"My poor flowers are quite dead," said little Ida. "They were so
beautiful last evening, and now all their leaves hang withered. How can
that be?" asked she from the student who sat on the sofa. She was very
fond of him, for he knew the most beautiful tales, and could cut out
such wonderful pictures; he could cut out hearts with little dancing
ladies in them; flowers he could cut out, and castles with doors that
would open. He was a very charming student.
"Why do the flowers look so miserably to-day?" again asked she, and
showed him a whole bouquet of withered flowers.
"Dost thou not know what ails them?" said the student; "the flowers
have been to a ball last night, and therefore they droop so."
"But flowers cannot dance," said little Ida.
"Yes, when it is dark, and we are all asleep, then they dance about
merrily; nearly every night they have a ball!" said the student.
"Can no child go to the ball?" inquired Ida.
"Yes," said the student, "little tiny daisies and lilies of the valley."
"Where do the prettiest flowers dance?" asked little Ida.
"Hast thou not," said the student, "gone out of the city gate to the
great castle where the king lives in summer, where there is a beautiful
garden, with a great many flowers in it? Thou hast certainly seen the
swans which come sailing to thee for little bits of bread. There is a
regular ball, thou mayst believe!"
"I was in the garden yesterday with my mother," said Ida, "but all the
leaves were off the trees, and there were hardly any flowers at all!
Where are they? In summer I saw such a many."
"They are gone into the castle," said the student. "Thou seest, as
soon as the king and all his court go away to the city, the flowers go
directly out of the garden into the castle, and are very merry. Thou
shouldst see them! The two most beautiful roses sit upon the throne,
and are king and queen; all the red cockscombs place themselves on
each side, and stand and bow, they are the chamberlains. Then all the
prettiest flowers come, and so there is a great ball; the blue violets
represent young midshipmen and cadets, they dance with hyacinths and
crocuses, which they call young ladies. The tulips and the great yellow
lilies, they are old ladies who look on, and see that the dancing goes
on properly, and that every thing is beautiful."
"But is there nobody who gives the flowers any thing while they dance
in the king's castle?" asked little Ida.
"There is nobody who rightly knows about it," said the student. "In the
summer season at night the old castle-steward goes regularly through
the castle; he has a great bunch of keys with him, but as soon as
ever the flowers hear the jingling of his keys, they are quite still,
hide themselves behind the long curtains, and peep out with their
little heads. 'I can smell flowers somewhere about,' says the old
castle-steward, 'but I cannot see them!'"
"That is charming!" said little Ida, and clapped her hands; "but could
not I see the flowers?"
"Yes," said the student, "only remember the next time thou art there to
peep in at the window, and then thou wilt see them. I did so one day;
there lay a tall yellow Turk's-cap lily on a sofa; that was a court
lady."
"And can the flowers in the botanic garden go out there? Can they come
such a long way?" asked Ida.
"Yes, that thou mayst believe," said the student; "for if they like
they can fly. Hast thou not seen the pretty butterflies, the red, and
yellow, and white ones, they look almost like flowers,--and so they
have been; they have grown on stalks high up in the air, and have shot
out leaves as if they were small wings, and so they fly, and when they
can support them well, then they have leave given them to fly about by
day. That thou must have seen thyself! But it is very possible that the
flowers in the botanic garden never have been into the king's castle,
nor know how merry they are there at night. And now, therefore, I will
tell thee something that will put the professor of botany who lives
beside the garden into a perplexity. Thou knowest him, dost thou not?
Next time thou goest into his garden, do thou tell one of the flowers
that there will be a great ball at the castle; it will tell it to its
neighbor, and it to the next, and so on till they all know, and then
they will all fly away. Then the professor will come into the garden,
and will not find a single flower, and he will not be able to imagine
what can have become of them."
"But how can one flower tell another? flowers cannot talk," said little
Ida.
"No, they cannot properly talk," replied the student, "and so they have
pantomime. Hast not thou seen when it blows a little the flowers nod
and move all their green leaves; that is just as intelligible as if
they talked."
"Can the professor understand pantomime?" inquired Ida.
"Yes, that thou mayst believe! He came one morning down into his
garden, and saw a tall yellow nettle pantomiming to a beautiful red
carnation, and it was all the same as if it had said, 'Thou art
so handsome, that I am very fond of thee!' The professor was not
pleased with that, and struck the nettle upon its leaves, which are
its fingers; but they stung him so, that from that time he has never
meddled with a nettle again."
"That is delightful!" said little Ida, and laughed.
