1812-1857 2026
This is an AI modernization of Grimm's Household Tales into contemporary English. The original is available from Project Gutenberg. Also available as an epub.
Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm were philologists, and they did not put this book together for children. They were collecting evidence — old German speech, old German story — and the first volume, published in 1812, came with scholarly notes and no pictures. It sold badly. Over the next forty-five years they brought out seven editions, and Wilhelm, who did most of the rewriting, kept working on the tales: lengthening them, smoothing the prose, taking the sex out, putting more God in, and turning several murderous mothers into stepmothers. The punishments he mostly left, and sometimes sharpened. The version everybody knows is the seventh edition of 1857, which is the one here.
Their sources were not peasants at a spinning wheel. They were mostly literate, mostly middle-class, mostly women, and mostly known to the brothers personally — neighbours, the daughters of a Kassel family the Grimms were friendly with, one of whom Wilhelm married, and a tailor's wife named Dorothea Viehmann who had a good memory and a good ear. One of those families was of Huguenot descent and knew its Perrault, so some of what the brothers wrote down as German had come to them through French print.
This edition has all of it: two hundred numbered tales, the ten children's legends, and the extra tale the Grimms hung on number 151 without giving it a number of its own. That is more than any modern Grimm in print, which is normally a selection of thirty or forty of the famous ones. The rest are the reason to have the whole thing. A hedgehog wins a footrace by cheating. A soldier traps the Devil in a boot with no sole. Two roasted chickens fly past with their breasts turned to heaven.
Three of the tales — numbers 7, 110 and 115 — are antisemitic caricature. They are translated in full and nothing in them is softened. There is a single editor's note, at 110, saying what this edition did and why, and it makes no further comment.
The text underneath is Margaret Hunt's of 1884, the first complete English Grimm and still the only complete one out of copyright. The obvious obstacle in it is the Victorian surface, the thees and thous and the inverted word order. The real one is quieter. Hunt's conversation means conduct; her want means lack; her prevent means go before. A reader who hits hath knows to go and look it up, and walks straight past prevent having understood the sentence backwards. The rhymes the animals and the dead speak in are the oldest layer of the whole collection, and they have been kept as rhymes.
The Story of the Youth Who Went Forth to Learn What Fear Was
The Wolf and the Seven Little Kids
Little Brother and Little Sister
The Three Little Men in the Wood
The Straw, the Coal, and the Bean
The Mouse, the Bird, and the Sausage
The Devil With the Three Golden Hairs
The Wishing-Table, the Gold-Ass, and the Cudgel in the Sack
The Knapsack, the Hat, and the Horn
How Six Men Got on in the World
The King of the Golden Mountain
The Poor Miller’s Boy and the Cat
The Bright Sun Brings It to Light
The King’s Son Who Feared Nothing
One-eye, Two-eyes, and Three-eyes
Fair Katrinelje and Pif-Paf-Poltrie
The Shoes That Were Danced to Pieces
The White Bride and the Black One
The Lambkin and the Little Fish
The Lord’s Animals and the Devil’s
The Sparrow And His Four Children
The Story of Schlauraffen Land
Master Pfriem (Master Cobbler’s Awl)
The Spindle, The Shuttle, and the Needle
Poverty and Humility Lead to Heaven
In the old days, when wishing still worked, there lived a king whose daughters were all beautiful — but the youngest was so beautiful that the sun itself, which has seen so much, was astonished every time it shone on her face. Close by the King's castle lay a great dark forest, and in the forest, under an old lime tree, there was a well. When the day was very hot the King's child would go out into the forest and sit down at the edge of the cool water; and when she was bored she would take a golden ball and throw it up in the air and catch it, and this ball was her favourite plaything.
Now one day it happened that the princess's golden ball did not fall into the little hand she was holding up for it, but past it onto the ground, and rolled straight into the water. The King's daughter followed it with her eyes, but it was gone, and the well was deep — so deep that you could not see the bottom. At that she began to cry, and cried louder and louder, and could not be comforted.
And while she was crying like this, somebody said to her, "What is the matter, princess? You are crying so hard that even a stone would feel sorry for you."
She looked round to see where the voice came from, and saw a frog poking its thick ugly head out of the water.
"Oh, it's you, is it, you old water-splasher?" she said. "I am crying for my golden ball, which has fallen into the well."
"Be quiet and stop crying," answered the frog. "I can help you. But what will you give me if I fetch your plaything up again?"
"Whatever you like, dear frog," she said. "My clothes, my pearls and jewels, even the golden crown I am wearing."
The frog answered, "I don't want your clothes, or your pearls and jewels, or your golden crown. But if you will love me and let me be your companion and playmate, and sit beside you at your little table, and eat off your little golden plate, and drink out of your little cup, and sleep in your little bed — if you will promise me that, I will go down and bring your golden ball up again."
"Oh yes," she said, "I promise you anything you like, if only you will bring me my ball back." But what she thought was: "What nonsense the silly frog talks! He lives in the water with the other frogs and croaks, and he can't be any sort of companion to a human being."
But the frog, once he had her promise, put his head under the water and sank down; and in a little while he came swimming up again with the ball in his mouth, and threw it out onto the grass. The King's daughter was delighted to see her pretty plaything again, and picked it up and ran off with it.
"Wait, wait!" called the frog. "Take me with you. I can't run the way you can." But what good did it do him to shout his croak, croak after her as loudly as he could? She did not listen. She ran home and soon forgot the poor frog, who had to go back down into his well.
The next day, when she had sat down at table with the King and all the court, and was eating off her little golden plate, something came creeping splish splash, splish splash up the marble staircase; and when it got to the top it knocked at the door and called, "Princess, youngest princess, open the door for me."
She ran to see who was outside; but when she opened the door, there sat the frog in front of it. She slammed the door shut in a great hurry, sat down at the table again, and was thoroughly frightened. The King could see plainly that her heart was thumping, and said, "My child, what are you so afraid of? Is there a giant outside who wants to carry you off?"
"Oh, no," she answered. "It isn't a giant, it's a disgusting frog."
"What does a frog want with you?"
"Oh, father dear, yesterday when I was in the forest sitting by the well, playing, my golden ball fell into the water. And because I cried so much, the frog fetched it out for me; and because he insisted on it, I promised he could be my companion — but I never thought he would be able to come up out of his water. And now he is outside and wants to come in to me."
Just then it knocked a second time, and called:
"Princess, youngest princess, open the door for me! Have you forgotten what you promised yesterday, by the cool well water? Princess, youngest princess, open the door for me!"
Then the King said, "What you have promised, you must keep. Go and let him in."
She went and opened the door, and the frog hopped in and followed her, step by step, to her chair. There he sat and called, "Lift me up beside you." She hung back, until at last the King ordered her to do it. Once the frog was on the chair he wanted to be on the table, and once he was on the table he said, "Now push your little golden plate closer, so that we can eat together." She did it, but anybody could see she did not do it willingly. The frog thoroughly enjoyed his dinner, but almost every mouthful stuck in her throat.
At last he said, "I have eaten enough and I am full. Now I am tired — carry me up to your little room and get your little silk bed ready, and we will both lie down and go to sleep."
The King's daughter began to cry, because she was frightened of the cold frog that she did not even like to touch, and that was now to sleep in her pretty clean little bed. But the King grew angry and said, "The one who helped you when you were in trouble is not to be despised afterwards."
So she picked the frog up with two fingers, carried him upstairs and put him down in a corner. But when she was in bed he came creeping over to her and said, "I am tired. I want to sleep as much as you do. Lift me up, or I'll tell your father."
At that she lost her temper completely, picked him up and threw him with all her strength against the wall. "Now you'll be quiet, you horrible frog!"
But when he fell down he was no frog. He was a king's son with beautiful, kind eyes. And by her father's will he was now her dear companion and her husband. He told her how he had been put under a spell by a wicked witch, and how nobody in the world could have got him out of that well but her, and that tomorrow they would go together to his kingdom.
Then they went to sleep; and next morning, when the sun woke them, a carriage came driving up with eight white horses, with white ostrich feathers on their heads and harness of golden chains; and standing behind it was the young King's servant, Faithful Henry. Faithful Henry had been so unhappy when his master was turned into a frog that he had had three iron bands fastened round his heart to stop it bursting with grief.
The carriage was to take the young King home to his kingdom. Faithful Henry helped the two of them in and took his place behind again, and he was full of joy that his master was free.
When they had gone part of the way, the King's son heard a cracking behind him, as if something had broken. So he turned round and called, "Henry, the carriage is breaking!"
"No, master, it isn't the carriage. It is a band from around my heart, which was put there when I was in such pain, when you were a frog and shut up in that well."
Again, and once again, something cracked while they were on their way, and each time the King's son thought the carriage was breaking. But it was only the bands springing off the heart of faithful Henry, because his master was free and happy.
A certain cat got to know a mouse, and talked to her so much about the great love and friendship she felt for her that in the end the mouse agreed that they should live together and keep house.
"But we must lay in something for the winter, or we shall go hungry," said the cat. "And you, little mouse, can't go venturing everywhere — you'll get caught in a trap one of these days."
The good advice was taken, and they bought a pot of fat; but they did not know where to put it. At last, after a great deal of thought, the cat said, "I don't know anywhere it would be better stored than in the church, for nobody dares to take anything from there. We'll set it under the altar and not touch it until we really need it."
So the pot was put in a safe place. But it was not long before the cat began to have a great longing for it, and said to the mouse, "I want to tell you something, little mouse. My cousin has brought a little son into the world and has asked me to be godmother. He's white with brown spots, and I'm to hold him over the font at the christening. Let me go out today, and you look after the house on your own."
"Yes, yes," said the mouse, "off you go by all means; and if you get anything really good, think of me — I'd like a drop of the sweet red christening wine myself."
But none of it was true. The cat had no cousin and had not been asked to be anybody's godmother. She went straight to the church, crept to the pot of fat, and began to lick, and licked the top of the fat off. Then she took a stroll over the roofs of the town, looked out for opportunities, stretched herself in the sun, and licked her lips every time she thought of that pot of fat; and it was evening before she came home.
"Well, here you are again," said the mouse. "I'm sure you've had a lovely day."
"It all went off very well," said the cat.
"What name did they give the child?"
"Top-off," said the cat, quite coolly.
"Top-off!" cried the mouse. "What a very odd, uncommon name. Is it usual in your family?"
"What does it matter?" said the cat. "It's no worse than Crumb-stealer, which is what your godchildren are called."
Before long the cat was seized by another fit of longing. She said to the mouse, "You must do me a favour and manage the house alone for a day again. I have been asked to be godmother a second time, and since the child has a white ring round its neck, I can't refuse."
The good mouse agreed; but the cat slipped along behind the town walls to the church and ate half the pot of fat. "Nothing ever tastes as good as what you keep to yourself," she said, and was thoroughly satisfied with her day's work.
When she came home the mouse asked, "And what was this child christened?"
"Half-gone," answered the cat.
"Half-gone! What are you talking about? I never heard the name in my life. I'll wager anything it isn't in the calendar."
Soon the cat's mouth began to water for more licking. "Good things come in threes," she said. "I've been asked to stand godmother again. The child is completely black, only it has white paws; apart from that there isn't a single white hair on its whole body. That only happens once in a few years. You'll let me go, won't you?"
"Top-off! Half-gone!" said the mouse. "Such odd names — they set me thinking."
"That's because you sit at home," said the cat, "in your dark grey fur coat and your long tail, getting full of fancies. It comes of never going out in the daytime."
While the cat was away the mouse cleaned the house and put it in order. And the greedy cat emptied the pot of fat completely. "Once everything's eaten up, you get some peace," she said to herself; and, well filled and fat, she did not come home till night.
The mouse asked at once what name the third child had been given.
"It won't please you any better than the others," said the cat. "He's called All-gone."
"All-gone!" cried the mouse. "That's the most suspicious name of the lot. I've never seen it in print. All-gone — what can it mean?" And she shook her head, curled herself up, and went to sleep.
After that nobody invited the cat to be godmother any more. But when the winter came and there was nothing to be found outside, the mouse remembered their store and said, "Come along, cat, let's go to our pot of fat that we saved up. We shall enjoy that."
"Yes," said the cat, "you'll enjoy it about as much as you'd enjoy sticking that dainty tongue of yours out of the window."
They set off; and when they got there, the pot of fat was certainly still in its place — but it was empty.
"Oh!" said the mouse. "Now I see what has happened. Now it all comes out. Some friend you are! You ate the whole lot while you were standing godmother. First top off, then half gone, then —"
"Will you hold your tongue!" cried the cat. "One more word and I'll eat you too."
"All gone" was already on the poor mouse's lips. She had barely said it before the cat sprang, caught her, and swallowed her down.
And that is the way of the world.
At the edge of a great forest there lived a woodcutter and his wife, who had one child, a little girl three years old. They were so poor, though, that they no longer had their daily bread and did not know how to find food for her.
One morning the woodcutter went out to his work in the forest full of care; and while he was cutting wood, suddenly there stood in front of him a tall and beautiful woman with a crown of shining stars on her head, who said, "I am the Virgin Mary, the mother of the child Jesus. You are poor and in need. Bring me your child; I will take her with me and be her mother and care for her."
The woodcutter did as he was told, brought his child and gave her to the Virgin Mary, who took her up to heaven. There the child did well: she ate sugar cakes and drank sweet milk, her clothes were of gold, and the little angels played with her.
And when she was fourteen years old, the Virgin Mary called her one day and said, "Dear child, I am going on a long journey. Take the keys of the thirteen doors of heaven into your keeping. Twelve of them you may open, and see the glory inside; but the thirteenth, which this little key belongs to, is forbidden you. Take care not to open it, or you will bring misery on yourself."
The girl promised to obey; and when the Virgin Mary was gone she began to look through the dwellings of the kingdom of heaven. Every day she opened one of them, until she had been through all twelve. In each of them one of the Apostles sat in the middle of a great light, and she delighted in all the magnificence and splendour, and the little angels who always went with her delighted in it too.
Then only the forbidden door was left, and she felt a great longing to know what could be hidden behind it, and said to the angels, "I won't open it right up, and I won't go inside — I'll only unlock it so that we can see a little through the crack."
"Oh no," said the little angels, "that would be a sin. The Virgin Mary has forbidden it, and it could very easily be the ruin of you."
Then she said nothing more; but the longing in her heart was not quieted. It gnawed at her and tormented her and gave her no peace. And once, when the angels had all gone out, she thought, "Now I am quite alone, and I could peep in. If I do it, nobody will ever know."
She hunted out the key; and when she had it in her hand she put it in the lock, and when she had put it in, she turned it. Then the door sprang open, and there she saw the Trinity sitting in fire and splendour. She stood a while and looked at it all in amazement; then she touched the light with her finger, just a little, and her finger turned entirely to gold.
Immediately a great fear came over her. She slammed the door and ran away. And her terror would not leave her, whatever she did; her heart beat and beat and would not be still, and the gold stayed on her finger and would not come off, however much she rubbed it and washed it.
It was not long before the Virgin Mary came back from her journey. She called the girl to her and asked for the keys of heaven. When the girl handed her the bunch, the Virgin looked into her eyes and said, "Did you not open the thirteenth door as well?"
"No," she answered.
Then the Virgin laid her hand on the girl's heart and felt how it beat and beat, and saw perfectly well that she had disobeyed and had opened the door. So she said again, "Are you certain you did not do it?"
"Yes," said the girl, a second time.
Then the Virgin noticed the finger that had turned to gold from touching the fire of heaven, and saw plainly that the child had sinned, and said a third time, "Did you not do it?"
"No," said the girl, for the third time.
Then the Virgin Mary said, "You have not obeyed me, and on top of that you have lied. You are not fit to be in heaven any longer."
Then the girl fell into a deep sleep; and when she woke she was lying on the earth below, in the middle of a wilderness. She wanted to call out, but she could not make a sound. She jumped up and tried to run away, but whichever way she turned she was held back by thick hedges of thorns that she could not break through.
In the wilderness where she was shut in there stood an old hollow tree, and this had to be her home. She crept into it when night came, and slept there; and there she found shelter from storm and rain. But it was a miserable life, and she wept bitterly when she remembered how happy she had been in heaven and how the angels had played with her.
Roots and wild berries were all she had to eat, and she went as far as she could to look for them. In the autumn she gathered up the fallen nuts and leaves and carried them into her hollow. The nuts were her food in winter; and when the snow and ice came she crept in among the leaves like a poor little animal, so as not to freeze. Before long her clothes were all torn and fell off her, one piece after another. But as soon as the sun shone warm again she went out and sat in front of the tree, and her long hair covered her on every side like a cloak. And so she sat, year after year, and felt the pain and misery of the world.
One day, when the trees were freshly green again, the King of that country was hunting in the forest and chasing a deer; and as it had fled into the thicket that closed off this part of the forest, he got down from his horse, tore the bushes apart and cut himself a path with his sword. When at last he had forced his way through, he saw a wonderfully beautiful girl sitting under the tree, covered from head to foot in her own golden hair.
He stood still and looked at her, full of astonishment; then he spoke to her and said, "Who are you? Why are you sitting here in the wilderness?"
But she gave him no answer, because she could not open her mouth.
The King went on, "Will you come with me to my castle?"
At that she just nodded her head a little. The King took her up in his arms, carried her to his horse and rode home with her; and when he came to the royal castle he had her dressed in beautiful clothes and gave her everything in abundance. And although she could not speak, she was so beautiful and so charming that he began to love her with his whole heart, and it was not long before he married her.
When a year or so had gone by, the Queen brought a son into the world. And that night, as she lay in her bed alone, the Virgin Mary appeared to her and said, "If you will tell the truth and admit that you unlocked the forbidden door, I will open your mouth and give you back your speech. But if you go on in your sin and stubbornly deny it, I will take your new-born child away with me."
Then the Queen was allowed to answer; but she stayed hard, and said, "No, I did not open the forbidden door." And the Virgin Mary took the new-born child out of her arms and vanished with it.
Next morning, when the child was nowhere to be found, it was whispered among the people that the Queen was an eater of human flesh and had killed her own child. She heard it all and could say nothing against it; but the King would not believe it, because he loved her so much.
When a year had gone by the Queen bore another son, and in the night the Virgin Mary came to her again and said, "If you will admit that you opened the forbidden door, I will give you your child back and untie your tongue. But if you go on in your sin and deny it, I will take this new child too."
Then the Queen said again, "No, I did not open the forbidden door." And the Virgin took the child out of her arms and away with her to heaven.
Next morning, when this child had disappeared as well, the people said out loud that the Queen had devoured it, and the King's councillors demanded that she be brought to trial. But the King loved her so dearly that he would not believe it, and ordered the councillors, on pain of death, to say no more about it.
The following year the Queen gave birth to a beautiful little daughter; and for the third time the Virgin Mary appeared to her in the night and said, "Follow me."
She took the Queen by the hand and led her to heaven, and showed her there her two eldest children, who smiled at her and were playing with the ball of the world. When the Queen was gladdened by the sight, the Virgin Mary said, "Is your heart not softened yet? If you will own that you opened the forbidden door, I will give you back your two little sons."
But for the third time the Queen answered, "No, I did not open the forbidden door."
Then the Virgin let her sink down to earth again, and took her third child from her as well.
Next morning, when the loss was reported, all the people cried out, "The Queen is an eater of human flesh! She must be judged." And this time the King could not hold his councillors back. So a trial was held; and since she could not answer and could not defend herself, she was condemned to be burned alive.
The wood was piled up; and when she was tied fast to the stake and the fire began to burn around her, the hard ice of her pride melted, her heart was moved to repentance, and she thought, "If only I could confess before I die that I opened that door."
Then her voice came back to her, and she cried out loudly, "Yes, Mary, I did it!"
And at once rain fell from the sky and put out the flames, and a light broke out above her, and the Virgin Mary came down with the two little sons at her side and the new-born daughter in her arms. She spoke kindly to her and said, "Whoever repents of a sin and admits it is forgiven." Then she gave her the three children, untied her tongue, and granted her happiness for the whole of her life.
A certain father had two sons. The elder was sharp and sensible and could do anything, but the younger was slow and could neither learn nor understand a thing; and when people saw him they said, "There's a lad who'll give his father some trouble."
Whenever there was something to be done, it was always the elder who had to do it. But if his father sent him to fetch something late in the evening, or at night, and the way led past the churchyard or any other gloomy place, he would say, "Oh no, father, I'm not going there — it gives me the shudders." Because he was afraid.
Or in the evening, when stories were told by the fire that made your flesh creep, the listeners would sometimes say, "Oh, that gives me the shudders!" The younger boy sat in his corner and listened with the rest, and could not imagine what they meant. "They're always saying it gives them the shudders, it gives them the shudders. It doesn't give me the shudders," he thought. "That must be another one of these skills I know nothing about."
Now one day his father said to him, "Listen to me, you there in the corner. You're growing tall and strong, and it's time you learned something to earn your living by. Look how your brother works — you don't even earn your salt."
"Well, father," he answered, "I'm quite willing to learn something. In fact, if it could be managed, I'd like to learn how to shudder. I don't understand that at all yet."
The elder brother laughed when he heard it, and thought to himself, "Good God, what a blockhead my brother is. He'll never be any good as long as he lives. If you're going to be a sickle, you have to start bending early."
The father sighed and answered, "You'll soon enough learn what it is to shudder, but you won't earn your bread by it."
Soon afterwards the sexton came to the house on a visit, and the father poured out his troubles and told him how backward his younger son was in every way — he knew nothing and learned nothing. "Just think," he said, "when I asked him how he was going to earn his bread, he actually said he wanted to learn how to shudder."
"If that's all," said the sexton, "he can learn that with me. Send him over and I'll soon polish him up."
The father was glad to agree, because he thought, "It will lick the boy into shape a little." So the sexton took him into his house, and his job was to ring the bell.
After a day or two the sexton woke him at midnight and told him to get up and go to the church tower and ring the bell. "You'll soon find out what shuddering is," he thought; and he went up secretly ahead of him. And when the boy was at the top of the tower and turned round and was just reaching for the bell rope, he saw a white figure standing on the stairs opposite the sound hole.
"Who's there?" he called. But the figure gave no answer and did not move or stir.
"Answer me," called the boy, "or clear off. You've no business here at night."
But the sexton stood there without moving, so that the boy would take him for a ghost. The boy called a second time: "What do you want here? Speak up, if you're an honest man, or I'll throw you down the steps."
The sexton thought, "He can't really mean it," and made no sound and stood as if he were made of stone. So the boy called out to him a third time; and when that did no good either, he ran at him and pushed the ghost down the stairs, so that it fell ten steps and lay there in a corner.
Then he rang the bell, went home, got into bed without a word and fell asleep.
The sexton's wife waited a long time for her husband, but he did not come back. At last she grew uneasy, woke the boy, and asked, "Do you know where my husband is? He climbed up the tower before you did."
"No, I don't," said the boy. "But there was somebody standing by the sound hole on the other side of the steps, and as he wouldn't answer and wouldn't go away, I took him for a scoundrel and threw him down the stairs. Go and see whether it was him. I should be sorry if it was."
The woman ran off and found her husband lying in the corner, groaning, with a broken leg.
She carried him down, and then, screaming at the top of her voice, she rushed to the boy's father. "That boy of yours," she cried, "has caused a great misfortune! He threw my husband down the steps and broke his leg. Take the good-for-nothing out of our house."
The father was horrified. He ran over and scolded the boy. "What wicked tricks are these? The devil himself must have put it into your head."
"Father," he answered, "do listen to me. I am completely innocent. He was standing there in the night like a man who means some harm. I didn't know who it was, and I begged him three times to speak or go away."
"Ah," said the father, "you bring me nothing but misery. Get out of my sight. I don't want to see you again."
"Gladly, father — only wait till daylight. Then I'll go out and learn how to shudder, and at least I'll have one skill to keep me."
"Learn what you like," said the father. "It's all the same to me. Here are fifty thalers. Take them and go out into the wide world, and tell nobody where you come from or who your father is, because I've reason to be ashamed of you."
"Yes, father, just as you wish. If that's all you want of me, it's easy enough to remember."
So when the day dawned the boy put his fifty thalers in his pocket and set off along the highway, saying to himself over and over, "If only I could shudder! If only I could shudder!"
Then a man came up who heard him talking to himself; and when they had walked a little further, to where they could see the gallows, the man said, "Look, there's the tree where seven men have married the ropemaker's daughter and are now learning to fly. Sit down underneath it and wait till night comes, and you'll soon learn how to shudder."
"If that's all it takes," said the boy, "it's easily done. And if I learn to shudder as fast as that, you shall have my fifty thalers. Just come back to me first thing in the morning."
So the boy went to the gallows, sat down underneath and waited for evening. And as he was cold he lit himself a fire; but at midnight the wind blew so sharply that even with his fire he could not get warm. And when the wind knocked the hanged men against one another so that they swung backwards and forwards, he thought, "Here am I shivering by the fire — how those poor fellows up there must be freezing."
And because he felt sorry for them, he set up the ladder, climbed up, untied them one after another and brought all seven down. Then he stirred the fire and blew it up and sat them round it to warm themselves. But they sat there without moving, and the fire caught their clothes.
So he said, "Careful, or I'll hang you up again." But the dead men did not hear, and stayed silent, and let their rags go on burning.
At that he grew angry and said, "If you won't take care, I can't help you — and I'm not going to be burnt along with you." And he hung them all up again, one by one. Then he sat down by his fire and fell asleep.
Next morning the man came for his fifty thalers and said, "Well, do you know what it is to shudder now?"
"No," he said. "How was I supposed to find out? Those fellows up there never opened their mouths, and they were so stupid they let the few old rags they had on their bodies get burnt."
Then the man saw he was not going to get the fifty thalers that day, and went off saying, "I never met anybody like that before."
The boy went on his way too, and began muttering to himself again, "Ah, if only I could shudder! Ah, if only I could shudder!"
A carter walking behind him heard it and asked, "Who are you?"
"I don't know."
"Where do you come from?"
"I don't know."
"Who is your father?"
"That I mustn't tell you."
"What is it you keep muttering through your teeth?"
"Ah," said the boy, "I do so wish I could shudder, and nobody can teach me how."
"Give up that foolish talk," said the carter. "Come along with me and I'll see about finding you a place."
So the boy went with the carter, and in the evening they came to an inn where they meant to spend the night. And at the door of the room the boy said again, quite loudly, "If only I could shudder! If only I could shudder!"
The landlord heard him and laughed and said, "If that's what you want, there should be a good opportunity for you here."
"Oh, be quiet," said the landlady. "Too many inquisitive people have lost their lives already. It would be a pity and a shame if such fine eyes as those never saw daylight again."
But the boy said, "However hard it may be, I mean to learn it. That's what I came out for."
He gave the landlord no peace until the man told him that not far off there stood a haunted castle, where anybody could easily enough learn what shuddering was, if he would only keep watch in it for three nights. The King had promised that whoever dared to do it should have his daughter for a wife, and she was the most beautiful girl the sun ever shone on. There were great treasures in the castle too, guarded by evil spirits, and those treasures would then be set free and would make a poor man rich. Plenty of men had gone into the castle, but not one had ever come out again.
So next morning the boy went to the King and said that, if he were allowed, he would keep watch three nights in the haunted castle. The King looked him over, and as he liked the look of him, he said, "You may ask for three things to take into the castle with you, but they must be things that have no life in them."
He answered, "Then I ask for a fire, a wood-turner's lathe, and a cutting-board with the knife."
The King had these things carried into the castle for him during the day.
When night was drawing on, the boy went up, made himself a good bright fire in one of the rooms, set the cutting-board and knife beside it, and sat down by the lathe. "Ah, if only I could shudder," he said. "But I shan't learn it here either."
Towards midnight he was about to poke up his fire; and as he was blowing at it, something suddenly cried out from a corner, "Ow, miaow! How cold we are!"
"You fools," he called, "what are you howling about? If you're cold, come and sit by the fire and warm yourselves."
And when he had said it, two great black cats came with one tremendous leap and sat down on either side of him, staring at him savagely with their fiery eyes. After a while, when they had warmed themselves, they said, "Friend, shall we have a game of cards?"
"Why not?" he said. "But show me your paws first."
So they stretched out their claws.
"Well!" he said. "What long nails you have. Wait, I'll have to cut them for you first."
With that he took them by the throat, laid them on the cutting-board and screwed their feet down fast. "I've had a look at your fingers," he said, "and I've gone off the idea of card-playing." And he struck them dead and threw them out into the water.
But when he had got rid of those two and was about to sit down by his fire again, out of every hole and corner came black cats and black dogs with red-hot chains, more and more of them, until he could not move; and they howled horribly, and got on his fire and pulled it apart and tried to put it out.
He watched them quietly for a while; but at last, when they went too far, he took hold of his cutting-knife and cried, "Away with you, vermin!" and set about cutting them down. Some of them ran off, the rest he killed and threw out into the fish-pond.
When he came back he fanned the embers of his fire up again and warmed himself. And as he sat there his eyes would not stay open any longer, and he felt like sleeping. So he looked round and saw a great bed in the corner. "That's just the thing for me," he said, and got into it.
But just as he was going to shut his eyes, the bed began to move by itself and went all over the castle. "That's the way," he said. "Only go faster."
Then the bed rolled on as if six horses were harnessed to it, up and down, over thresholds and stairs — and then suddenly, hop, hop, it turned upside down and lay on top of him like a mountain. But he threw the quilts and pillows up in the air, climbed out and said, "Now anybody who likes can drive"; and he lay down by his fire and slept till daylight.
In the morning the King came; and when he saw him lying there on the floor, he thought the evil spirits had killed him and he was dead. So he said, "It's a pity, after all — he was a fine-looking man."
The boy heard it, sat up and said, "It hasn't come to that yet."
The King was astonished, but very glad, and asked how he had got on.
"Very well indeed," he said. "One night's over, and I'll get through the other two as well."
Then he went to the innkeeper, who opened his eyes very wide and said, "I never expected to see you alive again. Have you learnt to shudder yet?"
"No," he said. "It's all no use. If only somebody would tell me how."
The second night he went up into the old castle again, sat down by the fire and began his old song once more: "If only I could shudder."
When midnight came there was an uproar and a noise of tumbling about; faint at first, then louder and louder. Then it was quiet for a while, and at last, with a loud scream, half a man came down the chimney and fell in front of him.
"Hey!" he called. "There's another half belongs to this. This isn't enough."
Then the uproar began again, with roaring and howling, and the other half fell down too.
"Wait," he said, "I'll blow the fire up a bit for you first."
And when he had done that and looked round again, the two pieces had joined together and a frightful man was sitting in his place.
"That wasn't the bargain," said the boy. "That bench is mine."
The man tried to push him away, but the boy would not have it, shoved him off with all his strength and sat down in his own place again.
Then more men came falling down, one after another; they fetched nine dead men's leg-bones and two skulls, set them up and played skittles with them. The boy wanted to play too, and said, "Here — can I join in?"
"Yes, if you have any money."
"Money enough," he said, "but your balls aren't quite round."
So he took the skulls, put them in the lathe and turned them till they were round. "There — now they'll roll better," he said. "Hurrah! Now it's going nicely."
He played with them and lost some of his money; but when the clock struck twelve, everything vanished before his eyes. He lay down and quietly went to sleep.
Next morning the King came to ask after him. "How did you get on this time?"
"I've been playing skittles," he answered, "and I lost a couple of farthings."
"And you didn't shudder?"
"What, me?" he said. "I had a very good time. If only I knew what it was to shudder!"
The third night he sat down on his bench again and said, quite miserably, "If only I could shudder."
When it grew late, six tall men came in carrying a coffin. So he said, "Aha — that will be my little cousin, who died only a few days ago," and he beckoned with his finger and called, "Come along, little cousin, come along."
They set the coffin down on the ground and he went over and took the lid off; and there lay a dead man inside. He felt his face, and it was as cold as ice.
"Wait," he said, "I'll warm you a little." And he went to the fire, warmed his own hand and laid it on the dead man's face; but he stayed cold. So he lifted him out, sat down by the fire with him, laid him against his chest and rubbed his arms to get the blood moving again. When that did no good either, he thought, "When two people lie in bed together they keep each other warm"; and he carried him to the bed, covered him up and lay down beside him.
After a while the dead man grew warm too, and began to move.
Then the boy said, "There, little cousin — didn't I warm you?"
But the dead man got up and cried, "Now I am going to strangle you."
"What!" said he. "Is that how you thank me? Back into your coffin with you." And he picked him up, threw him in and shut the lid. Then the six men came and carried him away again.
"I can't manage to shudder," he said. "I shall never learn it here as long as I live."
Then a man came in who was taller than all the others and looked terrible. But he was old, and had a long white beard.
"You wretch," he cried, "you'll soon learn what it is to shudder, because you are going to die."
"Not so fast," said the boy. "If I'm to die, I'll have some say in it."
"I'll soon have hold of you," said the fiend.
"Gently, gently, don't talk so big. I'm as strong as you are — stronger, perhaps."
"We'll see about that," said the old man. "If you're stronger, I'll let you go. Come, we'll try."
Then he led him through dark passages to a smith's forge, took an axe and with one blow drove an anvil into the ground.
"I can do better than that," said the boy, and went to the other anvil. The old man stood close by to watch, with his white beard hanging down. Then the boy took hold of the axe, split the anvil at one blow, and wedged the old man's beard into the split.
"Now I have you," said the boy. "Now it's your turn to die."
And he took an iron bar and beat the old man until he groaned and begged him to stop, and promised him great riches. The boy pulled out the axe and let him go.
The old man led him back into the castle and showed him three chests full of gold in a cellar. "One share of this is for the poor," he said, "one for the King, and the third is yours."
Just then it struck twelve and the spirit vanished, leaving the boy in the dark. "I'll find my way out all the same," he said; and he felt about, found his way back to the room, and slept there by his fire.
Next morning the King came and said, "Now you must have learnt what shuddering is."
"No," he said. "What can it be? My dead cousin was here, and a bearded man came and showed me a great deal of money down below, but nobody told me what it is to shudder."
"Well," said the King, "you have set the castle free, and you shall marry my daughter."
"That's all very fine," he said, "but I still don't know what it is to shudder."
Then the gold was brought up and the wedding was celebrated; but however much the young king loved his wife, and however happy he was, he still kept saying, "If only I could shudder — if only I could shudder."
And at last she grew annoyed with it. Her waiting-maid said, "I'll find a cure for him. He shall soon learn what it is to shudder."
She went out to the stream that ran through the garden and had a whole bucketful of little fish brought to her. At night, when the young king was asleep, his wife was to pull the covers off him and empty the bucket of cold water and fish all over him, so that the little fish would go flapping about him.
And when it was done he woke up and cried, "Oh, what is making me shudder so? What is making me shudder so, dear wife? Ah — now I know what it is to shudder!"
Once upon a time there was an old goat who had seven little kids, and she loved them with all the love a mother has for her children.
One day she wanted to go into the forest and fetch some food, so she called all seven to her and said, "Dear children, I have to go into the forest. Be on your guard against the wolf. If he gets in, he will eat every one of you — skin, hair and all. The wretch often disguises himself, but you will know him at once by his rough voice and his black feet."
The kids said, "Dear mother, we will take good care of ourselves. You can go without worrying." So the old one bleated and set off with an easy mind.
It was not long before somebody knocked at the door and called, "Open the door, dear children. Your mother is here, and she has brought something back for each of you."
But the little kids knew from the rough voice that it was the wolf. "We won't open the door," they cried. "You are not our mother. She has a soft, gentle voice, and your voice is rough. You are the wolf."
So the wolf went off to a shopkeeper and bought himself a great lump of chalk, and ate it, and it made his voice soft. Then he came back, knocked at the door of the house and called, "Open the door, dear children. Your mother is here, and she has brought something back for each of you."
But the wolf had laid his black paws on the window sill, and the children saw them and cried, "We won't open the door. Our mother hasn't got black feet like yours. You are the wolf."
So the wolf ran to a baker and said, "I've hurt my feet — rub some dough over them for me." And when the baker had done it, he ran to the miller and said, "Sprinkle some white flour on my feet for me."
The miller thought to himself, "The wolf means to deceive somebody," and refused; but the wolf said, "If you won't do it, I'll eat you." So the miller was frightened, and whitened his paws for him. That is what people are like.
So now the wretch went to the door for the third time, knocked and said, "Open the door for me, children. Your dear little mother has come home, and she has brought something back from the forest for every one of you."
The little kids called out, "Show us your paws first, so that we can be sure you are our dear little mother." So he put his paws in at the window; and when the kids saw that they were white, they believed everything he said and opened the door.
And in walked the wolf.
They were terrified and tried to hide. One sprang under the table, the second into the bed, the third into the stove, the fourth into the kitchen, the fifth into the cupboard, the sixth under the washing-bowl, and the seventh into the clock-case. But the wolf found them all and did not stand on ceremony: one after another he swallowed them down. The only one he did not find was the youngest, in the clock-case.
When the wolf had eaten his fill he took himself off, lay down under a tree in the green meadow outside, and went to sleep.
Soon afterwards the old goat came home from the forest. Oh, what a sight met her there! The door stood wide open; the table, the chairs and the benches were thrown over, the washing-bowl lay in pieces, and the quilts and pillows had been dragged off the bed. She looked for her children, but they were nowhere to be found. She called them by name, one after another, and nobody answered. At last, when she came to the youngest, a small voice cried, "Dear mother, I am in the clock-case."
She got the kid out, and it told her how the wolf had come and eaten all the others. You can imagine how she wept over her poor children.
At last, in her grief, she went outside, and the youngest kid ran with her. When they came to the meadow, there lay the wolf under the tree, snoring so loudly that the branches shook. She looked him over from every side, and saw that something was moving and struggling inside his stuffed belly.
"Good heavens," she said, "can it be that my poor children, that he swallowed down for his supper, are still alive?"
So the kid had to run home and fetch scissors and a needle and thread; and the goat cut open the monster's stomach. She had hardly made one cut before a little kid stuck its head out; and as she cut further, all six sprang out one after another, and every one of them was still alive and had come to no harm at all, because in his greed the monster had swallowed them down whole.
What rejoicing there was! They hugged their dear mother and jumped about like a tailor at his wedding.
But their mother said, "Now go and find some big stones, and we'll fill the wicked beast's stomach with them while he is still asleep."
So the seven kids dragged the stones over as fast as they could and put as many into his stomach as would go in; and their mother sewed him up again in the greatest hurry, so that he noticed nothing and never so much as stirred.
When the wolf had finally had his sleep out, he got to his feet; and because the stones in his stomach made him very thirsty, he wanted to go to a well and drink. But when he began to walk and move about, the stones knocked against each other and rattled. And he cried:
"What rumbles and tumbles about in my bones? I thought it was six kids, and it's nothing but stones."
And when he got to the well and leaned over the water and was just about to drink, the heavy stones pulled him in, and there was no help for it — he drowned miserably.
When the seven kids saw it they came running up, calling out, "The wolf is dead! The wolf is dead!" and danced for joy round the well with their mother.
Once upon a time there was an old king who was ill, and he thought to himself, "I am lying on what must be my deathbed."
Then he said, "Send Faithful John to me." Faithful John was his favourite servant, and he was called that because he had been true to him all his life long.
So when he came to the bedside, the King said to him, "My most faithful John, I feel my end coming, and I have no anxiety about anything except my son. He is still young and cannot always know how to manage himself. Unless you promise me to teach him everything he ought to know, and to be a foster-father to him, I cannot close my eyes in peace."
And Faithful John answered, "I will not desert him, and I will serve him faithfully, even if it costs me my life."
At that the old King said, "Now I can die in comfort and peace." And he went on: "After my death you shall show him the whole castle — all the rooms, the halls and the vaults, and all the treasure that lies in them. But the last room in the long gallery, where the portrait of the princess of the Golden Dwelling hangs, you must not show him. If he sees that picture he will fall violently in love with her and faint away, and he will go through great danger for her sake. You must keep him from it."
And when Faithful John had given the old King his promise on that too, the King said no more, but laid his head on the pillow and died.
When the old King had been carried to his grave, Faithful John told the young King everything he had promised his father on his deathbed, and said, "I will keep that promise, and I will be as faithful to you as I was to him, even if it costs me my life."
When the mourning was over, Faithful John said to him, "It is time you saw your inheritance. I will show you your father's palace."
So he took him everywhere, up and down, and showed him all the riches and the magnificent rooms — only there was one room he did not open, the one where the dangerous picture hung. But the picture was so placed that when the door was opened you looked straight at it, and it was so wonderfully painted that it seemed to breathe and live; and there was nothing lovelier or more beautiful in the whole world.
The young King noticed clearly that Faithful John always walked past this one door, and said, "Why do you never open that one for me?"
"There is something inside," he answered, "that would frighten you."
But the King said, "I have seen the whole palace, and I want to know what is in this room too" — and he went and tried to force the door open.
Then Faithful John held him back and said, "I promised your father before he died that you should not see what is in that room. It could bring the greatest misfortune on you and on me."
"Oh no," said the young King, "if I don't go in, it will be the ruin of me. I should have no peace day or night until I had seen it with my own eyes. I am not leaving this spot until you have unlocked the door."
Then Faithful John saw there was no help for it, and with a heavy heart and many sighs he hunted the key out of the great bunch. When he had opened the door he went in first, meaning to stand in front of the portrait and hide it so that the King should not see it. But what good was that? The King stood on tiptoe and looked over his shoulder.
And when he saw the portrait of the girl, so magnificent and shining with gold and precious stones, he fell to the ground in a faint.
Faithful John picked him up, carried him to his bed, and thought sorrowfully, "The misfortune has come. Lord God, what will be the end of it?" Then he gave him wine to strengthen him until he came round.
The first words the King said were, "Ah, that beautiful portrait! Whose is it?"
"That is the princess of the Golden Dwelling," answered Faithful John.
And the King went on, "My love for her is so great that if all the leaves on all the trees were tongues, they could not tell it. I will give my life to win her. You are my most faithful John — you must help me."
The faithful servant thought for a long time about how to go about it, because it was difficult even to get a sight of the King's daughter. At last he hit on a way, and said to the King, "Everything she has about her is of gold — tables, chairs, dishes, glasses, bowls, all her furniture. Among your treasures there are five tons of gold. Let the goldsmiths of the kingdom work them up into every kind of vessel and utensil, and into all sorts of birds and wild beasts and strange animals such as she would like; and we will go there with them and try our luck."
The King had all the goldsmiths brought to him, and they had to work night and day until at last the most splendid things were ready. When everything had been stowed aboard a ship, Faithful John put on a merchant's clothes, and the King had to do the same so as to be quite unrecognisable. Then they sailed across the sea, and sailed on until they came to the town where the princess of the Golden Dwelling lived.
Faithful John told the King to stay behind on the ship and wait for him. "Perhaps I shall bring the princess back with me," he said. "So see that everything is in order. Have the golden things set out and the whole ship decorated."
Then he gathered up all sorts of gold pieces in his apron, went ashore and walked straight to the royal palace.
When he came into the courtyard of the palace, a beautiful girl was standing by the well with two golden buckets in her hands, drawing water. And as she turned to carry the sparkling water away she saw the stranger and asked who he was.
"I am a merchant," he answered, and opened his apron and let her look inside.
"Oh, what beautiful golden things!" she cried, and put down her pails and looked at the golden wares one after another. Then she said, "The princess must see these. She takes such pleasure in golden things that she will buy everything you have."
She took him by the hand and led him upstairs, for she was the waiting-maid.
When the King's daughter saw the wares she was delighted and said, "They are so beautifully made that I will buy the whole lot from you."
But Faithful John said, "I am only the servant of a rich merchant. What I have here is nothing to what my master has in his ship. Those are the most beautiful and valuable things that were ever made in gold."
She wanted everything brought to her there, but he said, "There are so many of them it would take a great many days, and so many rooms would be needed to show them that your house is not big enough."
At that her curiosity and her longing were roused still more, until at last she said, "Take me to the ship. I will go there myself and see your master's treasures."
Faithful John was delighted, and led her to the ship. And when the King saw her, he saw that her beauty was even greater than the picture had shown, and he thought his heart would burst in two.
She came aboard and the King led her inside. But Faithful John stayed behind with the pilot and gave orders to cast off, calling, "Set every sail, and let her fly like a bird in the air."
Inside, the King showed her the golden vessels, every one of them, and the wild beasts and the strange animals too. Many hours went by while she was looking at everything, and in her delight she did not notice that the ship was sailing away. When she had looked at the last of them, she thanked the merchant and made to go home; but when she came to the side of the ship she saw that it was out on the deep sea, far from land, and hurrying on under full sail.
"Oh," she cried in alarm, "I am betrayed! I have been carried off and fallen into the hands of a merchant. I would rather die!"
But the King took her hand and said, "I am not a merchant. I am a king, and no lower born than you are. If I have carried you off by a trick, it is because I love you so very much. The first time I looked at your portrait I fell to the ground in a faint."
When the princess of the Golden Dwelling heard that she was comforted, and her heart turned to him, so that she willingly agreed to be his wife.
But it happened, as they were sailing on over the deep sea, that Faithful John, who was sitting in the bows making music, saw three ravens in the air, flying towards them. So he stopped playing and listened to what they were saying to one another, because he understood it perfectly well.
The first cried, "There he goes, carrying home the princess of the Golden Dwelling."
"Yes," said the second, "but he hasn't got her yet."
Said the third, "He has got her — she is sitting beside him in the ship."
Then the first began again: "What good will that do him? When they reach land, a chestnut horse will come bounding up to meet him, and the prince will want to mount it; and if he does, it will bolt with him and rise up into the air with him, and he will never see his bride again."
"But is there no escape?" said the second.
"Oh yes — if somebody else gets on it quickly and takes the pistol that will be in its holster and shoots the horse dead, the young King is saved. But who knows that? And whoever does know it and tells him will be turned to stone from his toes to his knees."
Then the second said, "I know more than that. Even if the horse is killed, the young King still won't keep his bride. When they go into the castle together there will be a wedding garment lying ready in a dish, and it will look as if it were woven of gold and silver; but it is nothing but sulphur and pitch, and if he puts it on it will burn him to the bone and the marrow."
"Is there no escape at all?" said the third.
"Oh yes," said the second. "If somebody with gloves on takes hold of the garment and throws it in the fire and burns it, the young King is saved. But what good is that? Whoever knows it and tells him will turn to stone from his knees to his heart."
Then the third said, "I know still more. Even if the wedding garment is burnt, the young King still won't have his bride. After the wedding, when the dancing begins and the young queen is dancing, she will suddenly turn pale and fall down as if she were dead; and unless somebody lifts her up and draws three drops of blood from her right breast and spits them out again, she will die. But anybody who knows that and says it out loud will turn to stone from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet."
When the ravens had talked it over they flew on; and Faithful John had understood every word. From that time he was quiet and sad, for if he kept what he had heard from his master, his master would come to grief; and if he told him, he must give his own life. At last, though, he said to himself, "I will save my master, even if it destroys me."
So when they came ashore, everything happened as the ravens had foretold, and a magnificent chestnut horse came bounding up.
"Good," said the King, "this shall carry me to my palace" — and he was about to mount it when Faithful John got in front of him, jumped up on it, pulled the pistol out of the holster and shot the horse.
Then the King's other attendants, who were not very fond of Faithful John anyway, cried, "What a shameful thing, to kill that beautiful animal that was to have carried the King to his palace!"
But the King said, "Hold your tongues and leave him alone. He is my most faithful John, and who knows what good may come of it?"
They went into the palace; and in the hall there stood a dish, and in it lay the wedding garment, looking for all the world as if it were made of gold and silver. The young King went towards it and was about to take hold of it, but Faithful John pushed him away, took it up with his gloves on, carried it quickly to the fire and burnt it.
The other attendants began muttering again and said, "Look at that — now he is even burning the King's wedding garment."
But the young King said, "Who knows what good he may have done? Leave him alone. He is my most faithful John."
And now the wedding was celebrated. The dancing began, and the bride joined in; and Faithful John kept watch and looked into her face — and suddenly she turned pale and fell to the ground as if she were dead.
He ran to her at once, lifted her up and carried her into a side room; then he laid her down, knelt, and sucked the three drops of blood from her right breast and spat them out. Immediately she breathed again and came to herself.
But the young King had seen it, and, not knowing why Faithful John had done it, he grew angry and cried, "Throw him into the dungeon."
Next morning Faithful John was condemned and led out to the gallows; and when he stood up there and was about to be executed, he said, "Everybody who has to die is allowed one last speech before the end. May I claim that right too?"
"Yes," answered the King, "it is granted you."
Then Faithful John said, "I have been condemned unjustly, and I have always been true to you." And he told how he had listened to the ravens talking out at sea, and how he had been forced to do all these things to save his master.
Then the King cried, "Oh, my most faithful John! Pardon, pardon — bring him down!"
But as Faithful John spoke his last word, he had already fallen down lifeless and turned to stone.
At that the King and the Queen were in great distress, and the King said, "Oh, how badly I have repaid such faithfulness!" And he had the stone figure taken up and set in his bedroom beside his bed. And every time he looked at it he wept and said, "Ah, if only I could bring you back to life, my most faithful John."
Some time passed, and the Queen bore twins, two sons who grew fast and were her delight. Once, when the Queen was at church and the two children were sitting playing beside their father, he looked at the stone figure again, full of grief, and sighed and said, "Ah, if only I could bring you back to life, my most faithful John."
Then the stone began to speak, and said, "You can bring me back to life, if you will give up for it what is dearest to you."
The King cried, "I will give everything I have in the world for you."
The stone went on, "If you will cut off the heads of your two children with your own hand, and sprinkle me with their blood, I shall come back to life."
The King was horrified when he heard that he must kill his own dearest children; but he thought of Faithful John's great faithfulness, and how he had died for him, and drew his sword and with his own hand cut off the children's heads. And when he had smeared the stone with their blood, life came back into it, and Faithful John stood before him again, safe and well.
He said to the King, "Your faithfulness shall not go unrewarded" — and he took the children's heads, set them on again and rubbed the wounds with their blood, and at once they were whole again and jumped about and went on playing as if nothing had happened.
Then the King was full of joy; and when he saw the Queen coming, he hid Faithful John and the two children in a great cupboard. When she came in he said to her, "Have you been praying in the church?"
"Yes," she answered, "but I have been thinking all the time of Faithful John, and what misfortune came to him through us."
Then he said, "Dear wife, we can give him his life back — but it will cost us our two little sons, whom we must sacrifice."
The Queen turned pale and her heart was full of horror, but she said, "We owe it to him, for his great faithfulness."
Then the King was glad that she thought as he had thought; and he went and opened the cupboard and brought out Faithful John and the children, and said, "God be praised, he is delivered, and we have our little sons again as well" — and he told her how it had all happened.
And they lived together in great happiness to the end of their days.
There was once a peasant who had driven his cow to the fair and sold her for seven thalers. On the way home he had to pass a pond, and from a long way off he could hear the frogs crying, "Aik, aik, aik, aik."
"Well," he said to himself, "they are talking without rhyme or reason. It's seven I got, not eight."
When he came to the water he called out to them, "Stupid creatures that you are! Don't you know any better? It's seven thalers, not eight."
But the frogs stuck to their "Aik, aik, aik, aik."
"Come on then, if you won't believe it, I can count it out for you." And he took his money out of his pocket and counted out the seven thalers, reckoning twenty-four groschen to the thaler.
But the frogs paid no attention to his reckoning and went on crying, "Aik, aik, aik, aik."
"What!" cried the peasant, thoroughly angry. "Since you're so determined to know better than I do, count it yourselves" — and he threw all the money into the water to them.
He stood still and waited for them to finish and give him his own back again; but the frogs held to their opinion and went on crying "Aik, aik, aik, aik," and what is more, they did not throw the money out again. He waited a long while, until evening came on and he had to go home. Then he swore at the frogs and called out, "You water-splashers, you thick-heads, you goggle-eyes! You have great mouths on you and can screech till a man's ears hurt, but you can't count seven thalers. Do you think I'm going to stand here till you've finished?"
And with that he went off; but the frogs went on crying "Aik, aik, aik, aik" after him, and he got home thoroughly angry.
After a while he bought another cow and killed it, and worked out that if he sold the meat well he might make as much as the two cows were worth, and have the hide into the bargain.
So when he got to the town with the meat, there was a great pack of dogs gathered in front of the gate, with a big greyhound at the head of them, which jumped at the meat, sniffed at it and barked, "Wow, wow, wow."
As there was no stopping him, the peasant said, "Yes, yes, I know perfectly well you're saying wow, wow, wow because you want some of the meat. But I'd come off badly if I gave it to you."
The dog answered nothing but "Wow, wow."
"Will you promise not to eat the lot, then? And will you stand surety for your companions?"
"Wow, wow, wow," said the dog.
"Well, if you insist on it, I'll leave it with you. I know you well enough, and I know who your master is. But I tell you this: I must have my money in three days, or it will go badly for you. You'll have to bring it out to me."
With that he unloaded the meat and turned back, and the dogs fell on it, barking loudly, "Wow, wow."
The countryman heard them from a distance and said to himself, "Listen to that — now they all want a share, but the big one is answerable to me for it."
When three days had gone by, the countryman thought, "Tonight my money will be in my pocket," and he was quite delighted. But nobody came to pay it.
"There's no trusting anybody nowadays," he said. And at last he lost patience and went into the town to the butcher and demanded his money.
The butcher thought it was a joke, but the peasant said, "Joking aside, I'll have my money. Didn't the big dog bring you a whole slaughtered cow three days ago?"
At that the butcher lost his temper, snatched up a broom handle and drove him out.
"Just wait," said the peasant. "There's still some justice in the world" — and he went to the royal palace and asked for an audience.
He was brought before the King, who was sitting there with his daughter, and was asked what wrong he had suffered.
"Alas," he said, "the frogs and the dogs have taken what was mine, and the butcher paid me for it with a stick" — and he told the whole story from beginning to end.
At that the King's daughter began to laugh out loud, and the King said, "I cannot give you justice in this, but you shall have my daughter for a wife instead. In her whole life she has never laughed as she has just laughed at you, and I promised her to the man who could make her laugh. You may thank God for your good fortune."
"Oh," said the peasant, "I don't want her. I have a wife already, and she is one too many for me. When I go home it is as bad as if there were a wife standing in every corner."
Then the King grew angry and said, "You are a boor."
"Ah, my lord King," said the peasant, "what can you expect from an ox but beef?"
"Wait," said the King. "You shall have another reward. Be off now, and come back in three days, and you shall have five hundred counted out in full."
As the peasant went out through the gate, the sentry said, "You made the King's daughter laugh, so you're bound to have got something good."
"Yes, that's what I think," said the peasant. "Five hundred are to be counted out to me."
"Listen," said the soldier, "give me some of it. What can you do with all that money?"
"Since it's you," said the peasant, "you shall have two hundred. Present yourself before the King in three days and have it paid to you."
A Jew who was standing by and had heard the conversation ran after the peasant, caught him by the coat and said, "Well, what a wonder! What a child of luck you are! I'll change it for you, I'll change it into small coin for you — what do you want with the big thalers?"
"Jew," said the countryman, "you can have three hundred more. Give it to me now in coin, and in three days from now the King will pay you for it."
The Jew was delighted with his profit and brought the sum in bad groschen, three of which were worth two good ones.
When the three days were up, the peasant went before the King as he had been told.
"Pull off his coat," said the King, "and he shall have his five hundred."
"Ah," said the peasant, "they don't belong to me any more. I made a present of two hundred of them to the sentry, and three hundred the Jew has changed for me, so by rights nothing at all belongs to me."
Meanwhile the soldier and the Jew came in and claimed what they had got from the peasant — and they received the blows, strictly counted out. The soldier bore it patiently and knew already how it tasted; but the Jew said sorrowfully, "Oh dear, oh dear, are these the heavy thalers?"
The King could not help laughing at the peasant, and as all his anger was gone he said, "Since you have already lost your reward before it came to you, I'll give you something in its place. Go into my treasure chamber and help yourself to as much money as you like."
The peasant did not need telling twice, and stuffed his big pockets with whatever would go in. Afterwards he went to an inn and counted out his money. The Jew had crept after him and heard him muttering to himself, "That rogue of a King has cheated me after all. Why couldn't he have given me the money himself, and then I'd have known what I had? How am I supposed to tell now whether what I happened to put in my pockets is right or not?"
"Good heavens," said the Jew to himself, "that man is speaking disrespectfully of our lord the King. I'll run and inform on him, and then I shall get a reward and he will be punished as well."
When the King heard what the peasant had said he flew into a rage and ordered the Jew to go and bring the offender to him.
The Jew ran to the peasant. "You're to go to my lord the King at once, in the very clothes you have on."
"I know better than that," said the peasant. "I shall have a new coat made first. Do you suppose a man with so much money in his pocket is going to turn up there in his ragged old coat?"
The Jew, seeing that the peasant would not stir without another coat, and afraid that if the King's anger cooled he would lose his own reward and the peasant his punishment, said, "Out of pure friendship, I'll lend you a coat for the short time. What won't a man do for love!"
The peasant was satisfied with that, put on the Jew's coat and went off with him.
The King reproached the countryman for the disrespectful words the Jew had informed him of.
"Ah," said the peasant, "what a Jew says is always false — no true word ever comes out of his mouth. That rascal there is capable of claiming that I have his coat on."
"What's this?" shrieked the Jew. "Is the coat not mine? Didn't I lend it to you out of pure friendship, so that you could appear before my lord the King?"
When the King heard that, he said, "The Jew has certainly deceived one or other of us — either me or the peasant" — and he ordered another sum to be counted out to him in hard thalers.
But the peasant went home in the good coat with the good money in his pocket, and said to himself, "This time I've hit it."
There was once a wonderful musician who was walking all alone through a forest, thinking of all kinds of things; and when he had nothing left to think about he said to himself, "Time is beginning to hang heavy here in the forest. I'll fetch myself a good companion."
So he took his fiddle off his back and played, and the sound rang through the trees. It was not long before a wolf came trotting through the thicket towards him.
"Ah, here's a wolf coming. I've no wish for him," said the musician.
But the wolf came nearer and said, "Ah, dear musician, how beautifully you play. I should like to learn that too."
"It's soon learnt," said the musician. "You have only to do everything I tell you."
"Oh, musician," said the wolf, "I'll obey you as a pupil obeys his master."
The musician told him to follow; and when they had gone part of the way together they came to an old oak tree that was hollow inside and split down the middle.
"Look," said the musician, "if you want to learn to fiddle, put your forepaws into this crack."
The wolf did as he was told; but the musician quickly picked up a stone and with one blow wedged his two paws in so fast that he had to stay there like a prisoner.
"Wait there till I come back," said the musician, and went on his way.
After a while he said to himself again, "Time is beginning to hang heavy here in the forest. I'll fetch myself another companion" — and he took his fiddle and played again. It was not long before a fox came creeping through the trees towards him.
"Ah, there's a fox coming," said the musician. "I've no wish for him."
The fox came up and said, "Oh, dear musician, how beautifully you play. I should like to learn that too."
"That's soon learnt," said the musician. "You have only to do everything I tell you."
"Oh, musician," said the fox, "I'll obey you as a pupil obeys his master."
"Follow me," said the musician. And when they had walked part of the way they came to a footpath with high bushes on both sides of it. There the musician stopped, bent a young hazel bush down to the ground from one side and put his foot on the top of it, and bent a young tree down from the other side as well.
"Now, little fox, if you want to learn something, give me your left front paw."
The fox obeyed, and the musician tied his paw to the left bough. "Little fox," he said, "now give me your right paw" — and he tied it to the right bough. And when he had made sure they were firm enough, he let go, and the bushes sprang up again and jerked the little fox up, so that he hung there struggling in the air.
"Wait there till I come back," said the musician, and went on his way.
Again he said to himself, "Time is beginning to hang heavy here in the forest. I'll fetch myself another companion" — so he took his fiddle, and the sound rang through the forest. And a little hare came springing towards him.
"Why, here's a hare coming," said the musician. "I don't want him."
"Ah, dear musician," said the hare, "how beautifully you fiddle. I should like to learn that too."
"That's soon learnt," said the musician. "You have only to do everything I tell you."
"Oh, musician," said the little hare, "I'll obey you as a pupil obeys his master."
They went part of the way together until they came to an open place in the forest where an aspen tree stood. The musician tied a long string round the little hare's neck and fastened the other end to the tree.
"Now look sharp, little hare — run twenty times round the tree," cried the musician; and the little hare obeyed. And when it had run round twenty times it had twisted the string twenty times round the trunk, and the little hare was caught; and it could pull and tug as much as it liked, it only cut the string into its tender neck.
"Wait there till I come back," said the musician, and went on.
Meanwhile the wolf had been pushing and pulling and biting at the stone, and had worked at it so long that he got his feet free and pulled them out of the crack again. Full of anger and rage he hurried after the musician, meaning to tear him to pieces.
When the fox saw him running, he began to wail and cried with all his might, "Brother wolf, come and help me — the musician has tricked me!"
The wolf pulled the little tree down, bit the cord in two and set the fox free, and the fox went along with him to take revenge on the musician. They found the tied-up hare and freed him as well, and then all three of them went looking for their enemy together.
The musician had been playing his fiddle again as he went on his way, and this time he had had better luck. The sound reached the ears of a poor woodcutter, who instantly, whether he wanted to or not, dropped his work and came with his hatchet under his arm to listen to the music.
"At last the right companion," said the musician, "for it was a human being I was looking for, and not wild beasts."
And he began to play, so beautifully and so delightfully that the poor man stood there as if he were bewitched, and his heart leapt for gladness. And as he stood there, up came the wolf, the fox and the hare; and he could see well enough that they meant harm. So he raised his glittering axe and put himself in front of the musician, as much as to say, "Whoever wants to touch him had better beware — he'll have me to deal with."
Then the beasts were frightened and ran back into the forest; and the musician played once more for the man, out of gratitude, and then went on his way.
Once upon a time there were a king and a queen who lived happily together and had twelve children — but they were all boys.
Then the King said to his wife, "If the thirteenth child you are about to bring into the world is a girl, the twelve boys must die, so that her fortune may be great and the kingdom fall to her alone."
He had twelve coffins made as well, already filled with wood shavings, and in each of them lay the little pillow for the dead; and he had them carried into a locked room, and gave the Queen the key of it and told her to speak of it to nobody.
But now the mother sat and grieved all day long, until the youngest son, who was always with her and whom she had named Benjamin, out of the Bible, said to her, "Dear mother, why are you so sad?"
"Dearest child," she answered, "I am not allowed to tell you."
But he gave her no peace until she went and unlocked the room and showed him the twelve coffins, ready and filled with shavings. Then she said, "My dearest Benjamin, your father had these coffins made for you and your eleven brothers; for if I bring a little girl into the world, you are all to be killed and buried in them."
And as she wept while she was saying it, her son comforted her and said, "Don't cry, dear mother. We will save ourselves and go away."
But she said, "Go out into the forest with your eleven brothers, and let one of you always sit in the highest tree that can be found and keep watch, looking towards the tower here at the castle. If I give birth to a little son, I will put up a white flag, and then you may risk coming home. But if I bear a daughter, I will hoist a red flag, and then fly away as fast as you can, and may the good God protect you. And every night I will get up and pray for you — in winter that you may have a fire to warm yourselves at, and in summer that you may not faint in the heat."
So when she had blessed her sons, they went out into the forest. They kept watch by turns, sitting in the highest oak and looking towards the tower. And when eleven days had gone by and it came to Benjamin's turn, he saw a flag being raised. But it was not the white one. It was the blood-red flag, which meant that they were all to die.
When the brothers heard it they were furious, and said, "Are we all to suffer death for the sake of a girl? We swear we will be revenged: wherever we find a girl, her red blood shall flow."
Then they went deeper into the forest; and in the middle of it, where it was darkest, they found a little enchanted hut standing empty.
"Here we will live," they said. "And you, Benjamin, who are the youngest and weakest, shall stay at home and keep house, and the rest of us will go out and get food."
So they went out into the forest and shot hares and wild deer, birds and pigeons, and whatever there was to eat, and brought it to Benjamin, who had to prepare it so that they could satisfy their hunger. They lived together in the little hut for ten years, and the time did not seem long to them.
The little daughter that their mother the Queen had borne was grown up by now. She was good-hearted and lovely to look at, and she had a golden star on her forehead.
Once, when it was the great washing day, she saw twelve men's shirts among the things, and asked her mother, "Whose are these twelve shirts? They are far too small for father."
Then the Queen answered with a heavy heart, "Dear child, they belong to your twelve brothers."
Said the girl, "Where are my twelve brothers? I have never even heard of them."
"God knows where they are," she said. "They are wandering about the world somewhere."
Then she took the girl and opened the room for her and showed her the twelve coffins with the shavings and the pillows for the head. "These coffins," she said, "were meant for your brothers; but they went away in secret before you were born" — and she told her how it had all happened.
Then the girl said, "Dear mother, don't cry. I will go and find my brothers."
So she took the twelve shirts and set off, straight into the great forest. She walked all day, and in the evening she came to the enchanted hut. She went in and found a young boy there, who asked, "Where have you come from, and where are you going?" — and he was astonished that she was so beautiful, and wore royal clothes, and had a star on her forehead.
She answered, "I am a king's daughter, and I am looking for my twelve brothers, and I mean to walk as far as the sky is blue until I find them." And she showed him the twelve shirts that belonged to them.
Then Benjamin saw that she was his sister, and said, "I am Benjamin, your youngest brother."
She began to cry for joy, and Benjamin cried too, and they kissed and hugged each other with the greatest love. But afterwards he said, "Dear sister, there is still one difficulty. We agreed that every girl we met should die, because it was on account of a girl that we had to leave our kingdom."
Then she said, "I will die willingly, if by doing it I can set my twelve brothers free."
"No," he answered, "you shall not die. Sit down under this tub until our eleven brothers come, and I will soon come to terms with them."
She did so; and when night came the others got back from hunting and their dinner was ready. And as they sat at the table eating, they asked, "What's the news?"
Said Benjamin, "Don't you know anything?"
"No," they said.
He went on, "You have been in the forest and I have stayed at home, and yet I know more than you do."
"Tell us, then," they cried.
He answered, "But promise me that the first girl we meet shall not be killed."
"Yes," they all cried, "she shall be spared — only tell us."
Then he said, "Our sister is here" — and he lifted up the tub, and the King's daughter came out in her royal clothes with the golden star on her forehead, and she was beautiful and delicate and fair. Then they were all overjoyed, and fell on her neck and kissed her and loved her with all their hearts.
Now she stayed at home with Benjamin and helped him with the work. The eleven went out into the forest and caught game — deer and birds and wood pigeons — for food, and the little sister and Benjamin saw to getting it ready. She fetched the wood for the cooking and the herbs for the vegetables, and put the pans on the fire, so that dinner was always ready when the eleven came home. She kept the little house in order too, and put beautiful clean white covers on the little beds; and the brothers were always content and lived in great harmony with her.
One day the two at home had prepared a splendid meal; and when they were all together they sat down and ate and drank and were full of gladness.
Now there was a little garden belonging to the enchanted house, and in it stood twelve lily flowers. The sister wanted to give her brothers pleasure, so she picked the twelve flowers, meaning to give one to each of them at dinner. But at the very moment she picked the flowers, the twelve brothers were turned into twelve ravens and flew away over the forest, and the house and the garden vanished too.
And now the poor girl was alone in the wild forest; and when she looked round, there stood an old woman beside her, who said, "My child, what have you done? Why didn't you leave the twelve white flowers growing? Those were your brothers, and now they are turned into ravens for ever."
The girl said, weeping, "Is there no way of setting them free?"
"No," said the woman, "there is only one in the whole world, and it is so hard that you will not free them by it: you must be dumb for seven years, and must not speak or laugh; and if you speak a single word, even with only an hour of the seven years still to run, it is all in vain and your brothers will be killed by that one word."
Then the girl said in her heart, "I know for certain that I shall set my brothers free"; and she went and found a tall tree and settled herself in it and span, and neither spoke nor laughed.
Now it happened that a king was hunting in the forest, and he had a great greyhound which ran to the tree the girl was sitting in and sprang about it, whining and barking up at her. Then the King came by and saw the beautiful King's daughter with the golden star on her forehead, and he was so taken with her beauty that he called up to ask whether she would be his wife. She gave no answer, but nodded her head a little. So he climbed the tree himself, carried her down, set her on his horse and took her home.
The wedding was celebrated with great magnificence and rejoicing, but the bride neither spoke nor smiled.
When they had lived happily together for a few years, the King's mother, who was a wicked woman, began to speak against the young Queen, and said to the King, "This is some common beggar girl you have brought home with you. Who knows what ungodly tricks she gets up to in secret! Even if she is dumb and cannot speak, she might laugh once in a while; and people who never laugh have bad consciences."
At first the King would not believe it; but the old woman pressed it so long, and accused her of so many evil things, that at last the King let himself be persuaded, and sentenced her to death.
And now a great fire was lit in the courtyard where she was to be burned; and the King stood up at the window and watched with tears in his eyes, because he still loved her so much. And when she was tied fast to the stake, and the fire was licking at her clothes with its red tongue, the last instant of the seven years ran out.
Then a whirring was heard in the air, and twelve ravens came flying to the place and sank down; and when they touched the earth they were her twelve brothers, whom she had set free. They tore the fire apart, put out the flames, untied their dear sister and kissed and hugged her.
And now that she could open her mouth and speak, she told the King why she had been dumb and had never laughed. The King rejoiced when he heard that she was innocent, and they all lived together in great harmony until they died. The wicked stepmother was brought before the judge and put into a barrel filled with boiling oil and poisonous snakes, and died an evil death.
The cock said one day to the hen, "It's the time of year when our nuts are ripe. Let's go up the hill together and eat our fill for once, before the squirrel carries them all off."
"Yes," said the hen, "come along, we'll have a good time together."
So off they went up the hill, and as it was a fine day they stayed there till evening. Now I do not know whether it was that they had eaten themselves too fat, or whether they had grown proud, but they would not go home on foot, and the cock had to build a little carriage out of nutshells.
When it was ready the little hen seated herself in it and said to the cock, "You can just harness yourself to it."
"I like that!" said the cock. "I'd sooner walk home than be harnessed to it. No, that wasn't the bargain. I don't mind being coachman and sitting on the box, but pull it myself I will not."
While they were arguing about it, a duck came quacking at them. "You thieving creatures, who told you to go to my nut hill? You'll suffer for it!" — and she ran at the cock with her beak open. But the cock was not idle either; he set on the duck boldly and in the end wounded her so with his spurs that she begged for mercy and let herself be harnessed to the carriage as a punishment, willingly enough.
So the little cock sat up on the box as coachman, and off they went at a gallop, with "Duck, go as fast as you can."
When they had driven part of the way they met two travellers on foot, a pin and a needle. "Stop, stop!" they cried; and they said it would soon be as dark as pitch and then they would not be able to go a step further, and the road was so dirty — couldn't they get into the carriage for a while? They had been at the tailor's alehouse by the gate and had sat too long over the beer. As they were thin people who did not take up much room, the cock let them both get in, but they had to promise not to tread on his feet or the hen's.
Late in the evening they came to an inn; and as they did not care to go on by night, and the duck was not steady on her feet either but kept lurching from side to side, they went in. The landlord at first made a great many objections — his house was full already, and besides, he did not think they could be very distinguished persons. But at last, as they made pleasant speeches and told him he could have the egg the little hen had laid on the way, and could keep the duck, which laid one every day, he said they might stay the night. And so they had themselves well waited on, and feasted and made a great noise.
Early in the morning, at daybreak, when everybody was asleep, the cock woke the hen, fetched the egg, pecked it open, and they ate it between them and threw the shell on the hearth. Then they went to the needle, which was still asleep, took it by the head and stuck it into the cushion of the landlord's chair, and put the pin in his towel; and then, without more ado, they flew away over the heath.
The duck, who liked sleeping in the open air and had stayed in the yard, heard them going, cheered up, found a stream and swam off down it, which was a much quicker way of travelling than being harnessed to a carriage.
The landlord did not get out of bed for another two hours. He washed himself and went to dry his face, and the pin went across it and drew a red streak from one ear to the other. Then he went into the kitchen to light a pipe; and when he came to the hearth the eggshell flew up into his eyes.
"Everything is going for my head this morning," he said, and sat down crossly in his grandfather's chair — and jumped straight up again crying, "Oh, misery!" — for the needle had pricked him worse than the pin had, and not in the head.
Now he was thoroughly angry, and suspected the guests who had come so late the night before; and when he went to look for them, they were gone. So he made a vow to take no more ragamuffins into his house: they eat a great deal, pay for nothing, and play spiteful tricks on you into the bargain, by way of thanks.
Little brother took his little sister by the hand and said, "Since our mother died we have had no happiness. Our stepmother beats us every day, and if we go near her she kicks us away with her foot. Our meals are the hard crusts of bread that are left over, and the little dog under the table is better off than we are, because she often throws it a good bit. Heaven help us — if our mother only knew! Come, we'll go out into the wide world together."
They walked the whole day over meadows and fields and stony places; and when it rained the little sister said, "Heaven and our hearts are weeping together." In the evening they came to a great forest, and they were so worn out with grief and hunger and the long walk that they crept into a hollow tree and fell asleep.
Next day, when they woke, the sun was already high and shining hot into the tree. Then the brother said, "Sister, I'm thirsty. If I knew of a little stream I'd go and have a drink. I think I can hear one running."
The brother got up and took his little sister by the hand, and they set off to find the stream.
But the wicked stepmother was a witch, and she had seen the two children go, and had crept after them in secret, the way witches creep, and had put a spell on every stream in the forest.
Now when they found a little stream leaping brightly over the stones, the brother was going to drink out of it; but the sister heard how it said as it ran, "Whoever drinks of me will be a tiger; whoever drinks of me will be a tiger."
So the sister cried, "Please, dear brother, don't drink, or you'll turn into a wild beast and tear me to pieces."
The brother did not drink, thirsty as he was, but said, "I'll wait for the next spring."
When they came to the next stream, the sister heard it say, "Whoever drinks of me will be a wolf; whoever drinks of me will be a wolf."
So the sister cried out, "Please, dear brother, don't drink, or you'll turn into a wolf and eat me."
The brother did not drink, but said, "I'll wait till we come to the next spring; but then I must drink, whatever you say, because my thirst is too great."
And when they came to the third stream, the sister heard it say as it ran, "Whoever drinks of me will be a roebuck; whoever drinks of me will be a roebuck."
The sister said, "Oh, I beg you, dear brother, don't drink, or you'll turn into a roebuck and run away from me."
But the brother had already knelt down by the stream and bent over and drunk some of the water; and as soon as the first drops touched his lips, there he lay, a young roebuck.
And now the sister wept over her poor enchanted brother, and the little roe wept too, and sat close beside her, full of sorrow. But at last the girl said, "Be quiet, dear little roe. I will never, never leave you."
Then she untied her golden garter and put it round the roebuck's neck, and she picked rushes and wove them into a soft cord. With this she led the little creature away, deeper and deeper into the forest.
And when they had gone a very long way they came at last to a little house; and the girl looked in, and as it was empty she thought, "We can stay here and live." Then she gathered leaves and moss to make a soft bed for the roe, and every morning she went out and gathered roots and berries and nuts for herself, and brought tender grass for the roe, who ate out of her hand and was contented and played about her. In the evening, when the sister was tired and had said her prayers, she laid her head on the roebuck's back — that was her pillow, and she slept soundly on it. And if only her brother had had his human shape, it would have been a delightful life.
For a while they were alone like this in the wilderness. But then it happened that the King of the country held a great hunt in the forest. The blasts of the horns, the barking of the dogs and the merry shouts of the huntsmen rang through the trees, and the roebuck heard it all and wanted more than anything to be there.
"Oh," he said to his sister, "let me go to the hunt, I can't bear it any longer" — and he begged so hard that at last she agreed.
"But," she said to him, "come back to me in the evening. I shall have to shut my door against the rough huntsmen; so knock and say, 'My little sister, let me in,' so that I know it is you. And if you don't say that, I shan't open the door."
Then the young roebuck sprang away, so happy and so merry in the open air.
The King and the huntsmen saw the beautiful creature and set off after him, but they could not catch him; and just when they thought they had him for certain, away he sprang through the bushes and was gone. When it was dark he ran to the cottage, knocked, and said, "My little sister, let me in." And the door was opened for him, and he jumped in and rested all night on his soft bed.
Next day the hunt began again, and when the roebuck heard the horns and the hallooing of the huntsmen he had no peace, and said, "Sister, let me out, I must go."
His sister opened the door for him and said, "But you must be back here in the evening and say your password."
When the King and his huntsmen saw the young roebuck with the golden collar again, they all gave chase; but he was too quick and nimble for them. It went on the whole day; but at last, towards evening, the huntsmen surrounded him, and one of them wounded him slightly in the foot, so that he limped and ran slowly. Then a huntsman crept after him to the cottage and heard him say, "My little sister, let me in," and saw the door open for him and shut again at once. The huntsman took note of it all, and went to the King and told him what he had seen and heard.
Then the King said, "Tomorrow we will hunt once more."
But the little sister was dreadfully frightened when she saw that her roe was hurt. She washed the blood off him, laid herbs on the wound, and said, "Go to your bed, dear roe, so that you get well again." But the wound was so slight that next morning the roebuck felt nothing of it any more; and when he heard the hunt outside again he said, "I can't bear it, I must be there. They shan't find it so easy to catch me."
The sister cried, and said, "This time they'll kill you, and here I shall be alone in the forest and forsaken by all the world. I won't let you out."
"Then you'll have me die of grief," said the roe. "When I hear those horns I feel as if I must jump out of my skin."
Then the sister could do nothing else, and opened the door for him with a heavy heart, and the roebuck bounded off into the forest, full of health and joy.
When the King saw him he said to his huntsmen, "Now chase him all day long, till nightfall; but take care that nobody does him any harm."
As soon as the sun had set, the King said to the huntsman, "Now come and show me the cottage in the wood." And when he was at the door he knocked and called, "Dear little sister, let me in."
The door opened and the King walked in, and there stood a girl more lovely than any he had ever seen. She was frightened when she saw that it was not her little roe but a man who came in, with a golden crown on his head. But the King looked at her kindly, held out his hand and said, "Will you come with me to my palace and be my dear wife?"
"Yes, gladly," said the girl, "but the little roe must come with me. I can't leave him."
The King said, "He shall stay with you as long as you live, and shall want for nothing."
Just then the roe came running in, and the sister tied him again with the rush cord, took it in her own hand and went away from the cottage with the King.
The King set the lovely girl on his horse and carried her to his palace, where the wedding was held with great splendour. She was Queen now, and they lived happily together for a long time; and the roebuck was cared for and cherished, and ran about in the palace garden.
But the wicked stepmother, who had driven the children out into the world, had been supposing all this time that the sister had been torn to pieces by the wild beasts in the wood, and that the brother had been shot for a roebuck by the huntsmen. So when she heard that they were so happy and so well off, envy and hatred rose in her heart and gave her no peace, and she thought of nothing but how to bring them to grief again.
Her own daughter, who was as ugly as night and had only one eye, grumbled at her and said, "A Queen! That ought to have been my luck."
"Just be quiet," said the old woman, and comforted her: "When the time comes, I shall be ready."
As time went on the Queen had a pretty little boy; and it happened that the King was out hunting. So the old witch took the shape of the chambermaid, went into the room where the Queen lay and said to her, "Come, your bath is ready. It will do you good and give you fresh strength. Be quick, before it gets cold."
Her daughter was close by too; and the two of them carried the weak Queen into the bathroom and put her in the bath, and then shut the door and ran away. But they had made up such a deadly heat in the bathroom that the beautiful young Queen was soon suffocated.
When that was done the old woman took her daughter, put a nightcap on her head and laid her in the bed in the Queen's place. She gave her the Queen's shape and the Queen's face as well; only she could not make good the missing eye. So that the King should not notice, she was to lie on the side where she had no eye.
In the evening, when he came home and heard that he had a son, he was heartily glad and was going to his dear wife's bed to see how she was. But the old woman called out quickly, "For your life, leave the curtains closed. The Queen must not see the light yet, and she must have rest." So the King went away, and never found out that a false Queen was lying in the bed.
But at midnight, when everybody was asleep, the nurse, who was sitting in the nursery by the cradle and was the only person awake, saw the door open and the true Queen come in. She took the child out of the cradle, laid it on her arm and fed it. Then she shook up its pillow, laid the child down again and covered it with the little quilt. And she did not forget the roebuck either, but went to the corner where he lay and stroked his back. Then she went out through the door again without a sound.
Next morning the nurse asked the guards whether anybody had come into the palace during the night, but they answered, "No, we saw nobody."
She came like this many nights and never spoke a word. The nurse always saw her, but did not dare tell anybody about it.
When some time had passed like this, the Queen began to speak in the night, and said:
"How fares my child? How fares my roe? Twice more I come, then I must go."
The nurse did not answer; but when the Queen had gone she went to the King and told him everything.
The King said, "Ah, heavens, what can this be? Tomorrow night I will watch by the child myself."
In the evening he went into the nursery; and at midnight the Queen appeared again and said:
"How fares my child? How fares my roe? Once more I come, then I must go."
And she nursed the child as she always did, before she disappeared. The King did not dare speak to her; but the next night he watched again. Then she said:
"How fares my child? How fares my roe? This time I come, then I must go."
Then the King could not hold himself back. He sprang towards her and said, "You can be nobody but my dear wife."
She answered, "Yes, I am your dear wife" — and at that very moment her life came back to her, and by God's grace she was fresh and rosy and full of health again.
Then she told the King what a wicked thing the witch and her daughter had done to her. The King had them both brought before the judge, and sentence was passed on them. The daughter was taken out into the forest, where the wild beasts tore her to pieces; and the witch was thrown into the fire and miserably burnt. And the moment she was burnt, the roebuck changed his shape and had his human form again; so the sister and brother lived happily together all their lives.
There were once a man and a woman who had long wished for a child in vain. At last the woman began to hope that God was going to grant her wish.
These people had a little window at the back of their house, and from it you could see a splendid garden, full of the most beautiful flowers and herbs. But it was surrounded by a high wall, and nobody dared go into it, because it belonged to an enchantress who had great powers and was feared by everybody in the world.
One day the woman was standing at this window looking down into the garden, when she saw a bed planted with the most beautiful rampion — rapunzel — and it looked so fresh and green that she longed for it and wanted more than anything to eat some. The longing grew stronger every day; and as she knew she could never have any, she pined away and looked pale and miserable.
Then her husband was alarmed, and asked, "What is the matter, dear wife?"
"Ah," she said, "if I can't get some of that rampion out of the garden behind our house, I shall die."
Her husband, who loved her, thought, "Rather than let your wife die, fetch her some of the rampion yourself, whatever it costs."
So in the dusk of the evening he climbed down over the wall into the enchantress's garden, hurriedly snatched a handful of rampion and took it to his wife. She made herself a salad of it at once and ate it with great relish. But she liked it so much — so very much — that the next day she longed for it three times as badly as before. If he was to have any peace, her husband would have to go down into the garden once more.
So in the gloom of the evening he let himself down again; but when he had climbed down the wall he was terrified, because there stood the enchantress in front of him.
"How dare you," she said, with a furious look, "climb into my garden and steal my rampion like a thief? You shall suffer for it."
"Ah," he answered, "let mercy take the place of justice. I only brought myself to do it out of necessity. My wife saw your rampion from the window, and she felt such a longing for it that she would have died if she hadn't got some to eat."
Then the enchantress let her anger cool, and said to him, "If it is as you say, I will let you take away as much rampion as you like — only on one condition: you must give me the child your wife is going to bring into the world. It shall be well treated, and I will care for it like a mother."
In his terror the man agreed to everything; and when the child was born, the enchantress appeared at once, gave the child the name Rapunzel, and took her away.
Rapunzel grew into the most beautiful child under the sun. When she was twelve years old, the enchantress shut her up in a tower that stood in a forest and had neither stairs nor door, but only a little window right at the top. When the enchantress wanted to go in, she stood underneath and called:
"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair to me."
Rapunzel had magnificent long hair, as fine as spun gold; and when she heard the enchantress's voice she undid her braided tresses and wound them round one of the hooks of the window, and then the hair fell twenty ells down, and the enchantress climbed up by it.
After a year or two it happened that a king's son rode through the forest and passed the tower. And he heard a song so lovely that he stood still and listened. It was Rapunzel, who in her loneliness passed her time letting her sweet voice ring out. The King's son wanted to climb up to her and looked for the door of the tower, but there was none to be found. He rode home; but the singing had gone so deep into his heart that he went out into the forest every day to listen to it.
Once, when he was standing behind a tree like this, he saw an enchantress come to the tower, and heard her call:
"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair to me."
Then Rapunzel let down the braids of her hair, and the enchantress climbed up to her.
"So that is the ladder people go up by," he said. "Then I'll try my luck too." And the next day, when it was beginning to get dark, he went to the tower and called:
"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair to me."
At once the hair came down, and the King's son climbed up.
At first Rapunzel was terribly frightened when a man came in, such as her eyes had never seen before. But the King's son began to talk to her quite like a friend, and told her that his heart had been so stirred that it had given him no peace, and he had had to see her. Then Rapunzel lost her fear; and when he asked whether she would have him for a husband, and she saw that he was young and handsome, she thought, "He will love me better than old Mother Gothel does" — and she said yes, and laid her hand in his.
She said, "I will gladly go away with you, but I don't know how to get down. Bring a skein of silk with you every time you come, and I will weave a ladder out of it; and when it is ready I will climb down and you shall take me up on your horse."
They agreed that until then he should come to her every evening, because the old woman came by day.
The enchantress noticed nothing, until one day Rapunzel said to her, "Tell me, Mother Gothel, how is it that you are so much heavier for me to pull up than the young King's son? He is up here in a moment."
"You wicked child!" cried the enchantress. "What is this I hear you say? I thought I had cut you off from all the world, and you have deceived me!"
In her rage she seized Rapunzel's beautiful hair, wound it twice round her left hand, snatched up a pair of scissors in her right, and snip, snap, it was cut off, and the lovely braids lay on the ground. And she was so pitiless that she took poor Rapunzel out into a wilderness, where she had to live in great grief and misery.
But on the same day that she cast Rapunzel out, the enchantress fastened the braids she had cut off to the hook of the window; and in the evening, when the King's son came and called:
"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair to me,"
she let the hair down. The King's son climbed up — and up there he did not find his dearest Rapunzel, but the enchantress, glaring at him with wicked, poisonous looks.
"Aha!" she cried mockingly. "You have come to fetch your darling; but the pretty bird is no longer sitting in the nest, singing. The cat has got her, and will scratch your eyes out as well. Rapunzel is lost to you. You will never see her again."
The King's son was beside himself with grief, and in his despair he leapt down from the tower. He escaped with his life, but the thorns he fell into put his eyes out. Then he wandered blind about the forest, ate nothing but roots and berries, and did nothing but grieve and weep for the loss of his dearest wife.
So he roamed about in misery for some years, and at last came to the wilderness where Rapunzel was living wretchedly with the twins she had given birth to, a boy and a girl. He heard a voice, and it seemed so familiar to him that he went towards it; and when he came near, Rapunzel knew him and fell on his neck and wept. Two of her tears fell on his eyes, and they grew clear again and he could see with them as he had before.
He took her home to his kingdom, where he was welcomed with joy, and they lived a long time afterwards, happy and content.
There was once a man whose wife had died, and a woman whose husband had died; and the man had a daughter, and the woman had a daughter too. The girls knew each other and went out walking together, and afterwards came back to the woman's house.
Then she said to the man's daughter, "Listen: tell your father I should like to marry him, and then you shall wash in milk every morning and drink wine, while my own daughter washes in water and drinks water."
The girl went home and told her father what the woman had said. The man said, "What shall I do? Marriage is a joy, and it is also a torment."
At last, as he could not make up his mind, he pulled off his boot and said, "Take this boot — it has a hole in the sole. Go up to the loft with it, hang it on the big nail and pour water into it. If it holds the water, then I will take a wife again; and if it runs through, I won't."
The girl did as she was told; but the water drew the hole together and the boot filled up to the top. She told her father how it had turned out. Then he went up himself; and when he saw that she was right, he went to the widow and courted her, and the wedding was celebrated.
The next morning, when the two girls got up, there stood milk for the man's daughter to wash in and wine for her to drink; but for the woman's daughter there stood water to wash in and water to drink.
On the second morning there stood water for washing and water for drinking in front of the man's daughter just as in front of the woman's daughter.
And on the third morning there stood water for washing and water for drinking in front of the man's daughter, and milk for washing and wine for drinking in front of the woman's daughter; and so it went on.
The woman turned bitterly unkind to her stepdaughter, and did her best to treat her worse every day. She was envious as well, because her stepdaughter was beautiful and lovable and her own daughter ugly and disagreeable.
Once, in winter, when everything was frozen as hard as stone and hill and valley lay under snow, the woman made a frock out of paper, called her stepdaughter and said, "Here, put this dress on and go out into the wood and fetch me a little basketful of strawberries. I have a fancy for some."
"Good heavens," said the girl, "strawberries don't grow in winter. The ground is frozen, and the snow has covered everything besides. And why must I go in this paper frock? It's so cold outside that your very breath freezes. The wind will blow straight through it and the thorns will tear it off my body."
"Are you contradicting me again?" said the stepmother. "See that you go, and don't show your face here until you have the basketful of strawberries." Then she gave her a little piece of hard bread and said, "That will do you for the day" — and thought to herself, "You will die of cold and hunger out there and I shall never set eyes on you again."
So the girl did as she was told, put on the paper frock and went out with the basket. Far and wide there was nothing but snow, and not a green blade to be seen.
When she came into the wood she saw a little house with three dwarfs peeping out of it. She wished them good day and knocked modestly at the door. They called, "Come in" — and she went into the room and sat down on the bench by the stove and began to warm herself and eat her breakfast.
The little men said, "Give us some of it too."
"Gladly," she said, and broke her bit of bread in two and gave them half.
They asked, "What are you doing here in the forest in winter, in that thin dress?"
"Ah," she answered, "I have to find a basketful of strawberries, and I'm not to go home until I can take them with me."
When she had eaten her bread they gave her a broom and said, "Sweep the snow away at the back door with this."
But when she was outside, the three little men said to one another, "What shall we give her, since she is so good and has shared her bread with us?"
The first said, "My gift is that she shall grow more beautiful every day."
The second said, "My gift is that gold pieces shall fall out of her mouth every time she speaks."
The third said, "My gift is that a king shall come and take her for his wife."
Meanwhile the girl did as the little men had told her, swept the snow away behind the little house with the broom — and what should she find but real ripe strawberries, coming up dark red out of the snow! In her delight she quickly gathered her basket full, thanked the little men, shook hands with each of them, and ran home to bring her stepmother what she had wanted so badly.
When she went in and said good evening, a piece of gold fell out of her mouth at once. Then she told what had happened to her in the wood; but with every word she spoke gold pieces fell out of her mouth, until before long the whole room was covered with them.
"Just look at her showing off," cried the stepsister, "throwing gold about like that!" — but secretly she was envious, and wanted to go into the forest to look for strawberries too.
Her mother said, "No, my dear little daughter, it is too cold, you might freeze to death." But her daughter gave her no peace, so at last she gave in, made her a magnificent fur dress, which she had to put on, and gave her bread and butter and cake to take with her.
The girl went into the forest and straight up to the little house. The three little men peeped out again, but she did not greet them, and without so much as looking at them or speaking to them she blundered into the room, sat down by the stove and began to eat her bread and butter and cake.
"Give us some of it," cried the little men.
But she answered, "There isn't enough for me, so how am I supposed to give it away to other people?"
When she had finished eating they said, "There's a broom for you — sweep it all clean for us outside by the back door."
"Pooh, sweep for yourselves," she answered. "I'm not your servant."
And when she saw that they were not going to give her anything, she went out of the door.
Then the little men said to one another, "What shall we give her, since she is so ill-natured and has a wicked envious heart that will never let her do anybody a good turn?"
The first said, "I grant that she shall grow uglier every day."
The second said, "I grant that at every word she says a toad shall jump out of her mouth."
The third said, "I grant that she shall die a miserable death."
The girl looked for strawberries outside; but as she found none, she went home in a temper. And when she opened her mouth to tell her mother what had happened to her in the wood, at every word a toad jumped out of it, so that everybody was seized with disgust at her.
Then the stepmother was angrier than ever, and thought of nothing but how to do the man's daughter every possible injury — while the girl's beauty grew greater by the day.
At last she took a cauldron, set it on the fire and boiled yarn in it. When it was boiled she flung it over the poor girl's shoulder and gave her an axe, so that she could go out on the frozen river, cut a hole in the ice and rinse the yarn.
She did as she was told, went out and cut a hole in the ice; and while she was in the middle of her cutting, a splendid carriage came driving up with the King in it. The carriage stopped, and the King asked, "My child, who are you, and what are you doing here?"
"I am a poor girl, and I am rinsing yarn."
Then the King felt pity for her; and when he saw how very beautiful she was, he said, "Will you come away with me?"
"Ah yes, with all my heart," she answered — for she was glad to get away from her stepmother and stepsister.
So she got into the carriage and drove away with the King; and when they came to his palace the wedding was celebrated with great splendour, exactly as the little men had granted.
When a year had gone by, the young Queen bore a son; and as the stepmother had heard of her great good fortune, she came to the palace with her daughter and pretended she wanted to pay a visit. But once, when the King had gone out and there was nobody else there, the wicked woman seized the Queen by the head and her daughter seized her by the feet, and they lifted her out of bed and threw her out of the window into the stream that flowed past. Then the ugly daughter lay down in the bed, and the old woman covered her up over her head.
When the King came home and wanted to speak to his wife, the old woman cried, "Hush, hush, not now — she is in a heavy sweat, you must let her rest today."
The King suspected nothing, and did not come back until the next morning; and as he talked with his wife and she answered him, at every word a toad leapt out, where before a piece of gold had always fallen. So he asked what that could be; but the old woman said it came of the heavy sweating and would soon pass off.
But in the night the kitchen boy saw a duck come swimming up the gutter, and it said:
"King, what are you doing now? Are you sleeping, or awake?"
And when he gave no answer, it said:
"And my guests — what do they do?"
The kitchen boy said:
"They are sleeping soundly too."
Then it asked again:
"And my baby — what does she?"
He answered:
"Sleeping in her cradle, she."
Then she went upstairs in the Queen's own shape, fed the baby, shook up its little bed, covered it over, and then swam away down the gutter again as a duck.
She came like that for two nights; and on the third she said to the kitchen boy, "Go and tell the King to take his sword and swing it three times over me on the threshold."
So the kitchen boy ran and told the King, who came with his sword and swung it three times over the spirit; and at the third time his wife stood before him, strong and living and healthy, just as she had been before.
At that the King was full of joy; but he kept the Queen hidden in a room until the Sunday, when the baby was to be christened. And when it had been christened, he said, "What does a person deserve who drags somebody out of bed and throws them in the water?"
"The wretch deserves nothing better," said the old woman, "than to be put in a barrel stuck full of nails and rolled downhill into the water."
"Then," said the King, "you have passed sentence on yourself."
And he ordered such a barrel to be brought, and the old woman put into it with her daughter; and then the lid was hammered on and the barrel was rolled downhill until it went into the river.
There was once a girl who was idle and would not spin; and whatever her mother said to her, she could not bring her to it. At last the mother was so overcome with anger and impatience one day that she beat her, and the girl began to cry loudly.
Now at that very moment the Queen drove past; and when she heard the crying she stopped her carriage, went into the house and asked the mother why she was beating her daughter so that the cries could be heard out on the road.
The woman was ashamed to tell anybody how lazy her daughter was, and said, "I can't get her to stop spinning. She insists on spinning for ever and ever, and I am poor and can't get hold of the flax."
Then the Queen answered, "There is nothing I like better to hear than spinning, and I am never happier than when the wheels are humming. Let me take your daughter with me to the palace. I have flax enough, and she shall spin there as much as she likes."
The mother was heartily glad of it, and the Queen took the girl away with her.
When they came to the palace she led her up to three rooms which were filled from floor to ceiling with the finest flax. "Now spin me this flax," she said, "and when you have done it you shall have my eldest son for a husband. I don't mind that you are poor — your tireless industry is dowry enough."
The girl was secretly terrified, because she could not have spun that flax — no, not if she had lived to be three hundred years old and sat at it every day from morning till night. So when she was alone she began to cry, and sat like that for three days without moving a finger.
On the third day the Queen came; and when she saw that nothing had been spun yet, she was surprised. But the girl excused herself by saying that she had not been able to start because she was so upset at leaving her mother's house. The Queen was satisfied with that, but said as she was going, "Tomorrow you must begin work."
When the girl was alone again she did not know what to do, and in her distress she went to the window. And there she saw three women coming towards her: the first had a broad flat foot; the second had such a great underlip that it hung down over her chin; and the third had a broad thumb.
They stopped in front of the window, looked up and asked the girl what was the matter with her. She told them her trouble, and then they offered her their help and said, "If you will invite us to the wedding, and not be ashamed of us, and call us your aunts, and seat us at your table, we will spin the flax up for you, and in a very short time too."
"With all my heart," she said. "Only come in and start the work at once."
So she let the three strange women in and cleared a space in the first room, where they sat down and began their spinning. One drew out the thread and trod the wheel, the second wetted the thread, the third twisted it and struck the table with her finger; and every time she struck it, a skein of thread fell to the floor, spun in the finest way possible.
The girl kept the three spinners hidden from the Queen, and every time she came showed her the great quantity of spun thread, until the Queen could not praise her enough. When the first room was empty they went to the second, and at last to the third, and that was soon cleared as well.
Then the three women took their leave and said to the girl, "Don't forget what you promised us. It will make your fortune."
When the girl showed the Queen the empty rooms and the great heap of yarn, she gave orders for the wedding; and the bridegroom was delighted that he was to have such a clever, hard-working wife, and praised her mightily.
"I have three aunts," said the girl, "and as they have been very good to me, I shouldn't like to forget them now that I have such good fortune. Let me invite them to the wedding, and let them sit with us at table."
The Queen and the bridegroom said, "Why should we not allow that?"
So when the feast began, the three women came in, dressed very strangely, and the bride said, "Welcome, dear aunts."
"Ah," said the bridegroom, "how do you come to have such hideous friends?"
And he went over to the one with the broad flat foot and said, "How did you come by such a broad foot?"
"By treading," she answered, "by treading."
Then the bridegroom went to the second and said, "How did you come by that hanging lip?"
"By licking," she answered, "by licking."
Then he asked the third, "How did you come by that broad thumb?"
"By twisting thread," she answered, "by twisting thread."
At that the King's son was alarmed, and said, "Neither now nor ever shall my beautiful bride touch a spinning wheel."
And so she was rid of the hateful flax-spinning.
At the edge of a great forest there lived a poor woodcutter with his wife and his two children. The boy was called Hansel and the girl Gretel. He had little enough to eat at the best of times; and once, when a great famine came over the land, he could no longer even get their daily bread.
Lying in bed at night thinking about it, tossing and turning with worry, he groaned and said to his wife, "What is to become of us? How are we to feed our poor children when we have nothing even for ourselves?"
"I'll tell you what, husband," said the woman. "Early tomorrow morning we'll take the children out into the forest, to the thickest part of it. We'll light them a fire and give them each one more piece of bread, and then we'll go off to our work and leave them there. They won't find the way home again, and we shall be rid of them."
"No, wife," said the man, "I won't do it. How could I bear to leave my children alone in the forest? The wild animals would soon come and tear them to pieces."
"You fool," she said. "Then all four of us will starve, and you may as well start planing the boards for our coffins." And she gave him no peace until he agreed.
"But I do feel very sorry for the poor children, all the same," said the man.
The two children had not been able to sleep for hunger either, and had heard what their stepmother said to their father. Gretel wept bitter tears and said to Hansel, "Now it's all over with us."
"Be quiet, Gretel," said Hansel. "Don't upset yourself. I'll soon find a way to help us."
And when the old people had fallen asleep he got up, put on his little coat, opened the door downstairs and crept outside. The moon was shining brightly, and the white pebbles lying in front of the house glittered like real silver coins. Hansel bent down and put as many of them into his coat pocket as would go in.
Then he went back and said to Gretel, "Don't worry, dear little sister, and sleep in peace. God won't forsake us" — and he lay down in his bed again.
When day broke, before the sun had risen, the woman came and woke the two children. "Get up, you lazybones. We're going into the forest to fetch wood." She gave each of them a little piece of bread and said, "There's something for your dinner, but don't eat it before then, because you'll get nothing else."
Gretel put the bread under her apron, because Hansel had the stones in his pocket. Then they all set out together on the way to the forest.
When they had walked a little way, Hansel stopped and looked back at the house, and did it again and again.
His father said, "Hansel, what are you looking at back there, and why are you falling behind? Pay attention and don't forget how to use your legs."
"Ah, father," said Hansel, "I'm looking at my little white cat, sitting up on the roof and wanting to say goodbye to me."
The wife said, "Fool, that isn't your cat, that's the morning sun shining on the chimney."
But Hansel had not been looking at the cat at all. He had been dropping one of the white pebbles out of his pocket onto the road, over and over.
When they had come to the middle of the forest, the father said, "Now, children, gather some wood, and I'll light a fire so that you don't get cold."
Hansel and Gretel gathered brushwood into a pile as high as a little hill. The brushwood was lit; and when the flames were burning high, the woman said, "Now, children, lie down by the fire and rest. We're going into the forest to cut wood. When we've finished, we'll come back and fetch you."
Hansel and Gretel sat by the fire; and when noon came they each ate their little piece of bread. And as they could hear the strokes of an axe, they thought their father was nearby. But it was not an axe: it was a branch he had tied to a dead tree, which the wind was knocking backwards and forwards.
And as they had been sitting so long, their eyes closed with tiredness and they fell fast asleep. When at last they woke, it was already black night. Gretel began to cry and said, "How are we ever to get out of the forest now?"
But Hansel comforted her: "Just wait a little, until the moon has risen, and then we'll soon find the way."
And when the full moon had risen, Hansel took his little sister by the hand and followed the pebbles, which shone like newly minted silver and showed them the way.
They walked the whole night long, and at daybreak came back to their father's house. They knocked at the door; and when the woman opened it and saw that it was Hansel and Gretel, she said, "You wicked children, why did you sleep so long in the forest? We thought you were never coming back at all."
But their father was overjoyed, because it had cut him to the heart to leave them behind on their own.
Not long afterwards there was famine everywhere again, and the children heard their mother saying to their father in the night, "Everything is eaten up again. We have half a loaf left, and after that it's the end. The children must go. We'll take them further into the wood, so that they can't find their way out again. There's no other way of saving ourselves."
The man's heart was heavy, and he thought, "It would be better to share the last mouthful with your children." But the woman would not listen to anything he said; she scolded him and reproached him. Whoever says A must say B as well; and as he had given in the first time, he had to give in the second time too.
But the children were still awake and had heard the conversation. When the old people were asleep, Hansel got up again and wanted to go out and pick up pebbles as he had done before; but the woman had locked the door and he could not get out. All the same, he comforted his little sister and said, "Don't cry, Gretel. Go to sleep quietly. The good God will help us."
Early in the morning the woman came and got the children out of their beds. They were given their bit of bread, but it was even smaller than last time. On the way into the forest Hansel crumbled his in his pocket, and kept stopping to throw a crumb on the ground.
"Hansel, why do you keep stopping and looking round?" said his father. "Get along."
"I'm looking back at my little pigeon, sitting on the roof and wanting to say goodbye to me," answered Hansel.
"Simpleton," said the woman, "that isn't your pigeon, that's the morning sun shining on the chimney."
But little by little, Hansel dropped all his crumbs on the path.
The woman led the children still deeper into the forest, where they had never been in their lives before. Again a great fire was made, and the mother said, "Just sit there, children, and if you're tired you can sleep a little. We're going into the forest to cut wood, and this evening when we've finished we'll come and fetch you."
When it was noon Gretel shared her piece of bread with Hansel, who had scattered his along the way. Then they fell asleep; and the evening came and went, and nobody came for the poor children.
They did not wake until it was black night; and Hansel comforted his little sister and said, "Just wait, Gretel, until the moon rises, and then we shall see the breadcrumbs I scattered. They'll show us the way home."
When the moon came up they set off; but they found no crumbs, because the many thousands of birds that fly about the woods and the fields had picked them all up.
Hansel said to Gretel, "We'll soon find the way" — but they did not find it. They walked the whole night and the next day too, from morning till evening, and still they did not get out of the forest; and they were terribly hungry, because they had nothing to eat but a few berries growing on the ground. And when they were so tired that their legs would not carry them any further, they lay down under a tree and fell asleep.
It was now the third morning since they had left their father's house. They began walking again, but they only went deeper into the forest; and if help did not come soon they must die of hunger and exhaustion.
At midday they saw a beautiful snow-white bird sitting on a branch, singing so sweetly that they stood still and listened. And when it had finished its song it spread its wings and flew on ahead of them, and they followed it until they came to a little house, and it settled on the roof. And when they came right up to the little house, they saw that it was built of bread and roofed with cake, and the windows were of clear sugar.
"We'll set to work on that," said Hansel, "and have a proper meal. I'll eat a bit of the roof, and you can eat some of the window, Gretel — that will taste sweet."
Hansel reached up and broke off a bit of the roof to try how it tasted, and Gretel leaned against the window and nibbled at the panes. Then a soft voice called from inside:
"Nibble, nibble, little mouse, who is nibbling at my house?"
The children answered:
"The wind, the wind, the heavenly child" —
and went on eating without troubling themselves. Hansel, who found the roof very good indeed, tore down a great piece of it; and Gretel pushed a whole round pane out of the window, sat down and enjoyed herself with it.
Then suddenly the door opened, and a very, very old woman came creeping out, leaning on a crutch. Hansel and Gretel were so terrified that they dropped what they were holding.
But the old woman nodded her head and said, "Oh, you dear children, who brought you here? Do come in and stay with me. No harm shall come to you."
She took them both by the hand and led them into her little house. Then good food was set in front of them — milk and pancakes with sugar, apples and nuts. Afterwards two pretty little beds were made up with clean white linen, and Hansel and Gretel lay down in them and thought they were in heaven.
But the old woman had only pretended to be kind. In truth she was a wicked witch who lay in wait for children, and had built the little house of bread on purpose to lure them there. When a child came into her power she killed it, cooked it and ate it, and that was a feast day for her.
Witches have red eyes and cannot see far, but they have a keen sense of smell like animals, and know when a human being is coming near. When Hansel and Gretel came into her neighbourhood she laughed spitefully and said with a sneer, "I have them. They shan't escape me again."
Early in the morning, before the children were awake, she was up already; and when she saw the two of them sleeping and looking so pretty, with their plump red cheeks, she muttered to herself, "That will be a dainty mouthful."
Then she seized Hansel with her withered hand, carried him out to a little stable and shut him in behind a barred door. He could scream as much as he liked; it was no use.
Then she went to Gretel, shook her till she woke, and cried, "Get up, lazy thing, fetch water and cook something good for your brother. He's out in the stable, and he's to be fattened. When he's fat, I shall eat him."
Gretel began to weep bitterly, but it was all in vain; she had to do what the wicked witch told her.
And now the best food was cooked for poor Hansel, and Gretel got nothing but crab shells. Every morning the old woman crept out to the little stable and cried, "Hansel, stick out your finger, so that I can feel whether you'll soon be fat."
But Hansel used to stick out a little bone; and the old woman, whose eyes were dim, could not see it and thought it was Hansel's finger, and was astonished that he would not fatten.
When four weeks had gone by and Hansel was still thin, impatience got the better of her and she would not wait any longer. "Hey, Gretel," she called to the girl, "look sharp and fetch water. Fat or thin, tomorrow I'm going to kill Hansel and cook him."
Oh, how the poor little sister grieved as she carried the water, and how the tears ran down her cheeks! "Dear God, help us," she cried. "If only the wild beasts in the forest had eaten us, at least we should have died together."
"Just keep your noise to yourself," said the old woman. "None of it will help you."
Early in the morning Gretel had to go out and hang up the cauldron of water and light the fire. "We'll bake first," said the old woman. "I've heated the oven already and kneaded the dough." And she pushed poor Gretel out to the oven, with the flames already darting out of it.
"Creep in," said the witch, "and see whether it's properly heated, so that we can put the bread in."
And once Gretel was inside, she meant to shut the oven and let her bake in it, and then eat her too. But Gretel saw what she had in mind, and said, "I don't know how to do it. How do you get in?"
"Silly goose," said the old woman, "the opening is big enough — look, I could get in myself." And she hobbled up and stuck her head into the oven.
Then Gretel gave her a shove that drove her right inside, and slammed the iron door and shot the bolt. Oh, how horribly she began to howl! But Gretel ran away, and the godless witch was miserably burnt to death.
Gretel ran like lightning to Hansel, opened his little stable and cried, "Hansel, we're saved! The old witch is dead."
Then Hansel sprang out like a bird from a cage when the door is opened for it. How they rejoiced, and hugged each other, and danced about and kissed each other! And as they had nothing to fear from her any more, they went into the witch's house; and in every corner there stood chests full of pearls and jewels.
"These are much better than pebbles," said Hansel, and stuffed his pockets with as much as would go in; and Gretel said, "I'll take something home too," and filled her pinafore full.
"But now we'll go," said Hansel, "so that we get out of this witch's forest."
When they had walked for two hours they came to a great stretch of water. "We can't get across," said Hansel. "I can't see any stepping-plank or any bridge."
"And there's no boat either," answered Gretel. "But there's a white duck swimming there. If I ask her, she'll help us over." And she called:
"Little duck, little duck, do you see Hansel and Gretel, waiting here? There's never a plank or a bridge in sight — carry us over on your back so white."
The duck came to them, and Hansel sat down on her back and told his sister to sit beside him.
"No," said Gretel, "that will be too heavy for the little duck. She shall take us across one after the other."
The good little duck did so; and when they were safely across and had walked a short way, the forest began to seem more and more familiar to them, and at last they saw their father's house in the distance. Then they began to run, and rushed into the parlour and threw themselves into their father's arms.
The man had not known one happy hour since he left the children in the forest; and the woman was dead.
Gretel shook out her pinafore until the pearls and precious stones went bouncing about the room, and Hansel threw one handful after another out of his pocket to join them. And so all their troubles were over, and they lived together in perfect happiness.
My tale is done; there runs a mouse; whoever catches it may make himself a great big fur cap out of it.
Once upon a time there was a poor man who could no longer support his only son.
So the son said, "Dear father, things are going so badly with us that I am a burden to you. I would rather go away and see how I can earn my own bread."
His father gave him his blessing and took leave of him with great sorrow.
At that time the King of a mighty empire was at war, and the young man took service with him and went out to fight. And when he came in front of the enemy there was a battle and great danger, and it rained shot until his comrades fell on every side; and when their commander was killed as well, the rest were about to run — but the young man stepped forward, spoke boldly to them, and cried, "We will not let our country be ruined!"
Then the others followed him, and he pressed on and defeated the enemy. And when the King heard that he owed the victory to him alone, he raised him above all the rest, gave him great treasures, and made him the first man in the kingdom.
The King had a daughter who was very beautiful, but very strange as well. She had made a vow to take no man for her lord and husband unless he promised to let himself be buried alive with her if she died first. "If he loves me with his whole heart," she said, "what use will life be to him afterwards?" And she would do the same on her side: if he died first, she would go down into the grave with him.
This strange oath had frightened off every suitor so far; but the young man became so enchanted by her beauty that he cared for nothing, and asked her father for her.
"But do you know what you must promise?" said the King.
"I must be buried with her," he answered, "if I outlive her. But my love is so great that I don't mind the danger."
So the King consented, and the wedding was celebrated with great splendour.
They lived happily and contentedly together for a while; and then it happened that the young Queen fell gravely ill, and no doctor could save her. And as she lay there dead, the young King remembered what he had been obliged to promise, and was horrified at having to lie down alive in the grave; but there was no escape. The King had set sentries at all the gates, and there was no avoiding his fate.
When the day came for the body to be buried, he was taken down into the royal vault with it, and then the door was shut and bolted.
Near the coffin stood a table with four candles on it, four loaves of bread and four bottles of wine; and when these ran out he would have to die of hunger. So he sat there full of pain and grief, ate only a little piece of bread each day and drank only a mouthful of wine, and all the same saw death coming nearer every day.
And while he sat staring in front of him, he saw a snake creep out of a corner of the vault and go towards the dead body. Thinking it had come to gnaw at her, he drew his sword and said, "As long as I am alive you shall not touch her," and cut the snake into three pieces.
After a while a second snake crept out of the hole; but when it saw the other lying dead and cut in pieces, it went back, and soon came again with three green leaves in its mouth. Then it took the three pieces of the snake, laid them together as they ought to go, and put one of the leaves on each wound. Immediately the severed parts joined together, the snake stirred and came alive again, and the two of them hurried away together, leaving the leaves lying on the ground.
Then it came into the mind of the unhappy man, who had been watching all this, to wonder whether the wonderful power of the leaves, which had brought the snake back to life, might not do the same for a human being. So he picked up the leaves and laid one of them on his dead wife's mouth and the other two on her eyes.
And hardly had he done it before the blood stirred in her veins, rose into her pale face and gave it colour again. Then she drew breath, opened her eyes and said, "Ah, God, where am I?"
"You are with me, dear wife," he answered; and he told her how it had all happened and how he had brought her back to life. Then he gave her some wine and bread; and when she had got her strength back he helped her up, and they went to the door and knocked and called so loudly that the sentries heard them and told the King.
The King came down himself and opened the door, and there he found them both strong and well, and rejoiced with them that all the sorrow was over.
But the young King took the three snake-leaves with him and gave them to a servant, saying, "Keep them for me carefully and carry them about with you always. Who knows what trouble they may yet get us out of?"
A change had come over his wife, though. After she had been brought back to life, it was as if all love for her husband had gone out of her heart. Some time later, when he wanted to make a voyage across the sea to visit his old father, and they had gone aboard a ship, she forgot the great love and faithfulness he had shown her, and which had rescued her from death, and took a wicked fancy to the captain.
And once, when the young King lay asleep, she called the captain in and took the sleeping man by the head, and the captain took him by the feet, and so they threw him down into the sea.
When the shameful thing was done, she said, "Now let us go home and say that he died on the way. I will praise you so highly to my father that he will marry me to you and make you heir to his crown."
But the faithful servant, who had seen everything they did without being seen himself, unfastened a little boat from the ship, got into it and rowed after his master, and let the traitors go on their way. He fished up the dead body, and with the help of the three snake-leaves he carried about with him, laid on the eyes and the mouth, he happily brought the young King back to life.
Then the two of them rowed with all their strength, day and night, and their little boat flew so fast that they reached the old King before the others did. He was astonished to see them come alone, and asked what had happened.
When he learned how wicked his daughter had been, he said, "I cannot believe she has behaved so badly; but the truth will soon come out" — and he told them both to go into a hidden room and keep out of everybody's sight.
Soon afterwards the great ship came sailing in, and the godless woman appeared before her father with a troubled face.
He said, "Why do you come back alone? Where is your husband?"
"Ah, dear father," she said, "I come home in great grief. On the voyage my husband suddenly fell ill and died, and if the good captain had not helped me it would have gone badly with me. He was there when he died and can tell you everything."
The King said, "I will bring the dead man back to life" — and he opened the room and told the two of them to come out.
When the woman saw her husband she was thunderstruck, and fell on her knees and begged for mercy.
The King said, "There is no mercy. He was ready to die with you and brought you back to life; and you murdered him in his sleep, and shall have the reward you deserve."
Then she was put with her accomplice into a ship that had been bored full of holes and sent out to sea, where they soon went down among the waves.
A long time ago there lived a king who was famous throughout the land for his wisdom. Nothing was hidden from him, and it seemed as though news of the most secret things was carried to him through the air.
But he had a strange custom. Every day after dinner, when the table had been cleared and nobody else was there, a trusted servant had to bring him one more dish. It was covered, though, and even the servant did not know what was in it; nor did anybody else, because the King never took the cover off to eat from it until he was quite alone.
This went on for a long time; and then one day the servant who took the dish away was overcome with such curiosity that he could not help carrying it into his own room. When he had carefully locked the door he lifted the cover, and saw a white snake lying on the dish. And at the sight of it he could not deny himself a taste, so he cut off a little piece and put it in his mouth.
No sooner had it touched his tongue than he heard a strange whispering of little voices outside his window. He went and listened, and found it was the sparrows chattering together, telling one another all sorts of things they had seen in the fields and woods. Eating the snake had given him the power of understanding the language of animals.
Now it happened that on that very day the Queen lost her most beautiful ring, and the suspicion of having stolen it fell on this trusted servant, who was allowed to go everywhere. The King had the man brought before him and threatened him angrily that unless he could name the thief by the next day, he would be counted guilty himself and executed. He declared his innocence in vain; he was sent away with no better answer.
In his trouble and fear he went down into the courtyard and tried to think how to help himself out of it. Now some ducks were sitting quietly together by a brook, resting; and while they smoothed their feathers with their bills they were having a confidential conversation. The servant stood by and listened.
They were telling one another about all the places they had waddled about in that morning and what good food they had found; and one said in a pitiful voice, "Something lies heavy on my stomach. I was eating in such a hurry that I swallowed a ring that was lying under the Queen's window."
The servant seized her by the neck at once, carried her into the kitchen and said to the cook, "Here's a fine duck — kill her, will you?"
"Yes," said the cook, weighing her in his hand. "She has spared no trouble fattening herself, and has been waiting to be roasted long enough."
So he cut off her head; and as she was being made ready for the spit, the Queen's ring was found inside her.
Now the servant could easily prove his innocence; and the King, to make up for the wrong, told him to ask a favour, and promised him the best position at court that he could wish for. The servant refused everything, and only asked for a horse and some money for travelling, as he had a mind to see the world and go about a little.
When his request had been granted he set out; and one day he came to a pond, where he saw three fish caught in the reeds and gasping for water. Now, although fish are said to be dumb, he heard them lamenting that they must die so miserably; and as he had a kind heart he got off his horse and put the three prisoners back into the water. They wriggled with delight, put out their heads and called to him, "We will remember you and repay you for saving us."
He rode on; and after a while it seemed to him that he heard a voice in the sand at his feet. He listened, and heard an ant-king complaining, "Why can't people keep their clumsy beasts off us? That stupid horse is treading my people down without mercy with his heavy hooves."
So he turned aside onto a side path, and the ant-king called after him, "We will remember you — one good turn deserves another."
The path led him into a wood, and there he saw two old ravens standing by their nest, throwing their young ones out. "Out with you, you idle good-for-nothings," they were crying. "We can't find food for you any longer. You're big enough to provide for yourselves."
But the poor young ravens lay on the ground flapping their wings and crying, "Oh, what helpless creatures we are! We're to shift for ourselves, and we can't even fly. What can we do but lie here and starve?"
So the good young man got down, killed his horse with his sword and gave it to them for food. Then they came hopping up, satisfied their hunger, and cried, "We will remember you — one good turn deserves another."
And now he had to use his own legs; and when he had walked a long way he came to a great city. There was a crowd and a great noise in the streets, and a man came riding up crying aloud, "The King's daughter wants a husband. But whoever asks for her hand must perform a hard task, and if he fails he forfeits his life."
Many had tried already, and all in vain; but when the young man saw the King's daughter he was so overcome by her great beauty that he forgot all the danger, went before the King and declared himself a suitor.
So he was led out to the sea, and a gold ring was thrown into it before his eyes; and the King ordered him to fetch this ring up from the bottom of the sea, and added, "If you come up again without it, you will be thrown back in, again and again, until you die among the waves."
All the people were sorry for the handsome young man; and then they went away and left him alone by the sea.
He stood on the shore wondering what to do, when suddenly he saw three fish come swimming towards him — and they were the very fish whose lives he had saved. The one in the middle held a mussel in its mouth, and laid it on the shore at his feet; and when he had picked it up and opened it, there lay the gold ring in the shell.
Full of joy he took it to the King, expecting him to grant the promised reward. But when the proud princess saw that he was not her equal in birth, she looked down on him and demanded that he perform another task first. She went down into the garden and scattered ten sackfuls of millet seed on the grass with her own hands, and then said, "Tomorrow morning before sunrise these must be picked up again, and not a single grain missing."
The young man sat down in the garden and tried to think how the task might be done; but he could think of nothing, and there he sat, sorrowfully waiting for daybreak, when he would be led out to die.
But as soon as the first rays of the sun shone into the garden, he saw all ten sacks standing side by side, quite full, and not a single grain missing. The ant-king had come in the night with many thousands of ants, and the grateful creatures had industriously picked up every grain of millet and gathered it into the sacks.
Presently the King's daughter came down into the garden herself, and was amazed to see that the young man had done what she set him. But she still could not conquer her proud heart, and said, "Although he has performed both tasks, he shall not be my husband until he brings me an apple from the Tree of Life."
The young man did not know where the Tree of Life stood, but he set out, and would have gone on for ever as long as his legs would carry him, though he had no hope of finding it. After he had wandered through three kingdoms, he came one evening to a wood and lay down under a tree to sleep.
But he heard a rustling in the branches, and a golden apple fell into his hand. At the same moment three ravens flew down to him, perched on his knee and said, "We are the three young ravens you saved from starving. When we had grown big and heard that you were looking for the Golden Apple, we flew over the sea to the end of the world, where the Tree of Life stands, and have brought you the apple."
Full of joy the young man set out for home, and took the Golden Apple to the King's beautiful daughter, who now had no excuses left. They cut the Apple of Life in two and ate it together; and then her heart filled with love for him, and they lived in undisturbed happiness to a great age.
In a village there lived a poor old woman who had collected a dish of beans and wanted to cook them. So she made a fire on her hearth, and to make it burn up quicker she lit it with a handful of straw.
When she was tipping the beans into the pan, one dropped without her noticing and lay on the floor beside a straw; and soon afterwards a burning coal jumped down out of the fire to join them.
Then the straw began, and said, "Dear friends, where have you come from?"
The coal answered, "I was lucky enough to leap out of the fire; and if I hadn't got out by main force I should certainly have died — I'd have been burnt to ashes."
The bean said, "I got away with a whole skin too. But if the old woman had got me into the pan, I'd have been made into broth without any mercy, like my companions."
"And would a better fate have come to me?" said the straw. "The old woman has destroyed all my brothers in fire and smoke. She grabbed sixty of them at once and took their lives. I slipped through her fingers by good luck."
"But what shall we do now?" said the coal.
"I think," said the bean, "that as we have all so luckily escaped death, we should stick together like good companions; and in case some fresh misfortune comes on us here, we should go away together and travel to a foreign country."
The other two liked the idea, and they set off together. Soon, though, they came to a little brook; and as there was no bridge and no plank across it, they did not know how they were to get over.
The straw hit on a good idea and said, "I'll lay myself straight across, and then you can walk over me as if I were a bridge."
So the straw stretched itself from one bank to the other; and the coal, who was of a hasty disposition, tripped quite boldly onto the newly built bridge. But when she got to the middle and heard the water rushing underneath, she took fright after all and stood still and dared not go any further. And the straw began to burn, broke in two and fell into the stream. The coal slipped after her, hissed as she hit the water, and breathed her last.
The bean, who had prudently stayed behind on the bank, could not help laughing at all this; and she could not stop, and laughed so heartily that she burst.
And that would have been the end of her too, if by good luck a tailor had not been travelling in search of work and sat down to rest by the brook. As he had a kind heart he took out his needle and thread and sewed her together again. The bean thanked him very prettily; but as the tailor had used black thread, all beans have had a black seam ever since.
Once upon a time there was a fisherman who lived with his wife in a miserable hovel close by the sea, and every day he went out fishing.
And once, as he sat with his rod looking into the clear water, his line went down, far down below; and when he pulled it up again he brought out a great flounder. And the flounder said to him, "Listen, fisherman, I beg you, let me live. I am no flounder really, but an enchanted prince. What good will it do you to kill me? I shouldn't be good to eat. Put me back in the water and let me go."
"Come," said the fisherman, "there's no need for so many words about it. A fish that can talk I would certainly let go anyway." And with that he put him back into the clear water, and the flounder went down to the bottom, leaving a long streak of blood behind him.
Then the fisherman got up and went home to his wife in the hovel.
"Husband," said the woman, "haven't you caught anything today?"
"No," said the man. "I did catch a flounder, who said he was an enchanted prince, so I let him go again."
"Didn't you wish for anything first?" said the woman.
"No," said the man. "What should I wish for?"
"Ah," said the woman, "it's hard having to live always in this dirty hovel. You might have wished for a little cottage for us. Go back and call him. Tell him we want a little cottage. He's sure to give us that."
"Ah," said the man, "why should I go there again?"
"Why," said the woman, "you caught him and you let him go again — he's sure to do it. Go at once."
The man still did not much want to go, but he did not want to cross his wife either, and he went to the sea.
When he got there the sea was all green and yellow and no longer smooth. So he stood still and said:
"Flounder, flounder in the sea, come, I beg you, here to me; for my wife, good Ilsabil, wills not as I'd have her will."
Then the flounder came swimming up and said, "Well, what does she want, then?"
"Ah," said the man, "I did catch you, and my wife says I really ought to have wished for something. She doesn't want to live in a wretched hovel any longer. She would like a cottage."
"Go home, then," said the flounder. "She has it already."
When the man got home his wife was not in the hovel any more; in its place there stood a little cottage, and she was sitting on a bench in front of the door. She took him by the hand and said, "Just come inside. Look — now isn't this a great deal better?"
So they went in; and there was a little porch and a pretty little parlour and bedroom, a kitchen and a pantry, with the best of furniture and fitted out with beautiful things of tin and brass, everything anybody could want. And behind the cottage there was a little yard with hens and ducks, and a little garden with flowers and fruit.
"Look," said the wife, "isn't that nice?"
"Yes," said the husband, "and so we must always think it. Now we shall live quite contented."
"We'll think about that," said the wife.
With that they had something to eat and went to bed.
Everything went well for a week or a fortnight, and then the woman said, "Listen, husband, this cottage is much too small for us, and the garden and the yard are little. The flounder might just as well have given us a bigger house. I should like to live in a great stone castle. Go to the flounder and tell him to give us a castle."
"Ah, wife," said the man, "the cottage is quite good enough. Why should we live in a castle?"
"What!" said the woman. "Just go there — the flounder can always do it."
"No, wife," said the man, "the flounder has only just given us the cottage. I don't like to go back so soon; it might make him angry."
"Go," said the woman. "He can do it easily enough and will be glad to. Just you go to him."
The man's heart grew heavy and he did not want to go. He said to himself, "It isn't right" — and yet he went.
And when he came to the sea, the water was quite purple and dark blue and grey and thick, and no longer green and yellow; but it was still calm. And he stood there and said:
"Flounder, flounder in the sea, come, I beg you, here to me; for my wife, good Ilsabil, wills not as I'd have her will."
"Well, what does she want, then?" said the flounder.
"Alas," said the man, half frightened, "she wants to live in a great stone castle."
"Go to her, then. She is standing in front of the door," said the flounder.
So the man went off, meaning to go home; but when he got there he found a great stone palace, and his wife was standing at the top of the steps just going in. She took him by the hand and said, "Come inside."
So he went in with her; and in the castle there was a great hall paved with marble, and a crowd of servants who flung the doors wide open. The walls were all bright with beautiful hangings, and in the rooms were chairs and tables of pure gold, and crystal chandeliers hung from the ceilings; and all the rooms and bedrooms had carpets, and food and wine of the very best stood on all the tables, so that they nearly broke under it. Behind the house there was a great courtyard too, with stables for horses and cows and the very best of carriages; and there was a magnificent great garden with the most beautiful flowers and fruit trees, and a park a good half mile long with stags and deer and hares in it, and everything anybody could wish for.
"Come," said the woman, "isn't that beautiful?"
"Yes indeed," said the man. "Now let it be at that. We'll live in this beautiful castle and be content."
"We'll consider it," said the woman, "and sleep on it." And with that they went to bed.
Next morning the wife woke first. It was just daybreak, and from her bed she could see the beautiful country lying in front of her. Her husband was still stretching himself, so she poked him in the side with her elbow and said, "Get up, husband, and look out of the window. Couldn't we be King over all that land? Go to the flounder. We will be King."
"Ah, wife," said the man, "why should we be King? I don't want to be King."
"Well," said the wife, "if you won't be King, I will. Go to the flounder, because I mean to be King."
"Ah, wife," said the man, "why do you want to be King? I don't like to say that to him."
"Why not?" said the woman. "Go to him this instant. I must be King."
So the man went, and was thoroughly unhappy that his wife wanted to be King. "It isn't right, it isn't right," he thought. He did not want to go; but he went.
And when he came to the sea, it was quite dark grey, and the water heaved up from below and smelt foul. So he stood by it and said:
"Flounder, flounder in the sea, come, I beg you, here to me; for my wife, good Ilsabil, wills not as I'd have her will."
"Well, what does she want, then?" said the flounder.
"Alas," said the man, "she wants to be King."
"Go to her. She is King already."
So the man went; and when he came to the palace, the castle had grown much bigger, with a great tower and magnificent ornaments; and a sentry was standing in front of the door, and there were crowds of soldiers with kettledrums and trumpets. And when he went inside, everything was of real marble and gold, with velvet covers and great golden tassels. Then the doors of the hall were opened, and there was the whole court in its splendour; and his wife was sitting on a high throne of gold and diamonds with a great gold crown on her head and a sceptre of pure gold and jewels in her hand, and on either side of her stood her maids of honour in a row, each one a head shorter than the last.
Then he went and stood in front of her and said, "Ah, wife, so now you are King."
"Yes," said the woman, "now I am King."
So he stood and looked at her; and when he had looked at her a while he said, "And now that you are King, let everything else be. Now we shall wish for nothing more."
"No, husband," said the woman, quite restlessly, "the time hangs very heavy on me. I can't bear it any longer. Go to the flounder. I am King, but I must be Emperor too."
"Alas, wife, why do you want to be Emperor?"
"Husband," she said, "go to the flounder. I will be Emperor."
"Alas, wife," said the man, "he can't make you Emperor. I can't say such a thing to the fish. There is only one Emperor in the land. The flounder can't make you an Emperor — I promise you he can't."
"What!" said the woman. "I am King, and you are nothing but my husband. Will you go this minute? Go at once! If he can make a King he can make an Emperor. I will be Emperor. Go this instant."
So he had to go. But as he went he was troubled in his mind, and thought to himself, "This will not end well. It will not end well. Emperor is too shameless. The flounder will get tired of it in the end."
With that he came to the sea; and the sea was quite black and thick and began to boil up from below, so that it threw up bubbles, and such a sharp wind blew over it that it curdled; and the man was afraid. So he stood by it and said:
"Flounder, flounder in the sea, come, I beg you, here to me; for my wife, good Ilsabil, wills not as I'd have her will."
"Well, what does she want, then?" said the flounder.
"Alas, flounder," he said, "my wife wants to be Emperor."
"Go to her," said the flounder. "She is Emperor already."
So the man went; and when he got there the whole palace was of polished marble with alabaster figures and golden ornaments, and soldiers were marching up and down in front of the door blowing trumpets and beating cymbals and drums; and inside the house barons and counts and dukes were going about as servants. Then they opened the doors to him, and they were of pure gold.
And when he came in, there sat his wife on a throne made out of one solid piece of gold, and it was fully two miles high; and she wore a great golden crown three yards high, set with diamonds and rubies, and in one hand she held the sceptre and in the other the imperial orb. And on both sides of her stood the yeomen of the guard in two rows, each one smaller than the man before him, from the biggest giant, who was two miles high, down to the very smallest dwarf, no bigger than my little finger. And in front of them stood a great many princes and dukes.
Then the man went and stood among them and said, "Wife, are you Emperor now?"
"Yes," she said, "now I am Emperor."
So he stood and looked at her properly; and when he had looked at her a while he said, "Ah, wife, be content now that you are Emperor."
"Husband," she said, "why are you standing there? Now I am Emperor, but I will be Pope too. Go to the flounder."
"Alas, wife," said the man, "what will you not wish for next? You can't be Pope. There is only one in all Christendom. He can't make you Pope."
"Husband," she said, "I will be Pope. Go this moment. I must be Pope this very day."
"No, wife," said the man, "I don't like to say that to him. It won't do. It is too much. The flounder can't make you Pope."
"Husband," she said, "what nonsense! If he can make an Emperor he can make a Pope. Go to him directly. I am Emperor and you are nothing but my husband. Will you go at once?"
Then he was frightened, and went; but he felt quite faint, and shivered and shook, and his knees and his legs trembled under him. And a high wind was blowing over the land, and the clouds raced, and towards evening everything grew dark, and the leaves fell from the trees, and the water rose and roared as if it were boiling and beat upon the shore. And far off he saw ships firing their guns in their distress, pitching and tossing on the waves. And still there was a small patch of blue in the middle of the sky, though all round it was as red as a heavy storm.
So, full of despair, he went and stood there in great fear and said:
"Flounder, flounder in the sea, come, I beg you, here to me; for my wife, good Ilsabil, wills not as I'd have her will."
"Well, what does she want, then?" said the flounder.
"Alas," said the man, "she wants to be Pope."
"Go to her, then," said the flounder. "She is Pope already."
So he went; and when he got there he saw what seemed to be a great church surrounded by palaces. He pushed his way through the crowd. Inside, everything was lit up with thousands and thousands of candles, and his wife was dressed in gold and sitting on a far higher throne, with three great golden crowns on her head; and round about her was all the splendour of the Church, and on both sides of her stood a row of candles, the biggest as tall as the very tallest tower and the smallest no bigger than a kitchen candle; and all the emperors and kings were on their knees before her, kissing her shoe.
"Wife," said the man, looking at her carefully, "are you Pope now?"
"Yes," she said, "I am Pope."
So he stood and looked at her, and it was just as if he were looking into the bright sun. And when he had stood looking at her a little while, he said, "Ah, wife, if you are Pope, do let well alone."
But she sat as stiff as a post and did not move or give any sign of life.
Then he said, "Wife, now that you are Pope, be satisfied. There is nothing greater you can become now."
"I'll consider that," said the woman.
And with that they both went to bed; but she was not satisfied, and her greed would not let her sleep, because she was thinking all the time what there was left for her to be.
The man slept well and soundly, for he had run about a great deal that day; but the woman could not get to sleep at all, and flung herself from one side to the other the whole night through, thinking always what more there was left for her to be, and unable to think of anything.
At last the sun began to rise; and when the woman saw the red of the dawn she sat up in bed and looked at it. And when she saw the sun rising through the window she said, "Can't I make the sun and the moon rise too?"
"Husband," she said, poking him in the ribs with her elbows, "wake up. Go to the flounder. I want to be like God."
The man was still half asleep, but he was so horrified that he fell out of bed. He thought he must have misheard, and rubbed his eyes and said, "Alas, wife, what are you saying?"
"Husband," she said, "if I can't make the sun and the moon rise, and have to sit and watch the sun and the moon rising, I can't bear it. I shall never know another happy hour unless I can make them rise myself."
And she looked at him so terribly that a shudder ran through him, and said, "Go at once. I want to be like God."
"Alas, wife," said the man, falling on his knees in front of her, "the flounder can't do that. He can make an emperor and a pope. I beg you, stay as you are and be Pope."
Then she flew into a rage, and her hair went flying wildly about her head, and she cried, "I won't put up with it, I won't stand it any longer. Will you go?"
Then he pulled on his trousers and ran off like a madman. But outside a great storm was raging and blowing so hard that he could scarcely keep his feet. Houses and trees were toppling over, the mountains shook, rocks rolled into the sea, the sky was pitch black, and it thundered and lightened, and the sea came in with black waves as high as church towers and mountains, every one of them crested with white foam.
Then he cried out, and could not hear his own words:
"Flounder, flounder in the sea, come, I beg you, here to me; for my wife, good Ilsabil, wills not as I'd have her will."
"Well, what does she want, then?" said the flounder.
"Alas," he said, "she wants to be like God."
"Go to her. You will find her back in the dirty hovel."
And there they are living to this very day.
One summer morning a little tailor was sitting on his table by the window, in good spirits and sewing with all his might. Along the street came a peasant woman crying, "Good jam, cheap! Good jam, cheap!"
That rang pleasantly in the tailor's ears. He put his delicate head out of the window and called, "Up here, my good woman — here's where you'll get rid of your goods."
The woman came up the three steps to the tailor with her heavy basket, and he made her unpack every one of the pots for him. He inspected them all, lifted them up, put his nose to them, and at last said, "The jam seems good to me. Weigh me out four ounces, my good woman — and if it comes to a quarter of a pound, that's no matter."
The woman, who had been hoping for a good sale, gave him what he asked for, but went off thoroughly annoyed and grumbling.
"Now, God bless this jam to my use," cried the little tailor, "and give me health and strength." And he fetched the bread out of the cupboard, cut himself a slice right across the loaf and spread the jam on it. "That won't taste bitter," he said, "but I'll just finish the jacket before I take a bite."
He laid the bread beside him, sewed away, and in his happiness made his stitches bigger and bigger.
Meanwhile the smell of the sweet jam went up the wall, where the flies were sitting in great numbers, and they were drawn to it and came down on it in swarms.
"Hey! Who invited you?" said the little tailor, and drove the uninvited guests away. But the flies, who understood no German, would not be driven off and came back in ever greater companies.
At last the little tailor lost all patience, got a scrap of cloth from the hole under his work table and, saying, "Wait, and I'll give it to you," struck at them without mercy. When he took the cloth away and counted, there lay no fewer than seven of them in front of him, dead, with their legs stretched out.
"Are you that sort of fellow?" he said, and could not help admiring his own bravery. "The whole town shall hear of this!"
And the little tailor hurriedly cut himself a belt, stitched it, and embroidered on it in big letters, "Seven at one stroke!"
"The town!" he went on. "The whole world shall hear of it!" And his heart wagged for joy like a lamb's tail.
The tailor put on the belt and resolved to go out into the world, because he thought his workshop was too small for such valour. Before he went, he hunted about the house to see whether there was anything he could take with him; but he found nothing except an old cheese, and that he put in his pocket. In front of the door he noticed a bird that had caught itself in a bush. That had to go into his pocket along with the cheese.
Then he took to the road boldly; and as he was light and nimble he felt no weariness. The road led him up a mountain; and when he had reached the highest point of it, there sat a powerful giant, looking about him quite comfortably.
The little tailor went up to him bravely and spoke to him: "Good day, friend. So there you sit, looking out over the wide world. I'm just on my way there myself, to try my luck. Have you any mind to come with me?"
The giant looked at the tailor contemptuously and said, "You ragamuffin! You miserable little creature!"
