{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_17860/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_17860","id":"gutenberg_17860","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/17860","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Short Stories","Children's stories, Danish -- Translations into English","Fairy tales","Fairy tales -- Denmark","Folklore","Short stories"],"text":"Produced by Stacy Brown, Jason Isbell and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nSTORIES _FROM_\nHANS ANDERSEN\n\n_WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY_\nEDMUND DULAC\n\n\nHODDER & STOUGHTON\nLIMITED   LONDON\n\n\n\n\nILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\n_THE SNOW QUEEN_\n                                                             PAGE\nOne day he was in a high state of delight because he had\ninvented a mirror                                               5\n\nMany a winter's night she flies through the streets            11\n\nThen an old, old woman came out of the house                   23\n\nShe has read all the newspapers in the world, and forgotten\nthem again, so clever is she                                   37\n\n'It is gold, it is gold!' they cried                           51\n\nKissed her on the mouth, while big shining tears trickled\ndown its face                                                  63\n\nThe Snow Queen sat in the very middle of it when she sat\nat home                                                        71\n\n\n_THE NIGHTINGALE_\n\nEven the poor fisherman ... lay still to listen to it          81\n\n'Is it possible?' said the gentleman-in-waiting. 'I should\nnever have thought it was like that'                           89\n\nTook some water into their mouths to try and make the same\ngurgling, ... thinking so to equal the nightingale             95\n\nThe music-master wrote five-and-twenty volumes about the\nartificial bird                                               101\n\nEven Death himself listened to the song                       109\n\n\n_THE REAL PRINCESS_\n\n'I have hardly closed my eyes the whole night!\nHeaven knows what was in the bed. I seemed to\nbe lying upon some hard thing, and my whole body\nis black and blue this morning. It is terrible!'   _Frontispiece_\n\n\n_THE GARDEN OF PARADISE_\n\nHis grandmother had told him ... that every flower in the\nGarden of Paradise was a delicious cake                       117\n\nThe Eastwind flew more swiftly still                          131\n\nThe Fairy of the Garden now advanced to meet them             139\n\nThe Fairy dropped her shimmering garment, drew back the\nbranches, and a moment after was hidden within their depths   147\n\n\n_THE MERMAID_\n\nThe Merman King had been for many years a widower             155\n\nHe must have died if the little mermaid had not come to\nthe rescue                                                    169\n\nAt the mere sight of the bright liquid                        183\n\nThe prince asked who she was and how she came there           189\n\nDashed overboard and fell, her body dissolving into foam      199\n\n\n_THE EMPEROR'S NEW CLOTHES_\n\nThe poor old minister stared as hard as he could, but he\ncould not see anything                                        209\n\nThen the Emperor walked along in the procession under the\ngorgeous canopy, and everybody in the streets and at the\nwindows exclaimed, 'How beautiful the Emperor's new\nclothes are!'                                                 215\n\n\n_THE WIND'S TALE_\n\nShe played upon the ringing lute, and sang to its tones       225\n\nShe was always picking flowers and herbs                      233\n\nHe lifted it with a trembling hand and shouted with a\ntrembling voice: 'Gold! gold!'                                241\n\nWaldemar Daa hid it in his bosom, took his staff in his\nhand, and, with his three daughters, the once wealthy\ngentleman walked out of Borreby Hall for the last time        247\n\n\n\n\nTHE SNOW QUEEN\n\nA TALE IN SEVEN STORIES\n\n\nFIRST STORY\n\nWHICH DEALS WITH A MIRROR AND ITS FRAGMENTS\n\n[Illustration: _One day he was in a high state of delight because he had\ninvented a mirror with this peculiarity, that every good and pretty\nthing reflected in it shrank away to almost nothing._]\n\nNow we are about to begin, and you must attend; and when we get to the\nend of the story, you will know more than you do now about a very wicked\nhobgoblin. He was one of the worst kind; in fact he was a real demon.\nOne day he was in a high state of delight because he had invented a\nmirror with this peculiarity, that every good and pretty thing reflected\nin it shrank away to almost nothing. On the other hand, every bad and\ngood-for-nothing thing stood out and looked its worst. The most\nbeautiful landscapes reflected in it looked like boiled spinach, and the\nbest people became hideous, or else they were upside down and had no\nbodies. Their faces were distorted beyond recognition, and if they had\neven one freckle it appeared to spread all over the nose and mouth. The\ndemon thought this immensely amusing. If a good thought passed through\nany one's mind, it turned to a grin in the mirror, and this caused real\ndelight to the demon. All the scholars in the demon's school, for he\nkept a school, reported that a miracle had taken place: now for the\nfirst time it had become possible to see what the world and mankind were\nreally like. They ran about all over with the mirror, till at last there\nwas not a country or a person which had not been seen in this distorting\nmirror. They even wanted to fly up to heaven with it to mock the angels;\nbut the higher they flew, the more it grinned, so much so that they\ncould hardly hold it, and at last it slipped out of their hands and fell\nto the earth, shivered into hundreds of millions and billions of bits.\nEven then it did more harm than ever. Some of these bits were not as big\nas a grain of sand, and these flew about all over the world, getting\ninto people's eyes, and, once in, they stuck there, and distorted\neverything they looked at, or made them see everything that was amiss.\nEach tiniest grain of glass kept the same power as that possessed by the\nwhole mirror. Some people even got a bit of the glass into their hearts,\nand that was terrible, for the heart became like a lump of ice. Some of\nthe fragments were so big that they were used for window panes, but it\nwas not advisable to look at one's friends through these panes. Other\nbits were made into spectacles, and it was a bad business when people\nput on these spectacles meaning to be just. The bad demon laughed\ntill he split his sides; it tickled him to see the mischief he had done.\nBut some of these fragments were still left floating about the world,\nand you shall hear what happened to them.\n\n\nSECOND STORY\n\nABOUT A LITTLE BOY AND A LITTLE GIRL\n\n[Illustration: _Many a winter's night she flies through the streets and\npeeps in at the windows, and then the ice freezes on the panes into\nwonderful patterns like flowers._]\n\nIn a big town crowded with houses and people, where there is no room for\ngardens, people have to be content with flowers in pots instead. In one\nof these towns lived two children who managed to have something bigger\nthan a flower pot for a garden. They were not brother and sister, but\nthey were just as fond of each other as if they had been. Their parents\nlived opposite each other in two attic rooms. The roof of one house just\ntouched the roof of the next one, with only a rain-water gutter between\nthem. They each had a little dormer window, and one only had to step\nover the gutter to get from one house to the other. Each of the parents\nhad a large window-box, in which they grew pot herbs and a little\nrose-tree. There was one in each box, and they both grew splendidly.\nThen it occurred to the parents to put the boxes across the gutter, from\nhouse to house, and they looked just like two banks of flowers. The pea\nvines hung down over the edges of the boxes, and the roses threw out\nlong creepers which twined round the windows. It was almost like a green\ntriumphal arch. The boxes were high, and the children knew they must not\nclimb up on to them, but they were often allowed to have their little\nstools out under the rose-trees, and there they had delightful games. Of\ncourse in the winter there was an end to these amusements. The windows\nwere often covered with hoar-frost; then they would warm coppers on the\nstove and stick them on the frozen panes, where they made lovely\npeep-holes, as round as possible. Then a bright eye would peep through\nthese holes, one from each window. The little boy's name was Kay, and\nthe little girl's Gerda.\n\nIn the summer they could reach each other with one bound, but in the\nwinter they had to go down all the stairs in one house and up all the\nstairs in the other, and outside there were snowdrifts.\n\n'Look! the white bees are swarming,' said the old grandmother.\n\n'Have they a queen bee, too?' asked the little boy, for he knew that\nthere was a queen among the real bees.\n\n'Yes, indeed they have,' said the grandmother. 'She flies where the\nswarm is thickest. She is biggest of them all, and she never remains on\nthe ground. She always flies up again to the sky. Many a winter's night\nshe flies through the streets and peeps in at the windows, and then the\nice freezes on the panes into wonderful patterns like flowers.'\n\n'Oh yes, we have seen that,' said both children, and then they knew\nit was true.\n\n'Can the Snow Queen come in here?' asked the little girl.\n\n'Just let her come,' said the boy, 'and I will put her on the stove,\nwhere she will melt.'\n\nBut the grandmother smoothed his hair and told him more stories.\n\nIn the evening when little Kay was at home and half undressed, he crept\nup on to the chair by the window, and peeped out of the little hole. A\nfew snow-flakes were falling, and one of these, the biggest, remained on\nthe edge of the window-box. It grew bigger and bigger, till it became\nthe figure of a woman, dressed in the finest white gauze, which appeared\nto be made of millions of starry flakes. She was delicately lovely, but\nall ice, glittering, dazzling ice. Still she was alive, her eyes shone\nlike two bright stars, but there was no rest or peace in them. She\nnodded to the window and waved her hand. The little boy was frightened\nand jumped down off the chair, and then he fancied that a big bird flew\npast the window.\n\nThe next day was bright and frosty, and then came the thaw--and after\nthat the spring. The sun shone, green buds began to appear, the swallows\nbuilt their nests, and people began to open their windows. The little\nchildren began to play in their garden on the roof again. The roses were\nin splendid bloom that summer; the little girl had learnt a hymn, and\nthere was something in it about roses, and that made her think of her\nown. She sang it to the little boy, and then he sang it with her--\n\n    'Where roses deck the flowery vale,\n    There, Infant Jesus, we thee hail!'\n\nThe children took each other by the hands, kissed the roses, and\nrejoiced in God's bright sunshine, and spoke to it as if the Child Jesus\nwere there. What lovely summer days they were, and how delightful it was\nto sit out under the fresh rose-trees, which seemed never tired of\nblooming.\n\nKay and Gerda were looking at a picture book of birds and animals one\nday--it had just struck five by the church clock--when Kay said, 'Oh,\nsomething struck my heart, and I have got something in my eye!'\n\nThe little girl put her arms round his neck, he blinked his eye; there\nwas nothing to be seen.\n\n'I believe it is gone,' he said; but it was not gone. It was one of\nthose very grains of glass from the mirror, the magic mirror. You\nremember that horrid mirror, in which all good and great things\nreflected in it became small and mean, while the bad things were\nmagnified, and every flaw became very apparent.\n\nPoor Kay! a grain of it had gone straight to his heart, and would soon\nturn it to a lump of ice. He did not feel it any more, but it was still\nthere.\n\n'Why do you cry?' he asked; 'it makes you look ugly; there's nothing the\nmatter with me. How horrid!' he suddenly cried; 'there's a worm in that\nrose, and that one is quite crooked; after all, they are nasty roses,\nand so are the boxes they are growing in!' He kicked the box and broke\noff two of the roses.\n\n'What are you doing, Kay?' cried the little girl. When he saw her alarm,\nhe broke off another rose, and then ran in by his own window, and left\ndear little Gerda alone.\n\nWhen she next got out the picture book he said it was only fit for\nbabies in long clothes. When his grandmother told them stories he always\nhad a but--, and if he could manage it, he liked to get behind her\nchair, put on her spectacles and imitate her. He did it very well and\npeople laughed at him. He was soon able to imitate every one in the\nstreet; he could make fun of all their peculiarities and failings. 'He\nwill turn out a clever fellow,' said people. But it was all that bit of\nglass in his heart, that bit of glass in his eye, and it made him tease\nlittle Gerda who was so devoted to him. He played quite different games\nnow; he seemed to have grown older. One winter's day, when the snow was\nfalling fast, he brought in a big magnifying glass; he held out the tail\nof his blue coat, and let the snow flakes fall upon it.\n\n'Now look through the glass, Gerda!' he said; every snowflake was\nmagnified, and looked like a lovely flower, or a sharply pointed star.\n\n'Do you see how cleverly they are made?' said Kay. 'Much more\ninteresting than looking at real flowers. And there is not a single flaw\nin them; they are perfect, if only they would not melt.'\n\nShortly after, he appeared in his thick gloves, with his sledge on his\nback. He shouted right into Gerda's ear, 'I have got leave to drive in\nthe big square where the other boys play!' and away he went.\n\nIn the big square the bolder boys used to tie their little sledges to\nthe farm carts and go a long way in this fashion. They had no end of fun\nover it. Just in the middle of their games a big sledge came along; it\nwas painted white, and the occupant wore a white fur coat and cap. The\nsledge drove twice round the square, and Kay quickly tied his sledge on\nbehind. Then off they went, faster, and faster, into the next street.\nThe driver turned round and nodded to Kay in the most friendly way, just\nas if they knew each other. Every time Kay wanted to loose his sledge\nthe person nodded again, and Kay stayed where he was, and they drove\nright out through the town gates. Then the snow began to fall so heavily\nthat the little boy could not see a hand before him as they rushed\nalong. He undid the cords and tried to get away from the big sledge, but\nit was no use, his little sledge stuck fast, and on they rushed, faster\nthan the wind. He shouted aloud, but nobody heard him, and the sledge\ntore on through the snow-drifts. Every now and then it gave a bound, as\nif they were jumping over hedges and ditches. He was very frightened,\nand he wanted to say his prayers, but he could only remember the\nmultiplication tables.\n\nThe snow-flakes grew bigger and bigger, till at last they looked like\nbig white chickens. All at once they sprang on one side, the big sledge\nstopped and the person who drove got up, coat and cap smothered in snow.\nIt was a tall and upright lady all shining white, the Snow Queen\nherself.\n\n'We have come along at a good pace,' she said; 'but it's cold enough to\nkill one; creep inside my bearskin coat.'\n\nShe took him into the sledge by her, wrapped him in her furs, and he\nfelt as if he were sinking into a snowdrift.\n\n'Are you still cold?' she asked, and she kissed him on the forehead.\nUgh! it was colder than ice, it went to his very heart, which was\nalready more than half ice; he felt as if he were dying, but only for a\nmoment, and then it seemed to have done him good; he no longer felt the\ncold.\n\n'My sledge! don't forget my sledge!' He only remembered it now; it was\ntied to one of the white chickens which flew along behind them. The Snow\nQueen kissed Kay again, and then he forgot all about little Gerda,\nGrandmother, and all the others at home.\n\n'Now I mustn't kiss you any more,' she said, 'or I should kiss you to\ndeath!'\n\nKay looked at her, she was so pretty; a cleverer, more beautiful face\ncould hardly be imagined. She did not seem to be made of ice now, as she\nwas outside the window when she waved her hand to him. In his eyes she\nwas quite perfect, and he was not a bit afraid of her; he told her that\nhe could do mental arithmetic, as far as fractions, and that he knew the\nnumber of square miles and the number of inhabitants of the country. She\nalways smiled at him, and he then thought that he surely did not know\nenough, and he looked up into the wide expanse of heaven, into which\nthey rose higher and higher as she flew with him on a dark cloud, while\nthe storm surged around them, the wind ringing in their ears like\nwell-known old songs.\n\nThey flew over woods and lakes, over oceans and islands; the cold wind\nwhistled down below them, the wolves howled, the black crows flew\nscreaming over the sparkling snow, but up above, the moon shone bright\nand clear--and Kay looked at it all the long, long winter nights; in the\nday he slept at the Snow Queen's feet.\n\n\nSTORY THREE\n\nTHE GARDEN OF THE WOMAN LEARNED IN MAGIC\n\n[Illustration: _Then an old, old woman came out of the house; she was\nleaning upon a big, hooked stick, and she wore a big sun hat, which was\ncovered with beautiful painted flowers._]\n\nBut how was little Gerda getting on all this long time since Kay left\nher? Where could he be? Nobody knew, nobody could say anything about\nhim. All that the other boys knew was, that they had seen him tie his\nlittle sledge to a splendid big one which drove away down the street and\nout of the town gates. Nobody knew where he was, and many tears were\nshed; little Gerda cried long and bitterly. At last, people said he was\ndead; he must have fallen into the river which ran close by the town.\nOh, what long, dark, winter days those were!\n\nAt last the spring came and the sunshine.\n\n'Kay is dead and gone,' said little Gerda.\n\n'I don't believe it,' said the sunshine.\n\n'He is dead and gone,' she said to the swallows.\n\n'We don't believe it,' said the swallows; and at last little Gerda did\nnot believe it either.\n\n'I will put on my new red shoes,' she said one morning; 'those Kay never\nsaw; and then I will go down to the river and ask it about him!'\n\nIt was very early in the morning; she kissed the old grandmother, who\nwas still asleep, put on the red shoes, and went quite alone, out by the\ngate to the river.\n\n'Is it true that you have taken my little playfellow? I will give you my\nred shoes if you will bring him back to me again.'\n\nShe thought the little ripples nodded in such a curious way, so she took\noff her red shoes, her most cherished possessions, and threw them both\ninto the river. They fell close by the shore, and were carried straight\nback to her by the little wavelets; it seemed as if the river would not\naccept her offering, as it had not taken little Kay.\n\nShe only thought she had not thrown them far enough; so she climbed into\na boat which lay among the rushes, then she went right out to the\nfurther end of it, and threw the shoes into the water again. But the\nboat was loose, and her movements started it off, and it floated away\nfrom the shore: she felt it moving and tried to get out, but before she\nreached the other end the boat was more than a yard from the shore, and\nwas floating away quite quickly.\n\nLittle Gerda was terribly frightened, and began to cry, but nobody heard\nher except the sparrows, and they could not carry her ashore, but they\nflew alongside twittering, as if to cheer her, 'We are here, we are\nhere.' The boat floated rapidly away with the current; little Gerda sat\nquite still with only her stockings on; her little red shoes floated\nbehind, but they could not catch up the boat, which drifted away faster\nand faster.\n\nThe banks on both sides were very pretty with beautiful flowers, fine\nold trees, and slopes dotted with sheep and cattle, but not a single\nperson.\n\n'Perhaps the river is taking me to little Kay,' thought Gerda, and that\ncheered her; she sat up and looked at the beautiful green banks for\nhours.\n\nThen they came to a big cherry garden; there was a little house in\nit, with curious blue and red windows, it had a thatched roof, and two\nwooden soldiers stood outside, who presented arms as she sailed past.\nGerda called out to them; she thought they were alive, but of course\nthey did not answer; she was quite close to them, for the current drove\nthe boat close to the bank. Gerda called out again, louder than before,\nand then an old, old woman came out of the house; she was leaning upon a\nbig, hooked stick, and she wore a big sun hat, which was covered with\nbeautiful painted flowers.\n\n'You poor little child,' said the old woman, 'how ever were you driven\nout on this big, strong river into the wide, wide world alone?' Then she\nwalked right into the water, and caught hold of the boat with her hooked\nstick; she drew it ashore, and lifted little Gerda out.\n\nGerda was delighted to be on dry land again, but she was a little bit\nfrightened of the strange old woman.\n\n'Come, tell me who you are, and how you got here,' said she.\n\nWhen Gerda had told her the whole story and asked her if she had seen\nKay, the woman said she had not seen him, but that she expected him.\nGerda must not be sad, she was to come and taste her cherries and see\nher flowers, which were more beautiful than any picture-book; each one\nhad a story to tell. Then she took Gerda by the hand, they went into the\nlittle house, and the old woman locked the door.\n\nThe windows were very high up, and they were red, blue, and yellow;\nthey threw a very curious light into the room. On the table were\nquantities of the most delicious cherries, of which Gerda had leave to\neat as many as ever she liked. While she was eating, the old woman\ncombed her hair with a golden comb, so that the hair curled, and shone\nlike gold round the pretty little face, which was as sweet as a rose.\n\n'I have long wanted a little girl like you!' said the old woman. 'You\nwill see how well we shall get on together.' While she combed her hair\nGerda had forgotten all about Kay, for the old woman was learned in the\nmagic art; but she was not a bad witch, she only cast spells over people\nfor a little amusement, and she wanted to keep Gerda. She therefore went\ninto the garden and waved her hooked stick over all the rose-bushes, and\nhowever beautifully they were flowering, all sank down into the rich\nblack earth without leaving a trace behind them. The old woman was\nafraid that if Gerda saw the roses she would be reminded of Kay, and\nwould want to run away. Then she took Gerda into the flower garden. What\na delicious scent there was! and every imaginable flower for every\nseason was in that lovely garden; no picture-book could be brighter or\nmore beautiful. Gerda jumped for joy and played till the sun went down\nbehind the tall cherry trees. Then she was put into a lovely bed with\nrose-coloured silken coverings stuffed with violets; she slept and\ndreamt as lovely dreams as any queen on her wedding day.\n\nThe next day she played with the flowers in the garden again--and many\ndays passed in the same way. Gerda knew every flower, but however many\nthere were, she always thought there was one missing, but which it was\nshe did not know.\n\nOne day she was sitting looking at the old woman's sun hat with its\npainted flowers, and the very prettiest one of them all was a rose. The\nold woman had forgotten her hat when she charmed the others away. This\nis the consequence of being absent-minded.\n\n'What!' said Gerda, 'are there no roses here?' and she sprang in among\nthe flower-beds and sought, but in vain! Her hot tears fell on the very\nplaces where the roses used to be; when the warm drops moistened the\nearth the rose-trees shot up again, just as full of bloom as when they\nsank. Gerda embraced the roses and kissed them, and then she thought of\nthe lovely roses at home, and this brought the thought of little Kay.\n\n'Oh, how I have been delayed,' said the little girl, 'I ought to have\nbeen looking for Kay! Don't you know where he is?' she asked the roses.\n'Do you think he is dead and gone?'\n\n'He is not dead,' said the roses. 'For we have been down underground,\nyou know, and all the dead people are there, but Kay is not among them.'\n\n'Oh, thank you!' said little Gerda, and then she went to the other\nflowers and looked into their cups and said, 'Do you know where Kay is?'\n\nBut each flower stood in the sun and dreamt its own dreams. Little Gerda\nheard many of these, but never anything about Kay.\n\nAnd what said the Tiger lilies?