_Early appearances are often deceptive, and one cannot tell how an
unpromising beginning may end._
The ugly duckling found himself in the tall grass, and up flew a
flock of little birds, making much noise. “That is because I am
here. Even the little birds fly from me,” thought the poor duck.
Next morning he came to a marsh where the wild ducks lived. They
looked at him and said: “You are really very ugly, but that does
not matter so long as you do not marry into our family.” The little
duck had no such idea, and so he stayed a while in the marsh.
Then came the wild geese, but they were young and foolish. They
came flying down to where the little duck was and wished him to
join them. But just then bang! bang! went the guns and two wild
geese fell dead. A great dog jumped into the grass and bore one of
the wild geese off in his mouth.
“I am glad I am too ugly to be shot, and too ugly for a dog to
bite,” thought the duck, and hid himself under a tuft of grass,
where he stayed all night, in great terror.
Then he went to a peasant’s hut and crept in the door, for a great
storm was raging, and he was wet and tired. In the hut lived an old
woman, a hen and a cat. The hen looked at the duck and said: “Can
you lay eggs?” “No,” said the duck, “I have never tried.” The cat
said: “Can you arch your back and purr?” “Oh, no, indeed, I know I
cannot!” said the poor duck.
“Then get out of here, for you are of no use,” and the poor duck
had to run for his life. The cat spit at him as he ran, and the hen
scratched dirt in his face, and even the old woman, who was blind,
threw her shoe at him thinking he was a weasel.
And now the winter was coming on. The duck had to find some place
to live and something to eat. He felt stronger every day and
learned to dive into the marshes for eels and frogs; but still he
was far from strong. It began to grow cold and the wind blew.
The duck had to swim around to keep the water from freezing, but
the hole grew smaller and smaller until at last it froze quite
fast, and the poor duck was caught on the ice. Early in the morning
a peasant came along and took him home and thawed him out by the
fire. But he flew over the fence and went again into the marshes.
Here he passed the winter.
Now it was spring. The duck rose in the air and began to fly. “How
wonderful it is to fly!” he cried joyously and flew on and on until
he saw a lake in the park. Here he flew down and looked at himself
in the water. He was no longer a duck, for he saw a beautiful white
bird with a long graceful neck. The children on the bank called out:
“Oh, come and see! Another swan! and he is the loveliest of them
all!” Then he looked again in the water and hid his beautiful head
under his wing to hide his joy. “I never dreamed I could look like
this when I was the ugly duckling,” he said to himself.