"Oh, indeed?" answered the little tailor, and unbuttoned his coat and showed the giant his belt. "There you may read what sort of a man I am."
The giant read, "Seven at one stroke," and supposed they had been men the tailor had killed, and began to feel a little respect for the tiny fellow. All the same, he thought he would test him first. He took a stone in his hand and squeezed it until water dripped out of it.
"Do the same," said the giant, "if you have the strength."
"Is that all?" said the tailor. "That's child's play where I come from." And he put his hand in his pocket, took out the soft cheese and squeezed it until the liquid ran out of it. "There," he said, "that was a bit better, wasn't it?"
The giant did not know what to say, and could not believe it of the little man. Then he picked up a stone and threw it so high that the eye could hardly follow it. "Now then, you mite of a man, do the same."
"Well thrown," said the tailor, "but after all, the stone came down to earth again. I'll throw you one that will never come back at all."
And he put his hand in his pocket, took out the bird and threw it into the air. The bird, delighted with its freedom, rose and flew away and did not come back.
"How do you like that shot, friend?" asked the tailor.
"You can throw, certainly," said the giant, "but now we'll see whether you can carry anything properly."
He took the little tailor to a mighty oak tree that lay felled on the ground and said, "If you're strong enough, help me carry this tree out of the forest."
"Gladly," said the little man. "You take the trunk on your shoulders, and I'll lift the branches and twigs — they're the heaviest part, after all."
The giant took the trunk on his shoulder, but the tailor sat himself down on a branch; and the giant, who could not look round, had to carry away the whole tree and the little tailor into the bargain. And the tailor behind was quite merry and happy, and whistled the song "Three tailors rode out at the gate," as if carrying the tree were child's play.
When the giant had dragged the heavy load part of the way he could go no further, and cried, "Look here, I shall have to drop the tree."
The tailor jumped nimbly down, took hold of the tree with both arms as if he had been carrying it all along, and said to the giant, "Such a big fellow as you, and you can't even carry a tree!"
They went on together; and as they were passing a cherry tree, the giant took hold of the top of it, where the ripest fruit was hanging, bent it down, put it into the tailor's hand and told him to eat. But the little tailor was far too weak to hold the tree; and when the giant let go, it sprang back and the tailor was whipped up into the air with it.
When he had come down again unhurt, the giant said, "What's this? Haven't you strength enough to hold a weak little branch?"
"There's no lack of strength," said the little tailor. "Do you suppose that would be anything to a man who struck down seven at one blow? I jumped over the tree because the huntsmen are shooting down there in the thicket. Jump it yourself, if you can."
The giant tried, but could not get over the tree and stuck fast in the branches; so the tailor kept the upper hand there too.
The giant said, "If you're such a valiant fellow, come with me to our cave and spend the night with us."
The little tailor was willing and went along. When they came into the cave, other giants were sitting there by the fire, each with a roasted sheep in his hand, eating it. The little tailor looked round and thought, "There's a good deal more room here than in my workshop."
The giant showed him a bed and told him to lie down in it and sleep. But the bed was too big for the little tailor; he did not lie down in it, but crept into a corner.
When it was midnight, and the giant thought the little tailor was sound asleep, he got up, took a great iron bar and cut the bed through with one blow, thinking he had finished off the grasshopper for good.
At the first light of dawn the giants went off into the forest, having quite forgotten the little tailor — when all at once he came walking up to them, perfectly cheerful and bold. The giants were terrified, and afraid that he would strike them all dead, and ran away in a great hurry.
The little tailor went on, always following his own sharp nose. After he had walked a long time he came to the courtyard of a royal palace; and as he was tired, he lay down on the grass and fell asleep.
While he lay there, people came and looked him over on all sides, and read on his belt, "Seven at one stroke."
"Ah," they said, "what is a great warrior doing here in the middle of peacetime? He must be a mighty lord."
They went and told the King about him, and gave it as their opinion that if war were to break out this would be a weighty and useful man, who ought on no account to be let go. The advice pleased the King, and he sent one of his courtiers to the little tailor to offer him a commission when he woke.
The messenger stood by the sleeper, waited until he stretched himself and opened his eyes, and then put the offer to him.
"That is the very reason I came here," said the tailor. "I am ready to enter the King's service."
So he was received with honour and given quarters of his own.
But the soldiers were set against the little tailor and wished him a thousand miles away. "What is to come of this?" they said among themselves. "If we quarrel with him and he lays about him, seven of us will fall at every blow. Not one of us can stand against him."
So they came to a decision, went in a body to the King and asked to be discharged. "We are not prepared," they said, "to stay with a man who kills seven at one stroke."
The King was sorry to lose all his faithful servants for the sake of one man, and wished he had never set eyes on the tailor, and would gladly have been rid of him again. But he did not dare dismiss him, for fear he should strike him and all his people dead and set himself on the royal throne.
He thought about it a long time, and at last hit on a plan. He sent to the little tailor to say that, as he was such a great warrior, he had one request to make of him. In a forest of his kingdom there lived two giants who did great damage with their robbing and murdering, their ravaging and burning, and nobody could go near them without risking his life. If the tailor conquered and killed these two giants, the King would give him his only daughter for a wife and half the kingdom for a dowry; and a hundred horsemen should go with him to help.
"That would be a fine thing for a man like me," thought the little tailor. "A man isn't offered a beautiful princess and half a kingdom every day of his life."
"Oh, yes," he answered, "I'll soon settle the giants, and I don't need a hundred horsemen to do it. A man who can kill seven at one blow needn't be afraid of two."
The little tailor set off, and the hundred horsemen followed him. When he came to the edge of the forest he said to his followers, "Just wait here — I'll soon finish off the giants by myself."
Then he sprang into the forest and looked about him, right and left. After a while he caught sight of the two giants. They lay asleep under a tree, snoring so that the branches swayed up and down.
The little tailor, not being idle, gathered two pocketfuls of stones and climbed up into the tree with them. When he was half way up he slipped along a branch until he was sitting just above the sleepers, and then let one stone after another drop onto the chest of one of the giants.
For a long time the giant felt nothing; but at last he woke, shoved his companion and said, "Why are you hitting me?"
"You must be dreaming," said the other. "I'm not hitting you."
They lay down to sleep again; and then the tailor dropped a stone onto the second one.
"What's the meaning of this?" cried the second. "Why are you pelting me?"
"I am not pelting you," growled the first.
They argued about it for a while; but as they were tired they let it drop, and their eyes closed again.
Then the little tailor began his game once more, picked out the biggest stone and threw it with all his strength onto the chest of the first giant.
"This is too much!" he cried, and sprang up like a madman and shoved his companion against the tree until it shook. The other paid him back in the same coin, and they got into such a rage that they tore up trees and belaboured each other with them so long that at last they both fell dead on the ground at the same moment.
Then the little tailor jumped down. "It's a lucky thing," he said, "that they didn't tear up the tree I was sitting in, or I'd have had to jump to another like a squirrel. But we tailors are nimble."
He drew his sword and gave each of them a couple of thrusts in the chest, and then went out to the horsemen and said, "The work is done. I've given them both their finishing stroke — but it was hard work. In their extremity they tore up trees and defended themselves with them; but none of that is any use when a man like me comes along, who can kill seven at one blow."
"Aren't you wounded?" asked the horsemen.
"Not at all," answered the tailor. "They haven't bent a hair of my head."
The horsemen would not believe him and rode into the forest; and there they found the giants swimming in their blood, with the torn-up trees lying all round about.
The little tailor demanded the promised reward from the King; but the King had repented of his promise and was thinking again how he could get rid of the hero.
"Before you have my daughter and half my kingdom," he said to him, "you must perform one more heroic deed. In the forest there roams a unicorn that does a great deal of harm, and you must catch it first."
"I'm even less afraid of one unicorn than of two giants. Seven at one blow — that's my line of business."
He took a rope and an axe with him, went out into the forest, and again told those who were sent with him to wait outside. He did not have to look long. The unicorn soon came at him, and rushed straight for him as if it meant to spit him on its horn without further ceremony.
"Steady, steady," he said. "It can't be done as fast as that." And he stood still and waited until the animal was quite close, and then sprang nimbly behind the tree.
The unicorn ran at the tree with all its might and drove its horn so fast into the trunk that it had not the strength to pull it out again, and so it was caught.
"Now I've got the bird," said the tailor; and he came out from behind the tree, put the rope round its neck, then chopped the horn out of the trunk with his axe; and when everything was ready he led the beast away and brought it to the King.
Even so the King would not give him the promised reward, and made a third demand. Before the wedding the tailor was to catch him a wild boar that was doing great damage in the forest, and the huntsmen should help him.
"Willingly," said the tailor. "That's child's play."
He did not take the huntsmen into the forest with him, and they were well pleased about it, because the wild boar had received them several times in a way that gave them no wish to lie in wait for him again.
When the boar caught sight of the tailor it ran at him with foaming mouth and gnashing tusks and was about to throw him to the ground; but the nimble hero sprang into a chapel that stood nearby, and up to the window in a moment, and out again at a single bound. The boar ran in after him; but the tailor ran round outside and shut the door behind it, and so the raging beast, which was far too heavy and clumsy to leap out of the window, was caught.
The little tailor called the huntsmen over, so that they could see the prisoner with their own eyes; and the hero went to the King, who now, whether he liked it or not, had to keep his promise, and gave him his daughter and half his kingdom. If he had known that it was no warrior hero but a little tailor standing in front of him, it would have gone to his heart even more than it did.
So the wedding was held with great magnificence and small joy, and out of a tailor a king was made.
Some time afterwards the young Queen heard her husband saying in his sleep at night, "Boy, make me that doublet and patch those trousers, or I'll rap the yardstick over your ears." Then she found out what sort of family the young lord had been born into; and next morning she complained to her father and begged him to help her get rid of a husband who was nothing but a tailor.
The King comforted her and said, "Leave your bedroom door open tonight. My servants shall stand outside; and when he has fallen asleep they shall go in, tie him up, and put him aboard a ship that will carry him away into the wide world."
The woman was satisfied with this. But the King's armour-bearer, who had heard it all, was friendly with the young lord and told him the whole plot.
"I'll put a stop to that," said the little tailor.
That night he went to bed with his wife at the usual time; and when she thought he had fallen asleep she got up, opened the door, and lay down again. The little tailor, who was only pretending to sleep, began to call out in a clear voice, "Boy, make me that doublet and patch me those trousers, or I'll rap the yardstick over your ears! I struck seven at one blow, I killed two giants, I led away a unicorn and I caught a wild boar — and am I to be afraid of the men standing outside my room?"
When those men heard the tailor talking like that, a great terror came over them and they ran as if the wild huntsman were behind them, and not one of them would venture anything further against him.
So the little tailor was a king, and remained one to the end of his life.
The wife of a rich man fell ill; and when she felt her end coming near she called her only daughter to her bedside and said, "Dear child, be good and pious, and then the good God will always protect you, and I will look down on you from heaven and be near you."
With that she closed her eyes and died. Every day the girl went out to her mother's grave and wept, and she stayed pious and good. When winter came the snow spread a white sheet over the grave; and when the spring sun had drawn it off again, the man had taken another wife.
The woman had brought two daughters into the house with her, who were beautiful and fair of face but vile and black-hearted. Now a bad time began for the poor stepchild.
"Is the stupid goose to sit in the parlour with us?" they said. "Whoever wants to eat bread must earn it. Out with the kitchen maid."
They took away her pretty clothes, put an old grey smock on her and gave her wooden shoes. "Just look at the proud princess, all dressed up," they cried, and laughed, and led her into the kitchen.
There she had to do heavy work from morning till night: get up before daybreak, carry water, light the fires, cook and wash. And on top of that the sisters did her every injury they could think of — they mocked her, and tipped her peas and lentils into the ashes so that she had to sit and pick them out again. In the evening, when she had worked until she was worn out, she had no bed to go to but had to sleep by the hearth in the ashes. And because that made her always look dusty and dirty, they called her Cinderella.
It happened once that the father was going to the fair, and he asked his two stepdaughters what he should bring back for them.
"Beautiful dresses," said one.
"Pearls and jewels," said the second.
"And you, Cinderella," he said, "what will you have?"
"Father, break off for me the first branch that knocks against your hat on the way home."
So he bought beautiful dresses and pearls and jewels for his two stepdaughters; and on the way home, as he was riding through a green thicket, a hazel twig brushed against him and knocked his hat off. So he broke off the branch and took it with him.
When he got home he gave his stepdaughters what they had asked for, and he gave Cinderella the branch from the hazel bush. Cinderella thanked him, went to her mother's grave and planted the branch on it, and wept so much that her tears fell on it and watered it. And it grew and became a fine tree. Three times a day Cinderella went and sat under it and wept and prayed; and a little white bird always came to the tree, and if Cinderella wished for anything, the bird threw down to her what she had wished for.
Now it happened that the King proclaimed a festival, to last three days, to which all the beautiful young girls in the country were invited, so that his son might choose a bride. When the two stepsisters heard that they were to appear among them, they were delighted, and called Cinderella and said, "Comb our hair for us, brush our shoes and fasten our buckles. We are going to the festival at the King's palace."
Cinderella did as she was told, but she wept, because she too would have liked to go to the dance; and she begged her stepmother to let her.
"You, Cinderella!" she said. "You're dusty and dirty, and you want to go to the festival? You have no clothes and no shoes, and you want to dance?"
But as Cinderella kept on asking, the stepmother said at last, "I have tipped a dish of lentils into the ashes for you. If you have picked them out again in two hours, you shall go with us."
The girl went out through the back door into the garden and called, "You tame pigeons, you turtle doves, and all you birds under the sky, come and help me to pick —
the good ones into the pot, the bad ones into your crop."
Then two white pigeons came in at the kitchen window, and after them the turtle doves; and at last all the birds under the sky came whirring and crowding in and settled among the ashes. And the pigeons nodded their heads and began, pick, pick, pick, pick; and the rest began too, pick, pick, pick, pick, and gathered all the good grains into the dish. Hardly an hour had gone by before they had finished and all flew out again.
Then the girl took the dish to her stepmother, glad at heart, believing that now she would be allowed to go to the festival. But the stepmother said, "No, Cinderella. You have no clothes and you can't dance. You would only be laughed at."
And as Cinderella wept at this, the stepmother said, "If you can pick two dishes of lentils out of the ashes for me in one hour, you shall come with us" — and thought to herself, "She certainly can't do that."
When the stepmother had tipped the two dishes of lentils into the ashes, the girl went out through the back door into the garden and called, "You tame pigeons, you turtle doves, and all you birds under the sky, come and help me to pick —
the good ones into the pot, the bad ones into your crop."
Then two white pigeons came in at the kitchen window, and after them the turtle doves; and at last all the birds under the sky came whirring and crowding in and settled among the ashes. And the doves nodded their heads and began, pick, pick, pick, pick; and the others began too, pick, pick, pick, pick, and gathered all the good seeds into the dishes. And before half an hour was over they had finished and all flew out again.
Then the girl carried the dishes to her stepmother, delighted, believing that now she might go to the festival. But the stepmother said, "None of this will help you. You are not coming with us, because you have no clothes and you can't dance. We should be ashamed of you."
And with that she turned her back on Cinderella and hurried off with her two proud daughters.
Now that nobody was at home, Cinderella went to her mother's grave under the hazel tree and called:
"Shiver and quiver, little tree, throw gold and silver down on me."
Then the bird threw down a dress of gold and silver, and slippers embroidered with silk and silver. She put the dress on as fast as she could and went to the festival. Her stepsisters and her stepmother did not know her, and thought she must be some foreign princess, she looked so beautiful in the golden dress. They never once thought of Cinderella, and supposed she was sitting at home in the dirt picking lentils out of the ashes.
The prince came to meet her, took her by the hand and danced with her. He would dance with no other girl and never let go of her hand; and if anybody else came to ask her, he said, "This is my partner."
She danced until it was evening, and then she wanted to go home. But the King's son said, "I'll come with you and see you home" — because he wanted to see whose daughter the beautiful girl was. She got away from him, though, and sprang into the pigeon house.
The King's son waited until her father came, and then told him that the strange girl had jumped into the pigeon house. The old man thought, "Can it be Cinderella?" — and they had to bring him an axe and a pick so that he could chop the pigeon house to pieces; but there was nobody inside. And when they came home, Cinderella was lying in her dirty clothes among the ashes, with a dim little oil lamp burning on the mantelpiece; for Cinderella had jumped down quickly at the back of the pigeon house and run to the little hazel tree, and there she had taken off her beautiful clothes and laid them on the grave, and the bird had taken them away again, and then she had set herself down in the kitchen among the ashes in her grey gown.
Next day, when the festival began again and her parents and her stepsisters had gone, Cinderella went to the hazel tree and said:
"Shiver and quiver, little tree, throw gold and silver down on me."
Then the bird threw down a dress far more beautiful than the day before. And when Cinderella appeared at the festival in this dress, everybody was astonished at her beauty. The King's son had been waiting until she came, and took her hand at once and danced with nobody but her. When others came and asked her, he said, "She is my partner."
When evening came she wanted to leave, and the King's son followed her, meaning to see which house she went into. But she sprang away from him and into the garden behind the house. In it stood a beautiful tall tree hung with the most magnificent pears. She climbed up among the branches as nimbly as a squirrel, and the King's son did not know where she had gone.
He waited until her father came and said to him, "The strange girl has escaped me, and I think she has climbed the pear tree."
The father thought, "Can it be Cinderella?" — and had an axe brought and cut the tree down; but there was nobody in it. And when they came into the kitchen, Cinderella was lying among the ashes as usual, for she had jumped down on the other side of the tree, taken the beautiful dress back to the bird on the little hazel tree, and put on her grey gown.
On the third day, when her parents and sisters had gone, Cinderella went once more to her mother's grave and said to the little tree:
"Shiver and quiver, little tree, throw gold and silver down on me."
And now the bird threw down a dress more splendid and magnificent than any she had had yet, and the slippers were of gold. And when she came to the festival in that dress, nobody could find words for their astonishment. The King's son danced with her alone; and if anybody asked her to dance, he said, "She is my partner."
When evening came Cinderella wanted to leave, and the King's son was eager to go with her; but she got away from him so quickly that he could not follow. The King's son had used a trick, though: he had had the whole staircase smeared with pitch, and as she ran down, the girl's left slipper stuck fast in it. The King's son picked it up, and it was small and dainty and all of gold.
Next morning he went with it to the father and said, "Nobody shall be my wife but the one whose foot this golden slipper fits."
Then the two sisters were glad, because they had pretty feet. The eldest went into her room with the shoe to try it on, and her mother stood by. But she could not get her big toe in, and the shoe was too small for her. So her mother handed her a knife and said, "Cut the toe off. When you are Queen you won't need to go on foot any more."
The girl cut off her toe, forced her foot into the shoe, swallowed the pain and went out to the King's son. He took her up on his horse as his bride and rode away with her. But they had to pass the grave; and there on the hazel tree sat the two pigeons, crying:
"Turn and peep, turn and peep, there's blood inside the shoe. The shoe is far too small for her; the true bride waits for you."
Then he looked at her foot and saw the blood streaming from it. He turned his horse round and took the false bride home again and said she was not the right one, and that the other sister must put the shoe on.
So she went into her room and got her toes safely into the shoe, but her heel was too big. Her mother handed her a knife and said, "Cut a piece off your heel. When you are Queen you won't need to go on foot any more."
The girl cut a piece off her heel, forced her foot into the shoe, swallowed the pain and went out to the King's son. He took her up on his horse as his bride and rode away with her; but as they passed the hazel tree the two little pigeons sat on it and cried:
"Turn and peep, turn and peep, there's blood inside the shoe. The shoe is far too small for her; the true bride waits for you."
He looked down at her foot and saw the blood running out of the shoe and staining her white stocking red. Then he turned his horse and took the false bride home again.
"This isn't the right one either," he said. "Have you no other daughter?"
"No," said the man. "There's only a stunted little kitchen drudge my late wife left behind — but she can't possibly be the bride."
The King's son said he was to send her up to him; but the mother answered, "Oh no, she is much too dirty, she can't let herself be seen."
He absolutely insisted, though, and Cinderella had to be called. First she washed her hands and face clean, and then she came and bowed before the King's son, who handed her the golden shoe. She sat down on a stool, drew her foot out of the heavy wooden shoe and put it into the slipper — and it fitted like a glove.
And when she stood up and the King's son looked at her face, he knew her for the beautiful girl who had danced with him, and cried, "This is the true bride!"
The stepmother and the two sisters were horrified and turned pale with rage; but he took Cinderella up on his horse and rode away with her. As they passed the hazel tree the two white doves cried:
"Turn and peep, turn and peep, no blood is in the shoe. The shoe is not too small for her; the true bride rides with you."
And when they had said it, the two came flying down and settled on Cinderella's shoulders, one on the right and the other on the left, and stayed sitting there.
When the wedding with the King's son was to be celebrated, the two false sisters came and wanted to get into Cinderella's good graces and share her good fortune. As the betrothed couple went to church, the elder was on the right and the younger on the left, and the pigeons pecked out one eye from each of them. Afterwards, as they came back, the elder was on the left and the younger on the right, and then the pigeons pecked out the other eye from each. And so, for their wickedness and their lying, they were punished with blindness as long as they lived.
There was once a King's son who was seized with a longing to travel about the world, and he took nobody with him but one faithful servant.
One day he came to a great forest; and when darkness came on he could find no shelter and did not know where to spend the night. Then he saw a girl going towards a little house; and when he came nearer he saw that she was young and beautiful. He spoke to her and said, "Dear child, can my servant and I find shelter for the night in that little house?"
"Oh yes," said the girl in a sad voice, "you certainly can, but I don't advise you to risk it. Don't go in."
"Why not?" asked the King's son.
The girl sighed and said, "My stepmother practises wicked arts. She means no good to strangers."
Then he saw plainly that he had come to a witch's house. But as it was dark and he could go no further, and he was not afraid either, he went in.
The old woman was sitting in an armchair by the fire, and looked at the stranger with her red eyes. "Good evening," she growled, and pretended to be quite friendly. "Sit down and rest yourselves." And she blew up the fire, on which she was cooking something in a little pot.
The daughter warned the two of them to be careful and to eat nothing and drink nothing, because the old woman brewed evil drinks. They slept quietly until early morning.
When they were making ready to leave, and the King's son was already on his horse, the old woman said, "Wait a moment, I'll fetch you a parting drink." And while she went to get it, the King's son rode off; so that the servant, who had stayed to buckle his saddle tight, was the only one there when the wicked witch came with the drink.
"Take that to your master," she said. But at that moment the glass broke and the poison spurted over the horse, and it was so strong that the animal dropped down dead on the spot.
The servant ran after his master and told him what had happened; but he did not want to leave his saddle behind, and ran back to fetch it. When he came to the dead horse, though, a raven was already sitting on it, eating.
"Who knows whether we shall find anything better today?" said the servant. So he killed the raven and took it with him.
And now they journeyed on into the forest all day long, but could not get out of it. By nightfall they came to an inn and went in. The servant gave the raven to the innkeeper to get ready for supper.
But they had stumbled on a den of murderers; and in the dark twelve of them came in, meaning to kill the strangers and rob them. Before they set about the work they sat down to supper, and the innkeeper and the witch sat down with them, and together they ate a dish of soup with the flesh of the raven cut up in it.
They had hardly swallowed a couple of mouthfuls, though, before they all fell down dead; for the raven had passed on to them the poison from the horseflesh.
There was nobody left in the house but the innkeeper's daughter, who was honest and had taken no part in their godless doings. She opened all the doors to the stranger and showed him the heaped-up treasures. But the King's son said she might keep the lot; he would have none of it; and he rode on with his servant.
After they had travelled about for a long time, they came to a town where there was a beautiful but proud princess, who had had it proclaimed that whoever could set her a riddle she could not solve should be her husband; but if she solved it, his head must be cut off. She had three days to guess it in; but she was so clever that she always found the answer to any riddle she was given before the time was up. Nine suitors had died in this way already, when the King's son arrived and, blinded by her great beauty, was willing to stake his life on it.
So he went to her and set her his riddle. "What is this?" he said. "One killed none, and yet killed twelve."
She did not know what it could be. She thought and thought, and could not find it out. She opened her riddle books, and it was not in them. In short, her wisdom was at an end.
As she could not help herself, she ordered her maid to creep into the gentleman's bedroom and listen to his dreams, thinking that perhaps he would talk in his sleep and give the riddle away. But the clever servant had put himself in the bed instead of his master; and when the maid came in he tore off the cloak she had wrapped herself in and chased her out with a stick.
The second night the King's daughter sent her lady-in-waiting, to see whether she would do better at listening; but the servant took her cloak away too and chased her out with a stick.
Now the master thought himself safe for the third night, and lay down in his own bed. And then the princess herself came, wrapped in a misty-grey cloak, and sat down beside him. And when she thought he was asleep and dreaming, she spoke to him and hoped he would answer in his sleep, as many people do. But he was awake, and understood and heard everything perfectly well.
Then she asked, "One killed none — what is that?"
He answered, "A raven, which ate of a dead and poisoned horse and died of it."
She asked further, "And yet killed twelve — what is that?"
He answered, "That means twelve murderers, who ate the raven and died of it."
When she knew the answer to the riddle she tried to steal away; but he held her cloak so fast that she had to leave it behind her.
Next morning the King's daughter announced that she had guessed the riddle, and sent for the twelve judges and explained it in front of them. But the young man asked for a hearing and said, "She crept into my room in the night and questioned me; otherwise she could never have found it out."
The judges said, "Bring us proof of that."
Then the servant brought in the three cloaks; and when the judges saw the misty-grey one that the King's daughter usually wore, they said, "Let that cloak be embroidered with gold and silver, and then it shall be your wedding cloak."
Once upon a time a mouse, a bird and a sausage went into partnership, kept house together, lived well and happily with one another, and increased their property wonderfully. The bird's work was to fly into the forest every day and bring back wood. The mouse had to carry water, light the fire and lay the table; but the sausage had to do the cooking.
Whoever is too well off is always longing for something new. So one day the bird met another bird on the way, and told it what excellent circumstances it was in, and boasted about them. But the other bird called it a poor simpleton for doing all the hard work, and said the two at home had an easy time of it. For when the mouse had made her fire and carried her water, she went into her little room to rest until they called her to lay the table; and the sausage stayed by the pot, saw that the food was cooking nicely, and when it was nearly dinner time rolled itself once or twice through the broth or the vegetables, and then they were buttered and salted and ready. And when the bird came home and put down his load, they sat down to dinner; and after they had eaten, they slept their fill till next morning. It was a splendid life.
Next day the bird, put up to it by the other one, would go into the wood no more. He said he had been their servant long enough and had been made a fool of by them, and that they must change round for once and try arranging it some other way. And although the mouse and the sausage begged him most earnestly, the bird would have his way and said it must be tried. They drew lots about it; and the lot fell so that the sausage was to carry wood, the mouse became cook, and the bird was to fetch water.
And what happened? The little sausage set off towards the wood; the little bird lit the fire; and the mouse stayed by the pot and waited alone for the little sausage to come home and bring wood for the next day.
But the little sausage stayed away so long on the road that the two of them were afraid something was wrong, and the bird flew out a little way into the air to meet it. Not far off, though, he met a dog on the road who had fallen on the poor sausage as fair game, seized it and swallowed it down. The bird accused the dog of barefaced robbery, but it was no use talking, because the dog said he had found forged papers on the sausage, and its life was forfeit to him on that account.
The bird sadly took up the wood, flew home and told what he had seen and heard. They were very much upset, but agreed to do their best and stay together. So the bird laid the cloth, and the mouse got the food ready and meant to dress it; and she wanted to get into the pot the way the sausage used to, and roll and creep about among the vegetables to mix them. But before she was well into the middle of them she was stopped, and lost her skin and her hair and her life in the attempt.
When the bird came to carry the dinner up, there was no cook there. In his distress the bird threw the wood about here and there, called and searched, but no cook was to be found. And through his carelessness the wood caught fire and the place burst into flames; and the bird hurried off to fetch water, and then the bucket slipped out of his claws into the well, and he fell in after it and could not get out again, but had to drown there.
There was once a widow who had two daughters, one of them pretty and hard-working, the other ugly and idle. But she was much fonder of the ugly, idle one, because she was her own daughter; and the other, who was a stepdaughter, had to do all the work and be the household drudge.
Every day the poor girl had to sit by a well beside the road and spin, and spin until her fingers bled.
Now one day it happened that the shuttle was marked with her blood, so she dipped it into the well to wash the mark off; but it slipped out of her hand and fell to the bottom. She began to cry, and ran to her stepmother and told her what had happened. But the stepmother scolded her sharply, and was so merciless as to say, "Since you let the shuttle fall in, you can fetch it out again."
So the girl went back to the well and did not know what to do; and in the misery of her heart she jumped into the well to get the shuttle. She lost her senses; and when she came round again she was in a lovely meadow, with the sun shining and many thousands of flowers growing.
She walked on across this meadow and at last came to a baker's oven full of bread; and the bread cried out, "Oh, take me out, take me out, or I shall burn! I've been baking a long time." So she went up to it and took all the loaves out, one after another, with the bread shovel.
After that she went on, and came to a tree covered with apples, which called out to her, "Oh, shake me, shake me! We apples are all ripe." So she shook the tree until the apples fell like rain, and went on shaking until they were all down; and when she had gathered them into a heap, she went on her way.
At last she came to a little house, out of which an old woman was peeping. But she had such big teeth that the girl was frightened and was about to run away.
The old woman called out to her, though: "What are you afraid of, dear child? Stay with me. If you do all the housework properly, you shall be the better for it. Only you must take care to make my bed well and shake it thoroughly, until the feathers fly — because then it snows on the earth. I am Mother Holle."
As the old woman spoke to her so kindly, the girl took heart and agreed to enter her service. She saw to everything to her mistress's satisfaction, and always shook the bed so hard that the feathers flew about like snowflakes. And so she had a pleasant life with her: never an angry word, and boiled or roast meat every day.
She stayed some time with Mother Holle, and then she grew sad. At first she did not know what was the matter with her, but at last she found that it was homesickness. Although she was many thousand times better off here than at home, still she longed to be there.
At last she said to the old woman, "I am homesick; and however well off I am down here, I can't stay any longer. I must go up again to my own people."
Mother Holle said, "I am pleased that you long for home again; and as you have served me so faithfully, I will take you up myself."
With that she took her by the hand and led her to a great door. The door was opened; and just as the girl was standing under the doorway, a heavy shower of golden rain fell, and all the gold stuck to her, so that she was covered with it from head to foot.
"That is for you, because you have been so hard-working," said Mother Holle; and at the same time she gave her back the shuttle she had let fall into the well.
Then the door closed, and the girl found herself up above on the earth, not far from her mother's house. And as she came into the yard, the cock was standing by the well and crowed:
"Cock-a-doodle-doo! Your golden girl's come back to you!"
So she went in to her mother; and as she arrived covered with gold like that, she was made welcome by both her mother and her sister.
The girl told everything that had happened to her; and as soon as the mother heard how she had come by so much wealth, she was very eager to get the same good luck for her ugly, lazy daughter. She had to sit by the well and spin; and so that her shuttle should be stained with blood, she stuck her hand into a thorn bush and pricked her finger. Then she threw the shuttle into the well and jumped in after it.
Like her sister, she came to the beautiful meadow and walked along the very same path. When she got to the oven, the bread cried out again, "Oh, take me out, take me out, or I shall burn! I've been baking a long time."
But the lazy thing answered, "As if I wanted to get myself dirty!" — and on she went.
Soon she came to the apple tree, which cried, "Oh, shake me, shake me! We apples are all ripe."
But she answered, "I like that! One of you might fall on my head" — and went on.
When she came to Mother Holle's house she was not afraid, because she had already heard about the big teeth, and she hired herself out to her at once.
The first day she made herself work hard and did what Mother Holle told her, because she was thinking about all the gold she would give her. But on the second day she began to be lazy, and on the third day lazier still, and then she would not get up in the morning at all. She did not make Mother Holle's bed properly either, and did not shake it so as to make the feathers fly.
Mother Holle was soon tired of this and gave her notice to leave. The lazy girl was quite willing to go, and thought that now the golden rain would come. Mother Holle led her to the great door too; but as she was standing under it, instead of the gold a great kettleful of pitch was emptied over her.
"That is the reward for your service," said Mother Holle, and shut the door.
So the lazy girl went home, but she was covered all over with pitch; and the cock by the well, as soon as he saw her, crowed:
"Cock-a-doodle-doo! Your pitchy girl's come back to you!"
And the pitch stuck fast to her and could not be got off as long as she lived.
There was once a man who had seven sons, and still no daughter, however much he wished for one. At last his wife gave him hope of another child; and when it came into the world it was a girl. There was great joy; but the child was sickly and small and had to be baptized privately because it was so weak.
The father sent one of the boys in a hurry to the spring to fetch water for the baptism. The other six went with him; and as each of them wanted to be the first to fill it, the jug fell into the well. There they stood and did not know what to do, and not one of them dared go home.
As they still did not come back, the father grew impatient and said, "They have certainly forgotten about it for some game, the wicked boys." He grew afraid that the girl would have to die unbaptized, and in his anger he cried, "I wish the boys were all turned into ravens."
Hardly was the word spoken before he heard a whirring of wings over his head in the air, looked up, and saw seven coal-black ravens flying away.
The parents could not take the curse back; and however sad they were at the loss of their seven sons, they comforted themselves to some extent with their dear little daughter, who soon grew strong and became more beautiful every day.
For a long time she did not know that she had had brothers, because her parents were careful not to mention them in front of her. But one day she happened to overhear some people saying about her that the girl was certainly beautiful, but that in truth she was to blame for the misfortune that had come on her seven brothers.
Then she was very much troubled, and went to her father and mother and asked whether it was true that she had had brothers, and what had become of them. Her parents did not dare keep the secret any longer, but said that what had happened to her brothers was the will of Heaven, and that her birth had only been the innocent cause of it.
But the girl took it to heart, day after day, and thought she must set her brothers free. She had no rest and no peace until she set out in secret and went off into the wide world to find her brothers and free them, whatever it cost. She took nothing with her but a little ring belonging to her parents, as a keepsake; a loaf of bread against hunger; a little jug of water against thirst; and a little stool in case she grew tired.
And now she went on and on, far, far away to the very end of the world. Then she came to the sun; but it was too hot and terrible, and it devoured little children. She ran away in a hurry and ran to the moon; but the moon was far too cold, and dreadful and spiteful as well, and when it saw the child it said, "I smell, I smell the flesh of a human being."
So she ran quickly away and came to the stars, who were kind and good to her, and each of them was sitting on its own little stool. And the morning star got up and gave her a chicken's leg bone and said, "Without this bone you cannot open the glass mountain, and it is in the glass mountain that your brothers are."
The girl took the bone, wrapped it up carefully in a cloth, and went on until she came to the glass mountain. The door was shut, and she meant to take out the bone; but when she undid the cloth it was empty, and she had lost the good star's present.
What was she to do now? She wanted to rescue her brothers, and had no key to the glass mountain. So the good sister took a knife, cut off one of her little fingers, put it in the door and managed to open it.
When she had gone inside, a little dwarf came to meet her and said, "My child, what are you looking for?"
"I am looking for my brothers, the seven ravens," she answered.
The dwarf said, "The lord ravens are not at home; but if you will wait here until they come, step inside."
Then the little dwarf carried in the ravens' dinner on seven little plates and in seven little glasses; and the little sister ate a morsel from each plate and took a sip from each glass; and into the last glass she dropped the ring she had brought with her.
Suddenly she heard a whirring of wings and a rushing through the air, and the little dwarf said, "Now the lord ravens are flying home."
Then they came, and wanted to eat and drink, and looked for their little plates and glasses. And one after another they said, "Who has been eating off my plate? Who has been drinking out of my glass? It was a human mouth."
And when the seventh came to the bottom of his glass, the ring rolled against his mouth. He looked at it and saw that it was a ring belonging to his father and mother, and said, "God grant that our sister may be here, and then we shall be free."
When the girl, who was standing behind the door and listening, heard that wish, she came out; and at once all the ravens got their human shape back again. And they hugged and kissed one another, and went joyfully home.
Once upon a time there was a dear little girl who was loved by everybody who set eyes on her, but most of all by her grandmother, who would have given her anything in the world. Once she gave her a little cap of red velvet, which suited her so well that she would never wear anything else; and so she was always called Little Red-Cap.
One day her mother said to her, "Come, Little Red-Cap, here is a piece of cake and a bottle of wine. Take them to your grandmother — she is ill and weak and they will do her good. Set off before it gets hot; and when you're on your way, walk nicely and quietly and don't run off the path, or you may fall and break the bottle, and then your grandmother will get nothing. And when you go into her room, don't forget to say good morning, and don't go peeping into every corner first."
"I'll take great care," said Little Red-Cap to her mother, and shook hands on it.
The grandmother lived out in the wood, half a league from the village; and just as Little Red-Cap came into the wood, a wolf met her. Red-Cap did not know what a wicked creature he was, and was not at all afraid of him.
"Good day, Little Red-Cap," he said.
"Thank you kindly, wolf."
"Where are you off to so early, Little Red-Cap?"
"To my grandmother's."
"What have you got there under your apron?"
"Cake and wine. Yesterday was baking day, so my poor sick grandmother is to have something good to make her stronger."
"Where does your grandmother live, Little Red-Cap?"
"A good quarter of a league further on in the wood. Her house stands under the three big oak trees, with the nut trees just below. You must know it," said Little Red-Cap.
The wolf thought to himself, "What a tender young creature — what a nice plump mouthful. She'll be better eating than the old woman. I must go about it craftily, so as to catch them both."
So he walked along beside Little Red-Cap for a while, and then said, "Look, Little Red-Cap, at the pretty flowers all about here. Why don't you look round you? And I don't believe you hear how sweetly the little birds are singing. You walk along as solemnly as if you were going to school, and out here in the wood everything else is merry."
Little Red-Cap looked up; and when she saw the sunbeams dancing here and there among the trees, and pretty flowers growing everywhere, she thought, "Suppose I take grandmother a fresh bunch of flowers — that would please her too. It's so early in the day that I shall still get there in good time." And so she ran off the path into the wood to look for flowers. And whenever she had picked one, she thought she saw a prettier one further off and ran after it, and so got deeper and deeper into the wood.
Meanwhile the wolf ran straight to the grandmother's house and knocked at the door.
"Who's there?"
"Little Red-Cap," answered the wolf. "I've brought cake and wine. Open the door."
"Lift the latch," called the grandmother. "I'm too weak to get up."
The wolf lifted the latch, the door flew open, and without a word he went straight to the grandmother's bed and ate her up. Then he put on her clothes and her cap, lay down in the bed and drew the curtains.
Little Red-Cap, meanwhile, had been running about picking flowers; and when she had gathered so many that she could carry no more, she remembered her grandmother and set off on the way to her.
She was surprised to find the cottage door standing open; and when she came into the room she had such a strange feeling that she said to herself, "Oh dear, how uneasy I feel today — and other times I like being at grandmother's so much."
She called out, "Good morning," but got no answer. So she went to the bed and drew back the curtains. There lay her grandmother with her cap pulled far down over her face, and looking very strange.
"Oh, grandmother, what big ears you have!"
"The better to hear you with, my child."
"But, grandmother, what big eyes you have!"
"The better to see you with, my dear."
"But, grandmother, what big hands you have!"
"The better to hug you with."
"Oh, but grandmother, what a terrible big mouth you have!"
"The better to eat you with!"
And hardly had the wolf said it before he was out of bed at one bound and had swallowed up Red-Cap.
When the wolf had satisfied his appetite he lay down in the bed again, fell asleep and began to snore very loudly. The huntsman was just passing the house and thought, "How the old woman is snoring! I'd better see whether she wants anything."
So he went into the room; and when he came to the bed he saw the wolf lying in it. "Do I find you here, you old sinner?" he said. "I've been looking for you a long time."
Then, just as he was going to fire at him, it occurred to him that the wolf might have eaten the grandmother and that she might still be saved. So he did not fire, but took a pair of scissors and began to cut open the sleeping wolf's stomach. When he had made two snips he saw the little red cap shining; and when he had made two more, the little girl sprang out, crying, "Oh, how frightened I was! How dark it was inside the wolf!" And after that the old grandmother came out alive too, though she could scarcely breathe.
Then Red-Cap quickly fetched some great stones, and they filled the wolf's body with them; and when he woke up he tried to run away, but the stones were so heavy that he collapsed at once and fell down dead.
Then all three of them were delighted. The huntsman skinned the wolf and went home with the skin; the grandmother ate the cake and drank the wine Red-Cap had brought, and revived; but Red-Cap thought to herself, "As long as I live I will never leave the path and run off into the wood by myself again, when my mother has told me not to."
It is also told that once, when Red-Cap was taking cakes to the old grandmother again, another wolf spoke to her and tried to tempt her off the path. But Red-Cap was on her guard and went straight on her way, and told her grandmother that she had met the wolf, and that he had said good morning to her, but with such a wicked look in his eyes that if they had not been on the public road she was certain he would have eaten her up.
"Well," said the grandmother, "we'll shut the door, so that he can't get in."
Soon afterwards the wolf knocked and called, "Open the door, grandmother, I'm Little Red-Cap and I've brought you some cakes."
But they said nothing and did not open the door. So the grey-beard prowled round the house two or three times and at last jumped up onto the roof, meaning to wait until Red-Cap went home in the evening and then creep after her and eat her in the dark.
But the grandmother saw what he had in mind. In front of the house there was a great stone trough, so she said to the child, "Take the pail, Red-Cap. I boiled some sausages yesterday — carry the water I boiled them in out to the trough."
Red-Cap carried it until the great trough was quite full. Then the smell of the sausages reached the wolf, and he sniffed and peered down, and at last stretched his neck so far out that he could not keep his footing and began to slide, and slid off the roof straight into the great trough and was drowned.
And Red-Cap went home in high spirits, and nobody ever did her any harm.
A certain man had a donkey which had carried sacks of corn to the mill tirelessly for many a long year; but his strength was failing and he was growing less and less fit for work. So his master began to consider how he could save the cost of feeding him. But the donkey, seeing that there was no good wind blowing, ran away and set out on the road to Bremen. "There," he thought, "I can surely be a town musician."
When he had walked a little way he found a hound lying in the road, panting like somebody who has run himself out.
"What are you panting like that for, you big fellow?" asked the donkey.
"Ah," said the hound, "because I'm old and getting weaker every day and can't hunt any more, my master wanted to kill me, so I ran for it. But how am I to earn my bread now?"
"I'll tell you what," said the donkey. "I'm going to Bremen to be a town musician there. Come with me and take a job as a musician too. I'll play the lute and you shall beat the kettledrum."
The hound agreed, and on they went.
Before long they came to a cat sitting by the road with a face like three rainy days.
"Now then, old whiskers, what's gone wrong with you?" asked the donkey.
"Who can be cheerful when his neck's in danger?" said the cat. "Because I'm getting old now, and my teeth are worn to stumps, and I'd rather sit by the fire and purr than go chasing about after mice, my mistress wanted to drown me. So I ran away. But good advice is scarce. Where am I to go?"
"Come to Bremen with us. You know all about night music — you can be a town musician."
The cat thought well of the idea and went with them.
After this the three runaways came to a farmyard, where the cock was sitting on the gate crowing with all his might.
"That crow of yours goes right through a man," said the donkey. "What's the matter?"
"I've been foretelling fine weather," said the cock, "because it's the day when Our Lady washes the Christ-child's little shirts and wants to dry them. But guests are coming for Sunday, so the mistress has no pity and has told the cook she means to eat me in the soup tomorrow, and this evening I'm to have my head cut off. So I'm crowing at full pitch while I still can."
"Ah, red-comb," said the donkey, "you'd do better to come away with us. We're going to Bremen. You can find something better than death anywhere. You have a good voice, and if we make music together it's bound to be something worth hearing."
The cock liked the plan, and all four went on together.
They could not reach the city of Bremen in one day, though; and in the evening they came to a forest where they meant to spend the night. The donkey and the hound lay down under a big tree, and the cat and the cock settled themselves in the branches — but the cock flew right to the top, where he was safest.
Before he went to sleep he looked round on all four sides, and thought he saw a little spark burning in the distance. So he called down to his companions that there must be a house not far off, because he could see a light.
The donkey said, "In that case we'd better get up and go on, because the lodgings here are bad." And the hound thought a few bones with some meat on them would do him no harm either.
So they made their way towards the light; and soon they saw it shining brighter and growing bigger, until they came to a well-lit robbers' house.
The donkey, as the tallest, went to the window and looked in.
"What do you see, old grey horse?" asked the cock.
"What do I see?" said the donkey. "A table covered with good things to eat and drink, and robbers sitting round it enjoying themselves."
"That would be the sort of thing for us," said the cock.
"Yes indeed. Ah, how I wish we were there," said the donkey.
Then the animals put their heads together to work out how they could drive the robbers away, and at last they hit on a plan. The donkey was to put his forefeet up on the window ledge, the hound was to jump on the donkey's back, the cat was to climb up on the dog, and last of all the cock was to fly up and perch on the cat's head.
When that was done, at a given signal, they began to perform their music together: the donkey brayed, the hound barked, the cat mewed and the cock crowed. Then they burst in through the window into the room, so that the glass went clattering.
At this horrible din the robbers sprang up, thinking it could be nothing but a ghost coming in, and fled in great terror out into the forest.
Then the four companions sat down at the table, well satisfied with what was left, and ate as if they were going to fast for a month.
As soon as the four minstrels had finished, they put out the light and each looked for a sleeping place to suit his own nature. The donkey lay down on some straw in the yard, the hound behind the door, the cat on the hearth near the warm ashes, and the cock perched on a roof beam; and as they were tired from their long walk, they soon fell asleep.
When it was past midnight, and the robbers saw from a distance that the light was no longer burning in their house and everything seemed quiet, the captain said, "We shouldn't have let ourselves be frightened out of our wits" — and ordered one of them to go and examine the house.
The messenger found everything still, and went into the kitchen to light a candle; and, taking the cat's glittering fiery eyes for live coals, he held a match to them to light it. But the cat did not see the joke and flew at his face, spitting and scratching.
He was dreadfully frightened and ran for the back door; but the dog, who was lying there, sprang up and bit him in the leg. And as he ran across the yard past the straw heap, the donkey gave him a smart kick with his hind foot. And the cock, who had been woken by the noise and was thoroughly lively by now, called down from the beam, "Cock-a-doodle-doo!"
Then the robber ran back to his captain as fast as he could and said, "Ah, there's a horrible witch sitting in the house, who spat at me and scratched my face with her long claws; and by the door there's a man with a knife, who stabbed me in the leg; and out in the yard there's a black monster lying, who hit me with a wooden club; and up on the roof sits the judge, who called out, 'Bring the rascal here to me!' So I got away as best I could."
After that the robbers never dared go into the house again; but it suited the four Bremen musicians so well that they never cared to leave it.
And the mouth of the man who last told this story is still warm.
In a certain country there was once great grief on account of a wild boar which laid waste the farmers' fields, killed the cattle, and ripped people's bodies open with its tusks. The King promised a large reward to anybody who would rid the land of this plague; but the beast was so big and so strong that nobody dared go near the forest it lived in. At last the King announced that whoever captured or killed the wild boar should have his only daughter for a wife.
Now there lived in that country two brothers, the sons of a poor man, who declared themselves willing to undertake the dangerous business: the elder, who was crafty and cunning, out of pride; the younger, who was innocent and simple, out of kindness of heart.
The King said, "So that you may be the surer of finding the beast, you must go into the forest from opposite sides." So the elder went in on the west side and the younger on the east.
When the younger had gone a little way, a little man came up to him. He had a black spear in his hand, and he said, "I give you this spear because your heart is pure and good. With this you can attack the wild boar boldly, and it will do you no harm."
He thanked the little man, shouldered the spear and went on without fear.
Before long he saw the beast, which rushed at him; but he held the spear out towards it, and in its blind fury it ran so hard against the point that its heart was split in two. Then he took the monster on his back and set off home with it to the King.
As he came out on the other side of the wood, there stood a house at the edge of it where people were making merry with wine and dancing. His elder brother had gone in there; and, thinking that the boar was not going to run away from him after all, he meant to drink until he felt brave. But when he saw his young brother coming out of the wood loaded with his prize, his envious, evil heart gave him no peace.
He called out to him, "Come in, dear brother, rest and refresh yourself with a cup of wine."
The young man, suspecting nothing, went in and told him about the good little man who had given him the spear he had killed the boar with.
The elder brother kept him there until the evening, and then they went away together. And when they came in the darkness to a bridge over a brook, the elder brother let the other go first; and when he was half way across he struck him such a blow from behind that he fell down dead.
He buried him under the bridge, took the boar and carried it to the King, pretending that he had killed it; and so he got the King's daughter in marriage. And when his younger brother did not come back he said, "The boar must have killed him" — and everybody believed it.
But as nothing stays hidden from God, this black deed too was to come to light.
Years afterwards a shepherd was driving his flock across the bridge, and saw a snow-white little bone lying in the sand below. He thought it would make a good mouthpiece, so he climbed down and picked it up and cut a mouthpiece for his horn out of it. But when he blew through it for the first time, to his great astonishment the bone began, of its own accord, to sing:
"Ah, friend, you're blowing on my bone. Long have I lain here by the water. My brother killed me for the boar, and took for his wife the King's own daughter."
"What a wonderful horn," said the shepherd. "It sings by itself. I must take it to my lord the King."
And when he came with it to the King, the horn began to sing its little song again. The King understood it all, and had the ground below the bridge dug up, and the whole skeleton of the murdered man came to light. The wicked brother could not deny the deed, and was sewn up in a sack and drowned; but the bones of the murdered man were laid to rest in a beautiful tomb in the churchyard.
There was once a poor woman who gave birth to a little son; and as he came into the world with a caul on his head, it was foretold that in his fourteenth year he would have the King's daughter for his wife.
It happened that soon afterwards the King came into the village, and nobody knew that he was the King; and when he asked the people what news there was, they answered, "A child has just been born with a caul on. Whatever anybody born like that undertakes turns out well. And it is prophesied too that in his fourteenth year he will have the King's daughter for his wife."
The King, who had a bad heart and was angry about the prophecy, went to the parents and, seeming perfectly friendly, said, "You poor people, let me have your child and I will take care of it."
At first they refused; but when the stranger offered them a great deal of gold for it, and they thought, "It's a luck-child, and everything is bound to turn out well for it," they agreed at last and gave him the child.
The King put it in a box and rode away with it until he came to a deep stretch of water; and then he threw the box in and thought, "I have rid my daughter of a suitor she never asked for."
But the box did not sink. It floated like a boat, and not a drop of water got into it. And it floated to within two miles of the King's capital city, where there was a mill, and came to a stop at the mill dam.
A miller's boy who happened by good luck to be standing there noticed it and pulled it out with a hook, thinking he had found a great treasure. But when he opened it, there lay a pretty boy inside, quite fresh and lively. He took him to the miller and his wife; and as they had no children they were glad, and said, "God has given him to us." They took great care of the foundling, and he grew up good in every way.
It happened once, in a storm, that the King went into the mill, and asked the mill folk whether the tall lad was their son.
"No," they said, "he's a foundling. Fourteen years ago he came floating down to the mill dam in a box, and the mill boy pulled him out of the water."
Then the King knew that it was none other than the luck-child he had thrown into the water, and he said, "My good people, could the lad not take a letter to the Queen for me? I'll give him two gold pieces as a reward."
"Just as the King commands," they answered, and told the boy to make himself ready.
Then the King wrote a letter to the Queen, in which he said, "As soon as the boy arrives with this letter, let him be killed and buried; and let it all be done before I come home."
The boy set out with this letter; but he lost his way, and in the evening came to a great forest. In the darkness he saw a small light, and went towards it and came to a cottage. When he went in, an old woman was sitting by the fire all alone. She started when she saw the boy, and said, "Where do you come from, and where are you going?"
"I come from the mill," he answered, "and I want to go to the Queen, to take her a letter. But I've lost my way in the forest, and I should like to stay here overnight."
"You poor boy," said the woman, "you have come into a den of thieves, and when they get home they will kill you."
"Let them come," said the boy. "I'm not afraid. But I'm so tired that I can't go any further." And he stretched himself out on a bench and fell asleep.
Soon afterwards the robbers came, and asked angrily what strange boy that was lying there.
"Ah," said the old woman, "it's an innocent child who has lost himself in the forest, and I let him in out of pity. He has a letter to take to the Queen."
The robbers opened the letter and read it, and in it was written that the boy was to be put to death as soon as he arrived. Then the hard-hearted robbers felt pity, and their leader tore the letter up and wrote another, saying that as soon as the boy came he was to be married at once to the King's daughter. Then they let him lie quietly on the bench until the next morning; and when he woke they gave him the letter and showed him the right road.
And the Queen, when she had received the letter and read it, did as it said. She had a splendid wedding feast prepared, and the King's daughter was married to the luck-child; and as the young man was handsome and pleasant, she lived with him in joy and contentment.
After some time the King came back to his palace and saw that the prophecy had been fulfilled and the luck-child married to his daughter.
"How has this come about?" he said. "I gave quite different orders in my letter."
So the Queen gave him the letter and said he could see for himself what was written in it. The King read the letter and saw perfectly well that it had been changed for another. He asked the young man what had become of the letter entrusted to him, and why he had brought a different one instead.
"I know nothing about it," he answered. "It must have been changed in the night, when I was asleep in the forest."
The King said in a rage, "You shan't have things quite so much your own way. Whoever marries my daughter must fetch me three golden hairs from the Devil's head, out of hell. Bring me what I want, and you shall keep my daughter." In this way the King hoped to be rid of him for good.
But the luck-child answered, "I'll fetch the golden hairs. I'm not afraid of the Devil." And with that he took his leave of them and began his journey.
The road led him to a large town, where the watchman at the gate asked him what his trade was and what he knew.
"I know everything," answered the luck-child.
"Then you can do us a favour," said the watchman, "if you'll tell us why our market fountain, which once ran with wine, has gone dry and doesn't even give water any more."
"You shall know that," he answered. "Only wait till I come back."
Then he went further and came to another town, and there too the gatekeeper asked him what his trade was and what he knew.
"I know everything," he answered.
"Then you can do us a favour and tell us why a tree in our town that once bore golden apples doesn't so much as put out leaves now."
"You shall know that," he answered. "Only wait till I come back."
Then he went on and came to a wide river which he had to cross. The ferryman asked him what his trade was and what he knew.
"I know everything," he answered.
"Then you can do me a favour," said the ferryman, "and tell me why I have to row backwards and forwards for ever and am never set free."
"You shall know that," he answered. "Only wait till I come back."
When he had crossed the water he found the entrance to hell. Inside it was black and sooty, and the Devil was not at home, but his grandmother was sitting in a great armchair.
"What do you want?" she said to him — but she did not look so very wicked.
"I should like three golden hairs from the Devil's head," he answered, "or I can't keep my wife."
"That's a great deal to ask," she said. "If the Devil comes home and finds you here, it will cost you your life. But as I'm sorry for you, I'll see whether I can't help you."
She turned him into an ant and said, "Creep into the folds of my dress; you'll be safe there."
"Yes," he answered, "so far so good. But there are three other things I want to know: why a fountain that once ran with wine has gone dry and doesn't even give water; why a tree that once bore golden apples doesn't so much as put out leaves; and why a ferryman must go backwards and forwards for ever and is never set free."
"Those are difficult questions," she answered. "But just keep quiet and still, and pay attention to what the Devil says when I pull the three golden hairs out."
As the evening came on, the Devil came home. He had hardly got in before he noticed that the air was not pure. "I smell human flesh," he said. "Something's not right here." And he pried into every corner and searched, but could find nothing.
His grandmother scolded him. "It's just been swept," she said, "and everything put in order, and now you're turning it all upside down again. You've always got human flesh in your nose. Sit down and eat your supper."
When he had eaten and drunk he was tired, and laid his head in his grandmother's lap, and before long he was fast asleep, snoring and breathing heavily. Then the old woman took hold of a golden hair, pulled it out and laid it down beside her.
"Ow!" cried the Devil. "What are you doing?"
"I had a bad dream," said the grandmother, "so I caught hold of your hair."
"What did you dream, then?" said the Devil.
"I dreamed that a fountain in a market place, which once ran with wine, had dried up, and not even water would come out of it. What's the cause of that?"
"Oho, if they only knew," answered the Devil. "There's a toad sitting under a stone in the well. If they killed it, the wine would flow again."
He went to sleep again and snored until the windows shook. Then she pulled the second hair out.
"Hey! What are you doing?" cried the Devil angrily.
"Don't take it badly," she said. "I did it in my sleep."
"What have you dreamed this time?"
"I dreamed that in a certain kingdom there stood an apple tree which had once borne golden apples, and now wouldn't even bear leaves. What do you suppose was the reason?"
"Oh, if they only knew," answered the Devil. "There's a mouse gnawing at the root. If they killed it they'd have golden apples again; but if it gnaws much longer the tree will wither away altogether. Now leave me alone with your dreams. If you disturb me in my sleep again you'll get a box on the ear."
The grandmother spoke gently to him until he fell asleep again and snored. Then she took hold of the third golden hair and pulled it out. The Devil jumped up, roared out and would have handled her roughly if she had not quieted him once more and said, "Who can help bad dreams?"
"What was the dream, then?" he asked, and was quite curious.
"I dreamed about a ferryman who complained that he has to ferry from one bank to the other for ever and is never released. What's the cause of that?"
"Ah, the fool," answered the Devil. "When somebody comes along and wants to cross, he must put the oar in his hand, and then the other man will have to do the ferrying and he'll be free."
As the grandmother had now pulled out the three golden hairs and had her three questions answered, she left the old serpent alone, and he slept until daybreak.
When the Devil had gone out again, the old woman took the ant out of the folds of her dress and gave the luck-child his human shape back. "There are the three golden hairs for you," she said. "And I suppose you heard what the Devil said to your three questions?"
"Yes," he answered, "I heard, and I'll take care to remember."
"Then you have what you wanted," she said, "and you can go your way."
He thanked the old woman for helping him in his need, and left hell well pleased that everything had turned out so happily.
When he came to the ferryman, he was expected to give the promised answer. "Ferry me across first," said the luck-child, "and then I'll tell you how you can be set free." And when he reached the other bank he gave him the Devil's advice: "Next time somebody comes who wants to be ferried over, just put the oar in his hand."
He went on and came to the town where the barren tree stood, and there too the watchman wanted his answer. So he told him what he had heard from the Devil: "Kill the mouse that is gnawing at its root, and it will bear golden apples again." The watchman thanked him, and gave him two donkeys loaded with gold as a reward, which followed him.
At last he came to the town whose well was dry. He told the watchman what the Devil had said: "There is a toad in the well under a stone. You must find it and kill it, and the well will give wine in plenty again." The watchman thanked him, and gave him two donkeys loaded with gold as well.
And at last the luck-child got home to his wife, who was heartily glad to see him again and to hear how well everything had gone with him. He took the King what he had asked for, the Devil's three golden hairs; and when the King saw the four donkeys loaded with gold he was quite content, and said, "Now all the conditions are met and you can keep my daughter. But tell me, dear son-in-law, where did all that gold come from? This is tremendous wealth."
"I was rowed across a river," he answered, "and got it there. It lies on the shore there instead of sand."
"Can I fetch some of it too?" said the King, and was quite eager about it.
"As much as you like," he answered. "There's a ferryman on the river. Let him ferry you over, and you can fill your sacks on the other side."
The greedy King set out in all haste; and when he came to the river he beckoned to the ferryman to put him across. The ferryman came and told him to get in; and when they reached the other bank he put the oar in his hand and sprang out.
And from that time on the King had to do the ferrying, as a punishment for his sins.
Is he ferrying still? If he is, it is because nobody has taken the oar from him.
A louse and a flea kept house together and were brewing beer in an eggshell. Then the little louse fell in and scalded herself. At that the little flea began to scream loudly.
Then the little room door said, "Little flea, why are you screaming?"
"Because the louse has scalded herself."
Then the little door began to creak. At that a little broom in the corner said, "Why are you creaking, little door?"
"Haven't I reason to creak?
The little louse has scalded herself, the little flea is weeping."
So the little broom began to sweep furiously. Then a little cart came past and said, "Why are you sweeping, little broom?"
"Haven't I reason to sweep?
The little louse has scalded herself, the little flea is weeping, the little door is creaking."
So the little cart said, "Then I will run" — and began to run wildly. Then the ash heap it ran past said, "Why are you running like that, little cart?"
"Haven't I reason to run?
The little louse has scalded herself, the little flea is weeping, the little door is creaking, the little broom is sweeping."
The ash heap said, "Then I will burn furiously" — and began to burn with clear flames. A little tree stood near the ash heap and said, "Ash heap, why are you burning?"
"Haven't I reason to burn?
The little louse has scalded herself, the little flea is weeping, the little door is creaking, the little broom is sweeping, the little cart is running."
The little tree said, "Then I will shake myself" — and began to shake herself so hard that all her leaves fell off. A girl who came up with her water pitcher saw it and said, "Little tree, why are you shaking yourself?"
"Haven't I reason to shake myself?
The little louse has scalded herself, the little flea is weeping, the little door is creaking, the little broom is sweeping, the little cart is running, the little ash heap is burning."
At that the girl said, "Then I will break my little water pitcher" — and she broke her little water pitcher. Then the little spring the water ran from said, "Girl, why are you breaking your water jug?"
"Haven't I reason to break my water jug?
The little louse has scalded herself, the little flea is weeping, the little door is creaking, the little broom is sweeping, the little cart is running, the little ash heap is burning, the little tree is shaking itself."
"Oho," said the spring, "then I will begin to flow" — and it began to flow violently. And everything was drowned in the water: the girl, the little tree, the little ash heap, the little cart, the broom, the little door, the little flea and the little louse, all together.
A certain miller had little by little fallen into poverty, and had nothing left but his mill and a big apple tree behind it.
Once, when he had gone into the forest to fetch wood, an old man he had never seen before came up to him and said, "Why do you plague yourself with cutting wood? I will make you rich, if you will promise me what is standing behind your mill."
"What can that be but my apple tree?" thought the miller; and he said yes, and gave the stranger a promise in writing.
But the stranger laughed mockingly and said, "When three years have gone by I shall come and carry away what is mine" — and then he went off.
When the miller got home his wife came to meet him and said, "Tell me, miller, where has this sudden wealth in our house come from? All at once every box and chest is full. Nobody brought anything in, and I don't know how it happened."
He answered, "It comes from a stranger who met me in the forest and promised me great treasure. In return I promised him what stands behind the mill. We can very well let him have the big apple tree for it."
"Oh, husband," said his wife in terror, "that must have been the Devil. He didn't mean the apple tree — he meant our daughter, who was standing behind the mill sweeping the yard."
The miller's daughter was a beautiful, pious girl, and she lived through the three years in the fear of God and without sin. So when the time was up, and the day came when the Evil One was to fetch her, she washed herself clean and drew a circle round herself with chalk.
The Devil appeared very early, but he could not come near her. He said angrily to the miller, "Take all the water away from her, so that she can't wash herself any more; otherwise I have no power over her."
The miller was afraid, and did it. Next morning the Devil came again, but she had wept on her hands and they were perfectly clean. Again he could not get near her, and he said furiously to the miller, "Cut her hands off, or I can't get the better of her."
The miller was horrified and answered, "How could I cut off my own child's hands?"
Then the Evil One threatened him and said, "If you don't do it, you are mine and I shall take you yourself."
The father took fright and promised to obey. So he went to the girl and said, "My child, if I don't cut off both your hands the Devil will carry me off, and in my terror I promised to do it. Help me in my need, and forgive me the harm I do you."
She answered, "Dear father, do what you like with me. I am your child."
And with that she laid down both her hands and let them be cut off.
The Devil came for the third time; but she had wept so long and so much on the stumps that they too were perfectly clean. So he had to give in, and had lost all right over her.
The miller said to her, "Through you I have come into such great wealth that I will keep you in the greatest comfort as long as you live."
But she answered, "I cannot stay here. I will go out into the world; compassionate people will give me as much as I need."
So she had her maimed arms bound behind her back, and at sunrise she set out and walked the whole day until night fell.
Then she came to a royal garden, and by the shimmer of the moon she saw that trees covered with beautiful fruit grew in it. But she could not get in, because there was a moat of water all round it. And as she had walked the whole day and not eaten a mouthful, and hunger tormented her, she thought, "Ah, if only I were inside, so that I could eat some of the fruit! Otherwise I shall die of hunger."
Then she knelt down and called on God the Lord, and prayed. And suddenly an angel came to her, who made a dam in the water so that the moat went dry and she could walk through it.
So she went into the garden, and the angel went with her. She saw a tree covered with beautiful pears, but they had all been counted. She went up to it and, to still her hunger, ate one of them with her mouth off the tree, but no more.
The gardener was watching; but as the angel was standing there he was afraid, and thought the girl was a spirit, and said nothing, and did not dare to call out or to speak to the spirit. When she had eaten the pear she was satisfied, and went and hid herself among the bushes.
The King, whose garden it was, came down to it next morning, and counted, and saw that one of the pears was missing, and asked the gardener what had become of it, since it was not lying under the tree but was simply gone.
The gardener answered, "Last night a spirit came in, with no hands, and ate one of the pears off with its mouth."
The King said, "How did the spirit get across the water, and where did it go after it had eaten the pear?"
The gardener answered, "Somebody in a snow-white garment came from heaven and dammed the water and held it back, so that the spirit could walk through the moat. And as it must have been an angel, I was afraid, and asked no questions and did not call out. When the spirit had eaten the pear, it went back again."
The King said, "If it is as you say, I will watch with you tonight."
When it grew dark the King came into the garden and brought a priest with him, who was to speak to the spirit. All three sat down under the tree and watched.
At midnight the girl came creeping out of the thicket, went to the tree and again ate one pear off it with her mouth; and beside her stood the angel in white.
Then the priest came out to them and said, "Do you come from heaven or from earth? Are you a spirit or a human being?"
She answered, "I am no spirit, but an unhappy mortal deserted by everybody but God."
The King said, "If you are forsaken by all the world, I will not forsake you."
He took her home with him to his royal palace; and as she was so beautiful and so good he loved her with all his heart, and had silver hands made for her, and married her.
After a year the King had to go to war, so he entrusted his young Queen to his mother's care and said, "If she is brought to bed, take care of her, nurse her well, and let me know of it at once by letter."
Then she gave birth to a fine boy. So the old mother hurried to write and tell him the joyful news. But the messenger rested by a brook on the way, and as he was tired out by the great distance, he fell asleep. And the Devil came, who was always looking for a way to injure the good Queen, and changed the letter for another, in which it was written that the Queen had brought a monster into the world.
When the King read the letter he was shocked and very much distressed, but he wrote back that they were to take great care of the Queen and nurse her well until he came home. The messenger went back with the letter, but rested in the same place and again fell asleep. And the Devil came once more and put a different letter in his pocket, in which it was written that they were to put the Queen and her child to death.
The old mother was horrified when she got the letter and could not believe it. She wrote to the King again, but got no other answer, because each time the Devil substituted a false letter; and in the last letter it was written as well that she was to keep the Queen's tongue and eyes as proof that she had obeyed.
But the old mother wept to think of such innocent blood being shed, and had a hind brought in the night and cut out its tongue and eyes and kept them.
Then she said to the Queen, "I cannot have you killed as the King commands; but you cannot stay here any longer. Go out into the wide world with your child, and never come back here again."
The poor woman tied her child on her back and went away with her eyes full of tears. She came into a great wild forest, and there she fell on her knees and prayed to God; and the angel of the Lord appeared to her and led her to a little house with a sign on it that said, "Here all dwell free."
A snow-white girl came out of the little house and said, "Welcome, my lady Queen" — and led her inside. Then they untied the little boy from her back and held him to her breast to feed, and laid him in a beautifully made little bed.
Then the poor woman said, "How did you know that I was a queen?"
The white girl answered, "I am an angel sent by God to watch over you and your child."
The Queen stayed seven years in the little house and was well looked after; and by God's grace, because of her piety, the hands that had been cut off grew again.
At last the King came home from the war, and his first wish was to see his wife and the child. Then his aged mother began to weep and said, "You wicked man, why did you write to me that I was to take those two innocent lives?" And she showed him the two letters the Evil One had forged, and went on, "I did as you told me" — and she showed him the tokens, the tongue and the eyes.
Then the King began to weep for his poor wife and his little son so much more bitterly than she was weeping, that the old mother took pity on him and said, "Be comforted — she is still alive. I secretly had a hind killed and took the tokens from it; but I tied the child on your wife's back and told her to go out into the wide world, and made her promise never to come back here, because you were so angry with her."
Then the King said, "I will go as far as the sky is blue, and I will neither eat nor drink until I have found my dear wife and my child again — if they have not been killed or died of hunger in the meantime."
So the King travelled about for seven long years and looked for her in every cleft of the rocks and every cave, and did not find her, and thought she must have died of want. During the whole of that time he neither ate nor drank, but God kept him alive.
At length he came into a great forest and found in it the little house with the sign, "Here all dwell free." Out came the white girl, took him by the hand, led him in and said, "Welcome, my lord King" — and asked him where he came from.
He answered, "I have been travelling about for nearly seven years now, looking for my wife and her child, and I cannot find them."
The angel offered him food and drink, but he would take nothing and only wanted to rest a little. So he lay down to sleep, and put a handkerchief over his face.
Then the angel went into the room where the Queen was sitting with her son, whom she usually called Sorrowful, and said to her, "Go out with your child. Your husband has come."
So she went to the place where he was lying, and the handkerchief fell off his face. Then she said, "Sorrowful, pick up your father's handkerchief and cover his face again."
The child picked it up and put it over his face again. The King heard it in his sleep, and enjoyed letting the handkerchief fall once more. But the child grew impatient and said, "Dear mother, how can I cover my father's face when I have no father in this world? I have learned to say the prayer 'Our Father, which art in Heaven'; you told me my father was in Heaven and was the good God — and how can I know a wild man like this? He isn't my father."
When the King heard that, he got up and asked who they were.
Then she said, "I am your wife, and this is your son, Sorrowful."
And he saw her living hands and said, "My wife had silver hands."
She answered, "The good God has made my own hands grow again" — and the angel went into the inner room and brought out the silver hands and showed them to him.
Then he knew for certain that it was his dear wife and his dear child, and he kissed them and was glad, and said, "A heavy stone has fallen from my heart."
Then the angel of God gave them one meal with her; and after that they went home to the King's aged mother. There were great rejoicings everywhere, and the King and Queen were married again and lived contentedly to their happy end.
Hans's mother said, "Where are you off to, Hans?"
Hans answered, "To Gretel."
"Behave yourself, Hans."
"Oh, I'll behave. Goodbye, mother."
"Goodbye, Hans."
Hans comes to Gretel. "Good day, Gretel."
"Good day, Hans. What have you brought that's good?"
"I've brought nothing. I want to be given something."
Gretel gives Hans a needle. Hans says, "Goodbye, Gretel."
"Goodbye, Hans."
Hans takes the needle, sticks it into a hay cart and follows the cart home.
"Good evening, mother."
"Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?"
"With Gretel."
"What did you take her?"
"Took nothing. Had something given me."
"What did Gretel give you?"
"Gave me a needle."
"Where is the needle, Hans?"
"Stuck it in the hay cart."
"That was badly done, Hans. You should have stuck the needle in your sleeve."
"Never mind, I'll do better next time."
"Where are you off to, Hans?"
"To Gretel, mother."
"Behave yourself, Hans."
"Oh, I'll behave. Goodbye, mother."
"Goodbye, Hans."
Hans comes to Gretel. "Good day, Gretel."
"Good day, Hans. What have you brought that's good?"
"I've brought nothing. I want to be given something."
Gretel gives Hans a knife. "Goodbye, Gretel."
"Goodbye, Hans."
Hans takes the knife, sticks it in his sleeve and goes home.
"Good evening, mother."
"Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?"
"With Gretel."
"What did you take her?"
"Took her nothing. She gave me something."
"What did Gretel give you?"
"Gave me a knife."
"Where is the knife, Hans?"
"Stuck in my sleeve."
"That was badly done, Hans. You should have put the knife in your pocket."
"Never mind, I'll do better next time."
"Where are you off to, Hans?"
"To Gretel, mother."
"Behave yourself, Hans."
"Oh, I'll behave. Goodbye, mother."
"Goodbye, Hans."
Hans comes to Gretel. "Good day, Gretel."
"Good day, Hans. What good thing have you brought?"
"I've brought nothing. I want something given me."
Gretel gives Hans a young goat. "Goodbye, Gretel."
"Goodbye, Hans."
Hans takes the goat, ties its legs and puts it in his pocket. By the time he gets home it has smothered.
"Good evening, mother."
"Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?"
"With Gretel."
"What did you take her?"
"Took nothing. She gave me something."
"What did Gretel give you?"
"She gave me a goat."
"Where is the goat, Hans?"
"Put it in my pocket."
"That was badly done, Hans. You should have put a rope round the goat's neck."
"Never mind, I'll do better next time."
"Where are you off to, Hans?"
"To Gretel, mother."
"Behave yourself, Hans."
"Oh, I'll behave. Goodbye, mother."
"Goodbye, Hans."
Hans comes to Gretel. "Good day, Gretel."
"Good day, Hans. What good thing have you brought?"
"I've brought nothing. I want something given me."
Gretel gives Hans a piece of bacon. "Goodbye, Gretel."
"Goodbye, Hans."
Hans takes the bacon, ties it to a rope and drags it along behind him. The dogs come and eat the bacon. When he gets home he has the rope in his hand and there is nothing on the end of it.
"Good evening, mother."
"Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?"
"With Gretel."
"What did you take her?"
"Took her nothing. She gave me something."
"What did Gretel give you?"
"Gave me a bit of bacon."
"Where is the bacon, Hans?"
"Tied it to a rope, brought it home, dogs took it."
"That was badly done, Hans. You should have carried the bacon on your head."
"Never mind, I'll do better next time."
"Where are you off to, Hans?"
"To Gretel, mother."
"Behave yourself, Hans."
"I'll behave. Goodbye, mother."
"Goodbye, Hans."
Hans comes to Gretel. "Good day, Gretel."
"Good day, Hans. What good thing have you brought?"
"I've brought nothing, but I'd like something given me."
Gretel gives Hans a calf. "Goodbye, Gretel."
"Goodbye, Hans."
Hans takes the calf, puts it on his head, and the calf kicks him in the face.
"Good evening, mother."
"Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?"
"With Gretel."
"What did you take her?"
"Took nothing, but had something given me."
"What did Gretel give you?"
"A calf."
"Where have you got the calf, Hans?"
"Set it on my head and it kicked my face."
"That was badly done, Hans. You should have led the calf and put it in the stall."
"Never mind, I'll do better next time."
"Where are you off to, Hans?"
"To Gretel, mother."
"Behave yourself, Hans."
"I'll behave. Goodbye, mother."
"Goodbye, Hans."
Hans comes to Gretel. "Good day, Gretel."
"Good day, Hans. What good thing have you brought?"
"I've brought nothing, but I'd like something given me."
Gretel says to Hans, "I'll come with you myself."
Hans takes Gretel, ties her to a rope, leads her to the manger and ties her up fast. Then Hans goes to his mother.
"Good evening, mother."
"Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?"
"With Gretel."
"What did you take her?"
"Took her nothing."
"What did Gretel give you?"
"She gave me nothing. She came with me."
"Where have you left Gretel?"
"Led her by the rope, tied her to the manger and scattered some grass for her."
"That was badly done, Hans. You should have cast friendly eyes on her."
"Never mind, I'll do better."
Hans went into the stable, cut out all the calves' and the sheep's eyes and threw them in Gretel's face. Then Gretel got angry, tore herself loose and ran away — and became the bride of Hans.
There once lived an aged count in Switzerland who had an only son; but the son was stupid and could learn nothing.
So the father said, "Listen to me, my son. I can get nothing into your head, try as I may. You must go away from here. I will put you in the care of a famous master, who shall see what he can do with you."
The young man was sent to a strange town and stayed a whole year with the master. At the end of that time he came home again, and his father asked, "Now, my son, what have you learned?"
"Father, I have learned what the dogs say when they bark."
"Lord have mercy on us!" cried the father. "Is that all you have learned? I will send you to another town, to another master."
The young man was taken there and stayed a year with this master too. When he came back his father asked again, "My son, what have you learned?"
He answered, "Father, I have learned what the birds say."
Then the father flew into a rage and said, "Oh, you lost creature, you have spent all that precious time and learned nothing! Aren't you ashamed to come before my eyes? I will send you to a third master; but if you learn nothing this time either, I will be your father no longer."
The young man stayed a whole year with the third master as well; and when he came home again and his father asked, "My son, what have you learned?" — he answered, "Dear father, this year I have learned what the frogs croak."
Then the father fell into the most furious rage, sprang up, called his people in and said, "This man is no son of mine. I drive him out, and I order you to take him into the forest and kill him."
They took him out; but when it came to killing him, they could not do it for pity, and let him go; and they cut the eyes and tongue out of a deer to carry to the old man as proof.
The young man wandered on, and after a while came to a fortress where he begged for a night's lodging.
"Yes," said the lord of the castle, "if you will spend the night down there in the old tower, go and do it; but I warn you, it is at the risk of your life, because it is full of wild dogs that bark and howl without stopping, and at certain hours a man has to be given to them, and they devour him at once."
The whole district was in grief and dismay because of them, and yet nobody could do anything about it.
The young man, though, was not afraid, and said, "Just let me go down to the barking dogs, and give me something to throw to them. They will do me no harm."
As he insisted on it himself, they gave him some food for the wild animals and led him down to the tower. When he went inside the dogs did not bark at him, but wagged their tails round him quite amicably, ate what he set in front of them, and did not hurt a hair of his head.
Next morning, to everybody's astonishment, he came out again safe and unharmed, and said to the lord of the castle, "The dogs have told me, in their own language, why they live there and bring trouble on the country. They are under a spell, and are made to guard a great treasure that lies below in the tower, and they can have no rest until it is taken away; and I have learned from their talk how that is to be done."
Then everybody who heard it rejoiced, and the lord of the castle said he would adopt him as a son if he brought it off. He went down again; and as he knew what he had to do, he did it thoroughly, and brought out a chest full of gold. From then on the howling of the wild dogs was heard no more; they had disappeared, and the country was free of the trouble.
After some time he took it into his head to travel to Rome. On the way he passed a marsh where a number of frogs were sitting and croaking. He listened to them; and when he understood what they were saying, he grew very thoughtful and sad.
At last he arrived in Rome, where the Pope had just died and there was great difficulty about whom they should appoint as his successor. At last they agreed that the man should be chosen as pope who was marked out by some divine and miraculous sign. And just as that had been decided, the young count came into the church, and suddenly two snow-white doves flew onto his shoulders and stayed sitting there.
The churchmen recognised the sign from above and asked him on the spot whether he would be pope. He was undecided and did not know whether he was worthy of it; but the doves advised him to do it, and at last he said yes.
So he was anointed and consecrated; and so what he had heard from the frogs on his way, which had affected him so much, was fulfilled: that he was to be his Holiness the Pope.
Then he had to sing a mass, and did not know one word of it; but the two doves sat on his shoulders the whole time and said it all in his ear.
There was once a man who had a daughter called Clever Elsie. And when she had grown up her father said, "We must get her married."
"Yes," said her mother, "if only somebody would come who would have her."
At last a man came from a distance and courted her, whose name was Hans; but he made it a condition that Clever Elsie should really be wise.
"Oh," said her father, "she's sharp enough."
And her mother said, "Oh, she can see the wind coming up the street and hear the flies coughing."
"Well," said Hans, "if she isn't really wise, I won't have her."
When they were sitting at dinner and had eaten, the mother said, "Elsie, go down to the cellar and fetch some beer."
So Clever Elsie took the jug down from the wall and went into the cellar, tapping the lid briskly as she went, so that the time should not seem long. When she was down there she fetched herself a chair and set it in front of the barrel, so that she need not stoop and would not hurt her back or do herself any unexpected injury. Then she put the can in front of her and turned the tap; and while the beer was running she would not let her eyes be idle either, but looked up at the wall; and after a good deal of peering here and there she saw a pickaxe directly above her, which the masons had left behind by accident.
Then Clever Elsie began to weep, and said, "If I get Hans, and we have a child, and he grows big, and we send him down into the cellar here to draw beer, then the pickaxe will fall on his head and kill him."
And she sat and wept and shrieked with all the strength in her body over the misfortune that lay ahead of her.
Upstairs they were waiting for their drink, and still Clever Elsie did not come. So the mother said to the servant girl, "Just go down into the cellar and see where Elsie is."
The girl went, and found her sitting in front of the barrel screaming loudly. "Elsie, what are you weeping for?" she asked.
"Ah," she answered, "haven't I reason to weep? If I get Hans, and we have a child, and he grows big, and has to draw beer down here, the pickaxe may fall on his head and kill him."
Then the girl said, "What a clever Elsie we have!" — and sat down beside her and began to weep loudly over the misfortune herself.
After a while, as the servant girl did not come back either, and they were thirsty for their beer upstairs, the man said to the boy, "Just go down into the cellar and see where Elsie and the girl have got to."
The boy went down, and there sat Clever Elsie and the girl weeping together. So he asked, "What are you weeping for?"
"Ah," said Elsie, "haven't I reason to weep? If I get Hans, and we have a child, and he grows big, and has to draw beer down here, the pickaxe will fall on his head and kill him."
Then the boy said, "What a clever Elsie we have!" — and sat down beside her and began to howl loudly as well.
Upstairs they waited for the boy; and as he did not come back either, the man said to his wife, "Just go down into the cellar and see where Elsie is."
The woman went down and found all three of them in the middle of their lamentations, and asked what the cause was. And Elsie told her too that her future child was to be killed by the pickaxe, when it grew big and had to draw beer and the pickaxe fell down.
Then the mother said, "What a clever Elsie we have!" — and sat down and wept with them.
The man upstairs waited a little while; but as his wife did not come back and his thirst grew greater and greater, he said, "I shall have to go down into the cellar myself and see where Elsie is."
But when he got into the cellar and they were all sitting there crying, and he heard the reason — that Elsie's child was the cause of it, and that Elsie might perhaps bring one into the world some day, and that it might be killed by the pickaxe if it happened to be sitting underneath it drawing beer at the very moment when it fell — he cried, "Oh, what a clever Elsie!" — and sat down and wept with them too.
The bridegroom sat upstairs alone for a long time; and then, as nobody came back, he thought, "They must be waiting for me downstairs. I'd better go and see what they're up to."
When he got down there, all five of them were sitting screaming and lamenting most pitifully, each of them outdoing the last.
"What misfortune has happened, then?" he asked.
"Ah, dear Hans," said Elsie, "if we marry each other and have a child, and he grows big, and we perhaps send him down here to draw something to drink, then that pickaxe that's been left up there might dash his brains out if it fell down. So haven't we reason to weep?"
"Come," said Hans, "more understanding than that isn't needed in my household. As you are such a clever Elsie, I'll have you" — and he took her by the hand and led her upstairs and married her.
When Hans had had her for some time, he said, "Wife, I'm going out to work and earn some money for us. Go into the field and cut the corn, so that we can have some bread."
"Yes, dear Hans, I'll do that."
After Hans had gone away she cooked herself some good broth and took it out to the field with her. When she got to the field she said to herself, "What shall I do — shall I cut first, or shall I eat first? Oh, I'll eat first."
So she emptied her bowl of broth; and when she was thoroughly full, she said again, "What shall I do — shall I cut first, or shall I sleep first? I'll sleep first." And she lay down among the corn and fell asleep.
Hans had been at home a long time, but Elsie did not come. So he said, "What a clever Elsie I have! She's so hard-working that she doesn't even come home to eat."
But as she still stayed away, and it was getting to be evening, Hans went out to see how much she had cut. Nothing was cut at all, and she was lying among the corn asleep.
Then Hans hurried home and fetched a fowler's net with little bells on it, and hung it round her, and still she went on sleeping. Then he ran home, shut the house door, sat down in his chair and got on with his work.
At last, when it was quite dark, Clever Elsie woke up; and when she got to her feet there was a jingling all round her, and the bells rang at every step she took. Then she was alarmed, and grew uncertain whether she really was Clever Elsie or not, and said, "Is it me, or isn't it me?"
But she did not know what answer to give to that, and stood there a while in doubt. At last she thought, "I'll go home and ask whether it's me or not. They'll be sure to know."
She ran to the door of her own house, but it was shut. So she knocked at the window and called, "Hans, is Elsie inside?"
"Yes," answered Hans, "she is inside."
At that she was terrified, and said, "Ah, heavens — then it isn't me!" — and went to another door. But when the people heard the jingling of the bells they would not open it, and she could get in nowhere.
Then she ran out of the village, and nobody has seen her since.
One very fine day it came about that the good God wished to take his pleasure in the heavenly garden, and took all the apostles and saints with him, so that nobody was left in heaven but Saint Peter. The Lord had ordered him to let nobody in while he was away, so Peter stood by the door and kept watch.
Before long somebody knocked. Peter asked who was there and what he wanted.
"I am a poor, honest tailor, praying to be let in," said a smooth voice.
"Honest indeed," said Peter, "like the thief on the gallows! You've been light-fingered and snipped bits off people's cloth. You won't get into heaven. The Lord has forbidden me to let anybody in while he's out."
"Come, do be merciful," cried the tailor. "Little scraps that fall off the table of their own accord aren't stolen and aren't worth talking about. Look, I'm lame, and I've got blisters on my feet from walking here — I can't possibly turn back again. Just let me in, and I'll do all the rough work. I'll carry the children and wash their clothes, and wash and scrub the benches they've been playing on, and patch all their torn clothes."
Saint Peter let himself be moved by pity, and opened the door of heaven just wide enough for the lame tailor to slip his lean body through. He had to sit down in a corner behind the door and stay there quietly and peaceably, so that the Lord, when he came back, should not notice him and be angry.
The tailor obeyed. But once, when Saint Peter had gone outside the door, he got up and, full of curiosity, went poking round into every corner of heaven and inspecting how everything was arranged.
At last he came to a place where a great many beautiful and delightful chairs were standing, and in the middle of them a seat all of gold, set with shining jewels, much higher than the other chairs, with a footstool of gold in front of it. It was in fact the seat the Lord sat on when he was at home, and from which he could see everything that happened on earth.
The tailor stood still and looked at the seat for a long time, because it pleased him better than anything else. At last he could not master his curiosity any longer, and climbed up and sat down in the chair.
Then he saw everything that was happening on earth; and he noticed an ugly old woman standing washing by a stream, secretly laying two veils aside for herself. The sight of it made the tailor so angry that he took hold of the golden footstool and threw it down through heaven to earth at the old thief.
But as he could not get the stool back again, he slipped quietly out of the chair, sat down in his own place behind the door, and behaved as if he had never moved from the spot.
When the Lord and master came back with his heavenly companions, he did not see the tailor behind the door; but when he sat down on his chair, the footstool was missing. He asked Saint Peter what had become of the stool, but Peter did not know. Then he asked whether he had let anybody in.
"I know of nobody who has been here," answered Peter, "except a lame tailor, who is still sitting behind the door."
Then the Lord had the tailor brought before him, and asked whether he had taken the stool away, and where he had put it.
"Oh Lord," answered the tailor cheerfully, "I threw it down to earth in my anger, at an old woman I saw stealing two veils at the washing."
"Oh, you rogue," said the Lord. "If I were to judge the way you judge, how do you suppose you would have got off so long? I should have had no chairs left, nor benches, nor seats — no, nor so much as an oven-fork — but should have thrown everything down at the sinners. From now on you can stay in heaven no longer, but must go outside the door again. Then go where you like. Nobody hands out punishment here but I alone, the Lord."
So Peter had to take the tailor out of heaven again; and as his shoes were torn and his feet covered with blisters, he took a stick in his hand and went off to Wait-a-Bit, where the good soldiers sit and make merry.
Once upon a time there was a tailor who had three sons and only one goat. But as the goat kept the whole of them with her milk, she had to have good food and be taken out to pasture every day. So the sons did this, each in his turn.
Once the eldest took her to the churchyard, where the finest herbs were to be found, and let her eat and run about there. At night, when it was time to go home, he asked, "Goat, have you had enough?"
The goat answered:
"I have eaten so much, not a leaf more I'll touch — meh! meh!"
"Come home, then," said the young man, and took hold of the cord round her neck, led her into the stable and tied her up securely.
"Well," said the old tailor, "has the goat had as much food as she ought?"
"Oh," said his son, "she has eaten so much, not a leaf more she'll touch."
But the father wanted to satisfy himself, and went down to the stable, stroked the dear animal and asked, "Goat, are you satisfied?"
The goat answered:
"How should I be satisfied? Among the graves I leapt about, and found no leaf, so went without — meh! meh!"
"What's this I hear?" cried the tailor; and he ran upstairs and said to the young man, "You liar! You said the goat had had enough, and you let her go hungry!" And in his anger he took the yardstick down from the wall and drove him out with blows.
Next day it was the second son's turn. He looked out a place by the garden fence where nothing but good herbs grew, and the goat cleared them all off. At night, when he wanted to go home, he asked, "Goat, are you satisfied?"
The goat answered:
"I have eaten so much, not a leaf more I'll touch — meh! meh!"
"Come home, then," said the young man, and led her home and tied her up in the stable.
"Well," said the old tailor, "has the goat had as much food as she ought?"
"Oh," said his son, "she has eaten so much, not a leaf more she'll touch."
The tailor would not rely on that, but went down to the stable and said, "Goat, have you had enough?"
The goat answered:
"How should I be satisfied? Among the graves I leapt about, and found no leaf, so went without — meh! meh!"
"The godless wretch!" cried the tailor. "To let such a good creature go hungry!" And he ran up and drove the young man out of doors with the yardstick.
Now it was the third son's turn. He wanted to do the thing properly, and sought out some bushes with the finest leaves and let the goat eat them all. In the evening, when he wanted to go home, he asked, "Goat, have you had enough?"
The goat answered:
"I have eaten so much, not a leaf more I'll touch — meh! meh!"
"Come home, then," said the young man, and led her into the stable and tied her up.
"Well," said the old tailor, "has the goat had a proper amount of food?"
"She has eaten so much, not a leaf more she'll touch."
The tailor did not trust that either, but went down and asked, "Goat, have you had enough?"
The wicked beast answered:
"How should I be satisfied? Among the graves I leapt about, and found no leaf, so went without — meh! meh!"
"Oh, the brood of liars!" cried the tailor. "Each as wicked and as careless of his duty as the last! You shall make a fool of me no longer." And, quite beside himself with rage, he ran upstairs and belaboured the poor young fellow so hard with the yardstick that he leapt out of the house.
Now the old tailor was alone with his goat. Next morning he went down into the stable, made much of the goat and said, "Come, my dear little creature, I'll take you out to feed myself."
He took her by the rope and led her to green hedges, and among yarrow and whatever else goats like to eat. "There, for once you can eat to your heart's content," he said to her, and let her browse till evening. Then he asked, "Goat, are you satisfied?"
She answered:
"I have eaten so much, not a leaf more I'll touch — meh! meh!"
"Come home, then," said the tailor, and led her into the stable and tied her fast. As he was going away he turned round again and said, "Well, are you satisfied for once?"
But the goat behaved no better to him, and cried:
"How should I be satisfied? Among the graves I leapt about, and found no leaf, so went without — meh! meh!"
When the tailor heard that he was appalled, and saw clearly that he had driven his three sons away for nothing.
"Wait, you ungrateful creature," he cried. "It isn't enough to drive you out — I'll mark you so that you'll never dare show your face among honest tailors again."
In great haste he ran upstairs, fetched his razor, lathered the goat's head and shaved her as bare as the palm of his hand. And as the yardstick would have been too good for her, he fetched the horsewhip and gave her such cuts with it that she ran off in a great hurry.
Left all alone in his house like this, the tailor fell into great grief and would gladly have had his sons back again; but nobody knew where they had gone.
The eldest had apprenticed himself to a joiner, and learned hard and tirelessly; and when the time came for him to go travelling, his master gave him a little table which was nothing much to look at and was made of common wood, but which had one good quality. If anybody set it down and said, "Little table, spread yourself," the good little table was at once covered with a clean little cloth, and there was a plate on it and a knife and fork beside it, and dishes of boiled and roast meat, as many as there was room for, and a great glass of red wine shining so that it made the heart glad.
The young journeyman thought, "With this you have enough for your whole life" — and went about the world in high spirits, and never troubled himself whether an inn was good or bad or whether there was anything to be had in it. When it suited him he did not go into an inn at all, but out on the plain, or in a wood, or in a meadow, or wherever he fancied, he took the little table off his back, set it down in front of him and said, "Spread yourself" — and everything his heart desired appeared.
At length he took it into his head to go back to his father, whose anger would have cooled by now and who would gladly take him in with his wishing-table.
It happened that on the way home he came one evening to an inn that was full of guests. They made him welcome and invited him to sit and eat with them, since otherwise he would have trouble getting anything.
"No," said the joiner, "I won't take the few bites out of your mouths. You shall be my guests instead."
They laughed and thought he was joking with them; but he set his wooden table down in the middle of the room and said, "Little table, spread yourself."
Instantly it was covered with food, so good that the landlord could never have got hold of it, and the smell of it went up pleasantly into the guests' nostrils.
"Fall to, dear friends," said the joiner. And when the guests saw that he meant it, they did not need asking twice, but drew up, pulled out their knives and set to work valiantly. And what surprised them most was that when a dish became empty, a full one at once took its place of its own accord.
The innkeeper stood in a corner and watched it all. He had no idea what to say, but thought, "You could find a use for a cook like that in your kitchen."
The joiner and his companions made merry until late into the night; at length they lay down to sleep, and the young journeyman went to bed too, and stood his magic table against the wall.
But the landlord's thoughts gave him no rest. It occurred to him that there was a little old table in his lumber room that looked just like the journeyman's, and he brought it out very softly and exchanged it for the wishing-table.
Next morning the joiner paid for his bed, took up his table without a thought that he had got a false one, and went on his way. At midday he reached his father, who received him with great joy.
"Well, my dear son, what have you learned?" he said.
"Father, I have become a joiner."
"A good trade," said the old man. "But what have you brought back from your apprenticeship?"
"Father, the best thing I've brought back is this little table."
The tailor looked it over on all sides and said, "You didn't make a masterpiece when you made that. It's a bad old table."
"But it's a table that spreads itself," said his son. "When I set it down and tell it to spread itself, the most beautiful dishes appear on it, and wine too, that gladdens the heart. Just invite all our relations and friends — they shall refresh themselves and enjoy themselves for once, because the table will give them everything they want."
When the company was assembled, he put his table in the middle of the room and said, "Little table, spread yourself." But the little table did not stir, and stayed as bare as any other table that does not understand language.
Then the poor journeyman saw that his table had been changed, and was ashamed at having to stand there like a liar. The relations laughed at him and had to go home without having eaten or drunk anything. The father brought out his patches again and went back to his tailoring, and the son went to work for a master in the trade.
The second son had gone to a miller and apprenticed himself to him. When his years were up, the master said, "As you have behaved so well, I'll give you a donkey of a peculiar kind. He won't pull a cart and he won't carry a sack."
"What use is he, then?" asked the young journeyman.
"He drops gold out of his mouth," said the miller. "If you stand him on a cloth and say 'Bricklebrit,' the good animal will drop gold pieces for you."
"That's a fine thing," said the journeyman; and he thanked his master and went out into the world. Whenever he needed gold he had only to say "Bricklebrit" to his donkey, and it rained gold pieces, and he had nothing to do but pick them up off the ground. Wherever he went, only the best was good enough for him, and the dearer the better, because his purse was always full.
When he had seen something of the world he thought, "You must go and find your father. If you turn up with the gold-donkey he'll forget his anger and take you in gladly."
It happened that he came to the very same inn where his brother's table had been exchanged. He was leading his donkey by the bridle, and the landlord was about to take the animal from him and tie it up; but the young journeyman said, "Don't trouble yourself, I'll take my grey horse into the stable and tie him up myself, because I have to know where he is."
That struck the landlord as odd, and he thought a man who had to look after his own donkey could not have much to spend. But when the stranger put his hand in his pocket, brought out two gold pieces and told him to get him something good, the landlord's eyes opened wide, and he ran and hunted out the best he could find.
After dinner the guest asked what he owed. The landlord saw no reason not to double the reckoning, and said the journeyman must give him two more gold pieces. He felt in his pocket, but his gold had just run out.
"Wait a moment, landlord," he said, "I'll go and fetch some money" — and he took the tablecloth with him.
The landlord could not imagine what that could mean; and being curious, he stole after him; and as the guest bolted the stable door, he peeped through a knot hole in the wood. The stranger spread the cloth out under the animal and cried, "Bricklebrit" — and immediately the beast began to let gold pieces fall, so that it fairly rained money on the ground.
"Well, upon my word," said the landlord, "ducats are quickly minted there. A purse like that is not to be sneezed at."
The guest paid his bill and went to bed; but in the night the landlord crept down into the stable, led away the master of the mint and tied up another donkey in his place.
Early next morning the journeyman travelled off with his donkey, thinking he had his gold-donkey. At midday he reached his father, who was delighted to see him again and took him in gladly.
"What have you made of yourself, my son?" asked the old man.
"A miller, dear father."
"What have you brought back from your travels?"
"Nothing but a donkey."
"There are donkeys enough here," said his father. "I'd rather have had a good goat."
"Yes," said his son, "but this is no ordinary donkey — it's a gold-donkey. When I say 'Bricklebrit,' the good beast opens its mouth and drops out a whole sheetful of gold pieces. Just call all our relations here, and I'll make them rich."
"That suits me," said the tailor, "because then I shan't have to torment myself with the needle any longer" — and he ran out himself and called the relations together.
As soon as they were assembled, the miller told them to make room, spread out his cloth and led the donkey into the room. "Now watch," he said, and cried, "Bricklebrit."
But no gold pieces fell, and it was plain that the animal knew nothing of the art — for not every donkey reaches such perfection.
Then the poor miller pulled a long face, saw that he had been cheated, and begged his relations' pardon; and they went home as poor as they had come. There was no help for it: the old man had to take to his needle once more, and the young man hired himself out to a miller.
The third brother had apprenticed himself to a turner; and as that is skilled work, he was the longest in learning it. His brothers, though, wrote and told him how badly things had gone with them, and how the innkeeper had cheated them of their beautiful magic gifts on the last evening before they got home.
When the turner had served his time and had to set out on his travels, his master, because he had behaved so well, gave him a sack and said, "There's a cudgel inside it."
"I can carry the sack," he said, "and it may be useful to me. But why should the cudgel be in it? It only makes it heavy."
"I'll tell you why," said his master. "If anybody does you an injury, you have only to say, 'Cudgel, out of the sack!' and the cudgel will leap out among them and dance such a dance on their backs that they won't be able to stir or move for a week; and it won't leave off until you say, 'Cudgel, into the sack!'"
The journeyman thanked him and put the sack on his back; and whenever anybody came too near him and meant to attack him, he said, "Cudgel, out of the sack!" — and instantly the cudgel sprang out and dusted one coat or jacket after another on their backs, and never stopped until it had beaten it off them; and it was done so quickly that before anybody knew it, it was already his turn.
In the evening the young turner reached the inn where his brothers had been cheated. He laid his sack on the table in front of him and began to talk about all the wonderful things he had seen in the world.
"Yes," he said, "people can easily enough come across a table that spreads itself, or a gold-donkey, or things of that kind — excellent things, and I don't despise them in the least. But they're nothing compared with the treasure I've won for myself and carry about with me in that sack there."
The innkeeper pricked up his ears. "What in the world can that be?" he thought. "The sack must be filled with nothing but jewels. I ought to get hold of those cheap too — all good things come in threes."
When it was time for sleep, the guest stretched himself out on the bench and put his sack under him for a pillow. When the innkeeper thought his guest was sound asleep, he went to him and pushed and pulled very gently and carefully at the sack, to see whether he could possibly draw it out and lay another in its place.
But the turner had been waiting for this a long while; and just as the innkeeper was about to give a hearty tug, he cried, "Cudgel, out of the sack!"
Instantly the little cudgel came out and fell on the innkeeper and gave him a sound thrashing. The landlord cried for mercy; but the louder he cried, the harder the cudgel beat time on his back, until at last he fell to the floor exhausted.
Then the turner said, "If you don't give back the table that spreads itself and the gold-donkey, the dance shall begin again."
"Oh no," cried the landlord, quite humbly, "I'll gladly hand everything over — only make that accursed goblin creep back into the sack."
Then the journeyman said, "I'll let mercy take the place of justice — but beware of getting into mischief again." And he cried, "Cudgel, into the sack!" and let him have some peace.
Next morning the turner went home to his father with the wishing-table and the gold-donkey. The tailor rejoiced when he saw him once more, and asked him too what he had learned in foreign parts.
"Dear father," he said, "I have become a turner."
"A skilled trade," said his father. "What have you brought back from your travels?"
"A precious thing, dear father," said his son. "A cudgel in a sack."
"What!" cried his father. "A cudgel! That was worth the trouble, I must say. You can cut yourself one off any tree."
"But not one like this, dear father. If I say, 'Cudgel, out of the sack!' the cudgel springs out and leads anybody who means me harm a weary dance, and never stops until he is lying on the ground praying for fair weather. Look — with this cudgel I've got back the wishing-table and the gold-donkey that the thieving innkeeper took from my brothers. Now send for them both, and invite all our kinsfolk. I'll give them food and drink and fill their pockets with gold into the bargain."
The old tailor did not quite believe it, but all the same he got the relations together. Then the turner spread a cloth in the room and led in the gold-donkey, and said to his brother, "Now, dear brother, speak to him."
The miller said, "Bricklebrit" — and instantly the gold pieces came down on the cloth like a thunder shower, and the donkey did not stop until every one of them had as much as he could carry. (I can see by your face that you would have liked to be there too.)
Then the turner brought out the little table and said, "Now, dear brother, speak to it."
And hardly had the joiner said, "Little table, spread yourself," before it was laid and amply covered with the most exquisite dishes.
Then there was such a meal as the good tailor had never known in his house; and the whole party of relations stayed together far into the night, and were all merry and glad. The tailor locked needle and thread and yardstick and pressing iron away in a cupboard, and lived with his three sons in joy and splendour.
(And what became of the goat, whose fault it was that the tailor drove out his three sons? I'll tell you. She was ashamed of having a bald head, and ran to a fox's hole and crept into it. When the fox came home, two great eyes shone at him out of the darkness, and he was terrified and ran away.
A bear met him; and as the fox looked thoroughly upset, he said, "What's the matter with you, brother fox? Why are you looking like that?"
"Ah," said Redskin, "there's a fierce beast in my den, and it glared at me with its fiery eyes."
"We'll soon drive him out," said the bear, and went with him to the den and looked in. But when he saw the fiery eyes, fear took hold of him too; he would have nothing to do with the raging beast, and took to his heels.
A bee met him; and as she saw he was ill at ease, she said, "Bear, you're really pulling a very sorry face. What's become of all your good cheer?"
"It's all very well for you to talk," said the bear. "There's a raging beast with staring eyes in Redskin's house, and we can't drive it out."
The bee said, "Bear, I'm sorry for you. I'm a poor weak creature that you wouldn't turn your head to look at; but all the same, I think I can help you."
She flew into the fox's den, settled on the goat's smoothly shaven head and stung her so violently that she sprang up crying "Meh, meh!" and ran off into the world like a mad thing; and to this hour nobody knows where she has got to.)
There was once a poor peasant who sat by the hearth in the evening poking the fire, while his wife sat and span. And he said, "How sad it is that we have no children. It's so quiet here with us, and in other houses it's noisy and lively."
"Yes," said his wife, and sighed. "Even if we had only one, and it were quite small — no bigger than a thumb — I should be quite satisfied, and we would still love it with all our hearts."
Now it happened that the woman fell ill; and after seven months she gave birth to a child that was perfect in every limb, but no longer than a thumb.
Then they said, "It is just as we wished, and it shall be our dear child" — and because of its size they called it Thumbling. They did not let it go short of food; but the child did not grow any taller, and stayed just as it had been at first. All the same, it looked out of its eyes with good sense, and soon showed itself to be a clever and nimble creature, for everything it did turned out well.
One day the peasant was getting ready to go into the forest to cut wood, and said, as if to himself, "How I wish there were somebody to bring the cart out to me."
"Oh, father," cried Thumbling, "I'll bring the cart, you can rely on that. It shall be in the forest at the proper time."
The man laughed and said, "How can that be done? You're far too small to lead the horse by the reins."
"That doesn't matter, father. If mother will only harness it, I'll sit in the horse's ear and call out to him which way to go."
"Well," said the man, "we'll try it for once."
When the time came, the mother harnessed the horse and set Thumbling in its ear; and then the little creature called out, "Gee up! Gee up!"
And the horse went along quite properly, as if his master were driving him, and the cart went the right way into the forest.
It so happened that just as he was turning a corner, and the little one was crying "Gee up!", two strangers came towards him.
"Upon my word," said one of them, "what's this? There's a cart coming, and a driver calling to the horse, and no driver to be seen!"
"That can't be right," said the other. "We'll follow the cart and see where it stops."
But the cart went right on into the forest, exactly to the place where the wood had been cut. When Thumbling saw his father he called to him, "You see, father, here I am with the cart. Now take me down."
The father got hold of the horse with his left hand and with his right took his little son out of its ear. Thumbling sat down quite happily on a straw; but when the two strangers saw him they did not know what to say for astonishment.
Then one of them took the other aside and said, "Listen, that little fellow would make our fortune if we showed him for money in a big town. Let's buy him."
They went to the peasant and said, "Sell us the little man. He'll be well treated with us."
"No," said the father, "he's the apple of my eye, and all the money in the world can't buy him from me."
But Thumbling, hearing the bargaining, had climbed up the folds of his father's coat, settled on his shoulder and whispered in his ear, "Father, do let me go. I'll soon be back again."
So his father parted with him to the two men for a handsome sum of money.
"Where will you sit?" they asked him.
"Oh, just set me on the brim of your hat, and then I can walk up and down and look at the country, and still not fall off."
They did as he wanted; and when Thumbling had said goodbye to his father, they went off with him. They walked until it was dusk, and then the little fellow said, "Do put me down, I want to get down."
The man took off his hat and put the little fellow on the ground at the side of the road; and he leapt and crept about a little among the clods, and then suddenly slipped into a mouse hole that he had been looking out for.
"Good evening, gentlemen — go home without me," he called to them, and laughed at them. They ran up and poked their sticks into the mouse hole, but it was all wasted labour. Thumbling crept still further in; and as it soon grew quite dark, they had to go home with their annoyance and their empty purses.
When Thumbling saw that they had gone, he crept back out of the underground passage. "It's so dangerous walking on the ground in the dark," he said. "How easily a man breaks his neck or his leg!"
Luckily he knocked against an empty snail shell. "Thank God," he said, "I can spend the night safely in there" — and got inside.
Not long afterwards, when he was just going to sleep, he heard two men walk past, and one of them was saying, "How can we manage to get hold of the rich parson's silver and gold?"
"I could tell you that," cried Thumbling, interrupting them.
"What was that?" said one of the thieves in fright. "I heard somebody speaking."
They stood still and listened, and Thumbling spoke again and said, "Take me with you and I'll help you."
"But where are you?"
"Just look on the ground and see where my voice is coming from," he answered.
At last the thieves found him and picked him up. "You little imp, how are you going to help us?" they said.
"A great deal," he said. "I'll creep into the parson's room between the iron bars and hand out to you whatever you want."
"Come along, then," they said, "and we'll see what you can do."
When they came to the parson's house, Thumbling crept into the room — and immediately shouted at the top of his voice, "Do you want everything that's in here?"
The thieves were alarmed and said, "Do speak softly, so as not to wake anybody."
But Thumbling behaved as if he had not understood, and shouted again, "What do you want? Do you want everything that's in here?"
The cook, who slept in the next room, heard it, sat up in bed and listened. The thieves, though, had run some distance away in their fright; but at last they took courage and thought, "The little rascal is making fun of us." They came back and whispered to him, "Come now, be serious, and hand something out to us."
Then Thumbling shouted again as loudly as he could, "I really will give you everything — just put your hands in."
The maid, who was listening, heard that quite distinctly, jumped out of bed and rushed to the door. The thieves took flight and ran as if the Wild Huntsman were behind them; but as the maid could not see anything, she went to fetch a light. And when she came back with it, Thumbling slipped off unnoticed to the granary; and the maid, after searching every corner and finding nothing, went back to bed and thought that after all she must have been dreaming with her eyes and ears open.
Thumbling had climbed up among the hay and found a beautiful place to sleep in. There he meant to rest until daylight and then go home to his parents. But he had other things to go through first. Truly, there is a great deal of trouble and misery in this world.
When day broke, the maid got up to feed the cows. Her first errand was to the barn, where she took up an armful of hay — and precisely the armful that poor Thumbling was lying asleep in. He was sleeping so soundly, though, that he knew nothing about it, and did not wake until he was in the mouth of the cow, who had picked him up with the hay.
"Good heavens," he cried, "how have I got into the fulling mill?" — but he soon found out where he was. Then he had to be careful not to get between the teeth and be crushed; but all the same he had to slide down into the stomach with the hay.
"They've forgotten the windows in this little room," he said, "and no sun shines in, and nobody brings a candle either."
He thought very poorly of his quarters; and the worst of it was that more and more hay kept coming in at the door and the space got smaller and smaller. At last, in his distress, he cried as loudly as he could, "Bring me no more fodder! Bring me no more fodder!"
The maid was just milking the cow; and when she heard somebody speaking and could see nobody, and recognised the same voice she had heard in the night, she was so terrified that she slipped off her stool and spilt the milk. She ran in a great hurry to her master and said, "Oh heavens, parson, the cow has been talking!"
"You're out of your mind," said the parson; but he went to the cowshed himself to see what was there. And hardly had he set foot inside before Thumbling cried again, "Bring me no more fodder! Bring me no more fodder!"
Then the parson himself was alarmed, and thought an evil spirit had got into the cow, and ordered her to be killed. She was killed; but the stomach, with Thumbling inside it, was thrown on the dunghill.
Thumbling had great difficulty working his way through it; but he got far enough to make himself a little room — and then, just as he was about to put his head out, a new misfortune happened. A hungry wolf came running up and swallowed the whole stomach at a gulp.
Thumbling did not lose heart. "Perhaps," he thought, "the wolf will listen to what I have to say" — and he called out to him from inside, "Dear wolf, I know where there's a magnificent feast for you."
"Where's it to be had?" said the wolf.
"In such and such a house. You must creep in through the kitchen drain, and you'll find cakes and bacon and sausages, as much as you can eat" — and he described his father's house exactly.
The wolf did not need telling twice. He squeezed in at night through the drain and ate his fill in the larder. When he had eaten enough he wanted to get out again; but he had grown so fat that he could not get out the same way.
Thumbling had counted on that, and now began to make a violent noise in the wolf's body, and raged and screamed as loudly as he could.
"Will you be quiet?" said the wolf. "You'll wake the people up."
"What of it?" said the little fellow. "You've eaten your fill, and now I'll enjoy myself too" — and began to scream again with all his strength.
At last his father and mother were woken by it, and ran to the room and looked in through the crack of the door. When they saw that there was a wolf inside, they ran off, and the husband fetched his axe and the wife her scythe.
"Stay behind me," said the man as they came into the room. "When I've given him a blow, if he isn't killed by it, you must cut at him and hack his body open."
Then Thumbling heard his parents' voices and cried, "Dear father, I'm here — I'm inside the wolf!"
His father said, full of joy, "Thank God, we've found our dear child again!" — and told his wife to put down her scythe, in case Thumbling should be hurt with it. Then he raised his arm and struck the wolf such a blow on the head that he fell down dead; and then they got knives and scissors and cut his body open and drew the little fellow out.
"Ah," said his father, "what sorrow we've been through for your sake."
"Yes, father, I've been about the world a good deal. Thank heaven I'm breathing fresh air again."
"And where have you been?"
"Ah, father, I've been in a mouse hole, in a cow's stomach and in a wolf's. Now I'll stay with you."
"And we won't sell you again, not for all the riches in the world," said his parents, and hugged and kissed their dear Thumbling. They gave him food and drink and had new clothes made for him, because his own had been spoiled on his travels.
There was once an old fox with nine tails, who believed his wife was not faithful to him and wanted to test her. He stretched himself out under the bench, did not move a limb, and behaved as if he were stone dead.
Mrs. Fox went up to her room and shut herself in; and her maid, Miss Cat, sat by the fire and did the cooking. When it became known that the old fox was dead, suitors began to present themselves.
The maid heard somebody standing at the house door, knocking. She went and opened it, and it was a young fox, who said:
"What may you be about, Miss Cat? Are you asleep, or wide awake?"
She answered:
"I'm not asleep, I'm wide awake. Would you like to know what I make? I'm boiling warm beer with butter so nice — will the gentleman come in and drink some likewise?"
"No, thank you, miss," said the fox. "What is Mrs. Fox doing?"
The maid answered:
"She sits all alone and makes her moan, and weeps her little eyes quite red, because old Mr. Fox is dead."
"Do just tell her, miss, that a young fox is here who would like to court her."
"Certainly, young sir."
The cat goes up the stairs, trip, trap; she knocks upon the door, tap, tap. "Mistress Fox, are you inside?" "Oh yes, my little cat," she cried. "A suitor's standing at the door." "Tell me what he's like, my dear."
"But has he nine beautiful tails, like the late Mr. Fox?"
"Oh no," said the cat, "he has only one."
"Then I won't have him."
Miss Cat went downstairs and sent the suitor away. Soon afterwards there was another knock, and there was another fox at the door who wanted to court Mrs. Fox. He had two tails, but he fared no better than the first. After that still more came, each with one tail more than the last; but they were all turned away, until at last one came who had nine tails, like old Mr. Fox.
When the widow heard that, she said joyfully to the cat:
"Now open the gates and the doors all wide, and carry old Mr. Fox outside."
But just as the wedding was about to be celebrated, old Mr. Fox stirred under the bench and cudgelled the whole rabble, and drove them and Mrs. Fox out of the house.
When old Mr. Fox was dead, the wolf came courting and knocked at the door; and the cat, who was Mrs. Fox's servant, opened it for him. The wolf greeted her and said:
"Good day to you, Mrs. Cat of Kehrewit. How is it that all alone you sit? And what good thing are you making?"
The cat answered:
"In milk I'm breaking bread so sweet — will the gentleman come in and eat?"
"No, thank you, Mrs. Cat," said the wolf. "Is Mrs. Fox not at home?"
The cat said:
"She sits upstairs in her room, bewailing her sorrowful doom, bewailing her trouble so sore, for old Mr. Fox is no more."
The wolf answered:
"If she's in want of a husband now, then will it please her to step below?"
The cat runs quickly up the stair and lets her tail fly here and there, until she comes to the parlour door and with her five gold rings she knocks: "Are you within, good Mistress Fox? If you're in want of a husband now, then will it please you to step below?"
Mrs. Fox asked, "Has the gentleman got red stockings on, and has he a pointed muzzle?"
"No," said the cat.
"Then he won't do for me."
When the wolf had gone, there came a dog, a stag, a hare, a bear, a lion, and all the beasts of the forest, one after another. But every one of them lacked one of the good points that old Mr. Fox had had, and the cat had to keep sending the suitors away.
At length a young fox came. Then Mrs. Fox said, "Has the gentleman got red stockings on, and has he a little pointed muzzle?"
"Yes," said the cat, "he has."
"Then let him come upstairs," said Mrs. Fox — and ordered the servant to get the wedding feast ready.
"Sweep me the room as clean as you can, up with the window, fling out my old man! For many a fine fat mouse he brought, yet of his wife he never thought, but ate up every one he caught."
Then the wedding was celebrated with young Mr. Fox, and there was a great deal of rejoicing and dancing; and if they haven't left off, they are dancing still.
A shoemaker, through no fault of his own, had grown so poor that at last he had nothing left but the leather for one pair of shoes. So in the evening he cut out the shoes that he meant to start on next morning; and as he had a good conscience, he lay down quietly in his bed, commended himself to God, and fell asleep.
In the morning, after he had said his prayers and was just going to sit down to work, the two shoes stood on his table, quite finished. He was astounded and did not know what to say about it. He took the shoes in his hands to look at them more closely, and they were so neatly made that there was not one bad stitch in them, as if they had been meant for a masterpiece.
Soon afterwards a buyer came in; and as the shoes pleased him so well, he paid more for them than was usual, and with the money the shoemaker could buy leather for two pairs of shoes. He cut them out in the evening and next morning was about to set to work with fresh heart; but there was no need, because when he got up they were made already. And there were buyers for those too, who gave him money enough to buy leather for four pairs.
The next morning he found the four pairs made as well; and so it went on continually. Whatever he cut out in the evening was finished by morning, so that he soon had a decent living again, and at last became a wealthy man.
Now it happened one evening not long before Christmas, when the man had been cutting out, that he said to his wife before going to bed, "What would you say to sitting up tonight to see who it is that gives us this helping hand?"
His wife liked the idea, and lit a candle; and then they hid in a corner of the room behind some clothes that were hanging there, and watched.
At midnight two pretty little naked men came in, sat down at the shoemaker's table, took all the work that had been cut out and began to stitch and sew and hammer so skilfully and so quickly with their little fingers that the shoemaker could not take his eyes off them for astonishment. They did not stop until everything was done and standing finished on the table; and then they ran quickly away.
Next morning the wife said, "The little men have made us rich, and we really must show that we're grateful. They run about like that with nothing on, and they must be cold. I'll tell you what I'll do: I'll make them little shirts and coats and waistcoats and trousers, and knit them both a pair of stockings; and you make them two little pairs of shoes."
The man said, "I'll be very glad to." And one night, when everything was ready, they laid their presents out together on the table instead of the cut-out work, and then hid themselves to see how the little men would behave.
At midnight they came bounding in and were going to set to work at once; but when they found no leather cut out, but only the pretty little clothes, they were astonished at first and then showed the greatest delight. They dressed themselves with enormous speed, putting the pretty clothes on and singing:
"Now we're boys so fine to see, why should we longer cobblers be?"
Then they danced and skipped and leapt over the chairs and benches. At last they danced out of the door. From that time on they never came again; but as long as the shoemaker lived all went well with him, and everything he undertook prospered.
There was once a poor servant girl who was hard-working and clean, and swept the house every day and emptied her sweepings on the great heap in front of the door.
One morning, when she was just going back to her work, she found a letter on the heap; and as she could not read, she put her broom in the corner and took the letter to her master and mistress. And it was an invitation from the elves, who asked the girl to hold a child for them at its christening.
The girl did not know what to do; but at last, after a good deal of persuading, and as they told her it was not right to refuse an invitation of that kind, she agreed.
Then three elves came and led her to a hollow mountain where the little folk lived. Everything there was small, but more elegant and beautiful than can be described. The baby's mother lay in a bed of black ebony decorated with pearls, the covers were embroidered with gold, the cradle was of ivory and the bath of gold.
The girl stood godmother, and then wanted to go home again; but the little elves urgently begged her to stay three days with them. So she stayed, and passed the time in pleasure and gaiety, and the little folk did everything they could to make her happy.
At last she set out for home. First they filled her pockets quite full of money, and after that they led her out of the mountain again.
When she got home she wanted to get on with her work, and took the broom, which was still standing in the corner, and began to sweep. Then some strangers came out of the house and asked her who she was and what business she had there. And she had not, as she thought, been three days with the little men in the mountain, but seven years — and in the meantime her old master and mistress had died.
A certain mother's child had been carried off out of its cradle by the elves, and a changeling with a huge head and staring eyes, which would do nothing but eat and drink, had been laid in its place.
In her trouble she went to her neighbour and asked her advice. The neighbour said she should carry the changeling into the kitchen, set it down on the hearth, light a fire and boil some water in two eggshells; that would make the changeling laugh, and if he laughed it would be all over with him.
The woman did everything her neighbour told her. And when she put the eggshells of water on the fire, the imp said, "I am as old now as the Wester forest, and I've never yet seen anybody boil anything in an eggshell" — and began to laugh about it.
And while he was laughing, a host of little elves suddenly came in, who brought the right child, set it down on the hearth and took the changeling away with them.
There was once a miller who had a beautiful daughter; and when she was grown up he wanted to see her provided for and well married. He thought, "If a decent suitor comes and asks for her, I'll give her to him."
Not long afterwards a suitor came who seemed to be very rich; and as the miller could find no fault with him, he promised him his daughter.
The girl, though, did not like him as much as a girl ought to like the man she is engaged to, and had no confidence in him. Whenever she saw him, or thought about him, she felt a secret horror.
Once he said to her, "You're my betrothed, and yet you've never once come to visit me."
The girl answered, "I don't know where your house is."
Then the bridegroom said, "My house is out there in the dark forest."
She tried to excuse herself and said she would not be able to find the way there.
The bridegroom said, "Next Sunday you must come out to me. I've invited the guests already, and I'll scatter ashes so that you can find your way through the forest."
When Sunday came and the girl had to set out, she grew very uneasy, though she did not herself know exactly why; and to mark her way she filled both her pockets with peas and lentils.
Ashes had been scattered at the entrance to the forest, and she followed them; but at every step she threw a couple of peas on the ground. She walked almost the whole day, until she reached the middle of the forest, where it was darkest; and there stood a house standing all by itself, which she did not like, because it looked so dark and dismal. She went inside, but there was nobody there, and the most complete stillness reigned.
Suddenly a voice cried:
"Turn back, turn back, young maiden dear — it's a murderer's house you enter here."
The girl looked up and saw that the voice came from a bird hanging in a cage on the wall. And again it cried:
"Turn back, turn back, young maiden dear — it's a murderer's house you enter here."
The girl went on further, from one room to another, and walked through the whole house; but it was completely empty and not a living soul was to be found. At last she came to the cellar, and there sat an extremely old woman whose head shook all the time.
"Can you tell me," said the girl, "whether my betrothed lives here?"
"Alas, poor child," said the old woman, "where have you come to? You're in a murderers' den. You think you're a bride soon to be married, but the wedding you'll keep is with death. Look — they've made me put that great kettle of water on, and when they have you in their power they'll cut you to pieces without mercy, and cook you and eat you, because they are eaters of human flesh. Unless I take pity on you and save you, you are lost."
With that the old woman led her behind a great barrel where she could not be seen. "Be as still as a mouse," she said. "Don't make a sound or move, or it will be all over with you. Tonight, when the robbers are asleep, we'll escape. I've been waiting a long time for a chance."
Hardly was it done before the godless crew came home. They dragged another young girl in with them. They were drunk, and paid no attention to her screams and her weeping. They gave her wine to drink, three glasses full, one glass of white wine, one of red and one of yellow — and with that her heart burst in two.
Then they tore off her fine clothes, laid her on a table, cut her beautiful body in pieces and scattered salt over them. The poor bride behind the barrel trembled and shook, because she saw perfectly well what fate the robbers had in mind for her.
One of them noticed a gold ring on the murdered girl's little finger; and as it would not come off at once, he took an axe and chopped the finger off. But it sprang up into the air, over the barrel, and fell straight into the bride's bosom. The robber took a candle and went to look for it, but could not find it.
Then another of them said, "Have you looked behind the big barrel?"
But the old woman called out, "Come and get something to eat, and leave off looking till morning — the finger won't run away from you."
Then the robbers said, "The old woman is right," and gave up their search and sat down to eat; and the old woman poured a sleeping draught into their wine, so that before long they lay down in the cellar and slept and snored.
When the bride heard that, she came out from behind the barrel; and she had to step over the sleepers, because they were lying in rows on the floor, and she was in terror of waking one of them. But God helped her, and she got safely over. The old woman went up with her, opened the doors, and they hurried out of the murderers' den as fast as they could go.
The wind had blown the scattered ashes away, but the peas and lentils had sprouted and come up, and showed them the way in the moonlight. They walked the whole night, until in the morning they reached the mill; and then the girl told her father everything, exactly as it had happened.
When the day came for the wedding to be celebrated, the bridegroom appeared, and the miller had invited all his relations and friends. As they sat at table, each of them was asked to tell something. The bride sat still and said nothing.
Then the bridegroom said to her, "Come, my darling, do you know nothing? Tell us something, like the rest."
She answered, "Then I'll tell you a dream. I was walking alone through a wood, and at last I came to a house where there wasn't a living soul; but there was a bird in a cage on the wall, which cried:
'Turn back, turn back, young maiden dear — it's a murderer's house you enter here.'
And it cried it once more. My darling, I only dreamed this.
"Then I went through all the rooms, and they were all empty, and there was something so horrible about them. At last I went down into the cellar, and there sat a very, very old woman whose head shook. I asked her, 'Does my bridegroom live in this house?' She answered, 'Alas, poor child, you've come into a murderers' den. Your bridegroom does live here, but he'll hack you to pieces and kill you, and then he'll cook you and eat you.' My darling, I only dreamed this.
"But the old woman hid me behind a great barrel; and hardly was I hidden before the robbers came home, dragging a girl with them, and gave her three kinds of wine to drink, white, red and yellow, and her heart broke in two with it. My darling, I only dreamed this.
"Then they pulled off her pretty clothes and hacked her lovely body to pieces on a table and sprinkled salt on them. My darling, I only dreamed this.
"And one of the robbers saw that there was still a ring on her little finger; and as it was hard to pull off, he took an axe and chopped it off — but the finger sprang up into the air and over the great barrel and fell into my bosom. And here is the finger, with the ring!"
And with these words she drew it out and showed it to the company.
The robber, who had turned as pale as ashes during the story, jumped up and tried to escape; but the guests held him fast and handed him over to justice. And he and his whole gang were executed for their infamous deeds.
There were once a cock and a hen who wanted to go on a journey together. So the cock built a beautiful carriage with four red wheels, and harnessed four mice to it. The hen got in with the cock, and away they drove.
Not long afterwards they met a cat, who said, "Where are you going?"
The cock answered, "We're going to Herr Korbes's house."
"Take me with you," said the cat.
The cock answered, "Very gladly. Get up behind, or you'll fall off in front. And take great care not to dirty my little red wheels.
And you, little wheels, roll on, and you, little mice, pipe out, as we go on our way to the house of Herr Korbes."
After that came a millstone, then an egg, then a duck, then a pin, and last of all a needle, and they all sat down in the carriage and drove along with them.
But when they reached Herr Korbes's house, Herr Korbes was not at home. The mice pulled the carriage into the barn; the hen flew up onto a perch with the cock; the cat sat down by the hearth; the duck settled on the well-pole; the egg rolled itself up in the towel; the pin stuck itself into the chair cushion; the needle jumped onto the bed into the middle of the pillow; and the millstone laid itself over the door.
Then Herr Korbes came home, went to the hearth and was about to light the fire, when the cat threw a quantity of ashes in his face. He ran into the kitchen in a great hurry to wash it off, and the duck splashed water in his face. He went to dry it with the towel, and the egg rolled against him and broke and gummed up his eyes. He wanted to rest and sat down in the chair, and the pin pricked him. He lost his temper and flung himself down on his bed; but as soon as he laid his head on the pillow, the needle pricked him, so that he screamed out loud and was just going to run off into the wide world in his fury — but when he came to the house door, the millstone leapt down and struck him dead.
Herr Korbes must have been a very wicked man.
A poor man had so many children that he had already asked everybody in the world to be godfather; and when yet another child was born there was nobody left he could invite. He did not know what to do; and in his perplexity he lay down and fell asleep.
Then he dreamed that he was to go outside the gate and ask the first person who met him to be godfather. When he woke he decided to obey his dream, and went outside the gate and asked the first person who came up to him to be godfather.
The stranger gave him a little glass of water and said, "This is a wonderful water. With it you can heal the sick — only you must see where Death is standing. If he is standing at the patient's head, give the patient some of the water and he will be healed; but if Death is standing at his feet, all your trouble will be wasted, because the sick man must die."
From that time on the man could always say whether a patient could be saved or not, and became famous for his skill and earned a great deal of money. Once he was called in to the King's child; and when he came in he saw Death standing at the child's head, and cured it with the water. And he did the same a second time. But the third time Death was standing at its feet, and then he knew the child must die.
One day the man thought he would visit his child's godfather and tell him how he had got on with the water. But when he went into the house, what a strange establishment it was!
On the first flight of stairs the broom and the shovel were quarrelling and knocking each other about violently. He asked them, "Where does the godfather live?"
The broom answered, "One flight of stairs higher up."
When he came to the second flight he saw a heap of dead fingers lying there. He asked, "Where does the godfather live?"
One of the fingers answered, "One flight higher."
On the third flight lay a heap of dead heads, which again sent him up to the flight beyond. On the fourth flight he saw fish on the fire, frizzling in the pans and baking themselves. They too said, "One flight higher."
And when he had climbed the fifth, he came to the door of a room and peeped through the keyhole — and there he saw the godfather, with a pair of long horns on his head.
When he opened the door and went in, the godfather got into bed in a great hurry and covered himself up.
Then the man said, "Sir godfather, what a strange household you have! When I came to your first flight of stairs, the shovel and the broom were quarrelling and beating each other violently."
"How stupid you are," said the godfather. "That was the boy and the maid talking to each other."
"But on the second flight I saw dead fingers lying."
"Oh, how silly you are. Those were some roots of scorzonera."
"On the third flight lay a heap of dead men's heads."
"Foolish man, those were cabbages."
"On the fourth flight I saw fish in a pan, hissing and baking themselves." And when he had said that, the fish came in and served themselves up.
"And when I got to the fifth flight, I peeped through the keyhole of a door — and there, godfather, I saw you, and you had long, long horns."
"Oh, that's a lie!"
The man took fright and ran out; and if he had not, who knows what the godfather would have done to him.
There was once a little girl who was obstinate and inquisitive; and when her parents told her to do anything she would not obey them — so how could things go well with her?
One day she said to her parents, "I've heard so much about Frau Trude that I mean to go and see her one day. People say everything about her looks so strange, and that there are such odd things in her house, that I've grown quite curious."
Her parents absolutely forbade it, and said, "Frau Trude is a bad woman who does wicked things; and if you go to her, you are no child of ours."
But the girl would not be turned aside by her parents' prohibition, and went to Frau Trude all the same.
And when she got there, Frau Trude said, "Why are you so pale?"
"Ah," she said, and her whole body trembled, "I've been so frightened by what I saw."
"What did you see?"
"I saw a black man on your steps."
"That was a charcoal burner."
"Then I saw a green man."
"That was a huntsman."
"After that I saw a blood-red man."
"That was a butcher."
"Ah, Frau Trude, I was terrified. I looked in through the window and I saw, not you, but — as I truly believe — the Devil himself, with a head of fire."
"Oho," she said, "then you've seen the witch in her proper dress. I've been waiting for you and wanting you a long time already. You shall give me some light."
Then she turned the girl into a block of wood and threw it on the fire. And when it was blazing well she sat down close to it and warmed herself at it, and said, "That gives a bright light for once."
A poor man had twelve children, and had to work night and day to give them even bread. So when the thirteenth came into the world he did not know what to do in his trouble, but ran out onto the great highway and resolved to ask the first person he met to be godfather.
The first to meet him was the good God, who already knew what was in his heart, and said to him, "Poor man, I am sorry for you. I will hold your child at its christening, and take care of it and make it happy on earth."
The man said, "Who are you?"
"I am God."
"Then I don't want you for a godfather," said the man. "You give to the rich and leave the poor to go hungry."
So the man spoke, because he did not know how wisely God shares out riches and poverty. So he turned away from the Lord and went on further.
Then the Devil came to him and said, "What are you looking for? If you'll have me as godfather for your child, I'll give him gold in plenty and all the joys of the world besides."
The man asked, "Who are you?"
"I am the Devil."
"Then I don't want you for a godfather," said the man. "You deceive people and lead them astray."
He went on; and then Death came striding up to him on his withered legs and said, "Take me as godfather."
The man asked, "Who are you?"
"I am Death, and I make all men equal."
Then the man said, "You're the right one. You take the rich as well as the poor, without distinction. You shall be godfather."
Death answered, "I will make your child rich and famous, because whoever has me for a friend can lack for nothing."
The man said, "Next Sunday is the christening. Be there at the right time."
Death appeared as he had promised, and stood godfather in the usual way.
When the boy had grown up, his godfather appeared one day and told him to come with him. He led him out into a forest and showed him a herb growing there, and said, "Now you shall have your godfather's present. I make you a famous physician. When you are called to a patient, I shall always appear to you. If I stand at the sick man's head, you may say with confidence that you will make him well again, and if you give him some of this herb he will recover. But if I stand at the patient's feet, he is mine, and you must say that all remedies are useless and that no physician in the world could save him. But beware of using the herb against my will, or it may go badly with you."
It was not long before the young man was the most famous physician in the whole world. "He has only to look at a patient and he knows his condition at once, and whether he will recover or must die," people said of him; and they came to him from far and wide, and sent for him whenever anybody was ill, and gave him so much money that he soon became a rich man.
Now it happened that the King fell ill, and the physician was summoned and was to say whether recovery was possible. But when he came to the bed, Death was standing at the sick man's feet, and no herb grew that could save him.
"If I could only cheat Death for once," thought the physician. "He's sure to take it badly if I do; but as I'm his godson he'll shut one eye. I'll risk it."
So he took up the sick man and laid him the other way round, so that now Death was standing at his head. Then he gave the King some of the herb, and he recovered and grew healthy again.
But Death came to the physician, looking very black and angry, and shook his finger at him and said, "You've got the better of me. This time I'll pardon it, as you are my godson; but if you venture it again it will cost you your neck, because I'll take you away with me myself."
Soon afterwards the King's daughter fell gravely ill. She was his only child, and he wept day and night until he began to lose his sight; and he made it known that whoever rescued her from death should be her husband and inherit the crown.
When the physician came to the sick girl's bed he saw Death at her feet. He ought to have remembered his godfather's warning; but he was so infatuated by the King's daughter's great beauty and by the happiness of becoming her husband that he threw all thought to the winds. He did not see that Death was casting angry looks at him, that he was raising his hand in the air and threatening him with his withered fist. He lifted the sick girl up and put her head where her feet had been. Then he gave her some of the herb, and instantly the colour came back to her cheeks and life stirred in her again.
When Death saw that he had been cheated of his property a second time, he walked up to the physician with long strides and said, "It's all over with you, and now the lot falls on you" — and seized him so firmly with his ice-cold hand that he could not resist, and led him into a cave under the earth.
There he saw how thousands and thousands of candles were burning in countless rows, some large, some half-sized, some small. Every moment some of them went out and others flared up again, so that the flames seemed to leap here and there in perpetual change.
"Look," said Death. "These are the lights of men's lives. The big ones belong to children, the half-sized ones to married people in their prime, the little ones to old people. But children and young folk often have only a tiny candle too."
"Show me the light of my life," said the physician; and he thought it would still be very tall.
Death pointed to a little stub that was just threatening to go out, and said, "There it is."
"Ah, dear godfather," said the horrified physician, "light me a new one — do it for love of me, so that I may enjoy my life, and be King, and the husband of the King's beautiful daughter."
"I cannot," answered Death. "One must go out before a new one is lit."
"Then set the old one on top of a new one, so that it will go on burning at once when the old one has come to an end," begged the physician.
Death behaved as if he were going to grant his wish, and took hold of a tall new candle; but as he wanted his revenge, he made a mistake in fixing it on purpose, and the little stub fell down and went out. And immediately the physician fell to the ground, and now he was in Death's hands himself.
A certain tailor had a son who happened to be small — no bigger than a thumb — and so he was always called Thumbling. He had some courage in him, though, and said to his father, "Father, I must and will go out into the world."
"That's right, my son," said the old man; and he took a long darning needle and made a knob of sealing wax on it at the candle. "And there's a sword for you to take with you on the way."
Then the little tailor wanted to have one more meal at home, and hopped into the kitchen to see what his lady mother had cooked for the last time. It had just been dished up, and the dish was standing on the hearth.
"Mother," he said, "what is there to eat today?"
"See for yourself," said his mother.
So Thumbling jumped onto the hearth and peeped into the dish; but he stretched his neck in too far, and the steam from the food caught hold of him and carried him up the chimney. He rode about in the air on the steam for a while, until at length he sank down to the ground again.
So now the little tailor was out in the wide world; and he travelled about and took work with a master in his trade, but the food was not good enough for him.
"Mistress," said Thumbling, "if you don't give us better food, I'll go away, and early tomorrow morning I'll write on your front door in chalk: Too many potatoes, too little meat. Farewell, Mr. Potato-King."
"What would you have, then, grasshopper?" said the mistress, and grew angry and snatched up a dishcloth and was going to hit him. But my little tailor crept nimbly under a thimble, peeped out from under it and put his tongue out at the mistress. She picked up the thimble and tried to get hold of him, but little Thumbling hopped into the dishcloth; and while the mistress was shaking it out and looking for him, he got into a crack in the table.
"Ho, ho, my lady mistress," he cried, sticking his head out; and when she started hitting at him he leapt down into the drawer. At last, though, she caught him and drove him out of the house.
The little tailor journeyed on and came to a great forest, and there he fell in with a band of robbers who had a plan to steal the King's treasure. When they saw the little tailor they thought, "A little fellow like that can creep through a keyhole and be a picklock for us."
"Hey there," one of them cried, "you giant Goliath, will you come to the treasure chamber with us? You can slip yourself inside and throw the money out."
Thumbling thought about it for a while, and at length he said yes, and went with them to the treasure chamber. There he looked at the doors, top and bottom, to see whether there was any crack in them; and it was not long before he spied one that was wide enough to let him in.
He was about to get in at once, but one of the two sentries standing in front of the door noticed him and said to the other, "What an ugly spider that is, crawling there. I'll kill it."
"Leave the poor creature alone," said the other. "It's done you no harm."
So Thumbling got safely through the crack into the treasure chamber, opened the window under which the robbers were standing, and threw out one thaler after another to them.
When the little tailor was in the full swing of the work, he heard the King coming to inspect his treasure chamber, and crept hastily into a hiding place. The King noticed that a number of solid thalers were missing, but could not imagine who could have stolen them, since the locks and bolts were in good order and everything seemed well guarded. So he went away again and said to the sentries, "Keep watch — somebody is after the money."
So when Thumbling started work again, they heard the money moving and a sound of clink, clink, clink. They ran in quickly to catch the thief; but the little tailor, who heard them coming, was quicker still, and leapt into a corner and covered himself with a thaler so that nothing could be seen of him — and at the same time he mocked the sentries and called, "Here I am!"
The sentries ran over; but by the time they got there he had already hopped into another corner under a thaler, and was calling, "Ho, ho, here I am!" The watchmen sprang over there in a hurry, but Thumbling had long since got into a third corner and was calling, "Ho, ho, here I am!"
