Far away, where the swallows take refuge in winter, lived a king who
had eleven sons and one daughter, Elise. The eleven brothers--they
were all princes--used to go to school with stars on their breasts
and swords at their sides. They wrote upon golden slates with diamond
pencils, and could read just as well without a book as with one, so
there was no mistake about their being real princes. Their sister
Elise sat upon a little footstool of looking-glass, and she had a
picture-book which had cost the half of a kingdom. Oh, these children
were very happy; but it was not to last thus for ever.
Their father, who was king over all the land, married a wicked queen
who was not at all kind to the poor children; they found that out on
the first day. All was festive at the castle, but when the children
wanted to play at having company, instead of having as many cakes and
baked apples as ever they wanted, she would only let them have some
sand in a tea-cup, and said they must make-believe.
In the following week she sent little Elise into the country to board
with some peasants, and it did not take her long to make the king
believe so many bad things about the boys, that he cared no longer for
them.
“Fly out into the world and look after yourselves,” said the wicked
queen; “you shall fly about like birds without voices.”
But she could not make things as bad for them as she would have liked;
they turned into eleven beautiful wild swans. They flew out of the
palace window with a weird scream, right across the park and the woods.
It was very early in the morning when they came to the place where
their sister Elise was sleeping in the peasant’s house. They hovered
over the roof of the house, turning and twisting their long necks, and
flapping their wings; but no one either heard or saw them. They had to
fly away again, and they soared up towards the clouds, far out into the
wide world, and they settled in a big, dark wood, which stretched right
down to the shore.
Poor little Elise stood in the peasant’s room, playing with a green
leaf, for she had no other toys. She made a little hole in it, which
she looked through at the sun, and it seemed to her as if she saw
her brothers’ bright eyes. Every time the warm sunbeams shone upon
her cheek, it reminded her of their kisses. One day passed just like
another. When the wind whistled through the rose-hedges outside the
house, it whispered to the roses, “Who can be prettier than you are?”
But the roses shook their heads and answered, “Elise!” And when the old
woman sat in the doorway reading her Psalms, the wind turned over the
leaves and said to the book, “Who can be more pious than you?” “Elise!”
answered the book. Both the roses and the book of Psalms only spoke the
truth.
She was to go home when she was fifteen, but when the queen saw how
pretty she was she got very angry, and her heart was filled with
hatred. She would willingly have turned her into a wild swan too, like
her brothers, but she did not dare to do it at once, for the king
wanted to see his daughter. The queen always went to the bath in the
early morning. It was built of marble and adorned with soft cushions
and beautiful carpets.
She took three toads, kissed them, and said to the first, “Sit upon
Elise’s head when she comes to the bath, so that she may become
sluggish like yourself.” “Sit upon her forehead,” she said to the
second, “that she may become ugly like you, and then her father won’t
know her! Rest upon her heart,” she whispered to the third. “Let an
evil spirit come over her, which may be a burden to her.” Then she put
the toads into the clean water, and a green tinge immediately came over
it. She called Elise, undressed her, and made her go into the bath;
when she ducked under the water, one of the toads got among her hair,
the other got on to her forehead, and the third on to her bosom. But
when she stood up three scarlet poppies floated on the water; had not
the creatures been poisonous, and kissed by the sorceress, they would
have been changed into crimson roses, but yet they became flowers from
merely having rested a moment on her head and her heart. She was far
too good and innocent for the sorcery to have any power over her. When
the wicked Queen saw this, she rubbed her over with walnut juice, and
smeared her face with some evil-smelling salve. She also matted up
her beautiful hair; it would have been impossible to recognise pretty
Elise. When her father saw her, he was quite horrified and said that
she could not be his daughter. Nobody would have anything to say to
her, except the yard dog, and the swallows, and they were only poor
dumb animals whose opinion went for nothing.
Poor Elise wept, and thought of her eleven brothers who were all lost.
