 1 The Emperor's New Clothes Many years ago there was an Emperor who was so excessively fond of new clothes that he spent all his money in dress. He did not trouble himself in the least about his soldiers, nor did he care to go either to the theatre or the chase, except for the opportunities then afforded him for displaying his new clothes. He had a different suit for each hour of the day. And as of any other king or Emperor, one is accustomed to say he is sitting in council, but was always said of him, the Emperor is sitting in his wardrobe. Time passed merrily in the large town which was his capital. Strangers arrived every day at the court. One day two robes, calling themselves weavers, made their appearance. They gave out that they knew how to weave stuffs of the most beautiful colors and elaborate patterns, the clothes manufactured from which should have the wonderful property of remaining invisible to everyone who was unfit for the office he held, or who was extraordinarily simple in character. These must indeed be splendid clothes, thought the Emperor, had I such a suit I might at once find out when men in my realms are unfit for their office, and also be able to distinguish the wise from the foolish. This stuff must be woven for me immediately. And he caused large sums of money to be given to both the weavers in order that they might begin their work directly. So the two pretended weavers set up two looms, and affected to work very busily, though in reality they did nothing at all. They asked for the most delicate silk and the purest gold thread, put both into their knapsacks, and then continued their pretended work at the empty looms until late at night. I should like to know how the weavers are getting all with my cloth, said the Emperor to himself, after some little time and elapsed. He was, however, rather embarrassed when he remembered that a simpleton, or one unfit for his office, would be unable to see the manufacture, to be sure he thought he had nothing to risk in his own person, but yet he would prefer sending somebody else to bring him intelligence about the weavers and their work before he troubled himself in the affair. All the people throughout the city had heard of the wonderful property the cloth was to possess, and all were anxious to learn how wise, or how ignorant, their neighbors might prove to be. I will send my faithful old minister to the weavers, said the Emperor at last, after some deliberation. He will be best able to see how the cloth looks, for he is a man of sense, and no one can be more suitable for his office than he is. So the faithful old minister went into the hall where the naves were working with all their might at their empty looms. That can be the meaning of it, thought the old man, opening his eyes very wide. I cannot discover the least bit of thread on the looms, however he did not express his thoughts aloud. The imposters requested him very curiously to be so good as to come near their looms, and then asked him whether the design pleased him, and whether the colors were not very beautiful, at the same time pointing to the empty frames. The poor old minister looked and looked, he could not discover anything on the looms. A very good reason, that is, there was nothing there. What, thought he again, is it possible that I am a simpleton? I have never thought so myself, and no one must know it now if I am so. Can it be that I am unfit for my office? Now, that must not be said either, I will never confess that I could not see the stuff. Well, sir minister, said one of the naves, still pretending to work, you do not say what of the stuff pleases you. Oh, it is excellent, replied the old minister, looking at the loom through his spectacles. This pattern and the colors, yes, I will tell the emperor without delay how very beautiful I think them. We shall be much obliged to you, said the imposters, and then they named the different colors and described the pattern of the pretended stuff. The old minister listened attentively to their words, in order that he might repeat them to the emperor, and then the naves asked for more silk and gold, saying that it was necessary to complete what they had begun. However, they put all that was given them into their knapsacks, and continued to work with as much apparent diligence as before at their empty looms. The emperor now sent another officer of his court to see how the men were getting on, and to ascertain whether the cloth would soon be ready. It was just the same with this gentleman as with the minister. He surveyed the looms on all sides, but could see nothing at all but the empty frames. Does not the stuff appear as beautiful to you as it did to my lord the minister? Asked the imposters of the emperor's second ambassador, at the same time making the same gestures as before, and talking of the design and colors which were not there. I certainly am not stupid, thought the messenger. It must be that I am not fit for my good profitable office. That is very odd. However, no one shall know anything about it. And accordingly he praised the stuff he could not see, and declared that he was delighted with both colors and patterns. Indeed, please, your imperial majesty," said he to his sovereign when he returned, the cloth which the weavers are preparing is extraordinarily magnificent. The whole city was talking of the splendid cloth which the emperor had ordered to be woven at his own expense, and now the emperor himself wished to see the costly manufacture, while it was still in the loom. Accompanied by a select number of officers of the court, among whom were the two honest men who had already admired the cloth, he went to the crafting imposters, who, as soon as they were aware of the emperor's approach, went on working more diligently than ever, although they still did not pass a single thread through the looms. "'It's not the work absolutely magnificent,' said the two officers of the crown, already mentioned, if your majesty will only be pleased to look at it, or a splendid design, or glorious colors, and at the same time they pointed to the empty frames, for they imagined that everyone else could see this exquisite piece of workmanship. "'How is this?' said the emperor to