plump mouthful--she will be better to eat than the old woman. I must
act craftily, so as to catch both.”
He walked for a short time by the side of Little Red-Cap, and then he
said, “See, Little Red-Cap, how pretty the flowers are about here--why
do you not look round? I believe, too, that you do not hear how sweetly
the little birds are singing. You walk gravely along as if you were
going to school, while everything else in the wood is merry.”
Little Red-Cap raised her eyes, and when she saw the sunbeams
dancing here and there through the trees, and pretty flowers growing
everywhere, she thought, “Suppose I take Grandmother a fresh nosegay.
That would please her too. It is so early in the day that I shall still
get there in good time.”
And so she ran from the path into the wood to look for flowers. And
whenever she had picked one, she fancied that she saw a still prettier
one farther on, and ran after it, and thus got deeper and deeper into
the wood.
Meanwhile, the Wolf ran straight to the Grandmother’s house and knocked
at the door.
“Who is there?”
“Little Red-Cap,” replied the Wolf. “She is bringing cake and wine.
Open the door.”
“Lift the latch,” called out the Grandmother, “I am too weak, and
cannot get up.”
The Wolf lifted the latch, the door flew open, and without saying a
word he went straight to the Grandmother’s bed, and devoured her. Then
he put on her clothes, dressed himself in her cap, laid himself in bed,
and drew the curtains.
Little Red-Cap, however, had been running about picking flowers. When
she had gathered so many that she could carry no more, she remembered
her Grandmother, and set out on the way to her.
She was surprised to find the cottage-door standing open. And when she
went into the room, she had such a strange feeling, that she said to
herself, “Oh dear! how uneasy I feel to-day, and at other times I like
being with Grandmother so much.”
She called out, “Good morning,” but received no answer. So she went to
the bed and drew back the curtains. There lay her Grandmother with her
cap pulled far over her face, and looking very strange.
“Oh! Grandmother,” she said, “what big ears you have!”
“The better to hear you with, my Child,” was the reply.
“But, Grandmother, what big eyes you have!” she said.
“The better to see you with, my dear.”
“But, Grandmother, what large hands you have!”
“The better to hug you with.”
“Oh! but Grandmother, what a terrible big mouth you have!”
“The better to eat you with!” And scarcely had the Wolf said this, than
with one bound he was out of bed and swallowed up Red-Cap.
When the Wolf had satisfied his appetite, he lay down again in the bed,
fell asleep and began to snore very loud. The huntsman was just passing
the house, and thought to himself, “How the old woman is snoring! I
must just see if she wants anything.”
So he went into the room, and when he came to the bed, he saw the Wolf
lying in it. “Do I find thee here, thou old sinner!” said he. “I have
long sought thee!”
Then just as he was going to fire at him, it occurred to him that the
Wolf might have devoured the grandmother, and that she might still be
saved. So he did not fire, but took a pair of scissors, and began to
cut open the stomach of the sleeping Wolf.
When he had made two snips, he saw the little Red-Cap shining, and then
he made two snips more, and the little girl sprang out, crying, “Ah,
how frightened I have been! How dark it was inside the Wolf!”
And after that the aged grandmother came out alive also, but scarcely
able to breathe.
Red-Cap then quickly fetched great stones with which they filled the
Wolf’s body. And when he awoke, he wanted to run away, but the stones
were so heavy that he tumbled down at once, and fell dead.
Then all three were delighted. The huntsman drew off the Wolf’s skin
and went home with it. The grandmother ate the cake and drank the wine
which Red-Cap had brought, and grew strong again.
But Red-Cap thought to herself, “As long as I live, I will never leave
the path to run into the wood, when my mother has forbidden me to do
so.”
[Illustration]
KING THRUSHBEARD
A King had a daughter who was beautiful beyond all measure, but so
proud and haughty withal that no suitor was good enough for her. She
sent away one after the other, and made fun of them as well.
Once the King gave a great feast and invited thereto, from far and
near, all the young men likely to marry. They were marshalled in a row
according to their rank and standing. First came the Kings, then the
Grand-dukes, then the Princes, the Earls, the Barons, and the gentry.
Then the King’s Daughter was led through the ranks, but to every one
she had some objection to make. One was too fat, “The wine-cask,” she
said. Another was too tall, “Long and thin has little in.” The third
was too short, “Short and thick is never quick.” The fourth was too
pale, “As pale as death.” The fifth too red, “A fighting-cock.” The
sixth was not straight enough, “A green log dried behind the stove.”
