It began to snow too; and the snow-flakes, as they
fell upon her, were like a whole shovelful falling upon one of us, for
we are tall, but she was only an inch high.
fell upon her, were like a whole shovelful falling upon one of us, for
we are tall, but she was only an inch high.
Fairy Tales of Hans Christian Andersen
"
"I will do it," said the little mermaid, and she became pale as
death.
"But I must be paid also," said the witch, "and it is not a trifle
that I ask. You have the sweetest voice of any who dwell here in the
depths of the sea, and you believe that you will be able to charm
the prince with it also, but this voice you must give to me; the
best thing you possess will I have for the price of my draught. My own
blood must be mixed with it, that it may be as sharp as a two-edged
sword. "
"But if you take away my voice," said the little mermaid, "what is
left for me? "
"Your beautiful form, your graceful walk, and your expressive
eyes; surely with these you can enchain a man's heart. Well, have
you lost your courage? Put out your little tongue that I may cut it
off as my payment; then you shall have the powerful draught. "
"It shall be," said the little mermaid.
Then the witch placed her cauldron on the fire, to prepare the
magic draught.
"Cleanliness is a good thing," said she, scouring the vessel
with snakes, which she had tied together in a large knot; then she
pricked herself in the breast, and let the black blood drop into it.
The steam that rose formed itself into such horrible shapes that no
one could look at them without fear. Every moment the witch threw
something else into the vessel, and when it began to boil, the sound
was like the weeping of a crocodile. When at last the magic draught
was ready, it looked like the clearest water. "There it is for you,"
said the witch. Then she cut off the mermaid's tongue, so that she
became dumb, and would never again speak or sing. "If the polypi
should seize hold of you as you return through the wood," said the
witch, "throw over them a few drops of the potion, and their fingers
will be torn into a thousand pieces. " But the little mermaid had no
occasion to do this, for the polypi sprang back in terror when they
caught sight of the glittering draught, which shone in her hand like a
twinkling star.
So she passed quickly through the wood and the marsh, and
between the rushing whirlpools. She saw that in her father's palace
the torches in the ballroom were extinguished, and all within
asleep; but she did not venture to go in to them, for now she was dumb
and going to leave them forever, she felt as if her heart would break.
She stole into the garden, took a flower from the flower-beds of
each of her sisters, kissed her hand a thousand times towards the
palace, and then rose up through the dark blue waters. The sun had not
risen when she came in sight of the prince's palace, and approached
the beautiful marble steps, but the moon shone clear and bright.
Then the little mermaid drank the magic draught, and it seemed as if a
two-edged sword went through her delicate body: she fell into a swoon,
and lay like one dead. When the sun arose and shone over the sea,
she recovered, and felt a sharp pain; but just before her stood the
handsome young prince. He fixed his coal-black eyes upon her so
earnestly that she cast down her own, and then became aware that her
fish's tail was gone, and that she had as pretty a pair of white
legs and tiny feet as any little maiden could have; but she had no
clothes, so she wrapped herself in her long, thick hair. The prince
asked her who she was, and where she came from, and she looked at
him mildly and sorrowfully with her deep blue eyes; but she could
not speak. Every step she took was as the witch had said it would
be, she felt as if treading upon the points of needles or sharp
knives; but she bore it willingly, and stepped as lightly by the
prince's side as a soap-bubble, so that he and all who saw her
wondered at her graceful-swaying movements. She was very soon
arrayed in costly robes of silk and muslin, and was the most beautiful
creature in the palace; but she was dumb, and could neither speak
nor sing.
Beautiful female slaves, dressed in silk and gold, stepped forward
and sang before the prince and his royal parents: one sang better than
all the others, and the prince clapped his hands and smiled at her.
This was great sorrow to the little mermaid; she knew how much more
sweetly she herself could sing once, and she thought, "Oh if he
could only know that! I have given away my voice forever, to be with
him. "
The slaves next performed some pretty fairy-like dances, to the
sound of beautiful music. Then the little mermaid raised her lovely
white arms, stood on the tips of her toes, and glided over the
floor, and danced as no one yet had been able to dance. At each moment
her beauty became more revealed, and her expressive eyes appealed more
directly to the heart than the songs of the slaves. Every one was
enchanted, especially the prince, who called her his little foundling;
and she danced again quite readily, to please him, though each time
her foot touched the floor it seemed as if she trod on sharp knives.
The prince said she should remain with him always, and she
received permission to sleep at his door, on a velvet cushion. He
had a page's dress made for her, that she might accompany him on
horseback. They rode together through the sweet-scented woods, where
the green boughs touched their shoulders, and the little birds sang
among the fresh leaves. She climbed with the prince to the tops of
high mountains; and although her tender feet bled so that even her
steps were marked, she only laughed, and followed him till they
could see the clouds beneath them looking like a flock of birds
travelling to distant lands. While at the prince's palace, and when
all the household were asleep, she would go and sit on the broad
marble steps; for it eased her burning feet to bathe them in the
cold sea-water; and then she thought of all those below in the deep.
Once during the night her sisters came up arm-in-arm, singing
sorrowfully, as they floated on the water. She beckoned to them, and
then they recognized her, and told her how she had grieved them. After
that, they came to the same place every night; and once she saw in the
distance her old grandmother, who had not been to the surface of the
sea for many years, and the old Sea King, her father, with his crown
on his head. They stretched out their hands towards her, but they
did not venture so near the land as her sisters did.
As the days passed, she loved the prince more fondly, and he loved
her as he would love a little child, but it never came into his head
to make her his wife; yet, unless he married her, she could not
receive an immortal soul; and, on the morning after his marriage
with another, she would dissolve into the foam of the sea.
"Do you not love me the best of them all? " the eyes of the
little mermaid seemed to say, when he took her in his arms, and kissed
her fair forehead.
"Yes, you are dear to me," said the prince; "for you have the best
heart, and you are the most devoted to me; you are like a young maiden
whom I once saw, but whom I shall never meet again. I was in a ship
that was wrecked, and the waves cast me ashore near a holy temple,
where several young maidens performed the service. The youngest of
them found me on the shore, and saved my life. I saw her but twice,
and she is the only one in the world whom I could love; but you are
like her, and you have almost driven her image out of my mind. She
belongs to the holy temple, and my good fortune has sent you to me
instead of her; and we will never part. "
"Ah, he knows not that it was I who saved his life," thought the
little mermaid. "I carried him over the sea to the wood where the
temple stands: I sat beneath the foam, and watched till the human
beings came to help him. I saw the pretty maiden that he loves
better than he loves me;" and the mermaid sighed deeply, but she could
not shed tears. "He says the maiden belongs to the holy temple,
therefore she will never return to the world. They will meet no
more: while I am by his side, and see him every day. I will take
care of him, and love him, and give up my life for his sake. "
Very soon it was said that the prince must marry, and that the
beautiful daughter of a neighboring king would be his wife, for a fine
ship was being fitted out. Although the prince gave out that he merely
intended to pay a visit to the king, it was generally supposed that he
really went to see his daughter. A great company were to go with
him. The little mermaid smiled, and shook her head. She knew the
prince's thoughts better than any of the others.
"I must travel," he had said to her; "I must see this beautiful
princess; my parents desire it; but they will not oblige me to bring
her home as my bride. I cannot love her; she is not like the beautiful
maiden in the temple, whom you resemble. If I were forced to choose
a bride, I would rather choose you, my dumb foundling, with those
expressive eyes. " And then he kissed her rosy mouth, played with her
long waving hair, and laid his head on her heart, while she dreamed of
human happiness and an immortal soul. "You are not afraid of the
sea, my dumb child," said he, as they stood on the deck of the noble
ship which was to carry them to the country of the neighboring king.
And then he told her of storm and of calm, of strange fishes in the
deep beneath them, and of what the divers had seen there; and she
smiled at his descriptions, for she knew better than any one what
wonders were at the bottom of the sea.
In the moonlight, when all on board were asleep, excepting the man
at the helm, who was steering, she sat on the deck, gazing down
through the clear water. She thought she could distinguish her
father's castle, and upon it her aged grandmother, with the silver
crown on her head, looking through the rushing tide at the keel of the
vessel. Then her sisters came up on the waves, and gazed at her
mournfully, wringing their white hands. She beckoned to them, and
smiled, and wanted to tell them how happy and well off she was; but
the cabin-boy approached, and when her sisters dived down he thought
it was only the foam of the sea which he saw.
The next morning the ship sailed into the harbor of a beautiful
town belonging to the king whom the prince was going to visit. The
church bells were ringing, and from the high towers sounded a flourish
of trumpets; and soldiers, with flying colors and glittering bayonets,
lined the rocks through which they passed. Every day was a festival;
balls and entertainments followed one another.
But the princess had not yet appeared. People said that she was
being brought up and educated in a religious house, where she was
learning every royal virtue. At last she came. Then the little
mermaid, who was very anxious to see whether she was really beautiful,
was obliged to acknowledge that she had never seen a more perfect
vision of beauty. Her skin was delicately fair, and beneath her long
dark eye-lashes her laughing blue eyes shone with truth and purity.
"It was you," said the prince, "who saved my life when I lay
dead on the beach," and he folded his blushing bride in his arms. "Oh,
I am too happy," said he to the little mermaid; "my fondest hopes
are all fulfilled. You will rejoice at my happiness; for your devotion
to me is great and sincere. "
The little mermaid kissed his hand, and felt as if her heart
were already broken. His wedding morning would bring death to her, and
she would change into the foam of the sea. All the church bells
rung, and the heralds rode about the town proclaiming the betrothal.
Perfumed oil was burning in costly silver lamps on every altar. The
priests waved the censers, while the bride and bridegroom joined their
hands and received the blessing of the bishop. The little mermaid,
dressed in silk and gold, held up the bride's train; but her ears
heard nothing of the festive music, and her eyes saw not the holy
ceremony; she thought of the night of death which was coming to her,
and of all she had lost in the world. On the same evening the bride
and bridegroom went on board ship; cannons were roaring, flags waving,
and in the centre of the ship a costly tent of purple and gold had
been erected. It contained elegant couches, for the reception of the
bridal pair during the night. The ship, with swelling sails and a
favorable wind, glided away smoothly and lightly over the calm sea.
