Once on a time there was a poor husbandman who had so many children
that he hadn’t much of either food or clothing to give them. Pretty
children they all were, but the prettiest was the youngest daughter,
who was so lovely there was no end to her loveliness.
So one day, ’twas on a Thursday evening late at the fall of the year,
the weather was so wild and rough outside, and it was so cruelly dark,
and rain fell and wind blew, till the walls of the cottage shook again.
There they all sat round the fire busy with this thing and that. But
just then, all at once, something gave three taps on the window-pane.
Then the father went out to see what was the matter; and, when he got
out of doors, what should he see but a great big White Bear.
“Good evening to you!” said the White Bear.
“The same to you,” said the man.
“Will you give me your youngest daughter? If you will, I’ll make you
as rich as you are now poor,” said the Bear.
Well, the man would not be at all sorry to be so rich, but still he
thought he must have a bit of a talk with his daughter first, so he
went in and told them how there was a great White Bear waiting outside,
who had given his word to make them so rich if he could only have the
youngest daughter.
The lassie said “No!” outright. Nothing could get her to say anything
else; so the man went out and settled it with the White Bear, that he
should come again the next Thursday evening and get an answer. Meantime
he talked his daughter over, and kept on telling her of all the riches
they would get, and how well off she would be herself, so at last she
thought better of it, and washed and mended her rags, made herself as
smart as she could, and was ready to start. I can’t say her packing
gave her much trouble.
Next Thursday evening came the White Bear to fetch her, and she got
upon his back with her bundle, and off they went. So when they had gone
a bit of the way, the White Bear said:--
“Are you afraid?”
“No! she wasn’t.”
“Well! mind and hold tight by my shaggy coat, and then there’s nothing
to fear,” said the Bear.
So she rode a long, long way, till they came to a great steep hill.
There on the face of it the White Bear gave a knock, and a door opened,
and they came into a castle, where there were many rooms all lit up,
rooms gleaming with silver and gold, and there too was a table ready
laid, and it was all as grand as grand could be. Then the White Bear
gave her a silver bell, saying that if she rang it when she wanted
anything she would get it at once.
Well, after she had eaten and drunk, and evening wore on, she got
sleepy after her journey, and thought she would like to go to bed,
so she rang the bell, and she had scarce taken hold of it before she
came into a chamber, where there was a bed made, as fair and white as
any one would wish to sleep in, with silken pillows and curtains and
gold fringe. All that was in the room was gold or silver, but when she
had gone to bed, and put out the light, a man came and laid himself
alongside her. That was the White Bear, who threw off his beast-shape
at night, but she never saw him, for he always came after she had put
out the light, and before the day dawned he was up and off again. So
things went on happily for a while, but at last she began to get silent
and sorrowful, for there she went about all day alone, and she longed
to go home to see her father and mother, and brothers and sisters. So
one day, when the White Bear asked what it was that she lacked, she
said it was so dull and lonely there, and how she longed to go home to
see her father and mother, and brothers and sisters, and that was why
she was so sad and sorrowful, because she couldn’t get to them.
“Well, well!” said the Bear, “perhaps there’s a cure for all this, but
you must promise me one thing, not to talk alone with your mother but
only when the rest are by to hear, for she’ll take you by the hand and
try to lead you into a room alone to talk, but you must mind and not do
that, else you’ll bring bad luck on both of us.”
So one Sunday the White Bear came and said now they could set off to
see her father and mother. Well, off they started, she sitting on his
back, and they went far and long. At last they came to a grand house,
and there her brothers and sisters were running about out of doors at
play, and everything was so pretty, ’twas a joy to see.
“This is where your father and mother live now,” said the White Bear,
“but don’t forget what I told you, else you’ll make us both unlucky.”
“No! bless her, she’d not forget”; and when she had reached the house,
the White Bear turned right about and left her.
Then when she went in to see her father and mother, there was such
joy, there was no end to it. None of them thought they could thank her
enough for all she had done for them. Now they had everything they
wished, as good as good could be, and they all wanted to know how she
got on where she lived.
Well, she said, it was very good to live where she did; she had all she
wished. What she said beside I don’t know, but I don’t think any of
them had the right end of the stick, or that they got much out of her.
But so in the afternoon, after they had done dinner, all happened as
the White Bear had said. Her mother wanted to talk with her alone in
her bedroom, but she minded what the White Bear had said, and wouldn’t
go upstairs.
“Oh! what we have to talk about will keep,” she said, and put her
mother off. But somehow or other, her mother got round her at last, and
she had to tell her the whole story. So she said, how every night, when
she had gone to bed, a man came and lay down beside her as soon as she
had put out the light, how she never saw him, because he was always up
and away before the morning dawned, and how she went about woeful and
sorrowing, for she thought she should so much like to see him, and how
all day long she walked about there alone, and how dull, and dreary,
and lonesome it was.