\n\n'Do you hear the drum? rub-a-dub, it has only two notes, rub-a-dub,\nalways the same. The wailing of women and the cry of the preacher. The\nHindu woman in her long red garment stands on the pile, while the flames\nsurround her and her dead husband. But the woman is only thinking of the\nliving man in the circle round, whose eyes burn with a fiercer fire than\nthat of the flames which consume the body. Do the flames of the heart\ndie in the fire?'\n\n'I understand nothing about that,' said little Gerda.\n\n'That is my story,' said the Tiger lily.\n\n'What does the convolvulus say?'\n\n'An old castle is perched high over a narrow mountain path, it is\nclosely covered with ivy, almost hiding the old red walls, and creeping\nup leaf upon leaf right round the balcony where stands a beautiful\nmaiden. She bends over the balustrade and looks eagerly up the road. No\nrose on its stem is fresher than she; no apple blossom wafted by the\nwind moves more lightly. Her silken robes rustle softly as she bends\nover and says, 'Will he never come?''\n\n'Is it Kay you mean?' asked Gerda.\n\n'I am only talking about my own story, my dream,' answered the\nconvolvulus.\n\nWhat said the little snowdrop?\n\n'Between two trees a rope with a board is hanging; it is a swing. Two\npretty little girls in snowy frocks and green ribbons fluttering on\ntheir hats are seated on it. Their brother, who is bigger than they are,\nstands up behind them; he has his arms round the ropes for supports, and\nholds in one hand a little bowl and in the other a clay pipe. He is\nblowing soap-bubbles. As the swing moves the bubbles fly upwards in all\ntheir changing colours, the last one still hangs from the pipe swayed by\nthe wind, and the swing goes on. A little black dog runs up, he is\nalmost as light as the bubbles, he stands up on his hind legs and wants\nto be taken into the swing, but it does not stop. The little dog falls\nwith an angry bark; they jeer at it; the bubble bursts. A swinging\nplank, a fluttering foam picture--that is my story!'\n\n'I daresay what you tell me is very pretty, but you speak so sadly and\nyou never mention little Kay.'\n\nWhat says the hyacinth?\n\n'They were three beautiful sisters, all most delicate, and quite\ntransparent. One wore a crimson robe, the other a blue, and the third\nwas pure white. These three danced hand-in-hand, by the edge of the lake\nin the moonlight. They were human beings, not fairies of the wood. The\nfragrant air attracted them, and they vanished into the wood; here the\nfragrance was stronger still. Three coffins glide out of the wood\ntowards the lake, and in them lie the maidens. The fire-flies flutter\nlightly round them with their little flickering torches. Do these\ndancing maidens sleep, or are they dead? The scent of the flower says\nthat they are corpses. The evening bell tolls their knell.'\n\n'You make me quite sad,' said little Gerda; 'your perfume is so strong\nit makes me think of those dead maidens. Oh, is little Kay really dead?\nThe roses have been down underground, and they say no.'\n\n'Ding, dong,' tolled the hyacinth bells; 'we are not tolling for little\nKay; we know nothing about him. We sing our song, the only one we know.'\n\nAnd Gerda went on to the buttercups shining among their dark green\nleaves.\n\n'You are a bright little sun,' said Gerda. 'Tell me if you know where I\nshall find my playfellow.'\n\nThe buttercup shone brightly and returned Gerda's glance. What song\ncould the buttercup sing? It would not be about Kay.\n\n'God's bright sun shone into a little court on the first day of spring.\nThe sunbeams stole down the neighbouring white wall, close to which\nbloomed the first yellow flower of the season; it shone like burnished\ngold in the sun. An old woman had brought her arm-chair out into the\nsun; her granddaughter, a poor and pretty little maid-servant, had come\nto pay her a short visit, and she kissed her. There was gold, heart's\ngold, in the kiss. Gold on the lips, gold on the ground, and gold above,\nin the early morning beams! Now that is my little story,' said the\nbuttercup.\n\n'Oh, my poor old grandmother!' sighed Gerda. 'She will be longing to see\nme, and grieving about me, as she did about Kay. But I shall soon go\nhome again and take Kay with me. It is useless for me to ask the flowers\nabout him. They only know their own stories, and have no information to\ngive me.'\n\nThen she tucked up her little dress, so that she might run the faster;\nbut the narcissus blossoms struck her on the legs as she jumped over\nthem, so she stopped and said, 'Perhaps you can tell me something.'\n\nShe stooped down close to the flower and listened. What did it say?\n\n'I can see myself, I can see myself,' said the narcissus. 'Oh, how sweet\nis my scent. Up there in an attic window stands a little dancing girl\nhalf dressed; first she stands on one leg, then on the other, and looks\nas if she would tread the whole world under her feet. She is only a\ndelusion. She pours some water out of a teapot on to a bit of stuff that\nshe is holding; it is her bodice. \"Cleanliness is a good thing,\" she\nsays. Her white dress hangs on a peg; it has been washed in the teapot,\ntoo, and dried on the roof. She puts it on, and wraps a saffron-coloured\nscarf round her neck, which makes the dress look whiter. See how high\nshe carries her head, and all upon one stem. I see myself, I see\nmyself!'\n\n'I don't care a bit about all that,' said Gerda; 'it's no use telling me\nsuch stuff.'\n\nAnd then she ran to the end of the garden. The door was fastened, but\nshe pressed the rusty latch, and it gave way. The door sprang open, and\nlittle Gerda ran out with bare feet into the wide world. She looked back\nthree times, but nobody came after her. At last she could run no\nfurther, and she sat down on a big stone. When she looked round she saw\nthat the summer was over; it was quite late autumn. She would never have\nknown it inside the beautiful garden, where the sun always shone, and\nthe flowers of every season were always in bloom.\n\n'Oh, how I have wasted my time,' said little Gerda. 'It is autumn. I\nmust not rest any longer,' and she got up to go on.\n\nOh, how weary and sore were her little feet, and everything round looked\nso cold and dreary. The long willow leaves were quite yellow. The damp\nmist fell off the trees like rain, one leaf dropped after another from\nthe trees, and only the sloe-thorn still bore its fruit; but the sloes\nwere sour and set one's teeth on edge. Oh, how grey and sad it looked,\nout in the wide world.\n\n\nFOURTH STORY\n\nPRINCE AND PRINCESS\n\n[Illustration: _She has read all the newspapers in the world, and\nforgotten them again, so clever is she._]\n\nGerda was soon obliged to rest again. A big crow hopped on to the snow,\njust in front of her. It had been sitting looking at her for a long time\nand wagging its head. Now it said, 'Caw, caw; good-day, good-day,' as\nwell as it could; it meant to be kind to the little girl, and asked her\nwhere she was going, alone in the wide world.\n\nGerda understood the word 'alone' and knew how much there was in it, and\nshe told the crow the whole story of her life and adventures, and asked\nif it had seen Kay.\n\nThe crow nodded its head gravely and said, 'May be I have, may be I\nhave.'\n\n'What, do you really think you have?' cried the little girl, nearly\nsmothering him with her kisses.\n\n'Gently, gently!' said the crow. 'I believe it may have been Kay, but he\nhas forgotten you by this time, I expect, for the Princess.'\n\n'Does he live with a Princess?' asked Gerda.\n\n'Yes, listen,' said the crow; 'but it is so difficult to speak your\nlanguage. If you understand \"crow's language,\"[1] I can tell you about\nit much better.'\n\n'No, I have never learnt it,' said Gerda; 'but grandmother knew it, and\nused to speak it. If only I had learnt it!'\n\n'It doesn't matter,' said the crow. 'I will tell you as well as I can,\nalthough I may do it rather badly.'\n\nThen he told her what he had heard.\n\n'In this kingdom where we are now,' said he, 'there lives a Princess who\nis very clever. She has read all the newspapers in the world, and\nforgotten them again, so clever is she. One day she was sitting on her\nthrone, which is not such an amusing thing to do either, they say; and\nshe began humming a tune, which happened to be\n\n    \"Why should I not be married, oh why?\"\n\n\"Why not indeed?\" said she. And she made up her mind to marry, if she\ncould find a husband who had an answer ready when a question was put to\nhim. She called all the court ladies together, and when they heard what\nshe wanted they were delighted.\n\n'\"I like that now,\" they said. \"I was thinking the same thing myself the\nother day.\"\n\n'Every word I say is true,' said the crow, 'for I have a tame\nsweetheart who goes about the palace whenever she likes. She told me the\nwhole story.'\n\nOf course his sweetheart was a crow, for 'birds of a feather flock\ntogether,' and one crow always chooses another. The newspapers all came\nout immediately with borders of hearts and the Princess's initials. They\ngave notice that any young man who was handsome enough might go up to\nthe Palace to speak to the Princess. The one who spoke as if he were\nquite at home, and spoke well, would be chosen by the Princess as her\nhusband. Yes, yes, you may believe me, it's as true as I sit here,' said\nthe crow. 'The people came crowding in; there was such running, and\ncrushing, but no one was fortunate enough to be chosen, either on the\nfirst day, or on the second. They could all of them talk well enough in\nthe street, but when they entered the castle gates, and saw the guard in\nsilver uniforms, and when they went up the stairs through rows of\nlackeys in gold embroidered liveries, their courage forsook them. When\nthey reached the brilliantly lighted reception-rooms, and stood in front\nof the throne where the Princess was seated, they could think of nothing\nto say, they only echoed her last words, and of course that was not what\nshe wanted.\n\n'It was just as if they had all taken some kind of sleeping-powder,\nwhich made them lethargic; they did not recover themselves until they\ngot out into the street again, and then they had plenty to say. There\nwas quite a long line of them, reaching from the town gates up to the\nPalace.\n\n'I went to see them myself,' said the crow. 'They were hungry and\nthirsty, but they got nothing at the Palace, not even as much as a glass\nof tepid water. Some of the wise ones had taken sandwiches with them,\nbut they did not share them with their neighbours; they thought if the\nothers went in to the Princess looking hungry, that there would be more\nchance for themselves.'\n\n'But Kay, little Kay!' asked Gerda; 'when did he come? was he amongst\nthe crowd?'\n\n'Give me time, give me time! we are just coming to him. It was on the\nthird day that a little personage came marching cheerfully along,\nwithout either carriage or horse. His eyes sparkled like yours, and he\nhad beautiful long hair, but his clothes were very shabby.'\n\n'Oh, that was Kay!' said Gerda gleefully; 'then I have found him!' and\nshe clapped her hands.\n\n'He had a little knapsack on his back!' said the crow.\n\n'No, it must have been his sledge; he had it with him when he went\naway!' said Gerda.\n\n'It may be so,' said the crow; 'I did not look very particularly; but I\nknow from my sweetheart, that when he entered the Palace gates, and saw\nthe life-guards in their silver uniforms, and the lackeys on the stairs\nin their gold-laced liveries, he was not the least bit abashed. He just\nnodded to them and said, \"It must be very tiresome to stand upon the\nstairs. I am going inside!\" The rooms were blazing with lights. Privy\ncouncillors and excellencies without number were walking about barefoot\ncarrying golden vessels; it was enough to make you solemn! His boots\ncreaked fearfully too, but he wasn't a bit upset.'\n\n'Oh, I am sure that was Kay!' said Gerda; 'I know he had a pair of new\nboots, I heard them creaking in grandmother's room.'\n\n'Yes, indeed they did creak!' said the crow. 'But nothing daunted, he\nwent straight up to the Princess, who was sitting on a pearl as big as a\nspinning-wheel. Poor, simple boy! all the court ladies and their\nattendants; the courtiers, and their gentlemen, each attended by a page,\nwere standing round. The nearer the door they stood, so much the greater\nwas their haughtiness; till the footman's boy, who always wore slippers\nand stood in the doorway, was almost too proud even to be looked at.'\n\n'It must be awful!' said little Gerda, 'and yet Kay has won the\nPrincess!'\n\n'If I had not been a crow, I should have taken her myself,\nnotwithstanding that I am engaged. They say he spoke as well as I could\nhave done myself, when I speak crow-language; at least so my sweetheart\nsays. He was a picture of good looks and gallantry, and then, he had not\ncome with any idea of wooing the Princess, but simply to hear her\nwisdom. He admired her just as much as she admired him!'\n\n'Indeed it was Kay then,' said Gerda; 'he was so clever he could do\nmental arithmetic up to fractions. Oh, won't you take me to the Palace?'\n\n'It's easy enough to talk,' said the crow; 'but how are we to manage it?\nI will talk to my tame sweetheart about it; she will have some advice to\ngive us I daresay, but I am bound to tell you that a little girl like\nyou will never be admitted!'\n\n'Oh, indeed I shall,' said Gerda; 'when Kay hears that I am here, he\nwill come out at once to fetch me.'\n\n'Wait here for me by the stile,' said the crow, then he wagged his head\nand flew off.\n\nThe evening had darkened in before he came back. 'Caw, caw,' he said,\n'she sends you greeting. And here is a little roll for you; she got it\nout of the kitchen where there is bread enough, and I daresay you are\nhungry! It is not possible for you to get into the Palace; you have bare\nfeet; the guards in silver and the lackeys in gold would never allow you\nto pass. But don't cry, we shall get you in somehow; my sweetheart knows\na little back staircase which leads up to the bedroom, and she knows\nwhere the key is kept.'\n\nThen they went into the garden, into the great avenue where the leaves\nwere dropping, softly one by one; and when the Palace lights went out,\none after the other, the crow led little Gerda to the back door, which\nwas ajar.\n\nOh, how Gerda's heart beat with fear and longing! It was just as if she\nwas about to do something wrong, and yet she only wanted to know if this\nreally was little Kay. Oh, it must be him, she thought, picturing to\nherself his clever eyes and his long hair. She could see his very smile\nwhen they used to sit under the rose-trees at home. She thought he would\nbe very glad to see her, and to hear what a long way she had come to\nfind him, and to hear how sad they had all been at home when he did not\ncome back. Oh, it was joy mingled with fear.\n\nThey had now reached the stairs, where a little lamp was burning on a\nshelf. There stood the tame sweetheart, twisting and turning her head to\nlook at Gerda, who made a curtsy, as grandmother had taught her.\n\n'My betrothed has spoken so charmingly to me about you, my little miss!'\nshe said; 'your life, \"_Vita_,\" as it is called, is most touching! If\nyou will take the lamp, I will go on in front. We shall take the\nstraight road here, and we shall meet no one.'\n\n'It seems to me that some one is coming behind us,' said Gerda, as she\nfancied something rushed past her, throwing a shadow on the walls;\nhorses with flowing manes and slender legs; huntsmen, ladies and\ngentlemen on horseback.\n\n'Oh, those are only the dreams!' said the crow; 'they come to take the\nthoughts of the noble ladies and gentlemen out hunting. That's a good\nthing, for you will be able to see them all the better in bed. But don't\nforget, when you are taken into favour, to show a grateful spirit.'\n\n'Now, there's no need to talk about that,' said the crow from the woods.\n\nThey came now into the first apartment; it was hung with rose-coloured\nsatin embroidered with flowers. Here again the dreams overtook them, but\nthey flitted by so quickly that Gerda could not distinguish them. The\napartments became one more beautiful than the other; they were enough to\nbewilder anybody. They now reached the bedroom. The ceiling was like a\ngreat palm with crystal leaves, and in the middle of the room two beds,\neach like a lily hung from a golden stem. One was white, and in it lay\nthe Princess; the other was red, and there lay he whom Gerda had come to\nseek--little Kay! She bent aside one of the crimson leaves, and she saw\na little brown neck. It was Kay. She called his name aloud, and held the\nlamp close to him. Again the dreams rushed through the room on\nhorseback--he awoke, turned his head--and it was not little Kay.\n\nIt was only the Prince's neck which was like his; but he was young and\nhandsome. The Princess peeped out of her lily-white bed, and asked what\nwas the matter. Then little Gerda cried and told them all her story, and\nwhat the crows had done to help her.\n\n'You poor little thing!' said the Prince and Princess. And they praised\nthe crows, and said that they were not at all angry with them, but they\nmust not do it again. Then they gave them a reward.\n\n'Would you like your liberty?' said the Princess, 'or would you prefer\npermanent posts about the court as court crows, with perquisites from\nthe kitchen?'\n\nBoth crows curtsied and begged for the permanent posts, for they thought\nof their old age, and said 'it was so good to have something for the old\nman,' as they called it.\n\nThe Prince got up and allowed Gerda to sleep in his bed, and he could\nnot have done more. She folded her little hands, and thought 'how good\nthe people and the animals are'; then she shut her eyes and fell fast\nasleep. All the dreams came flying back again; this time they looked\nlike angels, and they were dragging a little sledge with Kay sitting on\nit, and he nodded. But it was only a dream; so it all vanished when she\nwoke.\n\nNext day she was dressed in silk and velvet from head to foot; they\nasked her to stay at the Palace and have a good time, but she only\nbegged them to give her a little carriage and horse, and a little pair\nof boots, so that she might drive out into the wide world to look for\nKay.\n\nThey gave her a pair of boots and a muff. She was beautifully dressed,\nand when she was ready to start, there before the door stood a new\nchariot of pure gold. The Prince's and Princess's coat of arms were\nemblazoned on it, and shone like a star. Coachman, footman, and\noutrider, for there was even an outrider, all wore golden crowns. The\nPrince and Princess themselves helped her into the carriage and wished\nher joy. The wood crow, who was now married, accompanied her for the\nfirst three miles; he sat beside Gerda, for he could not ride with his\nback to the horses. The other crow stood at the door and flapped her\nwings; she did not go with them, for she suffered from headache since\nshe had become a kitchen pensioner--the consequence of eating too much.\nThe chariot was stored with sugar biscuits, and there were fruit and\nginger nuts under the seat. 'Good-bye, good-bye,' cried the Prince and\nPrincess; little Gerda wept, and the crow wept too. At the end of the\nfirst few miles the crow said good-bye, and this was the hardest parting\nof all. It flew up into a tree and flapped its big black wings as long\nas it could see the chariot, which shone like the brightest sunshine.\n\n[1] Children have a kind of language, or gibberish, formed by adding\nletters or syllables to every word, which is called 'crow's language.'\n\n\nFIFTH STORY\n\nTHE LITTLE ROBBER GIRL\n\n[Illustration: _'It is gold, it is gold!' they cried._]\n\nThey drove on through a dark wood, where the chariot lighted up the way\nand blinded the robbers by its glare; it was more than they could bear.\n\n'It is gold, it is gold!' they cried, and darting forward, seized the\nhorses, and killed the postilions, the coachman, and footman. They then\ndragged little Gerda out of the carriage.\n\n'She is fat, and she is pretty; she has been fattened on nuts!' said the\nold robber woman, who had a long beard, and eyebrows that hung down over\nher eyes. 'She is as good as a fat lamb, and how nice she will taste!'\nShe drew out her sharp knife as she said this; it glittered horribly.\n'Oh!' screamed the old woman at the same moment, for her little daughter\nhad come up behind her, and she was biting her ear. She hung on her\nback, as wild and as savage a little animal as you could wish to find.\n'You bad, wicked child!' said her mother, but she was prevented from\nkilling Gerda on this occasion.\n\n'She shall play with me,' said the little robber girl; 'she shall give\nme her muff, and her pretty dress, and she shall sleep in my bed.' Then\nshe bit her mother again and made her dance. All the robbers laughed and\nsaid, 'Look at her dancing with her cub!'\n\n'I want to get into the carriage,' said the little robber girl, and she\nalways had her own way because she was so spoilt and stubborn. She and\nGerda got into the carriage, and then they drove over stubble and stones\nfurther and further into the wood. The little robber girl was as big as\nGerda, but much stronger; she had broader shoulders, and darker skin,\nher eyes were quite black, with almost a melancholy expression. She put\nher arm round Gerda's waist and said--\n\n'They shan't kill you as long as I don't get angry with you; you must\nsurely be a Princess!'\n\n'No,' said little Gerda, and then she told her all her adventures, and\nhow fond she was of Kay.\n\nThe robber girl looked earnestly at her, gave a little nod, and said,\n'They shan't kill you even if I am angry with you. I will do it myself.'\nThen she dried Gerda's eyes, and stuck her own hands into the pretty\nmuff, which was so soft and warm.\n\nAt last the chariot stopped: they were in the courtyard of a robber's\ncastle, the walls of which were cracked from top to bottom. Ravens and\ncrows flew in and out of every hole, and big bulldogs, which each looked\nready to devour somebody, jumped about as high as they could, but they\ndid not bark, for it was not allowed. A big fire was burning in the\nmiddle of the stone floor of the smoky old hall. The smoke all went up\nto the ceiling, where it had to find a way out for itself. Soup was\nboiling in a big caldron over the fire, and hares and rabbits were\nroasting on the spits.\n\n'You shall sleep with me and all my little pets to-night,' said the\nrobber girl.\n\nWhen they had something to eat and drink they went along to one corner\nwhich was spread with straw and rugs. There were nearly a hundred\npigeons roosting overhead on the rafters and beams. They seemed to be\nasleep, but they fluttered about a little when the children came in.\n\n'They are all mine,' said the little robber girl, seizing one of the\nnearest. She held it by the legs and shook it till it flapped its wings.\n'Kiss it,' she cried, dashing it at Gerda's face. 'Those are the wood\npigeons,' she added, pointing to some laths fixed across a big hole high\nup on the walls; 'they are a regular rabble; they would fly away\ndirectly if they were not locked in. And here is my old sweetheart Be,'\ndragging forward a reindeer by the horn; it was tied up, and it had a\nbright copper ring round its neck. 'We have to keep him close too, or he\nwould run off. Every single night I tickle his neck with my bright\nknife, he is so frightened of it.' The little girl produced a long knife\nout of a hole in the wall and drew it across the reindeer's neck. The\npoor animal laughed and kicked, and the robber girl laughed and pulled\nGerda down into the bed with her.\n\n'Do you have that knife by you while you are asleep?' asked Gerda,\nlooking rather frightened.\n\n'I always sleep with a knife,' said the little robber girl. 'You never\nknow what will happen. But now tell me again what you told me before\nabout little Kay, and why you went out into the world.' So Gerda told\nher all about it again, and the wood pigeons cooed up in their cage\nabove them; the other pigeons were asleep. The little robber girl put\nher arm round Gerda's neck and went to sleep with the knife in her other\nhand, and she was soon snoring. But Gerda would not close her eyes; she\ndid not know whether she was to live or to die. The robbers sat round\nthe fire, eating and drinking, and the old woman was turning\nsomersaults. This sight terrified the poor little girl. Then the wood\npigeons said, 'Coo, coo, we have seen little Kay; his sledge was drawn\nby a white chicken, and he was sitting in the Snow Queen's sledge; it\nwas floating low down over the trees, while we were in our nests. She\nblew upon us young ones, and they all died except we two; coo, coo.'\n\n'What are you saying up there?' asked Gerda. 'Where was the Snow Queen\ngoing? Do you know anything about it?'\n\n'She was most likely going to Lapland, because there is always snow and\nice there! Ask the reindeer who is tied up there.'\n\n'There is ice and snow, and it's a splendid place,' said the reindeer.\n'You can run and jump about where you like on those big glittering\nplains. The Snow Queen has her summer tent there, but her permanent\ncastle is up at the North Pole, on the island which is called\nSpitzbergen!'