When it grew dark a number of colored lamps were lit, and the
sailors danced merrily on the deck. The little mermaid could not
help thinking of her first rising out of the sea, when she had seen
similar festivities and joys; and she joined in the dance, poised
herself in the air as a swallow when he pursues his prey, and all
present cheered her with wonder. She had never danced so elegantly
before. Her tender feet felt as if cut with sharp knives, but she
cared not for it; a sharper pang had pierced through her heart. She
knew this was the last evening she should ever see the prince, for
whom she had forsaken her kindred and her home; she had given up her
beautiful voice, and suffered unheard-of pain daily for him, while
he knew nothing of it. This was the last evening that she would
breathe the same air with him, or gaze on the starry sky and the
deep sea; an eternal night, without a thought or a dream, awaited her:
she had no soul and now she could never win one. All was joy and
gayety on board ship till long after midnight; she laughed and
danced with the rest, while the thoughts of death were in her heart.
The prince kissed his beautiful bride, while she played with his raven
hair, till they went arm-in-arm to rest in the splendid tent. Then all
became still on board the ship; the helmsman, alone awake, stood at
the helm. The little mermaid leaned her white arms on the edge of
the vessel, and looked towards the east for the first blush of
morning, for that first ray of dawn that would bring her death. She
saw her sisters rising out of the flood: they were as pale as herself;
but their long beautiful hair waved no more in the wind, and had
been cut off.
"We have given our hair to the witch," said they, "to obtain
help for you, that you may not die to-night. She has given us a knife:
here it is, see it is very sharp. Before the sun rises you must plunge
it into the heart of the prince; when the warm blood falls upon your
feet they will grow together again, and form into a fish's tail, and
you will be once more a mermaid, and return to us to live out your
three hundred years before you die and change into the salt sea
foam. Haste, then; he or you must die before sunrise. Our old
grandmother moans so for you, that her white hair is falling off
from sorrow, as ours fell under the witch's scissors. Kill the
prince and come back; hasten: do you not see the first red streaks
in the sky? In a few minutes the sun will rise, and you must die. " And
then they sighed deeply and mournfully, and sank down beneath the
waves.
The little mermaid drew back the crimson curtain of the tent,
and beheld the fair bride with her head resting on the prince's
breast. She bent down and kissed his fair brow, then looked at the sky
on which the rosy dawn grew brighter and brighter; then she glanced at
the sharp knife, and again fixed her eyes on the prince, who whispered
the name of his bride in his dreams. She was in his thoughts, and
the knife trembled in the hand of the little mermaid: then she flung
it far away from her into the waves; the water turned red where it
fell, and the drops that spurted up looked like blood. She cast one
more lingering, half-fainting glance at the prince, and then threw
herself from the ship into the sea, and thought her body was
dissolving into foam. The sun rose above the waves, and his warm
rays fell on the cold foam of the little mermaid, who did not feel
as if she were dying. She saw the bright sun, and all around her
floated hundreds of transparent beautiful beings; she could see
through them the white sails of the ship, and the red clouds in the
sky; their speech was melodious, but too ethereal to be heard by
mortal ears, as they were also unseen by mortal eyes. The little
mermaid perceived that she had a body like theirs, and that she
continued to rise higher and higher out of the foam. "Where am I? "
asked she, and her voice sounded ethereal, as the voice of those who
were with her; no earthly music could imitate it.
"Among the daughters of the air," answered one of them. "A mermaid
has not an immortal soul, nor can she obtain one unless she wins the
love of a human being. On the power of another hangs her eternal
destiny. But the daughters of the air, although they do not possess an
immortal soul, can, by their good deeds, procure one for themselves.
We fly to warm countries, and cool the sultry air that destroys
mankind with the pestilence. We carry the perfume of the flowers to
spread health and restoration. After we have striven for three hundred
years to all the good in our power, we receive an immortal soul and
take part in the happiness of mankind. You, poor little mermaid,
have tried with your whole heart to do as we are doing; you have
suffered and endured and raised yourself to the spirit-world by your
good deeds; and now, by striving for three hundred years in the same
way, you may obtain an immortal soul. "
The little mermaid lifted her glorified eyes towards the sun,
and felt them, for the first time, filling with tears. On the ship, in
which she had left the prince, there were life and noise; she saw
him and his beautiful bride searching for her; sorrowfully they
gazed at the pearly foam, as if they knew she had thrown herself
into the waves. Unseen she kissed the forehead of her bride, and
fanned the prince, and then mounted with the other children of the air
to a rosy cloud that floated through the aether.
"After three hundred years, thus shall we float into the kingdom
of heaven," said she. "And we may even get there sooner," whispered
one of her companions. "Unseen we can enter the houses of men, where
there are children, and for every day on which we find a good child,
who is the joy of his parents and deserves their love, our time of
probation is shortened. The child does not know, when we fly through
the room, that we smile with joy at his good conduct, for we can count
one year less of our three hundred years. But when we see a naughty or
a wicked child, we shed tears of sorrow, and for every tear a day is
added to our time of trial! "
LITTLE TINY OR THUMBELINA
There was once a woman who wished very much to have a little
child, but she could not obtain her wish. At last she went to a fairy,
and said, "I should so very much like to have a little child; can
you tell me where I can find one? "
"Oh, that can be easily managed," said the fairy. "Here is a
barleycorn of a different kind to those which grow in the farmer's
fields, and which the chickens eat; put it into a flower-pot, and
see what will happen. "
"Thank you," said the woman, and she gave the fairy twelve
shillings, which was the price of the barleycorn. Then she went home
and planted it, and immediately there grew up a large handsome flower,
something like a tulip in appearance, but with its leaves tightly
closed as if it were still a bud. "It is a beautiful flower," said the
woman, and she kissed the red and golden-colored leaves, and while she
did so the flower opened, and she could see that it was a real
tulip. Within the flower, upon the green velvet stamens, sat a very
delicate and graceful little maiden. She was scarcely half as long
as a thumb, and they gave her the name of "Thumbelina," or Tiny,
because she was so small. A walnut-shell, elegantly polished, served
her for a cradle; her bed was formed of blue violet-leaves, with a
rose-leaf for a counterpane. Here she slept at night, but during the
day she amused herself on a table, where the woman had placed a
plateful of water. Round this plate were wreaths of flowers with their
stems in the water, and upon it floated a large tulip-leaf, which
served Tiny for a boat. Here the little maiden sat and rowed herself
from side to side, with two oars made of white horse-hair. It really
was a very pretty sight. Tiny could, also, sing so softly and
sweetly that nothing like her singing had ever before been heard.
One night, while she lay in her pretty bed, a large, ugly, wet toad
crept through a broken pane of glass in the window, and leaped right
upon the table where Tiny lay sleeping under her rose-leaf quilt.
"What a pretty little wife this would make for my son," said the
toad, and she took up the walnut-shell in which little Tiny lay
asleep, and jumped through the window with it into the garden.
In the swampy margin of a broad stream in the garden lived the
toad, with her son. He was uglier even than his mother, and when he
saw the pretty little maiden in her elegant bed, he could only cry,
"Croak, croak, croak. "
"Don't speak so loud, or she will wake," said the toad, "and
then she might run away, for she is as light as swan's down. We will
place her on one of the water-lily leaves out in the stream; it will
be like an island to her, she is so light and small, and then she
cannot escape; and, while she is away, we will make haste and
prepare the state-room under the marsh, in which you are to live
when you are married. "
Far out in the stream grew a number of water-lilies, with broad
green leaves, which seemed to float on the top of the water. The
largest of these leaves appeared farther off than the rest, and the
old toad swam out to it with the walnut-shell, in which little Tiny
lay still asleep. The tiny little creature woke very early in the
morning, and began to cry bitterly when she found where she was, for
she could see nothing but water on every side of the large green leaf,
and no way of reaching the land. Meanwhile the old toad was very
busy under the marsh, decking her room with rushes and wild yellow
flowers, to make it look pretty for her new daughter-in-law. Then
she swam out with her ugly son to the leaf on which she had placed
poor little Tiny. She wanted to fetch the pretty bed, that she might
put it in the bridal chamber to be ready for her. The old toad bowed
low to her in the water, and said, "Here is my son, he will be your
husband, and you will live happily in the marsh by the stream. "
"Croak, croak, croak," was all her son could say for himself; so
the toad took up the elegant little bed, and swam away with it,
leaving Tiny all alone on the green leaf, where she sat and wept.
She could not bear to think of living with the old toad, and having
her ugly son for a husband. The little fishes, who swam about in the
water beneath, had seen the toad, and heard what she said, so they
lifted their heads above the water to look at the little maiden. As
soon as they caught sight of her, they saw she was very pretty, and it
made them very sorry to think that she must go and live with the
ugly toads. "No, it must never be! " so they assembled together in
the water, round the green stalk which held the leaf on which the
little maiden stood, and gnawed it away at the root with their
teeth. Then the leaf floated down the stream, carrying Tiny far away
out of reach of land.
Tiny sailed past many towns, and the little birds in the bushes
saw her, and sang, "What a lovely little creature;" so the leaf swam
away with her farther and farther, till it brought her to other lands.
A graceful little white butterfly constantly fluttered round her,
and at last alighted on the leaf. Tiny pleased him, and she was glad
of it, for now the toad could not possibly reach her, and the
country through which she sailed was beautiful, and the sun shone upon
the water, till it glittered like liquid gold. She took off her girdle
and tied one end of it round the butterfly, and the other end of the
ribbon she fastened to the leaf, which now glided on much faster
than ever, taking little Tiny with it as she stood. Presently a
large cockchafer flew by; the moment he caught sight of her, he seized
her round her delicate waist with his claws, and flew with her into
a tree. The green leaf floated away on the brook, and the butterfly
flew with it, for he was fastened to it, and could not get away.
Oh, how frightened little Tiny felt when the cockchafer flew
with her to the tree! But especially was she sorry for the beautiful
white butterfly which she had fastened to the leaf, for if he could
not free himself he would die of hunger. But the cockchafer did not
trouble himself at all about the matter. He seated himself by her side
on a large green leaf, gave her some honey from the flowers to eat,
and told her she was very pretty, though not in the least like a
cockchafer. After a time, all the cockchafers turned up their feelers,
and said, "She has only two legs! how ugly that looks. " "She has no
feelers," said another. "Her waist is quite slim. Pooh! she is like
a human being. "
"Oh! she is ugly," said all the lady cockchafers, although Tiny
was very pretty. Then the cockchafer who had run away with her,
believed all the others when they said she was ugly, and would have
nothing more to say to her, and told her she might go where she liked.