So she had something to say against every one. But she made herself
especially merry over a good King, who stood quite high up in the row,
and whose chin had grown a little crooked. “Well,” she cried and
laughed, “he has a chin like a thrush’s beak!” and from that time he
got the name of King Thrushbeard.
But the old King, when he saw that his daughter did nothing but mock
people, and despised all the suitors who were gathered there, was very
angry, and swore that she should have for her husband the very first
beggar that came to his doors.
A few days afterward, a fiddler came and sang beneath the windows,
trying to earn a small alms. When the King heard him, he said, “Let him
come up.”
So the fiddler came up, in his dirty, ragged clothes, and sang before
the King and his daughter. When he had ended he asked for a trifling
gift.
The King said, “Your song has pleased me so well that I will give you
my daughter there, to wife.”
The King’s Daughter shuddered, but the King said, “I have taken an oath
to give you to the very first beggar man, and I will keep it.”
All she could say was in vain; the priest was brought, and she had to
let herself be wedded to the fiddler on the spot.
When that was done the King said, “Now it is not proper for you, a
beggar woman, to stay any longer in my palace, you may go away with
your husband.”
The beggar man led her out by the hand, and she was obliged to go away
on foot with him. When they came to a large forest she asked, “To whom
does that beautiful forest belong?”
“It belongs to King Thrushbeard. If you had taken him, it would have
been yours.”
[Illustration: “WELL,” SHE LAUGHED, “HE HAS A CHIN LIKE A THRUSH’S
BEAK”]
“Ah, unhappy girl that I am! If I had but taken King Thrushbeard!”
Afterward, they came to a meadow, and she asked again, “To whom does
this beautiful green meadow belong?”
“It belongs to King Thrushbeard. If you had taken him, it would have
been yours.”
“Ah, unhappy girl that I am! If I had but taken King Thrushbeard!”
Then they came to a large town, and she asked again, “To whom does this
fine large town belong?”
“It belongs to King Thrushbeard. If you had taken him, it would have
been yours.”
“Ah, unhappy girl that I am! If I had but taken King Thrushbeard!”
“It does not please me,” said the fiddler, “to hear you always wishing
for another husband. Am I not good enough for you?”
At last they came to a very little hut, and she said, “Oh, goodness!
what a small house! To whom does this miserable, mean hovel belong?”
The fiddler answered, “That is my house and yours, where we shall live
together.”
She had to stoop in order to go in at the low door. “Where are the
servants?” said the King’s Daughter.
“What servants?” answered the beggar man. “You must do what you wish
to have done. Just make a fire at once, and set on water to cook my
supper. I am quite tired.”
But the King’s Daughter knew nothing about lighting fires or cooking,
and the beggar man had to lend a hand himself to get anything fairly
done. When they had finished their scanty meal they went to bed; but he
forced her to get up quite early in the morning in order to look after
the house.
For a few days, they lived in this way as well as might be, and ate up
all the food in the house.
Then the man said, “Wife, we cannot go on any longer eating and
drinking here and earning nothing. You must weave baskets.”
He went out, cut some willows, and brought them home. Then she began to
weave, but the tough willows wounded her delicate hands.
“I see that this will not do,” said the man; “you had better spin;
perhaps you can do that.”
She sat down and tried to spin, but the hard thread soon cut her soft
fingers so that the blood ran down.
“See,” said the man, “you are fit for no sort of work. I have made a
bad bargain with you. Now, I will try to earn a living by selling pots
and earthenware. You must sit in the market-place and sell the ware.”
“Alas,” thought she, “if any of the people from my father’s kingdom
come to the market and see me sitting there, selling, how they will
mock me!” But it was of no use, she had to yield unless she chose to
die of hunger.
For the first time, she succeeded well, for the people were glad to buy
the woman’s wares because she was good-looking, and they paid her what
she asked. Many even gave her the money and left the pots with her as
well. So they lived on what she had earned as long as it lasted.
Then the husband bought a lot of new crockery. With this she sat down
at the corner of the market-place, and set it around her ready for
sale. But suddenly there came a drunken soldier galloping along, and
he rode right amongst the pots, so that they were all broken into a
thousand bits.