She crept sadly out of the palace and wandered about all day, over
meadows and marshes, and into a big forest. She did not know in the
least where she wanted to go, but she felt very sad, and longed for
her brothers, who, no doubt, like herself had been driven out of the
palace. She made up her mind to go and look for them, but she had only
been in the wood for a short time when night fell. She had quite lost
her way, so she lay down upon the soft moss, said her evening prayer,
and rested her head on a little hillock. It was very still and the air
was mild, hundreds of glow-worms shone around her on the grass and in
the marsh like green fire. When she gently moved one of the branches
over her head, the little shining insects fell over her like a shower
of stars. She dreamt about her brothers all night long. Again they
were children playing together: they wrote upon the golden slates with
their diamond pencils, and she looked at the picture-book which had
cost half a kingdom. But they no longer wrote strokes and noughts upon
their slates as they used to do; no, they wrote down all their boldest
exploits, and everything that they had seen and experienced. Everything
in the picture-book was alive, the birds sang, and the people walked
out of the book, and spoke to Elise and her brothers. When she turned
over a page, they skipped back into their places again, so that there
should be no confusion among the pictures.
When she woke the sun was already high; it is true she could not see it
very well through the thick branches of the lofty forest trees, but the
sunbeams cast a golden shimmer around beyond the forest. There was a
fresh delicious scent of grass and herbs in the air, and the birds were
almost ready to perch upon her shoulders. She could hear the splashing
of water, for there were many springs around, which all flowed into a
pond with a lovely sandy bottom. It was surrounded with thick bushes,
but there was one place which the stags had trampled down and Elise
passed through the opening to the water side. It was so transparent,
that had not the branches been moved by the breeze, she must have
thought that they were painted on the bottom, so plainly was every leaf
reflected, both those on which the sun played, and those which were in
shade.
When she saw her own face she was quite frightened, it was so brown
and ugly, but when she wet her little hand and rubbed her eyes and
forehead, her white skin shone through again. Then she took off all her
clothes and went into the fresh water. A more beautiful royal child
than she, could not be found in all the world.
When she had put on her clothes again, and plaited her long hair,
she went to a sparkling spring and drank some of the water out of the
hollow of her hand. Then she wandered further into the wood, though
where she was going she had not the least idea. She thought of her
brothers, and she thought of a merciful God who would not forsake her.
He let the wild crab-apples grow to feed the hungry. He showed her
a tree, the branches of which were bending beneath their weight of
fruit. Here she made her midday meal, and, having put props under the
branches, she walked on into the thickest part of the forest. It was so
quiet that she heard her own footsteps, she heard every little withered
leaf which bent under her feet. Not a bird was to be seen, not a ray of
sunlight pierced the leafy branches, and the tall trunks were so close
together that when she looked before her it seemed as if a thick fence
of heavy beams hemmed her in on every side. The solitude was such as
she had never known before.
[Illustration: The Saviour looked down and little angels’ heads peeped
out above His head and under His arms]
It was a very dark night, not a single glow-worm sparkled in the marsh;
sadly she lay down to sleep, and it seemed to her as if the branches
above her parted asunder, and the Saviour looked down upon her with His
loving eyes, and little angels’ heads peeped out above His head and
under His arms.
When she woke in the morning she was not sure if she had dreamt this,
or whether it was really true.
She walked a little further, when she met an old woman with a basket
full of berries, of which she gave her some. Elise asked if she had
seen eleven princes ride through the wood. “No,” said the old woman,
“but yesterday I saw eleven swans, with golden crowns upon their heads,
swimming in the stream close by here.”
She led Elise a little further to a slope, at the foot of which the
stream meandered. The trees on either bank stretched out their rich
leafy branches towards each other, and where, from their natural
growth, they could not reach each other, they had torn their roots
out of the ground, and leant over the water so as to interlace their
branches.
Elise said good-bye to the old woman, and walked along by the river
till it flowed out into the great open sea.
The beautiful open sea lay before the maiden, but not a sail was to be
seen on it, not a single boat. How was she ever to get any further?