\n\n'Oh Kay, little Kay!' sighed Gerda.\n\n'Lie still, or I shall stick the knife into you!' said the robber girl.\n\nIn the morning Gerda told her all that the wood pigeons had said, and\nthe little robber girl looked quite solemn, but she nodded her head and\nsaid, 'No matter, no matter! Do you know where Lapland is?' she asked\nthe reindeer.\n\n'Who should know better than I,' said the animal, its eyes dancing. 'I\nwas born and brought up there, and I used to leap about on the\nsnowfields.'\n\n'Listen,' said the robber girl. 'You see that all our men folks are\naway, but mother is still here, and she will stay; but later on in the\nmorning she will take a drink out of the big bottle there, and after\nthat she will have a nap--then I will do something for you.' Then she\njumped out of bed, ran along to her mother and pulled her beard, and\nsaid, 'Good morning, my own dear nanny-goat!' And her mother filliped\nher nose till it was red and blue; but it was all affection.\n\nAs soon as her mother had had her draught from the bottle and had\ndropped asleep, the little robber girl went along to the reindeer, and\nsaid, 'I should have the greatest pleasure in the world in keeping you\nhere, to tickle you with my knife, because you are such fun then;\nhowever, it does not matter. I will untie your halter and help you\noutside so that you may run away to Lapland, but you must put your best\nfoot foremost, and take this little girl for me to the Snow Queen's\npalace, where her playfellow is. I have no doubt you heard what she was\ntelling me, for she spoke loud enough, and you are generally\neavesdropping!'\n\nThe reindeer jumped into the air for joy. The robber girl lifted little\nGerda up, and had the forethought to tie her on, nay, even to give her a\nlittle cushion to sit upon. 'Here, after all, I will give you your fur\nboots back, for it will be very cold, but I will keep your muff, it is\ntoo pretty to part with. Still you shan't be cold. Here are my mother's\nbig mittens for you, they will reach up to your elbows; here, stick your\nhands in! Now your hands look just like my nasty mother's!'\n\nGerda shed tears of joy.\n\n'I don't like you to whimper!' said the little robber girl. 'You ought\nto be looking delighted; and here are two loaves and a ham for you, so\nthat you shan't starve.'\n\nThese things were tied on to the back of the reindeer; the little robber\ngirl opened the door, called in all the big dogs, and then she cut the\nhalter with her knife, and said to the reindeer, 'Now run, but take care\nof my little girl!'\n\nGerda stretched out her hands in the big mittens to the robber girl and\nsaid good-bye; and then the reindeer darted off over briars and bushes,\nthrough the big wood, over swamps and plains, as fast as it could go.\nThe wolves howled and the ravens screamed, while the red lights quivered\nup in the sky.\n\n'There are my old northern lights,' said the reindeer; 'see how they\nflash!' and on it rushed faster than ever, day and night. The loaves\nwere eaten, and the ham too, and then they were in Lapland.\n\n\nSIXTH STORY\n\nTHE LAPP WOMAN AND THE FINN WOMAN\n\n[Illustration: _The reindeer did not dare to stop. It ran on till it\ncame to the bush with the red berries. There it put Gerda down, and\nkissed her on the mouth, while big shining tears trickled down its\nface._]\n\nThey stopped by a little hut, a very poverty-stricken one; the roof\nsloped right down to the ground, and the door was so low that the people\nhad to creep on hands and knees when they wanted to go in or out. There\nwas nobody at home here but an old Lapp woman, who was frying fish over\na train-oil lamp. The reindeer told her all Gerda's story, but it told\nits own first; for it thought it was much the most important. Gerda was\nso overcome by the cold that she could not speak at all.\n\n'Oh, you poor creatures!' said the Lapp woman; 'you've got a long way\nto go yet; you will have to go hundreds of miles into Finmark, for the\nSnow Queen is paying a country visit there, and she burns blue lights\nevery night. I will write a few words on a dried stock-fish, for I have\nno paper. I will give it to you to take to the Finn woman up there. She\nwill be better able to direct you than I can.'\n\nSo when Gerda was warmed, and had eaten and drunk something, the Lapp\nwoman wrote a few words on a dried stock-fish and gave it to her,\nbidding her take good care of it. Then she tied her on to the reindeer\nagain, and off they flew. Flicker, flicker, went the beautiful blue\nnorthern lights up in the sky all night long;--at last they came to\nFinmark, and knocked on the Finn woman's chimney, for she had no door at\nall.\n\nThere was such a heat inside that the Finn woman went about almost\nnaked; she was little and very grubby. She at once loosened Gerda's\nthings, and took off the mittens and the boots, or she would have been\ntoo hot. Then she put a piece of ice on the reindeer's head, and after\nthat she read what was written on the stock-fish. She read it three\ntimes, and then she knew it by heart, and put the fish into the pot for\ndinner; there was no reason why it should not be eaten, and she never\nwasted anything.\n\nAgain the reindeer told his own story first, and then little Gerda's.\nThe Finn woman blinked with her wise eyes, but she said nothing.\n\n'You are so clever,' said the reindeer, 'I know you can bind all the\nwinds of the world with a bit of sewing cotton. When a skipper unties\none knot he gets a good wind, when he unties two it blows hard, and if\nhe undoes the third and the fourth he brings a storm about his head wild\nenough to blow down the forest trees. Won't you give the little girl a\ndrink, so that she may have the strength of twelve men to overcome the\nSnow Queen?'\n\n'The strength of twelve men,' said the Finn woman. 'Yes, that will be\nabout enough.'\n\nShe went along to a shelf and took down a big folded skin, which she\nunrolled. There were curious characters written on it, and the Finn\nwoman read till the perspiration poured down her forehead.\n\nBut the reindeer again implored her to give Gerda something, and Gerda\nlooked at her with such beseeching eyes, full of tears, that the Finn\nwoman began blinking again, and drew the reindeer along into a corner,\nwhere she whispered to it, at the same time putting fresh ice on its\nhead.\n\n'Little Kay is certainly with the Snow Queen, and he is delighted with\neverything there. He thinks it is the best place in the world, but that\nis because he has got a splinter of glass in his heart and a grain of\nglass in his eye. They will have to come out first, or he will never be\nhuman again, and the Snow Queen will keep him in her power!'\n\n'But can't you give little Gerda something to take which will give her\npower to conquer it all?'\n\n'I can't give her greater power than she already has. Don't you see how\ngreat it is? Don't you see how both man and beast have to serve her? How\nshe has got on as well as she has on her bare feet? We must not tell her\nwhat power she has; it is in her heart, because she is such a sweet\ninnocent child. If she can't reach the Snow Queen herself, then we can't\nhelp her. The Snow Queen's gardens begin just two miles from here; you\ncan carry the little girl as far as that. Put her down by the big bush\nstanding there in the snow covered with red berries. Don't stand\ngossiping, but hurry back to me!' Then the Finn woman lifted Gerda on\nthe reindeer's back, and it rushed off as hard as it could.\n\n'Oh, I have not got my boots, and I have not got my mittens!' cried\nlittle Gerda.\n\nShe soon felt the want of them in that cutting wind, but the reindeer\ndid not dare to stop. It ran on till it came to the bush with the red\nberries. There it put Gerda down, and kissed her on the mouth, while big\nshining tears trickled down its face. Then it ran back again as fast as\never it could. There stood poor little Gerda, without shoes or\ngloves, in the middle of freezing icebound Finmark.\n\nShe ran forward as quickly as she could. A whole regiment of snow-flakes\ncame towards her; they did not fall from the sky, for it was quite\nclear, with the northern lights shining brightly. No; these snow-flakes\nran along the ground, and the nearer they came the bigger they grew.\nGerda remembered well how big and ingenious they looked under the\nmagnifying glass. But the size of these was monstrous. They were alive;\nthey were the Snow Queen's advanced guard, and they took the most\ncurious shapes. Some looked like big, horrid porcupines, some like\nbundles of knotted snakes with their heads sticking out. Others, again,\nwere like fat little bears with bristling hair, but all were dazzling\nwhite and living snow-flakes.\n\nThen little Gerda said the Lord's Prayer, and the cold was so great that\nher breath froze as it came out of her mouth, and she could see it like\na cloud of smoke in front of her. It grew thicker and thicker, till it\nformed itself into bright little angels, who grew bigger and bigger when\nthey touched the ground. They all wore helmets, and carried shields and\nspears in their hands. More and more of them appeared, and when Gerda\nhad finished her prayer she was surrounded by a whole legion. They\npierced the snow-flakes with their spears and shivered them into a\nhundred pieces, and little Gerda walked fearlessly and undauntedly\nthrough them. The angels touched her hands and her feet, and then she\nhardly felt how cold it was, but walked quickly on towards the Palace of\nthe Snow Queen.\n\nNow we must see what Kay was about. He was not thinking about Gerda at\nall, least of all that she was just outside the Palace.\n\n\nSEVENTH STORY\n\nWHAT HAPPENED IN THE SNOW QUEEN'S PALACE AND AFTERWARDS\n\n[Illustration: _The Snow Queen sat in the very middle of it when she sat\nat home._]\n\nThe Palace walls were made of drifted snow, and the windows and doors of\nthe biting winds. There were over a hundred rooms in it, shaped just as\nthe snow had drifted. The biggest one stretched for many miles. They\nwere all lighted by the strongest northern lights. All the rooms were\nimmensely big and empty, and glittering in their iciness. There was\nnever any gaiety in them; not even so much as a ball for the little\nbears, when the storms might have turned up as the orchestra, and the\npolar bears might have walked about on their hind legs and shown off\ntheir grand manners. There was never even a little game-playing party,\nfor such games as 'touch last' or 'the biter bit'--no, not even a little\ngossip over the coffee cups for the white fox misses. Immense, vast,\nand cold were the Snow Queen's halls. The northern lights came and went\nwith such regularity that you could count the seconds between their\ncoming and going. In the midst of these never-ending snow-halls was a\nfrozen lake. It was broken up on the surface into a thousand bits, but\neach piece was so exactly like the others that the whole formed a\nperfect work of art. The Snow Queen sat in the very middle of it when\nshe sat at home. She then said that she was sitting on 'The Mirror of\nReason,' and that it was the best and only one in the world.\n\nLittle Kay was blue with cold, nay, almost black; but he did not know\nit, for the Snow Queen had kissed away the icy shiverings, and his heart\nwas little better than a lump of ice. He went about dragging some sharp,\nflat pieces of ice, which he placed in all sorts of patterns, trying to\nmake something out of them; just as when we at home have little tablets\nof wood, with which we make patterns, and call them a 'Chinese puzzle.'\n\nKay's patterns were most ingenious, because they were the 'Ice Puzzles\nof Reason.' In his eyes they were first-rate and of the greatest\nimportance: this was because of the grain of glass still in his eye. He\nmade many patterns forming words, but he never could find out the right\nway to place them for one particular word, a word he was most anxious to\nmake. It was 'Eternity.' The Snow Queen had said to him that if he could\nfind out this word he should be his own master, and she would give him\nthe whole world and a new pair of skates. But he could not discover it.\n\n'Now I am going to fly away to the warm countries,' said the Snow Queen.\n'I want to go and peep into the black caldrons!' She meant the volcanoes\nEtna and Vesuvius by this. 'I must whiten them a little; it does them\ngood, and the lemons and the grapes too!' And away she flew.\n\nKay sat quite alone in all those many miles of empty ice halls. He\nlooked at his bits of ice, and thought and thought, till something gave\nway within him. He sat so stiff and immovable that one might have\nthought he was frozen to death.\n\nThen it was that little Gerda walked into the Palace, through the great\ngates in a biting wind. She said her evening prayer, and the wind\ndropped as if lulled to sleep, and she walked on into the big empty\nhall. She saw Kay, and knew him at once; she flung her arms round his\nneck, held him fast, and cried, 'Kay, little Kay, have I found you at\nlast?'\n\nBut he sat still, rigid and cold.\n\nThen little Gerda shed hot tears; they fell upon his breast and\npenetrated to his heart. Here they thawed the lump of ice, and melted\nthe little bit of the mirror which was in it. He looked at her, and she\nsang:\n\n    'Where roses deck the flowery vale,\n    There, Infant Jesus, we thee hail!'\n\nThen Kay burst into tears; he cried so much that the grain of glass\nwas washed out of his eye. He knew her, and shouted with joy, 'Gerda,\ndear little Gerda! where have you been for such a long time? And where\nhave I been?' He looked round and said, 'How cold it is here; how empty\nand vast!' He kept tight hold of Gerda, who laughed and cried for joy.\nTheir happiness was so heavenly that even the bits of ice danced for joy\naround them; and when they settled down, there they lay! just in the\nvery position the Snow Queen had told Kay he must find out, if he was to\nbecome his own master and have the whole world and a new pair of skates.\n\nGerda kissed his cheeks and they grew rosy, she kissed his eyes and they\nshone like hers, she kissed his hands and his feet, and he became well\nand strong. The Snow Queen might come home whenever she liked, his order\nof release was written there in shining letters of ice.\n\nThey took hold of each other's hands and wandered out of the big Palace.\nThey talked about grandmother, and about the roses upon the roof.\nWherever they went the winds lay still and the sun broke through the\nclouds. When they reached the bush with the red berries they found the\nreindeer waiting for them, and he had brought another young reindeer\nwith him, whose udders were full. The children drank her warm milk and\nkissed her on the mouth. Then they carried Kay and Gerda, first to the\nFinn woman, in whose heated hut they warmed themselves and received\ndirections about the homeward journey. Then they went on to the Lapp\nwoman; she had made new clothes for them and prepared her sledge. Both\nthe reindeer ran by their side, to the boundaries of the country; here\nthe first green buds appeared, and they said 'Good-bye' to the reindeer\nand the Lapp woman. They heard the first little birds twittering and saw\nthe buds in the forest. Out of it came riding a young girl on a\nbeautiful horse, which Gerda knew, for it had drawn the golden chariot.\nShe had a scarlet cap on her head and pistols in her belt; it was the\nlittle robber girl, who was tired of being at home. She was riding\nnorthwards to see how she liked it before she tried some other part of\nthe world. She knew them again, and Gerda recognised her with delight.\n\n'You are a nice fellow to go tramping off!' she said to little Kay. 'I\nshould like to know if you deserve to have somebody running to the end\nof the world for your sake!'\n\nBut Gerda patted her cheek, and asked about the Prince and Princess.\n\n'They are travelling in foreign countries,' said the robber girl.\n\n'But the crow?' asked Gerda.\n\n'Oh, the crow is dead!' she answered. 'The tame sweetheart is a widow,\nand goes about with a bit of black wool tied round her leg. She pities\nherself bitterly, but it's all nonsense! But tell me how you got on\nyourself, and where you found him.'\n\nGerda and Kay both told her all about it.\n\n'Snip, snap, snurre, it's all right at last then!' she said, and she\ntook hold of their hands and promised that if she ever passed through\ntheir town she would pay them a visit. Then she rode off into the wide\nworld. But Kay and Gerda walked on, hand in hand, and wherever they went\nthey found the most delightful spring and blooming flowers. Soon they\nrecognised the big town where they lived, with its tall towers, in which\nthe bells still rang their merry peals. They went straight on to\ngrandmother's door, up the stairs and into her room. Everything was just\nas they had left it, and the old clock ticked in the corner, and the\nhands pointed to the time. As they went through the door into the room\nthey perceived that they were grown up. The roses clustered round the\nopen window, and there stood their two little chairs. Kay and Gerda sat\ndown upon them, still holding each other by the hand. All the cold empty\ngrandeur of the Snow Queen's palace had passed from their memory like a\nbad dream. Grandmother sat in God's warm sunshine reading from her\nBible.\n\n'Without ye become as little children ye cannot enter into the Kingdom\nof Heaven.'\n\nKay and Gerda looked into each other's eyes, and then all at once the\nmeaning of the old hymn came to them.\n\n    'Where roses deck the flowery vale,\n    There, Infant Jesus, we thee hail!'\n\nAnd there they both sat, grown up and yet children, children at heart;\nand it was summer--warm, beautiful summer.\n\n\n\n\nTHE NIGHTINGALE\n\n[Illustration: _Among these trees lived a nightingale, which sang so\ndeliciously, that even the poor fisherman, who had plenty of other\nthings to do, lay still to listen to it, when he was out at night\ndrawing in his nets._]\n\nIn China, as you know, the Emperor is a Chinaman, and all the people\naround him are Chinamen too. It is many years since the story I am going\nto tell you happened, but that is all the more reason for telling it,\nlest it should be forgotten. The emperor's palace was the most beautiful\nthing in the world; it was made entirely of the finest porcelain, very\ncostly, but at the same time so fragile that it could only be touched\nwith the very greatest care. There were the most extraordinary flowers\nto be seen in the garden; the most beautiful ones had little silver\nbells tied to them, which tinkled perpetually, so that one should not\npass the flowers without looking at them. Every little detail in the\ngarden had been most carefully thought out, and it was so big, that even\nthe gardener himself did not know where it ended. If one went on\nwalking, one came to beautiful woods with lofty trees and deep lakes.\nThe wood extended to the sea, which was deep and blue, deep enough for\nlarge ships to sail up right under the branches of the trees. Among\nthese trees lived a nightingale, which sang so deliciously, that even\nthe poor fisherman, who had plenty of other things to do, lay still to\nlisten to it, when he was out at night drawing in his nets. 'Heavens,\nhow beautiful it is!' he said, but then he had to attend to his business\nand forgot it. The next night when he heard it again he would again\nexclaim, 'Heavens, how beautiful it is!'\n\nTravellers came to the emperor's capital, from every country in the\nworld; they admired everything very much, especially the palace and the\ngardens, but when they heard the nightingale they all said, 'This is\nbetter than anything!'\n\nWhen they got home they described it, and the learned ones wrote many\nbooks about the town, the palace and the garden; but nobody forgot the\nnightingale, it was always put above everything else. Those among them\nwho were poets wrote the most beautiful poems, all about the nightingale\nin the woods by the deep blue sea. These books went all over the world,\nand in course of time some of them reached the emperor. He sat in his\ngolden chair reading and reading, and nodding his head, well pleased to\nhear such beautiful descriptions of the town, the palace and the garden.\n'But the nightingale is the best of all,' he read.\n\n'What is this?' said the emperor. 'The nightingale? Why, I know nothing\nabout it. Is there such a bird in my kingdom, and in my own garden into\nthe bargain, and I have never heard of it? Imagine my having to\ndiscover this from a book?'\n\nThen he called his gentleman-in-waiting, who was so grand that when any\none of a lower rank dared to speak to him, or to ask him a question, he\nwould only answer 'P,' which means nothing at all.\n\n'There is said to be a very wonderful bird called a nightingale here,'\nsaid the emperor. 'They say that it is better than anything else in all\nmy great kingdom! Why have I never been told anything about it?'\n\n'I have never heard it mentioned,' said the gentleman-in-waiting. 'It\nhas never been presented at court.'\n\n'I wish it to appear here this evening to sing to me,' said the emperor.\n'The whole world knows what I am possessed of, and I know nothing about\nit!'\n\n'I have never heard it mentioned before,' said the gentleman-in-waiting.\n'I will seek it, and I will find it!' But where was it to be found? The\ngentleman-in-waiting ran upstairs and downstairs and in and out of all\nthe rooms and corridors. No one of all those he met had ever heard\nanything about the nightingale; so the gentleman-in-waiting ran back to\nthe emperor, and said that it must be a myth, invented by the writers of\nthe books. 'Your imperial majesty must not believe everything that is\nwritten; books are often mere inventions, even if they do not belong to\nwhat we call the black art!'\n\n'But the book in which I read it is sent to me by the powerful Emperor\nof Japan, so it can't be untrue. I will hear this nightingale; I insist\nupon its being here to-night. I extend my most gracious protection to\nit, and if it is not forthcoming, I will have the whole court trampled\nupon after supper!'\n\n'Tsing-pe!' said the gentleman-in-waiting, and away he ran again, up and\ndown all the stairs, in and out of all the rooms and corridors; half the\ncourt ran with him, for they none of them wished to be trampled on.\nThere was much questioning about this nightingale, which was known to\nall the outside world, but to no one at court. At last they found a poor\nlittle maid in the kitchen. She said, 'Oh heavens, the nightingale? I\nknow it very well. Yes, indeed it can sing. Every evening I am allowed\nto take broken meat to my poor sick mother: she lives down by the shore.\nOn my way back, when I am tired, I rest awhile in the wood, and then I\nhear the nightingale. Its song brings the tears into my eyes; I feel as\nif my mother were kissing me!'\n\n'Little kitchen-maid,' said the gentleman-in-waiting, 'I will procure\nyou a permanent position in the kitchen, and permission to see the\nemperor dining, if you will take us to the nightingale. It is commanded\nto appear at court to-night.'\n\nThen they all went out into the wood where the nightingale usually sang.\nHalf the court was there. As they were going along at their best pace a\ncow began to bellow.\n\n'Oh!' said a young courtier, 'there we have it. What wonderful power\nfor such a little creature; I have certainly heard it before.'\n\n'No, those are the cows bellowing; we are a long way yet from the\nplace.' Then the frogs began to croak in the marsh.\n\n'Beautiful!' said the Chinese chaplain, 'it is just like the tinkling of\nchurch bells.'\n\n'No, those are the frogs!' said the little kitchen-maid. 'But I think we\nshall soon hear it now!'\n\nThen the nightingale began to sing.\n\n'There it is!' said the little girl. 'Listen, listen, there it sits!'\nand she pointed to a little grey bird up among the branches.\n\n'Is it possible?' said the gentleman-in-waiting. 'I should never have\nthought it was like that. How common it looks! Seeing so many grand\npeople must have frightened all its colours away.'\n\n'Little nightingale!' called the kitchen-maid quite loud, 'our gracious\nemperor wishes you to sing to him!'\n\n'With the greatest of pleasure!' said the nightingale, warbling away in\nthe most delightful fashion.\n\n'It is just like crystal bells,' said the gentleman-in-waiting. 'Look at\nits little throat, how active it is. It is extraordinary that we have\nnever heard it before! I am sure it will be a great success at court!'\n\n'Shall I sing again to the emperor?' said the nightingale, who thought\nhe was present.\n\n'My precious little nightingale,' said the gentleman-in-waiting, 'I have\nthe honour to command your attendance at a court festival to-night,\nwhere you will charm his gracious majesty the emperor with your\nfascinating singing.'\n\n'It sounds best among the trees,' said the nightingale, but it went with\nthem willingly when it heard that the emperor wished it.\n\n[Illustration: _'Is it possible?' said the gentleman-in-waiting. 