Then he flew down with her from the tree, and placed her on a daisy,
and she wept at the thought that she was so ugly that even the
cockchafers would have nothing to say to her. And all the while she
was really the loveliest creature that one could imagine, and as
tender and delicate as a beautiful rose-leaf. During the whole
summer poor little Tiny lived quite alone in the wide forest. She wove
herself a bed with blades of grass, and hung it up under a broad leaf,
to protect herself from the rain. She sucked the honey from the
flowers for food, and drank the dew from their leaves every morning.
So passed away the summer and the autumn, and then came the winter,--the
long, cold winter. All the birds who had sung to her so sweetly
were flown away, and the trees and the flowers had withered. The large
clover leaf under the shelter of which she had lived, was now rolled
together and shrivelled up, nothing remained but a yellow withered
stalk. She felt dreadfully cold, for her clothes were torn, and she
was herself so frail and delicate, that poor little Tiny was nearly
frozen to death.
It began to snow too; and the snow-flakes, as they
fell upon her, were like a whole shovelful falling upon one of us, for
we are tall, but she was only an inch high. Then she wrapped herself
up in a dry leaf, but it cracked in the middle and could not keep
her warm, and she shivered with cold. Near the wood in which she had
been living lay a corn-field, but the corn had been cut a long time;
nothing remained but the bare dry stubble standing up out of the
frozen ground. It was to her like struggling through a large wood. Oh!
how she shivered with the cold. She came at last to the door of a
field-mouse, who had a little den under the corn-stubble. There
dwelt the field-mouse in warmth and comfort, with a whole roomful of
corn, a kitchen, and a beautiful dining room. Poor little Tiny stood
before the door just like a little beggar-girl, and begged for a small
piece of barley-corn, for she had been without a morsel to eat for two
days.
"You poor little creature," said the field-mouse, who was really a
good old field-mouse, "come into my warm room and dine with me. " She
was very pleased with Tiny, so she said, "You are quite welcome to
stay with me all the winter, if you like; but you must keep my rooms
clean and neat, and tell me stories, for I shall like to hear them
very much. " And Tiny did all the field-mouse asked her, and found
herself very comfortable.
"We shall have a visitor soon," said the field-mouse one day;
"my neighbor pays me a visit once a week. He is better off than I
am; he has large rooms, and wears a beautiful black velvet coat. If
you could only have him for a husband, you would be well provided
for indeed. But he is blind, so you must tell him some of your
prettiest stories. "
But Tiny did not feel at all interested about this neighbor, for
he was a mole. However, he came and paid his visit dressed in his
black velvet coat.
"He is very rich and learned, and his house is twenty times larger
than mine," said the field-mouse.
He was rich and learned, no doubt, but he always spoke slightingly
of the sun and the pretty flowers, because he had never seen them.
Tiny was obliged to sing to him, "Lady-bird, lady-bird, fly away
home," and many other pretty songs. And the mole fell in love with her
because she had such a sweet voice; but he said nothing yet, for he
was very cautious. A short time before, the mole had dug a long
passage under the earth, which led from the dwelling of the
field-mouse to his own, and here she had permission to walk with
Tiny whenever she liked. But he warned them not to be alarmed at the
sight of a dead bird which lay in the passage. It was a perfect
bird, with a beak and feathers, and could not have been dead long, and
was lying just where the mole had made his passage. The mole took a
piece of phosphorescent wood in his mouth, and it glittered like
fire in the dark; then he went before them to light them through the
long, dark passage. When they came to the spot where lay the dead
bird, the mole pushed his broad nose through the ceiling, the earth
gave way, so that there was a large hole, and the daylight shone
into the passage. In the middle of the floor lay a dead swallow, his
beautiful wings pulled close to his sides, his feet and his head drawn
up under his feathers; the poor bird had evidently died of the cold.
It made little Tiny very sad to see it, she did so love the little
birds; all the summer they had sung and twittered for her so
beautifully. But the mole pushed it aside with his crooked legs, and
said, "He will sing no more now. How miserable it must be to be born a
little bird! I am thankful that none of my children will ever be
birds, for they can do nothing but cry, 'Tweet, tweet,' and always die
of hunger in the winter. "
"Yes, you may well say that, as a clever man! " exclaimed the
field-mouse, "What is the use of his twittering, for when winter comes
he must either starve or be frozen to death. Still birds are very high
bred. "
Tiny said nothing; but when the two others had turned their
backs on the bird, she stooped down and stroked aside the soft
feathers which covered the head, and kissed the closed eyelids.
"Perhaps this was the one who sang to me so sweetly in the summer,"
she said; "and how much pleasure it gave me, you dear, pretty bird. "
The mole now stopped up the hole through which the daylight shone,
and then accompanied the lady home. But during the night Tiny could
not sleep; so she got out of bed and wove a large, beautiful carpet of
hay; then she carried it to the dead bird, and spread it over him;
with some down from the flowers which she had found in the
field-mouse's room. It was as soft as wool, and she spread some of
it on each side of the bird, so that he might lie warmly in the cold
earth. "Farewell, you pretty little bird," said she, "farewell;
thank you for your delightful singing during the summer, when all
the trees were green, and the warm sun shone upon us. " Then she laid
her head on the bird's breast, but she was alarmed immediately, for it
seemed as if something inside the bird went "thump, thump. " It was the
bird's heart; he was not really dead, only benumbed with the cold, and
the warmth had restored him to life. In autumn, all the swallows fly
away into warm countries, but if one happens to linger, the cold
seizes it, it becomes frozen, and falls down as if dead; it remains
where it fell, and the cold snow covers it. Tiny trembled very much;
she was quite frightened, for the bird was large, a great deal
larger than herself,--she was only an inch high. But she took courage,
laid the wool more thickly over the poor swallow, and then took a leaf
which she had used for her own counterpane, and laid it over the
head of the poor bird. The next morning she again stole out to see
him. He was alive but very weak; he could only open his eyes for a
moment to look at Tiny, who stood by holding a piece of decayed wood
in her hand, for she had no other lantern. "Thank you, pretty little
maiden," said the sick swallow; "I have been so nicely warmed, that
I shall soon regain my strength, and be able to fly about again in the
warm sunshine. "
"Oh," said she, "it is cold out of doors now; it snows and
freezes. Stay in your warm bed; I will take care of you. "
Then she brought the swallow some water in a flower-leaf, and
after he had drank, he told her that he had wounded one of his wings
in a thorn-bush, and could not fly as fast as the others, who were
soon far away on their journey to warm countries. Then at last he
had fallen to the earth, and could remember no more, nor how he came
to be where she had found him. The whole winter the swallow remained
underground, and Tiny nursed him with care and love. Neither the
mole nor the field-mouse knew anything about it, for they did not like
swallows. Very soon the spring time came, and the sun warmed the
earth. Then the swallow bade farewell to Tiny, and she opened the hole
in the ceiling which the mole had made. The sun shone in upon them
so beautifully, that the swallow asked her if she would go with him;
she could sit on his back, he said, and he would fly away with her
into the green woods. But Tiny knew it would make the field-mouse very
grieved if she left her in that manner, so she said, "No, I cannot. "
"Farewell, then, farewell, you good, pretty little maiden," said
the swallow; and he flew out into the sunshine.
Tiny looked after him, and the tears rose in her eyes. She was
very fond of the poor swallow.
"Tweet, tweet," sang the bird, as he flew out into the green
woods, and Tiny felt very sad. She was not allowed to go out into
the warm sunshine. The corn which had been sown in the field over
the house of the field-mouse had grown up high into the air, and
formed a thick wood to Tiny, who was only an inch in height.
"You are going to be married, Tiny," said the field-mouse. "My
neighbor has asked for you. What good fortune for a poor child like
you. Now we will prepare your wedding clothes. They must be both
woollen and linen. Nothing must be wanting when you are the mole's
wife. "
Tiny had to turn the spindle, and the field-mouse hired four
spiders, who were to weave day and night. Every evening the mole
visited her, and was continually speaking of the time when the
summer would be over. Then he would keep his wedding-day with Tiny;
but now the heat of the sun was so great that it burned the earth, and
made it quite hard, like a stone. As soon, as the summer was over, the
wedding should take place. But Tiny was not at all pleased; for she
did not like the tiresome mole. Every morning when the sun rose, and
every evening when it went down, she would creep out at the door,
and as the wind blew aside the ears of corn, so that she could see the
blue sky, she thought how beautiful and bright it seemed out there,
and wished so much to see her dear swallow again. But he never
returned; for by this time he had flown far away into the lovely green
forest.
When autumn arrived, Tiny had her outfit quite ready; and the
field-mouse said to her, "In four weeks the wedding must take place. "
Then Tiny wept, and said she would not marry the disagreeable
mole.
"Nonsense," replied the field-mouse. "Now don't be obstinate, or I
shall bite you with my white teeth. He is a very handsome mole; the
queen herself does not wear more beautiful velvets and furs. His
kitchen and cellars are quite full. You ought to be very thankful
for such good fortune. "
So the wedding-day was fixed, on which the mole was to fetch
Tiny away to live with him, deep under the earth, and never again to
see the warm sun, because he did not like it. The poor child was
very unhappy at the thought of saying farewell to the beautiful sun,
and as the field-mouse had given her permission to stand at the
door, she went to look at it once more.
"Farewell bright sun," she cried, stretching out her arm towards
it; and then she walked a short distance from the house; for the
corn had been cut, and only the dry stubble remained in the fields.
"Farewell, farewell," she repeated, twining her arm round a little red
flower that grew just by her side. "Greet the little swallow from
me, if you should see him again. "
"Tweet, tweet," sounded over her head suddenly. She looked up, and
there was the swallow himself flying close by. As soon as he spied
Tiny, he was delighted; and then she told him how unwilling she felt
to marry the ugly mole, and to live always beneath the earth, and
never to see the bright sun any more. And as she told him she wept.
