I am powerless in comparison with this man.’
So he sent him royal robes and costly jewels, and commanded him to come
to the palace to be married to the Princess. And his son-in-law put
on the royal robes, and he looked so grand and stately that it was
impossible to recognise the poor Simpleton, so changed was he; and the
Princess fell in love with him as soon as ever she saw him.

Never before had so grand a wedding been seen, and there was so much
food and wine that even the glutton and the thirsty comrade had enough
to eat and drink.




THE SNOW-DAUGHTER AND THE FIRE-SON(25)

(25) From the Bukowinaer Tales and Legends. Von Wliolocki.

There was once upon a time a man and his wife, and they had no children,
which was a great grief to them. One winter’s day, when the sun was
shining brightly, the couple were standing outside their cottage, and
the woman was looking at all the little icicles which hung from the
roof. She sighed, and turning to her husband said, ‘I wish I had as many
children as there are icicles hanging there.’ ‘Nothing would please me
more either,’ replied her husband. Then a tiny icicle detached itself
from the roof, and dropped into the woman’s mouth, who swallowed it with
a smile, and said, ‘Perhaps I shall give birth to a snow child now!’ Her
husband laughed at his wife’s strange idea, and they went back into the
house.

But after a short time the woman gave birth to a little girl, who was
as white as snow and as cold as ice. If they brought the child anywhere
near the fire, it screamed loudly till they put it back into some cool
place. The little maid throve wonderfully, and in a few months she could
run about and speak. But she was not altogether easy to bring up, and
gave her parents much trouble and anxiety, for all summer she insisted
on spending in the cellar, and in the winter she would sleep outside in
the snow, and the colder it was the happier she seemed to be. Her father
and mother called her simply ‘Our Snow-daughter,’ and this name stuck to
her all her life.

One day her parents sat by the fire, talking over the extraordinary
behaviour of their daughter, who was disporting herself in the snowstorm
that raged outside. The woman sighed deeply and said, ‘I wish I had
given birth to a Fire-son!’ As she said these words, a spark from the
big wood fire flew into the woman’s lap, and she said with a laugh, ‘Now
perhaps I shall give birth to a Fire-son!’ The man laughed at his wife’s
words, and thought it was a good joke. But he ceased to think it a
joke when his wife shortly afterwards gave birth to a boy, who screamed
lustily till he was put quite close to the fire, and who nearly yelled
himself into a fit if the Snow-daughter came anywhere near him. The
Snow-daughter herself avoided him as much as she could, and always crept
into a corner as far away from him as possible. The parents called the
boy simply ‘Our Fire-son,’ a name which stuck to him all his life. They
had a great deal of trouble and worry with him too; but he throve and
grew very quickly, and before he was a year old he could run about and
talk. He was as red as fire, and as hot to touch, and he always sat on
the hearth quite close to the fire, and complained of the cold; if his
sister were in the room he almost crept into the flames, while the girl
on her part always complained of the great heat if her brother were
anywhere near. In summer the boy always lay out in the sun, while the
girl hid herself in the cellar: so it happened that the brother and
sister came very little into contact with each other--in fact, they
carefully avoided it.

Just as the girl grew up into a beautiful woman, her father and mother
both died one after the other. Then the Fire-son, who had grown up in
the meantime into a fine, strong young man, said to his sister, ‘I am
going out into the world, for what is the use of remaining on here?’

‘I shall go with you,’ she answered, ‘for, except you, I have no one in
the world, and I have a feeling that if we set out together we shall be
lucky.’

The Fire-son said, ‘I love you with all my heart, but at the same time
I always freeze if you are near me, and you nearly die of heat if I
approach you! How shall we travel about together without being odious
the one to the other?’

‘Don’t worry about that,’ replied the girl, ‘for I’ve thought it all
over, and have settled on a plan which will make us each able to bear
with the other! See, I have had a fur cloak made for each of us, and if
we put them on I shall not feel the heat so much nor you the cold.’ So
they put on the fur cloaks, and set out cheerfully on their way, and for
the first time in their lives quite happy in each other’s company.

For a long time the Fire-son and the Snow-daughter wandered through the
world, and when at the beginning of winter they came to a big wood they
determined to stay there till spring. The Fire-son built himself a hut
where he always kept up a huge fire, while his sister with very few
clothes on stayed outside night and day. Now it happened one day that
the King of the land held a hunt in this wood, and saw the Snow-daughter
wandering about in the open air. He wondered very much who the beautiful
girl clad in such garments could be, and he stopped and spoke to her.
He soon learnt that she could not stand heat, and that her brother could
not endure cold. The King was so charmed by the Snow-daughter, that he
asked her to be his wife. The girl consented, and the wedding was held
with much state. The King had a huge house of ice made for his wife
underground, so that even in summer it did not melt. But for his
brother-in-law he had a house built with huge ovens all round it, that
were kept heated all day and night. The Fire-son was delighted, but
the perpetual heat in which he lived made his body so hot, that it was
dangerous to go too close to him.

One day the King gave a great feast, and asked his brother-in-law
among the other guests. The Fire-son did not appear till everyone had
assembled, and when he did, everyone fled outside to the open air, so
intense was the heat he gave forth. Then the King was very angry and
said, ‘If I had known what a lot of trouble you would have been, I would
never have taken you into my house.’ Then the Fire-son replied with a
laugh, ‘Don’t be angry, dear brother! I love heat and my sister loves
cold--come here and let me embrace you, and then I’ll go home at once.’
And before the King had time to reply, the Fire-son seized him in a
tight embrace. The King screamed aloud in agony, and when his wife, the
Snow-daughter, who had taken refuge from her brother in the next room,
hurried to him, the King lay dead on the ground burnt to a cinder. When
the Snow-daughter saw this she turned on her brother and flew at him.
Then a fight began, the like of which had never been seen on earth. When
the people, attracted by the noise, hurried to the spot, they saw the
Snow-daughter melting into water and the Fire-son burn to a cinder. And
so ended the unhappy brother and sister.




THE STORY OF KING FROST (26)

(26) From the Russian.

There was once upon a time a peasant-woman who had a daughter and a
step-daughter. The daughter had her own way in everything, and whatever
she did was right in her mother’s eyes; but the poor step-daughter had
a hard time. Let her do what she would, she was always blamed, and got
small thanks for all the trouble she took; nothing was right, everything
wrong; and yet, if the truth were known, the girl was worth her weight
in gold--she was so unselfish and good-hearted. But her step-mother did
not like her, and the poor girl’s days were spent in weeping; for it
was impossible to live peacefully with the woman. The wicked shrew was
determined to get rid of the girl by fair means or foul, and kept saying
to her father: ‘Send her away, old man; send her away--anywhere so that
my eyes sha’n’t be plagued any longer by the sight of her, or my ears
tormented by the sound of her voice. Send her out into the fields, and
let the cutting frost do for her.’

In vain did the poor old father weep and implore her pity; she was firm,
and he dared not gainsay her. So he placed his daughter in a sledge,
not even daring to give her a horse-cloth to keep herself warm with, and
drove her out on to the bare, open fields, where he kissed her and left
her, driving home as fast as he could, that he might not witness her
miserable death.

Deserted by her father, the poor girl sat down under a fir-tree at the
edge of the forest and began to weep silently. Suddenly she heard a
faint sound: it was King Frost springing from tree to tree, and cracking
his fingers as he went. At length he reached the fir-tree beneath which
she was sitting, and with a crisp crackling sound he alighted beside
her, and looked at her lovely face.

‘Well, maiden,’ he snapped out, ‘do you know who I am? I am King Frost,
king of the red-noses.’

‘All hail to you, great King!’ answered the girl, in a gentle, trembling
voice. ‘Have you come to take me?’

‘Are you warm, maiden?’ he replied.

‘Quite warm, King Frost,’ she answered, though she shivered as she
spoke.

Then King Frost stooped down, and bent over the girl, and the crackling
sound grew louder, and the air seemed to be full of knives and darts;
and again he asked:

‘Maiden, are you warm? Are you warm, you beautiful girl?’

And though her breath was almost frozen on her lips, she whispered
gently, ‘Quite warm, King Frost.’

Then King Frost gnashed his teeth, and cracked his fingers, and his eyes
sparkled, and the crackling, crisp sound was louder than ever, and for
the last time he asked her:

‘Maiden, are you still warm? Are you still warm, little love?’

And the poor girl was so stiff and numb that she could just gasp, ‘Still
warm, O King!’

Now her gentle, courteous words and her uncomplaining ways touched
King Frost, and he had pity on her, and he wrapped her up in furs, and
covered her with blankets, and he fetched a great box, in which were
beautiful jewels and a rich robe embroidered in gold and silver. And she
put it on, and looked more lovely than ever, and King Frost stepped with
her into his sledge, with six white horses.

In the meantime the wicked step-mother was waiting at home for news of
the girl’s death, and preparing pancakes for the funeral feast. And she
said to her husband: ‘Old man, you had better go out into the fields and
find your daughter’s body and bury her.’ Just as the old man was leaving
the house the little dog under the table began to bark, saying:

     ‘YOUR daughter shall live to be your delight;
      HER daughter shall die this very night.’

‘Hold your tongue, you foolish beast!’ scolded the woman. ‘There’s a
pancake for you, but you must say:

     “HER daughter shall have much silver and gold;
      HIS daughter is frozen quite stiff and cold.”’

But the doggie ate up the pancake and barked, saying:

     ‘His daughter shall wear a crown on her head;
      Her daughter shall die unwooed, unwed.’


Then the old woman tried to coax the doggie with more pancakes and
to terrify it with blows, but he barked on, always repeating the same
words. And suddenly the door creaked and flew open, and a great heavy
chest was pushed in, and behind it came the step-daughter, radiant and
beautiful, in a dress all glittering with silver and gold. For a moment
the step-mother’s eyes were dazzled. Then she called to her husband:
‘Old man, yoke the horses at once into the sledge, and take my daughter
to the same field and leave her on the same spot exactly; ‘and so the
old man took the girl and left her beneath the same tree where he had
parted from his daughter. In a few minutes King Frost came past, and,
looking at the girl, he said:

‘Are you warm, maiden?’

‘What a blind old fool you must be to ask such a question!’ she answered
angrily. ‘Can’t you see that my hands and feet are nearly frozen?’

Then King Frost sprang to and fro in front of her, questioning her, and
getting only rude, rough words in reply, till at last he got very angry,
and cracked his fingers, and gnashed his teeth, and froze her to death.

But in the hut her mother was waiting for her return, and as she grew
impatient she said to her husband: ‘Get out the horses, old man, to go
and fetch her home; but see that you are careful not to upset the sledge
and lose the chest.’

But the doggie beneath the table began to bark, saying:

     ‘Your daughter is frozen quite stiff and cold,
      And shall never have a chest full of gold.’

‘Don’t tell such wicked lies!’ scolded the woman. ‘There’s a cake for
you; now say:

     “HER daughter shall marry a mighty King.”

At that moment the door flew open, and she rushed out to meet her
daughter, and as she took her frozen body in her arms she too was
chilled to death.




THE DEATH OF THE SUN-HERO (27)

(27) From the Bukowinaer Tales and Legends. Von Wliolocki.

Many, many thousand years ago there lived a mighty King whom heaven had
blessed with a clever and beautiful son. When he was only ten years old
the boy was cleverer than all the King’s counsellors put together, and
when he was twenty he was the greatest hero in the whole kingdom. His
father could not make enough of his son, and always had him clothed in
golden garments which shone and sparkled like the sun; and his mother
gave him a white horse, which never slept, and which flew like the
wind. All the people in the land loved him dearly, and called him the
Sun-Hero, for they did not think his like existed under the sun. Now
it happened one night that both his parents had the same extraordinary
dream. They dreamt that a girl all dressed in red had come to them and
said: ‘If you wish that your son should really become the Sun-Hero in
deed and not only in name, let him go out into the world and search for
the Tree of the Sun, and when he has found it, let him pluck a golden
apple from it and bring it home.’

When the King and Queen had each related their dreams to the other,
they were much amazed that they should both have dreamt exactly the same
about their son, and the King said to his wife, ‘This is clearly a sign
from heaven that we should send our son out into the world in order that
he may come home the great Sun-Hero, as the Red Girl said, not only in
name but in deed.’

The Queen consented with many tears, and the King at once bade his son
set forth in search of the Tree of the Sun, from which he was to pluck
a golden apple. The Prince was delighted at the prospect, and set out on
his travels that very day.

For a long time he wandered all through the world, and it was not till
the ninety-ninth day after he started that he found an old man who
was able to tell him where the Tree of the Sun grew. He followed his
directions, and rode on his way, and after another ninety-nine days
he arrived at a golden castle, which stood in the middle of a vast
wilderness. He knocked at the door, which was opened noiselessly and by
invisible hands. Finding no one about, the Prince rode on, and came to
a great meadow, where the Sun-Tree grew. When he reached the tree he put
out his hand to pick a golden apple; but all of a sudden the tree grew
higher, so that he could not reach its fruit. Then he heard some one
behind him laughing. Turning round, he saw the girl in red walking
towards him, who addressed him in these words:

‘Do you really imagine, brave son of the earth, that you can pluck an
apple so easily from the Tree of the Sun? Before you can do that, you
have a difficult task before you. You must guard the tree for nine days
and nine nights from the ravages of two wild black wolves, who will try
to harm it. Do you think you can undertake this?’

‘Yes,’ answered the Sun-Hero, ‘I will guard the Tree of the Sun nine
days and nine nights.’

Then the girl continued: ‘Remember, though, if you do not succeed the
Sun will kill you. Now begin your watch.’

With these words the Red Girl went back into the golden castle. She had
hardly left him when the two black wolves appeared: but the Sun-Hero
beat them off with his sword, and they retired, only, however, to
reappear in a very short time. The Sun-Hero chased them away once more,
but he had hardly sat down to rest when the two black wolves were on
the scene again. This went on for seven days and nights, when the white
horse, who had never done such a thing before, turned to the Sun-Hero
and said in a human voice: ‘Listen to what I am going to say. A Fairy
gave me to your mother in order that I might be of service to you; so
let me tell you, that if you go to sleep and let the wolves harm the
tree, the Sun will surely kill you. The Fairy, foreseeing this, put
everyone in the world under a spell, which prevents their obeying the
Sun’s command to take your life. But all the same, she has forgotten
one person, who will certainly kill you if you fall asleep and let the
wolves damage the tree. So watch and keep the wolves away.’

Then the Sun-Hero strove with all his might and kept the black wolves
at bay, and conquered his desire to sleep; but on the eighth night his
strength failed him, and he fell fast asleep. When he awoke a woman in
black stood beside him, who said: ‘You have fulfilled your task very
badly, for you have let the two black wolves damage the Tree of the Sun.
I am the mother of the Sun, and I command you to ride away from here at
once, and I pronounce sentence of death upon you, for you proudly let
yourself be called the Sun-Hero without having done anything to deserve
the name.’

The youth mounted his horse sadly, and rode home. The people all
thronged round him on his return, anxious to hear his adventures, but
he told them nothing, and only to his mother did he confide what had
befallen him. But the old Queen laughed, and said to her son: ‘Don’t
worry, my child; you see, the Fairy has protected you so far, and the
Sun has found no one to kill you. So cheer up and be happy.’

After a time the Prince forgot all about his adventure, and married a
beautiful Princess, with whom he lived very happily for some time. But
one day when he was out hunting he felt very thirsty, and coming to a
stream he stooped down to drink from it, and this caused his death, for
a crab came swimming up, and with its claws tore out his tongue. He was
carried home in a dying condition, and as he lay on his death-bed
the black woman appeared and said: ‘So the Sun has, after all, found
someone, who was not under the Fairy’s spell, who has caused your death.
And a similar fate will overtake everyone under the Sun who wrongfully
assumes a title to which he has no right.’




THE WITCH (28)

(28) From the Russian.

Once upon a time there was a peasant whose wife died, leaving him with
two children--twins--a boy and a girl. For some years the poor man
lived on alone with the children, caring for them as best he could; but
everything in the house seemed to go wrong without a woman to look after
it, and at last he made up his mind to marry again, feeling that a
wife would bring peace and order to his household and take care of his
motherless children. So he married, and in the following years several
children were born to him; but peace and order did not come to the
household. For the step-mother was very cruel to the twins, and beat
them, and half-starved them, and constantly drove them out of the house;
for her one idea was to get them out of the way. All day she thought
of nothing but how she should get rid of them; and at last an evil idea
came into her head, and she determined to send them out into the great
gloomy wood where a wicked witch lived. And so one morning she spoke to
them, saying:

‘You have been such good children that I am going to send you to visit
my granny, who lives in a dear little hut in the wood. You will have to
wait upon her and serve her, but you will be well rewarded, for she will
give you the best of everything.’

So the children left the house together; and the little sister, who was
very wise for her years, said to the brother:

‘We will first go and see our own dear grandmother, and tell her where
our step-mother is sending us.’

And when the grandmother heard where they were going, she cried and
said:

‘You poor motherless children! How I pity you; and yet I can do nothing
to help you! Your step-mother is not sending you to her granny, but to
a wicked witch who lives in that great gloomy wood. Now listen to me,
children. You must be civil and kind to everyone, and never say a cross
word to anyone, and never touch a crumb belonging to anyone else. Who
knows if, after all, help may not be sent to you?’

And she gave her grandchildren a bottle of milk and a piece of ham and
a loaf of bread, and they set out for the great gloomy wood. When they
reached it they saw in front of them, in the thickest of the trees, a
queer little hut, and when they looked into it, there lay the witch,
with her head on the threshold of the door, with one foot in one corner
and the other in the other corner, and her knees cocked up, almost
touching the ceiling.

‘Who’s there?’ she snarled, in an awful voice, when she saw the
children.

And they answered civilly, though they were so terrified that they hid
behind one another, and said:

‘Good-morning, granny; our step-mother has sent us to wait upon you, and
serve you.’

‘See that you do it well, then,’ growled the witch. ‘If I am pleased
with you, I’ll reward you; but if I am not, I’ll put you in a pan and
fry you in the oven--that’s what I’ll do with you, my pretty dears! You
have been gently reared, but you’ll find my work hard enough. See if you
don’t.’

And, so saying, she set the girl down to spin yarn, and she gave the boy
a sieve in which to carry water from the well, and she herself went
out into the wood. Now, as the girl was sitting at her distaff, weeping
bitterly because she could not spin, she heard the sound of hundreds
of little feet, and from every hole and corner in the hut mice came
pattering along the floor, squeaking and saying:

          ‘Little girl, why are your eyes so red?
          If you want help, then give us some bread.’

And the girl gave them the bread that her grandmother had given her.
Then the mice told her that the witch had a cat, and the cat was very
fond of ham; if she would give the cat her ham, it would show her the
way out of the wood, and in the meantime they would spin the yarn for
her. So the girl set out to look for the cat, and, as she was hunting
about, she met her brother, in great trouble because he could not carry
water from the well in a sieve, as it came pouring out as fast as he
put it in. And as she was trying to comfort him they heard a rustling of
wings, and a flight of wrens alighted on the ground beside them. And the
wrens said:

          ‘Give us some crumbs, then you need not grieve.

          For you’ll find that water will stay in the sieve.’

Then the twins crumbled their bread on the ground, and the wrens pecked
it, and chirruped and chirped. And when they had eaten the last crumb
they told the boy to fill up the holes of the sieve with clay, and then
to draw water from the well. So he did what they said, and carried the
sieve full of water into the hut without spilling a drop. When they
entered the hut the cat was curled up on the floor. So they stroked her,
and fed her with ham, and said to her:

‘Pussy, grey pussy, tell us how we are to get away from the witch?’

Then the cat thanked them for the ham, and gave them a
pocket-handkerchief and a comb, and told them that when the witch
pursued them, as she certainly would, all they had to do was to throw
the handkerchief on the ground and run as fast as they could. As soon as
the handkerchief touched the ground a deep, broad river would spring up,
which would hinder the witch’s progress. If she managed to get across
it, they must throw the comb behind them and run for their lives, for
where the comb fell a dense forest would start up, which would delay the
witch so long that they would be able to get safely away.

The cat had scarcely finished speaking when the witch returned to see if
the children had fulfilled their tasks.

‘Well, you have done well enough for to-day,’ she grumbled; ‘but
to-morrow you’ll have something more difficult to do, and if you don’t
do it well, you pampered brats, straight into the oven you go.’

Half-dead with fright, and trembling in every limb, the poor children
lay down to sleep on a heap of straw in the corner of the hut; but they
dared not close their eyes, and scarcely ventured to breathe. In the
morning the witch gave the girl two pieces of linen to weave before
night, and the boy a pile of wood to cut into chips. Then the witch left
them to their tasks, and went out into the wood. As soon as she had
gone out of sight the children took the comb and the handkerchief, and,
taking one another by the hand, they started and ran, and ran, and ran.
And first they met the watch-dog, who was going to leap on them and tear
them to pieces; but they threw the remains of their bread to him, and
he ate them and wagged his tail. Then they were hindered by the
birch-trees, whose branches almost put their eyes out. But the little
sister tied the twigs together with a piece of ribbon, and they got past
safely, and, after running through the wood, came out on to the open
fields.

In the meantime in the hut the cat was busy weaving the linen and
tangling the threads as it wove. And the witch returned to see how the
children were getting on; and she crept up to the window, and whispered:

‘Are you weaving, my little dear?’

‘Yes, granny, I am weaving,’ answered the cat.

When the witch saw that the children had escaped her, she was furious,
and, hitting the cat with a porringer, she said: ‘Why did you let the
children leave the hut? Why did you not scratch their eyes out?’