'I\nshould never have thought it was like that. How common it looks. Seeing\nso many grand people must have frightened all its colours away.'_]\n\nThe palace had been brightened up for the occasion. The walls and the\nfloors, which were all of china, shone by the light of many thousand\ngolden lamps. The most beautiful flowers, all of the tinkling kind, were\narranged in the corridors; there was hurrying to and fro, and a great\ndraught, but this was just what made the bells ring; one's ears were\nfull of the tinkling. In the middle of the large reception-room where\nthe emperor sat a golden rod had been fixed, on which the nightingale\nwas to perch. The whole court was assembled, and the little kitchen-maid\nhad been permitted to stand behind the door, as she now had the actual\ntitle of cook. They were all dressed in their best; everybody's eyes\nwere turned towards the little grey bird at which the emperor was\nnodding. The nightingale sang delightfully, and the tears came into the\nemperor's eyes, nay, they rolled down his cheeks; and then the\nnightingale sang more beautifully than ever, its notes touched all\nhearts. The emperor was charmed, and said the nightingale should\nhave his gold slipper to wear round its neck. But the nightingale\ndeclined with thanks; it had already been sufficiently rewarded.\n\n'I have seen tears in the eyes of the emperor; that is my richest\nreward. The tears of an emperor have a wonderful power! God knows I am\nsufficiently recompensed!' and then it again burst into its sweet\nheavenly song.\n\n'That is the most delightful coquetting I have ever seen!' said the\nladies, and they took some water into their mouths to try and make the\nsame gurgling when any one spoke to them, thinking so to equal the\nnightingale. Even the lackeys and the chambermaids announced that they\nwere satisfied, and that is saying a great deal; they are always the\nmost difficult people to please. Yes, indeed, the nightingale had made a\nsensation. It was to stay at court now, and to have its own cage, as\nwell as liberty to walk out twice a day, and once in the night. It\nalways had twelve footmen, with each one holding a ribbon which was tied\nround its leg. There was not much pleasure in an outing of that sort.\n\nThe whole town talked about the marvellous bird, and if two people met,\none said to the other 'Night,' and the other answered 'Gale,' and then\nthey sighed, perfectly understanding each other. Eleven cheesemongers'\nchildren were called after it, but they had not got a voice among them.\n\nOne day a large parcel came for the emperor; outside was written the\nword 'Nightingale.'\n\n'Here we have another new book about this celebrated bird,' said the\nemperor. But it was no book; it was a little work of art in a box, an\nartificial nightingale, exactly like the living one, but it was studded\nall over with diamonds, rubies and sapphires.\n\nWhen the bird was wound up it could sing one of the songs the real one\nsang, and it wagged its tail, which glittered with silver and gold. A\nribbon was tied round its neck on which was written, 'The Emperor of\nJapan's nightingale is very poor compared to the Emperor of China's.'\n\nEverybody said, 'Oh, how beautiful!' And the person who brought the\nartificial bird immediately received the title of Imperial\nNightingale-Carrier in Chief.\n\n'Now, they must sing together; what a duet that will be.'\n\nThen they had to sing together, but they did not get on very well, for\nthe real nightingale sang in its own way, and the artificial one could\nonly sing waltzes.\n\n'There is no fault in that,' said the music-master; 'it is perfectly in\ntime and correct in every way!'\n\nThen the artificial bird had to sing alone. It was just as great a\nsuccess as the real one, and then it was so much prettier to look at; it\nglittered like bracelets and breast-pins.\n\n[Illustration: _Then it again burst into its sweet heavenly song.]\n\n'That is the most delightful coquetting I have ever seen!' said the\nladies, and they took some water into their mouths to try and make the\nsame gurgling, thinking so to equal the nightingale._\n\nIt sang the same tune three and thirty times over, and yet it was\nnot tired; people would willingly have heard it from the beginning\nagain, but the emperor said that the real one must have a turn now--but\nwhere was it? No one had noticed that it had flown out of the open\nwindow, back to its own green woods.\n\n'But what is the meaning of this?' said the emperor.\n\nAll the courtiers railed at it, and said it was a most ungrateful bird.\n\n'We have got the best bird though,' said they, and then the artificial\nbird had to sing again, and this was the thirty-fourth time that they\nheard the same tune, but they did not know it thoroughly even yet,\nbecause it was so difficult.\n\nThe music-master praised the bird tremendously, and insisted that it was\nmuch better than the real nightingale, not only as regarded the outside\nwith all the diamonds, but the inside too.\n\n'Because you see, my ladies and gentlemen, and the emperor before all,\nin the real nightingale you never know what you will hear, but in the\nartificial one everything is decided beforehand! So it is, and so it\nmust remain, it can't be otherwise. You can account for things, you can\nopen it and show the human ingenuity in arranging the waltzes, how they\ngo, and how one note follows upon another!'\n\n'Those are exactly my opinions,' they all said, and the music-master got\nleave to show the bird to the public next Sunday. They were also to hear\nit sing, said the emperor. So they heard it, and all became as\nenthusiastic over it as if they had drunk themselves merry on tea,\nbecause that is a thoroughly Chinese habit.\n\nThen they all said 'Oh,' and stuck their forefingers in the air and\nnodded their heads; but the poor fishermen who had heard the real\nnightingale said, 'It sounds very nice, and it is very like the real\none, but there is something wanting, we don't know what.' The real\nnightingale was banished from the kingdom.\n\nThe artificial bird had its place on a silken cushion, close to the\nemperor's bed: all the presents it had received of gold and precious\njewels were scattered round it. Its title had risen to be 'Chief\nImperial Singer of the Bed-Chamber,' in rank number one, on the left\nside; for the emperor reckoned that side the important one, where the\nheart was seated. And even an emperor's heart is on the left side. The\nmusic-master wrote five-and-twenty volumes about the artificial bird;\nthe treatise was very long and written in all the most difficult Chinese\ncharacters. Everybody said they had read and understood it, for\notherwise they would have been reckoned stupid, and then their bodies\nwould have been trampled upon.\n\n[Illustration: _The music-master wrote five-and-twenty volumes about the\nartificial bird; the treatise was very long and written in all the most\ndifficult Chinese characters._]\n\nThings went on in this way for a whole year. The emperor, the court, and\nall the other Chinamen knew every little gurgle in the song of the\nartificial bird by heart; but they liked it all the better for this, and\nthey could all join in the song themselves. Even the street boys\nsang 'zizizi' and 'cluck, cluck, cluck,' and the emperor sang it too.\n\nBut one evening when the bird was singing its best, and the emperor was\nlying in bed listening to it, something gave way inside the bird with a\n'whizz.' Then a spring burst, 'whirr' went all the wheels, and the music\nstopped. The emperor jumped out of bed and sent for his private\nphysicians, but what good could they do? Then they sent for the\nwatchmaker, and after a good deal of talk and examination he got the\nworks to go again somehow; but he said it would have to be saved as much\nas possible, because it was so worn out, and he could not renew the\nworks so as to be sure of the tune. This was a great blow! They only\ndared to let the artificial bird sing once a year, and hardly that; but\nthen the music-master made a little speech, using all the most difficult\nwords. He said it was just as good as ever, and his saying it made it\nso.\n\nFive years now passed, and then a great grief came upon the nation, for\nthey were all very fond of their emperor, and he was ill and could not\nlive, it was said. A new emperor was already chosen, and people stood\nabout in the street, and asked the gentleman-in-waiting how their\nemperor was going on.\n\n'P,' answered he, shaking his head.\n\nThe emperor lay pale and cold in his gorgeous bed, the courtiers thought\nhe was dead, and they all went off to pay their respects to their new\nemperor. The lackeys ran off to talk matters over, and the chambermaids\ngave a great coffee-party. Cloth had been laid down in all the rooms and\ncorridors so as to deaden the sound of footsteps, so it was very, very\nquiet. But the emperor was not dead yet. He lay stiff and pale in the\ngorgeous bed with its velvet hangings and heavy golden tassels. There\nwas an open window high above him, and the moon streamed in upon the\nemperor, and the artificial bird beside him.\n\nThe poor emperor could hardly breathe, he seemed to have a weight on his\nchest, he opened his eyes, and then he saw that it was Death sitting\nupon his chest, wearing his golden crown. In one hand he held the\nemperor's golden sword, and in the other his imperial banner. Round\nabout, from among the folds of the velvet hangings peered many curious\nfaces: some were hideous, others gentle and pleasant. They were all the\nemperor's good and bad deeds, which now looked him in the face when\nDeath was weighing him down.\n\n'Do you remember that?' whispered one after the other; 'Do you remember\nthis?' and they told him so many things that the perspiration poured\ndown his face.\n\n'I never knew that,' said the emperor. 'Music, music, sound the great\nChinese drums!' he cried, 'that I may not hear what they are saying.'\nBut they went on and on, and Death sat nodding his head, just like a\nChinaman, at everything that was said.\n\n'Music, music!' shrieked the emperor. 'You precious little golden bird,\nsing, sing! I have loaded you with precious stones, and even hung my own\ngolden slipper round your neck; sing, I tell you, sing!'\n\nBut the bird stood silent; there was nobody to wind it up, so of course\nit could not go. Death continued to fix the great empty sockets of his\neyes upon him, and all was silent, so terribly silent.\n\nSuddenly, close to the window, there was a burst of lovely song; it was\nthe living nightingale, perched on a branch outside. It had heard of the\nemperor's need, and had come to bring comfort and hope to him. As it\nsang the faces round became fainter and fainter, and the blood coursed\nwith fresh vigour in the emperor's veins and through his feeble limbs.\nEven Death himself listened to the song and said, 'Go on, little\nnightingale, go on!'\n\n'Yes, if you give me the gorgeous golden sword; yes, if you give me the\nimperial banner; yes, if you give me the emperor's crown.'\n\nAnd Death gave back each of these treasures for a song, and the\nnightingale went on singing. It sang about the quiet churchyard, when\nthe roses bloom, where the elder flower scents the air, and where the\nfresh grass is ever moistened anew by the tears of the mourner. This\nsong brought to Death a longing for his own garden, and, like a cold\ngrey mist, he passed out of the window.\n\n'Thanks, thanks!' said the emperor; 'you heavenly little bird, I know\nyou! I banished you from my kingdom, and yet you have charmed the evil\nvisions away from my bed by your song, and even Death away from my\nheart! How can I ever repay you?'\n\n'You have rewarded me,' said the nightingale. 'I brought the tears to\nyour eyes, the very first time I ever sang to you, and I shall never\nforget it! Those are the jewels which gladden the heart of a\nsinger;--but sleep now, and wake up fresh and strong! I will sing to\nyou!'\n\nThen it sang again, and the emperor fell into a sweet refreshing sleep.\nThe sun shone in at his window, when he woke refreshed and well; none of\nhis attendants had yet come back to him, for they thought he was dead,\nbut the nightingale still sat there singing.\n\n'You must always stay with me!' said the emperor. 'You shall only sing\nwhen you like, and I will break the artificial bird into a thousand\npieces!'\n\n[Illustration: _Even Death himself listened to the song and said, 'Go\non, little nightingale, go on!'_]\n\n'Don't do that!' said the nightingale, 'it did all the good it could!\nkeep it as you have always done! I can't build my nest and live in this\npalace, but let me come whenever I like, then I will sit on the branch\nin the evening, and sing to you. I will sing to cheer you and to make\nyou thoughtful too; I will sing to you of the happy ones, and of those\nthat suffer too. I will sing about the good and the evil, which are kept\nhidden from you. The little singing bird flies far and wide, to the poor\nfisherman, and the peasant's home, to numbers who are far from you and\nyour court. I love your heart more than your crown, and yet there is an\nodour of sanctity round the crown too!--I will come, and I will\nsing to you!--But you must promise me one thing!--\n\n'Everything!' said the emperor, who stood there in his imperial robes\nwhich he had just put on, and he held the sword heavy with gold upon his\nheart.\n\n'One thing I ask you! Tell no one that you have a little bird who tells\nyou everything; it will be better so!'\n\nThen the nightingale flew away. The attendants came in to see after\ntheir dead emperor, and there he stood, bidding them 'Good morning!'\n\n\n\n\nTHE REAL PRINCESS\n\n\nThere was once a prince, and he wanted a princess, but then she must be\na _real_ Princess. He travelled right round the world to find one, but\nthere was always something wrong. There were plenty of princesses, but\nwhether they were real princesses he had great difficulty in\ndiscovering; there was always something which was not quite right about\nthem. So at last he had to come home again, and he was very sad because\nhe wanted a real princess so badly.\n\nOne evening there was a terrible storm; it thundered and lightened and\nthe rain poured down in torrents; indeed it was a fearful night.\n\nIn the middle of the storm somebody knocked at the town gate, and the\nold King himself went to open it.\n\nIt was a princess who stood outside, but she was in a terrible state\nfrom the rain and the storm. The water streamed out of her hair and her\nclothes; it ran in at the top of her shoes and out at the heel, but she\nsaid that she was a real princess.\n\n'Well we shall soon see if that is true,' thought the old Queen, but she\nsaid nothing. She went into the bedroom, took all the bedclothes off and\nlaid a pea on the bedstead: then she took twenty mattresses and piled\nthem on the top of the pea, and then twenty feather beds on the top of\nthe mattresses. This was where the princess was to sleep that night. In\nthe morning they asked her how she had slept.\n\n'Oh terribly badly!' said the princess. 'I have hardly closed my eyes\nthe whole night! Heaven knows what was in the bed. I seemed to be lying\nupon some hard thing, and my whole body is black and blue this morning.\nIt is terrible!'\n\nThey saw at once that she must be a real princess when she had felt the\npea through twenty mattresses and twenty feather beds. Nobody but a real\nprincess could have such a delicate skin.\n\nSo the prince took her to be his wife, for now he was sure that he had\nfound a real princess, and the pea was put into the Museum, where it may\nstill be seen if no one has stolen it.\n\nNow this is a true story.\n\n\n\n\nTHE GARDEN OF PARADISE\n\n\nThere was once a king's son; nobody had so many or such beautiful books\nas he had. He could read about everything which had ever happened in\nthis world, and see it all represented in the most beautiful pictures.\nHe could get information about every nation and every country; but as to\nwhere the Garden of Paradise was to be found, not a word could he\ndiscover, and this was the very thing he thought most about. His\ngrandmother had told him, when he was quite a little fellow and was\nabout to begin his school life, that every flower in the Garden of\nParadise was a delicious cake, and that the pistils were full of wine.\nIn one flower history was written, in another geography or tables; you\nhad only to eat the cake and you knew the lesson. The more you ate, the\nmore history, geography and tables you knew. All this he believed then;\nbut as he grew older and wiser and learnt more, he easily perceived that\nthe delights of the Garden of Paradise must be far beyond all this.\n\n[Illustration: _His grandmother had told him, when he was quite a\nlittle fellow and was about to begin his school life, that every flower\nin the Garden of Paradise was a delicious cake, and that the pistils\nwere full of wine._]\n\n'Oh, why did Eve take of the tree of knowledge? Why did Adam eat the\nforbidden fruit? If it had only been I it would not have happened! never\nwould sin have entered the world!'\n\nThis is what he said then, and he still said it when he was seventeen;\nhis thoughts were full of the Garden of Paradise.\n\nHe walked into the wood one day; he was alone, for that was his greatest\npleasure. Evening came on, the clouds drew up and it rained as if the\nwhole heaven had become a sluice from which the water poured in sheets;\nit was as dark as it is otherwise in the deepest well. Now he slipped on\nthe wet grass, and then he fell on the bare stones which jutted out of\nthe rocky ground. Everything was dripping, and at last the poor Prince\nhadn't got a dry thread on him. He had to climb over huge rocks where\nthe water oozed out of the thick moss. He was almost fainting; just then\nhe heard a curious murmuring and saw in front of him a big lighted cave.\nA fire was burning in the middle, big enough to roast a stag, which was\nin fact being done; a splendid stag with its huge antlers was stuck on a\nspit, being slowly turned round between the hewn trunks of two fir\ntrees. An oldish woman, tall and strong enough to be a man dressed up,\nsat by the fire throwing on logs from time to time.\n\n'Come in, by all means!' she said; 'sit down by the fire so that your\nclothes may dry!'\n\n'There is a shocking draught here,' said the Prince, as he sat down on\nthe ground.\n\n'It will be worse than this when my sons come home!' said the woman.\n'You are in the cavern of the winds; my sons are the four winds of the\nworld! Do you understand?'\n\n'Who are your sons?' asked the Prince.\n\n'Well that's not so easy to answer when the question is stupidly put,'\nsaid the woman. 'My sons do as they like; they are playing rounders now\nwith the clouds up there in the great hall,' and she pointed up into the\nsky.\n\n'Oh indeed!' said the Prince. 'You seem to speak very harshly, and you\nare not so gentle as the women I generally see about me!'\n\n'Oh, I daresay they have nothing else to do! I have to be harsh if I am\nto keep my boys under control! But I can do it, although they are a\nstiff-necked lot! Do you see those four sacks hanging on the wall? They\nare just as frightened of them as you used to be of the cane behind the\nlooking-glass. I can double the boys up, I can tell you, and then they\nhave to go into the bag; we don't stand upon ceremony, and there they\nhave to stay; they can't get out to play their tricks till it suits me\nto let them. But here we have one of them.' It was the Northwind who\ncame in with an icy blast; great hailstones peppered about the floor and\nsnow-flakes drifted in. He was dressed in bearskin trousers and jacket,\nand he had a sealskin cap drawn over his ears. Long icicles were\nhanging from his beard, and one hailstone after another dropped down\nfrom the collar of his jacket.\n\n'Don't go straight to the fire,' said the Prince. 'You might easily get\nchilblains!'\n\n'Chilblains!' said the Northwind with a loud laugh. 'Chilblains! they\nare my greatest delight! What sort of a feeble creature are you? How did\nyou get into the cave of the winds?'\n\n'He is my guest,' said the old woman, 'and if you are not pleased with\nthat explanation you may go into the bag! Now you know my opinion!'\n\nThis had its effect, and the Northwind told them where he came from, and\nwhere he had been for the last month.\n\n'I come from the Arctic seas,' he said. 'I have been on Behring Island\nwith the Russian walrus-hunters. I sat at the helm and slept when they\nsailed from the north cape, and when I woke now and then the stormy\npetrels were flying about my legs. They are queer birds; they give a\nbrisk flap with their wings and then keep them stretched out and\nmotionless, and even then they have speed enough.'\n\n'Pray don't be too long-winded,' said the mother of the winds. 'So at\nlast you got to Behring Island!'\n\n'It's perfectly splendid! There you have a floor to dance upon, as flat\nas a pancake, half-thawed snow, with moss. There were bones of whales\nand Polar bears lying about; they looked like the legs and arms of\ngiants covered with green mould. One would think that the sun had never\nshone on them. I gave a little puff to the fog so that one could see the\nshed. It was a house built of wreckage and covered with the skins of\nwhales; the flesh side was turned outwards; it was all red and green; a\nliving Polar bear sat on the roof growling. I went to the shore and\nlooked at the birds' nests, looked at the unfledged young ones screaming\nand gaping; then I blew down thousands of their throats and they learnt\nto shut their mouths. Lower down the walruses were rolling about like\nmonster maggots with pigs' heads and teeth a yard long!'\n\n'You're a good story-teller, my boy!' said his mother. 'It makes my\nmouth water to hear you!'\n\n'Then there was a hunt! The harpoons were plunged into the walruses'\nbreasts, and the steaming blood spurted out of them like fountains over\nthe ice. Then I remembered my part of the game! I blew up and made my\nships, the mountain-high icebergs, nip the boats; whew! how they\nwhistled and how they screamed, but I whistled louder. They were obliged\nto throw the dead walruses, chests and ropes out upon the ice! I shook\nthe snow-flakes over them and let them drift southwards to taste the\nsalt water. They will never come back to Behring Island!'\n\n'Then you've been doing evil!' said the mother of the winds.\n\n'What good I did, the others may tell you,' said he. 'But here we have\nmy brother from the west; I like him best of all; he smells of the sea\nand brings a splendid cool breeze with him!'\n\n'Is that the little Zephyr?' asked the Prince.\n\n'Yes, certainly it is Zephyr, but he is not so little as all that. He\nused to be a pretty boy once, but that's gone by!'\n\nHe looked like a wild man of the woods, but he had a padded hat on so as\nnot to come to any harm. He carried a mahogany club cut in the American\nmahogany forests. It could not be anything less than that.\n\n'Where do you come from?' asked his mother.\n\n'From the forest wildernesses!' he said, 'where the thorny creepers make\na fence between every tree, where the water-snake lies in the wet grass,\nand where human beings seem to be superfluous!'\n\n'What did you do there?'\n\n'I looked at the mighty river, saw where it dashed over the rocks in\ndust and flew with the clouds to carry the rainbow. I saw the wild\nbuffalo swimming in the river, but the stream carried him away; he\nfloated with the wild duck, which soared into the sky at the rapids; but\nthe buffalo was carried over with the water. I liked that and blew a\nstorm, so that the prim\u00e6val trees had to sail too, and they were whirled\nabout like shavings.'\n\n'And you have done nothing else?' asked the old woman.\n\n'I have been turning somersaults in the Savannahs, patting the wild\nhorse, and shaking down cocoanuts! Oh yes, I have plenty of stories to\ntell! But one need not tell everything. You know that very well, old\nwoman!' and then he kissed his mother so heartily that she nearly fell\nbackwards; he was indeed a wild boy.\n\nThe Southwind appeared now in a turban and a flowing bedouin's cloak.\n\n'It is fearfully cold in here,' he said, throwing wood on the fire; 'it\nis easy to see that the Northwind got here first!'\n\n'It is hot enough here to roast a polar bear,' said the Northwind.\n\n'You are a polar bear yourself!' said the Southwind.\n\n'Do you want to go into the bag?' asked the old woman. 'Sit down on that\nstone and tell us where you have been.'\n\n'In Africa, mother!' he answered. 'I have been chasing the lion with the\nHottentots in Kaffirland! What grass there is on those plains! as green\nas an olive. The gnu was dancing about, and the ostriches ran races with\nme, but I am still the fastest. I went to the desert with its yellow\nsand. It looks like the bottom of the sea. I met a caravan! They were\nkilling their last camel to get water to drink, but it wasn't much they\ngot. The sun was blazing above, and the sand burning below. There were\nno limits to the outstretched desert. Then I burrowed into the fine\nloose sand and whirled it up in great columns--that was a dance! You\nshould have seen how despondently the dromedaries stood, and the\nmerchant drew his caftan over his head. He threw himself down before me\nas if I had been Allah, his god. Now they are buried, and there is a\npyramid of sand over them all; when I blow it away, sometime the sun\nwill bleach their bones, and then travellers will see that people have\nbeen there before, otherwise you would hardly believe it in the desert!'