"Cold winter is coming," said the swallow, "and I am going to
fly away into warmer countries. Will you go with me? You can sit on my
back, and fasten yourself on with your sash. Then we can fly away from
the ugly mole and his gloomy rooms,--far away, over the mountains,
into warmer countries, where the sun shines more brightly--than
here; where it is always summer, and the flowers bloom in greater
beauty. Fly now with me, dear little Tiny; you saved my life when I
lay frozen in that dark passage. "
"Yes, I will go with you," said Tiny; and she seated herself on
the bird's back, with her feet on his outstretched wings, and tied her
girdle to one of his strongest feathers.
Then the swallow rose in the air, and flew over forest and over
sea, high above the highest mountains, covered with eternal snow. Tiny
would have been frozen in the cold air, but she crept under the bird's
warm feathers, keeping her little head uncovered, so that she might
admire the beautiful lands over which they passed. At length they
reached the warm countries, where the sun shines brightly, and the sky
seems so much higher above the earth. Here, on the hedges, and by
the wayside, grew purple, green, and white grapes; lemons and
oranges hung from trees in the woods; and the air was fragrant with
myrtles and orange blossoms. Beautiful children ran along the
country lanes, playing with large gay butterflies; and as the
swallow flew farther and farther, every place appeared still more
lovely.
At last they came to a blue lake, and by the side of it, shaded by
trees of the deepest green, stood a palace of dazzling white marble,
built in the olden times. Vines clustered round its lofty pillars, and
at the top were many swallows' nests, and one of these was the home of
the swallow who carried Tiny.
"This is my house," said the swallow; "but it would not do for you
to live there--you would not be comfortable. You must choose for
yourself one of those lovely flowers, and I will put you down upon it,
and then you shall have everything that you can wish to make you
happy. "
"That will be delightful," she said, and clapped her little
hands for joy.
A large marble pillar lay on the ground, which, in falling, had
been broken into three pieces. Between these pieces grew the most
beautiful large white flowers; so the swallow flew down with Tiny, and
placed her on one of the broad leaves. But how surprised she was to
see in the middle of the flower, a tiny little man, as white and
transparent as if he had been made of crystal! He had a gold crown
on his head, and delicate wings at his shoulders, and was not much
larger than Tiny herself. He was the angel of the flower; for a tiny
man and a tiny woman dwell in every flower; and this was the king of
them all.
"Oh, how beautiful he is! " whispered Tiny to the swallow.
The little prince was at first quite frightened at the bird, who
was like a giant, compared to such a delicate little creature as
himself; but when he saw Tiny, he was delighted, and thought her the
prettiest little maiden he had ever seen. He took the gold crown
from his head, and placed it on hers, and asked her name, and if she
would be his wife, and queen over all the flowers.
This certainly was a very different sort of husband to the son
of a toad, or the mole, with my black velvet and fur; so she said,
"Yes," to the handsome prince. Then all the flowers opened, and out of
each came a little lady or a tiny lord, all so pretty it was quite a
pleasure to look at them. Each of them brought Tiny a present; but the
best gift was a pair of beautiful wings, which had belonged to a large
white fly and they fastened them to Tiny's shoulders, so that she
might fly from flower to flower. Then there was much rejoicing, and
the little swallow who sat above them, in his nest, was asked to
sing a wedding song, which he did as well as he could; but in his
heart he felt sad for he was very fond of Tiny, and would have liked
never to part from her again.
"You must not be called Tiny any more," said the spirit of the
flowers to her. "It is an ugly name, and you are so very pretty. We
will call you Maia. "
"Farewell, farewell," said the swallow, with a heavy heart as he
left the warm countries to fly back into Denmark. There he had a
nest over the window of a house in which dwelt the writer of fairy
tales. The swallow sang, "Tweet, tweet," and from his song came the
whole story.
LITTLE TUK
Yes, they called him Little Tuk, but it was not his real name;
he had called himself so before he could speak plainly, and he meant
it for Charles. It was all very well for those who knew him, but not
for strangers.
Little Tuk was left at home to take care of his little sister,
Gustava, who was much younger than himself, and he had to learn his
lessons at the same time, and the two things could not very well be
performed together. The poor boy sat there with his sister on his lap,
and sung to her all the songs he knew, and now and then he looked into
his geography lesson that lay open before him. By the next morning
he had to learn by heart all the towns in Zealand, and all that
could be described of them.
His mother came home at last, and took little Gustava in her arms.
Then Tuk ran to the window, and read so eagerly that he nearly read
his eyes out; for it had become darker and darker every minute, and
his mother had no money to buy a light.
"There goes the old washerwoman up the lane," said the mother,
as she looked out of the window; "the poor woman can hardly drag
herself along, and now she had to drag a pail of water from the
well. Be a good boy, Tuk, and run across and help the old woman, won't
you? "
So Tuk ran across quickly, and helped her, but when he came back
into the room it was quite dark, and there was not a word said about a
light, so he was obliged to go to bed on his little truckle
bedstead, and there he lay and thought of his geography lesson, and of
Zealand, and of all the master had told him. He ought really to have
read it over again, but he could not for want of light. So he put
the geography book under his pillow, for he had heard that this was
a great help towards learning a lesson, but not always to be
depended upon. He still lay thinking and thinking, when all at once it
seemed as if some one kissed him on his eyes and mouth. He slept and
yet he did not sleep; and it appeared as if the old washerwoman looked
at him with kind eyes and said, "It would be a great pity if you did
not know your lesson to-morrow morning; you helped me, and now I
will help you, and Providence will always keep those who help
themselves;" and at the same time the book under Tuk's pillow began to
move about. "Cluck, cluck, cluck," cried a hen as she crept towards
him. "I am a hen from Kjoge," and then she told him how many
inhabitants the town contained, and about a battle that had been
fought there, which really was not worth speaking of.
"Crack, crack," down fell something. It was a wooden bird, the
parrot which is used as a target as Prastoe. He said there were as
many inhabitants in that town as he had nails in his body. He was very
proud, and said, "Thorwalsden lived close to me, and here I am now,
quite comfortable. "
But now little Tuk was no longer in bed; all in a moment he
found himself on horseback. Gallop, gallop, away he went, seated in
front of a richly-attired knight, with a waving plume, who held him on
the saddle, and so they rode through the wood by the old town of
Wordingburg, which was very large and busy. The king's castle was
surrounded by lofty towers, and radiant light streamed from all the
windows. Within there were songs and dancing; King Waldemar and the
young gayly-dressed ladies of the court were dancing together. Morning
dawned, and as the sun rose, the whole city and the king's castle sank
suddenly down together. One tower after another fell, till at last
only one remained standing on the hill where the castle had formerly
been.
The town now appeared small and poor, and the school-boys read
in their books, which they carried under their arms, that it contained
two thousand inhabitants; but this was a mere boast, for it did not
contain so many.
And again little Tuk lay in his bed, scarcely knowing whether he
was dreaming or not, for some one stood by him.
"Tuk! little Tuk! " said a voice. It was a very little person who
spoke. He was dressed as a sailor, and looked small enough to be a
middy, but he was not one. "I bring you many greetings from Corsor. It
is a rising town, full of life. It has steamships and mail-coaches. In
times past they used to call it ugly, but that is no longer true. I
lie on the sea-shore," said Corsor; "I have high-roads and
pleasure-gardens; I have given birth to a poet who was witty and
entertaining, which they are not all. I once wanted to fit out a
ship to sail round the world, but I did not accomplish it, though most
likely I might have done so. But I am fragrant with perfume, for close
to my gates most lovely roses bloom. "
Then before the eyes of little Tuk appeared a confusion of colors,
red and green; but it cleared off, and he could distinguish a cliff
close to the bay, the slopes of which were quite overgrown with
verdure, and on its summit stood a fine old church with pointed
towers. Springs of water flowed out of the cliff in thick waterspouts,
so that there was a continual splashing. Close by sat an old king with
a golden crown on his white head. This was King Hroar of the Springs
and near the springs stood the town of Roeskilde, as it is called.
Then all the kings and queens of Denmark went up the ascent to the old
church, hand in hand, with golden crowns on their heads, while the
organ played and the fountains sent forth jets of water.
Little Tuk saw and heard it all. "Don't forget the names of
these towns," said King Hroar.
All at once everything vanished; but where! It seemed to him
like turning over the leaves of a book. And now there stood before him
an old peasant woman, who had come from Soroe where the grass grows in
the market-place. She had a green linen apron thrown over her head and
shoulders, and it was quite wet, as if it had been raining heavily.
"Yes, that it has," said she, and then, just as she was going to
tell him a great many pretty stories from Holberg's comedies, and
about Waldemar and Absalom, she suddenly shrunk up together, and
wagged her head as if she were a frog about to spring. "Croak," she
cried; "it is always wet, and as quiet as death in Soroe. " Then little
Tuk saw she was changed into a frog. "Croak," and again she was an old
woman. "One must dress according to the weather," said she. "It is
wet, and my town is just like a bottle. By the cork we must go in, and
by the cork we must come out again. In olden times I had beautiful
fish, and now I have fresh, rosy-cheeked boys in the bottom of the
bottle, and they learn wisdom, Hebrew and Greek. "
"Croak. " How it sounded like the cry of the frogs on the moor,
or like the creaking of great boots when some one is marching,--always
the same tone, so monotonous and wearing, that little Tuk at length
fell fast asleep, and then the sound could not annoy him. But even
in this sleep came a dream or something like it. His little sister
Gustava, with her blue eyes, and fair curly hair, had grown up a
beautiful maiden all at once, and without having wings she could
fly. And they flew together over Zealand, over green forests and
blue lakes.
"Hark, so you hear the cock crow, little Tuk. 'Cock-a-doodle-doo. '
The fowls are flying out of Kjoge. You shall have a large farm-yard.
You shall never suffer hunger or want. The bird of good omen shall
be yours, and you shall become a rich and happy man; your house
shall rise up like King Waldemar's towers, and shall be richly adorned
with marble statues, like those at Prastoe. Understand me well; your
name shall travel with fame round the world like the ship that was
to sail from Corsor, and at Roeskilde,--Don't forget the names of
the towns, as King Hroar said,--you shall speak well and clearly
little Tuk, and when at last you lie in your grave you shall sleep
peacefully, as--"
"As if I lay in Soroe," said little Tuk awaking. It was bright
daylight, and he could not remember his dream, but that was not
necessary, for we are not to know what will happen to us in the
future.