She looked at the numberless little pebbles on the beach; they were
all worn quite round by the water. Glass, iron, stone, whatever was
washed up had taken their shapes from the water, which yet was much
softer than her little hand. “With all its rolling, it is untiring, and
everything hard is smoothed down. I will be just as untiring! Thank you
for your lesson, you clear rolling waves! Some time, so my heart tells
me, you will bear me to my beloved brothers!”
Eleven white swans’ feathers were lying on the sea-weed; she picked
them up and made a bunch of them. There were still drops of water on
them. Whether these were dew or tears no one could tell. It was very
lonely there by the shore, but she did not feel it, for the sea was
ever-changing. There were more changes on it in the course of a few
hours than could be seen on an inland fresh water lake in a year. If a
big black cloud arose, it was just as if the sea wanted to say, “I can
look black too,” and then the wind blew up and the waves shewed their
white crests. But if the clouds were red and the wind dropped, the sea
looked like a rose-leaf, now white, now green. But however still it
was, there was always a little gentle motion just by the shore, the
water rose and fell softly like the bosom of a sleeping child.
When the sun was just about to go down, Elise saw eleven wild swans
with golden crowns upon their heads flying towards the shore. They flew
in a swaying line, one behind the other, like a white ribbon streamer.
Elise climbed up on to the bank and hid behind a bush; the swans
settled close by her and flapped their great white wings.
As soon as the sun had sunk beneath the water, the swans shed their
feathers and became eleven handsome princes; they were Elise’s
brothers. Although they had altered a good deal, she knew them at once;
she felt that they must be her brothers and she sprang into their arms,
calling them by name. They were delighted when they recognised their
little sister who had grown so big and beautiful. They laughed and
cried, and told each other how wickedly their stepmother had treated
them all.
“We brothers,” said the eldest, “have to fly about in the guise of
swans, as long as the sun is above the horizon. When it goes down
we regain our human shapes. So we always have to look out for a
resting-place near sunset, for should we happen to be flying up among
the clouds when the sun goes down, we should be hurled to the depths
below. We do not live here; there is another land, just as beautiful
as this beyond the sea; but the way to it is very long and we have to
cross the mighty ocean to get to it. There is not a single island on
the way where we can spend the night, only one solitary little rock
juts up above the water midway. It is only just big enough for us
to stand upon close together, and if there is a heavy sea the water
splashes over us, yet we thank our God for it. We stay there over
night in our human forms, and without it we could never revisit our
beloved Fatherland, for our flight takes two of the longest days in
the year. We are only permitted to visit the home of our fathers once
a year, and we dare only stay for eleven days. We hover over this big
forest from whence we catch a glimpse of the palace where we were
born, and where our father lives; beyond it we can see the high church
towers where our mother is buried. We fancy that the trees and bushes
here are related to us; and the wild horses gallop over the moors as
we used to see them in our childhood. The charcoal burners still sing
the old songs we used to dance to when we were children. This is our
Fatherland, we are drawn towards it, and here we have found you again,
dear little sister! We may stay here two days longer, and then we must
fly away again across the ocean, to a lovely country indeed, but it is
not our own dear Fatherland! How shall we ever take you with us, we
have neither ship nor boat!”
“How can I deliver you!” said their sister, and they went on talking to
each other, nearly all night, they only dozed for a few hours.
Elise was awakened in the morning by the rustling of the swans’ wings
above her; her brothers were again transformed and were wheeling round
in great circles, till she lost sight of them in the distance. One of
them, the youngest, stayed behind. He laid his head against her bosom,
and she caressed it with her fingers. They remained together all day;
towards evening the others came back, and as soon as the sun went down
they took their natural forms.
“To-morrow we must fly away, and we dare not come back for a whole
year, but we can’t leave you like this! Have you courage to go with us?
My arm is strong enough to carry you over the forest, so surely our
united strength ought to be sufficient to bear you across the ocean.”
“Oh yes! take me with you,” said Elise.
They spent the whole night in weaving a kind of net of the elastic
bark of the willow bound together with tough rushes; they made it both
large and strong. Elise lay down upon it, and when the sun rose and the
brothers became swans again, they took up the net in their bills and
flew high up among the clouds with their precious sister, who was fast
asleep. The sunbeams fell straight on to her face, so one of the swans
flew over her head so that its broad wings should shade her.