But the cat curled up its tail and put its back up, and answered: ‘I
have served you all these years and you never even threw me a bone, but
the dear children gave me their own piece of ham.’

Then the witch was furious with the watch-dog and with the birch-trees,
because they had let the children pass. But the dog answered:

‘I have served you all these years and you never gave me so much as a
hard crust, but the dear children gave me their own loaf of bread.’

And the birch rustled its leaves, and said: ‘I have served you longer
than I can say, and you never tied a bit of twine even round my
branches; and the dear children bound them up with their brightest
ribbons.’

So the witch saw there was no help to be got from her old servants, and
that the best thing she could do was to mount on her broom and set off
in pursuit of the children. And as the children ran they heard the sound
of the broom sweeping the ground close behind them, so instantly they
threw the handkerchief down over their shoulder, and in a moment a deep,
broad river flowed behind them.

When the witch came up to it, it took her a long time before she found a
place which she could ford over on her broom-stick; but at last she got
across, and continued the chase faster than before. And as the children
ran they heard a sound, and the little sister put her ear to the ground,
and heard the broom sweeping the earth close behind them; so, quick as
thought, she threw the comb down on the ground, and in an instant,
as the cat had said, a dense forest sprung up, in which the roots and
branches were so closely intertwined, that it was impossible to force a
way through it. So when the witch came up to it on her broom she found
that there was nothing for it but to turn round and go back to her hut.

But the twins ran straight on till they reached their own home. Then
they told their father all that they had suffered, and he was so angry
with their step-mother that he drove her out of the house, and never let
her return; but he and the children lived happily together; and he took
care of them himself, and never let a stranger come near them.




THE HAZEL-NUT CHILD (29)

(29) From the Bukowniaer. Van Wliolocki.

There was once upon a time a couple who had no children, and they prayed
Heaven every day to send them a child, though it were no bigger than
a hazel-nut. At last Heaven heard their prayer and sent them a child
exactly the size of a hazel-nut, and it never grew an inch. The parents
were very devoted to the little creature, and nursed and tended it
carefully. Their tiny son too was as clever as he could be, and so sharp
and sensible that all the neighbours marvelled over the wise things he
said and did.

When the Hazel-nut child was fifteen years old, and was sitting one day
in an egg-shell on the table beside his mother, she turned to him and
said, ‘You are now fifteen years old, and nothing can be done with you.
What do you intend to be?’

‘A messenger,’ answered the Hazel-nut child.

Then his mother burst out laughing and said, ‘What an idea! You a
messenger! Why, your little feet would take an hour to go the distance
an ordinary person could do in a minute!’

But the Hazel-nut child replied, ‘Nevertheless I mean to be a messenger!
Just send me a message and you’ll see that I shall be back in next to no
time.’

So his mother said, ‘Very well, go to your aunt in the neighbouring
village, and fetch me a comb.’ The Hazel-nut child jumped quickly out
of the egg-shell and ran out into the street. Here he found a man on
horseback who was just setting out for the neighbouring village. He
crept up the horse’s leg, sat down under the saddle, and then began to
pinch the horse and to prick it with a pin. The horse plunged and reared
and then set off at a hard gallop, which it continued in spite of its
rider’s efforts to stop it. When they reached the village, the Hazel-nut
child left off pricking the horse, and the poor tired creature pursued
its way at a snail’s pace. The Hazel-nut child took advantage of this,
and crept down the horse’s leg; then he ran to his aunt and asked her
for a comb. On the way home he met another rider, and did the return
journey in exactly the same way. When he handed his mother the comb that
his aunt had given him, she was much amazed and asked him, ‘But how did
you manage to get back so quickly?’

‘Ah! mother,’ he replied, ‘you see I was quite right when I said I knew
a messenger was the profession for me.’

His father too possessed a horse which he often used to take out into
the fields to graze. One day he took the Hazel-nut child with him. At
midday the father turned to his small son and said, ‘Stay here and look
after the horse. I must go home and give your mother a message, but I
shall be back soon.’

When his father had gone, a robber passed by and saw the horse grazing
without any one watching it, for of course he could not see the
Hazel-nut child hidden in the grass. So he mounted the horse and rode
away. But the Hazel-nut child, who was the most active little creature,
climbed up the horse’s tail and began to bite it on the back, enraging
the creature to such an extent that it paid no attention to the
direction the robber tried to make it go in, but galloped straight home.
The father was much astonished when he saw a stranger riding his horse,
but the Hazel-nut child climbed down quickly and told him all that had
happened, and his father had the robber arrested at once and put into
prison.

One autumn when the Hazel-nut child was twenty years old he said to his
parents: ‘Farewell, my dear father and mother. I am going to set out
into the world, and as soon as I have become rich I will return home to
you.’

The parents laughed at the little man’s words, but did not believe him
for a moment. In the evening the Hazel-nut child crept on to the roof,
where some storks had built their nest. The storks were fast asleep,
and he climbed on to the back of the father-stork and bound a silk cord
round the joint of one of its wings, then he crept among its soft downy
feathers and fell asleep.

The next morning the storks flew towards the south, for winter was
approaching. The Hazel-nut child flew through the air on the stork’s
back, and when he wanted to rest he bound his silk cord on to the joint
of the bird’s other wing, so that it could not fly any farther. In this
way he reached the country of the black people, where the storks took
up their abode close to the capital. When the people saw the Hazel-nut
child they were much astonished, and took him with the stork to the King
of the country. The King was delighted with the little creature and kept
him always beside him, and he soon grew so fond of the little man that
he gave him a diamond four times as big as himself. The Hazel-nut child
fastened the diamond firmly under the stork’s neck with a ribbon, and
when he saw that the other storks were getting ready for their northern
flight, he untied the silk cord from his stork’s wings, and away they
went, getting nearer home every minute. At length the Hazel-nut child
came to his native village; then he undid the ribbon from the stork’s
neck and the diamond fell to the ground; he covered it first with sand
and stones, and then ran to get his parents, so that they might carry
the treasure home, for he himself was not able to lift the great
diamond.

So the Hazel-nut child and his parents lived in happiness and prosperity
after this till they died.




THE STORY OF BIG KLAUS AND LITTLE KLAUS

In a certain village there lived two people who had both the same name.
Both were called Klaus, but one owned four horses and the other only
one. In order to distinguish the one from the other, the one who had
four horses was called Big Klaus, and the one who had only one horse,
Little Klaus. Now you shall hear what befell them both, for this is a
true story.

The whole week through Little Klaus had to plough for Big Klaus, and
lend him his one horse; then Big Klaus lent him his four horses, but
only once a week, and that was on Sunday. Hurrah! how loudly Little
Klaus cracked his whip over all the five horses! for they were indeed as
good as his on this one day. The sun shone brightly, and all the bells
in the church-towers were pealing; the people were dressed in their best
clothes, and were going to church, with their hymn books under their
arms, to hear the minister preach. They saw Little Klaus ploughing with
the five horses; but he was so happy that he kept on cracking his whip,
and calling out ‘Gee-up, my five horses!’

‘You mustn’t say that,’ said Big Klaus. ‘Only one horse is yours.’

But as soon as someone else was going by Little Klaus forgot that he
must not say it, and called out ‘Gee-up, my five horses!’

‘Now you had better stop that,’ said Big Klaus, ‘for if you say it once
more I will give your horse such a crack on the head that it will drop
down dead on the spot!’

‘I really won’t say it again!’ said Little Klaus. But as soon as more
people passed by, and nodded him good-morning, he became so happy in
thinking how well it looked to have five horses ploughing his field
that, cracking his whip, he called out ‘Gee-up, my five horses!’

‘I’ll see to your horses!’ said Big Klaus; and, seizing an iron bar, he
struck Little Klaus’ one horse such a blow on the head that it fell down
and died on the spot.

‘Alas! Now I have no horse!’ said Little Klaus, beginning to cry. Then
he flayed the skin off his horse, dried it, and put it in a sack, which
he threw over his shoulder, and went into the town to sell it. He had a
long way to go, and had to pass through a great dark forest. A dreadful
storm came on, in which he lost his way, and before he could get on to
the right road night came on, and it was impossible to reach the town
that evening.

Right in front of him was a large farm-house. The window-shutters were
closed, but the light came through the chinks. ‘I should very much like
to be allowed to spend the night there,’ thought Little Klaus; and he
went and knocked at the door. The farmer’s wife opened it, but when she
heard what he wanted she told him to go away; her husband was not at
home, and she took in no strangers.

‘Well, I must lie down outside,’ said Little Klaus; and the farmer’s
wife shut the door in his face. Close by stood a large haystack,
and between it and the house a little out-house, covered with a flat
thatched roof.

‘I can lie down there,’ thought Little Klaus, looking at the roof; ‘it
will make a splendid bed, if only the stork won’t fly down and bite my
legs.’ For a live stork was standing on the roof, where it had its nest.
So Little Klaus crept up into the out-house, where he lay down, and made
himself comfortable for the night. The wooden shutters over the windows
were not shut at the top, and he could just see into the room.

There stood a large table, spread with wine and roast meat and a
beautiful fish. The farmer’s wife and the sexton sat at the table, but
there was no one else. She was filling up his glass, while he stuck his
fork into the fish which was his favourite dish.

‘If one could only get some of that!’ thought Little Klaus, stretching
his head towards the window. Ah, what delicious cakes he saw standing
there! It WAS a feast!

Then he heard someone riding along the road towards the house. It was
the farmer coming home. He was a very worthy man; but he had one great
peculiarity--namely, that he could not bear to see a sexton. If he
saw one he was made quite mad. That was why the sexton had gone to say
good-day to the farmer’s wife when he knew that her husband was not at
home, and the good woman therefore put in front of him the best food she
had. But when they heard the farmer coming they were frightened, and the
farmer’s wife begged the sexton to creep into a great empty chest. He
did so, as he knew the poor man could not bear to see a sexton. The wife
hastily hid all the beautiful food and the wine in her oven; for if her
husband had seen it, he would have been sure to ask what it all meant.

‘Oh, dear! oh, dear!’ groaned Little Klaus up in the shed, when he saw
the good food disappearing.

‘Is anybody up there?’ asked the farmer, catching sight of Little Klaus.
‘Why are you lying there? Come with me into the house.’

Then Little Klaus told him how he had lost his way, and begged to be
allowed to spend the night there.

‘Yes, certainly,’ said the farmer; ‘but we must first have something to
eat!’

The wife received them both very kindly, spread a long table, and gave
them a large plate of porridge. The farmer was hungry, and ate with a
good appetite; but Little Klaus could not help thinking of the delicious
dishes of fish and roast meats and cakes which he knew were in the oven.
Under the table at his feet he had laid the sack with the horse-skin in
it, for, as we know, he was going to the town to sell it. The porridge
did not taste good to him, so he trod upon his sack, and the dry skin in
the sack squeaked loudly.

‘Hush!’ said Little Klaus to his sack, at the same time treading on it
again so that it squeaked even louder than before.

‘Hallo! what have you got in your sack?’ asked the farmer.

‘Oh, it is a wizard!’ said Little Klaus. ‘He says we should not eat
porridge, for he has conjured the whole oven full of roast meats and
fish and cakes.’

‘Goodness me!’ said the farmer; and opening the oven he saw all the
delicious, tempting dishes his wife had hidden there, but which he now
believed the wizard in the sack had conjured up for them. The wife could
say nothing, but she put the food at once on the table, and they ate the
fish, the roast meat, and the cakes. Little Klaus now trod again on his
sack, so that the skin squeaked.

‘What does he say now?’ asked the farmer.

‘He says,’ replied Little Klans, ‘that he has also conjured up for us
three bottles of wine; they are standing in the corner by the oven!’

The wife had to fetch the wine which she had hidden, and the farmer
drank and grew very merry. He would very much like to have had such a
wizard as Little Klaus had in the sack.

‘Can he conjure up the Devil?’ asked the farmer. ‘I should like to see
him very much, for I feel just now in very good spirits!’

‘Yes,’ said Little Klaus; ‘my wizard can do everything that I ask. Isn’t
that true?’ he asked, treading on the sack so that it squeaked. ‘Do you
hear? He says ‘’Yes;’’ but that the Devil looks so ugly that we should
not like to see him.’

‘Oh! I’m not at all afraid. What does he look like?’

‘He will show himself in the shape of a sexton!’

‘I say!’ said the farmer, ‘he must be ugly! You must know that I can’t
bear to look at a sexton! But it doesn’t matter. I know that it is the
Devil, and I sha’n’t mind! I feel up to it now. But he must not come too
near me!’

‘I must ask my wizard,’ said Little Klaus, treading on the sack and
putting his ear to it.

‘What does he say?’

‘He says you can open the chest in the corner there, and you will see
the Devil squatting inside it; but you must hold the lid so that he
shall not escape.’

‘Will you help me to hold him?’ begged the farmer, going towards the
chest where his wife had hidden the real sexton, who was sitting inside
in a terrible fright. The farmer opened the lid a little way, and saw
him inside.

‘Ugh!’ he shrieked, springing back. ‘Yes, now I have seen him; he looked
just like our sexton. Oh, it was horrid!’

So he had to drink again, and they drank till far on into the night.

‘You MUST sell me the wizard,’ said the farmer. ‘Ask anything you like!
I will pay you down a bushelful of money on the spot.’

‘No, I really can’t,’ said Little Klans. ‘Just think how many things I
can get from this wizard!’

‘Ah! I should like to have him so much!’ said the farmer, begging very
hard.

‘Well!’ said Little Klaus at last, ‘as you have been so good as to give
me shelter to-night, I will sell him. You shall have the wizard for a
bushel of money, but I must have full measure.’

‘That you shall,’ said the farmer. ‘But you must take the chest with
you. I won’t keep it another hour in the house. Who knows that he isn’t
in there still?’

Little Klaus gave the farmer his sack with the dry skin, and got instead
a good bushelful of money. The farmer also gave him a wheelbarrow to
carry away his money and the chest. ‘Farewell,’ said Little Klaus; and
away he went with his money and the big chest, wherein sat the sexton.

On the other side of the wood was a large deep river. The water flowed
so rapidly that you could scarcely swim against the stream.

A great new bridge had been built over it, on the middle of which Little
Klaus stopped, and said aloud so that the sexton might hear:

‘Now, what am I to do with this stupid chest? It is as heavy as if it
were filled with stones! I shall only be tired, dragging it along; I
will throw it into the river. If it swims home to me, well and good; and
if it doesn’t, it’s no matter.’

Then he took the chest with one hand and lifted it up a little, as if he
were going to throw it into the water.

‘No, don’t do that!’ called out the sexton in the chest. ‘Let me get out
first!’

‘Oh, oh!’ said Little Klaus, pretending that he was afraid. ‘He is still
in there! I must throw him quickly into the water to drown him!’

‘Oh! no, no!’ cried the sexton. ‘I will give you a whole bushelful of
money if you will let me go!’

‘Ah, that’s quite another thing!’ said Little Klaus, opening the chest.
The sexton crept out very quickly, pushed the empty chest into the water
and went to his house, where he gave Little Klaus a bushel of money. One
he had had already from the farmer, and now he had his wheelbarrow full
of money.

‘Well, I have got a good price for the horse!’ said he to himself when
he shook all his money out in a heap in his room. ‘This will put Big
Klaus in a rage when he hears how rich I have become through my one
horse; but I won’t tell him just yet!’

So he sent a boy to Big Klaus to borrow a bushel measure from him.

‘Now what can he want with it?’ thought Big Klaus; and he smeared some
tar at the bottom, so that of whatever was measured a little should
remain in it. And this is just what happened; for when he got his
measure back, three new silver five-shilling pieces were sticking to it.

What does this mean?’ said Big Klaus, and he ran off at once to Little
Klaus.

‘Where did you get so much money from?’

‘Oh, that was from my horse-skin. I sold it yesterday evening.’

‘That’s certainly a good price!’ said Big Klaus; and running home in
great haste, he took an axe, knocked all his four horses on the head,
skinned them, and went into the town.

‘Skins! skins! Who will buy skins?’ he cried through the streets.

All the shoemakers and tanners came running to ask him what he wanted
for them. ‘A bushel of money for each,’ said Big Klaus.

‘Are you mad?’ they all exclaimed. ‘Do you think we have money by the
bushel?’

‘Skins! skins! Who will buy skins?’ he cried again, and to all who asked
him what they cost, he answered, ‘A bushel of money.’

‘He is making game of us,’ they said; and the shoemakers seized their
yard measures and the tanners their leathern aprons and they gave Big
Klaus a good beating. ‘Skins! skins!’ they cried mockingly; yes, we will
tan YOUR skin for you! Out of the town with him!’ they shouted; and Big
Klaus had to hurry off as quickly as he could, if he wanted to save his
life.

‘Aha!’ said he when he came home, ‘Little Klaus shall pay dearly for
this. I will kill him!’

Little Klaus’ grandmother had just died. Though she had been very unkind
to him, he was very much distressed, and he took the dead woman and laid
her in his warm bed to try if he could not bring her back to life.
There she lay the whole night, while he sat in the corner and slept on a
chair, which he had often done before. And in the night as he sat there
the door opened, and Big Klaus came in with his axe. He knew quite
well where Little Klaus’s bed stood, and going up to it he struck the
grandmother on the head just where he thought Little Klaus would be.
‘There!’ said he. ‘Now you won’t get the best of me again!’ And he went
home.

‘What a very wicked man!’ thought Little Klaus. ‘He was going to kill
me! It was a good thing for my grandmother that she was dead already, or
else he would have killed her!’

Then he dressed his grandmother in her Sunday clothes, borrowed a horse
from his neighbour, harnessed the cart to it, sat his grandmother on the
back seat so that she could not fall out when he drove, and away they
went. When the sun rose they were in front of a large inn. Little Klaus
got down, and went in to get something to drink. The host was very rich.
He was a very worthy but hot-tempered man.

‘Good morning!’ said he to Little Klaus. ‘You are early on the road.’

‘Yes,’ said Little Klaus. ‘I am going to the town with my grandmother.
She is sitting outside in the cart; I cannot bring her in. Will you not
give her a glass of mead? But you will have to speak loud, for she is
very hard of hearing.’

‘Oh yes, certainly I will!’ said the host; and, pouring out a large
glass of mead, he took it out to the dead grandmother, who was sitting
upright in the cart.

‘Here is a glass of mead from your son,’ said the host. But the dead
woman did not answer a word, and sat still. ‘Don’t you hear?’ cried the
host as loud as he could. ‘Here is a glass of mead from your son!’

Then he shouted the same thing again, and yet again, but she never moved
in her place; and at last he grew angry, threw the glass in her face, so
that she fell back into the cart, for she was not tied in her place.

‘Hullo!’ cried Little Klaus, running out of the door, and seizing the
host by the throat. ‘You have killed my grandmother! Look! there is a
great hole in her forehead!’

‘Oh, what a misfortune!’ cried the host, wringing his hands. ‘It all
comes from my hot temper! Dear Little Klaus! I will give you a bushel of
money, and will bury your grandmother as if she were my own; only don’t
tell about it, or I shall have my head cut off, and that would be very
uncomfortable.’

So Little Klaus got a bushel of money, and the host buried his
grandmother as if she had been his own.

Now when Little Klaus again reached home with so much money he sent his
boy to Big Klaus to borrow his bushel measure.

‘What’s this?’ said Big Klaus. ‘Didn’t I kill him? I must see to this
myself!’

So he went himself to Little Klaus with the measure.

‘Well, now, where did you get all this money?’ asked he, opening his
eyes at the heap.

‘You killed my grandmother--not me,’ said Little Klaus. ‘I sold her, and
got a bushel of money for her.’

‘That is indeed a good price!’ said Big Klaus; and, hurrying home, he
took an axe and killed his grandmother, laid her in the cart, and drove
off to the apothecary’s, and asked whether he wanted to buy a dead body.

‘Who is it, and how did you get it?’ asked the apothecary.

‘It is my grandmother,’ said Big Klaus. ‘I killed her in order to get a
bushel of money.’

‘You are mad!’ said the apothecary. ‘Don’t mention such things, or you
will lose your head!’ And he began to tell him what a dreadful thing
he had done, and what a wicked man he was, and that he ought to be
punished; till Big Klaus was so frightened that he jumped into the cart
and drove home as hard as he could. The apothecary and all the people
thought he must be mad, so they let him go.

‘You shall pay for this!’ said Big Klaus as he drove home. ‘You shall
pay for this dearly, Little Klaus!’

So as soon as he got home he took the largest sack he could find, and
went to Little Klaus and said: ‘You have fooled me again! First I killed
my horses, then my grandmother! It is all your fault; but you sha’n’t do
it again!’ And he seized Little Klaus, pushed him in the sack, threw it
over his shoulder, crying out ‘Now I am going to drown you!’

He had to go a long way before he came to the river, and Little Klaus
was not very light. The road passed by the church; the organ was
sounding, and the people were singing most beautifully.

Big Klaus put down the sack with Little Klaus in it by the church-door,
and thought that he might as well go in and hear a psalm before going on
farther. Little Klaus could not get out, and everybody was in church; so
he went in.

‘Oh, dear! oh, dear!’ groaned Little Klaus in the sack, twisting and
turning himself. But he could not undo the string.

There came by an old, old shepherd, with snow-white hair and a long
staff in his hand. He was driving a herd of cows and oxen. These pushed
against the sack so that it was overturned.

‘Alas!’ moaned Little Klans, ‘I am so young and yet I must die!’

‘And I, poor man,’ said the cattle-driver, ‘I am so old and yet I cannot
die!’