\n\n'Then you have only been doing harm!' said the mother. 'Into the bag you\ngo!' And before he knew where he was she had the Southwind by the waist\nand in the bag; it rolled about on the ground, but she sat down upon it\nand then it had to be quiet.\n\n'Your sons are lively fellows!' said the Prince.\n\n'Yes, indeed,' she said; 'but I can master them! Here comes the fourth.'\n\nIt was the Eastwind, and he was dressed like a Chinaman.\n\n'Oh, have you come from that quarter?' said the mother. 'I thought you\nhad been in the Garden of Paradise.'\n\n'I am only going there to-morrow!' said the Eastwind. 'It will be a\nhundred years to-morrow since I have been there. I have just come from\nChina, where I danced round the porcelain tower till all the bells\njingled. The officials were flogged in the streets, the bamboo canes\nwere broken over their shoulders, and they were all people ranging from\nthe first to the ninth rank. They shrieked \"Many thanks, Father and\nbenefactor,\" but they didn't mean what they said, and I went on ringing\nthe bells and singing \"Tsing, tsang, tsu!\"'\n\n'You're quite uproarious about it!' said the old woman. 'It's a good\nthing you are going to the Garden of Paradise to-morrow; it always has a\ngood effect on your behaviour. Mind you drink deep of the well of\nwisdom, and bring a little bottleful home to me.'\n\n'That I will,' said the Eastwind, 'But why have you put my brother from\nthe south into the bag? Out with him. He must tell me about the\nphoenix; the Princess always wants to hear about that bird when I call\nevery hundred years. Open the bag! then you'll be my sweetest mother,\nand I'll give you two pockets full of tea as green and fresh as when I\npicked it!'\n\n'Well, for the sake of the tea, and because you are my darling, I will\nopen my bag!'\n\nShe did open it and the Southwind crept out, but he was quite\ncrestfallen because the strange Prince had seen his disgrace.\n\n'Here is a palm leaf for the Princess!' said the Southwind. 'The old\nphoenix, the only one in the world, gave it to me. He has scratched\nhis whole history on it with his bill, for the hundred years of his\nlife, and she can read it for herself. I saw how the phoenix set fire\nto his nest himself and sat on it while it burnt, like the widow of a\nHindoo. Oh, how the dry branches crackled, how it smoked, and what a\nsmell there was! At last it all burst into flame; the old bird was burnt\nto ashes, but his egg lay glowing in the fire; it broke with a loud bang\nand the young one flew out. Now it rules over all the birds, and it is\nthe only phoenix in the world. He bit a hole in the leaf I gave you;\nthat is his greeting to the Princess.'\n\n'Let us have something to eat now!' said the mother of the winds; and\nthey all sat down to eat the roast stag, and the Prince sat by the side\nof the Eastwind, so they soon became good friends.\n\n'I say,' said the Prince, 'just tell me who is this Princess, and where\nis the Garden of Paradise?'\n\n'Oh ho!' said the Eastwind, 'if that is where you want to go you must\nfly with me to-morrow. But I may as well tell you that no human being\nhas been there since Adam and Eve's time. You know all about them I\nsuppose from your Bible stories?'\n\n'Of course,' said the Prince.\n\n'When they were driven away the Garden of Eden sank into the ground, but\nit kept its warm sunshine, its mild air, and all its charms. The queen\nof the fairies lives there. The Island of Bliss, where death never\nenters, and where living is a delight, is there. Get on my back\nto-morrow and I will take you with me; I think I can manage it! But you\nmustn't talk now, I want to go to sleep.'\n\nWhen the Prince woke up in the early morning, he was not a little\nsurprised to find that he was already high above the clouds. He was\nsitting on the back of the Eastwind, who was holding him carefully; they\nwere so high up that woods and fields, rivers and lakes, looked like a\nlarge coloured map.\n\n'Good morning,' said the Eastwind. 'You may as well sleep a little\nlonger, for there is not much to be seen in this flat country below us,\nunless you want to count the churches. They look like chalk dots on the\ngreen board.'\n\nHe called the fields and meadows 'the green board.'\n\n'It was very rude of me to leave without saying good-bye to your mother\nand brothers,' said the Prince.\n\n'One is excused when one is asleep!' said the Eastwind, and they flew on\nfaster than ever. You could mark their flight by the rustling of the\ntrees as they passed over the woods; and whenever they crossed a lake,\nor the sea, the waves rose and the great ships dipped low down in the\nwater, like floating swans. Towards evening the large towns were amusing\nas it grew dark, with all their lights twinkling now here, now there,\njust as when one burns a piece of paper and sees all the little sparks\nlike children coming home from school. The Prince clapped his hands, but\nthe Eastwind told him he had better leave off and hold tight, or he\nmight fall and find himself hanging on to a church steeple.\n\nThe eagle in the great forest flew swiftly, but the Eastwind flew more\nswiftly still. The Kossack on his little horse sped fast over the\nplains, but the Prince sped faster still.\n\n[Illustration: _The eagle in the great forest flew swiftly, but the\nEastwind flew more swiftly still._]\n\n'Now you can see the Himalayas!' said the Eastwind. 'They are the\nhighest mountains in Asia; we shall soon reach the Garden of Paradise.'\n\nThey took a more southerly direction, and the air became scented with\nspices and flowers. Figs and pomegranates grew wild, and the wild vines\nwere covered with blue and green grapes. They both descended here and\nstretched themselves on the soft grass, where the flowers nodded to the\nwind, as much as to say, 'Welcome back.'\n\n'Are we in the Garden of Paradise now?' asked the Prince.\n\n'No, certainly not!' answered the Eastwind. 'But we shall soon be there.\nDo you see that wall of rock and the great cavern where the wild vine\nhangs like a big curtain? We have to go through there! Wrap yourself up\nin your cloak, the sun is burning here, but a step further on it is icy\ncold. The bird which flies past the cavern has one wing out here in the\nheat of summer, and the other is there in the cold of winter.'\n\n'So that is the way to the Garden of Paradise!' said the Prince.\n\nNow they entered the cavern. Oh, how icily cold it was; but it did not\nlast long. The Eastwind spread his wings, and they shone like the\nbrightest flame; but what a cave it was! Large blocks of stone, from\nwhich the water dripped, hung over them in the most extraordinary\nshapes; at one moment it was so low and narrow that they had to crawl\non hands and knees, the next it was as wide and lofty as if they were in\nthe open air. It looked like a chapel of the dead, with mute organ pipes\nand petrified banners.\n\n'We seem to be journeying along Death's road to the Garden of Paradise!'\nsaid the Prince, but the Eastwind never answered a word, he only pointed\nbefore them where a beautiful blue light was shining. The blocks of\nstone above them grew dimmer and dimmer, and at last they became as\ntransparent as a white cloud in the moonshine. The air was also\ndeliciously soft, as fresh as on the mountain-tops and as scented as\ndown among the roses in the valley.\n\nA river ran there as clear as the air itself, and the fish in it were\nlike gold and silver. Purple eels, which gave out blue sparks with every\ncurve, gambolled about in the water; and the broad leaves of the\nwater-lilies were tinged with the hues of the rainbow, while the flower\nitself was like a fiery orange flame, nourished by the water, just as\noil keeps a lamp constantly burning. A firm bridge of marble, as\ndelicately and skilfully carved as if it were lace and glass beads, led\nover the water to the Island of Bliss, where the Garden of Paradise\nbloomed.\n\nThe Eastwind took the Prince in his arms and bore him over. The flowers\nand leaves there sang all the beautiful old songs of his childhood, but\nsang them more wonderfully than any human voice could sing them.\n\nWere these palm trees or giant water plants growing here? The Prince\nhad never seen such rich and mighty trees. The most wonderful climbing\nplants hung in wreaths, such as are only to be found pictured in gold\nand colours on the margins of old books of the Saints or entwined among\ntheir initial letters. It was the most extraordinary combination of\nbirds, flowers and scrolls.\n\nClose by on the grass stood a flock of peacocks with their brilliant\ntails outspread. Yes, indeed, it seemed so, but when the Prince touched\nthem he saw that they were not birds but plants. They were big dock\nleaves, which shone like peacocks' tails. Lions and tigers sprang like\nagile cats among the green hedges, which were scented with the blossom\nof the olive, and the lion and the tiger were tame. The wild dove,\nglistening like a pearl, beat the lion's mane with his wings; and the\nantelope, otherwise so shy, stood by nodding, just as if he wanted to\njoin the game.\n\nThe Fairy of the Garden now advanced to meet them; her garments shone\nlike the sun, and her face beamed like that of a happy mother rejoicing\nover her child. She was young and very beautiful, and was surrounded by\na band of lovely girls, each with a gleaming star in her hair.\n\nWhen the Eastwind gave her the inscribed leaf from the Phoenix her\neyes sparkled with delight. She took the Prince's hand and led him into\nher palace, where the walls were the colour of the brightest tulips in\nthe sunlight. The ceiling was one great shining flower, and the longer\none gazed into it the deeper the calyx seemed to be. The Prince went to\nthe window, and looking through one of the panes saw the Tree of\nKnowledge, with the Serpent, and Adam and Eve standing by.\n\n'Are they not driven out?' he asked, and the Fairy smiled, and explained\nthat Time had burned a picture into each pane, but not of the kind one\nusually sees; they were alive, the leaves on the trees moved, and people\ncame and went like the reflections in a mirror.\n\nThen he looked through another pane, and he saw Jacob's dream, with the\nladder going straight up into heaven, and angels with great wings were\nfluttering up and down. All that had ever happened in this world lived\nand moved on these window panes; only Time could imprint such wonderful\npictures.\n\n[Illustration: _The Fairy of the Garden now advanced to meet them; her\ngarments shone like the sun, and her face beamed like that of a happy\nmother rejoicing over her child._]\n\nThe Fairy smiled and led him into a large, lofty room, the walls of\nwhich were like transparent paintings of faces, one more beautiful than\nthe other. These were millions of the Blessed who smiled and sang, and\nall their songs melted into one perfect melody. The highest ones were so\ntiny that they seemed smaller than the very smallest rosebud, no bigger\nthan a pinpoint in a drawing. In the middle of the room stood a large\ntree, with handsome drooping branches; golden apples, large and small,\nhung like oranges among its green leaves. It was the Tree of\nKnowledge, of whose fruit Adam and Eve had eaten. From every leaf\nhung a shining red drop of dew; it was as if the tree wept tears of\nblood.\n\n'Now let us get into the boat,' said the Fairy. 'We shall find\nrefreshment on the swelling waters. The boat rocks, but it does not move\nfrom the spot; all the countries of the world will pass before our\neyes.'\n\nIt was a curious sight to see the whole coast move. Here came lofty\nsnow-clad Alps, with their clouds and dark fir trees. The horn echoed\nsadly among them, and the shepherd yodelled sweetly in the valleys. Then\nbanian trees bent their long drooping branches over the boat, black\nswans floated on the water, and the strangest animals and flowers\nappeared on the shore. This was New Holland, the fifth portion of the\nworld, which glided past them with a view of its blue mountains. They\nheard the song of priests, and saw the dances of the savages to the\nsound of drums and pipes of bone. The pyramids of Egypt reaching to the\nclouds, with fallen columns, and Sphynxes half buried in sand, next\nsailed past them. Then came the Aurora Borealis blazing over the peaks\nof the north; they were fireworks which could not be imitated. The\nPrince was so happy, and he saw a hundred times more than we have\ndescribed.\n\n'Can I stay here always?' he asked.\n\n'That depends upon yourself,' answered the Fairy. 'If you do not, like\nAdam, allow yourself to be tempted to do what is forbidden, you can stay\nhere always.'\n\n'I will not touch the apples on the Tree of Knowledge,' said the Prince.\n'There are thousands of other fruits here as beautiful.'\n\n'Test yourself, and if you are not strong enough, go back with the\nEastwind who brought you. He is going away now, and will not come back\nfor a hundred years; the time will fly in this place like a hundred\nhours, but that is a long time for temptation and sin. Every evening\nwhen I leave you I must say, \"Come with me,\" and I must beckon to you,\nbut stay behind. Do not come with me, for with every step you take your\nlonging will grow stronger. You will reach the hall where grows the Tree\nof Knowledge; I sleep beneath its fragrant drooping branches. You will\nbend over me and I must smile, but if you press a kiss upon my lips\nParadise will sink deep down into the earth, and it will be lost to you.\nThe sharp winds of the wilderness will whistle round you, the cold rain\nwill drop from your hair. Sorrow and labour will be your lot.'\n\n'I will remain here!' said the Prince.\n\nAnd the Eastwind kissed him on the mouth and said: 'Be strong, then we\nshall meet again in a hundred years. Farewell! Farewell!' And the\nEastwind spread his great wings; they shone like poppies at the harvest\ntime, or the Northern Lights in a cold winter.\n\n'Good-bye! good-bye!' whispered the flowers. Storks and pelicans flew\nin a line like waving ribbons, conducting him to the boundaries of the\nGarden.\n\n'Now we begin our dancing!' said the Fairy; 'at the end when I dance\nwith you, as the sun goes down you will see me beckon to you and cry,\n\"Come with me\", but do not come. I have to repeat it every night for a\nhundred years. Every time you resist, you will grow stronger, and at\nlast you will not even think of following. To-night is the first time.\nRemember my warning!'\n\nAnd the Fairy led him into a large hall of white transparent lilies, the\nyellow stamens in each formed a little golden harp which echoed the\nsound of strings and flutes. Lovely girls, slender and lissom, dressed\nin floating gauze, which revealed their exquisite limbs, glided in the\ndance, and sang of the joy of living--that they would never die--and\nthat the Garden of Paradise would bloom for ever.\n\nThe sun went down and the sky was bathed in golden light which gave the\nlilies the effect of roses; and the Prince drank of the foaming wine\nhanded to him by the maidens. He felt such joy as he had never known\nbefore; he saw the background of the hall opening where the Tree of\nKnowledge stood in a radiancy which blinded him. The song proceeding\nfrom it was soft and lovely, like his mother's voice, and she seemed to\nsay, 'My child, my beloved child!'\n\nThen the Fairy beckoned to him and said so tenderly, 'Come with me,'\nthat he rushed towards her, forgetting his promise, forgetting\neverything on the very first evening that she smiled and beckoned to\nhim.\n\nThe fragrance in the scented air around grew stronger, the harps sounded\nsweeter than ever, and it seemed as if the millions of smiling heads in\nthe hall where the Tree grew nodded and sang, 'One must know everything.\nMan is lord of the earth.' They were no longer tears of blood which fell\nfrom the Tree; it seemed to him that they were red shining stars.\n\n'Come with me, come with me,' spoke those trembling tones, and at every\nstep the Prince's cheeks burnt hotter and hotter and his blood coursed\nmore rapidly.\n\n'I must go,' he said, 'it is no sin; I must see her asleep; nothing will\nbe lost if I do not kiss her, and that I will not do. My will is\nstrong.'\n\nThe Fairy dropped her shimmering garment, drew back the branches, and a\nmoment after was hidden within their depths.\n\n'I have not sinned yet!' said the Prince, 'nor will I'; then he drew\nback the branches. There she lay asleep already, beautiful as only the\nFairy in the Garden of Paradise can be. She smiled in her dreams; he\nbent over her and saw the tears welling up under her eyelashes.\n\n[Illustration: _The Fairy dropped her shimmering garment, drew back the\nbranches, and a moment after was hidden within their depths._]\n\n'Do you weep for me?' he whispered. 'Weep not, beautiful maiden. I\nonly now understand the full bliss of Paradise; it surges through my\nblood and through my thoughts. I feel the strength of the angels and of\neverlasting life in my mortal limbs! If it were to be everlasting night\nto me, a moment like this were worth it!' and he kissed away the tears\nfrom her eyes; his mouth touched hers.\n\nThen came a sound like thunder, louder and more awful than any he had\never heard before, and everything around collapsed. The beautiful Fairy,\nthe flowery Paradise sank deeper and deeper. The Prince saw it sink into\nthe darkness of night; it shone far off like a little tiny twinkling\nstar. The chill of death crept over his limbs; he closed his eyes and\nlay long as if dead.\n\nThe cold rain fell on his face, and the sharp wind blew around his head,\nand at last his memory came back. 'What have I done?' he sighed. 'I have\nsinned like Adam, sinned so heavily that Paradise has sunk low beneath\nthe earth!' And he opened his eyes; he could still see the star, the\nfar-away star, which twinkled like Paradise; it was the morning star in\nthe sky. He got up and found himself in the wood near the cave of the\nwinds, and the mother of the winds sat by his side. She looked angry and\nraised her hand.\n\n'So soon as the first evening!' she said. 'I thought as much; if you\nwere my boy, you should go into the bag!'\n\n'Ah, he shall soon go there!' said Death. He was a strong old man, with\na scythe in his hand and great black wings. 'He shall be laid in a\ncoffin, but not now; I only mark him and then leave him for a time to\nwander about on the earth to expiate his sin and to grow better. I will\ncome some time. When he least expects me, I shall come back, lay him in\na black coffin, put it on my head, and fly to the skies. The Garden of\nParadise blooms there too, and if he is good and holy he shall enter\ninto it; but if his thoughts are wicked and his heart still full of sin,\nhe will sink deeper in his coffin than Paradise sank, and I shall only\ngo once in every thousand years to see if he is to sink deeper or to\nrise to the stars, the twinkling stars up there.'\n\n\n\n\nTHE MERMAID\n\n\nFar out at sea the water is as blue as the bluest cornflower, and as\nclear as the clearest crystal; but it is very deep, too deep for any\ncable to fathom, and if many steeples were piled on the top of one\nanother they would not reach from the bed of the sea to the surface of\nthe water. It is down there that the Mermen live.\n\nNow don't imagine that there are only bare white sands at the bottom; oh\nno! the most wonderful trees and plants grow there, with such flexible\nstalks and leaves, that at the slightest motion of the water they move\njust as if they were alive. All the fish, big and little, glide among\nthe branches just as, up here, birds glide through the air. The palace\nof the Merman King lies in the very deepest part; its walls are of coral\nand the long pointed windows of the clearest amber, but the roof is made\nof mussel shells which open and shut with the lapping of the water. This\nhas a lovely effect, for there are gleaming pearls in every shell, any\none of which would be the pride of a queen's crown.\n\nThe Merman King had been for many years a widower, but his old mother\nkept house for him; she was a clever woman, but so proud of her noble\nbirth that she wore twelve oysters on her tail, while the other grandees\nwere only allowed six. Otherwise she was worthy of all praise,\nespecially because she was so fond of the little mermaid princesses, her\ngrandchildren. They were six beautiful children, but the youngest was\nthe prettiest of all; her skin was as soft and delicate as a roseleaf,\nher eyes as blue as the deepest sea, but like all the others she had no\nfeet, and instead of legs she had a fish's tail.\n\nAll the livelong day they used to play in the palace in the great halls,\nwhere living flowers grew out of the walls. When the great amber windows\nwere thrown open the fish swam in, just as the swallows fly into our\nrooms when we open the windows, but the fish swam right up to the little\nprincesses, ate out of their hands, and allowed themselves to be patted.\n\n[Illustration: _The Merman King had been for many years a widower, but\nhis old mother kept house for him; she was a clever woman, but so proud\nof her noble birth that she wore twelve oysters on her tail, while the\nother grandees were only allowed six._]\n\nOutside the palace was a large garden, with fiery red and deep blue\ntrees, the fruit of which shone like gold, while the flowers glowed like\nfire on their ceaselessly waving stalks. The ground was of the finest\nsand, but it was of a blue phosphorescent tint. Everything was bathed in\na wondrous blue light down there; you might more readily have supposed\nyourself to be high up in the air, with only the sky above and below\nyou, than that you were at the bottom of the ocean. In a dead calm you\ncould just catch a glimpse of the sun like a purple flower with a\nstream of light radiating from its calyx.\n\nEach little princess had her own little plot of garden, where she could\ndig and plant just as she liked. One made her flower-bed in the shape of\na whale; another thought it nice to have hers like a little mermaid; but\nthe youngest made hers quite round like the sun, and she would only have\nflowers of a rosy hue like its beams. She was a curious child, quiet and\nthoughtful, and while the other sisters decked out their gardens with\nall kinds of extraordinary objects which they got from wrecks, she would\nhave nothing besides the rosy flowers like the sun up above, except a\nstatue of a beautiful boy. It was hewn out of the purest white marble\nand had gone to the bottom from some wreck. By the statue she planted a\nrosy red weeping willow which grew splendidly, and the fresh delicate\nbranches hung round and over it, till they almost touched the blue sand\nwhere the shadows showed violet, and were ever moving like the branches.\nIt looked as if the leaves and the roots were playfully interchanging\nkisses.\n\nNothing gave her greater pleasure than to hear about the world of human\nbeings up above; she made her old grandmother tell her all that she knew\nabout ships and towns, people and animals. But above all it seemed\nstrangely beautiful to her that up on the earth the flowers were\nscented, for they were not so at the bottom of the sea; also that the\nwoods were green, and that the fish which were to be seen among the\nbranches could sing so loudly and sweetly that it was a delight to\nlisten to them. You see the grandmother called little birds fish, or the\nmermaids would not have understood her, as they had never seen a bird.\n\n'When you are fifteen,' said the grandmother, 'you will be allowed to\nrise up from the sea and sit on the rocks in the moonlight, and look at\nthe big ships sailing by, and you will also see woods and towns.'\n\nOne of the sisters would be fifteen in the following year, but the\nothers,--well, they were each one year younger than the other, so that\nthe youngest had five whole years to wait before she would be allowed to\ncome up from the bottom, to see what things were like on earth. But each\none promised the others to give a full account of all that she had seen,\nand found most wonderful on the first day. Their grandmother could never\ntell them enough, for there were so many things about which they wanted\ninformation.\n\nNone of them was so full of longings as the youngest, the very one who\nhad the longest time to wait, and who was so quiet and dreamy. Many a\nnight she stood by the open windows and looked up through the dark blue\nwater which the fish were lashing with their tails and fins. She could\nsee the moon and the stars, it is true; their light was pale, but they\nlooked much bigger through the water than they do to our eyes. When she\nsaw a dark shadow glide between her and them, she knew that it was\neither a whale swimming above her, or else a ship laden with human\nbeings. I am certain they never dreamt that a lovely little mermaid was\nstanding down below, stretching up her white hands towards the keel.