"I will do it," said the little mermaid, and she became pale as
death.
"But I must be paid also," said the witch, "and it is not a trifle
that I ask. You have the sweetest voice of any who dwell here in the
depths of the sea, and you believe that you will be able to charm
the prince with it also, but this voice you must give to me; the
best thing you possess will I have for the price of my draught. My own
blood must be mixed with it, that it may be as sharp as a two-edged
sword. "
"But if you take away my voice," said the little mermaid, "what is
left for me? "
"Your beautiful form, your graceful walk, and your expressive
eyes; surely with these you can enchain a man's heart. Well, have
you lost your courage? Put out your little tongue that I may cut it
off as my payment; then you shall have the powerful draught. "
"It shall be," said the little mermaid.
Then the witch placed her cauldron on the fire, to prepare the
magic draught.
"Cleanliness is a good thing," said she, scouring the vessel
with snakes, which she had tied together in a large knot; then she
pricked herself in the breast, and let the black blood drop into it.
The steam that rose formed itself into such horrible shapes that no
one could look at them without fear. Every moment the witch threw
something else into the vessel, and when it began to boil, the sound
was like the weeping of a crocodile. When at last the magic draught
was ready, it looked like the clearest water. "There it is for you,"
said the witch. Then she cut off the mermaid's tongue, so that she
became dumb, and would never again speak or sing. "If the polypi
should seize hold of you as you return through the wood," said the
witch, "throw over them a few drops of the potion, and their fingers
will be torn into a thousand pieces. " But the little mermaid had no
occasion to do this, for the polypi sprang back in terror when they
caught sight of the glittering draught, which shone in her hand like a
twinkling star.
So she passed quickly through the wood and the marsh, and
between the rushing whirlpools. She saw that in her father's palace
the torches in the ballroom were extinguished, and all within
asleep; but she did not venture to go in to them, for now she was dumb
and going to leave them forever, she felt as if her heart would break.
She stole into the garden, took a flower from the flower-beds of
each of her sisters, kissed her hand a thousand times towards the
palace, and then rose up through the dark blue waters. The sun had not
risen when she came in sight of the prince's palace, and approached
the beautiful marble steps, but the moon shone clear and bright.
Then the little mermaid drank the magic draught, and it seemed as if a
two-edged sword went through her delicate body: she fell into a swoon,
and lay like one dead. When the sun arose and shone over the sea,
she recovered, and felt a sharp pain; but just before her stood the
handsome young prince. He fixed his coal-black eyes upon her so
earnestly that she cast down her own, and then became aware that her
fish's tail was gone, and that she had as pretty a pair of white
legs and tiny feet as any little maiden could have; but she had no
clothes, so she wrapped herself in her long, thick hair. The prince
asked her who she was, and where she came from, and she looked at
him mildly and sorrowfully with her deep blue eyes; but she could
not speak. Every step she took was as the witch had said it would
be, she felt as if treading upon the points of needles or sharp
knives; but she bore it willingly, and stepped as lightly by the
prince's side as a soap-bubble, so that he and all who saw her
wondered at her graceful-swaying movements. She was very soon
arrayed in costly robes of silk and muslin, and was the most beautiful
creature in the palace; but she was dumb, and could neither speak
nor sing.
Beautiful female slaves, dressed in silk and gold, stepped forward
and sang before the prince and his royal parents: one sang better than
all the others, and the prince clapped his hands and smiled at her.
This was great sorrow to the little mermaid; she knew how much more
sweetly she herself could sing once, and she thought, "Oh if he
could only know that! I have given away my voice forever, to be with
him. "
The slaves next performed some pretty fairy-like dances, to the
sound of beautiful music. Then the little mermaid raised her lovely
white arms, stood on the tips of her toes, and glided over the
floor, and danced as no one yet had been able to dance. At each moment
her beauty became more revealed, and her expressive eyes appealed more
directly to the heart than the songs of the slaves. Every one was
enchanted, especially the prince, who called her his little foundling;
and she danced again quite readily, to please him, though each time
her foot touched the floor it seemed as if she trod on sharp knives.
The prince said she should remain with him always, and she
received permission to sleep at his door, on a velvet cushion. He
had a page's dress made for her, that she might accompany him on
horseback. They rode together through the sweet-scented woods, where
the green boughs touched their shoulders, and the little birds sang
among the fresh leaves. She climbed with the prince to the tops of
high mountains; and although her tender feet bled so that even her
steps were marked, she only laughed, and followed him till they
could see the clouds beneath them looking like a flock of birds
travelling to distant lands. While at the prince's palace, and when
all the household were asleep, she would go and sit on the broad
marble steps; for it eased her burning feet to bathe them in the
cold sea-water; and then she thought of all those below in the deep.
Once during the night her sisters came up arm-in-arm, singing
sorrowfully, as they floated on the water. She beckoned to them, and
then they recognized her, and told her how she had grieved them. After
that, they came to the same place every night; and once she saw in the
distance her old grandmother, who had not been to the surface of the
sea for many years, and the old Sea King, her father, with his crown
on his head. They stretched out their hands towards her, but they
did not venture so near the land as her sisters did.
As the days passed, she loved the prince more fondly, and he loved
her as he would love a little child, but it never came into his head
to make her his wife; yet, unless he married her, she could not
receive an immortal soul; and, on the morning after his marriage
with another, she would dissolve into the foam of the sea.
"Do you not love me the best of them all? " the eyes of the
little mermaid seemed to say, when he took her in his arms, and kissed
her fair forehead.
"Yes, you are dear to me," said the prince; "for you have the best
heart, and you are the most devoted to me; you are like a young maiden
whom I once saw, but whom I shall never meet again. I was in a ship
that was wrecked, and the waves cast me ashore near a holy temple,
where several young maidens performed the service. The youngest of
them found me on the shore, and saved my life. I saw her but twice,
and she is the only one in the world whom I could love; but you are
like her, and you have almost driven her image out of my mind. She
belongs to the holy temple, and my good fortune has sent you to me
instead of her; and we will never part. "
"Ah, he knows not that it was I who saved his life," thought the
little mermaid. "I carried him over the sea to the wood where the
temple stands: I sat beneath the foam, and watched till the human
beings came to help him. I saw the pretty maiden that he loves
better than he loves me;" and the mermaid sighed deeply, but she could
not shed tears. "He says the maiden belongs to the holy temple,
therefore she will never return to the world. They will meet no
more: while I am by his side, and see him every day. I will take
care of him, and love him, and give up my life for his sake. "
Very soon it was said that the prince must marry, and that the
beautiful daughter of a neighboring king would be his wife, for a fine
ship was being fitted out. Although the prince gave out that he merely
intended to pay a visit to the king, it was generally supposed that he
really went to see his daughter. A great company were to go with
him. The little mermaid smiled, and shook her head. She knew the
prince's thoughts better than any of the others.
"I must travel," he had said to her; "I must see this beautiful
princess; my parents desire it; but they will not oblige me to bring
her home as my bride. I cannot love her; she is not like the beautiful
maiden in the temple, whom you resemble. If I were forced to choose
a bride, I would rather choose you, my dumb foundling, with those
expressive eyes. " And then he kissed her rosy mouth, played with her
long waving hair, and laid his head on her heart, while she dreamed of
human happiness and an immortal soul. "You are not afraid of the
sea, my dumb child," said he, as they stood on the deck of the noble
ship which was to carry them to the country of the neighboring king.
And then he told her of storm and of calm, of strange fishes in the
deep beneath them, and of what the divers had seen there; and she
smiled at his descriptions, for she knew better than any one what
wonders were at the bottom of the sea.
In the moonlight, when all on board were asleep, excepting the man
at the helm, who was steering, she sat on the deck, gazing down
through the clear water. She thought she could distinguish her
father's castle, and upon it her aged grandmother, with the silver
crown on her head, looking through the rushing tide at the keel of the
vessel. Then her sisters came up on the waves, and gazed at her
mournfully, wringing their white hands. She beckoned to them, and
smiled, and wanted to tell them how happy and well off she was; but
the cabin-boy approached, and when her sisters dived down he thought
it was only the foam of the sea which he saw.
The next morning the ship sailed into the harbor of a beautiful
town belonging to the king whom the prince was going to visit. The
church bells were ringing, and from the high towers sounded a flourish
of trumpets; and soldiers, with flying colors and glittering bayonets,
lined the rocks through which they passed. Every day was a festival;
balls and entertainments followed one another.
But the princess had not yet appeared. People said that she was
being brought up and educated in a religious house, where she was
learning every royal virtue. At last she came. Then the little
mermaid, who was very anxious to see whether she was really beautiful,
was obliged to acknowledge that she had never seen a more perfect
vision of beauty. Her skin was delicately fair, and beneath her long
dark eye-lashes her laughing blue eyes shone with truth and purity.
"It was you," said the prince, "who saved my life when I lay
dead on the beach," and he folded his blushing bride in his arms. "Oh,
I am too happy," said he to the little mermaid; "my fondest hopes
are all fulfilled. You will rejoice at my happiness; for your devotion
to me is great and sincere. "
The little mermaid kissed his hand, and felt as if her heart
were already broken. His wedding morning would bring death to her, and
she would change into the foam of the sea. All the church bells
rung, and the heralds rode about the town proclaiming the betrothal.
Perfumed oil was burning in costly silver lamps on every altar. The
priests waved the censers, while the bride and bridegroom joined their
hands and received the blessing of the bishop. The little mermaid,
dressed in silk and gold, held up the bride's train; but her ears
heard nothing of the festive music, and her eyes saw not the holy
ceremony; she thought of the night of death which was coming to her,
and of all she had lost in the world. On the same evening the bride
and bridegroom went on board ship; cannons were roaring, flags waving,
and in the centre of the ship a costly tent of purple and gold had
been erected. It contained elegant couches, for the reception of the
bridal pair during the night. The ship, with swelling sails and a
favorable wind, glided away smoothly and lightly over the calm sea.