‘Open the sack,’ called out Little Klaus; ‘creep in here instead of me,
and you will die in a moment!’

‘I will gladly do that,’ said the cattle-driver; and he opened the sack,
and Little Klaus struggled out at once.

‘You will take care of the cattle, won’t you?’ asked the old man,
creeping into the sack, which Little Klaus fastened up and then went on
with the cows and oxen. Soon after Big Klaus came out of the church, and
taking up the sack on his shoulders it seemed to him as if it had become
lighter; for the old cattle-driver was not half as heavy as Little
Klaus.

‘How easy he is to carry now! That must be because I heard part of the
service.’

So he went to the river, which was deep and broad, threw in the sack
with the old driver, and called after it, for he thought Little Klaus
was inside:

‘Down you go! You won’t mock me any more now!’

Then he went home; but when he came to the cross-roads, there he met
Little Klaus, who was driving his cattle.

‘What’s this?’ said Big Klaus. ‘Haven’t I drowned you?’

‘Yes,’ replied Little Klaus; ‘you threw me into the river a good
half-hour ago!’

‘But how did you get those splendid cattle?’ asked Big Klaus.

‘They are sea-cattle!’ said Little Klaus. ‘I will tell you the whole
story, and I thank you for having drowned me, because now I am on dry
land and really rich! How frightened I was when I was in the sack! How
the wind whistled in my ears as you threw me from the bridge into the
cold water! I sank at once to the bottom; but I did not hurt myself for
underneath was growing the most beautiful soft grass. I fell on this,
and immediately the sack opened; the loveliest maiden in snow-white
garments, with a green garland round her wet hair, took me by the hand,
and said! ‘’Are you Little Klaus? Here are some cattle for you to begin
with, and a mile farther down the road there is another herd, which
I will give you as a present!’’ Now I saw that the river was a great
high-road for the sea-people. Along it they travel underneath from
the sea to the land till the river ends. It was so beautiful, full of
flowers and fresh grass; the fishes which were swimming in the water
shot past my ears as the birds do here in the air. What lovely people
there were, and what fine cattle were grazing in the ditches and dykes!’

‘But why did you come up to us again?’ asked Big Klaus. ‘I should not
have done so, if it is so beautiful down below!’

‘Oh!’ said Little Klaus, ‘that was just so politic of me. You heard
what I told you, that the sea-maiden said to me a mile farther along the
road--and by the road she meant the river, for she can go by no other
way--there was another herd of cattle waiting for me. But I know what
windings the river makes, now here, now there, so that it is a long way
round. Therefore it makes it much shorter if one comes on the land and
drives across the field to the river. Thus I have spared myself quite
half a mile, and have come much quicker to my sea-cattle!’

‘Oh, you’re a lucky fellow!’ said Big Klaus. ‘Do you think I should also
get some cattle if I went to the bottom of the river?’

‘Oh, yes! I think so,’ said Little Klaus. ‘But I can’t carry you in a
sack to the river; you are too heavy for me! If you like to go there
yourself and then creep into the sack, I will throw you in with the
greatest of pleasure.’

‘Thank you,’ said Big Klaus; ‘but if I don’t get any sea-cattle when I
come there, you will have a good hiding, mind!’

‘Oh, no! Don’t be so hard on me!’ Then they went to the river. When
the cattle, which were thirsty, caught sight of the water, they ran as
quickly as they could to drink.

‘Look how they are running!’ said Little Klaus. ‘They want to go to the
bottom again!’

‘Yes; but help me first,’ said Big Klaus, ‘or else you shall have a
beating!’

And so he crept into the large sack, which was lying on the back of
one of the oxen. ‘Put a stone in, for I am afraid I may not reach the
bottom,’ said Big Klaus.

‘It goes all right!’ said Little Klaus; but still he laid a big stone in
the sack, fastened it up tight, and then pushed it in. Plump! there was
Big Klaus in the water, and he sank like lead to the bottom.

‘I doubt if he will find any cattle!’ said Little Klaus as he drove his
own home.




PRINCE RING (30)

(30) From the Icelandic.

Once upon a time there was a King and his Queen in their kingdom.

They had one daughter, who was called Ingiborg, and one son, whose name
was Ring. He was less fond of adventures than men of rank usually were
in those days, and was not famous for strength or feats of arms. When he
was twelve years old, one fine winter day he rode into the forest along
with his men to enjoy himself. They went on a long way, until they
caught sight of a hind with a gold ring on its horns. The Prince was
eager to catch it, if possible, so they gave chase and rode on without
stopping until all the horses began to founder beneath them. At last the
Prince’s horse gave way too, and then there came over them a darkness so
black that they could no longer see the hind. By this time they were far
away from any house, and thought it was high time to be making their way
home again, but they found they had got lost now. At first they all kept
together, but soon each began to think that he knew the right way best;
so they separated, and all went in different directions.

The Prince, too, had got lost like the rest, and wandered on for a time
until he came to a little clearing in the forest not far from the sea,
where he saw a woman sitting on a chair and a big barrel standing
beside her. The Prince went up to her and saluted her politely, and she
received him very graciously. He looked down into the barrel then, and
saw lying at the bottom an unusually beautiful gold ring, which pleased
him so much that he could not take his eyes off it. The woman saw this,
and said that he might have it if he would take the trouble to get it;
for which the Prince thanked her, and said it was at least worth trying.
So he leaned over into the barrel, which did not seem very deep, and
thought he would easily reach the ring; but the more he stretched down
after it the deeper grew the barrel. As he was thus bending down into it
the woman suddenly rose up and pushed him in head first, saying that
now he could take up his quarters there. Then she fixed the top on the
barrel and threw it out into the sea.

The Prince thought himself in a bad plight now, as he felt the barrel
floating out from the land and tossing about on the waves.

How many days he spent thus he could not tell, but at last he felt that
the barrel was knocking against rocks, at which he was a little cheered,
thinking it was probably land and not merely a reef in the sea. Being
something of a swimmer, he at last made up his mind to kick the bottom
out of the barrel, and having done so he was able to get on shore, for
the rocks by the sea were smooth and level; but overhead there were high
cliffs. It seemed difficult to get up these, but he went along the foot
of them for a little, till at last he tried to climb up, which at last
he did.

Having got to the top, he looked round about him and saw that he was
on an island, which was covered with forest, with apples growing, and
altogether pleasant as far as the land was concerned. After he had been
there several days, he one day heard a great noise in the forest, which
made him terribly afraid, so that he ran to hide himself among the
trees. Then he saw a Giant approaching, dragging a sledge loaded with
wood, and making straight for him, so that he could see nothing for it
but to lie down just where he was. When the Giant came across him, he
stood still and looked at the Prince for a little; then he took him up
in his arms and carried him home to his house, and was exceedingly kind
to him. He gave him to his wife, saying he had found this child in the
wood, and she could have it to help her in the house. The old woman was
greatly pleased, and began to fondle the Prince with the utmost delight.
He stayed there with them, and was very willing and obedient to them in
everything, while they grew kinder to him every day.

One day the Giant took him round and showed him all his rooms except the
parlour; this made the Prince curious to have a look into it, thinking
there must be some very rare treasure there. So one day, when the Giant
had gone into the forest, he tried to get into the parlour, and managed
to get the door open half-way. Then he saw that some living creature
moved inside and ran along the floor towards him and said something,
which made him so frightened that he sprang back from the door and shut
it again. As soon as the fright began to pass off he tried it again, for
he thought it would be interesting to hear what it said; but things went
just as before with him. He then got angry with himself, and, summoning
up all his courage, tried it a third time, and opened the door of the
room and stood firm. Then he saw that it was a big Dog, which spoke to
him and said:

‘Choose me, Prince Ring.’

The Prince went away rather afraid, thinking with himself that it was no
great treasure after all; but all the same what it had said to him stuck
in his mind.

It is not said how long the Prince stayed with the Giant, but one
day the latter came to him and said he would now take him over to the
mainland out of the island, for he himself had no long time to live. He
also thanked him for his good service, and told him to choose some-one
of his possessions, for he would get whatever he wanted. Ring thanked
him heartily, and said there was no need to pay him for his services,
they were so little worth; but if he did wish to give him anything he
would choose what was in the parlour. The Giant was taken by surprise,
and said:

‘There, you chose my old woman’s right hand; but I must not break my
word.’

Upon this he went to get the Dog, which came running with signs of great
delight; but the Prince was so much afraid of it that it was all he
could do to keep from showing his alarm.

After this the Giant accompanied him down to the sea, where he saw a
stone boat which was just big enough to hold the two of them and the
Dog. On reaching the mainland the Giant took a friendly farewell of
Ring, and told him he might take possession of all that was in the
island after he and his wife died, which would happen within two weeks
from that time. The Prince thanked him for this and for all his other
kindnesses, and the Giant returned home, while Ring went up some
distance from the sea; but he did not know what land he had come to, and
was afraid to speak to the Dog. After he had walked on in silence for a
time the Dog spoke to him and said:

‘You don’t seem to have much curiosity, seeing you never ask my name.’

The Prince then forced himself to ask, ‘What is your name?’

‘You had best call me Snati-Snati,’ said the Dog. ‘Now we are coming to
a King’s seat, and you must ask the King to keep us all winter, and to
give you a little room for both of us.’

The Prince now began to be less afraid of the Dog. They came to the King
and asked him to keep them all the winter, to which he agreed. When the
King’s men saw the Dog they began to laugh at it, and make as if they
would tease it; but when the Prince saw this he advised them not to do
it, or they might have the worst of it. They replied that they didn’t
care a bit what he thought.

After Ring had been with the King for some days the latter began to
think there was a great deal in him, and esteemed him more than the
others. The King, however, had a counsellor called Red, who became very
jealous when he saw how much the King esteemed Ring; and one day he
talked to him, and said he could not understand why he had so good an
opinion of this stranger, who had not yet shown himself superior to
other men in anything. The King replied that it was only a short time
since he had come there. Red then asked him to send them both to cut
down wood next morning, and see which of them could do most work.
Snati-Snati heard this and told it to Ring, advising him to ask the King
for two axes, so that he might have one in reserve if the first one
got broken. Next morning the King asked Ring and Red to go and cut down
trees for him, and both agreed. Ring got the two axes, and each went his
own way; but when the Prince had got out into the wood Snati took one of
the axes and began to hew along with him. In the evening the King came
to look over their day’s work, as Red had proposed, and found that
Ring’s wood-heap was more than twice as big.

‘I suspected,’ said the King, ‘that Ring was not quite useless; never
have I seen such a day’s work.’

Ring was now in far greater esteem with the King than before, and Red
was all the more discontented. One day he came to the King and said, ‘If
Ring is such a mighty man, I think you might ask him to kill the wild
oxen in the wood here, and flay them the same day, and bring you the
horns and the hides in the evening.’

‘Don’t you think that a desperate errand?’ said the King, ‘seeing they
are so dangerous, and no one has ever yet ventured to go against them?’

Red answered that he had only one life to lose, and it would be
interesting to see how brave he was; besides, the King would have good
reason to ennoble him if he overcame them. The King at last allowed
himself, though rather unwillingly, to be won over by Red’s persistency,
and one day asked Ring to go and kill the oxen that were in the wood for
him, and bring their horns and hides to him in the evening. Not knowing
how dangerous the oxen were, Ring was quite ready, and went off at once,
to the great delight of Red, who was now sure of his death.

As soon as Ring came in sight of the oxen they came bellowing to meet
him; one of them was tremendously big, the other rather less. Ring grew
terribly afraid.

‘How do you like them?’ asked Snati.

‘Not well at all,’ said the Prince.

‘We can do nothing else,’ said Snati, ‘than attack them, if it is to go
well; you will go against the little one, and I shall take the other.’

With this Snati leapt at the big one, and was not long in bringing
him down. Meanwhile the Prince went against the other with fear and
trembling, and by the time Snati came to help him the ox had nearly got
him under, but Snati was not slow in helping his master to kill it.

Each of them then began to flay their own ox, but Ring was only half
through by the time Snati had finished his. In the evening, after they
had finished this task, the Prince thought himself unfit to carry all
the horns and both the hides, so Snati told him to lay them all on his
back until they got to the Palace gate.

The Prince agreed, and laid everything on the Dog except the skin of the
smaller ox, which he staggered along with himself. At the Palace gate he
left everything lying, went before the King, and asked him to come that
length with him, and there handed over to him the hides and horns of the
oxen. The King was greatly surprised at his valour, and said he knew no
one like him, and thanked him heartily for what he had done.

After this the King set Ring next to himself, and all esteemed him
highly, and held him to be a great hero; nor could Red any longer say
anything against him, though he grew still more determined to destroy
him. One day a good idea came into his head. He came to the King and
said he had something to say to him.

‘What is that?’ said the King.

Red said that he had just remembered the gold cloak, gold chess-board,
and bright gold piece that the King had lost about a year before.

‘Don’t remind me of them!’ said the King.

Red, however, went on to say that, since Ring was such a mighty man that
he could do everything, it had occurred to him to advise the King to
ask him to search for these treasures, and come back with them before
Christmas; in return the King should promise him his daughter.

The King replied that he thought it altogether unbecoming to propose
such a thing to Ring, seeing that he could not tell him where the things
were; but Red pretended not to hear the King’s excuses, and went on
talking about it until the King gave in to him. One day, a month or so
before Christmas, the King spoke to Ring, saying that he wished to ask a
great favour of him.

‘What is that?’ said Ring.

‘It is this,’ said the King: ‘that you find for me my gold cloak, my
gold chess-board, and my bright gold piece, that were stolen from me
about a year ago. If you can bring them to me before Christmas I will
give you my daughter in marriage.’

‘Where am I to look for them, then?’ said Ring.

‘That you must find out for yourself,’ said the King: ‘I don’t know.’

Ring now left the King, and was very silent, for he saw he was in a
great difficulty: but, on the other hand, he thought it was excellent
to have such a chance of winning the King’s daughter. Snati noticed that
his master was at a loss, and said to him that he should not disregard
what the King had asked him to do; but he would have to act upon his
advice, otherwise he would get into great difficulties. The Prince
assented to this, and began to prepare for the journey.

After he had taken leave of the King, and was setting out on the
search, Snati said to him, ‘Now you must first of all go about the
neighbourhood, and gather as much salt as ever you can.’ The Prince did
so, and gathered so much salt that he could hardly carry it; but Snati
said, ‘Throw it on my back,’ which he accordingly did, and the Dog then
ran on before the Prince, until they came to the foot of a steep cliff.

‘We must go up here,’ said Snati.

‘I don’t think that will be child’s play,’ said the Prince.

‘Hold fast by my tail,’ said Snati; and in this way he pulled Ring up on
the lowest shelf of the rock. The Prince began to get giddy, but up went
Snati on to the second shelf. Ring was nearly swooning by this time, but
Snati made a third effort and reached the top of the cliff, where the
Prince fell down in a faint. After a little, however, he recovered
again, and they went a short distance along a level plain, until they
came to a cave. This was on Christmas Eve. They went up above the cave,
and found a window in it, through which they looked, and saw four
trolls lying asleep beside the fire, over which a large porridge-pot was
hanging.

‘Now you must empty all the salt into the porridge-pot,’ said Snati.

Ring did so, and soon the trolls wakened up. The old hag, who was the
most frightful of them all, went first to taste the porridge.

‘How comes this?’ she said; ‘the porridge is salt! I got the milk by
witchcraft yesterday out of four kingdoms, and now it is salt!’

All the others then came to taste the porridge, and thought it nice, but
after they had finished it the old hag grew so thirsty that she could
stand it no longer, and asked her daughter to go out and bring her some
water from the river that ran near by.

‘I won’t go,’ said she, ‘unless you lend me your bright gold piece.’

‘Though I should die you shan’t have that,’ said the hag.

‘Die, then,’ said the girl.

‘Well, then, take it, you brat,’ said the old hag, ‘and be off with you,
and make haste with the water.’

The girl took the gold and ran out with it, and it was so bright that it
shone all over the plain. As soon as she came to the river she lay down
to take a drink of the water, but meanwhile the two of them had got down
off the roof and thrust her, head first, into the river.

The old hag began now to long for the water, and said that the girl
would be running about with the gold piece all over the plain, so she
asked her son to go and get her a drop of water.

‘I won’t go,’ said he, ‘unless I get the gold cloak.’

‘Though I should die you shan’t have that,’ said the hag.

‘Die, then,’ said the son.

‘Well, then, take it,’ said the old hag, ‘and be off with you, but you
must make haste with the water.’

He put on the cloak, and when he came outside it shone so bright that he
could see to go with it. On reaching the river he went to take a drink
like his sister, but at that moment Ring and Snati sprang upon him, took
the cloak from him, and threw him into the river.

The old hag could stand the thirst no longer, and asked her husband
to go for a drink for her; the brats, she said, were of course running
about and playing themselves, just as she had expected they would,
little wretches that they were.

‘I won’t go,’ said the old troll, ‘unless you lend me the gold
chess-board.’

‘Though I should die you shan’t have that,’ said the hag.

‘I think you may just as well do that,’ said he, ‘since you won’t grant
me such a little favour.’

‘Take it, then, you utter disgrace!’ said the old hag, ‘since you are
just like these two brats.’

The old troll now went out with the gold chess-board, and down to the
river, and was about to take a drink, when Ring and Snati came upon him,
took the chess-board from him, and threw him into the river. Before they
had got back again, however, and up on top of the cave, they saw
the poor old fellow’s ghost come marching up from the river. Snati
immediately sprang upon him, and Ring assisted in the attack, and after
a hard struggle they mastered him a second time. When they got back
again to the window they saw that the old hag was moving towards the
door.

‘Now we must go in at once,’ said Snati, ‘and try to master her there,
for if she once gets out we shall have no chance with her. She is the
worst witch that ever lived, and no iron can cut her. One of us must
pour boiling porridge out of the pot on her, and the other punch her
with red-hot iron.’

In they went then, and no sooner did the hag see them than she said,
‘So you have come, Prince Ring; you must have seen to my husband and
children.’

Snati saw that she was about to attack them, and sprang at her with a
red-hot iron from the fire, while Ring kept pouring boiling porridge on
her without stopping, and in this way they at last got her killed. Then
they burned the old troll and her to ashes, and explored the cave, where
they found plenty of gold and treasures. The most valuable of these they
carried with them as far as the cliff, and left them there. Then they
hastened home to the King with his three treasures, where they arrived
late on Christmas night, and Ring handed them over to him.

The King was beside himself with joy, and was astonished at how clever
a man Ring was in all kinds of feats, so that he esteemed him still more
highly than before, and betrothed his daughter to him; and the feast
for this was to last all through Christmastide. Ring thanked the King
courteously for this and all his other kindnesses, and as soon as he had
finished eating and drinking in the hall went off to sleep in his own
room. Snati, however, asked permission to sleep in the Prince’s bed for
that night, while the Prince should sleep where the Dog usually lay.
Ring said he was welcome to do so, and that he deserved more from him
than that came to. So Snati went up into the Prince’s bed, but after a
time he came back, and told Ring he could go there himself now, but to
take care not to meddle with anything that was in the bed.

Now the story comes back to Red, who came into the hall and showed the
King his right arm wanting the hand, and said that now he could see what
kind of a man his intended son-in-law was, for he had done this to him
without any cause whatever. The King became very angry, and said he
would soon find out the truth about it, and if Ring had cut off his hand
without good cause he should be hanged; but if it was otherwise, then
Red should die. So the King sent for Ring and asked him for what reason
he had done this. Snati, however, had just told Ring what had happened
during the night, and in reply he asked the King to go with him and he
would show him something. The King went with him to his sleeping-room,
and saw lying on the bed a man’s hand holding a sword.

‘This hand,’ said Ring, ‘came over the partition during the night, and
was about to run me through in my bed, if I had not defended myself.’

The King answered that in that case he could not blame him for
protecting his own life, and that Red was well worthy of death. So Red
was hanged, and Ring married the King’s daughter.

The first night that they went to bed together Snati asked Ring to allow
him to lie at their feet, and this Ring allowed him to do. During the
night he heard a howling and outcry beside them, struck a light in a
hurry and saw an ugly dog’s skin lying near him, and a beautiful Prince
in the bed. Ring instantly took the skin and burned it, and then shook
the Prince, who was lying unconscious, until he woke up. The bridegroom
then asked his name; he replied that he was called Ring, and was a
King’s son. In his youth he had lost his mother, and in her place his
father had married a witch, who had laid a spell on him that he should
turn into a dog, and never be released from the spell unless a Prince
of the same name as himself allowed him to sleep at his feet the first
night after his marriage. He added further, ‘As soon as she knew that
you were my namesake she tried to get you destroyed, so that you
might not free me from the spell. She was the hind that you and your
companions chased; she was the woman that you found in the clearing with
the barrel, and the old hag that we just now killed in the cave.’

After the feasting was over the two namesakes, along with other men,
went to the cliff and brought all the treasure home to the Palace. Then
they went to the island and removed all that was valuable from it.
Ring gave to his namesake, whom he had freed from the spell, his sister
Ingiborg and his father’s kingdom to look after, but he himself stayed
with his father-in-law the King, and had half the kingdom while he lived
and the whole of it after his death.




THE SWINEHERD

There was once a poor Prince. He possessed a kingdom which, though
small, was yet large enough for him to marry on, and married he wished
to be.

Now it was certainly a little audacious of him to venture to say to the
Emperor’s daughter, ‘Will you marry me?’ But he did venture to say so,
for his name was known far and wide. There were hundreds of princesses
who would gladly have said ‘Yes,’ but would she say the same?