“My!” said her mother; “it may well be a Troll you slept with! But now
I’ll teach you a lesson how to set eyes on him. I’ll give you a bit of
candle, which you can carry home in your bosom; just light that while
he is asleep, but take care not to drop the tallow on him.”
Yes! she took the candle, and hid it in her bosom, and as night drew
on, the White Bear came and fetched her away.
But when they had gone a bit of the way, the White Bear asked if all
hadn’t happened as he had said.
“Well, she couldn’t say it hadn’t.”
“Now, mind,” said he, “if you have listened to your mother’s advice,
you have brought bad luck on us both, and then all that has passed
between us will be as nothing.”
“No,” she said, “she hadn’t listened to her mother’s advice.”
So when she had reached home, and had gone to bed, it was the old story
over again. There came a man and lay down beside her; but at dead of
night, when she heard he slept, she got up and struck a light, lit the
candle, and let the light shine on him, and so she saw that he was the
loveliest Prince one ever set eyes on, and she fell so deep in love
with him, on the spot, that she thought she couldn’t live if she didn’t
give him a kiss there and then. And so she did, but as she kissed him
she dropped three hot drops of tallow on his shirt, and he woke up.
“What have you done?” he cried; “now you have made us both unlucky, for
had you held out only this one year, I had been freed. For I have a
stepmother who has bewitched me, so that I am a White Bear by day and a
man by night. But now all ties are snapped between us, now I must set
off from you to her. She lives in a castle which stands +EAST O’ THE
SUN AND WEST O’ THE MOON+, and there, too, is a Princess, with a nose
three ells long, and she’s the wife I must have now.”
She wept and took it ill, but there was no help for it; go he must.
Then she asked if she mightn’t go with him.
No, she mightn’t.
“Tell me the way then,” she said, “and I’ll search you out; that surely
I may get leave to do.”
“Yes, she might do that,” he said, “but there was no way to that place.
It lay +EAST O’ THE SUN AND WEST O’ THE MOON+, and thither she’d never
find her way.”
So next morning when she woke up both Prince and castle were gone, and
then she lay on a little green patch, in the midst of the gloomy thick
wood, and by her side lay the same bundle of rags she had brought with
her from her old home.
So when she had rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, and wept till she was
tired, she set out on her way, and walked many, many days, till she
came to a lofty rock. Under it sat an old hag, and played with a golden
apple which she tossed about. Her the lassie asked if she knew the
way to the prince, who lived with his stepmother in the Castle, that
lay +EAST O’ THE SUN AND WEST O’ THE MOON+, and who was to marry the
Princess with a nose three ells long.
“How did you come to know about him?” asked the old hag; “but maybe you
are the lassie who ought to have had him?”
Yes, she was.
“So, so, it’s you, is it?” said the old hag. “Well, all I know about
him is, that he lives in the castle that lies +EAST O’ THE SUN AND
WEST O’ THE MOON+, and thither you’ll come, late or never; but still
you may have the loan of my horse, and on him you can ride to my next
neighbour. Maybe she’ll be able to tell you; and when you get there,
just give the horse a switch under the left ear, and beg him to be off
home; and, stay, this gold apple you may take with you.”
So she got upon the horse, and rode a long long time, till she
came to another rock, under which sat another old hag, with a gold
carding-comb. Her the lassie asked if she knew the way to the castle
that lay +EAST O’ THE SUN AND WEST O’ THE MOON+, and she answered, like
the first old hag, that she knew nothing about it, except it was +EAST
O’ THE SUN AND WEST O’ THE MOON+.
“And thither you’ll come, late or never, but you shall have the loan of
my horse to my next neighbour; maybe she’ll tell you all about it; and
when you get there, just switch the horse under the left ear, and beg
him to be off home.”
And this old hag gave her the golden carding-comb; it might be she’d
find the use for it, she said. So the lassie got up on the horse,
and rode a far far way, and a weary time; and so at last she came to
another great rock, under which sat another old hag, spinning with a
golden spinning-wheel. Her, too, she asked if she knew the way to the
Prince, and where the castle was, that lay +EAST O’ THE SUN AND WEST O’
THE MOON+. So it was the same thing again.
“Maybe it’s you that ought to have had the Prince?” said the old hag.
Yes, it was.
But she, too, didn’t know the way a bit better than the other two.
“+EAST O’ THE SUN AND WEST O’ THE MOON+ it was” she knew--that was all.