When it grew dark a number of colored lamps were lit, and the
sailors danced merrily on the deck. The little mermaid could not
help thinking of her first rising out of the sea, when she had seen
similar festivities and joys; and she joined in the dance, poised
herself in the air as a swallow when he pursues his prey, and all
present cheered her with wonder. She had never danced so elegantly
before. Her tender feet felt as if cut with sharp knives, but she
cared not for it; a sharper pang had pierced through her heart. She
knew this was the last evening she should ever see the prince, for
whom she had forsaken her kindred and her home; she had given up her
beautiful voice, and suffered unheard-of pain daily for him, while
he knew nothing of it. This was the last evening that she would
breathe the same air with him, or gaze on the starry sky and the
deep sea; an eternal night, without a thought or a dream, awaited her:
she had no soul and now she could never win one. All was joy and
gayety on board ship till long after midnight; she laughed and
danced with the rest, while the thoughts of death were in her heart.
The prince kissed his beautiful bride, while she played with his raven
hair, till they went arm-in-arm to rest in the splendid tent. Then all
became still on board the ship; the helmsman, alone awake, stood at
the helm. The little mermaid leaned her white arms on the edge of
the vessel, and looked towards the east for the first blush of
morning, for that first ray of dawn that would bring her death. She
saw her sisters rising out of the flood: they were as pale as herself;
but their long beautiful hair waved no more in the wind, and had
been cut off.
"We have given our hair to the witch," said they, "to obtain
help for you, that you may not die to-night. She has given us a knife:
here it is, see it is very sharp. Before the sun rises you must plunge
it into the heart of the prince; when the warm blood falls upon your
feet they will grow together again, and form into a fish's tail, and
you will be once more a mermaid, and return to us to live out your
three hundred years before you die and change into the salt sea
foam. Haste, then; he or you must die before sunrise. Our old
grandmother moans so for you, that her white hair is falling off
from sorrow, as ours fell under the witch's scissors. Kill the
prince and come back; hasten: do you not see the first red streaks
in the sky? In a few minutes the sun will rise, and you must die. " And
then they sighed deeply and mournfully, and sank down beneath the
waves.
The little mermaid drew back the crimson curtain of the tent,
and beheld the fair bride with her head resting on the prince's
breast. She bent down and kissed his fair brow, then looked at the sky
on which the rosy dawn grew brighter and brighter; then she glanced at
the sharp knife, and again fixed her eyes on the prince, who whispered
the name of his bride in his dreams. She was in his thoughts, and
the knife trembled in the hand of the little mermaid: then she flung
it far away from her into the waves; the water turned red where it
fell, and the drops that spurted up looked like blood. She cast one
more lingering, half-fainting glance at the prince, and then threw
herself from the ship into the sea, and thought her body was
dissolving into foam. The sun rose above the waves, and his warm
rays fell on the cold foam of the little mermaid, who did not feel
as if she were dying. She saw the bright sun, and all around her
floated hundreds of transparent beautiful beings; she could see
through them the white sails of the ship, and the red clouds in the
sky; their speech was melodious, but too ethereal to be heard by
mortal ears, as they were also unseen by mortal eyes. The little
mermaid perceived that she had a body like theirs, and that she
continued to rise higher and higher out of the foam. "Where am I? "
asked she, and her voice sounded ethereal, as the voice of those who
were with her; no earthly music could imitate it.
"Among the daughters of the air," answered one of them. "A mermaid
has not an immortal soul, nor can she obtain one unless she wins the
love of a human being. On the power of another hangs her eternal
destiny. But the daughters of the air, although they do not possess an
immortal soul, can, by their good deeds, procure one for themselves.
We fly to warm countries, and cool the sultry air that destroys
mankind with the pestilence. We carry the perfume of the flowers to
spread health and restoration. After we have striven for three hundred
years to all the good in our power, we receive an immortal soul and
take part in the happiness of mankind. You, poor little mermaid,
have tried with your whole heart to do as we are doing; you have
suffered and endured and raised yourself to the spirit-world by your
good deeds; and now, by striving for three hundred years in the same
way, you may obtain an immortal soul. "
The little mermaid lifted her glorified eyes towards the sun,
and felt them, for the first time, filling with tears. On the ship, in
which she had left the prince, there were life and noise; she saw
him and his beautiful bride searching for her; sorrowfully they
gazed at the pearly foam, as if they knew she had thrown herself
into the waves. Unseen she kissed the forehead of her bride, and
fanned the prince, and then mounted with the other children of the air
to a rosy cloud that floated through the aether.
"After three hundred years, thus shall we float into the kingdom
of heaven," said she. "And we may even get there sooner," whispered
one of her companions. "Unseen we can enter the houses of men, where
there are children, and for every day on which we find a good child,
who is the joy of his parents and deserves their love, our time of
probation is shortened. The child does not know, when we fly through
the room, that we smile with joy at his good conduct, for we can count
one year less of our three hundred years. But when we see a naughty or
a wicked child, we shed tears of sorrow, and for every tear a day is
added to our time of trial! "
LITTLE TINY OR THUMBELINA
There was once a woman who wished very much to have a little
child, but she could not obtain her wish. At last she went to a fairy,
and said, "I should so very much like to have a little child; can
you tell me where I can find one? "
"Oh, that can be easily managed," said the fairy. "Here is a
barleycorn of a different kind to those which grow in the farmer's
fields, and which the chickens eat; put it into a flower-pot, and
see what will happen. "
"Thank you," said the woman, and she gave the fairy twelve
shillings, which was the price of the barleycorn. Then she went home
and planted it, and immediately there grew up a large handsome flower,
something like a tulip in appearance, but with its leaves tightly
closed as if it were still a bud. "It is a beautiful flower," said the
woman, and she kissed the red and golden-colored leaves, and while she
did so the flower opened, and she could see that it was a real
tulip. Within the flower, upon the green velvet stamens, sat a very
delicate and graceful little maiden. She was scarcely half as long
as a thumb, and they gave her the name of "Thumbelina," or Tiny,
because she was so small. A walnut-shell, elegantly polished, served
her for a cradle; her bed was formed of blue violet-leaves, with a
rose-leaf for a counterpane. Here she slept at night, but during the
day she amused herself on a table, where the woman had placed a
plateful of water. Round this plate were wreaths of flowers with their
stems in the water, and upon it floated a large tulip-leaf, which
served Tiny for a boat. Here the little maiden sat and rowed herself
from side to side, with two oars made of white horse-hair. It really
was a very pretty sight. Tiny could, also, sing so softly and
sweetly that nothing like her singing had ever before been heard.
One night, while she lay in her pretty bed, a large, ugly, wet toad
crept through a broken pane of glass in the window, and leaped right
upon the table where Tiny lay sleeping under her rose-leaf quilt.
"What a pretty little wife this would make for my son," said the
toad, and she took up the walnut-shell in which little Tiny lay
asleep, and jumped through the window with it into the garden.
In the swampy margin of a broad stream in the garden lived the
toad, with her son. He was uglier even than his mother, and when he
saw the pretty little maiden in her elegant bed, he could only cry,
"Croak, croak, croak. "
"Don't speak so loud, or she will wake," said the toad, "and
then she might run away, for she is as light as swan's down. We will
place her on one of the water-lily leaves out in the stream; it will
be like an island to her, she is so light and small, and then she
cannot escape; and, while she is away, we will make haste and
prepare the state-room under the marsh, in which you are to live
when you are married. "
Far out in the stream grew a number of water-lilies, with broad
green leaves, which seemed to float on the top of the water. The
largest of these leaves appeared farther off than the rest, and the
old toad swam out to it with the walnut-shell, in which little Tiny
lay still asleep. The tiny little creature woke very early in the
morning, and began to cry bitterly when she found where she was, for
she could see nothing but water on every side of the large green leaf,
and no way of reaching the land. Meanwhile the old toad was very
busy under the marsh, decking her room with rushes and wild yellow
flowers, to make it look pretty for her new daughter-in-law. Then
she swam out with her ugly son to the leaf on which she had placed
poor little Tiny. She wanted to fetch the pretty bed, that she might
put it in the bridal chamber to be ready for her. The old toad bowed
low to her in the water, and said, "Here is my son, he will be your
husband, and you will live happily in the marsh by the stream. "
"Croak, croak, croak," was all her son could say for himself; so
the toad took up the elegant little bed, and swam away with it,
leaving Tiny all alone on the green leaf, where she sat and wept.
She could not bear to think of living with the old toad, and having
her ugly son for a husband. The little fishes, who swam about in the
water beneath, had seen the toad, and heard what she said, so they
lifted their heads above the water to look at the little maiden. As
soon as they caught sight of her, they saw she was very pretty, and it
made them very sorry to think that she must go and live with the
ugly toads. "No, it must never be! " so they assembled together in
the water, round the green stalk which held the leaf on which the
little maiden stood, and gnawed it away at the root with their
teeth. Then the leaf floated down the stream, carrying Tiny far away
out of reach of land.
Tiny sailed past many towns, and the little birds in the bushes
saw her, and sang, "What a lovely little creature;" so the leaf swam
away with her farther and farther, till it brought her to other lands.
A graceful little white butterfly constantly fluttered round her,
and at last alighted on the leaf. Tiny pleased him, and she was glad
of it, for now the toad could not possibly reach her, and the
country through which she sailed was beautiful, and the sun shone upon
the water, till it glittered like liquid gold. She took off her girdle
and tied one end of it round the butterfly, and the other end of the
ribbon she fastened to the leaf, which now glided on much faster
than ever, taking little Tiny with it as she stood. Presently a
large cockchafer flew by; the moment he caught sight of her, he seized
her round her delicate waist with his claws, and flew with her into
a tree. The green leaf floated away on the brook, and the butterfly
flew with it, for he was fastened to it, and could not get away.
Oh, how frightened little Tiny felt when the cockchafer flew
with her to the tree! But especially was she sorry for the beautiful
white butterfly which she had fastened to the leaf, for if he could
not free himself he would die of hunger. But the cockchafer did not
trouble himself at all about the matter. He seated himself by her side
on a large green leaf, gave her some honey from the flowers to eat,
and told her she was very pretty, though not in the least like a
cockchafer. After a time, all the cockchafers turned up their feelers,
and said, "She has only two legs! how ugly that looks. " "She has no
feelers," said another. "Her waist is quite slim. Pooh! she is like
a human being. "
"Oh! she is ugly," said all the lady cockchafers, although Tiny
was very pretty. Then the cockchafer who had run away with her,
believed all the others when they said she was ugly, and would have
nothing more to say to her, and told her she might go where she liked.