Well, we shall see.

On the grave of the Prince’s father grew a rose-tree, a very beautiful
rose-tree. It only bloomed every five years, and then bore but a single
rose, but oh, such a rose! Its scent was so sweet that when you smelt
it you forgot all your cares and troubles. And he had also a nightingale
which could sing as if all the beautiful melodies in the world were shut
up in its little throat. This rose and this nightingale the Princess was
to have, and so they were both put into silver caskets and sent to her.

The Emperor had them brought to him in the great hall, where
the Princess was playing ‘Here comes a duke a-riding’ with her
ladies-in-waiting. And when she caught sight of the big caskets which
contained the presents, she clapped her hands for joy.

‘If only it were a little pussy cat!’ she said. But the rose-tree with
the beautiful rose came out.

‘But how prettily it is made!’ said all the ladies-in-waiting.

‘It is more than pretty,’ said the Emperor, ‘it is charming!’

But the Princess felt it, and then she almost began to cry.

‘Ugh! Papa,’ she said, ‘it is not artificial, it is REAL!’

‘Ugh!’ said all the ladies-in-waiting, ‘it is real!’

‘Let us see first what is in the other casket before we begin to be
angry,’ thought the Emperor, and there came out the nightingale. It sang
so beautifully that one could scarcely utter a cross word against it.

‘Superbe! charmant!’ said the ladies-in-waiting, for they all chattered
French, each one worse than the other.

‘How much the bird reminds me of the musical snuff-box of the late
Empress!’ said an old courtier. ‘Ah, yes, it is the same tone, the same
execution!’

‘Yes,’ said the Emperor; and then he wept like a little child.

‘I hope that this, at least, is not real?’ asked the Princess.

‘Yes, it is a real bird,’ said those who had brought it.

‘Then let the bird fly away,’ said the Princess; and she would not on
any account allow the Prince to come.

‘But he was nothing daunted. He painted his face brown and black,
drew his cap well over his face, and knocked at the door. ‘Good-day,
Emperor,’ he said. ‘Can I get a place here as servant in the castle?’

‘Yes,’ said the Emperor, ‘but there are so many who ask for a place that
I don’t know whether there will be one for you; but, still, I will think
of you. Stay, it has just occurred to me that I want someone to look
after the swine, for I have so very many of them.’

And the Prince got the situation of Imperial Swineherd. He had a
wretched little room close to the pigsties; here he had to stay, but the
whole day he sat working, and when evening was come he had made a pretty
little pot. All round it were little bells, and when the pot boiled they
jingled most beautifully and played the old tune--

          ‘Where is Augustus dear?
          Alas!  he’s not here, here, here!’

But the most wonderful thing was, that when one held one’s finger in the
steam of the pot, then at once one could smell what dinner was ready in
any fire-place in the town. That was indeed something quite different
from the rose.

Now the Princess came walking past with all her ladies-in-waiting, and
when she heard the tune she stood still and her face beamed with joy,
for she also could play ‘Where is Augustus dear?’

It was the only tune she knew, but that she could play with one finger.

‘Why, that is what I play!’ she said. ‘He must be a most accomplished
Swineherd! Listen! Go down and ask him what the instrument costs.’

And one of the ladies-in-waiting had to go down; but she put on wooden
clogs. ‘What will you take for the pot?’ asked the lady-in-waiting.

‘I will have ten kisses from the Princess,’ answered the Swineherd.

‘Heaven forbid!’ said the lady-in-waiting.

‘Yes, I will sell it for nothing less,’ replied the Swineherd.

‘Well, what does he say?’ asked the Princess.

‘I really hardly like to tell you,’ answered the lady-in-waiting.

‘Oh, then you can whisper it to me.’

‘He is disobliging!’ said the Princess, and went away. But she had only
gone a few steps when the bells rang out so prettily--

          ‘Where is Augustus dear?
          Alas!  he’s not here, here, here.’

‘Listen!’ said the Princess. ‘Ask him whether he will take ten kisses
from my ladies-in-waiting.’

‘No, thank you,’ said the Swineherd. ‘Ten kisses from the Princess, or
else I keep my pot.’

‘That is very tiresome!’ said the Princess. ‘But you must put yourselves
in front of me, so that no one can see.’

And the ladies-in-waiting placed themselves in front and then spread out
their dresses; so the Swineherd got his ten kisses, and she got the pot.

What happiness that was! The whole night and the whole day the pot was
made to boil; there was not a fire-place in the whole town where they
did not know what was being cooked, whether it was at the chancellor’s
or at the shoemaker’s.

The ladies-in-waiting danced and clapped their hands.

‘We know who is going to have soup and pancakes; we know who is going to
have porridge and sausages--isn’t it interesting?’

‘Yes, very interesting!’ said the first lady-in-waiting.

‘But don’t say anything about it, for I am the Emperor’s daughter.’

‘Oh, no, of course we won’t!’ said everyone.

The Swineherd--that is to say, the Prince (though they did not know
he was anything but a true Swineherd)--let no day pass without making
something, and one day he made a rattle which, when it was turned round,
played all the waltzes, galops, and polkas which had ever been known
since the world began.

‘But that is superbe!’ said the Princess as she passed by. ‘I have never
heard a more beautiful composition. Listen! Go down and ask him what
this instrument costs; but I won’t kiss him again.’

‘He wants a hundred kisses from the Princess,’ said the lady-in-waiting
who had gone down to ask him.

‘I believe he is mad!’ said the Princess, and then she went on; but she
had only gone a few steps when she stopped.

‘One ought to encourage art,’ she said. ‘I am the Emperor’s daughter!
Tell him he shall have, as before, ten kisses; the rest he can take from
my ladies-in-waiting.’

‘But we don’t at all like being kissed by him,’ said the
ladies-in-waiting.

‘That’s nonsense,’ said the Princess; ‘and if I can kiss him, you can
too. Besides, remember that I give you board and lodging.’

So the ladies-in-waiting had to go down to him again.

‘A hundred kisses from the Princess,’ said he, ‘or each keeps his own.’

‘Put yourselves in front of us,’ she said then; and so all the
ladies-in-waiting put themselves in front, and he began to kiss the
Princess.

‘What can that commotion be by the pigsties?’ asked the Emperor, who was
standing on the balcony. He rubbed his eyes and put on his spectacles.
‘Why those are the ladies-in-waiting playing their games; I must go down
to them.’

So he took off his shoes, which were shoes though he had trodden them
down into slippers. What a hurry he was in, to be sure!

As soon as he came into the yard he walked very softly, and the
ladies-in-waiting were so busy counting the kisses and seeing fair play
that they never noticed the Emperor. He stood on tiptoe.

‘What is that?’ he said, when he saw the kissing; and then he threw
one of his slippers at their heads just as the Swineherd was taking his
eighty-sixth kiss.

‘Be off with you!’ said the Emperor, for he was very angry. And the
Princess and the Swineherd were driven out of the empire.

Then she stood still and wept; the Swineherd was scolding, and the rain
was streaming down.

‘Alas, what an unhappy creature I am!’ sobbed the Princess.

‘If only I had taken the beautiful Prince! Alas, how unfortunate I am!’

And the Swineherd went behind a tree, washed the black and brown off
his face, threw away his old clothes, and then stepped forward in his
splendid dress, looking so beautiful that the Princess was obliged to
courtesy.

‘I now come to this. I despise you!’ he said. ‘You would have nothing
to do with a noble Prince; you did not understand the rose or the
nightingale, but you could kiss the Swineherd for the sake of a toy.
This is what you get for it!’ And he went into his kingdom and shut the
door in her face, and she had to stay outside singing--

          ‘Where’s my Augustus dear?
          Alas!  he’s not here, here, here!




HOW TO TELL A TRUE PRINCESS

There was once upon a time a Prince who wanted to marry a Princess, but
she must be a true Princess. So he travelled through the whole world to
find one, but there was always something against each. There were plenty
of Princesses, but he could not find out if they were true Princesses.
In every case there was some little defect, which showed the genuine
article was not yet found. So he came home again in very low spirits,
for he had wanted very much to have a true Princess. One night there was
a dreadful storm; it thundered and lightened and the rain streamed down
in torrents. It was fearful! There was a knocking heard at the Palace
gate, and the old King went to open it.

There stood a Princess outside the gate; but oh, in what a sad plight
she was from the rain and the storm! The water was running down from
her hair and her dress into the points of her shoes and out at the heels
again. And yet she said she was a true Princess!

‘Well, we shall soon find that!’ thought the old Queen. But she said
nothing, and went into the sleeping-room, took off all the bed-clothes,
and laid a pea on the bottom of the bed. Then she put twenty mattresses
on top of the pea, and twenty eider-down quilts on the top of the
mattresses. And this was the bed in which the Princess was to sleep.

The next morning she was asked how she had slept.

‘Oh, very badly!’ said the Princess. ‘I scarcely closed my eyes all
night! I am sure I don’t know what was in the bed. I laid on something
so hard that my whole body is black and blue. It is dreadful!’

Now they perceived that she was a true Princess, because she had felt
the pea through the twenty mattresses and the twenty eider-down quilts.

No one but a true Princess could be so sensitive.

So the Prince married her, for now he knew that at last he had got hold
of a true Princess. And the pea was put into the Royal Museum, where it
is still to be seen if no one has stolen it. Now this is a true story.




THE BLUE MOUNTAINS

There were once a Scotsman and an Englishman and an Irishman serving in
the army together, who took it into their heads to run away on the first
opportunity they could get. The chance came and they took it. They
went on travelling for two days through a great forest, without food or
drink, and without coming across a single house, and every night they
had to climb up into the trees through fear of the wild beasts that were
in the wood. On the second morning the Scotsman saw from the top of his
tree a great castle far away. He said to himself that he would certainly
die if he stayed in the forest without anything to eat but the roots of
grass, which would not keep him alive very long. As soon, then, as he
got down out of the tree he set off towards the castle, without so much
as telling his companions that he had seen it at all; perhaps the hunger
and want they had suffered had changed their nature so much that the
one did not care what became of the other if he could save himself. He
travelled on most of the day, so that it was quite late when he reached
the castle, and to his great disappointment found nothing but closed
doors and no smoke rising from the chimneys. He thought there was
nothing for it but to die after all, and had lain down beside the wall,
when he heard a window being opened high above him. At this he looked
up, and saw the most beautiful woman he had ever set eyes on.

‘Oh, it is Fortune that has sent you to me,’ he said.

‘It is indeed,’ said she. ‘What are you in need of, or what has sent you
here?’

‘Necessity,’ said he. ‘I am dying for want of food and drink.’

‘Come inside, then,’ she said; ‘there is plenty of both here.’

Accordingly he went in to where she was, and she opened a large room for
him, where he saw a number of men lying asleep. She then set food before
him, and after that showed him to the room where the others were. He lay
down on one of the beds and fell sound asleep. And now we must go back
to the two that he left behind him in the wood.

When nightfall and the time of the wild beasts came upon these, the
Englishman happened to climb up into the very same tree on which the
Scotsman was when he got a sight of the castle; and as soon as the day
began to dawn and the Englishman looked to the four quarters of heaven,
what did he see but the castle too! Off he went without saying a word to
the Irishman, and everything happened to him just as it had done to the
Scotsman.

The poor Irishman was now left all alone, and did not know where
the others had gone to, so he just stayed where he was, very sad and
miserable. When night came he climbed up into the same tree as the
Englishman had been on the night before. As soon as day came he also saw
the castle, and set out towards it; but when he reached it he could
see no signs of fire or living being about it. Before long, however, he
heard the window opened above his head, looked up, and beheld the most
beautiful woman he had ever seen. He asked if she would give him food
and drink, and she answered kindly and heartily that she would, if he
would only come inside. This he did very willingly, and she set before
him food and drink that he had never seen the like of before. In the
room there was a bed, with diamond rings hanging at every loop of the
curtains, and everything that was in the room besides astonished him so
much that he actually forgot that he was hungry. When she saw that he
was not eating at all, she asked him what he wanted yet, to which he
replied that he would neither eat nor drink until he knew who she was,
or where she came from, or who had put her there.

‘I shall tell you that,’ said she. ‘I am an enchanted Princess, and my
father has promised that the man who releases me from the spell shall
have the third of his kingdom while he is alive, and the whole of it
after he is dead, and marry me as well. If ever I saw a man who looked
likely to do this, you are the one. I have been here for sixteen years
now, and no one who ever came to the castle has asked me who I was,
except yourself. Every other man that has come, so long as I have been
here, lies asleep in the big room down there.’

‘Tell me, then,’ said the Irishman, ‘what is the spell that has been
laid on you, and how you can be freed from it.’

‘There is a little room there,’ said the Princess, ‘and if I could get a
man to stay in it from ten o’clock till midnight for three nights on end
I should be freed from the spell.’

‘I am the man for you, then,’ said he; ‘I will take on hand to do it.’

Thereupon she brought him a pipe and tobacco, and he went into the room;
but before long he heard a hammering and knocking on the outside of the
door, and was told to open it.

‘I won’t,’ he said.

The next moment the door came flying in, and those outside along with
it. They knocked him down, and kicked him, and knelt on his body till it
came to midnight; but as soon as the cock crew they all disappeared. The
Irishman was little more than alive by this time. As soon as daylight
appeared the Princess came, and found him lying full length on the
floor, unable to speak a word. She took a bottle, rubbed him from head
to foot with something from it, and thereupon he was as sound as ever;
but after what he had got that night he was very unwilling to try it a
second time. The Princess, however, entreated him to stay, saying
that the next night would not be so bad, and in the end he gave in and
stayed.

When it was getting near midnight he heard them ordering him to open the
door, and there were three of them for every one that there had been the
previous evening. He did not make the slightest movement to go out to
them or to open the door, but before long they broke it up, and were in
on top of him. They laid hold of him, and kept throwing him between them
up to the ceiling, or jumping above him, until the cock crew, when they
all disappeared. When day came the Princess went to the room to see if
he was still alive, and taking the bottle put it to his nostrils, which
soon brought him to himself. The first thing he said then was that he
was a fool to go on getting himself killed for anyone he ever saw, and
was determined to be off and stay there no longer, When the Princess
learned his intention she entreated him to stay, reminding him that
another night would free her from the spell. ‘Besides,’ she said, ‘if
there is a single spark of life in you when the day comes, the stuff
that is in this bottle will make you as sound as ever you were.’

With all this the Irishman decided to stay; but that night there were
three at him for every one that was there the two nights before, and
it looked very unlikely that he would be alive in the morning after all
that he got. When morning dawned, and the Princess came to see if he was
still alive, she found him lying on the floor as if dead. She tried to
see if there was breath in him, but could not quite make it out.
Then she put her hand on his pulse, and found a faint movement in it.
Accordingly she poured what was in the bottle on him, and before long
he rose up on his feet, and was as well as ever he was. So that business
was finished, and the Princess was freed from the spell.

The Princess then told the Irishman that she must go away for the
present, but would return for him in a few days in a carriage drawn by
four grey horses. He told her to ‘be aisy,’ and not speak like that to
him. ‘I have paid dear for you for the last three nights,’ he said, ‘if
I have to part with you now;’ but in the twinkling of an eye she had
disappeared. He did not know what to do with himself when he saw that
she was gone, but before she went she had given him a little rod, with
which he could, when he pleased, waken the men who had been sleeping
there, some of them for sixteen years.

After being thus left alone, he went in and stretched himself on three
chairs that were in the room, when what does he see coming in at the
door but a little fair-haired lad.

‘Where did you come from, my lad?’ said the Irishman.

‘I came to make ready your food for you,’ said he.

‘Who told you to do that?’ said the Irishman.

‘My mistress,’ answered the lad--‘the Princess that was under the spell
and is now free.’

By this the Irishman knew that she had sent the lad to wait on him. The
lad also told him that his mistress wished him to be ready next morning
at nine o’clock, when she would come for him with the carriage, as she
had promised. He was greatly pleased at this, and next morning, when
the time was drawing near, went out into the garden; but the little
fair-haired lad took a big pin out of his pocket, and stuck it into the
back of the Irishman’s coat without his noticing it, whereupon he fell
sound asleep.

Before long the Princess came with the carriage and four horses, and
asked the lad whether his master was awake. He said that he wasn’t. ‘It
is bad for him,’ said she, ‘when the night is not long enough for him to
sleep. Tell him that if he doesn’t meet me at this time to-morrow it is
not likely that he will ever see me again all his life.’

As soon as she was gone the lad took the pin out of his master’s coat,
who instantly awoke. The first word he said to the lad was, ‘Have you
seen her?’

‘Yes,’ said he, ‘and she bade me tell you that if you don’t meet her at
nine o’clock to-morrow you will never see her again.’

He was very sorry when he heard this, and could not understand why the
sleep should have fallen upon him just when she was coming. He decided,
however, to go early to bed that night, in order to rise in time nest
morning, and so he did. When it was getting near nine o’clock he went
out to the garden to wait till she came, and the fair-haired lad along
with him; but as soon as the lad got the chance he stuck the pin into
his master’s coat again and he fell asleep as before. Precisely at nine
o’clock came the Princess in the carriage with four horses, and asked
the lad if his master had got up yet; but he said ‘No, he was asleep,
just as he was the day before.’ ‘Dear! dear!’ said the Princess, ‘I am
sorry for him. Was the sleep he had last night not enough for him? Tell
him that he will never see me here again; and here is a sword that you
will give him in my name, and my blessing along with it.’

With this she went off, and as soon as she had gone the lad took the pin
out of his master’s coat. He awoke instantly, and the first word he said
was, ‘Have you seen her?’ The lad said that he had, and there was the
sword she had left for him. The Irishman was ready to kill the lad out
of sheer vexation, but when he gave a glance over his shoulder not a
trace of the fair-haired lad was left.

Being thus left all alone, he thought of going into the room where all
the men were lying asleep, and there among the rest he found his two
comrades who had deserted along with him. Then he remembered what the
Princess had told him--that he had only to touch them with the rod she
had given him and they would all awake; and the first he touched were
his own comrades. They started to their feet at once, and he gave them
as much silver and gold as they could carry when they went away. There
was plenty to do before he got all the others wakened, for the two doors
of the castle were crowded with them all the day long.

The loss of the Princess, however, kept rankling in his mind day and
night, till finally he thought he would go about the world to see if he
could find anyone to give him news of her. So he took the best horse in
the stable and set out. Three years he spent travelling through forests
and wildernesses, but could find no one able to tell him anything of the
Princess. At last he fell into so great despair that he thought he would
put an end to his own life, and for this purpose laid hold of the sword
that she had given him by the hands of the fair-haired lad; but on
drawing it from its sheath he noticed that there was some writing on one
side of the blade. He looked at this, and read there, ‘You will find me
in the Blue Mountains.’ This made him take heart again, and he gave up
the idea of killing himself, thinking that he would go on in hope of
meeting some one who could tell him where the Blue Mountains were. After
he had gone a long way without thinking where he was going, he saw at
last a light far away, and made straight for it. On reaching it he found
it came from a little house, and as soon as the man inside heard the
noise of the horse’s feet he came out to see who was there. Seeing a
stranger on horseback, he asked what brought him there and where he was
going.

‘I have lived here,’ said he, ‘for three hundred years, and all that
time I have not seen a single human being but yourself.’

‘I have been going about for the last three years,’ said the Irishman,
‘to see if I could find anyone who can tell me where the Blue Mountains
are.’

‘Come in,’ said the old man, ‘and stay with me all night. I have a
book which contains the history of the world, which I shall go through
to-night, and if there is such a place as the Blue Mountains in it we
shall find it out.’

The Irishman stayed there all night, and as soon as morning came rose
to go. The old man said he had not gone to sleep all night for going
through the book, but there was not a word about the Blue Mountains
in it. ‘But I’ll tell you what,’ he said, ‘if there is such a place on
earth at all, I have a brother who lives nine hundred miles from here,
and he is sure to know where they are, if anyone in this world does.’
The Irishman answered that he could never go these nine hundred miles,
for his horse was giving in already. ‘That doesn’t matter,’ said the old
man; ‘I can do better than that. I have only to blow my whistle and you
will be at my brother’s house before nightfall.’

So he blew the whistle, and the Irishman did not know where on earth he
was until he found himself at the other old man’s door, who also told
him that it was three hundred years since he had seen anyone, and asked
him where he was going.

‘I am going to see if I can find anyone that can tell me where the Blue
Mountains are,’ he said.

‘If you will stay with me to-night,’ said the old man, ‘I have a book
of the history of the world, and I shall know where they are before
daylight, if there is such a place in it at all.’

He stayed there all night, but there was not a word in the book about
the Blue Mountains. Seeing that he was rather cast down, the old man
told him that he had a brother nine hundred miles away, and that if
information could be got about them from anyone it would be from him;
‘and I will enable you,’ he said, ‘to reach the place where he lives
before night.’ So he blew his whistle, and the Irishman landed at the
brother’s house before nightfall. When the old man saw him he said he
had not seen a single man for three hundred years, and was very much
surprised to see anyone come to him now.

‘Where are you going to?’ he said.

‘I am going about asking for the Blue Mountains,’ said the Irishman.

‘The Blue Mountains?’ said the old man.

‘Yes,’ said the Irishman.

‘I never heard the name before; but if they do exist I shall find them
out. I am master of all the birds in the world, and have only to blow my
whistle and every one will come to me. I shall then ask each of them to
tell where it came from, and if there is any way of finding out the Blue
Mountains that is it.’