“And thither you’ll come late or never; but I’ll lend you my horse, and
then I think you’d best ride to the East Wind and ask him; maybe he
knows those parts, and can blow you thither. But when you get to him,
you need only give the horse a switch under the left ear, and he’ll
trot home of himself.”
And so, too, she gave her the gold spinning-wheel. “Maybe you’ll find a
use for it,” said the old hag.
Then on she rode many many days, a weary time, before she got to the
East Wind’s house, but at last she did reach it, and then she asked the
East Wind if he could tell her the way to the Prince who dwelt EAST O’
THE SUN AND WEST O’ THE MOON. Yes, the East Wind had often heard tell
of it, the Prince, and the Castle, but he couldn’t tell the way, for he
had never blown so far.
“But, if you will, I’ll go with you to my brother the West Wind, maybe
he knows, for he’s much stronger. So, if you will just get on my back,
I’ll carry you thither.”
Yes, she got on his back, and I should just think they went briskly
along.
So when they got there, they went into the West Wind’s house, and the
East Wind said the lassie he had brought was the one who ought to have
had the Prince who lived in the castle EAST O’ THE SUN AND WEST O’ THE
MOON; and so she had set out to seek him, and how he had come with
her, and would be glad to know if the West Wind knew how to get to the
castle.
“Nay,” said the West Wind, “so far I’ve never blown; but if you will
I’ll go with you to our brother the South Wind, for he’s much stronger
than either of us, and he has flapped his wings far and wide. Maybe
he’ll tell you. You can get on my back and I’ll carry you to him.”
Yes! she got on his back, and so they travelled to the South Wind, and
weren’t so very long on the way, I should think.
When they got there, the West Wind asked him if he could tell her the
way to the castle that lay EAST O’ THE SUN AND WEST O’ THE MOON, for it
was she that ought to have had the Prince who lived there.
“You don’t say so. That’s she, is it?” said the South Wind. “Well, I
have blustered about in most places in my time, but so far have I never
blown; but if you will, I’ll take you to my brother the North Wind; he
is the oldest and the strongest of the whole lot of us, and if he don’t
know where it is, you’ll never find anyone in the world to tell you.
You can get on my back, and I’ll carry you thither.”
Yes! she got on his back, and away he went from his house at a fine
rate, and this time, too, she wasn’t long on her way.
So when they got to the North Wind’s house, he was so wild and cross,
cold puffs came from him a long way off.
“+NOW THEN, WHAT DO YOU WANT?+” he bawled out to them ever so far off,
so that it struck them with an icy shiver.
“Well,” said the South Wind, “you needn’t be so put out, for here I am,
your brother, the South Wind, and here is the lassie who ought to have
had the Prince who dwells in the castle that lies EAST O’ THE SUN AND
WEST O’ THE MOON, and now she wants to ask you if you ever were there,
and can tell her the way, for she would be so glad to find him again.”
“+YES, I KNOW WELL ENOUGH WHERE IT IS+,” said the North Wind; “once in
my life I blew an aspen-leaf thither, but I was so tired I couldn’t
blow a puff for ever so many days after it. But if you really wish to
go thither, and aren’t afraid to come along with me, I’ll take you on
my back and see if I can blow you thither.”
Yes! with all her heart; she must and would get thither if it were
possible in any way, and as for fear, however madly he went, she
wouldn’t be at all afraid.
“Very well then,” said the North Wind, “but you must sleep here
to-night, for we must have the whole day before us if we’re to get
there at all.”
Early next morning the North Wind woke her, and puffed himself up and
blew himself out, and made himself so stout and big, ’twas gruesome to
look at him; and so off they went, high up through the air, as if they
would never stop till they got to the world’s end.
Down here below there was such a storm; it threw down long tracts
of wood and many houses, and when it swept over the great sea ships
foundered by hundreds.
So they tore on and on--no one can believe how far they went--and all
the while they still went over the sea, and the North Wind got more and
more weary, and so out of breath he could scarce bring out a puff, and
his wings drooped and drooped, till at last he sunk so low that the
crests of the waves dashed over his heels.
“Are you afraid?” said the North Wind.
No! she wasn’t.
But they weren’t very far from land; and the North Wind had still so
much strength left in him that he managed to throw her up on the shore
under the windows of the castle which lay EAST O’ THE SUN AND WEST O’
THE MOON; but then he was so weak and worn out, he had to stay there
and rest many days before he could get home again.
Next morning the lassie sat down under the castle window and began
to play with the gold apple; and the first person she saw was the
Long-nose who was to have the Prince.
“What do you want for your gold apple, you lassie?” said the Long-nose,
and threw up the window.
“It’s not for sale for gold or money,” said the lassie.
[Illustration: He was so worn out he had to rest many days before he
could get home again]
“If it’s not for sale for gold or money, what is it that you will sell
it for? You may name your own price,” said the Princess.