\n\nThe eldest princess had now reached her fifteenth birthday, and was to\nventure above the water. When she came back she had hundreds of things\nto tell them, but the most delightful of all, she said, was to lie in\nthe moonlight, on a sandbank in a calm sea, and to gaze at the large\ntown close to the shore, where the lights twinkled like hundreds of\nstars; to listen to music and the noise and bustle of carriages and\npeople, to see the many church towers and spires, and to hear the bells\nringing; and just because she could not go on shore she longed for that\nmost of all.\n\nOh, how eagerly the youngest sister listened! and when, later in the\nevening she stood at the open window and looked up through the dark blue\nwater, she thought of the big town with all its noise and bustle, and\nfancied that she could even hear the church bells ringing.\n\nThe year after, the second sister was allowed to mount up through the\nwater and swim about wherever she liked. The sun was just going down\nwhen she reached the surface, the most beautiful sight, she thought,\nthat she had ever seen. The whole sky had looked like gold, she said,\nand as for the clouds! well, their beauty was beyond description; they\nfloated in red and violet splendour over her head, and, far faster than\nthey went, a flock of wild swans flew like a long white veil over the\nwater towards the setting sun; she swam towards it, but it sank and all\nthe rosy light on clouds and water faded away.\n\nThe year after that the third sister went up, and, being much the most\nventuresome of them all, swam up a broad river which ran into the sea.\nShe saw beautiful green, vine-clad hills; palaces and country seats\npeeping through splendid woods. She heard the birds singing, and the sun\nwas so hot that she was often obliged to dive, to cool her burning face.\nIn a tiny bay she found a troop of little children running about naked\nand paddling in the water; she wanted to play with them, but they were\nfrightened and ran away. Then a little black animal came up; it was a\ndog, but she had never seen one before; it barked so furiously at her\nthat she was frightened and made for the open sea. She could never\nforget the beautiful woods, the green hills and the lovely children who\ncould swim in the water although they had no fishes' tails.\n\nThe fourth sister was not so brave; she stayed in the remotest part of\nthe ocean, and, according to her account, that was the most beautiful\nspot. You could see for miles and miles around you, and the sky above\nwas like a great glass dome. She had seen ships, but only far away, so\nthat they looked like sea-gulls. There were grotesque dolphins turning\nsomersaults, and gigantic whales squirting water through their nostrils\nlike hundreds of fountains on every side.\n\nNow the fifth sister's turn came. Her birthday fell in the winter, so\nthat she saw sights that the others had not seen on their first trips.\nThe sea looked quite green, and large icebergs were floating about, each\none of which looked like a pearl, she said, but was much bigger than the\nchurch towers built by men. They took the most wonderful shapes, and\nsparkled like diamonds. She had seated herself on one of the largest,\nand all the passing ships sheered off in alarm when they saw her sitting\nthere with her long hair streaming loose in the wind.\n\nIn the evening the sky became overcast with dark clouds; it thundered\nand lightened, and the huge icebergs glittering in the bright lightning,\nwere lifted high into the air by the black waves. All the ships\nshortened sail, and there was fear and trembling on every side, but she\nsat quietly on her floating iceberg watching the blue lightning flash in\nzigzags down on to the shining sea.\n\nThe first time any of the sisters rose above the water she was delighted\nby the novelties and beauties she saw; but once grown up, and at liberty\nto go where she liked, she became indifferent and longed for her home;\nin the course of a month or so they all said that after all their own\nhome in the deep was best, it was so cosy there.\n\nMany an evening the five sisters interlacing their arms would rise above\nthe water together. They had lovely voices, much clearer than any\nmortal, and when a storm was rising, and they expected ships to be\nwrecked, they would sing in the most seductive strains of the wonders of\nthe deep, bidding the seafarers have no fear of them. But the sailors\ncould not understand the words, they thought it was the voice of the\nstorm; nor could it be theirs to see this Elysium of the deep, for when\nthe ship sank they were drowned, and only reached the Merman's palace in\ndeath. When the elder sisters rose up in this manner, arm-in-arm, in the\nevening, the youngest remained behind quite alone, looking after them as\nif she must weep; but mermaids have no tears, and so they suffer all the\nmore.\n\n'Oh! if I were only fifteen!' she said, 'I know how fond I shall be of\nthe world above, and of the mortals who dwell there.'\n\nAt last her fifteenth birthday came.\n\n'Now we shall have you off our hands,' said her grandmother, the old\nqueen-dowager. 'Come now, let me adorn you like your other sisters!' and\nshe put a wreath of white lilies round her hair, but every petal of the\nflowers was half a pearl; then the old queen had eight oysters fixed on\nto the princess's tail to show her high rank.\n\n'But it hurts so!' said the little mermaid.\n\n'You must endure the pain for the sake of the finery!' said her\ngrandmother.\n\nBut oh! how gladly would she have shaken off all this splendour, and\nlaid aside the heavy wreath. Her red flowers in her garden suited her\nmuch better, but she did not dare to make any alteration. 'Good-bye,'\nshe said, and mounted as lightly and airily as a bubble through the\nwater.\n\nThe sun had just set when her head rose above the water, but the clouds\nwere still lighted up with a rosy and golden splendour, and the evening\nstar sparkled in the soft pink sky, the air was mild and fresh, and the\nsea as calm as a millpond. A big three-masted ship lay close by with\nonly a single sail set, for there was not a breath of wind, and the\nsailors were sitting about the rigging, on the cross-trees, and at the\nmast-heads. There was music and singing on board, and as the evening\nclosed in hundreds of gaily coloured lanterns were lighted--they looked\nlike the flags of all nations waving in the air. The little mermaid swam\nright up to the cabin windows, and every time she was lifted by the\nswell she could see through the transparent panes crowds of gaily\ndressed people. The handsomest of them all was the young prince with\nlarge dark eyes; he could not be much more than sixteen, and all these\nfestivities were in honour of his birthday. The sailors danced on deck,\nand when the prince appeared among them hundreds of rockets were let off\nmaking it as light as day, and frightening the little mermaid so much\nthat she had to dive under the water. She soon ventured up again, and it\nwas just as if all the stars of heaven were falling in showers round\nabout her. She had never seen such magic fires. Great suns whirled\nround, gorgeous fire-fish hung in the blue air, and all was reflected\nin the calm and glassy sea. It was so light on board the ship that every\nlittle rope could be seen, and the people still better. Oh, how handsome\nthe prince was! how he laughed and smiled as he greeted his guests,\nwhile the music rang out in the quiet night.\n\nIt got quite late, but the little mermaid could not take her eyes off\nthe ship and the beautiful prince. The coloured lanterns were put out,\nno more rockets were sent up, and the cannon had ceased its thunder, but\ndeep down in the sea there was a dull murmuring and moaning sound.\nMeanwhile she was rocked up and down on the waves, so that she could\nlook into the cabin; but the ship got more and more way on, sail after\nsail was filled by the wind, the waves grew stronger, great clouds\ngathered, and it lightened in the distance. Oh, there was going to be a\nfearful storm! and soon the sailors had to shorten sail. The great ship\nrocked and rolled as she dashed over the angry sea, the black waves rose\nlike mountains, high enough to overwhelm her, but she dived like a swan\nthrough them and rose again and again on their towering crests. The\nlittle mermaid thought it a most amusing race, but not so the sailors.\nThe ship creaked and groaned; the mighty timbers bulged and bent under\nthe heavy blows; the water broke over the decks, snapping the main mast\nlike a reed; she heeled over on her side, and the water rushed into the\nhold.\n\nNow the little mermaid saw that they were in danger, and she had for\nher own sake to beware of the floating beams and wreckage. One moment it\nwas so pitch dark that she could not see at all, but when the lightning\nflashed it became so light that she could see all on board. Every man\nwas looking out for his own safety as best he could; but she more\nparticularly followed the young prince with her eyes, and when the ship\nwent down she saw him sink in the deep sea. At first she was quite\ndelighted, for now he was coming to be with her, but then she remembered\nthat human beings could not live under water, and that only if he were\ndead could he go to her father's palace. No! he must not die; so she\nswam towards him all among the drifting beams and planks, quite\nforgetting that they might crush her. She dived deep down under the\nwater, and came up again through the waves, and at last reached the\nyoung prince just as he was becoming unable to swim any further in the\nstormy sea. His limbs were numbed, his beautiful eyes were closing, and\nhe must have died if the little mermaid had not come to the rescue. She\nheld his head above the water and let the waves drive them whithersoever\nthey would.\n\nBy daybreak all the storm was over, of the ship not a trace was to be\nseen; the sun rose from the water in radiant brilliance, and his rosy\nbeams seemed to cast a glow of life into the prince's cheeks, but his\neyes remained closed. The mermaid kissed his fair and lofty brow, and\nstroked back the dripping hair; it seemed to her that he was like the\nmarble statue in her little garden; she kissed him again and longed that\nhe might live.\n\nAt last she saw dry land before her, high blue mountains on whose\nsummits the white snow glistened as if a flock of swans had settled\nthere; down by the shore were beautiful green woods, and in the\nforeground a church or temple, she did not quite know which, but it was\na building of some sort. Lemon and orange trees grew in the garden, and\nlofty palms stood by the gate. At this point the sea formed a little bay\nwhere the water was quite calm, but very deep, right up to the cliffs;\nat their foot was a strip of fine white sand to which she swam with the\nbeautiful prince, and laid him down on it, taking great care that his\nhead should rest high up in the warm sunshine.\n\nThe bells now began to ring in the great white building, and a number of\nyoung maidens came into the garden. Then the little mermaid swam further\noff behind some high rocks and covered her hair and breast with foam, so\nthat no one should see her little face, and then she watched to see who\nwould discover the poor prince.\n\n[Illustration: _His limbs were numbed, his beautiful eyes were closing,\nand he must have died if the little mermaid had not come to the\nrescue._]\n\nIt was not long before one of the maidens came up to him. At first she\nseemed quite frightened, but only for a moment, and then she fetched\nseveral others, and the mermaid saw that the prince was coming to life,\nand that he smiled at all those around him, but he never smiled at her.\nYou see he did not know that she had saved him. She felt so sad\nthat when he was led away into the great building she dived sorrowfully\ninto the water and made her way home to her father's palace.\n\nAlways silent and thoughtful, she became more so now than ever. Her\nsisters often asked her what she had seen on her first visit to the\nsurface, but she never would tell them anything.\n\nMany an evening and many a morning she would rise to the place where she\nhad left the prince. She saw the fruit in the garden ripen, and then\ngathered, she saw the snow melt on the mountain-tops, but she never saw\nthe prince, so she always went home still sadder than before. At home\nher only consolation was to sit in her little garden with her arms\ntwined round the handsome marble statue which reminded her of the\nprince. It was all in gloomy shade now, as she had ceased to tend her\nflowers, and the garden had become a neglected wilderness of long stalks\nand leaves entangled with the branches of the tree.\n\nAt last she could not bear it any longer, so she told one of her\nsisters, and from her it soon spread to the others, but to no one else\nexcept to one or two other mermaids who only told their dearest friends.\nOne of these knew all about the prince; she had also seen the\nfestivities on the ship; she knew where he came from and where his\nkingdom was situated.\n\n'Come, little sister!' said the other princesses, and, throwing their\narms round each other's shoulders, they rose from the water in a long\nline, just in front of the prince's palace.\n\nIt was built of light yellow glistening stone, with great marble\nstaircases, one of which led into the garden. Magnificent gilded cupolas\nrose above the roof, and the spaces between the columns which encircled\nthe building were filled with life-like marble statues. Through the\nclear glass of the lofty windows you could see gorgeous halls adorned\nwith costly silken hangings, and the pictures on the walls were a sight\nworth seeing. In the midst of the central hall a large fountain played,\nthrowing its jets of spray upwards to a glass dome in the roof, through\nwhich the sunbeams lighted up the water and the beautiful plants which\ngrew in the great basin.\n\nShe knew now where he lived, and often used to go there in the evenings\nand by night over the water. She swam much nearer the land than any of\nthe others dared; she even ventured right up the narrow channel under\nthe splendid marble terrace which threw a long shadow over the water.\nShe used to sit here looking at the young prince, who thought he was\nquite alone in the clear moonlight.\n\nShe saw him many an evening sailing about in his beautiful boat, with\nflags waving and music playing; she used to peep through the green\nrushes, and if the wind happened to catch her long silvery veil and any\none saw it, they only thought it was a swan flapping its wings.\n\nMany a night she heard the fishermen, who were fishing by torchlight,\ntalking over the good deeds of the young prince; and she was happy to\nthink that she had saved his life when he was drifting about on the\nwaves, half dead, and she could not forget how closely his head had\npressed her breast, and how passionately she had kissed him; but he knew\nnothing of all this, and never saw her even in his dreams.\n\nShe became fonder and fonder of mankind, and longed more and more to be\nable to live among them; their world seemed so infinitely bigger than\nhers; with their ships they could scour the ocean, they could ascend the\nmountains high above the clouds, and their wooded, grass-grown lands\nextended further than her eye could reach. There was so much that she\nwanted to know, but her sisters could not give an answer to all her\nquestions, so she asked her old grandmother, who knew the upper world\nwell, and rightly called it the country above the sea.\n\n'If men are not drowned,' asked the little mermaid, 'do they live for\never? Do they not die as we do down here in the sea?'\n\n'Yes,' said the old lady, 'they have to die too, and their lifetime is\neven shorter than ours. We may live here for three hundred years, but\nwhen we cease to exist we become mere foam on the water and do not have\nso much as a grave among our dear ones. We have no immortal souls; we\nhave no future life; we are just like the green sea-weed, which, once\ncut down, can never revive again! Men, on the other hand, have a soul\nwhich lives for ever, lives after the body has become dust; it rises\nthrough the clear air, up to the shining stars! Just as we rise from the\nwater to see the land of mortals, so they rise up to unknown beautiful\nregions which we shall never see.'\n\n'Why have we no immortal souls?' asked the little mermaid sadly. 'I\nwould give all my three hundred years to be a human being for one day,\nand afterwards to have a share in the heavenly kingdom.'\n\n'You must not be thinking about that,' said the grandmother; 'we are\nmuch better off and happier than human beings.'\n\n'Then I shall have to die and to float as foam on the water, and never\nhear the music of the waves or see the beautiful flowers or the red sun!\nIs there nothing I can do to gain an immortal soul?'\n\n'No,' said the grandmother; 'only if a human being so loved you that you\nwere more to him than father or mother, if all his thoughts and all his\nlove were so centred in you that he would let the priest join your hands\nand would vow to be faithful to you here, and to all eternity; then your\nbody would become infused with his soul. Thus, and only thus, could you\ngain a share in the felicity of mankind. He would give you a soul while\nyet keeping his own. But that can never happen! That which is your\ngreatest beauty in the sea, your fish's tail, is thought hideous up on\nearth, so little do they understand about it; to be pretty there you\nmust have two clumsy supports which they call legs!'\n\nThen the little mermaid sighed and looked sadly at her fish's tail.\n\n'Let us be happy,' said the grandmother; 'we will hop and skip during\nour three hundred years of life; it is surely a long enough time; and\nafter it is over we shall rest all the better in our graves. There is to\nbe a court ball to-night.'\n\nThis was a much more splendid affair than we ever see on earth. The\nwalls and the ceiling of the great ballroom were of thick but\ntransparent glass. Several hundreds of colossal mussel shells, rose red\nand grass green, were ranged in order round the sides holding blue\nlights, which illuminated the whole room and shone through the walls, so\nthat the sea outside was quite lit up. You could see countless fish,\ngreat and small, swimming towards the glass walls, some with shining\nscales of crimson hue, while others were golden and silvery. In the\nmiddle of the room was a broad stream of running water, and on this the\nmermaids and mermen danced to their own beautiful singing. No earthly\nbeings have such lovely voices. The little mermaid sang more sweetly\nthan any of them, and they all applauded her. For a moment she felt glad\nat heart, for she knew that she had the finest voice either in the sea\nor on land. But she soon began to think again about the upper world, she\ncould not forget the handsome prince and her sorrow in not possessing,\nlike him, an immortal soul. Therefore she stole out of her father's\npalace, and while all within was joy and merriment, she sat sadly in her\nlittle garden. Suddenly she heard the sound of a horn through the water,\nand she thought, 'Now he is out sailing up there; he whom I love more\nthan father or mother, he to whom my thoughts cling and to whose hands I\nam ready to commit the happiness of my life. I will dare anything to win\nhim and to gain an immortal soul! While my sisters are dancing in my\nfather's palace I will go to the sea-witch, of whom I have always been\nvery much afraid; she will perhaps be able to advise and help me!'\n\nThereupon the little mermaid left the garden and went towards the\nroaring whirlpools at the back of which the witch lived. She had never\nbeen that way before; no flowers grew there, no seaweed, only the bare\ngrey sands, stretched towards the whirlpools, which like rushing\nmill-wheels swirled round, dragging everything that came within reach\ndown to the depths. She had to pass between these boiling eddies to\nreach the witch's domain, and for a long way the only path led over warm\nbubbling mud, which the witch called her 'peat bog.' Her house stood\nbehind this in the midst of a weird forest. All the trees and bushes\nwere polyps, half animal and half plant; they looked like hundred-headed\nsnakes growing out of the sand, the branches were long slimy arms, with\ntentacles like wriggling worms, every joint of which, from the root to\nthe outermost tip, was in constant motion. They wound themselves tightly\nround whatever they could lay hold of and never let it escape. The\nlittle mermaid standing outside was quite frightened, her heart beat\nfast with terror and she nearly turned back, but then she remembered the\nprince and the immortal soul of mankind and took courage. She bound her\nlong flowing hair tightly round her head, so that the polyps should not\nseize her by it, folded her hands over her breast, and darted like a\nfish through the water, in between the hideous polyps, which stretched\nout their sensitive arms and tentacles towards her. She could see that\nevery one of them had something or other, which they had grasped with\ntheir hundred arms, and which they held as if in iron bands. The\nbleached bones of men who had perished at sea and sunk below peeped\nforth from the arms of some, while others clutched rudders and\nsea-chests, or the skeleton of some land animal; and most horrible of\nall, a little mermaid whom they had caught and suffocated. Then she came\nto a large opening in the wood where the ground was all slimy, and where\nsome huge fat water snakes were gambolling about. In the middle of this\nopening was a house built of the bones of the wrecked; there sat the\nwitch, letting a toad eat out of her mouth, just as mortals let a little\ncanary eat sugar. She called the hideous water snakes her little\nchickens, and allowed them to crawl about on her unsightly bosom.\n\n'I know very well what you have come here for,' said the witch. 'It is\nvery foolish of you! all the same you shall have your way, because it\nwill lead you into misfortune, my fine princess. You want to get rid of\nyour fish's tail, and instead to have two stumps to walk about upon like\nhuman beings, so that the young prince may fall in love with you, and\nthat you may win him and an immortal soul.' Saying this, she gave such a\nloud hideous laugh that the toad and the snakes fell to the ground and\nwriggled about there.\n\n'You are just in the nick of time,' said the witch; 'after sunrise\nto-morrow I should not be able to help you until another year had run\nits course. I will make you a potion, and before sunrise you must swim\nashore with it, seat yourself on the beach and drink it; then your tail\nwill divide and shrivel up to what men call beautiful legs. But it\nhurts; it is as if a sharp sword were running through you. All who see\nyou will say that you are the most beautiful child of man they have ever\nseen. You will keep your gliding gait, no dancer will rival you, but\nevery step you take will be as if you were treading upon sharp knives,\nso sharp as to draw blood. If you are willing to suffer all this I am\nready to help you!'\n\n'Yes!' said the little princess with a trembling voice, thinking of the\nprince and of winning an undying soul.\n\n'But remember,' said the witch, 'when once you have received a human\nform, you can never be a mermaid again; you will never again be able to\ndive down through the water to your sisters and to your father's palace.\nAnd if you do not succeed in winning the prince's love, so that for your\nsake he will forget father and mother, cleave to you with his whole\nheart, let the priest join your hands and make you man and wife, you\nwill gain no immortal soul! The first morning after his marriage with\nanother your heart will break, and you will turn into foam of the sea.'\n\n'I will do it,' said the little mermaid as pale as death.\n\n'But you will have to pay me, too,' said the witch, 'and it is no trifle\nthat I demand. You have the most beautiful voice of any at the bottom of\nthe sea, and I daresay that you think you will fascinate him with it;\nbut you must give me that voice; I will have the best you possess in\nreturn for my precious potion! I have to mingle my own blood with it so\nas to make it as sharp as a two-edged sword.'\n\n'But if you take my voice,' said the little mermaid, 'what have I left?'\n\n'Your beautiful form,' said the witch, 'your gliding gait, and your\nspeaking eyes; with these you ought surely to be able to bewitch a human\nheart. Well! have you lost courage? Put out your little tongue, and I\nwill cut it off in payment for the powerful draught.'\n\n'Let it be done,' said the little mermaid, and the witch put on her\ncaldron to brew the magic potion. 'There is nothing like cleanliness,'\nsaid she, as she scoured the pot with a bundle of snakes; then she\npunctured her breast and let the black blood drop into the caldron, and\nthe steam took the most weird shapes, enough to frighten any one. Every\nmoment the witch threw new ingredients into the pot, and when it boiled\nthe bubbling was like the sound of crocodiles weeping. At last the\npotion was ready and it looked like the clearest water.