himself. "'I can see nothing. This is indeed a terrible affair. "'Am I a sibilton, or am I unfit to be an emperor? "'That would be the worst thing that could happen. "'Oh, the cloth is charming,' said he, aloud. "'It has my complete approbation.' And he smiled most graciously and looked closely at the empty looms, for on no account would he say that he could not see what two of the officers of his court had praised so much. All his retinue now strained their eyes, hoping to discover something on the looms, but they could see no more than the others. Nevertheless, they all exclaimed, "'Oh, how beautiful!' and advised his majesty to have some new clothes made from this splendid material for the approaching procession. "'Magnificent, charming, excellent!' resounded all sides, and everyone was uncommonly gay. The emperor shared in the general satisfaction and presented the imposters with the ribbon of an order of knighthood to be worn in their buttonholes, and the title of Gentleman Weavers. The rogues sat up the whole of the night before the day on which the procession was to take place, and had sixteen lights burning so that everyone might see how anxious they were to finish the emperor's new suit. They pretended to roll the cloth off the looms, cut the air with their scissors, and sewed with needles without any thread in them. "'See!' cried they at last, the emperor's new clothes are ready. Now the emperor, with all the grandees of his court, came to the Weavers, and the rogues raised their arms as if in the act of holding something up, saying, "'Here are your majesty's trousers. Here is the scarf. Here is the mantle. The whole suit is as light as a cobweb. One might fancy one has nothing at all odd when dressed in it. That, however, is the great virtue of this delicate cloth.' "'Yes, indeed,' said all the courtiers, although not one of them could see anything of this exquisite manufacture. "'If your imperial majesty will be graciously pleased to take off your clothes, we will fit all the new suits in front of the looking-glass.' The emperor was accordingly undressed, and the rogues pretended to array him in his new suit, the emperor turning round from side to side before the looking-glass. "'How splendid his majesty looks in his new clothes, and how well they fit!' Everyone cried out, "'What a design! What colors! These are indeed royal robes!' "'The canopy, which is to be borne over your majesty in the procession, is waiting,' announced the chief master of the ceremonies. "'I am quite ready,' answered the emperor. "'Do my new clothes fit well?' asked he, turning himself round again before the looking-glass, in order that he might appear to be examining his handsome suit. The lords of the bed-chamber, who were to carry his majesty's train, felt about on the ground, as if they were lifting up the ends of the mantle, and pretended to be carrying something, for they would by no means betray anything like simplicity or unfitness for their office. So now the emperor walked under his high canopy in the midst of the procession, through the streets of his capital, and all the people standing by, and those at the windows, cried out, "'Oh, how beautiful are our emperor's new clothes! What a magnificent train there is to the mantle, and how gracefully the scarf hangs!' In short, no one would allow that he could not see these much-admired clothes, because, in doing so, he would have declared himself either a simpleton or unfit for his office. Certainly, none of the emperor's various suits had ever made so great an impression as these invisible ones. "'But the emperor has nothing at all on,' said a little child. "'Listen to the voice of innocence,' exclaimed his father, and what the child had said was whispered from one to another. "'But he has nothing at all on!' At last cried out all the people. The emperor was vexed, for he knew that the people were right. But he thought the procession must go on now, and the lords of the bed-chamber took greater pains than ever to appear holding up a train. Although, in reality, there was no train to hold.' There was once a poor prince who had a kingdom. His kingdom was very small, but still quite large enough to marry upon, and he wished to marry. It was certainly rather cool of him to say to the emperor's daughter, "'Will you have me?' But so he did, for his name was renowned far and wide, and there were a hundred princesses who would have answered, "'Yes, and thank you kindly!' We shall see what this princess said.' "'Listen!' It happened that where the prince's father lay buried there grew a rose-tree, a most beautiful rose-tree, which blossomed only once in every five years, and even then bore only one flower. But that was a rose. It smelt so sweet that all cares and sorrows were forgotten by him who inhaled its fragrance. And furthermore the prince had a nightingale, who could sing in such a manner that it seemed as though all sweet melodies dwelt in her little throat. So the princess was to have the rose and the nightingale, and they were accordingly put into large silver caskets and sent to her. The emperor had them brought into a large hall where the princess was playing at visiting with the ladies of the court, and when she saw the caskets with the presents she clapped her hands for joy. "'Ah, if it were but a little pussy-cat,' she said. But the rose-tree with its beautiful rose came to view. "'Oh, how prettily it is made,' said all the court ladies. "'It is more than pretty,' said the emperor. "'It is charming.' But the princess touched it and was almost ready to cry. "'Fie, papa,' she said. "'It is not made at all. It is natural. Let us see what is in the other casket before we get into a bad humour,' said the emperor. So the nightingale came forth and sang so delightfully that at first no one could say anything ill-humored of her. "'Superbe! Chameau,' exclaimed the ladies, for they all used to chatter French, each one worse than her neighbor. "'How much the bird reminds me of the musical box that belonged to our blessed empress,' said an old knight. "'Oh, yes, these are the same tones, the same execution. "'Yes, yes,' said the emperor. And he wept like a child at the remembrance. "'I will still hope that it is not a