Then he flew down with her from the tree, and placed her on a daisy,
and she wept at the thought that she was so ugly that even the
cockchafers would have nothing to say to her. And all the while she
was really the loveliest creature that one could imagine, and as
tender and delicate as a beautiful rose-leaf. During the whole
summer poor little Tiny lived quite alone in the wide forest. She wove
herself a bed with blades of grass, and hung it up under a broad leaf,
to protect herself from the rain. She sucked the honey from the
flowers for food, and drank the dew from their leaves every morning.
So passed away the summer and the autumn, and then came the winter,--the
long, cold winter. All the birds who had sung to her so sweetly
were flown away, and the trees and the flowers had withered. The large
clover leaf under the shelter of which she had lived, was now rolled
together and shrivelled up, nothing remained but a yellow withered
stalk. She felt dreadfully cold, for her clothes were torn, and she
was herself so frail and delicate, that poor little Tiny was nearly
frozen to death.
It began to snow too; and the snow-flakes, as they
fell upon her, were like a whole shovelful falling upon one of us, for
we are tall, but she was only an inch high. Then she wrapped herself
up in a dry leaf, but it cracked in the middle and could not keep
her warm, and she shivered with cold. Near the wood in which she had
been living lay a corn-field, but the corn had been cut a long time;
nothing remained but the bare dry stubble standing up out of the
frozen ground. It was to her like struggling through a large wood. Oh!
how she shivered with the cold. She came at last to the door of a
field-mouse, who had a little den under the corn-stubble. There
dwelt the field-mouse in warmth and comfort, with a whole roomful of
corn, a kitchen, and a beautiful dining room. Poor little Tiny stood
before the door just like a little beggar-girl, and begged for a small
piece of barley-corn, for she had been without a morsel to eat for two
days.
"You poor little creature," said the field-mouse, who was really a
good old field-mouse, "come into my warm room and dine with me. " She
was very pleased with Tiny, so she said, "You are quite welcome to
stay with me all the winter, if you like; but you must keep my rooms
clean and neat, and tell me stories, for I shall like to hear them
very much. " And Tiny did all the field-mouse asked her, and found
herself very comfortable.
"We shall have a visitor soon," said the field-mouse one day;
"my neighbor pays me a visit once a week. He is better off than I
am; he has large rooms, and wears a beautiful black velvet coat. If
you could only have him for a husband, you would be well provided
for indeed. But he is blind, so you must tell him some of your
prettiest stories. "
But Tiny did not feel at all interested about this neighbor, for
he was a mole. However, he came and paid his visit dressed in his
black velvet coat.
"He is very rich and learned, and his house is twenty times larger
than mine," said the field-mouse.
He was rich and learned, no doubt, but he always spoke slightingly
of the sun and the pretty flowers, because he had never seen them.
Tiny was obliged to sing to him, "Lady-bird, lady-bird, fly away
home," and many other pretty songs. And the mole fell in love with her
because she had such a sweet voice; but he said nothing yet, for he
was very cautious. A short time before, the mole had dug a long
passage under the earth, which led from the dwelling of the
field-mouse to his own, and here she had permission to walk with
Tiny whenever she liked. But he warned them not to be alarmed at the
sight of a dead bird which lay in the passage. It was a perfect
bird, with a beak and feathers, and could not have been dead long, and
was lying just where the mole had made his passage. The mole took a
piece of phosphorescent wood in his mouth, and it glittered like
fire in the dark; then he went before them to light them through the
long, dark passage. When they came to the spot where lay the dead
bird, the mole pushed his broad nose through the ceiling, the earth
gave way, so that there was a large hole, and the daylight shone
into the passage. In the middle of the floor lay a dead swallow, his
beautiful wings pulled close to his sides, his feet and his head drawn
up under his feathers; the poor bird had evidently died of the cold.
It made little Tiny very sad to see it, she did so love the little
birds; all the summer they had sung and twittered for her so
beautifully. But the mole pushed it aside with his crooked legs, and
said, "He will sing no more now. How miserable it must be to be born a
little bird! I am thankful that none of my children will ever be
birds, for they can do nothing but cry, 'Tweet, tweet,' and always die
of hunger in the winter. "
"Yes, you may well say that, as a clever man! " exclaimed the
field-mouse, "What is the use of his twittering, for when winter comes
he must either starve or be frozen to death. Still birds are very high
bred. "
Tiny said nothing; but when the two others had turned their
backs on the bird, she stooped down and stroked aside the soft
feathers which covered the head, and kissed the closed eyelids.
"Perhaps this was the one who sang to me so sweetly in the summer,"
she said; "and how much pleasure it gave me, you dear, pretty bird. "
The mole now stopped up the hole through which the daylight shone,
and then accompanied the lady home. But during the night Tiny could
not sleep; so she got out of bed and wove a large, beautiful carpet of
hay; then she carried it to the dead bird, and spread it over him;
with some down from the flowers which she had found in the
field-mouse's room. It was as soft as wool, and she spread some of
it on each side of the bird, so that he might lie warmly in the cold
earth. "Farewell, you pretty little bird," said she, "farewell;
thank you for your delightful singing during the summer, when all
the trees were green, and the warm sun shone upon us. " Then she laid
her head on the bird's breast, but she was alarmed immediately, for it
seemed as if something inside the bird went "thump, thump. " It was the
bird's heart; he was not really dead, only benumbed with the cold, and
the warmth had restored him to life. In autumn, all the swallows fly
away into warm countries, but if one happens to linger, the cold
seizes it, it becomes frozen, and falls down as if dead; it remains
where it fell, and the cold snow covers it. Tiny trembled very much;
she was quite frightened, for the bird was large, a great deal
larger than herself,--she was only an inch high. But she took courage,
laid the wool more thickly over the poor swallow, and then took a leaf
which she had used for her own counterpane, and laid it over the
head of the poor bird. The next morning she again stole out to see
him. He was alive but very weak; he could only open his eyes for a
moment to look at Tiny, who stood by holding a piece of decayed wood
in her hand, for she had no other lantern. "Thank you, pretty little
maiden," said the sick swallow; "I have been so nicely warmed, that
I shall soon regain my strength, and be able to fly about again in the
warm sunshine. "
"Oh," said she, "it is cold out of doors now; it snows and
freezes. Stay in your warm bed; I will take care of you. "
Then she brought the swallow some water in a flower-leaf, and
after he had drank, he told her that he had wounded one of his wings
in a thorn-bush, and could not fly as fast as the others, who were
soon far away on their journey to warm countries. Then at last he
had fallen to the earth, and could remember no more, nor how he came
to be where she had found him. The whole winter the swallow remained
underground, and Tiny nursed him with care and love. Neither the
mole nor the field-mouse knew anything about it, for they did not like
swallows. Very soon the spring time came, and the sun warmed the
earth. Then the swallow bade farewell to Tiny, and she opened the hole
in the ceiling which the mole had made. The sun shone in upon them
so beautifully, that the swallow asked her if she would go with him;
she could sit on his back, he said, and he would fly away with her
into the green woods. But Tiny knew it would make the field-mouse very
grieved if she left her in that manner, so she said, "No, I cannot. "
"Farewell, then, farewell, you good, pretty little maiden," said
the swallow; and he flew out into the sunshine.
Tiny looked after him, and the tears rose in her eyes. She was
very fond of the poor swallow.
"Tweet, tweet," sang the bird, as he flew out into the green
woods, and Tiny felt very sad. She was not allowed to go out into
the warm sunshine. The corn which had been sown in the field over
the house of the field-mouse had grown up high into the air, and
formed a thick wood to Tiny, who was only an inch in height.
"You are going to be married, Tiny," said the field-mouse. "My
neighbor has asked for you. What good fortune for a poor child like
you. Now we will prepare your wedding clothes. They must be both
woollen and linen. Nothing must be wanting when you are the mole's
wife. "
Tiny had to turn the spindle, and the field-mouse hired four
spiders, who were to weave day and night. Every evening the mole
visited her, and was continually speaking of the time when the
summer would be over. Then he would keep his wedding-day with Tiny;
but now the heat of the sun was so great that it burned the earth, and
made it quite hard, like a stone. As soon, as the summer was over, the
wedding should take place. But Tiny was not at all pleased; for she
did not like the tiresome mole. Every morning when the sun rose, and
every evening when it went down, she would creep out at the door,
and as the wind blew aside the ears of corn, so that she could see the
blue sky, she thought how beautiful and bright it seemed out there,
and wished so much to see her dear swallow again. But he never
returned; for by this time he had flown far away into the lovely green
forest.
When autumn arrived, Tiny had her outfit quite ready; and the
field-mouse said to her, "In four weeks the wedding must take place. "
Then Tiny wept, and said she would not marry the disagreeable
mole.
"Nonsense," replied the field-mouse. "Now don't be obstinate, or I
shall bite you with my white teeth. He is a very handsome mole; the
queen herself does not wear more beautiful velvets and furs. His
kitchen and cellars are quite full. You ought to be very thankful
for such good fortune. "
So the wedding-day was fixed, on which the mole was to fetch
Tiny away to live with him, deep under the earth, and never again to
see the warm sun, because he did not like it. The poor child was
very unhappy at the thought of saying farewell to the beautiful sun,
and as the field-mouse had given her permission to stand at the
door, she went to look at it once more.
"Farewell bright sun," she cried, stretching out her arm towards
it; and then she walked a short distance from the house; for the
corn had been cut, and only the dry stubble remained in the fields.
"Farewell, farewell," she repeated, twining her arm round a little red
flower that grew just by her side. "Greet the little swallow from
me, if you should see him again. "
"Tweet, tweet," sounded over her head suddenly. She looked up, and
there was the swallow himself flying close by. As soon as he spied
Tiny, he was delighted; and then she told him how unwilling she felt
to marry the ugly mole, and to live always beneath the earth, and
never to see the bright sun any more. And as she told him she wept.