And so he made fools of them and chased them round and round the treasure chamber until they were worn out and went away. Then he threw all the thalers out, one by one, sending the last one out with all his strength, and then hopped nimbly onto it and flew down with it through the window.
The robbers paid him great compliments. "You're a valiant hero," they said. "Will you be our captain?"
Thumbling declined, though, and said he wanted to see the world first. They divided up the booty, but the little tailor asked only for a farthing, because he could not carry more.
Then he buckled on his sword again, said goodbye to the robbers and took to the road. First he went to work for some masters, but he had no liking for that; and at last he hired himself out as a manservant at an inn.
The maids could not endure him, though, because he saw everything they did in secret without their seeing him, and told the master and mistress what they had taken off the plates and carried out of the cellar for themselves.
"Wait," they said, "and we'll pay you out" — and arranged between them to play him a trick.
Soon afterwards, when one of the maids was mowing in the garden and saw Thumbling jumping about and creeping up and down the plants, she mowed him up quickly along with the grass, tied it all in a great cloth and secretly threw it to the cows. Now among them there was a great black one, who swallowed him down without hurting him.
Down there, though, he liked it very ill, because it was quite dark and there was no candle burning. When the cow was being milked he called out:
"Strip, strap, strull, will the pail soon be full?"
But the noise of the milking stopped anybody understanding him.
After this the master of the house came into the cowshed and said, "That cow shall be killed tomorrow."
Then Thumbling was so alarmed that he cried out in a clear voice, "Let me out first — I'm shut up inside her!"
The master heard that quite well, but did not know where the voice was coming from. "Where are you?" he asked.
"In the black one," answered Thumbling; but the master did not understand what that meant, and went out.
Next morning the cow was killed. Luckily Thumbling did not take a single blow in the cutting up and chopping; he got in among the sausage meat. And when the butcher came in and started his work, he cried out with all his might, "Don't chop too deep, don't chop too deep, I'm in among it!"
Nobody heard it, because of the noise of the chopping knife. Now poor Thumbling was in trouble; but trouble sharpens the wits, and he sprang about so nimbly between the blows that none of them touched him and he escaped with a whole skin.
But still he could not get away; there was nothing for it but to let himself be stuffed into a black pudding along with the bits of bacon. His quarters there were rather cramped; and besides that he was hung up in the chimney to be smoked, and there the time hung terribly heavy on his hands.
At length, in the winter, he was taken down again, because the black pudding was to be set before a guest. When the landlady was cutting it into slices he took care not to stretch his head out too far, in case a bit of it should be cut off; and at last he saw his chance, cleared a passage for himself and jumped out.
The little tailor would not stay any longer, though, in a house where he had fared so badly, and set out on his travels again at once. But his liberty did not last long. Out in the open country he met a fox, who snapped him up without thinking.
"Hey there, Mr. Fox," cried the little tailor, "it's me sticking in your throat. Set me free again."
"You're right," said the fox. "You're next to nothing to me. But if you'll promise me the fowls in your father's yard, I'll let you go."
"With all my heart," said Thumbling. "You shall have all the cocks and hens, I promise you."
So the fox let him go, and even carried him home himself. And when his father saw his dear son again, he willingly gave the fox all the fowls he had.
"And here I bring you a handsome bit of money too," said Thumbling, and gave his father the farthing he had earned on his travels.
"But why did the fox get the poor chickens to eat?"
"Oh, you goose — surely your father would love his child far more than the fowls in the yard."
There was once a wizard who used to take the form of a poor man and go to houses and beg, and catch pretty girls. Nobody knew where he carried them, because they were never seen again.
One day he appeared at the door of a man who had three pretty daughters. He looked like a poor, weak beggar and carried a basket on his back, as though he meant to collect gifts of charity in it. He begged for a little food; and when the eldest daughter came out and was just handing him a piece of bread, he only touched her — and she was forced to jump into his basket.
Then he hurried away with long strides and carried her off into a dark forest, to his house that stood in the middle of it.
Everything in the house was magnificent. He gave her whatever she could possibly want and said, "My darling, you will certainly be happy with me, because you have everything your heart can wish for."
This lasted a few days, and then he said, "I have to go on a journey and leave you alone for a short time. Here are the keys of the house. You may go everywhere and look at everything, except into one room, which this little key opens; and that I forbid you on pain of death."
He also gave her an egg, and said, "Take good care of this egg for me and carry it about with you all the time, because great misfortune would come of losing it."
She took the keys and the egg and promised to obey him in everything. When he had gone she went all round the house from bottom to top and examined everything. The rooms shone with silver and gold, and she thought she had never seen such splendour.
At length she came to the forbidden door. She meant to pass it by, but curiosity gave her no peace. She looked at the key; it looked just like any other. She put it in the keyhole and turned it a little, and the door sprang open.
But what did she see when she went in? A great bloody basin stood in the middle of the room, and in it lay human beings, dead and hacked to pieces; and close by stood a block of wood with a gleaming axe lying on it.
She was so terrified that the egg she was holding fell into the basin. She got it out and washed the blood off, but it was no use — it appeared again in a moment. She washed and scrubbed, but she could not get it off.
It was not long before the man came back from his journey, and the first things he asked for were the key and the egg. She gave them to him, but she trembled as she did it; and he saw at once by the red spots that she had been in the bloody chamber.
"Since you went into that room against my will," he said, "you shall go back into it against your own. Your life is over."
He threw her down, dragged her there by the hair, cut her head off on the block and hacked her to pieces so that her blood ran on the floor. Then he threw her into the basin with the rest.
"Now I'll fetch myself the second," said the wizard; and he went to the house again in the shape of a poor man and begged. Then the second daughter brought him a piece of bread; and he caught her like the first, simply by touching her, and carried her off.
She fared no better than her sister. She let her curiosity get the better of her, opened the door of the bloody chamber, looked in, and had to pay for it with her life when the wizard came back.
Then he went and fetched the third sister; but she was clever and crafty. When he had given her the keys and the egg and had gone, she first put the egg away with great care, and then explored the house, and last of all went into the forbidden room.
Oh, what she saw there! Both her sisters lay in the basin, cruelly murdered and cut to pieces. But she began to gather their limbs together and put them in order — head, body, arms and legs. And when nothing more was missing, the limbs began to move and join themselves together, and both the girls opened their eyes and were alive again. Then they rejoiced and kissed and hugged one another.
When the man came home he demanded the keys and the egg at once; and as he could see no trace of blood on it, he said, "You have stood the test. You shall be my bride."
Now he had no power over her any more, and had to do whatever she wished.
"Very well," she said, "but first you shall take a basketful of gold to my father and mother, and carry it yourself on your back. Meanwhile I'll get ready for the wedding."
Then she ran to her sisters, whom she had hidden in a little room, and said, "The moment has come when I can save you. The wretch shall carry you home himself. But as soon as you're at home, send help to me."
She put them both in a basket and covered them right over with gold, so that nothing of them could be seen; and then she called the wizard in and said, "Now carry the basket away. But I shall be looking out of my little window and watching, to see whether you stop on the road to stand still or to rest."
The wizard lifted the basket onto his back and set off with it; but it weighed him down so heavily that the sweat ran off his face. So he sat down and wanted to rest a while; but immediately one of the girls in the basket cried, "I'm looking out of my little window and I can see you resting. Will you get on at once?"
He thought it was his bride calling to him, and got to his feet again. Once more he was going to sit down, and instantly she cried, "I'm looking out of my little window and I can see you resting. Will you get on this minute?"
And whenever he stood still she cried it, and then he had to go on; until at last, groaning and out of breath, he brought the basket with the gold and the two girls into their parents' house.
At home, meanwhile, the bride was preparing the wedding feast and sending out invitations to the wizard's friends. Then she took a skull with grinning teeth, put some ornaments on it and a wreath of flowers, carried it up to the attic window and set it looking out.
When everything was ready, she got into a barrel of honey, and then cut the feather bed open and rolled herself in it until she looked like some wonderful bird and nobody could have recognised her.
Then she went out of the house; and on the way she met some of the wedding guests, who asked:
"Oh, Fitcher's bird, how come you here?" "I come from Fitcher's house, quite near." "And what may the young bride be doing?" "From cellar to attic she's swept all clean, and now from the window she's peeping, I ween."
At last she met the bridegroom, who was coming slowly back. He asked her, like the others:
"Oh, Fitcher's bird, how come you here?" "I come from Fitcher's house, quite near." "And what may the young bride be doing?" "From cellar to attic she's swept all clean, and now from the window she's peeping, I ween."
The bridegroom looked up, saw the decked-out skull, thought it was his bride and nodded to her, greeting her kindly.
But when he and his guests had all gone into the house, the bride's brothers and kinsmen arrived, who had been sent to rescue her. They locked all the doors of the house so that nobody could escape, and set fire to it; and the wizard and all his crew had to burn.
It is a long time ago now, quite two thousand years, since there was a rich man who had a beautiful and pious wife, and they loved each other dearly. They had no children, though, however much they wished for them; and the woman prayed for them day and night, and still they had none.
Now in front of their house there was a courtyard, and in it stood a juniper tree; and one day in winter the woman was standing under it paring an apple, and while she was paring it she cut her finger, and the blood fell on the snow.
"Ah," said the woman, and sighed heavily, and looked at the blood in front of her, and was very unhappy, "if only I had a child as red as blood and as white as snow!"
And as she said it she grew quite happy in her mind, and felt just as if it were going to happen. Then she went into the house.
And a month went by, and the snow was gone; and two months, and everything was green; and three months, and all the flowers came up out of the earth; and four months, and all the trees in the wood grew thicker and the green branches were closely twined together, and the birds sang until the wood rang, and the blossom fell from the trees. And the fifth month passed, and she stood under the juniper tree, which smelt so sweet that her heart leapt, and she fell on her knees and was beside herself with joy. And when the sixth month was over the fruit was large and fine, and then she grew quite still. And in the seventh month she snatched at the juniper berries and ate them greedily, and then she grew sick and sorrowful. And the eighth month went by, and she called her husband to her, and wept, and said, "If I die, bury me under the juniper tree."
Then she was quite comforted and happy until the next month was over; and then she had a child as white as snow and as red as blood; and when she saw it she was so delighted that she died.
So her husband buried her under the juniper tree, and began to weep bitterly. After a time he grew easier, and though he still wept he could bear it; and after a while longer he took another wife.
By this second wife he had a daughter; but the first wife's child was a little son, and he was as red as blood and as white as snow. When the woman looked at her daughter she loved her very much; but then she looked at the little boy, and it seemed to cut her to the heart, because the thought came into her mind that he would always stand in her way; and she was for ever thinking how she could get the whole fortune for her daughter. And the Evil One filled her mind with this until she was quite furious with the little boy, and slapped him here and cuffed him there, so that the unhappy child lived in constant terror; for when he came out of school there was nowhere he could have any peace.
One day the woman had gone upstairs to her room, and her little daughter went up too, and said, "Mother, give me an apple."
"Yes, my child," said the woman, and gave her a fine apple out of the chest — but the chest had a great heavy lid with a great sharp iron lock.
"Mother," said the little daughter, "isn't brother to have one too?"
That made the woman angry; but she said, "Yes, when he comes out of school."
And when she saw from the window that he was coming, it was just as if the Devil got into her, and she snatched the apple away from her daughter again and said, "You shan't have one before your brother."
Then she threw the apple into the chest and shut it.
Then the little boy came in at the door; and the Devil made her say to him kindly, "My son, would you like an apple?" — and she looked at him wickedly.
"Mother," said the little boy, "how dreadful you look! Yes, give me an apple."
Then it seemed to her that she was forced to say to him, "Come with me" — and she opened the lid of the chest and said, "Take out an apple for yourself." And while the little boy was stooping inside, the Devil prompted her, and crash! she slammed the lid down, and his head flew off and fell among the red apples.
Then she was overwhelmed with terror, and thought, "If only I could make them think it wasn't me!" So she went up to her room to her chest of drawers and took a white handkerchief out of the top drawer, and set the head on the neck again and tied the handkerchief so that nothing could be seen; and she sat him on a chair in front of the door and put the apple in his hand.
After this Marlinchen came into the kitchen to her mother, who was standing by the fire with a pan of hot water in front of her, stirring it round and round.
"Mother," said Marlinchen, "brother is sitting at the door and he looks quite white and has an apple in his hand. I asked him to give me the apple, but he didn't answer me, and I was quite frightened."
"Go back to him," said her mother, "and if he won't answer you, box his ears."
So Marlinchen went to him and said, "Brother, give me the apple." But he said nothing; so she boxed his ears — and his head fell off.
Marlinchen was terrified and began crying and screaming, and ran to her mother and said, "Oh, mother, I've knocked my brother's head off!" — and she wept and wept and could not be comforted.
"Marlinchen," said her mother, "what have you done? But be quiet and let nobody know about it. It can't be helped now. We'll make him into black puddings."
Then the mother took the little boy and chopped him in pieces and put him in the pan and made him into black puddings; and Marlinchen stood by weeping and weeping, and all her tears fell into the pan, so that there was no need of any salt.
Then the father came home and sat down to dinner and said, "But where is my son?"
And the mother served up a great dish of black puddings; and Marlinchen wept and could not stop.
Then the father said again, "But where is my son?"
"Ah," said the mother, "he's gone off across the country to his mother's great-uncle. He'll stay there a while."
"And what has he gone to do there? He didn't even say goodbye to me."
"Oh, he wanted to go, and asked me whether he might stay six weeks. He's well looked after there."
"Ah," said the man, "I feel so unhappy, in case something isn't right. He ought to have said goodbye to me."
With that he began to eat, and said, "Marlinchen, why are you crying? Your brother will certainly come back."
And then he said, "Ah, wife, how delicious this food is. Give me some more." And the more he ate, the more he wanted, and he said, "Give me some more. You shan't have any of it. It seems to me as if it were all mine."
And he ate and ate and threw all the bones under the table, until he had finished the whole lot.
But Marlinchen went to her chest of drawers and took her best silk handkerchief out of the bottom drawer, and got all the bones from under the table and tied them up in her silk handkerchief and carried them outside the door, weeping tears of blood.
Then the juniper tree began to stir itself, and the branches parted and moved together again, just as if somebody were rejoicing and clapping his hands. At the same time a mist seemed to rise from the tree, and in the middle of the mist it burned like a fire; and out of the fire flew a beautiful bird, singing magnificently, and he flew high up into the air. And when he was gone, the juniper tree was just as it had been before, and the handkerchief with the bones was no longer there.
But Marlinchen was as gay and happy as if her brother were still alive; and she went merrily into the house and sat down to dinner and ate.
But the bird flew away and settled on a goldsmith's house, and began to sing:
"My mother, she killed me; my father, he ate me; my sister, little Marlinchen, gathered up all my bones, tied them in a silken handkerchief and laid them under the juniper tree. Kywitt, kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!"
The goldsmith was sitting in his workshop making a gold chain when he heard the bird singing on his roof, and the song seemed very beautiful to him. He stood up, and as he crossed the threshold he lost one of his slippers. But he went right on up the middle of the street with one shoe on and one sock; he had his apron on, and in one hand he had the gold chain and in the other his pincers, and the sun was shining brightly on the street.
Then he went right up and stood still and said to the bird, "Bird, how beautifully you sing! Sing me that piece again."
"No," said the bird, "I won't sing it twice for nothing. Give me the golden chain, and then I'll sing it again for you."
"There," said the goldsmith, "there's the golden chain for you. Now sing me that song again."
Then the bird came and took the golden chain in his right claw, and went and sat in front of the goldsmith and sang:
"My mother, she killed me; my father, he ate me; my sister, little Marlinchen, gathered up all my bones, tied them in a silken handkerchief and laid them under the juniper tree. Kywitt, kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!"
Then the bird flew away to a shoemaker's, and settled on his roof and sang:
"My mother, she killed me; my father, he ate me; my sister, little Marlinchen, gathered up all my bones, tied them in a silken handkerchief and laid them under the juniper tree. Kywitt, kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!"
The shoemaker heard it and ran out of doors in his shirtsleeves and looked up at his roof, and had to hold his hand in front of his eyes to keep the sun from blinding him.
"Bird," he said, "how beautifully you sing!" Then he called in at his door, "Wife, just come outside — there's a bird here. Look at that bird. He really can sing well."
Then he called his daughter and his children and his apprentices, boys and girls, and they all came up the street and looked at the bird and saw how beautiful he was, and what fine red and green feathers he had, and how his neck was like real gold, and how the eyes in his head shone like stars.
"Bird," said the shoemaker, "now sing me that song again."
"No," said the bird, "I don't sing twice for nothing. You must give me something."
"Wife," said the man, "go up to the garret. On the top shelf there's a pair of red shoes; bring them down."
So his wife went and fetched the shoes.
"There, bird," said the man, "now sing me that piece again."
Then the bird came and took the shoes in his left claw and flew back up onto the roof and sang:
"My mother, she killed me; my father, he ate me; my sister, little Marlinchen, gathered up all my bones, tied them in a silken handkerchief and laid them under the juniper tree. Kywitt, kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!"
And when he had sung it all through he flew away. In his right claw he had the chain and in his left the shoes; and he flew far away to a mill, and the mill went klipp klapp, klipp klapp, klipp klapp. And in the mill sat twenty of the miller's men hewing a stone, and cutting, hick hack, hick hack, hick hack; and the mill went klipp klapp, klipp klapp, klipp klapp.
Then the bird went and sat in a lime tree that stood in front of the mill, and sang:
"My mother, she killed me;"
Then one of them stopped working.
"my father, he ate me;"
Then two more stopped working and listened.
"my sister, little Marlinchen,"
Then four more stopped.
"gathered up all my bones, tied them in a silken handkerchief"
Now only eight were hewing.
"and laid them under"
Now only five.
"the juniper tree."
And now only one.
"Kywitt, kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!"
Then the last one stopped too, and heard the last words.
"Bird," he said, "how beautifully you sing! Let me hear it too. Sing it once more for me."
"No," said the bird, "I won't sing twice for nothing. Give me the millstone, and then I'll sing it again."
"Yes," he said, "if it belonged to me alone, you should have it."
"Yes," said the others, "if he sings again he shall have it."
Then the bird came down, and the twenty millers set to with a beam and raised the stone up. And the bird stuck his neck through the hole and put the stone on like a collar, and flew back to the tree and sang:
"My mother, she killed me; my father, he ate me; my sister, little Marlinchen, gathered up all my bones, tied them in a silken handkerchief and laid them under the juniper tree. Kywitt, kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!"
And when he had finished singing he spread his wings; and in his right claw he had the chain, and in his left the shoes, and round his neck the millstone; and he flew far away to his father's house.
In the room sat the father, the mother and Marlinchen at dinner; and the father said, "How light-hearted I feel, how happy I am!"
"No," said the mother, "I feel so uneasy, just as if a heavy storm were coming."
Marlinchen, though, sat weeping and weeping.
Then the bird came flying up; and as it settled on the roof, the father said, "Ah, I feel so truly happy, and the sun is shining so beautifully outside. I feel just as if I were going to see an old friend again."
"No," said the woman, "I feel so anxious. My teeth are chattering and I seem to have fire in my veins." And she tore her bodice open.
But Marlinchen sat in a corner crying, and held her plate in front of her eyes and cried until it was quite wet.
Then the bird settled in the juniper tree and sang:
"My mother, she killed me;"
Then the mother stopped her ears and shut her eyes and would not see or hear; but there was a roaring in her ears like the most violent storm, and her eyes burned and flashed like lightning.
"my father, he ate me;"
"Ah, mother," says the man, "that's a beautiful bird. He sings so splendidly, and the sun is so warm, and there's a smell just like cinnamon."
"my sister, little Marlinchen,"
Then Marlinchen laid her head on her knees and wept without stopping; but the man said, "I'm going out. I must see the bird close to."
"Oh, don't go," said the woman. "I feel as if the whole house were shaking and on fire."
But the man went out and looked at the bird.
"gathered up all my bones, tied them in a silken handkerchief and laid them under the juniper tree. Kywitt, kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!"
At that the bird let the golden chain fall, and it fell exactly round the man's neck, so exactly that it fitted beautifully. Then he went in and said, "Just look what a fine bird that is, and what a handsome gold chain he's given me, and how pretty he is!"
But the woman was terrified and fell down on the floor of the room, and her cap fell off her head.
Then the bird sang once more:
"My mother, she killed me;"
"I wish I were a thousand feet under the earth, so as not to hear it!"
"my father, he ate me;"
Then the woman fell down again as if she were dead.
"my sister, little Marlinchen,"
"Ah," said Marlinchen, "I'll go out too and see whether the bird will give me anything" — and she went out.
"gathered up all my bones, tied them in a silken handkerchief"
Then he threw the shoes down to her.
"and laid them under the juniper tree. Kywitt, kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!"
Then she was light-hearted and full of joy, and put on the new red shoes and danced and skipped into the house.
"Ah," she said, "I was so sad when I went out, and now I'm so light-hearted. That's a splendid bird — he's given me a pair of red shoes!"
"Well," said the woman, and sprang to her feet, and her hair stood up like flames of fire, "I feel as if the world were coming to an end. I'll go out too and see whether my heart feels lighter."
And as she went out at the door — crash! — the bird threw the millstone down on her head, and she was crushed to pieces by it.
The father and Marlinchen heard what had happened and went out; and smoke and flames and fire were rising from the place. And when that was over, there stood the little brother; and he took his father and Marlinchen by the hand, and all three were full of joy, and they went into the house and sat down to dinner and ate.
A farmer once had a faithful dog called Sultan, who had grown old and lost all his teeth, so that he could no longer hold onto anything.
One day the farmer was standing with his wife in front of the house door and said, "Tomorrow I mean to shoot Old Sultan. He's no use any more."
His wife, who felt sorry for the faithful creature, answered, "He's served us so long and been so faithful that we might well keep him."
"Eh, what?" said the man. "You're not very sharp. He hasn't a tooth left in his head, and not a thief is afraid of him. Now he can go. If he's served us, he's had good feeding for it."
The poor dog, who was lying stretched out in the sun not far off, had heard everything, and was sorry that tomorrow was to be his last day. He had a good friend, the wolf; and in the evening he crept out into the forest to him and complained of the fate that was waiting for him.
"Listen, old friend," said the wolf, "be of good cheer. I'll help you out of your trouble. I've thought of something. Tomorrow morning early your master is going haymaking with his wife, and they'll take their little child with them, because nobody will be left behind in the house. While they're working they always lay the child down under the hedge in the shade. You lie down there too, just as if you meant to guard it. Then I'll come out of the wood and carry the child off. You must rush after me as fast as you can, as if you were going to take it back from me. I'll let it fall, and you'll bring it back to its parents; and they'll think you saved it, and they'll be far too grateful to do you any harm. On the contrary, you'll be in high favour, and they'll never let you want for anything again."
The dog liked the plan, and it was carried out exactly as arranged. The father screamed when he saw the wolf running across the field with his child; but when Old Sultan brought it back, then he was full of joy, and stroked him and said, "Not a hair of yours shall be harmed. You shall eat my bread free as long as you live."
And to his wife he said, "Go home at once and make Old Sultan some bread and milk that he won't have to bite; and bring the pillow out of my bed — I'll give him that to lie on."
From then on Old Sultan was as well off as he could wish to be.
Soon afterwards the wolf came to visit him, and was pleased that everything had gone so well. "But, old friend," he said, "you'll just wink an eye, won't you, if I get a chance to carry off one of your master's fat sheep?"
"Don't count on that," said the dog. "I shall stay true to my master. I can't agree to that."
The wolf, who did not think this could be meant seriously, came creeping about in the night and was going to take the sheep. But the farmer, who had been told the wolf's plan by faithful Sultan, caught him and dressed his hide soundly with the flail. The wolf had to make off; but he called out to the dog, "Just wait, you scoundrel, you'll pay for this."
Next morning the wolf sent the boar to challenge the dog to come out into the forest and settle the matter. Old Sultan could find nobody to stand by him but a cat with only three legs; and as they went out together the poor cat limped along, and at the same time stuck her tail up in the air with the pain.
The wolf and his friend were already at the appointed place; but when they saw their enemy coming they thought he was bringing a sabre with him, because they took the cat's outstretched tail for one. And whenever the poor creature hopped on her three legs, they could only think each time that she was picking up a stone to throw at them.
So they were both frightened. The wild boar crept into the undergrowth and the wolf jumped up a tree.
When the dog and the cat came up they wondered that there was nobody to be seen. The wild boar, though, had not been able to hide himself completely, and one of his ears was still showing. While the cat was looking carefully about, the boar moved his ear; and the cat, thinking it was a mouse moving there, jumped on it and bit it hard. The boar made a fearful noise and ran off, crying out, "The guilty one is up in the tree!"
The dog and the cat looked up and saw the wolf, who was ashamed of having shown himself so timid, and made friends with the dog.
Once upon a time a certain King was hunting in a great forest, and he chased a wild beast so eagerly that none of his attendants could keep up with him. When evening came on he stopped and looked round him, and then he saw that he had lost his way. He looked for a way out and could not find one.
Then he caught sight of an old woman, whose head nodded all the time, coming towards him; but she was a witch.
"Good woman," he said to her, "can you show me the way out of the forest?"
"Oh yes, my lord King," she answered, "I certainly can — but on one condition; and if you don't keep it, you'll never get out of the forest and will starve to death in it."
"What sort of condition is it?" asked the King.
"I have a daughter," said the old woman, "who is as beautiful as anybody in the world, and well deserves to be your consort. If you'll make her your Queen, I'll show you the way out of the forest."
In the anguish of his heart the King consented, and the old woman led him to her little hut, where her daughter was sitting by the fire. She received the King as if she had been expecting him; and he saw that she was very beautiful, but all the same she did not please him, and he could not look at her without a secret horror.
After he had taken the girl up on his horse, the old woman showed him the way, and the King reached his royal palace again, where the wedding was celebrated.
The King had been married once before, and by his first wife he had seven children, six boys and a girl, whom he loved better than anything in the world. And as he now feared that their stepmother might not treat them well, or might even do them some harm, he took them to a lonely castle that stood in the middle of a forest. It lay so hidden, and the way was so hard to find, that he would not have found it himself if a wise woman had not given him a ball of yarn with wonderful properties: when he threw it down in front of him, it unwound itself and showed him his path.
But the King went off to his dear children so often that the Queen noticed his absences. She was curious, and wanted to know what he did when he was out alone in the forest. She gave a great deal of money to his servants, and they betrayed the secret to her and told her about the ball, which alone could show the way.
And now she had no rest until she had found out where the King kept the ball of yarn. Then she made little shirts of white silk; and as she had learned the art of witchcraft from her mother, she sewed a charm into them.
And once, when the King had ridden out hunting, she took the little shirts and went into the forest, and the ball showed her the way. The children, seeing from a distance that somebody was coming, thought it was their dear father coming to them, and ran to meet him full of joy. Then she threw one of the little shirts over each of them; and no sooner had the shirts touched their bodies than they were turned into swans and flew away over the forest.
The Queen went home quite delighted, thinking she had got rid of her stepchildren; but the girl had not run out with her brothers, and the Queen knew nothing about her.
Next day the King came to visit his children, but he found nobody there but the little girl.
"Where are your brothers?" asked the King.
"Alas, dear father," she answered, "they have gone away and left me alone" — and she told him how she had seen from her little window how her brothers had flown away over the forest as swans; and she showed him the feathers they had dropped in the courtyard, which she had picked up.
The King grieved, but he did not think the Queen had done this wicked thing; and as he was afraid the girl would be stolen away from him too, he wanted to take her home with him. But she was afraid of her stepmother, and begged the King to let her stay just one more night in the forest castle.
The poor girl thought, "I can't stay here any longer. I'll go and look for my brothers." And when night came she ran away and went straight into the forest.
She walked the whole night long, and the next day too, without stopping, until she could go no further for weariness. Then she saw a hut in the forest and went into it, and found a room with six little beds; but she did not dare get into one of them, and crept under one instead and lay down on the hard ground, meaning to spend the night there.
Just before sunset, though, she heard a rustling, and saw six swans come flying in at the window. They settled on the ground and blew at one another and blew all their feathers off, and their swan skins came off like shirts. Then the girl looked at them and recognised her brothers, and was glad, and crept out from under the bed.
The brothers were no less delighted to see their little sister, but their joy did not last long.
"You can't stay here," they told her. "This is a robbers' den. If they come home and find you, they'll kill you."
"But can't you protect me?" asked the little sister.
"No," they said. "Only for a quarter of an hour each evening can we lay our swan skins aside and have our human shape; after that we're turned into swans again."
The little sister wept and said, "Can't you be set free?"
"Alas, no," they said. "The conditions are too hard. For six years you may neither speak nor laugh, and in that time you must sew six little shirts of starwort for us. And if a single word falls from your lips, all your work will be lost."
And when the brothers had said this, the quarter of an hour was over, and they flew out of the window again as swans.
But the girl firmly resolved to set her brothers free, even if it cost her her life. She left the hut, went into the middle of the forest, settled herself in a tree and passed the night there.
Next morning she went out and gathered starwort and began to sew. She could not speak to anybody, and she had no inclination to laugh; she sat there and looked at nothing but her work.
When she had already spent a long time there, it happened that the King of the country was hunting in the forest, and his huntsmen came to the tree the girl was sitting in. They called up to her and said, "Who are you?" But she gave no answer.
"Come down to us," they said. "We won't do you any harm."
She only shook her head. And when they pressed her further with questions, she threw her golden necklace down to them, thinking to satisfy them with that. But they did not stop; and then she threw her belt down to them; and as that was no use either, her garters; and by degrees everything she had on that she could do without, until she had nothing left but her shift.
The huntsmen would not be turned aside by any of it, but climbed the tree and fetched the girl down and led her before the King.
The King asked, "Who are you? What are you doing in that tree?" But she did not answer. He put the question in every language he knew, but she stayed as mute as a fish.
As she was so beautiful, the King's heart was touched, and he was seized with a great love for her. He put his cloak round her, took her up on his horse in front of him and carried her to his castle. Then he had her dressed in rich clothes, and she shone in her beauty like bright daylight; but not a word could be got out of her.
He seated her at his side at table, and her modest bearing and her courtesy pleased him so much that he said, "She is the one I want to marry, and no other woman in the world." And after a few days he married her.
But the King had a wicked mother who was displeased with this marriage and spoke ill of the young Queen. "Who knows where this creature who can't speak comes from?" she said. "She isn't worthy of a king."
After a year had gone by, when the Queen brought her first child into the world, the old woman took it away from her and smeared her mouth with blood as she slept. Then she went to the King and accused the Queen of being an eater of human flesh. The King would not believe it, and would not let anybody do her any harm. But she went on sewing at the shirts all the time, and cared for nothing else.
The next time, when she bore another beautiful boy, the false stepmother used the same treachery; but the King could not bring himself to believe her words. He said, "She is too pious and good to do anything of that kind. If she weren't dumb and could defend herself, her innocence would come to light."
But when the old woman stole the newborn child away the third time and accused the Queen, who did not speak one word in her own defence, the King could do nothing else but hand her over to justice; and she was sentenced to be burned to death.
When the day came for the sentence to be carried out, it was the last day of the six years in which she was not to speak or laugh, and she had delivered her dear brothers from the power of the enchantment. The six shirts were ready; only the left sleeve of the sixth was missing.
So when she was led to the stake she laid the shirts over her arm; and when she was standing up there and the fire was just about to be lit, she looked round — and six swans came flying through the air towards her. Then she saw that her deliverance was near, and her heart leapt for joy.
The swans swept towards her and sank down so that she could throw the shirts over them; and as the shirts touched them, their swan skins fell away, and her brothers stood in front of her in their own bodily shape, strong and handsome. Only the youngest was missing his left arm, and had a swan's wing on his shoulder instead of it.
They hugged and kissed one another, and the Queen went to the King, who was deeply moved; and she began to speak and said, "Dearest husband, now I may speak and tell you that I am innocent and falsely accused." And she told him of the old woman's treachery, and how she had taken away her three children and hidden them.
Then, to the King's great joy, they were brought there; and as a punishment the wicked stepmother was bound to the stake and burnt to ashes. But the King and the Queen and her six brothers lived many years in happiness and peace.
A long time ago there were a King and Queen who said every day, "Ah, if only we had a child!" — and they never had one.
But it happened that once, when the Queen was bathing, a frog crept out of the water onto the land and said to her, "Your wish shall be granted. Before a year has gone by you shall have a daughter."
What the frog had said came true, and the Queen had a little girl who was so pretty that the King could not contain himself for joy, and gave orders for a great feast. He invited not only his kinsfolk and friends and acquaintances, but the Wise Women too, so that they might be kind and well disposed towards the child. There were thirteen of them in his kingdom; but as he only had twelve golden plates for them to eat off, one of them had to be left at home.
The feast was held with all possible splendour; and when it came to an end, the Wise Women bestowed their magic gifts on the baby: one gave virtue, another beauty, a third riches, and so on with everything in the world that anybody could wish for.
When eleven of them had made their promises, suddenly the thirteenth came in. She wanted to revenge herself for not having been invited; and without a greeting, or so much as looking at anybody, she cried in a loud voice, "In her fifteenth year the King's daughter shall prick herself with a spindle and fall down dead." And without another word she turned round and left the room.
They were all appalled; but the twelfth, whose good wish was still unspoken, came forward; and as she could not undo the evil sentence, but only soften it, she said, "It shall not be death, but a deep sleep of a hundred years, that the princess falls into."
The King, wanting to keep his dear child from the misfortune, gave orders that every spindle in the whole kingdom should be burnt. Meanwhile the gifts of the Wise Women were fulfilled to the full in the young girl; for she was so beautiful, modest, good-natured and wise that everybody who saw her could not help loving her.
It happened that on the very day she turned fifteen the King and Queen were not at home, and the girl was left in the palace all alone. So she went round into all sorts of places, and looked into the rooms and bedchambers just as she liked, and at last came to an old tower. She climbed the narrow winding staircase and came to a little door. There was a rusty key in the lock, and when she turned it the door sprang open — and there in a little room sat an old woman with a spindle, busily spinning her flax.
"Good day, old dame," said the King's daughter. "What are you doing there?"
"I am spinning," said the old woman, and nodded her head.
"What sort of thing is that, that rattles round so merrily?" said the girl; and she took the spindle and wanted to spin too.
But hardly had she touched the spindle before the magic decree was fulfilled, and she pricked her finger with it.
And at the very moment she felt the prick, she fell down on the bed that stood there and lay in a deep sleep. And that sleep spread over the whole palace. The King and Queen, who had just come home and had come into the great hall, began to fall asleep, and the whole court with them. The horses fell asleep in the stable, the dogs in the yard, the pigeons on the roof, the flies on the wall. Even the fire that was flaming on the hearth grew quiet and slept; the roasting meat left off sizzling; and the cook, who was just about to pull the kitchen boy's hair because he had forgotten something, let him go and fell asleep. And the wind dropped, and on the trees in front of the castle not one leaf stirred again.
But round about the castle a hedge of thorns began to grow, which got higher every year, and at last grew right up round the castle and all over it, so that there was nothing of it to be seen, not even the flag on the roof.
But the story of the beautiful sleeping Briar-Rose — for so the princess was called — went about the country, so that from time to time kings' sons came and tried to get through the thorn hedge into the castle. They found it impossible, though, because the thorns held fast together as if they had hands, and the young men were caught in them and could not get loose again, and died a miserable death.
After long, long years another King's son came to that country, and heard an old man talking about the thorn hedge, and how there was said to be a castle behind it in which a wonderfully beautiful princess named Briar-Rose had been asleep for a hundred years, and the King and Queen and the whole court were asleep as well. He had heard, too, from his grandfather, that a great many kings' sons had already come and tried to get through the thorn hedge, and had stuck fast in it and died a pitiful death.
Then the young man said, "I'm not afraid. I'm going to see the beautiful Briar-Rose." However much the good old man tried to dissuade him, he would not listen to a word of it.
But by now the hundred years had just passed, and the day had come when Briar-Rose was to wake again. When the King's son came near the thorn hedge, it was nothing but great and beautiful flowers, which parted of their own accord and let him pass unhurt, and then closed behind him like a hedge again.
In the castle yard he saw the horses and the spotted hounds lying asleep; on the roof sat the pigeons with their heads under their wings. And when he went into the house, the flies were asleep on the wall, the cook in the kitchen was still holding out his hand to grab the boy, and the maid was sitting by the black hen she had been going to pluck.
He went further, and in the great hall he saw the whole court lying asleep, and up by the throne lay the King and Queen.
Then he went further still, and everything was so quiet that he could hear his own breathing; and at last he came to the tower and opened the door into the little room where Briar-Rose was sleeping. There she lay, so beautiful that he could not take his eyes off her; and he bent down and gave her a kiss.
And as soon as he kissed her, Briar-Rose opened her eyes and woke, and looked at him quite sweetly.
Then they went downstairs together; and the King woke, and the Queen, and the whole court, and they all looked at one another in great astonishment. And the horses in the yard got up and shook themselves; the hounds jumped up and wagged their tails; the pigeons on the roof pulled their heads out from under their wings, looked round and flew off into the open country; the flies on the wall began to crawl again; the fire in the kitchen flared up and flickered and cooked the food; the joint began to turn and sizzle again; and the cook gave the boy such a box on the ear that he yelled, and the maid finished plucking the fowl for the spit.
And then the marriage of the King's son and Briar-Rose was celebrated with all splendour, and they lived contented to the end of their days.
There was once a forester who went into the forest to hunt; and as he came into it he heard a sound of screaming, as if a little child were there. He followed the sound, and at last came to a tall tree, and at the top of it a little child was sitting; for the mother had fallen asleep under the tree with the child, and a bird of prey had seen it in her arms and flown down and snatched it away and set it in the tall tree.
The forester climbed up and brought the child down, and thought to himself, "You'll take him home with you and bring him up with your Lina." So he took it home, and the two children grew up together. The one he had found in a tree was called Fundevogel, because a bird had carried it away. Fundevogel and Lina loved each other so dearly that when they could not see each other they were miserable.
Now the forester had an old cook, who one evening took two pails and began fetching water, and did not go out to the spring once only but many times over.
Lina saw it and said, "Listen, old Sanna, why are you fetching so much water?"
"If you'll never tell anybody, I'll tell you why."
So Lina said, no, she would never tell anybody; and then the cook said, "Early tomorrow morning, when the forester is out hunting, I'll heat the water; and when it's boiling in the kettle I'll throw Fundevogel in and boil him in it."
Early next morning the forester got up and went out hunting, and when he had gone the children were still in bed.
Then Lina said to Fundevogel, "If you'll never leave me, I'll never leave you either."
Fundevogel said, "Neither now nor ever will I leave you."
Then Lina said, "Then I'll tell you. Last night old Sanna carried so many buckets of water into the house that I asked her why she was doing it, and she said that if I'd promise not to tell anybody she'd tell me; and I said I'd be sure not to tell; and she said that early this morning, when father was out hunting, she'd fill the kettle with water and throw you in and boil you. But we'll get up quickly and dress and go away together."
So the two children got up, dressed quickly and went away.
When the water in the kettle was boiling, the cook went into the bedroom to fetch Fundevogel and throw him in. But when she came in and went to the beds, both the children were gone. Then she was terribly alarmed, and said to herself, "What shall I say when the forester comes home and sees the children gone? They must be followed at once and brought back."
So the cook sent three servants after them, who were to run and overtake the children.
The children, though, were sitting outside the forest; and when they saw the three servants running in the distance, Lina said to Fundevogel, "Never leave me, and I'll never leave you."
Fundevogel said, "Neither now nor ever."
Then Lina said, "You become a rose bush, and I'll be the rose on it."
When the three servants came to the forest there was nothing there but a rose bush with one rose on it, and the children were nowhere to be seen.
So they said, "There's nothing to be done here" — and went home and told the cook they had seen nothing in the forest but a little rose bush with one rose on it.
Then the old cook scolded them and said, "You simpletons, you should have cut the rose bush in two and broken off the rose and brought it home with you. Go and do it at once."
So they had to go out and look a second time. But the children saw them coming a long way off.
Then Lina said, "Fundevogel, never leave me, and I'll never leave you."
Fundevogel said, "Neither now nor ever."
Lina said, "Then you become a church, and I'll be the chandelier in it."
So when the three servants came, there was nothing there but a church with a chandelier in it. So they said to one another, "What can we do here? Let's go home."
When they got home the cook asked whether they had found them; and they said no, they had found nothing but a church with a chandelier in it.
And the cook scolded them and said, "You fools! Why didn't you pull the church to pieces and bring the chandelier home with you?"
And now the old cook got on her own legs and went with the three servants in pursuit of the children.
But the children saw from a long way off that the three servants were coming, with the cook waddling after them.
Then Lina said, "Fundevogel, never leave me, and I'll never leave you."
Then Fundevogel said, "Neither now nor ever."
Lina said, "Be a fishpond, and I'll be the duck on it."
The cook came up to them; and when she saw the pond she lay down beside it and was going to drink it dry. But the duck swam up quickly, seized her head in its beak and pulled her into the water; and there the old witch had to drown.
Then the children went home together and were heartily glad; and if they are not dead, they are living still.
A King had a daughter who was beautiful beyond all measure, but so proud and haughty with it that no suitor was good enough for her. She sent them away one after another, and made fun of them into the bargain.
Once the King held a great feast and invited to it, from far and near, all the young men who might marry her. They were drawn up in a row according to their rank and standing: first the kings, then the grand dukes, then the princes, the earls, the barons and the gentry. Then the King's daughter was led along the ranks; but she had some objection to make to every one of them.
One was too fat: "The wine barrel," she said. Another was too tall: "Long and thin has little in." The third was too short: "Short and thick is never quick." The fourth was too pale: "As pale as death." The fifth too red: "A fighting cock." The sixth was not straight enough: "A green log dried behind the stove."
So she had something to say against every one of them; but she made herself especially merry over a good king who stood quite high up in the row, and whose chin had grown a little crooked.
"Well!" she cried, laughing, "he has a chin like a thrush's beak!" And from that time he was called King Thrushbeard.
But the old King, when he saw that his daughter did nothing but mock people and despised all the suitors who had gathered there, was very angry, and swore that she should have for her husband the very first beggar who came to his door.
A few days afterwards a fiddler came and sang under the windows, trying to earn a small alms. When the King heard him he said, "Let him come up."
So the fiddler came in, in his dirty ragged clothes, and sang in front of the King and his daughter; and when he had finished he asked for some small gift.
The King said, "Your song has pleased me so well that I'll give you my daughter there for a wife."
The King's daughter shuddered; but the King said, "I have sworn an oath to give you to the very first beggar man, and I mean to keep it."
Everything she could say was useless. The priest was fetched, and she had to let herself be married to the fiddler on the spot.
When that was done the King said, "Now it isn't proper for you, a beggar woman, to stay any longer in my palace. You can just go off with your husband."
The beggar man led her out by the hand, and she had to walk away on foot with him.
When they came to a great forest she asked, "Who does that beautiful forest belong to?"
"It belongs to King Thrushbeard. If you had taken him, it would have been yours."
"Ah, unhappy girl that I am — if only I had taken King Thrushbeard!"
Afterwards they came to a meadow, and she asked again, "Who does this beautiful green meadow belong to?"
"It belongs to King Thrushbeard. If you had taken him, it would have been yours."
"Ah, unhappy girl that I am — if only I had taken King Thrushbeard!"
Then they came to a large town, and she asked again, "Who does this fine large town belong to?"
"It belongs to King Thrushbeard. If you had taken him, it would have been yours."
"Ah, unhappy girl that I am — if only I had taken King Thrushbeard!"
"It doesn't please me," said the fiddler, "to hear you always wishing for another husband. Am I not good enough for you?"
At last they came to a very small hut, and she said, "Oh, goodness, what a tiny house! Who does this miserable little hovel belong to?"
The fiddler answered, "That is my house and yours, where we shall live together."
She had to stoop to get in at the low door.
"Where are the servants?" said the King's daughter.
"What servants?" answered the beggar man. "You must do for yourself whatever you want done. Just make a fire at once and put water on to cook my supper. I'm quite worn out."
But the King's daughter knew nothing about lighting fires or cooking, and the beggar man had to lend a hand himself to get anything decently done. When they had finished their scanty meal they went to bed; but he made her get up very early in the morning to look after the house.
For a few days they lived like this as well as they could, and came to the end of all their provisions. Then the man said, "Wife, we can't go on eating and drinking here and earning nothing. You shall weave baskets."
He went out, cut some willows and brought them home. Then she began to weave; but the tough willows cut her delicate hands.
"I see that won't do," said the man. "You'd better spin — perhaps you can manage that better."
She sat down and tried to spin; but the hard thread soon cut her soft fingers so that the blood ran down.
"There," said the man, "you're fit for no sort of work. I've made a bad bargain in you. Now I'll try setting up in pots and earthenware. You must sit in the marketplace and sell the ware."
"Alas," she thought, "if any of the people from my father's kingdom come to the market and see me sitting there selling, how they'll mock me!" But it was no use; she had to give in unless she wanted to starve.
The first time it went well, because people were glad to buy the woman's wares since she was good-looking, and paid her what she asked; and many of them even gave her the money and left the pots with her as well.
So they lived on what she had earned as long as it lasted; and then her husband bought a great stock of new crockery. She sat down with it at a corner of the marketplace and set it out round her, ready for sale.
But suddenly a drunken cavalryman came galloping along and rode right in among the pots, so that they were all broken into a thousand pieces. She began to cry, and did not know what to do for fear.
"Oh, what will become of me?" she cried. "What will my husband say to this?"
She ran home and told him of the disaster.
"Who ever heard of sitting at the corner of a marketplace with crockery?" said the man. "Stop crying. I can see perfectly well that you can't do any ordinary work. So I've been to our King's palace and asked whether they can't find a place for a kitchen maid, and they've promised to take you. That way you'll get your food for nothing."
So now the King's daughter was a kitchen maid, and had to be at the cook's beck and call and do the dirtiest work. In both her pockets she fastened a little jar, in which she carried home her share of the leavings; and that was what they lived on.
It happened that the wedding of the King's eldest son was to be celebrated; so the poor woman went up and stood by the door of the hall to watch. And when all the candles were lit, and the people came in, each more splendid than the last, and everything was full of pomp and splendour, she thought of her lot with a heavy heart, and cursed the pride and haughtiness that had humbled her and brought her to such poverty.
The smell of the delicious dishes being carried in and out reached her, and now and then the servants threw her a few scraps of them; and these she put into her jars to take home.
All at once the King's son came in, dressed in velvet and silk, with gold chains round his neck. And when he saw the beautiful woman standing by the door, he took her by the hand and would have danced with her. But she refused and shrank back in terror, because she saw that it was King Thrushbeard, the suitor she had driven away with her scorn.
Her struggling was no use; he drew her into the hall. But the string her pockets were hung by broke, the pots fell down, the soup ran out and the scraps were scattered all over the floor. And when the people saw it, there was general laughter and mockery; and she was so ashamed that she would rather have been a thousand fathoms under the ground.
She sprang to the door and would have run away, but a man caught her on the stairs and brought her back; and when she looked at him it was King Thrushbeard again.
He said to her kindly, "Don't be afraid. I and the fiddler who has been living with you in that wretched hovel are one and the same. For love of you I disguised myself like that; and I was the cavalryman too, who rode through your crockery. All this was done to humble your proud spirit, and to punish you for the insolence with which you mocked me."
Then she wept bitterly and said, "I have done a great wrong, and I am not worthy to be your wife."
But he said, "Be comforted — the bad days are over. Now we'll celebrate our wedding."
Then the maids of honour came and dressed her in the most splendid clothes; and her father came with his whole court and wished her happiness in her marriage with King Thrushbeard; and now the rejoicing began in earnest.
I wish you and I had been there too.
Once upon a time, in the middle of winter, when the snowflakes were falling like feathers from the sky, a queen sat sewing at a window with a frame of black ebony. And while she was sewing and looking out at the snow, she pricked her finger with the needle, and three drops of blood fell on the snow. And the red looked so beautiful on the white snow that she thought to herself, "If only I had a child as white as snow, as red as blood, and as black as the wood of this window frame."
Soon after that she had a little daughter, who was as white as snow and as red as blood, and her hair was as black as ebony; and so she was called Little Snow-White. And when the child was born, the Queen died.
After a year had gone by, the King took another wife. She was a beautiful woman, but proud and haughty, and she could not bear that anybody should be more beautiful than she was. She had a wonderful mirror; and when she stood in front of it and looked at herself and said:
"Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?"
the mirror answered:
"You, my Queen, are the fairest of all."
Then she was satisfied, because she knew the mirror spoke the truth.
But Snow-White was growing up, and growing more and more beautiful; and when she was seven years old she was as beautiful as the day, and more beautiful than the Queen herself. And once, when the Queen asked her mirror:
"Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?"
it answered:
"You are the fairest here, it's true, but Snow-White is fairer far than you."
Then the Queen was appalled, and turned yellow and green with envy. From that hour, whenever she looked at Snow-White her heart heaved in her breast, she hated the girl so much.
And envy and pride grew higher and higher in her heart like a weed, so that she had no peace day or night. She called a huntsman and said, "Take the child away into the forest. I will not have her in my sight any longer. Kill her, and bring me back her heart as proof."
The huntsman obeyed and took her away; but when he had drawn his knife and was about to pierce Snow-White's innocent heart, she began to cry and said, "Ah, dear huntsman, spare my life! I'll run away into the wild forest and never come home again."
And because she was so beautiful, the huntsman took pity on her and said, "Run away, then, you poor child."
"The wild beasts will soon have eaten you," he thought; and yet it was as though a stone had been rolled off his heart, now that he did not have to kill her. And as a young boar came running by just then, he killed it and cut out its heart and took it to the Queen as proof that the child was dead. The cook had to salt it, and the wicked Queen ate it, and thought she had eaten Snow-White's heart.
But now the poor child was all alone in the great forest, and so terrified that she stared at every leaf on every tree and did not know what to do. Then she began to run, and ran over sharp stones and through thorns; and the wild beasts ran past her but did her no harm.
She ran as long as her feet would carry her, until it was nearly evening; and then she saw a little cottage and went in to rest.
Everything in the cottage was small, but neater and cleaner than words can tell. There was a table with a white cloth on it and seven little plates, and on each plate a little spoon; and there were seven little knives and forks and seven little mugs. Against the wall stood seven little beds side by side, covered with snow-white bedspreads.
Little Snow-White was so hungry and thirsty that she ate a little of the vegetables and bread from each plate and drank a drop of wine out of each mug, because she did not want to take everything from one alone. Then, as she was so tired, she lay down on one of the little beds; but none of them suited her — one was too long, another too short — until at last she found that the seventh was just right; and there she stayed, said her prayers and went to sleep.
When it was quite dark the owners of the cottage came home. They were seven dwarfs who dug and delved in the mountains for ore. They lit their seven candles; and as the cottage was light now, they saw that somebody had been there, because not everything was in the order they had left it in.
The first said, "Who has been sitting on my chair?"
The second, "Who has been eating off my plate?"
The third, "Who has been taking some of my bread?"
The fourth, "Who has been eating my vegetables?"
The fifth, "Who has been using my fork?"
The sixth, "Who has been cutting with my knife?"
The seventh, "Who has been drinking out of my mug?"
Then the first looked round and saw that there was a little hollow in his bed, and he said, "Who has been getting into my bed?"
The others came running up and each of them called out, "Somebody has been lying in my bed too."
But when the seventh looked at his bed he saw Little Snow-White lying asleep in it. And he called the others, who came running, and they cried out in astonishment and brought their seven little candles and let the light fall on Little Snow-White.
"Oh, heavens! Oh, heavens!" they cried. "What a lovely child!" And they were so delighted that they did not wake her, but let her sleep on in the bed. And the seventh dwarf slept with his companions, an hour with each, and so got through the night.
When it was morning Little Snow-White woke, and was frightened when she saw the seven dwarfs. But they were friendly, and asked her what her name was.
"My name is Snow-White," she answered.
"How did you come to our house?" said the dwarfs.
Then she told them that her stepmother had wanted to have her killed, but that the huntsman had spared her life, and that she had run the whole day until at last she had found their house.
The dwarfs said, "If you will keep house for us — cook, make the beds, wash, sew and knit, and keep everything neat and clean — you can stay with us, and you shall want for nothing."
"Yes," said Snow-White, "with all my heart." And she stayed with them.
She kept the house in order for them. In the mornings they went off to the mountains to look for copper and gold, and in the evenings they came back, and then their supper had to be ready. The girl was alone all day, so the good dwarfs warned her and said, "Beware of your stepmother. She'll soon know you're here. Be sure you let nobody in."
But the Queen, believing that she had eaten Snow-White's heart, could not help thinking that she was the first and most beautiful of all again; and she went to her mirror and said:
"Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?"
and the mirror answered:
"My Queen, you are the fairest I can see, but over the hills, where the seven dwarfs dwell, Snow-White is still alive and well, and none is so fair as she."
Then she was astounded, because she knew that the mirror never spoke falsely, and she knew that the huntsman had betrayed her and that Little Snow-White was still alive.
And so she thought and thought again how she might kill her; because as long as she was not the fairest in the whole land, envy gave her no rest. And when she had at last thought of something, she painted her face and dressed herself as an old pedlar woman, and nobody could have recognised her.
In this disguise she went over the seven mountains to the seven dwarfs, and knocked at the door and called, "Pretty things to sell, very cheap, very cheap!"
Little Snow-White looked out of the window and called, "Good day, my good woman. What have you to sell?"
"Good things, pretty things," she answered. "Laces of every colour" — and she pulled one out that was woven of bright-coloured silk.
"I can let this worthy old woman in," thought Snow-White; and she unbolted the door and bought the pretty laces.
"Child," said the old woman, "what a sight you look. Come, let me lace you up properly for once."
Snow-White suspected nothing, and stood in front of her and let herself be laced with the new laces. But the old woman laced so fast and so tight that Snow-White lost her breath and fell down as if dead.
"Now I am the most beautiful," said the Queen to herself, and ran away.
Not long afterwards, in the evening, the seven dwarfs came home; and how shocked they were when they saw their dear Little Snow-White lying on the floor, not stirring or moving, and seeming to be dead. They lifted her up; and as they saw that she had been laced too tightly, they cut the laces. Then she began to breathe a little, and after a while came back to life.
When the dwarfs heard what had happened, they said, "That old pedlar woman was nobody but the wicked Queen. Take care, and let nobody in when we're not with you."
But the wicked woman, when she got home, went in front of her mirror and asked:
"Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?"
and it answered as it had before:
"My Queen, you are the fairest I can see, but over the hills, where the seven dwarfs dwell, Snow-White is still alive and well, and none is so fair as she."
When she heard that, all the blood rushed to her heart with fright, because she saw plainly that Little Snow-White was alive again.
"But now," she said, "I'll think of something that will be the end of you." And by the witchcraft she understood she made a poisoned comb. Then she disguised herself and took the shape of a different old woman.
So she went over the seven mountains to the seven dwarfs, knocked at the door and called, "Good things to sell, cheap, cheap!"
Little Snow-White looked out and said, "Go away. I can't let anybody in."
"I suppose you're allowed to look," said the old woman, and pulled out the poisoned comb and held it up.
It pleased the girl so much that she let herself be tempted and opened the door. When they had struck their bargain, the old woman said, "Now let me comb your hair properly for once."
Poor Little Snow-White suspected nothing and let the old woman do as she liked; but hardly had she put the comb in her hair before the poison in it took effect, and the girl fell down senseless.
"You paragon of beauty," said the wicked woman, "you're finished now" — and went away.
But by good luck it was nearly evening, and the seven dwarfs came home. When they saw Snow-White lying on the ground as if dead, they suspected the stepmother at once, and looked, and found the poisoned comb. Hardly had they taken it out before Snow-White came to herself and told them what had happened. Then they warned her once more to be on her guard and to open the door to nobody.
At home the Queen went in front of her mirror and said:
"Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?"
and it answered as it had before:
"My Queen, you are the fairest I can see, but over the hills, where the seven dwarfs dwell, Snow-White is still alive and well, and none is so fair as she."
When she heard the mirror speak like that, she trembled and shook with rage. "Snow-White shall die," she cried, "even if it costs me my own life."
Then she went into a secret, lonely room where nobody ever came, and there she made a very poisonous apple. On the outside it looked beautiful — white with a red cheek — so that anybody who saw it longed for it; but whoever ate a piece of it must die.
When the apple was ready she painted her face and dressed herself up as a countrywoman, and went over the seven mountains to the seven dwarfs. She knocked at the door.
Snow-White put her head out of the window and said, "I can't let anybody in. The seven dwarfs have forbidden it."
"It's all the same to me," said the woman. "I shall soon get rid of my apples. Here — I'll give you one."
"No," said Snow-White, "I daren't take anything."
"Are you afraid of poison?" said the old woman. "Look — I'll cut the apple in two. You eat the red cheek and I'll eat the white."
But the apple had been so cunningly made that only the red cheek was poisoned. Snow-White longed for the beautiful apple; and when she saw the woman eating part of it she could hold out no longer, and put out her hand and took the poisoned half. But hardly had she a bit of it in her mouth before she fell down dead.
Then the Queen looked at her with a dreadful look and laughed aloud and said, "White as snow, red as blood, black as ebony! This time the dwarfs can't wake you."
And when she asked her mirror at home:
"Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?"
it answered at last:
"My Queen, in this land you are the fairest of all."
Then her envious heart had rest — so far as an envious heart can have rest.
When the dwarfs came home in the evening they found Snow-White lying on the ground. She was not breathing, and she was dead. They lifted her up and looked to see whether they could find anything poisonous; they unlaced her, combed her hair, washed her with water and with wine; but it was all no use. The poor child was dead, and stayed dead.
They laid her on a bier, and all seven of them sat round it and wept for her, and wept three whole days.
Then they were going to bury her; but she still looked as if she were living, and still had her pretty red cheeks. They said, "We can't put her into the dark ground" — and they had a transparent coffin of glass made, so that she could be seen from every side, and laid her in it and wrote her name on it in golden letters, and that she was a king's daughter. Then they set the coffin out on the mountain, and one of them always stayed by it and kept watch. And the birds came too and wept for Snow-White: first an owl, then a raven, and last a dove.
And now Snow-White lay a long, long time in the coffin, and she did not change, but looked as if she were asleep; for she was still as white as snow, as red as blood, and her hair as black as ebony.
But it happened that a king's son came into the forest and went to the dwarfs' house to spend the night. He saw the coffin on the mountain, and beautiful Snow-White inside it, and read what was written on it in golden letters.
Then he said to the dwarfs, "Let me have the coffin. I'll give you whatever you want for it."
But the dwarfs answered, "We wouldn't part with it for all the gold in the world."
Then he said, "Then give it to me, because I can't live without seeing Snow-White. I will honour her and prize her as my dearest possession."
As he spoke like that, the good dwarfs took pity on him and gave him the coffin.
And now the King's son had it carried away on his servants' shoulders. And it happened that they stumbled over a tree stump; and with the jolt the poisoned piece of apple that Snow-White had bitten off came out of her throat. And before long she opened her eyes, lifted the lid of the coffin, sat up and was alive again.
"Oh, heavens, where am I?" she cried.
The King's son, full of joy, said, "You are with me" — and told her what had happened, and said, "I love you more than anything in the world. Come with me to my father's palace, and be my wife."
And Snow-White was willing, and went with him; and their wedding was held with great show and splendour.
But Snow-White's wicked stepmother was invited to the feast as well. When she had dressed herself in beautiful clothes she went in front of her mirror and said:
"Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?"
and the mirror answered:
"My Queen, of all here the fairest are you, but the young Queen is fairer by far, that's true."
Then the wicked woman uttered a curse, and was so wretched, so utterly wretched, that she did not know what to do. At first she would not go to the wedding at all; but she had no peace, and had to go and see the young Queen. And when she went in she recognised Snow-White, and stood still with rage and terror and could not stir.
But iron slippers had already been put on the fire; and they were brought in with tongs and set in front of her. Then she was made to put on the red-hot shoes and to dance until she dropped down dead.
There were once three brothers who had fallen deeper and deeper into poverty, until at last things were so bad that they had to go hungry and had nothing to eat or drink.
So they said, "We can't go on like this. We'd better go out into the world and seek our fortune."
So they set out, and had already walked along many a long road and over many a blade of grass, and had not yet met with any luck.
One day they came into a great forest, and in the middle of it was a hill; and when they came nearer they saw that the hill was all silver.
Then the eldest said, "Now I have found the good luck I wanted, and I want nothing more." He took as much of the silver as he could possibly carry, and then turned back and went home.
But the other two said, "We want more from good luck than mere silver" — and did not touch it, but went on.
After they had walked another two days without stopping, they came to a hill that was all gold. The second brother stopped and thought about it and could not decide.
"What shall I do?" he said. "Shall I take enough of this gold to keep me for the rest of my life, or shall I go on?"
At length he made up his mind, and putting as much into his pockets as would go in, said goodbye to his brother and went home.
But the third said, "Silver and gold don't move me. I won't give up my chance of fortune. Perhaps something better still will be given me."
He journeyed on; and when he had walked for three days he got into a forest that was even bigger than the last one, and that seemed never to come to an end; and as he found nothing to eat or drink, he was nearly exhausted.
Then he climbed a tall tree to see whether from up there he could make out the end of the forest; but as far as his eye could reach he saw nothing but treetops. So he began to climb down again; but hunger tormented him, and he thought, "If only I could eat my fill just once more!"
When he got down he saw with astonishment a table under the tree, richly spread with food, and the steam of it rising up to meet him.
"This time," he said, "my wish has been granted at just the right moment." And without asking who had brought the food or who had cooked it, he went up to the table and ate with enjoyment until his hunger was satisfied.
When he had finished he thought, "It would be a pity, after all, if this pretty little tablecloth were to be spoilt out here in the forest" — and he folded it up tidily and put it in his pocket.
Then he went on; and in the evening, when he began to feel hungry again, he wanted to test his little cloth, and spread it out and said, "I want you to be covered with good cheer again." And hardly had the wish crossed his lips before there stood on the table as many dishes of the most exquisite food as there was room for.
"Now I see what kitchen my cooking is done in," he said. "You shall be dearer to me than the mountains of silver and gold." For he saw plainly that it was a wishing-cloth.
But the cloth was still not enough to make him want to settle down quietly at home; he would rather wander about the world and go on after his fortune.
One night, in a lonely wood, he met a dusty black charcoal burner, who was burning charcoal there and had some potatoes by the fire that he was going to make a meal of.
"Good evening, blackbird," said the young man. "How do you get on in your solitude?"
"One day is like another," said the charcoal burner, "and every night potatoes. Have you a mind for some? Will you be my guest?"
"Many thanks," said the traveller, "but I won't rob you of your supper. You weren't expecting a visitor. If you'll put up with what I have, though, you're invited."
"And who's to prepare it for you?" said the charcoal burner. "I can see you have nothing with you, and there isn't a soul within two hours' walk who could give you anything."
"And yet there shall be a meal," said the young man, "and a better one than you've ever tasted."
With that he took his cloth out of his knapsack, spread it on the ground and said, "Little cloth, cover yourself" — and instantly boiled meat and roast meat stood there, as hot as if it had just come out of the kitchen.
The charcoal burner stared, but did not need much pressing; he fell to, and thrust bigger and bigger mouthfuls into his black mouth. When they had eaten everything, the charcoal burner smiled contentedly and said:
"Listen — that tablecloth of yours has my approval. It would be a fine thing for me here in this forest, where nobody ever cooks me anything good. I'll propose an exchange. Over there in the corner hangs a soldier's knapsack. It's certainly old and shabby, but there are wonderful powers hidden in it; and as I don't use it any more, I'll give it to you for the tablecloth."
"I must know first what these wonderful powers are," said the young man.
"That I'll tell you," said the charcoal burner. "Every time you tap it with your hand, a corporal comes with six men armed from head to foot, and they do whatever you command them."
"As far as I'm concerned," said the young man, "if nothing else can be done, we'll exchange." And he gave the charcoal burner the cloth, took the knapsack off its hook, put it on and said goodbye.
When he had walked a while he wanted to test the magic powers of his knapsack, and tapped it. Immediately the seven soldiers stepped up to him, and the corporal said, "What does my lord and master wish for?"
"March as fast as you can to the charcoal burner and demand my wishing-cloth back."
They turned to the left, and it was not long before they brought him what he wanted, having taken it from the charcoal burner without asking many questions.
The young man dismissed them and went on, and hoped fortune would shine on him more brightly still.
At sunset he came to another charcoal burner, who was getting his supper ready by the fire. "If you'll eat some potatoes with salt and no dripping, come and sit down with me," said the sooty fellow.
"No," he answered, "this time you shall be my guest" — and he spread out his cloth, which was instantly covered with the most beautiful dishes.
They ate and drank together and enjoyed themselves heartily. When the meal was over, the charcoal burner said, "Up there on that shelf lies a little old worn-out hat with strange properties. When anybody puts it on and turns it round on his head, the cannons go off as if twelve of them were fired together, and they shoot everything down so that nobody can stand against them. The hat is no use to me, and I'll gladly give it for your tablecloth."
"That suits me very well," he answered; and he took the hat and put it on and left his tablecloth behind him.
Hardly had he walked away, though, before he tapped his knapsack, and his soldiers had to fetch the cloth back again.
"One thing comes on top of another," he thought, "and I feel as if my luck hadn't come to an end yet."
Nor had his thoughts deceived him. After he had walked a whole day more, he came to a third charcoal burner, who invited him, like the others, to potatoes without dripping. But he let this one dine with him from his wishing-cloth too; and the charcoal burner liked it so much that at last he offered him a horn for it, which had quite different properties from the hat. When anybody blew it, all walls and fortifications fell down, and all towns and villages became ruins.
He gave the charcoal burner the cloth for it, sure enough — and afterwards sent his soldiers to demand it back again, so that in the end he had knapsack, hat and horn, all three.
"Now," he said, "I'm a made man; and it's time I went home and saw how my brothers are getting on."
When he reached home, his brothers had built themselves a handsome house with their silver and gold and were living in clover. He went to see them; but as he came in a ragged coat, with his shabby hat on his head and his old knapsack on his back, they would not acknowledge him as their brother.
They mocked him and said, "You give out that you're our brother, who despised silver and gold and wanted something better still for himself. He'll come in his carriage in full splendour like a mighty king, not like a beggar" — and they drove him out of doors.
Then he flew into a rage and tapped his knapsack until a hundred and fifty men stood in front of him, armed from head to foot. He ordered them to surround his brothers' house, and two of them to take hazel sticks with them and beat the two insolent men until they knew who he was.
A violent disturbance broke out; people came running and wanted to help the two in their trouble, but against the soldiers they could do nothing.
News of it reached the King at last, who was very angry and ordered a captain to march out with his troop and drive this disturber of the peace out of the town. But the man with the knapsack soon got a larger body of men together, who beat back the captain and his men, so that they had to retreat with bloody noses.
The King said, "This vagabond isn't brought to order yet" — and next day sent a still larger force against him; but they could do even less. The young man set still more men against them; and to have done with it sooner, he turned his hat twice round on his head, and the heavy guns began to play, and the King's men were beaten and put to flight.
"And now," he said, "I won't make peace until the King gives me his daughter for a wife and I govern the whole kingdom in his name."
He had this announced to the King; and the King said to his daughter, "Necessity is a hard nut to crack. What is there left for me but to do what he wants? If I want peace, and to keep the crown on my head, I must give you away."
So the wedding was celebrated; but the King's daughter was vexed that her husband should be a common man who wore a shabby hat and carried an old knapsack. She badly wanted to be rid of him, and thought day and night how she might manage it.
Then she thought to herself, "Is it possible that his wonderful powers lie in that knapsack?" And she dissembled and made much of him; and when his heart was softened she said, "If you would only put that ugly knapsack aside — it disfigures you so that I can't help being ashamed of you."
"Dear child," he said, "this knapsack is my greatest treasure. As long as I have it there's no power on earth I'm afraid of." And he told her what wonderful virtue it had.
Then she threw herself into his arms as if she were going to kiss him, and deftly slipped the knapsack off his shoulders and ran away with it. As soon as she was alone she tapped it and ordered the soldiers to seize their former master and take him out of the royal palace. They obeyed; and the false wife sent still more men after him to drive him right out of the country.
And then he would have been ruined, if he had not had the little hat. But his hands were hardly free before he turned it twice. Immediately the cannon began to thunder and struck everything down; and the King's daughter herself had to come and beg for mercy. And as she pleaded in such moving terms and promised to do better, he let himself be persuaded and granted her peace.
She behaved in a friendly way to him and acted as if she loved him dearly; and after some time she managed to fool him so far that he confided to her that even if somebody got the knapsack into his power, they could do nothing against him as long as the old hat was still his.
When she knew the secret she waited until he was asleep, and then took the hat away from him and had it thrown out into the street.
But the horn was still left to him; and in great anger he blew it with all his strength. Instantly all the walls, fortifications, towns and villages toppled down and crushed the King and his daughter to death. And if he had not put the horn down, and had blown just a little longer, everything would have been in ruins and not one stone left standing on another.
After that nobody opposed him any longer, and he made himself King of the whole country.
Once there was a miller who was poor, but who had a beautiful daughter. Now it happened that he had to go and speak to the King; and in order to make himself seem important he said to him, "I have a daughter who can spin straw into gold."
The King said to the miller, "That is an art that pleases me well. If your daughter is as clever as you say, bring her to my palace tomorrow and I'll see what she can do."
And when the girl was brought to him, he took her into a room that was quite full of straw, gave her a spinning wheel and a reel, and said, "Now set to work; and if by early tomorrow morning you haven't spun this straw into gold during the night, you must die." Then he locked the room himself and left her in it alone.
So there sat the poor miller's daughter, and for the life of her she could not think what to do. She had no idea how straw could be spun into gold, and she grew more and more miserable, until at last she began to cry.
But all at once the door opened, and in came a little man, and said, "Good evening, Mistress Miller. Why are you crying so?"
"Alas," said the girl, "I have to spin straw into gold, and I don't know how to do it."
"What will you give me," said the little man, "if I do it for you?"
"My necklace," said the girl.
The little man took the necklace, sat down in front of the wheel, and whirr, whirr, whirr — three turns, and the reel was full. Then he put another one on, and whirr, whirr, whirr — three times round, and the second was full too. And so it went on until the morning, when all the straw was spun and all the reels were full of gold.
At daybreak the King was there already; and when he saw the gold he was astonished and delighted, but his heart only grew greedier. He had the miller's daughter taken into another room full of straw, much larger than the first, and ordered her to spin that too in one night, if she valued her life.
The girl did not know what to do, and was crying, when the door opened again and the little man appeared and said, "What will you give me if I spin that straw into gold for you?"
"The ring on my finger," said the girl.
The little man took the ring, began to turn the wheel again, and by morning had spun all the straw into glittering gold.
The King was overjoyed at the sight, but still he had not gold enough; and he had the miller's daughter taken into a still larger room full of straw, and said, "You must spin this too in the course of this night; and if you succeed, you shall be my wife."
"Even if she is a miller's daughter," he thought, "I couldn't find a richer wife in the whole world."
When the girl was alone the little man came for the third time and said, "What will you give me if I spin the straw for you this time as well?"
"I have nothing left that I could give," said the girl.
"Then promise me your first child, if you become Queen."
"Who knows whether that will ever happen?" thought the miller's daughter; and, not knowing what else to do in her difficulty, she promised the little man what he asked; and for that he once more spun the straw into gold.
And when the King came in the morning and found everything as he had wished, he married her, and the pretty miller's daughter became a Queen.
A year later she had a beautiful child, and never gave the little man a thought. But suddenly he came into her room and said, "Now give me what you promised."
The Queen was horror-struck, and offered the little man all the riches of the kingdom if he would leave her the child. But the little man said, "No. Something living is dearer to me than all the treasures in the world."
Then the Queen began to weep and lament, so that the little man took pity on her. "I'll give you three days," he said. "If in that time you find out my name, you shall keep your child."
So the Queen lay awake the whole night thinking of all the names she had ever heard, and she sent a messenger about the country to enquire far and wide for any other names there might be.
When the little man came the next day, she began with Caspar, Melchior, Balthazar, and said all the names she knew, one after another; but to every one of them the little man said, "That is not my name."
On the second day she had enquiries made in the neighbourhood about the names of the people there, and repeated the most uncommon and curious ones to the little man. "Perhaps your name is Shortribs, or Sheepshanks, or Laceleg?" But he always answered, "That is not my name."
On the third day the messenger came back and said, "I haven't been able to find a single new name; but as I came to a high mountain at the end of the forest, where the fox and the hare say good night to each other, I saw a little house; and in front of the house a fire was burning; and round the fire a quite ridiculous little man was jumping, hopping on one leg and shouting:
'Today I bake, tomorrow I brew, and then the young Queen's child I'll claim. How glad I am that nobody knew that Rumpelstiltskin is my name!'"
You can imagine how glad the Queen was when she heard that name.
And when soon afterwards the little man came in and asked, "Now, Mistress Queen, what is my name?" — at first she said, "Is your name Conrad?"
"No."
"Is your name Harry?"
"No."
"Perhaps your name is Rumpelstiltskin?"
"The devil told you that! The devil told you that!" cried the little man; and in his rage he drove his right foot so deep into the earth that his whole leg went in; and then in his fury he pulled at his left leg so hard with both hands that he tore himself in two.
There was once a woman who was a real witch, and she had two daughters: one ugly and wicked, and this one she loved because she was her own daughter; and one beautiful and good, and this one she hated, because she was her stepdaughter.
The stepdaughter once had a pretty apron, which the other took such a fancy to that she grew envious, and told her mother she must and would have that apron.
"Be quiet, my child," said the old woman, "and you shall have it. Your stepsister has long deserved to die. Tonight, when she's asleep, I'll come and cut her head off. Only be careful to lie on the far side of the bed, and push her well to the front."
It would have been all over with the poor girl if she had not happened to be standing in a corner just then and heard the whole thing. All day long she did not dare go out of doors; and when bedtime came, the witch's daughter got into bed first so as to lie on the far side. But when she was asleep, the other pushed her gently to the front and took the place at the back for herself, close against the wall.
In the night the old woman came creeping in. She had an axe in her right hand, and felt with her left to see whether anybody was lying at the outside; and then she gripped the axe in both hands and cut her own child's head off.
When she had gone away, the girl got up and went to her sweetheart, who was called Roland, and knocked at his door. When he came out she said to him, "Listen, dearest Roland, we must run for it at once. My stepmother meant to kill me, and she has struck down her own child. When daylight comes and she sees what she has done, we shall be lost."
"But," said Roland, "I advise you to take her magic wand away first, or we can't escape if she comes after us."
The girl fetched the magic wand; and she took the dead girl's head and let three drops of blood fall on the floor: one in front of the bed, one in the kitchen and one on the stairs. Then she hurried away with her sweetheart.
When the old witch got up next morning she called her daughter and was going to give her the apron; but she did not come.
Then the witch cried, "Where are you?"
"Here on the stairs — I'm sweeping," answered the first drop of blood.
The old woman went out, but saw nobody on the stairs, and called again, "Where are you?"
"Here in the kitchen — I'm warming myself," called the second drop of blood.
She went into the kitchen and found nobody. So she called again, "Where are you?"
"Ah, here in bed — I'm asleep," called the third drop of blood.
She went into the room, to the bed. And what did she see there? Her own child, whose head she had cut off, lying in her own blood.
The witch flew into a fury, sprang to the window; and as she could see a long way out into the world, she caught sight of her stepdaughter hurrying off with her sweetheart Roland.
"That won't help you," she cried. "Even if you've got a long way off, you still shan't escape me."
She put on her seven-league boots, which covered an hour's walk at every stride, and it was not long before she overtook them. But the girl, when she saw the old woman striding towards her, changed her sweetheart Roland with the magic wand into a lake, and herself into a duck swimming in the middle of it.
The witch stood on the bank and threw breadcrumbs in and took every possible pains to lure the duck over; but the duck would not be lured, and the old woman had to go home at night as she had come.
At that the girl and her sweetheart Roland took their own shapes again, and they walked on the whole night until daybreak. Then the girl changed herself into a beautiful flower standing in the middle of a briar hedge, and her sweetheart Roland into a fiddler.
It was not long before the witch came striding up to them, and said to the musician, "Dear musician, may I pick that beautiful flower for myself?"
"Oh, yes," he answered. "I'll play to you while you do it."
And as she was hurriedly creeping into the hedge and was just about to pick the flower — for she knew perfectly well who the flower was — he began to play; and whether she wanted to or not, she had to dance, because it was a magic dance. The faster he played, the more violent leaps she had to make; and the thorns tore the clothes off her body and pricked her and wounded her till she bled. And as he did not stop, she had to dance until she lay dead on the ground.
When they were free of her, Roland said, "Now I'll go to my father and arrange the wedding."
"Then in the meantime I'll stay here and wait for you," said the girl. "And so that nobody recognises me, I'll change myself into a red stone boundary marker."
So Roland went away, and the girl stood like a red boundary stone in the field and waited for her beloved.
But when Roland got home he fell into the snares of another woman, who so prevailed on him that he forgot the girl. The poor girl stayed there a long time; but at last, as he did not come back at all, she grew sad and changed herself into a flower, and thought, "Somebody is bound to come this way and trample me down."
It happened, though, that a shepherd was pasturing his sheep in the field and saw the flower; and as it was so pretty he picked it and took it home with him and put it away in his chest.
From that time on, strange things happened in the shepherd's house. When he got up in the morning, all the work was already done: the room was swept, the table and the benches cleaned, the fire lit on the hearth and the water fetched. And at noon, when he came home, the table was laid and a good dinner served. He could not imagine how it came about, because he never saw another human being in his house and nobody could have hidden in it.
He was pleased enough with such good service; but at last he was so uneasy that he went to a wise woman and asked her advice.
The wise woman said, "There is some enchantment behind it. Listen very early one morning to hear whether anything is moving in the room; and if you see anything — whatever it may be — throw a white cloth over it, and then the magic will be stopped."
The shepherd did as she told him; and next morning, just as day was breaking, he saw the chest open and the flower come out. He sprang towards it quickly and threw a white cloth over it. Instantly the transformation came to an end, and a beautiful girl stood in front of him, who admitted to him that she had been the flower and had been keeping house for him all this time.
She told him her story; and as she pleased him, he asked her whether she would marry him. But she answered no, because she wanted to stay faithful to her sweetheart Roland, even though he had deserted her. All the same she promised not to go away, but to go on keeping house for the shepherd.
And now the time drew near for Roland's wedding to be celebrated; and, by an old custom of that country, it was announced that all the girls were to be present at it and sing in honour of the bridal pair. When the faithful girl heard of it she grew so sad that she thought her heart would break, and she would not go; but the other girls came and fetched her.
When it came to her turn to sing, she kept stepping back, until at last she was the only one left, and then she could not refuse. But when she began her song, and it reached Roland's ears, he sprang up and cried, "I know that voice! That is the true bride, and I'll have no other!"
Everything he had forgotten, everything that had gone out of his mind, had all at once come home to his heart again.
So the faithful girl held her wedding with her sweetheart Roland; and grief came to an end and joy began.
In the old days there was a king who had behind his palace a beautiful pleasure garden, and in it a tree that bore golden apples. When the apples were getting ripe they were counted; but on the very next morning one was missing. This was reported to the King, and he ordered a watch to be kept under the tree every night.
The King had three sons, and he sent the eldest into the garden as soon as night came on; but at midnight he could not keep himself from falling asleep, and next morning another apple was gone.
The following night the second son had to keep watch, and it went no better with him: as soon as twelve had struck he fell asleep, and in the morning an apple was gone.
Now it came to the third son's turn to watch. He was quite ready to do it, but the King had not much faith in him, and thought he would be of even less use than his brothers; but at last he let him go.
The young man lay down under the tree, but kept awake and did not let sleep get the better of him. When it struck twelve, something rustled through the air, and in the moonlight he saw a bird coming whose feathers were all shining with gold. The bird settled in the tree and had just plucked off an apple when the young man shot an arrow at it. The bird flew off, but the arrow had struck its plumage, and one of its golden feathers fell down.
The young man picked it up, and next morning took it to the King and told him what he had seen in the night. The King called his council together, and every one of them declared that a feather like this was worth more than the whole kingdom.
"If the feather is so precious," said the King, "one alone will not do for me. I must and will have the whole bird."
The eldest son set out. He trusted to his cleverness and thought he would easily find the Golden Bird. When he had gone some distance he saw a fox sitting at the edge of a wood, so he cocked his gun and took aim at him.
The fox cried, "Don't shoot me, and in return I'll give you some good advice. You are on your way to the Golden Bird; and this evening you'll come to a village where there are two inns opposite one another. One of them is brightly lit and everything goes on merrily inside; but don't go into that one. Go into the other, even though it looks a poor place."
"How can a silly animal give sensible advice?" thought the King's son, and pulled the trigger. But he missed the fox, who stretched out his tail and ran quickly into the wood.
So he went on his way, and by evening came to the village with the two inns. In one of them there was singing and dancing; the other looked poor and miserable.
"I should be a fool indeed," he thought, "if I went into the shabby tavern and passed by the good one." So he went into the cheerful one, and lived there in riot and revelry, and forgot the bird and his father and all good advice.
When some time had passed, and month after month went by and the eldest son did not come home, the second set out, meaning to find the Golden Bird. The fox met him as he had met the eldest, and gave him the good advice that he paid no attention to. He came to the two inns; and his brother was standing at the window of the one the music came from and called out to him. He could not resist, but went in and lived for nothing but pleasure.
Again some time passed, and then the King's youngest son wanted to set out and try his luck; but his father would not allow it.
"It's no use," he said. "He'll find the Golden Bird even less than his brothers did; and if some mishap befell him he wouldn't know how to help himself. He's a little wanting at the best of times."
But at last, as he got no peace, he let him go.
Again the fox was sitting outside the wood, and begged for his life and offered his good advice. The young man was good-natured, and said, "Don't worry, little fox, I won't do you any harm."
"You shan't be sorry for it," said the fox. "And so that you get along faster, climb up behind on my tail."
And hardly had he seated himself before the fox began to run, and away he went over stock and stone until his hair whistled in the wind.
When they came to the village the young man got off. He followed the good advice, and without looking round turned into the little inn, where he spent the night quietly.
The next morning, as soon as he got out into open country, there sat the fox already, and said, "I'll tell you what else you have to do. Go straight on, and at last you'll come to a castle, with a whole regiment of soldiers lying in front of it; but don't trouble yourself about them, because they'll all be asleep and snoring. Go straight through the middle of them into the castle, and go through all the rooms, until at last you come to a chamber where a golden bird is hanging in a wooden cage. Close by there stands an empty gold cage for show; but beware of taking the bird out of the common cage and putting it into the fine one, or it may go badly with you."
With these words the fox stretched out his tail again, and the King's son sat on it, and away he went over stock and stone until his hair whistled in the wind.
When he came to the castle he found everything as the fox had said. The King's son went into the chamber where the Golden Bird was shut in a wooden cage, with a golden one standing close by; and the three golden apples were lying about the room.
"But," he thought, "it would be absurd to leave the beautiful bird in the common ugly cage" — so he opened the door, took hold of it and put it into the golden cage.
But at that same moment the bird let out a shrill cry. The soldiers woke, rushed in and carried him off to prison. Next morning he was brought before a court of justice; and as he confessed everything, he was sentenced to death.
The King said, though, that he would grant him his life on one condition: if he brought him the Golden Horse, which ran faster than the wind. And in that case he should have the Golden Bird as well, over and above, as a reward.
The King's son set off, but he sighed and was full of sorrow, for how was he to find the Golden Horse? And then all at once he saw his old friend the fox sitting by the road.
"You see," said the fox, "this has happened because you didn't listen to me. Still, take heart. I'll help you and tell you how to get to the Golden Horse. You must go straight on, and you'll come to a castle where the horse is standing in the stable. The grooms will be lying in front of the stable, but they'll be asleep and snoring, and you can quietly lead the Golden Horse out. But one thing you must be careful of: put the common saddle of wood and leather on him, and not the golden one hanging close by, or it will go badly with you."
Then the fox stretched out his tail, the King's son sat on it, and away he went over stock and stone until his hair whistled in the wind.
Everything happened just as the fox had said. The prince came to the stable where the Golden Horse was standing; but just as he was going to put the common saddle on him he thought, "It will be a shame to such a beautiful animal if I don't give him the good saddle that belongs to him by right."
But hardly had the golden saddle touched the horse before he began to neigh loudly. The grooms woke, seized the young man and threw him into prison. Next morning he was sentenced to death by the court; but the King promised to grant him his life, and the Golden Horse as well, if he could bring back the beautiful princess from the Golden Castle.
With a heavy heart the young man set out; but luckily for him he soon found the trusty fox.
"I ought to leave you to your bad luck," said the fox, "but I'm sorry for you, and I'll help you out of your trouble once more. This road takes you straight to the Golden Castle; you'll reach it by evening. And at night, when everything is quiet, the beautiful princess goes to the bath-house to bathe. When she goes in, run up to her and give her a kiss, and then she'll follow you and you can take her away with you. Only don't let her go and say goodbye to her parents first, or it will go badly with you."
Then the fox stretched out his tail, the King's son sat on it, and away the fox went over stock and stone until his hair whistled in the wind.
When he reached the Golden Castle it was just as the fox had said. He waited until midnight, when everything lay in deep sleep and the beautiful princess was going to the bath-house. Then he sprang out and gave her a kiss.
She said she would gladly go with him, but she begged him piteously, with tears, to let her say goodbye to her parents first. At first he stood out against her pleading; but when she wept more and more and fell at his feet, he gave in at last.
But no sooner had the girl reached her father's bedside than he and everybody else in the castle woke, and the young man was seized and put into prison.
Next morning the King said to him, "Your life is forfeit; and you can only find mercy if you take away the hill that stands in front of my windows and stops me seeing beyond it. And you must get it all done within eight days. If you do that, you shall have my daughter as your reward."
The King's son began, and dug and shovelled without stopping; but when after seven days he saw how little he had done, and how all his work was as good as nothing, he fell into great sorrow and gave up all hope.
But on the evening of the seventh day the fox appeared and said, "You don't deserve that I should take any trouble over you. But just go away and lie down to sleep, and I'll do the work for you."
Next morning, when he woke and looked out of the window, the hill was gone. The young man ran to the King, full of joy, and told him the task was done; and whether he liked it or not, the King had to keep his word and give him his daughter.
So the two of them set out together, and it was not long before the trusty fox came up with them.
"You've certainly got the best of it," he said, "but the Golden Horse belongs to the maiden of the Golden Castle as well."
"How am I to get it?" asked the young man.
"I'll tell you," said the fox. "First take the beautiful girl to the King who sent you to the Golden Castle. There'll be unheard-of rejoicing; they'll gladly give you the Golden Horse and bring it out to you. Mount it as quickly as you can, and offer your hand to everybody in farewell — last of all to the beautiful girl. And as soon as you have taken her hand, swing her up onto the horse and gallop away; and nobody will be able to bring you back, because the horse runs faster than the wind."
It was all carried out successfully, and the King's son carried off the beautiful princess on the Golden Horse.
The fox did not stay behind, and said to the young man, "Now I'll help you get the Golden Bird. When you come near the castle where the Golden Bird is, let the girl get down, and I'll take care of her. Then ride into the castle yard with the Golden Horse. There'll be great rejoicing at the sight of it, and they'll bring the Golden Bird out to you. As soon as you have the cage in your hand, gallop back to us and take the girl up again."
When the plan had succeeded, and the King's son was about to ride home with his treasures, the fox said, "Now you shall reward me for my help."
"What do you want for it?" asked the young man.
"When you get into that wood over there, shoot me dead and chop off my head and my feet."
"That would be fine gratitude," said the King's son. "I couldn't possibly do that for you."
The fox said, "If you won't do it, I must leave you. But before I go I'll give you a piece of good advice. Be careful about two things. Buy no gallows-flesh, and don't sit on the edge of any well." And then he ran off into the wood.
The young man thought, "That's a strange animal, with strange whims. Who is ever going to buy gallows-flesh? And as for a desire to sit on the edge of a well, that has never come over me yet."
He rode on with the beautiful girl, and his road took him again through the village where his two brothers had stayed. There was a great stir and noise there; and when he asked what was going on, he was told that two men were to be hanged. As he came nearer to the place he saw that they were his brothers, who had been playing all kinds of wicked tricks and had squandered everything they had.
He asked whether they could not be set free.
"If you'll pay for them," the people said. "But why should you waste your money on wicked men and buy them their freedom?"
He did not think twice about it, but paid for them; and when they had been set free they all went on their way together.
They came to the wood where the fox had first met them; and as it was cool and pleasant in it, the two brothers said, "Let's rest a little by this well, and eat and drink."
He agreed; and while they were talking he forgot himself and sat down on the edge of the well, thinking no harm. But the two brothers threw him backwards into it, and took the girl, the horse and the bird, and went home to their father.
"Here we bring you not only the Golden Bird," they said. "We've won the Golden Horse as well, and the maiden from the Golden Castle."
Then there was great joy — but the horse would not eat, the bird would not sing, and the girl sat and wept.
But the youngest brother was not dead. By good fortune the well was dry, and he fell on soft moss without being hurt; but he could not get out again. Even in this extremity the faithful fox did not desert him: he came and leapt down to him and scolded him for forgetting his advice.
"But I can't leave it at that," he said. "I'll help you up into the daylight again." He told him to take hold of his tail and keep tight hold of it; and then he pulled him up.
"You're not out of all danger yet," said the fox. "Your brothers weren't certain you were dead, and they've surrounded the wood with watchers who are to kill you if you show yourself."
But there was a poor man sitting by the road, and the young man changed clothes with him, and in this way got to the King's palace.
Nobody knew him; but the bird began to sing, the horse began to eat, and the beautiful girl left off weeping.
The King, astonished, asked, "What does this mean?"
Then the girl said, "I don't know; but I have been so sorrowful, and now I'm so happy. I feel as if my true bridegroom had come." And she told him everything that had happened, although the other brothers had threatened her with death if she betrayed anything.
The King ordered everybody in his castle to be brought before him; and among them came the young man in his ragged clothes. But the girl knew him at once and fell on his neck. The wicked brothers were seized and put to death; but he was married to the beautiful girl and declared the King's heir.
But how did it go with the poor fox? Long afterwards the King's son was walking in the wood once again, when the fox met him and said, "You have everything now that you could wish for; but there's never an end to my misery, and it's in your power to set me free." And again he begged him, with tears, to shoot him dead and chop off his head and his feet.
So he did it; and hardly was it done before the fox was changed into a man, and was none other than the brother of the beautiful princess, freed at last from the spell that had been laid on him.
And now nothing more was wanting to their happiness as long as they lived.
A sheepdog had a bad master — one who let him go hungry. As he could stay with him no longer, he went sadly away.
On the road he met a sparrow, who said, "Brother dog, why are you so sad?"
The dog answered, "I'm hungry, and I have nothing to eat."
Then the sparrow said, "Dear brother, come into the town with me and I'll satisfy your hunger."
So they went into the town together; and when they came in front of a butcher's shop the sparrow said to the dog, "Wait there and I'll peck a bit of meat down for you." And he settled on the stall, looked about him to see that nobody was watching, and pecked and pulled and tore so long at a piece lying on the edge that it slipped down. Then the dog grabbed it, ran into a corner and ate it.
The sparrow said, "Now come with me to another shop, and I'll get you one more piece, so that you have enough."
When the dog had eaten the second piece as well, the sparrow asked, "Brother dog, have you had enough now?"
"Yes, I've had enough meat," he answered, "but I've had no bread yet."
Said the sparrow, "You shall have that too. Come with me."
Then he took him to a baker's shop and pecked at a couple of little rolls until they rolled down; and as the dog wanted still more, he led him to another stall and got him bread again. When that was eaten, the sparrow said, "Brother dog, have you had enough now?"
"Yes," he said. "Now let's walk a while outside the town."
So they both went out onto the highway. But it was warm weather; and when they had gone a little way the dog said, "I'm tired, and I'd like to sleep."
"Well, sleep, then," said the sparrow, "and in the meantime I'll perch on a branch."
So the dog lay down on the road and fell fast asleep.
While he lay sleeping there, a carter came driving by with a cart and three horses, loaded with two barrels of wine. The sparrow saw that he was not going to turn aside but was keeping to the wheel rut the dog was lying in, so he cried, "Carter, don't do it, or I'll make you poor."
But the carter growled to himself, "You won't make me poor" — and cracked his whip and drove the cart over the dog, and the wheels killed him.
Then the sparrow cried, "You've run over my brother dog and killed him. It shall cost you your cart and horses."
"Cart and horses indeed!" said the carter. "What harm can you do me?" — and drove on.
Then the sparrow crept under the cover of the cart and pecked so long at one of the bungholes that he got the bung out; and all the wine ran out without the driver noticing. But once, when he happened to look behind him, he saw the cart dripping, and looked at the barrels and saw that one of them was empty.
"Unlucky man that I am," he cried.
"Not unlucky enough yet," said the sparrow, and flew onto the head of one of the horses and pecked its eyes out.
When the driver saw that, he pulled out his axe and tried to hit the sparrow; but the sparrow flew up into the air, and he hit his horse on the head, and it fell down dead.
"Oh, what an unlucky man I am," he cried.
"Not unlucky enough yet," said the sparrow. And when the driver drove on with the two horses, the sparrow crept under the cover again and pecked the bung out of the second cask, so that all that wine was spilt too.
When the driver realised it, he cried again, "Oh, what an unlucky man I am!"
But the sparrow answered, "Not unlucky enough yet" — and settled on the second horse's head and pecked its eyes out. The driver ran up and raised his axe to strike; but the sparrow flew into the air, and the blow struck the horse, which fell.
"Oh, what an unlucky man I am!"
"Not unlucky enough yet," said the sparrow, and settled on the third horse's head and pecked out its eyes. The driver, in his rage, struck at the sparrow without looking, and missed him and killed his third horse as well.
"Oh, what an unlucky man I am," he cried.
"Not unlucky enough yet," answered the sparrow. "Now I'll make you unlucky at home" — and flew away.
The driver had to leave the wagon standing, and went home full of anger and vexation.
"Ah," he said to his wife, "what misfortunes I've had! My wine has run out, and all three horses are dead."
"Alas, husband," she answered, "what a spiteful bird has got into the house! It has gathered together every bird there is in the world, and they've got at our corn up there and are eating it."
He went upstairs, and there were thousands and thousands of birds sitting in the loft, and they had eaten all the corn, and the sparrow was sitting in the middle of them.
Then the driver cried, "Oh, what an unlucky man I am!"
"Not unlucky enough yet," answered the sparrow. "Carter, it shall cost you your life as well" — and flew out.
So now the carter had lost all his property. He went downstairs into the room, sat down behind the stove and was in a furious, bitter temper.
But the sparrow sat outside in front of the window and cried, "Carter, it shall cost you your life."
Then the carter snatched up the axe and threw it at the sparrow; but it only broke the window and did not hit the bird.
The sparrow now hopped inside, perched on the stove and cried, "Carter, it shall cost you your life."
The man, quite mad and blind with rage, smashed the stove in two; and as the sparrow flew from one place to another, so it went with all his household furniture — mirror, benches, table, and at last the walls of his house — and still he could not hit the bird.
At length, though, he caught it in his hand.
Then his wife said, "Shall I kill it?"
"No," he cried, "that would be too merciful. It shall die much more cruelly" — and he took it and swallowed it whole.
But the sparrow began to flutter about inside him, and fluttered up again into the man's mouth; and then it stuck its head out and cried, "Carter, it shall still cost you your life."
The driver handed the axe to his wife and said, "Wife, kill the bird in my mouth for me."
The woman struck, and missed her blow, and hit the carter right on the head, so that he fell down dead.
But the sparrow flew up and away.
There was once a man called Frederick and a woman called Catherine, who had married each other and were living together as a young married couple.
One day Frederick said, "I'm going out to plough now, Catherine. When I come back there must be some roast meat on the table for my hunger and a fresh drink for my thirst."
"Off you go, Frederick," said Kate. "Off you go, I'll have it all ready for you."
So when dinner time drew near she got a sausage down out of the chimney, put it in the frying pan with some butter and set it on the fire. The sausage began to fry and hiss; Catherine stood beside it holding the handle of the pan, and had her own thoughts while she did it.
Then it occurred to her, "While the sausage is cooking you could go down to the cellar and draw the beer." So she set the frying pan safely on the fire, took a can and went down into the cellar to draw the beer.
The beer ran into the can and Kate watched it; and then she thought, "Oh dear! The dog upstairs isn't shut up — it might get the sausage out of the pan. Well thought of."
And in a trice she was up the cellar steps again; but the dog already had the sausage in his mouth and was dragging it away along the ground.
But Catherine, who was not idle, set off after him and chased him a long way into the field. The dog, though, was faster than Catherine and did not let the sausage travel easily, but went skipping over the furrows with it.
"What's gone is gone," said Kate, and turned round; and as she had run herself weary, she walked back quietly and comfortably and cooled herself down.
All this time the beer was still running out of the cask, because Kate had not turned the tap off. And when the can was full and there was nowhere else for it to go, it ran out over the cellar floor and did not stop until the whole cask was empty.
As soon as Kate was on the steps she saw the disaster. "Good gracious!" she cried. "What shall I do now to stop Frederick finding out?"
She thought for a while, and at last remembered that up in the garret there was still a sack of the finest wheat flour from the last fair; she would fetch that down and scatter it over the beer.
"Yes," she said, "whoever saves a thing when he ought has it afterwards when he needs it." And she climbed up to the garret and carried the sack down and threw it straight down onto the can of beer, which she knocked over, so that Frederick's drink was swimming in the cellar too.
"It's all right," said Kate. "Where the one is, the other ought to be as well." And she scattered the flour all over the cellar.
When it was done she was heartily delighted with her work, and said, "How clean and wholesome it does look down here!"
At midday Frederick came home. "Now, wife, what have you got ready for me?"
"Ah, Freddy," she answered, "I was frying a sausage for you; but while I was drawing the beer to go with it, the dog took it out of the pan; and while I was running after the dog, all the beer ran out; and while I was drying up the beer with the flour, I knocked the can over as well. But don't fret — the cellar is quite dry again."
Said Frederick, "Kate, Kate, you shouldn't have done that! To let the sausage be carried off, and the beer run out of the cask, and throw away all our flour into the bargain!"
"Really, Frederick, I didn't know. You should have told me."
The man thought, "If my wife is like this, I shall have to look after things more."
Now he had got together a good number of thalers, which he changed into gold; and he said to Catherine, "Look, these are counters for playing games. I'll put them in a pot and bury them in the stable under the cow's manger. But mind you keep away from them, or it will be the worse for you."
"Oh, no, Frederick," she said, "I certainly won't go near them."
And when Frederick had gone, some pedlars came into the village with cheap earthenware bowls and pots, and asked the young woman whether there was nothing she wanted to bargain for.
"Oh, my dear people," said Catherine, "I've no money and can't buy anything. But if you have any use for yellow counters, I'll buy from you."
"Yellow counters? Why not? But let's have a look at them."
"Then go into the stable and dig under the cow's manger, and you'll find the yellow counters. I'm not allowed to go there."
The rogues went off, dug, and found pure gold. Then they took hold of it and ran away, and left their pots and bowls behind in the house.
Catherine thought she had better make use of her new things; and as she had no shortage in the kitchen without them, she knocked the bottom out of every pot and set them all as ornaments on the fence that ran round the house.
When Frederick came and saw the new decorations, he said, "Catherine, what have you been up to?"
"I bought them, Frederick, with the counters that were under the cow's manger. I didn't go there myself — the pedlars had to dig them out for themselves."
"Ah, wife," said Frederick, "what have you done? Those weren't counters, they were pure gold, and all we had in the world. You shouldn't have done that."
"Really, Frederick," she said, "I didn't know. You should have warned me."
Catherine stood a while and thought to herself; then she said, "Listen, Frederick, we'll soon get the gold back. We'll run after the thieves."
"Come on then," said Frederick, "we'll try it. But bring some butter and cheese with you so that we have something to eat on the way."
"Yes, Frederick, I'll bring them."
They set out; and as Frederick was the better walker, Catherine followed behind. "It's to my advantage," she thought. "When we turn back I'll be a little way ahead."
Then she came to a hill with deep ruts on both sides of the road. "There, you can see," said Catherine, "how they've torn and skinned and galled the poor earth. It'll never be whole again as long as it lives." And out of the compassion of her heart she took her butter and smeared the ruts to right and left, so that they should not be so hurt by the wheels.
And as she was bending down in her charity like this, one of the cheeses rolled out of her pocket and away down the hill.
Said Catherine, "I've made my way up here once; I'm not going down again. Somebody else can run and fetch it back." So she took another cheese and rolled it down after it.
But the cheeses did not come back; so she let a third one run down, thinking, "Perhaps they're waiting for company and don't like to walk alone."
And as all three stayed away, she said, "I don't know what that can mean. Perhaps the third one didn't find the way and has gone wrong. I'll just send a fourth to call them."
But the fourth did no better than the third. Then Catherine got angry, and threw down the fifth and the sixth as well, and those were her last.
She stood for some time watching for them to come; but when they still did not come, she said, "Oh, you're fine ones to send to fetch death! You stay away a good long time. Do you think I'm going to wait any longer for you? I'm going on my way — you can run after me. You've got younger legs than I have."
Catherine went on and found Frederick, who had stopped and was waiting for her, because he wanted something to eat.
"Now let's have what you brought with you," he said.
She gave him the dry bread.
"Where are the butter and the cheeses?" asked her husband.
"Ah, Freddy," said Catherine, "I smeared the cart ruts with the butter, and the cheeses will be along soon. One of them ran away from me, so I sent the others after it to call it back."
Said Frederick, "You shouldn't have done that, Catherine — smearing the butter on the road and letting the cheeses run away down the hill!"
"Really, Frederick, you should have told me."
Then they ate the dry bread together, and Frederick said, "Catherine, did you make the house secure when you came away?"
"No, Frederick — you should have told me to before."
"Then go back home and make the house secure before we go any further, and bring something else to eat with you. I'll wait here for you."
Catherine went back and thought, "Frederick wants something more to eat. He doesn't like butter and cheese, so I'll take a handkerchief full of dried pears and a jug of vinegar for him to drink."
Then she bolted the top half of the door fast, but lifted the bottom half off its hinges and took it on her back, believing that when she had got the door safe, the house must be well taken care of.
Catherine took her time on the way, and thought, "Frederick will get all the longer rest."
When she reached him at last she said, "Here's the house door for you, Frederick, and now you can look after the house yourself."
"Oh, heavens," he said, "what a wise wife I have! She takes the bottom half of the door off its hinges so that anything at all can walk in, and bolts the top half. It's too late to go home again now; but since you've brought the door here, you can just carry it further."
"I'll carry the door, Frederick, but the dried pears and the vinegar jug will be too heavy for me. I'll hang them on the door — it can carry them."
And now they went into the forest and looked for the rogues, but did not find them. At length, as it grew dark, they climbed into a tree and decided to spend the night there.
But hardly had they settled at the top of it before the very rascals came along who carry off what does not want to go and find things before they are lost. They sat down under the very tree Frederick and Catherine were sitting in, lit a fire and were about to share out their booty.
Frederick got down on the other side and collected some stones. Then he climbed up again with them, meaning to throw them at the thieves and kill them. But the stones did not hit them, and the rogues said, "It'll soon be morning — the wind is shaking the fir cones down."
Catherine still had the door on her back; and as it pressed so heavily on her, she thought it was the fault of the dried pears, and said, "Frederick, I must throw the pears down."
"No, Catherine, not now," he said. "They might give us away."
"Oh, but Frederick, I must. They weigh me down far too much."
"Do it, then, and be hanged!"
So the dried pears came rolling down through the branches, and the rascals below said, "The leaves are falling."
A short time afterwards, as the door was still heavy, Catherine said, "Ah, Frederick, I must pour the vinegar out."
"No, Catherine, you mustn't. It might give us away."
"Ah, but Frederick, I must. It weighs me down far too much."
"Then do it and be hanged!"
So she emptied the vinegar out, and it sprinkled all over the robbers. They said among themselves, "The dew is falling already."
At length Catherine thought, "Can it really be the door that weighs me down so?" — and said, "Frederick, I must throw the door down."
"No, not now, Catherine. It might give us away."
"Oh, but Frederick, I must. It weighs me down far too much."
"Oh no, Catherine, do hold onto it."
"Ah, Frederick, I'm letting it fall!"
"Let it go, then, in the devil's name."
Then it fell down with a tremendous crash, and the rascals below cried, "The devil is coming down the tree!" — and they ran away and left everything behind them.
Early next morning, when the two of them came down, they found all their gold again and carried it home.
When they were home once more, Frederick said, "And now, Catherine, you must be industrious and do some work."
"Yes, Frederick, I'll do that at once. I'll go into the field and cut the corn."
When Catherine got to the field she said to herself, "Shall I eat before I cut, or shall I sleep before I cut? Oh, I'll eat first."
So Catherine ate, and the eating made her sleepy; and she began to cut, and half in a dream cut all her clothes to pieces — her apron, her gown and her shift.
When Catherine woke up after a long sleep, she was standing there half naked, and said to herself, "Is it me, or isn't it me? Alas, it isn't me."
Meanwhile night came on, and Catherine ran into the village, knocked at her husband's window and called, "Frederick!"
"What's the matter?"
"I should very much like to know whether Catherine is in."
"Yes, yes," said Frederick, "she must be in and asleep."
Said she, "Well then, I'm certainly at home already" — and ran away.
Outside, Catherine met some vagabonds who were going out to steal. So she went up to them and said, "I'll help you steal."
The rascals thought she knew the lie of the land, and were willing. Catherine went along in front of the houses and called out, "Good people, have you got anything? We want to steal."
The thieves thought to themselves, "That's a fine way of going about it" — and wished themselves rid of Catherine again. So they said to her, "Outside the village the parson has some turnips in his field. Go there and pull up some turnips for us."
Catherine went to the field and began pulling them up, but was so lazy that she did not gather them together.
Then a man came by and saw her, and stood still, and thought it was the devil rooting about among the turnips like that. He ran off into the village to the parson and said, "Reverend sir, the devil is in your turnip field, rooting up turnips."
"Ah, heavens," said the parson, "I have a lame foot. I can't go out and drive him away."
Said the man, "Then I'll carry you on my back" — and carried him out on his back.
And when they came to the field, Catherine stood up to her full height.
"Ah, the devil!" cried the parson; and they both hurried away; and in his great fright the parson could run better on his lame foot than the man who had carried him could on his sound one.
There were once two brothers, one rich and the other poor. The rich one was a goldsmith and evil-hearted; the poor one kept himself by making brooms, and was good and honourable.
The poor one had two children, twin brothers, as like each other as two drops of water. The two boys went back and forth to the rich house and often got some of the scraps to eat.
It happened once, when the poor man was going into the forest to fetch brushwood, that he saw a bird that was all of gold and more beautiful than any he had ever come across. He picked up a small stone and threw it at the bird and was lucky enough to hit it; but only one golden feather fell down, and the bird flew away.
The man took the feather and carried it to his brother, who looked at it and said, "It's pure gold" — and gave him a great deal of money for it.
Next day the man climbed into a birch tree and was about to cut off a couple of branches when the same bird flew out; and when the man searched, he found a nest with an egg lying in it, and the egg was of gold. He took the egg home and carried it to his brother, who again said, "It's pure gold" — and gave him what it was worth.
At last the goldsmith said, "I should very much like to have the bird itself."
The poor man went into the forest for the third time, and again saw the golden bird sitting in the tree; so he took a stone and brought it down and carried it to his brother, who gave him a great heap of gold for it.
"Now I can get along," he thought, and went home contented.
The goldsmith was crafty and cunning, and knew perfectly well what kind of bird it was. He called his wife and said, "Roast me that golden bird, and take care that none of it is lost. I have a fancy to eat it all myself."
For the bird was no common one, but of such a wondrous kind that whoever ate its heart and liver found a piece of gold under his pillow every morning.
The woman made the bird ready, put it on the spit and let it roast. Now it happened that while it was at the fire, and the woman had to leave the kitchen for some other work, the two children of the poor broom-maker ran in, stood by the spit and turned it round once or twice. And just at that moment two little bits of the bird fell down into the dripping pan, and one of the boys said, "We'll eat these two little bits. I'm so hungry, and nobody will ever miss them."
So the two of them ate the pieces. But the woman came into the kitchen and saw that they were eating something, and said, "What have you been eating?"
"Two little scraps that fell out of the bird," they answered.
"That must have been the heart and the liver," said the woman, thoroughly frightened; and so that her husband should not miss them and be angry, she quickly killed a young cockerel, took out its heart and liver and put them with the golden bird.
When it was ready she carried it to the goldsmith, who ate it all by himself and left nothing. But next morning, when he felt under his pillow and expected to bring out a piece of gold, there were no more gold pieces there than there had always been.
The two children had no idea what a piece of good fortune had fallen to them. Next morning when they got up, something fell rattling to the floor; and when they picked it up there were two gold pieces. They took them to their father, who was astonished and said, "How can that have happened?"
And when they found two more the next morning, and so on every day, he went to his brother and told him the strange story.
The goldsmith knew at once how it had come about, and that the children had eaten the heart and liver of the golden bird; and to revenge himself, and because he was envious and hard-hearted, he said to their father, "Your children are in league with the Evil One. Don't take the gold, and don't let them stay in your house any longer, because he has them in his power and may ruin you as well."
The father feared the Evil One; and painful as it was to him, he led the twins out into the forest and left them there with a sad heart.
And now the two children ran about the forest looking for the way home again, but could not find it, and only lost themselves more and more.
At length they met a huntsman, who asked, "Whose children are you?"
"We're the poor broom-maker's boys," they answered; and they told him that their father would not keep them in the house any longer, because a piece of gold lay under their pillows every morning.
"Come," said the huntsman, "there's nothing so very bad in that, so long as you stay honest and don't get idle."
And as the good man liked the children and had none of his own, he took them home with him and said, "I'll be your father and bring you up till you're grown."
They learned huntsmanship from him; and the gold piece that each of them found when he woke was put away for them, in case they should need it in the future.
When they were grown up, their foster-father took them into the forest with him one day and said, "Today you shall make your trial shot, so that I can release you from your apprenticeship and make you huntsmen."
They went with him and lay in wait a long time, but no game appeared. Then the huntsman looked up and saw a flight of wild geese flying in the shape of a triangle, and said to one of them, "Shoot me down one from each corner."
He did it, and so made his trial shot. Soon afterwards another flight came by in the shape of a figure two, and the huntsman told the other to bring down one from each corner too; and his trial shot was just as successful.
"Now," said their foster-father, "I pronounce you out of your apprenticeship. You are skilled huntsmen."
At this the two brothers went off together into the forest and took counsel with one another and made a plan. And in the evening, when they had sat down to supper, they said to their foster-father, "We won't touch food or take one mouthful until you have granted us a request."
Said he, "And what is your request?"
They answered, "We've finished learning now, and we must prove ourselves in the world. Let us go away and travel."
Then the old man said joyfully, "You talk like brave huntsmen. What you ask has been my own wish. Go — everything will go well with you."
And with that they ate and drank joyfully together.
When the appointed day came, their foster-father gave each of them a good gun and a dog, and let each take as many of his saved-up gold pieces as he liked. Then he went part of the way with them; and as he took his leave he gave them a bright knife and said, "If you ever separate, stick this knife into a tree at the place where you part; and when one of you comes back he'll be able to see how his absent brother is faring, because the side of the knife turned in the direction he took will rust if he dies, and will stay bright as long as he's alive."
The two brothers went on further, and came to a forest so large that they could not get out of it in a day. So they spent the night in it and ate what they had in their hunting bags; and they walked all the second day as well, and still did not get out.
As they had nothing to eat, one of them said, "We must shoot something for ourselves or we shall go hungry" — and loaded his gun and looked about him. And when an old hare came running towards them, he raised his gun to his shoulder; but the hare cried:
"Dear huntsman, do but let me live, and two young ones to you I'll give"
— and sprang instantly into the thicket and brought two young ones. But the little creatures played so merrily, and were so pretty, that the huntsmen could not find it in their hearts to kill them. So they kept them with them, and the little hares followed on foot.
Soon after this a fox crept past. They were just going to shoot it, but the fox cried:
"Dear huntsman, do but let me live, and two young ones to you I'll give."
He too brought two little foxes; and the huntsmen did not like to kill them either, but gave them to the hares for company, and they followed on behind.
It was not long before a wolf came striding out of the thicket. The huntsmen made ready to shoot him, but the wolf cried:
"Dear huntsman, do but let me live, and two young ones to you I'll give."
The huntsmen put the two wolves with the other animals, and they followed on behind.
Then a bear came, who wanted to trot about a little longer, and cried:
"Dear huntsman, do but let me live, and two young ones to you I'll give."
The two young bears were added to the rest, and there were eight of them already.
And at length who should come but a lion, tossing his mane. But the huntsmen did not let themselves be frightened, and took aim at him too; and the lion said as well:
"Dear huntsman, do but let me live, and two young ones to you I'll give."
And he brought them his young ones; and now the huntsmen had two lions, two bears, two wolves, two foxes and two hares, who followed them and served them.
Meanwhile their hunger was not satisfied by any of this, so they said to the foxes, "Listen, you cunning fellows, get us something to eat. You're crafty and deep."
They answered, "Not far from here there's a village where we've already fetched many a fowl. We'll show you the way."
So they went into the village, bought themselves something to eat, had food given to their beasts, and then travelled on. The foxes knew their way very well about the district and where the poultry yards were, and were able to guide the huntsmen.
Now they travelled about for a while, but could find no positions where they could stay together; so they said, "There's nothing else for it — we must part."
They divided the animals, so that each of them had a lion, a bear, a wolf, a fox and a hare; then they took leave of one another, promised to love each other like brothers until they died, and stuck the knife their foster-father had given them into a tree; after which one went east and the other went west.
The younger one came with his beasts to a town that was all hung with black crape. He went into an inn and asked the landlord whether he could put his animals up.
The innkeeper gave him a stable with a hole in the wall; and the hare crept out and fetched himself a cabbage head, and the fox fetched himself a hen, and when he had eaten that, got the cock as well. But the wolf, the bear and the lion could not get out, because they were too big. So the innkeeper had them taken to a place where a cow was lying on the grass just then, and let them eat their fill.
And when the huntsman had seen to his animals, he asked the innkeeper why the town was all hung with black crape.
Said the landlord, "Because our King's only daughter is to die tomorrow."
The huntsman asked whether she was sick to death.
"No," said the landlord, "she's strong and healthy; and all the same she must die."
"How is that?" asked the huntsman.
"There's a high hill outside the town where a dragon lives, and every year he must have a pure virgin, or he lays the whole country waste. And now all the girls have been given to him already and there's nobody left but the King's daughter; and there's no mercy for her — she must be handed over to him, and that is to be done tomorrow."
Said the huntsman, "Why isn't the dragon killed?"
"Ah," said the landlord, "so many knights have tried it, and it has cost every one of them his life. The King has promised that whoever conquers the dragon shall have his daughter for a wife, and shall govern the kingdom after his own death."
The huntsman said nothing more to that; but next morning he took his animals and went up the dragon's hill with them.
At the top of it stood a little church, and on the altar were three full cups, with the inscription: "Whoever empties these cups will become the strongest man on earth, and will be able to wield the sword that is buried in front of the threshold."
The huntsman did not drink, but went out and looked for the sword in the ground; and he could not shift it from its place. So he went in and emptied the cups; and now he was strong enough to take the sword up, and his hand could wield it quite easily.
When the hour came for the girl to be given up to the dragon, the King, the marshal and the courtiers went with her. From a long way off she saw the huntsman on the dragon's hill and thought it was the dragon standing there waiting for her, and did not want to go up to him; but at last, because otherwise the whole town would have been destroyed, she was forced to make that miserable journey.
The King and the courtiers went home full of grief; but the King's marshal was to stay and watch it all from a distance.
When the King's daughter got to the top of the hill it was not the dragon standing there but the young huntsman, who comforted her and said he would save her, and led her into the church and locked her in.
It was not long before the seven-headed dragon came there with a loud roaring. When he caught sight of the huntsman he was astonished and said, "What business have you here on this hill?"
The huntsman answered, "I want to fight you."
Said the dragon, "Many knights have left their lives here; I shall soon have made an end of you too" — and he breathed fire out of seven jaws. The fire was meant to set the dry grass alight and the huntsman was meant to be suffocated in the heat and the smoke; but the animals came running up and trampled the fire out.
Then the dragon rushed at the huntsman; but he swung his sword until it sang through the air, and struck off three of his heads.
At that the dragon grew truly furious, and rose up into the air and spat flames of fire down over the huntsman, and was about to plunge down on him; but the huntsman drew his sword once more and cut off three more heads.
The monster grew faint and sank down; and yet it still just managed to rush at the huntsman, and he with his last strength struck its tail off; and as he could fight no longer he called up his animals, who tore it to pieces.
When the struggle was over the huntsman unlocked the church and found the King's daughter lying on the floor, for she had lost her senses with fear and terror during the fight. He carried her out; and when she came to herself and opened her eyes, he showed her the dragon all cut to pieces and told her that she was delivered.
She rejoiced and said, "Now you will be my dearest husband, for my father promised me to whoever killed the dragon."
And with that she took off her necklace of coral and divided it among the animals to reward them, and the lion had the golden clasp. But her handkerchief, with her name on it, she gave to the huntsman, who went and cut the tongues out of the dragon's seven heads, wrapped them in the handkerchief and put them carefully away.
That done, he was so faint and weary with the fire and the fighting that he said to the girl, "We're both worn out; let's sleep a while." She said yes, and they lay down on the ground; and the huntsman said to the lion, "You must keep watch, so that nobody surprises us in our sleep." Then they both fell asleep. The lion lay down beside them to watch, but he too was so tired from the fight that he called the bear and said, "Lie down near me, I must sleep a little. If anything comes, wake me." So the bear lay down beside him; but he was tired as well, and called the wolf and said, "Lie down by me, I must sleep a little; if anything comes, wake me." So the wolf lay down by him; but he was tired too, and called the fox and said, "Lie down by me, I must sleep a little. If anything comes, wake me." So the fox lay down beside him; but he was weary as well, and called the hare and said, "Lie down near me, I must sleep a little, and if anything should come, wake me." So the hare sat down by him; but the poor hare was tired too, and had nobody he could call to keep watch, and fell asleep. And now the King's daughter, the huntsman, the lion, the bear, the wolf, the fox and the hare were all sleeping a sound sleep.
The marshal, who was supposed to be watching from a distance, took courage when he did not see the dragon flying away with the girl; and finding that the whole hill had gone quiet, he climbed it. There lay the dragon, hacked and hewn to pieces on the ground; and not far off were the King's daughter and a huntsman with his animals, all of them sunk in a sound sleep. And as he was wicked and godless, he took his sword, cut off the huntsman's head, seized the girl in his arms and carried her down the hill.
Then she woke and was terrified; but the marshal said, "You're in my hands. You'll say that it was I who killed the dragon."
"I can't do that," she answered. "It was a huntsman with his animals who did it."
Then he drew his sword and threatened to kill her if she did not obey him, and forced her until she promised.
Then he took her to the King, who did not know how to contain himself for joy when he looked on his dear child alive again, whom he had believed to be torn to pieces by the monster. The marshal said to him, "I killed the dragon and delivered the girl and the whole kingdom as well; and so I claim her as my wife, as was promised."
The King said to his daughter, "Is what he says true?"
"Ah, yes," she answered, "it must indeed be true. But I won't consent to have the wedding celebrated until a year and a day have gone by" — for she thought that in that time she would hear something of her dear huntsman.
The animals, meanwhile, were still lying asleep beside their dead master on the dragon's hill. Then a great bumblebee came and settled on the hare's nose; but the hare wiped it off with his paw and went on sleeping. The bumblebee came a second time, and again the hare rubbed it off and slept on. Then it came a third time and stung his nose so that he woke up.
As soon as the hare was awake he roused the fox, and the fox the wolf, and the wolf the bear, and the bear the lion. And when the lion woke and saw that the girl was gone and his master was dead, he began to roar frightfully and cried, "Who has done that? Bear, why didn't you wake me?"
The bear asked the wolf, "Why didn't you wake me?" and the wolf the fox, "Why didn't you wake me?" and the fox the hare, "Why didn't you wake me?"
The poor hare alone did not know what answer to make, and the blame rested with him. They were just going to fall on him, but he begged them and said, "Don't kill me. I'll bring our master back to life. I know a mountain where a root grows that cures anyone of every illness and every wound, if it's put in his mouth. But the mountain lies two hundred hours' journey from here."
The lion said, "In four-and-twenty hours you must have run there and come back, and have brought the root with you."
So the hare sprang away, and in four-and-twenty hours he was back and had brought the root. The lion put the huntsman's head on again, and the hare laid the root in his mouth; and at once everything joined together again, and his heart beat, and life came back.
Then the huntsman woke and was dismayed at not seeing the girl, and thought, "She must have gone away while I was asleep, to be rid of me."
The lion in his great hurry had put his master's head on back to front, but the huntsman did not notice it, because of his gloomy thoughts about the King's daughter. It was only at noon, when he was going to eat something, that he saw his head was turned backwards, and could not understand it, and asked the animals what had happened to him in his sleep. Then the lion told him that they had all fallen asleep from weariness too, and on waking had found him dead with his head cut off; that the hare had fetched the life-giving root, and that he himself, in his haste, had taken hold of the head the wrong way round — but that he would put his mistake right. Then he tore the huntsman's head off again, turned it round, and the hare healed it with the root.
The huntsman, though, was sad at heart, and travelled about the world making his animals dance in front of people. And it came about that exactly at the end of a year he came back to the same town where he had delivered the King's daughter from the dragon; and this time the town was gaily hung with red cloth.
So he said to the innkeeper, "What does this mean? Last year the town was all hung with black crape. What is the red cloth for today?"
The host answered, "Last year our King's daughter was to have been handed over to the dragon; but the marshal fought it and killed it, and so tomorrow their wedding is to be celebrated. That's why the town was hung with black crape then for mourning, and is covered with red cloth today for joy."
Next day, when the wedding was to take place, the huntsman said to the innkeeper at midday, "Do you believe, sir host, that I shall eat bread from the King's own table here with you today?"
"No," said the host. "I'd bet a hundred pieces of gold that that won't come true."
The huntsman took the wager, and set against it a purse with just the same number of gold pieces in it. Then he called the hare and said, "Go, my dear runner, and fetch me some of the bread the King is eating."
Now the little hare was the lowest of the animals and could not pass the order on to any of the others, but had to get on his legs himself. "Oh dear," he thought, "if I go bounding through the streets alone like this, the butchers' dogs will all be after me."
It happened as he expected: the dogs came after him and wanted to make holes in his good skin. But he sprang away as you never saw a hare run, and sheltered in a sentry box without the soldier being aware of it. The dogs came and wanted to have him out; but the soldier did not understand a joke, and hit them with the butt end of his gun till they ran away yelping and howling.
As soon as the hare saw that the way was clear he ran into the palace and straight to the King's daughter, sat down under her chair and scratched at her foot.
"Will you get away?" she said, thinking it was her dog.
The hare scratched her foot a second time, and again she said, "Will you get away?" thinking it was her dog. But the hare would not be turned from his purpose, and scratched her a third time. Then she looked down and knew the hare by his collar. She took him on her lap, carried him into her room and said, "Dear Hare, what is it you want?"
He answered, "My master, who killed the dragon, is here, and has sent me to ask for a loaf of bread like the one the King eats."
Then she was full of joy, and had the baker summoned and ordered him to bring a loaf such as the King ate.
The little hare said, "But the baker must carry it there for me as well, so that the butchers' dogs do me no harm."
So the baker carried it for him as far as the door of the inn, and then the hare got up on his hind legs, took the loaf in his front paws and carried it to his master.
"There, sir host," said the huntsman, "the hundred pieces of gold are mine."
The host was astonished; but the huntsman went on, "Yes, sir host, I have the bread. Now I'll have some of the King's roast meat as well."
The host said, "I should like to see that," but he would make no more wagers.
The huntsman called the fox and said, "My little fox, go and fetch me some roast meat, such as the King eats."
The red fox knew the back ways better, and went by holes and corners without a single dog seeing him, seated himself under the King's daughter's chair and scratched her foot. Then she looked down and recognised the fox by his collar, took him into her room with her and said, "Dear Fox, what is it you want?"
He answered, "My master, who killed the dragon, is here, and has sent me. I'm to ask for some roast meat such as the King is eating."
So she sent for the cook, who had to prepare a roast joint just like the King's and carry it for the fox as far as the door. Then the fox took the dish, waved away with his tail the flies that had settled on the meat, and carried it to his master.
"There, sir host," said the huntsman, "we have bread and meat. Now I'll have the proper vegetables with it too, such as the King eats." So he called the wolf and said, "Dear Wolf, go there and fetch me vegetables such as the King eats."
The wolf went straight to the palace, since he feared nobody; and when he got to the King's daughter's room he gave the back of her dress a twitch, so that she was obliged to look round. She recognised him by his collar, took him into her room with her and said, "Dear Wolf, what is it you want?"
He answered, "My master, who killed the dragon, is here. I'm to ask for some vegetables, such as the King eats."
So she sent for the cook, who had to get ready a dish of vegetables such as the King ate, and carry it for the wolf as far as the door; and then the wolf took the dish from him and carried it to his master.
"There, sir host," said the huntsman, "now I have bread and meat and vegetables. But I'll have some pastry too, like the King's." He called the bear and said, "Dear Bear, you're fond of licking anything sweet. Go and bring me some confectionery, such as the King eats."
So the bear trotted off to the palace, and everybody got out of his way; but when he came to the guard, they levelled their muskets and would not let him into the royal palace. He got up on his hind legs, though, and gave them a few boxes on the ears, right and left, with his paws, so that the whole watch broke up; and then he went straight to the King's daughter, placed himself behind her and growled a little. She looked round, knew the bear, and told him to come into her room with her, and said, "Dear Bear, what is it you want?"
He answered, "My master, who killed the dragon, is here, and I'm to ask for some confectionery, such as the King eats."
So she summoned her confectioner, who had to bake confectionery such as the King ate and carry it to the door for the bear. Then the bear first licked up the sweets that had rolled off, and then he stood upright, took the dish and carried it to his master.
"There, sir host," said the huntsman, "now I have bread, meat, vegetables and confectionery. But I'll drink wine as well, and wine such as the King drinks." He called his lion to him and said, "Dear Lion, you like a drink yourself till you're tipsy. Go and fetch me some wine, such as the King drinks."
Then the lion strode down the streets, and the people fled from him; and when he came to the watch they tried to bar the way against him, but he only roared once and they all ran away. Then the lion went to the royal apartments and knocked on the door with his tail. The King's daughter came out and was nearly frightened of the lion; but she knew him by the golden clasp of her necklace, and told him to come with her into her room, and said, "Dear Lion, what will you have?"
He answered, "My master, who killed the dragon, is here, and I'm to ask for some wine such as the King drinks."
So she had the cup-bearer called, who was to give the lion wine like the King's.
The lion said, "I'll go with him and see that I get the right wine."
So he went down with the cup-bearer; and when they were below, the cup-bearer was going to draw him some of the ordinary wine that the King's servants drank. But the lion said, "Stop. I'll taste the wine first" — and he drew half a measure and swallowed it at one draught. "No," he said, "that isn't right."
The cup-bearer looked at him sideways, but went on and was about to give him some out of another barrel, which was the King's marshal's. The lion said, "Stop, let me taste the wine first" — and drew half a measure and drank it. "That's better, but still not right," he said.
Then the cup-bearer grew angry and said, "How can a stupid animal like you understand wine?" But the lion gave him a blow behind the ears that knocked him down by no means gently; and when he had got up again he took the lion, without a word, into a little cellar apart, where the King's own wine lay, that nobody else ever drank. The lion first drew half a measure and tried the wine, and then he said, "That may possibly be the right sort" — and told the cup-bearer to fill six bottles of it.
And now they went upstairs again; but when the lion came out of the cellar into the open air he reeled this way and that, and was rather drunk, and the cup-bearer had to carry the wine as far as the door for him. Then the lion took the handle of the basket in his mouth and brought it to his master.
The huntsman said, "There, sir host, here I have bread, meat, vegetables, confectionery and wine such as the King has; and now I'll dine with my animals." And he sat down and ate and drank, and gave the hare, the fox, the wolf, the bear and the lion food and drink too, and was in good spirits, for he could see that the King's daughter still loved him.
And when he had finished his dinner he said, "Sir host, now I've eaten and drunk as the King eats and drinks, and now I'll go to the King's court and marry the King's daughter."
Said the host, "How can that be, when she already has a betrothed husband, and when the wedding is to be celebrated today?"
Then the huntsman drew out the handkerchief the King's daughter had given him on the dragon's hill, in which the monster's seven tongues were folded, and said, "What I have in my hand will help me to do it."
The innkeeper looked at the handkerchief and said, "Whatever else I believe, I don't believe that; and I'm willing to stake my house and yard on it."
The huntsman, though, took a bag with a thousand gold pieces in it, put it on the table and said, "I stake that on it."
Now at the royal table the King said to his daughter, "What did all those wild animals want, that have been coming to you and going in and out of my palace?"
She answered, "I'm not allowed to tell you; but send for the master of these animals and have him brought here, and you'll do well."
The King sent a servant to the inn to invite the stranger, and the servant arrived just as the huntsman had laid his wager with the innkeeper.
"There, sir host," said the huntsman, "now the King sends his servant and invites me; but I don't go in this fashion." And he said to the servant, "I request the Lord King to send me royal clothing, and a carriage with six horses, and servants to attend me."
When the King heard the answer he said to his daughter, "What shall I do?"
She said, "Have him fetched as he wishes to be fetched, and you'll do well."
So the King sent royal apparel, a carriage with six horses, and servants to wait on him. When the huntsman saw them coming he said, "There, sir host, now I'm fetched just as I wanted to be" — and he put on the royal garments, took the handkerchief with the dragon's tongues with him, and drove off to the King.
When the King saw him coming he said to his daughter, "How shall I receive him?"
She answered, "Go to meet him, and you'll do well."
So the King went to meet him and led him in, and his animals followed. The King gave him a seat beside himself and his daughter; and the marshal, as bridegroom, sat on the other side, but did not know the huntsman any more.
And now at that very moment the dragon's seven heads were carried in to be shown, and the King said, "These seven heads were cut off the dragon by the marshal; and so today I give him my daughter for a wife."
At that the huntsman stood up, opened the seven mouths, and said, "Where are the dragon's seven tongues?"
Then the marshal was terrified, and grew pale, and did not know what answer to make; and at last in his distress he said, "Dragons have no tongues."
The huntsman said, "Liars ought to have none. But the dragon's tongues are the victor's proof." And he unfolded the handkerchief, and there all seven of them lay inside it. And he put each tongue into the mouth it belonged to, and every one fitted exactly.
Then he took the handkerchief with the princess's name embroidered on it, showed it to her, and asked whom she had given it to; and she answered, "To the man who killed the dragon."
And then he called his animals and took the collar off each of them, and the golden clasp from the lion, and showed them to her, and asked whom they belonged to. She answered, "The necklace and the golden clasp were mine, and I divided them among the animals that helped to conquer the dragon."
Then the huntsman said, "When I was resting after the fight, and was asleep with weariness, the marshal came and cut off my head. Then he carried the King's daughter away and gave out that it was he who had killed the dragon. That he lied, I prove with the tongues, the handkerchief and the necklace."
And then he told how his animals had healed him with a wonderful root, and how he had travelled about with them for a year, and had come there again at last and learned the marshal's treachery from the innkeeper's story.
Then the King asked his daughter, "Is it true that this man killed the dragon?"
And she answered, "Yes, it's true. Now I can reveal the marshal's wicked deed, since it has come out without my breaking my word — for he wrung a promise of silence out of me. And that was why I made the condition that the marriage should not be celebrated for a year and a day."
Then the King ordered twelve councillors to be summoned to pass judgement on the marshal, and they sentenced him to be torn to pieces by four bulls. So the marshal was executed; but the King gave his daughter to the huntsman and named him viceroy over the whole kingdom.
The wedding was celebrated with great joy, and the young King sent for his father and his foster-father and loaded them with treasures. He did not forget the innkeeper either, but sent for him and said, "There, sir host — I've married the King's daughter, and your house and yard are mine."
The host said, "Yes, by rights that's so."
But the young King said, "It shall go by mercy instead," and told him he should keep his house and yard, and gave him the thousand gold pieces as well.
And now the young King and Queen were thoroughly happy and lived in gladness together. He often went out hunting, because it was a delight to him, and the faithful animals had to go with him. In the neighbourhood, though, there was a forest that was said to be haunted, and that whoever once went into it did not easily get out again. But the young King had a great longing to hunt in it, and gave the old King no peace until he was allowed to.
So he rode out with a great following; and when he came to the forest he saw a snow-white hart, and said to his people, "Wait here until I come back. I want to chase that beautiful creature." And he rode into the forest after it, with nobody following him but his animals.
His attendants halted and waited until evening, but he did not come back; so they rode home and told the young Queen that the young King had followed a white hart into the enchanted forest and had not returned. Then she was in the greatest anxiety about him.
He, meanwhile, had gone riding on and on after the beautiful creature, and had never been able to overtake it. Whenever he thought he was near enough to take aim, he saw it bound away into the far distance; and at last it vanished altogether. And now he realised how deep into the forest he had come, and blew his horn; but no answer came back, for his attendants could not hear it. And as night was falling too, he saw he could not get home that day; so he dismounted, lit himself a fire by a tree, and made up his mind to spend the night there.
While he was sitting by the fire, with his animals lying down beside him, he thought he heard a human voice. He looked round but could see nothing. Soon afterwards he heard a groan again, as if from above him; and then he looked up and saw an old woman sitting in the tree, wailing without a stop, "Oh, oh, oh, how cold I am!"
Said he, "Come down and warm yourself, if you're cold."
But she said, "No, your animals will bite me."
He answered, "They'll do you no harm, old mother. Do come down."
She was a witch, however, and said, "I'll throw a wand down out of the tree; and if you strike them on the back with it, they'll do me no harm."
So she threw him down a little wand, and he struck them with it; and instantly they lay still and were turned to stone. And when the witch was safe from the animals, she jumped down and touched him with a wand as well, and changed him to stone. Then she laughed, and dragged him and the animals into a vault where a great many more such stones were already lying.
But as the young King did not come back at all, the Queen's anguish and worry grew greater and greater.
And it happened that at this very time the other brother, who had turned east when they separated, came into that kingdom. He had looked for a position and found none, and had gone travelling about here and there, making his animals dance. Then it came into his head that he would just go and look at the knife they had driven into the tree trunk when they parted, so as to learn how his brother was faring. When he got there, his brother's side of the knife was half rusty and half bright.
Then he was alarmed and thought, "Some great misfortune must have come to my brother; but perhaps I can still save him, since half the knife is still bright."
So he and his animals travelled westwards; and when he came in at the town gate the guard came to meet him and asked whether he should announce him to his consort the young Queen, who had been in the greatest distress for a couple of days about his staying away, and was afraid he had been killed in the enchanted forest. The sentries had no other idea than that he was the young King himself, for he looked so like him and had wild animals running behind him.
Then he saw that they were speaking of his brother, and thought, "It will be better if I let them take me for him. Then I can rescue him more easily." So he let the guard escort him into the castle, and was received with the greatest joy.
The young Queen truly believed he was her husband, and asked him why he had stayed away so long.
He answered, "I lost myself in a forest and couldn't find my way out any sooner."
At night he was taken to the royal bed, but he laid a two-edged sword between himself and the young Queen. She did not know what that could mean, but did not dare to ask.
He stayed in the palace a couple of days, and in that time he found out everything there was to know about the enchanted forest; and at last he said, "I must hunt there once more."
The King and the young Queen tried to talk him out of it, but he held out against them and went off with a still larger following.
When he had got into the forest it went with him as it had with his brother. He saw a white hart and said to his people, "Stay here and wait until I come back. I want to chase that lovely creature." And then he rode into the forest, and his animals ran after him.
But he could not overtake the hart, and got so deep into the forest that he had to spend the night there. And when he had lit a fire he heard somebody wailing above him, "Oh, oh, oh, how cold I am!"
Then he looked up, and there was the very same witch sitting in the tree.
Said he, "If you're cold, come down, little old mother, and warm yourself."
She answered, "No, your animals will bite me."
But he said, "They won't hurt you."
Then she cried, "I'll throw a wand down to you, and if you strike them with it they'll do me no harm."
When the huntsman heard that, he had no faith in the old woman, and said, "I won't strike my animals. Come down, or I'll fetch you."
Then she cried, "What do you want? You shan't touch me."
But he answered, "If you don't come, I'll shoot you."
Said she, "Shoot away — I'm not afraid of your bullets."
So he took aim and fired at her; but the witch was proof against all leaden bullets, and laughed and shrieked and cried, "You shan't hit me!"
The huntsman knew what to do. He tore three silver buttons off his coat and loaded his gun with them, for against those her arts were useless; and when he fired she fell down at once with a scream.
Then he set his foot on her and said, "Old witch, if you don't tell me this instant where my brother is, I'll take hold of you with both hands and throw you into the fire."
She was in a great fright, and begged for mercy, and said, "He and his animals are lying in a vault, turned to stone."
Then he made her go there with him, and threatened her, and said, "Old sea-cat, now you shall bring my brother and all the human beings lying here back to life, or you go into the fire."
She took a wand and touched the stones; and then his brother came to life again with his animals, and many others as well — merchants, craftsmen and shepherds — who got up and thanked him for their deliverance and went off to their homes.
And when the twin brothers saw each other again they kissed each other and rejoiced with all their hearts. Then they seized the witch and bound her and laid her on the fire; and when she was burnt, the forest opened of its own accord and grew light and clear, and the King's palace could be seen about three hours' walk away.
After that the two brothers went home together, and on the way told each other their histories. And when the younger said that he was ruler of the whole country in the King's place, the other remarked, "I noticed that very well. When I came to the town and was taken for you, all royal honours were paid to me; the young Queen looked on me as her husband, and I had to eat at her side and sleep in your bed."
When the other heard that, he grew so jealous and angry that he drew his sword and struck off his brother's head. But when he saw him lying there dead, and saw his red blood flowing, he repented terribly. "My brother delivered me," he cried, "and I've killed him for it!" — and he wept aloud over him.