So he blew his whistle, and when he blew it then all the birds of the
world began to gather. The old man questioned each of them as to where
they had come from, but there was not one of them that had come from the
Blue Mountains. After he had run over them all, however, he missed a
big Eagle that was wanting, and wondered that it had not come. Soon
afterwards he saw something big coming towards him, darkening the sky.
It kept coming nearer and growing bigger, and what was this after all
but the Eagle? When she arrived the old man scolded her, and asked what
had kept her so long behind.

‘I couldn’t help it,’ she said; ‘I had more than twenty times further to
come than any bird that has come here to-day.’

‘Where have you come from, then?’ said the old man.

‘From the Blue Mountains,’ said she.

‘Indeed!’ said the old man; and what are they doing there?’

‘They are making ready this very day,’ said the Eagle, ‘for the marriage
of the daughter of the King of the Blue Mountains. For three years now
she has refused to marry anyone whatsoever, until she should give up all
hope of the coming of the man who released her from the spell. Now she
can wait no longer, for three years is the time that she agreed with her
father to remain without marrying.’

The Irishman knew that it was for himself she had been waiting so
long, but he was unable to make any better of it, for he had no hope of
reaching the Blue Mountains all his life. The old man noticed how sad he
grew, and asked the Eagle what she would take for carrying this man on
her back to the Blue Mountains.

‘I must have threescore cattle killed,’ said she, ‘and cut up into
quarters, and every time I look over my shoulder he must throw one of
them into my mouth.’

As soon as the Irishman and the old man heard her demand they went out
hunting, and before evening they had killed three-score cattle. They
made quarters of them, as the Eagle told them, and then the old man
asked her to lie down, till they would get it all heaped up on her back.
First of all, though, they had to get a ladder of fourteen steps, to
enable them to get on to the Eagle’s back, and there they piled up the
meat as well as they could. Then the old man told the Irishman to mount,
and to remember to throw a quarter of beef to her every time she looked
round. He went up, and the old man gave the Eagle the word to be off,
which she instantly obeyed; and every time she turned her head the
Irishman threw a quarter of beef into her mouth.

As they came near the borders of the kingdom of the Blue Mountains,
however, the beef was done, and, when the Eagle looked over her
shoulder, what was the Irishman at but throwing the stone between her
tail and her neck! At this she turned a complete somersault, and threw
the Irishman off into the sea, where he fell into the bay that was right
in front of the King’s Palace. Fortunately the points of his toes just
touched the bottom, and he managed to get ashore.

When he went up into the town all the streets were gleaming with light,
and the wedding of the Princess was just about to begin. He went into
the first house he came to, and this happened to be the house of the
King’s hen-wife. He asked the old woman what was causing all the noise
and light in the town.

‘The Princess,’ said she, ‘is going to be married to-night against her
will, for she has been expecting every day that the man who freed her
from the spell would come.’

‘There is a guinea for you,’ said he; ‘go and bring her here.’

The old woman went, and soon returned along with the Princess. She and
the Irishman recognised each other, and were married, and had a great
wedding that lasted for a year and a day.




THE TINDER-BOX

A soldier came marching along the high road--left, right! A left, right!
He had his knapsack on his back and a sword by his side, for he had been
to the wars and was now returning home.

An old Witch met him on the road. She was very ugly to look at: her
under-lip hung down to her breast.

‘Good evening, Soldier!’ she said. ‘What a fine sword and knapsack you
have! You are something like a soldier! You ought to have as much money
as you would like to carry!’

‘Thank you, old Witch,’ said the Soldier.

‘Do you see that great tree there?’ said the Witch, pointing to a tree
beside them. ‘It is hollow within. You must climb up to the top, and
then you will see a hole through which you can let yourself down into
the tree. I will tie a rope round your waist, so that I may be able to
pull you up again when you call.’

‘What shall I do down there?’ asked the Soldier.

‘Get money!’ answered the Witch. ‘Listen! When you reach the bottom of
the tree you will find yourself in a large hall; it is light there, for
there are more than three hundred lamps burning. Then you will see three
doors, which you can open--the keys are in the locks. If you go into the
first room, you will see a great chest in the middle of the floor with
a dog sitting upon it; he has eyes as large as saucers, but you needn’t
trouble about him. I will give you my blue-check apron, which you must
spread out on the floor, and then go back quickly and fetch the dog and
set him upon it; open the chest and take as much money as you like. It
is copper there. If you would rather have silver, you must go into the
next room, where there is a dog with eyes as large as mill-wheels.
But don’t take any notice of him; just set him upon my apron, and help
yourself to the money. If you prefer gold, you can get that too, if you
go into the third room, and as much as you like to carry. But the dog
that guards the chest there has eyes as large as the Round Tower at
Copenhagen! He is a savage dog, I can tell you; but you needn’t be
afraid of him either. Only, put him on my apron and he won’t touch you,
and you can take out of the chest as much gold as you like!’

‘Come, this is not bad!’ said the Soldier. ‘But what am I to give you,
old Witch; for surely you are not going to do this for nothing?’

‘Yes, I am!’ replied the Witch. ‘Not a single farthing will I take! For
me you shall bring nothing but an old tinder-box which my grandmother
forgot last time she was down there.’

‘Well, tie the rope round my waist! ‘said the Soldier.

‘Here it is,’ said the Witch, ‘and here is my blue-check apron.’

Then the Soldier climbed up the tree, let himself down through the hole,
and found himself standing, as the Witch had said, underground in the
large hall, where the three hundred lamps were burning.

Well, he opened the first door. Ugh! there sat the dog with eyes as big
as saucers glaring at him.

‘You are a fine fellow!’ said the Soldier, and put him on the Witch’s
apron, took as much copper as his pockets could hold; then he shut the
chest, put the dog on it again, and went into the second room. Sure
enough there sat the dog with eyes as large as mill-wheels.

‘You had better not look at me so hard!’ said the Soldier. ‘Your eyes
will come out of their sockets!’

And then he set the dog on the apron. When he saw all the silver in the
chest, he threw away the copper he had taken, and filled his pockets and
knapsack with nothing but silver.

Then he went into the third room. Horrors! the dog there had two eyes,
each as large as the Round Tower at Copenhagen, spinning round in his
head like wheels.

‘Good evening!’ said the Soldier and saluted, for he had never seen
a dog like this before. But when he had examined him more closely, he
thought to himself: ‘Now then, I’ve had enough of this!’ and put him
down on the floor, and opened the chest. Heavens! what a heap of gold
there was! With all that he could buy up the whole town, and all the
sugar pigs, all the tin soldiers, whips and rocking-horses in the whole
world. Now he threw away all the silver with which he had filled his
pockets and knapsack, and filled them with gold instead--yes, all his
pockets, his knapsack, cap and boots even, so that he could hardly walk.
Now he was rich indeed. He put the dog back upon the chest, shut the
door, and then called up through the tree:

‘Now pull me up again, old Witch!’

‘Have you got the tinder-box also?’ asked the Witch.

‘Botheration!’ said the Soldier, ‘I had clean forgotten it!’ And then he
went back and fetched it.

The Witch pulled him up, and there he stood again on the high road, with
pockets, knapsack, cap and boots filled with gold.

‘What do you want to do with the tinder-box?’ asked the Soldier.

‘That doesn’t matter to you,’ replied the Witch. ‘You have got your
money, give me my tinder-box.’

‘We’ll see!’ said the Soldier. ‘Tell me at once what you want to do with
it, or I will draw my sword, and cut off your head!’

‘No!’ screamed the Witch.

The Soldier immediately cut off her head. That was the end of her! But
he tied up all his gold in her apron, slung it like a bundle over his
shoulder, put the tinder-box in his pocket, and set out towards the
town.

It was a splendid town! He turned into the finest inn, ordered the best
chamber and his favourite dinner; for now that he had so much money he
was really rich.

It certainly occurred to the servant who had to clean his boots that
they were astonishingly old boots for such a rich lord. But that
was because he had not yet bought new ones; next day he appeared in
respectable boots and fine clothes. Now, instead of a common soldier
he had become a noble lord, and the people told him about all the grand
doings of the town and the King, and what a beautiful Princess his
daughter was.

‘How can one get to see her?’ asked the Soldier.

‘She is never to be seen at all!’ they told him; ‘she lives in a great
copper castle, surrounded by many walls and towers! No one except the
King may go in or out, for it is prophesied that she will marry a common
soldier, and the King cannot submit to that.’

‘I should very much like to see her,’ thought the Soldier; but he could
not get permission.

Now he lived very gaily, went to the theatre, drove in the King’s
garden, and gave the poor a great deal of money, which was very nice
of him; he had experienced in former times how hard it is not to have a
farthing in the world. Now he was rich, wore fine clothes, and made many
friends, who all said that he was an excellent man, a real nobleman. And
the Soldier liked that. But as he was always spending money, and never
made any more, at last the day came when he had nothing left but two
shillings, and he had to leave the beautiful rooms in which he had been
living, and go into a little attic under the roof, and clean his own
boots, and mend them with a darning-needle. None of his friends came to
visit him there, for there were too many stairs to climb.

It was a dark evening, and he could not even buy a light. But all at
once it flashed across him that there was a little end of tinder in the
tinder-box, which he had taken from the hollow tree into which the Witch
had helped him down. He found the box with the tinder in it; but just as
he was kindling a light, and had struck a spark out of the tinder-box,
the door burst open, and the dog with eyes as large as saucers, which he
had seen down in the tree, stood before him and said:

‘What does my lord command?’

‘What’s the meaning of this?’ exclaimed the Soldier. ‘This is a pretty
kind of tinder-box, if I can get whatever I want like this. Get me
money!’ he cried to the dog, and hey, presto! he was off and back again,
holding a great purse full of money in his mouth.

Now the Soldier knew what a capital tinder-box this was. If he rubbed
once, the dog that sat on the chest of copper appeared; if he rubbed
twice, there came the dog that watched over the silver chest; and if
he rubbed three times, the one that guarded the gold appeared. Now, the
Soldier went down again to his beautiful rooms, and appeared once more
in splendid clothes. All his friends immediately recognised him again,
and paid him great court.

One day he thought to himself: ‘It is very strange that no one can get
to see the Princess. They all say she is very pretty, but what’s the use
of that if she has to sit for ever in the great copper castle with
all the towers? Can I not manage to see her somehow? Where is my
tinder-box?’ and so he struck a spark, and, presto! there came the dog
with eyes as large as saucers.

‘It is the middle of the night, I know,’ said the Soldier; ‘but I should
very much like to see the Princess for a moment.’

The dog was already outside the door, and before the Soldier could look
round, in he came with the Princess. She was lying asleep on the
dog’s back, and was so beautiful that anyone could see she was a real
Princess. The Soldier really could not refrain from kissing her--he was
such a thorough Soldier. Then the dog ran back with the Princess. But
when it was morning, and the King and Queen were drinking tea, the
Princess said that the night before she had had such a strange dream
about a dog and a Soldier: she had ridden on the dog’s back, and the
Soldier had kissed her.

‘That is certainly a fine story,’ said the Queen. But the next night one
of the ladies-in-waiting was to watch at the Princess’s bed, to see if
it was only a dream, or if it had actually happened.

The Soldier had an overpowering longing to see the Princess again, and
so the dog came in the middle of the night and fetched her, running as
fast as he could. But the lady-in-waiting slipped on india-rubber shoes
and followed them. When she saw them disappear into a large house, she
thought to herself: ‘Now I know where it is; ‘and made a great cross on
the door with a piece of chalk. Then she went home and lay down, and the
dog came back also, with the Princess. But when he saw that a cross had
been made on the door of the house where the Soldier lived, he took a
piece of chalk also, and made crosses on all the doors in the town; and
that was very clever, for now the lady-in-waiting could not find the
right house, as there were crosses on all the doors.

Early next morning the King, Queen, ladies-in-waiting, and officers came
out to see where the Princess had been.

‘There it is!’ said the King, when he saw the first door with a cross on
it.

‘No, there it is, my dear!’ said the Queen, when she likewise saw a door
with a cross.

‘But here is one, and there is another!’ they all exclaimed; wherever
they looked there was a cross on the door. Then they realised that the
sign would not help them at all.

But the Queen was an extremely clever woman, who could do a great deal
more than just drive in a coach. She took her great golden scissors, cut
up a piece of silk, and made a pretty little bag of it. This she filled
with the finest buckwheat grains, and tied it round the Princess’ neck;
this done, she cut a little hole in the bag, so that the grains would
strew the whole road wherever the Princess went.

In the night the dog came again, took the Princess on his back and ran
away with her to the Soldier, who was very much in love with her, and
would have liked to have been a Prince, so that he might have had her
for his wife.

The dog did not notice how the grains were strewn right from the castle
to the Soldier’s window, where he ran up the wall with the Princess.

In the morning the King and the Queen saw plainly where their daughter
had been, and they took the Soldier and put him into prison.

There he sat. Oh, how dark and dull it was there! And they told him:
‘To-morrow you are to be hanged.’ Hearing that did not exactly cheer
him, and he had left his tinder-box in the inn.

Next morning he could see through the iron grating in front of his
little window how the people were hurrying out of the town to see him
hanged. He heard the drums and saw the soldiers marching; all the
people were running to and fro. Just below his window was a shoemaker’s
apprentice, with leather apron and shoes; he was skipping along so
merrily that one of his shoes flew off and fell against the wall, just
where the Soldier was sitting peeping through the iron grating.

‘Oh, shoemaker’s boy, you needn’t be in such a hurry!’ said the Soldier
to him. ‘There’s nothing going on till I arrive. But if you will run
back to the house where I lived, and fetch me my tinder-box, I will give
you four shillings. But you must put your best foot foremost.’

The shoemaker’s boy was very willing to earn four shillings, and fetched
the tinder-box, gave it to the Soldier, and--yes--now you shall hear.

Outside the town a great scaffold had been erected, and all round were
standing the soldiers, and hundreds of thousands of people. The King and
Queen were sitting on a magnificent throne opposite the judges and the
whole council.

The Soldier was already standing on the top of the ladder; but when they
wanted to put the rope round his neck, he said that the fulfilment of
one innocent request was always granted to a poor criminal before he
underwent his punishment. He would so much like to smoke a small pipe of
tobacco; it would be his last pipe in this world.

The King could not refuse him this, and so he took out his tinder-box,
and rubbed it once, twice, three times. And lo, and behold I there stood
all three dogs--the one with eyes as large as saucers, the second with
eyes as large as mill-wheels, and the third with eyes each as large as
the Round Tower of Copenhagen.

‘Help me now, so that I may not be hanged!’ cried the Soldier. And
thereupon the dogs fell upon the judges and the whole council, seized
some by the legs, others by the nose, and threw them so high into the
air that they fell and were smashed into pieces.

‘I won’t stand this!’ said the King; but the largest dog seized him
too, and the Queen as well, and threw them up after the others. This
frightened the soldiers, and all the people cried: ‘Good Soldier, you
shall be our King, and marry the beautiful Princess!’

Then they put the Soldier into the King’s coach, and the three dogs
danced in front, crying ‘Hurrah!’ And the boys whistled and the soldiers
presented arms.

The Princess came out of the copper castle, and became Queen; and that
pleased her very much.

The wedding festivities lasted for eight days, and the dogs sat at table
and made eyes at everyone.




THE WITCH IN THE STONE BOAT(31)

(31) From the Icelandic.

There were once a King and a Queen, and they had a son called Sigurd,
who was very strong and active, and good-looking. When the King came
to be bowed down with the weight of years he spoke to his son, and
said that now it was time for him to look out for a fitting match for
himself, for he did not know how long he might last now, and he would
like to see him married before he died.

Sigurd was not averse to this, and asked his father where he thought
it best to look for a wife. The King answered that in a certain country
there was a King who had a beautiful daughter, and he thought it would
be most desirable if Sigurd could get her. So the two parted, and Sigurd
prepared for the journey, and went to where his father had directed him.

He came to the King and asked his daughter’s hand, which he readily
granted him, but only on the condition that he should remain there as
long as he could, for the King himself was not strong and not very able
to govern his kingdom. Sigurd accepted this condition, but added that
he would have to get leave to go home again to his own country when
he heard news of his father’s death. After that Sigurd married the
Princess, and helped his father-in-law to govern the kingdom. He and the
Princess loved each other dearly, and after a year a son came to them,
who was two years old when word came to Sigurd that his father was dead.
Sigurd now prepared to return home with his wife and child, and went on
board ship to go by sea.

They had sailed for several days, when the breeze suddenly fell, and
there came a dead calm, at a time when they needed only one day’s voyage
to reach home. Sigurd and his Queen were one day on deck, when most of
the others on the ship had fallen asleep. There they sat and talked for
a while, and had their little son along with them. After a time Sigurd
became so heavy with sleep that he could no longer keep awake, so he
went below and lay down, leaving the Queen alone on the deck, playing
with her son.

A good while after Sigurd had gone below the Queen saw something black
on the sea, which seemed to be coming nearer. As it approached she
could make out that it was a boat, and could see the figure of some one
sitting in it and rowing it. At last the boat came alongside the ship,
and now the Queen saw that it was a stone boat, out of which there
came up on board the ship a fearfully ugly Witch. The Queen was more
frightened than words can describe, and could neither speak a word nor
move from the place so as to awaken the King or the sailors. The Witch
came right up to the Queen, took the child from her and laid it on the
deck; then she took the Queen, and stripped her of all her fine clothes,
which she proceeded to put on herself, and looked then like a human
being. Last of all she took the Queen, put her into the boat, and said--

‘This spell I lay upon you, that you slacken not your course until you
come to my brother in the Underworld.’

The Queen sat stunned and motionless, but the boat at once shot away
from the ship with her, and before long she was out of sight.

When the boat could no longer be seen the child began to cry, and though
the Witch tried to quiet it she could not manage it; so she went below
to where the King was sleeping with the child on her arm, and awakened
him, scolding him for leaving them alone on deck, while he and all the
crew were asleep. It was great carelessness of him, she said, to leave
no one to watch the ship with her.

Sigurd was greatly surprised to hear his Queen scold him so much, for
she had never said an angry word to him before; but he thought it was
quite excusable in this case, and tried to quiet the child along with
her, but it was no use. Then he went and wakened the sailors, and
bade them hoist the sails, for a breeze had sprung up and was blowing
straight towards the harbour.

They soon reached the land which Sigurd was to rule over, and found all
the people sorrowful for the old King’s death, but they became glad when
they got Sigurd back to the Court, and made him King over them.

The King’s son, however, hardly ever stopped crying from the time he
had been taken from his mother on the deck of the ship, although he had
always been such a good child before, so that at last the King had to
get a nurse for him--one of the maids of the Court. As soon as the child
got into her charge he stopped crying, and behaved well as before.

After the sea-voyage it seemed to the King that the Queen had altered
very much in many ways, and not for the better. He thought her much more
haughty and stubborn and difficult to deal with than she used to be.
Before long others began to notice this as well as the King. In the
Court there were two young fellows, one of eighteen years old, the other
of nineteen, who were very fond of playing chess, and often sat long
inside playing at it. Their room was next the Queen’s, and often during
the day they heard the Queen talking.

One day they paid more attention than usual when they heard her talk,
and put their ears close to a crack in the wall between the rooms, and
heard the Queen say quite plainly, ‘When I yawn a little, then I am a
nice little maiden; when I yawn half-way, then I am half a troll; and
when I yawn fully, then I am a troll altogether.’

As she said this she yawned tremendously, and in a moment had put on
the appearance of a fearfully ugly troll. Then there came up through the
floor of the room a three-headed Giant with a trough full of meat, who
saluted her as his sister and set down the trough before her. She began
to eat out of it, and never stopped till she had finished it. The young
fellows saw all this going on, but did not hear the two of them say
anything to each other. They were astonished though at how greedily the
Queen devoured the meat, and how much she ate of it, and were no longer
surprised that she took so little when she sat at table with the King.
As soon as she had finished it the Giant disappeared with the trough by
the same way as he had come, and the Queen returned to her human shape.

Now we must go back to the King’s son after he had been put in charge of
the nurse. One evening, after she had lit a candle and was holding the
child, several planks sprang up in the floor of the room, and out at the
opening came a beautiful woman dressed in white, with an iron belt round
her waist, to which was fastened an iron chain that went down into the
ground. The woman came up to the nurse, took the child from her,
and pressed it to her breast; then she gave it back to the nurse and
returned by the same way as she had come, and the floor closed over her
again. Although the woman had not spoken a single word to her, the nurse
was very much frightened, but told no one about it.

Next evening the same thing happened again, just as before, but as the
woman was going away she said in a sad tone, ‘Two are gone, and one
only is left,’ and then disappeared as before. The nurse was still more
frightened when she heard the woman say this, and thought that perhaps
some danger was hanging over the child, though she had no ill-opinion of
the unknown woman, who, indeed, had behaved towards the child as if it
were her own. The most mysterious thing was the woman saying ‘and only
one is left;’ but the nurse guessed that this must mean that only one
day was left, since she had come for two days already.

At last the nurse made up her mind to go to the King, and told him the
whole story, and asked him to be present in person next day about the
time when the woman usually came. The King promised to do so, and came
to the nurse’s room a little before the time, and sat down on a chair
with his drawn sword in his hand. Soon after the planks in the floor
sprang up as before, and the woman came up, dressed in white, with the
iron belt and chain. The King saw at once that it was his own Queen, and
immediately hewed asunder the iron chain that was fastened to the belt.
This was followed by such noises and crashings down in the earth that
all the King’s Palace shook, so that no one expected anything else than
to see every bit of it shaken to pieces. At last, however, the noises
and shaking stopped, and they began to come to themselves again.