\n\n'There it is,' said the witch, and thereupon she cut off the tongue of\nthe little mermaid, who was dumb now and could neither sing nor speak.\n\n'If the polyps should seize you, when you go back through my wood,' said\nthe witch, 'just drop a single drop of this liquid on them, and their\narms and fingers will burst into a thousand pieces.' But the little\nmermaid had no need to do this, for at the mere sight of the bright\nliquid, which sparkled in her hand like a shining star, they drew back\nin terror. So she soon got past the wood, the bog, and the eddying\nwhirlpools.\n\nShe saw her father's palace; the lights were all out in the great\nballroom, and no doubt all the household was asleep, but she did not\ndare to go in now that she was dumb and about to leave her home for\never. She felt as if her heart would break with grief. She stole into\nthe garden and plucked a flower from each of her sisters' plots, wafted\nwith her hand countless kisses towards the palace, and then rose up\nthrough the dark blue water.\n\n[Illustration: _But the little mermaid had no need to do this, for at\nthe mere sight of the bright liquid which sparkled in her hand like a\nshining star, they drew back in terror._]\n\nThe sun had not risen when she came in sight of the prince's palace\nand landed at the beautiful marble steps. The moon was shining bright\nand clear. The little mermaid drank the burning, stinging draught, and\nit was like a sharp, two-edged sword running through her tender frame;\nshe fainted away and lay as if she were dead. When the sun rose on the\nsea she woke up and became conscious of a sharp pang, but just in front\nof her stood the handsome young prince, fixing his coal black eyes on\nher; she cast hers down and saw that her fish's tail was gone, and that\nshe had the prettiest little white legs any maiden could desire; but she\nwas quite naked, so she wrapped her long thick hair around her. The\nprince asked who she was and how she came there. She looked at him\ntenderly and with a sad expression in her dark blue eyes, but could not\nspeak. Then he took her by the hand and led her into the palace. Every\nstep she took was, as the witch had warned her beforehand, as if she\nwere treading on sharp knives and spikes, but she bore it gladly; led by\nthe prince, she moved as lightly as a bubble, and he and every one else\nmarvelled at her graceful gliding gait.\n\nClothed in the costliest silks and muslins she was the greatest beauty\nin the palace, but she was dumb, and could neither sing nor speak.\nBeautiful slaves clad in silks and gold came forward and sang to the\nprince and his royal parents; one of them sang better than all the\nothers, and the prince clapped his hands and smiled at her; that made\nthe little mermaid very sad, for she knew that she used to sing far\nbetter herself. She thought, 'Oh! if he only knew that for the sake of\nbeing with him I had given up my voice for ever!' Now the slaves began\nto dance, graceful undulating dances to enchanting music; thereupon the\nlittle mermaid, lifting her beautiful white arms and raising herself on\ntiptoe, glided on the floor with a grace which none of the other dancers\nhad yet attained. With every motion her grace and beauty became more\napparent, and her eyes appealed more deeply to the heart than the songs\nof the slaves. Every one was delighted with it, especially the prince,\nwho called her his little foundling; and she danced on and on,\nnotwithstanding that every time her foot touched the ground it was like\ntreading on sharp knives. The prince said that she should always be near\nhim, and she was allowed to sleep outside his door on a velvet cushion.\n\nHe had a man's dress made for her, so that she could ride about with\nhim. They used to ride through scented woods, where the green branches\nbrushed her shoulders, and little birds sang among the fresh leaves. She\nclimbed up the highest mountains with the prince, and although her\ndelicate feet bled so that others saw it, she only laughed and followed\nhim until they saw the clouds sailing below them like a flock of birds,\ntaking flight to distant lands.\n\n[Illustration: _The prince asked who she was and how she came there; she\nlooked at him tenderly and with a sad expression in her dark blue eyes,\nbut could not speak._]\n\nAt home in the prince's palace, when at night the others were\nasleep, she used to go out on to the marble steps; it cooled her\nburning feet to stand in the cold sea-water, and at such times she used\nto think of those she had left in the deep.\n\nOne night her sisters came arm in arm; they sang so sorrowfully as they\nswam on the water that she beckoned to them, and they recognised her,\nand told her how she had grieved them all. After that they visited her\nevery night, and one night she saw, a long way out, her old grandmother\n(who for many years had not been above the water), and the Merman King\nwith his crown on his head; they stretched out their hands towards her,\nbut did not venture so close to land as her sisters.\n\nDay by day she became dearer to the prince; he loved her as one loves a\ngood sweet child, but it never entered his head to make her his queen;\nyet unless she became his wife she would never win an everlasting soul,\nbut on his wedding morning would turn to sea-foam.\n\n'Am I not dearer to you than any of them?' the little mermaid's eyes\nseemed to say when he took her in his arms and kissed her beautiful\nbrow.\n\n'Yes, you are the dearest one to me,' said the prince, 'for you have the\nbest heart of them all, and you are fondest of me; you are also like a\nyoung girl I once saw, but whom I never expect to see again. I was on\nboard a ship which was wrecked; I was driven on shore by the waves close\nto a holy Temple where several young girls were ministering at a\nservice; the youngest of them found me on the beach and saved my life; I\nsaw her but twice. She was the only person I could love in this world,\nbut you are like her, you almost drive her image out of my heart. She\nbelongs to the holy Temple, and therefore by good fortune you have been\nsent to me; we will never part!'\n\n'Alas! he does not know that it was I who saved his life,' thought the\nlittle mermaid. 'I bore him over the sea to the wood where the Temple\nstands. I sat behind the foam and watched to see if any one would come.\nI saw the pretty girl he loves better than me.' And the mermaid heaved a\nbitter sigh, for she could not weep.\n\n'The girl belongs to the holy Temple, he has said; she will never return\nto the world, they will never meet again. I am here with him; I see him\nevery day. Yes! I will tend him, love him, and give up my life to him.'\n\nBut now the rumour ran that the prince was to be married to the\nbeautiful daughter of a neighbouring king, and for that reason was\nfitting out a splendid ship. It was given out that the prince was going\non a voyage to see the adjoining countries, but it was without doubt to\nsee the king's daughter; he was to have a great suite with him. But the\nlittle mermaid shook her head and laughed; she knew the prince's\nintentions much better than any of the others. 'I must take this\nvoyage,' he had said to her; 'I must go and see the beautiful princess;\nmy parents demand that, but they will never force me to bring her home\nas my bride; I can never love her! She will not be like the lovely girl\nin the Temple whom you resemble. If ever I had to choose a bride it\nwould sooner be you with your speaking eyes, my sweet, dumb foundling!'\nAnd he kissed her rosy mouth, played with her long hair, and laid his\nhead upon her heart, which already dreamt of human joys and an immortal\nsoul.\n\n'You are not frightened of the sea, I suppose, my dumb child?' he said,\nas they stood on the proud ship which was to carry them to the country\nof the neighbouring king; and he told her about storms and calms, about\ncurious fish in the deep, and the marvels seen by divers; and she smiled\nat his tales, for she knew all about the bottom of the sea much better\nthan any one else.\n\nAt night, in the moonlight, when all were asleep, except the steersman\nwho stood at the helm, she sat at the side of the ship trying to pierce\nthe clear water with her eyes, and fancied she saw her father's palace,\nand above it her old grandmother with her silver crown on her head,\nlooking up through the cross currents towards the keel of the ship. Then\nher sisters rose above the water; they gazed sadly at her, wringing\ntheir white hands. She beckoned to them, smiled, and was about to tell\nthem that all was going well and happily with her, when the cabin-boy\napproached, and the sisters dived down, but he supposed that the white\nobjects he had seen were nothing but flakes of foam.\n\nThe next morning the ship entered the harbour of the neighbouring king's\nmagnificent city. The church bells rang and trumpets were sounded from\nevery lofty tower, while the soldiers paraded with flags flying and\nglittering bayonets. There was a _f\u00eate_ every day, there was a\nsuccession of balls, and receptions followed one after the other, but\nthe princess was not yet present; she was being brought up a long way\noff, in a holy Temple they said, and was learning all the royal virtues.\nAt last she came. The little mermaid stood eager to see her beauty, and\nshe was obliged to confess that a lovelier creature she had never\nbeheld. Her complexion was exquisitely pure and delicate, and her\ntrustful eyes of the deepest blue shone through their dark lashes.\n\n'It is you,' said the prince, 'you who saved me when I lay almost\nlifeless on the beach?' and he clasped his blushing bride to his heart.\n'Oh! I am too happy!' he exclaimed to the little mermaid.\n\n'A greater joy than I had dared to hope for has come to pass. You will\nrejoice at my joy, for you love me better than any one.' Then the little\nmermaid kissed his hand, and felt as if her heart were broken already.\n\nHis wedding morn would bring death to her and change her to foam.\n\nAll the church bells pealed and heralds rode through the town\nproclaiming the nuptials. Upon every altar throughout the land fragrant\noil was burnt in costly silver lamps. Amidst the swinging of censers by\nthe priests the bride and bridegroom joined hands and received the\nbishop's blessing. The little mermaid dressed in silk and gold stood\nholding the bride's train, but her ears were deaf to the festal strains,\nher eyes saw nothing of the sacred ceremony; she was thinking of her\ncoming death and of all that she had lost in this world.\n\nThat same evening the bride and bridegroom embarked, amidst the roar of\ncannon and the waving of banners. A royal tent of purple and gold softly\ncushioned was raised amidships where the bridal pair were to repose\nduring the calm cool night.\n\nThe sails swelled in the wind and the ship skimmed lightly and almost\nwithout motion over the transparent sea.\n\nAt dusk lanterns of many colours were lighted and the sailors danced\nmerrily on deck. The little mermaid could not help thinking of the first\ntime she came up from the sea and saw the same splendour and gaiety; and\nshe now threw herself among the dancers, whirling, as a swallow skims\nthrough the air when pursued. The onlookers cheered her in amazement,\nnever had she danced so divinely; her delicate feet pained her as if\nthey were cut with knives, but she did not feel it, for the pain at her\nheart was much sharper. She knew that it was the last night that she\nwould breathe the same air as he, and would look upon the mighty deep,\nand the blue starry heavens; an endless night without thought and\nwithout dreams awaited her, who neither had a soul, nor could win one.\nThe joy and revelry on board lasted till long past midnight; she went on\nlaughing and dancing with the thought of death all the time in her\nheart. The prince caressed his lovely bride and she played with his\nraven locks, and with their arms entwined they retired to the gorgeous\ntent. All became hushed and still on board the ship, only the steersman\nstood at the helm; the little mermaid laid her white arms on the gunwale\nand looked eastwards for the pink-tinted dawn; the first sunbeam, she\nknew, would be her death. Then she saw her sisters rise from the water;\nthey were as pale as she was; their beautiful long hair no longer\nfloated on the breeze, for it had been cut off.\n\n[Illustration: _Once more she looked at the prince, with her eyes\nalready dimmed by death, then dashed overboard and fell, her body\ndissolving into foam._]\n\n'We have given it to the witch to obtain her help, so that you may not\ndie to-night! She has given us a knife; here it is, look how sharp it\nis! Before the sun rises, you must plunge it into the prince's heart,\nand when his warm blood sprinkles your feet they will join together and\ngrow into a tail, and you will once more be a mermaid; you will be able\nto come down into the water to us, and to live out your three hundred\nyears before you are turned into dead, salt sea-foam. Make haste! you or\nhe must die before sunrise! Our old grandmother is so full of grief that\nher white hair has fallen off as ours fell under the witch's scissors.\nSlay the prince and come back to us! Quick! Quick! do you not see\nthe rosy streak in the sky? In a few minutes the sun will rise and then\nyou must die!' saying this they heaved a wondrous deep sigh and sank\namong the waves.\n\nThe little mermaid drew aside the purple curtain from the tent and\nlooked at the beautiful bride asleep with her head on the prince's\nbreast. She bent over him and kissed his fair brow, looked at the sky\nwhere the dawn was spreading fast, looked at the sharp knife, and again\nfixed her eyes on the prince, who, in his dream called his bride by\nname. Yes! she alone was in his thoughts! For a moment the knife\nquivered in her grasp, then she threw it far out among the waves, now\nrosy in the morning light, and where it fell the water bubbled up like\ndrops of blood.\n\nOnce more she looked at the prince, with her eyes already dimmed by\ndeath, then dashed overboard and fell, her body dissolving into foam.\n\nNow the sun rose from the sea and with its kindly beams warmed the\ndeadly cold foam, so that the little mermaid did not feel the chill of\ndeath. She saw the bright sun, and above her floated hundreds of\nbeauteous ethereal beings, through which she could see the white ship\nand the rosy heavens; their voices were melodious, but so spirit-like\nthat no human ear could hear them, any more than earthly eye could see\ntheir forms. Light as bubbles they floated through the air without the\naid of wings. The little mermaid perceived that she had a form like\ntheirs; it gradually took shape out of the foam. 'To whom am I coming?'\nsaid she, and her voice sounded like that of the other beings, so\nunearthly in its beauty that no music of ours could reproduce it.\n\n'To the daughters of the air!' answered the others; 'a mermaid has no\nundying soul, and can never gain one without winning the love of a human\nbeing. Her eternal life must depend upon an unknown power. Nor have the\ndaughters of the air an everlasting soul, but by their own good deeds\nthey may create one for themselves. We fly to the tropics where mankind\nis the victim of hot and pestilent winds; there we bring cooling\nbreezes. We diffuse the scent of flowers all around, and bring\nrefreshment and healing in our train. When, for three hundred years, we\nhave laboured to do all the good in our power, we gain an undying soul\nand take a part in the everlasting joys of mankind. You, poor little\nmermaid, have with your whole heart struggled for the same thing as we\nhave struggled for. You have suffered and endured, raised yourself to\nthe spirit-world of the air, and now, by your own good deeds you may, in\nthe course of three hundred years, work out for yourself an undying\nsoul.'\n\nThen the little mermaid lifted her transparent arms towards God's sun,\nand for the first time shed tears.\n\nOn board ship all was again life and bustle. She saw the prince with his\nlovely bride searching for her; they looked sadly at the bubbling foam,\nas if they knew that she had thrown herself into the waves. Unseen she\nkissed the bride on her brow, smiled at the prince, and rose aloft with\nthe other spirits of the air to the rosy clouds which sailed above.\n\n'In three hundred years we shall thus float into Paradise.'\n\n'We might reach it sooner,' whispered one. 'Unseen we flit into those\nhomes of men where there are children, and for every day that we find a\ngood child who gives pleasure to its parents and deserves their love God\nshortens our time of probation. The child does not know when we fly\nthrough the room, and when we smile with pleasure at it one year of our\nthree hundred is taken away. But if we see a naughty or badly disposed\nchild, we cannot help shedding tears of sorrow, and every tear adds a\nday to the time of our probation.'\n\n\n\n\nTHE EMPEROR'S NEW CLOTHES\n\n\nMany years ago there was an Emperor, who was so excessively fond of new\nclothes that he spent all his money on them. He cared nothing about his\nsoldiers, nor for the theatre, nor for driving in the woods except for\nthe sake of showing off his new clothes. He had a costume for every hour\nin the day, and instead of saying, as one does about any other king or\nemperor, 'He is in his council chamber,' here one always said, 'The\nEmperor is in his dressing-room.'\n\nLife was very gay in the great town where he lived; hosts of strangers\ncame to visit it every day, and among them one day two swindlers. They\ngave themselves out as weavers, and said that they knew how to weave the\nmost beautiful stuffs imaginable. Not only were the colours and patterns\nunusually fine, but the clothes that were made of the stuffs had the\npeculiar quality of becoming invisible to every person who was not fit\nfor the office he held, or if he was impossibly dull.\n\n'Those must be splendid clothes,' thought the Emperor. 'By wearing them\nI should be able to discover which men in my kingdom are unfitted for\ntheir posts. I shall distinguish the wise men from the fools. Yes, I\ncertainly must order some of that stuff to be woven for me.'\n\nHe paid the two swindlers a lot of money in advance so that they might\nbegin their work at once.\n\nThey did put up two looms and pretended to weave, but they had nothing\nwhatever upon their shuttles. At the outset they asked for a quantity of\nthe finest silk and the purest gold thread, all of which they put into\ntheir own bags, while they worked away at the empty looms far into the\nnight.\n\n'I should like to know how those weavers are getting on with the stuff,'\nthought the Emperor; but he felt a little queer when he reflected that\nany one who was stupid or unfit for his post would not be able to see\nit. He certainly thought that he need have no fears for himself, but\nstill he thought he would send somebody else first to see how it was\ngetting on. Everybody in the town knew what wonderful power the stuff\npossessed, and every one was anxious to see how stupid his neighbour\nwas.\n\n'I will send my faithful old minister to the weavers,' thought the\nEmperor. 'He will be best able to see how the stuff looks, for he is a\nclever man, and no one fulfils his duties better than he does!'\n\nSo the good old minister went into the room where the two swindlers sat\nworking at the empty loom.\n\n'Heaven preserve us!' thought the old minister, opening his eyes very\nwide. 'Why, I can't see a thing!' But he took care not to say so.\n\nBoth the swindlers begged him to be good enough to step a little nearer,\nand asked if he did not think it a good pattern and beautiful colouring.\nThey pointed to the empty loom, and the poor old minister stared as hard\nas he could, but he could not see anything, for of course there was\nnothing to see.\n\n'Good heavens!' thought he, 'is it possible that I am a fool. I have\nnever thought so, and nobody must know it. Am I not fit for my post? It\nwill never do to say that I cannot see the stuffs.'\n\n'Well, sir, you don't say anything about the stuff,' said the one who\nwas pretending to weave.\n\n'Oh, it is beautiful! quite charming!' said the old minister, looking\nthrough his spectacles; 'this pattern and these colours! I will\ncertainly tell the Emperor that the stuff pleases me very much.'\n\n'We are delighted to hear you say so,' said the swindlers, and then they\nnamed all the colours and described the peculiar pattern. The old\nminister paid great attention to what they said, so as to be able to\nrepeat it when he got home to the Emperor.\n\n[Illustration: _They pointed to the empty loom, and the poor old\nminister stared as hard as he could, but he could not see anything, for\nof course there was nothing to see._]\n\nThen the swindlers went on to demand more money, more silk, and\nmore gold, to be able to proceed with the weaving; but they put it all\ninto their own pockets--not a single strand was ever put into the loom,\nbut they went on as before weaving at the empty loom.\n\nThe Emperor soon sent another faithful official to see how the stuff was\ngetting on, and if it would soon be ready. The same thing happened to\nhim as to the minister; he looked and looked, but as there was only the\nempty loom, he could see nothing at all.\n\n'Is not this a beautiful piece of stuff?' said both the swindlers,\nshowing and explaining the beautiful pattern and colours which were not\nthere to be seen.\n\n'I know I am not a fool!' thought the man, 'so it must be that I am\nunfit for my good post! It is very strange, though! However, one must\nnot let it appear!' So he praised the stuff he did not see, and assured\nthem of his delight in the beautiful colours and the originality of the\ndesign. 'It is absolutely charming!' he said to the Emperor. Everybody\nin the town was talking about this splendid stuff.\n\nNow the Emperor thought he would like to see it while it was still on\nthe loom. So, accompanied by a number of selected courtiers, among whom\nwere the two faithful officials who had already seen the imaginary\nstuff, he went to visit the crafty impostors, who were working away as\nhard as ever they could at the empty loom.\n\n'It is magnificent!' said both the honest officials. 'Only see, your\nMajesty, what a design! What colours!' And they pointed to the empty\nloom, for they thought no doubt the others could see the stuff.\n\n'What!' thought the Emperor; 'I see nothing at all! This is terrible! Am\nI a fool? Am I not fit to be Emperor? Why, nothing worse could happen to\nme!'\n\n'Oh, it is beautiful!' said the Emperor. 'It has my highest approval!'\nand he nodded his satisfaction as he gazed at the empty loom. Nothing\nwould induce him to say that he could not see anything.\n\nThe whole suite gazed and gazed, but saw nothing more than all the\nothers. However, they all exclaimed with his Majesty, 'It is very\nbeautiful!' and they advised him to wear a suit made of this wonderful\ncloth on the occasion of a great procession which was just about to take\nplace. 'It is magnificent! gorgeous! excellent!' went from mouth to\nmouth; they were all equally delighted with it. The Emperor gave each of\nthe rogues an order of knighthood to be worn in their buttonholes and\nthe title of 'Gentlemen weavers.'\n\n[Illustration: _Then the emperor walked along in the procession under\nthe gorgeous canopy, and everybody in the streets and at the windows\nexclaimed, 'How beautiful the Emperor's new clothes are!'_]\n\nThe swindlers sat up the whole night, before the day on which the\nprocession was to take place, burning sixteen candles; so that people\nmight see how anxious they were to get the Emperor's new clothes ready.\nThey pretended to take the stuff off the loom. They cut it out in the\nair with a huge pair of scissors, and they stitched away with\nneedles without any thread in them. At last they said: 'Now the\nEmperor's new clothes are ready!'\n\nThe Emperor, with his grandest courtiers, went to them himself, and both\nthe swindlers raised one arm in the air, as if they were holding\nsomething, and said: 'See, these are the trousers, this is the coat,\nhere is the mantle!' and so on. 'It is as light as a spider's web. One\nmight think one had nothing on, but that is the very beauty of it!'\n\n'Yes!' said all the courtiers, but they could not see anything, for\nthere was nothing to see.\n\n'Will your imperial majesty be graciously pleased to take off your\nclothes,' said, the impostors, 'so that we may put on the new ones,\nalong here before the great mirror?'\n\nThe Emperor took off all his clothes, and the impostors pretended to\ngive him one article of dress after the other of the new ones which they\nhad pretended to make. They pretended to fasten something round his\nwaist and to tie on something; this was the train, and the Emperor\nturned round and round in front of the mirror.\n\n'How well his majesty looks in the new clothes! How becoming they are!'\ncried all the people round. 