They were far from land when Elise woke; she thought she must still be
dreaming, it seemed so strange to be carried through the air so high
up above the sea. By her side lay a branch of beautiful ripe berries,
and a bundle of savoury roots, which her youngest brother had collected
for her, and for which she gave him a grateful smile. She knew it was
he who flew above her head shading her from the sun. They were so high
up that the first ship they saw looked like a gull floating on the
water. A great cloud came up behind them like a mountain, and Elise
saw the shadow of herself on it, and those of the eleven swans looking
like giants. It was a more beautiful picture than any she had ever seen
before, but as the sun rose higher, the cloud fell behind, and the
shadow picture disappeared.
They flew on and on all day like an arrow whizzing through the air, but
they went slower than usual, for now they had their sister to carry. A
storm came up, and night was drawing on; Elise saw the sun sinking with
terror in her heart, for the solitary rock was nowhere to be seen. The
swans seemed to be taking stronger strokes than ever; alas! she was
the cause of their not being able to get on faster; as soon as the sun
went down they would become men, and they would all be hurled into the
sea and drowned. She prayed to God from the bottom of her heart, but
still no rock was to be seen! Black clouds gathered, and strong gusts
of wind announced a storm; the clouds looked like a great threatening
leaden wave, and the flashes of lightning followed each other rapidly.
The sun was now at the edge of the sea. Elise’s heart quaked, when
suddenly the swans shot downwards so suddenly, that she thought they
were falling, then they hovered again. Half of the sun was below the
horizon, and there for the first time she saw the little rock below,
which did not look bigger than the head of a seal above the water.
The sun sank very quickly, it was no bigger than a star, but her foot
touched solid earth. The sun went out like the last sparks of a bit
of burning paper; she saw her brothers stand arm in arm around her,
but there was only just room enough for them. The waves beat upon the
rock and washed over them like drenching rain. The heavens shone with
continuous fire, and the thunder rolled, peal upon peal. But the sister
and brothers held each other’s hands and sang a psalm which gave them
comfort and courage.
The air was pure and still at dawn. As soon as the sun rose the swans
flew off with Elise, away from the islet. The sea still ran high, it
looked from where they were as if the white foam on the dark green
water were millions of swans floating on the waves.
When the sun rose higher, Elise saw before her half floating in the air
great masses of ice, with shining glaciers on the heights. A palace was
perched midway a mile in length, with one bold colonnade built above
another. Beneath them swayed palm trees and gorgeous blossoms as big
as mill wheels. She asked if this was the land to which she was going,
but the swans shook their heads, because what she saw was a mirage; the
beautiful and ever changing palace of Fata Morgana. No mortal dared
enter it. Elise gazed at it, but as she gazed the palace, gardens and
mountains melted away, and in their place stood twenty proud churches
with their high towers and pointed windows. She seemed to hear the
notes of the organ, but it was the sea she heard. When she got close
to the seeming churches, they changed to a great navy sailing beneath
her; but it was only a sea mist floating over the waters. Yes, she saw
constant changes passing before her eyes, and now she saw the real land
she was bound to. Beautiful blue mountains rose before her with their
cedar woods and palaces. Long before the sun went down, she sat among
the hills in front of a big cave covered with delicate green creepers.
It looked like a piece of embroidery.
“Now we shall see what you will dream here to-night,” said the youngest
brother, as he showed her where she was to sleep.
“If only I might dream how I could deliver you,” she said, and this
thought filled her mind entirely. She prayed earnestly to God for His
help, and even in her sleep she continued her prayer. It seemed to her
that she was flying up to Fata Morgana in her castle in the air. The
fairy came towards her, she was charming and brilliant, and yet she was
very like the old woman who gave her the berries in the wood, and told
her about the swans with the golden crowns.