"Is that the stuff to fill a child's mind with!" exclaimed the tiresome
chancellor, who was come in on a visit, and now sat on the sofa. He
could not bear the student, and always grumbled when he saw him cutting
out the beautiful and funny pictures,--now a man hanging on a gallows,
with a heart in his hand, because he had stolen hearts; and now an
old lady riding on a horse, with her husband sitting on her nose. The
cross old chancellor could not bear any of these, and always said as he
did now, "Is that the stuff to cram a child's head with! It is stupid
fancy!"
But for all that, little Ida thought that what the student had told her
about the flowers was so charming, that she could not help thinking
of it. The flowers hung down their heads, because they had been at the
ball, and were quite worn out. So she took them away with her, to her
other playthings, which lay upon a pretty little table, the drawers of
which were all full of her fine things. In the doll's bed lay her doll,
Sophie, asleep; but for all that little Ida said to her, "Thou must
actually get up, Sophie, and be thankful to lie in the drawer to-night,
for the poor flowers are ill, and so they must lie in thy bed, and,
perhaps, they will then get well."
With this she took up the doll, but it looked so cross, and did not say
a single word; for it was angry that it must be turned out of its bed.
So Ida laid the flowers in the doll's bed, tucked them in very nicely,
and said, that now they must lie quite still, and she would go and get
tea ready for them, and they should get quite well again by to-morrow
morning; and then she drew the little curtains close round the bed,
that the sun might not blind them.
All the evening long she could not help thinking about what the
student had told her; and then when she went to bed herself, she drew
back the curtains from the windows where her mother's beautiful flowers
stood, both hyacinths and tulips, and she whispered quite softly to
them, "I know that you will go to the ball to-night!" but the flowers
looked as if they did not understand a word which she said, and did not
move a leaf--but little Ida knew what she knew.
When she was in bed, she lay for a long time thinking how delightful it
would be to see the beautiful flowers dancing in the king's castle.
"Can my flowers actually have been there?" and with these words she
fell asleep. In the night she woke; she had been dreaming about the
flowers, and the student, who the chancellor said stuffed her head
with nonsense. It was quite silent in the chamber where Ida lay; the
night lamp was burning on the table, and her father and her mother were
asleep.
"Are my flowers now lying in Sophie's bed?" said she to herself; "how
I should like to know!" She lifted herself up a little in bed, and
looked through the door, which stood ajar, and in that room lay the
flowers, and all her playthings. She listened, and it seemed to her as
if some one was playing on the piano, which stood in that room, but so
softly and so sweetly as she had never heard before.
"Now, certainly, all the flowers are dancing in there," said she; "O,
how I should like to go and see!" but she did not dare to get up, lest
she should wake her father and mother. "If they would only just come in
here!" said she; but the flowers did not come, and the music continued
to play so sweetly. She could not resist it any longer, for it was so
delightful; so she crept out of her little bed, and went, quite softly,
to the door, and peeped into the room. Nay! what a charming sight she
beheld!
There was not any night lamp in that room, and yet it was quite light;
the moon shone through the window into the middle of the floor, and
it was almost as light as day. All the hyacinths and tulips stood
in two long rows along the floor; they were not any longer in the
window, where stood the empty pots. All the flowers were dancing so
beautifully, one round another, on the floor; they made a regular
chain, and took hold of one another's green leaves when they swung
round. But there sat at the piano a great yellow lily, which little Ida
had certainly seen in the summer, for she remembered very well that the
student had said, "Nay, how like Miss Lina it is!" and they had all
laughed at him. But now it seemed really to Ida as if the tall yellow
lily resembled the young lady, and that she, also, really did just as
if she were playing; now she laid her long yellow face on one side, now
on the other, and nodded the time to the charming music. Not one of
them observed little Ida.
She now saw a large blue crocus spring upon the middle of the table
where the playthings lay, go straight to the doll's bed, and draw aside
the curtains, where lay the sick flowers; but they raised themselves up
immediately, and nodded one to another, as much as to say, that they
also would go with them and dance. The old snapdragon, whose under lip
was broken off, stood up and bowed to the pretty flowers, which did not
look poorly at all, and they hopped down among the others, and were
very merry.
All at once it seemed as if something had fallen down from the table.
Ida looked towards it; it was the Easter-wand, which had heard the
flowers. It was also very pretty; upon the top of it was set a little
wax-doll, which had just such a broad hat upon its head as that which
the chancellor wore. The Easter-wand hopped about upon its three wooden
legs, and stamped quite loud, for it danced the mazurka; and there was
not one of the flowers which could dance that dance, because they were
so light and could not stamp.