The King and Queen embraced each other, and she told him the whole
story--how the Witch came to the ship when they were all asleep and sent
her off in the boat. After she had gone so far that she could not see
the ship, she sailed on through darkness until she landed beside a
three-headed Giant. The Giant wished her to marry him, but she refused;
whereupon he shut her up by herself, and told her she would never get
free until she consented. After a time she began to plan how to get her
freedom, and at last told him that she would consent if he would allow
her to visit her son on earth three days on end. This he agreed to, but
put on her this iron belt and chain, the other end of which he fastened
round his own waist, and the great noises that were heard when the King
cut the chain must have been caused by the Giant’s falling down the
underground passage when the chain gave way so suddenly. The Giant’s
dwelling, indeed, was right under the Palace, and the terrible shakings
must have been caused by him in his death-throes.

The King now understood how the Queen he had had for some time past had
been so ill-tempered. He at once had a sack drawn over her head and made
her be stoned to death, and after that torn in pieces by untamed horses.
The two young fellows also told now what they had heard and seen in the
Queen’s room, for before this they had been afraid to say anything about
it, on account of the Queen’s power.

The real Queen was now restored to all her dignity, and was beloved by
all. The nurse was married to a nobleman, and the King and Queen gave
her splendid presents.




THUMBELINA

There was once a woman who wanted to have quite a tiny, little child,
but she did not know where to get one from. So one day she went to an
old Witch and said to her: ‘I should so much like to have a tiny, little
child; can you tell me where I can get one?’

‘Oh, we have just got one ready!’ said the Witch. ‘Here is a barley-corn
for you, but it’s not the kind the farmer sows in his field, or feeds
the cocks and hens with, I can tell you. Put it in a flower-pot, and
then you will see something happen.’

‘Oh, thank you!’ said the woman, and gave the Witch a shilling, for
that was what it cost. Then she went home and planted the barley-corn;
immediately there grew out of it a large and beautiful flower, which
looked like a tulip, but the petals were tightly closed as if it were
still only a bud.

‘What a beautiful flower!’ exclaimed the woman, and she kissed the red
and yellow petals; but as she kissed them the flower burst open. It
was a real tulip, such as one can see any day; but in the middle of the
blossom, on the green velvety petals, sat a little girl, quite tiny,
trim, and pretty. She was scarcely half a thumb in height; so they
called her Thumbelina. An elegant polished walnut-shell served
Thumbelina as a cradle, the blue petals of a violet were her mattress,
and a rose-leaf her coverlid. There she lay at night, but in the
day-time she used to play about on the table; here the woman had put a
bowl, surrounded by a ring of flowers, with their stalks in water, in
the middle of which floated a great tulip pedal, and on this Thumbelina
sat, and sailed from one side of the bowl to the other, rowing herself
with two white horse-hairs for oars. It was such a pretty sight! She
could sing, too, with a voice more soft and sweet than had ever been
heard before.

One night, when she was lying in her pretty little bed, an old toad
crept in through a broken pane in the window. She was very ugly, clumsy,
and clammy; she hopped on to the table where Thumbelina lay asleep under
the red rose-leaf.

‘This would make a beautiful wife for my son,’ said the toad, taking up
the walnut-shell, with Thumbelina inside, and hopping with it through
the window into the garden.

There flowed a great wide stream, with slippery and marshy banks; here
the toad lived with her son. Ugh! how ugly and clammy he was, just like
his mother! ‘Croak, croak, croak!’ was all he could say when he saw the
pretty little girl in the walnut-shell.

‘Don’t talk so load, or you’ll wake her,’ said the old toad. ‘She might
escape us even now; she is as light as a feather. We will put her at
once on a broad water-lily leaf in the stream. That will be quite an
island for her; she is so small and light. She can’t run away from us
there, whilst we are preparing the guest-chamber under the marsh where
she shall live.’

Outside in the brook grew many water-lilies, with broad green leaves,
which looked as if they were swimming about on the water.

The leaf farthest away was the largest, and to this the old toad swam
with Thumbelina in her walnut-shell.

The tiny Thumbelina woke up very early in the morning, and when she saw
where she was she began to cry bitterly; for on every side of the great
green leaf was water, and she could not get to the land.

The old toad was down under the marsh, decorating her room with
rushes and yellow marigold leaves, to make it very grand for her new
daughter-in-law; then she swam out with her ugly son to the leaf where
Thumbelina lay. She wanted to fetch the pretty cradle to put it into her
room before Thumbelina herself came there. The old toad bowed low in the
water before her, and said: ‘Here is my son; you shall marry him, and
live in great magnificence down under the marsh.’

‘Croak, croak, croak!’ was all that the son could say. Then they took
the neat little cradle and swam away with it; but Thumbelina sat alone
on the great green leaf and wept, for she did not want to live with the
clammy toad, or marry her ugly son. The little fishes swimming about
under the water had seen the toad quite plainly, and heard what she had
said; so they put up their heads to see the little girl. When they saw
her, they thought her so pretty that they were very sorry she should
go down with the ugly toad to live. No; that must not happen. They
assembled in the water round the green stalk which supported the leaf
on which she was sitting, and nibbled the stem in two. Away floated the
leaf down the stream, bearing Thumbelina far beyond the reach of the
toad.

On she sailed past several towns, and the little birds sitting in the
bushes saw her, and sang, ‘What a pretty little girl!’ The leaf floated
farther and farther away; thus Thumbelina left her native land.

A beautiful little white butterfly fluttered above her, and at
last settled on the leaf. Thumbelina pleased him, and she, too,
was delighted, for now the toads could not reach her, and it was so
beautiful where she was travelling; the sun shone on the water and made
it sparkle like the brightest silver. She took off her sash, and tied
one end round the butterfly; the other end she fastened to the leaf, so
that now it glided along with her faster than ever.

A great cockchafer came flying past; he caught sight of Thumbelina, and
in a moment had put his arms round her slender waist, and had flown off
with her to a tree. The green leaf floated away down the stream, and
the butterfly with it, for he was fastened to the leaf and could not get
loose from it. Oh, dear! how terrified poor little Thumbelina was when
the cockchafer flew off with her to the tree! But she was especially
distressed on the beautiful white butterfly’s account, as she had tied
him fast, so that if he could not get away he must starve to death. But
the cockchafer did not trouble himself about that; he sat down with her
on a large green leaf, gave her the honey out of the flowers to eat, and
told her that she was very pretty, although she wasn’t in the least like
a cockchafer. Later on, all the other cockchafers who lived in the same
tree came to pay calls; they examined Thumbelina closely, and remarked,
‘Why, she has only two legs! How very miserable!’

‘She has no feelers!’ cried another.

‘How ugly she is!’ said all the lady chafers--and yet Thumbelina was
really very pretty.

The cockchafer who had stolen her knew this very well; but when he heard
all the ladies saying she was ugly, he began to think so too, and would
not keep her; she might go wherever she liked. So he flew down from the
tree with her and put her on a daisy. There she sat and wept, because
she was so ugly that the cockchafer would have nothing to do with her;
and yet she was the most beautiful creature imaginable, so soft and
delicate, like the loveliest rose-leaf.

The whole summer poor little Thumbelina lived alone in the great wood.
She plaited a bed for herself of blades of grass, and hung it up under a
clover-leaf, so that she was protected from the rain; she gathered
honey from the flowers for food, and drank the dew on the leaves every
morning. Thus the summer and autumn passed, but then came winter--the
long, cold winter. All the birds who had sung so sweetly about her had
flown away; the trees shed their leaves, the flowers died; the great
clover-leaf under which she had lived curled up, and nothing remained of
it but the withered stalk. She was terribly cold, for her clothes were
ragged, and she herself was so small and thin. Poor little Thumbelina!
she would surely be frozen to death. It began to snow, and every
snow-flake that fell on her was to her as a whole shovelful thrown on
one of us, for we are so big, and she was only an inch high. She wrapt
herself round in a dead leaf, but it was torn in the middle and gave her
no warmth; she was trembling with cold.

Just outside the wood where she was now living lay a great corn-field.
But the corn had been gone a long time; only the dry, bare stubble was
left standing in the frozen ground. This made a forest for her to wander
about in. All at once she came across the door of a field-mouse, who had
a little hole under a corn-stalk. There the mouse lived warm and snug,
with a store-room full of corn, a splendid kitchen and dining-room. Poor
little Thumbelina went up to the door and begged for a little piece of
barley, for she had not had anything to eat for the last two days.

‘Poor little creature!’ said the field-mouse, for she was a kind-hearted
old thing at the bottom. ‘Come into my warm room and have some dinner
with me.’

As Thumbelina pleased her, she said: ‘As far as I am concerned you may
spend the winter with me; but you must keep my room clean and tidy, and
tell me stories, for I like that very much.’

And Thumbelina did all that the kind old field-mouse asked, and did it
remarkably well too.

‘Now I am expecting a visitor,’ said the field-mouse; ‘my neighbour
comes to call on me once a week. He is in better circumstances than I
am, has great, big rooms, and wears a fine black-velvet coat. If you
could only marry him, you would be well provided for. But he is blind.
You must tell him all the prettiest stories you know.’

But Thumbelina did not trouble her head about him, for he was only a
mole. He came and paid them a visit in his black-velvet coat.

‘He is so rich and so accomplished,’ the field-mouse told her.

‘His house is twenty times larger than mine; he possesses great
knowledge, but he cannot bear the sun and the beautiful flowers, and
speaks slightingly of them, for he has never seen them.’

Thumbelina had to sing to him, so she sang ‘Lady-bird, lady-bird, fly
away home!’ and other songs so prettily that the mole fell in love with
her; but he did not say anything, he was a very cautious man. A short
time before he had dug a long passage through the ground from his own
house to that of his neighbour; in this he gave the field-mouse and
Thumbelina permission to walk as often as they liked. But he begged them
not to be afraid of the dead bird that lay in the passage: it was a real
bird with beak and feathers, and must have died a little time ago, and
now laid buried just where he had made his tunnel. The mole took a piece
of rotten wood in his mouth, for that glows like fire in the dark, and
went in front, lighting them through the long dark passage. When they
came to the place where the dead bird lay, the mole put his broad nose
against the ceiling and pushed a hole through, so that the daylight
could shine down. In the middle of the path lay a dead swallow, his
pretty wings pressed close to his sides, his claws and head drawn under
his feathers; the poor bird had evidently died of cold. Thumbelina was
very sorry, for she was very fond of all little birds; they had sung
and twittered so beautifully to her all through the summer. But the mole
kicked him with his bandy legs and said:

‘Now he can’t sing any more! It must be very miserable to be a little
bird! I’m thankful that none of my little children are; birds always
starve in winter.’

‘Yes, you speak like a sensible man,’ said the field-mouse. ‘What has
a bird, in spite of all his singing, in the winter-time? He must starve
and freeze, and that must be very pleasant for him, I must say!’

Thumbelina did not say anything; but when the other two had passed on
she bent down to the bird, brushed aside the feathers from his head,
and kissed his closed eyes gently. ‘Perhaps it was he that sang to me so
prettily in the summer,’ she thought. ‘How much pleasure he did give me,
dear little bird!’

The mole closed up the hole again which let in the light, and then
escorted the ladies home. But Thumbelina could not sleep that night;
so she got out of bed, and plaited a great big blanket of straw, and
carried it off, and spread it over the dead bird, and piled upon
it thistle-down as soft as cotton-wool, which she had found in the
field-mouse’s room, so that the poor little thing should lie warmly
buried.

‘Farewell, pretty little bird!’ she said. ‘Farewell, and thank you for
your beautiful songs in the summer, when the trees were green, and the
sun shone down warmly on us!’ Then she laid her head against the bird’s
heart. But the bird was not dead: he had been frozen, but now that she
had warmed him, he was coming to life again.

In autumn the swallows fly away to foreign lands; but there are some who
are late in starting, and then they get so cold that they drop down as
if dead, and the snow comes and covers them over.

Thumbelina trembled, she was so frightened; for the bird was very large
in comparison with herself--only an inch high. But she took courage,
piled up the down more closely over the poor swallow, fetched her own
coverlid and laid it over his head.

Next night she crept out again to him. There he was alive, but very
weak; he could only open his eyes for a moment and look at Thumbelina,
who was standing in front of him with a piece of rotten wood in her
hand, for she had no other lantern.

‘Thank you, pretty little child!’ said the swallow to her. ‘I am so
beautifully warm! Soon I shall regain my strength, and then I shall be
able to fly out again into the warm sunshine.’

‘Oh!’ she said, ‘it is very cold outside; it is snowing and freezing!
stay in your warm bed; I will take care of you!’

Then she brought him water in a petal, which he drank, after which he
related to her how he had torn one of his wings on a bramble, so that he
could not fly as fast as the other swallows, who had flown far away
to warmer lands. So at last he had dropped down exhausted, and then he
could remember no more. The whole winter he remained down there, and
Thumbelina looked after him and nursed him tenderly. Neither the mole
nor the field-mouse learnt anything of this, for they could not bear the
poor swallow.

When the spring came, and the sun warmed the earth again, the swallow
said farewell to Thumbelina, who opened the hole in the roof for him
which the mole had made. The sun shone brightly down upon her, and the
swallow asked her if she would go with him; she could sit upon his back.
Thumbelina wanted very much to fly far away into the green wood, but
she knew that the old field-mouse would be sad if she ran away. ‘No, I
mustn’t come!’ she said.

‘Farewell, dear good little girl!’ said the swallow, and flew off into
the sunshine. Thumbelina gazed after him with the tears standing in her
eyes, for she was very fond of the swallow.

‘Tweet, tweet!’ sang the bird, and flew into the green wood. Thumbelina
was very unhappy. She was not allowed to go out into the warm sunshine.
The corn which had been sowed in the field over the field-mouse’s home
grew up high into the air, and made a thick forest for the poor little
girl, who was only an inch high.

‘Now you are to be a bride, Thumbelina!’ said the field-mouse, ‘for our
neighbour has proposed for you! What a piece of fortune for a poor child
like you! Now you must set to work at your linen for your dowry, for
nothing must be lacking if you are to become the wife of our neighbour,
the mole!’

Thumbelina had to spin all day long, and every evening the mole visited
her, and told her that when the summer was over the sun would not shine
so hot; now it was burning the earth as hard as a stone. Yes, when the
summer had passed, they would keep the wedding.

But she was not at all pleased about it, for she did not like the stupid
mole. Every morning when the sun was rising, and every evening when it
was setting, she would steal out of the house-door, and when the breeze
parted the ears of corn so that she could see the blue sky through them,
she thought how bright and beautiful it must be outside, and longed to
see her dear swallow again. But he never came; no doubt he had flown
away far into the great green wood.

By the autumn Thumbelina had finished the dowry.

‘In four weeks you will be married!’ said the field-mouse; ‘don’t be
obstinate, or I shall bite you with my sharp white teeth! You will get
a fine husband! The King himself has not such a velvet coat. His
store-room and cellar are full, and you should be thankful for that.’

Well, the wedding-day arrived. The mole had come to fetch Thumbelina
to live with him deep down under the ground, never to come out into the
warm sun again, for that was what he didn’t like. The poor little girl
was very sad; for now she must say good-bye to the beautiful sun.

‘Farewell, bright sun!’ she cried, stretching out her arms towards it,
and taking another step outside the house; for now the corn had
been reaped, and only the dry stubble was left standing. ‘Farewell,
farewell!’ she said, and put her arms round a little red flower that
grew there. ‘Give my love to the dear swallow when you see him!’

‘Tweet, tweet!’ sounded in her ear all at once. She looked up. There was
the swallow flying past! As soon as he saw Thumbelina, he was very glad.
She told him how unwilling she was to marry the ugly mole, as then she
had to live underground where the sun never shone, and she could not
help bursting into tears.

‘The cold winter is coming now,’ said the swallow. ‘I must fly away to
warmer lands: will you come with me? You can sit on my back, and we will
fly far away from the ugly mole and his dark house, over the mountains,
to the warm countries where the sun shines more brightly than here,
where it is always summer, and there are always beautiful flowers.
Do come with me, dear little Thumbelina, who saved my life when I lay
frozen in the dark tunnel!’

‘Yes, I will go with you,’ said Thumbelina, and got on the swallow’s
back, with her feet on one of his outstretched wings. Up he flew into
the air, over woods and seas, over the great mountains where the snow
is always lying. And if she was cold she crept under his warm feathers,
only keeping her little head out to admire all the beautiful things in
the world beneath. At last they came to warm lands; there the sun was
brighter, the sky seemed twice as high, and in the hedges hung the
finest green and purple grapes; in the woods grew oranges and lemons:
the air was scented with myrtle and mint, and on the roads were
pretty little children running about and playing with great gorgeous
butterflies. But the swallow flew on farther, and it became more and
more beautiful. Under the most splendid green trees besides a blue
lake stood a glittering white-marble castle. Vines hung about the high
pillars; there were many swallows’ nests, and in one of these lived the
swallow who was carrying Thumbelina.

‘Here is my house!’ said he. ‘But it won’t do for you to live with me; I
am not tidy enough to please you. Find a home for yourself in one of the
lovely flowers that grow down there; now I will set you down, and you
can do whatever you like.’

‘That will be splendid!’ said she, clapping her little hands.

There lay a great white marble column which had fallen to the ground
and broken into three pieces, but between these grew the most beautiful
white flowers. The swallow flew down with Thumbelina, and set her upon
one of the broad leaves. But there, to her astonishment, she found
a tiny little man sitting in the middle of the flower, as white and
transparent as if he were made of glass; he had the prettiest golden
crown on his head, and the most beautiful wings on his shoulders; he
himself was no bigger than Thumbelina. He was the spirit of the flower.
In each blossom there dwelt a tiny man or woman; but this one was the
King over the others.

‘How handsome he is!’ whispered Thumbelina to the swallow.

The little Prince was very much frightened at the swallow, for in
comparison with one so tiny as himself he seemed a giant. But when he
saw Thumbelina, he was delighted, for she was the most beautiful girl he
had ever seen. So he took his golden crown from off his head and put it
on hers, asking her her name, and if she would be his wife, and then
she would be Queen of all the flowers. Yes! he was a different kind of
husband to the son of the toad and the mole with the black-velvet coat.
So she said ‘Yes’ to the noble Prince. And out of each flower came a
lady and gentleman, each so tiny and pretty that it was a pleasure to
see them. Each brought Thumbelina a present, but the best of all was a
beautiful pair of wings which were fastened on to her back, and now she
too could fly from flower to flower. They all wished her joy, and the
swallow sat above in his nest and sang the wedding march, and that he
did as well as he could; but he was sad, because he was very fond of
Thumbelina and did not want to be separated from her.

‘You shall not be called Thumbelina!’ said the spirit of the flower to
her; ‘that is an ugly name, and you are much too pretty for that. We
will call you May Blossom.’

‘Farewell, farewell!’ said the little swallow with a heavy heart, and
flew away to farther lands, far, far away, right back to Denmark. There
he had a little nest above a window, where his wife lived, who can tell
fairy-stories. ‘Tweet, tweet!’ he sang to her. And that is the way we
learnt the whole story.




THE NIGHTINGALE

In China, as I daresay you know, the Emperor is a Chinaman, and all his
courtiers are also Chinamen. The story I am going to tell you happened
many years ago, but it is worth while for you to listen to it, before it
is forgotten.

The Emperor’s Palace was the most splendid in the world, all made of
priceless porcelain, but so brittle and delicate that you had to take
great care how you touched it. In the garden were the most beautiful
flowers, and on the loveliest of them were tied silver bells which
tinkled, so that if you passed you could not help looking at the
flowers. Everything in the Emperor’s garden was admirably arranged with
a view to effect; and the garden was so large that even the gardener
himself did not know where it ended. If you ever got beyond it, you came
to a stately forest with great trees and deep lakes in it. The forest
sloped down to the sea, which was a clear blue. Large ships could
sail under the boughs of the trees, and in these trees there lived a
Nightingale. She sang so beautifully that even the poor fisherman who
had so much to do stood and listened when he came at night to cast his
nets. ‘How beautiful it is!’ he said; but he had to attend to his work,
and forgot about the bird. But when she sang the next night and the
fisherman came there again, he said the same thing, ‘How beautiful it
is!’

From all the countries round came travellers to the Emperor’s town, who
were astonished at the Palace and the garden. But when they heard the
Nightingale they all said, ‘This is the finest thing after all!’

The travellers told all about it when they went home, and learned
scholars wrote many books upon the town, the Palace, and the garden. But
they did not forget the Nightingale; she was praised the most, and all
the poets composed splendid verses on the Nightingale in the forest by
the deep sea.

The books were circulated throughout the world, and some of them reached
the Emperor. He sat in his golden chair, and read and read. He nodded
his head every moment, for he liked reading the brilliant accounts of
the town, the Palace, and the garden. ‘But the Nightingale is better
than all,’ he saw written.

‘What is that?’ said the Emperor. ‘I don’t know anything about the
Nightingale! Is there such a bird in my empire, and so near as in my
garden? I have never heard it! Fancy reading for the first time about it
in a book!’

And he called his First Lord to him. He was so proud that if anyone of
lower rank than his own ventured to speak to him or ask him anything, he
would say nothing but ‘P!’ and that does not mean anything.

‘Here is a most remarkable bird which is called a Nightingale!’ said the
Emperor. ‘They say it is the most glorious thing in my kingdom. Why has
no one ever said anything to me about it?’

‘I have never before heard it mentioned!’ said the First Lord. ‘I will
look for it and find it!’