“Well, if I may get to the Prince who lives here and be with him
to-night, you shall have it,” said the lassie whom the North Wind had
brought.
Yes! she might; that could be done. So the Princess got the gold apple;
but when the lassie came up to the Prince’s bedroom at night he was
fast asleep; she called him and shook him, and between whiles she wept
sore; but all she could do she couldn’t wake him up. Next morning, as
soon as day broke, came the Princess with the long nose and drove her
out again.
So in the daytime she sat under the castle windows and began to card
with her golden carding-comb, and the same thing happened. The Princess
asked what she wanted for it; and she said it wasn’t for sale for gold
or money, but if she might get leave to go up to the Prince and be with
him that night, the Princess should have it. But when she went up, she
found him fast asleep again, and all she called, and all she shook, and
wept, and prayed, she couldn’t get life into him; and as soon as the
first gray peep of day came, then came the Princess with the long nose
and chased her out again.
So, in the daytime, the lassie sat down outside under the castle window
and began to spin with her golden spinning-wheel, and that, too, the
Princess with the long nose wanted to have. So she threw up the window
and asked what she wanted for it. The lassie said, as she had said
twice before, it wasn’t for sale for gold or money; but if she might go
up to the Prince who was there, and be with him alone that night, she
might have it.
Yes! she might do that and welcome. But now you must know there were
some folk who had been carried off thither, and as they sat in their
room, which was next the Prince, they had heard how a woman had been in
there, and wept and prayed, and called to him two nights running, and
they told that to the Prince.
That evening, when the Princess came with her sleepy drink, the Prince
made as if he drank, but threw it over his shoulder, for he could guess
it was a sleepy drink. So, when the lassie came in, she found the
Prince wide awake; and then she told him the whole story how she had
come thither.
“Ah,” said the Prince, “you’ve just come in the very nick of time for
to-morrow is to be our wedding-day; but now I won’t have the Long-nose,
and you are the only woman in the world who can set me free. I’ll say
I want to see what my wife is fit for, and beg her to wash the shirt
which has the three spots of tallow on it; she’ll say yes, for she
doesn’t know ’tis you who put them there; but that’s a work only for
Christian folk, and not for such a pack of Trolls, and so I’ll say that
I won’t have any other for my bride than the woman who can wash them
out, and ask you to do it.”
So there was great joy and love between them all that night. But next
day, when the wedding was to be, the Prince said:--
“First of all I’d like to see what my bride is fit for.”
“Yes,” said the stepmother, with all her heart.
“Well,” said the Prince, “I’ve got a fine shirt which I’d like for my
wedding-shirt, but somehow or other it has got three spots of tallow on
it, which I must have washed out; and I have sworn never to take any
other bride than the woman who’s able to do that. If she can’t she’s
not worth having.”
Well, that was no great thing, they said, so they agreed, and she with
the Long-nose began to wash away as hard as she could, but the more she
rubbed and scrubbed, the bigger the spots grew.
“Ah,” said the old hag, her mother, “you can’t wash; let me try.”
But she hadn’t long taken the shirt in hand, before it got far worse
than ever, and with all her rubbing, and wringing, and scrubbing the
spots grew bigger and blacker, and the darker and uglier was the shirt.
Then all the other trolls began to wash, but the longer it lasted the
blacker and uglier the shirt grew, till at last it was as black all
over as if it had been up the chimney.
“Ah,” said the Prince, “you’re none of you worth a straw; you can’t
wash. Why there, outside, sits a beggar lassie, I’ll be bound she knows
how to wash better than the whole lot of you. Come in, lassie,” he
shouted.
Well, in she came.
“Can you wash this shirt clean, lassie, you?” said he.
“I don’t know,” she said, “but I think I can.”
And almost before she had taken it and dipped it in the water, it was
as white as driven snow, and whiter still.
“Yes; you are the lassie for me,” said the Prince.
At that the old hag flew into such a rage she burst on the spot, and
the Princess with the long nose after her, and the whole pack of Trolls
after her--at least I’ve never heard a word about them since.
As for the Prince and Princess, they set free all the poor folk who had
been carried off and shut up there, and they took with them all the
silver and gold, and flitted away as far as they could from the castle
that lay EAST O’ THE SUN AND WEST O’ THE MOON.
* * * * *
“Not quite the last,” exclaimed Queen Titania, and all the fairies who
had begun to move hurried back to their places. “Not quite the last,
for before we separate I will sing a song that you may tell to all the
human children that you meet, and it shall be called the song of Queen
Titania or
[Illustration: Queen Titania]
[Illustration: But when a bad child goes to bed]