“Your brothers can be delivered,” she said, “but have you courage and
endurance enough for it? The sea is indeed softer than your hands,
and it moulds the hardest stones, but it does not feel the pain your
fingers will feel. It has no heart, and does not suffer the pain and
anguish you must feel. Do you see this stinging nettle I hold in my
hand? Many of this kind grow round the cave where you sleep; only these
and the ones which grow in the churchyards may be used. Mark that!
Those you may pluck although they will burn and blister your hands.
Crush the nettles with your feet and you will have flax, and of this
you must weave eleven coats of mail with long sleeves. Throw these over
the eleven wild swans and the charm is broken! But remember that from
the moment you begin this work, till it is finished, even if it takes
years, you must not utter a word! The first word you say will fall like
a murderer’s dagger into the hearts of your brothers. Their lives hang
on your tongue. Mark this well!”
She touched her hand at the same moment, it was like burning fire, and
woke Elise. It was bright daylight, and close to where she slept lay a
nettle like those in her dream. She fell upon her knees with thanks to
God and left the cave to begin their work.
She seized the horrid nettles with her delicate hands, and they burnt
like fire; great blisters rose on her hands and arms, but she suffered
it willingly if only it would deliver her beloved brothers. She crushed
every nettle with her bare feet, and twisted it into green flax.
When the sun went down and the brothers came back, they were alarmed at
finding her mute; they thought it was some new witchcraft exercised by
their wicked stepmother. But when they saw her hands, they understood
that it was for their sakes; the youngest brother wept, and wherever
his tears fell, she felt no more pain, and the blisters disappeared.
She spent the whole night at her work, for she could not rest till
she had delivered her dear brothers. All the following day while her
brothers were away she sat solitary, but never had the time flown so
fast. One coat of mail was finished and she began the next. Then a
hunting-horn sounded among the mountains; she was much frightened, the
sound came nearer, and she heard dogs barking. In terror she rushed
into the cave and tied the nettles she had collected and woven, into a
bundle upon which she sat.
At this moment a big dog bounded forward from the thicket, and another
and another, they barked loudly and ran backwards and forwards. In a
few minutes all the huntsmen were standing outside the cave, and the
handsomest of them was the king of the country. He stepped up to Elise:
never had he seen so lovely a girl.
“How came you here, beautiful child?” he said.
Elise shook her head; she dared not speak; the salvation and the lives
of her brothers depended upon her silence. She hid her hands under her
apron, so that the king should not see what she suffered.
“Come with me!” he said; “you cannot stay here. If you are as good as
you are beautiful, I will dress you in silks and velvets, put a golden
crown upon your head, and you shall live with me and have your home in
my richest palace!” Then he lifted her upon his horse, she wept and
wrung her hands, but the king said, “I only think of your happiness;
you will thank me one day for what I am doing!” Then he darted off
across the mountains, holding her before him on his horse, and the
huntsmen followed.
When the sun went down, the royal city with churches and cupolas
lay before them, and the king led her into the palace, where great
fountains played in the marble halls, and where walls and ceilings were
adorned with paintings, but she had no eyes for them, she only wept and
sorrowed; passively she allowed the women to dress her in royal robes,
to twist pearls into her hair, and to draw gloves on to her blistered
hands.
She was dazzlingly lovely as she stood there in all her magnificence;
the courtiers bent low before her, and the king wooed her as his bride,
although the archbishop shook his head, and whispered that he feared
the beautiful wood maiden was a witch, who had dazzled their eyes and
infatuated the king.
The king refused to listen to him, he ordered the music to play, the
richest food to be brought, and the loveliest girls to dance before
her. She was led through scented gardens into gorgeous apartments, but
nothing brought a smile to her lips, or into her eyes, sorrow sat there
like a heritage and a possession for all time. Last of all, the king
opened the door of a little chamber close by the room where she was to
sleep. It was adorned with costly green carpets, and made to exactly
resemble the cave where he found her. On the floor lay the bundle of
flax she had spun from the nettles, and from the ceiling hung the shirt
of mail which was already finished. One of the huntsmen had brought all
these things away as curiosities.