Then his hare came and offered to go and fetch some of the root of life, and bounded away and brought it while there was still time; and the dead man was brought back to life and knew nothing about the wound.
After this they journeyed on, and the younger said, "You look like me, you have royal clothes on as I do, and the animals follow you as they do me. We'll go in by opposite gates and come before the old King from the two sides at the same moment."
So they separated; and at the same moment the watchmen came from the one gate and from the other, and announced that the young King had come back from the chase with his animals.
The King said, "That's not possible. The gates are a good mile apart."
But meanwhile the two brothers were coming into the palace courtyard from opposite sides, and both climbed the steps.
Then the King said to his daughter, "Say which is your husband. They look exactly alike; I can't tell."
Then she was in great distress and could not tell. But at last she remembered the necklace she had given to the animals; and she looked, and found her little golden clasp on the lion, and cried out in her delight, "The one this lion follows is my true husband!"
Then the young King laughed and said, "Yes, he's the right one" — and they sat down to table together, and ate and drank and were merry.
That night, when the young King went to bed, his wife said, "Why have you laid a two-edged sword in our bed every night lately? I thought you had a mind to kill me."
Then he knew how faithful his brother had been.
There was once a village where nobody lived but really rich farmers, and just one poor one, whom they called the little peasant. He did not own so much as a cow, still less the money to buy one; and he and his wife did so long to have one.
One day he said to her, "Listen, I've had a good idea. There's our friend the carpenter — he shall make us a wooden calf and paint it brown, so that it looks like any other; and in time it will surely grow big and be a cow."
The woman liked the idea too; and their friend the carpenter cut and planed the calf and painted it as it ought to be, and made it with its head hanging down, as if it were eating.
Next morning, when the cows were being driven out, the little peasant called the cowherd and said, "Look, I've a little calf here; but it's still small and has to be carried."
"All right," said the cowherd — and he took it in his arms and carried it to the pasture and set it down in the grass. The little calf went on standing there like one that was eating, and the cowherd said, "It will soon be running about on its own. Just look how it eats already!"
In the evening, when he was going to drive the herd home again, he said to the calf, "If you can stand there and eat your fill, you can go on your own four legs as well. I don't care to be dragging you home again in my arms."
But the little peasant stood at his door waiting for his little calf; and when the cowherd drove the cows through the village and the calf was missing, he asked where it was.
The cowherd answered, "It's still standing out there eating. It wouldn't stop and come along with us."
But the little peasant said, "Oh no — I must have my beast back again."
So they went back to the meadow together; but somebody had stolen the calf and it was gone.
The cowherd said, "It must have run away."
The peasant, though, said, "Don't tell me that" — and brought the cowherd before the mayor, who condemned him for his carelessness to give the peasant a cow for the calf that had run away.
And now the little peasant and his wife had the cow they had wished for so long, and they were heartily glad. But they had no fodder for it and could give it nothing to eat, so it soon had to be slaughtered. They salted the meat, and the peasant went to town meaning to sell the hide there, so that he could buy a new calf with the money.
On the way he passed a mill, and there sat a raven with broken wings; and out of pity he picked it up and wrapped it in the hide. But the weather turned so bad, and there was such a storm of wind and rain, that he could go no further; so he turned back to the mill and asked for shelter.
The miller's wife was alone in the house, and said to the peasant, "Lie down there on the straw" — and gave him a slice of bread with cheese on it.
The peasant ate it and lay down with his hide beside him, and the woman thought, "He's tired and has gone to sleep."
Meanwhile the parson arrived. The miller's wife made him welcome and said, "My husband's out, so we'll have a feast."
The peasant listened; and when he heard about feasting he was vexed that he had had to make do with a slice of bread and cheese. Then the woman brought out four different things: roast meat, salad, cakes and wine.
Just as they were about to sit down and eat there was a knocking outside.
"Oh, heavens!" said the woman. "It's my husband!"
She quickly hid the roast meat inside the tiled stove, the wine under the pillow, the salad on the bed, the cakes under it, and the parson in the cupboard in the passage. Then she opened the door to her husband and said, "Thank heaven you're back! There's such a storm, it looks as if the world were coming to an end."
The miller saw the peasant lying on the straw and asked, "What's that fellow doing there?"
"Ah," said his wife, "the poor man came in the wind and rain and begged for shelter, so I gave him a bit of bread and cheese and showed him where the straw was."
The man said, "I've no objection. But be quick and get me something to eat."
The woman said, "But I've nothing except bread and cheese."
"I'm content with anything," her husband answered. "As far as I'm concerned, bread and cheese will do." And he looked at the peasant and said, "Come and eat some more with me."
The peasant did not need to be asked twice, but got up and ate.
After this the miller noticed the hide lying on the ground with the raven in it, and asked, "What have you got there?"
The peasant answered, "There's a soothsayer inside it."
"Can he foretell anything for me?" said the miller.
"Why not?" answered the peasant. "But he only says four things, and the fifth he keeps to himself."
The miller was curious and said, "Let him foretell something for once."
So the peasant pinched the raven's head, and it croaked and made a noise like krr, krr.
The miller said, "What did he say?"
The peasant answered, "In the first place, he says there's some wine hidden under the pillow."
"Bless me!" cried the miller, and went and found the wine. "Now go on."
The peasant made the raven croak again, and said, "In the second place, he says there's roast meat in the tiled stove."
"Upon my word!" cried the miller, and went there and found the roast meat.
The peasant made the raven prophesy still more, and said, "Thirdly, he says there's salad on the bed."
"That would be a fine thing!" cried the miller, and went and found the salad.
At last the peasant pinched the raven once more till it croaked, and said, "Fourthly, he says there are cakes under the bed."
"That would be a fine thing!" cried the miller, and looked there and found the cakes.
And now the two of them sat down at the table together; but the miller's wife was frightened to death, and went to bed and took all the keys with her.
The miller would very much have liked to know the fifth thing; but the little peasant said, "First we'll eat up the four quickly, for the fifth is something bad."
So they ate; and after that they bargained over how much the miller was to give for the fifth prophecy, until they settled on three hundred thalers.
Then the peasant pinched the raven's head once more till it croaked loudly.
The miller asked, "What did he say?"
The peasant replied, "He says the Devil is hiding out there in the cupboard in the passage."
The miller said, "The Devil must go out" — and opened the house door. Then the woman was forced to hand over the keys, and the peasant unlocked the cupboard. The parson ran out as fast as he could, and the miller said, "It was true. I saw the black rascal with my own eyes."
The peasant, though, made off at daybreak next morning with the three hundred thalers.
At home the little peasant gradually began to spread himself. He built a beautiful house, and the other farmers said, "The little peasant has certainly been where the golden snow falls, and people carry the gold home by the shovelful."
Then the little peasant was brought before the mayor and told to say where his wealth came from. He answered, "I sold my cow's hide in the town for three hundred thalers."
When the farmers heard that, they wanted a share of this great profit too, and ran home, killed all their cows and stripped off the hides, so as to sell them in town to the best advantage.
The mayor, however, said, "But my servant must go first."
When she came to the merchant in the town he gave her no more than two thalers for a hide; and when the others came he did not give them even that much, and said, "What am I to do with all these hides?"
Then the farmers were furious that the little peasant should have taken them in like that, and wanted revenge, and accused him of this trickery before the mayor. The innocent little peasant was sentenced to death by common consent, and was to be rolled into the water in a barrel pierced full of holes.
He was led out, and a priest was fetched to say a mass for his soul. The rest all had to withdraw to a distance; and when the peasant looked at the priest he recognised the man who had been with the miller's wife.
He said to him, "I set you free from the cupboard — set me free from the barrel."
At that very moment who should come by with a flock of sheep but the shepherd, who the peasant knew had long been wanting to be mayor. So he cried out with all his might, "No, I won't do it! If the whole world insists on it, I won't do it!"
The shepherd heard him, came up and asked, "What are you about? What is it you won't do?"
The peasant said, "They want to make me mayor if I'll only get into the barrel; but I won't do it."
The shepherd said, "If that's all that's needed to be mayor, I'd get into the barrel this minute."
The peasant said, "If you'll get in, you'll be mayor."
The shepherd was willing, and got in, and the peasant shut the lid down on him; then he took the shepherd's flock for himself and drove it away.
The parson went over to the crowd and announced that the mass had been said. Then they came and rolled the barrel towards the water. When it began to roll, the shepherd called out, "I'm quite willing to be mayor!"
They supposed it was nobody but the peasant saying it, and answered, "That's what we intend. But first you shall have a look round down below there" — and they rolled the barrel into the water.
After that the farmers went home; and as they were coming into the village the little peasant came quietly in too, driving a flock of sheep and looking perfectly content.
Then the farmers were astonished, and said, "Peasant, where have you come from? Have you come out of the water?"
"Yes, indeed," replied the peasant. "I sank down deep, deep, until at last I got to the bottom; and I pushed the bottom out of the barrel and crept out, and there were beautiful meadows with any number of lambs feeding on them, and I brought this flock away with me."
Said the farmers, "Are there any more there?"
"Oh, yes," said he, "more than I knew what to do with."
Then the farmers made up their minds to fetch some sheep for themselves, a flock apiece; but the mayor said, "I come first."
So they went to the water together. And just then there were some of the small fleecy clouds in the blue sky that people call little lambs, and they were reflected in the water; whereupon the farmers cried, "We can see the sheep down there already!"
The mayor pressed forward and said, "I'll go down first and look round, and if it all looks promising I'll call you."
So he jumped in — splash went the water — and he made a sound as if he were calling them, and the whole crowd plunged in after him as one man.
Then the entire village was dead, and the little peasant, as sole heir, became a rich man.
Two king's sons once went out in search of adventures and fell into a wild, disorderly way of living, so that they never came home again. The youngest, who was called Simpleton, set out to look for his brothers; but when he did at last find them, they mocked him for supposing that he, with his simplicity, could make his way in the world, when the two of them could not manage it and were so much cleverer.
The three of them travelled on together and came to an ant hill. The two elder ones wanted to knock it down, to see the little ants scurrying about in their terror and carrying off their eggs; but Simpleton said, "Leave the creatures in peace. I won't let you disturb them."
Then they went on and came to a lake with a great many ducks swimming on it. The two brothers wanted to catch a couple and roast them, but Simpleton would not have it, and said, "Leave the creatures in peace. I won't let you kill them."
At last they came to a bees' nest with so much honey in it that it was running down the trunk of the tree. The two wanted to light a fire under the tree and smoke the bees to death so as to take the honey; but Simpleton stopped them again and said, "Leave the creatures in peace. I won't let you burn them."
At length the three brothers arrived at a castle where stone horses were standing in the stables and not a single human being was to be seen. They went through all the halls, until right at the end they came to a door with three locks in it. In the middle of the door, though, there was a little pane through which they could see into the room; and there they saw a little grey man sitting at a table. They called to him once, and twice, but he did not hear; and at the third call he got up, opened the locks and came out.
He said nothing, but led them to a handsomely laid table; and when they had eaten and drunk he took each of them to a bedroom.
Next morning the little grey man came to the eldest, beckoned to him and led him to a stone table on which three tasks were carved, by the doing of which the castle could be delivered.
The first was that the princess's pearls, a thousand of them, lay in the forest under the moss and must be picked up; and if a single pearl were missing at sunset, whoever had been looking for them would be turned to stone.
The eldest went there and searched the whole day; but when it came to an end he had found only a hundred, and what was written on the table came to pass, and he was changed into stone.
Next day the second brother undertook the adventure; but it went not much better with him than with the eldest. He did not find more than two hundred pearls, and was changed to stone.
At last it was Simpleton's turn as well, and he searched in the moss. But the pearls were so hard to find and he got on so slowly that he sat down on a stone and wept. And while he was sitting there, the King of the ants, whose life he had once saved, came with five thousand ants; and before long the little creatures had all the pearls collected and laid in a heap.
The second task, though, was to fetch the key of the King's daughter's bedchamber out of the lake. When Simpleton came to the lake, the ducks he had saved swam up to him, dived down and brought the key up out of the water.
But the third task was the hardest of all: the youngest and dearest of the King's three sleeping daughters had to be picked out from among them. They looked exactly alike, and there was nothing to tell them apart except that they had each eaten a different sweet thing before falling asleep — the eldest a lump of sugar, the second a little syrup, and the youngest a spoonful of honey.
Then the Queen of the bees, which Simpleton had saved from the fire, came and tasted the lips of all three; and at last she stayed sitting on the mouth that had eaten honey, and so the King's son knew the right princess.
Then the enchantment was at an end. Everything was released from its sleep, and all those who had been turned to stone got their own shapes back again. Simpleton married the youngest and sweetest princess, and became King after her father's death; and his two brothers got the other two sisters.
There was once a King who had three sons. Two of them were clever and quick-witted; but the third did not say much, and was simple, and was called the Simpleton.
When the King had grown old and weak and was thinking about his end, he did not know which of his sons should inherit the kingdom after him. So he said to them, "Go out into the world, and whichever of you brings me the most beautiful carpet shall be King after my death."
And so that there should be no quarrelling among them, he took them outside his castle, blew three feathers into the air, and said, "You shall go where they fly."
One feather flew east and one flew west; but the third flew straight up and did not fly far, and soon dropped to the ground.
And now one brother went to the right and the other to the left, and they mocked Simpleton, who had to stay where the third feather had fallen.
He sat down and was sad; and then all at once he saw that there was a trapdoor close by the feather. He lifted it, found some steps and went down them, and then came to another door and knocked at it, and heard somebody inside calling:
"Little green maiden, hopping so free, hop to the door and see who it may be."
The door opened, and he saw a great fat toad sitting there with a crowd of little toads around her.
The fat toad asked what he wanted. He answered, "I should like to have the prettiest and finest carpet in the world."
Then she called one of the young ones and said:
"Little green maiden, hop away quick, the great box yonder is what I pick."
The young toad brought the box, and the fat toad opened it and gave Simpleton a carpet out of it, so beautiful and so finely made that up on the earth above nobody could have woven the like of it. So he thanked her and climbed up again.
The other two had thought their youngest brother so stupid that they were sure he would find and bring nothing at all.
"Why should we give ourselves any trouble to search?" they said — and they got a couple of coarse handkerchiefs from the first shepherds' wives they met, and carried them home to the King.
At the same moment Simpleton came back too, and brought his beautiful carpet; and when the King saw it he was astonished and said, "If justice is done, the kingdom belongs to the youngest."
But the other two gave their father no peace, and said it was impossible that Simpleton, who had no sense in anything, should be King, and begged him to make a new bargain with them.
So the father said, "Whoever brings me the most beautiful ring shall inherit the kingdom" — and he led the three brothers out and blew three feathers into the air for them to follow.
The two eldest ones' feathers went east and west again, and Simpleton's flew straight up and dropped down beside the door into the earth. So he went down again to the fat toad and told her that he wanted the most beautiful ring in the world. She at once ordered her great box to be brought, and gave him a ring out of it that sparkled with jewels, and was so beautiful that no goldsmith on earth could have made it.
The two eldest laughed at Simpleton for going to look for a golden ring. They gave themselves no trouble at all, but knocked the nails out of an old cartwheel-ring and took that to the King. But when Simpleton produced his golden ring, his father said again, "The kingdom belongs to him."
The two eldest did not stop tormenting the King until he made a third condition, and declared that whoever brought home the most beautiful woman should have the kingdom. He blew the three feathers into the air again, and they flew as they had before.
Then Simpleton went straight down to the fat toad and said, "I'm to take home the most beautiful woman!"
"Oho," answered the toad, "the most beautiful woman! She isn't to hand at the moment, but you shall have her all the same."
She gave him a hollowed-out yellow turnip with six mice harnessed to it. Then Simpleton said quite miserably, "What am I to do with that?"
The toad answered, "Just put one of my little toads inside it."
So he took one at random out of the ring of them and set her in the yellow carriage; and hardly was she seated in it before she turned into a wonderfully beautiful girl, and the turnip into a carriage, and the six mice into horses. So he kissed her and drove off at a good pace and brought her to the King.
His brothers came along afterwards. They had given themselves no trouble at all to look for beautiful girls, but had brought the first peasant women they happened to meet.
When the King saw them he said, "After my death the kingdom belongs to my youngest son."
But the two eldest deafened the King's ears again with their outcry — "We can't consent to Simpleton's being King" — and demanded that the one whose wife could jump through a ring hanging in the middle of the hall should have the preference. They thought, "The peasant women can do that easily, they're strong enough; but the delicate girl will jump herself to death."
The old King agreed to this as well. So the two peasant women jumped, and jumped through the ring, but were so heavy that they fell and broke their coarse arms and legs. And then the pretty girl Simpleton had brought with him sprang, and sprang through as lightly as a deer, and all opposition had to come to an end.
So he was given the crown, and has ruled wisely for a long time now.
There was a man who had three sons, the youngest of whom was called Simpleton, and was despised and mocked and put down at every turn.
It happened that the eldest wanted to go into the forest to cut wood; and before he went, his mother gave him a beautiful sweet cake and a bottle of wine, so that he should not go hungry or thirsty.
When he came into the forest, a little grey-haired old man met him and wished him good day, and said, "Do give me a piece of the cake in your pocket, and let me have a drink of your wine. I'm so hungry and thirsty."
But the prudent young man answered, "If I give you my cake and my wine, I shall have none for myself. Be off with you." And he left the little man standing there and went on.
But when he began to cut down a tree, it was not long before he made a false stroke and the axe cut into his arm, so that he had to go home and have it bound up. And that was the little grey man's doing.
After this the second son went into the forest, and his mother gave him a cake and a bottle of wine, as she had the eldest. The little old grey man met him too, and asked him for a piece of the cake and a drink of the wine. But the second son said, just as sensibly, "Whatever I give you is taken away from me. Be off!" And he left the little man standing there and went on.
His punishment was not slow in coming either: he had struck the tree only a few times when he struck his own leg, and had to be carried home.
Then Simpleton said, "Father, do let me go and cut wood."
His father answered, "Your brothers have hurt themselves at it. Leave it alone — you know nothing about it."
But Simpleton begged so long that at last he said, "Off you go, then. Hurting yourself will teach you sense."
His mother gave him a cake made with water and baked in the ashes, and a bottle of sour beer to go with it.
When he came to the forest, the little old grey man met him as well, and greeted him and said, "Give me a piece of your cake and a drink out of your bottle. I'm so hungry and thirsty."
Simpleton answered, "I've nothing but a cinder-cake and sour beer. If that suits you, we'll sit down and eat."
So they sat down; and when Simpleton pulled out his cinder-cake, it was a fine sweet cake, and the sour beer had turned into good wine. So they ate and drank; and afterwards the little man said, "Since you have a good heart and are willing to share what you have, I'll give you good luck. There's an old tree standing over there — cut it down, and you'll find something among the roots." And with that the little man took his leave.
Simpleton went and cut down the tree; and when it fell there was a goose sitting among the roots, with feathers of pure gold. He picked her up and took her with him to an inn, where he meant to stay the night.
Now the innkeeper had three daughters, who saw the goose and were curious to know what sort of wonderful bird it might be, and would have liked one of its golden feathers.
The eldest thought, "I shall soon find a chance to pull out a feather"; and as soon as Simpleton had gone out, she took hold of the goose by the wing — and her finger and hand stuck fast to it.
The second came soon afterwards, thinking of nothing but how she might get a feather for herself; but she had hardly touched her sister before she was held fast too.
At last the third came with the same idea, and the others screamed out, "Keep away! For goodness' sake keep away!" But she could not see why she should keep away. "The others are there," she thought. "I may as well be there too" — and she ran to them; but the moment she touched her sister she stuck fast to her. So they had to spend the night with the goose.
Next morning Simpleton took the goose under his arm and set out, without troubling himself about the three girls hanging on behind. They had to keep running after him, now left, now right, wherever he happened to want to go.
Out in the middle of the fields the parson met them; and when he saw the procession he said, "For shame, you good-for-nothing girls! Why are you running across the fields after this young man? Is that proper?" And at the same time he took hold of the youngest by the hand to pull her away — but as soon as he touched her he stuck fast as well, and had to run along behind.
Before long the sexton came by and saw his master the parson running along behind three girls. He was astonished at this and called out, "Hi there, your reverence, where are you off to in such a hurry? Don't forget we've a christening today!" And he ran after him and took him by the sleeve, and was held fast to it.
While the five of them were trotting along one behind the other, two labourers came in from the fields with their hoes. The parson called out to them and begged them to set him and the sexton free; but they had hardly touched the sexton before they were held fast too, and now there were seven of them running along behind Simpleton and the goose.
Soon afterwards he came to a city where a king reigned who had a daughter so solemn that nobody could make her laugh. So he had put out a proclamation that whoever could make her laugh should marry her.
When Simpleton heard this he went with his goose and all its train before the King's daughter; and as soon as she saw the seven people running along, on and on, one behind the other, she began to laugh out loud, and as if she would never stop. At that Simpleton asked to have her for his wife, and the wedding was celebrated. After the King's death Simpleton inherited the kingdom, and lived contentedly with his wife for a long time.
There was once a King who had a wife with golden hair, and she was so beautiful that her equal was not to be found on earth. It came about that she fell ill; and as she felt that she must soon die, she called the King and said, "If you wish to marry again after my death, take nobody who isn't quite as beautiful as I am, and who hasn't golden hair just like mine. You must promise me that." And after the King had promised her, she closed her eyes and died.
For a long time the King could not be comforted, and had no thought of taking another wife. At length his councillors said, "There's no help for it — the King must marry again, so that we may have a Queen." And now messengers were sent far and wide to look for a bride who was the late Queen's equal in beauty. But in the whole world none was to be found; and even if one had been found, there would still have been nobody with such golden hair. So the messengers came home no wiser than they went.
Now the King had a daughter who was just as beautiful as her dead mother, and had the same golden hair. When she was grown up, the King looked at her one day and saw that in every respect she was the image of his late wife, and all at once he felt a violent love for her. Then he said to his councillors, "I'll marry my daughter, for she is the very likeness of my late wife; and apart from her I can find no bride who resembles her."
When the councillors heard that they were appalled, and said, "God has forbidden a father to marry his daughter. No good can come of such a crime, and the kingdom will be dragged down in the ruin."
The daughter was still more appalled when she learned of her father's decision, but she hoped to turn him from his plan. So she said to him, "Before I do what you wish, I must have three dresses: one as golden as the sun, one as silvery as the moon, and one as bright as the stars. And besides that I want a cloak made of a thousand different kinds of fur and hide sewn together, and every kind of animal in your kingdom must give a piece of its skin for it." But she thought, "Getting that will be quite impossible, and so I shall turn my father away from his wicked intentions."
The King, however, did not give up. The cleverest girls in his kingdom had to weave the three dresses — one as golden as the sun, one as silvery as the moon, and one as bright as the stars; and his huntsmen had to catch one of every kind of animal in the whole kingdom and take a piece of its skin, and out of these a cloak of a thousand kinds of fur was made. At last, when everything was ready, the King had the cloak brought and spread out in front of her, and said, "The wedding shall be tomorrow."
So when the King's daughter saw that there was no hope left of turning her father's heart, she made up her mind to run away from him. In the night, while everybody was asleep, she got up and took three things out of her treasures: a golden ring, a golden spinning wheel and a golden reel. The three dresses of the sun, the moon and the stars she packed into a nutshell; then she put on her cloak of all kinds of fur and blackened her face and hands with soot. Then she commended herself to God and went away, and walked the whole night until she came to a great forest. And as she was tired she climbed into a hollow tree and fell asleep.
The sun rose and she slept on, and she was still sleeping when it was broad day. Now it happened that the King to whom this forest belonged was hunting in it. When his dogs came to the tree they sniffed and ran round it barking.
The King said to his huntsmen, "Just see what sort of wild beast has hidden itself in there."
The huntsmen did as he ordered; and when they came back they said, "There's a wonderful beast lying in the hollow tree. We've never seen anything like it. Its coat is fur of a thousand different kinds — but it's lying there asleep."
Said the King, "See if you can catch it alive; then tie it to the carriage and we'll take it with us."
When the huntsmen laid hold of the girl she woke in terror and cried out to them, "I'm a poor child, deserted by father and mother. Have pity on me and take me with you."
Then they said, "Allerleirauh — All-Kinds-of-Fur — you'll do to work in the kitchen. Come along with us, you can sweep up the ashes."
So they put her in the carriage and took her home to the royal palace. There they showed her a cupboard under the stairs where no daylight came, and said, "Hairy animal, you can live and sleep in there." Then she was sent into the kitchen, and there she carried wood and water, swept the hearth, plucked the fowls, picked over the vegetables, raked out the ashes, and did all the dirty work.
Allerleirauh lived there a long time in great wretchedness. Ah, lovely princess, what is to become of you now!
It happened one day, though, that a feast was held in the palace, and she said to the cook, "May I go upstairs for a while and watch? I'll stand outside the door."
The cook answered, "Yes, go along; but you must be back here in half an hour to sweep the hearth."
So she took her oil lamp and went into her den, took off her fur dress and washed the soot off her face and hands, so that her full beauty came to light again. And she opened the nut and took out her dress that shone like the sun; and when she had put it on she went up to the feast, and everybody made way for her, because nobody knew her, and they took her for nothing less than a king's daughter. The King came to meet her and gave her his hand and danced with her, and thought in his heart, "My eyes have never seen anyone so beautiful." When the dance was over she curtsied; and when the King looked round again she had vanished, and nobody knew where. The guards standing outside the palace were called and questioned, but not one of them had seen her.
She had run into her little den, though, and quickly taken off her dress and made her face and hands black again and put on her fur cloak, and was Allerleirauh once more. And now, when she went into the kitchen and was about to get to work and sweep up the ashes, the cook said, "Leave that until morning, and make the King his soup. I want to go up for a while too and take a look. But don't let any hairs fall into it, or you shall have nothing to eat in future."
So the cook went off, and Allerleirauh made the King's soup, and made it bread soup and as good as she knew how; and when it was ready she fetched her golden ring from her little den and put it in the bowl the soup was served in.
When the dancing was over the King had his soup brought and ate it, and liked it so much that it seemed to him he had never tasted better. But when he came to the bottom of the bowl he saw a golden ring lying there, and could not imagine how it had got in. So he ordered the cook to come before him.
The cook was terrified when he heard the order, and said to Allerleirauh, "You've certainly let a hair fall into the soup; and if you have, you'll be beaten for it."
When he came before the King, the King asked who had made the soup.
The cook replied, "I made it."
But the King said, "That's not true. It was far better than usual, and cooked differently."
He answered, "I must admit that I didn't make it. It was made by the hairy animal."
The King said, "Go and tell it to come up here."
When Allerleirauh came, the King said, "Who are you?"
"I'm a poor girl who has no father or mother any more."
He asked further, "What use are you in my palace?"
She answered, "I'm good for nothing but to have boots thrown at my head."
He went on, "Where did you get the ring that was in the soup?"
She answered, "I know nothing about any ring."
So the King could learn nothing, and had to send her away again.
After a while there was another feast, and then, as before, Allerleirauh begged the cook for leave to go and watch. He answered, "Yes, but come back in half an hour and make the King the bread soup he likes so much."
Then she ran into her den, washed herself quickly, and took out of the nut the dress that was as silvery as the moon, and put it on. Then she went up, and was like a princess; and the King stepped forward to meet her and was delighted to see her again, and as the dance was just beginning they danced it together. But when it ended she disappeared again so quickly that the King could not see where she went.
She sprang into her den, though, and made herself a hairy animal once more, and went into the kitchen to make the bread soup. When the cook had gone upstairs, she fetched the little golden spinning wheel and put it in the bowl, so that the soup covered it.
Then it was carried to the King, who ate it and liked it as much as before, and had the cook brought in; and this time too he was forced to admit that Allerleirauh had made the soup. Allerleirauh came before the King again; but she answered that she was good for nothing but to have boots thrown at her head, and that she knew nothing at all about the little golden spinning wheel.
When the King held a feast for the third time, it all happened as it had before. The cook said, "Upon my word, rough-skin, you're a witch. You're always putting something in the soup that makes it so good that the King likes it better than mine." But she begged so hard that he let her go up at the appointed time.
And now she put on the dress that shone like the stars, and went into the hall in it. Again the King danced with the beautiful girl, and thought that she had never yet been so lovely. And while she was dancing he contrived, without her noticing it, to slip a golden ring onto her finger; and he had given orders that the dance should last a very long time. When it ended he wanted to hold her fast by the hands, but she tore herself free and sprang away through the crowd so quickly that she vanished from his sight.
She ran as fast as she could into her den under the stairs; but as she had been too long, and had stayed more than half an hour, she could not get her pretty dress off, and only threw the fur cloak over it; and in her haste she did not make herself quite black, but left one finger white. Then Allerleirauh ran into the kitchen and cooked the King's bread soup; and as the cook was away, she put her golden reel into it.
When the King found the reel at the bottom, he had Allerleirauh summoned; and then he caught sight of the white finger, and saw the ring he had put on it during the dance. Then he took her by the hand and held her fast; and when she tried to get free and run away, her fur cloak fell open a little and the star dress shone out. The King seized the cloak and tore it off. Then her golden hair came shining out, and she stood there in her full splendour and could hide herself no longer. And when she had washed the soot and ashes off her face, she was more beautiful than anyone who had ever been seen on earth.
But the King said, "You are my dear bride, and we shall never part from each other again."
And with that the marriage was celebrated, and they lived happily until their deaths.
There was once a woman and her daughter who had a pretty garden with cabbages in it; and a little hare got in and ate up all the cabbages during the winter.
Then says the mother to the daughter, "Go into the garden and chase that hare away."
The girl says to the little hare, "Shoo, shoo, hare, you're still eating up all our cabbages."
Says the hare, "Come along, my girl, and sit yourself down on my little hare's tail, and come with me to my little hare's hut."
The girl won't do it.
Next day the hare comes again and eats the cabbages; so the mother says to the daughter, "Go into the garden and drive that hare away."
The girl says to the hare, "Shoo, shoo, little hare, you're still eating all the cabbages."
The little hare says, "My girl, sit yourself down on my little hare's tail and come with me to my little hare's hut."
The girl refuses.
The third day the hare comes again and eats the cabbages. At that the mother says to the daughter, "Go into the garden and chase that hare off."
Says the girl, "Shoo, shoo, little hare, you're still eating all our cabbages."
Says the little hare, "Come along, my girl, sit yourself down on my little hare's tail and come with me to my little hare's hut."
The girl sits down on the little hare's tail, and then the hare carries her far away to his little hut, and says, "Now cook green cabbage and millet, and I'll go and invite the wedding guests."
Then all the wedding guests came together. (Who were the wedding guests? I can tell you that, just as another told it to me.) They were all hares; and the crow was there as parson to marry the bride and bridegroom, and the fox as clerk, and the altar was under the rainbow.
The girl, though, was sad, because she was all alone.
The little hare comes and says, "Open the doors, open the doors, the wedding guests are merry."
The bride says nothing, but weeps. The little hare goes away.
The little hare comes back and says, "Take off the lid, take off the lid, the wedding guests are hungry."
The bride again says nothing, and weeps. The little hare goes away.
The little hare comes back and says, "Take off the lid, take off the lid, the wedding guests are waiting."
Then the bride says nothing, and the hare goes away; but she dresses a straw doll in her clothes and gives her a spoon to stir with, and sets her by the pan of millet, and goes back to her mother.
The little hare comes once more and says, "Take off the lid, take off the lid" — and gets up and hits the doll on the head, so that her cap falls off.
Then the little hare sees that it is not his bride, and goes away, and is sorrowful.
There was once a King's son who was betrothed to a girl he loved very much. And once when he was sitting beside her, very happy, news came that his father lay sick to death and wanted to see him once more before the end.
So he said to his beloved, "I must go now and leave you. I give you this ring to remember me by. When I am King I'll come back and fetch you."
So he rode away; and when he reached his father, the old man was dangerously ill and near his death. He said to him, "Dear son, I wanted to see you once more before my end. Promise me to marry as I wish" — and he named a certain King's daughter who was to be his wife.
The son was in such distress that he did not think what he was doing, and said, "Yes, dear father, your will shall be done." And with that the King closed his eyes and died.
So when the son had been proclaimed King and the time of mourning was over, he was obliged to keep the promise he had given his father, and had the King's daughter asked for in marriage, and she was promised to him.
His first betrothed heard of it, and grieved so much over his faithlessness that she nearly died. Then her father said to her, "Dearest child, why are you so sad? You shall have whatever you want."
She thought for a moment and said, "Dear father, I want eleven girls exactly like me in face and figure and height."
The father said, "If it's possible, your wish shall be granted." And he had a search made through his whole kingdom until eleven young girls were found who were the exact likeness of his daughter in face and figure and height.
When they came to the King's daughter, she had twelve suits of huntsmen's clothes made, all alike; and the eleven girls had to put on the huntsmen's clothes, and she herself put on the twelfth suit. Then she took leave of her father and rode away with them, and rode to the court of the man she had been betrothed to and loved so dearly.
There she asked whether he needed any huntsmen, and whether he would take all of them into his service. The King looked at her and did not know her; but as they were such handsome fellows he said yes, he would gladly take them. And now they were the King's twelve huntsmen.
But the King had a lion that was a marvellous creature, for it knew everything hidden and secret. One evening it happened that the lion said to the King, "You think you have twelve huntsmen?"
"Yes," said the King, "they are twelve huntsmen."
The lion went on, "You're mistaken. They are twelve girls."
The King said, "That can't be true. How will you prove it to me?"
"Oh, just have some peas scattered in your antechamber," answered the lion, "and then you'll soon see. Men have a firm tread, and when they walk over peas not one of them stirs; but girls trip and skip and drag their feet, and the peas roll about."
The King was well pleased with the advice, and had the peas scattered.
But there was a servant of the King's who was fond of the huntsmen; and when he heard that they were to be put to this test he went to them and told them everything, and said, "The lion wants to make the King believe you're girls."
Then the King's daughter thanked him, and said to her girls, "Put some strength into it, and tread firmly on the peas."
So next morning, when the King had the twelve huntsmen called before him and they came into the antechamber where the peas were lying, they trod so firmly on them, and walked so strongly and surely, that not one pea rolled or stirred. Then they went out again, and the King said to the lion, "You've lied to me. They walk just like men."
The lion said, "They found out that they were going to be tested, and put on some strength. Just have twelve spinning wheels brought into the antechamber one day, and they'll go up to them and be pleased with them — and that's what no man would do."
The King liked this advice, and had the spinning wheels set out in the antechamber.
But the servant, who was well disposed to the huntsmen, went and told them the plan. Then, when they were alone, the King's daughter said to her eleven girls, "Keep a hold on yourselves, and don't look round at the spinning wheels."
And next morning, when the King had his twelve huntsmen summoned, they went through the antechamber and never once looked at the spinning wheels.
Then the King said to the lion again, "You've deceived me. They're men — they didn't look at the spinning wheels."
The lion replied, "They found out that they were going to be tested, and held themselves in."
But the King would not believe the lion any more.
The twelve huntsmen always went with the King to the chase, and his liking for them kept growing. Now it happened once, when they were out hunting, that news came that the King's betrothed was on her way. When the true bride heard it, it hurt her so much that her heart was nearly broken, and she fell fainting to the ground.
The King thought something had happened to his dear huntsman, and ran to him and tried to help him, and pulled off his glove. Then he saw the ring he had given his first bride; and when he looked in her face he knew her. Then his heart was so touched that he kissed her; and when she opened her eyes he said, "You are mine and I am yours, and nobody in the world can alter that."
He sent a messenger to the other bride and begged her to go back to her own kingdom, since he had a wife already, and a man who has just found an old dish has no need of a new one.
And with that the wedding was celebrated, and the lion was taken back into favour — because after all it had told the truth.
Hans wanted to have his son taught a trade, so he went into the church and prayed to our Lord God to tell him which would do the boy most good. Then the clerk got behind the altar and said, "Thieving, thieving."
So Hans goes back to his son and tells him he is to learn thieving, and that the Lord God has said so. And he goes off with his son to look for a man who understands thieving.
They walk a long while and come into a great forest, where there stands a little house with an old woman in it. Hans says, "Do you know of a man who understands thieving?"
"You can learn that here well enough," says the woman. "My son is a master of it."
So he speaks with the son and asks whether he really knows thieving well.
The master thief says, "I'll teach him properly. Come back when a year is out; and then, if you recognise your son, I'll take no payment at all for teaching him; but if you don't know him, you must give me two hundred thalers."
The father goes home again, and the son learns witchcraft and thieving thoroughly.
When the year is out, the father is full of worry about how he is to manage to recognise his son. And as he is going about in his trouble, he meets a little dwarf, who says, "Man, what's the matter with you, that you're always in such distress?"
"Oh," says Hans, "a year ago I placed my son with a master thief, who told me to come back when the year was out; and that if I then didn't know my son when I saw him, I was to pay two hundred thalers, but if I did know him I was to pay nothing. And now I'm afraid I shan't know him, and I can't think where I'm to get the money."
Then the dwarf tells him to take a little basket of bread with him and stand under the chimney. "There on the crossbeam is a basket with a little bird peeping out of it, and that is your son."
Hans goes there and throws down a little basket full of black bread in front of the basket with the bird in it; and the little bird comes out and looks up.
"Hullo, my son, are you there?" says the father; and the son is delighted to see his father.
But the master thief says, "The devil must have prompted you — how else could you have known your son?"
"Father, let's go," said the boy.
Then father and son set out for home. On the way a carriage comes driving by, and the son says to his father, "I'll change myself into a big greyhound, and then you can make a lot of money out of me."
Then the gentleman calls out of the carriage, "My man, will you sell your dog?"
"Yes," says the father.
"How much do you want for him?"
"Thirty thalers."
"Well, man, that's a great deal; but as he's such a very fine dog I'll have him."
The gentleman takes him into the carriage; but when they have driven a little way, the dog springs out of the carriage window and goes back to his father, and is a greyhound no longer.
They go home together. Next day there is a fair in the next town, so the young man says to his father, "Now I'll change myself into a beautiful horse, and you can sell me. But when you've sold me, you must take off my bridle, or I can't become a man again."
So the father goes to the fair with the horse; and the master thief comes and buys the horse for a hundred thalers. But the father forgets, and does not take the bridle off.
So the man goes home with the horse and puts it in the stable. When the maid crosses the threshold, the horse says, "Take off my bridle, take off my bridle."
Then the maid stands still and says, "What — can you talk?" And she goes and takes the bridle off; and the horse turns into a sparrow and flies out at the door, and the wizard turns into a sparrow too and flies after him.
Then they come together and cast lots; but the master loses, and takes to the water and is a fish. Then the young man becomes a fish as well, and they cast lots again, and the master loses. So the master changes himself into a cock, and the young man becomes a fox and bites the master's head off; and he died, and has stayed dead to this day.
There was once an old castle in the middle of a large, thick forest, and in it an old woman who was a witch lived all alone. By day she changed herself into a cat or a screech owl, but in the evening she took her proper human shape again. She could lure wild animals and birds to her, and then she killed them and boiled and roasted them.
If anyone came within a hundred paces of the castle he was forced to stand still and could not move from the spot until she gave him leave. But whenever an innocent girl came inside this circle, she changed her into a bird and shut her up in a wickerwork cage and carried the cage into a room in the castle. She had about seven thousand cages of rare birds in that castle.
Now there was once a girl called Jorinda, who was lovelier than all other girls. She and a handsome young man named Joringel had promised to marry each other. They were still in their days of betrothal, and their greatest happiness was to be together.
One day, so that they could talk quietly, they went for a walk in the forest. "Take care," said Joringel, "not to go too near the castle."
It was a beautiful evening; the sun shone brightly between the tree trunks into the dark green of the forest, and the turtle doves sang mournfully on the young boughs of the birches.
Jorinda wept now and then; she sat down in the sunshine and was sorrowful. Joringel was sorrowful too. They were as sad as if they were about to die. Then they looked about them and were quite at a loss, for they did not know which way they should go to get home. The sun was still half above the mountain and half set.
Joringel looked through the bushes and saw the old walls of the castle close at hand. He was horror-struck and filled with a deadly fear. Jorinda was singing:
"My little bird, with the necklace red, sings sorrow, sorrow, sorrow; he sings that the dove must soon be dead, sings sorrow, sor — jug, jug, jug."
Joringel looked for Jorinda. She had been changed into a nightingale, and sang, "jug, jug, jug." A screech owl with glowing eyes flew three times round about her, and three times cried, "to-whoo, to-whoo, to-whoo!"
Joringel could not move. He stood there like a stone, and could not weep or speak or move hand or foot.
The sun had set now. The owl flew into the thicket, and directly afterwards a crooked old woman came out of it, yellow and lean, with great red eyes and a hooked nose whose tip reached her chin. She muttered to herself, caught the nightingale and carried it away in her hand.
Joringel could neither speak nor stir from the spot; the nightingale was gone. At last the woman came back and said in a hollow voice, "Greetings, Zachiel. When the moon shines on the cage, Zachiel, let him loose at once."
Then Joringel was free. He fell on his knees before the woman and begged her to give him back his Jorinda; but she said he should never have her again, and went away. He called, he wept, he lamented, but all in vain. "Ah, what is to become of me?"
Joringel went away and came at last to a strange village, where he kept sheep for a long time. He often walked round and round the castle, but never too close to it.
At last he dreamed one night that he found a blood-red flower with a beautiful large pearl in the middle of it; that he picked the flower and went with it to the castle, and that everything he touched with the flower was freed from enchantment. He dreamed too that by means of it he got his Jorinda back.
In the morning when he woke, he began to search over hill and dale to see whether he could find such a flower. He searched until the ninth day, and then, early in the morning, he found the blood-red flower. In the middle of it there was a great dewdrop, as big as the finest pearl.
Day and night he travelled with this flower to the castle. When he came within a hundred paces of it he was not held fast, but walked on to the door. Joringel was full of joy. He touched the door with the flower and it sprang open. He walked in across the courtyard and listened for the sound of the birds. At last he heard it. He went on and found the room it came from, and there the witch was, feeding the birds in the seven thousand cages.
When she saw Joringel she was angry — very angry — and scolded and spat poison and gall at him; but she could not come within two paces of him. He took no notice of her, but went and looked over the cages of birds. But there were many hundreds of nightingales in them. How was he to find his Jorinda again?
Just then he saw the old woman quietly taking away a cage with a bird in it, and going towards the door.
In a flash he sprang after her, touched the cage with the flower, and the old woman too. Now she could bewitch nobody any more; and Jorinda was standing there with her arms round his neck, and she was as beautiful as ever.
A father once called his three sons before him and gave the first a cock, the second a scythe and the third a cat.
"I'm an old man now," he said. "My death is near, and I wanted to make some provision for you before my end. Money I have none, and what I'm giving you now seems worth very little; but it all depends on your making sensible use of it. Only find a country where such things are still unknown, and your fortune is made."
After the father's death the eldest went off with his cock; but wherever he came the cock was known already. In the towns he could see one from a long way off, sitting on the steeples and turning round with the wind; and in the villages he heard more than one of them crowing. Nobody would show the least wonder at the creature, so it did not look as if he would make his fortune by it.
At last, though, it happened that he came to an island where the people knew nothing about cocks, and did not even understand how to divide up their time. They knew well enough when it was morning or evening; but at night, if they did not sleep through it, not one of them could tell the time.
"Look," said he, "what a proud creature this is! It has a ruby-red crown on its head and wears spurs like a knight; it calls you three times in the night, at fixed hours; and when it calls the last time the sun soon rises. But if it crows in broad daylight, take notice, for there'll certainly be a change in the weather."
The people were delighted. For a whole night they did not sleep, and listened with great pleasure as the cock proclaimed the time loudly and clearly at two, four and six o'clock. They asked whether the creature was for sale, and how much he wanted for it.
"About as much gold as a donkey can carry," he answered.
"A ridiculously small price for such a precious creature!" they all cried, and gladly gave him what he had asked.
When he came home with his wealth his brothers were astonished; and the second said, "Well, I'll go out and see whether I can't get rid of my scythe as profitably."
But it did not look as if he could, for he met labourers everywhere, and they had scythes on their shoulders as well as he.
At last, though, he happened on an island where the people knew nothing about scythes. When the corn was ripe there they took cannon out into the fields and shot it down. Now that was a rather uncertain business: many shot right over it, and others hit the ears instead of the stalks and shot them clean away, so that a great deal was lost; and on top of it all it made a terrible noise. So the man set to work and mowed the corn down so quietly and quickly that the people gaped with astonishment. They agreed to give him whatever he asked for the scythe, and he was given a horse loaded with as much gold as it could carry.
And now the third brother wanted to take his cat to the right man. It went with him just as it had with the others: as long as he stayed on the mainland there was nothing to be done. Every place had cats, and there were so many of them that newborn kittens were generally drowned in the ponds.
At last he sailed over to an island, and it luckily happened that no cats had ever been seen there, and that the mice had got the upper hand so completely that they danced on the tables and benches whether the master of the house was at home or not. The people complained bitterly of the plague. The King himself, in his palace, did not know how to protect himself from them; mice squeaked in every corner and gnawed whatever they could get their teeth into.
But now the cat began her hunting, and soon cleared a couple of rooms; and the people begged the King to buy the wonderful animal for the country. The King gladly gave what was asked, which was a mule loaded with gold; and the third brother came home with the greatest treasure of all.
The cat, meanwhile, was making merry with the mice in the royal palace, and killed so many that they could not be counted. At last she grew hot with the work and thirsty, so she stood still, lifted up her head and cried, "Mew! Mew!"
When they heard this strange cry, the King and all his people were frightened, and in their terror ran out of the palace all together. Then the King took counsel about what was best to be done; and at last it was decided to send a herald to the cat and demand that she leave the palace, and to warn her that if she did not, she must expect force to be used against her. The councillors said, "We'd rather be plagued with the mice — we're used to that misfortune — than give up our lives to a monster like this."
So a young nobleman was sent to ask the cat whether she would quit the castle peaceably. But the cat, whose thirst had grown greater still, only answered, "Mew! Mew!"
The young man understood her to say, "Most certainly not! Most certainly not!" — and took this answer back to the King.
"Then," said the councillors, "she shall yield to force."
Cannon were brought up, and the palace was soon in flames. When the fire reached the room where the cat was sitting, she sprang safely out of the window; but the besiegers did not leave off until the whole palace had been shot to the ground.
There was once a man who was master of all kinds of skills. He served in the war and behaved well and bravely; but when the war was over he got his discharge and three farthings for his expenses on the road.
"Wait a bit," said he. "I shan't be content with this. If I can only meet the right people, the King will yet have to give me the whole treasure of the country."
Then he went into the forest full of anger, and saw a man standing there who had pulled up six trees as if they were stalks of corn. He said to him, "Will you be my servant and come along with me?"
"Yes," he answered, "but first I'll take this little bundle of sticks home to my mother." And he took one of the trees and wound it round the other five, lifted the bundle onto his back and carried it away. Then he came back and went off with his master, who said, "The two of us ought to be able to get through the world very well."
When they had walked a little way they found a huntsman kneeling down with his gun at his shoulder, about to fire.
The master said to him, "Huntsman, what are you going to shoot?"
He answered, "Two miles from here there's a fly sitting on the branch of an oak tree, and I want to shoot its left eye out."
"Oh, come with me," said the man. "If the three of us are together we certainly ought to get on in the world."
The huntsman was willing and went along with him; and they came to seven windmills whose sails were turning round at great speed, although no wind was blowing on the right hand or the left and not a leaf was stirring.
Then the man said, "I don't know what is driving those windmills — there isn't a breath of air." And he went on with his servants; and when they had walked two miles they saw a man sitting in a tree, holding one nostril shut and blowing out of the other.
"Good gracious, what are you doing up there?"
He answered, "Two miles away there are seven windmills. Look — I'm blowing to keep them turning."
"Oh, come with me," said the man. "If the four of us are together we'll carry the whole world before us."
So the blower came down and went with him; and after a while they saw a man standing on one leg, who had taken the other one off and laid it down beside him.
The master said, "You've made yourself very comfortable for a rest."
"I'm a runner," he replied, "and to stop myself running much too fast I've taken one of my legs off; for if I run with both, I go quicker than any bird can fly."
"Oh, come with me. If the five of us are together we'll carry the whole world before us."
So he went along with them; and it was not long before they met a man wearing a cap, but wearing it right over one ear.
The master said to him, "Gently, gently — don't stick your cap over one ear like that. You look like a perfect fool."
"I mustn't wear it any other way," said he, "for if I set my hat straight, a terrible frost comes on, and all the birds in the air freeze and drop dead to the ground."
"Oh, come with me," said the master. "If the six of us are together we can carry the whole world before us."
Now the six came to a town where the King had proclaimed that whoever ran a race against his daughter and won should be her husband — but whoever lost should lose his head.
Then the man presented himself and said, "I'll do it; but I'll let my servant run for me."
The King replied, "Then his life must be staked as well, so that his head and yours are both set on the victory."
When that was settled and agreed, the man buckled the other leg onto the runner and said to him, "Now be quick, and help us to win."
It was arranged that whoever was first to bring back water from a far-off well should be the winner. The runner was given a pitcher, and the King's daughter one too, and they set off at the same moment. But in an instant, when the King's daughter had gone only a very little way, the people watching could see no more of the runner; it was just as if the wind had whistled past.
In a short time he reached the well, filled his pitcher with water and turned back. Halfway home, though, he was overcome with tiredness, and set his pitcher down and lay down himself and fell asleep. He had made a pillow of a horse's skull that was lying on the ground, so that he should lie uncomfortably and soon wake up again.
Meanwhile the King's daughter, who could also run very well — quite as well as any ordinary person can — had reached the well, and was hurrying back with her pitcher full of water; and when she saw the runner lying there asleep she was glad and said, "My enemy is delivered into my hands" — and she emptied his pitcher and ran on.
And now all would have been lost, if by good luck the huntsman had not been standing at the top of the castle and seen the whole thing with his sharp eyes.
"The King's daughter shan't get the better of us all the same," said he. And he loaded his gun and shot so cleverly that he shot the horse's skull out from under the runner's head without hurting him.
Then the runner woke and jumped up, and saw that his pitcher was empty and that the King's daughter was already far ahead. But he did not lose heart. He ran back to the well with his pitcher, drew water again, and was home ten minutes before the King's daughter.
"There," said he. "I hadn't stirred myself till now. What went before didn't deserve to be called running."
But it galled the King, and still more his daughter, that she should be carried off by a common discharged soldier like that; and they took counsel together about how to be rid of him and his companions.
Then the King said to her, "I've thought of a way. Don't be afraid — they shan't come back."
And he said to them, "You shall make merry together now, and eat and drink." And he led them into a room that had an iron floor; the doors were iron too, and the windows were guarded with iron bars. In the room stood a table covered with delicious food, and the King said to them, "Go in and enjoy yourselves."
And when they were inside, he ordered the doors to be shut and bolted. Then he sent for the cook and told him to light a fire under the room until the iron was red hot. The cook did it, and the six sitting at the table began to feel quite warm, and thought the heat came from the food. But as it grew still greater, and they wanted to get out and found the doors and windows bolted, they realised that the King must mean them harm and was trying to suffocate them.
"He shan't manage it, though," said the one with the cap. "I'll bring on a frost that will make the fire ashamed of itself and creep away."
Then he put his cap on straight, and immediately there came such a frost that all the heat vanished, and the food on the dishes began to freeze.
When an hour or two had gone by, and the King believed that they had died in the heat, he had the doors opened so as to see for himself. But when the doors were opened, all six were standing there alive and well, and said that they would very much like to get out and warm themselves, since the very food was frozen fast to the dishes with the cold.
Then the King went down to the cook in a fury, and scolded him, and asked why he had not done as he was told. But the cook replied, "There's heat enough there. Look for yourself."
Then the King saw that a fierce fire was burning under the iron room, and understood that there was no getting the better of the six that way.
The King thought again about how to be rid of his unwelcome guests, and had their leader brought to him, and said, "If you'll take gold and give up my daughter, you shall have as much as you like."
"Oh yes, Lord King," he answered. "Give me as much as my servant can carry, and I won't ask for your daughter."
The King was satisfied with that, and the other went on, "I'll come and fetch it in a fortnight."
Then he called together all the tailors in the whole kingdom, and they had to sit for a fortnight and sew a sack. And when it was ready, the strong one who could pull up trees had to take it on his back and go with it to the King.
Then the King said, "Who can that powerful fellow be, carrying a bundle of linen on his back as big as a house?" And he took fright and said, "What a lot of gold he'll be able to carry away!"
Then he ordered a ton of gold to be brought; it took sixteen of his strongest men to carry it, but the strong one snatched it up in one hand, put it in his sack and said, "Why don't you bring more at the same time? That hardly covers the bottom."
So little by little the King had all his treasure brought there, and the strong one shoved it into the sack, and even then the sack was not half full with it.
"Bring more," he cried. "These few crumbs don't fill it."
Then seven thousand cartloads of gold had to be gathered from the whole kingdom, and the strong one thrust them into his sack, oxen and all.
"I won't look them over any longer," said he. "I'll just take what comes, so long as the sack gets full."
When all that was inside there was still room for a great deal more; so he said, "I'll just make an end of the business. People do sometimes tie up a sack even when it isn't full."
So he took it on his back and went off with his comrades.
When the King saw one single man carrying away the entire wealth of the country, he flew into a rage, and ordered his horsemen to mount and go after the six and take the sack away from the strong one.
Two regiments soon overtook the six and called out, "You're prisoners! Put down that sack of gold, or you'll all be cut to pieces."
"What's that you say?" cried the blower. "That we're prisoners? Sooner than that, the lot of you shall go dancing about in the air." And he closed one nostril and blew on the two regiments with the other. Then they were scattered away from one another and carried up into the blue sky over all the mountains, one here and another there.
One sergeant cried for mercy; he had nine wounds and was a brave fellow who did not deserve rough treatment. The blower left off for a moment, so that he came down without harm; and then the blower said to him, "Now go home to your King and tell him he had better send some more horsemen — I'll blow every one of them into the air."
When the King was told this he said, "Let the rascals go. They have the better of it."
Then the six carried the riches home, divided them among themselves, and lived contented until their deaths.
Once upon a time the fox was talking to the wolf about the strength of man: how no animal could stand against him, and how all of them had to use cunning to keep themselves safe from him.
Then the wolf answered, "If I only had the chance of seeing a man just once, I'd go for him all the same."
"I can help you to that," said the fox. "Come to me early tomorrow morning and I'll show you one."
The wolf turned up in good time, and the fox took him out to the road the huntsmen used every day.
First an old discharged soldier came along. "Is that a man?" asked the wolf.
"No," answered the fox. "That was one."
Afterwards a little boy came by, going to school. "Is that a man?"
"No. That's going to be one."
At length a hunter came along, with his double-barrelled gun on his back and a short sword at his side.
Said the fox to the wolf, "Look, there comes a man. You must go for him — but I'll be off to my hole."
Then the wolf rushed at the man. When the huntsman saw him he said, "What a pity I haven't loaded with a bullet" — and took aim and fired his small shot into his face.
The wolf pulled a very sour face, but would not let himself be frightened, and went at him again; whereupon the huntsman gave him the second barrel. The wolf swallowed down the pain and rushed at the huntsman; but he drew out his bright blade and gave him a few cuts with it, right and left, so that he ran back to the fox howling and bleeding all over.
"Well, brother wolf," said the fox, "how did you get on with man?"
"Ah," replied the wolf, "I never imagined the strength of man was anything like that. First he took a stick off his shoulder and blew into it, and something flew into my face that tickled me horribly. Then he breathed into the stick once more, and it flew into my nose like lightning and hail. And when I was quite close, he drew a white rib out of his side and beat me with it until I was as good as left there dead."
"See what a braggart you are," said the fox. "You throw your hatchet so far that you can't fetch it back again."
The wolf had the fox with him, and whatever the wolf wanted, the fox was obliged to do, because he was the weaker; and he would gladly have been rid of his master.
It happened once, as they were going through the forest, that the wolf said, "Red-fox, get me something to eat, or I'll eat you instead."
Then the fox answered, "I know a farmyard where there are two young lambs. If you like, we'll fetch one of them."
That suited the wolf, and they went there; and the fox stole the little lamb, took it to the wolf and went away. The wolf devoured it, but was not satisfied with one; he wanted the other as well, and went to get it. But he did it so clumsily that the little lamb's mother heard him and began to cry out terribly and to bleat, so that the farmer came running. They found the wolf and beat him so mercilessly that he went back to the fox limping and howling.
"You've led me into a fine thing," said he. "I wanted to fetch the other lamb, and the country folk caught me and beat me to a jelly."
The fox replied, "Why are you such a glutton?"
Next day they went out into the country again, and the greedy wolf said once more, "Red-fox, get me something to eat, or I'll eat you instead."
Then the fox answered, "I know a farmhouse where the woman is baking pancakes tonight. We'll get ourselves some of them."
They went there, and the fox slipped round the house and peeped and sniffed about until he found where the dish was; and then he pulled down six pancakes and carried them to the wolf.
"There's something for you to eat," he said to him, and then went on his way.
The wolf swallowed the pancakes down in an instant and said, "They only make you want more" — and went off there and dragged the whole dish down, so that it smashed to pieces. That made such a noise that the woman came out; and when she saw the wolf she called the people, who came hurrying and beat him as long as their sticks held together, until he got back to the fox in the forest with two lame legs, howling loudly.
"What a shameful way you've led me into," he cried. "The peasants caught me and tanned my hide for me."
But the fox replied, "Why are you such a glutton?"
On the third day, when they were out together and the wolf could only limp along painfully, he said again, "Red-fox, get me something to eat, or I'll eat you instead."
The fox answered, "I know a man who has been killing his pig, and the salted meat is lying in a barrel in the cellar. We'll get that."
Said the wolf, "I'll go when you do, so that you can help me if I can't get away."
"Willingly," said the fox; and he showed him the byways and paths by which they came at last to the cellar.
There was meat in plenty, and the wolf set on it at once and thought, "There's plenty of time before I need stop." The fox liked it too, but he kept looking about him, and often ran back to the hole they had come in by to try whether his body was still thin enough to slip through it.
The wolf said, "Dear fox, tell me why you're running about like that and jumping in and out?"
"I have to see that nobody's coming," replied the crafty fellow. "Don't eat too much!"
Then the wolf said, "I shan't leave until the barrel is empty."
Meanwhile the farmer, who had heard the noise of the fox's jumping, came into the cellar. When the fox saw him he was out of the hole at one bound. The wolf tried to follow him; but he had made himself so fat with eating that he could not get through any more, and stuck fast. Then the farmer came with a cudgel and struck him dead; but the fox bounded off into the forest, glad to be rid of the old glutton.
The she-wolf had a cub, and invited the fox to be its godfather. "After all, he's a near relation of ours," said she. "He has a good head on him and plenty of talent; he can teach my little son and help him get on in the world."
The fox, too, seemed perfectly honest about it, and said, "Worthy cousin, I thank you for the honour you're doing me. I'll behave in such a way that you'll be well repaid for it."
He enjoyed himself at the feast and made merry, and afterwards he said, "Dear cousin, it's our duty to take care of the child. It must have good food, so that it grows strong. I know a sheepfold where we could fetch a nice morsel."
The wolf liked the sound of that, and went out with the fox to the farmyard. He pointed out the fold from a distance and said, "You'll be able to creep in there without being seen, and meanwhile I'll look about on the other side and see if I can pick up a chicken."
But he did not go there at all. He sat down at the edge of the forest, stretched out his legs and rested.
The she-wolf crept into the shed. A dog was lying there, and it made such a noise that the farm people came running out, caught cousin wolf, and poured a strong burning wash mixture over her hide. At last she got away and dragged herself outside.
There lay the fox, pretending to be full of complaints, and saying, "Ah, my dear cousin, what a bad time I've had! The peasants set on me and broke every limb I have. If you don't want me to lie here and die, you'll have to carry me away."
The she-wolf could barely walk herself; but she was in such concern about the fox that she took him on her back and slowly carried him — perfectly safe and sound — all the way to her house.
Then the fox called out to her, "Goodbye, dear cousin, and much good may your roasting do you!" — and he laughed heartily at her and bounded off.
It happened that the cat met the fox in a forest; and as she thought to herself, "He's clever and full of experience, and much respected in the world," she spoke to him in a friendly way. "Good day, dear Mr. Fox. How are you? How is everything with you? How are you getting through these hard times?"
The fox, full of every kind of arrogance, looked the cat over from head to foot, and for a long while did not know whether he would give any answer at all. At last he said, "Oh, you wretched whisker-washer, you piebald fool, you starving mouse-hunter, what can you be thinking of? Do you dare to ask how I'm getting on? What have you learned? How many arts do you understand?"
"I understand only one," replied the cat modestly.
"And what art is that?" asked the fox.
"When the hounds are after me, I can spring up into a tree and save myself."
"Is that all?" said the fox. "I'm master of a hundred arts, and I have a sackful of cunning into the bargain. I'm sorry for you. Come along with me and I'll teach you how people get away from hounds."
Just then a hunter came by with four dogs. The cat sprang nimbly up a tree and sat down at the top of it, where the branches and leaves hid her completely.
"Open your sack, Mr. Fox, open your sack!" the cat called down to him. But the dogs had already seized him and were holding him fast.
"Ah, Mr. Fox," cried the cat, "you and your hundred arts are left in the lurch. If you'd been able to climb like me, you wouldn't have lost your life."
There was once a Queen to whom God had given no children. Every morning she went into the garden and prayed to God in heaven to grant her a son or a daughter. Then an angel came to her from heaven and said, "Be at peace. You shall have a son with the power of wishing, so that whatever in the world he wishes for, he shall have."
So she went to the King and told him the joyful news; and when the time came she gave birth to a son, and the King was filled with gladness.
Every morning she went with the child into the garden where the wild animals were kept, and washed herself there in a clear stream. It happened once, when the child was a little older, that he was lying in her arms and she fell asleep. Then the old cook came, who knew that the child had the power of wishing, and stole him away; and he took a hen and cut it in pieces and dropped some of its blood on the Queen's apron and on her dress. Then he carried the child away to a secret place, where a nurse had to feed him; and he ran to the King and accused the Queen of having let the wild beasts take her child from her.
When the King saw the blood on her apron he believed it, and fell into such a rage that he ordered a high tower to be built where neither sun nor moon could be seen, and had his wife put into it and walled up. There she was to stay for seven years without food or drink, and die of hunger. But God sent two angels down from heaven in the shape of white doves, which flew to her twice a day and brought her food until the seven years were over.
The cook, though, thought to himself, "If the child has the power of wishing, and I'm here, he might very easily get me into trouble." So he left the palace and went to the boy, who was already big enough to talk, and said to him, "Wish yourself a beautiful palace, with a garden and everything else that goes with it."
The words were hardly out of the boy's mouth before everything he had wished for was there.
After a while the cook said to him, "It isn't good for you to be so much alone. Wish for a pretty girl to keep you company."
So the King's son wished for one, and she stood before him at once, and she was more beautiful than any painter could have painted her. The two of them played together and loved each other with all their hearts, while the old cook went out hunting like a gentleman.
But it occurred to him that the King's son might one day wish to be with his father, and so bring him into great danger. So he went out and took the girl aside and said, "Tonight, when the boy is asleep, go to his bed and drive this knife into his heart, and bring me his heart and his tongue. And if you don't do it, you'll lose your life."
With that he went away; and when he came back next day she had not done it, and said, "Why should I shed the blood of an innocent boy who has never harmed anybody?"
The cook said once again, "If you don't do it, it will cost you your own life."
When he had gone away she had a little hind brought to her and ordered it to be killed, and took its heart and tongue and laid them on a plate; and when she saw the old man coming she said to the boy, "Lie down in your bed and pull the covers over you."
Then the wicked wretch came in and said, "Where are the boy's heart and tongue?"
The girl held the plate out to him — but the King's son threw off the quilt and said, "You old sinner, why did you want to kill me? Now I'll pronounce your sentence. You shall become a black poodle with a gold collar round your neck, and you shall eat burning coals until the flames come bursting out of your throat."
And when he had spoken these words, the old man was changed into a poodle dog with a gold collar round his neck; and the cooks were ordered to bring up live coals, and he ate them until the flames broke out of his throat.
The King's son stayed there a little while longer, and thought about his mother and wondered whether she was still alive. At length he said to the girl, "I'm going home to my own country. If you'll come with me, I'll take care of you."
"Ah," she answered, "the way is so long; and what should I do in a strange land where nobody knows me?"
As she did not seem quite willing, and as they could not be parted from each other, he wished her changed into a beautiful pink, and took her with him.
Then he went off to his own country, and the poodle had to run after him. He went to the tower where his mother was shut up; and as it was so high, he wished for a ladder that would reach right to the top. Then he climbed up and looked inside and cried, "Beloved mother, my lady Queen, are you still alive, or are you dead?"
She answered, "I have just eaten and am not hungry" — for she thought the angels were there.
Said he, "I'm your own dear son, the one the wild beasts were said to have torn out of your arms. But I'm alive still, and I'll set you free soon."
Then he climbed down again and went to his father, and had himself announced as a huntsman from abroad, and asked whether he could give him a position. The King said yes — if he was skilled and could get game for him, he should come; but that deer had never made their home in any part of the district or the country.
Then the huntsman promised to get him as much game as he could possibly use at the royal table. So he called all the huntsmen together and told them to come out into the forest with him. And he went with them and made them form a great circle, open at one end where he stationed himself, and began to wish. Two hundred deer and more came running into the circle at once, and the huntsmen shot them. Then they were all loaded onto sixty farm carts and driven home to the King; and for once he was able to deck his table with game, after having had none at all for years.
Now the King was overjoyed at this, and gave orders that his whole household should eat with him next day, and made a great feast. When they were all gathered together he said to the huntsman, "Since you're so clever, you shall sit beside me."
He replied, "Lord King, your majesty must excuse me. I'm a poor huntsman."
But the King insisted, and said, "You shall sit beside me" — until he did it.
While he was sitting there he thought of his dearest mother, and wished that one of the King's chief servants would begin to speak of her, and would ask how the Queen was faring in the tower, and whether she was still alive or had died.
Hardly had he formed the wish before the marshal began, and said, "Your majesty, we live joyfully here; but how is the Queen living in the tower? Is she still alive, or is she dead?"
But the King replied, "She let my dear son be torn to pieces by wild beasts. I won't have her named."
Then the huntsman got up and said, "Gracious lord and father, she is alive still, and I am her son; and I was not carried off by wild beasts but by that wretch the old cook, who tore me from her arms while she was asleep and sprinkled her apron with the blood of a chicken."
And with that he took hold of the dog with the golden collar and said, "That's the wretch!" — and had live coals brought, which the dog was made to devour in front of them all, until flames came bursting out of its throat.
At this the huntsman asked the King whether he would like to see the dog in his true shape, and wished him back into the form of the cook, in which he stood there instantly, with his white apron and his knife at his side. When the King saw him he flew into a rage and ordered him to be thrown into the deepest dungeon.
Then the huntsman spoke again and said, "Father, will you see the girl who brought me up so tenderly, and who was afterwards ordered to murder me, and did not do it, though her own life hung on it?"
The King replied, "Yes, I should like to see her."
The son said, "Most gracious father, I'll show her to you first in the form of a beautiful flower." And he put his hand in his pocket and brought out the pink and laid it on the royal table; and it was so beautiful that the King had never seen its equal.
Then the son said, "And now I'll show her to you in her own shape" — and wished her back into a girl; and she stood there looking so beautiful that no painter could have made her more so.
And the King sent two waiting maids and two attendants to the tower to fetch the Queen and bring her to the royal table. But when she was led in she ate nothing, and said, "The gracious and merciful God who has kept me alive in the tower will soon deliver me."
She lived three days more and then died happily; and when she was buried, the two white doves that had brought her food to the tower, and were angels of heaven, followed her body and settled themselves on her grave.
The old King ordered the cook to be torn into four pieces; but grief ate away the King's own heart, and he soon died. His son married the beautiful girl he had brought home as a flower in his pocket; and whether they are still alive or not, God knows.
There was once a cook named Gretel, who wore shoes with red rosettes; and when she went out walking in them she turned this way and that, and thought, "You certainly are a pretty girl." And when she came home she drank a draught of wine out of pure gladness of heart; and as wine gives you an appetite, she tasted the best of whatever she was cooking until she had had enough, and said, "A cook has to know what the food is like."
It happened one day that her master said to her, "Gretel, there's a guest coming this evening. Get me two fowls ready, and do them nicely."
"I'll see to it, master," answered Gretel. She killed two fowls, scalded them, plucked them, put them on the spit, and towards evening set them in front of the fire to roast. The fowls began to turn brown and were nearly done, but the guest had still not arrived.
Then Gretel called out to her master, "If the guest doesn't come, I'll have to take the fowls away from the fire; but it'll be a sin and a shame if they're not eaten straight away, while they're at their juiciest."
The master said, "I'll run and fetch the guest myself."
When the master had turned his back, Gretel laid the spit with the fowls on it to one side and thought, "Standing so long by that fire makes you hot and thirsty. Who knows when they'll come? Meanwhile I'll run down to the cellar and have a drink."
She ran down, held a jug under the barrel, said, "God bless it to your use, Gretel" — and took a good drink, and then another hearty draught after it.
Then she went and put the fowls down to the fire again, basted them and turned the spit merrily round. But as the roasting meat smelled so good, Gretel thought, "There might be something wrong with them; they ought to be tasted." She touched one with her finger and said, "Ah, how good fowls are! It's certainly a sin and a shame that they're not being eaten this minute."
She ran to the window to see whether her master was coming with his guest, but she saw nobody; and she went back to the fowls and thought, "One of those wings is burning. I'd better take it off and eat it." So she cut it off and ate it and enjoyed it; and when she had finished she thought, "The other one will have to go down too, or master will notice that something's missing."
When both wings were eaten, she went and looked for her master, and did not see him. It suddenly struck her, "Who knows? Perhaps they aren't coming at all, and have turned in somewhere else." Then she said, "Well, Gretel, enjoy yourself. One fowl has been cut into already; have another drink and finish it off. Once it's eaten you'll have some peace — why should God's good gifts be spoiled?"
So she ran down to the cellar again, took an enormous drink, and ate up the whole of the one chicken in great glee.
When one of the chickens was swallowed down and her master still did not come, Gretel looked at the other one and said, "Where one is, the other ought to be as well; the two of them go together. What's right for one is right for the other. And I think another draught wouldn't do me any harm." So she took another hearty drink, and let the second chicken go and join the first.
She was right in the middle of the best of it when her master came and cried, "Hurry up, Gretel, the guest is coming along right behind me!"
"Yes, sir, I'll serve up at once," answered Gretel.
Meanwhile the master looked to see that the table was properly laid, and took the great knife he was going to carve the chickens with, and sharpened it on the steps.
Just then the guest came and knocked politely and civilly at the front door. Gretel ran and looked to see who was there; and when she saw the guest she put her finger to her lips and said, "Hush! Hush! Get away as fast as you can. If my master catches you it'll be the worse for you. He certainly did invite you to supper, but what he means to do is cut off both your ears. Just listen to him sharpening the knife for it!"
The guest heard the sharpening, and hurried back down the steps as fast as he could.
Gretel was not idle either. She ran screaming to her master and cried, "You've invited a fine guest!"
"Eh? Why, Gretel? What do you mean by that?"
"Yes," said she, "he took the chickens I was just going to serve up right off the dish, and ran away with them."
"That's a nice trick!" said her master, and grieved over the fine chickens. "If he'd only left me one, so that I'd have something to eat."
He called after him to stop, but the guest pretended not to hear. Then he ran after him with the knife still in his hand, calling out, "Just one! Just one!" — meaning that the guest should leave him one chicken and not take both. But the guest could think of nothing except that he was to give up one of his ears, and ran as if there were a fire under him, so as to get them both home safe.
There was once a very old man whose eyes had grown dim and his ears dull of hearing, and whose knees shook; and when he sat at table he could hardly hold his spoon, and spilled the soup on the tablecloth or let it run out of his mouth. His son and his son's wife were disgusted at this, so in the end the old grandfather had to sit in the corner behind the stove, and they gave him his food in an earthenware bowl, and not even enough of it. And he used to look towards the table with his eyes full of tears.
Once his trembling hands could not hold the bowl, and it fell to the ground and broke. The young wife scolded him, but he said nothing and only sighed. Then they bought him a wooden bowl for a few pennies, and he had to eat out of that.
They were all sitting there one day when the little grandson, four years old, began to gather bits of wood together on the floor.
"What are you doing there?" asked his father.
"I'm making a little trough," answered the child, "for father and mother to eat out of when I'm big."
The man and his wife looked at each other for a while, and then began to cry. Then they brought the old grandfather back to the table, and from that time on always let him eat with them, and said nothing either if he did spill a little.
A little brother and sister were once playing beside a well, and while they were playing they both fell in. A water-nix lived down below, and she said, "Now I've got you. Now you shall work hard for me!" — and carried them off with her.
She gave the girl dirty tangled flax to spin, and she had to fetch water in a bucket with a hole in it; and the boy had to chop down a tree with a blunt axe; and they got nothing to eat but dumplings as hard as stones.
At last the children grew so out of patience that they waited until one Sunday, when the nix was at church, and ran away. But when church was over the nix saw that the birds had flown, and came after them with great strides.
The children saw her a long way off, and the girl threw a brush behind her, which turned into an immense hill of bristles with thousands and thousands of spikes, and the nix had to scramble over it with great difficulty; but at last she got over.
When the children saw that, the boy threw a comb behind him, which made a great hill of combs with a thousand times a thousand teeth; but the nix managed to keep her footing on them, and at last she crossed that too.
Then the girl threw a looking glass behind her, which turned into a hill of mirrors, and was so slippery that it was impossible for the nix to cross it. Then she thought, "I'll go home quickly and fetch my axe and cut the glass hill in two."
But long before she came back and had chopped her way through the glass, the children had escaped a great distance off, and the water-nix had to take herself back to her well again.
Once upon a time the little hen went with the little cock to the nut hill, and they agreed together that whichever of them found the kernel of a nut should share it with the other. Then the hen found a great big nut, but said nothing about it, meaning to eat the kernel herself. The kernel, though, was so big that she could not swallow it, and it stuck in her throat, so that she was afraid she would choke.
Then she cried, "Cock, I beg you, run as fast as you can and fetch me some water, or I shall choke."
The little cock ran as fast as he could to the spring, and said, "Stream, you're to give me some water. The little hen is lying on the nut hill, and she has swallowed a big nut and is choking."
The well answered, "First run to the bride and get her to give you some red silk."
The little cock ran to the bride and said, "Bride, you're to give me some red silk. I'm to give the red silk to the well, and the well is to give me some water, and I'm to take the water to the little hen, who is lying on the nut hill where she has swallowed a great nut kernel and is choking on it."
The bride answered, "First run and bring me my little wreath that's hanging on a willow."
So the little cock ran to the willow and pulled the wreath off the branch and took it to the bride, and the bride gave him some water for it.
Then the little cock took the water to the hen; but when he got there the hen had choked in the meantime, and lay there dead and still.
Then the cock was so grieved that he cried out loud, and every animal came to mourn for the little hen; and six mice built a little carriage to carry her to her grave, and when the carriage was ready they harnessed themselves to it, and the cock drove.
On the way, though, they met the fox, who said, "Where are you going, little cock?"
"I'm going to bury my little hen."
"May I ride with you?"
"Yes, but sit at the back of the carriage; my little horses couldn't drag you at the front."
So the fox sat down at the back, and after him the wolf, the bear, the stag, the lion and all the beasts of the forest did the same.
Then the procession went on, and they came to the stream. "How are we to get across?" said the little cock.
A straw was lying by the stream, and it said, "I'll lay myself across, and you can drive over me." But when the six mice came onto the bridge, the straw slipped and fell into the water, and all six mice fell in and were drowned.
So they were in difficulty again; and a coal came and said, "I'm big enough. I'll lay myself across and you can drive over me." So the coal laid itself across the water too; but unluckily it just touched the water, at which the coal hissed and went out and died.
When a stone saw that, it took pity on the little cock and wanted to help him, and laid itself across the water. Then the cock drew the carriage himself; but when he had got it over and reached the far side with the dead hen, and was about to draw the others across as well, the ones sitting behind, there were too many of them, and the carriage ran backwards, and they all fell into the water together and were drowned.
Then the little cock was left alone with the dead hen, and dug a grave for her and laid her in it, and made a mound over it; and he sat down on the mound and grieved until he died too. And then everybody was dead.
There was once a great war, and when it came to an end a great many soldiers were discharged. Brother Lustig — Brother Merry, as his name went — got his discharge too, and with it nothing but a small loaf of army ration bread and four kreuzers in money; and off he went with that.
But St. Peter had put himself in his way in the shape of a poor beggar; and when Brother Lustig came up, he begged alms of him.
Brother Lustig replied, "My dear beggar-man, what am I to give you? I've been a soldier and got my discharge, and I have nothing but this little loaf of ration bread and four kreuzers. When that's gone I shall have to beg the same as you. Still, I'll give you something."
And with that he divided the loaf into four parts and gave the apostle one of them, and a kreuzer as well.
St. Peter thanked him and went on, and threw himself in the soldier's way as a beggar again, but in another shape; and when he came up he asked him for something as before. Brother Lustig said what he had said the first time, and again gave him a quarter of the loaf and one kreuzer.
St. Peter thanked him and went on; and for a third time he stationed himself in the road as a beggar in yet another shape, and spoke to Brother Lustig. Brother Lustig gave him the third quarter of the bread and the third kreuzer too.
St. Peter thanked him and Brother Lustig went on, with only a quarter of the loaf and one kreuzer left. With that he went into an inn, ate the bread and ordered a kreuzer's worth of beer. When he had drunk it he travelled on; and then St. Peter, who had taken the appearance of a discharged soldier, met him and spoke to him.
"Good day, comrade. Can you spare me a bit of bread and a kreuzer for a drink?"
"Where am I to get it?" answered Brother Lustig. "I've been discharged, and I got nothing but a loaf of ration bread and four kreuzers in money. I met three beggars on the road and gave each of them a quarter of my bread and a kreuzer. The last quarter I ate at the inn, and I had a drink with the last kreuzer. Now my pockets are empty, and if you've nothing either, the two of us can go begging together."
"No," answered St. Peter, "we needn't quite do that. I know a little about medicine, and I'll soon earn as much as I need by it."
"Well, then," said Brother Lustig, "I know nothing about that, so I'll have to go begging on my own."
"Just come with me," said St. Peter, "and if I earn anything you shall have half of it."
"All right," said Brother Lustig; and so they went off together.
Then they came to a peasant's house where they could hear loud wailing and crying; so they went in, and there the husband was lying sick to death and very near his end, and his wife was crying and weeping out loud.
"Stop that howling and crying," said St. Peter. "I'll make the man well again." And he took an ointment out of his pocket and healed the sick man in a moment, so that he could get up and was in perfect health.
In their great delight the man and his wife said, "How can we reward you? What shall we give you?"
But St. Peter would take nothing; and the more the country people offered him, the more he refused.
Brother Lustig, though, nudged St. Peter and said, "Take something. Sure enough we've need of it."
At length the woman brought a lamb and told St. Peter that he really must take it; but he would not.
Then Brother Lustig gave him a poke in the ribs and said, "Do take it, you stupid fool. We're in great want of it."
So St. Peter said at last, "Very well, I'll take the lamb, but I won't carry it. If you must have it, you must carry it."
"That's nothing," said Brother Lustig. "I'll carry it easily enough" — and took it on his shoulder.
Then they set off and came to a wood; but by then Brother Lustig was beginning to find the lamb heavy, and he was hungry, so he said to St. Peter, "Look, that's a good spot. We could cook the lamb there and eat it."
"As you like," answered St. Peter, "but I'll have nothing to do with the cooking. If you want to cook, there's a kettle for you, and in the meantime I'll walk about a little until it's ready. But you mustn't begin eating until I come back. I'll come at the right moment."
"Off you go, then," said Brother Lustig. "I understand cooking. I'll manage it."
So St. Peter went away, and Brother Lustig killed the lamb, lit a fire, threw the meat into the kettle and boiled it. But the lamb was quite done and the apostle Peter had still not come back; so Brother Lustig took it out of the kettle and cut it up, and found the heart.
"They say that's the best part," said he, and tasted it — and in the end he ate the whole of it.
At length St. Peter came back and said, "You may eat the whole lamb yourself. I'll have nothing but the heart. Give me that."
Then Brother Lustig took a knife and fork and pretended to search anxiously about among the lamb's meat without being able to find the heart, and at last said abruptly, "There isn't one here."
"But where can it be?" said the apostle.
"I don't know," replied Brother Lustig. "But look what fools the two of us are, hunting for a lamb's heart, and neither of us remembering that a lamb has no heart!"
"Oh," said St. Peter, "that's something entirely new. Every animal has a heart. Why should a lamb have none?"
"No, take my word for it, brother," said Brother Lustig, "a lamb has no heart. Just think it over seriously and you'll see that it really hasn't."
"Well, all right," said St. Peter. "If there's no heart, then I want none of the lamb. You may eat it on your own."
"What I can't eat now I'll carry away in my knapsack," said Brother Lustig — and he ate half the lamb and put the rest in his knapsack.
They went on further, and then St. Peter made a great stream of water flow right across their path, so that they had to go through it.
Said St. Peter, "You go first."
"No," answered Brother Lustig, "you must go first" — and he thought, "If the water's too deep, I'll stay behind."
Then St. Peter strode through it, and the water came only to his knee. So Brother Lustig started to go through as well; but the water grew deeper and came up to his throat. Then he cried, "Brother, help me!"
St. Peter said, "Then will you confess that you ate the lamb's heart?"
"No," said he, "I haven't eaten it."
Then the water grew deeper still and rose to his mouth. "Help me, brother!" cried the soldier.
St. Peter said, "Then will you confess that you ate the lamb's heart?"
"No," he replied, "I haven't eaten it."
But St. Peter would not let him drown, and made the water sink and helped him through.
Then they travelled on and came to a kingdom where they heard that the King's daughter lay sick to death.
"Hey there, brother!" said the soldier to St. Peter. "Here's a chance for us. If we can heal her we're provided for, for life."
But St. Peter was not half quick enough for him. "Come on, pick up your feet, my dear brother," said he, "so that we get there in time."
But St. Peter walked slower and slower, however hard Brother Lustig tried to drive and push him along; and at last they heard that the princess was dead.
"Now we're done for," said Brother Lustig. "That comes of your sleepy way of walking."
"Just be quiet," answered St. Peter. "I can do more than cure sick people. I can bring dead ones back to life."
"Well, if you can do that," said Brother Lustig, "it's all right. But you ought to earn us at least half the kingdom for it."
Then they went to the royal palace, where everyone was in deep grief; but St. Peter told the King that he would restore his daughter to life. He was taken to her, and said, "Bring me a kettle and some water"; and when that was brought he told everybody to go out, and let nobody stay with him but Brother Lustig.
Then he cut off all the dead girl's limbs and threw them in the water, lit a fire under the kettle and boiled them. And when the flesh had fallen away from the bones, he took out the beautiful white bones and laid them on a table and arranged them together in their natural order. When he had done that he stepped forward and said three times, "In the name of the holy Trinity, dead woman, arise."
And at the third time the princess rose up, living, healthy and beautiful.
Then the King was overjoyed, and said to St. Peter, "Name your reward. Even if it were half my kingdom, I would give it you."
But St. Peter said, "I want nothing for it."
"Oh, you tomfool," thought Brother Lustig to himself, and nudged his comrade in the ribs and said, "Don't be so stupid. If you have no need of anything, I have."
But St. Peter would take nothing; and as the King saw that the other would very much like to have something, he ordered his treasurer to fill Brother Lustig's knapsack with gold.
Then they went on their way; and when they came to a forest St. Peter said to Brother Lustig, "Now we'll divide the gold."
"Yes," he replied, "we will."
So St. Peter divided the gold — into three heaps.
Brother Lustig thought to himself, "What notion has he got in his head now? He's making three shares and there are only two of us."
But St. Peter said, "I've divided it exactly. There's one share for me, one for you, and one for whoever ate the lamb's heart."
"Oh, I ate that!" replied Brother Lustig, and hastily swept up the gold. "You may take my word for it."
"But how can that be true," said St. Peter, "when a lamb has no heart?"
"Eh, what, brother, what can you be thinking of? Lambs have hearts like other animals. Why should they be the only ones with none?"
"Well, so be it," said St. Peter. "Keep the gold to yourself; but I'll stay with you no longer. I'll go my way alone."
"As you like, dear brother," answered Brother Lustig. "Goodbye."
Then St. Peter took a different road; but Brother Lustig thought, "It's a good thing he's taken himself off. He's a strange sort of saint after all."
Now he had money enough, but he did not know how to handle it. He squandered it and gave it away, and after a while he had nothing again.
Then he came to a certain country where he heard that a King's daughter was dead. "Aha," thought he, "this may be a good thing for me. I'll bring her back to life and see that I'm paid properly for it."
So he went to the King and offered to raise the dead girl to life. Now the King had heard that a discharged soldier was travelling about bringing dead people back to life, and thought that Brother Lustig was the man; but as he had no confidence in him, he consulted his councillors first, who said he might as well let him try, since his daughter was dead.
Then Brother Lustig had water brought to him in a kettle, told everybody to go out, cut off the limbs, threw them in the water and lit a fire underneath, just as he had seen St. Peter do. The water began to boil, the flesh fell off; and then he took the bones out and laid them on the table — but he did not know the order they went in, and laid them all wrong and in confusion.
Then he stood in front of them and said, "In the name of the most holy Trinity, dead maiden, I bid you arise" — and he said it three times, but the bones did not stir. So he said it three times more, and that was no good either.
"You confounded girl, get up!" he cried. "Get up, or it'll be the worse for you!"
When he had said that, St. Peter suddenly appeared in his old shape as a discharged soldier. He came in by the window and said, "Godless man, what are you doing? How can the dead girl arise when you've thrown her bones about in such confusion?"
"Dear brother, I've done everything as well as I could," he answered.
"This once I'll help you out of your difficulty; but I tell you one thing, and that is that if ever you undertake anything of the sort again it will be the worse for you — and also that you must neither demand nor accept the smallest thing from the King for this."
With that St. Peter laid the bones in their right order, said to the girl three times, "In the name of the most holy Trinity, dead maiden, arise" — and the King's daughter got up, healthy and beautiful as before.
Then St. Peter went out by the window again; and Brother Lustig was glad that it had all gone off so well, but very much put out at the thought that he was not to take anything for it after all. "I should just like to know," he thought, "what notion that fellow has in his head. What he gives with one hand he takes away with the other. There's no sense in it whatever."
Then the King offered Brother Lustig whatever he wanted, but he did not dare to take anything; all the same, by hints and cunning he managed to get the King to order his knapsack filled with gold for him, and off he went with that.
When he got outside, St. Peter was standing by the door, and said, "Just look at the sort of man you are. Didn't I forbid you to take anything? And there's your knapsack full of gold."
"How can I help that," answered Brother Lustig, "if people will put it in for me?"
"Well, I tell you this: if ever you set about anything of this kind again, you shall suffer for it."
"Eh, brother, no fear of that. Now that I have money, why should I trouble myself with washing bones?"
"Faith," said St. Peter, "the gold will last a long time! But so that you never walk in forbidden paths after this, I'll give your knapsack this property: whatever you wish to have inside it shall be there. Goodbye — you'll never see me again."
"Goodbye," said Brother Lustig, and thought to himself, "I'm very glad you've taken yourself off, you strange fellow. I certainly shan't follow you." But of the magic power that had been given to his knapsack he thought no more.
Brother Lustig travelled about with his money and squandered and wasted it as he had before. When at last he had no more than four kreuzers, he came past an inn and thought, "The money will have to go," and ordered three kreuzers' worth of wine and a kreuzer's worth of bread.
As he was sitting there drinking, the smell of roast goose found its way to his nose. Brother Lustig looked about and peeped around, and saw that the landlord had two geese in the oven. Then he remembered that his comrade had said whatever he wished to have in his knapsack would be there. "Aha," said he, "I must try that with the geese."
So he went out; and when he was outside the door he said, "I wish those two roast geese out of the oven and into my knapsack." And when he had said it, he unbuckled it and looked in, and there they were inside.
"Ah, that's right," said he. "Now I'm a made man." And he went off to a meadow and took out the roast meat.
He was in the middle of his meal when two journeymen came up and looked with hungry eyes at the second goose, which had not been touched yet. Brother Lustig thought to himself, "One is enough for me," and called the two men over and said, "Take the goose and eat it to my health."
They thanked him and went off with it to the inn, ordered themselves a half bottle of wine and a loaf, took out the goose they had been given and began to eat.
The landlady saw them and said to her husband, "Those two are eating a goose. Just go and see whether it isn't one of ours out of the oven."
The landlord ran there, and behold, the oven was empty. "What!" he cried. "You thieving crew, you want to eat goose as cheap as that? Pay for it this minute, or I'll wash you down well with green hazel-sap."
The two said, "We're no thieves. A discharged soldier gave us the goose, out there in the meadow."
"You shan't throw dust in my eyes that way. The soldier was here, but he went out of the door like an honest man; I watched him go myself. You're the thieves, and you shall pay."
But as they could not pay, he took a stick and cudgelled them out of the house.
Brother Lustig went on his way and came to a place where there was a magnificent castle, and not far from it a wretched inn. He went to the inn and asked for a night's lodging, but the landlord turned him away and said, "There's no more room here. The house is full of noble guests."
"It surprises me that they should come to you and not go to that splendid castle," said Brother Lustig.
"Ah, yes," replied the host, "but it's no small matter to sleep a night there. Nobody who has tried it so far has ever come out alive."
"If others have tried it," said Brother Lustig, "I'll try it too."
"Leave it alone," said the host. "It will cost you your neck."
"It won't kill me on the spot," said Brother Lustig. "Just give me the key, and some good food and wine."
So the host gave him the key and food and wine; and with these Brother Lustig went into the castle, enjoyed his supper, and at length, as he was sleepy, lay down on the floor, since there was no bed.
He soon fell asleep, but in the night he was disturbed by a great noise; and when he woke he saw nine ugly devils in the room, who had made a ring and were dancing round him.
Brother Lustig said, "Well, dance as long as you like, but none of you come too close."
But the devils pressed nearer and nearer to him, and all but trod on his face with their hideous feet.
"Stop it, you devils' ghosts," said he; but they behaved worse than ever.
Then Brother Lustig grew angry and cried, "Hold on — I'll soon have it quiet in here!" — and got hold of a chair leg and struck out into the middle of them with it. But nine devils against one soldier were still too many; and when he struck the ones in front of him, the others got him from behind by the hair and pulled it unmercifully.
"You devils' crew," he cried, "this is getting too bad. But wait. Into my knapsack, all nine of you!"
In an instant they were in it; and then he buckled it up and threw it into a corner. After that everything was suddenly quiet, and Brother Lustig lay down again and slept till broad day.
Then the innkeeper came, and the nobleman the castle belonged to, to see how he had fared; and when they saw that he was cheerful and well they were astonished, and asked, "Have the spirits done you no harm, then?"
"The reason they haven't," answered Brother Lustig, "is that I've got the whole nine of them in my knapsack. You may live in your castle quite peacefully again — not one of them will ever haunt it any more."
The nobleman thanked him and made him rich presents, and begged him to stay in his service, and he would provide for him as long as he lived.
"No," replied Brother Lustig, "I'm used to wandering about. I'll travel on."
Then he went away and turned in at a smithy, laid the knapsack with the nine devils in it on the anvil, and asked the smith and his apprentices to strike it. So they hammered away with their great hammers with all their strength, and the devils set up howls that were quite pitiable. When he opened the knapsack afterwards, eight of them were dead; but one, which had been lying in a fold of it, was still alive, and slipped out and went back to hell.
After that Brother Lustig travelled about the world for a long time, and those who know the stories could tell you many a one about him. But at last he grew old and began to think about his end; so he went to a hermit who was known to be a pious man, and said to him, "I'm tired of wandering about, and I want to behave from now on in a way that will get me into the kingdom of Heaven."
The hermit replied, "There are two roads. One is broad and pleasant and leads to hell; the other is narrow and rough and leads to heaven."
"I'd be a fool," thought Brother Lustig, "to take the narrow, rough road."
So he set out and took the broad, pleasant one, and came at length to a great black door, which was the door of Hell. Brother Lustig knocked, and the doorkeeper peeped out to see who was there. But when he saw Brother Lustig he was terrified — for he was the very same ninth devil who had been shut up in the knapsack and had got out of it with a black eye. So he shot the bolt back again as fast as he could, ran to the devil's lieutenant and said, "There's a fellow outside with a knapsack who wants to come in. But as you value your lives, don't let him in, or he'll wish the whole of hell into his knapsack. He gave me a frightful hammering once when I was inside it."
So they called out to Brother Lustig that he was to go away again, because he was not getting in there.
"If they won't have me here," thought he, "I'll see whether I can find a place for myself in heaven; for I must be somewhere."
So he turned about and went on until he came to the door of Heaven, and knocked there. St. Peter was sitting close by as doorkeeper. Brother Lustig recognised him at once and thought, "Here's an old friend. I shall get on better now."
But St. Peter said, "I do believe you want to come into Heaven."
"Let me in, brother. I must get in somewhere. If they'd have taken me into Hell I shouldn't have come here."
"No," said St. Peter, "you shan't come in."
"Then if you won't let me in, take your knapsack back; I'll have nothing at all from you."
"Give it here, then," said St. Peter.
So Brother Lustig passed the knapsack through the bars into Heaven, and St. Peter took it and hung it up beside his seat.
Then Brother Lustig said, "And now I wish myself inside my knapsack" — and in a second he was in it, and in Heaven; and St. Peter had to let him stay there.
Once upon a time there was a man who did nothing but gamble, and for that reason people never called him anything but Gambling Hansel; and as he never left off gambling, he played away his house and everything he had.
Now on the very day before his creditors were to take his house from him, the Lord and St. Peter came and asked him to give them shelter for the night. Gambling Hansel said, "For my part you may stay the night, but I can't give you a bed or anything to eat."
So the Lord said he was just to take them in and they would buy something to eat themselves; and Gambling Hansel made no objection to that.
Then St. Peter gave him three groschen and told him to go to the baker's and fetch some bread. So Gambling Hansel went; but when he reached the house where the other gambling vagabonds gathered, they greeted him with a great shout — although they had won everything he owned — and said, "Hansel, do come in."
"Oh," said he, "do you want to win the three groschen as well?"
At that they would not let him go. So he went in, and played away the three groschen too.
Meanwhile St. Peter and the Lord were waiting; and as he was so long coming, they set out to meet him. But when Gambling Hansel saw them he pretended that the money had fallen down a drain, and kept raking about in it to find it — though our Lord already knew that he had lost it at play.
St. Peter gave him three groschen again; and this time he did not let himself be led astray, but brought them the loaf.
Then our Lord asked whether he had no wine, and he said, "Alas, sir, the casks are all empty."
But the Lord told him to go down to the cellar, because the best wine was still there. For a long time he would not believe it, but at length he said, "Well, I'll go down, but I know there's none there."
When he turned the tap, though — lo and behold, the best of wine ran out. So he brought it up to them, and the two of them spent the night there.
Early next day our Lord told Gambling Hansel that he might ask for three favours. The Lord expected that he would ask to go to Heaven; but Gambling Hansel asked for a pack of cards with which he could win everything, and for dice with which he could win everything, and for a tree on which every kind of fruit would grow, and from which nobody who had climbed up could get down again until he told them to.
The Lord gave him everything he had asked for, and went away with St. Peter.
And now Gambling Hansel set about his gambling in real earnest, and before long he had won half the world.
At this St. Peter said to the Lord, "Lord, this can't go on. He'll win the whole world and you'll lose it. We must send Death to him."
When Death appeared, Gambling Hansel had just sat down at the gaming table, and Death said, "Hansel, come outside a moment."
But Gambling Hansel said, "Just wait a little until the game's done; and in the meantime climb up into that tree out there and gather a little fruit, so that we have something to munch on the way."
So Death climbed up; but when he wanted to come down again he could not, and Gambling Hansel left him up there for seven years, during which time nobody died at all.
So St. Peter said to the Lord, "Lord, this can't go on. People aren't dying any more. We must go ourselves."
And they went themselves, and the Lord commanded Hansel to let Death come down. So Hansel went straight to Death and said to him, "Come down" — and Death took hold of him at once and made an end of him.
They went off together and came to the next world; and then Gambling Hansel made straight for the door of Heaven and knocked at it.
"Who's there?"
"Gambling Hansel."
"Ah, we'll have nothing to do with him. Be off!"
So he went to the door of Purgatory and knocked again.
"Who's there?"
"Gambling Hansel."
"Ah, there's quite enough weeping and wailing in here without him. We don't want to gamble. Just go away again."
Then he went to the door of Hell, and there they let him in. But there was nobody at home except old Lucifer and the crooked devils, who had just been about their evil work in the world. And no sooner was Hansel there than he sat down to gamble again. Lucifer, though, had nothing to lose except his misshapen devils; and Gambling Hansel won them off him, as with those cards of his he could not fail to do.
And now he was off again with his crooked devils; and they went to Hohenfurth and pulled up a hop-pole, and with it they went to Heaven and began to shove the pole against it, and Heaven began to crack.
So St. Peter said again, "Lord, this can't go on. We shall have to let him in, or he'll knock us out of Heaven."
And they let him in. But Gambling Hansel started playing again at once, and there was such a noise and confusion that they could not hear what they were saying to each other.
So St. Peter said once more, "Lord, this can't go on. We must throw him out, or he'll set the whole of Heaven in rebellion."
So they went to him and threw him down, and his soul broke into fragments, and went into the gambling vagabonds who are living to this very day.
Hans had served his master for seven years, so he said to him, "Master, my time is up. Now I should be glad to go back home to my mother. Give me my wages."
The master answered, "You've served me faithfully and honestly; as the service was, so shall the reward be" — and gave Hans a lump of gold as big as his head. Hans pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket, wrapped the lump up in it, put it on his shoulder and set off on the road home.
As he was going along, always putting one foot in front of the other, he saw a horseman come trotting by, quick and cheerful, on a lively horse.
"Ah," said Hans out loud, "what a fine thing riding is! There you sit as if you were on a chair, you stumble over no stones, you save your shoes, and you get along without knowing how."
The rider had heard him, and stopped and called out, "Hullo, Hans! Why are you going on foot, then?"
"I have to," he answered. "I've this lump to carry home. It's gold, true enough, but I can't hold my head straight for it and it hurts my shoulder."
"I'll tell you what," said the rider. "We'll swap. I'll give you my horse and you can give me your lump."
"With all my heart," said Hans, "but I can tell you, you'll have to crawl along under it."
The rider got down, took the gold and helped Hans up; then he put the bridle tight into his hands and said, "If you want to go at a really good pace, you must click your tongue and call out, 'Gee up! Gee up!'"
Hans was heartily delighted as he sat on the horse and rode away, so bold and free. After a little while he thought it ought to go faster, and he began to click his tongue and call out, "Gee up! Gee up!" The horse broke into a sharp trot, and before Hans knew where he was he had been thrown off and was lying in a ditch that separated the field from the highway. The horse would have gone off too if it had not been stopped by a countryman who was coming along the road driving a cow in front of him.
Hans got his limbs together and stood up on his feet again; but he was annoyed, and said to the countryman, "It's a poor joke, this riding, especially when you get hold of a mare like that, which kicks and throws you off so that you stand a good chance of breaking your neck. I'll never mount her again. Now, I like your cow. You can walk along quietly behind her, and have your milk and butter and cheese into the bargain, every day without fail. What wouldn't I give to have a cow like that!"
"Well," said the countryman, "if it would give you so much pleasure, I don't mind swapping the cow for the horse."
Hans agreed with the greatest delight; the countryman jumped up on the horse and rode quickly away.
Hans drove his cow quietly along in front of him, and thought over his lucky bargain. "If only I have a bit of bread — and that can hardly fail me — I can eat butter and cheese with it as often as I like; and if I'm thirsty I can milk my cow and drink the milk. Good heart, what more can I want?"
When he came to an inn he made a halt, and in his great contentment ate up everything he had with him — his dinner and his supper and all of it — and had half a glass of beer with his last few farthings. Then he drove his cow on along the road to his mother's village.
As it drew on towards midday the heat grew more oppressive, and Hans found himself on a moor that took about an hour to cross. He felt it very hot, and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth with thirst. "There's a cure for this," thought Hans. "I'll milk the cow now and refresh myself with the milk."
He tied her to a withered tree; and as he had no pail he put his leather cap underneath. But try as he might, not a drop of milk came. And as he set about it in such a clumsy way, the beast lost patience at last and gave him such a blow on the head with her hind foot that he fell to the ground and for a long time could not think where he was.
By good luck a butcher just then came along the road with a wheelbarrow, with a young pig lying in it. "What sort of trick is this?" he cried, and helped good Hans up.
Hans told him what had happened. The butcher gave him his flask and said, "Have a drink and refresh yourself. That cow will certainly give no milk; she's an old beast. At best she's only fit for the plough, or the butcher."
"Well, well," said Hans, smoothing his hair down on his head, "who would have thought it? Of course it's a fine thing when you can kill a beast like that at home — what a lot of meat you have! But I don't care much for beef; it isn't juicy enough for me. A young pig like that, now, is the thing to have. It tastes quite different — and then there are the sausages!"
"Listen, Hans," said the butcher, "out of pure kindness to you I'll swap, and let you have the pig for the cow."
"Heaven reward you for your goodness!" said Hans, and gave up the cow; and the pig was untied from the barrow and the cord it was tied with was put into his hand.
Hans went on, thinking to himself how everything was going just as he wanted; if he did meet with any annoyance, it was set right immediately.
Presently a lad joined him who was carrying a fine white goose under his arm. They said good morning to each other, and Hans began telling of his good luck and how he had always made such good bargains. The boy told him he was taking the goose to a christening feast. "Just lift her," he added, taking hold of her by the wings. "See how heavy she is — she's been fattened up for the last eight weeks. Whoever gets a bit of her when she's roasted will have to wipe the fat off both sides of his mouth."
"Yes," said Hans, weighing her in one hand, "she's a good weight; but my pig's not a bad one either."
Meanwhile the lad was looking suspiciously from one side to the other, and shaking his head. "Look here," he said at length, "it may not be all right about your pig. In the village I came through, the mayor himself had just had one stolen out of its sty. I'm afraid — I'm afraid that's where you got hold of that one. They've sent people out, and it would be a bad business if they caught you with the pig. At the very least you'd be shut up in the dark hole."
Good Hans was terrified. "Goodness," he said, "help me out of this. You know more about this place than I do — take my pig and let me have your goose."
"I'll be running some risk at that game," answered the lad, "but I won't be the cause of your getting into trouble." So he took the cord in his hand and drove the pig quickly away along a side path.
Good Hans, free of his worry, went off homewards with the goose under his arm. "When I think it over properly," he said to himself, "I've actually gained by the exchange. First there's the good roast meat; then all the fat that will drip out of it, which will give me dripping for my bread for a quarter of a year; and last of all the beautiful white feathers. I'll have my pillow stuffed with them, and then I shall certainly go to sleep without any rocking. How glad my mother will be!"
As he was going through the last village there stood a scissors-grinder with his barrow, and as his wheel whirred he sang:
"I sharpen scissors and quickly grind, my coat blows out in the wind behind."
Hans stood still and watched him; and at last he spoke to him and said, "All's well with you, since you're so merry at your grinding."
"Yes," answered the scissors-grinder, "the trade has a golden foundation. A real grinder is a man who finds gold in his pocket as often as he puts his hand in it. But where did you buy that fine goose?"
"I didn't buy it. I swapped my pig for it."
"And the pig?"
"That I got for a cow."
"And the cow?"
"I took that instead of a horse."
"And the horse?"
"For that I gave a lump of gold as big as my head."
"And the gold?"
"Well, that was my wages for seven years' service."
"You've known how to look after yourself every time," said the grinder. "If you can only get on so far as to hear the money jingle in your pocket whenever you stand up, you'll have made your fortune."
"How shall I manage that?" said Hans.
"You must be a grinder, as I am. Nothing much is needed for it but a grindstone; the rest takes care of itself. I've one here — it's certainly a little worn, but you needn't give me anything for it but your goose. Will you do it?"
"How can you ask?" answered Hans. "I shall be the luckiest fellow on earth. If I have money whenever I put my hand in my pocket, what have I got to worry about ever again?" And he handed over the goose and took the grindstone in exchange.
"Now," said the grinder, picking up an ordinary heavy stone that lay beside him, "here's a good strong stone for you into the bargain. You can hammer away on it and straighten your old nails. Take it with you and look after it carefully."
Hans loaded himself with the stones and went on with a contented heart, his eyes shining with joy. "I must have been born lucky," he cried. "Everything I want happens to me just as if I were a Sunday child."
Meanwhile, as he had been on his legs since daybreak, he began to feel tired. Hunger tormented him too, for in his joy over the bargain that got him the cow he had eaten up his whole store of food at once. At last he could only get along with great difficulty, and had to stop every minute; and the stones weighed him down dreadfully. Then he could not help thinking how nice it would be if he did not have to carry them just now.
He crept like a snail to a well in a field, meaning to rest there and refresh himself with a cool drink of water; and so that he should not damage the stones by sitting down on them, he laid them carefully beside him on the rim of the well. Then he sat down on it, and was going to stoop and drink, when he slipped and knocked against the stones, and both of them fell into the water.
When Hans saw them sinking to the bottom with his own eyes, he jumped for joy; and then knelt down and with tears in his eyes thanked God for having shown him this favour too, and delivered him in such a good way — and without his having anything to reproach himself with — from those heavy stones, which had been the only things troubling him.
"There's no man under the sun as fortunate as I am," he cried out. And with a light heart and free of every burden he ran on until he was home with his mother.
There was once a young peasant named Hans, whose uncle wanted to find him a rich wife. So he sat Hans down behind the stove and had it made very hot. Then he fetched a pot of milk and plenty of white bread, and put a bright new-minted farthing in his hand, and said, "Hans, hold that farthing tight, crumble the white bread into the milk, and stay where you are, and don't stir from that spot till I come back."
"Yes," said Hans, "I'll do all that."
Then the matchmaker put on a pair of old patched trousers, went to a rich farmer's daughter in the next village, and said, "Won't you marry my nephew Hans? You'll get an honest, sensible man who'll suit you well."
The greedy father asked, "How does he stand for means? Has he bread to break?"
"My dear friend," replied the matchmaker, "my young nephew has a snug berth, a nice bit of money in hand, and plenty of bread to break; besides, he has quite as many patches as I have." (And as he said it, he slapped the patches on his trousers — but in that district small pieces of land were called patches too.) "If you'll take the trouble to come home with me, you'll see at once that it's all as I've said."
Then the miser did not want to lose such a good opportunity, and said, "If that's how it is, I have nothing further to say against the marriage."
So the wedding was celebrated on the appointed day; and when the young wife went out of doors to see the bridegroom's property, Hans took off his Sunday coat and put on his patched smock and said, "I might spoil my good coat."
Then they went out together; and wherever a boundary line came into sight, or fields and meadows were divided off from one another, Hans pointed with his finger and then slapped a large or a small patch on his smock and said, "That patch is mine, and that one too, my dearest — just look at it" — meaning by this that his wife should not stand staring at the broad lands, but look at his coat, which was his own.
"And were you at the wedding yourself?"
"Yes, indeed I was there, and in full dress. My headdress was made of snow, and then the sun came out and it melted. My coat was made of cobwebs, and I had to pass some thorns, which tore it off me. My shoes were made of glass, and I knocked against a stone, and they went klink and broke in two."
There was once a poor man and a poor woman who had nothing but a little cottage, and who earned their bread by fishing and always lived from hand to mouth.
But one day, as the man was sitting by the water casting his net, he drew out a fish that was made entirely of gold. As he was looking at it, full of astonishment, it began to speak and said, "Listen, fisherman: if you'll throw me back into the water, I'll turn your little hut into a splendid castle."
Then the fisherman answered, "What use is a castle to me if I've nothing to eat?"
The gold fish went on, "That will be taken care of. There will be a cupboard in the castle, and when you open it there will be dishes of the most delicate food, as many of them as you could wish for."
"If that's true," said the man, "then I can certainly do you a favour."
"Yes," said the fish, "but there's one condition: you must not tell a single soul in the world, whoever it may be, where your good luck came from. If you speak so much as one word, it will all be over."
So the man threw the wonderful fish back into the water and went home. But where his hovel had stood there now stood a great castle. He opened his eyes wide, went in, and saw his wife sitting in a splendid room dressed in beautiful clothes, and she was quite delighted, and said, "Husband, how has all this come about? It suits me very well."
"Yes," said the man, "it suits me too; but I'm terribly hungry. Give me something to eat."
Said the wife, "But I've nothing, and I don't know where to find anything in this new house."
"There's no need for you to know," said the man. "I can see a great cupboard over there — just unlock it."
When she opened it, there stood cakes, meat, fruit and wine — a fine prospect indeed.
Then the woman cried joyfully, "What more could you want, my dear?" And they sat down and ate and drank together.
When they had had enough, the woman said, "But husband, where do all these riches come from?"
"Alas," he answered, "don't ask me about that, for I daren't tell you anything. If I tell a single person, all our good fortune will fly away."
"Very good," said she. "If I'm not to know anything, then I don't want to know anything."
But she did not mean it. She gave herself no rest day or night, and she goaded her husband until, out of sheer impatience, he let out that it was all owing to a wonderful golden fish he had caught and given its freedom in return.
And as soon as the secret was out, the splendid castle with its cupboard vanished on the instant; they were back in the old fisherman's hut, and the man had to go back to his old trade and fish.
But fortune would have it that he once more drew out the golden fish. "Listen," said the fish, "if you'll throw me back into the water again, I'll give you the castle a second time, with the cupboard full of roast and boiled meat. Only stand firm — for your life's sake don't tell anybody who you had it from, or you'll lose it all again."
"I'll take good care," answered the fisherman, and threw the fish back into the water.
At home everything was in its old magnificence once more, and the wife was overjoyed at their good fortune. But curiosity left her no peace, so that after a couple of days she began asking again how it had come about and how he had managed to get it. The man kept silent for a while, but at last she made him so angry that he burst out and betrayed the secret. In an instant the castle disappeared and they were back in their old hut.
"Now you've got what you wanted," said he. "And we can go back to gnawing a bare bone."
"Ah," said the woman, "I'd rather have no riches at all than not know where they come from — for then I have no peace."
The man went back to fishing; and after a while he happened to draw out the gold fish for a third time.
"Listen," said the fish, "I can see plainly that I'm fated to fall into your hands. Take me home and cut me into six pieces. Give two of them to your wife to eat, two to your horse, and bury two of them in the ground; and then they'll bring you a blessing."
The fisherman took the fish home with him and did as it had told him. And it came about that from the two pieces buried in the ground two golden lilies sprang up; that the horse had two golden foals; and that the fisherman's wife bore two children who were made entirely of gold.
The children grew up tall and handsome, and the lilies and the horses grew as well. Then they said, "Father, we want to mount our golden horses and travel out into the world."
But he answered sorrowfully, "How shall I bear it, if you go away and I don't know how you're faring?"
Then they said, "The two golden lilies stay here. By them you can see how it is with us. If they're fresh, we're in health; if they wither, we're ill; if they die, then we're dead."
So they rode away and came to an inn where there were a great many people; and when the people saw the gold-children they began to laugh and jeer. When one of the brothers heard the mockery he was ashamed, and would not go out into the world after all, but turned back and went home to his father.
But the other rode on and came to a great forest. As he was about to enter it, the people said, "It isn't safe for you to ride through. The wood is full of robbers who'll treat you badly. You'll come off badly; and when they see that you're all of gold, and your horse too, they'll certainly kill you."
But he would not let himself be frightened, and said, "I must and I will ride through it." So he took bearskins and covered himself and his horse with them, so that the gold could not be seen any more, and rode fearlessly into the forest.
When he had ridden on a little he heard a rustling in the bushes, and heard voices talking together. From one side came cries of, "There's one!" — but from the other, "Let him go, he's an idle fellow, as poor and bare as a church mouse. What should we get out of him?"
So the gold-child rode joyfully through the forest and no harm came to him.
One day he came into a village where he saw a girl so beautiful that he did not believe any more beautiful existed in the world. And as such a mighty love took hold of him, he went up to her and said, "I love you with my whole heart. Will you be my wife?"
He too pleased the girl so much that she agreed, and said, "Yes, I'll be your wife and be true to you my whole life long."
So they were married; and just as they were at the height of their happiness, the bride's father came home; and when he saw that his daughter's wedding was being celebrated he was astonished, and said, "Where is the bridegroom?"
They pointed out the gold-child, who was still wearing his bearskins. Then the father said furiously, "No vagabond shall ever have my daughter!" — and was about to kill him.
Then the bride begged as hard as she could, and said, "He's my husband, and I love him with all my heart" — until at last he let himself be pacified.
All the same the thought never left him; so next morning he got up early, wanting to see whether his daughter's husband was a common ragged beggar. But when he peeped in, he saw a magnificent golden man in the bed, and the cast-off bearskins lying on the floor. Then he went back and thought, "What a good thing I held my anger in. I should have committed a great crime."
But the gold-child dreamed that he rode out to hunt a splendid stag; and when he woke in the morning he said to his wife, "I must go out hunting."
She was uneasy and begged him to stay, and said, "You could easily meet with some great misfortune." But he answered, "I must and I will go."
So he got up and rode out into the forest; and it was not long before a fine stag crossed his path, exactly as in his dream. He took aim and was about to shoot it, when the stag ran off. He chased it over hedges and ditches the whole day without feeling tired; but in the evening the stag vanished from his sight, and when the gold-child looked about him he was standing in front of a little house with a witch in it.
He knocked, and a little old woman came out and asked, "What are you doing so late in the middle of the great forest?"
"Haven't you seen a stag?"
"Yes," she answered, "I know that stag well." And at that a little dog, which had come out of the house with her, barked at the man furiously.
"Will you be quiet, you horrid toad," said he, "or I'll shoot you dead."
Then the witch cried out in a rage, "What? You'd kill my little dog?" — and immediately transformed him, so that he lay there like a stone. And his bride waited for him in vain, and thought, "What I dreaded so much, what lay so heavy on my heart, has come upon him."
But at home the other brother was standing by the golden lilies when one of them suddenly drooped. "Good heavens," said he, "my brother has met with some great misfortune. I must be off and see whether I can rescue him."
Then the father said, "Stay here. If I lose you as well, what shall I do?"
But he answered, "I must and I will go."
Then he mounted his golden horse and rode out and came into the great forest where his brother lay turned to stone. The old witch came out of her house and called to him, meaning to trap him too; but he would not go near her, and said, "I'll shoot you if you don't bring my brother back to life."
Very unwillingly, she touched the stone with her forefinger, and he was restored to his human shape at once. And the two gold-children rejoiced when they saw each other again, and kissed and embraced each other, and rode out of the forest together — the one home to his bride, the other to his father.
The father said, "I knew perfectly well that you had rescued your brother, for the golden lily suddenly stood up and blossomed out again."
And after that they lived happily, and everything went well with them until their deaths.
The fox once came to a meadow where there was a flock of fine fat geese; and he smiled at them and said, "I've come just in the nick of time. You're all sitting together so beautifully that I can eat you up one after the other."
The geese cackled with terror, sprang up, and began to wail and beg piteously for their lives. But the fox would listen to nothing, and said, "There's no mercy to be had. You must die."
At length one of them took heart and said, "If we poor geese are to give up our strong young lives, do us the one favour that's possible and allow us one last prayer, so that we don't die in our sins. And after that we'll set ourselves in a row, so that you can always pick out the fattest."
"Yes," said the fox, "that's reasonable, and a pious request. Pray away — I'll wait till you've finished."
Then the first began a good long prayer, saying, "Ga! Ga!" over and over; and as she showed no sign of finishing, the second did not wait for her turn but began as well, "Ga! Ga!" The third and the fourth followed her, and soon they were all cackling together.
When they have finished praying, the story shall be carried on further; but at present they are still praying, and have not stopped yet.
In the old days, when the Lord himself still walked about this earth among men, it happened once that he was tired and overtaken by darkness before he could reach an inn. Now there stood on the road in front of him two houses facing each other: one large and beautiful, the other small and poor. The large one belonged to a rich man and the small one to a poor man.
Then the Lord thought, "I shan't be any burden to the rich man; I'll spend the night with him."
When the rich man heard somebody knocking at his door, he opened the window and asked the stranger what he wanted. The Lord answered, "I only ask for a night's lodging."
Then the rich man looked the traveller over from head to foot; and as the Lord was wearing common clothes and did not look like somebody with much money in his pocket, he shook his head and said, "No, I can't take you in. My rooms are full of herbs and seeds; and if I were to lodge everybody who knocked at my door, I might soon be out begging myself. Go somewhere else for a lodging." And with that he shut the window and left the Lord standing there.
So the Lord turned his back on the rich man and went across to the small house and knocked. He had hardly done so before the poor man opened his little door and told the traveller to come in. "Spend the night with me," he said. "It's dark already; you can't go any further tonight."
This pleased the Lord, and he went in. The poor man's wife shook hands with him and welcomed him, and said he was to make himself at home and put up with what they had; they had not much to offer him, but what they had they would give him with all their hearts.
Then she put the potatoes on the fire; and while they were boiling she milked the goat, so that they could have a little milk with them. When the cloth was laid, the Lord sat down with the man and his wife, and he enjoyed their coarse food, for there were happy faces at the table.
When they had had supper and it was bedtime, the woman called her husband aside and said, "Listen, dear husband, let's make ourselves up a bed of straw tonight, so that the poor traveller can sleep in our bed and have a good rest. He's been walking the whole day through, and that makes a man weary."
"With all my heart," he answered. "I'll go and offer it to him." And he went to the stranger and invited him, if he had no objection, to sleep in their bed and rest his limbs properly.
The Lord was unwilling to take the two old people's bed from them; but they would not be satisfied until at last he did it, and lay down in their bed, while they lay on some straw on the floor.
Next morning they got up before daybreak and made as good a breakfast as they could for their guest. When the sun shone in through the little window and the Lord had got up, he ate with them again, and then made ready to set out on his journey.
But as he was standing in the doorway he turned round and said, "As you are so kind and good, you may wish three things for yourselves, and I'll grant them."
Then the man said, "What else should I wish for but eternal happiness — and that the two of us, as long as we live, should be healthy and have our daily bread every day? For the third wish, I don't know what to have."
And the Lord said to him, "Will you wish for a new house instead of this old one?"
"Oh, yes," said the man. "If I can have that too, I should like it very much."
And the Lord granted his wish and changed their old house into a new one; and gave them his blessing again, and went on his way.
The sun was high when the rich man got up and leaned out of his window and saw, on the other side of the road, a clean-looking new house with red tiles and bright windows, where the old hut used to be. He was very much astonished, and called his wife and said to her, "Tell me, what can have happened? Last night there was a miserable little hut standing there, and today there's a beautiful new house. Run over and see how that came about."
So his wife went and asked the poor man, and he said to her, "Yesterday evening a traveller came here and asked for a night's lodging; and this morning, when he took his leave of us, he granted us three wishes — eternal happiness, health in this life and our daily bread as well; and besides that, a beautiful new house instead of our old hut."
When the rich man's wife heard this she ran back in haste and told her husband how it had happened. The man said, "I could tear myself to pieces! If only I'd known! That traveller came to our house too and wanted to sleep here, and I sent him away."
"Quick," said his wife, "get on your horse. You can still catch the man up, and then you must ask to have three wishes granted to you."
The rich man took the good advice and galloped off on his horse, and soon caught up with the Lord. He spoke to him softly and pleasantly, and begged him not to take it amiss that he had not let him in straight away; he had been looking for the front-door key, and in the meantime the stranger had gone off. If he came back the same way, he must come and stay with him.
"Yes," said the Lord. "If I ever come back this way, I will."
Then the rich man asked whether he might not wish for three things too, as his neighbour had.
"Yes," said the Lord, he might; but it would not be to his advantage, and he had better not wish for anything.
But the rich man thought he could easily ask for something that would add to his happiness, if only he knew it would be granted. So the Lord said to him, "Ride home, then, and the three wishes you make shall be fulfilled."
The rich man had now got what he wanted, so he rode off home and began to consider what he should wish for. As he was thinking he let the bridle fall, and the horse began to caper about, so that he was constantly interrupted in his thoughts and could not gather them at all. He patted its neck and said, "Gently, Lisa" — but the horse only started new tricks. Then at last he lost his temper and cried out impatiently, "I wish your neck was broken!"
The moment he had said the words the horse dropped to the ground, and there it lay dead and never moved again. And that was his first wish fulfilled.
As he was a miserly man by nature, he did not like to leave the harness lying there; so he cut it off and put it on his back, and now he had to go on foot. "I still have two wishes left," said he, and comforted himself with that.
And now, as he walked slowly through the sand with the sun burning hot at midday, he grew quite hot-tempered and angry. The saddle hurt his back, and he still had no idea what to wish for. "If I were to wish for all the riches and treasures in the world," he said to himself, "I should still think of all kinds of other things later on — I know that beforehand. But I'll manage it so that there's nothing at all left for me to wish for afterwards."
Then he sighed and said, "Ah, if only I were that Bavarian peasant who had three wishes granted him too, and knew perfectly well what to do — and wished first for a great deal of beer, and second for as much beer as he was able to drink, and third for a barrel of beer into the bargain."
Many a time he thought he had hit on it, and then it seemed to him too small after all. And then it came into his mind what an easy life his wife had, staying at home in a cool room and enjoying herself. This really did vex him; and before he knew what he was doing, he said, "I just wish she was sitting there on this saddle and couldn't get off it, instead of my having to drag it along on my back."
And as the last word was spoken the saddle disappeared from his back, and he saw that his second wish had been fulfilled. Then he really did feel hot. He began to run, wanting to be quite alone in his own room at home to think of something really big for his last wish.
But when he got there and opened the parlour door, he saw his wife sitting in the middle of the room on the saddle, crying and complaining and quite unable to get off it.
So he said, "Do bear it, and I'll wish all the riches on earth for you — only stay where you are."
But she called him a fool, and said, "What good will all the riches on earth do me if I have to sit on this saddle? You wished me onto it, so you must help me off."
So, whether he wanted to or not, he was forced to make his third wish that she should be rid of the saddle and able to get off it; and the wish was fulfilled at once.
So he got nothing out of it but vexation and trouble and abuse and the loss of his horse; while the poor people lived happily, quietly and piously until their happy death.
There was once a man who was about to set out on a long journey; and as he was leaving he asked his three daughters what he should bring back for them. The eldest wished for pearls, and the second for diamonds; but the third said, "Dear father, I should like a singing, soaring lark."
The father said, "Yes, if I can get it, you shall have it" — and kissed all three and set out.
Now when the time came for him to be on his way home again, he had bought pearls and diamonds for the two eldest; but he had searched everywhere in vain for a singing, soaring lark for the youngest, and he was very unhappy about it, for she was his favourite child.
Then his road led him through a forest, and in the middle of it stood a splendid castle; and near the castle stood a tree, and right at the top of the tree he saw a singing, soaring lark.
"Aha, you've come just at the right moment," he said, quite delighted, and called to his servant to climb up and catch the little creature. But as he came up to the tree, a lion sprang out from under it, shook himself, and roared until the leaves on the trees trembled.
"Whoever tries to steal my singing, soaring lark," he cried, "I'll devour."
Then the man said, "I didn't know the bird belonged to you. I'll make amends for the wrong I've done and buy myself off with a large sum of money — only spare my life."
The lion said, "Nothing can save you unless you'll promise to give me for my own whatever first meets you when you get home. And if you'll do that, I'll grant you your life, and you shall have the bird for your daughter into the bargain."
But the man hesitated and said, "That might be my youngest daughter. She loves me best and always runs out to meet me when I come home."
The servant, though, was terrified, and said, "Why should it be your daughter who meets you? It could just as easily be a cat or a dog."
So the man let himself be talked round, and took the singing, soaring lark, and promised to give the lion whatever first met him when he got home.
When he reached home and went into his house, the first to meet him was none other than his youngest and dearest daughter, who came running up and kissed and hugged him; and when she saw that he had brought a singing, soaring lark with him she was beside herself with joy.
But her father could not rejoice, and began to weep, and said, "My dearest child, I've bought that little bird dear. To get it, I had to promise you to a savage lion; and when he has you he'll tear you to pieces and devour you." And he told her the whole thing just as it had happened, and begged her not to go, come what might.
But she comforted him and said, "Dearest father, your promise must be kept. I'll go there and soften the lion, so that I come back to you safe."
Next morning she had the road pointed out to her, took her leave, and went fearlessly out into the forest.
The lion, however, was an enchanted prince: by day he was a lion, and all his people were lions with him, but at night they took their natural human shapes again. When she arrived she was kindly received and led into the castle. When night came the lion turned into a handsome man, and their wedding was celebrated with great magnificence. They lived happily together, staying awake at night and sleeping through the day.
One day he came and said, "Tomorrow there's a feast at your father's house, because your eldest sister is to be married. If you'd like to go, my lions shall take you there."
She said, "Yes, I should very much like to see my father again" — and off she went, with the lions for company.
There was great rejoicing when she arrived, for they had all believed that she had been torn to pieces by the lion and had long since stopped living. But she told them what a handsome husband she had and how well off she was, and stayed with them as long as the wedding feast lasted, and then went back to the forest.
When the second daughter was about to be married and she was invited to that wedding too, she said to the lion, "This time I won't go alone. You must come with me."
But the lion said it was too dangerous for him; for if a ray of light from a burning candle fell on him there, he would be changed into a dove and would have to fly about with the doves for seven years.
She said, "Ah, but do come with me. I'll take great care of you and keep you from all light."
So they went off together and took their little child with them as well. She had a room built there, so strong and thick that no ray of light could get through it, and he was to shut himself up in it when the candles were lit for the wedding feast. But the door was made of green wood, which warped and left a little crack that nobody noticed.
The wedding was celebrated with great splendour; but when the procession came back from church with all its candles and torches and passed this room, a ray about the width of a hair fell on the King's son; and the moment it touched him he was transformed. When she came in and looked for him she did not see him, but a white dove was sitting there.
The dove said to her, "For seven years I must fly about the world; but at every seventh step you take, I'll let fall a drop of red blood and a white feather, and those will show you the way; and if you follow the trail you can set me free."
With that the dove flew out at the door, and she followed him; and at every seventh step a red drop of blood and a little white feather fell down and showed her the way.
So she went on and on, further and further into the wide world, never looking about her and never resting; and the seven years were almost up. Then she rejoiced, and thought that they would soon be free — and yet they were far from it.
Once, as they were going on like this, no little feather and no drop of red blood fell; and when she raised her eyes the dove had vanished. And as she thought to herself, "No man can help you in this," she climbed up to the sun and said to him, "You shine into every crevice and over every peak. Haven't you seen a white dove flying?"
"No," said the sun, "I've seen none; but I'll make you a present of this casket. Open it when you're in your greatest need."
Then she thanked the sun and went on until evening came and the moon appeared, and she asked her, "You shine the whole night through, over every field and forest. Haven't you seen a white dove flying?"
"No," said the moon, "I've seen no dove; but here, I'll give you this egg. Break it when you're in great need."
She thanked the moon and went on until the night wind got up and blew on her; and then she said to it, "You blow over every tree and under every leaf. Haven't you seen a white dove flying?"
"No," said the night wind, "I've seen none; but I'll ask the three other winds — perhaps they've seen it."
The east wind and the west wind came, and had seen nothing; but the south wind said, "I've seen the white dove. It has flown to the Red Sea, where it has become a lion again, because the seven years are over; and the lion is there fighting with a dragon — and the dragon is an enchanted princess."
Then the night wind said to her, "I'll give you my advice. Go to the Red Sea; on the right-hand bank there are some tall reeds. Count them, break off the eleventh, and strike the dragon with it; then the lion will be able to overcome it, and the two of them will get their human shapes back. After that, look round and you'll see the griffin that lives by the Red Sea. Swing yourself up onto his back with your beloved, and the bird will carry you home across the sea. And here's a nut for you: when you're above the middle of the sea, let the nut fall. It will shoot up at once, and a tall nut tree will grow out of the water for the griffin to rest on; for if he can't rest, he won't be strong enough to carry you across — and if you forget to throw the nut down, he'll let you fall into the sea."
So she went there and found everything as the night wind had said. She counted the reeds by the sea and cut off the eleventh and struck the dragon with it, whereupon the lion overcame it; and immediately both of them got their human shapes back. But when the princess, who had been the dragon, was released from the enchantment, she took the young man by the arm, seated herself on the griffin, and carried him off with her.
And there stood the poor girl who had wandered so far, deserted all over again. She sat down and cried; but at last she took courage and said, "Still, I'll go as far as the wind blows and as long as the cock crows, until I find him." And she went off along long, long roads, until at last she came to the castle where the two of them were living together.
There she heard that a feast was soon to be held at which they would celebrate their wedding; but she said, "God helps me still" — and opened the casket the sun had given her. Inside lay a dress as brilliant as the sun itself. So she took it out and put it on and went up into the castle, and everybody, even the bride herself, looked at her in astonishment.
The dress pleased the bride so much that she thought it might do for her wedding dress, and asked whether it was for sale.
"Not for money or land," she answered, "but for flesh and blood."
The bride asked her what she meant by that, and she said, "Let me sleep one night in the room where the bridegroom sleeps."
The bride did not want to; but she wanted the dress very much, and at last she consented — but the page was to give the prince a sleeping draught.
So when it was night and the young man was already asleep, she was led into the room. She sat down on the bed and said, "I've followed you for seven years. I've been to the sun and the moon and the four winds asking after you, and I helped you against the dragon. Will you forget me altogether now?"
But the prince slept so soundly that it only seemed to him as if the wind were whistling outside in the fir trees.
So when day broke she was led out again, and had to give up the golden dress. And as that had been no use either, she was sad, and went out into a meadow and sat down and wept.
While she was sitting there she thought of the egg the moon had given her. She opened it, and out came a clucking hen with twelve chicks all of gold, running about and cheeping and creeping back under the old hen's wings; nothing more beautiful was ever seen in the world.
Then she got up and drove them across the meadow in front of her until the bride looked out of the window. The little chicks pleased her so much that she came straight down and asked whether they were for sale.
"Not for money or land, but for flesh and blood. Let me sleep another night in the room where the bridegroom sleeps."
The bride said yes, meaning to cheat her as she had the evening before. But when the prince went to bed he asked the page what the murmuring and rustling in the night had been. At that the page told him everything: that he had been made to give him a sleeping draught because a poor girl had slept secretly in the room, and that he was to give him another one that night.
The prince said, "Pour the draught out beside the bed."
At night she was led in again; and when she began to tell how badly everything had gone with her, he knew his own dear wife at once by her voice, and sprang up and cried, "Now I really am set free! I've been as if in a dream, because that strange princess bewitched me so that I had to forget you; but God has delivered me from the spell in good time."
Then the two of them left the castle secretly in the night, for they were afraid of the princess's father, who was a sorcerer; and they seated themselves on the griffin, which carried them across the Red Sea; and when they were in the middle of it she let the nut fall. At once a tall nut tree grew up, and the bird rested on it, and then carried them home, where they found their child, who had grown tall and beautiful; and from that time on they lived happily until their deaths.
There was once an old Queen whose husband had been dead many years, and she had a beautiful daughter. When the princess grew up she was betrothed to a prince who lived a great way off.
When the time came for her to be married and she had to travel away into that distant kingdom, the old Queen packed up for her a great many costly vessels of silver and gold, and ornaments of gold and silver too, and cups and jewels — in short, everything that belonged to a royal dowry, for she loved her child with all her heart. She sent her waiting maid with her as well, who was to ride beside her and hand her over to the bridegroom; and each of them had a horse for the journey. But the King's daughter's horse was called Falada, and could speak.
So when the hour of parting came, the old mother went into her bedroom, took a little knife and cut her finger with it until it bled; then she held a white handkerchief under it and let three drops of blood fall on it, and gave it to her daughter and said, "Dear child, take good care of this. It will be of service to you on your way."
So they took a sorrowful leave of each other. The princess put the piece of cloth in her bosom, mounted her horse, and set off to her bridegroom.
After she had ridden a while she felt a burning thirst, and said to her waiting maid, "Get down and take my cup, the one you're carrying for me, and fetch me some water from the stream. I should like a drink."
"If you're thirsty," said the waiting maid, "get off your horse yourself and lie down and drink out of the water. I don't choose to be your servant."
So in her great thirst the princess got down, bent over the water in the stream and drank, and was not allowed to drink out of the golden cup. Then she said, "Ah, heaven!" — and the three drops of blood answered:
"If your mother knew, her heart would break."
But the King's daughter was humble, and said nothing, and got back on her horse.
She rode some miles further; but the day was warm and the sun scorched her, and she was thirsty again; and when they came to a stream she called out to her waiting maid once more, "Get down and give me some water in my golden cup" — for she had long since forgotten the girl's unkind words.
But the waiting maid said, more haughtily still, "If you want to drink, drink as best you can. I don't choose to be your maid."
Then in her great thirst the King's daughter got down, bent over the running stream, wept and said, "Ah, heaven!" — and the drops of blood answered again:
"If your mother knew, her heart would break."
And as she was drinking and leaning right out over the stream, the handkerchief with the three drops of blood fell out of her bosom and floated away with the water, without her noticing it, so great was her distress. But the waiting maid had seen it, and she rejoiced to think that she now had power over the bride; for now that the princess had lost the drops of blood she had become weak and helpless.
So when she wanted to get back on her horse — the one called Falada — the waiting maid said, "Falada suits me better; my nag will do for you." And the princess had to be content with that.
Then the waiting maid, with a great many hard words, told the princess to change her royal clothes for her own shabby ones; and at last she was made to swear by the clear sky above her that she would not say one word of this to anybody at the royal court. And if she had not sworn that oath, she would have been killed on the spot. But Falada saw it all, and marked it well.
So the waiting maid mounted Falada and the true bride the poor horse, and they travelled on until at last they came to the royal palace. There were great rejoicings over her arrival, and the prince sprang forward to meet her and lifted the waiting maid down from her horse, believing that she was his bride. She was led up the stairs; but the real princess was left standing below.
Then the old King looked out of the window and saw her standing in the courtyard, and saw how dainty and delicate and beautiful she was; and he went at once up to the royal apartment and asked the bride about the girl she had brought with her, who was standing down there in the courtyard, and who she was.
"I picked her up on the way, for company. Give the girl some work to do, so that she isn't standing about idle."
But the old King had no work for her and could think of none, so he said, "I have a little boy who looks after the geese. She can help him."
The boy was called Conrad, and the true bride had to help him look after the geese.
Soon afterwards the false bride said to the young King, "Dearest husband, I beg you to do me a favour."
He answered, "I'll do it most willingly."
"Then send for the knacker and have the head cut off the horse I rode here on. It vexed me on the way."
In truth she was afraid the horse might tell how she had treated the King's daughter. And she managed to get the King to promise that it should be done, and faithful Falada was to die.
This came to the real princess's ears, and she secretly promised the knacker a piece of gold if he would do her a small service. There was a great dark gateway in the town through which she had to pass with the geese every morning and evening; would he be so good as to nail Falada's head up on it, so that she might see him again, more than just once?
The knacker's man promised to do it, and cut off the head and nailed it fast under the dark gateway.
Early in the morning, when she and Conrad drove their flock out under this gateway, she said as she passed:
"Alas, Falada, hanging there!"
Then the head answered:
"Alas, young Queen, how ill you fare! If this your tender mother knew, her heart would surely break in two."
Then they went on out of the town and drove their geese into the country. And when they came to the meadow she sat down and unbound her hair, which was like pure gold; and Conrad saw it and was delighted by its brightness, and wanted to pull out a few hairs. Then she said:
"Blow, blow, you gentle wind, I say, blow Conrad's little hat away, and make him chase it here and there until I have braided all my hair and bound it up again."
And there came such a violent gust of wind that it blew Conrad's hat far away across the country, and he had to run after it. When he came back she had finished combing her hair and was putting it up again, and he could not get a single hair of it. So Conrad was angry and would not speak to her; and they watched the geese until evening, and then went home.
Next day, as they were driving the geese out through the dark gateway, the girl said:
"Alas, Falada, hanging there!"
And Falada answered:
"Alas, young Queen, how ill you fare! If this your tender mother knew, her heart would surely break in two."
And she sat down again in the field and began to comb out her hair, and Conrad ran up and tried to snatch at it; so she said quickly:
"Blow, blow, you gentle wind, I say, blow Conrad's little hat away, and make him chase it here and there until I have braided all my hair and bound it up again."
Then the wind blew and blew his little hat off his head and far away, and Conrad had to run after it; and when he came back her hair had been up a long while, and he could get none of it. And so they looked after their geese till evening came.
But that evening, after they had got home, Conrad went to the old King and said, "I won't look after the geese with that girl any longer."
"Why not?" asked the old King.
"Oh, because she vexes me the whole day long."
Then the old King ordered him to tell what it was that she did to him. And Conrad said, "In the morning, when we go under the dark gateway with the flock, there's a sorry old horse's head on the wall, and she says to it, 'Alas, Falada, hanging there!' — and the head answers, 'Alas, young Queen, how ill you fare! If this your tender mother knew, her heart would surely break in two.'"
And Conrad went on to tell what happened out on the goose pasture, and how he had to chase his hat there.
The old King told him to drive his flock out again next day; and as soon as morning came he stationed himself behind the dark gateway and heard how the girl spoke to Falada's head. And then he went out into the country too and hid himself in a thicket in the meadow. There he soon saw with his own eyes the goose-girl and the goose-boy bringing their flock, and how after a while she sat down and unplaited her hair, which shone with a radiance of its own. And soon she said:
"Blow, blow, you gentle wind, I say, blow Conrad's little hat away, and make him chase it here and there until I have braided all my hair and bound it up again."
Then came a gust of wind and carried off Conrad's hat, so that he had to run a long way after it, while the girl quietly went on combing and plaiting her hair; and the King saw it all.
Then he went away unseen; and when the goose-girl came home in the evening he called her aside and asked why she did all these things.
"I may not tell you that, and I dare not pour out my sorrows to any human being; for I've sworn not to, by the heaven above me. If I hadn't sworn it, I should have lost my life."
He pressed her and gave her no peace, but he could get nothing out of her. So he said, "If you won't tell me anything, then tell your sorrows to that iron stove there" — and went away.