She began to weep, and did not know what to do for fear. “Alas! what
will happen to me?” cried she; “what will my husband say to this?” She
ran home and told him of the misfortune.
“Who would seat herself at a corner of the market-place with crockery?”
said the man. “Leave off crying. I see very well that you cannot do
ordinary work, so I have been to our King’s palace and have asked
whether they cannot find a place for a kitchen-maid. They have promised
me to take you. In that way, you will get your food for nothing.”
The King’s Daughter was now a kitchen-maid, and had to be at the
cook’s beck and call, and do the dirtiest work. In each of her pockets
she fastened a little jar, in which she took home her share of the
leavings, and upon this they lived.
It happened that the wedding of the King’s eldest son was to be
celebrated. So the poor woman went up and placed herself by the door of
the hall to look on. When all the candles were lit, and people, each
more beautiful than the other, entered, and all was full of pomp and
splendor, she thought of her lot with a sad heart, and cursed the pride
and haughtiness which had humbled her, and brought her to so great
poverty.
The smell of the delicious dishes which were being taken in and out
reached her, and now and then the servants threw her a few morsels.
These she put in her jars to take home.
All at once, the King’s Son entered, clothed in velvet and silk,
with gold chains about his neck. And when he saw the beautiful woman
standing by the door he seized her by the hand, and would have danced
with her. But she refused and shrank back with fear, for she saw that
it was King Thrushbeard, her suitor whom she had driven away with scorn.
Her struggles were of no use; he drew her into the hall. But the string
by which her pockets were fastened, broke, the pots fell down, the soup
ran out, and the scraps were scattered all around. And when the people
saw it, there arose laughter and derision, and she was so ashamed that
she would rather have been a thousand fathoms below ground.
She sprang to the door and would have run away, but on the stairs a man
caught her and brought her back. And when she looked at him it was King
Thrushbeard!
He said to her kindly, “Do not be afraid, I and the fiddler who has
been living with you in that wretched hovel are one. For love of you I
disguised myself so. And I, also, was the soldier who rode through your
crockery. This was all done to humble your proud spirit, and to punish
you for the insolence with which you mocked me.”
Then she wept bitterly and said, “I have done great wrong, and am not
worthy to be your wife.”
But he said, “Be comforted. The evil days are past. Now we will
celebrate our wedding.”
Then the maids-in-waiting came, and put the most splendid clothing on
her. Her father and his whole Court arrived, and wished her happiness
in her marriage to King Thrushbeard. And the joy now began in earnest.
I wish you and I had been there too!
[Illustration]
THE GOLD-CHILDREN
There was once a poor man and a poor woman who had nothing but a little
cottage. They earned their bread by fishing, and always lived from hand
to mouth.
But it came to pass one day, when the man was sitting by the waterside
and casting his net, that he drew out a fish entirely of gold.
As he was looking at the fish, full of astonishment, it began to speak
and said, “Hark you, Fisherman, if you will throw me back again into
the water, I will change your little hut into a splendid castle.”
Then the fisherman answered, “Of what use is a castle to me, if I have
nothing to eat?”
The Gold Fish continued, “That shall be taken care of. There will be a
cupboard in the castle in which, when you open it, shall be dishes of
the most delicate meats, and as many of them as you may desire.”
“If that be true,” said the man, “then I can well do you a favor.”
“Yes,” said the Fish, “there is, however, the condition that you shall
tell no one in the world, whosoever he may be, whence your good luck
has come. If you speak but one single word, all will be over.”
Then the man threw the wonderful Fish back again into the water, and
went home.
Where his hovel had formerly stood, now stood a great castle. He opened
wide his eyes, entered, and saw his wife dressed in beautiful clothes,
sitting in a splendid room.
She was quite delighted, and said, “Husband, how has all this come to
pass? It suits me very well.”
“Yes,” said the man, “it suits me too. But I am frightfully hungry,
just give me something to eat.”
Said the wife, “But I have got nothing and don’t know where to find
anything in this new house.”
“There is no need of your knowing,” said the man, “for I see yonder a
great cupboard, just unlock it.”
When she opened it, lo! there stood cakes, meat, fruit, wine.
Then the woman cried joyfully, “What more can you want, my dear?” and
they sat down, and ate and drank together.
When they had had enough, the woman said, “But, Husband, whence come
all these riches?”
“Alas,” answered he, “do not question me about it, for I dare not tell
you anything. If I disclose it to any one, then all our good fortune
will fly.”