“Here you may dream that you are back in your former home!” said the
king. “Here is the work upon which you were engaged; in the midst of
your splendour, it may amuse you to think of those times.”
When Elise saw all these things so dear to her heart, a smile for
the first time played about her lips, and the blood rushed back to
her cheeks. She thought of the deliverance of her brothers, and she
kissed the king’s hand; he pressed her to his heart, and ordered all
the church bells to ring marriage peals. The lovely dumb girl from the
woods was to be queen of the country.
The archbishop whispered evil words into the ear of the king, but
they did not reach his heart. The wedding was to take place, and the
archbishop himself had to put the crown upon her head. In his anger
he pressed the golden circlet so tightly upon her head as to give her
pain. But a heavier circlet pressed upon her heart, her grief for her
brothers, so she thought nothing of the bodily pain. Her lips were
sealed, a single word from her mouth would cost her brothers their
lives, but her eyes were full of love for the good and handsome king,
who did everything he could to please her. Every day she grew more
and more attached to him, and longed to confide in him, tell him her
sufferings; but dumb she must remain, and in silence must bring her
labour to completion. Therefore at night she stole away from his side
into her secret chamber, which was decorated like a cave, and here she
knitted one shirt after another. When she came to the seventh, all her
flax was worked up; she knew that these nettles which she was to use
grew in the churchyard, but she had to pluck them herself. How was
she to get there? “Oh, what is the pain of my fingers compared with
the anguish of my heart,” she thought. “I must venture out, the good
God will not desert me!” With as much terror in her heart, as if she
were doing some evil deed, she stole down one night into the moonlit
garden, and through the long alleys out into the silent streets to the
churchyard. There she saw, sitting on a gravestone, a group of hideous
ghouls, who took off their tattered garments, as if they were about to
bathe, and then they dug down into the freshly-made graves with their
skinny fingers, and tore the flesh from the bodies and devoured it.
Elise had to pass close by them, and they fixed their evil eyes upon
her, but she said a prayer as she passed, picked the stinging nettles
and hurried back to the palace with them.
Only one person saw her, but that was the archbishop, who watched
while others slept. Surely now all his bad opinions of the queen were
justified; all was not as it should be with her, she must be a witch,
and therefore she had bewitched the king and all the people.
He told the king in the confessional what he had seen and what he
feared. When those bad words passed his lips, the pictures of the
saints shook their heads as if to say: it is not so, Elise is innocent.
The archbishop however took it differently, and thought that they were
bearing witness against her, and shaking their heads at her sin. Two
big tears rolled down the king’s cheeks, and he went home with doubt in
his heart. He pretended to sleep at night, but no quiet sleep came to
his eyes. He perceived how Elise got up and went to her private closet.
Day by day his face grew darker, Elise saw it but could not imagine
what was the cause of it. It alarmed her, and what was she not already
suffering in her heart because of her brothers? Her salt tears ran down
upon the royal purple velvet, they lay upon it like sparkling diamonds,
and all who saw their splendour wished to be queen.
She had, however, almost reached the end of her labours, only one
shirt of mail was wanting, but again she had no more flax and not a
single nettle was left. Once more, for the last time, she must go to
the churchyard to pluck a few handfuls. She thought with dread of the
solitary walk and the horrible ghouls; but her will was as strong as
her trust in God.
Elise went, but the king and the archbishop followed her, they saw
her disappear within the grated gateway of the churchyard. When they
followed they saw the ghouls sitting on the gravestone as Elise had
seen them before: and the king turned away his head because he thought
she was among them, she, whose head this very evening had rested on his
breast.
“The people must judge her,” he groaned, and the people judged. “Let
her be consumed in the glowing flames!”
She was led away from her beautiful royal apartments to a dark damp
dungeon, where the wind whistled through the grated window. Instead of
velvet and silk they gave her the bundle of nettles she had gathered
to lay her head upon. The hard burning shirts of mail were to be her
covering, but they could have given her nothing more precious.
She set to work again with many prayers to God. Outside her prison the
street boys sang derisive songs about her, and not a soul comforted her
with a kind word.