Then she crept into the iron stove and began to weep and lament and empty out her whole heart, and said, "Here I am, deserted by the whole world, and yet I'm a King's daughter; and a false waiting maid has forced me to such a pass that I've had to take off my royal clothes, and she has taken my place with my bridegroom, and I have to do servant's work as a goose-girl. If my mother only knew, her heart would break."
But the old King was standing outside by the stovepipe, listening to what she said, and heard it all. Then he came back in and told her to come out of the stove. And royal clothes were put on her, and it was a marvel how beautiful she was.
The old King called his son and told him that he had got the false bride, who was only a waiting maid, and that the true one was standing there — the girl who had been the goose-girl. The young King rejoiced with all his heart when he saw her beauty and her youth; and a great feast was prepared, to which all the people and all their good friends were invited.
At the head of the table sat the bridegroom, with the King's daughter on one side of him and the waiting maid on the other; but the waiting maid was blinded, and did not recognise the princess in her dazzling clothes.
When they had eaten and drunk and were merry, the old King put a riddle to the waiting maid: what did a person deserve who had behaved in such and such a way to her mistress? And he told the whole story, and asked what sentence such a one deserved.
Then the false bride said, "She deserves no better than to be stripped naked and put in a barrel studded on the inside with pointed nails; and two white horses should be harnessed to it and drag her along through one street after another until she is dead."
"That is you," said the old King, "and you have pronounced your own sentence; and that is what shall be done to you."
And when the sentence had been carried out, the young King married his true bride, and the two of them ruled over their kingdom in peace and happiness.
Once upon a time a countryman had a son who was no bigger than a thumb, and did not get any bigger, and for several years did not grow so much as a hair's breadth.
Once when the father was going out to plough, the little one said, "Father, I'll come out with you."
"You'd come out with me?" said his father. "Stay here. You'll be no use out there — and besides, you might get lost."
Then Thumbling began to cry; and for the sake of peace his father put him in his pocket and took him along. When he got out into the field he took him out again and set him down in a freshly cut furrow.
While he was sitting there, a great giant came over the hill. "Do you see that big bogeyman?" said his father, wanting to frighten the little fellow into being good. "He's coming to fetch you."
But the giant had hardly taken two steps with his long legs before he was at the furrow. He picked little Thumbling up carefully between two fingers, looked him over, and went off with him without saying a word. His father stood there, but could not utter a sound for terror, and thought nothing else but that his child was lost, and that as long as he lived he would never set eyes on him again.
The giant, though, carried him home and nursed him; and Thumbling grew tall and strong after the fashion of giants.
When two years had gone by, the old giant took him into the forest to try him out, and said, "Pull yourself up a stick."
By then the boy was already so strong that he tore a young tree out of the earth by the roots. But the giant thought, "We must do better than that" — and took him back and nursed him another two years.
When he tried him then, his strength had grown so much that he could tear an old tree out of the ground. That was still not enough for the giant; he nursed him for two years more, and then when he took him into the forest and said, "Now tear me up a proper stick," the boy tore the strongest oak tree out of the earth so that it split — and it was a mere trifle to him.
"That will do," said the giant. "You're finished now" — and took him back to the field he had brought him from.
His father was there, following the plough. The young giant went up to him and said, "Does my father see what a fine man his son has grown into?"
The farmer was alarmed and said, "No, you're not my son. I don't want you — get away from me!"
"But I truly am your son. Let me do your work; I can plough as well as you — better, in fact."
"No, no, you're not my son, and you can't plough. Go away!"
But as he was afraid of this huge man, he let go of the plough and stepped back and stood at the edge of the field. Then the young man took the plough and just pressed on it with one hand; but his grip was so strong that the plough went deep into the earth.
The farmer could not bear to see that, and called out to him, "If you're set on ploughing, you mustn't press so hard. That makes bad work."
But the young man unharnessed the horses and pulled the plough himself, saying, "Just go home, father, and tell my mother to get ready a large dish of food; and meanwhile I'll go over the field."
So the farmer went home and told his wife to prepare the food, while the young man ploughed the field, which was two acres, entirely on his own; and then he harnessed himself to the harrow and harrowed the whole of the land, using two harrows at once.
When he had finished he went into the forest and pulled up two oak trees and laid them across his shoulders, and hung one harrow on them behind and one in front, and one horse behind and one in front too, and carried the lot to his parents' house as if it were a bundle of straw.
When he came into the yard his mother did not know him, and asked, "Who is that horrible tall man?"
The farmer said, "That's our son."
She said, "No, that can't be our son. We never had a tall one; ours was a little thing." And she called out to him, "Go away — we don't want you!"
The young man said nothing, but led his horses to the stable and gave them oats and hay and everything they needed. When he had done that, he went into the parlour, sat down on the bench and said, "Mother, now I should like something to eat. Will it be ready soon?"
Then she said yes, and brought in two enormous dishes full of food, which would have been enough for her and her husband for a week. But the young man ate the whole of it himself, and asked whether she had nothing more to set in front of him.
"No," she replied, "that's all we have."
"But that was only a taste. I must have more."
She did not dare oppose him, and went and put a huge cauldron of food on the fire; and when it was ready she carried it in.
"At last, a few crumbs," said he, and ate everything there was — and it still was not enough to satisfy his hunger.
Then he said, "Father, I can see plainly that with you I shall never get enough to eat. If you'll get me an iron staff that's strong, one I can't break across my knees, I'll go out into the world."
The farmer was glad, and put his two horses in his cart and fetched from the smith a staff so large and thick that the two horses could only just bring it away. The young man laid it across his knees and — snap! — broke it in two in the middle like a beanstalk, and threw it away.
Then his father harnessed four horses and brought a bar so long and thick that the four horses could only just drag it. His son snapped that across his knees too, threw it away, and said, "Father, this is no use to me. You must harness more horses and bring a stronger staff."
So the father harnessed eight horses and brought one so long and thick that the eight horses could only just carry it. But when his son took it in his hand he broke a bit off the top of it as well, and said, "Father, I can see that you won't be able to get me the sort of staff I want. I'll stay with you no longer."
So he went away and gave out that he was a smith's apprentice. He came to a village where there lived a smith who was a greedy fellow and never did anybody a kindness, but wanted everything for himself. The young man went into the smithy and asked whether he needed a journeyman.
"Yes," said the smith, and looked him over, and thought, "There's a strong fellow who will strike out well and earn his bread." So he asked, "How much wages do you want?"
"I don't want any at all," he replied. "Only, every fortnight, when the other journeymen are paid, I'll give you two blows, and you must bear them."
The miser was heartily satisfied, and thought he would save a lot of money that way.
Next morning the new journeyman was to start work; but when the master brought the glowing bar and the young man struck his first blow, the iron flew apart and the anvil sank so deep into the earth that there was no getting it out again.
Then the miser grew angry and said, "Oh, but I can make no use of you. You strike far too hard. What will you have for the one blow?"
Then he said, "I'll only give you quite a small blow, that's all." And he raised his foot and gave him such a kick that he flew away over four loads of hay. Then he picked out the thickest iron bar in the smithy for himself, took it in his hand for a walking stick, and went on his way.
When he had walked some time he came to a small farm, and asked the bailiff whether he did not need a head servant.
"Yes," said the bailiff, "I can make use of one. You look a strong fellow who can do something. How much a year do you want in wages?"
He answered again that he wanted no wages at all, but that every year he would give him three blows, which he must bear. The bailiff was satisfied with that, for he too was a covetous man.
Next morning all the servants were to go into the wood; the others were already up, but the head servant was still in bed. Then one of them called to him, "Get up, it's time. We're going into the wood and you must come with us."
"Ah," said he, quite roughly and surlily, "you go on, then. I'll be back again before any of you."
So the others went to the bailiff and told him the head man was still lying in bed and would not go into the wood with them. The bailiff said they were to wake him again and tell him to harness the horses. But the head man said as before, "Just go on, I'll be back again before any of you." And then he stayed in bed two hours longer.
At length he got out of the feathers; but first he fetched himself two bushels of peas from the loft and made himself some broth with them, and ate it at his leisure; and when that was done he went and harnessed the horses and drove into the wood.
Not far from the wood there was a ravine he had to pass through; so he first drove the horses on through it, and then stopped them and went round behind the cart and took trees and brushwood and made a great barricade, so that no horse could get through.
As he was going into the wood, the others were just driving out of it with their loaded carts to go home; so he said to them, "Drive on. I shall still get home before you do."
He did not drive far into the wood, but immediately tore up two of the very largest trees of all and threw them on his cart and turned round. When he came to the barricade the others were still standing there, unable to get through.
"Don't you see," said he, "that if you'd stayed with me you'd have got home just as fast, and had another hour's sleep besides?"
Now he wanted to drive on, but his horses could not work their way through; so he unharnessed them and laid them on top of the cart, took the shafts in his own hands and pulled the whole lot through — and did it as easily as if it had been loaded with feathers.
When he was over he said to the others, "There, you see — I've got through quicker than you." And he drove on, and the others had to stay where they were.
In the yard he took one of the trees in his hand and showed it to the bailiff and said, "Isn't that a fine bundle of firewood?"
Then the bailiff said to his wife, "That servant is a good one. Even if he does sleep late, he's still home before the others."
So he served the bailiff for a year; and when the year was up and the other servants were getting their wages, he said it was time for him to take his too.
But the bailiff was afraid of the blows he was to be given, and earnestly begged to be let off them; sooner than that, he said, he would be head servant himself and the young man should be bailiff.
"No," said he. "I won't be a bailiff. I'm head servant and I'll stay head servant; but I'll deliver what we agreed on."
The bailiff was willing to give him anything he asked, but it was no use; the head servant said no to everything. Then the bailiff did not know what to do, and begged for a fortnight's grace, for he wanted to find some way out. The head servant agreed to the delay.
The bailiff called all his clerks together, and they were to think it over and give him their advice. The clerks pondered a long time, but at last they said that nobody's life was safe with the head servant, since he could kill a man as easily as a midge; and that the bailiff ought to make him go down the well and clean it, and when he was down at the bottom they would roll up one of the millstones lying there and drop it on his head, and then he would never come up to daylight again.
The advice pleased the bailiff, and the head servant was perfectly willing to go down the well. But when he was standing at the bottom, and they had rolled the biggest millstone down and thought they had broken his skull, he called up, "Chase those hens away from the well! They're scratching in the sand up there and throwing the grains into my eyes, so that I can't see."
So the bailiff cried, "Shoo, shoo!" and pretended to be frightening the hens away.
When the head servant had finished his work he climbed up and said, "Just look what a beautiful necktie I've got on" — and behold, it was the millstone he was wearing round his neck.
Now the head servant wanted to take his reward; but the bailiff begged for another fortnight's grace. The clerks met again and advised him to send the head servant to the haunted mill to grind corn by night, since from there no man had ever yet come back alive in the morning.
The proposal pleased the bailiff. He called the head servant that very evening and told him to take eight bushels of corn to the mill and grind it that night, because it was wanted.
So the head servant went to the loft and put two bushels in his right pocket and two in his left, and took four in a bag, half on his back and half on his chest, and went off to the haunted mill loaded like that.
The miller told him that he could grind there very well by day, but not by night, because the mill was haunted, and that up to now whoever went into it by night had been found lying dead inside in the morning.
He said, "I'll manage it. Just go off to bed."
Then he went into the mill and poured out the corn. About eleven o'clock he went into the miller's room and sat down on the bench. When he had sat there a while, a door suddenly opened and a great table came in; and wine and roast meats set themselves out on the table, and plenty of other good food besides — but everything came by itself, for there was nobody there to carry it. After that the chairs pushed themselves up, but no people came; until all at once he saw fingers, which handled knives and forks and laid food on the plates, but apart from that he could see nothing.
As he was hungry and saw the food, he sat down at the table too, and ate with those who were eating, and enjoyed it. When he had had enough, and the others had emptied their dishes too, he distinctly heard all the candles being suddenly snuffed out; and as it was now pitch dark, he felt something like a box on the ear.
Then he said, "If anything of that sort comes again, I shall hit back."
And when he got a second box on the ear, he hit back too. And so it went on the whole night through. He took nothing without returning it, but paid everything back with interest, and did not lay about him for nothing. At daybreak it all stopped.
When the miller got up he went to look for him and wondered whether he was still alive. Then the young man said, "I've eaten my fill, and I got a few boxes on the ears — but I gave some back."
The miller rejoiced, and said that the mill was released from its spell now, and wanted to give him a great deal of money as a reward. But he said, "Money I won't have. I have enough of it."
So he took his meal on his back and went home, and told the bailiff that he had done what he had been told to do, and would now have the reward they had agreed on.
When the bailiff heard that, he was seriously alarmed and quite beside himself. He walked up and down the room, and the sweat ran down his forehead in drops. Then he opened the window to get some fresh air; but before he knew what was happening, the head servant had given him such a kick that he flew out through the window into the air, and so far away that nobody ever saw him again.
Then the head servant said to the bailiff's wife, "If he doesn't come back, you must take the other blow."
She cried, "No, no, I can't bear it!" — and opened the other window, because the sweat was running down her forehead in drops. Then he gave her such a kick that she flew out too; and as she was lighter, she went much higher than her husband.
Her husband called, "Do come over to me!" — but she answered, "You come to me. I can't come to you."
And they hovered about up there in the air and could not get to each other; and whether they are still hovering about or not, I don't know. But the young giant picked up his iron bar and went on his way.
There was once a rich King who had three daughters, and they went walking every day in the palace garden. The King was a great lover of fine trees of all kinds; but there was one he was so fond of that if anybody picked an apple from it he wished them a hundred fathoms underground. And when harvest time came the apples on this tree were all as red as blood.
The three daughters went under the tree every day and looked to see whether the wind had blown an apple down; but they never once found one, and the tree was so loaded that it was almost breaking, and the branches hung down to the ground.
Then the King's youngest child had a great longing for an apple, and said to her sisters, "Our father loves us far too much to wish us underground. It's my belief that he'd only do that to strangers." And while she was speaking, the child plucked off a great big apple and ran to her sisters, saying, "Just taste it, my dear little sisters — I've never in my life tasted anything so delicious."
Then the two other sisters ate some of the apple too, whereupon all three sank deep down into the earth, where they could hear no cock crow.
When midday came the King wanted to call them in to dinner, but they were nowhere to be found. He looked for them everywhere in the palace and the garden, but could not find them. Then he was greatly distressed, and proclaimed throughout the land that whoever brought his daughters back should have one of them for a wife.
At this so many young men went about the country searching that there was no counting them, for everybody loved the three children, they were so kind to all and so fair of face.
Three young huntsmen went out too; and when they had travelled about for eight days they came to a great castle with beautiful rooms in it; and in one room a table was laid with delicate dishes on it, still so warm that they were steaming — but in the whole castle there was not a human being to be seen or heard. They waited there half a day, and the food stayed warm and steaming; and at length they were so hungry that they sat down and ate.
And they agreed with each other that they would stay and live in that castle, and that one of them, chosen by lot, should stay in the house while the other two went to look for the King's daughters. They cast lots, and the lot fell on the eldest.
So next day the two younger went out searching and the eldest had to stay at home. At midday a very small little man came and begged for a piece of bread; so the huntsman took the bread he had found there and cut a round off the loaf and was about to give it to him. But as he was handing it over, the little man let it fall, and asked the huntsman to be so good as to give him that piece back. The huntsman was about to do it and stooped down — whereupon the little man took a stick, seized him by the hair and gave him a good beating.
Next day the second stayed at home, and he fared no better. When the other two came back in the evening the eldest said, "Well, how did you get on?"
"Oh, very badly," said he. And then they lamented their misfortune together; but they said nothing about it to the youngest, for they did not like him at all, and always called him Stupid Hans, because he did not really belong to the forest.
On the third day the youngest stayed at home, and again the little man came and begged for a piece of bread. When the young man gave it to him he let it fall as before, and asked him to be so good as to give him that piece back.
Then Hans said to the little man, "What? Can't you pick that piece up yourself? If you won't take that much trouble for your daily bread, you don't deserve to have it."
Then the little man grew very angry and said he was to do it; but the huntsman would not, and took hold of my fine little man and gave him a thorough beating. Then the little man screamed terribly and cried, "Stop, stop, and let me go, and I'll tell you where the King's daughters are."
When Hans heard that he left off beating him; and the little man told him that he was an earth gnome, and that there were more than a thousand like him, and that if Hans would come with him he would show him where the King's daughters were.
Then he showed him a deep well with no water in it. And the gnome said he knew very well that the companions Hans had with him did not mean to deal honourably with him; so if he wanted to deliver the King's children he must do it alone. The other two brothers would be very glad to get the King's daughters back, but they did not want any trouble or danger. So Hans was to take a large basket, and get into it with his short sword and a bell, and be let down. Down below there were three rooms, and in each of them was a princess with a many-headed dragon whose heads she had to comb and dress; and he must cut them off.
And having said all this, the gnome vanished.
When evening came the two brothers arrived and asked how he had got on; and he said, "Well enough so far" — and that he had seen nobody except at midday, when a little man had come and begged for a piece of bread; and that he had given him some, but the little man had let it fall and asked him to pick it up again, and as he did not choose to do that, the fellow had lost his temper; and that he had done what he ought not, and given him a beating — whereupon he had told him where the King's daughters were.
The two were so angry at this that they turned green and yellow.
Next morning they went to the well together and drew lots for who should get into the basket first, and again the lot fell on the eldest, and he had to get in and take the bell with him. Then he said, "If I ring, you must draw me up again at once."
When he had gone down a short way he rang, and they drew him up again immediately. Then the second got into the basket, but he did exactly the same as the first. And then it was the youngest's turn, and he let himself be lowered right to the bottom.
When he had got out of the basket he took his short sword, and went and stood outside the first door and listened, and heard the dragon snoring loudly. He opened the door slowly; and there sat one of the princesses with nine dragons' heads lying in her lap, combing them. Then he took his sword and hacked at them, and the nine heads fell off. The princess sprang up and threw her arms round his neck and hugged and kissed him again and again, and took her bodice, which was made of pure gold, and hung it round his neck.
Then he went to the second princess, who had a dragon with five heads to comb, and delivered her too; and to the youngest, who had a dragon with four heads, he went likewise. And they were all overjoyed, and hugged him and kissed him without stopping.
Then he rang very loudly, so that the men above heard him; and he put the princesses one after the other into the basket and had them all drawn up. But when it came to his own turn he remembered the gnome's words, that his comrades did not mean well by him. So he took a great stone that was lying there and put it in the basket; and when it was about halfway up his false brothers cut the rope, so that the basket with the stone fell to the ground. They thought he was dead, and ran off with the three princesses, making them promise to tell their father that it was they who had rescued them; and then they went to the King, and each of them demanded a princess in marriage.
Meanwhile the youngest huntsman was wandering about the three chambers in great distress, fully expecting to end his days down there, when he saw a flute hanging on the wall. "Why are you hanging there?" said he. "Nobody can be merry here." He looked at the dragons' heads too and said, "You can't help me now either."
He walked backwards and forwards for such a long time that he wore the floor quite smooth. But at last other thoughts came into his mind, and he took the flute down from the wall and played a few notes on it; and suddenly a number of gnomes appeared, and with every note he sounded one more came. Then he played until the room was completely full of them. They all asked what he wanted; so he said he wanted to get above ground, back to the daylight. At that they seized him by every hair on his head, and flew up with him onto the earth again.
When he was above ground he went straight to the King's palace, just as the wedding of one of the princesses was about to be celebrated, and went to the room where the King and his three daughters were. When the princesses saw him they fainted. At this the King was angry and ordered him to be put in prison at once, because he thought he must have done the girls some harm.
When the princesses came to themselves, though, they begged the King to set him free again. The King asked why, and they said they were not allowed to tell that; but their father said they were to tell it to the stove. And he went out and listened at the door and heard everything.
Then he had the two brothers hanged on the gallows, and gave the third his youngest daughter. And on that occasion I wore a pair of glass shoes, and I struck them against a stone, and they went klink and broke.
There was once a merchant who had two children, a boy and a girl; they were both little, and could not walk yet. And two richly laden ships of his sailed out to sea with all his property on board; and just as he was expecting to make a great deal of money by them, news came that they had gone to the bottom. So now, instead of being a rich man, he was a poor one, and had nothing left but one field outside the town.
To drive his misfortune a little out of his mind he went out to this field; and as he was walking up and down in it, a little black man suddenly stood beside him and asked why he was so sad, and what it was he was taking so much to heart.
Then said the merchant, "If you could help me, I'd gladly tell you."
"Who knows?" replied the black dwarf. "Perhaps I can help you."
So the merchant told him that everything he had owned had gone to the bottom of the sea, and that he had nothing left but this field.
"Don't trouble yourself," said the dwarf. "If you'll promise to give me the first thing that rubs against your leg when you get home, and to bring it here to this spot in twelve years' time, you shall have as much money as you like."
The merchant thought, "What can that be but my dog?" — and did not remember his little boy; so he said yes, and gave the black man a written and sealed promise, and went home.
When he reached home, his little boy was so delighted that he held on to a bench and tottered over to him and caught him tight by the legs. The father was horrified, for he remembered his promise and now knew what he had pledged himself to do. But as he still found no money in his chest, he thought the dwarf had only been joking.
A month afterwards he went up to the attic, meaning to collect some old tin and sell it, and saw a great heap of money lying there. Then he was happy again, and made purchases, and became a greater merchant than before, and felt that this world was well governed.
Meanwhile the boy grew tall, and sharp and clever with it. But the nearer the twelfth year came, the more anxious the merchant grew, so that his distress could be read in his face. One day his son asked what was the matter with him, but his father would not say. The boy, though, kept on so long that at last he told him: that without knowing what he was doing he had promised him to a black dwarf, and been given a great deal of money for it. He said too that he had set his hand and seal to it, and that now the twelve years had gone by he would have to give him up.
Then his son said, "Oh, father, don't be uneasy. It will all go well. The black man has no power over me."
The son had himself blessed by the priest; and when the time came, father and son went out to the field together, and the son drew a circle and placed himself inside it with his father.
Then the black dwarf came and said to the old man, "Have you brought what you promised me?"
He was silent; but the son asked, "What do you want here?"
Then said the black dwarf, "I have to speak with your father, not with you."
The son replied, "You cheated and misled my father. Give back the writing."
"No," said the black dwarf, "I won't give up my rights."
They argued together a long while after that; but at last they agreed that the son, since he belonged neither to the enemy of mankind nor to his father any longer, should seat himself in a little boat on water that was flowing away from them, and that the father should push it off with his own foot, and then the son should be left given up to the water.
So he took leave of his father and got into a little boat, and the father had to push it off with his own foot. The boat capsized, so that the keel was uppermost; and the father believed his son was lost, and went home and mourned for him.
But the boat did not sink. It floated quietly away with the boy sitting safely inside it, and it floated on for a long time until at last it came to rest on an unknown shore. Then he landed, and saw a beautiful castle in front of him, and set out towards it.
But when he went in, he found that it was under a spell. He went through every room, and they were all empty until he reached the last, where a snake lay coiled in a ring. The snake, though, was an enchanted girl, who rejoiced to see him, and said, "Have you come, my deliverer? I've been waiting twelve years for you. This kingdom is under a spell and you must set it free."
"How can I do that?" he asked.
"Tonight twelve black men covered with chains will come and ask what you're doing here. Keep silent; give them no answer, and let them do whatever they like with you. They'll torment you, beat you, stab you; let it all pass, only don't speak. At twelve o'clock they must go away again. On the second night twelve others will come, and on the third four-and-twenty, who will cut off your head; but at twelve o'clock their power will be over. And then, if you've endured it all and haven't spoken the slightest word, I shall be released. I'll come to you, and I'll have some of the water of life in a bottle. I'll rub you with it, and then you'll come back to life and be as well as before."
Then he said, "I'll gladly set you free."
And everything happened just as she had said. The black men could not force a single word out of him; and on the third night the snake became a beautiful princess, who came with the water of life and brought him back to life again. So she threw herself into his arms and kissed him, and there was joy and gladness in the whole castle. After this their marriage was celebrated, and he was King of the Golden Mountain.
They lived very happily together, and the Queen bore a fine boy. Eight years had gone by when the King's thoughts turned to his father; his heart was moved, and he wanted to visit him. The Queen, though, would not let him go, and said, "I know beforehand that it will bring me unhappiness." But he gave her no rest until she agreed.
At their parting she gave him a wishing ring and said, "Take this ring and put it on your finger, and then you'll be carried at once wherever you want to be. Only you must promise me not to use it to wish me away from this place and to your father."
He promised her that, put the ring on his finger, and wished himself home, just outside the town where his father lived. Instantly he was there, and made for the town; but when he came to the gate the sentries would not let him in, because his clothes were so strange, and yet so rich and magnificent. So he went to a hill where a shepherd was watching his sheep, and changed clothes with him and put on his old shepherd's coat, and then went into the town without any trouble.
When he came to his father he made himself known to him; but his father did not in the least believe that the shepherd was his son, and said that he certainly had had a son, but that he had died long ago. Still, as he could see he was a poor, needy shepherd, he would give him something to eat.
Then the shepherd said to his parents, "I truly am your son. Don't you know of any mark on my body that you could recognise me by?"
"Yes," said his mother, "our son had a raspberry mark under his right arm."
He pushed his shirt back, and they saw the raspberry mark under his right arm, and doubted no longer that he was their son.
Then he told them that he was King of the Golden Mountain, and that a king's daughter was his wife, and that they had a fine son of seven years old.
Then his father said, "That certainly isn't true. A fine sort of king, who goes about in a ragged shepherd's coat!"
At this the son flew into a temper, and without thinking of his promise turned his ring round and wished both his wife and his child there with him. They were there in a second; but the Queen wept and reproached him and said that he had broken his word and brought misfortune on her.
He said, "I did it thoughtlessly, and not with any bad intention" — and tried to calm her; and she pretended to believe him, but she had mischief in her mind.
Then he led her out of the town into the field and showed her the stream where the little boat had been pushed off; and then he said, "I'm tired. Sit down; I'll sleep a while on your lap." And he laid his head on her lap and fell asleep.
When he was asleep she first drew the ring off his finger; then she drew away the foot that was under him, leaving only the slipper behind her; and she took her child in her arms and wished herself back in her own kingdom.
When he woke, there he lay, quite deserted; his wife and child were gone, and so was the ring from his finger, and only the slipper was still there as a token.
"You can't go home to your parents," he thought. "They'd say you were a wizard. You must be off, and walk on until you come to your own kingdom."
So he went away, and came at length to a hill where three giants were standing, arguing with each other because they did not know how to divide their father's property. When they saw him going by they called to him and said that little men had quick wits, and he was to divide their inheritance for them.
The inheritance consisted of a sword, which had the property that if anybody took it in his hand and said, "All heads off but mine," every head would fall to the ground; secondly, of a cloak that made whoever put it on invisible; and thirdly, of a pair of boots that could carry the wearer wherever he wanted in a moment.
He said, "Give me the three things, so that I can see whether they're still in good order."
They gave him the cloak; and when he had put it on he was invisible and had changed into a fly. Then he took his own form again and said, "The cloak's a good one. Now give me the sword."
They said, "No, we won't give you that. If you were to say, 'All heads off but mine,' all our heads would be off and you alone would be left with yours."
All the same they gave it to him, on condition that he only tried it on a tree. He did that, and the sword cut a tree trunk in two as if it had been a straw.
Then he wanted the boots as well; but they said, "No, we won't give you those. If you had them on your feet and wished yourself at the top of the hill, we should be left down here with nothing."
"Oh, no," said he, "I won't do that." So they gave him the boots too.
And now, when he had got all three things, he thought of nothing but his wife and his child, and said as if to himself, "Oh, if I were only on the Golden Mountain" — and at that same moment he vanished from the giants' sight; and so their inheritance was divided.
When he was near his palace he heard sounds of rejoicing, and fiddles and flutes; and the people told him that his wife was celebrating her wedding with another man. Then he flew into a rage and said, "False woman — she betrayed and deserted me while I was asleep."
So he put on his cloak and went into the palace, unseen by anybody. When he came into the dining hall a great table was spread with delicious food, and the guests were eating and drinking and laughing and joking. She sat on a royal seat in the middle of them in splendid clothes, with a crown on her head.
He placed himself behind her, and nobody saw him. When she put a piece of meat on a plate for herself, he took it away and ate it; and when she poured herself out a glass of wine, he took it away and drank it. She kept helping herself to something and never got anything, for plate and glass disappeared at once.
Then, dismayed and ashamed, she got up and went to her room and wept; but he followed her there.
She said, "Has the devil power over me — or did my deliverer never come?"
Then he struck her in the face and said, "Did your deliverer never come? It's he who has you in his power, traitor. Have I deserved this from you?"
Then he made himself visible and went into the hall and cried, "The wedding is over. The true King has come back."
The kings and princes and councillors who were gathered there jeered at him and mocked him; but he did not trouble to answer them, and said, "Will you go, or not?"
At this they tried to seize him and pressed in on him; but he drew his sword and said, "All heads off but mine" — and all the heads rolled on the ground, and he alone was master, and King of the Golden Mountain once more.
There was once a Queen who had a little daughter, still so young that she had to be carried. One day the child was naughty, and her mother could say what she liked but the child would not be quiet. Then she lost patience; and as the ravens were flying about the palace, she opened the window and said, "I wish you were a raven and would fly away — then I should have some peace."
She had hardly spoken the words before the child was changed into a raven, and flew out of her arms and out of the window. It flew into a dark forest and stayed there a long time, and the parents heard nothing of their child.
Then one day a man was making his way through this forest and heard the raven calling, and followed the voice; and when he came nearer, the bird said, "I'm a king's daughter by birth, and I'm under a spell; but you can set me free."
"What am I to do?" he asked.
She said, "Go further into the forest and you'll find a house with an old woman sitting in it, who'll offer you food and drink; but you mustn't take anything, for if you eat or drink anything you'll fall asleep, and then you won't be able to deliver me. In the garden behind the house there's a great heap of tanbark; stand on that and wait for me. For three days I'll come every afternoon at two o'clock in a carriage. On the first day it will have four white horses harnessed to it, then four chestnut horses, and last of all four black ones; but if you're not awake, and are sleeping, I shan't be set free."
The man promised to do everything she asked; but the raven said, "Alas, I know already that you won't deliver me. You'll take something from the woman."
Then the man promised once more that he would certainly touch nothing, either to eat or to drink.
But when he came into the house the old woman came up to him and said, "Poor man, how faint you look. Come and refresh yourself — eat and drink."
"No," said the man, "I won't eat or drink."
But she gave him no peace, and said, "If you won't eat, take one drink out of the glass. One is nothing."
Then he let himself be persuaded, and drank.
Shortly before two o'clock in the afternoon he went out into the garden to the tanbark heap to wait for the raven. As he was standing there his weariness all at once became so great that he could not fight it off, and he lay down for a short while — but he was determined not to go to sleep. Hardly had he lain down, though, before his eyes closed of their own accord, and he fell asleep and slept so soundly that nothing in the world could have roused him.
At two o'clock the raven came driving up with four white horses; but she was already in deep grief and said, "I know he's asleep." And when she came into the garden, there indeed he lay, asleep on the heap of tanbark. She got down from the carriage and went to him and shook him and called him, but he did not wake.
Next day about noon the old woman came again and brought him food and drink, but he would take none of it. But she gave him no rest and kept at him until at last he took one drink out of the glass again.
Towards two o'clock he went into the garden to the tanbark heap to wait for the raven; but all at once he felt such a great weariness that his legs would no longer hold him up. He could not help himself, and had to lie down, and fell into a heavy sleep.
When the raven drove up with four brown horses, she was already full of grief, and said, "I know he's asleep." She went to him, but there he lay sleeping, and there was no waking him.
Next day the old woman asked what this meant. He was neither eating nor drinking anything; did he want to die?
He replied, "I'm not allowed to eat or drink, and I won't do it."
But she set a dish of food and a glass of wine in front of him; and when he smelt it he could not resist, and swallowed a deep draught.
When the time came he went out into the garden to the tanbark heap and waited for the King's daughter; but he was wearier still than the day before, and lay down and slept as soundly as a stone.
At two o'clock the raven came with four black horses, and the coachman and everything else was black. She was already in the deepest grief, and said, "I know he's asleep and can't deliver me." When she came to him, there he lay, fast asleep. She shook him and called him, but she could not wake him.
Then she laid a loaf beside him, and after that a piece of meat, and thirdly a bottle of wine; and he might eat and drink as much of them as he liked, but they would never grow any less. After that she took a gold ring off her finger and put it on his, and her name was engraved on it. And last of all she laid a letter beside him, saying what she had given him and that none of the things would ever grow less; and in it was written too, "I see very well that you'll never be able to deliver me here. But if you're still willing to deliver me, come to the golden castle of Stromberg. It's in your power to do it, of that I'm certain."
And when she had given him all these things she got into her carriage and drove to the golden castle of Stromberg.
When the man woke and saw that he had slept, he was sick at heart, and said, "She's certainly driven past, and I haven't set her free." Then he noticed the things lying beside him, and read the letter that said how it had all happened.
So he got up and went away, meaning to go to the golden castle of Stromberg — but he did not know where it was. After he had wandered about the world for a long time, he came into a dark forest and walked in it for a fortnight and still could not find his way out. Then it was evening again, and he was so tired that he lay down in a thicket and fell asleep.
Next day he went on; and in the evening, as he was about to lie down under some bushes again, he heard such a howling and crying that he could not get to sleep. And at the hour when people light their candles, he saw one glimmering, and got up and went towards it. Then he came to a house that looked very small, for a great giant was standing in front of it.
He thought to himself, "If I go in and the giant sees me, it will very likely cost me my life."
At length he risked it and went in. When the giant saw him he said, "It's a good thing you've come, for it's a long while since I've eaten. I'll have you for my supper straight away."
"I'd rather you left that alone," said the man. "I don't like being eaten. But if you have any wish to eat, I've quite enough here to satisfy you."
"If that's true," said the giant, "you may be easy. I was only going to devour you because I had nothing else."
Then they went and sat down at the table, and the man brought out the bread and wine and meat that would never come to an end.
"This pleases me well," said the giant, and ate to his heart's content.
Then the man said to him, "Can you tell me where the golden castle of Stromberg is?"
The giant said, "I'll look at my map. Every town and village and house is on it." He fetched the map he kept in the room and looked for the castle, but it was not to be found on it.
"Never mind," said he. "I have some still bigger maps in my cupboard upstairs; we'll look in those." But there too it was no use.
The man now wanted to go on, but the giant begged him to wait a few days longer, until his brother, who had gone out to fetch provisions, came home. When the brother came home, they asked him about the golden castle of Stromberg.
He replied, "When I've eaten and had enough, I'll look at my map."
Then he went up to his room with them and they searched his map, but could not find it. Then he brought out still older maps, and they did not rest until they had found the golden castle of Stromberg — but it was many thousand miles away.
"How am I to get there?" asked the man.
The giant said, "I have two hours to spare, and I'll carry you into the neighbourhood of it; but after that I must be at home to nurse the child we have."
So the giant carried the man to about a hundred leagues from the castle, and said, "You can easily walk the rest of the way alone." And he turned back; but the man went on day and night, until at length he came to the golden castle of Stromberg.
It stood on a glass mountain; and the bewitched girl drove round the castle in her carriage and then went inside. He was overjoyed when he saw her and wanted to climb up to her; but every time he started he slipped down the glass again. And when he saw that he could not reach her he was filled with distress, and said to himself, "I'll stay down here and wait for her."
So he built himself a hut and stayed in it a whole year, and saw the King's daughter driving about up above every day, and could never get to her.
Then one day he saw from his hut three robbers who were beating each other, and called out to them, "God be with you!"
They stopped when they heard the cry; but as they could see nobody, they began beating each other again, and dangerously hard at that. So he called out again, "God be with you!" Again they stopped and looked about them; but as they could see nobody, they went on beating each other.
Then he called for the third time, "God be with you" — and thought, "I must see what these three are about" — and went over and asked why they were beating each other so furiously.
One of them said he had found a stick, and that when he struck a door with it, that door would spring open. The next said he had found a cloak, and that whenever he put it on he was invisible. But the third said he had found a horse that a man could ride anywhere on, even up the glass mountain. And now they did not know whether they ought to hold these things in common or divide them up.
Then the man said, "I'll give you something in exchange for these three things. Money I haven't got, but I have other things of more value. Only first I must try yours out, to see whether you've told me the truth."
So they put him on the horse, threw the cloak round him and gave him the stick in his hand; and when he had all these things they could see him no longer. So he gave them a few vigorous blows and cried, "Now then, you vagabonds, you've got what you deserve. Are you satisfied?"
And he rode up the glass mountain. But when he came to the front of the castle at the top, it was shut. So he struck the door with his stick and it sprang open at once. He went in and climbed the stairs until he came to the hall, where the girl was sitting with a golden cup of wine in front of her. But she could not see him, because he had the cloak on.
And when he came up to her, he drew the ring she had given him off his finger and dropped it into the cup, so that it rang.
Then she cried, "That's my ring — so the man who is to set me free must be here."
They searched the whole castle and did not find him; but he had gone out and seated himself on the horse and thrown off the cloak. When they came to the door they saw him and cried aloud in their delight. Then he got down and took the King's daughter in his arms; and she kissed him and said, "Now you have set me free, and tomorrow we'll celebrate our wedding."
There was once a poor peasant who had no land, only a small house and one daughter.
Then the daughter said, "We ought to ask our lord the King for a bit of newly cleared land."
When the King heard of their poverty he made them a present of a piece of land, which she and her father dug over, meaning to sow it with a little corn and grain of that sort. When they had dug nearly the whole field, they found in the earth a mortar made of pure gold.
"Listen," said the father to the girl, "since our lord the King has been so gracious and made us a present of the field, we ought to give him this mortar in return."
But the daughter would not agree to it, and said, "Father, if we have the mortar and not the pestle as well, we shall be made to produce the pestle. You had far better say nothing about it."
He would not listen to her, though, but took the mortar and carried it to the King, and said he had found it in the cleared land, and asked whether he would accept it as a present.
The King took the mortar and asked whether he had found nothing else besides.
"No," answered the countryman.
Then the King said that he must now bring him the pestle. The peasant said they had not found it — but he might as well have been talking to the wind. He was put in prison, and was to stay there until he produced the pestle.
The servants had to bring him bread and water every day, which is what people get in prison; and they heard how the man cried out continually, "Ah, if only I'd listened to my daughter! Alas, alas, if only I'd listened to my daughter!" — and would neither eat nor drink.
So the King ordered the servants to bring the prisoner before him, and asked the peasant why he was always crying, "Ah, if only I'd listened to my daughter!" — and what it was his daughter had said.
"She told me I oughtn't to bring you the mortar, because I'd be made to produce the pestle as well."
"If you have a daughter as wise as that, let her come here."
So she had to appear before the King, who asked whether she really was so wise, and said he would set her a riddle, and if she could guess it he would marry her. She said at once that yes, she would guess it.
Then said the King, "Come to me not clothed and not naked, not riding and not walking, not on the road and not off the road; and if you can do that, I'll marry you."
So she went away and took off everything she had on, and then she was not clothed; and she took a great fishing net and sat down in it and wrapped it right round and round her, so that she was not naked; and she hired a donkey and tied the fisherman's net to its tail, so that it had to drag her along, and that was neither riding nor walking. And the donkey had to drag her along in the wheel ruts, so that she touched the ground only with her big toe, and that was neither being on the road nor off it.
And when she arrived in that fashion, the King said she had guessed the riddle and met all the conditions. Then he ordered her father to be released from prison, took her for his wife, and put all the royal property into her care.
Now when some years had gone by, the King was once drawing up his troops on parade, when it happened that some peasants who had been selling wood stopped with their wagons in front of the palace; some of them had oxen yoked to them and some had horses. There was one peasant who had three horses, and one of them gave birth to a foal, and it ran away and lay down between two oxen that were in front of another wagon.
When the peasants came together they began to argue, and to hit each other and make a disturbance; and the peasant with the oxen wanted to keep the foal, and said one of the oxen had given birth to it, and the other said his horse had had it and it was his.
The quarrel came before the King, and he gave the verdict that the foal should stay where it had been found; and so the peasant with the oxen, who had no right to it, got it.
Then the other went away and wept and lamented over his foal. Now he had heard how gracious his lady the Queen was, because she herself came of poor peasant stock; so he went to her and begged her to see whether she could not help him get his foal back.
Said she, "Yes, I'll tell you what to do, if you'll promise not to give me away. Early tomorrow morning, when the King parades the guard, station yourself in the middle of the road he has to pass along; take a great fishing net and pretend to be fishing. Go on fishing, and empty the net out as if you'd got it full." And then she told him too what he was to say if the King questioned him.
So next day the peasant stood there, fishing on dry ground. When the King passed and saw it, he sent his messenger to ask what the stupid fellow was doing.
He answered, "I'm fishing."
The messenger asked how he could be fishing when there was no water there.
The peasant said, "It's as easy for me to fish on dry land as it is for an ox to have a foal."
The messenger went back and took the answer to the King, who ordered the peasant to be brought to him, and told him this was not his own idea, and he wanted to know whose it was; the peasant must confess it at once.
The peasant, though, would not do it, and kept saying, God forbid, the idea was his own. But they laid him on a heap of straw and beat him and tormented him so long that at last he admitted he had got the idea from the Queen.
When the King reached home again he said to his wife, "Why have you dealt so falsely with me? I won't have you for a wife any longer. Your time is up — go back where you came from, to your peasant's hut."
One favour, though, he granted her: she might take with her the one thing that was dearest and best in her eyes. And so she was dismissed.
She said, "Yes, my dear husband, if that's your command, I'll do it" — and she embraced him and kissed him and said she would take her leave of him. Then she ordered a strong sleeping draught to be brought, to drink a farewell with him. The King took a long draught of it, but she took only a little.
He soon fell into a deep sleep; and when she saw it she called a servant and took a fine white linen cloth and wrapped the King in it, and the servant had to carry him out to a carriage that stood before the door; and she drove away with him to her own little house. She laid him in her own little bed, and he slept a day and a night without waking.
And when he woke he looked round and said, "Good God, where am I?" He called his attendants, but not one of them was there.
At length his wife came to his bedside and said, "My dear lord and King, you told me I might take away with me from the palace whatever was dearest and most precious in my eyes. I have nothing more precious or dear than you, so I've brought you with me."
Tears rose to the King's eyes, and he said, "Dear wife, you shall be mine and I will be yours." And he took her back with him to the royal palace and was married to her again; and at this present time they are very likely still living.
Once upon a time there lived a peasant and his wife; and the parson of the village had taken a fancy to the wife, and had wished for a long time to spend a whole day pleasantly with her. The peasant woman was quite willing too.
So one day he said to her, "Listen, my dear friend, I've thought of a way for the two of us to spend a whole day happily together. I'll tell you what. On Wednesday you must take to your bed and tell your husband you're ill; and if you'll only complain and act the invalid properly, and go on doing it until Sunday, when I have to preach, then I'll say in my sermon that whoever has at home a sick child, a sick husband, a sick wife, a sick father, a sick mother, a sick brother — or whoever else it may be — and makes a pilgrimage to the Göckerli hill in Italy, where you can get a peck of laurel leaves for a kreuzer, the sick child, the sick husband, the sick wife, the sick father, the sick mother, the sick sister, or whoever else it may be, will be restored to health immediately."
"I'll manage it," said the woman promptly.
So on the Wednesday the peasant woman took to her bed and complained and lamented as they had agreed; and her husband did everything for her that he could think of, but nothing did her any good.
And when Sunday came the woman said, "I feel as ill as if I were going to die this minute; but there's one thing I should like to do before my end — I should like to hear the sermon the parson is going to preach today."
At that the peasant said, "Ah, my child, don't do it. You might make yourself worse if you got up. Look, I'll go to the sermon, and I'll pay very close attention and tell you everything the parson says."
"Well," said the woman, "go then, and pay great attention, and repeat to me everything you hear."
So the peasant went to the sermon; and the parson began to preach, and said that if anyone had at home a sick child, a sick husband, a sick wife, a sick father, a sick mother, a sick sister or brother or anyone else, and would make a pilgrimage to the Göckerli hill in Italy, where a peck of laurel leaves costs a kreuzer, the sick child, sick husband, sick wife, sick father, sick mother, sick sister or brother, or whoever else it might be, would be restored to health instantly; and that whoever wished to undertake the journey was to come to him after the service was over, and he would give him the sack for the laurel leaves and the kreuzer.
Nobody was more delighted than the peasant; and after the service was over he went straight to the parson, who gave him the bag for the laurel leaves and the kreuzer.
After that he went home, and even at the front door he shouted, "Hurrah, dear wife! It's now almost the same as if you were well! The parson preached today that whoever had at home a sick child, a sick husband, a sick wife, a sick father, a sick mother, a sick sister or brother or whoever it might be, and would make a pilgrimage to the Göckerli hill in Italy, where a peck of laurel leaves costs a kreuzer, the sick child, sick husband, sick wife, sick father, sick mother, sick sister or brother, or whoever else it was, would be cured immediately. And now I've already got the bag and the kreuzer from the parson, and I'll set off at once, so that you get well the sooner." And with that he went off.
But he was hardly gone before the woman got up, and the parson was there directly.
But we'll leave the two of them for a while and follow the peasant, who walked on quickly without stopping so as to get to the Göckerli hill the sooner. And on the way he met his old friend, who was an egg merchant and was just coming back from market, where he had sold his eggs.
"Bless you," said his friend. "Where are you off to in such a hurry?"
"To all eternity, my friend," said the peasant. "My wife is ill, and today I went to hear the parson's sermon, and he preached that if anybody had in his house a sick child, a sick husband, a sick wife, a sick father, a sick mother, a sick sister or brother or anyone else, and made a pilgrimage to the Göckerli hill in Italy, where a peck of laurel leaves costs a kreuzer, the sick child, the sick husband, the sick wife, the sick father, the sick mother, the sick sister or brother, or whoever else it was, would be cured immediately. And so I've got the bag for the laurel leaves and the kreuzer from the parson, and now I'm starting on my pilgrimage."
"But listen, my friend," said the egg merchant to the peasant, "are you really stupid enough to believe a thing like that? Don't you know what it means? The parson wants to spend a whole day alone with your wife in peace, so he's given you this job to get you out of the way."
"My word," said the peasant, "how I'd like to know whether that's true!"
"Come along, then," said his friend. "I'll tell you what to do. Get into my egg basket and I'll carry you home, and then you can see for yourself."
So that was settled, and his friend put the peasant into his egg basket and carried him home.
When they got to the house — hurrah, but things were going merrily there! The woman had already had nearly everything in the farmyard killed, and had made pancakes; and the parson was there, and had brought his fiddle with him.
His friend knocked at the door, and the woman asked who was there.
"It's me, my dear," said the egg merchant. "Give me shelter for the night. I didn't sell my eggs at the market, so now I have to carry them home again, and they're so heavy that I'll never manage it — it's dark already."
"Well, my friend," said the woman, "you come at a very inconvenient time for me; but as you're here it can't be helped. Come in and take a seat there on the bench by the stove."
So she put the man, and the basket he carried on his back, on the bench by the stove. The parson and the woman, meanwhile, were as merry as could be.
At length the parson said, "Listen, my dear friend, you sing beautifully. Sing something for me."
"Oh," said the woman, "I can't sing now. In my young days I could sing well enough, but that's all over now."
"Come," said the parson again, "do sing some little song."
At that the woman began, and sang:
"I've sent my husband away from me to the Göckerli hill in Italy."
Then the parson sang:
"I wish it were a year before he came back — I'd never ask him for the laurel-leaf sack. Hallelujah."
Then the friend in the background began to sing (but I ought to tell you that the peasant was called Hildebrand), so he sang:
"What are you doing, my Hildebrand dear, there on the bench by the stove so near? Hallelujah."
And then the peasant sang from inside his basket:
"All singing I ever shall hate from this day, and here in this basket no longer I'll stay. Hallelujah."
And he got out of the basket and cudgelled the parson out of the house.
About a thousand years ago or more, there were nothing but small kings in this country; and one of them, who lived on the Keuterberg, was very fond of hunting.
Once, when he was riding out from his castle with his huntsmen, three girls were watching their cows on the mountain; and when they saw the King with all his followers, the eldest girl pointed at him and called to the other two, "If I don't get that one, I'll have none."
Then the second girl answered from the other side of the hill, and pointed at the man on the King's right hand, "Hey there! Hey there! If I don't get him, I'll have nobody." And the third pointed at the one on his left. Now these two were the King's ministers.
The King heard all this; and when he came back from the hunt he had the three girls brought to him and asked them what they had said the day before on the mountain. They would not tell him; so the King asked the eldest whether she would really take him for her husband. Then she said yes, and the two ministers married the two sisters — for all three were fair and beautiful of face, and especially the Queen, who had hair like flax.
But the two sisters had no children; and once when the King had to go away from home, he invited them to come and stay with the Queen to cheer her, for she was about to bear a child. She had a little boy, who brought a bright red star into the world with him.
Then the two sisters said to each other that they would throw the beautiful boy into the water. And when they had thrown him in — I believe it was into the Weser — a little bird flew up into the air, singing:
"To your death you are sped till God's own word be said. In the white lily's bloom, brave boy, is your tomb."
When the two heard that they were frightened to death, and ran away in great haste. When the King came home they told him that the Queen had given birth to a dog. Then the King said, "What God does is well done."
But a fisherman who lived by the water fished the little boy out again while he was still alive; and as his wife had no children, they brought him up.
When a year had gone by, the King went away again, and the Queen had another little boy, whom the false sisters likewise took and threw into the water. Then a little bird flew up again and sang:
"To your death you are sped till God's own word be said. In the white lily's bloom, brave boy, is your tomb."
And when the King came back they told him that the Queen had given birth to a dog again; and again he said, "What God does is well done." But the fisherman fished this one out of the water too, and brought him up.
Then the King went off on his travels again, and the Queen had a little girl, whom the false sisters also threw into the water. Then again a little bird flew up on high and sang:
"To your death you are sped till God's own word be said. In the white lily's bloom, bonny girl, is your tomb."
And when the King came home they told him that the Queen had given birth to a cat. Then the King grew angry and ordered his wife to be thrown into prison, and she was shut up there for many long years.
Meanwhile the children had grown up. The eldest went out one day with some other boys to fish; but the other boys would not have him with them, and said, "Go your own way, foundling."
He was much troubled at this, and asked the old fisherman whether it was true. The fisherman told him that once, when he was fishing, he had drawn him out of the water.
So the boy said he would go out and look for his father. The fisherman begged him to stay; but he would not be held back, and at last the fisherman consented.
Then the boy went on his way and walked for many days, and at last he came to a great stretch of water, beside which an old woman was standing, fishing.
"Good day, mother," said the boy.
"Many thanks," said she.
"You'll fish a long while before you catch anything."
"And you'll search a long while before you find your father. How will you get over the water?" said the woman.
"God knows."
Then the old woman took him up on her back and carried him across; and he searched a long time but could not find his father.
When a year had gone by, the second boy set out to look for his brother. He came to the water, and it went with him exactly as it had with his brother.
And now there was nobody left at home but the daughter, and she mourned for her brothers so much that at last she too begged the fisherman to let her go, for she wanted to search for them. So she came to the great stretch of water too, and said to the old woman, "Good day, mother."
"Many thanks," replied the old woman.
"May God help you with your fishing," said the girl.
When the old woman heard that she became quite friendly, and carried her over the water, and gave her a wand, and said to her, "Go on and on along this road, my daughter; and when you come to a great black dog, you must pass it silently and boldly, without laughing or looking at it. Then you'll come to a great high castle, and you must let the wand fall on the threshold and go straight through the castle and out again on the other side. There you'll see an old fountain with a great tree growing out of it, and a bird hanging on the tree in a cage, which you must take down. Take a glass of water out of the fountain as well, and go back the same way with those two things. Pick the wand up again from the threshold and take it with you; and when you pass the dog again, strike him in the face with it — but be sure you hit him — and then come back here to me."
The girl found everything exactly as the old woman had said; and on the way back she found her two brothers, who had been searching for each other over half the world. They went together to the place where the black dog was lying in the road; she struck it in the face, and it turned into a handsome prince, who went with them to the river.
There the old woman was still standing. She rejoiced greatly to see them again, and carried them all over the water; and then she went away too, for now she was free.
The others went to the old fisherman, and everyone was glad that they had found each other again; and they hung the bird up on the wall.
But the second son could not settle down at home, and took his crossbow and went out hunting. When he was tired he took out his flute and made music. The King was out hunting too, and heard it and went over; and when he met the young man he said, "Who gave you leave to hunt here?"
"Oh, nobody."
"Whose son are you, then?"
"I'm the fisherman's son."
"But he has no children."
"If you won't believe me, come with me."
The King did; and he questioned the fisherman, who told him the whole story; and the little bird on the wall began to sing:
"The mother sits alone there in the prison small. O King of royal blood, these are your children all. The sisters twain so false, they wrought the children woe, there in the waters deep where the fishermen come and go."
Then they were all horror-struck; and the King took the bird, the fisherman and the three children back with him to the castle, and ordered the prison to be opened and brought his wife out again. But she had grown quite ill and weak. Then the daughter gave her some of the water from the fountain to drink, and she became strong and healthy.
But the two false sisters were burnt; and the daughter married the prince.
There was once a King who fell ill, and nobody believed that he would come out of it alive. He had three sons, who were greatly distressed about it, and went down into the palace garden and wept. There they met an old man who asked them the cause of their grief. They told him that their father was so ill that he would certainly die, for nothing seemed to cure him.
Then the old man said, "I know of one more remedy, and that's the water of life. If he drinks of it he'll be well again — but it's hard to find."
The eldest said, "I'll manage to find it" — and went to the sick King and begged to be allowed to go out in search of the water of life, since that alone could save him.
"No," said the King. "The danger is too great. I'd rather die."
But he begged so long that the King consented. The prince thought in his heart, "If I bring back the water, then I shall be my father's favourite and inherit the kingdom."
So he set out; and when he had ridden a little way, a dwarf stood there in the road who called out to him, "Where are you off to in such a hurry?"
"You silly little shrimp," said the prince very haughtily, "it's nothing to do with you" — and rode on.
But the little dwarf had grown angry, and had wished an evil wish. Soon after this the prince rode into a ravine; and the further he rode, the closer the mountains drew together, until at last the road became so narrow that he could not go a step further. It was impossible either to turn his horse or to get down from the saddle, and he was shut in there as if in prison.
The sick King waited a long while for him, but he did not come.
Then the second son said, "Father, let me go and look for the water" — and thought to himself, "If my brother is dead, then the kingdom will fall to me."
At first the King would not let him go either, but at last he gave way. So the prince set out along the same road his brother had taken, and he too met the dwarf, who stopped him to ask where he was going in such haste.
"You little shrimp," said the prince, "that's nothing to do with you" — and rode on without giving him another look.
But the dwarf put a spell on him, and he too rode into a ravine and could go neither forwards nor backwards. That is how it goes with haughty people.
As the second son stayed away as well, the youngest begged to be allowed to go and fetch the water, and at last the King had to let him go.
When he met the dwarf, and the dwarf asked him where he was going in such haste, he stopped and explained, and said, "I'm looking for the water of life, because my father is sick to death."
"Do you know, then, where it's to be found?"
"No," said the prince.
"As you've behaved yourself properly, and not haughtily like your false brothers, I'll give you the information and tell you how you may get the water of life. It springs from a fountain in the courtyard of an enchanted castle; but you'll never be able to make your way to it unless I give you an iron wand and two small loaves of bread. Strike three times with the wand on the castle's iron door, and it will spring open. Inside lie two lions with gaping jaws; but if you throw a loaf to each of them they'll be quiet. Then hurry and fetch some of the water of life before the clock strikes twelve, or the door will shut again and you'll be shut in."
The prince thanked him, took the wand and the bread, and set out on his way.
When he arrived, everything was as the dwarf had said. The door sprang open at the third stroke of the wand; and when he had quieted the lions with the bread, he went into the castle and came to a large and splendid hall, where some enchanted princes were sitting, and he drew the rings off their fingers. A sword and a loaf of bread were lying there, and he carried them away.
After this he came into a chamber where there was a beautiful girl, who rejoiced when she saw him and kissed him, and told him that he had delivered her and should have the whole of her kingdom; and that if he would come back in a year, their wedding should be celebrated. She told him too where the spring of the water of life was, and that he must hurry and draw some of it before the clock struck twelve.
Then he went on, and at last came into a room where there was a beautiful, freshly made bed; and as he was very weary he felt inclined to rest a little. So he lay down and fell asleep.
When he woke it was striking a quarter to twelve. He sprang up in a fright, ran to the spring, drew some water in a cup that stood beside it, and hurried away. But just as he was passing through the iron door the clock struck twelve, and the door slammed with such violence that it carried away a piece of his heel.
All the same, rejoicing that he had got the water of life, he set off home, and passed the dwarf again. When the dwarf saw the sword and the loaf he said, "With those you've won great wealth. With the sword you can slay whole armies, and the bread will never come to an end."
But the prince would not go home to his father without his brothers, and said, "Dear dwarf, can't you tell me where my two brothers are? They went out before I did in search of the water of life, and they haven't come back."
"They're shut up between two mountains," said the dwarf. "I condemned them to stay there, because they were so haughty."
Then the prince begged until the dwarf released them; but he warned him, and said, "Beware of them, for they have bad hearts."
When his brothers came, he rejoiced, and told them how things had gone with him: that he had found the water of life and brought a cupful away with him, and had rescued a beautiful princess who was willing to wait a year for him, and that then their wedding was to be held and he would come into a great kingdom.
After that they rode on together, and came to a land where war and famine were raging, and the King already thought he must perish, the scarcity was so great. Then the prince went to him and gave him the loaf, with which he fed and satisfied his whole kingdom; and then the prince gave him the sword as well, with which he defeated the armies of his enemies, so that he could now live in rest and peace. The prince then took back his loaf and his sword, and the three brothers rode on.
But after that they came into two more countries where war and famine were raging, and each time the prince gave his loaf and his sword to the King; and so he had now delivered three kingdoms.
After that they went on board a ship and sailed over the sea. During the voyage the two eldest talked apart, and said, "The youngest found the water of life and we didn't, so our father will give him the kingdom — the kingdom that belongs to us — and he'll rob us of all our fortune."
So they began to seek revenge, and plotted together to destroy him. They waited until they found him fast asleep, and then poured the water of life out of his cup and took it for themselves, and poured salt sea water into the cup instead.
So when they arrived home, the youngest took his cup to the sick King so that he might drink out of it and be cured. But he had hardly drunk a very little of the salt sea water before he was worse than before. And as he was lamenting over this, the two eldest brothers came in and accused the youngest of having meant to poison him, and said that they had brought him the true water of life, and handed it to him. He had hardly tasted it before he felt his sickness leaving him, and became as strong and healthy as in the days of his youth.
After that the two of them went to the youngest and mocked him, and said, "You certainly found the water of life, but you had the pain and we have the gain. You should have been sharper and kept your eyes open. We took it from you while you were asleep at sea; and when the year is up, one of us will go and fetch the beautiful princess. But mind you don't say a word of this to our father. He doesn't trust you anyway; and if you say one word you'll lose your life into the bargain — but if you keep quiet, we'll make you a present of it."
The old King was angry with his youngest son, and thought he had plotted against his life. So he called the court together and had sentence pronounced on his son: that he should be secretly shot.
And once, when the prince was riding out to the hunt suspecting no evil, the King's huntsman had to go with him; and when they were quite alone in the forest the huntsman looked so sorrowful that the prince said to him, "Dear huntsman, what's the matter with you?"
The huntsman said, "I can't tell you — and yet I ought to."
Then the prince said, "Say straight out what it is. I'll pardon you."
"Alas," said the huntsman, "I'm to shoot you dead. The King has ordered me to."
Then the prince was appalled, and said, "Dear huntsman, let me live. Here — I'll give you my royal clothes; give me your common ones in their place."
The huntsman said, "I'll do it willingly. Indeed, I could never have shot you."
So they exchanged clothes, and the huntsman went home; but the prince went on deeper into the forest.
After a time three wagonloads of gold and precious stones came to the King for his youngest son, sent by the three Kings who had defeated their enemies with the prince's sword and fed their people with his bread, and who wanted to show their gratitude for it.
Then the old King thought, "Can my son have been innocent?" — and said to his people, "If only he were still alive! How it grieves me that I let him be killed."
"He is still alive," said the huntsman. "I couldn't find it in my heart to carry out your command" — and told the King how it had happened.
Then a stone fell from the King's heart, and he had it proclaimed in every country that his son might come back and be received into favour again.
The princess, meanwhile, had had a road made up to her palace that was all bright and golden, and told her people that whoever came riding straight along it to her would be the right suitor and was to be let in; and whoever rode at the side of it was not the right one and was not to be let in.
As the time was now close at hand, the eldest thought he would hurry and go to the King's daughter and give himself out as her deliverer, and so win her for his bride and the kingdom into the bargain. So he rode off; and when he came in front of the palace and saw the splendid golden road, he thought it would be a sin and a shame to ride over it, and turned aside and rode along the right-hand side of it. But when he came to the door, the servants told him that he was not the right man, and was to go away again.
Soon after this the second prince set out; and when he came to the golden road and his horse had put one foot on it, he thought it would be a sin and a shame to tread a piece of it away, and he turned aside and rode along the left-hand side of it. And when he reached the door, the attendants told him he was not the right one, and he was to go away again.
When at last the year was fully up, the third son also wanted to ride out of the forest to his beloved, and forget his sorrows with her. So he set out, and thought about her so constantly, and wanted so much to be with her, that he never noticed the golden road at all. So his horse went straight up the middle of it; and when he came to the door it was opened, and the princess received him with joy and said he was her deliverer and lord of the kingdom; and their wedding was celebrated with great rejoicing.
When it was over she told him that his father had invited him to come to him, and had forgiven him. So he rode there and told him everything: how his brothers had betrayed him, and how he had kept silent all the same. The old King wanted to punish them; but they had put to sea, and never came back as long as they lived.
There was once a poor peasant called Crabb, who drove a load of wood to town with two oxen and sold it to a doctor for two thalers. As the money was being counted out to him it happened that the doctor was sitting at table; and when the peasant saw how daintily he ate and drank, his heart longed for what he saw, and he would gladly have been a doctor too.
So he stood there a while, and at length asked whether he too could not be a doctor.
"Oh, yes," said the doctor, "that's soon managed."
"What must I do?" asked the peasant.
"In the first place, buy yourself an ABC book of the kind that has a cock on the front. Secondly, turn your cart and your two oxen into money and get yourself some clothes and whatever else belongs to medicine. And thirdly, have a sign painted for yourself with the words 'I am Doctor Knowall' on it, and have it nailed up over your front door."
The peasant did everything he had been told to do. And when he had been doctoring people for a while — but not long — a rich and great lord had some money stolen. He was told about Doctor Knowall, who lived in such and such a village and must know what had become of the money. So the lord had the horses put to his carriage and drove out to the village and asked Crabb whether he was Doctor Knowall.
Yes, he said, he was.
Then he was to come with him and bring back the stolen money.
"Oh, yes — but Grete, my wife, must come too."
The lord was willing, and let both of them have a seat in the carriage, and they all drove off together.
When they came to the nobleman's castle the table was laid, and Crabb was told to sit down and eat.
"Yes — but my wife Grete too," said he; and he sat down at the table with her.
And when the first servant came in with a dish of delicate food, the peasant nudged his wife and said, "Grete, that was the first" — meaning that was the servant who brought the first dish. But the servant thought he meant by it, "That is the first thief"; and as he actually was, he was terrified, and said to his comrade outside, "The doctor knows everything. It will go badly with us — he said I was the first."
The second did not want to go in at all, but was made to. So when he went in with his dish, the peasant nudged his wife and said, "Grete, that's the second." This servant was just as alarmed, and got out as fast as he could.
The third fared no better, for the peasant again said, "Grete, that's the third."
The fourth had to carry in a dish that was covered, and the lord told the doctor he was to show his skill and guess what was under the cover. The doctor looked at the dish and had no idea what to say, and cried, "Ah, poor Crabb!"
When the lord heard that, he cried, "There! He knows it — he knows who has the money!"
At this the servants looked terribly uneasy, and made a sign to the doctor that they wanted him to step outside for a moment. So when he went out, all four of them confessed to him that they had stolen the money, and said that they would gladly give it back and give him a heavy sum into the bargain if he would not denounce them, for if he did they would be hanged. And they led him to the place where the money was hidden.
With that the doctor was satisfied, and went back into the hall and sat down at the table and said, "My lord, now I'll search in my book to find where the gold is hidden."
The fifth servant, though, crept into the stove to hear whether the doctor knew still more. The doctor sat still and opened his ABC book and turned the pages backwards and forwards, looking for the cock. And as he could not find it straight away, he said, "I know you're in there, so you'd better show yourself."
Then the fellow in the stove thought the doctor meant him, and sprang out in terror, crying, "That man knows everything!"
Then Doctor Knowall showed the count where the money was, but did not say who had stolen it; and he was given a great deal of money in reward by both sides, and became a famous man.
There was once a poor woodcutter who toiled from early morning till late at night. When at last he had put a little money by, he said to his boy, "You're my only child. I'll spend the money I've earned by the sweat of my brow on your education. If you learn some honest trade, you can support me in my old age, when my limbs have grown stiff and I have to stay at home."
So the boy went to a good school and studied hard, so that his masters praised him, and he stayed there a long time. But when he had worked his way through two classes, and was still not perfect in everything, the little store his father had earned was all spent, and the boy had to go back home to him.
"Ah," said his father sorrowfully, "I can give you no more; and in these hard times I can't earn a farthing beyond what's needed for our daily bread."
"Dear father," answered the son, "don't trouble yourself about it. If it's God's will, it will turn out to my advantage. I shall soon get used to it."
When his father was going into the forest to earn money by helping to pile and stack wood, and to chop it as well, his son said, "I'll come with you and help you."
"No, my son," said his father, "that would be hard for you. You're not used to rough work and you won't be able to stand it; and besides, I've only one axe and no money left to buy another."
"Just go to the neighbour," answered the son. "He'll lend you his axe until I've earned one for myself."
So the father borrowed an axe from the neighbour; and next morning at daybreak they went out into the forest together. The son helped his father and was quite merry and brisk about it.
But when the sun was right over their heads the father said, "We'll rest and have our dinner, and then we'll work all the better."
The son took his bread in his hands and said, "You rest, father. I'm not tired. I'll walk up and down in the forest a little and look for birds' nests."
"Oh, you fool," said his father, "why should you want to go running about? Afterwards you'll be tired and won't be able to lift your arm. Stay here and sit down beside me."
But the son went off into the forest and ate his bread, very cheerful, and peered in among the green branches to see whether he could spot a bird's nest anywhere. So he went up and down, looking; until at last he came to a great dangerous-looking oak, which was certainly many hundreds of years old, and which five men together could not have spanned. He stood still and looked at it and thought, "Many a bird must have built its nest in that."
Then all at once it seemed to him that he heard a voice. He listened, and realised that somebody was calling out in a very smothered voice, "Let me out! Let me out!"
He looked around, but could see nothing; all the same, he had the idea that the voice was coming out of the ground. So he cried, "Where are you?"
The voice answered, "I'm down here among the roots of the oak tree. Let me out! Let me out!"
The student began to loosen the earth under the tree and search among the roots, until at last he found a glass bottle in a little hollow. He lifted it up and held it against the light, and then saw a creature shaped like a frog springing up and down inside it.
"Let me out! Let me out!" it cried again; and the student, meaning no harm, drew the cork out of the bottle.
Immediately a spirit rose out of it and began to grow — and grew so fast that within a very few moments he stood in front of the student, a terrible fellow as big as half the tree he was standing beside.
"Do you know," he cried in an awful voice, "what your wages are for letting me out?"
"No," replied the student fearlessly. "How should I know that?"
"Then I'll tell you," cried the spirit. "I must strangle you for it."
"You should have told me that sooner," said the student, "for then I'd have left you shut up. But my head shall stay where it is for anything you can do — more people than one must be consulted about that."
"More people here, more people there," said the spirit. "You shall have the wages you've earned. Do you think I was shut up in there all that time as a favour? No — it was a punishment. I am the mighty Mercurius. Whoever releases me, him I must strangle."
"Gently," answered the student, "not so fast. First I must know that you really were shut up in that little bottle, and that you're the right spirit. If you can indeed get in again, I'll believe it — and then you may do what you like with me."
The spirit said haughtily, "That's a very trifling feat" — and drew himself together and made himself as small and slender as he had been at first, so that he crept in through the same opening and right down through the neck of the bottle.
He was hardly inside before the student thrust the cork he had drawn back into the bottle, and threw it among the roots of the oak in its old place; and the spirit was tricked.
And now the student was about to go back to his father, when the spirit cried out very piteously, "Ah, do let me out! Ah, do let me out!"
"No," answered the student, "not a second time. Somebody who has once tried to take my life shan't be set free by me, now that I've caught him again."
"If you'll set me free," said the spirit, "I'll give you enough to have plenty all the days of your life."
"No," answered the boy, "you'd cheat me the way you did the first time."
"You're throwing away your own good luck," said the spirit. "I'll do you no harm, but reward you richly."
The student thought, "I'll risk it. Perhaps he'll keep his word — and in any case he shan't get the better of me."
So he took out the cork, and the spirit rose up out of the bottle as he had before, and stretched himself and grew as big as a giant.
"Now you shall have your reward," said he — and handed the student a little rag like a strip of plaster, and said, "If you spread one end of this over a wound it will heal; and if you rub steel or iron with the other end, it will be turned into silver."
"I must just try that," said the student; and he went to a tree and tore off the bark with his axe and rubbed it with one end of the plaster. It closed up at once and was healed.
"Now it's all right," he said to the spirit, "and we can part."
The spirit thanked him for his release, and the boy thanked the spirit for his present, and went back to his father.
"Where have you been running about?" said his father. "Why have you forgotten your work? I said straight away that you'd never get on with anything."
"Don't worry, father, I'll make it up."
"Make it up, indeed," said his father angrily. "There's no art in that."
"You watch, father. I'll chop that tree over there so that it splits."
Then he took his plaster and rubbed the axe with it, and struck a mighty blow; but as the iron had turned into silver, the edge bent over.
"Hey, father, just look what a bad axe you've given me — it's gone quite crooked."
His father was appalled and said, "Ah, what have you done? Now I shall have to pay for that, and I've nothing to pay with; and that's all the good I've got out of your work."
"Don't get angry," said his son. "I'll pay for the axe soon enough."
"Oh, you blockhead," cried his father, "what will you pay for it with? You have nothing but what I give you. These are students' tricks stuck in your head, but you know nothing about woodcutting."
After a while the student said, "Father, I really can't work any more. We'd better take a holiday."
"Eh, what!" he answered. "Do you think I'm going to sit with my hands in my lap like you? I must go on working, but you may take yourself off home."
"Father, this is the first time I've been in this wood; I don't know my way alone. Do come with me."
As his anger had died down by now, the father at last let himself be persuaded and went home with him. Then he said to his son, "Go and sell your damaged axe and see what you can get for it; and I must earn the difference, to pay the neighbour."
The son took the axe and carried it into town to a goldsmith, who tested it and laid it in the scales and said, "It's worth four hundred thalers. I haven't as much as that here."
The son said, "Give me what you have. I'll lend you the rest."
The goldsmith gave him three hundred thalers and stayed a hundred in his debt.
The son then went home and said, "Father, I've got the money. Go and ask the neighbour what he wants for the axe."
"I know that already," answered the old man. "One thaler and six groschen."
"Then give him two thalers and twelve groschen — that's double, and more than enough. Look, I've money in plenty." And he gave his father a hundred thalers and said, "You shall never know want. Live as comfortably as you like."
"Good heavens," said his father, "how did you come by these riches?"
The student then told him how it had all come about, and how, trusting to his luck, he had made such a good stroke. But with the money that was left he went back to school and went on learning; and as he could heal every kind of wound with his plaster, he became the most famous doctor in the whole world.
A discharged soldier had nothing to live on and did not know how to get by. So he went out into the forest; and when he had walked a little way he met a little man — who was in fact the Devil.
The little man said to him, "What's the matter with you? You look so very downcast."
Then the soldier said, "I'm hungry, and I've no money."
The Devil said, "If you'll hire yourself out to me and be my serving man, you shall have enough for the rest of your life. You shall serve me for seven years, and after that you'll be free again. But there's one thing I must tell you, and that is that you mustn't wash, or comb or tidy yourself, or cut your hair or your nails, or wipe the water out of your eyes."
The soldier said, "All right, if there's no help for it" — and went off with the little man, who led him straight down into hell.
Then he told him what he had to do. He was to poke the fire under the kettles where the hell-broth was stewing, keep the house clean, sweep all the dirt behind the doors, and see that everything was in order — but if he once peeped into the kettles, it would go badly for him.
The soldier said, "Good, I'll take care."
And then the old Devil went out again on his travels, and the soldier began his new duties: made up the fire and swept the dirt well behind the doors, just as he had been told. When the old Devil came back he looked to see whether it had all been done, seemed satisfied, and went off a second time.
Now the soldier took a good look about him on every side. The kettles were standing all round hell with a mighty fire under them, and inside they were boiling and spitting. He would have given anything to look inside them, if the Devil had not so particularly forbidden it. At last he could restrain himself no longer, and raised the lid of the first kettle a little and peeped in; and there he saw his old corporal shut up inside.
"Aha, old bird," said he, "do I meet you here? You once had me in your power; now I have you." And he quickly let the lid fall, poked the fire and threw on a fresh log.
After that he went to the second kettle and raised its lid a little too, and peeped in; his old ensign was in that one. "Aha, old bird, so I find you here! You once had me in your power; now I have you." He closed the lid again and fetched another log, to make it really hot.
Then he wanted to see who might be sitting in the third kettle — and it turned out to be no less than a general. "Aha, old bird, do I meet you here? Once you had me in your power; now I have you." And he fetched the bellows and made the hell-fire blaze right under him.
So he did his work in hell for seven years, and did not wash or comb or tidy himself, or cut his hair or his nails, or wash the water out of his eyes; and the seven years seemed so short to him that he thought he had only been there half a year.
Now when the time was fully up, the Devil came and said, "Well, Hans, what have you done?"
"I poked the fire under the kettles, and I've swept all the dirt well behind the doors."
"But you peeped into the kettles as well. It's lucky for you that you put fresh logs on them, or your life would have been forfeit. Now that your time is up, will you go home again?"
"Yes," said the soldier, "I should very much like to see what my father is doing at home."
The Devil said, "So that you get the wages you've earned, go and fill your knapsack full of the sweepings and take it home with you. And you must go unwashed and uncombed, with long hair on your head and your chin, and with uncut nails and dim eyes; and when you're asked where you come from, you must say, 'From hell'; and when you're asked who you are, you're to say, 'The Devil's sooty brother, and my own King as well.'"
The soldier held his tongue and did as the Devil told him, but he was not at all satisfied with his wages. And then, as soon as he was up in the forest again, he took his knapsack off his back to empty it — and on opening it he found the sweepings had turned into pure gold.
"I should never have expected that," said he, and was well pleased, and went into the town.
The landlord was standing in front of the inn; and when he saw the soldier coming he was terrified, because Hans looked so horrible — worse than a scarecrow. He called out to him and asked, "Where do you come from?"
"From hell."
"Who are you?"
"The Devil's sooty brother, and my own King as well."
Then the landlord would not let him in; but when Hans showed him the gold he came and unlatched the door himself.
Hans then ordered the best room and full attendance, and ate and drank his fill; but he neither washed nor combed himself, as the Devil had told him, and at last lay down to sleep.
But the knapsack full of gold stayed in front of the landlord's eyes and left him no peace; and in the night he crept in and stole it away.
Next morning, though, when Hans got up and wanted to pay the landlord and travel on, behold — his knapsack was gone. But he soon calmed himself, and thought, "You've had bad luck through no fault of your own" — and went straight back to hell and complained of his misfortune to the old Devil, and begged for his help.
The Devil said, "Sit down. I'll wash you and comb you and tidy you up, and cut your hair and nails and wash your eyes for you." And when he had finished with him, he gave him back the knapsack full of sweepings, and said, "Go and tell the landlord that he must give you back your money, or else I'll come and fetch him, and he shall poke the fire in your place."
Hans went up and said to the landlord, "You stole my money. If you don't give it back, you'll go down to hell in my place, and you'll look as horrible as I did."
Then the landlord gave him the money, and more besides, only begging him to keep it quiet; and Hans was now a rich man.
He set out for home to his father, and bought himself a shabby smock to wear, and strolled about making music, for he had learned to do that while he was with the Devil in hell.
Now there was an old King in that country, before whom he had to play; and the King was so delighted with his playing that he promised him his eldest daughter in marriage. But when she heard that she was to marry a common fellow in a smock, she said, "Rather than that, I'd go into the deepest water."
So the King gave him the youngest, who was quite willing to do it to please her father. And so the Devil's sooty brother got the King's daughter — and when the old King died, the whole kingdom as well.
There was once a young fellow who enlisted as a soldier, conducted himself bravely, and was always the first man forward when it rained bullets. As long as the war lasted all went well; but when peace was made he got his discharge, and the captain said he might go where he liked.
His parents were dead and he had no home any more, so he went to his brothers and begged them to take him in and keep him until war broke out again. But his brothers were hard-hearted, and said, "What can we do with you? You're no use to us. Go and make a living for yourself."
The soldier had nothing left but his gun. He put that on his shoulder and went out into the world. He came to a wide heath with nothing to be seen on it but a ring of trees; and he sat down under them sorrowfully and began to think over his lot.
"I've no money," he thought. "I've learned no trade but fighting; and now that they've made peace they don't want me any longer. So I can see already that I shall have to starve."
All at once he heard a rustling; and when he looked round, a strange man was standing in front of him, wearing a green coat and looking very grand — but with a hideous cloven foot.
"I know already what you need," said the man. "Gold and property you shall have, as much of it as you can get through, do what you will. But first I must know whether you're fearless, so that I don't spend my money for nothing."
"A soldier and fear — how do those two go together?" he answered. "You can put me to the test."
"Very well, then," answered the man. "Look behind you."
The soldier turned round and saw a great bear coming growling towards him. "Oho," cried the soldier, "I'll tickle your nose for you, and you'll soon lose your taste for growling" — and he took aim at the bear and shot it through the muzzle. It fell down and never stirred again.
"I can see quite plainly," said the stranger, "that you're not lacking in courage. But there's another condition you'll have to fulfil."
"If it doesn't endanger my salvation," replied the soldier, who knew very well who was standing beside him. "If it does, I'll have nothing to do with it."
"You'll have to see to that for yourself," answered Greencoat. "For the next seven years you shall neither wash yourself nor comb your beard or your hair, nor cut your nails, nor say one Our Father. I'll give you a coat and a cloak, which you must wear all that time. If you die during these seven years you're mine; if you stay alive, you're free — and rich into the bargain for the rest of your life."
The soldier thought of the desperate straits he was now in; and as he had so often gone out to meet death, he decided to risk it now as well, and agreed to the terms.
The Devil took off his green coat, gave it to the soldier and said, "If you have this coat on your back and put your hand in the pocket, you'll always find it full of money." Then he pulled the skin off the bear and said, "This shall be your cloak and your bed as well, for you shall sleep on it and lie in no other bed; and because of these clothes you shall be called Bearskin."
And with that the Devil vanished.
The soldier put the coat on and felt in the pocket at once, and found that the thing was true. Then he put on the bearskin and went out into the world, and enjoyed himself, keeping back from nothing that did him good and his money harm.
During the first year his appearance was passable; but during the second he began to look like a monster. His hair covered nearly the whole of his face, his beard was like a piece of coarse felt, his fingers had claws, and his face was so caked with dirt that if cress had been sown on it, it would have come up. Everybody who saw him ran away; but as he gave the poor money everywhere to pray that he might not die within the seven years, and as he paid well for everything, he still always found shelter.
In the fourth year he came to an inn where the landlord would not take him in, and would not even let him have a place in the stable, because he was afraid the horses would take fright. But when Bearskin put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a handful of ducats, the landlord let himself be persuaded and gave him a room in an outhouse — though Bearskin had to promise not to let himself be seen, in case the inn got a bad name.
One evening, as Bearskin was sitting alone and wishing from the bottom of his heart that the seven years were over, he heard loud lamenting in a room nearby. He had a compassionate heart, so he opened the door and saw an old man weeping bitterly and wringing his hands.
Bearskin went closer, but the man sprang to his feet and tried to get away from him. At last, when the man realised that Bearskin's voice was a human voice, he let himself be talked round; and by kind words Bearskin got so far that the old man told him the cause of his grief. His property had dwindled away bit by bit, he and his daughters would have to starve, and he was so poor that he could not pay the innkeeper and was to be put in prison.
"If that's your only trouble," said Bearskin, "I have plenty of money." He had the innkeeper fetched, paid him, and put a purse full of gold into the poor old man's pocket besides.
When the old man found himself free of all his troubles, he did not know how to be grateful enough. "Come with me," he said to Bearskin. "My daughters are all marvels of beauty; choose one of them for a wife. When she hears what you've done for me, she won't refuse you. You do look a little strange, it's true, but she'll soon put you to rights again."
That pleased Bearskin well, and he went.
When the eldest saw him she was so terrified by his face that she screamed and ran away. The second stood still and looked him over from head to foot, but then she said, "How can I take a husband who has no human shape left? The shaven bear that came here once and passed itself off as a man pleased me far better — at least it wore a hussar's uniform and white gloves. If it were nothing but ugliness, I could get used to that."
The youngest, though, said, "Dear father, that must be a good man, to have helped you out of your trouble. So if you promised him a bride for doing it, your promise must be kept."
It was a pity that Bearskin's face was covered with dirt and hair; otherwise they might have seen how delighted he was when he heard these words. He took a ring off his finger, broke it in two, and gave her one half and kept the other for himself. But he wrote his name on her half and hers on his, and begged her to keep her piece carefully. And then he took his leave and said, "I still have three years to wander; and if I don't come back then, you're free, for I shall be dead. But pray to God to preserve my life."
The poor betrothed bride dressed herself all in black; and when she thought of her future bridegroom, tears came into her eyes. From her sisters she got nothing but contempt and mockery.
"Take care," said the eldest. "If you give him your hand, he'll dig his claws into it."
"Beware," said the second. "Bears like sweet things, and if he takes a fancy to you he'll eat you up."
"You'll always have to do as he likes," the elder began again, "or he'll growl."
And the second went on, "But it'll be a merry wedding, for bears dance well."
The bride kept silent and would not let them vex her.
Bearskin, meanwhile, travelled about the world from one place to another, did good where he could, and gave generously to the poor so that they would pray for him.
At length, as the last day of the seven years dawned, he went out on the heath once more and sat down under the ring of trees. It was not long before the wind whistled and the Devil stood in front of him, looking at him angrily. Then he threw Bearskin his old coat and asked for his own green one back.
"We haven't got that far yet," answered Bearskin. "First you must make me clean."
Whether the Devil liked it or not, he had to fetch water and wash Bearskin and comb his hair and cut his nails. And after this he looked like a fine soldier, and was much handsomer than he had ever been before.
When the Devil had gone away, Bearskin was quite light-hearted. He went into the town, put on a magnificent velvet coat, seated himself in a carriage drawn by four white horses, and drove to his bride's house. Nobody recognised him; her father took him for a distinguished general, and led him into the room where his daughters were sitting.
He was made to sit between the two eldest; they helped him to wine and gave him the best pieces of meat, and thought they had never seen a handsomer man in all the world. But the bride sat opposite him in her black dress and never raised her eyes or spoke a word.
When at length he asked her father whether he would give him one of his daughters for a wife, the two eldest jumped up and ran into their bedrooms to put on splendid dresses, for each of them imagined that she was the chosen one.
As soon as the stranger was alone with his bride, he brought out his half of the ring and dropped it into a glass of wine, which he passed across the table to her. She took the wine; but when she had drunk it and found the half ring lying at the bottom, her heart began to beat. She fetched the other half, which she wore on a ribbon round her neck, and joined them, and saw that the two pieces fitted exactly.
Then he said, "I'm your betrothed bridegroom, the one you saw as Bearskin. But by God's grace I've got my human shape back and become clean again." He went up to her and embraced her and gave her a kiss.
Meanwhile the two sisters came back in full dress; and when they saw that the handsome man had fallen to the youngest, and heard that he was Bearskin, they ran out full of anger and rage. One of them drowned herself in the well and the other hanged herself on a tree.
In the evening somebody knocked at the door; and when the bridegroom opened it, it was the Devil in his green coat, who said, "You see — now I've got two souls in place of your one."
One summertime the bear and the wolf were walking in the forest, and the bear heard a bird singing so beautifully that he said, "Brother wolf, what bird is that, singing so well?"
"That's the King of the birds," said the wolf, "and we must bow down before him." In fact it was only the willow-wren — the little bird the Germans call the Zaunkönig, the hedge-king.
"If that's so," said the bear, "I should very much like to see his royal palace. Come, take me there."
"That isn't done quite as easily as you seem to think," said the wolf. "You must wait until the Queen comes."
Soon afterwards the Queen arrived with some food in her beak, and the lord King came too, and they began to feed their young ones. The bear would have liked to go straight over, but the wolf held him back by the sleeve and said, "No, you must wait until my lord and lady have gone away again."
So they took note of the hole the nest was in, and trotted off.
The bear, though, could get no rest until he had seen the royal palace, and after a short while he went back to it. The King and Queen had just flown out, so he peeped in and saw five or six young ones lying in it.
"Is that the royal palace?" cried the bear. "It's a miserable palace, and you're no king's children — you're disreputable children!"
When the young wrens heard that they were furious, and screamed, "No, we're not! Our parents are honest people! Bear, you'll pay for that!"
The bear and the wolf grew uneasy, and turned back and went into their holes. But the young willow-wrens went on crying and screaming; and when their parents brought food again they said, "We won't so much as touch one fly's leg — no, not if we were dying of hunger — until you've settled whether we're respectable children or not. The bear has been here and insulted us!"
Then the old King said, "Be easy, he shall be punished" — and flew off at once with the Queen to the bear's cave and called in, "Old Growler, why have you insulted my children? You shall suffer for it. We'll punish you with a bloody war."
So war was declared on the bear, and all the four-footed animals were summoned to take part in it — oxen, donkeys, cows, deer and every other animal the earth held. And the willow-wren summoned everything that flew in the air: not only birds large and small, but midges and hornets, bees and flies had to come.
When the time came for the war to begin, the willow-wren sent out spies to find out who was the enemy's commander-in-chief. The gnat, who was the craftiest, flew into the forest where the enemy was gathered, and hid under a leaf of the tree where the watchword was to be given.
There stood the bear; and he called the fox in front of him and said, "Fox, you're the cunningest of all the animals. You shall be general and lead us."
"Good," said the fox, "but what signal shall we agree on?"
Nobody knew, so the fox said, "I have a fine long bushy tail that looks almost like a plume of red feathers. When I hold my tail right up in the air, all is going well and you must charge; but if I let it hang down, run away as fast as you can."
When the gnat had heard that, she flew back and reported everything to the willow-wren, in the greatest detail.
When day broke and the battle was to begin, all the four-footed animals came running up with such a noise that the earth trembled. The willow-wren came flying through the air too with his army, with such a humming and whirring and swarming that everybody was uneasy and afraid; and the two sides advanced against each other.
But the willow-wren sent the hornet down with orders to get under the fox's tail and sting with all his might. When the fox felt the first sting he started so with the pain that he drew one leg up; but he bore it, and still kept his tail high in the air. At the second sting he had to let it drop for a moment. At the third he could hold out no longer, and screamed out and put his tail between his legs.
When the animals saw that, they thought all was lost and began to run, each into his own hole; and the birds had won the battle.
Then the King and Queen flew home to their children and cried, "Children, rejoice! Eat and drink to your hearts' content — we've won the battle!"
But the young wrens said, "We won't eat yet. The bear must come to the nest and beg our pardon and say that we're honourable children, before we'll do that."
So the willow-wren flew to the bear's hole and cried, "Growler, you're to come to the nest and beg my children's pardon, or else every rib in your body shall be broken."
So the bear crept over in the greatest fear and begged their pardon. And now at last the young wrens were satisfied, and sat down together and ate and drank and made merry until quite late into the night.
There was a poor but good little girl who lived alone with her mother, and they had nothing left to eat.
So the child went into the forest, and there an old woman met her who knew all about her trouble, and gave her a little pot which, when she said, "Cook, little pot, cook," would cook good sweet porridge; and when she said, "Stop, little pot," it stopped cooking.
The girl took the pot home to her mother, and now they were free of their poverty and hunger, and ate sweet porridge as often as they liked.
Once, when the girl had gone out, her mother said, "Cook, little pot, cook." And it did cook, and she ate until she had had enough; and then she wanted the pot to stop cooking, but she did not know the word. So it went on cooking, and the porridge rose over the edge, and still it cooked on, until the kitchen and the whole house were full, and then the next house, and then the whole street — just as if it wanted to satisfy the hunger of the whole world. And there was the greatest distress, but nobody knew how to stop it.
At last, when only one single house was left, the child came home and just said, "Stop, little pot" — and it stopped and gave up cooking; and anybody who wanted to get back into the town had to eat his way there.
One day a peasant took his good hazel stick out of the corner and said to his wife, "Trina, I'm going across country and shan't be back for three days. If the cattle dealer should happen to call in that time and want to buy our three cows, you may strike a bargain at once — but not unless you can get two hundred thalers for them. Nothing less, do you hear?"
"For heaven's sake, just go in peace," answered the woman. "I'll manage that."
"You, indeed," said the man. "You fell on your head once when you were a little child, and it affects you to this day. But let me tell you this: if you do anything foolish, I'll make your back black and blue — and not with paint, I assure you, but with the stick I have in my hand; and the colouring will last a whole year, you may rely on it."
And having said that, the man went on his way.
Next morning the cattle dealer came, and the woman had no need to say many words to him. When he had seen the cows and heard the price, he said, "I'm quite willing to give that. To speak honestly, they're worth it. I'll take the beasts away with me at once."
He unfastened their chains and drove them out of the byre; but just as he was going out of the yard gate the woman caught him by the sleeve and said, "You must give me the two hundred thalers now, or I can't let the cows go."
"True enough," answered the man, "but I've forgotten to buckle on my money belt. Don't be afraid, though — you shall have security that I'll pay. I'll take two cows with me and leave one, and then you'll have a good pledge."
The woman saw the force of this, and let the man go off with the cows, and thought to herself, "How pleased Hans will be when he finds out how cleverly I've managed it!"
The peasant came home on the third day, as he had said he would, and asked at once whether the cows were sold.
"Yes indeed, dear Hans," answered his wife, "and for two hundred thalers, just as you said. They're hardly worth so much, but the man took them without a word of objection."
"Where's the money?" asked the peasant.
"Oh, I haven't got the money," replied the woman. "He'd happened to forget his money belt, but he'll bring it soon, and he left good security behind him."
"What sort of security?" asked the man.
"One of the three cows, which he shan't have until he's paid for the other two. I managed it very cunningly, because I kept the smallest one, which eats the least."
The man was enraged and lifted his stick, and was just about to give her the beating he had promised her. But suddenly he let the stick drop and said, "You're the stupidest goose that ever waddled on God's earth — but I'm sorry for you. I'll go out onto the highways and wait for three days to see whether I can find anybody still stupider than you. If I do, you shall go free; but if I don't find him, you shall have your well-deserved reward without any discount."
He went out onto the great highways, sat down on a stone, and waited to see what would happen.
Then he saw a peasant's wagon coming towards him, with a woman standing bolt upright in the middle of it instead of sitting on the bundle of straw that lay beside her, or walking beside the oxen and leading them. The man thought to himself, "There's certainly one of the sort I'm looking for" — and jumped up and ran backwards and forwards in front of the wagon like somebody not quite right in the head.
"What do you want, my friend?" the woman said to him. "I don't know you. Where do you come from?"
"I've fallen down out of heaven," replied the man, "and I don't know how to get back again. Couldn't you drive me up?"
"No," said the woman, "I don't know the way. But if you come from heaven, you can surely tell me how my husband is; he's been there these three years. You must have seen him."
"Oh yes, I've seen him — but not everybody can do well. He keeps sheep, and the sheep give him a great deal of trouble. They run up the mountains and lose their way in the wilderness, and he has to run after them and drive them together again. His clothes are all torn to pieces too, and will soon fall off his body. There's no tailor there, for Saint Peter won't let any of them in, as you know from the story."
"Who would have thought it?" cried the woman. "I'll tell you what: I'll fetch his Sunday coat, which is still hanging at home in the cupboard. He can wear that and look respectable. You'll be so kind as to take it with you."
"That won't do at all," answered the peasant. "People aren't allowed to take clothes into heaven; they're taken away from you at the gate."
"Then listen," said the woman. "I sold my fine wheat yesterday and got a good lot of money for it. I'll send that to him. If you hide the purse in your pocket, nobody will know that you have it."
"If you can't manage it any other way," said the peasant, "I'll do you that favour."
"Just sit still where you are," said she, "and I'll drive home and fetch the purse. I'll soon be back. I don't sit down on the bundle of straw — I stand up in the wagon, because it makes it lighter for the cattle."
She drove her oxen away, and the peasant thought, "That woman has a perfect gift for folly. If she really brings the money, my wife may count herself lucky, for she'll get no beating."
It was not long before she came back in a great hurry with the money, and put it in his pocket with her own hands. Before she went away she thanked him a thousand times over for his courtesy.
When the woman got home again she found her son, who had come in from the field. She told him about the unlooked-for things that had happened to her, and then added, "I'm truly delighted to have found a chance of sending something to my poor husband. Who would ever have imagined that he could be in want of anything up in heaven?"
The son was full of astonishment. "Mother," said he, "it isn't every day that a man comes down from heaven like that. I'll go out at once and see whether he's still to be found. He must tell me what it's like up there and how the work is done."
He saddled the horse and rode off at full speed. He found the peasant sitting under a willow tree, just about to count the money in the purse.
"Have you seen the man who fell down out of heaven?" the young man called to him.
"Yes," answered the peasant. "He's set off on his way back there, and gone up that hill, since it's rather nearer from there. You could still catch him up if you rode fast."
"Alas," said the young man, "I've been doing tiring work all day, and the ride here has completely worn me out. You know the man — be so kind as to get on my horse and go and persuade him to come here."
"Aha," thought the peasant, "here's another with no wick in his lamp." — "Why shouldn't I do you that favour?" said he; and mounted the horse and rode off at a quick trot.
The young man sat there till nightfall, but the peasant never came back. "The man from heaven must have been in a great hurry and wouldn't turn back," he thought, "and the peasant has no doubt given him the horse to take to my father."
He went home and told his mother what had happened, and that he had sent his father the horse so that he would not have to be always running about.
"You did well," she answered. "Your legs are younger than his, and you can go on foot."
When the peasant got home he put the horse in the stable beside the cow he had as a pledge, and then went to his wife and said, "Trina, as your luck would have it, I've found two who are still sillier fools than you. This time you escape without a beating; I'll store it up for another occasion."
Then he lit his pipe and sat down in his grandfather's chair and said, "It was a good stroke of business, getting a sleek horse and a great purse full of money into the bargain, for two lean cows. If stupidity always brought in as much as that, I'd be quite willing to hold it in honour."
That is what the peasant thought — but no doubt you prefer the simple folk.
There was once a little child whose mother gave her a small bowl of milk and bread every afternoon, and the child sat down in the yard with it. But when she began to eat, a snake came creeping out of a crack in the wall, dipped its little head in the dish, and ate with her.
The child was pleased by this; and when she was sitting there with her little dish and the snake did not come at once, she called:
"Snake, snake, come swiftly, come here, you tiny thing; you shall have your crumbs of bread, you shall drink your fill of milk."
Then the snake came in a hurry and enjoyed its food. What is more, it showed its gratitude, for it brought the child all kinds of pretty things out of its hidden treasures: bright stones, pearls and golden playthings.
But the snake only drank the milk and left the breadcrumbs alone. So one day the child took her little spoon and tapped the snake gently on the head with it, and said, "Eat the breadcrumbs as well, little thing."
The mother, who was standing in the kitchen, heard the child talking to somebody; and when she saw that she was hitting a snake with her spoon, she ran out with a log of wood and killed the good little creature.
From that time on a change came over the child. As long as the snake had eaten with her she had grown tall and strong; but now she lost her pretty rosy cheeks and wasted away. It was not long before the owl began to cry in the night, and the robin to gather little twigs and leaves for a funeral wreath; and soon afterwards the child lay on her bier.
An orphan child was sitting on the town walls spinning, when she saw a snake coming out of a hole low down in the wall. She quickly spread out beside it one of the blue silk handkerchiefs that snakes are so fond of, and that are the only things they will creep onto.
As soon as the snake saw it, it went back; and then it returned, bringing a small golden crown with it, and laid it on the handkerchief, and went away again. The girl picked up the crown; it glittered, and was of delicate golden filigree work.
It was not long before the snake came back a second time; but when it no longer saw the crown, it crept up to the wall and in its grief beat its little head against it as long as it had the strength, until at last it lay there dead.
If the girl had only left the crown where it was, the snake would certainly have brought still more of its treasures out of the hole.
A snake cries, "Huhu, huhu."
A child says, "Come out."
The snake comes out; then the child asks after her little sister: "Haven't you seen little Red-stockings?"
The snake says, "No."
"Neither have I."
"Then I'm like you. Huhu, huhu, huhu."
In a certain mill there lived an old miller who had neither wife nor child, and three apprentices served under him. As they had been with him several years, he said to them one day, "I'm old, and I want to sit in the chimney corner. Go out; and whichever of you brings me home the best horse, to him I'll give the mill, and in return he shall take care of me until my death."
The third of the boys, though, was the drudge, whom the others thought a fool. They grudged him the mill, and afterwards he would not take it.
So the three of them went out together; and when they came to the village the two said to stupid Hans, "You may as well stay here. As long as you live you'll never get a horse."
But Hans went along with them; and when it was night they came to a cave and lay down there to sleep. The two sharp ones waited until Hans had fallen asleep, and then got up and went away, leaving him where he was. And they thought they had done a very clever thing — but it was certain to turn out badly for them.
When the sun rose and Hans woke up, he was lying in a deep cave. He looked round on every side and exclaimed, "Oh, heavens, where am I?"
Then he got up and clambered out of the cave and went into the forest, and thought, "Here I am, all alone and deserted. How am I to get a horse now?"
And while he was walking along full of these thoughts, he met a small tabby cat, which said quite kindly, "Hans, where are you going?"
"Alas, you can't help me."
"I know very well what you want," said the cat. "You want a beautiful horse. Come with me and be my faithful servant for seven years, and then I'll give you one more beautiful than any you've seen in your whole life."
"Well, this is a wonderful cat," thought Hans. "But I'm determined to see whether she's telling the truth."
So she took him with her to her enchanted castle, where there was nobody but cats, who were her servants. They leapt nimbly up and down the stairs and were merry and happy.
In the evening, when they sat down to dinner, three of them had to make music. One played the bassoon, another the fiddle, and the third put a trumpet to his lips and blew his cheeks out as far as he possibly could.
When they had dined, the table was carried away, and the cat said, "Now, Hans, come and dance with me."
"No," said he, "I won't dance with a pussycat. I've never done that yet."
"Then take him to bed," said she to the cats.
So one of them lit him to his bedroom, one pulled his shoes off, one his stockings, and at last one of them blew out the candle. Next morning they came back and helped him out of bed: one put his stockings on for him, one tied his garters, one brought his shoes, one washed him, and one dried his face with her tail.
"That feels very soft," said Hans.
But he had to serve the cat and chop wood every day; and to do it he had an axe of silver, and the wedge and the saw were silver too, and the mallet was copper. So he chopped the wood small, and stayed there in the house and had good food and drink — but he never saw anybody except the tabby cat and her servants.
Once she said to him, "Go and mow my meadow and dry the grass" — and gave him a scythe of silver and a whetstone of gold, but told him to hand them back carefully. So Hans went and did as he was told; and when he had finished the work he carried the scythe and the whetstone and the hay back to the house, and asked whether it was not yet time for her to give him his reward.
"No," said the cat, "you must first do something more for me of the same kind. Here is timber of silver, a carpenter's axe, a square and everything else that's needed, all of silver. With these, build me a small house."
So Hans built the small house, and said that he had now done everything, and still had no horse. All the same, the seven years had gone by for him as if they were six months.
The cat asked whether he would like to see her horses. "Yes," said Hans. Then she opened the door of the small house; and when she had opened it, there stood twelve horses — such horses, so bright and shining, that his heart rejoiced at the sight of them.
And now she gave him food and drink, and said, "Go home. I won't give you your horse to take with you; but in three days' time I'll follow you and bring it."
So Hans set out, and she showed him the way to the mill. But she had never once given him a new coat, and he had had to keep on the dirty old smock he had brought with him, which in seven years had grown too small for him everywhere.
When he reached home, the two other apprentices were back as well, and each of them had certainly brought a horse with him — but one of them was blind and the other lame. They asked Hans where his horse was.
"It will follow me in three days' time."
Then they laughed and said, "Really, stupid Hans, where would you get a horse? It'll be a fine one!"
Hans went into the parlour, but the miller said he should not sit down at the table, since he was so ragged and torn that they would all be ashamed of him if anybody came in. So they gave him a mouthful of food outside; and at night, when they went to bed, the other two would not let him have a bed, and at last he had to creep into the goose house and lie down on a little hard straw.
In the morning, when he woke, the three days had passed; and a coach came with six horses, and they shone so brightly that it was a delight to see them; and a servant brought a seventh as well, which was for the poor miller's boy. And a magnificent princess got down from the coach and went into the mill — and this princess was the little tabby cat whom poor Hans had served for seven years.
She asked the miller where the miller's boy, the drudge, was.
Then the miller said, "We can't have him here in the mill, he's so ragged. He's lying in the goose house."
Then the King's daughter said that they were to bring him at once. So they brought him out, and he had to hold his little smock together to cover himself. The servants unpacked splendid clothes, and washed him and dressed him; and when that was done, no king could have looked handsomer.
Then the lady asked to see the horses the other apprentices had brought home, and one of them was blind and the other lame. So she ordered her servant to bring the seventh horse; and when the miller saw it, he said that such a horse as that had never come into his yard before.
"And that's for the third miller's boy," said she.
"Then he must have the mill," said the miller.
But the King's daughter said that the horse was there, and that he was to keep his mill as well; and she took her faithful Hans and set him in the coach and drove away with him.
They drove first to the little house he had built with the silver tools — and behold, it was a great castle, and everything inside it was of silver and gold. And then she married him, and he was rich, so rich that he had enough for the rest of his life.
After this, let nobody ever say that somebody who seems silly can never become a person of importance.
Hill and valley never meet, but the children of men do, good and bad. And so it happened that a shoemaker and a tailor once met on their travels.
The tailor was a handsome little fellow, always merry and full of enjoyment. He saw the shoemaker coming towards him from the other side; and as he could tell by his bag what trade he followed, he sang him a little mocking song:
"Sew me the seam, draw me the thread, spread it over with pitch, knock the nail on the head."
But the shoemaker could not take a joke. He pulled a face as if he had drunk vinegar, and made a movement as though he were about to take the tailor by the throat. The little fellow, though, began to laugh, and held out his bottle to him and said, "No harm was meant. Take a drink and swallow your anger down."
The shoemaker took a very hearty drink, and the storm on his face began to clear. He gave the bottle back to the tailor and said, "I spoke civilly to you. A man speaks well after plenty of drink, but not after plenty of thirst. Shall we travel together?"
"All right," answered the tailor, "so long as it suits you to go to a big town where there's no shortage of work."
"That's exactly where I want to go," answered the shoemaker. "In a little nest there's nothing to earn, and out in the country people like to go barefoot."
So they travelled on together, always setting one foot in front of the other like a weasel in the snow.
Both of them had time enough, but little to bite on. When they reached a town they went round and paid their respects to the tradesmen; and because the tailor looked so lively and merry, and had such pretty red cheeks, everybody gave him work willingly — and when his luck was good, the masters' daughters gave him a kiss under the porch as well. When he met the shoemaker again, the tailor always had the more in his bundle.
The ill-tempered shoemaker pulled a sour face and thought, "The greater the rascal, the greater the luck." But the tailor began to laugh and sing, and shared everything he got with his comrade. If a couple of pennies jingled in his pockets he ordered good cheer, and thumped the table in his joy till the glasses danced; and it was lightly come, lightly go with him.
When they had travelled some time, they came to a great forest that the road to the capital ran through. There were two footpaths through it, though, one of which was a seven days' journey and the other only two; but neither of the travellers knew which was the short one. They sat down under an oak tree and took counsel together about how they should judge it, and how many days' bread they should take with them.
The shoemaker said, "A man must look before he leaps. I'll take bread for a week with me."
"What!" said the tailor. "Drag bread for seven days on my back like a beast of burden, and not be able to look about me? I shall trust in God and not trouble myself about anything. The money I have in my pocket is as good in summer as in winter; but in hot weather bread goes dry, and mouldy into the bargain. Even my coat doesn't reach as far as it might. Besides, why shouldn't we find the right way? Bread for two days, and that's enough."
So each of them bought his own bread, and then they tried their luck in the forest.
It was as quiet in there as in a church. No wind stirred, no brook murmured, no bird sang, and no sunbeam forced its way through the thick-leaved branches. The shoemaker never said a word; the heavy bread weighed his back down until the sweat streamed down his cross, gloomy face. The tailor, though, was quite merry; he jumped about, whistled on a leaf, or sang a song, and thought to himself, "God in heaven must be pleased to see me so happy."
This lasted two days; but on the third the forest showed no sign of ending, and the tailor had eaten all his bread, so his heart did after all sink a yard deeper. Still he did not lose courage, but relied on God and on his luck. On the third day he lay down in the evening hungry under a tree, and got up next morning hungry still. So the fourth day passed too; and when the shoemaker sat down on a fallen tree and devoured his dinner, the tailor could only look on.
If he begged for a little piece of bread, the other laughed mockingly and said, "You've always been so merry — now you can find out for once what it's like to be sad. The birds that sing too early in the morning are struck by the hawk in the evening." In short, he was pitiless.
But on the fifth morning the poor tailor could no longer stand up, and was hardly able to get out one word for weakness; his cheeks were white and his eyes red.
Then the shoemaker said to him, "I'll give you a bit of bread today; but in return I'll put out your right eye."
The unlucky tailor, who still wanted to save his life, could do it no other way. He wept once more with both eyes, and then held them out; and the shoemaker, who had a heart of stone, put out his right eye with a sharp knife.
The tailor remembered what his mother used to say to him when he had been eating secretly in the pantry: "Eat what you can, and suffer what you must."
When he had eaten his dearly bought bread he got on his legs again, forgot his misery and comforted himself with the thought that he could always see enough with one eye.
But on the sixth day hunger made itself felt again, and gnawed him almost to the heart. In the evening he collapsed by a tree, and on the seventh morning he could not raise himself for faintness, and death was close at hand.
Then the shoemaker said, "I'll show mercy and give you bread once more; but you shan't have it for nothing. I shall put out your other eye for it."
And now the tailor felt how thoughtless his life had been, and prayed to God for forgiveness, and said, "Do what you will; I'll bear what I must. But remember that our Lord God doesn't always look on without doing anything, and that an hour will come when the evil deed you've done to me, and which I never deserved of you, will be paid back. When times were good with me, I shared what I had with you. My trade is of the kind where every stitch has to be exactly like the last. If I no longer have my eyes and can sew no more, I must go begging. At least don't leave me here alone when I'm blind, or I shall die of hunger."
But the shoemaker, who had driven God out of his heart, took the knife and put out his left eye. Then he gave him a bit of bread to eat, held out a stick to him, and led him along behind him.
When the sun went down they came out of the forest, and in the open country in front of them stood the gallows. The shoemaker led the blind tailor over to it, and then left him there alone and went his way.
Weariness, pain and hunger made the wretched man fall asleep, and he slept the whole night through. When day dawned he woke, but did not know where he was lying. Two poor sinners were hanging on the gallows, and a crow sat on each of their heads.
Then one of the hanged men began to speak, and said, "Brother, are you awake?"
"Yes, I'm awake," answered the second.
"Then I'll tell you something," said the first. "The dew that has fallen down over us from the gallows tonight gives anybody who washes himself with it his eyes back. If blind people only knew that, how many would get their sight again who don't believe such a thing is possible!"
When the tailor heard that, he took his handkerchief and pressed it on the grass; and when it was wet with dew, he washed his empty eye sockets with it. Immediately what the man on the gallows had said came true, and a pair of healthy new eyes filled the sockets.
It was not long before the tailor saw the sun rise behind the mountains. On the plain in front of him lay the great royal city with its magnificent gates and its hundred towers, and the golden balls and crosses on the spires began to shine. He could make out every leaf on the trees, and see the birds flying past and the midges dancing in the air. He took a needle out of his pocket; and as he could thread it as well as he ever had, his heart danced with delight.
He threw himself on his knees and thanked God for the mercy he had shown him, and said his morning prayer. And he did not forget to pray as well for the poor sinners hanging there, swinging against each other in the wind like the pendulums of clocks. Then he took his bundle on his back and soon forgot the pain of heart he had suffered, and went on his way singing and whistling.
The first thing he met was a brown foal running loose about the fields. He caught it by the mane and wanted to spring onto it and ride into the town. But the foal begged to be let go.
"I'm still too young," it said. "Even a light tailor like you would break my back in two. Let me go until I've grown strong. A time may come when I can repay you for it."
"Off you go," said the tailor. "I can see you're still a giddy thing." And he gave it a touch of a switch across its back, whereupon it kicked up its hind legs for joy, leapt over hedges and ditches, and galloped away into the open country.
But the little tailor had eaten nothing since the day before. "The sun fills my eyes, to be sure," said he, "but the bread doesn't fill my mouth. The first thing that comes my way and is even half edible will have to suffer for it."
Just then a stork came stepping solemnly over the meadow towards him. "Halt, halt!" cried the tailor, and seized him by the leg. "I don't know whether you're good to eat or not, but my hunger doesn't leave me much choice. I must cut your head off and roast you."
"Don't do that," replied the stork. "I'm a sacred bird that brings people great good, and nobody does me any harm. Leave me my life, and I may do you a good turn some other way."
"Well, be off, Cousin Longlegs," said the tailor. The stork rose up, let its long legs hang down, and flew gently away.
"What's to be the end of this?" the tailor said to himself at last. "My hunger grows greater and greater and my stomach emptier and emptier. Whatever comes my way now is lost."
At that moment he saw a couple of young ducks on a pond come swimming towards him. "You come just at the right moment," said he — and caught hold of one of them and was about to wring its neck.
At this an old duck that was hidden among the reeds began to scream loudly, and swam up to him with her beak open, and begged him urgently to spare her dear children. "Can't you imagine," said she, "how your own mother would grieve if somebody wanted to carry you off and finish you?"
"Be quiet, now," said the good-natured tailor. "You shall keep your children" — and he put his prisoner back in the water.
When he turned round he was standing in front of an old tree that was partly hollow, and saw some wild bees flying in and out of it. "There I shall find the reward of my good deed straight away," said the tailor. "The honey will refresh me."
But the queen bee came out and threatened him, and said, "If you touch my people and destroy my nest, our stings shall pierce your skin like ten thousand red-hot needles. But if you'll leave us in peace and go your way, we'll do you a service for it another time."
The little tailor saw that here too there was nothing to be done. "Three dishes empty and nothing on the fourth is a poor dinner."
So he dragged himself with his starved-out stomach into the town; and as it was just striking twelve, everything was cooked and ready for him at the inn, and he could sit straight down to dinner.
When he had had enough he said, "Now I'll get to work." He went round the town, looked for a master, and soon found a good place. And as he had thoroughly learned his trade, it was not long before he became famous, and everybody wanted his new coat made by the little tailor, whose importance grew daily.
"I can go no further in skill," said he, "and yet things improve every day."
At last the King appointed him court tailor.
But see how things happen in this world! On the very same day his old comrade the shoemaker became court shoemaker. And when the shoemaker caught sight of the tailor and saw that he had two healthy eyes again, his conscience troubled him. "Before he takes his revenge on me," he thought, "I must dig a pit for him." But he who digs a pit for another falls into it himself.
In the evening, when work was over and it had grown dusk, he stole to the King and said, "My lord King, the tailor is an arrogant fellow, and he has boasted that he'll get back the gold crown that was lost in ancient times."
"That would please me very much," said the King; and he had the tailor brought before him next morning and ordered him to get the crown back, or leave the town for ever.
"Oho," thought the tailor, "a rogue gives more than he has got. If the surly King wants me to do what nobody can do, I won't wait till morning — I'll go out of the town this very day."
So he packed his bundle; but once he was outside the gate he could not help being sorry to give up his good fortune and turn his back on the town where everything had gone so well for him.
He came to the pond where he had made the acquaintance of the ducks; and at that very moment the old duck whose young ones he had spared was sitting there on the bank, preening herself with her beak. She recognised him at once, and asked why he was hanging his head so.
"You won't be surprised when you hear what's happened to me," replied the tailor, and told her his story.
"If that's all," said the duck, "we can help you. The crown fell into the water and is lying down there at the bottom; we'll soon bring it up again for you. Meanwhile, just spread your handkerchief out on the bank."
She dived down with her twelve young ones; and in five minutes she was up again, sitting with the crown resting on her wings, while the twelve young ones swam round about with their beaks under it, helping to carry it. They swam to the bank and laid the crown on the handkerchief.
Nobody could imagine how magnificent that crown was; when the sun shone on it, it gleamed like a hundred thousand rubies. The tailor tied his handkerchief together by its four corners and carried it to the King, who was full of joy, and put a gold chain round the tailor's neck.
When the shoemaker saw that one stroke had failed, he contrived a second, and went to the King and said, "My lord King, the tailor has become insolent again. He boasts that he'll make a copy in wax of the whole royal palace, with everything belonging to it, loose or fixed, inside and out."
The King sent for the tailor and ordered him to make a copy in wax of the whole royal palace, with everything belonging to it, movable or immovable, inside and out; and if he did not manage it, or if so much as a single nail in the wall were missing, he should be imprisoned underground for the rest of his life.
The tailor thought, "It gets worse and worse. Nobody can stand this." And he threw his bundle on his back and went out.
When he came to the hollow tree he sat down and hung his head. The bees came flying out, and the queen bee asked him whether he had a stiff neck, since he was holding his head so crookedly.
"Alas, no," answered the tailor. "Something quite different is weighing me down" — and he told her what the King had demanded of him.
The bees began to buzz and hum among themselves, and the queen bee said, "Just go home again; but come back tomorrow at this time and bring a large sheet with you, and then all will be well."
So he turned back; but the bees flew to the royal palace and straight in at the open windows, and crept round into every corner and inspected everything most carefully. Then they hurried back and modelled the palace in wax so quickly that anybody watching would have thought it was growing in front of his eyes.
By the evening it was all ready; and when the tailor came next morning, the whole splendid building was there, and not one nail in the wall or tile on the roof was missing; and it was delicate too, and white as snow, and it smelt as sweet as honey.
The tailor wrapped it carefully in his cloth and took it to the King, who could not admire it enough, and set it up in his largest hall, and in return presented the tailor with a large stone house.
The shoemaker, though, did not give up, but went to the King a third time and said, "My lord King, it has come to the tailor's ears that no water will spring up in the castle courtyard, and he has boasted that it shall rise up in the middle of the courtyard as high as a man and be as clear as crystal."
Then the King had the tailor brought before him and said, "If a stream of water doesn't rise in my courtyard by tomorrow, as you've promised, the executioner shall make you shorter by the head on that very spot."
The poor tailor did not take long to think about it, but hurried out to the gate; and because this time it was a matter of life and death for him, tears rolled down his face.
And as he was going out like that, full of sorrow, the foal he had once given its freedom to, and which had now become a beautiful chestnut horse, came leaping towards him.
"The time has come," it said to the tailor, "when I can repay you for your good deed. I know already what you need, but you shall soon have help. Get on my back — it can carry two such as you."
The tailor's courage came back to him. He jumped up at a single bound, and the horse went at full speed into the town and right up into the castle courtyard. It galloped round it three times as quick as lightning, and the third time it fell violently to the ground.
At that same instant there was a terrific clap of thunder; a lump of earth in the middle of the courtyard flew up into the air like a cannonball, and right over the castle; and directly after it a jet of water rose as high as a man on horseback, and the water was as pure as crystal, and the sunbeams began to dance on it.
When the King saw that, he got up in amazement and went and embraced the tailor in front of everybody.
But his good fortune did not last long. The King had daughters in plenty, one prettier than the next, but he had no son. So the malicious shoemaker took himself to the King for the fourth time, and said, "My lord King, the tailor hasn't given up his arrogance. Now he has boasted that if he liked, he could have a son brought to my lord King through the air."
The King had the tailor summoned, and said, "If you have a son brought to me within nine days, you shall have my eldest daughter for a wife."
"The reward is indeed great," thought the little tailor. "A man would gladly do something for that; but the cherries grow too high for me. If I climb for them, the branch will break under me and I shall fall."
He went home, sat himself down cross-legged on his work table and thought over what was to be done. "It can't be managed," he cried at last. "I'll go away. After all, I can't live in peace here."
He tied up his bundle and hurried away to the gate. When he got to the meadow he caught sight of his old friend the stork, walking up and down like a philosopher. Now and then he stood still, gave a frog his close consideration, and at length swallowed it down.
The stork came over and greeted him. "I see," he began, "that you've got your pack on your back. Why are you leaving the town?"
The tailor told him what the King had demanded of him, and how he could not do it, and lamented his misfortune.
"Don't let your hair go grey over that," said the stork. "I'll help you out of your difficulty. I've been carrying children in swaddling clothes into the town for a long while now, so for once in a way I can fetch a little prince out of the well. Go home and set your mind at rest. Nine days from now, go to the royal palace, and I'll come there."
The little tailor went home; and at the appointed time he was at the castle. It was not long before the stork came flying up and tapped at the window. The tailor opened it, and Cousin Longlegs came carefully in and walked with solemn steps over the smooth marble floor. And he had a baby in his beak, as lovely as an angel, that stretched out its little hands to the Queen. The stork laid it in her lap, and she caressed it and kissed it, and was beside herself with delight.
Before the stork flew away he took his travelling bag off his back and handed it over to the Queen. In it were little paper parcels of coloured sweets, and they were shared out among the little princesses. The eldest, though, got none of them — she got the merry tailor for a husband.
"It seems to me," said he, "just as if I'd won the highest prize of all. My mother was right after all: she always said that whoever trusts in God and has good luck can never fail."
The shoemaker had to make the shoes the little tailor danced in at the wedding feast, and after that he was ordered to leave the town for ever. The road to the forest led him past the gallows. Worn out with anger and rage and the heat of the day, he threw himself down. And when he had closed his eyes and was about to sleep, the two crows flew down from the heads of the hanged men and pecked his eyes out.
In his madness he ran off into the forest, and he must have died there of hunger, for nobody has ever seen him again or heard of him since.
There was once a countryman who had money and land in plenty; but rich as he was, one thing was still missing from his happiness: he had no children. Often, when he went into the town with the other farmers, they mocked him and asked why he had no children. At last he grew angry, and when he got home he said, "I will have a child, even if it's a hedgehog."
Then his wife had a child that was a hedgehog in the upper part of its body and a boy in the lower; and when she saw the child she was horrified, and said, "There, you see what ill luck you've brought on us."
Then the man said, "What can be done now? The boy must be christened — but we'll never get a godfather for him."
The woman said, "And we can't call him anything but Hans the Hedgehog."
When he was christened, the parson said, "He can't go into any ordinary bed because of his spikes." So a little straw was put behind the stove, and Hans the Hedgehog was laid on it. His mother could not nurse him, for he would have pricked her with his quills. So he lay there behind the stove for eight years; and his father grew tired of him and thought, "If only he would die!" But he did not die; he went on lying there.
Now it happened that there was a fair in the town, and the farmer was about to go to it, and asked his wife what he should bring her back.
"A little meat and a couple of white rolls that are wanted for the house," said she.
Then he asked the servant girl, and she wanted a pair of slippers and some stockings with clocks embroidered on them. And at last he said, "And what will you have, Hans my Hedgehog?"
"Dear father," he said, "do bring me bagpipes."
So when the father came home again, he gave his wife what he had bought her, meat and white rolls; and then he gave the maid the slippers and the stockings with clocks; and last of all he went behind the stove and gave Hans the Hedgehog his bagpipes.
And when Hans the Hedgehog had the bagpipes, he said, "Dear father, do go to the forge and have the cock shod, and then I'll ride away and never come back again."
At this his father was delighted at the thought of getting rid of him, and had the cock shod for him. And when it was done, Hans the Hedgehog got on it and rode away — but took pigs and donkeys with him, which he meant to keep in the forest.
When they got there he made the cock fly up to the top of a high tree with him, and there he sat for many a long year and watched his donkeys and his pigs until the herd was very large; and his father knew nothing about him. And as he sat in the tree he played his bagpipes, and made music that was very beautiful.
Once a King came travelling by who had lost his way, and heard the music. He was astonished at it, and sent his servant out to look all round and see where this music came from. The servant looked about, but saw nothing except a little animal sitting up aloft in the tree, which looked like a cock with a hedgehog on it, and which was making this music.
Then the King told the servant to ask why he was sitting there, and whether he knew the road that led to his kingdom. So Hans the Hedgehog came down out of the tree, and said he would show the way if the King would write out a bond and promise him whatever first met him in the royal courtyard when he reached home.
Then the King thought, "I can easily do that. Hans the Hedgehog understands nothing, and I can write what I like."
So the King took pen and ink and wrote something; and when he had done it, Hans the Hedgehog showed him the way, and he got safely home.
But his daughter, when she saw him from a distance, was so overjoyed that she ran to meet him and kissed him. Then he remembered Hans the Hedgehog, and told her what had happened: that he had been forced to promise whatever first met him when he got home to a very strange animal that sat on a cock as if it were a horse and made beautiful music — but that instead of writing that he should have what he wanted, he had written that he should not have it.
At this the princess was glad, and said he had done well, for she would never have gone away with the hedgehog.
Hans the Hedgehog, meanwhile, looked after his donkeys and pigs, and was always merry, and sat in the tree and played his bagpipes.
Now it happened that another King came journeying by with his attendants and his runners; and he too had lost his way, and did not know how to get home again, because the forest was so large. He too heard the beautiful music from a distance, and asked his runner what it could be, and told him to go and see.
Then the runner went under the tree and saw the cock sitting at the top of it and Hans the Hedgehog on the cock. The runner asked him what he was doing up there.
"I'm keeping my donkeys and my pigs. But what is it you want?"
The messenger said that they had lost their way and could not get back into their own kingdom, and asked whether he would not show them the way.
Then Hans the Hedgehog came down out of the tree with the cock, and told the old King that he would show him the way if he would give him for his own whatever first met him in front of his royal palace. The King said yes, and wrote out a promise to Hans the Hedgehog that he should have it.
That done, Hans rode on ahead of him on the cock and pointed out the way, and the King reached his kingdom again safely.
When he got to the courtyard there was great rejoicing. Now he had an only daughter who was very beautiful; she ran to meet him and threw her arms round his neck, delighted to have her old father back again. She asked him where in the world he had been so long.
So he told her how he had lost his way and had very nearly not come back at all; but that as he was travelling through a great forest, a creature half hedgehog and half man, sitting astride a cock in a high tree and making music, had shown him the way and helped him out — but that in return he had promised him whatever first met him in the royal courtyard, and that was herself, which made him unhappy now.
But at this she promised that, for love of her father, she would gladly go with this Hans if he came.
Hans the Hedgehog, meanwhile, took care of his pigs, and the pigs multiplied until there were so many of them that the whole forest was full. So Hans the Hedgehog decided not to live in the forest any longer, and sent word to his father to have every sty in the village emptied, for he was coming with such a great herd that anybody who wanted to could kill.
When his father heard that he was troubled, for he thought Hans the Hedgehog had died long ago. But Hans the Hedgehog seated himself on the cock and drove the pigs into the village before him, and ordered the slaughter to begin. And there was such a killing and a chopping as might have been heard two miles off.
After this Hans the Hedgehog said, "Father, let me have the cock shod once more at the forge, and then I'll ride away and never come back as long as I live."
So his father had the cock shod once more, and was pleased that Hans the Hedgehog would never come back again.
Hans the Hedgehog rode away to the first kingdom. There the King had commanded that anybody who came riding on a cock and carrying bagpipes should be shot at, cut down or stabbed by everyone, so that he should not get into the palace.
So when Hans the Hedgehog came riding up, they all pressed forward against him with their pikes; but he spurred the cock, and it flew up over the gate and in front of the King's window and settled there; and Hans cried that the King must give him what he had promised, or he would take both his life and his daughter's.
Then the King began to speak kindly to his daughter, and to beg her to go away with Hans in order to save her own life and her father's. So she dressed herself in white, and her father gave her a carriage with six horses and magnificent attendants, and gold and property with them. She seated herself in the carriage and put Hans the Hedgehog beside her, with the cock and the bagpipes; and then they took their leave and drove away, and the King thought he would never see her again.
But he was wrong in what he expected. When they were a short way out of the town, Hans the Hedgehog stripped her pretty clothes off her and pierced her with his hedgehog's skin until she bled all over. "That's the reward of your falseness," said he. "Go your way — I won't have you." And with that he chased her home again, and she was disgraced for the rest of her life.
Hans the Hedgehog, though, rode on further on the cock, with his bagpipes, to the lands of the second King, the one he had shown the way to. This King, however, had given orders that if anybody resembling Hans the Hedgehog should come, they were to present arms, give him safe conduct, cry long life to him, and lead him to the royal palace.
But when the King's daughter saw him she was terrified, for he looked altogether too strange. All the same she remembered that she could not change her mind, because she had given her promise to her father. So Hans the Hedgehog was made welcome by her and married to her, and had to go with her to the royal table; and she sat down beside him, and they ate and drank.
When evening came and they wanted to go to sleep, she was afraid of his quills; but he told her she need not be afraid, for no harm would come to her. And he told the old King to appoint four men to keep watch by the door of the room and light a great fire; and said that when he went into the room and was about to get into bed, he would creep out of his hedgehog's skin and leave it lying beside the bed, and the men were to run quickly and pick it up and throw it in the fire, and stay by it until it was burnt up.
When the clock struck eleven he went into the room, stripped off the hedgehog's skin and left it lying by the bed. Then the men came and snatched it up quickly and threw it in the fire; and when the fire had burnt it up, he was released, and lay there in bed in human shape — but he was coal-black, as if he had been burnt. The King sent for his physician, who washed him with precious salves and anointed him; and he became white, and was a handsome young man.
When the King's daughter saw that, she was glad; and next morning they got up joyfully and ate and drank, and then the marriage was properly celebrated, and Hans the Hedgehog received the kingdom from the old King.
When several years had gone by, he went with his wife to his father and said that he was his son. His father, though, declared that he had no son — he had had only one, and it had been born like a hedgehog, with spikes, and had gone out into the world. Then Hans made himself known, and the old father rejoiced and went with him to his kingdom.
My tale is done, and away it has run to little August's house.
There was once a mother who had a little boy of seven years old, who was so handsome and so lovable that nobody could look at him without liking him; and she herself worshipped him above everything in the world.
Now it happened that he suddenly fell ill, and God took him to himself; and the mother could not be comforted for it, and wept both day and night.
But soon afterwards, when the child had been buried, it appeared at night in the places where it had sat and played while it was alive; and if the mother wept, it wept too, and when morning came it disappeared.
But as the mother would not stop crying, it came one night in the little white shroud it had been laid in its coffin in, with its wreath of flowers round its head, and stood at the foot of her bed and said, "Oh, mother, do stop crying, or I shall never fall asleep in my coffin; my shroud won't dry, because of all your tears falling on it."
The mother was frightened when she heard that, and wept no more.
The next night the child came again, holding a little light in its hand, and said, "Look, mother, my shroud is nearly dry, and I can rest in my grave."
Then the mother gave her sorrow into God's keeping and bore it quietly and patiently; and the child came no more, but slept in its little bed beneath the earth.
[Editor's note: this tale, and two others in this collection — "The Good Bargain" and "The Bright Sun Brings It to Light" — turn on hostile caricatures of Jews. Others turn on skin colour, most sharply "The White Bride and the Black One", where blackness is a punishment God inflicts on the rude and whiteness is the reward of the kind. This edition prints all two hundred and eleven tales the Grimms gathered, and prints them whole: nothing has been cut and nothing softened. The note is set once, here, to say what the edition has done and why — an edition that quietly dropped these tales would misrepresent both the book and the century that made it. It makes no further comment on them. They stand as the Grimms printed them.]
There was once a rich man who had a servant who served him diligently and honestly. He was the first out of bed every morning and the last to go to rest at night; and whenever there was a hard job to be done that nobody else cared to take on, he was always the first to set about it. What is more, he never complained, but was contented with everything, and always cheerful.
When a year was up, his master gave him no wages, for he said to himself, "That's the cleverest way; I shall save something, and he won't go away, but will stay quietly in my service."
The servant said nothing, but did his work the second year as he had the first; and when at the end of that he got no wages either, he made the best of it and still stayed on.
When the third year had gone by as well, the master thought it over, put his hand in his pocket, but pulled nothing out. Then at last the servant said, "Master, I've served you honestly for three years. Be so good as to give me what I'm owed, for I want to leave and look about me a little more in the world."
"Yes, my good fellow," answered the old miser, "you've served me industriously, and so you shall be cheerfully rewarded." And he put his hand in his pocket, but counted out only three farthings, saying, "There — a farthing for each year. That's large and liberal pay, such as you'd have got from few masters."
The honest servant, who understood little about money, put his fortune in his pocket and thought, "Ah, now that my purse is full, why should I trouble and plague myself any longer with hard work?"
So on he went, up hill and down dale, singing and jumping to his heart's content.
Now it happened that as he was going past a thicket, a little man stepped out and called to him, "Where away, merry brother? I can see you don't carry many cares."
"Why should I be sad?" answered the servant. "I have plenty. Three years' wages are jingling in my pocket."
"How much is your treasure?" the dwarf asked him.
"How much? Three farthings sterling, all told."
"Look here," said the dwarf, "I'm a poor needy man. Give me your three farthings. I can work no longer, but you're young and can easily earn your bread."
And as the servant had a good heart and felt sorry for the old man, he gave him the three farthings, saying, "Take them in heaven's name; I shall be none the worse for it."
Then the little man said, "As I can see you have a good heart, I grant you three wishes — one for each farthing; and they shall all be fulfilled."
"Aha," said the servant, "you're one of those who can work wonders. Well, then, if that's how it is, I wish, first, for a gun that will hit everything I aim at; secondly, for a fiddle that will make everybody who hears me play it dance; and thirdly, that if I ask a favour of anybody, he won't be able to refuse it."
"All that you shall have," said the dwarf; and he put his hand into the bush — and only think, there lay a fiddle and a gun, all ready, just as if they had been ordered. He gave them to the servant, and then said to him, "Whatever you may ask at any time, no man in the world shall be able to refuse you."
"Heart alive! What more could anybody want?" said the servant to himself, and went merrily on.
Soon afterwards he met a Jew with a long goat's beard, who was standing listening to the song of a bird sitting at the top of a tree. "Good heavens," he was exclaiming, "that such a small creature should have such a fearfully loud voice! If only it were mine! If only somebody would sprinkle salt on its tail!"
"If that's all," said the servant, "the bird shall soon be down here." And taking aim, he pulled the trigger, and down fell the bird into the thorn bushes. "Go on, you rogue," he said to the Jew, "and fetch the bird out for yourself."
"Oh," said the Jew, "leave out the rogue, my master, and I'll do it at once. I'll get the bird out for myself, since you really have hit it." Then he lay down on the ground and began to crawl into the thicket.
When he was well in among the thorns, the good servant's humour so tempted him that he took up his fiddle and began to play. In a moment the Jew's legs began to move and to jump into the air; and the more the servant fiddled, the better the dance went. But the thorns tore his shabby coat off him, combed his beard, and pricked and plucked him all over his body.
"Oh dear," cried the Jew, "what do I want with your fiddling? Leave the fiddle alone, master; I don't want to dance."
But the servant did not listen to him, and thought, "You've fleeced people often enough — now the thorn bushes shall do the same to you." And he began to play again, so that the Jew had to jump higher than ever, and scraps of his coat were left hanging on the thorns.
"Oh, woe is me!" cried the Jew. "I'll give the gentleman whatever he asks, if only he'll leave off fiddling — a purse full of gold."
"If you're so liberal," said the servant, "I'll stop my music. But this I must say to your credit: you dance to it so well that it's quite an art." And having taken the purse, he went his way.
The Jew stood still and watched the servant quietly until he was far off and out of sight, and then he screamed out with all his might, "You miserable musician, you beer-house fiddler! Wait till I catch you alone — I'll hunt you till the soles of your shoes fall off! You ragamuffin! Just put five farthings in your mouth, and then you might be worth three halfpence!" — and went on abusing him as fast as he could speak.
As soon as he had refreshed himself a little this way and got his breath back, he ran into the town to the justice.
"My lord judge," he said, "I've come to make a complaint. See how a rascal has robbed and ill-treated me on the public highway! A stone on the ground might pity me. My clothes all torn, my body pricked and scratched, my little all gone along with my purse — good ducats, every piece better than the last. For God's sake let the man be thrown into prison!"
"Was it a soldier," said the judge, "who cut you about like that with his sabre?"
"Nothing of the sort," said the Jew. "It was no sword he had, but a gun hanging on his back and a fiddle at his neck. The wretch can easily be known."
So the judge sent his people out after the man, and they found the good servant, who had been going along quite slowly; and they found the purse with the money on him too.
As soon as he was brought before the judge he said, "I never touched the Jew or took his money. He gave it to me of his own free will, so that I'd leave off fiddling, because he couldn't bear my music."
"Heaven defend us!" cried the Jew. "His lies are as thick as flies on a wall."
But the judge did not believe his tale either, and said, "This is a poor defence. No Jew would do that." And because he had committed robbery on the public highway, he sentenced the good servant to be hanged.
As he was being led away, the Jew screamed after him again, "You vagabond! You dog of a fiddler! Now you're going to get your well-earned reward!"
The servant walked quietly up the ladder with the hangman; but on the last step he turned round and said to the judge, "Grant me just one request before I die."
"Yes — as long as you don't ask for your life," said the judge.
"I'm not asking for my life," answered the servant. "But as a last favour, let me play once more on my fiddle."
The Jew raised a great cry of "Murder! Murder! For goodness' sake don't allow it! Don't allow it!"
But the judge said, "Why shouldn't I let him have this short pleasure? It's been granted to him and he shall have it." And in any case he could not have refused, because of the gift that had been given to the servant.
Then the Jew cried, "Oh, woe is me! Tie me, tie me fast!"
Meanwhile the good servant took his fiddle from his neck and made ready. As he gave the first scrape, they all began to quiver and shake — the judge, his clerk, the hangman and his men; and the cord fell out of the hand of the one who was going to tie the Jew fast. At the second scrape they all raised their legs, and the hangman let go of the good servant and got himself ready to dance. At the third scrape they all leapt up and began to dance, the judge and the Jew being the best jumpers of them all.
Soon everybody who had gathered in the marketplace out of curiosity was dancing with them, old and young, fat and thin, one with another. The dogs that had run over got up on their hind legs and capered about too; and the longer he played, the higher the dancers sprang, until they knocked their heads together and began to shriek terribly.
At length the judge cried, quite out of breath, "I'll give you your life, if you'll only stop fiddling."
The good servant took pity on him, and took his fiddle and hung it round his neck again, and came down the ladder. Then he went up to the Jew, who was lying on the ground gasping for breath, and said, "You rascal, now confess where you got that money, or I'll take my fiddle and start playing again."
"I stole it, I stole it!" cried he. "But you've honestly earned it."
So the judge had the Jew taken to the gallows and hanged as a thief.
There was once a young fellow who had learned the locksmith's trade, and told his father he would now go out into the world and seek his fortune.
"Very well," said his father, "I'm quite content with that" — and gave him some money for the journey.
So he travelled about and looked for work. After a time he decided not to follow the locksmith's trade any more, for he had lost his liking for it; but he took a fancy to hunting.
Then on his wanderings he met a huntsman dressed in green, who asked where he came from and where he was going. The young man said he was a locksmith's apprentice, but that the trade no longer pleased him and he had a liking for huntsmanship; would he teach it to him?
"Oh, yes," said the huntsman, "if you'll come with me."
So the young fellow went with him, bound himself to him for some years, and learned the art of hunting. After that he wanted to try his luck elsewhere; and the huntsman gave him nothing by way of payment but an air gun, which had this property, though: that it hit its mark without fail whenever he shot with it.
Then he set out, and found himself in a very large forest that he could not get to the end of in a day. When evening came he sat himself up in a high tree to be out of reach of the wild beasts. Towards midnight it seemed to him that a tiny little light was glimmering in the distance. So he looked down through the branches towards it, and fixed firmly in his mind where it was. But first of all he took off his hat and threw it down in the direction of the light, so that when he had climbed down he could go to the hat as a marker. Then he got down and went to his hat, put it on again, and went straight on.
The further he went, the bigger the light grew; and when he got close to it he saw that it was an enormous fire, with three giants sitting by it, who had an ox on a spit and were roasting it.
Presently one of them said, "I must just taste whether the meat will soon be fit to eat" — and pulled a piece off, and was about to put it in his mouth when the huntsman shot it out of his hand.
"Well, really," said the giant, "if the wind hasn't blown the bit out of my hand!" — and helped himself to another. But just as he was about to bite into it, the huntsman shot it away from him again.
At this the giant gave the one sitting next to him a box on the ear, and cried angrily, "Why are you snatching my piece away from me?"
"I haven't snatched it away," said the other. "Some sharpshooter must have shot it away from you."
The giant took another piece, but he could not keep it in his hand either, for the huntsman shot it out. Then the giant said, "That must be a good shot, to shoot the bit out of a man's very mouth. Somebody like that would be useful to us." And he called out loudly, "Come here, sharpshooter! Sit down by the fire beside us and eat your fill. We won't hurt you. But if you won't come, and we have to bring you by force, you're a lost man."
At this the young man went up to them and told them he was a skilled huntsman, and that whatever he aimed his gun at, he was sure to hit.
Then they said that if he would come with them he should be well treated; and they told him that outside the forest there was a great lake, and behind it stood a tower, and in the tower was a lovely princess shut up, whom they very much wanted to carry off.
"Yes," said he, "I'll soon get her for you."