But where was it to be found? The First Lord ran up and down stairs,
through the halls and corridors; but none of those he met had ever heard
of the Nightingale. And the First Lord ran again to the Emperor, and
told him that it must be an invention on the part of those who had
written the books.

‘Your Imperial Majesty cannot really believe all that is written! There
are some inventions called the Black Art!’

‘But the book in which I read this,’ said the Emperor, ‘is sent me by
His Great Majesty the Emperor of Japan; so it cannot be untrue, and I
will hear the Nightingale! She must be here this evening! She has my
gracious permission to appear, and if she does not, the whole Court
shall be trampled under foot after supper!’

‘Tsing pe!’ said the First Lord; and he ran up and down stairs, through
the halls and corridors, and half the Court ran with him, for they
did not want to be trampled under foot. Everyone was asking after the
wonderful Nightingale which all the world knew of, except those at
Court.

At last they met a poor little girl in the kitchen, who said, ‘Oh! I
know the Nightingale well. How she sings! I have permission to carry the
scraps over from the Court meals to my poor sick mother, and when I am
going home at night, tired and weary, and rest for a little in the wood,
then I hear the Nightingale singing! It brings tears to my eyes, and I
feel as if my mother were kissing me!’

‘Little kitchenmaid!’ said the First Lord, ‘I will give you a place in
the kitchen, and you shall have leave to see the Emperor at dinner, if
you can lead us to the Nightingale, for she is invited to come to Court
this evening.’

And so they all went into the wood where the Nightingale was wont to
sing, and half the Court went too.

When they were on the way there they heard a cow mooing.

‘Oh!’ said the Courtiers, ‘now we have found her! What a wonderful power
for such a small beast to have! I am sure we have heard her before!’

‘No; that is a cow mooing!’ said the little kitchenmaid. ‘We are still a
long way off!’

Then the frogs began to croak in the marsh. ‘Splendid!’ said the Chinese
chaplain. ‘Now we hear her; it sounds like a little church-bell!’

‘No, no; those are frogs!’ said the little kitchenmaid. ‘But I think we
shall soon hear her now!’

Then the Nightingale began to sing.

‘There she is!’ cried the little girl. ‘Listen! She is sitting there!’
And she pointed to a little dark-grey bird up in the branches.

‘Is it possible!’ said the First Lord. ‘I should never have thought it!
How ordinary she looks! She must surely have lost her feathers because
she sees so many distinguished men round her!’

‘Little Nightingale,’ called out the little kitchenmaid, ‘our Gracious
Emperor wants you to sing before him!’

‘With the greatest of pleasure!’ said the Nightingale; and she sang so
gloriously that it was a pleasure to listen.

‘It sounds like glass bells!’ said the First Lord. ‘And look how her
little throat works! It is wonderful that we have never heard her
before! She will be a great success at Court.’

‘Shall I sing once more for the Emperor?’ asked the Nightingale,
thinking that the Emperor was there.

‘My esteemed little Nightingale,’ said the First Lord, ‘I have the
great pleasure to invite you to Court this evening, where His Gracious
Imperial Highness will be enchanted with your charming song!’

‘It sounds best in the green wood,’ said the Nightingale; but still, she
came gladly when she heard that the Emperor wished it.

At the Palace everything was splendidly prepared. The porcelain walls
and floors glittered in the light of many thousand gold lamps; the most
gorgeous flowers which tinkled out well were placed in the corridors.
There was such a hurrying and draught that all the bells jingled so much
that one could not hear oneself speak. In the centre of the great hall
where the Emperor sat was a golden perch, on which the Nightingale sat.
The whole Court was there, and the little kitchenmaid was allowed to
stand behind the door, now that she was a Court-cook. Everyone was
dressed in his best, and everyone was looking towards the little grey
bird to whom the Emperor nodded.

The Nightingale sang so gloriously that the tears came into the
Emperor’s eyes and ran down his cheeks. Then the Nightingale sang even
more beautifully; it went straight to all hearts. The Emperor was so
delighted that he said she should wear his gold slipper round her neck.
But the Nightingale thanked him, and said she had had enough reward
already. ‘I have seen tears in the Emperor’s eyes--that is a great
reward. An Emperor’s tears have such power!’ Then she sang again with
her gloriously sweet voice.

‘That is the most charming coquetry I have ever seen!’ said all the
ladies round. And they all took to holding water in their mouths that
they might gurgle whenever anyone spoke to them. Then they thought
themselves nightingales. Yes, the lackeys and chambermaids announced
that they were pleased; which means a great deal, for they are the most
difficult people of all to satisfy. In short, the Nightingale was a real
success.

She had to stay at Court now; she had her own cage, and permission to
walk out twice in the day and once at night.

She was given twelve servants, who each held a silken string which was
fastened round her leg. There was little pleasure in flying about like
this.

The whole town was talking about the wonderful bird, and when two people
met each other one would say ‘Nightin,’ and the other ‘Gale,’ and then
they would both sigh and understand one another.

Yes, and eleven grocer’s children were called after her, but not one of
them could sing a note.

One day the Emperor received a large parcel on which was written ‘The
Nightingale.’

‘Here is another new book about our famous bird!’ said the Emperor.

But it was not a book, but a little mechanical toy, which lay in a
box--an artificial nightingale which was like the real one, only that it
was set all over with diamonds, rubies, and sapphires. When it was wound
up, it could sing the piece the real bird sang, and moved its tail
up and down, and glittered with silver and gold. Round its neck was a
little collar on which was written, ‘The Nightingale of the Emperor of
Japan is nothing compared to that of the Emperor of China.’

‘This is magnificent!’ they all said, and the man who had brought
the clockwork bird received on the spot the title of ‘Bringer of the
Imperial First Nightingale.’

‘Now they must sing together; what a duet we shall have!’

And so they sang together, but their voices did not blend, for the real
Nightingale sang in her way and the clockwork bird sang waltzes.

‘It is not its fault!’ said the bandmaster; ‘it keeps very good time and
is quite after my style!’

Then the artificial bird had to sing alone. It gave just as much
pleasure as the real one, and then it was so much prettier to look at;
it sparkled like bracelets and necklaces. Three-and-thirty times it sang
the same piece without being tired. People would like to have heard it
again, but the Emperor thought that the living Nightingale should sing
now--but where was she? No one had noticed that she had flown out of the
open window away to her green woods.

‘What SHALL we do!’ said the Emperor.

And all the Court scolded, and said that the Nightingale was very
ungrateful. ‘But we have still the best bird!’ they said and the
artificial bird had to sing again, and that was the thirty-fourth time
they had heard the same piece. But they did not yet know it by heart;
it was much too difficult. And the bandmaster praised the bird
tremendously; yes, he assured them it was better than a real
nightingale, not only because of its beautiful plumage and diamonds, but
inside as well. ‘For see, my Lords and Ladies and your Imperial Majesty,
with the real Nightingale one can never tell what will come out, but all
is known about the artificial bird! You can explain it, you can open it
and show people where the waltzes lie, how they go, and how one follows
the other!’

‘That’s just what we think!’ said everyone; and the bandmaster received
permission to show the bird to the people the next Sunday. They should
hear it sing, commanded the Emperor. And they heard it, and they were
as pleased as if they had been intoxicated with tea, after the Chinese
fashion, and they all said ‘Oh!’ and held up their forefingers and
nodded time. But the poor fishermen who had heard the real Nightingale
said: ‘This one sings well enough, the tunes glide out; but there is
something wanting--I don’t know what!’

The real Nightingale was banished from the kingdom.

The artificial bird was put on silken cushions by the Emperor’s bed, all
the presents which it received, gold and precious stones, lay round
it, and it was given the title of Imperial Night-singer, First from the
left. For the Emperor counted that side as the more distinguished, being
the side on which the heart is; the Emperor’s heart is also on the left.

And the bandmaster wrote a work of twenty-five volumes about the
artificial bird. It was so learned, long, and so full of the hardest
Chinese words that everyone said they had read it and understood it; for
once they had been very stupid about a book, and had been trampled under
foot in consequence. So a whole year passed. The Emperor, the Court, and
all the Chinese knew every note of the artificial bird’s song by heart.
But they liked it all the better for this; they could even sing with
it, and they did. The street boys sang ‘Tra-la-la-la-la, and the Emperor
sang too sometimes. It was indeed delightful.

But one evening, when the artificial bird was singing its best, and the
Emperor lay in bed listening to it, something in the bird went crack.
Something snapped! Whir-r-r! all the wheels ran down and then the music
ceased. The Emperor sprang up, and had his physician summoned, but
what could HE do! Then the clockmaker came, and, after a great deal of
talking and examining, he put the bird somewhat in order, but he said
that it must be very seldom used as the works were nearly worn out, and
it was impossible to put in new ones. Here was a calamity! Only once a
year was the artificial bird allowed to sing, and even that was almost
too much for it. But then the bandmaster made a little speech full
of hard words, saying that it was just as good as before. And so, of
course, it WAS just as good as before. So five years passed, and then a
great sorrow came to the nation. The Chinese look upon their Emperor as
everything, and now he was ill, and not likely to live it was said.

Already a new Emperor had been chosen, and the people stood outside in
the street and asked the First Lord how the old Emperor was. ‘P!’ said
he, and shook his head.

Cold and pale lay the Emperor in his splendid great bed; the whole
Court believed him dead, and one after the other left him to pay their
respects to the new Emperor. Everywhere in the halls and corridors cloth
was laid down so that no footstep could be heard, and everything was
still--very, very still. And nothing came to break the silence.

The Emperor longed for something to come and relieve the monotony of
this deathlike stillness. If only someone would speak to him! If only
someone would sing to him. Music would carry his thoughts away, and
would break the spell lying on him. The moon was streaming in at the
open window; but that, too, was silent, quite silent.

‘Music! music!’ cried the Emperor. ‘You little bright golden bird, sing!
do sing! I gave you gold and jewels; I have hung my gold slipper round
your neck with my own hand--sing! do sing!’ But the bird was silent.
There was no one to wind it up, and so it could not sing. And all was
silent, so terribly silent!

All at once there came in at the window the most glorious burst of song.
It was the little living Nightingale, who, sitting outside on a bough,
had heard the need of her Emperor and had come to sing to him of comfort
and hope. And as she sang the blood flowed quicker and quicker in the
Emperor’s weak limbs, and life began to return.

‘Thank you, thank you!’ said the Emperor. ‘You divine little bird!
I know you. I chased you from my kingdom, and you have given me life
again! How can I reward you?’

‘You have done that already!’ said the Nightingale. ‘I brought tears
to your eyes the first time I sang. I shall never forget that. They
are jewels that rejoice a singer’s heart. But now sleep and get strong
again; I will sing you a lullaby.’ And the Emperor fell into a deep,
calm sleep as she sang.

The sun was shining through the window when he awoke, strong and well.
None of his servants had come back yet, for they thought he was dead.
But the Nightingale sat and sang to him.

‘You must always stay with me!’ said the Emperor. ‘You shall sing
whenever you like, and I will break the artificial bird into a thousand
pieces.’

‘Don’t do that!’ said the Nightingale. ‘He did his work as long as he
could. Keep him as you have done! I cannot build my nest in the Palace
and live here; but let me come whenever I like. I will sit in the
evening on the bough outside the window, and I will sing you something
that will make you feel happy and grateful. I will sing of joy, and of
sorrow; I will sing of the evil and the good which lies hidden from you.
The little singing-bird flies all around, to the poor fisherman’s hut,
to the farmer’s cottage, to all those who are far away from you and your
Court. I love your heart more than your crown, though that has about it
a brightness as of something holy. Now I will sing to you again; but you
must promise me one thing----’

‘Anything!’ said the Emperor, standing up in his Imperial robes, which
he had himself put on, and fastening on his sword richly embossed with
gold.

‘One thing I beg of you! Don’t tell anyone that you have a little bird
who tells you everything. It will be much better not to!’ Then the
Nightingale flew away.

The servants came in to look at their dead Emperor.

The Emperor said, ‘Good-morning!’




HERMOD AND HADVOR (32)

(32) From the Icelandic.

Once upon a time there were a King and a Queen who had an only daughter,
called Hadvor, who was fair and beautiful, and being an only child, was
heir to the kingdom. The King and Queen had also a foster son, named
Hermod, who was just about the same age as Hadvor, and was good-looking,
as well as clever at most things. Hermod and Hadvor often played
together while they were children, and liked each other so much that
while they were still young they secretly plighted their troth to each
other.

As time went on the Queen fell sick, and suspecting that it was her last
illness, sent for the King to come to her. When he came she told him
that she had no long time to live, and therefore wished to ask one thing
of him, which was, that if he married another wife he should promise to
take no other one than the Queen of Hetland the Good. The King gave the
promise, and thereafter the Queen died.

Time went past, and the King, growing tired of living alone, fitted
out his ship and sailed out to sea. As he sailed there came upon him
so thick a mist that he altogether lost his bearings, but after long
trouble he found land. There he laid his ship to, and went on shore all
alone. After walking for some time he came to a forest, into which he
went a little way and stopped. Then he heard sweet music from a harp,
and went in the direction of the sound until he came to a clearing, and
there he saw three women, one of whom sat on a golden chair, and was
beautifully and grandly dressed; she held a harp in her hands, and
was very sorrowful. The second was also finely dressed, but younger
in appearance, and also sat on a chair, but it was not so grand as the
first one’s. The third stood beside them, and was very pretty to look
at; she had a green cloak over her other clothes, and it was easy to see
that she was maid to the other two.

After the King had looked at them for a little he went forward and
saluted them. The one that sat on the golden chair asked him who he
was and where he was going; and he told her all the story--how he was
a king, and had lost his queen, and was now on his way to Hetland the
Good, to ask the Queen of that country in marriage. She answered that
fortune had contrived this wonderfully, for pirates had plundered
Hetland and killed the King, and she had fled from the land in terror,
and had come hither after great trouble, and she was the very person
he was looking for, and the others were her daughter and maid. The
King immediately asked her hand; she gladly received his proposal and
accepted him at once. Thereafter they all set out, and made their way to
the ship; and after that nothing is told of their voyage until the King
reached his own country. There he made a great feast, and celebrated his
marriage with this woman; and after that things are quiet for a time.

Hermod and Hadvor took but little notice of the Queen and her daughter,
but, on the other hand, Hadvor and the Queen’s maid, whose name was
Olof, were very friendly, and Olof came often to visit Hadvor in her
castle. Before long the King went out to war, and no sooner was he away
than the Queen came to talk with Hermod, and said that she wanted him to
marry her daughter. Hermod told her straight and plain that he would
not do so, at which the Queen grew terribly angry, and said that in that
case neither should he have Hadvor, for she would now lay this spell on
him, that he should go to a desert island and there be a lion by day and
a man by night. He should also think always of Hadvor, which would cause
him all the more sorrow, and from this spell he should never be freed
until Hadvor burned the lion’s skin, and that would not happen very
soon.

As soon as the Queen had finished her speech Hermod replied that he also
laid a spell on her, and that was, that as soon as he was freed from her
enchantments she should become a rat and her daughter a mouse, and fight
with each other in the hall until he killed them with his sword.

After this Hermod disappeared, and no one knew what had become of him;
the Queen caused search to be made for him, but he could nowhere be
found. One time, when Olof was in the castle beside Hadvor, she asked
the Princess if she knew where Hermod had gone to. At this Hadvor became
very sad, and said that she did not.

‘I shall tell you then,’ said Olof, ‘for I know all about it. Hermod has
disappeared through the wicked devices of the Queen, for she is a witch,
and so is her daughter, though they have put on these beautiful forms.
Because Hermod would not fall in with the Queen’s plans, and marry her
daughter, she has laid a spell on him, to go on an island and be a lion
by day and a man by night, and never be freed from this until you burn
the lion’s skin. Besides,’ said Olof, ‘she has looked out a match for
you; she has a brother in the Underworld, a three-headed Giant, whom she
means to turn into a beautiful prince and get him married to you. This
is no new thing for the Queen; she took me away from my parents’ house
and compelled me to serve her; but she has never done me any harm, for
the green cloak I wear protects me against all mischief.

Hadvor now became still sadder than before at the thought of the
marriage destined for her, and entreated Olof to think of some plan to
save her.

‘I think,’ said Olof, ‘that your wooer will come up through the floor of
the castle to you, and so you must be prepared when you hear the noise
of his coming and the floor begins to open, and have at hand blazing
pitch, and pour plenty of it into the opening. That will prove too much
for him.’

About this time the King came home from his expedition, and thought it
a great blow that no one knew what had become of Hermod; but the Queen
consoled him as best she could, and after a time the King thought less
about his disappearance.

Hadvor remained in her castle, and had made preparations to receive her
wooer when he came. One night, not long after, a loud noise and rumbling
was heard under the castle. Hadvor at once guessed what it was, and told
her maids to be ready to help her. The noise and thundering grew louder
and louder, until the floor began to open, whereupon Hadvor made them
take the caldron of pitch and pour plenty of it into the opening. With
that the noises grew fainter and fainter, till at last they ceased
altogether.

Next morning the Queen rose early, and went out to the Palace gate, and
there she found her brother the Giant lying dead. She went up to him and
said, ‘I pronounce this spell, that you become a beautiful prince, and
that Hadvor shall be unable to say anything against the charges that I
shall bring against her.’

The body of the dead Giant now became that of a beautiful prince, and
the Queen went in again.

‘I don’t think,’ said she to the King, ‘that your daughter is as good as
she is said to be. My brother came and asked her hand, and she has had
him put to death. I have just found his dead body lying at the Palace
gate.’

The King went along with the Queen to see the body, and thought it all
very strange; so beautiful a youth, he said, would have been a worthy
match for Hadvor, and he would readily have agreed to their marriage.
The Queen asked leave to decide what Hadvor’s punishment should be,
which the King was very willing to allow, so as to escape from punishing
his own daughter. The Queen’s decision was that the King should make a
big grave-mound for her brother, and put Hadvor into it beside him.

Olof knew all the plans of the Queen, and went to tell the Princess what
had been done, whereupon Hadvor earnestly entreated her to tell her what
to do.

‘First and foremost,’ said Olof, ‘you must get a wide cloak to wear over
your other clothes, when you are put into the mound. The Giant’s ghost
will walk after you are both left together in there, and he will have
two dogs along with him. He will ask you to cut pieces out of his legs
to give to the dogs, but that you must not promise to do unless he tells
you where Hermod has gone to, and tells you how to find him. He will
then let you stand on his shoulders, so as to get out of the mound; but
he means to cheat you all the same, and will catch you by the cloak to
pull you back again; but you must take care to have the cloak loose on
your shoulders, so that he will only get hold of that.’

The mound was all ready now, and the Giant laid in it, and into it
Hadvor also had to go without being allowed to make any defence. After
they were both left there everything happened just as Olof had said. The
prince became a Giant again, and asked Hadvor to cut the pieces out of
his legs for the dogs; but she refused until he told her that Hermod was
in a desert island, which she could not reach unless she took the skin
off the soles of his feet and made shoes out of that; with these shoes
she could travel both on land and sea. This Hadvor now did, and the
Giant then let her get up on his shoulders to get out of the mound. As
she sprang out he caught hold of her cloak; but she had taken care to
let it lie loose on her shoulders, and so escaped.

She now made her way down to the sea, to where she knew there was the
shortest distance over to the island in which Hermod was. This strait
she easily crossed, for the shoes kept her up. On reaching the island
she found a sandy beach all along by the sea, and high cliffs above. Nor
could she see any way to get up these, and so, being both sad at heart
and tired with the long journey, she lay down and fell asleep. As she
slept she dreamed that a tall woman came to her and said, ‘I know that
you are Princess Hadvor, and are searching for Hermod. He is on this
island; but it will be hard for you to get to him if you have no one to
help you, for you cannot climb the cliffs by your own strength. I have
therefore let down a rope, by which you will be able to climb up; and as
the island is so large that you might not find Hermod’s dwelling-place
so easily, I lay down this clew beside you. You need only hold the end
of the thread, and the clew will run on before and show you the way. I
also lay this belt beside you, to put on when you awaken; it will keep
you from growing faint with hunger.’

The woman now disappeared, and Hadvor woke, and saw that all her dream
had been true. The rope hung down from the cliff, and the clew and belt
lay beside her. The belt she put on, the rope enabled her to climb up
the cliff, and the clew led her on till she came to the mouth of a cave,
which was not very big. She went into the cave, and saw there a low
couch, under which she crept and lay down.

When evening came she heard the noise of footsteps outside, and became
aware that the lion had come to the mouth of the cave, and shook itself
there, after which she heard a man coming towards the couch. She was
sure this was Hermod, because she heard him speaking to himself about
his own condition, and calling to mind Hadvor and other things in the
old days. Hadvor made no sign, but waited till he had fallen asleep, and
then crept out and burned the lion’s skin, which he had left outside.
Then she went back into the cave and wakened Hermod, and they had a most
joyful meeting.

In the morning they talked over their plans, and were most at a loss
to know how to get out of the island. Hadvor told Hermod her dream, and
said she suspected there was some one in the island who would be able to
help them. Hermod said he knew of a Witch there, who was very ready to
help anyone, and that the only plan was to go to her. So they went to
the Witch’s cave, and found her there with her fifteen young sons, and
asked her to help them to get to the mainland.

‘There are other things easier than that,’ said she, ‘for the Giant that
was buried will be waiting for you, and will attack you on the way,
as he has turned himself into a big whale. I shall lend you a boat,
however, and if you meet the whale and think your lives are in danger,
then you can name me by name.’