“Very good,” said she, “if I am not to know anything, then I do not
want to know anything.”
However, she was not in earnest. She never rested day or night, and she
goaded her husband until in his impatience he revealed that all was
owing to a wonderful Gold Fish which he had caught, and to which in
return he had given its liberty.
And as soon as the secret was out, the splendid castle with the
cupboard immediately disappeared. They were once more in the old
fisherman’s hut, and the man was obliged to follow his former trade and
fish.
But fortune would so have it, that he once more drew out the Gold Fish.
“Listen,” said the Fish, “if you will throw me back into the water
again, I will once more give you the castle with the cupboard full of
roast and boiled meats. Only be firm; for your life’s sake don’t reveal
from whom you have it, or you will lose it all again!”
“I will take good care,” answered the fisherman, and threw the fish
back into the water.
Now at home, everything was once more in its former magnificence. The
wife was overjoyed at their good fortune. But curiosity left her no
peace, so that after a couple of days she began to ask again how it had
come to pass, and how he had managed to secure it.
The man kept silence for a short time, but at last she made him so
angry that he broke out and betrayed the secret. In an instant the
castle disappeared, and they were back again in their old hut.
“Now you have got what you want,” said he; “and we can gnaw at a bare
bone again.”
“Ah,” said the woman, “I had rather have no riches; if I am not to know
from whom they come, then I have no peace.”
The man went back to fish, and after a while he chanced to draw out the
Gold Fish for a third time.
“Listen,” said the Fish, “I see very well that I am fated to fall into
your hands. Take me home and cut me into six pieces. Give your wife two
of them to eat, two to your horse, and bury two of them in the ground.
Then they will bring you a blessing.”
The fisherman took the Fish home with him, and did as it had bidden him.
It came to pass that from the two pieces that were buried in the
ground, two Golden Lilies sprang up; that the horse had two Golden
Foals; and the fisherman’s wife bore two children who were made
entirely of gold.
The children grew up, became tall and handsome, and the lilies and
horses grew likewise.
Then the lads said, “Father, we want to mount our Golden Steeds and
travel out in the world.”
But he answered sorrowfully, “How shall I bear it, if you go away and I
know not how it fares with you?”
Then they said, “The two Golden Lilies remain here. By them you may see
how it is with us. If they are fresh, then we are in health. If they
are withered, we are ill. If they perish, then we are dead.”
So they rode forth and came to an inn, in which were many people. They
perceived the Gold-Children and began to laugh, and jeer.
When one of them heard the mocking he felt ashamed and would not go out
into the world, but turned back and went home again to his father. But
the other rode forward and reached a great forest.
[Illustration: THE MAIDEN SAID, “I WILL BE TRUE TO YOU, YOUR LIFE LONG”]
As he was about to enter it, the people said, “It is not safe for
you to ride through; the wood is full of robbers, who would treat you
badly. You will fare ill. When they see that you are all of gold and
your horse likewise, they will assuredly kill you.”
But he would not allow himself to be frightened, and said, “I must and
will ride through it.”
Then he took bear-skins and covered himself and his horse with them, so
that the gold was not seen, and rode fearlessly into the forest. When
he had ridden onward a little, he heard a rustling in the bushes, and
heard voices speaking together.
From one side came cries of, “There is one!” but from the other, “Let
him go! ’tis an idle fellow, as poor and bare as a church-mouse. What
should we gain from him?”
So the Gold-Child rode joyfully through the forest, and no evil befell
him.
One day he entered a village wherein he saw a maiden, who was so
beautiful that he did not believe that any more beautiful than she
existed in the world.
And as such a mighty love took possession of him, he went up to her and
said, “I love you with my whole heart. Will you be my wife?”
He, too, pleased the maiden so much that she agreed and said, “Yes, I
will be your wife, and be true to you your whole life long.”
They were married. Then just as they were in the greatest happiness,
home came the father of the Bride. When he saw that his daughter’s
wedding was being celebrated, he was astonished, and said, “Where is
the Bridegroom?”
They showed him the Gold-Child, who, however, still wore his bear-skins.
Then the father said wrathfully, “A vagabond shall never have my
daughter!” and was about to kill him.
Then the Bride begged as hard as she could, and said, “He is my
husband, and I love him with all my heart!” until at last he allowed
himself to be appeased.