Then they added, "But there's something else. There's a tiny little dog that starts barking the moment anybody comes near; and as soon as it barks, everybody in the royal palace wakes up. That's why we can't get in. Can you undertake to shoot it dead?"
"Yes," said he, "that will be a bit of fun for me."
After this he got into a boat and rowed across the lake; and as soon as he landed the little dog came running out and was about to bark, but the huntsman took his air gun and shot it dead.
When the giants saw that they rejoiced, and thought they had the King's daughter safe already; but the huntsman wanted first to see how things stood, and told them they must stay outside until he called them.
Then he went into the castle, and inside all was perfectly quiet and everybody was asleep. When he opened the door of the first room, there was a sword hanging on the wall made of pure silver, with a golden star on it and the King's name; and on a table near it lay a sealed letter, which he broke open, and inside it was written that whoever had the sword could kill everything that opposed him. So he took the sword down from the wall, hung it at his side and went on.
Then he came into the room where the King's daughter lay sleeping; and she was so beautiful that he stood still and held his breath and looked at her. He thought to himself, "How can I hand an innocent girl over to those wild giants, who have evil in their minds?"
He looked further about him; and under the bed stood a pair of slippers, with her father's name and a star on the right one and her own name and a star on the left. She was wearing a great silk neckerchief embroidered with gold, and on the right side was her father's name and on the left her own, all in golden letters.
So the huntsman took a pair of scissors and cut the right corner off it and put it in his knapsack; and then he took the right slipper too, with the King's name on it, and pushed that in. And the girl still lay sleeping; and she was sewn right into her nightdress, and he cut a piece from that as well and pushed it in with the rest — but he did it all without touching her. Then he went out and left her lying asleep and undisturbed.
And when he came back to the gate, the giants were still standing outside waiting for him, expecting that he was bringing the princess. But he called to them to come in, since the girl was already in their power; and said that he could not open the gate to them, but there was a hole they must creep through.
So the first came up; and the huntsman wound the giant's hair round his hand, pulled his head through, and cut it off at one stroke with his sword, and then dragged the rest of him in. He called the second and cut his head off likewise, and then he killed the third as well.
And he was well pleased that he had freed the beautiful girl from her enemies; and he cut out the giants' tongues and put them in his knapsack. Then he thought, "I'll go home to my father and let him see what I've done already, and after that I'll travel about the world. The luck God is pleased to grant me will find me easily enough."
But when the King in the castle woke up, he saw the three giants lying there dead. So he went into his daughter's bedroom and woke her and asked who could have killed the giants.
Then she said, "Dear father, I don't know. I was asleep."
But when she got up and went to put on her slippers, the right one was gone; and when she looked at her neckerchief it was cut, and the right corner was missing; and when she looked at her nightdress a piece was cut out of it.
The King called his whole court together, soldiers and everybody else who was there, and asked who had set his daughter free and killed the giants. Now it happened that he had a captain who was one-eyed and a hideous man, and he said that he had done it. So the old King said that as he had accomplished it, he should marry his daughter.
But the girl said, "Rather than marry him, dear father, I'll go away into the world as far as my legs will carry me."
But the King said that if she would not marry him, she should take off her royal clothes and wear peasant's clothing and go out; and that she should go to a potter and start a trade in earthenware pots.
So she took off her royal clothes and went to a potter and borrowed enough crockery for a stall, and promised him too that if she sold it by the evening she would pay him for it. Then the King said she was to sit down in a corner with it and sell it; and he arranged with some peasants to drive their carts over it, so that everything would be broken into a thousand pieces.
So when the King's daughter had set out her stall in the street, along came the carts and broke everything she had into tiny fragments. She began to weep and said, "Alas, how shall I ever pay for the pots now?"
The King had meant by this to force her into marrying the captain; but instead she went to the potter again and asked whether he would lend to her once more. He said no; she must first pay for the things she had already had.
Then she went to her father and cried and lamented, and said she would go out into the world.
Then he said, "I'll have a little hut built for you out in the forest, and you shall stay in it all your life long and cook for everybody — but you shall take no money for it."
When the hut was ready, a sign was hung on the door with these words on it: "Today given, tomorrow sold."
She stayed there a long time, and word went about the world that there was a girl there who cooked without asking for payment, and that this was set out on a sign outside her door. The huntsman heard it too, and thought to himself, "That would suit you. You're poor, and you have no money."
So he took his air gun and his knapsack — in which all the things he had carried away from the castle as proofs of his honesty were still lying — and went into the forest and found the hut with its sign, "Today given, tomorrow sold." He had put on the sword he had cut off the three giants' heads with, and so he went into the hut and asked to be given something to eat.
He was charmed by the beautiful girl, who was indeed as lovely as a picture. She asked him where he came from and where he was going, and he said, "I'm roaming about the world."
Then she asked him where he had got the sword, since her father's name was on it. He asked her whether she was the King's daughter.
"Yes," she answered.
"With this sword," said he, "I cut off the heads of three giants." And he took their tongues out of his knapsack as proof. Then he showed her the slipper too, and the corner of the neckerchief and the piece of the nightdress.
At this she was overjoyed, and said that he was the man who had delivered her.
So the two of them went to the old King and brought him back to the hut; and she led him into her room and told him that the huntsman was the man who had really freed her from the giants. And when the old King saw all the proofs of it, he could doubt no longer, and said he was very glad to know how it had all happened, and that the huntsman should have her for a wife; at which the girl was glad at heart.
Then she dressed the huntsman up as though he were a foreign lord, and the King ordered a feast to be prepared. When they went to table, the captain sat on the left side of the King's daughter and the huntsman on the right; and the captain thought he was a foreign lord who had come on a visit.
When they had eaten and drunk, the old King said to the captain that he would set him something to guess. "Suppose somebody said that he had killed three giants, and he were asked where the giants' tongues were, and he were made to go and look, and there were none in their heads — how could that happen?"
The captain said, "Then they can't have had any."
"Not so," said the King. "Every animal has a tongue." And then he asked as well what a man would deserve who gave such an answer.
The captain replied, "He ought to be torn to pieces."
Then the King said he had pronounced his own sentence; and the captain was put in prison and then torn into four pieces. But the King's daughter was married to the huntsman.
After this he fetched his father and mother, and they lived with their son in happiness; and after the old King's death he received the kingdom.
A countryman was once going out to plough with a pair of oxen. When he got to the field, both the animals' horns began to grow, and went on growing; and when he wanted to go home they were so big that the oxen could not get through the gateway for them.
By good luck a butcher came by just then, and he handed them over to him, and made the bargain this way: that he should bring the butcher a measure of turnip seed, and then the butcher was to count him out a Brabant thaler for every seed. Now, I call that well sold.
The peasant went home and carried the measure of turnip seed to him on his back. On the way, though, he lost one seed out of the bag. The butcher paid him fairly, as agreed; and if the peasant had not lost that seed he would have had one thaler more.
Meanwhile, as he went back along the road, the seed had grown into a tree that reached right up to the sky. Then the peasant thought, "Since you have the chance, you must just see what the angels up there are doing, and have them before your eyes for once."
So he climbed up, and saw that the angels up above were threshing oats, and he stood watching them. And while he was watching, he noticed that the tree he was standing on was beginning to sway. He peeped down and saw that somebody was just about to cut it down.
"It would be a bad business if I fell down from here," he thought. And in his need he could think of no better way to save himself than to take the chaff of the oats, which was lying about in heaps, and twist a rope out of it. He also grabbed a hoe and a flail that were lying about in heaven, and let himself down by the rope.
But he came down on earth exactly in the middle of a deep, deep hole. So it was a real piece of luck that he had brought the hoe, for he hoed himself a flight of steps with it and climbed up; and he took the flail with him as a token of his truthfulness, so that nobody could have any doubt about his story.
There was once a King who had a little boy about whom it had been foretold that he would be killed by a stag when he was sixteen years old. And when he had reached that age, the huntsmen went hunting with him one day.
In the forest the King's son was separated from the others, and all at once he saw a great stag that he wanted to shoot but could not hit. At length he chased the stag so far that they were right out of the forest; and then suddenly a great tall man was standing there instead of the stag, and said, "It's a good thing I've got you. I've already worn out six pairs of glass skates running after you, and never managed to catch you."
Then he took the King's son with him and dragged him through a great lake to a great palace, and then he had to sit down at table with him and eat something.
When they had eaten together, the King said, "I have three daughters. You must keep watch over the eldest for one night, from nine in the evening till six in the morning; and every time the clock strikes I'll come myself and call. If you give me no answer, tomorrow morning you shall be put to death; but if you always give me an answer, you shall have her for your wife."
When the young people went to the bedroom, there stood a stone image of St. Christopher, and the King's daughter said to it, "My father will come at nine o'clock, and every hour until it strikes three. When he calls, answer him instead of the King's son."
Then the stone image of St. Christopher nodded its head quite quickly, and then more and more slowly, until at last it stood still.
Next morning the King said to him, "You've done the business well; but I can't give my daughter away. Now you must watch a night by my second daughter, and then I'll consider with myself whether you can have my eldest daughter for a wife. But I shall come every hour myself; and when I call you, answer me — and if I call you and you don't reply, your blood shall flow."
Then they both went into the bedroom, and there stood a still larger stone image of St. Christopher, and the King's daughter said to it, "If my father calls, you answer him."
Then the great stone image of St. Christopher again nodded its head quite quickly, and then more and more slowly, until at last it stood still again. And the King's son lay down on the threshold, put his hand under his head and slept.
Next morning the King said to him, "You've done the business really well; but I can't give my daughter away. Now you must watch a night by the youngest princess, and then I'll consider with myself whether you can have my second daughter for a wife. But I shall come every hour myself; and when I call you, answer me — and if I call you and you don't answer, your blood shall flow for me."
So they went to the bedroom together once more, and there was a much greater and much taller image of St. Christopher than either of the first two. The King's daughter said to it, "When my father calls, you answer."
Then the great tall stone image of St. Christopher nodded its head for a good half hour, until at length the head stood still again. And the King's son lay down on the threshold of the door and slept.
Next morning the King said, "You've watched well indeed; but I can't give you my daughter yet. I have a great forest. If you cut it down for me between six o'clock this morning and six tonight, I'll think about it."
Then he gave him a glass axe, a glass wedge and a glass mallet. When he got into the wood he began cutting at once, but the axe broke in two. Then he took the wedge and struck it once with the mallet, and it crumbled as short and as small as sand.
Then he was greatly troubled and believed he would have to die, and sat down and wept.
Now when it was noon the King said, "One of you girls must take him something to eat."
"No," said the two eldest. "We won't take it to him. The one he watched by last can take him something."
So the youngest had to go and take him something to eat. When she got into the forest she asked him how he was getting on.
"Oh," said he, "I'm getting on very badly."
Then she said he was to come and just eat a little.
"No," said he, "I can't do that. I shall have to die anyway, so I'll eat no more."
But she spoke so kindly to him and begged him just to try, that he came and ate something.
When he had eaten, she said, "I'll comb your hair a while, and then you'll feel happier."
So she combed his hair, and he grew drowsy and fell asleep. And then she took her handkerchief and made a knot in it and struck it three times on the earth, and said, "Earth-workers, come out."
In a moment numbers of little earth-men came out, and asked what the King's daughter commanded. Then she said, "In three hours' time the great forest must be cut down, and the whole of the wood laid in heaps."
So the little earth-men went about and gathered all their kindred together to help them with the work. They began at once; and when the three hours were over it was all done, and they came back to the King's daughter and told her so.
Then she took her white handkerchief again and said, "Earth-workers, go home." At which they all disappeared.
When the King's son woke he was delighted, and she said, "Come home when it's struck six o'clock." He did as she told him; and then the King asked, "Have you done away with the forest?"
"Yes," said the King's son.
When they were sitting at table, the King said, "I can't give you my daughter for a wife yet. You must do something more for her sake."
So he asked what it was to be, then.
"I have a great fishpond," said the King. "You must go to it tomorrow morning and clear all the mud out of it until it's as bright as a mirror, and fill it with every kind of fish."
Next morning the King gave him a glass shovel and said, "The fishpond must be done by six o'clock."
So he went off; and when he came to the fishpond he stuck his shovel into the mud and it broke in two; then he stuck his hoe into the mud, and broke that as well. Then he was greatly troubled.
At noon the youngest daughter brought him something to eat, and asked him how he was getting on. So the King's son said that everything was going very badly for him and he would certainly lose his head. "My tools have broken to pieces again."
"Oh," said she, "just come and eat something, and then you'll be in a different frame of mind."
"No," said he, "I can't eat. I'm far too unhappy for that."
But she gave him so many good words that at last he came and ate something. Then she combed his hair again and he fell asleep; and once more she took her handkerchief and tied a knot in it and struck the ground three times with the knot, and said, "Earth-workers, come out."
In a moment a great many little earth-men came and asked what she wanted; and she told them that in three hours' time the fishpond must be entirely cleaned out, and so clear that people could see themselves reflected in it, and every kind of fish must be in it.
The little earth-men went away and called all their kindred to help them, and in two hours it was done. Then they came back to her and said, "We've done as you commanded."
The King's daughter took the handkerchief and struck the ground three times with it once more, and said, "Earth-workers, go home again." Then they all went away.
When the King's son woke, the fishpond was finished. Then the King's daughter went away too, telling him that he was to come to the house at six. When he got to the house the King asked, "Have you got the fishpond done?"
"Yes," said the King's son. That was very good.
When they were sitting at table again the King said, "You've certainly done the fishpond; but I can't give you my daughter yet. You must just do one more thing."
"What's that, then?" asked the King's son.
The King said he had a great mountain with nothing on it but briars, which must all be cut down; and at the top of it the young man must build a great castle, as strong as anybody could imagine, and all the furniture and fittings belonging to a castle must be inside it.
And when he got up next morning, the King gave him a glass axe and a glass gimlet, and he was to have it all done by six o'clock.
As he was cutting down the first briar with the axe it snapped off short, and into pieces so small that they flew all round about; and he could not use the gimlet either. Then he was quite miserable, and waited for his dearest to see whether she would not come and help him in his need.
At midday she came and brought him something to eat. He went to meet her and told her everything, and ate something, and let her comb his hair, and fell asleep.
Then once more she took the knot and struck the earth with it and said, "Earth-workers, come out!" And once again numbers of earth-men came and asked what she wanted.
Then she said, "Within three hours the whole of the briars must be cut down, and a castle must be built on the top of the mountain, as strong as anybody could imagine, and all the furniture that belongs to a castle must be inside it."
They went away and called their kindred to help them; and when the time came it was all ready. Then they came to the King's daughter and told her so; and the King's daughter took her handkerchief and struck the earth three times with it and said, "Earth-workers, go home" — at which they all disappeared.
So when the King's son woke and saw everything done, he was as happy as a bird in the air.
When it had struck six they went home together. Then the King said, "Is the castle ready?"
"Yes," said the King's son.
When they sat down at table the King said, "I can't give my youngest daughter away until the two eldest are married."
Then the King's son and the King's daughter were quite dismayed, and the King's son had no idea what to do. But he went by night to the King's daughter and ran away with her.
When they had got a little distance off, the King's daughter looked round and saw her father behind them. "Oh," said she, "what are we to do? My father is behind us and will take us back with him. I'll change you at once into a briar and myself into a rose, and I'll shelter in the middle of the bush."
When her father reached the place, there stood a briar with one rose on it; and he was about to pick the rose when a thorn came and pricked his finger, so that he had to go home again.
His wife asked why he had not brought their daughter back with him. So he said he had nearly caught up with her, but that all at once he had lost sight of her, and a briar with one rose on it was growing on the spot.
Then the Queen said, "If you'd only picked the rose, the briar would have had to come too."
So he went back again to fetch the rose; but meanwhile the two of them were already far out over the plain, and the King ran after them.
Then the daughter looked round once more and saw her father coming, and said, "Oh, what shall we do now? I'll change you this instant into a church and myself into a priest, and I'll stand up in the pulpit and preach."
When the King got to the place, there stood a church, and in the pulpit was a priest preaching. So he listened to the sermon and then went home again.
Then the Queen asked why he had not brought their daughter with him, and he said, "No — I ran after her a long time; and just as I thought I should soon overtake her, a church was standing there and a priest was in the pulpit preaching."
"You should just have brought the priest," said his wife, "and then the church would soon have come. It's no use sending you. I must go there myself."
When she had walked for a while and could see the two of them in the distance, the King's daughter looked round and saw her mother coming, and said, "Now we're undone, for my mother is coming herself. I'll change you this instant into a fishpond and myself into a fish."
When her mother came to the place, there was a large fishpond, and in the middle of it a fish was leaping about and peeping out of the water, quite merrily. She tried to catch the fish, but she could not. Then she was very angry, and drank up the whole pond in order to catch the fish; but it made her so ill that she had to be sick, and she brought the whole pond up again.
Then she cried, "I can see very well that nothing can be done now" — and said that they might come back to her.
So the King's daughter went back; and the Queen gave her daughter three walnuts and said, "With these you can help yourself when you're in your greatest need."
So the young people went away together once more. And when they had walked a good ten miles, they came to the castle the King's son had come from, and close beside it was a village.
When they reached it, the King's son said, "Stay here, my dearest. I'll just go up to the castle, and then I'll come with a carriage and attendants to fetch you."
When he got to the castle they were all overjoyed to have the King's son back again; and he told them that he had a bride who was in the village now, and they must go with the carriage to fetch her. So they harnessed the horses at once, and a great many attendants took their places outside the carriage.
But as the King's son was about to get in, his mother gave him a kiss — and he forgot everything that had happened, and what he was about to do as well. At this his mother ordered the horses to be taken out of the carriage again, and everybody went back into the house.
But the girl sat in the village and watched and watched, and thought he would come and fetch her; and nobody came. Then the King's daughter took service at the mill belonging to the castle, and had to sit by the pond every afternoon and clean the tubs.
And one day the Queen came down on foot from the castle and went walking by the pond, and saw the well-grown girl sitting there, and said, "What a fine strong girl that is! She pleases me well." Then she and everybody with her looked at the girl, but nobody knew her.
So a long time went by, and the girl served the miller honourably and faithfully.
Meanwhile the Queen had found a wife for her son, who came from a quite distant part of the world. When the bride arrived, they were to be married at once; and a great many people came hurrying together, all of whom wanted to see everything.
Then the girl asked the miller if he would be so good as to give her leave to go too. So the miller said, "Yes, do go."
When she was about to go she opened one of the three walnuts, and a beautiful dress lay inside it. She put it on, and went into the church and stood by the altar.
Presently the bride and bridegroom came and sat down in front of the altar; and just as the priest was about to bless them, the bride glanced half round and saw the girl standing there. Then she stood up again and said she would not be given away until she had as beautiful a dress as that lady's.
So they went back to the house again and sent to ask the lady whether she would sell that dress. No, she would not sell it — but the bride might perhaps earn it. Then the bride asked how she was to do that. And the girl said that if she might sleep one night outside the King's son's door, the bride might have what she wanted. So the bride said yes, she was willing to do that.
But the servants were ordered to give the King's son a sleeping draught; and then the girl lay down on the threshold and lamented all night long. She had had the forest cut down for him; she had had the fishpond cleaned out for him; she had had the castle built for him; she had changed him into a briar, and then into a church, and at last into a fishpond — and yet he had forgotten her so quickly.
The King's son did not hear one word of it; but the servants had woken up and had listened to it, and did not know what it could mean.
Next morning, when they were all up, the bride put on the dress and went off to the church with the bridegroom. Meanwhile the girl opened the second walnut, and a still more beautiful dress was inside it. She put it on, and went and stood by the altar in the church, and everything happened as it had the time before.
And again the girl lay all night on the threshold leading to the King's son's room, and the servant was once more to give him a sleeping draught. The servant, though, went to him and gave him something to keep him awake; and then the King's son went to bed, and the miller's girl lamented as before on the threshold of the door and told of everything she had done.
The King's son heard it all, and was sorely troubled, and everything that was past came back to him. Then he wanted to go to her, but his mother had locked the door.
Next morning, though, he went straight to his beloved and told her everything that had happened to him, and begged her not to be angry with him for having forgotten her.
Then the King's daughter opened the third walnut, and inside it was a still more magnificent dress. She put it on and went with her bridegroom to church; and crowds of children came and gave them flowers and offered them gay ribbons to tie round their feet; and they were blessed by the priest and had a merry wedding.
But the false mother and the bride had to go away.
And the mouth of the person who told all this last is still warm.
There was once a princess who was extremely proud. If a suitor came, she set him some riddle to guess; and if he could not find it out, he was sent contemptuously away. She had it made known, too, that whoever solved her riddle should marry her, whoever he might be.
At length three tailors fell in with each other. The two eldest thought that they had brought off so many clever bits of work successfully that they could not fail to succeed at this as well; the third was a useless little vagabond who did not even know his trade, but thought he must have some luck coming in this venture — for where else was it to come from?
Then the other two said to him, "Just stay at home. You won't get far with your little bit of understanding."
But the little tailor would not let himself be discouraged, and said he had set his mind to work on this for once, and he would manage well enough; and off he went as if the whole world belonged to him.
All three of them announced themselves to the princess, and said she was to set them her riddle, and that the right men had come now, with understandings so fine that they could be threaded through a needle.
Then the princess said, "I have two kinds of hair on my head. What colour are they?"
"If that's all," said the first, "they must be black and white, like the cloth they call pepper and salt."
The princess said, "Wrongly guessed. Let the second answer."
Then the second said, "If they're not black and white, then they're brown and red, like my father's best coat."
"Wrongly guessed," said the princess. "Let the third give the answer, for I can see very well that he knows it for certain."
Then the little tailor stepped boldly forward and said, "The princess has one silver hair and one gold hair on her head, and those are the two different colours."
When the princess heard that she turned pale and nearly fell down with terror, for the little tailor had guessed her riddle, and she had firmly believed that no man on earth could find it out.
When her courage came back she said, "You haven't won me yet by that. There's still something else you must do. Down in the stable is a bear, and you shall spend the night with it; and when I get up in the morning, if you're still alive, you shall marry me."
She expected to be rid of the tailor this way, for the bear had never yet left anybody alive who had fallen into his clutches.
The little tailor did not let himself be frightened off, but was quite delighted, and said, "Boldly ventured is half won."
So when evening came, our little tailor was taken down to the bear. The bear was about to go for the little fellow at once and give him a hearty welcome with his paws.
"Gently, gently," said the little tailor. "I'll soon quiet you down." And quite calmly, as if he had not a care in the world, he took some nuts out of his pocket, cracked them and ate the kernels.
When the bear saw that, he was seized with a longing to have some nuts as well. The tailor felt in his pockets and handed him a handful; but they were not nuts, they were pebbles. The bear put them in his mouth, but could get nothing out of them, bite as he would.
"Eh," he thought, "what a stupid blockhead I am! I can't even crack a nut." And then he said to the tailor, "Here, crack me the nuts."
"There, see what a stupid fellow you are," said the little tailor, "to have such a great mouth and not be able to crack a little nut!" And he took the pebble and nimbly put a nut in his mouth in its place — and crack, it was in two.
"I must try the thing again," said the bear. "When I watch you doing it, I think I ought to be able to do it too."
So the tailor gave him another pebble, and the bear tried and tried to bite into it with all the strength in his body. But nobody will suppose that he managed it.
When that was over, the tailor took a violin out from under his coat and played himself a tune on it. When the bear heard the music he could not help beginning to dance; and when he had danced a while the thing pleased him so much that he said to the little tailor, "Listen — is a fiddle heavy?"
"Light enough for a child. Look: with my left hand I lay my fingers on it, and with my right I stroke it with the bow, and then it goes merrily, hop sa sa vivallalera!"
"So," said the bear. "Fiddling is a thing I should like to understand too, so that I could dance whenever I felt like it. What do you say to that? Will you give me lessons?"
"With all my heart," said the tailor, "if you have a talent for it. But just let me see your claws — they're terribly long. I must cut your nails a little."
So a vice was brought, and the bear put his claws in it, and the little tailor screwed it up tight and said, "Now wait until I come with the scissors" — and he let the bear growl as much as he liked, and lay down in the corner on a bundle of straw and fell asleep.
When the princess heard the bear growling so fiercely in the night, she believed nothing else than that he was growling for joy, and had made an end of the tailor. In the morning she got up carefree and happy; but when she peeped into the stable, there stood the tailor in front of her looking cheerful, and as healthy as a fish in water.
Now she could not say another word against the wedding, because she had given her promise in front of everybody; and the King ordered a carriage to be brought for her to drive to church in with the tailor, and there she was to be married.
When they had got into the carriage, the two other tailors, who had false hearts and envied him his good luck, went into the stable and unscrewed the bear again. The bear ran after the carriage in a great fury. The princess heard him snorting and growling; she was terrified, and cried, "Ah, the bear is behind us and wants to get you!"
The tailor was quick. He stood on his head, stuck his legs out of the window and cried, "Do you see this vice? If you don't be off, you'll be put in it again."
When the bear saw that, he turned round and ran away. The tailor drove quietly on to church; and the princess was married to him at once, and he lived with her as happy as a lark.
Whoever doesn't believe this must pay a thaler.
A tailor's apprentice was travelling about the world looking for work; and at one time he could find none, and his poverty was so great that he had not a farthing to live on.
Presently he met a Jew on the road; and as he thought he would have a great deal of money on him, the tailor thrust God out of his heart, fell on the Jew, and said, "Give me your money, or I'll strike you dead."
Then the Jew said, "Grant me my life; I have no money, only eight farthings."
But the tailor said, "You have money, and it shall be produced" — and used violence and beat him until he was near death. And when the Jew was dying, the last words he said were, "The bright sun will bring it to light." And with that he died.
The tailor's apprentice felt in his pockets and searched for money, but he found nothing except eight farthings, exactly as the Jew had said. Then he picked him up and carried him behind a clump of trees, and went on to look for work.
After he had travelled about a long while he got work in a town, with a master who had a pretty daughter, whom he fell in love with and married; and he lived in good and happy wedlock.
After a long time, when he and his wife had two children, the wife's father and mother died, and the young people kept house alone.
One morning, when the husband was sitting on the table in front of the window, his wife brought him his coffee; and when he had poured it out into the saucer and was just about to drink, the sun shone on it, and the reflection gleamed to and fro on the wall above and made circles on it.
Then the tailor looked up and said, "Yes — it would very much like to bring it to light, and it can't."
His wife said, "Oh, my dear husband, and what's that, then? What do you mean by it?"
He answered, "I mustn't tell you."
But she said, "If you love me, you must tell me" — and used her most affectionate words, and said that nobody should ever know it, and gave him no rest.
Then he told her how, years ago, when he was travelling about looking for work and was quite worn out and penniless, he had killed a Jew; and that in his last agonies the Jew had spoken the words, "The bright sun will bring it to light." And now the sun had wanted to bring it to light, and had gleamed and made circles on the wall, and had not been able to do it.
After this he charged her again, most particularly, never to tell it, or he would lose his life; and she did promise.
But when he had sat down to work again, she went to her closest friend and confided the story to her — but she was never to repeat it to any living soul. And within two days the whole town knew it, and the tailor was brought to trial and condemned.
And so, after all, the bright sun did bring it to light.
There was once a soldier who had served the King faithfully for many years; but when the war came to an end he could serve no longer, because of the many wounds he had received.
The King said to him, "You may go home. I don't need you any more, and you won't get any more money; for only the man who does me service gets wages from me."
So the soldier did not know how to earn a living, and went away greatly troubled, and walked the whole day, until in the evening he came into a forest.
When darkness came on he saw a light, and went towards it, and came to a house where a witch lived. "Do give me a night's lodging and a little to eat and drink," he said to her, "or I shall starve."
"Oho," she answered, "who gives anything to a runaway soldier? Still, I'll be merciful and take you in — if you'll do what I want."
"What do you want?" said the soldier.
"That you dig all round my garden for me tomorrow."
The soldier agreed, and next day laboured with all his strength, but could not finish it by evening.
"I can see well enough," said the witch, "that you can do no more today. But I'll keep you another night; and in payment you must chop me a load of wood tomorrow, and chop it small."
The soldier spent the whole day doing it; and in the evening the witch proposed that he should stay one more night.
"Tomorrow you shall do me only a very trifling piece of work. Behind my house there's an old dry well, and my light has fallen into it; it burns blue and never goes out, and you shall bring it up again for me."
Next day the old woman took him to the well and let him down in a basket. He found the blue light and signalled to her to draw him up again. She did draw him up; but when he came near the edge she stretched down her hand and tried to take the blue light away from him.
"No," said he, seeing her evil intention. "I won't give you the light until I'm standing with both feet on the ground."
The witch flew into a rage, let him down into the well again and went away.
The poor soldier fell without hurting himself on the damp ground, and the blue light went on burning — but what use was that to him? He saw very well that he could not escape death. He sat there for a while, very sorrowful; and then suddenly he felt in his pocket and found his tobacco pipe, still half full.
"This shall be my last pleasure," he thought — and pulled it out, lit it at the blue light and began to smoke.
When the smoke had circled about the cavern, a little black dwarf suddenly stood in front of him and said, "Lord, what are your commands?"
"What commands should I have to give you?" replied the soldier, quite astonished.
"I must do everything you tell me," said the little man.
"Good," said the soldier. "Then in the first place, help me out of this well."
The little man took him by the hand and led him through an underground passage — but he did not forget to take the blue light with him. On the way the dwarf showed him the treasures the witch had gathered and hidden there, and the soldier took as much gold as he could carry.
When he was up above, he said to the little man, "Now go and tie up the old witch and carry her before the judge."
In a short time she came riding by with frightful cries, as swift as the wind, on a wild tomcat; and it was not long after that before the little man reappeared.
"It's all done," said he. "The witch is hanging on the gallows already. What further commands has my lord?"
"For the moment, none," answered the soldier. "You can go home; only be at hand at once if I call you."
"Nothing more is needed than that you light your pipe at the blue light, and I'll appear before you at once."
And with that he vanished from his sight.
The soldier went back to the town he had come from. He went to the best inn, ordered himself handsome clothes, and then told the landlord to furnish him a room as handsomely as possible. When it was ready and the soldier had taken possession of it, he summoned the little black man and said, "I served the King faithfully, and he dismissed me and left me to go hungry; and now I mean to take my revenge."
"What am I to do?" asked the little man.
"Late at night, when the King's daughter is in bed, bring her here in her sleep. She shall do servant's work for me."
The little man said, "That's an easy thing for me to do, but a very dangerous thing for you; for if it's discovered, it will go badly with you."
When twelve o'clock had struck, the door sprang open and the little man carried the princess in.
"Aha! Are you there?" cried the soldier. "Get to your work at once! Fetch the broom and sweep the room."
When she had done that, he ordered her to come to his chair; and then he stretched out his feet and said, "Pull off my boots for me" — and then he threw them in her face and made her pick them up again and clean them and polish them. And she did everything he told her, without resistance, silently, with her eyes half shut.
When the first cock crowed, the little man carried her back to the royal palace and laid her in her bed.
Next morning, when the princess got up, she went to her father and told him that she had had a very strange dream. "I was carried through the streets as fast as lightning," said she, "and taken into a soldier's room, and I had to wait on him like a servant, and sweep his room and clean his boots and do all kinds of menial work. It was only a dream, and yet I'm just as tired as if I'd really done it all."
"The dream may have been true," said the King. "I'll give you a piece of advice. Fill your pocket full of peas and make a small hole in it; and then if you're carried away again, they'll fall out and leave a trail in the streets."
But unseen by the King, the little man was standing beside him as he said it, and heard everything. And at night, when the sleeping princess was carried through the streets again, some peas certainly did fall out of her pocket — but they made no trail, for the crafty little man had scattered peas in every street in the town just beforehand. And again the princess was made to do servant's work until cockcrow.
Next morning the King sent his people out to look for the trail; but it was all in vain, for in every street poor children were sitting picking up peas and saying, "It must have rained peas last night."
"We must think of something else," said the King. "Keep your shoes on when you go to bed; and before you come back from the place they take you to, hide one of them there. I'll soon manage to find it."
The black dwarf heard this plan; and at night, when the soldier again ordered him to bring the princess, he told him about it, and said that he knew of no way to counter this stratagem, and that if the shoe were found in the soldier's house it would go badly with him.
"Do what I tell you," replied the soldier. And so this third night the princess had to work like a servant again; but before she went away she hid her shoe under the bed.
Next morning the King had the whole town searched for his daughter's shoe. It was found at the soldier's; and the soldier himself, who had gone outside the gate at the dwarf's urging, was soon brought back and thrown into prison. In his flight he had forgotten the most valuable things he had, the blue light and the gold, and had only one ducat in his pocket.
And now, loaded with chains, he was standing at the window of his cell when he happened to see one of his old comrades going by. The soldier tapped on the pane; and when the man came up, he said to him, "Be so kind as to fetch me the little bundle I've left lying at the inn, and I'll give you a ducat for it."
His comrade ran there and brought him what he wanted. And as soon as the soldier was alone again he lit his pipe and summoned the black dwarf.
"Have no fear," said the dwarf to his master. "Go wherever they take you and let them do what they will — only take the blue light with you."
Next day the soldier was tried; and although he had done nothing wicked, the judge condemned him to death. When he was led out to die, he begged one last favour of the King.
"What is it?" asked the King.
"That I may smoke one more pipe on the way."
"You may smoke three," answered the King, "but don't imagine that I'll spare your life."
Then the soldier pulled out his pipe and lit it at the blue light; and as soon as a few wreaths of smoke had risen, the little man was there with a small cudgel in his hand, and said, "What does my lord command?"
"Strike that false judge to the ground, and his constable — and don't spare the King, who has treated me so badly."
Then the little man fell on them like lightning, darting this way and that; and whoever was so much as touched by his cudgel fell to the ground and did not dare stir again.
The King was terrified; he threw himself on the soldier's mercy, and merely to be allowed to live at all, gave him his kingdom for his own, and the princess for a wife.
Once upon a time there was a child who was wilful and would not do what her mother wanted. For this reason God took no pleasure in her, and let her fall ill; and no doctor could do her any good, and in a short time she lay on her deathbed.
When she had been lowered into her grave and the earth spread over her, all at once her arm came out again and stretched upwards; and when they had put it back in and spread fresh earth over it, it was all no use, for the arm always came out again.
Then the mother herself had to go to the grave and strike the arm with a rod; and when she had done that, it was drawn in, and then at last the child had rest beneath the ground.
Three army surgeons who thought they knew their art perfectly were travelling about the world, and they came to an inn where they wanted to spend the night. The landlord asked where they came from and where they were going.
"We're roaming about the world practising our art."
"Just show me for once what you can do," said the landlord.
Then the first said he would cut off his hand and put it back on early next morning; the second said he would tear out his heart and put it back next morning; the third said he would cut out his eyes and heal them again next morning.
"If you can do that," said the innkeeper, "you've learned everything there is."
But they had a salve they rubbed themselves with, which joined parts back together, and they always carried the little bottle it was in with them.
So they cut the hand and heart and eyes out of their bodies as they had said they would, and laid them all together on a plate and gave it to the innkeeper. The innkeeper gave it to a servant girl, who was to put it in the cupboard and take good care of it.
But the girl had a lover in secret, who was a soldier. So when the innkeeper and the three army surgeons and everybody else in the house were asleep, the soldier came and wanted something to eat. The girl opened the cupboard and brought him some food; and being in love she forgot to shut the cupboard door again. She sat down at the table beside her lover and they chattered away together.
And while she was sitting there so contentedly, thinking of no ill luck, the cat came creeping in and found the cupboard open, and took the hand and the heart and the eyes of the three army surgeons and ran off with them.
When the soldier had finished eating, and the girl was clearing the things away and going to shut the cupboard, she saw that the plate the innkeeper had given her to look after was empty.
Then she said to her lover in a fright, "Oh, wretched girl that I am, what shall I do? The hand is gone, and the heart and the eyes are gone too. What will become of me in the morning?"
"Be easy," said he. "I'll help you out of your trouble. There's a thief hanging outside on the gallows; I'll cut off his hand. Which hand was it?"
"The right one."
Then the girl gave him a sharp knife, and he went and cut the poor sinner's right hand off and brought it to her. After that he caught the cat and cut its eyes out; and now nothing was missing but the heart.
"Haven't you been killing pigs? Aren't there dead pigs in the cellar?" said he.
"Yes," said the girl.
"That's good," said the soldier — and he went down and fetched a pig's heart.
The girl put them all together on the plate and put it in the cupboard; and when her lover had taken his leave of her after this, she went quietly to bed.
In the morning, when the three army surgeons got up, they told the girl to bring them the plate with the hand and the heart and the eyes on it. So she brought it out of the cupboard; and the first fixed the thief's hand on and smeared it with his salve, and it grew onto his arm directly. The second took the cat's eyes and put them into his own head. The third fixed the pig's heart firmly in the place where his own had been. And the innkeeper stood by and admired their skill, and said that he had never seen such a thing done before, and would sing their praises and recommend them to everybody.
Then they paid their bill and travelled on.
As they went along their way, the one with the pig's heart would not stay with them at all, but wherever there was a corner he ran to it and rooted about in it with his nose, the way pigs do. The others tried to hold him back by the tail of his coat, but it was no use; he tore himself loose and ran wherever the dirt was thickest.
The second behaved very strangely as well. He rubbed his eyes and said to the others, "Comrades, what's the matter? I can't see at all. Will one of you lead me, so that I don't fall?"
So with difficulty they travelled on until the evening, when they reached another inn. They went into the bar together; and there at a table in the corner sat a rich man counting money. The one with the thief's hand walked round about him, made a sudden movement twice with his arm, and at last, when the stranger turned away, snatched at the pile of money and took a handful of it.
One of them saw this and said, "Comrade, what are you doing? You mustn't steal! Shame on you."
"Eh," said he, "but how can I stop myself? My hand twitches, and I'm forced to snatch at things whether I want to or not."
After this they lay down to sleep; and as they lay there it was so dark that nobody could see his own hand. All at once the one with the cat's eyes woke up and roused the others and said, "Brothers, just look up. Do you see the white mice running about there?"
The two sat up but could see nothing. Then he said, "Things aren't right with us. We haven't got our own back again. We must go back to the innkeeper — he's deceived us."
So next morning they went back and told the landlord that they had not got their own back again: that the first had a thief's hand, the second cat's eyes and the third a pig's heart.
The innkeeper said that the girl must be to blame for it, and was going to call her; but when she had seen the three of them coming she had run out by the back door, and had not come back.
Then the three said he must give them a great deal of money, or they would set his house on fire. He gave them what he had and whatever else he could get together, and the three went away with it. It was enough for the rest of their lives — but they would rather have had their own proper organs.
Seven Swabians were once together. The first was Master Schulz, the second Jackli, the third Marli, the fourth Jergli, the fifth Michal, the sixth Hans and the seventh Veitli. All seven of them had made up their minds to travel about the world, seek adventures and perform great deeds.
But so that they could go in safety and with weapons in their hands, they thought it would be sensible to have a single spear made for them, but a very strong and very long one. All seven of them took hold of this spear at once; in front walked the boldest and bravest, and that was Master Schulz; all the others followed in a row, and Veitli was last.
Now it happened one day in the haymaking month of July, when they had walked a long way and still had a long way to go before they reached the village they were to spend the night in, that as they were crossing a meadow in the twilight, a great beetle or hornet flew past them from behind a bush and hummed in a menacing manner.
Master Schulz was so terrified that he nearly dropped the spear, and a cold sweat broke out all over his body. "Listen! Listen!" he cried to his comrades. "Good heavens, I hear a drum!"
Jackli, who was behind him holding the spear, and who caught some kind of smell, said, "Something is certainly going on, for I can taste powder and matches."
At these words Master Schulz took to flight, and in a trice jumped over a hedge; but as he happened to land on the teeth of a rake that had been left lying there after the haymaking, the handle of it flew up and struck his face and gave him a tremendous blow.
"Oh dear! Oh dear!" screamed Master Schulz. "Take me prisoner! I surrender! I surrender!"
The other six all leapt over one on top of another, crying, "If you surrender, I surrender too! If you surrender, I surrender too!"
At length, as there was no enemy there to tie them up and take them away, they saw that they had been mistaken; and so that the story should not get about and they be treated as fools and laughed at, they all swore to each other to hold their peace about it, until one of them should let it out by accident.
Then they travelled on.
The second danger they came through cannot be compared with the first. Some days afterwards their path led them through a fallow field where a hare was sitting asleep in the sun. Her ears were standing straight up and her great glassy eyes were wide open.
They were all alarmed at the sight of this horrible wild beast, and consulted together about what would be the least dangerous thing to do. For if they ran away, they knew the monster would chase them and swallow them whole.
So they said, "We must go through a great and dangerous struggle. Boldly ventured is half won." And all seven grasped the spear, Master Schulz in front and Veitli behind. Master Schulz kept trying to hold the spear back; but Veitli had grown quite brave back there, and wanted to dash forward, and cried:
"Strike home, in every Swabian's name, or else I hope you go home lame."
But Hans knew how to answer that, and said:
"Thunder and lightning, it's fine to prate, but for dragon-hunting you're always late."
Michal cried:
"There's nothing missing, not even a hair; be sure the Devil himself is there."
Then it was Jergli's turn to speak:
"If it's not him, it's at least his mother, or else it's the Devil's own step-brother."
And now Marli had a bright idea, and said to Veitli:
"Advance there, Veitli, advance, advance, and I'll stay behind and hold the lance."
Veitli, though, paid no attention to that; and Jackli said:
"It's Schulz's place the first to be — nobody deserves that honour but he."
Then Master Schulz plucked up his courage and said gravely:
"Then let us boldly advance to the fight, and so we shall show our valour and might."
At this they all set on the dragon together. Master Schulz crossed himself and prayed for God's help; but as none of it did any good, and he was getting nearer and nearer to the enemy, he screamed, "Oho! Oho! Ho! Ho! Ho!" in the greatest anguish.
This woke the hare, which darted swiftly away in great alarm. And when Master Schulz saw her flying from the field of battle like that, he cried out in his joy:
"Quick, Veitli, quick, look there, look there — the monster's nothing but a hare!"
But the Swabian allies went off in search of further adventures, and came to the Moselle, a mossy, quiet, deep river with few bridges over it, which in many places people have to cross by boat.
As the seven Swabians did not know this, they called out to a man who was working on the opposite bank, to ask how people managed to get across. The distance and their way of speaking made the man unable to understand what they wanted, and he said "Wat? Wat?" — which is how people say "What?" in the country round Trier.
Master Schulz thought he was saying, "Wade, wade through the water"; and as he was the first, he set off and went into the Moselle. It was not long before he sank in the mud and the deep waves that drove against him. But his hat was blown to the opposite bank by the wind, and a frog sat down beside it and croaked, "Wat, wat, wat."
The other six on the near bank heard that and said, "Oho, comrades, Master Schulz is calling us. If he can wade across, why can't we?"
So they all jumped into the water together in a great hurry, and were drowned. And so one frog took the lives of all six of them, and not one of the Swabian allies ever reached home again.
There were once three apprentices who had agreed always to stay together on their travels and always to work in the same town. At one time, though, their masters had no more work to give them, so that at last they were in rags and had nothing to live on.
Then one of them said, "What shall we do? We can't stay here any longer. We'll travel on once more; and if we find no work in the town we go to, we'll arrange with the innkeeper there that we're to write and tell him where we're staying, so that we can always have news of one another; and then we'll separate."
That seemed best to the others too. They set out, and on the way they met a richly dressed man who asked who they were.
"We're apprentices looking for work. Up to now we've kept together, but if we can't find anything to do we're going to separate."
"There's no need for that," said the man. "If you'll do what I tell you, you shall want for neither gold nor work; indeed, you shall become great lords and drive about in your carriages."
One of them said, "If our souls and our salvation aren't endangered, we'll certainly do it."
"They won't be," replied the man. "I have no claim on you."
But one of the others had looked at his feet; and when he saw a horse's hoof and a man's foot, he wanted nothing to do with him. The Devil, though, said, "Be easy. I have no designs on you, but on another soul, which is half mine already, and whose measure has only to run full."
As they were safe now, they agreed; and the Devil told them what he wanted. The first was to answer, "All three of us," to every question; the second was to say, "For money"; and the third, "And quite right too!" They were always to say this, one after another; but they were not to say one word more. And if they disobeyed this order, all their money would disappear at once; but as long as they kept to it, their pockets would always be full.
To begin with, he gave them as much as they could carry there and then, and told them to go to such and such an inn when they got to the town.
They went there, and the innkeeper came to meet them and asked whether they wanted anything to eat.
The first replied, "All three of us."
"Yes," said the landlord, "that's what I mean."
The second said, "For money."
"Of course," said the landlord.
The third said, "And quite right too!"
"Certainly it's right," said the landlord.
Good food and drink were brought to them now, and they were well waited on. After dinner came the reckoning, and the innkeeper gave the bill to the one who said, "All three of us"; the second said, "For money"; and the third, "And quite right too!"
"Indeed it's right," said the landlord. "All three pay; and without money I can give nothing."
But they paid still more than he had asked.
The other guests, who were looking on, said, "These people must be mad."
"Yes, indeed they are," said the landlord. "They're not very wise."
So they stayed some time at the inn and said nothing else but "All three of us," "For money" and "And quite right too!" But they saw and knew everything that went on.
It happened that a great merchant came with a large sum of money, and said, "Landlord, take care of my money for me. There are three crazy apprentices here who might steal it from me."
The landlord did as he was asked. As he was carrying the trunk into his room he felt how heavy it was with gold. So he gave the three apprentices a lodging downstairs, but the merchant went up to a separate room.
When it was midnight, and the landlord thought that everybody was asleep, he came with his wife, and they had an axe, and they struck the rich merchant dead; and after they had murdered him they went back to bed.
When it was day there was a great outcry: the merchant lay dead in bed, bathed in blood. All the guests came running at once; but the landlord said, "The three crazy apprentices have done this" — and the other guests confirmed it and said, "It can have been nobody else."
The innkeeper, though, had them called in and said to them, "Did you kill the merchant?"
"All three of us," said the first.
"For money," said the second.
And the third added, "And quite right too!"
"There now, you hear," said the landlord. "They confess it themselves."
So they were taken to prison and were to be tried. When they saw that things were becoming so serious, they were afraid after all; but at night the Devil came and said, "Bear it just one day longer, and don't throw away your luck. Not a hair of your heads shall be hurt."
Next morning they were led into court, and the judge said, "Are you the murderers?"
"All three of us."
"Why did you kill the merchant?"
"For money."
"You wicked wretches, have you no horror of your sins?"
"And quite right too!"
"They've confessed and they're still defiant," said the judge. "Take them to their deaths at once."
So they were taken out, and the landlord had to go with them into the circle. And when they had been taken hold of by the executioner's men and were just about to be led up to the scaffold where the headsman stood with his naked sword, a coach drawn by four blood-red chestnut horses came up suddenly, driving so fast that sparks flew from the stones; and somebody made signs from the window with a white handkerchief.
Then the headsman said, "It's a pardon coming" — and "Pardon! Pardon!" was called from the carriage as well.
Then the Devil stepped out as a very noble gentleman, beautifully dressed, and said, "You three are innocent. You may speak now — make known what you've seen and heard."
Then the eldest said, "We didn't kill the merchant. The murderer is standing there in the circle" — and he pointed to the innkeeper. "In proof of it, go into his cellar, where many others he has killed are still hanging."
Then the judge sent the executioner's men there, and they found it was as the apprentices had said; and when they had told the judge of it, he had the innkeeper led up, and his head was cut off.
Then the Devil said to the three, "Now I have the soul I wanted; and you are free, and have money for the rest of your lives."
There was once a King's son who was no longer content to stay at home in his father's house; and as he was afraid of nothing, he thought, "I'll go out into the wide world. Time won't hang heavy on me there, and I shall see wonders enough."
So he took leave of his parents and went out, on and on from morning till night; and whichever way his path led, it was all the same to him.
It happened that he came to a giant's house; and as he was so tired, he sat down by the door and rested. And as he let his eyes wander here and there, he saw the giant's playthings lying in the yard. They were a couple of enormous balls and skittles as tall as a man.
After a while he took a fancy to set the skittles up, and then rolled the balls at them, and shouted and cried out when the skittles fell, and had a merry time of it.
The giant heard the noise and stuck his head out of the window, and saw a man no taller than other men, and yet playing with his skittles.
"Little worm," cried he, "why are you playing with my balls? Who gave you the strength to do it?"
The King's son looked up, saw the giant, and said, "Oh, you blockhead, you really think you're the only one with strong arms. I can do anything I want to do."
The giant came down and watched the bowling with great admiration, and said, "Child of man, if you're of that sort, go and bring me an apple from the tree of life."
"What do you want with it?" said the King's son.
"I don't want the apple for myself," answered the giant, "but I have a betrothed bride who wants it. I've travelled far about the world and can't find the tree."
"I'll soon find it," said the King's son, "and I don't know what could stop me getting the apple down."
The giant said, "You really think it's as easy as that? The garden the tree stands in is surrounded by an iron railing, and in front of the railing lie wild beasts, each one close beside the next, and they keep watch and let nobody in."
"They'll let me in, sure enough," said the King's son.
"Yes; but even if you do get into the garden and see the apple hanging on the tree, it's still not yours. There's a ring hanging in front of it, and anybody who wants to reach the apple and break it off has to put his hand through it — and nobody yet has had the luck to do it."
"That luck will be mine," said the King's son.
Then he took his leave of the giant, and went out over mountain and valley and through plains and forests, until at length he came to the wonderful garden.
The beasts lay round about it, but they had put their heads down and were asleep. What is more, they did not wake when he went up to them; so he stepped over them and climbed the fence and got safely into the garden.
There in the very middle of it stood the tree of life, with the red apples shining on the branches. He climbed up the trunk to the top; and as he was about to reach out for an apple, he saw a ring hanging in front of it. But he pushed his hand through it without any difficulty and picked the apple. The ring closed tightly round his arm, and all at once he felt a prodigious strength flowing through his veins.
When he had come down out of the tree with the apple, he would not climb back over the fence, but took hold of the great gate; and he had no need to shake it more than once before it sprang open with a loud crash. Then he went out; and the lion that had been lying there was awake now, and sprang after him — not in rage or fierceness, but following him humbly as its master.
The King's son took the giant the apple he had promised him, and said, "You see, I've brought it without any difficulty."
The giant was glad that his wish had been granted so soon, and hurried off to his bride and gave her the apple she had wanted. She was a beautiful and clever girl; and as she did not see the ring on his arm, she said, "I shall never believe you brought the apple until I see the ring on your arm."
The giant said, "I've only to go home and fetch it" — and thought it would be easy to take by force from the weak man what he would not give of his own free will.
So he demanded the ring from him; but the King's son refused it.
"Where the apple is, the ring must be too," said the giant. "If you won't give it of your own accord, you must fight me for it."
They wrestled with each other for a long time, but the giant could not get the better of the King's son, who was strengthened by the magic power of the ring. Then the giant thought of a trick, and said, "I've grown hot with fighting, and so have you. Let's bathe in the river and cool ourselves before we begin again."
The King's son, who knew nothing of falsehood, went with him to the water, and pulled the ring off his arm along with his clothes, and sprang into the river. The giant instantly snatched the ring and ran off with it; but the lion, which had seen the theft, chased the giant and tore the ring out of his hand and brought it back to its master.
Then the giant stationed himself behind an oak tree; and while the King's son was busy putting his clothes on again, he took him by surprise and put out both his eyes.
And now the unhappy King's son stood there blind, and did not know how to help himself. Then the giant came back to him and took him by the hand as if he were somebody who meant to guide him, and led him to the top of a high rock. There he left him standing, and thought, "Just two steps more, and he'll fall and kill himself, and I can take the ring off him."
But the faithful lion had not deserted its master. It held him fast by the clothes and drew him gradually back again. And when the giant came to rob the dead man, he saw that his cunning had been for nothing.
"Is there no way at all of destroying a weak child of man like that?" he said to himself angrily. And he took hold of the King's son and led him back to the precipice by another way; but the lion, seeing his evil design, helped its master out of danger here too.
When they had got close to the edge, the giant let the blind man's hand drop and was going to leave him there alone; but the lion pushed the giant so that he was thrown over and fell and was dashed to pieces on the ground.
The faithful animal drew its master back from the precipice again and guided him to a tree with a clear brook running past it. The King's son sat down there, but the lion lay down and splashed the water into his face with its paws.
Hardly had a couple of drops wetted his empty eye sockets before he could see something again; and he noticed a little bird flying past quite close, which struck itself against a tree trunk. At this it went down to the water and bathed in it, and then it soared up and swept between the trees without touching them, as if it had got its sight back.
Then the King's son recognised a sign from God, and stooped down to the water and washed and bathed his face in it. And when he stood up he had his eyes again, brighter and clearer than they had ever been.
The King's son thanked God for his great mercy, and travelled on through the world with his lion. And it happened that he came to a castle that was under a spell. In the gateway stood a girl of beautiful figure and fine face; but she was black from head to foot.
She spoke to him and said, "Ah, if only you could deliver me from the evil spell that has been cast over me!"
"What must I do?" said the King's son.
The girl answered, "You must spend three nights in the great hall of this enchanted castle; but you must let no fear into your heart. When they're doing their worst to torment you, if you bear it without letting a sound escape you, I shall be free. Your life they dare not take."
Then said the King's son, "I have no fear. With God's help I'll try it."
So he went cheerfully into the castle; and when it grew dark he sat down in the great hall and waited. Everything was quiet, though, until midnight, when all at once a great uproar began, and out of every hole and corner came little devils. They behaved as if they did not see him, and settled down in the middle of the room and lit a fire and began to gamble.
When one of them lost, he said, "This isn't right. There's somebody here who doesn't belong to us; it's his fault I'm losing."
"Wait, you fellow behind the stove, I'm coming," said another.
The screeching grew louder and louder, so that nobody could have heard it without terror. But the King's son went on sitting quite quietly and was not afraid. At last, though, the devils jumped up from the floor and fell on him, and there were so many of them that he could not defend himself. They dragged him about the floor, pinched him, pricked him, beat him and tormented him — but not a sound escaped him.
Towards morning they disappeared, and he was so exhausted that he could hardly move his limbs. But when day dawned the girl came to him. She carried in her hand a little bottle with the water of life in it, and she washed him with it; and at once he felt all the pain leave him and new strength flow through his veins.
She said, "You've held out successfully for one night, but two more lie ahead of you."
Then she went away again; and as she went, he noticed that her feet had turned white.
The next night the devils came and began their games afresh. They fell on the King's son and beat him far more severely than the night before, until his body was covered with wounds. But as he bore it all quietly, they had to leave him; and when dawn came the girl came and healed him with the water of life. And as she went away, he saw with joy that she had turned white already to the tips of her fingers.
And now he had only one night more to get through — but it was the worst. The goblins came again. "Are you still there?" they cried. "You shall be tormented till your breath stops."
They pricked him and beat him and threw him about, and pulled him by the arms and legs as if they wanted to tear him to pieces; but he bore it all and never uttered a cry.
At last the devils vanished; but he lay there fainting and did not stir, and could not even raise his eyes to look at the girl who came in and sprinkled him and bathed him with the water of life. But suddenly he was freed from all pain, and felt fresh and healthy, as if he had woken out of sleep; and when he opened his eyes he saw the girl standing beside him, snow-white and as fair as day.
"Get up," said she, "and swing your sword three times over the stairs, and then everything will be delivered."
And when he had done that, the whole castle was released from its enchantment, and the girl was a rich King's daughter.
The servants came and said that the table was already laid in the great hall and dinner was served. So they sat down and ate and drank together; and in the evening the wedding was celebrated with great rejoicing.
There was once a young huntsman who went into the forest to lie in wait for game. He had a fresh and cheerful heart; and as he was going along, whistling on a leaf, an ugly old woman came up and spoke to him and said, "Good day, dear huntsman. You're merry and contented, to be sure; but I'm suffering from hunger and thirst. Do give me something."
The huntsman felt sorry for the poor old creature, and felt in his pocket and gave her what he could spare. He was about to go on then, but the old woman stopped him and said, "Listen, dear huntsman, to what I'm going to tell you. I'll make you a present in return for your kindness. Go on your way now; and in a little while you'll come to a tree with nine birds sitting in it that have a cloak in their claws and are pulling at it. Take your gun and shoot into the middle of them, and they'll let the cloak drop down to you; but one of the birds will be hit and will fall down dead. Take the cloak away with you: it's a wishing cloak. When you throw it over your shoulders, you only have to wish to be in a certain place and you'll be there in the twinkling of an eye. And take the heart out of the dead bird and swallow it whole, and every morning early, when you get up, you'll find a gold piece under your pillow."
The huntsman thanked the wise woman, and thought to himself, "Those are fine things she's promised me — if only it all comes true."
And sure enough, when he had walked about a hundred paces, he heard such a screaming and twittering in the branches above him that he looked up and saw a crowd of birds tearing at a piece of cloth with their beaks and claws, tugging and fighting as if each one wanted it all to itself.
"Well," said the huntsman, "this is wonderful. It's really come about just as the old woman foretold." And he took the gun off his shoulder, aimed and fired right into the middle of them, so that the feathers flew about. The birds instantly took flight with loud cries, but one dropped down dead, and the cloak fell at the same moment.
Then the huntsman did as the old woman had told him: cut the bird open, found the heart and swallowed it down, and took the cloak home with him.
Next morning when he woke, the promise came back to him, and he wanted to see whether that had come true as well. When he lifted the pillow, the gold piece shone up at him; and next day he found another, and so it went on, every time he got up.
He gathered a heap of gold together; but at last he thought, "What use is all my gold to me if I stay at home? I'll go out and see the world."
So he took his leave of his parents, buckled on his huntsman's pouch and his gun, and went out into the world.
It happened that one day he travelled through a dense forest; and when he came out of it, on the plain in front of him stood a fine castle. An old woman was standing at one of the windows with a wonderfully beautiful girl, looking out.
But the old woman was a witch, and said to the girl, "There's one coming out of the forest who has a wonderful treasure inside him. We must steal it from him, my dear daughter; it suits us better than it does him. He has a bird's heart in him, and because of it a gold piece lies under his pillow every morning."
She told her what she was to do to get it, and what part she had to play; and finally she threatened her, and said with angry eyes, "And if you don't do as I say, it will be the worse for you."
Now when the huntsman came nearer he caught sight of the girl, and said to himself, "I've been travelling about for such a long while, I'll take a rest for once and go into that beautiful castle. I certainly have money enough." But the real reason was that he had caught sight of the pretty girl.
He went into the house and was well received and courteously entertained. Before long he was so much in love with the young witch that he thought of nothing else, and saw everything only as she saw it, and did whatever she wanted.
Then the old woman said, "Now we must have the bird's heart. He'll never miss it."
She prepared a drink; and when it was ready she poured it into a cup and gave it to the girl, who was to hand it to the huntsman. She did so, saying, "Now, my dearest, drink to me."
So he took the cup; and when he had swallowed the draught, he brought up the bird's heart. The girl had to take it away secretly and swallow it herself, for the old woman would have it so.
From then on he found no more gold under his pillow; it lay under the girl's instead, and the old woman fetched it away every morning. But he was so much in love and so befooled that he thought of nothing but spending his time with the girl.
Then the old witch said, "We have the bird's heart, but we must take the wishing cloak away from him too."
The girl answered, "Let's leave him that. He's lost his wealth already."
The old woman was angry and said, "A cloak like that is a wonderful thing and rarely to be found in this world. I must and will have it." She struck the girl several blows, and said that if she did not obey it would go badly for her.
So she did as the old woman told her: stationed herself at the window and looked out over the distant country as if she were very sorrowful.
The huntsman asked, "Why are you standing there so sadly?"
"Ah, my beloved," she answered, "over yonder lies the Garnet Mountain, where the precious stones grow. I long for them so much that when I think of them I feel quite miserable. But who can get them? Only the birds — they fly and can reach them; a man never can."
"Is that all you have to complain of?" said the huntsman. "I'll soon take that burden off your heart."
And with that he drew her under his cloak, wished himself on the Garnet Mountain, and in the twinkling of an eye they were sitting on it together. Precious stones were glittering on every side, so that it was a joy to see them; and together they gathered the finest and costliest of them.
Now the old woman had contrived by her sorcery that the huntsman's eyes should grow heavy. He said to the girl, "Let's sit down and rest a while. I'm so tired I can't stand on my feet any longer."
So they sat down, and he laid his head in her lap and fell asleep. And when he was asleep she unfastened the cloak from his shoulders and wrapped herself in it, picked up the garnets and the stones, and wished herself home again with them.
But when the huntsman had had his sleep out and woke and saw that his sweetheart had betrayed him and left him alone on the wild mountain, he said, "Oh, what treachery there is in the world!" — and sat down there in care and sorrow, not knowing what to do.
But the mountain belonged to some wild and monstrous giants who lived on it and led their lives there; and he had not sat long before he saw three of them coming towards him, so he lay down as if he were sunk in a deep sleep.
Then the giants came up, and the first kicked him with his foot and said, "What sort of an earthworm is this, lying curled up here?"
The second said, "Step on him and kill him."
But the third said, "That would hardly be worth your trouble. Just let him live — he can't stay here; and when he climbs higher, towards the summit of the mountain, the clouds will take hold of him and carry him away."
And so saying they went on by.
But the huntsman had paid attention to their words; and as soon as they were gone he got up and climbed to the summit of the mountain. And when he had sat there a while, a cloud floated towards him and caught him up and carried him away, and travelled about the sky with him for a long time. Then it sank lower and let itself down on a great walled cabbage garden, so that he came softly to the ground among cabbages and vegetables.
Then the huntsman looked around him and said, "If only I had something to eat! I'm so hungry, and my hunger will only get worse as time goes on. But I see neither apples nor pears here, nor any other kind of fruit — nothing anywhere but cabbages."
At length, though, he thought, "At a pinch I can eat some of the leaves. They don't taste particularly good, but they'll refresh me." So he picked himself out a fine head of cabbage and ate it; but hardly had he swallowed a couple of mouthfuls before he felt very strange, and quite different.
Four legs grew on him, and a large head and two thick ears; and he saw with horror that he had been changed into a donkey. All the same, as his hunger grew greater every minute, and as the juicy leaves suited his present nature, he went on eating with great relish.
At last he came to a different kind of cabbage; but as soon as he had swallowed it he felt another change, and took his old human shape again.
Then the huntsman lay down and slept off his weariness. When he woke next morning he broke off one head of the bad cabbages and one of the good ones, and thought to himself, "This shall help me to get back my own and punish treachery."
Then he took the cabbages with him, climbed over the wall and set out to look for his sweetheart's castle. After wandering about for a couple of days he was lucky enough to find it again.
He dyed his face brown, so that his own mother would not have known him, and asked for shelter. "I'm so tired," said he, "that I can go no further."
The witch asked, "Who are you, countryman, and what's your business?"
"I'm a King's messenger, and I was sent out to look for the most delicious salad that grows under the sun. I've even been lucky enough to find it, and I'm carrying it about with me; but the sun's heat is so fierce that the delicate cabbage is threatening to wither, and I don't know whether I can carry it any further."
When the old woman heard about this exquisite salad she was greedy for it, and said, "Dear countryman, do let me just taste this wonderful salad."
"Why not?" answered he. "I've brought two heads with me, and I'll give you one of them." And he opened his pouch and handed her the bad cabbage.
The witch suspected nothing amiss, and her mouth watered so for this new dish that she went into the kitchen and dressed it herself. When it was ready she could not wait until it was set on the table, but took a couple of leaves at once and put them in her mouth. But hardly had she swallowed them before she lost her human shape, and ran out into the courtyard in the form of a donkey.
Presently the servant girl came into the kitchen and saw the salad standing there ready prepared, and was about to carry it up. But on the way, out of habit, she was seized with the wish to taste it, and ate a couple of leaves. Instantly the magic worked, and she became a donkey too and ran out to the old woman; and the dish of salad fell to the floor.
Meanwhile the messenger was sitting beside the beautiful girl; and as nobody came with the salad, and she too was longing for it, she said, "I don't know what has become of the salad."
The huntsman thought, "The salad must have taken effect already" — and said, "I'll go down to the kitchen and ask about it."
As he went down he saw the two donkeys running about the courtyard; but the salad was lying on the floor. "All right," said he, "those two have taken their portion" — and he picked up the remaining leaves and laid them on the dish and carried them up to the girl.
"I bring you the delicate dish myself," said he, "so that you don't have to wait any longer."
Then she ate of it, and like the others she was immediately deprived of her human shape, and ran out into the courtyard in the form of a donkey.
After the huntsman had washed his face, so that the transformed ones could recognise him, he went down into the courtyard and said, "Now you shall have the wages of your treachery." And he tied all three of them together with one rope and drove them along until he came to a mill.
He knocked at the window; the miller put his head out and asked what he wanted.
"I have three unmanageable beasts here," answered he, "that I don't want to keep any longer. Will you take them in and give them food and stable room and treat them as I tell you? And then I'll pay you what you ask."
The miller said, "Why not? But how am I to treat them?"
The huntsman said that he was to give the old donkey — that was the witch — three beatings and one meal a day; the younger one, which was the servant girl, one beating and three meals; and the youngest, which was the girl, no beatings and three meals — for he could not bring himself to have the girl beaten.
After that he went back to the castle and found everything there that he needed.
After a couple of days the miller came and said he must inform him that the old donkey, which had had three beatings and only one meal a day, was dead. "The other two," he went on, "certainly aren't dead, and they're fed three times a day; but they're so sad that they can't last much longer."
The huntsman was moved to pity, put his anger away and told the miller to drive them back to him. And when they came, he gave them some of the good salad, so that they became human again.
The beautiful girl fell on her knees before him and said, "Ah, my beloved, forgive me for the wrong I've done you. My mother drove me to it; it was done against my will, for I love you dearly. Your wishing cloak is hanging in a cupboard; and as for the bird's heart, I'll take a potion to bring it up."
But he thought otherwise, and said, "Keep it. It's all the same, for I'll take you for my true wife."
So the wedding was celebrated, and they lived happily together until their deaths.
A poor servant girl was once travelling through a great forest with the family she was in service with; and when they were in the middle of it, robbers came out of the thicket and murdered everybody they found. All of them died together except the girl, who had jumped out of the carriage in fright and hidden herself behind a tree.
When the robbers had gone away with their plunder, she came out and saw the great disaster. Then she began to weep bitterly and said, "What can a poor girl like me do now? I don't know how to get out of the forest, and no human being lives in it, so I must certainly starve."
She walked about and looked for a road, but could find none. When it was evening she sat down under a tree and gave herself into God's keeping, and resolved to sit and wait there and not go away, come what might.
But when she had sat there a while, a white dove came flying to her with a little golden key in its beak. It put the little key in her hand and said, "Do you see that great tree? There's a little lock in it, and this tiny key opens it, and inside you'll find food enough, and go hungry no more."
So she went to the tree and opened it, and found milk in a little dish and white bread to break into it, so that she could eat her fill.
When she had had enough she said, "This is the hour when the hens at home go to roost. I'm so tired I could go to bed too."
Then the dove flew to her again and brought another golden key in its beak, and said, "Open that tree there, and you'll find a bed."
So she opened it and found a beautiful white bed; and she prayed God to protect her during the night, and lay down and slept.
In the morning the dove came for the third time and again brought a little key, and said, "Open that tree there, and you'll find clothes." And when she opened it she found garments set with gold and jewels, more splendid than any king's daughter's.
So she lived there for some time, and the dove came every day and provided her with everything she needed; and it was a quiet, good life.
Once, though, the dove came and said, "Will you do something for my sake?"
"With all my heart," said the girl.
Then the little dove said, "I'll guide you to a small house. Go in; and inside it an old woman will be sitting by the fire, and she'll say, 'Good day.' But for your life, give her no answer; let her do what she likes, but pass by her on the right side. Further on there's a door; open it, and you'll come into a room where a quantity of rings of all kinds are lying, among them some magnificent ones with shining stones. Leave those where they are, though, and look out a plain one, which must be among them too, and bring it here to me as fast as you can."
The girl went to the little house and came to the door. There sat an old woman, who stared when she saw her, and said, "Good day, my child."
The girl gave her no answer, and opened the door.
"Where are you going?" cried the old woman, and seized her by the gown and tried to hold her fast, saying, "This is my house; nobody can go in there if I choose not to allow it."
But the girl was silent, and got away from her and went straight into the room. Now on the table lay an enormous quantity of rings, which gleamed and glittered before her eyes. She turned them over and looked for the plain one, but could not find it.
While she was searching, she saw the old woman stealing away and trying to make off with a birdcage she had in her hand. So she went after her and took the cage out of her hand; and when she raised it up and looked inside, there was a bird in it with the plain ring in its beak.
So she took the ring and ran home with it quite joyfully, and thought the little white dove would come and get the ring; but it did not.
Then she leaned against a tree and made up her mind to wait for the dove; and as she stood there, it seemed just as if the tree were growing soft and pliant, and letting its branches down. And suddenly the branches twined round her and turned into two arms; and when she looked round, the tree was a handsome man, who embraced her and kissed her heartily and said, "You have delivered me from the power of the old woman, who is a wicked witch. She had changed me into a tree, and every day for two hours I was a white dove; and as long as she had the ring, I could not get my human shape back."
Then his servants and his horses, who had likewise been changed into trees, were freed from the enchantment too, and stood beside him. And he led them away to his kingdom, for he was a King's son; and they married, and lived happily.
There was once a man who had three sons and nothing else in the world but the house he lived in. Now each of the sons wanted to have the house after his father's death; but the father loved them all alike and did not know what to do. He did not want to sell the house, because it had belonged to his forefathers, or else he could have divided the money among them.
At last a plan came into his head, and he said to his sons, "Go out into the world and each of you try to learn a trade; and when you all come back, whoever makes the best masterpiece shall have the house."
The sons were well content with this; and the eldest decided to be a blacksmith, the second a barber and the third a fencing master. They fixed a time when they should all come home again, and then each went his own way.
It happened that they all found skilful masters who taught them their trades well. The blacksmith had to shoe the King's horses, and he thought to himself, "The house is mine, without a doubt." The barber shaved only great people, and he too already looked on the house as his own. The fencing master got many a blow, but he only bit his lip and let nothing upset him; "for," he said to himself, "if you're afraid of a blow, you'll never win the house."
When the appointed time had gone by, the three brothers came home to their father; but they did not know how to find the best opportunity for showing their skill, so they sat down and talked it over together.
As they were sitting there, all at once a hare came running across the field. "Aha, just in time!" said the barber. So he took his basin and soap and lathered away until the hare came up; and then he soaped and shaved off the hare's whiskers while it was running at top speed, and did not even cut its skin or injure a hair on its body.
"Well done," said the old man. "Your brothers will have to exert themselves wonderfully, or the house will be yours."
Soon afterwards a nobleman came along in his coach, dashing by at full speed. "Now you shall see what I can do, father," said the blacksmith. And away he ran after the coach, and took all four shoes off the feet of one of the horses while it was galloping, and fitted it with four new shoes without stopping it.
"You're a fine fellow, and as clever as your brother," said his father. "I don't know which of you I ought to give the house to."
Then the third son said, "Father, let me have my turn, if you please." And as it was beginning to rain, he drew his sword and flourished it backwards and forwards above his head so fast that not a drop fell on him. It rained harder and harder, until at last it came down in torrents; but he only flourished his sword faster and faster, and stayed as dry as if he were sitting indoors.
When his father saw this he was amazed, and said, "This is the masterpiece. The house is yours."
His brothers were satisfied with this, as had been agreed beforehand; and as they loved one another very much, all three of them stayed together in the house and followed their trades. And since they had learned them so well and were so clever, they earned a great deal of money.
So they lived together happily until they grew old; and at last, when one of them fell sick and died, the two others grieved over it so sorely that they fell ill as well, and soon died too. And because they had been so clever, and had loved one another so much, all three of them were laid in the same grave.
There was a great war, and the King had many soldiers but gave them small pay — so small that they could not live on it. So three of them agreed among themselves to desert.
One of them said to the others, "If we're caught we shall be hanged on the gallows. How are we to manage it?"
Another said, "Look at that great cornfield. If we hid ourselves in there, nobody could find us; the troops aren't allowed into it, and tomorrow they're to march away."
So they crept into the corn. Only the troops did not march away, but stayed lying all round about it. They stayed in the corn two days and two nights, and were so hungry that they nearly died; but if they had come out, their death would have been certain.
Then they said, "What was the use of deserting, if we have to die miserably here?"
But just then a fiery dragon came flying through the air; and it came down to them and asked why they were hiding there.
They answered, "We're three soldiers who deserted because the pay was so bad; and now we shall have to die of hunger if we stay here, or dangle on the gallows if we go out."
"If you'll serve me for seven years," said the dragon, "I'll carry you through the army so that nobody catches you."
"We've no choice, and are forced to accept," they replied.
Then the dragon took hold of them in his claws and carried them away through the air over the army, and set them down on the earth again a long way off. But the dragon was none other than the Devil.
He gave them a small whip and said, "Whip with it and crack it, and then as much gold will spring up round about as you could wish for. Then you can live like great lords, keep horses and drive about in your carriages. But when the seven years have come to an end, you are my property."
Then he put a book in front of them, which all three of them were made to sign.
"I'll set you a riddle, though," said he. "And if you can guess it, you shall be free and released from my power."
Then the dragon flew away from them; and they went off with their whip, and had gold in plenty, and ordered themselves rich clothes and travelled about the world. Wherever they went they lived in pleasure and magnificence, rode on horseback, drove in carriages, ate and drank — but did nothing wicked.
The time slipped quickly away; and when the seven years were coming to an end, two of them were terribly anxious and alarmed. But the third took the business easily, and said, "Brothers, fear nothing. My head is sharp enough — I shall guess the riddle."
They went out into the open country and sat down, and the two pulled sorrowful faces. Then an old woman came up to them and asked why they were so sad.
"Alas," said they, "what business is that of yours? You can't help us anyway."
"Who knows?" said she. "Tell me your trouble."
So they told her that they had been the Devil's servants for nearly seven years, and that he had provided them with gold as plentifully as if it had been blackberries; but that they had sold themselves to him, and were forfeit to him if at the end of the seven years they could not guess a riddle.
The old woman said, "If you're to be saved, one of you must go into the forest. There he'll come to a fallen rock that looks like a little house; he must go into it, and then he'll get help."
The two gloomy ones thought to themselves, "That still won't save us" — and stayed where they were. But the third, the merry one, got up and walked on into the forest until he found the rock house.
In the little house, though, a very old woman was sitting, who was the Devil's grandmother; and she asked the soldier where he came from and what he wanted there. He told her everything that had happened; and as he pleased her well, she took pity on him and said she would help him.
She lifted up a great stone that lay over a cellar, and said, "Hide yourself down there. You can hear everything that's said up here; only sit still and don't stir. When the dragon comes I'll question him about the riddle — he tells me everything — so listen carefully to his answer."
At twelve o'clock at night the dragon came flying in and asked for his dinner. The grandmother laid the table and served food and drink, so that he was pleased; and they ate and drank together.
In the course of the conversation she asked him what sort of day he had had, and how many souls he had got.
"Nothing went very well today," he answered, "but I've laid hold of three soldiers. I have them safe."
"Indeed — three soldiers? That's something. But they may escape you yet."
The Devil said mockingly, "They're mine. I'll set them a riddle they'll never in this world be able to guess."
"What riddle is that?" she asked.
"I'll tell you. In the great North Sea lies a dead dogfish, and that shall be your roast meat; and the rib of a whale shall be your silver spoon; and a hollow old horse's hoof shall be your wineglass."
When the Devil had gone to bed, the old grandmother raised the stone and let the soldier out. "Did you pay careful attention to it all?"
"Yes," said he. "I know enough, and I'll contrive to save myself."
Then he had to go back another way, out through the window, secretly and at full speed, to his companions. He told them how the Devil had been outwitted by his old grandmother, and how he had learned the answer to the riddle from him.
Then they were all joyful and in good spirits, and took the whip and whipped up so much gold for themselves that it ran all over the ground.
When the seven years were fully up, the Devil came with the book and showed them their signatures and said, "I'll take you with me to hell. There you shall have a meal. If you can guess what kind of roast meat you'll have to eat, you shall be free and released from your bargain, and may keep the whip as well."
Then the first soldier began and said, "In the great North Sea lies a dead dogfish; that, no doubt, is the roast meat."
The Devil was angry, and began to mutter, "Hm! Hm! Hm!" And he asked the second, "But what will your spoon be?"
"The rib of a whale — that's to be our silver spoon."
The Devil pulled a sour face, growled again, "Hm! Hm! Hm!" — and said to the third, "And do you know too what your wineglass is to be?"
"An old horse's hoof is to be our wineglass."
Then the Devil flew away with a loud cry and had no more power over them; but the three kept the whip and whipped up as much money for themselves with it as they wanted, and lived happily to the end of their days.
Once upon a time there lived a man and a woman who had no children as long as they were rich; but when they were poor, they had a little boy. They could find no godfather for him, though; so the man said he would go to another place and see whether he could get one there.
As he went, a poor man met him and asked where he was going. He said he was going to see whether he could find a godfather, since he was poor and nobody would stand godfather for him.
"Oh," said the poor man, "you're poor and I'm poor. I'll be godfather for you; but I'm so badly off that I can give the child nothing. Go home and tell the nurse to come to the church with the child."
When they all got to the church together, the beggar was already there, and he gave the child the name of Ferdinand the Faithful.
As he was going out of the church the beggar said, "Now go home. I can give you nothing, and you likewise ought to give me nothing." But he gave a key to the nurse, and told her that when she got home she was to give it to the father, who was to take care of it until the child was fourteen years old; and then he was to go out onto the heath, where there was a castle that the key would fit, and everything in it should be his.
Now when the child was seven years old and had grown very big, he went out one day to play with some other boys, and each of them boasted that he had got more from his godfather than the rest; but the child could say nothing, and he was upset, and went home and said to his father, "Did I get nothing at all, then, from my godfather?"
"Oh, yes," said his father, "you got a key. If there's a castle standing on the heath, just go there and open it."
So the boy went there; but no castle was to be seen or heard of.
Seven years later, when he was fourteen, he went there again — and there stood the castle. When he had opened it, there was nothing inside but a horse, a white one. Then the boy was so full of joy at having a horse that he mounted it and galloped back to his father.
"Now I have a white horse, and I'm going travelling," said he.
So he set out; and as he was on his way, a pen was lying in the road. At first he thought he would pick it up; but then he thought to himself, "You should leave it lying there. You'll easily find a pen where you're going, if you need one."
And as he was riding away, a voice called after him, "Ferdinand the Faithful, take it with you."
He looked round, but saw nobody. So he went back and picked it up.
When he had ridden a little further he passed a lake, and a fish was lying on the bank gasping and panting for breath. So he said, "Wait, my dear fish, I'll help you into the water" — and took hold of it by the tail and threw it into the lake.
Then the fish put its head out of the water and said, "As you've helped me out of the mud, I'll give you a flute. When you're in any trouble, play on it, and then I'll help you; and if you ever let anything fall into the water, just play and I'll fetch it out for you."
Then he rode away, and a man came up to him who asked him where he was going. "Oh, to the next town."
Then what was his name? "Ferdinand the Faithful."
"Well! Then we have almost the same name. I'm called Ferdinand the Unfaithful."
And the two of them set off to the inn in the next town.
Now unfortunately Ferdinand the Unfaithful knew everything the other had ever thought and everything he was about to do; he knew it by all kinds of wicked arts.
There was, though, an honest girl at the inn, with a bright face and very pretty ways. She fell in love with Ferdinand the Faithful, because he was a handsome man, and she asked him where he was going.
"Oh, I'm just travelling about," said he.
Then she said he ought to stay there, because the King of that country wanted an attendant or an outrider, and he ought to enter his service. He answered that he could not very well go to somebody like that and offer himself.
Then the girl said, "Oh, but I'll soon do that for you."
And she went straight to the King and told him she knew of an excellent servant for him. He was well pleased with that, and had Ferdinand the Faithful brought to him, and wanted to make him his servant. But he would rather be an outrider, for wherever his horse was, there he wanted to be too; so the King made him an outrider.
When Ferdinand the Unfaithful learned that, he said to the girl, "What? You help him and not me?"
"Oh," said the girl, "I'll help you too." She thought, "I must keep friends with that man, for he isn't to be trusted."
So she went to the King and offered him as a servant, and the King was willing.
Now when the King met his lords in the morning, he always lamented and said, "Oh, if only I had my love here with me."
But Ferdinand the Unfaithful was always hostile to Ferdinand the Faithful. So once, when the King was complaining like this, he said, "You have the outrider; send him off to fetch her, and if he doesn't do it, his head must come off."
Then the King sent for Ferdinand the Faithful and told him that in such and such a place there was a girl he loved, and that he was to bring her to him, and if he did not do it he should die.
Ferdinand the Faithful went into the stable to his white horse, and complained and lamented, "Oh, what an unhappy man I am!"
Then somebody behind him cried, "Ferdinand the Faithful, why are you weeping?"
He looked round but saw nobody, and went on lamenting. "Oh, my dear little white horse, now I must leave you; now I must die."
Then somebody cried once more, "Ferdinand the Faithful, why are you weeping?"
And then for the first time he realised that it was his little white horse that was asking.
"Do you speak, my little white horse? Can you do that?" And he went on, "I'm to go to such and such a place and bring back the bride. Can you tell me how I'm to set about it?"
Then the little white horse answered, "Go to the King and say that if he'll give you what you must have, you'll get her for him. If he'll give you a ship full of meat and a ship full of bread, it will succeed. Great giants live on the lake, and if you take no meat with you for them they'll tear you to pieces; and there are the great birds, which would pick the eyes out of your head if you had no bread for them."
So the King made all the butchers in the land slaughter and all the bakers bake, so that the ships could be filled. And when they were full, the little white horse said to Ferdinand the Faithful, "Now mount me and come with me onto the ship; and then when the giants come, say:
'Peace, peace, my dear little giants, I have had you in my thoughts; something I have brought for you.'
And when the birds come, you shall say again:
'Peace, peace, my dear little birds, I have had you in my thoughts; something I have brought for you.'
Then they'll do nothing to you; and when you come to the castle the giants will help you. Then go up to the castle and take a couple of giants with you. The princess is lying there asleep; but you mustn't wake her — the giants must lift her up and carry her in her bed to the ship."
And now everything happened as the little white horse had said. Ferdinand the Faithful gave the giants and the birds what he had brought with him for them, and that made the giants willing; and they carried the princess in her bed to the King.
And when she came to the King, she said she could not live without her papers, which had been left behind in her castle. Then, at Ferdinand the Unfaithful's prompting, Ferdinand the Faithful was called, and the King told him he must fetch the papers from the castle, or he should die.
So he went into the stable once more and lamented and said, "Oh, my dear little white horse, now I'm to go away again. How am I to do it?"
Then the little white horse said he was simply to load the ships full again. So it all happened as it had happened before, and the giants and the birds were satisfied and made gentle by the meat.
When they came to the castle, the white horse told Ferdinand the Faithful that he must go in, and that the papers were lying on the table in the princess's bedroom. And Ferdinand the Faithful went in and fetched them.
When they were out on the lake he let his pen fall into the water; and the white horse said, "Now I can't help you at all."
But he remembered his flute and began to play on it, and the fish came with the pen in its mouth and gave it to him.
So he took the papers to the castle, where the wedding was celebrated.
The Queen, however, did not love the King, because he had no nose; but she would very much have liked to love Ferdinand the Faithful.
So once, when all the lords of the court were together, the Queen said that she could do feats of magic — that she could cut off anybody's head and put it on again, and that one of them ought to try it. But none of them would be the first; so Ferdinand the Faithful, again at Ferdinand the Unfaithful's prompting, undertook it. And she struck off his head and put it on again for him, and it healed together directly, so that it looked as though he had a red thread round his throat.
Then the King said to her, "My child, where did you learn that?"
"Yes," she said, "I understand the art. Shall I try it on you as well?"
"Oh, yes," said he.
But she cut off his head and did not put it back on; she pretended that she could not get it on, and that it would not stay fixed.
So the King was buried; and she married Ferdinand the Faithful.
He, though, always rode on his white horse; and once, when he was mounted on it, it told him that he was to ride out to the heath he knew and gallop three times round it. And when he had done that, the white horse stood up on its hind legs and was changed into a King's son.
In the days when wishing was still of some use, a King's son was bewitched by an old witch and shut up in an iron stove in a forest. There he passed many years, and nobody could deliver him.
Then a King's daughter came into the forest who had lost her way and could not find her father's kingdom again. After she had wandered about for nine days, she came at length to the iron stove. Then a voice came out of it and asked her, "Where do you come from, and where are you going?"
She answered, "I've lost my father's kingdom and can't get home again."
Then the voice inside the iron stove said, "I'll help you get home again, and very quickly too, if you'll promise to do what I ask of you. I'm the son of a far greater King than your father, and I'll marry you."
Then she was afraid, and thought, "Good heavens, what should I do with an iron stove?" But as she badly wanted to get home to her father, she promised to do as he asked.
But he said, "You must come back here and bring a knife with you, and scrape a hole in the iron."
Then he gave her a companion who walked beside her but did not speak, and in two hours he brought her home. There was great joy in the castle when the King's daughter came home, and the old King fell on her neck and kissed her.
She, though, was sorely troubled, and said, "Dear father, what I've been through! I should never have got home again out of that great wild forest if I hadn't come to an iron stove; but I've had to give my word that I'll go back to it and set it free and marry it."
Then the old King was so horrified that he nearly fainted, for she was his only daughter. So they decided that they would send the miller's daughter in her place, who was very beautiful. They took her there and gave her a knife and said she was to scrape at the iron stove.
So she scraped at it for four-and-twenty hours, but could not get the least particle off it. When day dawned, a voice in the stove said, "It seems to me it's day outside."
Then she answered, "It seems so to me too. I fancy I can hear the noise of my father's mill."
"So you're a miller's daughter! Then go your way at once, and let the King's daughter come here."
So she went away at once and told the old King that the man out there would have nothing to do with her; he wanted the King's daughter.
They still had a swineherd's daughter, though, who was even prettier than the miller's daughter; and they decided to give her a piece of gold to go to the iron stove in the King's daughter's place. So she was taken there, and she too had to scrape for four-and-twenty hours. But she made nothing of it.
When day broke, a voice inside the stove cried, "It seems to me it's day outside."
Then she answered, "So it seems to me too. I fancy I can hear my father's horn blowing."
"Then you're a swineherd's daughter! Go away at once, and tell the King's daughter to come; and tell her that everything must be done as promised, and if she doesn't come, everything in the kingdom shall be ruined and destroyed, and not one stone left standing on another."
When the King's daughter heard that, she began to weep; but now there was nothing for it but to keep her promise. So she took her leave of her father, put a knife in her pocket and went out to the iron stove in the forest.
When she got there she began to scrape, and the iron gave way; and when two hours were over she had already scraped a small hole. Then she peeped in and saw a young man so handsome, and so brilliant with gold and precious jewels, that her very soul was delighted. So she went on scraping and made the hole so large that he could get out.
Then he said, "You are mine and I am yours. You are my bride, and you have set me free."
He wanted to take her away with him to his kingdom, but she begged him to let her go to her father just once more; and the King's son allowed it, but she was not to say more than three words to her father, and then she was to come back again.
So she went home; but she said more than three words. And instantly the iron stove disappeared and was carried far away over glass mountains and piercing swords. But the King's son was set free and no longer shut up in it.
After this she said goodbye to her father, took some money with her, though not much, and went back to the great forest and looked for the iron stove; but it was nowhere to be found. For nine days she searched for it, and then her hunger grew so great that she did not know what to do, for she could not live any longer.
When it was evening she sat herself up in a small tree and made up her mind to spend the night there, since she was afraid of wild beasts. As midnight drew near she saw a small light in the distance, and thought, "Ah, there I might be saved."
She climbed down out of the tree and went towards the light; but as she went, she prayed. Then she came to a little old house with a great deal of grass grown up all round it and a small heap of wood lying in front. She thought, "Ah, where have I come to?" — and peeped in at the window; but she saw nothing inside except toads, big and little, and a table well covered with wine and roast meat, with plates and glasses of silver.
Then she took courage and knocked at the door. The fat toad cried:
"Little green waiting-maid, waiting-maid with the limping leg, little dog with the limping leg, hop this way and that and quickly see who's outside."
And a small toad came walking up and opened the door to her. When she came in, they all bade her welcome and made her sit down. They asked, "Where have you come from, and where are you going?"
Then she told them everything that had happened to her: how, because she had broken the order she had been given not to say more than three words, the stove had disappeared, and the King's son with it, and how she meant now to look for him over hill and dale until she found him.
Then the old fat one said:
"Little green waiting-maid, waiting-maid with the limping leg, little dog with the limping leg, hop this way and that and bring me the great box."
Then the little one went and brought the box.
After this they gave her food and drink and took her to a well-made bed, which felt like silk and velvet; and she lay down in it in God's name and slept.
When morning came she got up, and the old toad gave her three needles out of the great box to take with her. She would need them, for she had to cross a high glass mountain and go over three piercing swords and a great lake. If she did all this, she would get her lover back again.
So she gave her three things to take the greatest care of: three large needles, a plough wheel and three nuts.
With these she travelled on. And when she came to the glass mountain, which was so slippery, she stuck the three needles first behind her feet and then in front of them, and so got over it; and when she was over, she hid them in a place she marked carefully.
After this she came to the three piercing swords; and then she seated herself on her plough wheel and rolled over them.
At last she arrived at a great lake; and when she had crossed it, she came to a large and beautiful castle. She went and asked for a place: she was a poor girl, she said, and would like to be taken on. But she knew that the King's son whom she had released from the iron stove in the great forest was in that castle. So she was taken on as a scullery maid at low wages.
But the King's son already had another girl at his side whom he meant to marry, for he thought that she had long been dead.
In the evening, when she had finished washing up, she felt in her pocket and found the three nuts the old toad had given her. She cracked one with her teeth and was going to eat the kernel, when — lo and behold — there was a stately royal gown inside it.
But when the bride heard of this, she came and asked for the dress and wanted to buy it, and said, "That's not a dress for a servant girl."
But she said no, she would not sell it; but if the bride would grant her one thing she should have it, and that was leave to sleep one night in the bridegroom's room. The bride gave her permission, because the dress was so pretty and she had never had one like it.
When evening came she said to her bridegroom, "That silly girl is going to sleep in your room."
"If you're willing, so am I," said he.
But she gave him a glass of wine into which she had poured a sleeping draught. So the bridegroom and the scullery maid went to sleep in the room, and he slept so soundly that she could not wake him.
She wept the whole night and cried, "I set you free when you were in an iron stove in the wild forest; I searched for you, and walked over a glass mountain and three sharp swords and a great lake before I found you — and yet you won't hear me!"
The servants sat by the bedroom door and heard how she wept the whole night through, and in the morning they told their lord about it.
And the next evening, when she had washed up, she opened the second nut, and there was a far more beautiful dress inside it. When the bride saw it, she wanted to buy that as well. But the girl would take no money, and asked that she might sleep once more in the bridegroom's room.
The bride, though, gave him a sleeping draught, and he slept so soundly that he could hear nothing. But the scullery maid wept the whole night long and cried, "I set you free when you were in an iron stove in the wild forest; I searched for you, and walked over a glass mountain and over three sharp swords and a great lake before I found you — and yet you won't hear me!"
The servants sat by the bedroom door and heard her weeping the whole night through, and in the morning told their lord about it.
And on the third evening, when she had washed up, she opened the third nut, and inside it was a still more beautiful dress, stiff with pure gold. When the bride saw it she wanted to have it; but the girl would only give it up on condition that she might sleep in the bridegroom's room for a third time.
The King's son, though, was on his guard, and threw the sleeping draught away. So now, when she began to weep and cry, "Dearest love, I set you free when you were in the iron stove in that terrible wild forest," the King's son leapt up and said, "You are the true one. You are mine and I am yours."
And with that, while it was still night, he got into a carriage with her; and they took away the false bride's clothes so that she could not get up.
When they came to the great lake they sailed across it; and when they reached the three sharp swords they seated themselves on the plough wheel; and when they got to the glass mountain they stuck the three needles into it. And so at length they came to the little old house — but when they went inside it, it was a great castle, and the toads were all disenchanted and were king's children, and full of happiness.
Then the wedding was celebrated, and the King's son and the princess stayed in the castle, which was much larger than either of their fathers' castles. But as the old King grieved at being left alone, they fetched him away and brought him to live with them; and they had two kingdoms, and lived in happy marriage.
A mouse did run; this story's done.
In a certain village there once lived a man and his wife; and the wife was so idle that she would never work at anything. Whatever her husband gave her to spin she never got done; and what she did spin she did not wind, but let it all lie tangled in a heap.
If the man scolded her, she was always ready with her tongue, and said, "Well, how am I to wind it, when I have no reel? You just go into the forest and get me one."
"If that's all," said the man, "then I'll go into the forest and get some wood to make reels with."
Then the woman was afraid that if he had the wood he would make her a reel out of it, and she would have to wind her yarn off and then start spinning again. She thought about it a little, and then a lucky idea came to her; and she secretly followed the man into the forest. And when he had climbed a tree to choose and cut his wood, she crept into the thicket below, where he could not see her, and cried:
"He who cuts wood for reels shall die, and he who winds shall perish."
The man listened, laid his axe down for a moment, and began to think about what that could mean. "Hallo," he said at last, "what can that have been? My ears must have been singing. I won't alarm myself for nothing."
So he took up the axe again and began to chop; and then there came a cry from below again:
"He who cuts wood for reels shall die, and he who winds shall perish."
He stopped, and felt afraid and alarmed, and pondered over it. But when a few moments had gone by, he took heart again, and a third time he stretched out his hand for the axe and began to cut.
But somebody called out a third time, and said loudly:
"He who cuts wood for reels shall die, and he who winds shall perish."
That was enough for him, and all his inclination had gone; so he climbed hastily down out of the tree and set off home.
The woman ran as fast as she could by side paths so as to get home first. So when he came into the parlour she put on an innocent face, as though nothing had happened, and said, "Well, have you brought a nice piece of wood for reels?"
"No," said he. "I can see very well that winding won't do." And he told her what had happened to him in the forest, and from that time on left her in peace about it.
All the same, after some time the man began to complain again about the disorder in the house. "Wife," said he, "it's really a shame that the spun yarn should lie there all tangled up."
"I'll tell you what," said she. "Since we still haven't come by any reel, you go up into the loft and I'll stand down below and throw the yarn up to you, and you throw it down to me; and so we'll get a skein after all."
"Yes, that will do," said the man.
So they did that; and when it was done he said, "The yarn's in skeins; now it must be boiled."
The woman was distressed again. She did say, "Yes, we'll boil it early tomorrow morning" — but she was secretly contriving another trick.
Early in the morning she got up, lit a fire and put the kettle on; only instead of the yarn she put in a lump of tow, and let it boil. After that she went to the man, who was still lying in bed, and said to him, "I have to go out. You must get up and look after the yarn in the kettle on the fire — but you must be there at once, mind that. For if the cock should happen to crow and you're not attending to the yarn, it will turn into tow."
The man was willing, and took good care not to loiter. He got up as quickly as he could and went into the kitchen. But when he reached the kettle and peeped in, he saw to his horror nothing but a lump of tow.
Then the poor man was as still as a mouse, thinking that he had neglected it and was to blame; and in future he said no more about yarn and spinning.
But you must admit yourself that she was an odious woman.
There was once a poor man who had four sons; and when they were grown up he said to them, "My dear children, you must go out into the world now, for I have nothing to give you. So set out, and go some distance off and learn a trade, and see how you can make your way."
So the four brothers took their sticks, said goodbye to their father, and went out through the town gate together. When they had travelled for some time, they came to a crossroads that branched off in four different directions.
Then the eldest said, "Here we must separate; but four years from today we'll meet each other again at this spot, and in the meantime we'll seek our fortunes."
Then each of them went his own way. The eldest met a man who asked him where he was going and what he meant to do.
"I want to learn a trade," he replied.
Then the other said, "Come with me and be a thief."
"No," he answered. "That's no longer thought a respectable trade, and the end of it is that a man swings on the gallows."
"Oh," said the man, "you needn't be afraid of the gallows. I'll only teach you to get hold of things no other man could ever lay hands on, and nobody will ever catch you at it."
So he let himself be talked into it; and while he was with the man he became an accomplished thief, and so dexterous that nothing was safe from him once he took a fancy to it.
The second brother met a man who put the same question to him: what did he want to learn in the world?
"I don't know yet," he replied.
"Then come with me and be an astronomer. There's nothing better than that, for nothing is hidden from you."
He liked the idea, and became such a skilful astronomer that when he had learned everything and was about to travel on, his master gave him a telescope and said to him, "With this you can see whatever happens either on earth or in heaven, and nothing can stay hidden from you."
A huntsman took the third brother into training, and gave him such excellent instruction in everything to do with huntsmanship that he became an experienced hunter. When he went away his master gave him a gun and said, "It will never fail you. Whatever you aim at, you're certain to hit."
The youngest brother also met a man, who spoke to him and asked what his intentions were. "Wouldn't you like to be a tailor?" said he.
"Not that I know of," said the young man. "Sitting doubled up from morning till night, driving the needle and the pressing iron backwards and forwards, is not to my taste."
"Oh, but you're speaking in ignorance," answered the man. "With me you'd learn a very different kind of tailoring, one that's respectable and proper, and for the most part very honourable."
So he let himself be persuaded and went with the man, and learned his art from the very beginning. When they parted, the man gave the young man a needle and said, "With this you can sew together whatever is given you, whether it's as soft as an egg or as hard as steel; and it will all become one piece of stuff, so that no seam is visible."
When the appointed four years were over, the four brothers arrived at the crossroads at the same time, embraced and kissed each other, and went home together to their father.
"So now," said he, quite delighted, "the wind has blown you back to me again."
They told him everything that had happened to them, and that each of them had learned his own trade.
Now they were sitting just in front of the house under a large tree, and their father said, "I'll put you all to the test and see what you can do." Then he looked up and said to his second son, "Between two branches at the top of this tree there's a chaffinch's nest. Tell me how many eggs are in it."
The astronomer took his glass, looked up and said, "There are five."
Then the father said to the eldest, "Fetch the eggs down without disturbing the bird that's sitting on them."
The skilful thief climbed up and took the five eggs from under the bird, which never noticed what he was doing and stayed quietly sitting where she was; and he brought them down to his father.
The father took them and put one of them on each corner of the table and the fifth in the middle, and said to the huntsman, "With one shot you shall shoot me all five eggs in two, through the middle."
The huntsman took aim and shot the eggs, all five of them, just as his father had asked, and all at one shot. He must certainly have had some of that powder that shoots round corners.
"Now it's your turn," said the father to the fourth son. "You shall sew the eggs together again, and the young birds inside them as well; and you must do it so that they're not harmed by the shot."
The tailor brought his needle and sewed them as his father wanted. When he had done it, the thief had to climb the tree again and carry them back to the nest and put them under the bird without her noticing.
The bird sat her full time; and after a few days the young ones crept out, and they had a red line round their necks where the tailor had sewn them together.
"Well," said the old man to his sons, "I begin to think you're worth more than green clover. You've used your time well and learned something good. I can't say which of you deserves the most praise. That will be proved if you only get an early chance to use your talents."
Not long after this there was a great uproar in the country, for the King's daughter had been carried off by a dragon. The King was full of trouble about it, day and night, and had it proclaimed that whoever brought her back should have her for a wife.
The four brothers said to each other, "This would be a fine opportunity for us to show what we can do." And they decided to go out together and set the King's daughter free.
"I'll soon know where she is," said the astronomer — and looked through his telescope and said, "I can see her already. She's far away from here on a rock in the sea, and the dragon is beside her, watching her."
Then he went to the King and asked for a ship for himself and his brothers, and sailed with them over the sea until they came to the rock. There the King's daughter was sitting, with the dragon lying asleep in her lap.
The huntsman said, "I daren't fire; I should kill the beautiful girl at the same time."
"Then I'll try my art," said the thief; and he crept over and stole her away from under the dragon so quietly and dexterously that the monster never noticed, but went on snoring.
Full of joy, they hurried off with her on board ship and steered out into the open sea. But the dragon, who when he woke found no princess there, came after them, snorting angrily through the air. And just as he was circling above the ship and about to come down on it, the huntsman shouldered his gun and shot him through the heart.
The monster fell down dead; but he was so large and heavy that his fall smashed the whole ship to pieces. Luckily, though, they got hold of a couple of planks and swam about on the wide sea.
Then again they were in great danger; but the tailor was not idle. He took his wonderful needle and with a few stitches sewed the planks together, and they seated themselves on them and collected all the fragments of the vessel. Then he sewed those together so skilfully that in a very short time the ship was seaworthy again and they could go home in safety.
When the King saw his daughter once more there were great rejoicings. He said to the four brothers, "One of you shall have her for a wife; but which of you it's to be, you must settle among yourselves."
Then a warm dispute arose among them, for each of them pressed his own claim.
The astronomer said, "If I hadn't seen the princess, all your arts would have been useless. So she's mine."
The thief said, "What use would your seeing have been if I hadn't got her away from the dragon? So she's mine."
The huntsman said, "You and the princess and all the rest of you would have been torn to pieces by the dragon if my ball hadn't hit him. So she's mine."
The tailor said, "And if I hadn't sewn the ship together again with my art, every one of you would have been miserably drowned. So she's mine."
Then the King delivered this judgement: "Each of you has an equal right; and since all of you can't have the girl, none of you shall have her. But I'll give each of you half a kingdom as a reward."
The brothers were pleased with this decision, and said, "It's better this way than that we should quarrel with one another."
So each of them received half a kingdom, and they lived with their father in the greatest happiness as long as it pleased God.
There was once a woman who had three daughters. The eldest was called One-eye, because she had only one eye, in the middle of her forehead; the second Two-eyes, because she had two eyes like other people; and the youngest Three-eyes, because she had three eyes, and her third eye was in the middle of her forehead too.
But because Two-eyes saw just as other human beings did, her sisters and her mother could not endure her. They said to her, "You, with your two eyes, are no better than the common people. You don't belong to us." They pushed her about and threw old clothes at her and gave her nothing to eat but what they left, and did everything they could to make her unhappy.
It happened that Two-eyes had to go out into the fields and mind the goat; and she was still quite hungry, because her sisters had given her so little to eat. So she sat down on a bank and began to weep, and so bitterly that two streams ran down out of her eyes.
And once, when she looked up in her grief, a woman was standing beside her, who said, "Why are you weeping, little Two-eyes?"
Two-eyes answered, "Haven't I reason to weep? I have two eyes like other people, and my sisters and my mother hate me for it and push me from one corner to another, and throw old clothes at me, and give me nothing to eat but the scraps they leave. Today they've given me so little that I'm still quite hungry."
Then the wise woman said, "Wipe away your tears, Two-eyes, and I'll tell you something that will stop you ever going hungry again. Just say to your goat:
'Bleat, my little goat, bleat, cover the table with something to eat' —
and then a clean, well-spread little table will stand in front of you with the most delicious food on it, and you may eat as much of it as you like. And when you've had enough and have no more need of the little table, just say:
'Bleat, bleat, my little goat, I pray, and take the table quite away' —
and then it will vanish from your sight again."
With that the wise woman went away. But Two-eyes thought, "I must try it at once and see whether what she said is true, for I'm far too hungry." And she said:
"Bleat, my little goat, bleat, cover the table with something to eat."
And hardly had she spoken the words before a little table stood there covered with a white cloth, and on it a plate with a knife and fork and a silver spoon; and the most delicious food was there too, warm and steaming as if it had just come out of the kitchen.
Then Two-eyes said the shortest prayer she knew — "Lord God, be with us always, amen" — and helped herself to some food and enjoyed it. And when she had had enough, she said what the wise woman had taught her:
"Bleat, bleat, my little goat, I pray, and take the table quite away."
And immediately the little table and everything on it was gone.
"That's a delightful way of keeping house," thought Two-eyes, and was quite glad and happy.
In the evening, when she went home with her goat, she found a small earthenware dish with some food in it that her sisters had set out for her; but she did not touch it. Next day she went out with her goat again, and left the few bits of broken bread they had handed her lying untouched.
The first and second time she did this her sisters did not notice at all; but as it happened every time, they did notice, and said, "There's something wrong about Two-eyes. She always leaves her food untasted; and she used to eat up everything she was given. She must have found other ways of getting food."
So that they could learn the truth, they decided to send One-eye out with Two-eyes when she drove the goat to pasture, to watch what Two-eyes did there, and whether anybody brought her something to eat and drink.
So when Two-eyes set out next time, One-eye came to her and said, "I'll come with you to the pasture and see that the goat is properly looked after and driven where there's food."
But Two-eyes knew what was in One-eye's mind, and drove the goat into high grass and said, "Come, One-eye, we'll sit down and I'll sing you something."
One-eye sat down; and she was tired from the unaccustomed walk and the heat of the sun. And Two-eyes sang over and over again:
"One eye, are you waking? One eye, are you sleeping?"
until One-eye shut her one eye and fell asleep. And as soon as Two-eyes saw that One-eye was fast asleep and could find nothing out, she said:
"Bleat, my little goat, bleat, cover the table with something to eat."
And she sat down at her table and ate and drank until she had had enough; and then she said again:
"Bleat, bleat, my little goat, I pray, and take the table quite away."
And in an instant it was all gone.
Then Two-eyes woke One-eye and said, "One-eye, you meant to look after the goat, and you go to sleep doing it; and meanwhile the goat could have run off all over the world. Come, let's go home again."
So they went home; and again Two-eyes left her little dish untouched, and One-eye could not tell her mother why she would not eat it, and said, to excuse herself, "I fell asleep out there."
Next day the mother said to Three-eyes, "This time you shall go and watch whether Two-eyes eats anything when she's out, and whether anybody brings her food and drink; for she must be eating and drinking in secret."
So Three-eyes went to Two-eyes and said, "I'll come with you and see whether the goat is properly looked after and driven where there's food."
But Two-eyes knew what was in Three-eyes' mind, and drove the goat into high grass and said, "We'll sit down and I'll sing you something, Three-eyes."
Three-eyes sat down, and she was tired from the walk and the heat of the sun; and Two-eyes began the same song as before, and sang:
"Three eyes, are you waking?"
But then, instead of singing:
"Three eyes, are you sleeping?"
as she should have done, she thoughtlessly sang:
"Two eyes, are you sleeping?"
and went on singing all the time:
"Three eyes, are you waking? Two eyes, are you sleeping?"
Then two of the eyes Three-eyes had shut and fell asleep; but the third, because it had not been named in the song, did not sleep. Three-eyes shut it, it is true — but only out of cunning, to pretend that it was asleep too; and it blinked, and could see everything perfectly well.
And when Two-eyes thought that Three-eyes was fast asleep, she used her little charm:
"Bleat, my little goat, bleat, cover the table with something to eat."
And she ate and drank as much as her heart desired, and then ordered the table to go away again:
"Bleat, bleat, my little goat, I pray, and take the table quite away."
And Three-eyes had seen everything.
Then Two-eyes came to her and woke her and said, "Have you been asleep, Three-eyes? You're a fine caretaker! Come, we'll go home."
And when they got home Two-eyes again did not eat; and Three-eyes said to her mother, "Now I know why that stuck-up thing there doesn't eat. When she's out, she says to the goat:
'Bleat, my little goat, bleat, cover the table with something to eat' —
and then a little table appears in front of her covered with the best of food, much better than anything we have here. And when she's eaten all she wants, she says:
'Bleat, bleat, my little goat, I pray, and take the table quite away' —
and it all disappears. I watched everything closely. She put two of my eyes to sleep with a certain form of words, but luckily the one in my forehead stayed awake."
Then the envious mother cried, "Do you want to fare better than we do? That wish shall soon pass off." And she fetched a butcher's knife and drove it into the heart of the goat, which fell down dead.
When Two-eyes saw that, she went out full of grief and sat down on the grassy bank at the edge of the field and wept bitter tears.
Suddenly the wise woman was standing beside her once more, and said, "Two-eyes, why are you weeping?"
"Haven't I reason to weep?" she answered. "The goat that covered the table for me every day when I spoke your charm has been killed by my mother, and now I shall have to bear hunger and want again."
The wise woman said, "Two-eyes, I'll give you a piece of good advice. Ask your sisters to give you the innards of the slaughtered goat, and bury them in the ground in front of the house, and your fortune will be made."
Then she vanished; and Two-eyes went home and said to her sisters, "Dear sisters, do give me some part of my goat. I don't ask for anything good — just give me the innards."
Then they laughed and said, "If that's all you want, you can have it."
So Two-eyes took the innards and buried them quietly in the evening in front of the house door, as the wise woman had advised her.
Next morning, when they all woke and came to the house door, there stood a strangely magnificent tree with leaves of silver and fruit of gold hanging among them, so that in all the wide world there was nothing more beautiful or precious. They did not know how the tree could have come there in the night; but Two-eyes saw that it had grown up out of the innards of the goat, for it was standing on the exact spot where she had buried them.
Then the mother said to One-eye, "Climb up, my child, and gather some of the fruit of the tree for us."
One-eye climbed up; but when she was about to take hold of one of the golden apples, the branch escaped out of her hands; and that happened every time, so that she could not pick a single apple, do what she might.
Then the mother said, "Three-eyes, you climb up. You with your three eyes can look about you better than One-eye."
One-eye slid down and Three-eyes climbed up. But Three-eyes was no more skilful, and search as she liked, the golden apples always escaped her.
At length the mother lost patience and climbed up herself; but she could get hold of the fruit no better than One-eye and Three-eyes, for she always clutched empty air.
Then Two-eyes said, "I'll just go up. Perhaps I shall do better."
The sisters cried, "You, indeed — with your two eyes! What can you do?"
But Two-eyes climbed up, and the golden apples did not get out of her way, but came into her hand of their own accord, so that she could pick them one after another; and she brought a whole apronful down with her.
Her mother took them away from her; and instead of treating poor Two-eyes any better for it, she and One-eye and Three-eyes were only envious that Two-eyes alone had been able to get the fruit, and they treated her still more cruelly.
Now it happened once, when they were all standing together by the tree, that a young knight came up.
"Quick, Two-eyes," cried the two sisters, "get under this, and don't disgrace us!" And with all speed they turned an empty barrel that was standing close by the tree over poor Two-eyes, and pushed the golden apples she had been gathering under it as well.
When the knight came nearer, he turned out to be a handsome lord; and he stopped and admired the magnificent gold and silver tree, and said to the two sisters, "Whose is this fine tree? Anybody who would give me one branch of it might ask whatever he wanted in return."
Then One-eye and Three-eyes replied that the tree belonged to them, and that they would give him a branch. They both took great trouble over it, but they could not do it, for the branches and the fruit moved away from them every time.
Then the knight said, "It's very strange that the tree should belong to you and you still can't break a piece off it."
They insisted again that the tree was their property. But while they were saying so, Two-eyes rolled a couple of golden apples out from under the barrel to the knight's feet, for she was annoyed with One-eye and Three-eyes for not telling the truth.
When the knight saw the apples he was astonished, and asked where they came from. One-eye and Three-eyes answered that they had another sister, who was not allowed to show herself, because she had only two eyes, like any common person.
The knight, though, wanted to see her, and cried, "Two-eyes, come out."
Then Two-eyes, quite comforted, came out from under the barrel; and the knight was struck by her great beauty, and said, "You, Two-eyes, can surely break a branch off the tree for me."
"Yes," replied Two-eyes, "I shall certainly be able to, for the tree belongs to me." And she climbed up and with the greatest ease broke off a branch with beautiful silver leaves and golden fruit, and gave it to the knight.
Then the knight said, "Two-eyes, what shall I give you for it?"
"Alas," answered Two-eyes, "I suffer hunger and thirst and grief and want from early morning till late at night. If you would take me with you and free me from all this, I should be happy."
So the knight lifted Two-eyes onto his horse and took her home with him to his father's castle; and there he gave her beautiful clothes and food and drink to her heart's content. And as he loved her so much, he married her, and the wedding was celebrated with great rejoicing.
When Two-eyes had been carried away like this by the handsome knight, her two sisters grudged her her good fortune in downright earnest. "The wonderful tree is still ours, though," they thought, "and even if we can gather no fruit from it, everybody will still stop and look at it, and come to us and admire it. Who knows what good things may be in store for us?"
But next morning the tree had vanished, and all their hopes were at an end. And when Two-eyes looked out of the window of her own little room, there it was standing in front of it, to her great delight; and so it had followed her.
Two-eyes lived a long time in happiness. Once two poor women came to her at her castle and begged for alms. She looked in their faces and recognised her sisters, One-eye and Three-eyes, who had fallen into such poverty that they had to wander about and beg their bread from door to door.
But Two-eyes made them welcome and was kind to them and took care of them; so that both of them repented with all their hearts of the wrong they had done their sister in their youth.
"Good day, Father Hollenthe."
"Many thanks, Pif-paf-poltrie."
"May I have your daughter?"
"Oh, yes — if Mother Malcho, and Brother High-and-Mighty, and Sister Käsetraut, and fair Katrinelje are willing, you can have her."
"Where's Mother Malcho, then?"
"She's in the cowshed, milking the cow."
"Good day, Mother Malcho."
"Many thanks, Pif-paf-poltrie."
"May I have your daughter?"
"Oh, yes — if Father Hollenthe, and Brother High-and-Mighty, and Sister Käsetraut, and fair Katrinelje are willing, you can have her."
"Where's Brother High-and-Mighty, then?"
"He's in the room chopping wood."
"Good day, Brother High-and-Mighty."
"Many thanks, Pif-paf-poltrie."
"May I have your sister?"
"Oh, yes — if Father Hollenthe, and Mother Malcho, and Sister Käsetraut, and fair Katrinelje are willing, you can have her."
"Where's Sister Käsetraut, then?"
"She's in the garden cutting cabbages."
"Good day, Sister Käsetraut."
"Many thanks, Pif-paf-poltrie."
"May I have your sister?"
"Oh, yes — if Father Hollenthe, and Mother Malcho, and Brother High-and-Mighty, and fair Katrinelje are willing, you may have her."
"Where's fair Katrinelje, then?"
"She's in the room counting out her farthings."
"Good day, fair Katrinelje."
"Many thanks, Pif-paf-poltrie."
"Will you be my bride?"
"Oh, yes — if Father Hollenthe, and Mother Malcho, and Brother High-and-Mighty, and Sister Käsetraut are willing, I'm ready."
"Fair Katrinelje, how much dowry have you?"
"Fourteen farthings in ready money, three and a half groschen owing to me, half a pound of dried apples, a handful of fried bread and a handful of spices.
And many other things are mine — haven't I a dowry fine?
"Pif-paf-poltrie, what's your trade? Are you a tailor?"
"Something better."
"A shoemaker?"
"Something better."
"A farmer?"
"Something better."
"A joiner?"
"Something better."
"A smith?"
"Something better."
"A miller?"
"Something better."
"Perhaps a broom-maker?"
"Yes, that's what I am. Isn't that a fine trade?"
A peasant had a faithful horse that had grown old and could do no more work; so his master would give him nothing more to eat, and said, "I can certainly make no more use of you; but still, I mean you well. If you prove yourself still strong enough to bring me a lion, I'll keep you. But for now, take yourself off out of my stable." And with that he chased him out into the open country.
The horse was sad, and went to the forest to look for a little shelter there from the weather. Then the fox met him and said, "Why are you hanging your head like that, and going about all alone?"
"Alas," replied the horse, "greed and loyalty don't live together in one house. My master has forgotten the services I've done him all these years; and because I can no longer plough well, he'll give me no more food and has driven me out."
"Without giving you a chance?" asked the fox.
"The chance was a bad one. He said that if I were still strong enough to bring him a lion he'd keep me; but he knows perfectly well that I can't do that."
The fox said, "I'll help you. Just lie down and stretch yourself out as though you were dead, and don't stir."
The horse did as the fox asked; and the fox went to the lion, who had his den not far off, and said, "There's a dead horse lying out there. Just come with me — you can have a rich meal."
The lion went with him; and when they were both standing beside the horse, the fox said, "After all, it isn't very comfortable for you here. I'll tell you what — I'll tie it to you by the tail, and then you can drag it into your cave and devour it in peace."
This advice pleased the lion. He lay down; and so that the fox could tie the horse fast to him, he kept quite still.
But the fox tied the lion's legs together with the horse's tail, and twisted and fastened it all so well and so strongly that no strength could break it. And when he had finished his work he tapped the horse on the shoulder and said, "Pull, white horse, pull."
Then up sprang the horse at once and dragged the lion away with him. The lion began to roar so that all the birds in the forest flew up in terror; but the horse let him roar, and drew him and dragged him over the country to his master's door.
When the master saw the lion he was of a better mind, and said to the horse, "You shall stay with me and fare well." And he gave him plenty to eat until he died.
There was once a King who had twelve daughters, each one more beautiful than the last. They all slept together in one room, with their beds standing side by side; and every night, when they were in them, the King locked the door and bolted it. But in the morning, when he unlocked the door, he saw that their shoes were worn out with dancing, and nobody could find out how it came about.
So the King had it proclaimed that whoever could discover where they danced at night should choose one of them for a wife and be King after his death — but that whoever came forward and had not discovered it within three days and nights should forfeit his life.
It was not long before a King's son presented himself and offered to undertake the business. He was well received, and in the evening was taken into a room next to the princesses' bedroom. His bed was set up there, and he was to watch where they went and danced; and so that they could do nothing in secret or go off somewhere else, the door of their room was left open.
But the prince's eyelids grew heavy as lead and he fell asleep; and when he woke in the morning, all twelve of them had been to the dance, for their shoes were standing there with holes in the soles. On the second and third nights it happened just the same; and then his head was struck off without mercy.
Many others came after this and undertook the business, but all of them forfeited their lives.
Now it happened that a poor soldier who had a wound and could serve no longer found himself on the road to the town where the King lived. There he met an old woman, who asked him where he was going.
"I hardly know myself," he answered — and added as a joke, "I had half a mind to discover where the princesses dance their shoes into holes, and so become King."
"That's not so difficult," said the old woman. "You mustn't drink the wine that will be brought to you at night, and you must pretend to be fast asleep." And with that she gave him a little cloak and said, "If you put that on, you'll be invisible, and then you can steal after the twelve of them."
When the soldier had been given this good advice, he went into the business in earnest, took heart, went to the King and announced himself as a suitor. He was as well received as the others, and royal clothes were put on him.
That evening at bedtime he was taken into the antechamber; and as he was about to go to bed, the eldest princess came and brought him a cup of wine. But he had tied a sponge under his chin and let the wine run down into it, without drinking a drop.
Then he lay down; and when he had lain a while he began to snore, as though in the deepest sleep. The twelve princesses heard that and laughed, and the eldest said, "He might as well have saved his life too."
And with that they got up and opened wardrobes and chests and cupboards and brought out pretty dresses, and dressed themselves in front of their mirrors and sprang about, delighted at the prospect of the dance.
Only the youngest said, "I don't know how it is. You're all very happy, but I feel very strange. Some misfortune is certainly going to come to us."
"You're a goose, always frightened," said the eldest. "Have you forgotten how many kings' sons have already come here for nothing? I hardly needed to give the soldier a sleeping draught; the clown wouldn't have woken anyway."
When they were all ready they looked carefully at the soldier; but he had shut his eyes and did not move or stir, so they felt themselves quite safe.
The eldest then went to her bed and tapped it. It sank into the earth at once; and one after another they went down through the opening, the eldest going first. The soldier, who had watched everything, waited no longer, put on his little cloak and went down last, with the youngest.
Halfway down the stairs he trod a little on her dress. She was terrified at that and cried out, "What's that? Who's pulling my dress?"
"Don't be so silly," said the eldest. "You've caught it on a nail."
Then they went all the way down; and when they were at the bottom they were standing in a wonderfully pretty avenue of trees, all of whose leaves were of silver and shone and glistened.
The soldier thought, "I must carry away some token with me" — and broke off a twig from one of them, at which the tree cracked with a loud report.
The youngest cried out again. "Something's wrong! Did you hear that crack?"
But the eldest said, "That's a gun fired for joy, because we've got rid of our prince so quickly."
After that they came into an avenue where all the leaves were of gold, and at last into a third where they were of bright diamonds. He broke a twig off in each, and each time it made such a crack that the youngest started back in terror; but the eldest still insisted that they were salutes.
They went on and came to a great lake, on which stood twelve little boats, and in every boat sat a handsome prince, all of them waiting for the twelve. Each took one of them with him; but the soldier seated himself beside the youngest.
Then her prince said, "I can't think why the boat is so much heavier today. I shall have to row with all my strength if I'm to get it across."
"What would cause that," said the youngest, "except the warm weather? I feel very warm too."
On the other side of the lake stood a splendid, brightly lit castle, from which came the joyful music of trumpets and kettledrums. They rowed over there and went in; and each prince danced with the girl he loved. But the soldier danced along with them unseen; and when one of them had a cup of wine in her hand, he drank it up, so that the cup was empty when she raised it to her mouth. The youngest was alarmed at this, but the eldest always made her be quiet.
They danced there till three o'clock in the morning, when all their shoes were danced into holes and they had to leave off. The princes rowed them back across the lake, and this time the soldier seated himself beside the eldest. On the shore they took their leave of their princes and promised to come back the following night.
When they reached the stairs the soldier ran on ahead and lay down in his bed; and when the twelve came up slowly and wearily, he was already snoring so loudly that they could all hear him, and they said, "As far as he's concerned, we're safe."
They took off their beautiful dresses and put them away, and set their worn-out shoes under the bed, and lay down.
Next morning the soldier decided to say nothing, but to watch the wonderful goings-on again; and he went with them again. Then everything happened just as it had the first time, and each time they danced until their shoes were worn to pieces. But the third time he took a cup away with him as a token.
When the hour came for him to give his answer, he took the three twigs and the cup and went to the King; but the twelve stood behind the door and listened for what he was going to say.
When the King put the question, "Where have my twelve daughters danced their shoes to pieces in the night?" he answered, "In an underground castle, with twelve princes" — and told how it had all come about, and brought out the tokens.
The King then summoned his daughters and asked whether the soldier had told the truth; and when they saw that they were betrayed and that lying would be no use, they had to confess it all.
At this the King asked him which of them he would have for a wife. He answered, "I'm no longer young, so give me the eldest."
Then the wedding was celebrated on that very day, and the kingdom was promised him after the King's death. But the princes were kept under their spell for as many days as they had danced nights with the twelve.
In former times there lived an old Queen who was a sorceress, and her daughter was the most beautiful girl under the sun. The old woman, though, had no thought in her head but how to lure men to their destruction; and when a suitor appeared, she said that whoever wanted her daughter must first perform a task, or die.
Many had been dazzled by the daughter's beauty and had actually risked it; but they could never accomplish what the old woman set them to do, and then no mercy was shown: they had to kneel down and their heads were struck off.
A certain King's son who had also heard of the girl's beauty said to his father, "Let me go there. I want to ask for her in marriage."
"Never," answered the King. "If you went, you'd be going to your death."
At this his son lay down and was sick to death; and he lay there seven years, and no physician could heal him. When his father saw that all hope was gone, he said to him with a heavy heart, "Go there and try your luck; I know no other way of curing you."
When his son heard that, he rose from his bed and was well again, and set out joyfully on his way.
And it happened that as he was riding across a heath, he saw from a distance something like a great heap of hay lying on the ground; and when he came nearer he could see that it was the belly of a man who had laid himself down there — but the belly looked like a small mountain.
When the fat man saw the traveller he stood up and said, "If you're in need of anybody, take me into your service."
The prince answered, "What can I do with such a great big man?"
"Oh," said the Stout One, "this is nothing. When I stretch myself out properly, I'm three thousand times fatter."
"If that's the case," said the prince, "I can make use of you. Come with me."
So the Stout One followed the prince; and after a while they found another man lying on the ground with his ear laid to the turf.
"What are you doing there?" asked the King's son.
"I'm listening," replied the man.
"What are you listening to so attentively?"
"I'm listening to what's going on in the world at this moment, for nothing escapes my ears. I can even hear the grass growing."
"Tell me," said the prince, "what you hear at the court of the old Queen who has the beautiful daughter."
Then he answered, "I hear the whizzing of the sword that's striking off a suitor's head."
The King's son said, "I can make use of you. Come with me."
They went on, and then saw a pair of feet lying there, and part of a pair of legs, but could not see the rest of the body. When they had walked on a great distance they came to the body, and at last to the head as well.
"Why," said the prince, "what a tall rascal you are!"
"Oh," replied the Tall One, "that's nothing at all yet. When I really stretch out my limbs, I'm three thousand times as tall, and taller than the highest mountain on earth. I'll gladly enter your service, if you'll take me."
"Come with me," said the prince. "I can make use of you."
They went on and found a man sitting by the road who had bound up his eyes. The prince said to him, "Have you weak eyes, that you can't look at the light?"
"No," replied the man. "But I mustn't take the bandage off, for whatever I look at with my eyes splits to pieces, my gaze is so powerful. If you can use that, I'll gladly serve you."
"Come with me," replied the King's son. "I can make use of you."
They journeyed on and found a man lying in the hot sunshine, trembling and shivering all over his body, so that not a limb of him was still.
"How can you be shivering when the sun's shining so warm?" said the King's son.
"Alas," replied the man, "I'm of quite a different nature. The hotter it is, the colder I am, and the frost cuts through all my bones; and the colder it is, the hotter I am. In the middle of ice I can't endure the heat, nor in the middle of fire the cold."
"You're a strange fellow," said the prince, "but if you'll enter my service, follow me."
They travelled on and saw a man standing there who stretched out a long neck and looked about him and could see over all the mountains.
"What are you looking at so eagerly?" said the King's son.
The man replied, "I have such sharp eyes that I can see into every forest and field and hill and valley all over the world."
The prince said, "Come with me if you will, for I'm still in want of somebody like you."
And now the King's son and his six servants came to the town where the old Queen lived. He did not tell her who he was, but said, "If you'll give me your beautiful daughter, I'll perform any task you set me."
The sorceress was delighted to get such a handsome young man as this into her net, and said, "I'll set you three tasks; and if you can perform them all, you shall be my daughter's husband and master."
"What's the first to be?"
"You shall fetch me my ring, which I dropped into the Red Sea."
So the King's son went home to his servants and said, "The first task is not easy. A ring has to be got out of the Red Sea. Come, find some way of doing it."
Then the man with the sharp sight said, "I'll see where it's lying" — and looked down into the water and said, "It's caught there, on a pointed stone."
The Tall One carried them there and said, "I'd soon get it out, if I could only see it."
"Oh, is that all?" cried the Stout One — and lay down and put his mouth to the water, at which all the waves fell into it as if it were a whirlpool; and he drank the whole sea up until it was as dry as a meadow. The Tall One stooped down a little and brought out the ring with his hand.
Then the King's son rejoiced to have the ring, and took it to the old Queen. She was astonished, and said, "Yes, that's the right ring. You've safely performed the first task; but now comes the second. Do you see the meadow in front of my palace? Three hundred fat oxen are grazing there, and you must eat them — skin, hair, bones, horns and all. And down below in my cellar lie three hundred casks of wine, and you must drink those up as well. And if one hair of the oxen or one little drop of the wine is left, your life will be forfeit to me."
"May I invite no guests to this meal?" asked the prince. "No dinner is good without some company."
The old woman laughed maliciously and replied, "You may invite one, for the sake of the company — but no more."
The King's son went to his servants and said to the Stout One, "You shall be my guest today, and eat your fill."
At this the Stout One stretched himself out and ate the three hundred oxen without leaving a single hair; and then he asked whether he was to have nothing but his breakfast. He drank the wine straight out of the casks without feeling any need of a glass, and licked the last drop off his fingernails.
When the meal was over, the prince went to the old woman and told her that the second task was performed too. She wondered at this and said, "Nobody has ever done so much before; but one task still remains." And she thought to herself, "You shan't escape me, and you shan't keep your head on your shoulders."
"Tonight," said she, "I'll bring my daughter to you in your room, and you shall put your arms round her; but when the two of you are sitting there together, beware of falling asleep. When twelve o'clock strikes I'll come; and if she's no longer in your arms then, you are lost."
The prince thought, "The task is easy. I shall certainly keep my eyes open." All the same he called his servants and told them what the old woman had said, and remarked, "Who knows what treachery lies behind this? Foresight is a good thing. Keep watch, and take care that the girl doesn't go out of my room again."
When night fell, the old woman came with her daughter and put her into the prince's arms; and then the Tall One wound himself round the two of them in a circle, and the Stout One placed himself at the door, so that no living creature could come in.
There the two of them sat, and the girl never spoke a word; but the moon shone on her face through the window, and the prince could see her wonderful beauty. He did nothing but gaze at her, and was filled with love and happiness, and his eyes never grew weary.
This lasted until eleven o'clock, when the old woman cast such a spell over all of them that they fell asleep; and at that same moment the girl was carried away.
Then they all slept soundly until a quarter to twelve, when the magic lost its power and they all woke again.
"Oh, misery and misfortune!" cried the prince. "Now I'm lost."
The faithful servants began to lament too; but the Listener said, "Be quiet, I want to listen." Then he listened for an instant and said, "She's on a rock three hundred leagues from here, bewailing her fate. You alone, Tall One, can help her; if you stand up, you'll be there in a couple of steps."
"Yes," answered the Tall One, "but the one with the sharp eyes must come with me, so that we can destroy the rock."
Then the Tall One took the one with the bandaged eyes on his back, and in the twinkling of an eye they were on the enchanted rock. The Tall One immediately took the bandage off the other's eyes; and he had only to look round, and the rock shivered into a thousand pieces.
Then the Tall One took the girl in his arms and carried her back in a second, and fetched his companion just as fast; and before it struck twelve they were all sitting as they had sat before, quite merry and happy.
When twelve struck, the old sorceress came stealing in with a malicious face that seemed to say, "Now he's mine!" — for she believed that her daughter was on the rock three hundred leagues away. But when she saw her in the prince's arms she was alarmed, and said, "Here's one who knows more than I do."
She dared not raise any objection, and had to give him her daughter. But she whispered in the girl's ear, "It's a disgrace for you to have to obey common people, and not to be allowed to choose a husband to your own liking."
At this the girl's proud heart filled with anger, and she plotted revenge.
Next morning she had three hundred great bundles of wood gathered together, and told the prince that although the three tasks were performed, she still would not be his wife until somebody was willing to sit in the middle of the wood and bear the fire. She thought that none of his servants would let himself be burnt for him, and that out of love for her he would climb onto it himself, and then she would be free.
But the servants said, "Every one of us has done something except the Frosty One; he must get to work." And they set him in the middle of the pile and set fire to it.
Then the fire began to burn, and burned for three days until all the wood was consumed; and when the flames had burned out, the Frosty One was standing among the ashes, trembling like an aspen leaf, and saying, "I never felt such a frost in the whole course of my life. If it had lasted much longer, I should have been numb."
As no other excuse was to be found, the beautiful girl now had to take the unknown young man as her husband.
But when they drove away to church, the old woman said, "I can't endure the disgrace" — and sent her warriors after them with orders to cut down everybody who opposed them and bring her daughter back.
But the Listener had sharpened his ears and heard the old woman's secret orders. "What shall we do?" he said to the Stout One.
But the Stout One knew what to do, and spat out behind the carriage, once or twice, some of the sea water he had drunk; and a great sea rose up, in which the warriors were caught and drowned.
When the sorceress saw that, she sent her armoured knights. But the Listener heard the rattling of their armour, and undid the bandage from one of Sharp-eyes' eyes; and he looked rather fixedly at the enemy troops for a while, at which they all sprang to pieces like glass.
Then the young man and the girl went on their way undisturbed; and when the two of them had been blessed in church, the six servants took their leave and said to their master, "Your wishes are satisfied now; you need us no longer. We'll go our way and seek our fortunes."
Half a league from the palace of the prince's father there was a village, and near it a swineherd was minding his herd. And when they came there, the prince said to his wife, "Do you know who I really am? I'm no prince, but a herder of swine; and the man over there with that herd is my father. We two shall have to set to work as well and help him."
Then he took her into the inn, and told the innkeepers secretly to take away her royal clothes during the night. So when she woke in the morning she had nothing to put on; and the innkeeper's wife gave her an old gown and a pair of worsted stockings, and at the same time seemed to think it a great present, and said, "If it weren't for your husband's sake, I should have given you nothing at all."
Then the princess believed that he really was a swineherd, and minded the herd with him, and thought to herself, "I've deserved this for my haughtiness and pride."
This lasted a week, and then she could bear it no longer, for she had sores on her feet.
And now a couple of people came who asked her whether she knew who her husband was.
"Yes," she answered, "he's a swineherd, and he's just gone out with cords and ropes to try to drive a little bargain."
But they said, "Just come with us, and we'll take you to him." And they brought her up to the palace; and when she came into the hall, there stood her husband in kingly clothes. But she did not recognise him until he took her in his arms and kissed her and said, "I suffered much for you, and now you too have had to suffer for me."
And then the wedding was celebrated; and the man who has told you all this wishes that he had been there too.
A woman was going about the open land with her daughter and her stepdaughter, cutting fodder, when the Lord came walking towards them in the shape of a poor man, and asked, "Which is the way into the village?"
"If you want to know," said the mother, "find it for yourself." And the daughter added, "If you're afraid you won't find it, take a guide with you."
But the stepdaughter said, "Poor man, I'll take you there. Come with me."
Then God was angry with the mother and the daughter, and turned his back on them, and wished that they should become as black as night and as ugly as sin.
To the poor stepdaughter, though, God was gracious, and went with her; and when they were near the village he spoke a blessing over her and said, "Choose three things for yourself, and I'll grant them to you."
Then the girl said, "I should like to be as beautiful and bright as the sun." And instantly she was white and bright as day.
"And then I should like to have a purse of money that never grows empty."
The Lord gave her that as well; but he said, "Don't forget what is best of all."
She said, "For my third wish, I ask that after my death I may live in the eternal kingdom of Heaven."
That too was granted her; and then the Lord left her.
When the stepmother came home with her daughter and they saw that they were both as black as coal and ugly, but that the stepdaughter was white and beautiful, the wickedness in their hearts grew greater still, and they thought of nothing but how they could do her some injury.
The stepdaughter, though, had a brother called Reginer, whom she loved dearly, and she told him everything that had happened.
Once Reginer said to her, "Dear sister, I want to paint your likeness, so that I can see you before my eyes all the time; for my love for you is so great that I should like always to be looking at you."
Then she answered, "But I beg you, let nobody see the picture."
So he painted his sister and hung the picture up in his room. He lived in the King's palace, though, for he was the King's coachman. Every day he went and stood in front of the picture and thanked God for the happiness of having such a dear sister.
Now it happened that the King he served had just lost his wife, who had been so beautiful that nobody could be found to compare with her; and on this account the King was in deep grief.
But the attendants about the court noticed that the coachman stood in front of this beautiful picture every day, and they were jealous of him, and told the King.
Then the King ordered the picture to be brought to him; and when he saw that it was like his lost wife in every way, only still more beautiful, he fell mortally in love with it. He had the coachman brought before him and asked whom the portrait showed. The coachman said it was his sister.
So the King decided to take nobody but her for his wife, and gave him a carriage and horses and splendid clothes of cloth of gold, and sent him off to fetch his chosen bride.
When Reginer came on this errand his sister was glad; but the black girl was jealous of her good fortune and grew angry beyond all measure, and said to her mother, "What use are all your arts to us now, if you can't get me a piece of luck like that?"
"Be quiet," said the old woman. "I'll soon turn it your way."
And by her arts of witchcraft she so troubled the coachman's eyes that he was half blind, and stopped the white girl's ears so that she was half deaf.
Then they got into the carriage: first the bride in her noble royal clothes, then the stepmother with her daughter; and Reginer sat on the box to drive.
When they had been on the road some time, the coachman called out:
"Cover yourself well, my sister dear, so that the rain may not wet you, so that the wind may not load you with dust, so that you may be fair and beautiful when you come before the King."
The bride asked, "What is my dear brother saying?"
"Ah," said the old woman, "he says you ought to take off your golden dress and give it to your sister."
So she took it off and put it on the black girl, who gave her a shabby grey gown in exchange for it.
They drove on; and a short time afterwards the brother called out again:
"Cover yourself well, my sister dear, so that the rain may not wet you, so that the wind may not load you with dust, so that you may be fair and beautiful when you come before the King."
The bride asked, "What is my dear brother saying?"
"Ah," said the old woman, "he says you ought to take off your golden hood and give it to your sister."
So she took off the hood and put it on her sister, and sat there with her own head uncovered.
And they drove on further. After a while the brother called out once more:
"Cover yourself well, my sister dear, so that the rain may not wet you, so that the wind may not load you with dust, so that you may be fair and beautiful when you come before the King."
The bride asked, "What is my dear brother saying?"
"Ah," said the old woman, "he says you must look out of the carriage."
But they were just then on a bridge crossing deep water. When the bride stood up and leaned forward out of the carriage, the two of them pushed her out, and she fell into the middle of the water.
At the same moment that she sank, a snow-white duck rose out of the mirror-smooth water and swam away down the river.
The brother had noticed nothing of it, and drove the carriage on until they reached the court. Then he brought the black girl to the King as his sister, and believed that she really was, because his eyes were dim and he saw the golden clothes glittering.
When the King saw the boundless ugliness of his intended bride he was very angry, and ordered the coachman to be thrown into a pit full of adders and nests of snakes. But the old witch knew so well how to flatter the King and deceive his eyes by her arts that he kept her and her daughter until she seemed quite bearable to him, and he actually married her.
One evening, when the black bride was sitting on the King's knee, a white duck came swimming up the gutter to the kitchen, and said to the kitchen boy, "Boy, light a fire, so that I can warm my feathers."
The kitchen boy did it, and lit a fire on the hearth. Then the duck came and sat down by it, and shook herself and smoothed her feathers straight with her bill.
And while she was sitting there enjoying herself, she asked, "What is my brother Reginer doing?"
The kitchen boy replied, "He's shut up in the pit with the adders and the snakes."
Then she asked, "What is the black witch doing in the house?"
The boy answered, "She's loved by the King, and happy."
"May God have mercy on him," said the duck, and swam out again by the sink.
The next night she came again and asked the same questions, and the third night too. Then the kitchen boy could bear it no longer, and went to the King and told him everything.
But the King wanted to see it for himself, and went there the next evening; and when the duck put her head in through the sink, he took his sword and cut through her neck — and suddenly she changed into a most beautiful girl, exactly like the picture her brother had painted of her.
The King was full of joy; and as she stood there quite wet, he had splendid clothes brought and had her dressed in them. Then she told him how she had been betrayed by cunning and falsehood and at last thrown down into the water; and her first request was that her brother should be brought up out of the pit of snakes.