The wax-doll upon the Easter-wand seemed to become taller and stouter,
and whirled itself round above the paper flowers on the wand, and
exclaimed, quite loud, "Is that the nonsense to stuff a child's mind
with! It is stupid fancy!"--And the wax-doll was precisely like the
cross old chancellor with the broad hat, and looked just as yellow
and ill-tempered as he did; but the paper flowers knocked him on the
thin legs, and with that he shrunk together again, and became a little
tiny wax-doll. It was charming to see it! little Ida could hardly help
laughing. The Easter-wand continued to dance, and the chancellor was
obliged to dance too; it mattered not whether he made himself so tall
and big, or whether he were the little yellow wax-doll, with the great
black hat. Then came up the other flowers, especially those which had
lain in Sophie's bed, and so the Easter-rod left off dancing.
At that very moment a great noise was heard within the drawer where
Ida's doll, Sophie, lay, with so many of her playthings; and with this
the snapdragon ran up to the corner of the table, lay down upon his
stomach, and opened the drawer a little bit. With this Sophie raised
herself up, and looked round her in astonishment.
"There is a ball here!" said she, "and why has not anybody told me of
it?"
"Wilt thou dance with me?" said the snapdragon.
"Yes, thou art a fine one to dance with!" said she, and turned her back
upon him. So she seated herself upon the drawer, and thought that to
be sure some one of the flowers would come and engage her, but not one
came; so she coughed a little, hem! hem! hem! but for all that not one
came. The snapdragon danced alone, and that was not so very bad either!
As now none of the flowers seemed to see Sophie, she let herself
drop heavily out of the drawer down upon the floor,--and that gave a
great alarum; all the flowers at once came running up and gathered
around her, inquiring if she had hurt herself; and they were all so
exceedingly kind to her, especially those which had lain in her bed.
But she had not hurt herself at all, and all Ida's flowers thanked her
for the beautiful bed, and they paid her so much attention, and took
her into the middle of the floor, where the moon shone, and danced with
her, while all the other flowers made a circle around them. Sophie was
now very much delighted; and she said they would be very welcome to her
bed, for that she had not the least objection to lie in the drawer.
But the flowers said, "Thou shalt have as many thanks as if we used it,
but we cannot live so long! To-morrow we shall be quite dead; but now
tell little Ida," said they, "that she must bury us down in the garden,
where the canary-bird lies, and so we shall grow up again next summer,
and be much prettier than ever!"
"No, you shall not die," said Sophie, and the flowers kissed her. At
that very moment the room door opened, and a great crowd of beautiful
flowers came dancing in. Ida could not conceive where they came from;
they must certainly have been all the flowers out of the king's castle.
First of all went two most magnificent roses, and they had little gold
crowns on; they were a king and a queen; then came the most lovely
gilliflowers and carnations, and they bowed first on this side and
then on that. They had brought music with them; great big poppies
and pionies blew upon peapods till they were red in the face. The
blue-bells and the little white convolvuluses rung as if they were
musical bells. It was charming music. Then there came in a many other
flowers, and they danced all together; the blue violets and the red
daisies, the anemones and the lilies of the valley; and all the flowers
kissed one another: it was delightful to see it!
At last they all bade one another good-night, and little Ida also went
to her bed, where she dreamed about every thing that she had seen.
The next morning, when she got up, she went as quickly as she could
to her little table, to see whether the flowers were there still;
she drew aside the curtains from the little bed;--yes, there they all
lay together, but they were quite withered, much more than yesterday.
Sophie lay in the drawer, where she had put her; she looked very sleepy.
"Canst thou remember what thou hast to tell me?" said little Ida; but
Sophie looked quite stupid, and did not say one single word.
"Thou art not at all good," said Ida, "and yet they all danced with
thee."
So she took a little paper box, on which were painted beautiful birds,
and this she opened, and laid in it the dead flowers.
"This shall be your pretty coffin," said she, "and when my Norwegian
cousins come, they shall go with me and bury you, down in the garden,
that next summer you may grow up again, and be lovelier than ever!"
The Norwegian cousins were two lively boys, who were called Jonas and
Adolph; their father had given them two new cross-bows, and these they
brought with them to show to Ida. She told them about the poor flowers
which were dead, and so they got leave to bury them. The two boys went
first, with their cross-bows on their shoulders; and little Ida came
after, with the dead flowers in the pretty little box. Down in the
garden they dug a little grave. Ida kissed the flowers, and then put
them in their box, down into the earth, and Jonas and Adolph stood with
their cross-bows above the grave, for they had neither arms nor cannon.