Nevertheless the idea never left his thoughts, so that next morning he
rose early, wishing to see whether his daughter’s husband was a common
ragged beggar. But when he peeped in, he saw a magnificent golden man
in the bed, and the cast-off bear-skins lying on the ground.
Then he went back, and thought, “What a good thing it was that I
restrained my anger! I should have committed a great crime.”
But the Gold-Child dreamed that he rode out to the chase of a splendid
stag, and when he awoke in the morning, he said to his wife, “I must go
out hunting.”
She was uneasy, and begged him to stay there, and said, “You might
easily meet with a great misfortune.”
But he answered, “I must and will go.”
Thereupon he got up, and rode forth into the forest. It was not long
before a fine stag crossed his path exactly according to his dream. He
aimed and was about to shoot it, when the stag ran away. He gave chase
over hedges and ditches for the whole day without feeling tired. In
the evening the stag vanished from his sight, and when the Gold-Child
looked round him, he was standing before a little house, wherein was a
Witch.
He knocked, and a little old woman came out and asked, “What are you
doing so late in the midst of the great forest?”
“Have you not seen a stag?”
“Yes,” answered she, “I know the stag well,” and thereupon a little dog
which had come out of the house with her, barked at the man violently.
“Will you be silent, you odious toad,” said he, “or I will shoot you
dead.”
Then the Witch cried out in a passion, “What! will you slay my little
dog?” and immediately she transformed him, so that he lay like a stone.
Meanwhile his Bride awaited him in vain, and thought, “That which I so
greatly dreaded, which lay so heavily on my heart, has come upon him!”
But at home, the other brother was standing by the Gold-Lilies, when
one of them suddenly drooped. “Alas!” said he, “my brother has met with
some great misfortune! I must away to see if I can possibly rescue him.”
Then he mounted his Golden Horse, and rode forth and entered the great
forest, where his brother lay turned to stone. The old Witch came out
of her house and called him, wishing to entrap him also.
He did not go near her, but said, “I will shoot you, if you do not
bring my brother to life again.”
She touched the stone, though very unwillingly, with her forefinger.
Then he was immediately restored to his human shape.
The two Gold-Children rejoiced, when they saw each other again. They
kissed and caressed each other, and rode away together out of the
forest, the one home to his Bride, the other to his father.
The father then said, “I knew well that you had rescued your brother,
for the Golden Lily suddenly rose up and blossomed out again.”
Then they lived happily, and all prospered with them until their death.
[Illustration]
LITTLE SNOW-WHITE
Once upon a time, in the middle of winter, when the flakes of snow were
falling like feathers from the sky, a Queen sat at a window sewing, and
the frame of the window was made of black ebony.
And whilst she was sewing and looking out of the window at the snow,
she pricked her finger with the needle, and three drops of blood fell
upon the snow. And the red looked pretty upon the white snow, and she
thought to herself, “Would that I had a child as white as snow, as red
as blood, and as black as the wood of the window-frame.”
Soon after that she had a little daughter, who was as white as snow,
and as red as blood, and her hair was as black as ebony. She was
therefore called little Snow-White. And when the child was born, the
Queen died.
After a year had passed the King took to himself another wife. She
was a beautiful woman, but proud and haughty, and she could not bear
that any one else should surpass her in beauty. She had a wonderful
looking-glass, and when she stood in front of it and looked at herself
in it, and said:
“_Looking-Glass, Looking-Glass, on the wall,
Who in this land is the fairest of all?_”
the Looking-Glass answered:
“_Thou, O Queen, art the fairest of all!_”
Then she was satisfied, for she knew that the Looking-Glass spoke the
truth.
But little Snow-White was growing up, and grew more and more beautiful.
When she was seven years old she was as beautiful as the day, and more
beautiful than the Queen herself. And once when the Queen asked her
Looking-Glass:
“_Looking-Glass, Looking-Glass, on the wall,
Who in this land is the fairest of all?_”
it answered:
“_Thou art fairer than all who are here, Lady Queen.
But more beautiful still is Snow-White, I ween._”
Then the Queen was shocked, and turned yellow and green with envy. From
that hour, whenever she looked at little Snow-White, her heart heaved
in her breast, she hated the maiden so much.
And envy and pride grew higher and higher in her heart like a weed, so
that she had no peace day or night. She called a huntsman, and said,
“Take the child away into the forest. I will no longer have her in my
sight. Kill her.”