And when the King had granted this request, he went into the room where the old witch was and asked, "What does she deserve who does such and such a thing?" — and told what had happened.
Then she was so blinded that she saw nothing at all, and said, "She deserves to be stripped naked and put into a barrel full of nails, and a horse harnessed to the barrel and sent off with it all over the world."
All of which was done to her, and to her black daughter. But the King married the white and beautiful bride, and rewarded her faithful brother and made him a rich and distinguished man.
There was once a King who had a great forest near his palace, full of all kinds of wild animals. One day he sent a huntsman out to shoot him a roe, but he did not come back.
"Perhaps some accident has happened to him," said the King; and next day he sent out two more huntsmen to search for him — but they stayed away too.
Then on the third day he sent for all his huntsmen and said, "Scour the whole forest through, and don't give up until you've found all three."
But of these too, none came home again; and of the pack of hounds they had taken with them, not one was ever seen again.
From that time on nobody would venture into the forest any more, and it lay there in deep stillness and solitude, and nothing was seen of it except sometimes an eagle or a hawk flying over.
This lasted for many years; and then a huntsman from abroad presented himself to the King, looking for a position, and offered to go into the dangerous forest. But the King would not give his consent, and said, "It isn't safe in there. I'm afraid it would go no better with you than with the others, and you'd never come out again."
The huntsman replied, "My lord, I'll venture it at my own risk. I know nothing of fear."
So the huntsman took himself off to the forest with his dog. It was not long before the dog fell in with some game on the way and wanted to chase it; but the dog had hardly run two steps before it stood in front of a deep pool and could go no further, and a naked arm stretched itself out of the water and seized it and dragged it under.
When the huntsman saw that, he went back and fetched three men to come with buckets and bale the water out. And when they could see to the bottom, there lay a wild man whose body was brown like rusty iron, and whose hair hung down over his face to his knees. They bound him with cords and led him away to the castle.
There was great astonishment at the wild man; and the King had him put in an iron cage in his courtyard, and forbade anybody to open the door on pain of death, and the Queen herself was to keep the key. And from that time on everybody could go into the forest in safety again.
The King had a son of eight years old, who was playing in the courtyard one day; and while he was playing, his golden ball fell into the cage. The boy ran over and said, "Give me my ball back."
"Not until you've opened the door for me," answered the man.
"No," said the boy, "I won't do that. The King has forbidden it" — and ran away.
Next day he went again and asked for his ball; the wild man said, "Open my door" — but the boy would not.
On the third day the King had ridden out hunting, and the boy went once more and said, "I couldn't open the door even if I wanted to, for I haven't the key."
Then the wild man said, "It lies under your mother's pillow; you can get it there."
The boy, who wanted his ball back, threw all caution to the winds and fetched the key. The door opened with difficulty, and the boy pinched his fingers. When it was open, the wild man stepped out, gave him the golden ball and hurried away.
The boy had grown frightened; he called and cried after him, "Oh, wild man, don't go away, or I shall be beaten!"
The wild man turned back, picked him up, set him on his shoulder and went off into the forest with hasty steps.
When the King came home he noticed the empty cage, and asked the Queen how that had happened. She knew nothing about it, and looked for the key, but it was gone. She called the boy, but nobody answered. The King sent people out to look for him in the fields, but they did not find him. Then he could easily guess what had happened, and there was great grief in the royal court.
When the wild man had reached the dark forest again, he took the boy down off his shoulder and said to him, "You'll never see your father and mother again; but I'll keep you with me, for you set me free and I feel pity for you. If you do everything I tell you, you shall fare well. Of treasure and gold I have enough, and more than anybody in the world."
He made the boy a bed of moss to sleep on; and next morning the man took him to a well and said, "Look — the gold well is as bright and clear as crystal. You shall sit beside it and take care that nothing falls into it, or it will be spoiled. I'll come every evening to see whether you've obeyed my order."
The boy sat down at the edge of the well, and often saw a golden fish or a golden snake show itself in it, and took care that nothing fell in. But as he was sitting there, his finger hurt him so violently that without meaning to he put it in the water. He drew it out again quickly, but saw that it was entirely gilded; and however hard he tried to wash the gold off, it was no use.
In the evening Iron John came back, looked at the boy and said, "What has happened to the well?"
"Nothing, nothing," he answered, and held his finger behind his back so that the man should not see it.
But he said, "You've dipped your finger in the water. This time it may pass; but take care you don't let anything go in again."
By daybreak the boy was already sitting by the well and watching it. His finger hurt him again and he passed it over his head, and then unluckily a hair fell down into the well. He took it out quickly, but it was already quite gilded.
Iron John came and knew already what had happened. "You've let a hair fall into the well," said he. "I'll let you watch by it once more; but if it happens a third time, then the well is spoiled and you can stay with me no longer."
On the third day the boy sat by the well and did not stir his finger, however much it hurt him. But the time hung heavy on him, and he looked at the reflection of his face on the surface of the water. And as he bent down more and more, trying to look straight into his own eyes, his long hair fell down from his shoulders into the water. He straightened up quickly, but all the hair on his head was already golden and shone like the sun.
You can imagine how terrified the poor boy was. He took his handkerchief and tied it round his head, so that the man should not see it. But when he came he knew everything already, and said, "Take the handkerchief off."
Then the golden hair streamed out; and the boy might excuse himself as he liked, it was no use.
"You haven't stood the test, and you can stay here no longer. Go out into the world; there you'll learn what poverty is. But as you haven't a bad heart, and as I mean you well, there's one thing I'll grant you: if you ever fall into any difficulty, come to the forest and call 'Iron John,' and then I'll come and help you. My power is great, greater than you think, and I have gold and silver in abundance."
So the King's son left the forest, and walked by beaten and unbeaten paths, always onwards, until at length he reached a great city. There he looked for work, but could find none, and he had learned nothing that could help him. At length he went to the palace and asked whether they would take him in. The people about the court did not at all know what use they could make of him; but they liked him, and told him to stay. At length the cook took him into his service and said he might carry wood and water and rake the cinders together.
Once, when it happened that nobody else was at hand, the cook ordered him to carry the food to the royal table; but as he did not want to let his golden hair be seen, he kept his little cap on. Such a thing as that had never come under the King's notice before, and he said, "When you come to the royal table you must take your hat off."
He answered, "Ah, my lord, I can't; I have a bad sore place on my head."
Then the King had the cook called before him and scolded him, and asked how he could take such a boy as that into his service, and said he was to turn him off at once. The cook, though, had pity on him, and exchanged him for the gardener's boy.
And now the boy had to plant and water the garden, hoe and dig, and bear the wind and bad weather. Once in summer, when he was working alone in the garden, the day was so warm that he took his little cap off to let the air cool him. And as the sun shone on his hair, it glittered and flashed so that the rays fell into the King's daughter's bedroom, and up she sprang to see what it could be.
Then she saw the boy, and called out to him, "Boy, bring me a wreath of flowers."
He put his cap on in all haste, and gathered wild field flowers and bound them together. As he was going up the stairs with them, the gardener met him and said, "How can you take the King's daughter a garland of such common flowers? Go quickly and get another, and pick out the prettiest and rarest."
"Oh, no," replied the boy, "the wild ones have more scent, and will please her better."
When he came into the room, the King's daughter said, "Take your cap off. It isn't proper to keep it on in my presence."
He said again, "I mustn't; I have a sore head."
She, though, caught at his cap and pulled it off, and then his golden hair rolled down on his shoulders, and it was splendid to see. He wanted to run out, but she held him by the arm and gave him a handful of ducats. He went off with them, but he cared nothing for the gold pieces. He took them to the gardener and said, "I make a present of them to your children; they can play with them."
The following day the King's daughter called to him again to bring her a wreath of field flowers; and when he came in with it she instantly snatched at his cap and tried to take it off him, but he held it fast with both hands. She gave him a handful of ducats again, but he would not keep them, and gave them to the gardener as playthings for his children.
On the third day it went just the same: she could not get his cap off him, and he would not have her money.
Not long afterwards the country was overrun by war. The King gathered his people together and did not know whether he could put up any resistance to the enemy, who was superior in strength and had a mighty army.
Then the gardener's boy said, "I'm grown up, and I'll go to the war too; only give me a horse."
The others laughed and said, "Look for one yourself when we've gone; we'll leave one behind in the stable for you."
When they had ridden out, he went into the stable and got the horse out. It was lame in one foot and went hobbling along, hobblety-jig, hobblety-jig; all the same he mounted it and rode away to the dark forest.
When he came to the edge of it, he called "Iron John" three times, so loudly that it echoed through the trees. At this the wild man appeared immediately and said, "What do you want?"
"I want a strong horse, for I'm going to the war."
"That you shall have, and more than you ask for."
Then the wild man went back into the forest; and it was not long before a stable boy came out of it leading a horse that snorted through its nostrils and could hardly be held in; and behind them followed a great troop of soldiers all equipped in iron, and their swords flashed in the sun.
The young man handed his three-legged horse over to the stable boy, mounted the other and rode at the head of the soldiers.
When he got near the battlefield, a great part of the King's men had already fallen, and it needed very little to make the rest give way. Then the young man galloped up with his iron soldiers, broke like a hurricane over the enemy and beat down everybody who stood against him. They began to run, but the young man pursued them and never stopped until there was not a single man left.
Instead of going back to the King, though, he led his troop by side roads back to the forest and called out Iron John.
"What do you want?" asked the wild man.
"Take back your horse and your troops, and give me my three-legged horse again."
Everything he asked was done, and soon he was riding on his three-legged horse.
When the King returned to his palace, his daughter went to meet him and wished him joy of his victory.
"I'm not the one who carried off the victory," said he, "but a strange knight who came to my help with his soldiers."
His daughter wanted to hear who the strange knight was; but the King did not know, and said, "He followed the enemy, and I never saw him again."
She asked the gardener where his boy was; but he smiled and said, "He's just come home on his three-legged horse, and the others have been mocking him and crying, 'Here comes our hobblety-jig back again!' And they asked him too, 'Under what hedge have you been lying asleep all this time?' But he said, 'I did the best of anybody, and it would have gone badly without me.' And then they laughed at him all the more."
The King said to his daughter, "I'll proclaim a great feast that shall last three days, and you shall throw a golden apple. Perhaps the stranger will come to it."
When the feast was announced, the young man went out to the forest and called Iron John.
"What do you want?" he asked.
"That I may catch the King's daughter's golden apple."
"It's as safe as if you had it already," said Iron John. "You shall have a suit of red armour for the occasion too, and ride a spirited chestnut horse."
When the day came, the young man galloped to the place and took his stand among the knights, and nobody recognised him. The King's daughter came forward and threw a golden apple to the knights; but none of them caught it but he — only, as soon as he had it, he galloped away.
On the second day Iron John equipped him as a white knight and gave him a white horse. Again he was the only one to catch the apple, and he did not linger an instant, but galloped off with it.
The King grew angry and said, "That isn't allowed. He must come before me and tell me his name." And he gave orders that if the knight who caught the apple should go away again, they were to pursue him; and if he would not come back willingly, they were to cut him down and stab him.
On the third day he received from Iron John a suit of black armour and a black horse, and again he caught the apple. But as he was riding off with it the King's attendants pursued him, and one of them got so near that he wounded the young man's leg with the point of his sword. The young man escaped from them all the same; but his horse leapt so violently that the helmet fell off his head and they could see that he had golden hair. They rode back and reported this to the King.
The following day the King's daughter asked the gardener about his boy.
"He's at work in the garden. The queer creature has been at the festival too, and only came home yesterday evening; and he has shown my children three golden apples that he won."
The King had him summoned into his presence; and he came, and again had his little cap on his head. But the King's daughter went up to him and took it off, and then his golden hair fell down over his shoulders, and he was so handsome that they were all amazed.
"Are you the knight who came to the festival every day, always in different colours, and who caught the three golden apples?" asked the King.
"Yes," answered he, "and here the apples are" — and he took them out of his pocket and gave them back to the King. "If you want further proof, you can see the wound your people gave me when they chased me. But I'm also the knight who helped you to your victory over your enemies."
"If you can perform such deeds as that, you're no gardener's boy. Tell me, who is your father?"
"My father is a mighty King, and I have gold in plenty, as much as I need."
"I can see plainly," said the King, "that I owe you thanks. Is there anything I can do to please you?"
"Yes," answered he, "there certainly is. Give me your daughter for a wife."
The girl laughed and said, "He doesn't stand much on ceremony; but I could see already by his golden hair that he was no gardener's boy" — and then she went and kissed him.
His father and mother came to the wedding and were in great delight, for they had given up all hope of ever seeing their dear son again. And as they were sitting at the wedding feast, the music suddenly stopped, the doors opened, and a stately King came in with a great retinue. He went up to the young man and embraced him and said, "I am Iron John, and I was a wild man by enchantment; but you set me free. All the treasures I possess shall be yours."
East India was besieged by an enemy who would not withdraw until he had been given six hundred dollars. Then the townspeople had it proclaimed by beat of drum that whoever could provide the money should be burgomaster.
Now there was a poor fisherman who fished on the lake with his son, and the enemy came and took his son prisoner and gave the father six hundred dollars for him. So the father went and gave the money to the great men of the town, and the enemy went away, and the fisherman became burgomaster. Then it was proclaimed that whoever did not say "Mr. Burgomaster" should be put to death on the gallows.
The son got away from the enemy again, and came to a great forest on a high mountain. The mountain opened, and he went into a great enchanted castle where the chairs and tables and benches were all hung with black.
Then three young princesses came who were dressed entirely in black, and whose faces were black too, except for a little white; and they told him he was not to be afraid, they would not hurt him, and that he could deliver them.
He said he would gladly do that, if only he knew how. At this they told him that for a whole year he must not speak to them and must not look at them either; and that whatever he wanted to have, he was just to ask for, and if they were allowed to give him an answer they would.
When he had been there a long while he said he should like to go to his father, and they told him he might go. He was to take this purse of money with him and put on this coat, and in a week he must be back there again.
Then he was caught up, and was instantly in East India. He could no longer find his father in the fisherman's hut, and asked the people where the poor fisherman might be; and they told him he must not say that, or he would come to the gallows.
Then he went to his father and said, "Fisherman, how did you get here?"
Then his father said, "You mustn't say that. If the great men of the town knew, you'd come to the gallows."
But he would not stop, and he was brought to the gallows. When he was there he said, "Oh, my masters, just give me leave to go to the old fisherman's hut."
Then he put on his old smock and came back to the great men and said, "Don't you see now? Am I not the poor fisherman's son? Didn't I earn bread for my father and mother in these clothes?"
At this his father knew him again, and begged his pardon and took him home with him. And then he told them everything that had happened to him: how he had come to a forest on a high mountain, and the mountain had opened, and he had gone into an enchanted castle where everything was black, and three young princesses had come to him who were black except for a little white on their faces. And they had told him not to be afraid, and that he could deliver them.
Then his mother said that might very well not be a good thing to do, and that he ought to take a holy-water vessel with him and drop some boiling water on their faces.
He went back again, and he was in great fear; and he dropped the water on their faces as they were sleeping, and they all turned half white.
Then all three princesses sprang up and said, "You accursed dog, our blood shall cry out for vengeance on you! Now there's no man born into the world, nor ever will be born, who can set us free. We still have three brothers who are bound with seven chains — they shall tear you to pieces."
Then there was a loud shrieking all over the castle, and he sprang out of the window and broke his leg; and the castle sank into the earth again, and the mountain closed up again, and nobody ever knew where the castle had stood.
Between Werrel and Soest there lived a man whose name was Knoist, and he had three sons. One was blind, another lame, and the third stark naked.
Once they went out into a field, and there they saw a hare. The blind one shot it, the lame one caught it, and the naked one put it in his pocket.
Then they came to a mighty big lake, on which there were three boats: one sailed, one sank, and the third had no bottom to it. All three of them got into the one with no bottom.
Then they came to a mighty big forest, and in it there was a mighty big tree; and in the tree was a mighty big chapel; and in the chapel was a sexton made of beechwood and a boxwood parson, who dealt out holy water with cudgels.
How truly happy is that one who from the holy water can run.
A girl from Brakel once went to St. Anne's Chapel at the foot of the Hinnenberg; and as she wanted a husband and thought there was nobody else in the chapel, she sang:
"Oh, holy Saint Anne, help me soon to a man. You know him right well, by Suttmer gate does he dwell, his hair it is golden — you know him right well."
The clerk, though, was standing behind the altar and heard it; so he cried out in a very gruff voice, "You shan't have him! You shan't have him!"
The girl thought that it was the child Mary, who stood beside her mother Anne, who had called that out to her; and she was angry, and cried, "Fiddle-de-dee, you conceited thing, hold your tongue and let your mother speak!"
"Where are you going?"
"To Walpe."
"I to Walpe, you to Walpe — so, so, together we'll go."
"Have you a man? What's your man's name?"
"Tame."
"My man Tame, your man Tame; I to Walpe, you to Walpe — so, so, together we'll go."
"Have you a child? How is the child styled?"
"Wild."
"My child Wild, your child Wild; my man Tame, your man Tame; I to Walpe, you to Walpe — so, so, together we'll go."
"Have you a cradle? What do you call your cradle?"
"Hippodadle."
"My cradle Hippodadle, my child Wild, your child Wild, my man Tame, your man Tame; I to Walpe, you to Walpe — so, so, together we'll go."
"And have you a drudge? What's the name of your drudge?"
"From-your-work-don't-budge."
"My drudge From-your-work-don't-budge, my cradle Hippodadle, my child Wild, your child Wild, my man Tame, your man Tame; I to Walpe, you to Walpe — so, so, together we'll go."
There were once a little brother and a little sister who loved each other with all their hearts. Their own mother was dead, though, and they had a stepmother who was not kind to them, and secretly did everything she could to hurt them.
It happened that the two of them were playing with some other children in a meadow in front of the house; and there was a pond in the meadow that came right up to one side of the house. The children ran about it and chased each other and played at counting out:
"Eneke Beneke, let me live, and I to you my bird will give. The little bird, it straw shall seek, the straw I'll give the cow to eat. The pretty cow shall give me milk, the milk I'll to the baker take. The baker he shall bake a cake, the cake I'll give unto the cat. The cat shall catch some mice for that, the mice I'll hang up in the smoke — and then you'll see the snow."
They stood in a circle while they played this; and whoever the word "snow" fell on had to run away, and all the others ran after him and caught him.
And as they were running about so merrily, the stepmother watched them from the window and grew angry. And as she understood the arts of witchcraft, she bewitched them both, and changed the little brother into a fish and the little sister into a lamb.
Then the fish swam here and there about the pond and was very sad, and the lamb walked up and down the meadow and was miserable, and could not eat or touch a single blade of grass.
A long time passed like this, and then strangers came to the castle as visitors. The false stepmother thought, "This is a good opportunity" — and called the cook and said to him, "Go and fetch the lamb from the meadow and kill it; we have nothing else for the visitors."
So the cook went and got the lamb and took it into the kitchen and tied its feet; and it bore all this patiently.
And when he had drawn out his knife and was whetting it on the doorstep to kill the lamb, he noticed a little fish swimming backwards and forwards in the water in front of the kitchen sink, and looking up at him. This, though, was the brother; for when the fish saw the cook take the lamb away, it followed them and swam along the pond to the house.
Then the lamb called down to it:
"Ah, brother, in the pond so deep, how sad is my poor heart! Even now the cook he whets his knife to take away my tender life."
The little fish answered:
"Ah, little sister, up on high, how sad is my poor heart while in this pond I lie."
When the cook heard that the lamb could speak and was saying such sad words to the fish down below, he was terrified, and thought this could be no ordinary lamb, but must have been bewitched by the wicked woman in the house.
So he said, "Be easy, I won't kill you" — and took another sheep and prepared it for the guests, and took the lamb to a good peasant woman, and told her everything he had seen and heard.
But the peasant woman was the very one who had been foster-mother to the little sister, and she guessed at once who the lamb was, and went with it to a wise woman. Then the wise woman spoke a blessing over the lamb and the little fish, by which they got their human shapes back again; and after this she took them both to a little hut in a great forest, where they lived alone, but were contented and happy.
There were once two brothers, one rich and the other poor. The rich one, though, gave the poor one nothing; and he made a scanty living by trading in corn, and often did so badly that he had no bread for his wife and children.
Once, as he was wheeling a barrow through the forest, he saw a great bare, naked-looking mountain at one side of him; and as he had never seen it before, he stood still and stared at it in amazement.
And while he was standing there he saw twelve great wild men coming towards him; and as he thought they were robbers, he pushed his barrow into the thicket and climbed up a tree and waited to see what would happen.
The twelve men, though, went up to the mountain and cried, "Semsi Mountain, Semsi Mountain, open" — and immediately the barren mountain opened down the middle, and the twelve went into it, and as soon as they were inside it shut.
After a short time, though, it opened again, and the men came out carrying heavy sacks on their shoulders; and when they were all in the daylight again they said, "Semsi Mountain, Semsi Mountain, shut yourself." Then the mountain closed up, and there was no entrance to it to be seen any more; and the twelve went away.
When they were quite out of sight, the poor man got down from the tree and was curious to know what really was hidden away in the mountain. So he went up to it and said, "Semsi Mountain, Semsi Mountain, open" — and the mountain opened for him too.
Then he went inside; and the whole mountain was a cavern full of silver and gold, and at the back lay great piles of pearls and sparkling jewels, heaped up like corn. The poor man hardly knew what to do, or whether he might take any of these treasures for himself or not; but at last he filled his pockets with gold, though he left the pearls and precious stones where they were.
When he came out again he said too, "Semsi Mountain, Semsi Mountain, shut yourself" — and the mountain closed itself up, and he went home with his barrow.
And now he had no more cause for worry, but could buy bread for his wife and children with his gold, and wine into the bargain. He lived joyfully and honestly, gave help to the poor, and did good to everybody.
When the money came to an end, though, he went to his brother and borrowed a bushel measure, and fetched himself some more — but did not touch any of the more valuable things. And when he wanted to fetch something for the third time, he borrowed his brother's measure again.
The rich man, though, had long been envious of his brother's possessions and of the handsome way of life he had set up, and could not understand where the riches came from, or what his brother wanted with the measure. So he thought of a cunning trick, and covered the bottom of the measure with pitch; and when he got the measure back, a piece of money was sticking to it.
He went straight to his brother and asked him, "What have you been measuring in the bushel measure?"
"Corn and barley," said the other.
Then he showed him the piece of money, and threatened that if he did not tell the truth he would accuse him before a court of justice. So the poor man told him everything, just as it had happened.
But the rich man ordered his carriage to be got ready, and drove off, determined to use the opportunity better than his brother had and to bring back quite different treasures.
When he came to the mountain he cried, "Semsi Mountain, Semsi Mountain, open." The mountain opened and he went inside. There lay all the treasures in front of him, and for a long time he did not know what to snatch at first. At length he loaded himself with as many precious stones as he could carry.
He wanted to carry his burden outside; but as his heart and soul were entirely full of the treasures, he had forgotten the name of the mountain, and cried, "Simeli Mountain, Simeli Mountain, open."
But that was not the right name, and the mountain never stirred, but stayed shut. Then he grew alarmed; but the longer he thought about it, the more confused his thoughts became, and his treasures were of no use to him at all.
In the evening the mountain opened and the twelve robbers came in; and when they saw him they laughed and cried out, "Bird, have we caught you at last? Did you think we'd never noticed that you'd been in here twice? We couldn't catch you then; this third time you shan't get out again."
Then he cried, "It wasn't me, it was my brother" — but beg for his life and say what he might, they cut his head off.
There was once a poor woman who had a son who very much wanted to travel; but his mother said, "How can you travel? We have no money at all for you to take with you."
Then her son said, "I'll manage very well for myself. I'll always say, 'Not much, not much, not much.'"
So he walked a long time and always said, "Not much, not much, not much."
Then he passed a company of fishermen and said, "God speed you! Not much, not much, not much."
"What do you say, you lout — 'not much'?"
And when the net was drawn in they had not caught much fish. So one of them set on the young man with a stick and said, "Have you never seen me threshing?"
"What ought I to say, then?" asked the young man.
"You must say, 'Get it full, get it full.'"
After this he walked a long time again and said, "Get it full, get it full" — until he came to the gallows, where they had a poor sinner they were about to hang.
Then he said, "Good morning; get it full, get it full."
"What do you say, you rogue — 'get it full'? Do you want to make out that there are still more wicked people in the world? Isn't this enough?"
And he got some more blows on his back.
"What am I to say, then?" said he.
"You must say, 'May God have pity on the poor soul.'"
Again the young man walked on a long while and said, "May God have pity on the poor soul!" Then he came to a pit where a knacker was standing, cutting up a horse.
The young man said, "Good morning; God have pity on the poor soul!"
"What do you say, you ill-tempered rogue?" — and the knacker gave him such a box on the ear that he could not see out of his eyes.
"What am I to say, then?"
"You must say, 'There lies the carrion in the pit.'"
So he walked on and always said, "There lies the carrion in the pit, there lies the carrion in the pit." And he came to a cart full of people, so he said, "Good morning; there lies the carrion in the pit!"
Then the cart pushed him into a hole, and the driver took his whip and cracked it over the young man until he had to crawl back to his mother; and as long as he lived he never went out travelling again.
Once upon a time there lived a King and a Queen who were rich and had everything they wanted, but no children. The Queen lamented over this day and night, and said, "I'm like a field where nothing grows."
At last God granted her her wish; but when the child came into the world it did not look like a human child, but was a little donkey.
When the mother saw that, her lamenting and crying began in real earnest. She said she would far rather have had no child at all than have a donkey, and that they were to throw it into the water for the fish to devour.
But the King said, "No. Since God has sent him, he shall be my son and heir, and after my death he shall sit on the royal throne and wear the kingly crown."
So the donkey was brought up and grew bigger, and his ears grew up beautifully high and straight. He was of a merry disposition, though; he jumped about and played, and took a particular pleasure in music, so that he went to a famous musician and said, "Teach me your art, so that I can play the lute as well as you do."
"Ah, dear little master," answered the musician, "that would come very hard to you. Your fingers are certainly not made for it, and are far too big. I'm afraid the strings wouldn't last."
But no excuses were any use. The donkey was determined to play the lute; he was persevering and hard-working, and at last learned to do it as well as the master himself.
The young lordling went out walking one day full of thought, and came to a well; he looked into it, and in the mirror-clear water he saw his donkey's shape. He was so distressed about it that he went out into the wide world, and took only one faithful companion with him.
They travelled up and down, and at last came into a kingdom where an old King reigned who had an only daughter, and she was wonderfully beautiful.
The donkey said, "We'll stay here" — and knocked at the gate and cried, "A guest is outside; open, so that he can come in."
But as the gate was not opened, he sat down and took his lute and played it in the most delightful manner with his two forefeet. Then the doorkeeper opened his eyes wonderfully wide, and ran to the King and said, "Outside by the gate sits a young donkey that plays the lute as well as an experienced master."
"Then let the musician come to me," said the King.
But when a donkey came in, everybody began to laugh at the lute player. And now the donkey was asked to sit down and eat with the servants. But he was unwilling, and said, "I'm no common stable ass, I'm a noble one."
Then they said, "If that's what you are, sit yourself down with the men of war."
"No," said he, "I'll sit by the King."
The King smiled and said good-humouredly, "Yes, it shall be as you wish, little ass. Come here to me." Then he asked, "Little ass, how does my daughter please you?"
The donkey turned his head towards her, looked at her, nodded and said, "I like her beyond measure. I've never yet seen anybody as beautiful as she is."
"Well then, you shall sit next to her too," said the King.
"That's exactly what I want," said the donkey — and placed himself at her side, and ate and drank, and knew how to behave himself daintily and cleanly.
When the noble beast had stayed a long while at the King's court, he thought, "What good does all this do me? I shall have to go home again in the end" — and let his head hang sadly, and went to the King and asked for his leave to go.
But the King had grown fond of him and said, "Little ass, what's the matter with you? You look as sour as a jug of vinegar. I'll give you whatever you want. Do you want gold?"
"No," said the donkey, and shook his head.
"Do you want jewels and rich clothes?"
"No."
"Do you want half my kingdom?"
"Indeed, no."
Then the King said, "If only I knew what would make you content. Will you have my pretty daughter for a wife?"
"Ah, yes," said the ass, "I should indeed like her." And all at once he grew quite merry and full of happiness, for that was exactly what he had been wishing for.
So a great and splendid wedding was held. And in the evening, when the bride and bridegroom were led into their bedroom, the King wanted to know whether the ass would behave well, and ordered a servant to hide himself there.
When the two of them were inside, the bridegroom bolted the door and looked round; and as he believed they were quite alone, he suddenly threw off his ass's skin and stood there in the shape of a handsome royal youth.
"Now," said he, "you see who I am; and you see too that I'm not unworthy of you."
Then the bride was glad, and kissed him and loved him dearly.
When morning came he jumped up and put his animal's skin on again, and nobody could have guessed what sort of shape was hidden beneath it.
Soon the old King came. "Ah," cried he, "is the little ass merry? But surely you're sad," he said to his daughter, "that you haven't got a proper man for a husband?"
"Oh, no, dear father. I love him as much as if he were the handsomest man in the world, and I'll keep him as long as I live."
The King was surprised; but the servant who had hidden himself came and told him everything.
The King said, "That can't be true."
"Then watch yourself the next night and you'll see it with your own eyes. And listen, my lord King: if you were to take his skin away and throw it in the fire, he'd be forced to show himself in his true shape."
"Your advice is good," said the King. And at night, when they were asleep, he stole in; and when he got to the bed he saw by the light of the moon a noble-looking young man lying there, with the skin stretched out on the floor. So he took it away and had a great fire lit outside and threw the skin into it, and stayed by it himself until it was all burnt to ashes.
But as he was anxious to see how the robbed man would behave, he stayed awake the whole night and watched.
When the young man had slept his sleep out, he got up at the first light of morning and wanted to put the ass's skin on; but it was not to be found. At this he was alarmed, and full of grief and anxiety said, "Now I shall have to find some way of escaping."
But when he went out, there stood the King, who said, "My son, where away in such haste? What have you in mind? Stay here — you're such a handsome man, you shan't go away from me. I'll give you half my kingdom now, and after my death you shall have the whole of it."
"Then I hope that what begins so well may end well; and I'll stay with you," said the young man.
And the old man gave him half the kingdom; and in a year's time, when he died, the young man had the whole of it. And after his own father's death he had another kingdom as well, and lived in all magnificence.
A man and his wife were once sitting by the door of their house with a roast chicken set in front of them, and were about to eat it together.
Then the man saw that his aged father was coming, and hastily took the chicken and hid it, for he would not let him have any of it. The old man came, took a drink, and went away.
Now the son wanted to put the roast chicken back on the table; but when he picked it up, it had turned into a great toad, which jumped into his face and sat there and never went away again. And if anybody tried to take it off, it looked venomously at him as if it would jump in his face too, so that nobody dared touch it.
And the ungrateful son was forced to feed the toad every day, or else it fed itself on his face; and so he went about the world without ever knowing rest.
There were once two brothers who both served as soldiers; one of them was rich and the other poor. Then the poor one, to escape from his poverty, took off his soldier's coat and turned farmer. He dug and hoed his bit of land and sowed it with turnip seed.
The seed came up, and one turnip grew there that became large and strong, and visibly grew bigger and bigger and seemed as if it would never stop growing, so that it might have been called the princess of turnips; for such a one was never seen before and never will be seen again.
At length it was so enormous that by itself it filled a whole cart, and two oxen were needed to draw it; and the farmer had not the least idea what he was to do with the turnip, or whether it would be a fortune to him or a misfortune.
At last he thought, "If you sell it, what will you get for it that's worth anything? And if you eat it yourself, the small turnips would do you just as much good. It would be better to take it to the King and make him a present of it."
So he put it on a cart and harnessed two oxen and took it to the palace and presented it to the King.
"What strange thing is this?" said the King. "Many wonderful things have come before my eyes, but never such a monster as this. What seed can it have sprung from? Or are you a luck-child, and came upon it by chance?"
"Ah, no," said the farmer, "I'm no luck-child. I'm a poor soldier who, because he could no longer support himself, hung his soldier's coat on a nail and took to farming. I have a brother who is rich and well known to you, my lord King; but I, because I have nothing, am forgotten by everybody."
Then the King felt pity for him, and said, "You shall be raised out of your poverty, and shall have such gifts from me that you'll be your rich brother's equal." And he bestowed on him a great deal of gold, and lands and meadows and herds, and made him immensely rich, so that his brother's wealth could not be compared with it.
When the rich brother heard what the poor one had got for himself with one single turnip, he envied him, and thought in every way he could how he too might get hold of a similar piece of luck. He would set about it in a much cleverer way, though; and he took gold and horses and carried them to the King, quite certain that the King would give him a far larger present in return. If his brother had got so much for one turnip, what would he not carry away in return for such beautiful things as these?
The King accepted his present, and said that he had nothing to give him in return that was more rare and excellent than the great turnip. So the rich man had to put his brother's turnip on a cart and have it taken home.
Once there, he did not know whom to vent his rage and anger on, until bad thoughts came to him and he resolved to kill his brother. He hired murderers, who were to lie in ambush; and then he went to his brother and said, "Dear brother, I know of a hidden treasure. We'll dig it up together and divide it between us."
The other agreed to this and went with him without suspicion. But while they were on their way, the murderers fell on him and bound him and would have hanged him from a tree.
But just as they were doing it, loud singing and the sound of a horse's hoofs were heard in the distance. At this their hearts were filled with terror, and they pushed their prisoner head first into a sack and hung it on a branch and took to flight.
He, though, worked away up there until he had made a hole in the sack he could put his head through. The man who was coming along was none other than a travelling student, a young fellow who was riding on his way through the wood, joyfully singing his song.
When the one up aloft saw that somebody was passing below him, he cried, "Good day! You've come at a lucky time."
The student looked round on every side, but did not know where the voice came from. At last he said, "Who's calling me?"
Then an answer came from the top of the tree. "Raise your eyes; here I sit aloft in the Sack of Wisdom. In a short time I've learned great things; compared with this, all schools are a joke. In a very short while I shall have learned everything, and shall come down wiser than all other men. I understand the stars and the signs of the Zodiac and the tracks of the winds, the sand of the sea, the healing of illness and the virtues of all herbs and birds and stones. If you were once inside it, you'd feel what noble things come out of the Sack of Knowledge."
When the student heard all this he was astonished, and said, "Blessed be the hour in which I found you! May I not get into the sack for a while too?"
The one above replied, as if unwillingly, "For a short time I'll let you get into it, if you reward me and give me good words. But you must wait an hour longer, for there's one thing left that I must learn before I do it."
When the student had waited a while he grew impatient and begged to be let in at once; his thirst for knowledge was so very great. So the one above pretended to give way at last, and said, "So that I can come out of the house of knowledge, you must let it down by the rope, and then you shall get in."
So the student let the sack down and untied it and set him free, and then cried, "Now draw me up at once" — and was about to get into the sack.
"Stop!" said the other. "That won't do." And he took him by the head and put him upside down into the sack and fastened it, and drew the disciple of wisdom up the tree by the rope. Then he swung him about in the air and said, "How goes it with you, my dear fellow? Look — you can feel the wisdom coming already, and you're gaining valuable experience. Keep perfectly quiet until you grow wiser."
And with that he mounted the student's horse and rode away — but in an hour's time he sent somebody to let the student out again.
In the days when our Lord still walked this earth, he and St. Peter stopped one evening at a smith's and were given free lodging. Then it happened that a poor beggar, hard pressed by age and infirmity, came to this house and begged alms of the smith.
St. Peter had pity on him and said, "Lord and master, if it please you, cure his troubles so that he can earn his own bread."
The Lord said kindly, "Smith, lend me your forge and put some coals on for me, and then I'll make this ailing old man young again."
The smith was quite willing, and St. Peter blew the bellows; and when the coal fire sparked up large and high, our Lord took the little old man and pushed him into the forge in the middle of the red-hot fire, so that he glowed like a rose bush and praised God in a loud voice.
After that the Lord went to the quenching tub and put the glowing little man into it, so that the water closed over him; and when he had carefully cooled him he gave him his blessing — and behold, the little man sprang nimbly out, looking fresh and straight and healthy, and as if he were only twenty.
The smith, who had watched everything closely and attentively, invited them all to supper. But he had an old, half-blind, crooked mother-in-law, who went to the young man and asked him very earnestly whether the fire had burned him much. He answered that he had never felt more comfortable, and that he had sat in the red heat as if he were sitting in cool dew.
The young man's words echoed in the old woman's ears all night long; and early next morning, when the Lord had gone on his way again and been heartily thanked by the smith, the smith thought that he might make his old mother-in-law young again in the same way, since he had watched everything so carefully and it lay within his own trade.
So he called to ask her whether she too would like to go bounding about like a girl of eighteen.
She said, "With all my heart, since the young man came out of it so well."
So the smith made a great fire and thrust the old woman into it; and she writhed about this way and that and uttered terrible cries of murder.
"Sit still! Why are you screaming and jumping about like that?" cried he. And as he spoke he blew the bellows again, until all her rags were burnt.
The old woman cried without stopping, and the smith thought to himself, "I haven't quite got the right art" — and took her out and threw her into the cooling tub. Then she screamed so loudly that the smith's wife upstairs and her daughter-in-law heard her, and both of them came running downstairs and saw the old woman lying in a heap in the quenching tub, howling and screaming, with her face wrinkled and shrivelled and all out of shape.
At this the two of them, who were both with child, were so terrified that that very night two boys were born who were not made like men but like apes; and they ran off into the woods, and from them sprang the race of apes.
The Lord God had created all the animals, and had chosen the wolf to be his dog; but he had forgotten the goat.
Then the Devil made ready and began to create as well, and created goats with fine long tails. Now when they went out to pasture they generally got caught in the hedges by their tails, and then the Devil had to go and disentangle them, with a great deal of trouble. This enraged him at last, and he went and bit off the tail of every goat, as may be seen to this day by the stump.
Then he let them go out to pasture alone; but it came about that the Lord God saw how at one time they gnawed away at a fruit tree, at another damaged the noble vines, or destroyed other tender plants. This distressed him, so that in his goodness and mercy he summoned his wolves, who soon tore to pieces the goats that went there.
When the Devil saw this he went before the Lord and said, "Your creatures have destroyed mine."
The Lord answered, "Why did you create things that do harm?"
The Devil said, "I was forced to it. Since my thoughts run on evil, what I create can have no other nature; and you must pay me heavy damages."
"I'll pay you as soon as the oak leaves fall. Come then, and your money will be counted out ready."
When the oak leaves had fallen the Devil came and demanded what was due to him. But the Lord said, "In the church of Constantinople stands a tall oak tree that still has all its leaves."
With raging and cursing the Devil went off, and went to look for the oak; and he wandered in the wilderness for six months before he found it — and when he came back, all the other oaks had covered themselves with green leaves again in the meantime.
So he had to forfeit his compensation; and in his rage he put out the eyes of all the remaining goats and put his own in instead.
That is why all goats have devil's eyes and their tails bitten off, and why he likes to take on their shape.
There was once an enchanter who was standing in the middle of a great crowd of people performing his wonders. He had a cock brought in, which lifted a heavy beam and carried it as if it were as light as a feather.
But a girl was there who had just found a four-leaved clover, and had become so wise by it that no deception could stand up against her; and she saw that the beam was nothing but a straw. So she cried out, "You people, don't you see that what the cock is carrying is a straw and no beam?"
Immediately the enchantment vanished, and the people saw what it was, and drove the magician away in shame and disgrace. But he, full of inward anger, said, "I'll soon have my revenge."
After some time the girl's wedding day came, and she was dressed up and went in a great procession over the fields to the place where the church was. All at once she came to a stream that was very much swollen, and there was no bridge and no plank to cross by. So the bride nimbly took her clothes up and meant to wade through it.
And just as she was standing in the water like this, a man — and it was the enchanter — cried mockingly close beside her, "Aha! Where are your eyes, that you take that for water?"
Then her eyes were opened, and she saw that she was standing with her clothes lifted up in the middle of a field that was blue with the flowers of blue flax. And all the people saw it too, and chased her away with jeers and laughter.
There was once an old woman — but you've surely seen an old woman go begging before now? This woman begged too, and when she was given anything she said, "May God reward you."
The beggar-woman came to a door, and there by the fire a friendly rogue of a boy was standing warming himself. The boy said kindly to the poor old woman, as she stood shivering there by the door, "Come in, old mother, and warm yourself."
She came in, but stood too close to the fire, so that her old rags began to burn, and she did not notice it. The boy stood and saw it — but he ought to have put the flames out. Isn't it true that he ought to have put them out? And if he had no water, then he should have wept all the water in his body out of his eyes, and that would have made two pretty streams to put them out with.
A certain King had three sons who were all equally dear to him, and he did not know which of them to appoint as his successor after his death.
When the time came that he was about to die, he called them to his bedside and said, "Dear children, I've been thinking of something that I'll now tell you. Whichever of you is the laziest shall have the kingdom."
The eldest said, "Then, father, the kingdom is mine; for I'm so idle that if I lie down to rest and a drop falls in my eye, I won't open it, so that I can go on sleeping."
The second said, "Father, the kingdom belongs to me; for I'm so idle that when I'm sitting by the fire warming myself, I'd sooner let my heel burn off than draw my leg back."
The third said, "Father, the kingdom is mine; for I'm so idle that if I were going to be hanged and had the rope round my neck already, and somebody put a sharp knife into my hand to cut the rope with, I'd sooner let myself be hanged than raise my hand to the rope."
When their father heard that he said, "You've carried it furthest, and you shall be King."
Twelve servants who had done nothing all day would not exert themselves at night either, but laid themselves down on the grass and boasted about their idleness.
The first said, "What's your laziness to me? I have my own to think about. The care of my body is my chief work: I eat not a little and drink still more. When I've had four meals I fast a short while until I feel hungry again, and that suits me best. Getting up early isn't for me; when it's getting on towards midday I'm already looking out a resting place for myself. If the master calls, I behave exactly as if I hadn't heard him; and if he calls a second time, I wait a while before I get up, and go to him very slowly. Life is bearable that way."
The second said, "I have a horse to look after, but I leave the bit in his mouth; and if I don't feel like it, I give him no food and say he's had it already. But I lay myself down in the oat chest and sleep for four hours. After that I stretch out one foot and move it a couple of times over the horse's body, and then he's combed and cleaned. Who's going to make a great business of that? All the same, service is too toilsome for me."
The third said, "Why plague yourself with work? Nothing comes of it. I laid myself down in the sun and fell asleep. It began to rain a little — but why should I get up? I let it rain on, in God's name. At last a splashing shower came, so heavy that it pulled the hair out of my head and washed it away, and I got a hole in my skull. I put a plaster on it, and then it was all right. I've had several injuries of that kind already."
The fourth said, "If I'm to undertake a piece of work, I first loiter about for an hour to save up my strength. After that I begin quite slowly, and ask whether there's nobody about who could help me. Then I let him do the chief part of the work, and really only look on — but even that's still too much for me."
The fifth said, "What does that matter? Just think — I'm supposed to take the manure out of the horse's stable and load the cart with it. I let it go on slowly; and if I've got anything on the fork, I only half raise it, and then I rest for a good quarter of an hour before I throw it in. It's enough and to spare if I take out one cartload in the day. I've no fancy for killing myself with work."
The sixth said, "Shame on you. I'm afraid of no work — but I lie down for three weeks at a time and never once take my clothes off. What's the use of buckling your shoes on? For all I care they can fall off my feet, it doesn't matter. If I'm going up some steps, I drag one foot slowly after the other onto the first step, and then I count the rest of them so that I know where I have to rest."
The seventh said, "That won't do for me; my master keeps an eye on my work — only he's not at home all day. But I neglect nothing; I run as fast as it's possible to run when you're crawling. If I'm to get on at all, four sturdy men have to push me with all their might. I came where six men were lying asleep on a bed side by side. I lay down beside them and slept too. There was no waking me again, and when they wanted me home they had to carry me."
The eighth said, "I can see plainly that I'm the only active fellow here. If a stone lies in front of me, I don't give myself the trouble of raising my legs and stepping over it. I lay myself down on the ground; and if I'm wet and covered with mud and dirt, I stay lying there until the sun has dried me again. At the very most I only turn myself over so that it can shine on me."
The ninth said, "That's the right way. Today the bread was in front of me, but I was too idle to take it, and nearly died of hunger. There was a jug standing by it too, but it was so big and heavy that I didn't care to lift it, and preferred to bear the thirst. Just turning myself over was too much for me; I stayed lying like a log the whole day."
The tenth said, "Laziness has brought misfortune on me — a broken leg and a swollen calf. Three of us were lying in the road and I had my legs stretched out. Somebody came along with a cart, and the wheels went over me. I could have drawn my legs back, of course, but I didn't hear the cart coming, because the midges were humming about my ears and creeping in at my nose and out again at my mouth. Who can take the trouble to drive the vermin away?"
The eleventh said, "I gave up my place yesterday. I'd no fancy for carrying the heavy books to my master any longer, or fetching them away again. There was no end to it all day long. But to tell the truth, he gave me my notice and wouldn't keep me any longer, because his clothes, which I'd left lying in the dust, were all moth-eaten. And I'm very glad of it."
The twelfth said, "Today I had to drive the cart out into the country, and I made myself a bed of straw on it and had a good sleep. The reins slipped out of my hand; and when I woke, the horse had nearly torn itself loose, the harness was gone, the strap that fastens the horse to the shafts was gone, and so were the collar and the bridle and bit. Somebody had come by and carried it all off. On top of that the cart had got into a bog and stuck fast. I left it standing and stretched myself out on the straw again. At last the master came himself and pushed the cart out; and if he hadn't come, I shouldn't be lying here but there, and sleeping in perfect peace."
There was once a shepherd boy whose fame spread far and wide because of the wise answers he gave to every question. The King of the country heard of it too, but did not believe it, and sent for the boy.
Then he said to him, "If you can give me an answer to three questions I'll ask you, I'll look on you as my own child, and you shall live with me in my royal palace."
The boy said, "What are the three questions?"
The King said, "The first is: how many drops of water are there in the ocean?"
The shepherd boy answered, "My lord King, if you'll have all the rivers on earth dammed up so that not a single drop runs from them into the sea until I've counted it, I'll tell you how many drops there are in the sea."
The King said, "The next question is: how many stars are there in the sky?"
The shepherd boy said, "Give me a great sheet of white paper." And then he made so many fine points on it with a pen that they could hardly be seen, and it was all but impossible to count them; anybody who looked at them would have lost his sight. Then he said, "There are as many stars in the sky as there are points on this paper. Just count them." But nobody was able to do it.
The King said, "The third question is: how many seconds of time are there in eternity?"
Then the shepherd boy said, "In Lower Pomerania is the Diamond Mountain, which is two and a half miles high, two and a half miles wide and two and a half miles deep. Every hundred years a little bird comes and sharpens its beak on it; and when the whole mountain has been worn away by this, then the first second of eternity will be over."
The King said, "You've answered the three questions like a wise man, and from now on you shall live with me in my royal palace, and I'll regard you as my own child."
There was once a little girl whose father and mother were dead, and she was so poor that she no longer had any little room to live in or bed to sleep in, and at last had nothing at all but the clothes she was wearing and a little bit of bread in her hand that some charitable soul had given her. She was good and pious, though.
And as she was forsaken like this by the whole world, she went out into the open country, trusting in the good God.
Then a poor man met her, who said, "Ah, give me something to eat — I'm so hungry!" She held out the whole of her piece of bread to him and said, "May God bless it to your use" — and went on.
Then came a child who moaned and said, "My head is so cold; give me something to cover it with." So she took off her hood and gave it to him.
And when she had walked a little further she met another child who had no jacket and was frozen with cold; so she gave the child her own. And a little further on one begged for a frock, and she gave that away as well.
At length she came into a forest, and it had already grown dark; and there came yet another child and asked for a little shirt. And the good little girl thought to herself, "It's a dark night and nobody can see you; you can easily give your little shirt away" — and took it off and gave that away too.
And as she stood there, without one single thing left, suddenly some stars fell down out of heaven; and they were nothing else but hard, smooth pieces of money. And although she had just given her little shirt away, she had a new one on, of the very finest linen. So she gathered the money together into it, and was rich all the days of her life.
A father was sitting at dinner one day with his wife and his children, and a good friend who had come on a visit was with them.
And as they were sitting there, and it was striking twelve o'clock, the visitor saw the door open and a very pale child dressed in snow-white clothes come in. It did not look round, and it did not speak, but went straight into the next room. Soon afterwards it came back and went out at the door again in the same quiet way.
On the second and the third day it came in exactly the same way.
At last the visitor asked the father whom the beautiful child belonged to that went into the next room every day at noon.
"I've never seen it," said he — nor did he know whom it could belong to.
Next day, when it came again, the visitor pointed it out to the father; but he did not see it, and the mother and the children saw nothing either.
At this the visitor got up and went to the door of the room and opened it a little way and looked in. And then he saw the child sitting on the floor, digging and searching busily among the cracks between the floorboards; but when it saw the visitor it disappeared.
He told them now what he had seen, and described the child exactly; and the mother recognised it and said, "Ah, it's my dear child who died a month ago."
They took up the boards and found two farthings that the child had once been given by its mother to give to a poor man. But it had thought, "You can buy yourself a biscuit with that" — and had kept the farthings and hidden them in the gaps between the boards. And so it had had no rest in its grave, and had come every day at noon to search for these farthings.
The parents gave the money at once to a poor man, and after that the child was never seen again.
There was once a young shepherd who very much wanted to marry, and who knew three sisters who were all equally pretty, so that it was hard for him to make a choice and he could not decide which of them to prefer.
So he asked his mother for advice, and she said, "Invite all three, and set some cheese in front of them, and watch how they eat it."
The young man did so. The first, though, swallowed the cheese with the rind on. The second cut the rind off the cheese in a hurry — but she cut it so fast that she left a lot of good cheese on it and threw that away too. The third peeled the rind off carefully, and cut away neither too much nor too little.
The shepherd told his mother all this, and she said, "Take the third for your wife." And he did, and lived contentedly and happily with her.
There was once a girl who was pretty, but idle and careless. When she had to spin she got so out of temper that if there was a little knot in the flax she pulled out a whole heap of it at once and strewed it about on the ground beside her.
Now she had a servant who was hard-working, and who gathered up the bits of flax that were thrown away, and cleaned them and spun them fine and had a beautiful gown made out of them for herself.
A young man had courted the lazy girl, and the wedding was to take place. On the eve of the wedding the hard-working one was dancing merrily about in her pretty dress, and the bride said:
"Ah, how that girl does jump about, dressed in my odds and ends."
The bridegroom heard that, and asked the bride what she meant by it. Then she told him that the girl was wearing a dress made out of the flax she had thrown away.
When the bridegroom heard that, and saw how idle she was and how hard-working the poor girl was, he gave her up and went to the other and chose her for his wife.
A sparrow had four young ones in a swallow's nest. When they were fledged, some naughty boys pulled the nest down; but luckily all the birds got safely away in the high wind.
Then the old bird was grieved that his sons had all gone out into the world without his having first warned them of every kind of danger and given them good instruction in how to deal with each.
In the autumn a great many sparrows gathered together in a wheatfield, and there the old bird met his four children again, and full of joy took them home with him.
"Ah, my dear sons, what pain I've been in about you all through the summer, because you got away in the wind without my teaching. Listen to my words, obey your father, and be well on your guard. Little birds have great dangers to meet."
And then he asked the eldest where he had spent the summer and how he had supported himself.
"I stayed in the gardens and looked for caterpillars and small worms, until the cherries got ripe."
"Ah, my son," said the father, "titbits are not bad, but there's great risk about them. On that account take great care of yourself from now on — and particularly when people are going about the gardens carrying long green poles that are hollow inside and have a little hole at the top."
"Yes, father; but what if a little green leaf is stuck over the hole with wax?" said the son.
"Where have you seen that?"
"In a merchant's garden," said the youngster.
"Oh, my son, merchant folk are quick folk," said the father. "If you've been among the children of the world, you've learned worldly shiftiness enough. Only see that you use it well, and don't be too confident."
After this he asked the next, "Where have you passed your time?"
"At court," said the son.
"Sparrows and silly little birds are of no use in that place. There you find plenty of gold, velvet, silk, armour, harness, sparrowhawks, screech owls and hen harriers. Keep to the horses' stable, where they winnow oats or thresh; and then fortune may give you your daily grain of corn in peace."
"Yes, father," said the son, "but when the stable boys make traps and set their gins and snares in the straw, many a bird is caught fast."
"Where have you seen that?" said the old bird.
"At court, among the stable boys."
"Oh, my son, court boys are bad boys. If you've been to court and among the lords and left no feathers there, you've learned a fair amount and will know very well how to go about the world; but look around you and above you, for the wolves devour the wisest dogs."
The father examined the third as well. "Where did you seek your safety?"
"I've broken up tubs and ropes on the cart roads and highways, and sometimes came upon a grain of corn or barley."
"That's dainty fare indeed," said the father, "but take care what you're about and look carefully around you — especially when you see anybody stooping down and about to pick up a stone; there isn't much time to linger then."
"That's true," said the son, "but what if somebody has a bit of rock or ore ready beforehand in his shirt or his pocket?"
"Where have you seen that?"
"Among the mountain men, dear father. When they go out they generally take little bits of ore with them."
"Mountain folk are working folk, and clever folk. If you've been among mountain lads you've seen and learned something; but when you go there, beware, for many a sparrow has come to a bad end through a mountain boy."
At length the father came to the youngest son. "You, my dear chirping nestling, were always the silliest and weakest. Stay with me. The world has many rough, wicked birds in it, with crooked beaks and long claws, that lie in wait for poor little birds and swallow them. Keep with your own kind, and pick up little spiders and caterpillars from the trees or the house, and then you'll live long in peace."
"My dear father, whoever feeds himself without harming other people fares well; and no sparrowhawk or eagle or kite will hurt him, if he faithfully commits himself and his lawful food to God, evening and morning — God, who is the Creator and Preserver of all forest and village birds, who hears the cry and prayer of the young ravens too; for no sparrow or wren ever falls to the ground except by his will."
"Where did you learn this?"
The son answered, "When the great blast of wind tore me away from you I came to a church; and there through the summer I've picked up the flies and spiders from the windows, and heard this preached. The Father of all sparrows fed me all the summer through, and kept me from all mischance and from savage birds."
"In truth, my dear son, if you take refuge in the churches and help to clear away the spiders and the buzzing flies, and cry out to God like the young ravens and commend yourself to the eternal Creator, all will be well with you — and that even if the whole world were full of wild, malicious birds.
He who to God commits his ways, in silence suffers, waits and prays, preserves his faith and conscience pure — he is of God's protection sure."
In the time of Schlauraffen I went there, and saw Rome and the Lateran hanging by a small silken thread, and a man without feet who outran a swift horse, and a keen sharp sword that cut through a bridge.
There I saw a young donkey with a silver nose that chased two swift hares, and a lime tree that was very large, on which hot cakes were growing.
There I saw a lean old goat that carried about a hundred cartloads of fat on his body, and sixty loads of salt.
Have I not told enough lies?
There I saw a plough ploughing without horse or cow; and a child of one year old threw four millstones from Regensburg to Trier, and from Trier to Strasbourg; and a hawk swam over the Rhine, which he had a perfect right to do.
There I heard some fishes start making such a commotion with each other that it echoed as far as heaven; and sweet honey flowed like water from a deep valley at the top of a high mountain; and these were strange things.
There were two crows mowing a meadow, and I saw two gnats building a bridge, and two doves tore a wolf to pieces; two children gave birth to two kids, and two frogs threshed corn together.
There I saw two mice consecrating a bishop, and two cats scratching out a bear's tongue. Then a snail came running up and killed two furious lions.
There stood a barber shaving a woman's beard off; and two suckling children told their mother to hold her tongue.
There I saw two greyhounds bringing a mill out of the water; and a sorry old horse stood beside it and said it was right. And four horses were standing in the yard threshing corn with all their might, and two goats were heating the stove, and a red cow shot the bread into the oven.
Then a cock crowed, "Cock-a-doodle-doo!" The story is all told — cock-a-doodle-doo!
I'll tell you something. I saw two roast fowls flying; they flew quickly, and had their breasts turned to heaven and their backs to hell; and an anvil and a millstone swam across the Rhine prettily, slowly and gently; and a frog sat on the ice at Whitsuntide and ate a ploughshare.
Three fellows who wanted to catch a hare went on crutches and stilts; one of them was deaf, the second blind, the third could not speak, and the fourth could not stir a step. Do you want to know how it was done? First the blind man saw the hare running across the field, the one who could not speak called to the lame one, and the lame one seized it by the neck.
There were certain men who wanted to sail on dry land, and they set their sails in the wind and sailed away over great fields. Then they sailed over a high mountain, and there they were miserably drowned.
A crab was chasing a hare that was running away at full speed; and high up on the roof lay a cow that had climbed up there. In that country the flies are as big as the goats are here.
Open the window, so that the lies can fly out.
Three women were changed into flowers that grew in a field; but one of them was allowed to be in her own home at night.
Then once, when day was drawing near and she had to go back to her companions in the field and become a flower again, she said to her husband, "If you'll come this afternoon and pick me, I shall be set free and stay with you from then on." And he did so.
Now the question is: how did her husband know her, when the flowers were exactly alike, without any difference between them?
Answer: as she had been at her home during the night and not in the field, no dew fell on her as it did on the others; and by this her husband knew her.
There was once a poor widow who lived in a lonely cottage. In front of the cottage was a garden with two rose trees in it, one of which bore white roses and the other red. She had two children who were like the two rose trees, and one was called Snow-White and the other Rose-Red. They were as good and happy, as busy and cheerful, as any two children in the world ever were — only Snow-White was more quiet and gentle than Rose-Red.
Rose-Red liked better to run about the meadows and fields looking for flowers and catching butterflies; but Snow-White sat at home with her mother and helped her with the housework, or read to her when there was nothing to do.
The two children were so fond of each other that they always held each other by the hand when they went out together; and when Snow-White said, "We won't leave each other," Rose-Red answered, "Never, as long as we live" — and their mother would add, "What one of you has, she must share with the other."
They often ran about the forest alone and gathered red berries, and no animals did them any harm, but came close to them trustfully. The little hare would eat a cabbage leaf out of their hands, the roe deer grazed at their side, the stag leapt merrily past them, and the birds sat still on the boughs and sang whatever they knew.
No mishap ever came to them. If they had stayed too late in the forest and night came on, they lay down next to each other on the moss and slept until morning came; and their mother knew this and felt no distress about them.
Once, when they had spent the night in the wood and the dawn had woken them, they saw a beautiful child in a shining white dress sitting near their bed. He got up and looked at them quite kindly, but said nothing, and went away into the forest. And when they looked round they found that they had been sleeping quite close to a precipice, and would certainly have fallen into it in the darkness if they had gone only a few steps further. And their mother told them that it must have been the angel who watches over good children.
Snow-White and Rose-Red kept their mother's little cottage so neat that it was a pleasure to look inside it. In the summer Rose-Red took care of the house, and every morning laid a wreath of flowers by her mother's bed before she woke, with a rose from each tree in it. In the winter Snow-White lit the fire and hung the kettle on the hook over it. The kettle was of copper and shone like gold, it was polished so brightly.
In the evening, when the snowflakes fell, the mother said, "Go, Snow-White, and bolt the door" — and then they sat round the hearth, and their mother took her spectacles and read aloud out of a large book, and the two girls listened as they sat and spun. And close beside them a lamb lay on the floor, and behind them a white dove sat on a perch with its head hidden under its wing.
One evening, as they were sitting comfortably together like this, somebody knocked at the door as if he wanted to be let in.
Their mother said, "Quick, Rose-Red, open the door; it must be a traveller looking for shelter."
Rose-Red went and pushed back the bolt, thinking that it was a poor man; but it was not. It was a bear, that stretched his broad black head in at the door.
Rose-Red screamed and sprang back, the lamb bleated, the dove fluttered, and Snow-White hid behind her mother's bed. But the bear began to speak, and said, "Don't be afraid, I'll do you no harm. I'm half frozen, and only want to warm myself a little beside you."
"Poor bear," said the mother, "lie down by the fire; only take care you don't burn your coat." Then she called, "Snow-White, Rose-Red, come out; the bear will do you no harm, he means well."
So they both came out; and by and by the lamb and the dove came nearer too, and were not afraid of him.
The bear said, "Here, children, knock the snow out of my coat a little." So they brought the broom and swept the bear's hide clean; and he stretched himself out by the fire and growled contentedly and comfortably.
It was not long before they grew quite at home with him and played tricks on their clumsy guest. They tugged his hair with their hands, put their feet on his back and rolled him about, or took a hazel switch and beat him; and when he growled, they laughed. But the bear took it all in good part; only when they were too rough he called out, "Leave me alive, children:
Snowy-White, Rosy-Red, will you beat your lover dead?"
When it was bedtime, and the others went to bed, the mother said to the bear, "You can lie there by the hearth, and then you'll be safe from the cold and the bad weather." And as soon as day dawned the two children let him out, and he trotted away across the snow into the forest.
From then on the bear came every evening at the same time, laid himself down by the hearth and let the children amuse themselves with him as much as they liked; and they got so used to him that the doors were never fastened until their black friend had arrived.
When spring had come and everything outside was green, the bear said one morning to Snow-White, "Now I must go away, and I can't come back the whole summer."
"Where are you going, then, dear bear?" asked Snow-White.
"I must go into the forest and guard my treasures from the wicked dwarfs. In the winter, when the earth is frozen hard, they have to stay down below and can't work their way through; but now, when the sun has thawed and warmed the earth, they break through it and come out to pry and steal. And whatever once gets into their hands and into their caves doesn't easily see daylight again."
Snow-White was quite sorry that he was going away; and as she unbolted the door for him and the bear was hurrying out, he caught against the bolt and a piece of his hairy coat was torn off; and it seemed to Snow-White as if she had seen gold shining through it, though she was not sure about it. The bear ran away quickly and was soon out of sight behind the trees.
A short time afterwards their mother sent the children into the forest to get firewood. There they found a big tree lying felled on the ground, and close by the trunk something was jumping backwards and forwards in the grass, though they could not make out what it was.
When they came nearer they saw a dwarf with an old withered face and a snow-white beard a yard long. The end of the beard was caught in a crack in the tree, and the little fellow was jumping backwards and forwards like a dog tied to a rope, and did not know what to do.
He glared at the girls with his fiery red eyes and cried, "Why are you standing there? Can't you come over and help me?"
"What are you doing there, little man?" asked Rose-Red.
"You stupid, prying goose!" answered the dwarf. "I was going to split the tree to get a little wood for cooking. The little bit of food that one of us needs gets burnt up at once with thick logs; we don't swallow so much as you coarse, greedy folk. I'd just driven the wedge safely in and everything was going as I wanted; but the wretched wood was too smooth and suddenly sprang apart, and the tree closed so quickly that I couldn't pull out my beautiful white beard. So now it's held fast and I can't get away — and the silly, sleek, milk-faced things laugh! Ugh, how odious you are!"
The children tried very hard, but they could not pull the beard out; it was caught too fast.
"I'll run and fetch somebody," said Rose-Red.
"You senseless goose!" snarled the dwarf. "Why should you fetch somebody? There are two of you already, and that's two too many for me. Can't you think of something better?"
"Don't be impatient," said Snow-White, "I'll help you" — and she pulled her scissors out of her pocket and cut off the end of the beard.
As soon as the dwarf felt himself free, he took hold of a bag that lay among the roots of the tree, which was full of gold, and lifted it up, grumbling to himself, "Uncouth people, to cut off a piece of my fine beard. Bad luck to you!" And then he swung the bag onto his back and went off without so much as looking at the children once.
Some time after that, Snow-White and Rose-Red went to catch a dish of fish. As they came near the brook they saw something like a large grasshopper hopping towards the water, as if it were going to leap in. They ran to it and found it was the dwarf.
"Where are you going?" said Rose-Red. "You surely don't want to go into the water?"
"I'm not such a fool!" cried the dwarf. "Don't you see that the accursed fish wants to pull me in?"
The little man had been sitting there fishing, and unluckily the wind had twisted his beard round the fishing line. Just then a big fish bit, and the feeble creature had not the strength to pull it out; the fish had the upper hand and was dragging the dwarf towards it. He held on to all the reeds and rushes, but it was of little use; he had to follow the movements of the fish, and was in real danger of being dragged into the water.
The girls came just in time. They held him fast and tried to free his beard from the line, but all in vain: beard and line were tangled fast together. Nothing was left but to bring out the scissors and cut the beard, by which a small part of it was lost.
When the dwarf saw that, he screamed out, "Is that civil, you toadstool, to disfigure a man's face? Wasn't it enough to clip off the end of my beard? Now you've cut off the best part of it. I can't let myself be seen by my own people. I wish you'd been made to run the soles off your shoes!"
Then he took out a sack of pearls that was lying in the rushes, and without another word he dragged it away and disappeared behind a stone.
It happened that soon afterwards their mother sent the two children into the town to buy needles and thread and laces and ribbons. The road led them across a heath where huge pieces of rock lay strewn here and there.
Now they noticed a large bird hovering in the air, flying slowly round and round above them; it sank lower and lower, and at last settled near a rock not far off. Directly afterwards they heard a loud, piteous cry. They ran up and saw with horror that the eagle had seized their old acquaintance the dwarf and was about to carry him off.
The children, full of pity, at once took tight hold of the little man and pulled against the eagle so long that at last it let its prey go. As soon as the dwarf had recovered from his first fright he cried in his shrill voice, "Couldn't you have done it more carefully? You dragged at my brown coat so that it's all torn and full of holes, you helpless, clumsy creatures!"
Then he took up a sack full of precious stones and slipped away again under the rock into his hole. The girls, who by this time were used to his ingratitude, went on their way and did their business in the town.
As they crossed the heath again on their way home, they came upon the dwarf by surprise. He had tipped his bag of precious stones out on a clean patch of ground, and had not thought that anybody would come that way so late. The evening sun shone on the brilliant stones; they glittered and sparkled in all colours so beautifully that the children stood still and looked at them.
"Why are you standing there gaping?" cried the dwarf, and his ash-grey face turned copper-red with rage.
He was going on with his bad words when a loud growling was heard, and a black bear came trotting towards them out of the forest. The dwarf sprang up in a fright, but he could not get to his cave, for the bear was already close by.
Then in the dread of his heart he cried, "Dear Mr. Bear, spare me, and I'll give you all my treasures! Look — the beautiful jewels lying there! Grant me my life; what do you want with a slender little fellow like me? You wouldn't feel me between your teeth. Come, take these two wicked girls; they're tender morsels for you, fat as young quails. For mercy's sake, eat them!"
The bear took no notice of his words, but gave the wicked creature a single blow with his paw, and he never moved again.
The girls had run away; but the bear called after them, "Snow-White and Rose-Red, don't be afraid. Wait — I'll come with you."
Then they knew his voice and waited; and when he came up to them, his bearskin suddenly fell off, and he stood there a handsome man, clothed all in gold.
"I'm a King's son," he said, "and I was bewitched by that wicked dwarf, who had stolen my treasures. I've had to run about the forest as a savage bear until I was freed by his death. Now he's had his well-deserved punishment."
Snow-White was married to him, and Rose-Red to his brother; and they divided between them the great treasure the dwarf had gathered together in his cave. Their old mother lived peacefully and happily with her children for many years. She took the two rose trees with her, and they stood in front of her window and bore the most beautiful roses every year, white and red.
How fortunate the master is, and how well everything goes in his house, when he has a wise servant who listens to his orders and does not obey them, but prefers to follow his own wisdom.
A clever John of this kind was once sent out by his master to look for a lost cow. He stayed away a long time, and his master thought, "Faithful John spares no pains over his work."
But as he did not come back at all, his master began to fear that some misfortune had happened to him, and set out himself to look for him. He had to search a long time, but at last he caught sight of the boy running up and down a large field.
"Now, dear John," said his master when he had got up to him, "have you found the cow I sent you to look for?"
"No, master," he answered, "I haven't found the cow — but then I haven't looked for it."
"Then what have you been looking for, John?"
"Something better; and luckily I've found it."
"What's that, John?"
"Three blackbirds," answered the boy.
"And where are they?" asked his master.
"I can see one of them, I can hear the second, and I'm running after the third," answered the wise boy.
Take an example from this: don't trouble yourselves about your masters or their orders, but do whatever comes into your head and pleases you, and then you'll be acting just as wisely as prudent John.
Let nobody ever say that a poor tailor can't do great things and win high honours. All that's needed is that he should go to the right smithy — and, what matters most, that he should have good luck.
A civil, capable tailor's apprentice once went out travelling and came into a great forest; and as he did not know the way, he lost himself. Night fell, and nothing was left for him to do but look for a bed in that painful solitude. He could certainly have found a good bed on the soft moss, but his fear of wild animals gave him no rest there, and at last he had to make up his mind to spend the night in a tree. He picked out a high oak, climbed to the top of it, and thanked God that he had his pressing iron with him, for otherwise the wind blowing over the top of the tree would have carried him away.
After he had spent some hours in the darkness — not without fear and trembling — he saw the glimmer of a light a very short way off; and as he thought there might be a human dwelling there, where he would be better off than on the branches of a tree, he climbed carefully down and went towards the light.
It led him to a small hut woven together out of reeds and rushes. He knocked boldly; the door opened, and by the light that came out he saw a little hoary old man wearing a coat made of scraps of coloured stuff sewn together.
"Who are you, and what do you want?" the man asked in a grumbling voice.
"I'm a poor tailor," he answered, "whom night has caught out here in the wilderness; and I beg you earnestly to take me into your hut until morning."
"Go your way," replied the old man in a surly voice. "I'll have nothing to do with vagabonds. Find yourself a shelter somewhere else."
And after these words he was about to slip back into his hut; but the tailor held him so tightly by the corner of his coat and pleaded so piteously that the old man, who was not as ill-natured as he wanted to appear, was softened at last, and took him into the hut, where he gave him something to eat and then pointed out a very good bed in a corner.
The weary tailor needed no rocking, but slept sweetly till morning; and even then he would not have thought of getting up if he had not been roused by a great noise. A violent sound of screaming and roaring forced its way through the thin walls of the hut. The tailor, full of unaccustomed courage, jumped up, put his clothes on in haste and hurried out.
Then close by the hut he saw a great black bull and a beautiful stag just preparing for a violent struggle. They rushed at each other with such extreme rage that the ground shook with their trampling and the air rang with their cries. For a long time it was uncertain which of the two would win; but at length the stag drove his horns into his opponent's body, whereupon the bull fell to the earth with a terrific roar and was thoroughly finished off by a few strokes from the stag.
The tailor, who had watched the fight in astonishment, was still standing there motionless when the stag came bounding up to him at full speed; and before he could get away, it caught him up on its great horns. He had not much time to collect his thoughts, for it went at a swift race over stock and stone, mountain and valley, wood and meadow. He held on with both hands to the tops of the horns and gave himself up to his fate. It seemed to him just as if he were flying.
At length the stag stopped in front of a wall of rock and gently let the tailor down. The tailor, more dead than alive, needed a good while longer than that to come to himself.
When he had recovered a little, the stag, which had stayed standing beside him, pushed its horns with such force against a door in the rock that it sprang open. Flames of fire shot out, and after them came a great cloud of smoke that hid the stag from his sight.
The tailor did not know what to do or where to turn to get out of this wilderness and back among human beings again. But while he was standing there undecided, a voice sounded out of the rock and cried to him, "Come in without fear; no harm shall come to you."
He hesitated; but driven by some mysterious force he obeyed the voice and went through the iron door into a large, spacious hall, whose ceiling and walls and floor were made of shining polished squared stones, and on every one of them were carved letters he did not know. He looked at everything full of wonder, and was on the point of going out again, when he heard the voice once more, saying to him, "Step on the stone that lies in the middle of the hall, and great good fortune awaits you."
His courage had already grown so great that he obeyed the order. The stone began to give way under his feet and sank slowly down into the depths. When it was firm again and the tailor looked round, he found himself in a hall like the first one in size. Here, though, there was more to look at and to admire.
Hollow places were cut in the walls, and in them stood vases of transparent glass filled with coloured spirit or with a bluish vapour. On the floor of the hall two great glass chests stood facing each other, and these at once roused his curiosity.
When he went to one of them he saw inside it a handsome building like a castle, surrounded by farm buildings, stables and barns and a quantity of other good things. Everything was small, but made with exceeding care and delicacy, and seemed to have been cut out by a skilful hand with the greatest exactness.
He might not have taken his eyes off this rarity for some while, if the voice had not made itself heard once more. It told him to turn round and look at the glass chest standing opposite.
How his wonder grew when he saw in it a girl of the greatest beauty! She lay there as if asleep, and was wrapped in her long fair hair as in a precious mantle. Her eyes were tightly shut; but the brightness of her complexion, and a ribbon that her breathing stirred to and fro, left no doubt that she was alive.
The tailor was gazing at this beauty with a beating heart, when she suddenly opened her eyes and started up at the sight of him in joyful terror.
"Just heaven!" cried she. "My deliverance is at hand! Quick, quick, help me out of my prison — if you push back the bolt of this glass coffin I shall be free."
The tailor obeyed without delay, and she at once raised the glass lid and came out and hurried into the corner of the hall, where she covered herself with a large cloak. Then she seated herself on a stone and told the young man to come to her; and after she had planted a friendly kiss on his lips, she said, "My long-desired deliverer, kind heaven has guided you to me and put an end to my sorrows. On the very day they end, your happiness shall begin. You are the husband heaven has chosen for me, and you shall pass your life in unbroken joy, loved by me and richer than you can spend in every earthly possession. Sit down and listen to the story of my life.
"I am the daughter of a rich count. My parents died when I was still very young, and in their last will they commended me to my elder brother, who brought me up. We loved each other so tenderly, and were so alike in our way of thinking and in our tastes, that we both took the resolution never to marry, but to stay together to the end of our lives.
"There was no lack of company in our house; neighbours and friends visited us often, and we showed the greatest hospitality to everybody. So it came about one evening that a stranger came riding to our castle and, on the excuse that he could not get on to the next place, begged for shelter for the night. We granted his request with ready courtesy, and during supper he entertained us in the most agreeable way with conversation and stories mixed together. My brother liked the stranger so much that he begged him to spend a couple of days with us, to which, after some hesitation, he agreed.
"We did not get up from the table until late in the night; the stranger was shown to his room, and I hurried away, as I was tired, to lay my limbs in my soft bed.
"I had hardly slept a short while when the sound of faint and delightful music woke me. As I could not imagine where it came from, I wanted to call my waiting maid, who slept in the next room; but to my astonishment I found that my speech had been taken away from me by some unknown force. I felt as if a mountain were weighing down my chest, and I was unable to make the slightest sound.
"Meanwhile, by the light of my night lamp, I saw the stranger come into my room through two doors that were firmly bolted. He came up to me and said that by the magic arts at his command he had made this lovely music sound in order to wake me, and that he had now forced his way through all the fastenings with the intention of offering me his hand and heart.
"My revulsion at his magic arts was so great, though, that I gave him no answer. He stood there for a time without moving, apparently expecting a favourable decision; but as I went on keeping silent, he angrily declared that he would take his revenge and find means to punish my pride, and left the room.
"I passed the night in the greatest disquiet, and only fell asleep towards morning. When I woke I hurried to my brother, but did not find him in his room; and the servants told me that he had ridden out with the stranger to the hunt at daybreak.
"I suspected at once that nothing good was afoot. I dressed quickly, ordered my horse to be saddled, and rode off at full gallop to the forest with only one servant. The servant fell with his horse and could not follow me, for the horse had broken its leg. I went on my way without stopping; and in a few minutes I saw the stranger coming towards me with a beautiful stag, which he was leading on a cord.
"I asked him where he had left my brother, and how he had come by this stag, out of whose great eyes I saw tears flowing. Instead of answering me, he began to laugh loudly. I flew into a great rage at this, pulled out a pistol and fired it at the monster; but the ball rebounded from his chest and went into my horse's head. I fell to the ground, and the stranger muttered some words that took away my consciousness.
"When I came to my senses again, I found myself in this underground cave in a glass coffin. The magician appeared once more and said that he had changed my brother into a stag; that my castle and everything belonging to it, shrunk in size by his arts, he had shut up in the other glass chest; and that my people, all of whom he had turned into smoke, he had confined in glass bottles. He told me that if I would now comply with his wish, it was an easy thing for him to put everything back as it had been, since he had only to open the vessels and everything would return to its natural form.
"I answered him as little as I had the first time. He vanished and left me in my prison, where a deep sleep came over me. Among the visions that passed before my eyes, the most comforting was one in which a young man came and set me free; and when I opened my eyes today I saw you, and saw my dream fulfilled.
"Help me to accomplish the other things that happened in those visions. The first is that we lift the glass chest with my castle in it onto that broad stone."
As soon as the stone was loaded it began to rise up with the girl and the young man, and went up through the opening in the ceiling into the upper hall, from where they could easily reach the open air.
Here the girl opened the lid; and it was marvellous to see how the castle and the houses and the farm buildings inside it stretched themselves out and grew to their natural size with the greatest rapidity.
After this the girl and the tailor went back to the cave underground and had the vessels full of smoke carried up by the stone. The girl had hardly opened the bottles when the blue smoke rushed out and changed itself into living men, in whom she recognised her servants and her people.
Her joy was greater still when her brother, who had killed the magician in the shape of the bull, came out of the forest towards them in his human form; and on that very day the girl, keeping her promise, gave her hand at the altar to the lucky tailor.
Harry was lazy; and although he had nothing else to do but drive his goat out to pasture every day, he still groaned when he went home after his day's work was done.
"It's a heavy burden, indeed," said he, "and a wearisome business, driving a goat into the field like this year after year, right into late autumn. If a man could only lie down and sleep! But no — you have to keep your eyes open in case it damages the young trees, or squeezes through the hedge into a garden, or runs away altogether. How is a man to get any rest, or any peace in his life?"
He sat down and collected his thoughts and considered how he might get this burden off his shoulders. For a long time all his thinking was no use; but suddenly it was as though scales fell from his eyes.
"I know what I'll do," he cried. "I'll marry fat Trina, who has a goat as well, and she can take mine out with hers, and then I'll have no more need to trouble myself."
So Harry got up and set his weary legs in motion and went right across the street — for it was no further than that — to where fat Trina's parents lived, and asked for their hard-working and virtuous daughter in marriage. The parents did not think it over long. "Birds of a feather flock together," they thought, and gave their consent.
So fat Trina became Harry's wife, and took both the goats out. Harry had a good time of it, and had no work to rest from but his own idleness. He only went out with her now and then, and said, "I only do it so that I can enjoy the rest more afterwards; otherwise a man loses all feeling for it."
But fat Trina was no less idle. "Dear Harry," said she one day, "why should we make our lives so toilsome when there's no need for it, and ruin the best days of our youth? Wouldn't it be better to give the two goats — which disturb us every morning in our sweetest sleep with their bleating — to our neighbour, and he'll give us a beehive for them? We'll put the beehive in a sunny place behind the house and trouble ourselves about it no more. Bees don't need to be looked after, or driven out into the field; they fly out and find their own way home again, and collect honey without giving the least trouble."
"You've spoken like a sensible woman," replied Harry. "We'll carry out your proposal without delay. And besides all that, honey tastes better and nourishes a man better than goat's milk, and it keeps longer too."
The neighbour willingly gave a beehive for the two goats. The bees flew in and out from early morning till late evening without ever tiring, and filled the hive with the most beautiful honey, so that in the autumn Harry was able to take a whole pitcherful out of it.
They put the jug on a board fixed to the wall of their bedroom; and as they were afraid it might be stolen from them, or that the mice might find it, Trina brought in a stout hazel stick and put it beside her bed, so that she could reach it with her hand without needlessly getting up, and drive the uninvited guests away.
Lazy Harry did not like to leave his bed before noon. "He who rises early," said he, "wastes his substance."
One morning, when he was still lying among the feathers in broad daylight, resting after his long sleep, he said to his wife, "Women are fond of sweet things, and you're always tasting the honey in secret. It would be better for us to trade it for a goose with a young gosling, before you eat the whole of it."
"But," answered Trina, "not before we have a child to look after them! Am I to worry myself with the little geese and spend all my strength on them for nothing?"
"Do you think," said Harry, "that the youngster will look after geese? Children don't obey any more nowadays; they do as they please, because they think themselves cleverer than their parents — just like that lad who was sent to look for the cow and chased three blackbirds."
"Oh," replied Trina, "this one will fare badly if he doesn't do as I say. I'll take a stick and belabour his skin for him with more blows than I can count. Look, Harry," cried she in her zeal, and seized the stick she used for driving the mice away, "this is the way I'll fall on him!"
She reached her arm out to strike — and unluckily hit the honey pitcher above the bed. The pitcher struck against the wall and fell down in pieces, and the fine honey streamed down onto the floor.
"There lie the goose and the young gosling," said Harry, "and they want no looking after. But it's lucky the pitcher didn't fall on my head. We have every reason to be satisfied with our lot."
And then, as he saw that there was still some honey in one of the pieces, he reached out his hand for it and said quite cheerfully, "The remains, wife, we'll still eat with a relish; and then we'll rest a little after the fright we've had. What does it matter if we get up a little later? The day is always long enough."
"Yes," answered Trina, "we shall always get to the end of it at the proper time. Do you know that the snail was once invited to a wedding and set out to go, but arrived at the christening? In front of the house it fell over the fence, and said, 'Hurrying does no good.'"
There was once a King — but where he reigned and what he was called, I don't know. He had no son, but an only daughter who had always been ill, and no doctor had been able to cure her.
Then it was foretold to the King that his daughter would eat herself well with an apple. So he had it proclaimed throughout his whole kingdom that whoever brought his daughter an apple she could eat herself well with should have her for a wife, and be King.
This came to the ears of a peasant who had three sons; and he said to the eldest, "Go out into the garden and take a basketful of those beautiful apples with the red cheeks and carry them to the court. Perhaps the King's daughter will be able to eat herself well with them, and then you'll marry her and be King."
The lad did so, and set out. When he had gone a short way he met a little iron man, who asked him what he had there in the basket. Uele — for that was his name — replied, "Frogs' legs."
At this the little man said, "Well, so it shall be, and so it shall stay" — and went away.
At length Uele arrived at the palace and announced that he had brought apples that would cure the King's daughter if she ate them. This delighted the King hugely, and he had Uele brought before him. But alas — when he opened the basket, instead of apples he had frogs' legs in it, still kicking about. At this the King grew angry and had him driven out of the house.
When he got home he told his father how it had gone with him. So the father sent the next son, who was called Seame; but it all went with him just as it had with Uele. He too met the little iron man, who asked what he had there in the basket. Seame said, "Hogs' bristles" — and the iron man said, "Well, so it shall be, and so it shall stay."
When Seame got to the King's palace and said he had brought apples the King's daughter could eat herself well with, they did not want to let him in, and said that one fellow had been there already and had treated them as if they were fools. Seame, though, insisted that he certainly did have the apples, and that they ought to let him in. At length they believed him and took him to the King. But when he uncovered the basket, all he had was hogs' bristles.
This enraged the King most terribly, and he had Seame whipped out of the house.
When he got home he told them everything that had happened to him. And then the youngest boy, whose name was Hans but who was always called Stupid Hans, came and asked his father whether he might go with some apples.
"Oh," said his father, "you'd be just the right fellow for a thing like that. If the clever ones can't manage it, what can you do?"
The boy, though, did not believe him, and said, "Indeed, father, I want to go."
"Just get away, you stupid fellow; you must wait till you're wiser," said his father to that, and turned his back.
But Hans pulled at the back of his smock and said, "Indeed, father, I want to go."
"Well then, as far as I'm concerned you may go — but you'll soon be home again," replied the old man in a spiteful voice.
The boy, though, was tremendously delighted and jumped for joy.
"Well, act like a fool! You grow more stupid every day," said his father again.
But Hans did not care about that, and would not let it spoil his pleasure. And as it was night by then, he thought he might as well wait until the next day, for he could not get to court that day. All night long he could not sleep in his bed; and if he did doze for a moment, he dreamed of beautiful girls, of palaces, of gold and silver and all kinds of things of that sort.
Early in the morning he set out on his way; and directly afterwards the little shabby-looking man in his iron clothes came up to him and asked what he was carrying in the basket. Hans answered that he was carrying apples for the King's daughter to eat herself well with.
"Then," said the little man, "so they shall be, and so they shall stay."
But at the court not one of them would let Hans in, for they said two had already been there who had told them they were bringing apples, and one of them had had frogs' legs and the other hogs' bristles. Hans, though, insisted stoutly that he most certainly had no frogs' legs, but some of the most beautiful apples in the whole kingdom. And as he spoke so pleasantly, the doorkeeper thought he could not be telling a lie, and asked him to come in.
And he was right; for when Hans uncovered his basket in the King's presence, golden-yellow apples came tumbling out. The King was delighted, and had some of them taken to his daughter, and then waited in anxious expectation until news should be brought him of the effect they had.
But before much time had gone by, news was brought him — and who do you think it was that came? It was his daughter herself. As soon as she had eaten some of those apples she was cured, and sprang out of her bed.
The joy the King felt cannot be described. But now he did not want to give his daughter in marriage to Hans, and said he must first make him a boat that would go faster on dry land than on water.
Hans agreed to the condition and went home and told them how it had gone with him. Then his father sent Uele into the forest to make a boat of that kind. He worked hard, and whistled all the time.
At midday, when the sun was at its highest, the little iron man came and asked what he was making. Uele answered, "Wooden bowls for the kitchen."
The iron man said, "So it shall be, and so it shall stay."
By evening Uele thought he had made the boat; but when he tried to get into it, he had nothing but wooden bowls.
Next day Seame went into the forest, but it all went with him just as it had with Uele.
On the third day Stupid Hans went. He worked away most industriously, so that the whole forest rang with his heavy strokes; and all the while he sang and whistled right merrily.
At midday, when it was hottest, the little man came again and asked what he was making.
"A boat that will go faster on dry land than on water," replied Hans; "and when I've finished it, I'm to have the King's daughter for my wife."
"Well," said the little man, "such a one it shall be, and such it shall stay."
In the evening, when the sun had turned to gold, Hans finished his boat and everything that was needed for it. He got into it and rowed to the palace. The boat went as swiftly as the wind.
The King saw it from a long way off; but he still would not give his daughter to Hans, and said he must first take a hundred hares out to pasture from early morning until late evening — and if one of them got away, he should not have his daughter.
Hans was content with this, and next day went out to pasture with his flock and took great care that none of them ran away.
Before many hours had passed a servant girl came from the palace and told Hans that he must give her a hare instantly, because some visitors had arrived unexpectedly. But Hans knew very well what that meant, and said he would not give her one; the King could set some hare soup in front of his guests the next day.
The maid, though, would not accept his refusal, and at last she began to get angry with him. Then Hans said that if the King's daughter came herself, he would give her a hare.
The maid reported this at the palace, and the daughter did come herself. Meanwhile, though, the little man came to Hans again and asked what he was doing there. He said he had to watch a hundred hares and see that none of them ran away, and then he could marry the King's daughter and be King.
"Good," said the little man. "Here's a whistle for you; and if one of them runs away, just blow it and it will come back again."
When the King's daughter came, Hans put a hare into her apron; but when she had gone about a hundred steps with it he whistled, and the hare jumped out of the apron and was back with the flock again before she could turn round.
When evening came the hare-herd whistled once more and looked to see whether they were all there, and then drove them to the palace.
The King wondered how Hans had been able to graze a hundred hares without losing any of them. All the same he still would not give him his daughter, and said he must now bring him a feather from the Griffin's tail.
Hans set out at once and walked straight on. In the evening he came to a castle, and there he asked for a night's lodging, for in those days there were no inns. The lord of the castle promised it with much pleasure, and asked where he was going.
Hans answered, "To the Griffin."
"Oh — to the Griffin! They tell me he knows everything. I've lost the key of an iron money chest; perhaps you'd be so good as to ask him where it is."
"Yes, indeed," said Hans, "I'll do that."
Early next morning he went on; and on his way he came to another castle, where he stayed the night again. When the people who lived there learned that he was going to the Griffin, they said they had a daughter in the house who was ill, and that they had already tried every means to cure her but none had done her any good; would he be so kind as to ask the Griffin what would make their daughter well again?
Hans said he would gladly do that, and went on.
Then he came to a lake; and instead of a ferry boat there was a tall, tall man there who had to carry everybody across. The man asked Hans where he was journeying.
"To the Griffin," said Hans.
"Then when you get to him," said the man, "just ask him why I'm forced to carry everybody over the lake."
"Yes, indeed, I'll certainly do that," said Hans.
Then the man took him up on his shoulders and carried him across.
At length Hans arrived at the Griffin's house; but only the wife was at home, and not the Griffin himself. The woman asked him what he wanted, and he told her everything: that he had to get a feather out of the Griffin's tail; that there was a castle where they had lost the key of their money chest, and he was to ask the Griffin where it was; that in another castle the daughter was ill, and he was to find out what would cure her; and that not far from there was a lake with a man beside it who was forced to carry people across, and he was very anxious to learn why the man had to do it.
Then the woman said, "But look here, my good friend, no Christian can talk to the Griffin; he devours them all. But if you like, you can lie down under his bed; and in the night, when he's fast asleep, you can reach out and pull a feather out of his tail. And as for the things you want to know, I'll ask about them myself."
Hans was quite satisfied with this and got under the bed.
In the evening the Griffin came home; and as soon as he came into the room he said, "Wife, I smell a Christian."
"Yes," said the woman, "one was here today, but he went away again." And at that the Griffin said no more.
In the middle of the night, when the Griffin was snoring loudly, Hans reached out and plucked a feather from his tail. The Griffin woke up instantly and said, "Wife, I smell a Christian, and it seems to me that somebody was pulling at my tail."
His wife said, "You've certainly been dreaming. And I told you before that a Christian was here today, but that he went away again. He told me all kinds of things — that in one castle they'd lost the key of their money chest and could find it nowhere."
"Oh, the fools!" said the Griffin. "The key is in the woodshed, under a log of wood behind the door."
"And then he said that in another castle the daughter was ill, and they knew no remedy to cure her."
"Oh, the fools!" said the Griffin. "Under the cellar steps a toad has made its nest out of her hair; and if she got her hair back, she'd be well."
"And then he also said that there was a place with a lake, and a man beside it who was forced to carry everybody across."
"Oh, the fool!" said the Griffin. "If he only set one man down in the middle, he'd never have to carry another across."
Early next morning the Griffin got up and went out. Then Hans came out from under the bed; and he had a beautiful feather, and had heard what the Griffin had said about the key and the daughter and the ferryman. The Griffin's wife repeated it all over to him once more so that he should not forget it, and then he went home again.
First he came to the man by the lake, who asked him what the Griffin had said; but Hans replied that he must carry him across first, and then he would tell him. So the man carried him across; and when he was over, Hans told him that all he had to do was set one person down in the middle of the lake, and then he would never have to carry anybody over again.
The man was hugely delighted, and told Hans that out of gratitude he would take him across once more and back again. But Hans said no, he would save him the trouble; he was quite satisfied already — and went on his way.
Then he came to the castle where the daughter was ill. He took her on his shoulders, for she could not walk, and carried her down the cellar steps and pulled out the toad's nest from under the lowest step and put it into her hand; and she sprang off his shoulder and up the steps ahead of him, and was quite cured. Then her father and mother were overjoyed beyond measure, and they gave Hans gifts of gold and silver, and whatever else he wished for they gave him.
And when he got to the other castle he went straight into the woodshed and found the key under the log of wood behind the door, and took it to the lord of the castle. He too was not a little pleased, and gave Hans as a reward a great deal of the gold that was in the chest, and all kinds of things besides — cows and sheep and goats.
When Hans arrived before the King with all these things — with the money and the gold and the silver, and the cows and sheep and goats — the King asked him how he had come by them. Then Hans told him that the Griffin gave everybody whatever he wanted.
So the King thought he could make use of such things himself, and set out on his way to the Griffin. But when he got to the lake, it happened that he was the very first to arrive there after Hans; and the man set him down in the middle of it and went away, and the King was drowned.
But Hans married the daughter and became King.
There were once a man and a woman who had an only child, and lived quite alone in a lonely valley.
It happened that the mother went into the wood one day to gather fir branches, and took little Hans with her, who was just two years old. As it was springtime, and the child took pleasure in the many-coloured flowers, she went further and further on with him into the forest.
Suddenly two robbers sprang out of the thicket, seized the mother and child, and carried them far away into the black forest, where nobody ever came from one year's end to another. The poor woman begged the robbers urgently to set her and her child free; but their hearts were made of stone, and they would not listen to her prayers and entreaties, but drove her on further by force.
After they had worked their way through bushes and briars for about two miles, they came to a rock with a door in it, at which the robbers knocked, and it opened at once. They had to go through a long dark passage, and at last came into a great cavern lit by a fire burning on the hearth. On the wall hung swords and sabres and other deadly weapons, which gleamed in the light; and in the middle stood a black table at which four more robbers were sitting gambling, with the captain at the head of it.
As soon as he saw the woman he came and spoke to her, and told her to set her mind at rest and have no fear; they would do nothing to hurt her, but she must look after the housekeeping, and if she kept everything in order she would not fare badly with them. And with that they gave her something to eat, and showed her a bed where she could sleep with her child.
The woman stayed many years with the robbers, and Hans grew tall and strong. His mother told him stories, and taught him to read out of an old book of tales about knights that she found in the cave.
When Hans was nine years old he made himself a strong club out of a fir branch and hid it behind the bed, and then went to his mother and said, "Dear mother, please tell me who my father is. I must and will know."
His mother was silent and would not tell him, so that he should not grow homesick; besides, she knew that the godless robbers would not let him go away. But it all but broke her heart that Hans should not go to his father.
In the night, when the robbers came home from their robbing expedition, Hans brought out his club, stood in front of the captain and said, "I want to know now who my father is; and if you don't tell me at once, I'll strike you down."
Then the captain laughed, and gave Hans such a box on the ear that he rolled under the table. Hans got up again, held his tongue, and thought, "I'll wait another year and then try again; perhaps I'll do better then."
When the year was up he brought out his club again, rubbed the dust off it, looked it over well and said, "It's a stout, strong club."
At night the robbers came home and drank one jug of wine after another, and their heads began to grow heavy. Then Hans brought out his club, placed himself in front of the captain and asked him who his father was.
But the captain again gave him such a vigorous box on the ear that Hans rolled under the table. It was not long, though, before he was up again; and he beat the captain and the robbers so with his club that they could no longer move either their arms or their legs. His mother stood in a corner full of admiration for his bravery and his strength.
When Hans had finished his work he went to his mother and said, "Now I've shown that I'm in earnest; but now I must know as well who my father is."
"Dear Hans," answered his mother, "come, we'll go and look for him until we find him."
She took the key of the entrance door from the captain, and Hans fetched a great meal sack and packed into it gold and silver and whatever else he could find that was beautiful, until it was full, and then he took it on his back.
They left the cave — and how Hans opened his eyes when he came out of the darkness into daylight and saw the green forest and the flowers and the birds and the morning sun in the sky! He stood there and marvelled at everything just as if he had no sense at all.
His mother looked for the way home; and when they had walked for a couple of hours they got safely into their lonely valley and to their little house. His father was sitting in the doorway. He wept for joy when he recognised his wife and heard that Hans was his son, for he had long thought them both dead. But Hans, although he was not twelve years old yet, was a head taller than his father.
They went into the little room together; but Hans had hardly put his sack down on the bench by the stove before the whole house began to crack. The bench broke down, and then the floor, and the heavy sack fell through into the cellar.
"God save us!" cried his father. "What's that? Now you've broken our little house to pieces!"
"Don't get any grey hairs over that, dear father," answered Hans. "There's more in that sack than is needed for a new house."
His father and Hans set about building a new house at once, and buying cattle and land and setting up a farm. Hans ploughed the fields; and when he walked behind the plough and pushed it into the ground, the oxen had hardly any need to pull.
The next spring Hans said, "Keep all the money, and have a walking stick made for me that weighs a hundredweight, so that I can go travelling."
When the stick he had asked for was ready, he left his father's house and went out, and came to a deep, dark forest. There he heard something crunching and cracking; he looked round and saw a fir tree that was twisted round like a rope from the bottom to the top; and when he looked upwards he saw a great fellow who had hold of the tree and was twisting it like a willow wand.
"Hey!" cried Hans. "What are you doing up there?"
The fellow replied, "I got some faggots together yesterday, and I'm twisting a rope for them."
"That's what I like," thought Hans; "he has some strength in him." And he called to him, "Leave that alone and come with me."
The fellow came down, and he was a whole head taller than Hans — and Hans was not small.
"Your name is Fir-Twister from now on," said Hans to him.
And with that they went on further, and heard something knocking and hammering with such force that the ground shook at every stroke. Shortly afterwards they came to a mighty rock, in front of which a giant was standing and striking great pieces off it with his fist.
When Hans asked what he was doing, he answered, "At night, when I want to sleep, bears and wolves and vermin of that kind come and sniff and snuffle about me and won't let me rest. So I want to build myself a house and lay myself inside it, so that I can have some peace."
"Oh, indeed," thought Hans, "I can make use of this one too" — and said to him, "Leave your house-building alone and come with me. You shall be called Rock-Splitter."
The man agreed; and all three of them roamed through the forest, and wherever they went the wild beasts were terrified and ran away from them.
In the evening they came to an old deserted castle, and went up into it and lay down in the hall to sleep.
Next morning Hans went into the garden. It had run quite wild and was full of thorns and bushes. And as he was walking about in it, a wild boar rushed at him; but he gave it such a blow with his club that it fell down on the spot. He took it on his shoulders and carried it in, and they put it on a spit and roasted it and enjoyed themselves.
Then they arranged that each day two of them should go out hunting in turn and one should stay at home and cook nine pounds of meat for each of them.
Fir-Twister stayed at home first, and Hans and Rock-Splitter went out hunting. And when Fir-Twister was busy cooking, a little shrivelled-up old man came to him in the castle and asked for some meat.
"Be off, you sly hypocrite," he answered. "You need no meat."
But how astonished Fir-Twister was when the insignificant little dwarf sprang at him and belaboured him so with his fists that he could not defend himself, but fell on the ground and gasped for breath. The dwarf did not go away until he had thoroughly vented his anger on him.
When the other two came home from hunting, Fir-Twister said nothing to them about the old man or the blows he had taken, and thought, "When they stay at home, they can try their luck with the little scrubbing-brush" — and the mere thought of it gave him pleasure already.
Next day Rock-Splitter stayed at home, and he fared just as Fir-Twister had; he was badly beaten by the dwarf because he would not give him any meat. When the others came home in the evening, Fir-Twister could easily see what he had suffered; but both of them kept quiet, and thought, "Hans must taste some of that soup too."
Hans, who had to stay at home the next day, did his work in the kitchen as it had to be done; and as he was standing skimming the pan, the dwarf came and demanded a piece of meat without any ceremony.
Then Hans thought, "He's a poor wretch; I'll give him some of my own share, so that the others don't go short" — and handed him a piece.
When the dwarf had devoured it he asked for more meat, and good-natured Hans gave it to him, and told him it was a handsome piece and he must be content with it. But the dwarf begged for it a third time.
"You're shameless," said Hans, and gave him none.
Then the malicious dwarf tried to spring on him and treat him as he had treated Fir-Twister and Rock-Splitter; but he had come to the wrong man. Hans, without exerting himself much, gave him a couple of blows that sent him jumping down the castle steps.
Hans was going to run after him, but fell right over him, he was so tall. When he got up again the dwarf had a start on him. Hans hurried after him as far as the forest, and saw him slip into a hole in the rock. Then Hans went home — but he had marked the spot.
When the other two came back they were surprised that Hans was so well. He told them what had happened, and then they no longer concealed how it had gone with them.
Hans laughed and said, "It served you right. Why were you so greedy with your meat? It's a disgrace that two big men like you should have let yourselves be beaten by a dwarf."
At that they took a basket and a rope, and all three went to the hole in the rock the dwarf had slipped into, and let Hans and his club down in the basket.
When Hans reached the bottom he found a door; and when he opened it, a girl was sitting there who was as lovely as a picture — no, so beautiful that no words can express it. And beside her sat the dwarf, grinning at Hans like an ape. But she was bound with chains, and looked at him so mournfully that Hans felt great pity for her, and thought to himself, "You must deliver her out of the power of that wicked dwarf" — and gave him such a blow with his club that he fell down dead.
Immediately the chains fell away from the girl, and Hans was enraptured with her beauty. She told him she was a King's daughter whom a savage count had stolen away from her home and imprisoned there among the rocks, because she would have nothing to do with him. The count had set the dwarf there as a watchman, and he had made her suffer misery and vexation enough.
And now Hans put the girl in the basket and had her drawn up. The basket came down again; but Hans did not trust his two companions, and thought, "They've already shown themselves false and told me nothing about the dwarf. Who knows what they may be planning against me?"
So he put his club in the basket — and it was lucky he did; for when the basket was halfway up they let it fall again, and if Hans had really been sitting in it he would have been killed.
But now he did not know how he was to work his way out of the depths; and turn it over and over in his mind as he might, he could think of nothing. "It's a sad thing," said he to himself, "that I have to waste away down here."
And as he was walking backwards and forwards, he came once more to the little chamber where the girl had been sitting, and saw that the dwarf had a ring on his finger that shone and sparkled. So he drew it off and put it on; and when he turned it round on his finger, he suddenly heard something rustling over his head. He looked up and saw spirits of the air hovering above him, who told him he was their master and asked what he desired.
Hans was struck dumb at first; but afterwards he said that they were to carry him up again. They obeyed instantly, and it was just as if he had flown up himself.
When he was above ground, though, he could see nobody. Fir-Twister and Rock-Splitter had hurried away and taken the beautiful girl with them. But Hans turned the ring, and the spirits of the air came and told him that the two of them were at sea.
Hans ran and ran without stopping until he came to the shore; and there, far, far out on the water, he could make out a little boat with his faithless comrades sitting in it. And in fierce anger, without thinking what he was doing, he leapt into the water club in hand and began to swim; but the club, which weighed a hundredweight, dragged him deep down until he was all but drowned.
Then, in the very nick of time, he turned his ring; and immediately the spirits of the air came and carried him as swift as lightning into the boat. He swung his club and gave his wicked comrades the reward they deserved, and threw them into the water; and then he sailed home with the beautiful girl, who had been in the greatest alarm and whom he had now delivered for the second time, to her father and mother, and married her; and everybody rejoiced exceedingly.
Once upon a time a poor, pious peasant died and arrived before the gate of heaven. At the same time a very rich, rich lord came there who also wanted to get into heaven.
Then Saint Peter came with the key and opened the door and let the great man in — but apparently did not see the peasant, and shut the door again.
And now the peasant outside heard how the great man was received in heaven with every kind of rejoicing, and how they were making music and singing inside. At length everything grew quiet again, and Saint Peter came and opened the gate of heaven and let the peasant in.
The peasant expected that they would make music and sing when he went in too; but everything stayed quite quiet. He was received with great affection, it's true, and the angels came to meet him — but nobody sang.
So the peasant asked Saint Peter how it was that they did not sing for him as they had done when the rich man went in, and said that it seemed to him that up there in heaven things were done with just as much partiality as on earth.
Then Saint Peter said, "By no means. You are just as dear to us as anybody else, and you'll enjoy every heavenly delight the rich man enjoys. But poor fellows like you come to heaven every day, and a rich man like that doesn't come more than once in a hundred years."
Lean Lisa was of a very different way of thinking from lazy Harry and fat Trina, who never let anything disturb their peace. She scoured everything with ashes from morning till evening, and loaded her husband, Long Laurence, with so much work that he had heavier weights to carry than a donkey with three sacks. It was all no use, though: they had nothing and came to nothing.
One night, as she lay in bed and could hardly move a limb for weariness, she still would not let her thoughts go to sleep. She dug her elbows into her husband's side and said, "Listen, Lenz, to what I've been thinking. If I were to find one florin, and another was given to me, I'd borrow another to add to them, and you'd give me another too; and then, as soon as I had the four florins together, I'd buy a young cow."
This pleased her husband well enough. "It's true," said he, "that I don't know where I'm to get the florin you want as a gift from me; but if you can get the money together and buy a cow with it, you'll do well to carry out your plan. I'll be glad," he added, "if the cow has a calf, and then I'll often get a drink of milk to refresh me."
"The milk isn't for you," said his wife. "We must let the calf suck, so that it grows big and fat and we can sell it well."
"Certainly," replied her husband, "but all the same we'll take a little milk; that will do no harm."
"Who taught you how to manage cows?" said his wife. "Whether it does harm or not, I won't allow it; and even if you stood on your head for it, you shouldn't have a drop of the milk. Do you think, because there's no satisfying you, Long Laurence, that you're to eat up what I earn with so much difficulty?"
"Wife," said the man, "be quiet, or I'll give you a blow on the mouth."
"What!" cried she. "You threaten me, you glutton, you rascal, you lazy Harry!"
She was just taking hold of his hair, but Long Laurence got up, seized both of Lean Lisa's withered arms in one hand and pressed her head down into the pillow with the other, and let her scold, and held her there until she fell asleep out of sheer weariness.
Whether she went on quarrelling when she woke next morning, or whether she went out to look for the florin she wanted to find, that I do not know.
A poor woodcutter lived with his wife and three daughters in a little hut on the edge of a lonely forest.
One morning, as he was about to go off to his work, he said to his wife, "Let my dinner be brought out to me in the forest by my eldest daughter, or I shall never get my work done. And so that she doesn't lose her way," he added, "I'll take a bag of millet with me and scatter the seeds along the path."
So when the sun was just above the middle of the forest, the girl set out on her way with a bowl of soup. But the field sparrows and wood sparrows, the larks and finches, the blackbirds and siskins had picked up the millet long before, and the girl could not find the trail.
Then, trusting to chance, she went on and on, until the sun sank and night began to fall. The trees rustled in the darkness, the owls hooted, and she began to be afraid.
Then in the distance she saw a light glimmering between the trees. "There must be people living there who can take me in for the night," she thought — and went towards the light.
It was not long before she came to a house with all its windows lit up. She knocked, and a rough voice from inside cried, "Come in."
The girl stepped into the dark entry and knocked at the door of the room.
"Just come in," cried the voice; and when she opened the door, an old grey-haired man was sitting at the table with his face propped in both hands, and his white beard fell down over the table almost to the ground. By the stove lay three animals: a hen, a cock and a brindled cow.
The girl told the old man her story and begged for shelter for the night. The man said:
"Pretty little hen, pretty little cock, and pretty brindled cow, what do you say to that?"
"Duks," answered the animals — and that must have meant, "We're willing," for the old man said, "Here you shall have shelter and food. Go to the fire and cook us our supper."
The girl found plenty of everything in the kitchen and cooked a good supper, but she gave no thought to the animals. She carried the full dishes to the table, sat down beside the grey-haired man, and ate and satisfied her hunger.
When she had had enough she said, "But now I'm tired. Where is there a bed I can lie down and sleep in?"
The animals replied:
"You have eaten with him, you have drunk with him, you have had no thought for us — so find out for yourself where you can pass the night."
Then the old man said, "Just go upstairs, and you'll find a room with two beds. Shake them up and put white linen on them, and then I'll come and lie down to sleep too."
The girl went up; and when she had shaken the beds and put clean sheets on them, she lay down in one of them without waiting any longer for the old man.
After some time, though, the grey-haired man came up and took his candle and looked at the girl and shook his head. And when he saw that she had fallen into a sound sleep, he opened a trapdoor and let her down into the cellar.
Late that night the woodcutter came home and reproached his wife for leaving him to go hungry all day.
"It isn't my fault," she replied. "The girl went out with your dinner and must have lost herself; but she's sure to come back tomorrow."
The woodcutter, though, got up before dawn to go into the forest, and asked that the second daughter should take him his dinner that day. "I'll take a bag of lentils," said he. "The seeds are larger than millet; the girl will see them better and can't lose her way."
So at dinner time the girl took out the food — but the lentils had disappeared. The birds of the forest had picked them up as they had the day before, and had left none.
The girl wandered about the forest until nightfall, and then she too came to the old man's house, and was told to come in, and begged for food and a bed. The man with the white beard asked the animals again:
"Pretty little hen, pretty little cock, and pretty brindled cow, what do you say to that?"
The animals answered "Duks" again, and everything happened just as it had the day before. The girl cooked a good meal and ate and drank with the old man, and did not concern herself about the animals; and when she asked about her bed they answered:
"You have eaten with him, you have drunk with him, you have had no thought for us — so find out for yourself where you can pass the night."
When she was asleep the old man came and looked at her and shook his head, and let her down into the cellar.
On the third morning the woodcutter said to his wife, "Send our youngest child out with my dinner today. She's always been good and obedient, and she'll stay on the right path and not run about after every wild bumblebee the way her sisters did."
The mother did not want to do it, and said, "Am I to lose my dearest child as well?"
"Have no fear," he replied. "The girl won't go astray; she's too careful and sensible. Besides, I'll take some peas with me and scatter them about. They're bigger still than lentils, and they'll show her the way."
But when the girl went out with her basket on her arm, the wood pigeons had already got all the peas in their crops, and she did not know which way to turn. She was full of sorrow, and never stopped thinking how hungry her father would be, and how her good mother would grieve, if she did not get home.
At length, when it grew dark, she saw the light and came to the house in the forest. She begged very prettily to be allowed to spend the night there, and the man with the white beard once more asked his animals:
"Pretty little hen, pretty little cock, and beautiful brindled cow, what do you say to that?"
"Duks," said they.
Then the girl went over to the stove where the animals were lying, and petted the cock and the hen and stroked their smooth feathers with her hand, and caressed the brindled cow between her horns. And when, following the old man's orders, she had made ready some good soup and the bowl was set on the table, she said, "Am I to eat as much as I want, and the good animals to have nothing? Outside there's food in plenty; I'll see to them first."
So she went and brought some barley and put it to soak for the cock and the hen, and a whole armful of sweet-smelling hay for the cow. "I hope you'll like it, dear animals," said she, "and you shall have a refreshing drink too, in case you're thirsty."
Then she fetched in a bucketful of water; and the cock and the hen jumped up onto the edge of it and dipped their beaks in and then held up their heads the way birds do when they drink, and the brindled cow took a hearty draught as well.
When the animals had been fed, the girl sat down at the table beside the old man and ate what he had left. It was not long before the cock and the hen began to tuck their heads under their wings, and the cow's eyes began to blink too.
Then the girl said, "Oughtn't we to go to bed?"
"Pretty little hen, pretty little cock, and pretty brindled cow, what do you say to that?"
The animals answered "Duks":
"You have eaten with us, you have drunk with us, you have had a kind thought for all of us — we wish you good night."
So the girl went upstairs and shook up the feather beds and laid clean sheets on them; and when she had done it the old man came and lay down on one of the beds, and his white beard reached down to his feet. The girl lay down on the other, said her prayers, and fell asleep.
She slept quietly till midnight, and then there was such a noise in the house that she woke. There was a sound of cracking and splitting in every corner, and the doors sprang open and banged against the walls. The beams groaned as if they were being torn out of their joints; it seemed as if the staircase were falling down; and at length there was a crash as if the whole roof had fallen in. But as everything grew quiet again and the girl was not hurt, she stayed quietly lying where she was and fell asleep again.
But when she woke in the morning in the brilliance of the sunshine — what did her eyes behold? She was lying in a vast hall, and everything around her shone with royal splendour. On the walls golden flowers grew up a ground of green silk; the bed was of ivory and the canopy of red velvet; and on a chair close by was a pair of shoes embroidered with pearls.
The girl believed that she was dreaming; but three richly dressed attendants came in and asked what orders she wished to give.
"If you'll go," she replied, "I'll get up at once and make some soup ready for the old man, and then I'll feed the pretty little hen and the cock and the beautiful brindled cow."
She thought the old man was up already, and looked round at his bed; but he was not lying in it — a stranger was. And while she was looking at him, and realising that he was young and handsome, he woke and sat up in bed and said, "I'm a King's son, and I was bewitched by a wicked witch and made to live in this forest as an old grey-haired man. Nobody was allowed to be with me but my three attendants, in the shapes of a cock, a hen and a brindled cow. The spell was not to be broken until a girl came to us whose heart was so good that she showed herself full of love not only to human beings but to animals — and that you have done. And by you, at midnight, we were set free, and the old hut in the forest was changed back into my royal palace."
And when they had got up, the King's son ordered the three attendants to set out and fetch the girl's father and mother to the wedding feast.
"But where are my two sisters?" asked the girl.
"I've locked them in the cellar; and tomorrow they shall be taken into the forest and live as servants to a charcoal burner, until they've grown kinder and don't leave poor animals to go hungry."
There was once a tailor who was a quarrelsome fellow; and his wife, who was good and hard-working and pious, could never please him. Whatever she did, he was not satisfied, but grumbled and scolded and knocked her about and beat her.
As the authorities heard of it at last, they had him summoned and put in prison to improve him. He was kept for a while on bread and water and then set free again. He was made to promise, though, that he would not beat his wife any more, but would live with her in peace and share joy and sorrow with her, as married people should.
All went well for a time; but then he fell into his old ways and was surly and quarrelsome. And because he dared not beat her, he would seize her by the hair and tear it out. His wife got away from him and ran out into the yard; but he ran after her with his yardstick and his scissors, and chased her about, and threw the yardstick and the scissors at her, and whatever else came to hand. When he hit her he laughed, and when he missed her he stormed and swore.
This went on so long that the neighbours came to the wife's help. The tailor was summoned before the magistrates again and reminded of his promise.
"Dear gentlemen," said he, "I've kept my word. I haven't beaten her, but have shared joy and sorrow with her."
"How can that be," said the judge, "when she keeps bringing such heavy complaints against you?"
"I haven't beaten her. Just because she looked so strange, I wanted to comb her hair with my hand; but she got away from me and left me quite spitefully. So I hurried after her, and to bring her back to her duty I threw at her — as a well-meant reminder — whatever came readily to hand. And I've shared joy and sorrow with her too: for whenever I hit her I was full of joy and she of sorrow, and if I missed her, then she was joyful and I was sorry."
The judges were not satisfied with this answer, but gave him the reward he deserved.
In the old days every sound still had its meaning and its application. When the smith's hammer rang out, it cried, "Strike away! Strike away!" When the carpenter's plane grated, it said, "Here goes! Here goes!" If the mill wheel began to clack, it said, "Help, Lord God! Help, Lord God!" And if the miller was a cheat and happened to leave the mill, it spoke proper High German, and first asked slowly, "Who is there? Who is there?" and then answered quickly, "The miller! The miller!" and at last, quite in a hurry, "He steals bravely! He steals bravely! Three pecks in a bushel."
In those days the birds had their own language too, which everybody understood; now it only sounds like chirping and screeching and whistling, and to some people like music without words.
It came into the birds' minds, though, that they would be without a ruler no longer, and would choose one of themselves to be their King. Only one among them, the green plover, was against it. He had lived free and would die free; and flying anxiously here and there he cried, "Where shall I go? Where shall I go?" He withdrew into a lonely, unfrequented marsh, and showed himself among his fellows no more.
The birds now wanted to discuss the matter; and on a fine May morning they all gathered together from the woods and fields: eagles and chaffinches, owls and crows, larks and sparrows — how can I name them all? Even the cuckoo came, and the hoopoe, his clerk, who is so called because he is always heard a few days before him; and a very small bird that had no name yet mingled with the crowd.
The hen, who by some accident had heard nothing of the whole business, was astonished at the great gathering. "What, what, what's going to be done?" she cackled. But the cock calmed his beloved hen and said, "Only rich folk showing off" — and told her what they were about.
It was decided, though, that whichever of them could fly the highest should be King. A tree frog sitting among the bushes cried a warning when he heard that — "No, no, no! No!" — because he thought many tears would be shed over it; but the crow said, "Caw, caw," and that it would all pass off peaceably.
It was now settled that they should begin the ascent at once, on that fine morning, so that nobody could say afterwards, "I could easily have flown much higher, but evening came on and I could do no more."
So at a given signal the whole company rose up into the air. The dust rose from the ground, and there was tremendous fluttering and whirring and beating of wings, and it looked as if a black cloud were rising up.
The little birds were soon left behind, though. They could go no further, and fell back to the ground. The larger birds held out longer; but none could match the eagle, who mounted so high that he could have picked the eyes out of the sun. And when he saw that the others could not get up to him, he thought, "Why should you fly still higher? You are the King" — and began to let himself down again.
The birds below at once called to him, "You must be our King; nobody has flown as high as you."
"Except me," screamed the little fellow without a name, who had crept into the eagle's breast feathers. And as he was not at all tired, he rose up and mounted so high that he reached heaven itself. And when he had gone as far as that, he folded his wings together and called down in a clear, penetrating voice, "I am King! I am King!"
"You, our King?" cried the birds angrily. "You've managed it by trickery and cunning!"
So they set another condition. He should be King who could get furthest down into the ground.
How the goose did flap about with her broad breast when she was on land again! How quickly the cock scratched a hole! The duck came off worst of all, for she leapt into a ditch and sprained her legs, and waddled away to a nearby pond crying, "Cheating! Cheating!"
The little bird without a name, though, sought out a mouse hole and slipped down into it, and cried out of it in his small voice, "I am King! I am King!"
"You, our King?" cried the birds, angrier still. "Do you think your cunning will win?"
They decided to keep him prisoner in the hole and starve him out. The owl was posted as sentry in front of it, and was not to let the rascal out if she valued her life.
When evening came all the birds were feeling very tired after exerting their wings so much, and went to bed with their wives and children. The owl alone stayed standing by the mouse hole, gazing steadily into it with her great eyes.
Meanwhile she too had grown tired, and thought to herself, "You could certainly shut one eye; you'll still be watching with the other, and the little wretch shan't come out of his hole." So she shut one eye, and with the other looked straight at the mouse hole.
The little fellow put his head out and peeped, and meant to slip away; but the owl came forward immediately, and he drew his head back again. Then the owl opened the one eye again and shut the other, meaning to shut them in turn all through the night.
But when she next shut the one eye, she forgot to open the other; and as soon as both her eyes were shut, she fell asleep. The little fellow soon noticed that, and slipped away.
From that day on, the owl has never dared show herself by daylight; for if she does, the other birds chase her and pluck her feathers out. She only flies out at night; but she hates and hunts mice, because they make such ugly holes.
The little bird, too, is very unwilling to let himself be seen, because he's afraid it will cost him his life if he's caught. He steals about in the hedges; and when he's quite safe he sometimes cries, "I am King!" — and for this reason the other birds call him in mockery the King of the Hedges, the Zaunkönig.
But nobody was as happy as the lark at not having to obey the little King. As soon as the sun appears she rises high in the air and cries, "Ah, how beautiful that is! Beautiful that is! Beautiful, beautiful! Ah, how beautiful that is!"
The fishes had been discontented for a long time because no order was kept in their kingdom. None of them would turn aside for the others, but they all swam to the right or the left as the fancy took them, or darted between those who wanted to stay together, or got in their way; and a strong one would give a weak one a blow with its tail that drove it away, or else swallowed it without any more ado.
"How delightful it would be," said they, "if we had a king who enforced law and justice among us." And they met together to choose as their ruler the one who could cut through the water fastest and give help to the weak.
They lined up in rank and file by the shore, and the pike gave the signal with his tail, at which they all started. The pike darted away like an arrow, and with him the herring, the gudgeon, the perch, the carp and all the rest of them. Even the sole swam with them, and hoped to reach the winning place.
All at once the cry was heard, "The herring is first!"
"Who's first?" screamed the flat, envious sole angrily, who had been left far behind. "Who's first?"
"The herring! The herring!" was the answer.
"The naked herring?" cried the jealous creature. "The naked herring?"
Since that time the sole's mouth has been on one side, as a punishment.
"Where do you like best to graze your flocks?" said a man to an old cowherd.
"Here, sir, where the grass is neither too rich nor too poor; otherwise it's no use."
"Why not?" asked the man.
"Do you hear that melancholy cry from the meadow over there?" answered the herdsman. "That's the bittern; he was once a herdsman, and so was the hoopoe. I'll tell you the story.
"The bittern pastured his cattle on rich green meadows where flowers grew in abundance, and so his cows became wild and unmanageable. The hoopoe drove his cattle up onto high barren hills where the wind plays with the sand, and his cows grew thin and got no strength.
"When it was evening and the herdsmen wanted to drive their cows home, the bittern could not get his together again; they were too high-spirited and ran away from him. He called, 'Come, cows, come' — but it was no use; they took no notice of his calling.
"The hoopoe, though, could not even get his cows up on their legs, they had grown so faint and weak. 'Up, up, up!' he screamed — but it was in vain; they stayed lying on the sand.
"That's what happens when a man has no moderation. And to this day, though they have no herds now to watch, the bittern cries, 'Come, cows, come' — and the hoopoe, 'Up, up, up.'"
Two or three hundred years ago, when people were far from being as crafty and cunning as they are nowadays, an extraordinary thing happened in a little town.
By some mischance one of the great owls, the kind called horned owls, had come from the neighbouring woods into a townsman's barn during the night; and when day broke it did not dare venture out of its hiding place again, for fear of the other birds, which raised a terrible outcry whenever it appeared.
In the morning, when the manservant went into the barn to fetch some straw, he was so mightily alarmed at the sight of the owl sitting there in a corner that he ran away and announced to his master that a monster was sitting in the barn rolling its eyes about in its head — the like of which he had never set eyes on in his life, and which could devour a man without the slightest difficulty.
"I know you already," said his master. "You've courage enough to chase a blackbird about the fields; but when you see a dead hen lying, you have to fetch a stick before you go near it. I must go and see for myself what sort of monster it is."
And he went quite boldly into the granary and looked around him. But when he saw the strange grim creature with his own eyes, he was no less terrified than his servant had been. With two bounds he sprang out, ran to his neighbours, and begged them imploringly to lend him help against an unknown and dangerous beast, or the whole town might be in danger if it broke loose out of the barn where it was shut up.
A great noise and clamour arose in all the streets. The townsmen came armed with spears, hayforks, scythes and axes, as if they were going out against an enemy; and finally the senators appeared with the burgomaster at their head. When they had drawn up in the marketplace they marched to the barn and surrounded it on all sides.
Then one of the most courageous of them stepped forward and went in with his spear lowered — but came running out immediately afterwards with a shriek, as pale as death, and could not utter a single word. Two others ventured in, but they fared no better.
At last one man stepped forward — a great strong man who was famous for his warlike deeds — and said, "You won't drive the monster away by merely looking at him. We must be in earnest here; but I see you've all turned into women, and not one of you dares face the animal."
He ordered them to give him some armour, had a sword and spear brought and armed himself. Everybody praised his courage, though many feared for his life.
The two barn doors were opened, and they saw the owl, which had meanwhile perched herself in the middle of a great crossbeam. He had a ladder brought; and when he raised it and made ready to climb up, they all cried out to him to bear himself bravely, and commended him to St. George, who slew the dragon.
When he had just got to the top, and the owl saw that he had designs on her — and was bewildered too by the crowd and the shouting, and did not know how to escape — she rolled her eyes, ruffled her feathers, flapped her wings, snapped her beak, and cried "Tu-whit, tu-whoo" in a harsh voice.
"Strike home! Strike home!" screamed the crowd outside to the valiant hero.
"Anybody standing where I'm standing," answered he, "wouldn't cry 'Strike home!'"
He did indeed plant his foot one rung higher on the ladder — but then he began to tremble, and went back down again half fainting.
And now there was nobody left who dared put himself in such danger. "The monster," said they, "has poisoned and mortally wounded the very strongest man among us, just by snapping at him and breathing on him. Are we to risk our lives too?"
They took counsel about what they ought to do to keep the whole town from being destroyed. For a long time nothing seemed any use; but at length the burgomaster found a way out.
"My opinion," said he, "is that we ought to pay for this barn out of the common purse, and for whatever corn or straw or hay it contains, and so make good the owner's loss — and then burn the whole building down, and the terrible beast with it. That way nobody will have to endanger his life. This is no time to be thinking of expense, and stinginess would be out of place."
Everybody agreed with him. So they set fire to the barn at all four corners, and the owl was miserably burnt with it.
Let anybody who won't believe it go there and ask for himself.
In days gone by there was a land where the nights were always dark and the sky spread over it like a black cloth; for there the moon never rose, and no star shone in the darkness. At the creation of the world the light at night had been enough.
Three young fellows once went out of this country on a travelling expedition, and came into another kingdom where, in the evening when the sun had disappeared behind the mountains, a shining globe was set on an oak tree, which shed a soft light far and wide. By its help everything could be seen and made out quite well, even though it was not as brilliant as the sun.
The travellers stopped and asked a countryman who was driving past with his cart what kind of a light that was.
"That's the moon," answered he. "Our mayor bought it for three thalers and fastened it to the oak tree. He has to pour oil into it every day and keep it clean, so that it always burns brightly. He gets a thaler a week from us for doing it."
When the countryman had driven off, one of them said, "We could make some use of this lamp. We've an oak tree at home just as big as this, and we could hang it on that. What a pleasure it would be not to have to feel our way about in the dark at night!"
"I'll tell you what we'll do," said the second. "We'll fetch a cart and horses and carry the moon away. The people here can buy themselves another."
"I'm a good climber," said the third. "I'll bring it down."
The fourth brought a cart and horses, and the third climbed the tree and bored a hole in the moon and passed a rope through it and let it down. When the shining ball was lying in the cart they covered it over with a cloth, so that nobody should notice the theft.
They carried it safely into their own country and set it up on a high oak. Old and young rejoiced when the new lamp let its light shine over the whole land, and bedrooms and sitting rooms were filled with it. The dwarfs came out of their caves in the rocks, and the tiny elves in their little red coats danced in rings on the meadows.
The four took care that the moon was kept supplied with oil, and cleaned the wick, and received their weekly thaler. But they grew to be old men; and when one of them fell ill and saw that he was about to die, he directed that one quarter of the moon should be laid in the grave with him as his property.
When he died, the mayor climbed the tree and cut off a quarter with the hedge shears, and it was put in his coffin. The moon's light grew less, but not yet visibly.
When the second died, the second quarter was buried with him, and the light grew dimmer. It grew weaker still after the death of the third, who likewise took his share away with him; and when the fourth was carried to his grave, the old state of darkness began again, and whenever people went out at night without their lanterns they knocked their heads together.
But when the pieces of the moon had joined themselves together again in the world below, where darkness had always reigned, it came about that the dead grew restless and woke from their sleep. They were astonished to find that they could see again; the moonlight was quite enough for them, for their eyes had grown so weak that they could not have borne the brilliance of the sun.
They got up and were merry, and fell back into their old ways of living. Some of them went to the play and to dance, others hurried to the taverns, where they called for wine and got drunk and brawled and quarrelled, and at last took up cudgels and belaboured one another. The noise grew greater and greater, and at last reached even to heaven.
Saint Peter, who guards the gate of heaven, thought the lower world had broken out in revolt, and gathered together the heavenly troops that are to drive back the Evil One when he and his companions storm the abode of the blessed. But as they did not come, he got on his horse and rode out through the gate of heaven and down into the world below. There he brought the dead to order and told them to lie down in their graves again, and took the moon away with him and hung it up in heaven.
When God had created the world and was about to fix the length of each creature's life, the donkey came and asked, "Lord, how long shall I live?"
"Thirty years," replied God. "Does that content you?"
"Ah, Lord," answered the donkey, "that's a long time. Think of my painful existence! To carry heavy burdens from morning till night, to drag sacks of corn to the mill so that others can eat bread, to be cheered and refreshed with nothing but blows and kicks. Relieve me of a part of this long time."
Then God had pity on him and relieved him of eighteen years. The donkey went away comforted, and the dog appeared.
"How long would you like to live?" said God to him. "Thirty years is too many for the donkey, but you'll be satisfied with it."
"Lord," answered the dog, "is that your will? Consider how much running I shall have to do; my feet will never hold out so long. And when I've once lost my voice for barking and my teeth for biting, what will be left for me to do but run from one corner to another and growl?"
God saw that he was right, and released him from twelve years of life.
Then came the monkey. "You'll certainly be willing to live thirty years?" said the Lord to him. "You've no need to work as the donkey and the dog do, and you'll always enjoy yourself."
"Ah, Lord," he answered, "it may look as if that were so, but it's quite different. When it rains porridge, I have no spoon. I'm always expected to play merry pranks and pull faces that make people laugh; and if they give me an apple and I bite into it — why, it's sour. How often sadness hides itself behind mirth! I shall never be able to hold out for thirty years."
God was gracious and took off ten.
At last man appeared, joyful, healthy and vigorous, and begged God to appoint his time for him.
"Thirty years you shall live," said the Lord. "Is that enough for you?"
"What a short time!" cried man. "When I've built my house and my own fire burns on my own hearth; when I've planted trees that blossom and bear fruit, and am just meaning to enjoy my life — then I'm to die! O Lord, lengthen my time."
"I'll add the donkey's eighteen years to it," said God.
"That's not enough," replied the man.
"You shall have the dog's twelve years as well."
"Still too little."
"Well then," said God, "I'll give you the monkey's ten years too; but more you shall not have."
The man went away, but was not satisfied.
So man lives seventy years. The first thirty are his human years, and they're soon gone; then he's healthy and merry, works with pleasure and is glad of his life. Then follow the donkey's eighteen years, when one burden after another is laid on him, and he has to carry the corn that feeds others, and blows and kicks are the reward of his faithful service. Then come the dog's twelve years, when he lies in the corner and growls and has no teeth left to bite with. And when this time is over, the monkey's ten years make the end. Then a man is weak in the head and foolish, does silly things, and becomes the joke of the children.
In ancient times a giant was once travelling along a great highway, when suddenly an unknown man sprang up in front of him and said, "Halt! Not one step further."
"What!" cried the giant. "A creature I could crush between my fingers wants to block my way? Who are you, that you dare to speak so boldly?"
"I am Death," answered the other. "Nobody resists me, and you too must obey my commands."
But the giant refused, and began to wrestle with Death. It was a long, violent battle; but at last the giant got the upper hand and struck Death down with his fist, so that he dropped beside a stone. The giant went his way, and Death lay there beaten, and so weak that he could not get up again.
"What's to be done now," said he, "if I stay lying here in a corner? Nobody will die in the world, and it will get so full of people that they won't have room to stand next to each other."
Meanwhile a young man came along the road, strong and healthy, singing a song and glancing about him on every side. When he saw the half-fainting figure he went to him with compassion, raised him up, poured a strengthening draught out of his flask for him, and waited until he came round.
"Do you know," said the stranger as he was getting up, "who I am, and whom you've helped back onto his legs?"
"No," answered the young man, "I don't know you."
"I am Death," said he. "I spare nobody, and I can make no exception for you; but so that you can see that I'm grateful, I promise you that I won't fall on you unexpectedly, but will send my messengers to you before I come and take you away."
"Well," said the young man, "it's something gained that I shall know when you're coming, and be safe from you at least until then."
Then he went on his way, and was light-hearted and enjoyed himself and lived without a thought.
But youth and health did not last long. Soon came sicknesses and sorrows, which tormented him by day and took away his rest at night.
"Die I shan't," said he to himself, "for Death will send his messengers before that; but I do wish these wretched days of sickness were over."
As soon as he felt well again he began to live merrily once more.
Then one day somebody tapped him on the shoulder. He looked round, and Death was standing behind him, and said, "Follow me. The hour of your departure from this world has come."
"What!" replied the man. "Will you break your word? Didn't you promise me that you'd send your messengers to me before you came yourself? I've seen none."
"Silence!" answered Death. "Have I not sent you one messenger after another? Didn't fever come and strike you and shake you and cast you down? Hasn't dizziness bewildered your head? Hasn't gout twitched you in every limb? Didn't your ears ring? Didn't toothache bite into your cheeks? Wasn't it dark before your eyes? And besides all that, hasn't my own brother Sleep reminded you of me every night? Didn't you lie at night as if you were already dead?"
The man could make no answer. He yielded to his fate and went away with Death.
Master Pfriem was a short, thin but lively man who never rested a moment. His face, of which his turned-up nose was the only prominent feature, was marked with smallpox and pale as death; his hair was grey and shaggy, and his eyes were small, but they glanced about perpetually on every side. He saw everything, criticised everything, knew everything best, and was always in the right.
When he went into the streets he moved his arms about as though he were rowing; and once he knocked the pail of a girl who was carrying water so high in the air that he was drenched all over by it himself. "Stupid thing," cried he to her, while he shook himself, "couldn't you see that I was coming up behind you?"
By trade he was a shoemaker; and when he worked he pulled his thread out with such force that he drove his fist into anybody who did not keep far enough away. No apprentice stayed more than a month with him, for he always found some fault with even the very best work. At one time it was that the stitches were not even, at another that one shoe was too long, or one heel higher than the other, or the leather not cut large enough. "Wait," said he to his apprentice, "I'll soon show you how we make skins soft" — and fetched a strap and gave him a couple of strokes across the back.
He called them all sluggards. He himself did not turn out much work, though, for he never sat still for a quarter of an hour.
If his wife got up very early in the morning and lit the fire, he jumped out of bed and ran barefoot into the kitchen, crying, "Are you going to burn my house down? That's a fire you could roast an ox by. Does wood cost nothing?"
If the servants were standing by their washtubs laughing and telling each other everything they knew, he scolded them and said, "There stand the geese, cackling and forgetting their work to gossip. And why fresh soap? Disgraceful extravagance, and shameful idleness into the bargain! They want to save their hands, and not rub the things properly." And out he would run and knock over a pail full of soap and water, so that the whole kitchen was flooded.
Somebody was building a new house, so he hurried to the window to watch. "There, they're using that red sandstone again that never dries!" cried he. "Nobody will ever be healthy in that house. And just look how badly the fellows are laying the stones! Besides, the mortar is good for nothing; it ought to have gravel in it, not sand. I shall live to see that house come down on the people inside it."
He sat down and put a couple of stitches in, and then jumped up again and unfastened his leather apron and cried, "I'll just go out and appeal to those men's consciences."
He came upon the carpenters. "What's this?" cried he. "You're not working to the line! Do you expect the beams to be straight? One thing wrong will put everything wrong." He snatched an axe out of a carpenter's hand and was going to show him how he ought to cut; but as a cart loaded with clay came by, he threw the axe away and hurried over to the peasant walking beside it.
"You're not in your right mind," said he. "Who harnesses young horses to a heavily loaded cart? The poor beasts will die on the spot."
The peasant gave him no answer, and Pfriem ran back into his workshop in a rage.
When he was settling to his work again, his apprentice handed him a shoe.
"Well, what's this now?" he screamed. "Haven't I told you you shouldn't cut shoes so broad? Who would buy a shoe like this, which is hardly anything but a sole? I insist that my orders are followed exactly."
"Master," answered the apprentice, "you may well be quite right that the shoe is a bad one; but it's the very one that you cut out yourself, and set to work on yourself. When you jumped up a while ago you knocked it off the table, and I've only just picked it up. But an angel from heaven would never make you believe it."
One night Master Pfriem dreamed that he was dead and on his way to heaven. When he got there he knocked loudly at the door. "I'm surprised," said he to himself, "that they have no knocker on the door; a man knocks his knuckles sore."
The apostle Peter opened the door and wanted to see who was demanding admission so noisily. "Ah, it's you, Master Pfriem," said he. "Well, I'll let you in; but I warn you that you must give up that habit of yours and find fault with nothing you see in heaven, or you may fare badly."
"You might have spared your warning," answered Pfriem. "I know already what's proper; and here, God be thanked, everything is perfect, and there's nothing to blame as there is on earth."
So he went in and walked up and down the wide spaces of heaven. He looked around him to the left and to the right, but now and then he shook his head or muttered something to himself.
Then he saw two angels carrying away a beam. It was the beam that a man had had in his own eye while he was looking for the splinter in somebody else's. They were not carrying the beam lengthways, though, but at an angle. "Did anybody ever see such a piece of stupidity?" thought Master Pfriem — but he said nothing and seemed satisfied with it. "It comes to the same thing after all, whichever way they carry the beam, straight or crooked, so long as they get along with it; and truly I don't see them knocking against anything."
Soon after this he saw two angels drawing water out of a well into a bucket; but at the same time he noticed that the bucket was full of holes and that the water was running out of it on every side. They were watering the earth with rain.
"Hang it!" he exclaimed — but luckily caught himself, and thought, "Perhaps it's only a pastime. If it's an amusement, then it seems they can do useless things of this kind even here in heaven, where people, as I've already noticed, do nothing but idle about."
He went further and saw a cart that had stuck fast in a deep hole. "It's no wonder," said he to the man standing beside it. "Who would load a cart so unreasonably? What have you got there?"
"Good wishes," replied the man. "I couldn't go along the right way with it; but still I've pushed it safely up here, and they won't leave me stuck here."
And in fact an angel did come and harness two horses to it. "That's quite right," thought Pfriem, "but two horses won't get that cart out; it must have at least four."
Another angel came and brought two more horses; she did not harness them in front of it, though, but behind.
That was too much for Master Pfriem. "Clumsy creature," he burst out, "what are you doing there? Has anybody, since the world began, ever seen a cart drawn like that? But you, in your conceited arrogance, think you know everything best."
He was going to say more, but one of the inhabitants of heaven seized him by the throat and pushed him out with irresistible strength. Under the gateway Master Pfriem turned his head round to take one more look at the cart, and saw that it was being lifted into the air by four winged horses.
At this moment Master Pfriem woke. "Things are certainly arranged differently in heaven from on earth," said he to himself, "and that excuses a good deal. But who can watch horses harnessed both behind and in front with any patience? To be sure they had wings — but who was to know that? Besides, it's great folly to fix a pair of wings on a horse that has four legs to run with already. But I must get up, or they'll do nothing but make mistakes for me in my house. It's a lucky thing for me, though, that I'm not really dead."
There was once a very old woman who lived with her flock of geese in a waste place among the mountains, where she had a little house. The waste was surrounded by a large forest, and every morning the old woman took her crutch and hobbled into it.
Once there, though, the old dame was quite active — more so than anybody would have thought, considering her age. She gathered grass for her geese, picked all the wild fruit she could reach, and carried everything home on her back. Anybody would have thought that the heavy load must weigh her to the ground, but she always brought it safely home.
If anyone met her, she greeted him quite courteously. "Good day, dear neighbour, it's a fine day. Ah, you wonder that I should drag grass about; but everybody has to take his burden on his back."