'What a design, and what colours! They are\nmost gorgeous robes!'\n\n'The canopy is waiting outside which is to be carried over your majesty\nin the procession,' said the master of the ceremonies.\n\n'Well, I am quite ready,' said the Emperor. 'Don't the clothes fit\nwell?' and then he turned round again in front of the mirror, so that he\nshould seem to be looking at his grand things.\n\nThe chamberlains who were to carry the train stooped and pretended to\nlift it from the ground with both hands, and they walked along with\ntheir hands in the air. They dared not let it appear that they could not\nsee anything.\n\nThen the Emperor walked along in the procession under the gorgeous\ncanopy, and everybody in the streets and at the windows exclaimed, 'How\nbeautiful the Emperor's new clothes are! What a splendid train! And they\nfit to perfection!' Nobody would let it appear that he could see\nnothing, for then he would not be fit for his post, or else he was a\nfool.\n\nNone of the Emperor's clothes had been so successful before.\n\n'But he has got nothing on,' said a little child.\n\n'Oh, listen to the innocent,' said its father; and one person whispered\nto the other what the child had said. 'He has nothing on; a child says\nhe has nothing on!'\n\n'But he has nothing on!' at last cried all the people.\n\nThe Emperor writhed, for he knew it was true, but he thought 'the\nprocession must go on now,' so held himself stiffer than ever, and the\nchamberlains held up the invisible train.\n\n\n\n\nTHE WIND'S TALE\n\nABOUT WALDEMAR DAA AND HIS DAUGHTERS\n\n\nWhen the wind sweeps across a field of grass it makes little ripples in\nit like a lake; in a field of corn it makes great waves like the sea\nitself: this is the wind's frolic. Then listen to the stories it tells;\nit sings them aloud, one kind of song among the trees of the forest, and\na very different one when it is pent up within walls with all their\ncracks and crannies. Do you see how the wind chases the white fleecy\nclouds as if they were a flock of sheep? Do you hear the wind down\nthere, howling in the open doorway like a watchman winding his horn?\nThen, too, how he whistles in the chimneys, making the fire crackle and\nsparkle. How cosy it is to sit in the warm glow of the fire listening to\nthe tales it has to tell! Let the wind tell its own story! It can tell\nyou more adventures than all of us put together. Listen now:--\n\n'Whew!--Whew!--Fare away!' That was the refrain of his song.\n\n'Close to the Great Belt stands an old mansion with thick red walls,'\nsays the wind. 'I know every stone of it; I knew them before when they\nformed part of Marsk Stig's Castle on the Ness. It had to come down. The\nstones were used again, and made a new wall of a new castle in another\nplace--Borreby Hall as it now stands.\n\n'I have watched the highborn men and women of all the various races who\nhave lived there, and now I am going to tell you about Waldemar Daa and\nhis daughters!\n\n'He held his head very high, for he came of a royal stock! He knew more\nthan the mere chasing of a stag, or the emptying of a flagon; he knew\nhow to manage his affairs, he said himself.\n\n'His lady wife walked proudly across the brightly polished floors, in\nher gold brocaded kirtle; the tapestries in the rooms were gorgeous, and\nthe furniture of costly carved woods. She had brought much gold and\nsilver plate into the house with her, and the cellars were full of\nGerman ale, when there was anything there at all. Fiery black horses\nneighed in the stables; Borreby Hall was a very rich place when wealth\ncame there.\n\n'Then there were the children, three dainty maidens, Ida, Johanna and\nAnna Dorothea. I remember their names well.\n\n'They were rich and aristocratic people, and they were born and bred in\nwealth! Whew!--whew!--fare away!' roared the wind, then he went on with\nhis story.\n\n'I did not see here, as in other old noble castles the highborn lady\nsitting among her maidens in the great hall turning the spinning-wheel.\nNo, she played upon the ringing lute, and sang to its tones. Her songs\nwere not always the old Danish ditties, however, but songs in foreign\ntongues. All was life and hospitality; noble guests came from far and\nwide; there were sounds of music and the clanging of flagons, so loud\nthat I could not drown them!' said the wind. 'Here were arrogance and\nostentation enough and to spare; plenty of lords, but the Lord had no\nplace there.\n\n'Then came the evening of May-day!' said the wind. 'I came from the\nwest; I had been watching ships being wrecked and broken up on the west\ncoast of Jutland. I tore over the heaths and the green wooded coasts,\nacross the island of Funen and over the Great Belt puffing and blowing.\nI settled down to rest on the coast of Zealand close to Borreby Hall,\nwhere the splendid forest of oaks still stood. The young bachelors of\nthe neighbourhood came out and collected faggots and branches, the\nlongest and driest they could find. These they took to the town, piled\nthem up in a heap, and set fire to them; then the men and maidens danced\nand sang round the bonfire. I lay still,' said the wind, 'but I softly\nmoved a branch, the one laid by the handsomest young man, and his billet\nblazed up highest of all. He was the chosen one, he had the name of\nhonour, he became 'Buck of the Street!' and he chose from among the\ngirls his little May-lamb. All was life and merriment, greater far than\nwithin rich Borreby Hall.\n\n'The great lady came driving towards the Hall, in her gilded chariot\ndrawn by six horses. She had her three dainty daughters with her; they\nwere indeed three lovely flowers. A rose, a lily and a pale hyacinth.\nThe mother herself was a gorgeous tulip; she took no notice whatever of\nthe crowd, who all stopped in their game to drop their curtsies and make\ntheir bows; one might have thought that, like a tulip, she was rather\nfrail in the stalk and feared to bend her back. The rose, the lily, and\nthe pale hyacinth--yes, I saw them all three. Whose May-lambs were they\none day to become, thought I; their mates would be proud\nknights--perhaps even princes!\n\n'Whew!--whew!--fare away! Yes, the chariot bore them away, and the\npeasants whirled on in their dance. They played at \"Riding the Summer\ninto the village,\" to Borreby village, Tareby village, and many others.\n\n'But that night when I rose,' said the wind, 'the noble lady laid\nherself down to rise no more; that came to her which comes to every\none--there was nothing new about it. Waldemar Daa stood grave and silent\nfor a time; \"The proudest tree may bend, but it does not break,\" said\nsomething within him. The daughters wept, and every one else at the\nCastle was wiping their eyes; but Madam Daa had fared away, and I fared\naway too! Whew!--whew!' said the wind.\n\n[Illustration: _She played upon the ringing lute, and sang to its\ntones._]\n\n'I came back again; I often came back across the island of Funen and\nthe waters of the Belt, and took up my place on Borreby shore close to\nthe great forest of oaks. The ospreys and the wood pigeons used to build\nin it, the blue raven and even the black stork! It was early in the\nyear; some of the nests were full of eggs, while in others the young\nones were just hatched. What a flying and screaming was there! Then came\nthe sound of the axe, blow upon blow; the forest was to be felled.\nWaldemar Daa was about to build a costly ship, a three-decked\nman-of-war, which it was expected the king would buy. So the wood fell,\nthe ancient landmark of the seaman, the home of the birds. The shrike\nwas frightened away; its nest was torn down; the osprey and all the\nother birds lost their nests too, and they flew about distractedly,\nshrieking in their terror and anger. The crows and the jackdaws screamed\nin mockery, Caw! caw! Waldemar Daa and his three daughters stood in the\nmiddle of the wood among the workmen. They all laughed at the wild cries\nof the birds, except Anna Dorothea, who was touched by their distress,\nand when they were about to fell a tree which was half-dead, and on\nwhose naked branches a black stork had built its nest, out of which the\nyoung ones were sticking their heads, she begged them with tears in her\neyes to spare it. So the tree with the black stork's nest was allowed to\nstand. It was only a little thing.\n\n'The chopping and the sawing went on--the three-decker was built. The\nmaster builder was a man of humble origin, but of noble loyalty; great\npower lay in his eyes and on his forehead, and Waldemar Daa liked to\nlisten to him, and little Ida liked to listen too, the eldest\nfifteen-year-old daughter. But whilst he built the ship for her father,\nhe built a castle in the air for himself, in which he and little Ida sat\nside by side as man and wife. This might also have happened if his\ncastle had been built of solid stone, with moat and ramparts, wood and\ngardens. But with all his wisdom the shipbuilder was only a poor bird,\nand what business has a sparrow in a crane's nest? Whew! whew! I rushed\naway, and he rushed away, for he dared not stay, and little Ida got over\nit, as get over it she must.\n\n'The fiery black horses stood neighing in the stables; they were worth\nlooking at, and they were looked at to some purpose too. An admiral was\nsent from the King to look at the new man-of-war, with a view to\npurchasing it. The admiral was loud in his admiration of the horses. I\nheard all he said,' added the wind. 'I went through the open door with\nthe gentlemen and scattered the straw like gold before their feet.\nWaldemar Daa wanted gold; the admiral wanted the black horses, and so he\npraised them as he did; but his hints were not taken, therefore the ship\nremained unsold. There it stood by the shore covered up with boards,\nlike a Noah's Ark which never reached the water. Whew! whew! get along!\nget along! It was a miserable business. In the winter, when the fields\nwere covered with snow and the Belt was full of ice-floes which I drove\nup on to the coast,' said the wind, 'the ravens and crows came in\nflocks, the one blacker than the other, and perched upon the desolate,\ndead ship by the shore. They screamed themselves hoarse about the forest\nwhich had disappeared, and the many precious birds' nests which had been\ndevastated, leaving old and young homeless; and all for the sake of this\nold piece of lumber, the proud ship which was never to touch the water!\nI whirled the snow about till it lay in great heaps round the ship. I\nlet it hear my voice, and all that a storm has to say, I know that I did\nmy best to give it an idea of the sea. Whew! whew!'\n\n'The winter passed by; winter and summer passed away! They come and go\njust as I do. The snow-flakes, the apple blossom, and the leaves fall,\neach in their turn. Whew! whew! they pass away, as men pass too!\n\n'The daughters were still young. Little Ida, the rose, as lovely to look\nat as when the shipbuilder turned his gaze upon her. I often took hold\nof her long brown hair when she stood lost in thought by the apple-tree\nin the garden. She never noticed that I showered apple-blossom over her\nloosened hair; she only gazed at the red sunset against the golden\nbackground of the sky, and the dark trees and bushes of the garden. Her\nsister Johanna was like a tall, stately lily; she held herself as\nstiffly erect as her mother, and seemed to have the same dread of\nbending her stem. She liked to walk in the long gallery where the family\nportraits hung. The ladies were painted in velvet and silk, with tiny\npearl embroidered caps on their braided tresses. Their husbands were all\nclad in steel, or in costly cloaks lined with squirrel skins and stiff\nblue ruffs; their swords hung loosely by their sides. Where would\nJohanna's portrait one day hang on these walls? What would her noble\nhusband look like? These were her thoughts, and she even spoke them\naloud; I heard her as I swept through the long corridor into the\ngallery, where I veered round again.\n\n'Anna Dorothea, the pale hyacinth, was only a child of fourteen, quiet\nand thoughtful. Her large blue eyes, as clear as water, were very\nsolemn, but childhood's smile still played upon her lips; I could not\nblow it away, nor did I wish to do so. I used to meet her in the garden,\nthe ravine, and in the manor fields. She was always picking flowers and\nherbs, those she knew her father could use for healing drinks and\npotions. Waldemar Daa was proud and conceited, but he was also learned,\nand he knew a great deal about many things. One could see that, and many\nwhispers went about as to his learning. The fire blazed in his stove\neven in summer, and his chamber door was locked. This went on for days\nand nights, but he did not talk much about it. One must deal silently\nwith the forces of nature. He would soon discover the best of\neverything, the red, red gold!\n\n'This was why his chimney flamed and smoked and sparkled. Yes, I was\nthere, too,' said the wind.\n\n[Illustration: _I used to meet her in the garden, the ravine, and in\nthe manor fields. She was always picking flowers and herbs, those she\nknew her father could use for healing drinks and potions._]\n\n'Away with you, away! I sang in the back of the chimney. Smoke smoke,\nembers and ashes, that is all it will come to! You will burn yourself up\nin it. Whew! whew! away with it! But Waldemar Daa could not let it go.\n\n'The fiery steeds in the stable, where were they? The old gold and\nsilver plate in cupboard and chest, where was that? The cattle, the\nland, the castle itself? Yes, they could all be melted down in the\ncrucible, but yet no gold would come.\n\n'Barn and larder got emptier and emptier. Fewer servants; more mice. One\npane of glass got broken and another followed it. There was no need for\nme to go in by the doors,' said the wind. 'A smoking chimney means a\ncooking meal, but the only chimney which smoked here swallowed up all\nthe meals, all for the sake of the red gold.\n\n'I blew through the castle gate like a watchman blowing his horn, but\nthere was no watchman,' said the wind. 'I twisted round the weather-cock\non the tower and it creaked as if the watchman up there was snoring,\nonly there was no watchman. Rats and mice were the only inhabitants.\nPoverty laid the table; poverty lurked in wardrobe and larder. The doors\nfell off their hinges, cracks and crannies appeared everywhere; I went\nin and out,' said the wind, 'so I know all about it.\n\n'The hair and the beard of Waldemar Daa grew grey, in the sorrow of his\nsleepless nights, amid smoke and ashes. His skin grew grimy and yellow,\nand his eyes greedy for gold, the long expected gold.\n\n'I whistled through the broken panes and fissures; I blew into the\ndaughters' chests where their clothes lay faded and threadbare; they had\nto last for ever. A song like this had never been sung over the cradles\nof these children. A lordly life became a woeful life! I was the only\none to sing in the castle now,' said the wind. 'I snowed them up, for\nthey said it gave warmth. They had no firewood, for the forest was cut\ndown where they should have got it. There was a biting frost. Even I had\nto keep rushing through the crannies and passages to keep myself lively.\nThey stayed in bed to keep themselves warm, those noble ladies. Their\nfather crept about under a fur rug. Nothing to bite, and nothing to\nburn! a lordly life indeed! Whew! whew! let it go! But this was what\nWaldemar Daa could not do.\n\n'\"After winter comes the spring,\" said he; \"a good time will come after\na time of need; but they make us wait their pleasure, wait! The castle\nis mortgaged, we are in extremities--and yet the gold will come--at\nEaster!\"\n\n'I heard him murmur to the spider's web.--\"You clever little weaver! You\nteach me to persevere! If your web is broken, you begin at the beginning\nagain and complete it! Broken again--and cheerfully you begin it over\nagain. That is what one must do, and one will be rewarded!\"\n\n'It was Easter morning, the bells were ringing, and the sun was at play\nin the heavens. Waldemar Daa had watched through the night with his\nblood at fever pitch; boiling and cooling, mixing and distilling. I\nheard him sigh like a despairing soul; I heard him pray, and I felt that\nhe held his breath. The lamp had gone out, but he never noticed it; I\nblew up the embers and they shone upon his ashen face, which took a\ntinge of colour from their light; his eyes started in their sockets,\nthey grew larger and larger, as if they would leap out.\n\n'Look at the alchemist's glass! something twinkles in it; it is glowing,\npure and heavy. He lifted it with a trembling hand and shouted with a\ntrembling voice: \"Gold! gold!\" He reeled, and I could easily have blown\nhim over,' said the wind, 'but I only blew upon the embers, and followed\nhim to the room where his daughters sat shivering. His coat was powdered\nwith ash, as well as his beard and his matted hair. He drew himself up\nto his full height and held up his precious treasure, in the fragile\nglass: \"Found! won! gold!\" he cried, stretching up his hand with the\nglass which glittered in the sunbeams: his hand shook, and the\nalchemist's glass fell to the ground shivered into a thousand atoms. The\nlast bubble of his welfare was shattered too. Whew! whew! fare away! and\naway I rushed from the goldmaker's home.\n\n[Illustration: _He lifted it with a trembling hand and shouted with a\ntrembling voice: 'Gold! gold!'_]\n\n'Late in the year, when the days were short and dark up here, and the\nfog envelops the red berries and bare branches with its cold moisture,\nI came along in a lively mood clearing the sky and snapping off the dead\nboughs. This is no great labour, it is true, yet it has to be done.\nBorreby Hall, the home of Waldemar Daa, was having a clean sweep of a\ndifferent sort. The family enemy, Ov\u00e9 Ramel from Basness, appeared,\nholding the mortgage of the Hall and all its contents. I drummed upon\nthe cracked window panes, beat against the decaying doors, and whistled\nthrough all the cracks and crannies, whew! I did my best to prevent Herr\nOv\u00e9 taking a fancy to stay there. Ida and Anna Dorothea faced it\nbravely, although they shed some tears; Johanna stood pale and erect and\nbit her finger till it bled! Much that would help her! Ov\u00e9 Ramel offered\nto let them stay on at the Castle for Waldemar Daa's lifetime, but he\ngot no thanks for his offer; I was listening. I saw the ruined gentleman\nstiffen his neck and hold his head higher than ever. I beat against the\nwalls and the old linden trees with such force that the thickest branch\nbroke, although it was not a bit rotten. It fell across the gate like a\nbroom, as if some one was about to sweep; and a sweeping there was\nindeed to be. I quite expected it. It was a grievous day and a hard time\nfor them, but their wills were as stubborn as their necks were stiff.\nThey had not a possession in the world but the clothes on their backs;\nyes, one thing--an alchemist's glass which had been bought and filled\nwith the fragments scraped up from the floor. The treasure which\npromised much and fulfilled nothing. Waldemar Daa hid it in his\nbosom, took his staff in his hand, and, with his three daughters, the\nonce wealthy gentleman walked out of Borreby Hall for the last time. I\nblew a cold blast upon his burning cheeks, I fluttered his grey beard\nand his long white hair; I sang such a tune as only I could sing. Whew!\nwhew! away with them! away with them! This was the end of all their\ngrandeur.\n\n'Ida and Ana Dorothea walked one on each side of him: Johanna turned\nround in the gateway, but what was the good of that? nothing could make\ntheir luck turn. She looked at the red stones of what had once been\nMarsk Stig's Castle. Was she thinking of his daughters?\n\n    '\"The elder took the younger by the hand,\n    And out they roamed to a far-off land.\"\n\nWas she thinking of that song? Here there were three and their father\nwas with them. They walked along the road where once they used to ride\nin their chariot. They trod it now as vagrants, on their way to a\nplastered cottage on Smidstrup Heath, which was rented at ten marks\nyearly. This was their new country seat with its empty walls and its\nempty vessels. The crows and the magpies wheeled screaming over their\nheads with their mocking \"Caw, caw! Out of the nest, Caw, caw!\" just as\nthey screamed in Borreby Forest when the trees were felled.\n\n'Herr Daa and his daughters must have noticed it. I blew into their\nears to try and deaden the cries, which after all were not worth\nlistening to.\n\n'So they took up their abode in the plastered cottage on Smidstrup\nHeath, and I tore off over marshes and meadows, through naked hedges and\nbare woods, to the open seas and other lands. Whew! whew! away, away!\nand that for many years.'\n\nWhat happened to Waldemar Daa? What happened to his daughters? This is\nwhat the wind relates.\n\n'The last of them I saw, yes, for the last time, was Anna Dorothea, the\npale hyacinth. She was old and bent now; it was half a century later.\nShe lived the longest, she had gone through everything.\n\n'Across the heath, near the town of Viborg, stood the Dean's new,\nhandsome mansion, built of red stone with toothed gables. The smoke\ncurled thickly out of the chimneys. The gentle lady and her fair\ndaughters sat in the bay window looking into the garden at the drooping\nthorns and out to the brown heath beyond. What were they looking at\nthere? They were looking at a stork's nest on a tumble-down cottage; the\nroof was covered, as far as there was any roof to cover, with moss and\nhouse-leek; but the stork's nest made the best covering. It was the only\npart to which anything was done, for the stork kept it in repair.\n\n[Illustration: _Waldemar Daa hid it in his bosom, took his staff in his\nhand, and, with his three daughters, the once wealthy gentleman walked\nout of Borreby Hall for the last time._]\n\n'This house was only fit to be looked at, not to be touched. I had to\nmind what I was about,' said the wind. 'The cottage was allowed to\nstand for the sake of the stork's nest; in itself it was only a\nscarecrow on the heath, but the dean did not want to frighten away the\nstork, so the hovel was allowed to stand. The poor soul inside was\nallowed to live in it; she had the Egyptian bird to thank for that; or\nwas it payment for once having pleaded for the nest of his wild black\nbrother in the Borreby Forest? Then, poor thing, she was a child, a\ndelicate, pale hyacinth in a noble flower-garden. Poor Anna Dorothea;\nshe remembered it all! Ah, human beings can sigh as well as the wind\nwhen it soughs through the rushes and reeds.\n\n'Oh dear! oh dear! No bells rang over the grave of Waldemar Daa. No\nschoolboys sang when the former lord of Borreby Castle was laid in his\ngrave. Well, everything must have an end, even misery! Sister Ida became\nthe wife of a peasant, and this was her father's sorest trial. His\ndaughter's husband a miserable serf, who might at any moment be ordered\nthe punishment of the wooden horse by his lord. It is well that the sod\ncovers him now, and you too, Ida! Ah yes! ah yes! Poor me! poor me! I\nstill linger on. In Thy mercy release me, O Christ!'\n\n'This was the prayer of Anna Dorothea, as she lay in the miserable hovel\nwhich was only left standing for the sake of the stork.\n\n'I took charge of the boldest of the sisters,' said the wind. 'She had\nclothes made to suit her manly disposition, and took a place as a lad\nwith a skipper. Her words were few and looks stubborn, but she was\nwilling enough at her work. But with all her will she could not climb\nthe rigging; so I blew her overboard before any one discovered that she\nwas a woman, and I fancy that was not a bad deed of mine!' said the\nwind.\n\n'On such an Easter morning as that on which Waldemar Daa thought he had\nfound the red gold, I heard from beneath the stork's nest a psalm\nechoing through the miserable walls. It was Anna Dorothea's last song.\nThere was no window; only a hole in the wall. The sun rose in splendour\nand poured in upon her; her eyes were glazed and her heart broken! This\nwould have been so this morning whether the sun had shone upon her or\nnot. The stork kept a roof over her head till her death! I sang at her\ngrave,' said the wind, 'and I sang at her father's grave. I know where\nit is, and hers too, which is more than any one else knows.\n\n'The old order changeth, giving place to the new. The old high-road now\nonly leads to cultivated fields, while peaceful graves are covered by\nbusy traffic on the new road. Soon comes Steam with its row of waggons\nbehind it, rushing over the graves, forgotten, like the names upon them.\nWhew! whew! Let us be gone! This is the story of Waldemar Daa and his\ndaughters. Tell it better yourselves, if you can,' said the wind, as it\nveered round. Then it was gone.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nPrinted in Great Britain\n\nText printed by T. and A. Constable, Printers to His Majesty, Edinburgh\n\nIllustrations by Henry Stone and Son, Ltd., Banbury","title":"Stories from Hans Andersen","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":37101}