They thanked her greatly for her help and advice, and set out from the
island, but on the way they saw a huge fish coming towards them, with
great splashing and dashing of waves. They were sure of what it was, and
thought they had as good reason as ever they would have to call on
the Witch, and so they did. The next minute they saw coming after them
another huge whale, followed by fifteen smaller ones. All of these swam
past the boat and went on to meet the whale. There was a fierce battle
then, and the sea became so stormy that it was not very easy to keep the
boat from being filled by the waves. After this fight had gone on for
some time, they saw that the sea was dyed with blood; the big whale
and the fifteen smaller ones disappeared, and they got to land safe and
sound.

Now the story goes back to the King’s hall, where strange things had
happened in the meantime. The Queen and her daughter had disappeared,
but a rat and a mouse were always fighting with each other there. Ever
so many people had tried to drive them away, but no one could manage it.
Thus some time went on, while the King was almost beside himself with
sorrow and care for the loss of his Queen, and because these monsters
destroyed all mirth in the hall.

One evening, however, while they all sat dull and down-hearted, in came
Hermod with a sword by his side, and saluted the King, who received
him with the greatest joy, as if he had come back from the dead. Before
Hermod sat down, however, he went to where the rat and the mouse were
fighting, and cut them in two with his sword. All were astonished then
by seeing two witches lying dead on the floor of the hall.

Hermod now told the whole story to the King, who was very glad to be rid
of such vile creatures. Next he asked for the hand of Hadvor, which the
King readily gave him, and being now an old man, gave the kingdom to him
as well; and so Hermod became King.

Olof married a good-looking nobleman, and that is the end of the story.




THE STEADFAST TIN-SOLDIER

There were once upon a time five-and twenty tin-soldiers--all brothers,
as they were made out of the same old tin spoon. Their uniform was red
and blue, and they shouldered their guns and looked straight in front of
them. The first words that they heard in this world, when the lid of the
box in which they lay was taken off, were: ‘Hurrah, tin-soldiers!’ This
was exclaimed by a little boy, clapping his hands; they had been given
to him because it was his birthday, and now he began setting them out on
the table. Each soldier was exactly like the other in shape, except just
one, who had been made last when the tin had run short; but there he
stood as firmly on his one leg as the others did on two, and he is the
one that became famous.

There were many other playthings on the table on which they were being
set out, but the nicest of all was a pretty little castle made of
cardboard, with windows through which you could see into the rooms. In
front of the castle stood some little trees surrounding a tiny mirror
which looked like a lake. Wax swans were floating about and reflecting
themselves in it. That was all very pretty; but the most beautiful thing
was a little lady, who stood in the open doorway. She was cut out of
paper, but she had on a dress of the finest muslin, with a scarf of
narrow blue ribbon round her shoulders, fastened in the middle with a
glittering rose made of gold paper, which was as large as her head. The
little lady was stretching out both her arms, for she was a Dancer, and
was lifting up one leg so high in the air that the Tin-soldier couldn’t
find it anywhere, and thought that she, too, had only one leg.

‘That’s the wife for me!’ he thought; ‘but she is so grand, and lives in
a castle, whilst I have only a box with four-and-twenty others. This is
no place for her! But I must make her acquaintance.’ Then he stretched
himself out behind a snuff-box that lay on the table; from thence he
could watch the dainty little lady, who continued to stand on one leg
without losing her balance.

When the night came all the other tin-soldiers went into their box,
and the people of the house went to bed. Then the toys began to play at
visiting, dancing, and fighting. The tin-soldiers rattled in their box,
for they wanted to be out too, but they could not raise the lid. The
nut-crackers played at leap-frog, and the slate-pencil ran about the
slate; there was such a noise that the canary woke up and began to talk
to them, in poetry too! The only two who did not stir from their places
were the Tin-soldier and the little Dancer. She remained on tip-toe,
with both arms outstretched; he stood steadfastly on his one leg, never
moving his eyes from her face.

The clock struck twelve, and crack! off flew the lid of the snuff-box;
but there was no snuff inside, only a little black imp--that was the
beauty of it.

‘Hullo, Tin-soldier!’ said the imp. ‘Don’t look at things that aren’t
intended for the likes of you!’

But the Tin-soldier took no notice, and seemed not to hear.

‘Very well, wait till to-morrow!’ said the imp.

When it was morning, and the children had got up, the Tin-soldier was
put in the window; and whether it was the wind or the little black imp,
I don’t know, but all at once the window flew open and out fell the
little Tin-soldier, head over heels, from the third-storey window! That
was a terrible fall, I can tell you! He landed on his head with his leg
in the air, his gun being wedged between two paving-stones.

The nursery-maid and the little boy came down at once to look for him,
but, though they were so near him that they almost trod on him, they did
not notice him. If the Tin-soldier had only called out ‘Here I am!’ they
must have found him; but he did not think it fitting for him to cry out,
because he had on his uniform.

Soon it began to drizzle; then the drops came faster, and there was a
regular down-pour. When it was over, two little street boys came along.

‘Just look!’ cried one. ‘Here is a Tin-soldier! He shall sail up and
down in a boat!’

So they made a little boat out of newspaper, put the Tin-soldier in it,
and made him sail up and down the gutter; both the boys ran along beside
him, clapping their hands. What great waves there were in the gutter,
and what a swift current! The paper-boat tossed up and down, and in the
middle of the stream it went so quick that the Tin-soldier trembled; but
he remained steadfast, showed no emotion, looked straight in front
of him, shouldering his gun. All at once the boat passed under a long
tunnel that was as dark as his box had been.

‘Where can I be coming now?’ he wondered. ‘Oh, dear! This is the black
imp’s fault! Ah, if only the little lady were sitting beside me in the
boat, it might be twice as dark for all I should care!’

Suddenly there came along a great water-rat that lived in the tunnel.

‘Have you a passport?’ asked the rat. ‘Out with your passport!’

But the Tin-soldier was silent, and grasped his gun more firmly.

The boat sped on, and the rat behind it. Ugh! how he showed his teeth,
as he cried to the chips of wood and straw: ‘Hold him, hold him! he has
not paid the toll! He has not shown his passport!’

But the current became swifter and stronger. The Tin-soldier could
already see daylight where the tunnel ended; but in his ears there
sounded a roaring enough to frighten any brave man. Only think! at the
end of the tunnel the gutter discharged itself into a great canal; that
would be just as dangerous for him as it would be for us to go down a
waterfall.

Now he was so near to it that he could not hold on any longer. On went
the boat, the poor Tin-soldier keeping himself as stiff as he could: no
one should say of him afterwards that he had flinched. The boat whirled
three, four times round, and became filled to the brim with water: it
began to sink! The Tin-soldier was standing up to his neck in water, and
deeper and deeper sank the boat, and softer and softer grew the paper;
now the water was over his head. He was thinking of the pretty little
Dancer, whose face he should never see again, and there sounded in his
ears, over and over again:

          ‘Forward, forward, soldier bold!
           Death’s before thee, grim and cold!’

The paper came in two, and the soldier fell--but at that moment he was
swallowed by a great fish.

Oh! how dark it was inside, even darker than in the tunnel, and it was
really very close quarters! But there the steadfast little Tin-soldier
lay full length, shouldering his gun.

Up and down swam the fish, then he made the most dreadful contortions,
and became suddenly quite still. Then it was as if a flash of lightning
had passed through him; the daylight streamed in, and a voice exclaimed,
‘Why, here is the little Tin-soldier!’ The fish had been caught, taken
to market, sold, and brought into the kitchen, where the cook had cut it
open with a great knife. She took up the soldier between her finger and
thumb, and carried him into the room, where everyone wanted to see the
hero who had been found inside a fish; but the Tin-soldier was not at
all proud. They put him on the table, and--no, but what strange things
do happen in this world!--the Tin-soldier was in the same room in which
he had been before! He saw the same children, and the same toys on
the table; and there was the same grand castle with the pretty little
Dancer. She was still standing on one leg with the other high in the
air; she too was steadfast. That touched the Tin-soldier, he was nearly
going to shed tin-tears; but that would not have been fitting for a
soldier. He looked at her, but she said nothing.

All at once one of the little boys took up the Tin-soldier, and threw
him into the stove, giving no reasons; but doubtless the little black
imp in the snuff-box was at the bottom of this too.

There the Tin-soldier lay, and felt a heat that was truly terrible; but
whether he was suffering from actual fire, or from the ardour of his
passion, he did not know. All his colour had disappeared; whether this
had happened on his travels or whether it was the result of trouble, who
can say? He looked at the little lady, she looked at him, and he felt
that he was melting; but he remained steadfast, with his gun at his
shoulder. Suddenly a door opened, the draught caught up the little
Dancer, and off she flew like a sylph to the Tin-soldier in the stove,
burst into flames--and that was the end of her! Then the Tin-soldier
melted down into a little lump, and when next morning the maid was
taking out the ashes, she found him in the shape of a heart. There was
nothing left of the little Dancer but her gilt rose, burnt as black as a
cinder.




BLOCKHEAD-HANS

Far away in the country lay an old manor-house where lived an old squire
who had two sons. They thought themselves so clever, that if they had
known only half of what they did know, it would have been quite enough.
They both wanted to marry the King’s daughter, for she had proclaimed
that she would have for her husband the man who knew best how to choose
his words.

Both prepared for the wooing a whole week, which was the longest time
allowed them; but, after all, it was quite long enough, for they both
had preparatory knowledge, and everyone knows how useful that is. One
knew the whole Latin dictionary and also three years’ issue of the daily
paper of the town off by heart, so that he could repeat it all backwards
or forwards as you pleased. The other had worked at the laws of
corporation, and knew by heart what every member of the corporation
ought to know, so that he thought he could quite well speak on State
matters and give his opinion. He understood, besides this, how to
embroider braces with roses and other flowers, and scrolls, for he was
very ready with his fingers.

‘I shall win the king’s daughter!’ they both cried.

Their old father gave each of them a fine horse; the one who knew the
dictionary and the daily paper by heart had a black horse, while the
other who was so clever at corporation law had a milk-white one. Then
they oiled the corners of their mouths so that they might be able to
speak more fluently. All the servants stood in the courtyard and saw
them mount their steeds, and here by chance came the third brother; for
the squire had three sons, but nobody counted him with his brothers,
for he was not so learned as they were, and he was generally called
‘Blockhead-Hans.’

‘Oh, oh!’ said Blockhead-Hans. ‘Where are you off to? You are in your
Sunday-best clothes!’

‘We are going to Court, to woo the Princess! Don’t you know what is
known throughout all the country side?’ And they told him all about it.

‘Hurrah! I’ll go to!’ cried Blockhead-Hans; and the brothers laughed at
him and rode off.

‘Dear father!’ cried Blockhead-Hans, ‘I must have a horse too. What a
desire for marriage has seized me! If she will have me, she WILL have
me, and if she won’t have me, I will have her.’

‘Stop that nonsense!’ said the old man. ‘I will not give you a horse.
YOU can’t speak; YOU don’t know how to choose your words. Your brothers!
Ah! they are very different lads!’

‘Well,’ said Blockhead-Hans, ‘if I can’t have a horse, I will take the
goat which is mine; he can carry me!’

And he did so. He sat astride on the goat, struck his heels into its
side, and went rattling down the high-road like a hurricane.

‘Hoppetty hop! what a ride!’ Here I come!’ shouted Blockhead-Hans,
singing so that the echoes were roused far and near. But his brothers
were riding slowly in front. They were not speaking, but they were
thinking over all the good things they were going to say, for everything
had to be thought out.

‘Hullo!’ bawled Blockhead-Hans, ‘here I am! Just look what I found on
the road!’--and he showed them a dead crow which he had picked up.

‘Blockhead!’ said his brothers, ‘what are you going to do with it?’

‘With the crow? I shall give it to the Princess!’

‘Do so, certainly!’ they said, laughing loudly and riding on.

‘Slap! bang! here I am again! Look what I have just found! You don’t
find such things every day on the road!’ And the brothers turned round
to see what in the world he could have found.

‘Blockhead!’ said they, ‘that is an old wooden shoe without the top! Are
you going to send that, too, to the Princess?’

‘Of course I shall!’ returned Blockhead-Hans; and the brothers laughed
and rode on a good way.

‘Slap! bang! here I am!’ cried Blockhead-Hans; ‘better and better--it is
really famous!’

‘What have you found now?’ asked the brothers.

‘Oh,’ said Blockhead-Hans, ‘it is really too good! How pleased the
Princess will be!’

‘Why!’ said the brothers, ‘this is pure mud, straight from the ditch.’

‘Of course it is!’ said Blockhead-Hans, ‘and it is the best kind! Look
how it runs through one’s fingers!’ and, so saying, he filled his pocket
with the mud.

But the brothers rode on so fast that dust and sparks flew all around,
and they reached the gate of the town a good hour before Blockhead-Hans.
Here came the suitors numbered according to their arrival, and they were
ranged in rows, six in each row, and they were so tightly packed
that they could not move their arms. This was a very good thing, for
otherwise they would have torn each other in pieces, merely because the
one was in front of the other.

All the country people were standing round the King’s throne, and were
crowded together in thick masses almost out of the windows to see the
Princess receive the suitors; and as each one came into the room all his
fine phrases went out like a candle!

‘It doesn’t matter!’ said the Princess. ‘Away! out with him!’

At last she came to the row in which the brother who knew the dictionary
by heart was, but he did not know it any longer; he had quite forgotten
it in the rank and file. And the floor creaked, and the ceiling was all
made of glass mirrors, so that he saw himself standing on his head, and
by each window were standing three reporters and an editor; and each
of them was writing down what was said, to publish it in the paper that
came out and was sold at the street corners for a penny. It was fearful,
and they had made up the fire so hot that it was grilling.

‘It is hot in here, isn’t it!’ said the suitor.

‘Of course it is! My father is roasting young chickens to-day!’ said the
Princess.

‘Ahem!’ There he stood like an idiot. He was not prepared for such a
speech; he did not know what to say, although he wanted to say something
witty. ‘Ahem!’

‘It doesn’t matter!’ said the Princess. ‘Take him out!’ and out he had
to go.

Now the other brother entered.

‘How hot it is!’ he said.

‘Of course! We are roasting young chickens to-day!’ remarked the
Princess.

‘How do you--um!’ he said, and the reporters wrote down. ‘How do
you--um.’

‘It doesn’t matter!’ said the Princess. ‘Take him out!’

Now Blockhead-Hans came in; he rode his goat right into the hall.

‘I say! How roasting hot it is here!’ said he.

‘Of course! I am roasting young chickens to-day!’ said the Princess.

‘That’s good!’ replied Blockhead-Hans; ‘then can I roast a crow with
them?’

‘With the greatest of pleasure!’ said the Princess; ‘but have you
anything you can roast them in? for I have neither pot nor saucepan.’

‘Oh, rather!’ said Blockhead-Hans. ‘Here is a cooking implement with tin
rings,’ and he drew out the old wooden shoe, and laid the crow in it.

‘That is quite a meal!’ said the Princess; ‘but where shall we get the
soup from?’

‘I’ve got that in my pocket!’ said Blockhead-Hans. ‘I have so much that
I can quite well throw some away!’ and he poured some mud out of his
pocket.

‘I like you!’ said the Princess. ‘You can answer, and you can speak, and
I will marry you; but do you know that every word which we are saying
and have said has been taken down and will be in the paper to-morrow?
By each window do you see there are standing three reporters and an
old editor, and this old editor is the worst, for he doesn’t understand
anything!’ but she only said this to tease Blockhead-Hans. And the
reporters giggled, and each dropped a blot of ink on the floor.

‘Ah! are those the great people?’ said Blockhead-Hans. ‘Then I will give
the editor the best!’ So saying, he turned his pockets inside out, and
threw the mud right in his face.

‘That was neatly done!’ said the Princess. ‘I couldn’t have done it; but
I will soon learn how to!’

Blockhead-Hans became King, got a wife and a crown, and sat on the
throne; and this we have still damp from the newspaper of the editor and
the reporters--and they are not to be believed for a moment.




A STORY ABOUT A DARNING-NEEDLE

There was once a Darning-needle who thought herself so fine that she
believed she was an embroidery-needle. ‘Take great care to hold me
tight!’ said the Darning-needle to the Fingers who were holding her.
‘Don’t let me fall! If I once fall on the ground I shall never be found
again, I am so fine!’

‘It is all right!’ said the Fingers, seizing her round the waist.

‘Look, I am coming with my train!’ said the Darning-needle as she drew a
long thread after her; but there was no knot at the end of the thread.

The Fingers were using the needle on the cook’s shoe. The upper leather
was unstitched and had to be sewn together.

‘This is common work!’ said the Darning-needle. ‘I shall never get
through it. I am breaking! I am breaking!’ And in fact she did break.
‘Didn’t I tell you so!’ said the Darning-needle. ‘I am too fine!’

‘Now she is good for nothing!’ said the Fingers; but they had to hold
her tight while the cook dropped some sealing-wax on the needle and
stuck it in the front of her dress.

‘Now I am a breast-pin!’ said the Darning-needle. ‘I always knew I
should be promoted. When one is something, one will become something!’
And she laughed to herself; you can never see when a Darning-needle is
laughing. Then she sat up as proudly as if she were in a State coach,
and looked all round her.

‘May I be allowed to ask if you are gold?’ she said to her neighbour,
the Pin. ‘You have a very nice appearance, and a peculiar head; but
it is too small! You must take pains to make it grow, for it is
not everyone who has a head of sealing-wax.’ And so saying the
Darning-needle raised herself up so proudly that she fell out of the
dress, right into the sink which the cook was rinsing out.

‘Now I am off on my travels!’ said the Darning-needle. ‘I do hope I
sha’n’t get lost!’ She did indeed get lost.

‘I am too fine for this world!’ said she as she lay in the gutter; ‘but
I know who I am, and that is always a little satisfaction!’

And the Darning-needle kept her proud bearing and did not lose her
good-temper.

All kinds of things swam over her--shavings, bits of straw, and scraps
of old newspapers.

‘Just look how they sail along!’ said the Darning-needle. ‘They don’t
know what is underneath them! Here I am sticking fast! There goes a
shaving thinking of nothing in the world but of itself, a mere chip!
There goes a straw--well, how it does twist and twirl, to be sure! Don’t
think so much about yourself, or you will be knocked against a stone.
There floats a bit of newspaper. What is written on it is long ago
forgotten, and yet how proud it is! I am sitting patient and quiet. I
know who I am, and that is enough for me!’

One day something thick lay near her which glittered so brightly that
the Darning-needle thought it must be a diamond. But it was a bit of
bottle-glass, and because it sparkled the Darning-needle spoke to it,
and gave herself out as a breast-pin.

‘No doubt you are a diamond?’

‘Yes, something of that kind!’ And each believed that the other was
something very costly; and they both said how very proud the world must
be of them.

‘I have come from a lady’s work-box,’ said Darning-needle, ‘and this
lady was a cook; she had five fingers on each hand; anything so proud as
these fingers I have never seen! And yet they were only there to take me
out of the work-box and to put me back again!’

‘Were they of noble birth, then?’ asked the bit of bottle-glass.

‘Of noble birth!’ said the Darning-needle; ‘no indeed, but proud! They
were five brothers, all called ‘’Fingers.’’ They held themselves proudly
one against the other, although they were of different sizes. The
outside one, the Thumb, was short and fat; he was outside the rank, and
had only one bend in his back, and could only make one bow; but he said
that if he were cut off from a man that he was no longer any use as
a soldier. Dip-into-everything, the second finger, dipped into sweet
things as well as sour things, pointed to the sun and the moon, and
guided the pen when they wrote. Longman, the third, looked at the others
over his shoulder. Goldband, the fourth, had a gold sash round his
waist; and little Playman did nothing at all, and was the more proud.
There was too much ostentation, and so I came away.’

‘And now we are sitting and shining here!’ said the bit of bottle-glass.

At that moment more water came into the gutter; it streamed over the
edges and washed the bit of bottle-glass away.

‘Ah! now he has been promoted!’ said the Darning-needle. ‘I remain here;
I am too fine. But that is my pride, which is a sign of respectability!’
And she sat there very proudly, thinking lofty thoughts.

‘I really believe I must have been born a sunbeam, I am so fine! It
seems to me as if the sunbeams were always looking under the water for
me. Ah, I am so fine that my own mother cannot find me! If I had my old
eye which broke off, I believe I could weep; but I can’t--it is not fine
to weep!’

One day two street-urchins were playing and wading in the gutter,
picking up old nails, pennies, and such things. It was rather dirty
work, but it was a great delight to them.

‘Oh, oh!’ cried out one, as he pricked himself with the Darning-needle;
‘he is a fine fellow though!’

‘I am not a fellow; I am a young lady!’ said the Darning-needle; but no
one heard. The sealing-wax had gone, and she had become quite black; but
black makes one look very slim, and so she thought she was even finer
than before.

‘Here comes an egg-shell sailing along!’ said the boys, and they stuck
the Darning-needle into the egg-shell.

‘The walls white and I black--what a pretty contrast it makes!’ said
the Darning-needle. ‘Now I can be seen to advantage! If only I am not
sea-sick! I should give myself up for lost!’

But she was not sea-sick, and did not give herself up.

‘It is a good thing to be steeled against sea-sickness; here one has
indeed an advantage over man! Now my qualms are over. The finer one is
the more one can beat.’

‘Crack!’ said the egg-shell as a wagon-wheel went over it.

‘Oh! how it presses!’ said the Darning-needle. ‘I shall indeed be
sea-sick now. I am breaking!’ But she did not break, although the
wagon-wheel went over her; she lay there at full length, and there she
may lie.






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