All the same, people did not like to meet her if they could help it, and would take a roundabout way by choice. And when a father passed her with his boys, he whispered to them, "Beware of that old woman. She has claws under her gloves; she's a witch."
One morning a handsome young man was going through the forest. The sun shone bright, the birds sang, a cool breeze crept through the leaves, and he was full of joy and gladness. He had met nobody yet, when he suddenly caught sight of the old witch kneeling on the ground cutting grass with a sickle. She had already stuffed a whole load into her cloth, and near it stood two baskets filled with wild apples and pears.
"But, good little mother," said he, "how can you carry all that away?"
"I have to carry it, dear sir," answered she. "Rich folk's children have no need to do such things; but among peasant folk the saying goes, 'Don't look behind you — you'll only see how crooked your back is.'"
"Will you help me?" she said, as he stayed standing beside her. "You still have a straight back and young legs; it would be nothing to you. Besides, my house isn't so very far from here — it stands over there on the heath behind the hill. How soon you'd be up there!"
The young man took pity on the old woman. "My father is certainly no peasant," replied he, "but a rich count; still, so that you can see that it isn't only peasants who can carry things, I'll take your bundle."
"If you'll try it," said she, "I shall be very glad. You'll certainly have to walk for an hour — but what will that matter to you? Only you must carry the apples and pears as well."
It began to seem a little serious to the young man when he heard about the hour's walk; but the old woman would not let him off, and packed the bundle on his back and hung the two baskets on his arm.
"See, it's quite light," said she.
"No, it isn't light," answered the count, and pulled a rueful face. "Truly, the bundle weighs as heavily as if it were full of cobblestones, and the apples and pears are as heavy as lead. I can hardly breathe."
He had a mind to put everything down again, but the old woman would not allow it. "Just look," said she mockingly, "the young gentleman won't carry what I, an old woman, have dragged along so often. You're ready enough with fine words; but when it comes to earnest, you want to take to your heels. Why are you standing there loitering?" she went on. "Step out. Nobody's going to take that bundle off you again."
As long as he walked on level ground it was still bearable; but when they came to the hill and had to climb, and the stones rolled away under his feet as if they were alive, it was beyond his strength. The drops of sweat stood on his forehead and ran down his back, hot and cold.
"Dame," said he, "I can go no further. I want to rest a little."
"Not here," answered the old woman. "When we've reached our journey's end you can rest; but now you must go on. Who knows what good it may do you?"
"Old woman, you're becoming shameless," said the count, and tried to throw off the bundle. But he laboured in vain; it stuck as fast to his back as if it had grown there. He turned and twisted, but could not get rid of it.
The old woman laughed at this, and sprang about on her crutch quite delighted. "Don't get angry, dear sir," said she. "You're going as red in the face as a turkey-cock. Carry your bundle patiently; I'll give you a good present when we get home."
What could he do? He had to submit to his fate and crawl along patiently behind the old woman. She seemed to grow more and more nimble, and his burden heavier and heavier. All at once she made a spring, jumped up onto the bundle and seated herself on top of it; and however withered she might be, she was heavier than the stoutest country lass.
The young man's knees trembled; and when he did not go on, the old woman hit him about the legs with a switch and with stinging nettles. Groaning all the way, he climbed the mountain, and at length reached the old woman's house just as he was about to drop.
When the geese saw the old woman they flapped their wings and stretched out their necks and ran to meet her, cackling all the while. Behind the flock walked an old girl, stick in hand, strong and big, but as ugly as night.
"Good mother," said she to the old woman, "has anything happened to you? You've stayed away so long."
"Not at all, my dear daughter," answered she. "Nothing bad has happened to me. On the contrary, I met this kind gentleman, who has carried my burden for me. Only think — he even took me on his back when I was tired. The way hasn't seemed long to us either; we've been merry, and cracking jokes with each other the whole time."
At last the old woman slid down and took the bundle off the young man's back and the baskets off his arm, and looked at him quite kindly and said, "Now sit down on the bench in front of the door and rest. You've fairly earned your wages, and they shan't be wanting."
Then she said to the goose-girl, "Go into the house, my dear daughter. It isn't fitting for you to be alone with a young gentleman; one mustn't pour oil on the fire — he might fall in love with you."
The count did not know whether to laugh or cry. "A sweetheart like that," thought he, "couldn't touch my heart, even if she were thirty years younger."
Meanwhile the old woman stroked and fondled her geese as if they were children, and then went into the house with her daughter.
The young man lay down on the bench under a wild apple tree. The air was warm and mild; on all sides stretched a green meadow set with cowslips and wild thyme and a thousand other flowers; through the middle of it rippled a clear brook with the sun sparkling on it, and the white geese walked to and fro or paddled in the water.
"It's quite delightful here," said he, "but I'm so tired that I can't keep my eyes open. I'll sleep a little. If only a gust of wind doesn't come and blow my legs off my body — they're as rotten as tinder."
When he had slept a while, the old woman came and shook him till he woke. "Sit up," said she. "You can't stay here. I've certainly treated you hard, but it hasn't cost you your life. Of money and land you have no need; here's something else for you."
And with that she thrust a little book into his hand, which was cut out of a single emerald. "Take great care of it," said she. "It will bring you good fortune."
The count sprang up; and as he felt himself quite fresh and with his strength back, he thanked the old woman for her present and set off without so much as one backward look at her beautiful daughter. When he was already some way off he could still hear the noisy cry of the geese in the distance.
The count had to wander in the wilderness for three days before he could find his way out. He then reached a large town; and as nobody knew him, he was taken into the royal palace, where the King and Queen were sitting on their thrones.
The count fell on one knee and drew the emerald book out of his pocket and laid it at the Queen's feet. She told him to rise and hand her the little book. But she had hardly opened it and looked inside before she fell to the ground as if dead.
The count was seized by the King's servants and was being led off to prison, when the Queen opened her eyes and ordered them to release him; and everybody was to go out, as she wished to speak with him in private.
When the Queen was alone she began to weep bitterly, and said, "What use to me are the splendours and honours I'm surrounded by? Every morning I wake in pain and sorrow. I had three daughters, the youngest of whom was so beautiful that the whole world looked on her as a wonder. She was as white as snow, as rosy as apple blossom, and her hair as radiant as sunbeams. When she cried, it was not tears that fell from her eyes but pearls and jewels.
"When she was fifteen years old, the King summoned all three sisters to come before his throne. You should have seen how all the people stared when the youngest came in — it was just as if the sun were rising.
"Then the King said, 'My daughters, I don't know when my last day may come. I'll decide today what each of you shall receive at my death. You all love me; but whichever of you loves me best shall fare best.'
"Each of them said she loved him best.
"'Can't you tell me,' said the King, 'how much you love me? Then I shall see what you mean.'
"The eldest said, 'I love my father as dearly as the sweetest sugar.'
"The second said, 'I love my father as dearly as my prettiest dress.'
"But the youngest was silent. So her father said, 'And you, my dearest child, how much do you love me?'
"'I don't know, and I can compare my love with nothing.'
"But her father insisted that she should name something. So at last she said, 'The best food doesn't please me without salt; and so I love my father like salt.'
"When the King heard that he flew into a passion, and said, 'If you love me like salt, then your love shall be repaid you with salt.'
"Then he divided the kingdom between the two elder ones; but he had a sack of salt bound on the youngest one's back, and two servants had to lead her out into the wild forest.
"We all begged and prayed for her," said the Queen, "but the King's anger was not to be softened. How she cried when she had to leave us! The whole road was strewn with the pearls that flowed from her eyes.
"The King soon afterwards repented of his great severity and had the whole forest searched for the poor child, but nobody could find her. When I think that the wild beasts have devoured her, I don't know how to contain myself for sorrow; and many a time I comfort myself with the hope that she's still alive, and may have hidden herself in a cave, or found shelter with compassionate people.
"But imagine — when I opened your little emerald book, a pearl lay inside it, of exactly the same kind as those that used to fall from my daughter's eyes; and then you can imagine too how the sight of it stirred my heart. You must tell me how you came by that pearl."
The count told her that he had been given it by the old woman in the forest, who had seemed very strange to him and must be a witch; but that he had neither seen nor heard anything of the Queen's child.
The King and the Queen resolved to seek out the old woman. They thought that where the pearl had been, they would get news of their daughter.
The old woman was sitting in that lonely place at her spinning wheel, spinning. It was already dusk, and a log burning on the hearth gave a scanty light. All at once there was a noise outside: the geese were coming home from the pasture, uttering their hoarse cries. Soon afterwards the daughter came in too.
But the old woman hardly thanked her, and only shook her head a little. The daughter sat down beside her and took up her spinning wheel and twisted the threads as nimbly as a young girl. So the two of them sat for two hours and never exchanged a word.
At last something rustled at the window, and two fiery eyes peered in. It was an old night owl, which cried "Uhu!" three times. The old woman looked up just a little, and then she said, "Now, my little daughter, it's time for you to go out and do your work."
She got up and went out — and where did she go? Over the meadows, on and on into the valley. At last she came to a well with three old oak trees standing beside it. Meanwhile the moon had risen large and round over the mountain, and it was so light that you could have found a needle.
She took off a skin that covered her face, then bent down to the well and began to wash herself. When she had finished, she dipped the skin in the water too, and then laid it on the meadow to bleach in the moonlight and dry again.
But how the girl was changed! Such a change was never seen. When the grey mask fell away, her golden hair broke out like sunbeams and spread about her whole figure like a mantle. Her eyes shone out as brightly as the stars in heaven, and her cheeks bloomed a soft red like apple blossom.
But the fair girl was sad. She sat down and wept bitterly. One tear after another forced itself out of her eyes and rolled down through her long hair to the ground. There she sat, and would have gone on sitting a long time, if there had not been a rustling and cracking in the boughs of a nearby tree.
She sprang up like a deer that has been caught by the hunter's shot. Just then the moon was hidden by a dark cloud, and in an instant the girl had put on the old skin and vanished, like a light blown out by the wind.
She ran home again, trembling like an aspen leaf. The old woman was standing on the threshold, and the girl was about to tell her what had happened; but the old woman laughed kindly and said, "I know it all already."
She led her into the room and lit a new log. But she did not sit down to her spinning again; she fetched a broom and began to sweep and scour. "Everything must be clean and sweet," she said to the girl.
"But, mother," said the girl, "why do you begin work at such a late hour? What are you expecting?"
"Do you know what time it is, then?" asked the old woman.
"Not midnight yet," answered the girl, "but past eleven o'clock already."
"Don't you remember," the old woman went on, "that it's three years today since you came to me? Your time is up; we can stay together no longer."
The girl was terrified, and said, "Alas, dear mother, will you cast me off? Where shall I go? I have no friends and no home to go to. I've always done as you told me, and you've always been satisfied with me. Don't send me away."
The old woman would not tell the girl what lay ahead of her. "My stay here is over," she said to her, "but when I go, house and parlour must be clean; so don't hinder me in my work. Have no fear for yourself. You shall find a roof to shelter you, and the wages I'll give you will content you too."
"But tell me what's about to happen," the girl went on entreating.
"I tell you again, don't hinder me in my work. Don't say another word. Go to your room, take the skin off your face, and put on the silk gown you were wearing when you came to me; and then wait in your room until I call you."
But I must tell once more of the King and Queen, who had set out with the count to seek the old woman in the wilderness.
The count had strayed away from them in the wood by night, and had to walk on alone. Next day it seemed to him that he was on the right track. He kept going on until darkness came, and then he climbed a tree, meaning to spend the night there, for he was afraid of losing his way.
When the moon lit up the countryside he saw a figure coming down the mountain. She had no stick in her hand, but he could see all the same that it was the goose-girl he had seen before at the old woman's house.
"Oho," cried he, "there she comes; and if I once get hold of one of the witches, the other shan't escape me."
But how astonished he was when she went to the well and took off the skin and washed herself, and her golden hair fell down all about her, and she was more beautiful than anybody he had ever seen in the whole world. He hardly dared to breathe, but stretched his head as far forward through the leaves as he dared, and stared at her.
Either he leaned over too far, or whatever the cause may have been, the bough suddenly cracked — and that very moment the girl slipped into the skin and sprang away like a deer, and as the moon was suddenly covered, she disappeared from his sight.
Hardly had she gone before the count climbed down from the tree and hurried after her with quick steps. He had not been going long before he saw two figures coming over the meadow in the twilight. It was the King and Queen, who had seen the light shining in the old woman's little house from a distance and were making for it.
The count told them the wonderful things he had seen at the well, and they did not doubt that it had been their lost daughter. They walked on full of joy, and soon came to the little house. The geese were sitting all round it with their heads tucked under their wings, asleep, and not one of them stirred.
The King and Queen looked in at the window. The old woman was sitting there quite quietly spinning, nodding her head and never looking round. The room was perfectly clean, as if the little mist men, who carry no dust on their feet, lived there. But they did not see their daughter.
They gazed at all this for a long time; and at last they took heart and knocked softly at the window. The old woman seemed to have been expecting them; she got up and called out quite kindly, "Come in — I know you already."
When they had come into the room, the old woman said, "You could have spared yourselves the long walk, if three years ago you hadn't unjustly driven away your child, who is so good and lovable. No harm has come to her; for three years she has had to mind the geese, and with them she has learned no evil, but has kept her purity of heart. You, though, have been punished enough by the misery you've lived in."
Then she went to the room and called, "Come out, my little daughter."
At this the door opened, and the princess stepped out in her silk clothes, with her golden hair and her shining eyes, and it was as if an angel from heaven had come in.
She went up to her father and mother and fell on their necks and kissed them; there was no help for it, they all had to weep for joy. The young count stood near them; and when she caught sight of him she turned as red in the face as a moss rose, and she herself did not know why.
The King said, "My dear child, I've given away my kingdom. What shall I give you?"
"She needs nothing," said the old woman. "I give her the tears she has wept on your account; they are precious pearls, finer than any that are found in the sea, and worth more than your whole kingdom. And I give her my little house as payment for her services."
When the old woman had said that, she disappeared from their sight. The walls rattled a little; and when the King and Queen looked round, the little house had turned into a splendid palace, and a royal table had been spread, and servants were running here and there.
The story goes on further still; but my grandmother, who told it to me, had partly lost her memory and had forgotten the rest. I shall always believe that the beautiful princess married the count, and that they stayed together in the palace and lived there in all happiness as long as God willed it.
Whether the snow-white geese that were kept near the little hut were truly young girls (let nobody take offence) whom the old woman had taken under her protection, and whether they now got their human shapes back and stayed as handmaids to the young Queen, I don't exactly know — but I suspect it.
This much is certain: that the old woman was no witch, as people thought, but a wise woman who meant well. Very likely it was she who at the princess's birth gave her the gift of weeping pearls instead of tears. That doesn't happen nowadays, or else the poor would soon become rich.
When Adam and Eve were driven out of Paradise, they had to build themselves a house on unfruitful ground and eat their bread in the sweat of their brows. Adam dug the land and Eve spun.
Every year Eve brought a child into the world; but the children were unlike each other, some pretty and some ugly. After a considerable time had gone by, God sent an angel to them to announce that he was coming to inspect their household.
Eve, delighted that the Lord should be so gracious, cleaned her house thoroughly, decked it with flowers and strewed reeds on the floor. Then she brought in her children — but only the beautiful ones. She washed and bathed them, combed their hair, put clean clothes on them, and told them to conduct themselves properly and modestly in the Lord's presence. They were to bow to him civilly, hold out their hands, and answer his questions modestly and sensibly.
The ugly children, though, were not to let themselves be seen. One hid under the hay, another under the roof, a third in the straw, the fourth in the stove, the fifth in the cellar, the sixth under a tub, the seventh under the wine cask, the eighth under an old fur cloak, the ninth and tenth under the cloth she always made their clothes out of, and the eleventh and twelfth under the leather she cut their shoes from.
She had hardly got ready before there was a knock at the door. Adam looked through a chink and saw that it was the Lord. Adam opened the door respectfully, and the Heavenly Father came in.
There, in a row, stood the pretty children, and they bowed to him and held out their hands and knelt down. And the Lord began to bless them. He laid his hands on the first and said, "You shall be a powerful king"; and to the second, "You a prince"; to the third, "You a count"; to the fourth, "You a knight"; to the fifth, "You a nobleman"; to the sixth, "You a citizen"; to the seventh, "You a merchant"; to the eighth, "You a scholar." And he bestowed on them all his richest blessings besides.
When Eve saw that the Lord was so mild and gracious, she thought, "I'll bring my ill-favoured children here too; it may be that he'll give them his blessing as well." So she ran and brought them out of the hay and the straw and the stove and wherever else she had hidden them; and along came the whole coarse, dirty, shabby, sooty band.
The Lord smiled and looked at them all and said, "I'll bless these too." He laid his hands on the first and said to him, "You shall be a peasant"; to the second, "You a fisherman"; to the third, "You a smith"; to the fourth, "You a tanner"; to the fifth, "You a weaver"; to the sixth, "You a shoemaker"; to the seventh, "You a tailor"; to the eighth, "You a potter"; to the ninth, "You a carter"; to the tenth, "You a sailor"; to the eleventh, "You an errand boy"; and to the twelfth, "You a kitchen boy, all the days of your life."
When Eve had heard all this she said, "Lord, how unequally you divide your gifts! They are all of them my children after all, whom I brought into the world; your favours ought to be given to all of them alike."
But God answered, "Eve, you don't understand. It's right and necessary that the whole world should be supplied out of your children. If they were all princes and lords, who would grow the corn and thresh it and grind it and bake it? Who would be blacksmiths, weavers, carpenters, masons, labourers, tailors and seamstresses? Each shall have his own place, so that one supports another, and all are fed like the limbs of one body."
Then Eve answered, "Ah, Lord, forgive me; I spoke to you too quickly. Do your divine will with my children."
There was once a miller who lived with his wife in great contentment. They had money and land, and their prosperity grew year by year, more and more.
But bad luck comes like a thief in the night. As their wealth had increased, so it decreased again, year by year; and at last the miller could hardly call the mill he lived in his own. He was in great distress; and when he lay down after his day's work he found no rest, but tossed about in his bed full of care.
One morning he got up before daybreak and went out into the open air, thinking that perhaps his heart might grow lighter there. As he was stepping over the mill dam the first sunbeam was just breaking out, and he heard a rippling sound in the pond. He turned round and saw a beautiful woman rising slowly out of the water. Her long hair, which she was holding off her shoulders with her soft hands, fell down on both sides and covered her white body.
He soon saw that she was the nix of the mill-pond; and in his fright he did not know whether to run away or stay where he was. But the nix let her sweet voice be heard, and called him by his name and asked why he was so sad.
The miller was struck dumb at first; but when he heard her speak so kindly he took heart, and told her how he had once lived in wealth and happiness, but was now so poor that he did not know what to do.
"Be easy," answered the nix. "I'll make you richer and happier than you've ever been before — only you must promise to give me the young thing that has just been born in your house."
"What can that be," thought the miller, "but a puppy or a kitten?" — and he promised her what she wanted.
The nix went down into the water again, and he hurried back to his mill, comforted and in good spirits. He had not reached it yet when the maidservant came out of the house and called to him to rejoice, for his wife had given birth to a little boy.
The miller stood as if struck by lightning. He saw very well that the cunning nix had known about it and had cheated him. Hanging his head, he went up to his wife's bedside; and when she said, "Why don't you rejoice over the fine boy?" he told her what had happened to him and what he had promised the nix.
"What use are riches and prosperity to me," he added, "if I'm to lose my child? But what can I do?"
Even the relations, who had come to wish them joy, did not know what to say.
Meanwhile prosperity came back to the miller's house. Everything he undertook succeeded; it was as if presses and coffers filled themselves of their own accord, and as if money multiplied in the cupboards overnight. It was not long before his wealth was greater than it had ever been.
But he could not rejoice in it untroubled, for the bargain he had made with the nix tormented his soul. Whenever he passed the mill-pond, he was afraid she might rise up and remind him of his debt. He never let the boy himself go near the water. "Beware," he said to him. "If you so much as touch the water, a hand will rise up and seize you and drag you down."
But as year after year went by and the nix did not show herself again, the miller began to feel easy. The boy grew up into a young man and was apprenticed to a huntsman. When he had learned everything and had become an excellent huntsman, the lord of the village took him into his service.
In the village lived a beautiful and true-hearted girl who pleased the huntsman; and when his master saw it, he gave him a little house. The two were married, and lived peacefully and happily and loved each other with all their hearts.
One day the huntsman was chasing a roe; and when the animal turned aside out of the forest into the open country, he pursued it and at last shot it. He did not notice that he was now near the dangerous mill-pond; and after he had dressed the deer he went to the water to wash his bloodstained hands.
But hardly had he dipped them in before the nix rose up, wound her dripping arms round him with a smile, and drew him swiftly down under the waves, which closed over him.
When it was evening and the huntsman did not come home, his wife grew alarmed. She went out to look for him; and as he had often told her that he had to be on his guard against the nix's snares and dared not go near the mill-pond, she suspected already what had happened. She hurried to the water; and when she found his hunting pouch lying on the shore, she could have no more doubt about the misfortune.
Lamenting in her sorrow and wringing her hands, she called her beloved by name, but in vain. She hurried across to the other side of the pond and called him again; she reviled the nix with harsh words, but no answer came. The surface of the water stayed calm; only the crescent moon stared steadily back at her.
The poor woman did not leave the pond. She paced round and round it with hasty steps, never resting a moment, sometimes in silence, sometimes uttering a loud cry, sometimes softly sobbing. At last her strength gave out; she sank down to the ground and fell into a heavy sleep.
Presently a dream took hold of her. She was anxiously climbing up between great masses of rock; thorns and briars caught her feet, the rain beat in her face, and the wind tossed her long hair about. When she reached the summit, quite a different sight met her: the sky was blue, the air soft, the ground sloped gently downwards, and on a green meadow gay with flowers of every colour stood a pretty cottage. She went up to it and opened the door; and there sat an old woman with white hair, who beckoned to her kindly.
At that very moment the poor woman woke. Day had already dawned, and she resolved at once to act on her dream. She laboriously climbed the mountain, and everything was exactly as she had seen it in the night. The old woman received her kindly and pointed out a chair for her to sit on.
"You must have met with some misfortune," she said, "since you've sought out my lonely cottage."
In tears, the woman told her what had happened.
"Be comforted," said the old woman. "I'll help you. Here is a golden comb for you. Wait until the full moon has risen, then go to the mill-pond, sit down on the shore and comb your long black hair with this comb. When you've done, lay it down on the bank, and you'll see what happens."
The woman went home, but the time until the full moon came passed slowly. At last the shining disc appeared in the sky; and then she went out to the mill-pond and sat down and combed her long black hair with the golden comb, and when she had finished she laid it down at the water's edge.
It was not long before there was a movement in the depths; a wave rose and rolled to the shore and carried the comb away with it. In no more time than the comb needed to sink to the bottom, the surface of the water parted, and the huntsman's head rose up. He did not speak, but looked at his wife with sorrowful eyes. At the same instant a second wave came rushing up and covered the man's head. It was all gone; the mill-pond lay as peaceful as before, and nothing but the face of the full moon shone on it.
Full of sorrow, the woman went back; but again the dream showed her the old woman's cottage. Next morning she set out again and told her troubles to the wise woman.
The old woman gave her a golden flute and said, "Wait until the full moon comes again, then take this flute; play a beautiful air on it, and when you've finished, lay it on the sand. Then you'll see what happens."
The wife did as the old woman told her. No sooner was the flute lying on the sand than there was a stirring in the depths, and a wave rushed up and carried the flute away with it. Immediately afterwards the water parted, and not only her husband's head but half his body rose up. He stretched his arms out longingly towards her — but a second wave came up and covered him and drew him down again.
"Alas, what good does it do me," said the unhappy woman, "to see my beloved only to lose him again?"
Despair filled her heart afresh; but the dream led her a third time to the old woman's house. She set out, and the wise woman gave her a golden spinning wheel and comforted her and said, "It isn't all fulfilled yet. Wait until the time of the full moon, then take the spinning wheel and sit down on the shore and spin the spool full; and when you've done that, set the spinning wheel down near the water, and you'll see what happens."
The woman obeyed everything she said exactly. As soon as the full moon showed itself she carried the golden spinning wheel to the shore and spun industriously until the flax came to an end and the spool was quite filled with thread. No sooner was the wheel standing on the shore than there was a more violent movement than before in the depths of the pond, and a mighty wave rushed up and carried the wheel away with it.
Immediately the head and then the whole body of her husband rose into the air on a spout of water. He sprang quickly to the shore, caught his wife by the hand and fled with her.
But they had gone only a very little way when the whole pond rose with a frightful roar and streamed out over the open country. The fugitives already saw death before their eyes, when the woman in her terror called on the old woman for help; and in an instant they were transformed, she into a toad and he into a frog.
The flood that had overtaken them could not destroy them; but it tore them apart and carried them far away. When the water had drained off and they both touched dry land again, they got their human shapes back — but neither knew where the other was. They found themselves among strangers who had never heard of their native country. High mountains and deep valleys lay between them.
To keep themselves alive, they both had to mind sheep. For many long years they drove their flocks through field and forest and were full of sorrow and longing.
When spring had broken out over the earth once more, they both went out one day with their flocks; and as chance would have it, they came near each other. They met in a valley, but did not recognise each other; yet they were glad not to be so lonely any more. From then on they drove their flocks to the same place every day. They did not speak much, but they felt comforted.
One evening, when the full moon was shining in the sky and the sheep were already at rest, the shepherd pulled the flute out of his pocket and played a beautiful but sorrowful air on it. When he had finished, he saw that the shepherdess was weeping bitterly.
"Why are you weeping?" he asked.
"Alas," answered she, "the full moon shone like this when I played this air on the flute for the last time, and the head of my beloved rose out of the water."
He looked at her, and it seemed as if a veil fell from his eyes, and he recognised his dear wife; and when she looked at him, and the moon shone on his face, she knew him too. They embraced and kissed each other — and nobody need ask whether they were happy.
A tailor and a goldsmith were travelling together; and one evening, when the sun had sunk behind the mountains, they heard the sound of distant music, which grew more and more distinct. It sounded strange, but so pleasant that they forgot all their weariness and stepped out quickly.
The moon had already risen when they reached a hill, where they saw a crowd of little men and women who had taken each other by the hands and were whirling round in a dance with the greatest pleasure and delight. They sang to it most charmingly, and that was the music the travellers had heard.
In the middle of them sat an old man who was rather taller than the rest. He wore a many-coloured coat, and his iron-grey beard hung down over his chest. The two of them stood still, full of astonishment, and watched the dance.
The old man made a sign that they should come in, and the little folks willingly opened their circle. The goldsmith, who had a hump and, like all hunchbacks, was brave enough, stepped in. The tailor felt a little afraid at first and held back; but when he saw how merrily it was all going, he plucked up his courage and followed.
The circle closed again at once, and the little folks went on singing and dancing with the wildest leaps. But the old man took a large knife that hung at his belt and whetted it; and when it was sharp enough he looked round at the strangers.
They were terrified; but they had not much time for reflection, for the old man seized the goldsmith and with the greatest speed shaved the hair of his head clean off, and then the same thing happened to the tailor.
But their fear left them when, after he had finished his work, the old man clapped them both on the shoulder in a friendly way, as much as to say that they had done well to let it all be done to them willingly and without any struggle. He pointed with his finger to a heap of coals lying at one side, and made signs to the travellers that they should fill their pockets with them.
Both of them obeyed, although they did not know what use the coals could be to them, and then they went on their way to find a shelter for the night. When they had got down into the valley, the clock of the nearby monastery struck twelve, and the singing stopped. In a moment everything had vanished, and the hill lay lonely in the moonlight.
The two travellers found an inn and covered themselves up on their straw beds with their coats; but in their weariness they forgot to take the coals out of them first. A heavy weight on their limbs woke them earlier than usual. They felt in their pockets, and could not believe their eyes when they saw that the pockets were not filled with coals but with pure gold. And happily, too, the hair of their heads and beards had come back as thick as ever.
They had now become rich men; but the goldsmith, who in keeping with his greedy nature had filled his pockets better, was twice as rich as the tailor. And a greedy man, even if he has much, still wants more; so the goldsmith proposed to the tailor that they should stay another day and go out again in the evening, to bring back still greater treasures from the old man on the hill.
The tailor refused, and said, "I have enough and I'm content. Now I'll be a master and marry my dear one" — for so he called his sweetheart — "and I'm a happy man." But he stayed another day to please him.
In the evening the goldsmith hung a couple of bags over his shoulders so as to be able to stow away a great deal, and took the road to the hill. He found the little folks at their singing and dancing as on the night before, and the old man shaved him clean again and made signs to him to take some coal away with him. He was not slow about stuffing as much into his bags as would go, and went back quite delighted and covered himself over with his coat.
"Even if the gold does weigh heavily," said he, "I'll gladly bear it" — and at last he fell asleep with the sweet expectation of waking in the morning an enormously rich man.
When he opened his eyes he got up in haste to look in his pockets; but how amazed he was when he drew nothing out of them but black coals, however often he put his hands in.
"The gold I got the night before is still there for me," thought he — and went and fetched it out; but how appalled he was to see that it too had turned back into coal.
He struck his forehead with his dusty black hand, and then he felt that his whole head was bald and smooth, and so was the place where his beard should have been. But his misfortunes were not over yet: he now noticed for the first time that, besides the hump on his back, a second one just as large had grown in front on his chest.
Then he recognised the punishment for his greed, and began to weep aloud.
The good tailor, who was woken by this, comforted the unhappy fellow as well as he could, and said, "You've been my comrade in my travelling days; you shall stay with me and share in my wealth."
He kept his word — but the poor goldsmith had to carry his two humps as long as he lived, and to cover his bald head with a cap.
A certain tailor, who was great at boasting but poor at doing, took it into his head to go abroad for a while and look about the world. As soon as he could manage it he left his workshop and wandered on his way, over hill and dale, sometimes this way and sometimes that, but always on and on.
Once, while he was out, he saw in the blue distance a steep hill, and behind it a tower reaching to the clouds, which rose up out of a wild dark forest.
"Thunder and lightning," cried the tailor, "what's that?" And as curiosity strongly goaded him, he went boldly towards it.
But what made the tailor open his eyes and his mouth, when he came near, was to see that the tower had legs, and leapt over the steep hill in a single bound, and was now standing in front of him as an all-powerful giant.
"What do you want here, you tiny fly's leg?" cried the giant, in a voice like thunder on every side.
The tailor whimpered, "I only want to look about and see whether I can earn myself a bit of bread in this forest."
"If that's what you're after," said the giant, "you can have a place with me."
"If it must be, why not? What wages shall I get?"
"You shall hear what wages you'll get. Every year three hundred and sixty-five days — and when it's leap year, one more into the bargain. Does that suit you?"
"All right," replied the tailor, and thought to himself, "A man must cut his coat according to his cloth. I'll try to get away as fast as I can."
At this the giant said to him, "Go, little ragamuffin, and fetch me a jug of water."
"Hadn't I better bring the well itself at once, and the spring too?" asked the boaster, and went off with the pitcher to the water.
"What — the well and the spring too?" growled the giant into his beard; for he was rather clownish and stupid, and began to be afraid. "That rascal is no fool; he has a wizard inside him. Be on your guard, old Hans; this is no serving man for you."
When the tailor had brought the water, the giant told him to go into the forest and cut a couple of blocks of wood and bring them back.
"Why not the whole forest at once, with one stroke? The whole forest, young and old, with everything in it, both rough and smooth?" asked the little tailor, and went off to cut the wood.
"What — the whole forest, young and old, with everything in it, both rough and smooth? And the well and its spring too?" growled the credulous giant into his beard, and was more terrified still. "That rascal can do a great deal more than bake apples; he has a wizard inside him. Be on your guard, old Hans; this is no serving man for you."
When the tailor had brought the wood, the giant ordered him to shoot two or three wild boars for supper.
"Why not a thousand at one shot, and bring them all here?" asked the boastful tailor.
"What!" cried the timid giant in great terror. "Let well alone for tonight, and lie down and rest."
The giant was so terribly alarmed that he could not close an eye all night long for thinking of the best way to get rid of this accursed sorcerer of a servant. Time brings counsel.
Next morning the giant and the tailor went to a marsh with a number of willow trees standing round it. Then the giant said, "Listen, tailor, sit yourself down on one of these willow branches. I'd like more than anything to see whether you're heavy enough to bend it down."
In a moment the tailor was sitting on it, holding his breath and making himself so heavy that the bough bent down. But when he had to draw breath, it flung him — for unluckily he had not put his pressing iron in his pocket — so high into the air that he was never seen again; and this to the giant's great delight.
If the tailor has not fallen down again, he must still be hovering about up there in the air.
A merchant had done good business at the fair; he had sold his wares and lined his money bags with gold and silver. Then he wanted to travel home and be in his own house before nightfall. So he packed his trunk of money on his horse and rode away.
At noon he rested in a town; and when he wanted to go on, the stable boy brought out his horse and said, "There's a nail missing, sir, from the shoe on its left hind foot."
"Let it be missing," answered the merchant. "The shoe will certainly stay on for the six miles I still have to go. I'm in a hurry."
In the afternoon, when he dismounted once more and had his horse fed, the stable boy came into the room to him and said, "Sir, there's a shoe missing from your horse's left hind foot. Shall I take him to the blacksmith?"
"Let it still be missing," answered the man. "The horse can hold out well enough for the couple of miles that are left. I'm in haste."
He rode off; but before long the horse began to limp. It had not limped long before it began to stumble, and it had not stumbled long before it fell down and broke its leg. The merchant had to leave the horse where it lay, and unbuckle the trunk and take it on his back and go home on foot. And he did not get there until quite late at night.
"And that unlucky nail," said he to himself, "has caused the whole disaster."
Hurry slowly.
There was once a poor shepherd boy whose father and mother were dead, and he was placed by the authorities in the house of a rich man, who was to feed him and bring him up.
But the man and his wife had bad hearts, and were greedy and anxious about their riches, and vexed whenever anybody put a morsel of their bread in his mouth. The poor young fellow might do what he liked, he got little to eat — only so many the more blows.
One day he had to watch a hen and her chicks; but she ran through a hedge with them, and a hawk darted down instantly and carried her off through the air. The boy shouted "Thief! Thief! Rascal!" with all the strength in his body — but what good did that do? The hawk did not bring its prey back.
The man heard the noise and ran to the spot; and as soon as he saw that his hen was gone, he flew into a rage and gave the boy such a beating that he could not stir for two days.
Then he had to look after the chicks without the hen; but now his difficulty was greater, for one ran here and another there. He thought he was doing a very clever thing when he tied them all together with a string, because then the hawk would not be able to steal any of them away from him. But he was very much mistaken.
After two days, worn out with running about and with hunger, he fell asleep. The bird of prey came and seized one of the chicks; and as the others were tied fast to it, it carried them all off together, perched itself on a tree and devoured them.
The farmer was just coming home; and when he saw the disaster he grew angry and beat the boy so unmercifully that he had to lie in bed for several days.
When he was on his legs again the farmer said to him, "You're too stupid for me; I can't make a herdsman of you. You must go as errand boy."
Then he sent him to the judge, to whom he was to carry a basketful of grapes, and gave him a letter as well.
On the way, hunger and thirst tormented the unhappy boy so violently that he ate two of the bunches of grapes. He took the basket to the judge; but when the judge had read the letter and counted the bunches he said, "Two clusters are missing."
The boy confessed quite honestly that, driven by hunger and thirst, he had eaten the two that were missing.
The judge wrote a letter to the farmer and asked for the same number of grapes again. These too the boy had to carry to him, with a letter. And as he was again so extremely hungry and thirsty, he could not help himself, and again ate two bunches. But first he took the letter out of the basket and put it under a stone and sat down on top of it, so that the letter could not see him and betray him.
The judge, though, again made him explain about the missing bunches.
"Ah," said the boy, "how did you find out? The letter couldn't have known about it, because I put it under a stone before I did it."
The judge could not help laughing at the boy's simplicity, and sent the man a letter warning him to look after the poor boy better and not let him go short of food and drink, and also to teach him what was right and what was wrong.
"I'll soon show you the difference," said the hard man. "If you want to eat, you must work; and if you do anything wrong, you'll be taught quite well enough by blows."
The next day he set him a hard task. He was to chop up two bundles of straw for the horses' food; and then the man threatened him. "In five hours," said he, "I'll be back; and if the straw isn't cut into chaff by then, I'll beat you until you can't move a limb."
The farmer went off with his wife and the manservant and the girl to the yearly fair, and left nothing behind for the boy but a small bit of bread.
The boy sat down on the bench and began to work with all his might. As he grew warm over it he took his little coat off and threw it down on the straw. In his terror that he would not get done in time, he kept on cutting without stopping; and in his haste, without noticing it, he chopped up his little coat along with the straw.
He realised the disaster too late; there was no repairing it. "Ah," cried he, "now it's all over with me. That wicked man didn't threaten me for nothing; if he comes back and sees what I've done, he'll kill me. Rather than that, I'll take my own life."
The boy had once heard the farmer's wife say, "I've got a pot of poison under my bed." She had only said it to keep greedy people away, though, for there was honey in it.
The boy crept under the bed and brought out the pot and ate everything in it. "I don't know," said he. "People say death is bitter, but it tastes very sweet to me. It's no wonder the farmer's wife has so often longed for death."
He sat himself down in a little chair and made ready to die. But instead of growing weaker, he felt strengthened by the nourishing food.
"It can't have been poison," thought he. "But the farmer once said there was a small bottle of fly poison in the box where he keeps his clothes. That, no doubt, will be the true poison, and will bring death to me."
It was no fly poison, though, but Hungarian wine. The boy got the bottle out and emptied it.
"This death tastes sweet too," said he. But shortly afterwards, when the wine began to rise into his head and stupefy him, he thought his end was drawing near. "I feel that I must die," said he. "I'll go away to the churchyard and find a grave."
He staggered out, reached the churchyard and laid himself down in a newly dug grave. He lost his senses more and more. Nearby was an inn where a wedding was being held; and when he heard the music he thought he was already in Paradise, until at length he lost all consciousness.
The poor boy never woke again; the heat of the strong wine and the cold night dew took his life from him, and he stayed in the grave he had laid himself down in.
When the farmer heard the news of the boy's death he was terrified and afraid of being brought to justice; indeed, his distress took such a powerful hold on him that he fell fainting to the ground. His wife, who was standing at the hearth with a pan of hot fat, ran to help him. But the flames leapt against the pan, and the whole house caught fire; and in a few hours it lay in ashes. And the rest of the years they had to live they passed in poverty and misery, tormented by the pangs of conscience.
There was once a girl who was young and beautiful; but she had lost her mother when she was quite a child, and her stepmother did everything she could to make the girl's life wretched.
Whenever this woman gave her anything to do, she worked at it tirelessly and did everything that lay in her power. Still she could not touch the wicked woman's heart by it; she was never satisfied, it was never enough. The harder the girl worked, the more work was put on her; and all the woman thought about was how to weigh her down with still heavier burdens and make her life still more miserable.
One day she said to her, "Here are twelve pounds of feathers that you must strip; and if they aren't done by this evening, you can expect a good beating. Do you imagine you're going to idle the whole day away?"
The poor girl sat down to the work; but the tears ran down her cheeks as she did it, for she saw plainly enough that it was quite impossible to finish the work in one day. Whenever she had a little heap of feathers lying in front of her, and she sighed or clapped her hands together in her anguish, they flew away, and she had to pick them up again and start her work afresh.
Then she put her elbows on the table and laid her face in her two hands and cried, "Is there nobody, then, on God's earth to have pity on me?"
Then she heard a low voice, which said, "Be comforted, my child; I've come to help you."
The girl looked up, and an old woman was beside her. She took the girl kindly by the hand and said, "Just tell me what's troubling you."
As she spoke so kindly, the girl told her about her miserable life, and how one burden after another was laid on her, and how she could never get to the end of the work she was given. "If I haven't done these feathers by this evening, my stepmother will beat me. She's threatened she will, and I know she keeps her word."
Her tears began to flow again; but the good old woman said, "Don't be afraid, my child. Rest a while, and I'll see to your work in the meantime."
The girl lay down on her bed and soon fell asleep. The old woman sat down at the table with the feathers — and how they flew off the quills, which she scarcely touched with her withered hands! The twelve pounds were soon finished; and when the girl woke, great snow-white heaps were lying there piled up, and everything in the room was neatly cleared away; but the old woman had vanished.
The girl thanked God and sat still until evening came, when her stepmother came in and marvelled to see the work finished.
"Just look, you clumsy creature," said she, "what can be done when people work hard. And why couldn't you have set about something else? There you sit with your hands folded."
When she went out she said, "The creature is worth more than her salt. I must give her some work that's harder still."
Next morning she called the girl and said, "Here's a spoon for you. With that you must empty out the great pond beside the garden for me; and if it isn't done by night, you know what will happen."
The girl took the spoon and saw that it was full of holes; but even if it had not been, she could never have emptied the pond with it. She set to work at once, kneeling down beside the water, into which her tears were falling, and began to empty it.
But the good old woman appeared again; and when she learned the cause of her grief she said, "Be of good cheer, my child. Go into the thicket and lie down and sleep; I'll soon do your work."
As soon as the old woman was alone, she barely touched the pond, and a vapour rose up high out of the water and mingled with the clouds. Little by little the pond was emptied; and when the girl woke before sunset and came there, she saw nothing but the fish struggling in the mud.
She went to her stepmother and showed her that the work was done. "It ought to have been done long before this," said she, and went white with anger; but she was already planning something new.
On the third morning she said to the girl, "You must build me a castle on the plain over there, and it must be ready by evening."
The girl was dismayed and said, "How can I finish such a great work?"
"I'll put up with no arguing," screamed her stepmother. "If you can empty a pond with a spoon full of holes, you can build a castle too. I'll take possession of it this very day; and if anything is missing — even the most trifling thing in the kitchen or the cellar — you know what lies in store for you."
She drove the girl out; and when she came into the valley, the rocks lay there piled one above another, and all her strength would not have let her move even the smallest of them. She sat down and wept, and still she hoped the old woman would help her.
The old woman was not long in coming. She comforted her and said, "Lie down there in the shade and sleep, and I'll soon build the castle for you. If it would give you pleasure, you can live in it yourself."
When the girl had gone away, the old woman touched the grey rocks. They began to rise, and moved together at once as if giants had built the walls; and on these the building rose up, and it seemed as if countless hands were working invisibly and setting one stone on another. There was a dull heavy noise from the ground; pillars rose of their own accord and set themselves in order beside each other. The tiles laid themselves in order on the roof; and when midday came, the great weathervane was already turning itself on the top of the tower, like a golden figure of the Virgin with fluttering garments.
The inside of the castle was being finished as evening drew on. How the old woman managed it I don't know; but the walls of the rooms were hung with silk and velvet, embroidered chairs stood there and richly ornamented armchairs by marble tables; crystal chandeliers hung down from the ceilings and were mirrored in the smooth floor; green parrots sat in gilt cages, and strange birds too that sang most beautifully; and there was as much magnificence on every side as if a king were going to live there.
The sun was just setting when the girl woke and the brightness of a thousand lights flashed in her face. She hurried to the castle and went in by the open door. The steps were spread with red cloth and the golden banister set about with flowering trees. When she saw the splendour of the rooms she stood as if turned to stone.
Who knows how long she might have stood there, if she had not remembered her stepmother? "Alas," she said to herself, "if only she could be satisfied at last, and would give up making my life a misery."
The girl went and told her that the castle was ready. "I'll move into it at once," said she, and rose from her seat.
When they came into the castle she had to hold her hand in front of her eyes, the brilliance of everything was so dazzling. "You see," said she to the girl, "how easy it's been for you to do this. I ought to have given you something harder."
She went through all the rooms and examined every corner to see whether anything was missing or wrong; but she could find nothing.
"Now we'll go down below," said she, looking at the girl with malicious eyes. "The kitchen and the cellar still have to be looked at; and if you've forgotten anything, you shan't escape your punishment."
But the fire was burning on the hearth and the meat cooking in the pans, the tongs and shovel were leaning against the wall, and the shining brass utensils were all set out in sight. Nothing was missing, not even a coal box and a water pail.
"Which is the way to the cellar?" she cried. "If that isn't well filled, it will go badly with you."
She raised the trapdoor herself and went down; but she had hardly taken two steps before the heavy trapdoor, which was only laid back, fell down. The girl heard a scream and lifted the door very quickly to go to her help; but she had fallen, and the girl found her lying lifeless at the bottom.
And now the magnificent castle belonged to the girl alone. At first she did not know how to reconcile herself to her good fortune. Beautiful dresses hung in the wardrobes, the chests were filled with gold and silver, or with pearls and jewels; and she never felt a wish that she could not satisfy.
And soon the fame of the girl's beauty and riches went over all the world. Suitors presented themselves daily, but none of them pleased her. At length the King's son came, and he knew how to touch her heart, and she betrothed herself to him.
In the garden of the castle was a lime tree, and they were sitting under it together one day when he said to her, "I'll go home and get my father's consent to our marriage. I beg you to wait for me here under this lime tree; I'll be back with you in a few hours."
The girl kissed him on his left cheek and said, "Stay true to me, and never let anybody else kiss you on this cheek. I'll wait here under the lime tree until you come back."
The girl stayed under the lime tree until sunset, but he did not come back. She sat there three days from morning till evening, waiting for him, but in vain.
As he was still not there on the fourth day, she said, "Some accident must have happened to him. I'll go out and look for him, and won't come back until I've found him."
She packed up three of her most beautiful dresses — one embroidered with bright stars, the second with silver moons, the third with golden suns — tied a handful of jewels up in her handkerchief, and set out.
She asked everywhere for her betrothed, but nobody had seen him; nobody knew anything about him. Far and wide she wandered through the world, but she did not find him. At last she hired herself out to a farmer as a cowherd, and buried her dresses and jewels under a stone.
And now she lived as a herdswoman, minding her herd, and was very sad and full of longing for her beloved. She had a little calf that she taught to know her and fed out of her own hand; and when she said:
"Little calf, little calf, kneel by my side, and do not forget your shepherd maid, as the prince forgot his betrothed bride who waited for him in the lime tree's shade" —
the little calf knelt down, and she stroked it.
And when she had lived alone and full of grief for a couple of years, word went round the whole country that the King's daughter was about to celebrate her marriage. The road to the town passed through the village where the girl was living; and it happened that once, when she was driving her herd out, her bridegroom travelled past. He sat proudly on his horse and never looked round; but when she saw him she recognised her beloved, and it was just as if a sharp knife had pierced her heart.
"Alas," said she, "I believed he was true to me; but he has forgotten me."
Next day he came along the road again. When he was near her she said to the little calf:
"Little calf, little calf, kneel by my side, and do not forget your shepherd maid, as the prince forgot his betrothed bride who waited for him in the lime tree's shade."
When he caught the sound of her voice he looked down and reined in his horse. He looked into the herdswoman's face, and then put his hands in front of his eyes as if he were trying to remember something; but he soon rode on and was out of sight.
"Alas," said she, "he doesn't know me any more" — and her grief was greater than ever.
Soon after this a great festival, three days long, was to be held at the King's court, and the whole country was invited to it.
"Now I'll try my last chance," thought the girl. And when evening came she went to the stone she had buried her treasures under. She took out the dress with the golden suns and put it on and adorned herself with the jewels. She let down her hair, which she had kept hidden under a handkerchief, and it fell about her in long curls; and so she went into the town, and in the darkness nobody noticed her.
When she came into the brightly lit hall everybody drew back in amazement, but nobody knew who she was. The King's son went to meet her, but he did not recognise her. He led her out to dance, and was so enchanted with her beauty that he thought no more of his other bride. When the feast was over she vanished into the crowd, and hurried back before daybreak to the village, where she put her herdswoman's clothes on again.
Next evening she took out the dress with the silver moons and put a half-moon of precious stones in her hair. When she appeared at the festival every eye turned on her; but the King's son hurried to meet her, and, filled with love for her, danced with her alone and no longer so much as glanced at anybody else. Before she went away she was made to promise to come to the festival again on the last evening.
When she appeared for the third time she wore the star dress, which sparkled at every step she took, and her hair ribbon and her girdle were starred with jewels. The prince had already been waiting for her a long while, and forced his way through to her.
"Only tell me who you are," said he. "I feel just as if I'd known you a long time already."
"Don't you know what I did when you left me?"
Then she stepped up to him and kissed him on his left cheek; and in a moment it was as if scales fell from his eyes, and he recognised his true bride.
"Come," said he to her, "I'll stay here no longer" — and gave her his hand and led her down to the carriage. The horses hurried away towards the magic castle as if the wind had been harnessed to the carriage. The lit windows were already shining in the distance. When they drove past the lime tree, countless glow-worms were swarming about it; it shook its branches and sent out their fragrance. On the steps flowers were blooming, and the room echoed with the song of strange birds; and in the hall the whole court was assembled, and the priest was waiting to marry the bridegroom to his true bride.
This story, my dear young folks, seems to be false, but it really is true; for my grandfather, whom I had it from, always used to say complacently when he told it, "It must be true, my son, or else nobody could tell it to you." The story goes like this.
One Sunday morning about harvest time, just as the buckwheat was in bloom, the sun was shining brightly in heaven, the east wind was blowing warm over the stubble fields, the larks were singing in the air, the bees buzzing among the buckwheat, and the people were all going to church in their Sunday clothes; and every creature was happy, and the hedgehog was happy too.
The hedgehog was standing by his door with his arms folded, enjoying the morning breeze and slowly trilling a little song to himself, which was neither better nor worse than the songs hedgehogs are in the habit of singing on a blessed Sunday morning.
And while he was singing half aloud to himself like this, it suddenly occurred to him that, while his wife was washing and drying the children, he might very well take a walk into the field and see how his turnips were getting on. The turnips were in fact right beside his house, and he and his family were used to eating them, which was why he looked on them as his own.
No sooner said than done. The hedgehog shut the house door behind him and took the path to the field. He had not gone very far from home, and was just turning round the sloe bush that stands out there at the edge of the field to go up into the turnip field, when he noticed the hare, who had come out on business of the same kind — namely, to visit his cabbages.
When the hedgehog caught sight of the hare he wished him a friendly good morning. But the hare, who was a distinguished gentleman in his own way, and frightfully haughty, did not return the hedgehog's greeting, but said to him — putting on a very contemptuous manner at the same time — "How do you come to be running about in the field so early in the morning?"
"I'm taking a walk," said the hedgehog.
"A walk!" said the hare with a smile. "It seems to me you might use your legs for a better purpose."
This answer made the hedgehog furiously angry, for he can bear anything but an attack on his legs, just because they are crooked by nature. So the hedgehog said to the hare, "You seem to imagine that you can do more with your legs than I can with mine."
"That's just what I do think," said the hare.
"That can be put to the test," said the hedgehog. "I'll wager that if we run a race, I'll outstrip you."
"That's ridiculous — you, with your short legs!" said the hare. "But for my part I'm willing, if you have such a monstrous fancy for it. What shall we wager?"
"A gold sovereign and a bottle of brandy," said the hedgehog.
"Done," said the hare. "Shake hands on it, and then we may as well start at once."
"No," said the hedgehog, "there's no such great hurry. I'm still fasting; I'll go home first and have a little breakfast. In half an hour I'll be back here."
At this the hedgehog went off, for the hare was quite satisfied with the arrangement.
On his way the hedgehog thought to himself, "The hare relies on his long legs, but I'll contrive to get the better of him. He may be a great man, but he's a very silly fellow, and he shall pay for what he's said."
So when the hedgehog reached home he said to his wife, "Wife, get dressed quickly; you must come out to the field with me."
"What's going on, then?" said his wife.
"I've made a wager with the hare for a gold sovereign and a bottle of brandy. I'm to run a race with him, and you must be there."
"Good heavens, husband," his wife cried now, "are you not right in your mind? Have you completely lost your wits? What can make you want to run a race with the hare?"
"Hold your tongue, woman," said the hedgehog. "That's my affair. Don't start arguing about matters for men. Off with you, get dressed and come with me."
What could the hedgehog's wife do? She had to obey him, whether she liked it or not.
So when they had set out together, the hedgehog said to his wife, "Now pay attention to what I'm going to say. Look — I'll make the long field our racecourse. The hare shall run in one furrow and I in another, and we'll start running from the top. All you have to do is take your place down here in the furrow; and when the hare arrives at the end of the furrow on the other side of you, you must call out to him, 'I'm here already!'"
Then they reached the field, and the hedgehog showed his wife her place, and then walked up the field. When he reached the top, the hare was there already.
"Shall we start?" said the hare.
"Certainly," said the hedgehog.
"Then both at once." And so saying, each placed himself in his own furrow. The hare counted, "Once, twice, thrice — and away!" and went off down the field like a whirlwind.
The hedgehog, though, only ran about three paces, and then he crouched down in the furrow and stayed quietly where he was.
So when the hare arrived at full speed at the lower end of the field, the hedgehog's wife met him with the cry, "I'm here already!"
The hare was shocked and wondered not a little; he thought it was nothing other than the hedgehog himself calling to him, for the hedgehog's wife looked just like her husband. But the hare thought to himself, "That wasn't done fairly" — and cried, "It must be run again; let's have it again." And once more he went off like the wind in a storm, so that he seemed to fly.
But the hedgehog's wife stayed quietly in her place. So when the hare reached the top of the field, the hedgehog himself cried out to him, "I'm here already!"
The hare, quite beside himself with anger, cried, "It must be run again; we must have it again."
"All right," answered the hedgehog. "For my part, we'll run as often as you choose."
So the hare ran seventy-three times more, and the hedgehog always held out against him; and every time the hare reached either the top or the bottom, either the hedgehog or his wife said, "I'm here already."
At the seventy-fourth time, though, the hare could no longer reach the end. In the middle of the field he fell to the ground, blood streamed out of his mouth, and he lay dead on the spot.
But the hedgehog took the sovereign he had won and the bottle of brandy, called his wife out of the furrow, and the two of them went home together in great delight; and if they aren't dead, they're living there still.
That is how it came about that the hedgehog made the hare run races with him on the Buxtehude heath until he died; and since that time no hare has ever had any fancy for running races with a Buxtehude hedgehog.
The moral of this story, though, is, first, that nobody, however great he may be, should let himself make fun of anybody beneath him, even if it's only a hedgehog. And second, it teaches that when a man marries, he should take a wife of his own kind, who looks just as he looks himself. So whoever is a hedgehog, let him see to it that his wife is a hedgehog too, and so on.
There was once a girl whose father and mother died while she was still a little child. All alone, in a small house at the end of the village, lived her godmother, who supported herself by spinning and weaving and sewing. The old woman took the forlorn child in to live with her, kept her to her work, and brought her up in everything that is good.
When the girl was fifteen years old the old woman fell ill, called the child to her bedside and said, "Dear daughter, I feel my end drawing near. I leave you the little house, which will protect you from wind and weather, and my spindle and shuttle and needle, which you can earn your bread with."
Then she laid her hands on the girl's head and blessed her and said, "Only keep the love of God in your heart, and all will go well with you."
With that she closed her eyes; and when she was laid in the earth, the girl followed the coffin weeping bitterly, and paid her the last mark of respect.
And now the girl lived quite alone in the little house, and was hard-working, and spun and wove and sewed; and the good old woman's blessing was on everything she did. It seemed as if the flax in the room increased of its own accord; and whenever she wove a piece of cloth or carpet or made a shirt, she at once found a buyer who paid her amply for it, so that she wanted for nothing and even had something to share with others.
About this time the King's son was travelling about the country looking for a bride. He was not to choose a poor one, and he did not want a rich one. So he said, "She shall be my wife who is the poorest and at the same time the richest."
When he came to the village where the girl lived he asked, as he did wherever he went, who was the richest and also the poorest girl in the place. They named the richest first; and the poorest, they said, was the girl who lived in the small house right at the end of the village.
The rich girl was sitting in all her splendour in front of her door; and when the prince came up to her she got up and went to meet him and made him a low curtsey. He looked at her, said nothing, and rode on.
When he came to the poor girl's house she was not standing at the door but sitting in her little room. He stopped his horse and saw through the window, on which the bright sun was shining, the girl sitting at her spinning wheel, busily spinning. She looked up; and when she saw that the prince was looking in she blushed all over her face, let her eyes fall, and went on spinning. I don't know whether the thread was quite even just at that moment; but she went on spinning until the King's son had ridden away again.
Then she went to the window and opened it and said, "It's so warm in this room" — but she still looked after him as long as she could make out the white feathers in his hat.
Then she sat down to work again in her own room and went on with her spinning; and a saying the old woman had often repeated when she was sitting at her work came into her mind, and she sang the words to herself:
"Spindle, my spindle, haste, haste you away, and here to my house bring the wooer, I pray."
And what do you think happened? The spindle sprang out of her hand in an instant and out of the door; and when, in her astonishment, she got up and looked after it, she saw it dancing merrily out into the open country, drawing a shining golden thread behind it. Before long it had vanished entirely from her sight.
As she now had no spindle, the girl took the weaver's shuttle in her hand and sat down at her loom and began to weave.
The spindle, meanwhile, danced on and on; and just as the thread came to an end it reached the prince.
"What's this I see?" he cried. "The spindle must want to show me the way." And he turned his horse about and rode back alongside the golden thread.
The girl, though, was sitting at her work, singing:
"Shuttle, my shuttle, weave well this day, and guide the wooer to me, I pray."
Immediately the shuttle sprang out of her hand and out of the door. In front of the threshold, though, it began to weave a carpet more beautiful than the eyes of man had ever seen. Lilies and roses bloomed on both sides of it; and on a golden ground in the middle green branches climbed up, with hares and rabbits bounding beneath them, and stags and deer stretching their heads in between; and brightly coloured birds sat in the branches above — they lacked nothing but the gift of song. The shuttle leapt this way and that, and everything seemed to grow of its own accord.
As the shuttle had run away, the girl sat down to sew. She held the needle in her hand and sang:
"Needle, my needle, sharp-pointed and fine, prepare for a wooer this house of mine."
Then the needle leapt out of her fingers and flew about the room everywhere, as quick as lightning. It was just as if invisible spirits were at work: they covered tables and benches with green cloth in an instant, and the chairs with velvet, and hung silk curtains at the windows.
Hardly had the needle put in the last stitch before the girl saw through the window the white feathers of the prince, whom the spindle had brought there by the golden thread. He dismounted, stepped over the carpet into the house; and when he came into the room, there stood the girl in her poor clothes, but shining out from them like a rose surrounded by leaves.
"You are the poorest, and also the richest," said he to her. "Come with me; you shall be my bride."
She did not speak, but she gave him her hand. Then he gave her a kiss and led her out and lifted her onto his horse, and took her to the royal castle, where the wedding was celebrated with great rejoicing. And the spindle and the shuttle and the needle were kept in the treasure chamber and held in great honour.
There was once a far-sighted, crafty peasant whose tricks were much talked about. The best story, though, is how he once got hold of the Devil and made a fool of him.
The peasant had been working in his field one day; and as twilight had set in he was making ready for the journey home, when he saw a heap of burning coals in the middle of his field. And when he went up to it, full of astonishment, a little black devil was sitting on the live coals.
"You're sitting on a treasure, I do believe," said the peasant.
"Yes, truly," replied the Devil, "on a treasure that holds more gold and silver than you've ever seen in your life."
"The treasure is in my field and belongs to me," said the peasant.
"It's yours," answered the Devil, "if for two years you'll give me half of everything your field produces. I have money enough, but I've a longing for the fruits of the earth."
The peasant agreed to the bargain. "But so that no dispute can arise about the division," said he, "everything above the ground shall belong to you, and what's under the earth to me."
The Devil was quite satisfied with that — but the cunning peasant had sown turnips.
Now when harvest time came, the Devil appeared and wanted to take away his crop; but he found nothing but the yellow withered leaves, while the peasant, full of delight, was digging up his turnips.
"You've had the best of it for once," said the Devil, "but next time that won't do. What grows above ground shall be yours, and what's under it, mine."
"I'm willing," replied the peasant. But when the time came to sow, he did not sow turnips again, but wheat. The grain ripened, and the peasant went into the field and cut the full stalks down to the ground. When the Devil came he found nothing but the stubble, and went off in a fury down into a cleft in the rocks.
"That's the way to cheat the Devil," said the peasant — and went and fetched the treasure away.
A countryman said to his little puppies one day, "Come into the parlour and enjoy yourselves, and pick up the breadcrumbs on the table. Your mistress has gone out to pay some visits."
Then the little dogs said, "No, no, we won't go. If the mistress finds out, she'll beat us."
The countryman said, "She'll know nothing about it. Do come; after all, she never gives you anything good."
Then the little dogs said again, "No, no, we must let it alone; we mustn't go."
But the countryman gave them no peace until at last they went, and got up on the table and ate up the breadcrumbs with all their might.
But at that very moment the mistress came in, and seized the stick in great haste and beat them and treated them very hard indeed.
And when they were outside the house, the little dogs said to the countryman, "D'you, d'you, d'you, d'you, d'you see?"
Then the countryman laughed and said, "Didn't, didn't, didn't you expect it?"
So they just had to run away.
There was once a princess who had a room high up under the battlements of her castle, with twelve windows in it that looked out in every possible direction; and when she climbed up to it and looked around her, she could survey her whole kingdom.
When she looked out of the first, her sight was keener than any other human being's; from the second she could see better still; from the third more distinctly still; and so it went on, up to the twelfth, from which she saw everything above the earth and under it, and nothing at all could be kept secret from her.
And as she was haughty, and would be subject to nobody but wanted to keep the rule for herself alone, she had it proclaimed that nobody should ever be her husband who could not hide himself from her so well that it would be quite impossible for her to find him. But whoever tried it and was discovered by her was to have his head struck off and stuck on a post.
Ninety-seven posts with the heads of dead men on them were already standing in front of the castle, and nobody had come forward for a long time. The princess was delighted, and thought to herself, "Now I shall be free as long as I live."
Then three brothers appeared before her and announced that they wished to try their luck.
The eldest thought he would be quite safe if he crept into a lime pit; but she saw him from the first window and made him come out, and had his head cut off.
The second crept into the cellar of the palace, but she saw him too from the first window, and his fate was sealed. His head was set on the ninety-ninth post.
Then the youngest came to her and begged her to give him a day to think about it, and also to be so gracious as to overlook it if she happened to discover him twice; but if he failed the third time, he would consider his life over.
As he was so handsome and begged so earnestly, she said, "Yes, I'll grant you that — but you won't succeed."
Next day he thought for a long time how he should hide himself, but all in vain. So he took his gun and went out hunting. He saw a raven, took good aim at him and was just about to fire, when the bird cried, "Don't shoot; I'll make it worth your while not to."
He put his gun down and went on, and came to a lake, where he surprised a large fish that had come up from the depths below to the surface of the water. When he had aimed at it, the fish cried, "Don't shoot, and I'll make it worth your while."
He let it dive down again, and went on, and met a fox that was lame. He fired and missed it, and the fox cried, "You'd do much better to come here and draw the thorn out of my foot for me."
He did it; but then he wanted to kill the fox and skin it, and the fox said, "Stop, and I'll make it worth your while."
The young man let him go; and then, as it was evening, he went home.
Next day he was to hide himself; but however much he racked his brains over it, he did not know where. He went into the forest to the raven and said, "I let you live; so now tell me where I'm to hide myself, so that the King's daughter won't see me."
The raven hung his head and thought it over for a long time. At length he croaked, "I have it."
He fetched an egg out of his nest and cut it into two parts and shut the young man inside it, and then made it whole again and sat down on it.
When the King's daughter went to the first window she could not find him, nor from the others either, and she began to grow uneasy; but from the eleventh she saw him. She ordered the raven to be shot and the egg to be brought and broken, and the young man was forced to come out.
She said, "For once you're excused; but if you don't do better than this, you're lost."
Next day he went to the lake and called the fish to him and said, "I let you live; now tell me where to hide myself, so that the King's daughter won't see me."
The fish thought for a while, and at last cried, "I have it! I'll shut you up in my stomach." He swallowed him and went down to the bottom of the lake.
The King's daughter looked out through her windows, and even from the eleventh she did not see him, and was alarmed; but at length from the twelfth she saw him. She ordered the fish to be caught and killed, and then the young man appeared. Anybody can imagine what state of mind he was in.
She said, "Twice you're forgiven; but be sure your head will be set on the hundredth post."
On the last day he went out into the country with a heavy heart and met the fox. "You know how to find all kinds of hiding places," said he. "I let you live; now advise me where to hide myself, so that the King's daughter doesn't discover me."
"That's a hard task," answered the fox, looking very thoughtful. At length he cried, "I have it!" — and went with him to a spring and dipped himself in it, and came out as a stallholder in the market, a dealer in animals. The young man had to dip himself in the water too, and was changed into a small sea-hare.
The dealer went into the town and showed the pretty little animal, and a great many people gathered to see it. At length the King's daughter came too; and as she liked it very much, she bought it and gave the dealer a good deal of money for it. Before he handed it over to her, he said to it, "When the King's daughter goes to the window, creep quickly under the braids of her hair."
And now the time came for her to look for him. She went to one window after another in turn, from the first to the eleventh, and did not see him. And when she did not see him from the twelfth either, she was full of anxiety and anger, and slammed it shut with such violence that the glass in every window shivered into a thousand pieces and the whole castle shook.
She went back and felt the sea-hare under the braids of her hair. Then she seized it and threw it on the ground, exclaiming, "Away with you! Get out of my sight!"
It ran to the dealer, and the two of them hurried to the spring and plunged into it and got their true shapes back.
The young man thanked the fox and said, "The raven and the fish are idiots compared with you. You know the right tune to play, there's no denying it."
The young man went straight to the palace. The princess was already expecting him, and reconciled herself to her fate. The wedding was celebrated, and now he was king and lord of the whole kingdom.
He never told her where he had hidden himself the third time, or who had helped him; so she believed that he had done it all by his own skill, and she had great respect for him, for she thought to herself, "He can do more than I can."
One day an old man and his wife were sitting in front of a miserable house, resting a while from their work. Suddenly a splendid carriage with four black horses came driving up, and a richly dressed man got down out of it.
The peasant stood up and went to the great man and asked what he wanted, and how he could be of use to him.
The stranger held out his hand to the old man and said, "I want nothing but to enjoy a country dish for once. Cook me some potatoes the way you always have them, and then I'll sit down at your table and eat them with pleasure."
The peasant smiled and said, "You're a count, or a prince, or perhaps even a duke; noble gentlemen often have fancies like that. But you shall have your wish."
His wife went into the kitchen and began to wash and scrub the potatoes and make them into balls, the way country folk eat them.
While she was busy with this work, the peasant said to the stranger, "Come into my garden with me for a while; I still have something to do there." He had dug some holes in the garden and now wanted to plant some trees in them.
"Have you no children," asked the stranger, "who could help you with your work?"
"No," answered the peasant. "I had a son, it's true, but it's long since he went out into the world. He was a ne'er-do-well — sharp and knowing, but he'd learn nothing and was full of bad tricks. At last he ran away from me, and since then I've heard nothing of him."
The old man took a young tree and put it in a hole and drove a post in beside it; and when he had shovelled some earth in and trampled it firmly down, he tied the stem of the tree to the post with a rope of straw, above, below and in the middle.
"But tell me," said the stranger, "why don't you tie that crooked, knotted tree lying over there in the corner, bent down almost to the ground, to a post as well, so that it grows straight like these?"
The old man smiled and said, "Sir, you speak according to your knowledge; it's easy to see that you know nothing about gardening. That tree there is old and misshapen; nobody can make it straight now. Trees must be trained while they're young."
"That's how it was with your son," said the stranger. "If you'd trained him while he was still young, he wouldn't have run away; now he too must have grown hard and misshapen."
"It's a long time indeed since he went away," replied the old man. "He must have changed."
"Would you know him again if he came to you?" asked the stranger.
"Hardly by his face," replied the peasant, "but he has a mark about him — a birthmark on his shoulder that looks like a bean."
When he had said that, the stranger pulled off his coat and bared his shoulder and showed the peasant the bean.
"Good God!" cried the old man. "You really are my son!" And love for his child stirred in his heart. "But," he added, "how can you be my son, when you've become a great lord and live in wealth and luxury? How have you managed that?"
"Ah, father," answered his son, "the young tree was tied to no post and has grown crooked; now it's too old, and it will never be straight again. How did I get all this? I've become a thief. But don't be alarmed — I'm a master-thief. For me there are neither locks nor bolts; whatever I want is mine. Don't imagine that I steal like a common thief; I only take a little of the surplus of the rich. Poor people are safe from me — I'd rather give to them than take anything from them. And it's the same with anything I can have without trouble and cunning and skill: I never touch it."
"Alas, my son," said his father, "it still doesn't please me. A thief is a thief; I tell you it will end badly."
He took him to his mother; and when she heard that this was her son she wept for joy — but when he told her that he had become a master-thief, two streams flowed down her face. At length she said, "Even if he's become a thief, he's still my son, and my eyes have seen him once more."
They sat down at the table, and once again he ate with his parents the poor food he had not eaten for so long.
His father said, "If our lord the count, up there in the castle, learns who you are and what trade you follow, he won't take you in his arms and cradle you the way he did when he held you at the font — he'll have you swing from a rope."
"Be easy, father, he'll do me no harm, for I understand my trade. I'll go to him myself this very day."
When evening drew near, the master-thief got into his carriage and drove to the castle. The count received him civilly, taking him for a distinguished man. But when the stranger made himself known, the count went pale and was quite silent for some time.
At length he said, "You're my godson, and on that account mercy shall take the place of justice, and I'll deal leniently with you. Since you pride yourself on being a master-thief, I'll put your art to the test; but if you don't stand the test, you must marry the ropemaker's daughter, and the croaking of the raven shall be your music on the occasion."
"My lord count," answered the master-thief, "think of three things, as difficult as you like; and if I don't perform your tasks, do with me what you will."
The count thought for a few minutes, and then said, "Well then: first, you shall steal the horse I keep for my own riding out of the stable. Second, you shall steal the sheet from under my wife and me while we're asleep, without our noticing it, and my wife's wedding ring as well. And third and last, you shall steal the parson and the clerk out of the church. Mark what I'm saying, for your life depends on it."
The master-thief went to the nearest town, where he bought the clothes of an old peasant woman and put them on. Then he stained his face brown and painted wrinkles on it too, so that nobody could have recognised him. Then he filled a small cask with old Hungarian wine, into which he mixed a powerful sleeping draught. He put the cask in a basket and took it on his back, and walked with slow and tottering steps to the count's castle.
It was already dark when he arrived. He sat down on a stone in the courtyard and began to cough like an asthmatic old woman, and to rub his hands as if he were cold.
In front of the stable door some soldiers were lying round a fire. One of them noticed the woman and called out to her, "Come nearer, old mother, and warm yourself beside us. After all, you've no bed for the night, and must take one where you can find it."
The old woman tottered up to them, begged them to lift the basket off her back, and sat down beside them at the fire.
"What have you got in your little cask, old lady?" one of them asked.
"A good mouthful of wine," she answered. "I live by trade; for money and fair words I'm quite ready to let you have a glass."
"Let's have it here, then," said the soldier; and when he had tasted one glass he said, "When wine is good, I like another glass" — and had another poured out for himself; and the rest followed his example.
"Hey, comrades," cried one of them to the men in the stable, "here's an old body with wine as old as herself. Take a draught; it'll warm your stomachs far better than our fire."
The old woman carried her cask into the stable. One of the soldiers had seated himself on the saddled riding horse, another held its bridle in his hand, a third had hold of its tail. She poured out as much as they wanted, until the cask ran dry.
It was not long before the bridle fell out of the first one's hand, and he dropped down and began to snore. The second let go of the tail and lay down and snored still louder. The one sitting in the saddle did stay sitting, but bent his head almost down to the horse's neck, and slept and blew with his mouth like the bellows of a forge. The soldiers outside had been asleep a long while already, and lay motionless on the ground as if dead.
When the master-thief saw that he had succeeded, he put a rope in the first one's hand instead of the bridle, and gave the one who had been holding the tail a wisp of straw. But what was he to do with the one sitting on the horse's back? He did not want to throw him down, for he might have woken and cried out.
He had a good idea. He unbuckled the girths of the saddle, tied a couple of ropes that were hanging from a ring on the wall fast to the saddle, and hauled the sleeping rider up into the air on it; then he twisted the rope round the posts and made it fast.
He soon unfastened the horse from its chain; but if he had ridden over the stone pavement of the yard they would have heard the noise in the castle. So he wrapped the horse's hoofs in old rags and led him carefully out, and leapt on him and galloped off.
When day broke, the master galloped up to the castle on the stolen horse. The count had just got up and was looking out of the window.
"Good morning, my lord count," he called to him. "Here's the horse, which I've got safely out of the stable. And just look how beautifully your soldiers are lying there asleep; and if you'll only go into the stable, you'll see how comfortable your watchmen have made themselves."
The count could not help laughing. Then he said, "For once you've succeeded; but things won't go so well the second time. And I warn you that if you come before me as a thief, I'll handle you as I would a thief."
When the countess went to bed that night she closed her hand tightly over her wedding ring; and the count said, "All the doors are locked and bolted. I'll stay awake and wait for the thief; and if he gets in by the window I'll shoot him."
The master-thief, though, went in the dark to the gallows, cut down a poor sinner who was hanging there, and carried him on his back to the castle. Then he set a ladder up to the bedroom, put the dead body on his shoulders and began to climb.
When he had got so high that the dead man's head showed at the window, the count, who was watching from his bed, fired a pistol at him; and immediately the master let the poor sinner drop and hid himself in a corner.
The night was light enough with the moon for the master to see distinctly how the count climbed out of the window onto the ladder and came down, and carried the dead body into the garden and began to dig a hole to lay it in.
"Now," thought the thief, "the moment has come." He stole nimbly out of his corner and climbed up the ladder straight into the countess's bedroom.
"Dear wife," he began, in the count's voice, "the thief is dead; but after all he's my godson, and has been more of a scapegrace than a villain. I won't put him to open shame; besides, I'm sorry for his parents. I'll bury him myself before daybreak in the garden, so that the thing isn't known. So give me the sheet — I'll wrap the body in it and bury him the way a dog buries things, by scratching."
The countess gave him the sheet.
"I'll tell you what," the thief went on, "I have a fit of generosity on me. Give me the ring too — the unhappy man risked his life for it, so he may as well take it with him into his grave."
She would not gainsay the count; and although she did it unwillingly, she drew the ring off her finger and gave it to him.
The thief made off with both these things, and got home safely before the count in the garden had finished his work of burying.
What a long face the count pulled when the master came next morning and brought him the sheet and the ring!
"Are you a wizard?" said he. "Who fetched you out of the grave I laid you in myself, and brought you back to life?"
"You didn't bury me," said the thief, "but the poor sinner from the gallows" — and he told him exactly how it had all happened; and the count had to admit to him that he was a clever, crafty thief.
"But you haven't reached the end yet," he added. "You still have the third task to perform; and if you don't succeed at that, all the rest is no use."
The master smiled and gave no answer.
When night had fallen he went to the village church with a long sack on his back, a bundle under his arm and a lantern in his hand. In the sack he had some crabs, and in the bundle short wax candles. He sat down in the churchyard, took out a crab and stuck a wax candle on its back. Then he lit the little light and put the crab on the ground and let it creep about. He took a second out of the sack and treated it the same way, and so on until the last one was out of the sack.
After this he put on a long black garment that looked like a monk's habit, and stuck a grey beard on his chin. When at last he was quite unrecognisable, he took the sack the crabs had been in, went into the church and climbed up into the pulpit.
The clock in the tower was just striking twelve; and when the last stroke had sounded, he cried out in a loud, piercing voice, "Hearken, sinful men! The end of all things has come! The last day is at hand! Hearken! Hearken! Whoever wants to go to heaven with me must creep into this sack. I am Peter, who opens and shuts the gate of heaven. Behold how the dead out there in the churchyard are wandering about gathering up their bones. Come, come, and creep into the sack; the world is about to be destroyed!"
The cry echoed through the whole village. The parson and the clerk, who lived nearest the church, heard it first; and when they saw the lights moving about the churchyard, they realised that something unusual was going on, and went into the church.
They listened to the sermon for a while, and then the clerk nudged the parson and said, "It wouldn't be amiss if we used this opportunity together, and found an easy way of getting to heaven before the last day dawns."
"To tell the truth," answered the parson, "that's what I've been thinking myself. So if you're willing, we'll set out on our way."
"Yes," answered the clerk, "but you, as pastor, have precedence. I'll follow."
So the parson went first and climbed up into the pulpit, where the master opened his sack. The parson crept in first and then the clerk.
The master immediately tied the sack up tightly, seized it by the middle and dragged it down the pulpit steps; and whenever the heads of the two fools bumped against the steps he cried, "We're going over the mountains."
Then he drew them through the village the same way; and when they were passing through puddles he cried, "Now we're going through the wet clouds." And when at last he was dragging them up the castle steps, he cried, "Now we're on the steps of heaven, and we'll soon be in the outer court."
When he had got to the top he pushed the sack into the dovecote; and when the pigeons fluttered about he said, "Hear how glad the angels are, and how they're flapping their wings." Then he bolted the door on them and went away.
Next morning he went to the count and told him that he had performed the third task as well, and had carried the parson and the clerk out of the church.
"Where have you left them?" asked the lord.
"They're lying upstairs in a sack in the dovecote, and imagine they're in heaven."
The count went up himself and satisfied himself that the master had told the truth. When he had delivered the parson and the clerk from their captivity, he said, "You're an arch-thief and you've won your wager. For once you escape with a whole skin; but see that you leave my land, for if you ever set foot on it again you may count on your elevation to the gallows."
The arch-thief took leave of his parents, went out once more into the wide world, and nobody has ever heard of him since.
A young drummer went out quite alone into the country one evening, and came to a lake, on the shore of which he saw three pieces of white linen lying. "What fine linen," said he, and put one piece in his pocket.
He went home, thought no more about what he had found, and went to bed. But just as he was falling asleep, it seemed to him that somebody was saying his name. He listened, and made out a soft voice calling to him, "Drummer, drummer, wake up!"
As it was a dark night he could see nobody; but it seemed to him that a figure was hovering about his bed.
"What do you want?" he asked.
"Give me back my dress," answered the voice, "that you took away from me last evening by the lake."
"You shall have it back," said the drummer, "if you'll tell me who you are."
"Ah," replied the voice, "I'm the daughter of a mighty King; but I've fallen into a witch's power and am shut up on the glass mountain. Every day I have to bathe in the lake with my two sisters; but I can't fly back again without my dress. My sisters have gone away, but I've been left behind. I beg you to give me my dress back."
"Be easy, poor child," said the drummer. "I'll gladly give it back to you." He took it out of his pocket and held it out to her in the dark. She snatched it in haste and wanted to go off with it.
"Stop a moment — perhaps I can help you."
"You can only help me by climbing the glass mountain and freeing me from the witch's power. But you can't get to the glass mountain; and indeed, if you were right beside it, you couldn't climb it."
"When I want to do a thing, I always can do it," said the drummer. "I'm sorry for you, and I'm not afraid of anything. But I don't know the road that leads to the glass mountain."
"The road goes through the great forest where the man-eaters live," she answered; "and more than that I dare not tell you."
And then he heard her wings quiver as she flew away.
At daybreak the drummer got up, buckled on his drum, and went fearlessly straight into the forest. After he had walked a while without seeing any giants, he thought to himself, "I must wake the sluggards up" — and hung his drum in front of him and beat such a reveille that the birds flew out of the trees with loud cries.
It was not long before a giant who had been lying asleep among the grass got up, and he was as tall as a fir tree.
"Wretch," cried he, "what are you drumming here for, and waking me out of my best sleep?"
"I'm drumming," he replied, "because I want to show the way to the many thousands who are following me."
"What do they want in my forest?" demanded the giant.
"They want to make an end of you, and clear the forest of a monster like you."
"Oho," said the giant, "I'll trample the lot of you to death like so many ants."
"Do you think you can do anything against us?" said the drummer. "If you stoop to take hold of one, he'll jump away and hide himself; but when you're lying down asleep, they'll come out of every thicket and creep up on you. Every one of them has a steel hammer in his belt, and with those they'll beat your skull in."
The giant grew angry, and thought, "If I meddle with this crafty crew it might turn out badly for me. I can strangle wolves and bears, but I can't protect myself from these earthworms."
"Listen, little fellow," said he, "go back again, and I'll promise you that in future I'll leave you and your comrades in peace; and if there's anything else you want, tell me, for I'm quite willing to do something to please you."
"You have long legs," said the drummer, "and can run faster than I can. Carry me to the glass mountain, and I'll give my followers the signal to go back, and they'll leave you in peace this time."
"Come here, worm," said the giant. "Sit yourself on my shoulder and I'll carry you where you want to be."
The giant lifted him up, and the drummer began to beat his drum up there to his heart's delight. The giant thought, "That's the signal for the others to turn back."
After a while a second giant was standing in the road, who took the drummer from the first and stuck him in his buttonhole. The drummer took hold of the button, which was as large as a dish, and held on by it and looked merrily about him.
Then they came to a third giant, who took him out of the buttonhole and set him on the brim of his hat. Then the drummer walked backwards and forwards up there and looked out over the trees; and when he saw a mountain in the blue distance he thought, "That must be the glass mountain" — and so it was.
The giant only took two steps more, and they reached the foot of the mountain, where the giant put him down. The drummer demanded to be put on the summit of the glass mountain; but the giant shook his head, growled something into his beard, and went back into the forest.
And now the poor drummer was standing in front of the mountain, which was as high as if three mountains had been piled one on another, and at the same time as smooth as a looking glass; and he did not know how to get up it. He began to climb, but it was useless, for he always slipped back down again. "If a man were a bird now," thought he; but what was the use of wishing? No wings grew for him.
While he was standing there, not knowing what to do, he saw two men not far off who were struggling fiercely together. He went over to them and saw that they were arguing about a saddle that lay on the ground in front of them, which both of them wanted.
"What fools you are," said he, "to quarrel about a saddle when you have no horse for it."
"The saddle is worth fighting about," answered one of the men. "Whoever sits on it and wishes himself in any place, even if it's the very end of the earth, gets there the instant he's spoken the wish. The saddle belongs to both of us. It's my turn to ride on it, but this other man won't let me."
"I'll soon settle the quarrel," said the drummer; and he went a short distance off and stuck a white rod in the ground. Then he came back and said, "Now run to the goal, and whoever gets there first shall ride first."
Both of them set off at a trot; but hardly had they gone a couple of steps before the drummer swung himself onto the saddle, wished himself on the glass mountain — and before anybody could turn round, he was there.
On top of the mountain was a plain; and on it stood an old stone house, with a great fishpond in front of it and a dark forest behind. He saw neither people nor animals; everything was quiet, and only the wind rustled among the trees, and the clouds moved past quite close above his head.
He went to the door and knocked. When he had knocked for the third time, an old woman with a brown face and red eyes opened the door. She had spectacles on her long nose and looked at him sharply, and then asked what he wanted.
"To come in, and food, and a bed for the night," replied the drummer.
"That you shall have," said the old woman, "if you'll perform three services in return."
"Why not?" he answered. "I'm not afraid of any kind of work, however hard it may be."
The old woman let him in and gave him some food and a good bed for the night.
Next morning, when he had had his sleep out, she took a thimble off her wrinkled finger and held it out to the drummer and said, "Get to work now, and empty out that pond with this thimble. But you must have it done before night; and you must have sorted out all the fish in the water and laid them side by side according to their kind and size."
"That's strange work," said the drummer; but he went to the pond and began to empty it. He baled all morning; but what can anybody do to a great lake with a thimble, even if he baled for a thousand years?
At noon he thought, "It's all useless; whether I work or not, it will come to the same thing." So he gave up and sat down.
Then a girl came out of the house who set a little basket of food in front of him and said, "What ails you, that you sit here so sadly?"
He looked at her and saw that she was wonderfully beautiful. "Ah," said he, "I can't finish the first piece of work; how will it be with the others? I came out to look for a King's daughter who is said to live here, but I haven't found her, and I'll go on further."
"Stay here," said the girl. "I'll help you out of your difficulty. You're tired; lay your head in my lap and sleep. When you wake again, your work will be done."
The drummer did not need to be told that twice. As soon as his eyes were shut she turned a wishing ring and said, "Rise, water. Fishes, come out."
Instantly the water rose up on high like a white mist and moved away with the other clouds, and the fish sprang out onto the shore and laid themselves side by side, each according to his size and kind.
When the drummer woke he saw with amazement that it was all done. But the girl said, "One of the fish isn't lying with its own kind, but quite alone. When the old woman comes tonight and sees that everything she demanded has been done, she'll ask you, 'What is this fish lying alone for?' Then throw the fish in her face and say, 'This one is for you, old witch.'"
In the evening the witch came; and when she had asked this question, he threw the fish in her face. She behaved as though she had not noticed it and said nothing, but looked at him with malicious eyes.
Next morning she said, "Yesterday was too easy for you; I must give you harder work. Today you must chop down the whole of the forest, split the wood into logs and pile them up; and everything must be finished by the evening."
She gave him an axe, a mallet and two wedges. But the axe was made of lead, and the mallet and the wedges of tin. When he began to cut, the edge of the axe turned back, and the mallet and wedges were beaten out of shape. He did not know how to manage; but at midday the girl came once more with his dinner and comforted him.
"Lay your head in my lap," said she, "and sleep; when you wake, your work will be done."
She turned her wishing ring, and in an instant the whole forest fell down with a crash, the wood split, and it arranged itself in heaps; and it seemed just as if unseen giants were doing the work.
When he woke, the girl said, "You see that the wood is piled up and arranged; only one bough is left. But when the old woman comes this evening and asks you about that bough, hit her with it and say, 'That's for you, witch.'"
The old woman came. "There, you see how easy the work was," said she. "But who have you left that bough lying there for?"
"For you, witch," he replied, and hit her with it. But she pretended not to feel it, and laughed scornfully and said, "Early tomorrow morning you shall arrange all the wood in one heap, set fire to it and burn it."
He got up at daybreak and began to gather the wood; but how can one man get a whole forest together? The work made no progress.
The girl, though, did not desert him in his need. She brought him his food at noon; and when he had eaten he laid his head in her lap and went to sleep. When he woke, the whole pile of wood was burning in one enormous flame that stretched its tongues out into the sky.
"Listen to me," said the girl. "When the witch comes, she'll give you all kinds of orders. Do whatever she asks without fear, and then she won't be able to get the better of you; but if you're afraid, the fire will take hold of you and consume you. And at the end, when you've done everything, seize her with both hands and throw her into the middle of the fire."
The girl went away, and the old woman came sneaking up to him. "Oh, I'm cold," said she, "but that's a fire that burns; it warms my old bones for me and does me good. But there's a log lying there that won't burn — bring it out for me. When you've done that you're free and can go where you like. Come — go in with a good will."
The drummer did not stop to think; he sprang into the middle of the flames, but they did not hurt him and could not even singe a hair of his head. He carried the log out and laid it down.
But hardly had the wood touched the earth before it was transformed, and the beautiful girl who had helped him in his need stood before him; and by the shining silk and gold clothes she wore, he knew very well that she was the King's daughter.
But the old woman laughed venomously and said, "You think you have her safe, but you haven't got her yet."
And just as she was about to fall on the girl and take her away, the young man seized the old woman with both hands and lifted her up high and threw her into the jaws of the fire, which closed over her as if it were delighted to have an old witch to burn.
Then the King's daughter looked at the drummer; and when she saw that he was a handsome young man, and remembered how he had risked his life to deliver her, she gave him her hand and said, "You've ventured everything for my sake; and I too will do everything for yours. Promise to be true to me, and you shall be my husband. We shan't want for riches; we'll have enough with what the witch has gathered together here."
She led him into the house, where there were chests and coffers crammed with the old woman's treasures. The girl left the gold and silver where it was and took only the precious stones.
She would not stay any longer on the glass mountain, so the drummer said to her, "Sit beside me on my saddle, and then we'll fly down like birds."
"I don't like the old saddle," said she. "I need only turn my wishing ring and we shall be at home."
"Very well, then," answered the drummer. "Then wish us in front of the town gate."
In the twinkling of an eye they were there; but the drummer said, "I'll just go to my parents and tell them the news. Wait for me out here; I'll soon be back."
"Ah," said the King's daughter, "I beg you to be careful. When you arrive, don't kiss your parents on the right cheek, or you'll forget everything, and I shall be left out here alone and deserted."
"How could I forget you?" said he — and promised to come back very soon, and gave her his hand on it.
When he went into his father's house he had changed so much that nobody knew who he was; for the three days he had spent on the glass mountain had been three years. Then he made himself known, and his parents fell on his neck with joy; and his heart was so moved that he forgot what the girl had said, and kissed them on both cheeks. And when he had given them the kiss on the right cheek, every thought of the King's daughter vanished from him.
He emptied out his pockets and laid handfuls of the largest jewels on the table. His parents had not the least idea what to do with such riches. Then his father built a magnificent castle, all surrounded by gardens and woods and meadows, as if a prince were going to live in it. And when it was ready his mother said, "I've found a girl for you, and the wedding shall be in three days." And her son was content to do as his parents wished.
The poor King's daughter had stood a long while outside the town waiting for the young man to come back. When evening came she said, "He must have kissed his parents on the right cheek, and has forgotten me."
Her heart was full of sorrow. She wished herself into a lonely little hut in a forest, and would not go back to her father's court. Every evening she went into the town and passed the young man's house; he often saw her, but he no longer knew her.
At length she heard people saying, "The wedding will be tomorrow." Then she said, "I'll try whether I can win his heart back."
On the first day of the wedding celebrations she turned her wishing ring and said, "A dress as bright as the sun." Instantly the dress lay in front of her, and it was as bright as if it had been woven out of real sunbeams.
When all the guests had gathered, she came into the hall. Everybody was amazed at the beautiful dress, and the bride most of all; and as pretty dresses were what she took most delight in, she went to the stranger and asked whether she would sell it to her.
"Not for money," she answered. "But if I may spend the first night outside the door of the room where your betrothed sleeps, I'll give it up to you."
The bride could not overcome her desire, and consented; but she mixed a sleeping draught with the wine her betrothed drank that night, which made him fall into a deep sleep.
When everything had grown quiet, the King's daughter crouched down by the bedroom door, opened it just a little, and called:
"Drummer, drummer, I pray you hear! Have you forgotten you held me dear? That on the glass mountain we sat hour by hour? That I rescued your life from the witch's power? Did you not plight your troth to me? Drummer, drummer, hearken to me!"
But it was all in vain; the drummer did not wake; and when morning dawned the King's daughter had to go back again as she had come.
On the second evening she turned her wishing ring and said, "A dress as silvery as the moon." When she appeared at the feast in the dress, which was as soft as moonbeams, it roused the bride's desire again; and the King's daughter gave it to her for permission to spend the second night outside the bedroom door too.
Then in the stillness of the night she called:
"Drummer, drummer, I pray you hear! Have you forgotten you held me dear? That on the glass mountain we sat hour by hour? That I rescued your life from the witch's power? Did you not plight your troth to me? Drummer, drummer, hearken to me!"
But the drummer, stupefied by the sleeping draught, could not be roused. Sadly, next morning, she went back to her hut in the forest.
But the people in the house had heard the stranger girl's lament and told the bridegroom about it. They told him too that it was impossible for him to have heard any of it, because the girl he was going to marry had poured a sleeping draught into his wine.
On the third evening the King's daughter turned her wishing ring and said, "A dress glittering like the stars." When she showed herself in it at the feast, the bride was quite beside herself at the splendour of the dress, which far surpassed the others, and said, "I must and will have it."
The girl gave it as she had given the others — for permission to spend the night outside the bridegroom's door.
The bridegroom, though, did not drink the wine that was handed to him before he went to bed, but poured it out behind the bed. And when everything was quiet he heard a sweet voice calling to him:
"Drummer, drummer, I pray you hear! Have you forgotten you held me dear? That on the glass mountain we sat hour by hour? That I rescued your life from the witch's power? Did you not plight your troth to me? Drummer, drummer, hearken to me!"
Suddenly his memory came back to him. "Ah," cried he, "how could I have acted so unfaithfully? But the kiss I gave my parents on the right cheek in the joy of my heart — that's to blame for it all; that's what stupefied me."
He sprang up and took the King's daughter by the hand and led her to his parents' bed. "This is my true bride," said he. "If I marry the other, I'll be doing a great wrong."
His parents, when they heard how it had all happened, gave their consent. Then the lights in the hall were lit again, drums and trumpets were brought, friends and relations were invited to come, and the real wedding was celebrated with great rejoicing. The first bride was given the beautiful dresses as compensation, and declared herself satisfied.
In former times, when God himself still walked the earth, the soil was much more fruitful than it is now; then the ears of corn bore not fifty or sixty grains but four or five hundred. In those days the corn grew from the bottom to the very top of the stalk, and the ear was as long as the stalk was.
But men are so made that when they are too well off they no longer value the blessings that come from God, but grow indifferent and careless.
One day a woman was passing a cornfield when her little child, who was running beside her, fell into a puddle and dirtied her frock. At this the mother tore up a handful of the beautiful ears of corn and cleaned the frock with them.
When the Lord, who came by just then, saw it, he was angry, and said, "From now on the stalks of corn shall bear no more ears. Men are no longer worthy of heavenly gifts."
The bystanders who heard this were terrified, and fell on their knees and prayed that he would still leave something on the stalks, even if the people did not deserve it — for the sake of the innocent birds, which would otherwise have to starve.
The Lord, who foresaw their suffering, had pity on them and granted the request. And so the ears were left as they grow now.
A rich farmer was standing in his yard one day, looking over his fields and gardens. The corn was growing up vigorously and the fruit trees were heavily laden. Last year's grain still lay in such immense heaps on the floors that the rafters could hardly bear it. Then he went into the stable, where there were well-fed oxen and fat cows and horses shining like looking glass. And at length he went back into his sitting room and cast a glance at the iron chest his money lay in.
While he was standing there surveying his riches, all at once there came a loud knock close by him. The knock was not at the door of his room but at the door of his heart. It opened, and he heard a voice that said to him, "Have you done good to your family with it? Have you thought about the needs of the poor? Have you shared your bread with the hungry? Have you been contented with what you have, or have you always wanted more?"
His heart was not slow in answering. "I have been hard and pitiless, and have never shown any kindness even to my own family. If a beggar came, I turned my eyes away from him. I haven't troubled myself about God, but have thought only of increasing my wealth. If everything the sky covers had been mine, I still shouldn't have had enough."
When he heard this answer he was greatly alarmed; his knees began to tremble and he had to sit down.
Then there was another knock — but this knock was at the door of his room. It was his neighbour, a poor man with a number of children whom he could no longer feed enough.
"I know," the poor man had thought, "that my neighbour is rich; but he's as hard as he is rich. I don't believe he'll help me — but my children are crying for bread, so I'll risk it."
He said to the rich man, "You don't readily give away anything of yours; but I stand here like a man who feels the water rising over his head. My children are starving. Lend me four measures of corn."
The rich man looked at him a long while; and then the first sunbeam of mercy began to melt away a drop of the ice of greed. "I won't lend you four measures," he answered, "but I'll make you a present of eight — only you must fulfil one condition."
"What am I to do?" said the poor man.
"When I'm dead, you shall keep watch for three nights by my grave."
The peasant was uneasy in his mind at this request; but in the need he was in he would have agreed to anything. So he accepted, and carried the corn home with him.
It seemed as if the rich man had foreseen what was going to happen; for when three days had gone by he suddenly dropped down dead. Nobody knew exactly how it came about, but nobody grieved for him.
When he was buried, the poor man remembered his promise. He would gladly have been released from it; but he thought, "After all, he acted kindly towards me. I've fed my hungry children with his corn; and even if that weren't so, where I've once given my promise I must keep it."
At nightfall he went into the churchyard and sat down on the grave mound. Everything was quiet; only the moon showed above the grave, and now and then an owl flew past and uttered her melancholy cry. When the sun rose, the poor man took himself safely home; and in the same way the second night passed quietly by.
On the evening of the third day he felt a strange uneasiness; it seemed to him that something was going to happen. When he went out he saw a man by the churchyard wall whom he had never seen before. He was no longer young, had scars on his face, and his eyes looked about him sharply and eagerly. He was covered all over with an old cloak, and nothing could be seen of him but his great riding boots.
"What are you looking for here?" the peasant asked. "Aren't you afraid of a lonely churchyard?"
"I'm looking for nothing," he answered, "and I'm afraid of nothing. I'm like the youngster who went out to learn how to shiver and got nothing for his labour — except that he got a King's daughter for a wife, and great wealth with her; only I've stayed poor. I'm nothing but a discharged soldier, and I mean to spend the night here, because I have no other shelter."
"If you're without fear," said the peasant, "stay with me and help me watch over that grave there."
"Keeping watch is a soldier's business," he replied. "Whatever we meet with here, whether it's good or bad, we'll share it between us."
The peasant agreed to that, and they sat down on the grave together.
All was quiet until midnight, when suddenly a shrill whistling was heard in the air, and the two watchers saw the Evil One standing bodily before them.
"Be off, you ragamuffins!" cried he to them. "The man lying in that grave belongs to me; I've come to take him, and if you don't go away I'll wring your necks."
"Sir with the red feather," said the soldier, "you're not my captain; I've no need to obey you, and I haven't yet learned how to be afraid. Go away — we shall stay sitting here."
The Devil thought to himself, "Money is the best thing to get hold of these two vagabonds with." So he began to play a softer tune, and asked quite kindly whether they would not accept a bag of money and go home with it.
"That's worth listening to," answered the soldier, "but one bag of gold won't do for us. If you'll give as much as will go into one of my boots, we'll quit the field for you and go away."
"I haven't as much as that on me," said the Devil, "but I'll fetch it. In the next town lives a money-changer who's a good friend of mine and will readily advance it to me."
When the Devil had vanished, the soldier took his left boot off and said, "We'll soon pull the charcoal-burner's nose for him. Just give me your knife, comrade." He cut the sole off the boot and set it in the long grass near the grave, on the edge of a half-overgrown hole. "That will do," said he. "Now the chimney-sweep may come."
They both sat down and waited; and it was not long before the Devil came back with a small bag of gold in his hand.
"Just pour it in," said the soldier, raising the boot up a little. "But that won't be enough."
The Black One shook out everything in the bag; the gold fell through, and the boot stayed empty.
"Stupid Devil," cried the soldier, "it won't do! Didn't I say so at once? Go back and bring more."
The Devil shook his head, went, and in an hour's time came back with a much larger bag under his arm.
"Now pour it in," cried the soldier, "but I doubt the boot will be full."
The gold clinked as it fell, but the boot stayed empty. The Devil looked into it himself with his burning eyes and satisfied himself that it was true.
"You have shamefully big calves to your legs," cried he, and pulled a sour face.
"Did you think," replied the soldier, "that I had a cloven hoof like yours? Since when have you got so stingy? See that you get more gold together, or our bargain comes to nothing."
The Wicked One went off again. This time he stayed away longer; and when at length he appeared he was panting under the weight of a sack on his shoulders. He emptied it into the boot, which was just as far from being full as before.
He grew furious and was just about to tear the boot out of the soldier's hands, when at that moment the first ray of the rising sun broke out from the sky, and the Evil Spirit fled away with loud shrieks. The poor soul was saved.
The peasant wanted to divide the gold; but the soldier said, "Give what falls to my share to the poor. I'll come with you to your cottage, and together we'll live in rest and peace on what's left, as long as God is pleased to allow it."
There was once a King who had a daughter; and he had a glass mountain made, and said that whoever could cross to the other side of it without falling should have his daughter for a wife.
Now there was a man who loved the King's daughter, and he asked the King whether he might have her.
"Yes," said the King. "If you can cross the mountain without falling, you shall have her."
And the princess said she would go over it with him and would hold him if he was about to fall. So they set out together to go over it; but when they were halfway up the princess slipped and fell, and the glass mountain opened and shut her up inside it, and her betrothed could not see where she had gone, for the mountain closed immediately.
Then he wept and lamented bitterly, and the King was miserable too, and had the mountain broken open where she had been lost, thinking he would be able to get her out again; but they could not find the place she had fallen into.
Meanwhile the King's daughter had fallen a long way down into the earth, into a great cave. An old fellow with a very long grey beard came to meet her, and told her that if she would be his servant and do everything he told her, she might live; and if not, he would kill her.
So she did everything he told her. In the mornings he took his ladder out of his pocket and set it up against the mountain and climbed to the top by it, and then he drew the ladder up after him. The princess had to cook his dinner and make his bed and do all his work; and when he came home again he always brought a heap of gold and silver with him.
When she had lived with him many years and had grown quite old, he called her Mother Mansrot, and she had to call him Old Rinkrank.
Then once, when he was out and she had made his bed and washed his dishes, she shut all the doors and windows fast — all but one little window that the light shone in at, which she left open.
When Old Rinkrank came home he knocked at his door and cried, "Mother Mansrot, open the door for me."
"No," said she, "Old Rinkrank, I won't open the door for you."
Then he said:
"Here stand I, poor Rinkrank, on my seventeen long shanks, on my weary, worn-out foot — wash my dishes, Mother Mansrot."
"I've washed your dishes already," said she.
Then again he said:
"Here stand I, poor Rinkrank, on my seventeen long shanks, on my weary, worn-out foot — make me my bed, Mother Mansrot."
"I've made your bed already," said she.
Then again he said:
"Here stand I, poor Rinkrank, on my seventeen long shanks, on my weary, worn-out foot — open the door, Mother Mansrot."
Then he ran all round his house and saw that the little window was open, and thought, "I'll look in and see what she can be up to, and why she won't open the door for me."
He tried to peep in, but could not get his head through because of his long beard. So he put his beard through the open window first; but just as he had got it through, Mother Mansrot came by and pulled the window down with a cord she had tied to it, and his beard was shut fast in it.
Then he began to cry most piteously, for it hurt him very much, and to beg her to let him go again. But she said not until he gave her the ladder he climbed the mountain with. Then, whether he wanted to or not, he had to tell her where the ladder was.
And she fastened a very long ribbon to the window, and then set up the ladder and climbed the mountain; and when she was at the top of it she opened the window.
She went to her father and told him everything that had happened to her. The King rejoiced greatly; and her betrothed was still there, and they went and dug up the mountain and found Old Rinkrank inside it with all his gold and silver. Then the King had Old Rinkrank put to death, and took all his gold and silver; and the princess married her betrothed, and lived right happily in great magnificence and joy.
There was once an enchantress who had three sons who loved each other like brothers; but the old woman did not trust them, and thought they wanted to steal her power from her.
So she changed the eldest into an eagle, which had to live in the rocky mountains, and was often seen sweeping in great circles in the sky. The second she changed into a whale, which lived in the deep sea, and all that was seen of it was that it sometimes spouted a great jet of water up into the air. Each of them wore his human shape only for two hours a day.
The third son, who was afraid she might change him into a raging wild beast — a bear, perhaps, or a wolf — went away secretly. He had heard that a King's daughter who was under a spell was imprisoned in the Castle of the Golden Sun, and was waiting for deliverance. But those who tried to free her risked their lives; three-and-twenty young men had already died a miserable death, and now only one more might make the attempt, after which no others must come.
And as his heart was without fear, he seized on the idea of seeking out the Castle of the Golden Sun. He had already travelled about a long time without being able to find it, when he came by chance into a great forest and did not know the way out of it.
All at once he saw two giants in the distance, who signalled to him with their hands; and when he came up to them they said, "We're quarrelling about a cap and which of us it's to belong to; and as we're equally strong, neither of us can get the better of the other. Small men are cleverer than we are, so we'll leave the decision to you."
"How can you argue about an old cap?" said the young man.
"You don't know what properties it has. It's a wishing cap; whoever puts it on can wish himself away wherever he likes, and in an instant he's there."
"Give me the cap," said the young man. "I'll go a short distance off, and when I call you, you must run a race, and the cap shall belong to whichever of you gets to me first."
He put it on and went away — and thought of the King's daughter, and forgot the giants, and walked on and on. At length he sighed from the very bottom of his heart and cried, "Ah, if only I were at the Castle of the Golden Sun!" And hardly had the words passed his lips before he was standing on a high mountain in front of the castle gate.
He went in and walked through all the rooms, until in the last one he found the King's daughter. But how shocked he was when he saw her! She had an ash-grey face full of wrinkles, dim eyes and red hair.
"Are you the King's daughter, whose beauty the whole world praises?" cried he.
"Ah," she answered, "this isn't my true shape. Human eyes can only see me in this state of ugliness; but so that you may know what I'm like, look in this mirror — it doesn't let itself be misled; it will show you my image as it truly is."
She put the mirror into his hand, and he saw in it the likeness of the most beautiful girl on earth — and saw too how the tears were rolling down her cheeks with grief.
Then he said, "How can you be set free? I fear no danger."
She said, "Whoever gets the crystal ball and holds it in front of the enchanter will destroy his power with it, and I shall get my true shape back again. Ah," she added, "so many have already gone to their deaths for this, and you are so young; it grieves me that you should meet with such great danger."
"Nothing can keep me from doing it," said he. "But tell me what I must do."
"You shall know everything," said the King's daughter. "When you go down the mountain the castle stands on, a wild bull will be standing below by a spring, and you must fight it. And if you have the luck to kill it, a fiery bird will spring out of it, which carries a burning egg in its body, and in the egg the crystal ball lies like a yolk. The bird won't let the egg fall, though, unless it's forced to; and if it falls to the ground it will flame up and burn everything near it, and melt even ice itself, and the crystal ball with it — and then all your trouble will have been for nothing."
The young man went down to the spring, where the bull snorted and bellowed at him. After a long struggle he plunged his sword into the animal's body, and it fell down.
Instantly a fiery bird rose out of it and was about to fly away; but the young man's brother, the eagle, who was passing between the clouds, swooped down and chased it away to the sea and struck it with his beak until, in its extremity, it let the egg fall.
The egg did not fall into the sea, though, but onto a fisherman's hut standing on the shore; and the hut at once began to smoke and was about to break out in flames. Then waves as high as a house rose in the sea and streamed over the hut and put out the fire. The other brother, the whale, had come swimming to them and had driven the water up on high.
When the fire was out, the young man looked for the egg and happily found it. It had not melted yet; but the shell was broken by being so suddenly cooled with the water, and he could take out the crystal ball unhurt.
When the young man went to the enchanter and held it in front of him, the enchanter said, "My power is destroyed, and from this time on you are King of the Castle of the Golden Sun. And with this you can give your brothers their human shapes back too."
Then the young man hurried to the King's daughter; and when he came into the room she was standing there in the full splendour of her beauty, and joyfully they exchanged rings with each other.
There was once a King who had a son who asked for the hand of the daughter of a mighty King. She was called Maid Maleen, and was very beautiful. But as her father wanted to give her to another, the prince was refused; and as the two of them loved each other with all their hearts, they would not give each other up, and Maid Maleen said to her father, "I can and will take no other man for my husband."
Then the King flew into a passion and ordered a dark tower to be built into which no ray of sunlight or moonlight could enter. When it was finished, he said, "In there you shall be shut up for seven years, and then I'll come and see whether your stubborn spirit is broken."
Food and drink for the seven years were carried into the tower, and then she and her waiting-woman were led into it and walled up, and so cut off from the sky and from the earth. There they sat in the darkness and did not know when day or night began. The King's son often went round and round the tower and called their names, but no sound from outside pierced the thick walls. What else could they do but lament and complain?
Meanwhile the time passed; and by the dwindling of the food and drink they knew that the seven years were coming to an end. They thought the moment of their deliverance had come; but no stroke of a hammer was heard, no stone fell out of the wall, and it seemed to Maid Maleen that her father had forgotten her.
As they had food for only a short while longer, and saw a miserable death waiting for them, Maid Maleen said, "We must try our last chance, and see whether we can break through the wall."
She took the bread knife and picked and bored at the mortar round a stone; and when she was tired the waiting-maid took her turn. With great labour they succeeded in getting out one stone, and then a second and a third; and when three days were over, the first ray of light fell into their darkness, and at last the opening was so large that they could look out.
The sky was blue and a fresh breeze played on their faces — but how melancholy everything looked all around! Her father's castle lay in ruins; the town and the villages were burned down, as far as they could see; the fields far and wide were laid waste, and there was not a human being in sight.
When the opening in the wall was large enough for them to slip through, the waiting-maid sprang down first, and then Maid Maleen followed. But where were they to go? The enemy had ravaged the whole kingdom, driven the King out and killed all the people.
They wandered off to look for another country; but nowhere did they find shelter, or a human being to give them a mouthful of bread, and their need was so great that they had to satisfy their hunger with nettles.
When at last, after long journeying, they came into another country, they tried to get work everywhere; but wherever they knocked they were turned away, and nobody would take pity on them. At last they reached a large city and went to the royal palace. There too they were told to go away; but at last the cook said they might stay in the kitchen and be scullions.
Now the son of the King in whose kingdom they were was the very man who had been betrothed to Maid Maleen. His father had chosen another bride for him, whose face was as ugly as her heart was wicked. The wedding was fixed and the bride had already arrived; but because of her great ugliness she shut herself in her room and let nobody see her, and Maid Maleen had to bring her her meals from the kitchen.
When the day came for the bride and the bridegroom to go to church, she was ashamed of her ugliness and afraid that if she showed herself in the streets the people would mock and laugh at her.
So she said to Maid Maleen, "A great piece of luck has come your way. I've sprained my foot and can't walk through the streets properly. You shall put on my wedding clothes and take my place — a greater honour than that you couldn't have."
Maid Maleen, though, refused, and said, "I want no honour that isn't suitable for me."
It was in vain, too, that the bride offered her gold. At last she said angrily, "If you don't obey me, it will cost you your life. I have only to say the word and your head will be lying at your feet."
Then she was forced to obey, and put on the bride's magnificent clothes and all her jewels.
When she came into the royal hall, everybody was amazed at her great beauty, and the King said to his son, "This is the bride I've chosen for you, and whom you must lead to church."
The bridegroom was astonished, and thought, "She's like my Maid Maleen, and I'd believe it was she herself — but she's been shut up in the tower a long while now, or is dead." He took her by the hand and led her to church.
On the way there was a nettle plant, and she said:
"Oh, nettle plant, little nettle plant, what are you doing here alone? I have known the time when I ate you unboiled, when I ate you unroasted."
"What are you saying?" asked the King's son.
"Nothing," she replied. "I was only thinking of Maid Maleen."
He was surprised that she knew about her, but said nothing.
When they came to the footbridge into the churchyard, she said:
"Footbridge, do not break — I am not the true bride."
"What are you saying there?" asked the King's son.
"Nothing," she replied. "I was only thinking of Maid Maleen."
"Do you know Maid Maleen?"
"No," she answered, "how should I know her? I've only heard of her."
When they came to the church door, she said once more:
"Church door, do not break — I am not the true bride."
"What are you saying there?" asked he.
"Ah," she answered, "I was only thinking of Maid Maleen."
Then he took out a precious chain and put it round her neck and fastened the clasp. And with that they went into the church, and the priest joined their hands together before the altar and married them.
He led her home; but she did not speak a single word the whole way. When they got back to the royal palace she hurried into the bride's room, took off the magnificent clothes and the jewels, dressed herself in her grey gown and kept nothing but the jewel at her neck that she had been given by the bridegroom.
When night came and the bride was to be led into the prince's room, she let her veil fall over her face so that he should not notice the deception. As soon as everybody had gone away, he said to her, "What did you say to the nettle plant growing by the wayside?"
"Which nettle plant?" said she. "I don't talk to nettle plants."
"If you didn't do it, then you're not the true bride," said he.
So she thought a moment, and said:
"I must go out unto my maid, who keeps my thoughts for me."
She went out and looked for Maid Maleen. "Girl, what did you say to the nettle?"
"I said nothing but this:
Oh, nettle plant, little nettle plant, what are you doing here alone? I have known the time when I ate you unboiled, when I ate you unroasted."
The bride ran back into the room and said, "I know now what I said to the nettle" — and repeated the words she had just heard.
"But what did you say to the footbridge when we went over it?" asked the King's son.
"To the footbridge?" she answered. "I don't talk to footbridges."
"Then you're not the true bride."
She said again:
"I must go out unto my maid, who keeps my thoughts for me" —
and ran out and found Maid Maleen. "Girl, what did you say to the footbridge?"
"I said nothing but this:
Footbridge, do not break — I am not the true bride."
"That costs you your life!" cried the bride — but she hurried into the room and said, "I know now what I said to the footbridge" — and repeated the words.
"But what did you say to the church door?"
"To the church door?" she replied. "I don't talk to church doors."
"Then you're not the true bride."
She went out and found Maid Maleen and said, "Girl, what did you say to the church door?"
"I said nothing but this:
Church door, do not break — I am not the true bride."
"That will break your neck for you!" cried the bride, and flew into a terrible passion; but she hurried back into the room and said, "I know now what I said to the church door" — and repeated the words.
"But where is the jewel I gave you at the church door?"
"What jewel?" she answered. "You didn't give me any jewel."
"I put it round your neck myself, and I fastened it myself. If you don't know that, you're not the true bride."
He drew the veil away from her face; and when he saw her immeasurable ugliness he sprang back in terror and said, "How did you come here? Who are you?"
"I'm your betrothed bride; but because I was afraid the people would mock me if they saw me out of doors, I ordered the scullery maid to dress herself in my clothes and go to church instead of me."
"Where is the girl?" said he. "I want to see her. Go and bring her here."
She went out and told the servants that the scullery maid was an impostor, and that they must take her out into the courtyard and strike off her head. The servants seized Maid Maleen and were going to drag her out; but she screamed so loudly for help that the King's son heard her voice and hurried out of his room and ordered them to set the girl free at once.
Lights were brought, and then he saw at her neck the gold chain he had given her at the church door. "You are the true bride," said he, "who went with me to the church. Come with me now to my room."
When they were alone together he said, "On the way to church you named Maid Maleen, who was my betrothed bride. If I could believe it possible, I'd think she was standing in front of me — you're like her in every way."
She answered, "I am Maid Maleen, who for your sake was shut up seven years in the darkness, who suffered hunger and thirst and has lived so long in want and poverty. But today the sun is shining on me once more. I was married to you in the church, and I am your lawful wife."
Then they kissed each other and were happy all the days of their lives. And the false bride was rewarded for what she had done by having her head cut off.
The tower Maid Maleen had been imprisoned in stood for a long time afterwards; and when the children went past it they sang:
"Kling, klang, gloria, who sits within this tower? A King's daughter, she sits within; a sight of her I cannot win. The wall it will not break, the stone cannot be pierced. Little Hans, with your coat so gay, follow me, follow me, fast as you may."
A soldier who is afraid of nothing troubles himself about nothing. One of this kind had been given his discharge; and as he had learned no trade and could earn nothing, he travelled about and begged alms from kind people. He had an old waterproof on his back, and a pair of riding boots of buffalo leather that were still left to him.
One day he was walking he did not know where, straight out into open country, and at length came to a forest. He did not know where he was, but saw a man sitting on the trunk of a felled tree who was well dressed and wore a green shooting coat. The soldier shook hands with him, sat down on the grass beside him and stretched out his legs.
"I see you've got good boots on, and well polished," said he to the huntsman; "but if you had to travel about the way I do, they wouldn't last long. Look at mine — they're buffalo leather, and they've been worn a long time, but in them I can go through thick and thin."
After a while the soldier got up and said, "I can't stay any longer; hunger drives me on. But, Brother Bright-Boots, where does this road lead to?"
"I don't know that myself," answered the huntsman. "I've lost my way in the forest."
"Then you're in the same plight as I am," said the soldier. "Birds of a feather flock together; let's stay together and look for our way."
The huntsman smiled a little, and they walked on further and further, until night fell.
"We're not getting out of this forest," said the soldier, "but over there in the distance I can see a light shining, which will help us to something to eat."
They found a stone house and knocked at the door, and an old woman opened it.
"We're looking for lodging for the night," said the soldier, "and some lining for our stomachs, for mine is as empty as an old knapsack."
"You can't stay here," answered the old woman. "This is a robbers' house, and you'd do wisely to get away before they come home, or you're lost."
"It won't be as bad as that," answered the soldier. "I haven't had a mouthful for two days, and whether I'm murdered here or die of hunger in the forest is all the same to me. I'm going in."
The huntsman would not follow, but the soldier drew him in with him by the sleeve. "Come, my dear brother, we shan't come to our end as quickly as that."
The old woman took pity on them and said, "Creep in here behind the stove, and if they leave anything I'll give it to you on the sly when they're asleep."
Hardly were they in the corner before twelve robbers came bursting in, sat down at the table, which was already laid, and vehemently demanded food. The old woman brought in some great dishes of roast meat, and the robbers thoroughly enjoyed it.
When the smell of the food reached the soldier's nostrils he said to the huntsman, "I can't hold out any longer. I'm going to sit down at the table and eat with them."
"You'll bring us to destruction," said the huntsman, and held him back by the arm. But the soldier began to cough loudly.
When the robbers heard that, they threw down their knives and forks and leapt up and found the two of them behind the stove.
"Aha, gentlemen, so you're in the corner?" cried they. "What are you doing here? Have you been sent as spies? Wait a while, and you'll learn how to fly on a dry bough."
"But do be civil," said the soldier. "I'm hungry. Give me something to eat, and then you can do what you like with me."
The robbers were astonished, and the captain said, "I see you have no fear. Well, you shall have some food; but after that you must die."
"We'll see," said the soldier — and sat down at the table and began to cut away valiantly at the roast meat. "Brother Bright-Boots, come and eat," he called to the huntsman. "You must be as hungry as I am, and you can't have better roast meat at home." But the huntsman would not eat.
The robbers looked at the soldier in astonishment and said, "The rascal stands on no ceremony."
After a while he said, "I've had enough food; now get me something good to drink."
The captain was in the mood to humour him in this too, and called to the old woman, "Bring a bottle out of the cellar, and mind it's the best."
The soldier drew the cork out with a loud pop, and then went with the bottle to the huntsman and said, "Pay attention, brother, and you'll see something that will surprise you. I'm going to drink the health of the whole clan."
Then he brandished the bottle over the robbers' heads and cried, "Long life to you all — but with your mouths open and your right hands lifted up." And then he drank a hearty draught.
Hardly were the words said before they all sat motionless as if they had been made of stone, with their mouths open and their right hands stretched up in the air.
The huntsman said to the soldier, "I see you know tricks of another kind. But come now, let's go home."
"Oho, my dear brother, that would be marching away far too soon. We've beaten the enemy, and we must take the booty first. Those men are sitting fast and opening their mouths in astonishment, but they won't be allowed to move until I let them. Come, eat and drink."
The old woman had to bring another bottle of the best wine, and the soldier would not stir until he had eaten enough to last three days.
At last, when day came, he said, "Now it's time to strike our tents; and so that our march may be a short one, the old woman shall show us the nearest way to the town."
When they had got there, he went to his old comrades and said, "Out in the forest I've found a nest full of gallows birds; come with me and we'll take it." The soldier led them; and he said to the huntsman, "You must come back with me too, to see how they shake when we seize them by the feet."
He placed the men round the robbers, and then took the bottle and drank a mouthful and brandished it over them and cried, "Live again!" Instantly they all got the power of movement back — but were thrown down and bound hand and foot with cords.
Then the soldier ordered them to be thrown into a cart as if they had been so many sacks, and said, "Now drive them straight to prison."
The huntsman, though, took one of the men aside and gave him another errand besides.
"Brother Bright-Boots," said the soldier, "we've safely routed the enemy and been well fed; now we'll walk quietly along behind them, like stragglers."
When they got near the town, the soldier saw a crowd of people pouring out through the town gate, raising loud cries of joy and waving green boughs in the air. Then he saw that the whole bodyguard was coming up.
"What can this mean?" said he to the huntsman.
"Don't you know," he replied, "that the King has been absent from his kingdom a long time, and that today he's coming back, and everybody is going out to meet him?"
"But where's the King?" said the soldier. "I don't see him."
"Here he is," answered the huntsman. "I am the King, and I sent word of my arrival." Then he opened his hunting coat and his royal clothes could be seen.
The soldier was alarmed and fell on his knees and begged him to forgive him for having, in his ignorance, treated him as an equal and spoken to him by such a name.
But the King shook hands with him and said, "You're a brave soldier and you've saved my life. You shall never be in want again; I'll take care of you. And if you ever want to eat a piece of roast meat as good as the one in the robbers' house, come to the royal kitchen. But if you want to drink a health, you must ask my permission first."
In the winter, when deep snow lay on the ground, a poor boy had to go out on a sledge to fetch wood. When he had gathered it together and packed it, he was so frozen with cold that he did not want to go home at once, but to light a fire and warm himself a little.
So he scraped the snow away; and as he was clearing the ground like this, he found a tiny golden key. Then he thought that where the key was, the lock must be too; and he dug in the ground and found an iron chest.
"If only the key fits it!" thought he. "No doubt there are precious things in that little box."
He looked, but there was no keyhole. At last he found one, but so small that it was hardly visible. He tried the key, and it fitted exactly. Then he turned it once round — and now we must wait until he has quite unlocked it and opened the lid, and then we shall learn what wonderful things were lying in that box.
There was once a mother who had three daughters. The eldest was rude and wicked, the second much better, though she had her faults; but the youngest was a pious, good child. Their mother, though, was so strange that it was the eldest daughter she loved most, and she could not bear the youngest.
For this reason she often sent the poor girl out into the great forest, to be rid of her, thinking she would lose herself and never come back. But the guardian angel that every good child has did not desert her, and always brought her back onto the right path again.
Once, though, the guardian angel behaved as if he were not there, and the child could not find her way out of the forest again. She walked on and on until evening came, and then she saw a tiny light burning in the distance. She ran up to it at once and came to a little hut.
She knocked; the door opened, and she came to a second door and knocked again. An old man with a snow-white beard, who looked venerable, opened it for her — and he was none other than St. Joseph.
He said quite kindly, "Come in, dear child, and sit yourself on my little chair by the fire and warm yourself. I'll fetch you clear water if you're thirsty; but here in the forest I have nothing for you to eat but a couple of little roots, which you must scrape and boil first."
St. Joseph gave her the roots. The girl scraped them clean, and then brought out a piece of pancake and the bread her mother had given her to take with her, and mixed it all together in a pan and cooked herself a thick soup.
When it was ready, St. Joseph said, "I'm so hungry; give me some of your food."
The child was quite willing, and gave him more than she kept for herself; but God's blessing was with her, so that she had enough.
When they had eaten, St. Joseph said, "Now we'll go to bed. I have only one bed, though; lie down in it. I'll lie on the ground, on the straw."
"No," answered she, "stay in your own bed; the straw is soft enough for me."
But St. Joseph took the child in his arms and carried her to the little bed; and there she said her prayers and fell asleep.
Next morning when she woke she wanted to say good morning to St. Joseph, but she did not see him. So she got up and looked for him, but could not find him anywhere. And at last she noticed behind the door a bag of money, so heavy that she could only just carry it; and on it was written that it was for the child who had slept there that night.
So she took the bag and bounded away with it and got safely home to her mother; and as she gave her mother all the money, her mother could not help being satisfied with her.
The next day the second child took a fancy to go into the forest too. Her mother gave her a much larger piece of pancake and bread. It went with her just as it had with the first child. In the evening she came to St. Joseph's little hut, and he gave her roots for a thick soup.
When it was ready he said to her too, "I'm so hungry; give me some of your food."
Then the child said, "You may have your share."
Afterwards, when St. Joseph offered her his bed and wanted to lie on the straw, she replied, "No, lie down in the bed; there's plenty of room for both of us." St. Joseph took her in his arms and put her in the bed, and laid himself down on the straw.
In the morning, when the child woke and looked for St. Joseph, he had vanished; but behind the door she found a little sack of money about as long as a hand, and on it was written that it was for the child who had slept there the night before. So she took the little bag and ran home with it and took it to her mother — but she secretly kept two pieces for herself.
By this time the eldest daughter had grown curious, and the next morning she insisted on going out into the forest too. Her mother gave her pancakes to take — as many as she wanted — and bread and cheese as well.
In the evening she found St. Joseph in his little hut, just as the other two had. When the soup was ready and St. Joseph said, "I'm so hungry; give me some of your food," the girl answered, "Wait until I've had enough; then if there's anything left you shall have it."
She ate nearly all of it, though, and St. Joseph had to scrape the dish.
Afterwards the good old man offered her his bed and wanted to lie on the straw. She took it without any objection, lay down in the little bed, and left the hard straw to the white-haired man.
Next morning when she woke, St. Joseph was nowhere to be found; but she did not trouble herself about that. She looked behind the door for a money bag. She thought something was lying on the ground; but as she could not quite make out what it was, she stooped down and examined it closely — and it stayed hanging to her nose; and when she straightened up she saw to her horror that it was a second nose, hanging fast to her own.
Then she began to scream and howl; but that did no good. She had to see it always in front of her, for it stuck out so far. So she ran out and screamed without stopping, until she met St. Joseph; and she fell at his feet and begged until, out of pity, he took the nose off her again, and even gave her two farthings.
When she got home her mother was standing in front of the door, and asked, "What were you given?"
Then she lied and said, "A great bag of money — but I lost it on the way."
"Lost it!" cried her mother. "Oh, but we'll soon find it again" — and took her by the hand and wanted to go and look for it with her.
At first she began to cry and did not want to go; but at last she went. On the way, though, so many lizards and snakes came at the two of them that they did not know how to save themselves. At last they stung the wicked child to death; and they stung the mother in the foot, because she had not brought her up better.
Three hundred years before the birth of the Lord Christ, there lived a mother who had twelve sons, but was so poor and needy that she no longer knew how she was to keep them alive at all. She prayed to God daily that he would grant that all her sons might be on the earth together with the Redeemer who was promised.
When her need grew still greater, she sent them out one after another into the world to look for bread for her.
The eldest was called Peter; and he went out and had already walked a long way, a whole day's journey, when he came into a great forest. He looked for a way out but could find none, and went further and further astray; and at the same time he felt such great hunger that he could hardly stand. At length he grew so weak that he had to lie down, and he believed death was at hand.
Suddenly there stood beside him a small boy who shone with brightness, and was as beautiful and kind as an angel. The child clapped his little hands together until Peter had to look up and saw him.
Then the child said, "Why are you sitting there in such trouble?"
"Alas," answered Peter, "I'm going about the world looking for bread, so that I may yet see the dear Saviour who is promised. That's my greatest desire."
The child said, "Come with me, and your wish shall be fulfilled."
He took poor Peter by the hand and led him between some cliffs to a great cavern. When they went in, everything was shining with gold and silver and crystal; and in the middle of it twelve cradles were standing side by side.
Then the little angel said, "Lie down in the first and sleep a while; I'll rock you."
Peter did so, and the angel sang to him and rocked him until he was asleep. And when he was asleep the second brother came too, guided there by his guardian angel, and was rocked to sleep like the first; and so came the others one after another, until all twelve lay there sleeping in the golden cradles.
They slept, though, for three hundred years, until the night when the Saviour of the world was born. Then they woke, and were with him on earth, and were called the twelve apostles.
There was once a poor woman who had two children. The youngest had to go into the forest every day to fetch wood.
Once, when she had gone a long way to look for it, a little child who was quite strong came and helped her industriously to pick up the wood and carry it home — and then, before a moment had passed, the strange child disappeared.
The child told her mother about this, but at first she would not believe it. At length she brought a rose home, and told her mother that the beautiful child had given her this rose, and had told her that when it was in full bloom he would come back. Her mother put the rose in water.
One morning her child could not get out of bed. Her mother went to the bed and found her dead — but she lay looking very happy. And on that same morning the rose was in full bloom.
There was once a King's son who went out into the world, and he was full of thought and sad. He looked at the sky, which was so beautifully pure and blue, and then he sighed and said, "How well everything must be with a man up there in heaven."
Then he saw a poor grey-haired man coming along the road towards him; and he spoke to him and asked, "How can I get to heaven?"
The man answered, "By poverty and humility. Put on my ragged clothes, wander about the world for seven years and get to know what misery is. Take no money; but if you're hungry, ask compassionate hearts for a bit of bread. That way you'll reach heaven."
So the King's son took off his magnificent coat and wore the beggar's clothes in its place, and went out into the wide world and suffered great misery. He took nothing but a little food, and said nothing, but prayed to the Lord to take him into his heaven.
When the seven years were over he came back to his father's palace, but nobody recognised him. He said to the servants, "Go and tell my parents that I've come back." But the servants did not believe it, and laughed and left him standing there.
Then he said, "Go and tell my brothers, so that they'll come down; I should so much like to see them again." The servants would not do that either; but at last one of them went and told the King's children — and they did not believe it, and did not trouble themselves about it.
Then he wrote a letter to his mother describing all his misery — but he did not say that he was her son. So the Queen, out of pity, had a place under the stairs assigned to him, and food taken to him every day by two servants.
But one of them was ill-natured and said, "Why should the beggar have the good food?" — and kept it for himself, or gave it to the dogs, and took the weak, wasted beggar nothing but water. The other, though, was honest, and took the beggar what was sent to him. It was little, but he could live on it for a while; and all the time he was quite patient, though he grew steadily weaker.
But as his illness grew worse he asked to receive the last sacrament. And when the host was raised down below, all the bells in the town and the country round began to ring.
After mass the priest went to the poor man under the stairs — and there he lay dead. In one hand he had a rose, in the other a lily, and beside him lay a paper with his history written in it.
When he was buried, a rose grew on one side of his grave and a lily on the other.
There were once two sisters, one of whom had no children and was rich, and the other had five and was a widow, and was so poor that she no longer had enough food to feed herself and her children.
In her need she went to her sister and said, "My children and I are suffering the greatest hunger. You're rich; give me a mouthful of bread."
The very rich sister was as hard as a stone, and said, "I have nothing in the house myself" — and drove the poor creature away with harsh words.
Some time later the rich sister's husband came home and was just going to cut himself a piece of bread; but when he made the first cut into the loaf, red blood flowed out.
When his wife saw that she was terrified and told him what had happened. He hurried away to help the widow and her children; but when he came into her room he found her praying. She had her two youngest children in her arms, and the three eldest were lying dead.
He offered her food, but she answered, "For earthly food we have no more desire. God has already satisfied the hunger of three of us, and he will hear our prayers too."
Hardly had she spoken these words before the two little ones drew their last breath; whereupon her heart broke and she sank down dead.
There was once a hermit who lived in a forest at the foot of a mountain, and passed his time in prayer and good works; and every evening he carried two pails of water up the mountain, to the glory of God. Many an animal drank of it, and many a plant was refreshed by it; for up on the heights a strong wind blew continually, which dried the air and the ground, and the wild birds that dread mankind wheel about there and search with their sharp eyes for a drink.
And because the hermit was so pious, an angel of God, visible to his eyes, went up with him and counted his steps; and when the work was finished, brought him his food, just as the prophet of old was fed by the raven at God's command.
When in his piety the hermit had already reached a great age, it happened that he once saw from a distance a poor sinner being taken to the gallows. He said carelessly to himself, "There — that one is getting what he deserves."
In the evening, when he was carrying the water up the mountain, the angel who usually went with him did not appear, and brought him no food either. Then he was terrified, and searched his heart and tried to think how he could have sinned, that God should be so angry; but he could not find it out. So he neither ate nor drank, but threw himself down on the ground and prayed day and night.
And as he was weeping bitterly in the forest one day, he heard a little bird singing beautifully and delightfully; and then he was more troubled still, and said, "How joyfully you sing! The Lord isn't angry with you. Ah, if only you could tell me how I've offended him, so that I could do penance, and then my heart would be glad again too."
Then the bird began to speak and said, "You have done an injustice, in that you condemned a poor sinner who was being led to the gallows; and for that the Lord is angry with you. He alone sits in judgement. But if you'll do penance and repent your sins, he'll forgive you."
Then the angel stood beside him with a dry branch in his hand and said, "You shall carry this dry branch until three green twigs sprout out of it; and at night, when you sleep, you shall lay it under your head. You shall beg your bread from door to door, and not stay more than one night in the same house. That is the penance the Lord lays on you."
Then the hermit took the piece of wood and went back into the world, which he had not seen for so long. He ate and drank nothing but what he was given at the doors; but many of his requests were not listened to, and many doors stayed shut to him, so that he often did not get a crumb of bread.
Once, when he had gone from door to door from morning till night and nobody had given him anything and nobody would shelter him for the night, he went out into a forest and at last found a cave that somebody had made, with an old woman sitting in it.
Then he said, "Good woman, keep me in your house for this one night."
But she said, "No, I daren't, even if I wanted to. I have three sons who are wicked and wild; if they come home from their robbing and find you, they'd kill us both."
The hermit said, "Let me stay; they'll do no harm to you or to me." And the woman was compassionate and let herself be persuaded.
So the man lay down under the stairs and put the piece of wood under his head. When the old woman saw him do that she asked the reason for it; and he told her that he carried the piece of wood about with him for a penance and used it at night for a pillow, and that he had offended the Lord because, when he saw a poor sinner on the way to the gallows, he had said that he was getting what he deserved.
Then the woman began to weep and cried, "If the Lord punishes one single word like that, how will it go with my sons when they come before him in judgement?"
At midnight the robbers came home and blustered and stormed. They made a fire; and when it lit up the cave and they saw a man lying under the stairs, they flew into a rage and cried to their mother, "Who is this man? Haven't we forbidden anybody at all to be taken in?"
Then their mother said, "Let him alone; he's a poor sinner expiating his crime."
The robbers asked, "What has he done? Old man," they cried, "tell us your sins."
The old man raised himself and told them how by one single word he had sinned so that God was angry with him, and how he was now expiating that crime.
The robbers were so powerfully touched in their hearts by this story that they were appalled at the life they had lived up to then, and reflected, and began with hearty repentance to do penance for it.
The hermit, having converted the three sinners, lay down to sleep again under the stairs. In the morning, though, they found him dead — and out of the dry wood his head lay on, three green twigs had grown up high. So the Lord had received him into his favour once more.
Once upon a time a carter's cart, which was heavily loaded with wine, had stuck so fast that whatever he did, he could not get it to move again.
Then it happened that Our Lady came by that way; and when she saw the poor man's distress, she said to him, "I'm tired and thirsty. Give me a glass of wine and I'll set your cart free for you."
"Willingly," answered the carter, "but I have no glass to give you the wine in."
Then Our Lady picked a little white flower with red stripes, called field bindweed, which looks very like a glass, and gave it to the carter. He filled it with wine, and Our Lady drank it; and in that same instant the cart was set free and the carter could drive on.
And the little flower is still called Our Lady's Little Glass to this day.
In a large town there was an old woman who sat alone in her room one evening, thinking how she had lost first her husband, then both her children, then one by one all her relations, and at length, that very day, her last friend; and now she was quite alone and desolate.
She was very sad at heart; and heaviest of all her losses to her was the loss of her sons; and in her pain she blamed God for it.
She was still sitting lost in thought when all at once she heard the bells ringing for early prayers. She was surprised that in her sorrow she had watched through the whole night like this; and she lit her lantern and went to church.
It was already lit up when she arrived — but not as it usually was with wax candles; the light was dim. And it was crowded with people already, and all the seats were filled; and when the old woman got to her usual place, that was not empty either, but the whole bench was quite full.
And when she looked at the people, they were none other than her dead relations, sitting there in their old-fashioned clothes, but with pale faces. They neither spoke nor sang; but a soft humming and whispering was heard all over the church.
Then an aunt of hers stood up and stepped forward and said to the poor old woman, "Look there beside the altar, and you'll see your sons."
The old woman looked, and saw her two children, one hanging on the gallows, the other bound to the wheel.
Then her aunt said, "Look — that is how it would have been with them if they had lived, and if the good God had not taken them to himself while they were innocent children."
The old woman went home trembling, and on her knees thanked God for having dealt with her more kindly than she had been able to understand; and on the third day she lay down and died.
A poor peasant boy heard the priest say in church one day that whoever wanted to enter the kingdom of heaven must always go straight onwards. So he set out, and walked straight onwards over hill and valley without ever turning aside.
At length his way led him into a great town and into the middle of a church, where God's service was being held just at that time. And when he saw all the magnificence of it, he thought he had reached heaven, and sat down and rejoiced with his whole heart.
When the service was over and the clerk told him to go out, he replied, "No, I won't go out again. I'm glad to be in heaven at last."
So the clerk went to the priest and told him that there was a child in the church who would not go out again, because he believed he was in heaven.
The priest said, "If he believes that, we'll leave him inside." So he went to him and asked whether he had any inclination to work.
"Yes," the little fellow replied, "I'm used to working — but I won't go out of heaven again."
So he stayed in the church; and when he saw how people came and knelt and prayed to Our Lady with the blessed child Jesus, carved in wood, he thought, "That's the good God" — and said, "Dear God, how thin you are! The people must certainly be letting you starve. But every day I'll give you half my dinner."
From that time on he took half his dinner to the image every day; and the image began to enjoy the food. When a few weeks had gone by, people noticed that the image was growing larger and stout and strong, and they wondered greatly at it. The priest could not understand it either; but he stayed in the church and followed the little boy about, and then he saw how he shared his food with the Virgin Mary, and how she accepted it.
After some time the boy fell ill and could not leave his bed for eight days; but as soon as he could get up again, the first thing he did was to take his food to Our Lady.
The priest followed him and heard him say, "Dear God, don't take it amiss that I haven't brought you anything for such a long time; I've been ill and couldn't get up."
Then the image answered him and said, "I've seen your good will, and that is enough for me. Next Sunday you shall come with me to the wedding."
The boy rejoiced at this and repeated it to the priest, who begged him to go and ask the image whether he too might be allowed to come.
"No," answered the image, "you alone."
The priest wanted to prepare him first and give him holy communion, and the child was willing; and next Sunday, when the host came to him, he fell down and died, and was at the eternal wedding.
One afternoon the Christ child had laid himself down in his cradle bed and fallen asleep. Then his mother came to him and looked at him full of gladness and said, "Have you laid yourself down to sleep, my child? Sleep sweetly; and meanwhile I'll go into the wood and fetch you a handful of strawberries, for I know you'll be pleased with them when you wake."
Out in the wood she found a spot with the most beautiful strawberries; but as she was stooping down to pick one, an adder sprang up out of the grass. She was alarmed, and left the strawberries where they were and hurried away. The adder darted after her; but Our Lady, as you can easily understand, knew what was best to do. She hid herself behind a hazel bush and stood there until the adder had crept away again.
Then she gathered the strawberries; and as she set out on her way home she said, "As the hazel bush has been my protection this time, it shall protect others too in future."
And so, from the most distant times, a green hazel branch has been the safest protection against adders and snakes and everything else that creeps on the earth.