Towards the evening she heard the rustle of swans’ wings close to her
window; it was her youngest brother, at last he had found her. He
sobbed aloud with joy although he knew that the coming night might be
her last, but then her work was almost done and her brothers were there.
The archbishop came to spend her last hours with her as he had promised
the king. She shook her head at him, and by looks and gestures begged
him to leave her. She had only this night in which to finish her work,
or else all would be wasted, all--her pain, tears and sleepless nights.
The archbishop went away with bitter words against her, but poor Elise
knew that she was innocent, and she went on with her work.
The little mice ran about the floor bringing nettles to her feet, so as
to give what help they could, and a thrush sat on the grating of the
window where he sang all night, as merrily as he could to keep up her
courage.
It was still only dawn, and the sun would not rise for an hour when
the eleven brothers stood at the gate of the palace, begging to be
taken to the king. This could not be done, was the answer, for it was
still night; the king was asleep and no one dared wake him. All their
entreaties and threats were useless; the watch turned out and even the
king himself came to see what was the matter; but just then the sun
rose, and no more brothers were to be seen, only eleven wild swans
hovering over the palace.
[Illustration: Even on her way to her death she could not abandon her
unfinished work]
The whole populace streamed out of the town gates, they were all
anxious to see the witch burnt. A miserable horse drew the cart in
which Elise was seated. They had put upon her a smock of green sacking,
and all her beautiful long hair hung loose from her lovely head. Her
cheeks were deathly pale, and her lips moved softly, while her fingers
unceasingly twisted the green yarn. Even on the way to her death she
could not abandon her unfinished work. Ten shirts lay completed at her
feet--she laboured away at the eleventh, amid the scoffing insults of
the populace.
“Look at the witch how she mutters. She has never a book of psalms in
her hands, no, there she sits with her loathsome sorcery. Tear it away
from her, into a thousand bits!”
The crowd pressed around her to destroy her work, but just then eleven
white swans flew down and perched upon the cart flapping their wings.
The crowd gave way before them in terror.
“It is a sign from Heaven! She is innocent!” they whispered, but they
dared not say it aloud.
The executioner seized her by the hand, but she hastily threw the
eleven shirts over the swans, who were immediately transformed to
eleven handsome princes; but the youngest had a swan’s wing in place of
an arm, for one sleeve was wanting to his shirt of mail, she had not
been able to finish it.
“Now I may speak! I am innocent.”
The populace who saw what had happened bowed down before her as if she
had been a saint, but she sank lifeless in her brother’s arms; so great
had been the strain, the terror and the suffering she had endured.
“Yes, innocent she is indeed,” said the eldest brother, and he told
them all that had happened.
[Illustration]
Whilst he spoke a wonderful fragrance spread around, as of millions of
roses. Every faggot in the pile had taken root and shot out branches,
and a great high hedge of red roses had arisen. At the very top was one
pure white blossom, it shone like a star, and the king broke it off and
laid it on Elise’s bosom, and she woke with joy and peace in her heart.
All the church bells began to ring of their own accord, and the singing
birds flocked around them. Surely such a bridal procession went back to
the palace as no king had ever seen before!
* * * * *
It was agreed that Peaseblossom had told a very pretty story, and the
fairy felt so flattered that he would have liked to tell another but
the king, turning to Titania, said:
“My queen, your Peaseblossom has told so charming a story that perhaps
another of your attendants will tell us one also.”
“Certainly,” answered the queen, gratified to find that her favourite
story was so well-liked by others. She looked towards her little
retinue of attendant fays and wondered which one should be next. “Which
shall it be?” she asked, and they all stood up at once. “Moth, I think,
can tell us a pretty story of how a young man who had been kind to the
fairies was helped by them to kill a cruel giant and to win a beautiful
princess for his bride.”
“I can,” replied Moth readily, and skipped to the stool by the throne
where he at once began telling of the adventures which befell
[Illustration: Moth]
[Illustration: He found it was a pair of very small shoes]