"Cold winter is coming," said the swallow, "and I am going to
fly away into warmer countries. Will you go with me? You can sit on my
back, and fasten yourself on with your sash. Then we can fly away from
the ugly mole and his gloomy rooms,--far away, over the mountains,
into warmer countries, where the sun shines more brightly--than
here; where it is always summer, and the flowers bloom in greater
beauty. Fly now with me, dear little Tiny; you saved my life when I
lay frozen in that dark passage. "
"Yes, I will go with you," said Tiny; and she seated herself on
the bird's back, with her feet on his outstretched wings, and tied her
girdle to one of his strongest feathers.
Then the swallow rose in the air, and flew over forest and over
sea, high above the highest mountains, covered with eternal snow. Tiny
would have been frozen in the cold air, but she crept under the bird's
warm feathers, keeping her little head uncovered, so that she might
admire the beautiful lands over which they passed. At length they
reached the warm countries, where the sun shines brightly, and the sky
seems so much higher above the earth. Here, on the hedges, and by
the wayside, grew purple, green, and white grapes; lemons and
oranges hung from trees in the woods; and the air was fragrant with
myrtles and orange blossoms. Beautiful children ran along the
country lanes, playing with large gay butterflies; and as the
swallow flew farther and farther, every place appeared still more
lovely.
At last they came to a blue lake, and by the side of it, shaded by
trees of the deepest green, stood a palace of dazzling white marble,
built in the olden times. Vines clustered round its lofty pillars, and
at the top were many swallows' nests, and one of these was the home of
the swallow who carried Tiny.
"This is my house," said the swallow; "but it would not do for you
to live there--you would not be comfortable. You must choose for
yourself one of those lovely flowers, and I will put you down upon it,
and then you shall have everything that you can wish to make you
happy. "
"That will be delightful," she said, and clapped her little
hands for joy.
A large marble pillar lay on the ground, which, in falling, had
been broken into three pieces. Between these pieces grew the most
beautiful large white flowers; so the swallow flew down with Tiny, and
placed her on one of the broad leaves. But how surprised she was to
see in the middle of the flower, a tiny little man, as white and
transparent as if he had been made of crystal! He had a gold crown
on his head, and delicate wings at his shoulders, and was not much
larger than Tiny herself. He was the angel of the flower; for a tiny
man and a tiny woman dwell in every flower; and this was the king of
them all.
"Oh, how beautiful he is! " whispered Tiny to the swallow.
The little prince was at first quite frightened at the bird, who
was like a giant, compared to such a delicate little creature as
himself; but when he saw Tiny, he was delighted, and thought her the
prettiest little maiden he had ever seen. He took the gold crown
from his head, and placed it on hers, and asked her name, and if she
would be his wife, and queen over all the flowers.
This certainly was a very different sort of husband to the son
of a toad, or the mole, with my black velvet and fur; so she said,
"Yes," to the handsome prince. Then all the flowers opened, and out of
each came a little lady or a tiny lord, all so pretty it was quite a
pleasure to look at them. Each of them brought Tiny a present; but the
best gift was a pair of beautiful wings, which had belonged to a large
white fly and they fastened them to Tiny's shoulders, so that she
might fly from flower to flower. Then there was much rejoicing, and
the little swallow who sat above them, in his nest, was asked to
sing a wedding song, which he did as well as he could; but in his
heart he felt sad for he was very fond of Tiny, and would have liked
never to part from her again.
"You must not be called Tiny any more," said the spirit of the
flowers to her. "It is an ugly name, and you are so very pretty. We
will call you Maia. "
"Farewell, farewell," said the swallow, with a heavy heart as he
left the warm countries to fly back into Denmark. There he had a
nest over the window of a house in which dwelt the writer of fairy
tales. The swallow sang, "Tweet, tweet," and from his song came the
whole story.
LITTLE TUK
Yes, they called him Little Tuk, but it was not his real name;
he had called himself so before he could speak plainly, and he meant
it for Charles. It was all very well for those who knew him, but not
for strangers.
Little Tuk was left at home to take care of his little sister,
Gustava, who was much younger than himself, and he had to learn his
lessons at the same time, and the two things could not very well be
performed together. The poor boy sat there with his sister on his lap,
and sung to her all the songs he knew, and now and then he looked into
his geography lesson that lay open before him. By the next morning
he had to learn by heart all the towns in Zealand, and all that
could be described of them.
His mother came home at last, and took little Gustava in her arms.
Then Tuk ran to the window, and read so eagerly that he nearly read
his eyes out; for it had become darker and darker every minute, and
his mother had no money to buy a light.
"There goes the old washerwoman up the lane," said the mother,
as she looked out of the window; "the poor woman can hardly drag
herself along, and now she had to drag a pail of water from the
well. Be a good boy, Tuk, and run across and help the old woman, won't
you? "
So Tuk ran across quickly, and helped her, but when he came back
into the room it was quite dark, and there was not a word said about a
light, so he was obliged to go to bed on his little truckle
bedstead, and there he lay and thought of his geography lesson, and of
Zealand, and of all the master had told him. He ought really to have
read it over again, but he could not for want of light. So he put
the geography book under his pillow, for he had heard that this was
a great help towards learning a lesson, but not always to be
depended upon. He still lay thinking and thinking, when all at once it
seemed as if some one kissed him on his eyes and mouth. He slept and
yet he did not sleep; and it appeared as if the old washerwoman looked
at him with kind eyes and said, "It would be a great pity if you did
not know your lesson to-morrow morning; you helped me, and now I
will help you, and Providence will always keep those who help
themselves;" and at the same time the book under Tuk's pillow began to
move about. "Cluck, cluck, cluck," cried a hen as she crept towards
him. "I am a hen from Kjoge," and then she told him how many
inhabitants the town contained, and about a battle that had been
fought there, which really was not worth speaking of.
"Crack, crack," down fell something. It was a wooden bird, the
parrot which is used as a target as Prastoe. He said there were as
many inhabitants in that town as he had nails in his body. He was very
proud, and said, "Thorwalsden lived close to me, and here I am now,
quite comfortable. "
But now little Tuk was no longer in bed; all in a moment he
found himself on horseback. Gallop, gallop, away he went, seated in
front of a richly-attired knight, with a waving plume, who held him on
the saddle, and so they rode through the wood by the old town of
Wordingburg, which was very large and busy. The king's castle was
surrounded by lofty towers, and radiant light streamed from all the
windows. Within there were songs and dancing; King Waldemar and the
young gayly-dressed ladies of the court were dancing together. Morning
dawned, and as the sun rose, the whole city and the king's castle sank
suddenly down together. One tower after another fell, till at last
only one remained standing on the hill where the castle had formerly
been.
The town now appeared small and poor, and the school-boys read
in their books, which they carried under their arms, that it contained
two thousand inhabitants; but this was a mere boast, for it did not
contain so many.
And again little Tuk lay in his bed, scarcely knowing whether he
was dreaming or not, for some one stood by him.
"Tuk! little Tuk! " said a voice. It was a very little person who
spoke. He was dressed as a sailor, and looked small enough to be a
middy, but he was not one. "I bring you many greetings from Corsor. It
is a rising town, full of life. It has steamships and mail-coaches. In
times past they used to call it ugly, but that is no longer true. I
lie on the sea-shore," said Corsor; "I have high-roads and
pleasure-gardens; I have given birth to a poet who was witty and
entertaining, which they are not all. I once wanted to fit out a
ship to sail round the world, but I did not accomplish it, though most
likely I might have done so. But I am fragrant with perfume, for close
to my gates most lovely roses bloom. "
Then before the eyes of little Tuk appeared a confusion of colors,
red and green; but it cleared off, and he could distinguish a cliff
close to the bay, the slopes of which were quite overgrown with
verdure, and on its summit stood a fine old church with pointed
towers. Springs of water flowed out of the cliff in thick waterspouts,
so that there was a continual splashing. Close by sat an old king with
a golden crown on his white head. This was King Hroar of the Springs
and near the springs stood the town of Roeskilde, as it is called.
Then all the kings and queens of Denmark went up the ascent to the old
church, hand in hand, with golden crowns on their heads, while the
organ played and the fountains sent forth jets of water.
Little Tuk saw and heard it all. "Don't forget the names of
these towns," said King Hroar.
All at once everything vanished; but where! It seemed to him
like turning over the leaves of a book. And now there stood before him
an old peasant woman, who had come from Soroe where the grass grows in
the market-place. She had a green linen apron thrown over her head and
shoulders, and it was quite wet, as if it had been raining heavily.
"Yes, that it has," said she, and then, just as she was going to
tell him a great many pretty stories from Holberg's comedies, and
about Waldemar and Absalom, she suddenly shrunk up together, and
wagged her head as if she were a frog about to spring. "Croak," she
cried; "it is always wet, and as quiet as death in Soroe. " Then little
Tuk saw she was changed into a frog. "Croak," and again she was an old
woman. "One must dress according to the weather," said she. "It is
wet, and my town is just like a bottle. By the cork we must go in, and
by the cork we must come out again. In olden times I had beautiful
fish, and now I have fresh, rosy-cheeked boys in the bottom of the
bottle, and they learn wisdom, Hebrew and Greek. "
"Croak. " How it sounded like the cry of the frogs on the moor,
or like the creaking of great boots when some one is marching,--always
the same tone, so monotonous and wearing, that little Tuk at length
fell fast asleep, and then the sound could not annoy him. But even
in this sleep came a dream or something like it. His little sister
Gustava, with her blue eyes, and fair curly hair, had grown up a
beautiful maiden all at once, and without having wings she could
fly. And they flew together over Zealand, over green forests and
blue lakes.
"Hark, so you hear the cock crow, little Tuk. 'Cock-a-doodle-doo. '
The fowls are flying out of Kjoge. You shall have a large farm-yard.
You shall never suffer hunger or want. The bird of good omen shall
be yours, and you shall become a rich and happy man; your house
shall rise up like King Waldemar's towers, and shall be richly adorned
with marble statues, like those at Prastoe. Understand me well; your
name shall travel with fame round the world like the ship that was
to sail from Corsor, and at Roeskilde,--Don't forget the names of
the towns, as King Hroar said,--you shall speak well and clearly
little Tuk, and when at last you lie in your grave you shall sleep
peacefully, as--"
"As if I lay in Soroe," said little Tuk awaking. It was bright
daylight, and he could not remember his dream, but that was not
necessary, for we are not to know what will happen to us in the
future.