real bird,' said the princess. "'Yes, it is a real bird,' said those who had brought it. "'Well, then, let the bird fly,' said the princess, and she positively refused to see the prince. However, he was not discouraged. He dobbed his face over brown and black, pulled his cap over his ears, and knocked at the door. "'A good day to my lord, the emperor,' said he. "'Can I have employment at the palace?' "'Oh, yes,' said the emperor. "'I want someone to take care of the pigs, for we have a great many of them.' So the prince was appointed imperial swine-herd. He had a dirty little room close by the pig-stime, and there he sat the whole day and worked. By the evening he had a pretty little kitchen pot. Little bells were hung all around it, and when the pot was boiling, these bells tinkled in the most charming manner and played the old melody. What was still more curious, whoever held his finger in the smoke of the kitchen pot, immediately smelled all the dishes that were cooking on every hearth in the city. This, you see, was something quite different from the rose. Now the princess happened to walk that way, and when she heard the tune, she stood quite still and seemed pleased. For she could play, Lieber Augustine. It was the only piece she knew, and she played it with one finger. "'Why, there is my piece,' said the princess. That swine-herd must certainly have been well educated. Go in and ask him the price of the instrument.' So one of the court ladies must run in. However, she drew on wooden slippers first. "'What will you take for the kitchen pot?' said the lady. "'I will have ten kisses from the princess,' said the swine-herd.' "'Yes, indeed,' said the lady. "'I cannot sell it for less,' rejoined the swine-herd.' "'He is an impudent fellow,' said the princess, and she walked on, but when she had gone a little way, the bells tinkled so prettily. "'Ah, do Lieber Augustine, all is this vague, vague, vague.' "'Stay,' said the princess. "'Ask him if he will have ten kisses from the ladies of my court.' "'No, thank you,' said the swine-herd. "'Ten kisses from the princess, or I keep the kitchen pot myself.' "'That must not be, either,' said the princess. "'But do you all stand before me that no one may see us?' And the court ladies placed themselves in front of her and spread out their dresses. The swine-herd got ten kisses, and the princess the kitchen pot.' "'That was delightful. The pot was boiling the whole evening and the whole of the following day. They knew perfectly well what was cooking at every fire throughout the city, from the chamberlands to the cobblers. The court ladies danced and clapped their hands. "'We know who has soup and who has pancakes for dinner today, who has cutlets and who has eggs. How interesting!' "'Yes, but keep my secret, for I am an emperor's daughter.' "'The swine-herd,' that is to say, the prince, for no one knew that he was other than an ill-favoured swine-herd, let not a day pass without working at something. He at last constructed a rattle, which, when it was swung round, played all the waltzes and jig-tunes, which have ever been heard since the creation of the world. "'Ah, that is superb,' said the princess when she passed by. "'I have never heard prettier compositions. Go in and ask him the price of the instrument. But mind, he shall have no more kisses.' "'He will have a hundred kisses from the princess,' said the lady who had been to ask.' "'I think he is not in his right senses,' said the princess, and walked on. But when she had gone a little way, she stopped again. "'One must encourage art,' said she. "'I am the emperor's daughter. Tell him he shall, as on yesterday, have ten kisses from me, and may take the rest from the ladies of the court.' "'Oh, we should not like that at all,' said they. "'What are you muttering?' asked the princess. "'If I can kiss him, surely you can. Remember that you owe everything to me.' So the ladies were obliged to go to him again. "'A hundred kisses from the princess,' said he, or else let everyone keep his own. "'Stand round,' said she, and all the ladies stood round her whilst the kissing was going on.' "'What can be the reason for such a crowd close by the pigsty?' said the emperor, who happened just then to step out on the balcony. He rubbed his eyes and put on his spectacles. "'They are the ladies of the court. I must go down and see what they are about.' So he pulled up his slippers at the heel, for he had trodden them down. As soon as he had got into the courtyard he moved very softly, and the ladies were so much engrossed with counting the kisses, that all might go on fairly, that they did not perceive the emperor. He rose on his tiptoes. "'What is all this?' said he, when he saw what was going on, and he boxed the princess's ears with his slipper, just as the swinehood was taking the eighty-sixth kiss. "'March out,' said the emperor, for he was very angry, and both princess and swinehood were thrust out of the city. The princess now stood and wept. The swinehood scolded, and the rain poured down. "'Alas! unhappy creature that I am,' said the princess. "'If I had but married the handsome young prince! Oh, how unfortunate I am!' And the swinehood went behind a tree, washed the black and brown color from his face, threw off his dirty clothes, and stepped forth in his princely robes. He looked so noble that the princess could not help bowing before him. "'I have come to despise thee,' said he. "'Thou wouldst not have an honorable prince. Thou couldst not prize the bros and the nightingale, but thou was ready to kiss the swinehood for the sake of a trumpery plaything. Thou art rightly served.' He then went back to his own little kingdom, and shut the door of his palace in her face. Ow! she might well sing. End of THE SWINEHOOD THE REAL PRINCESS There was once a prince who wished to marry a princess. But then she must be a real princess. He travelled all over the world in hopes of finding such a lady. But there was always something wrong. Princesses he found in plenty. But whether they were real princesses, it was impossible for him to decide. For now one thing, now another, seemed to him not quite right about the ladies. At last he returned to his palace quite cast down, because he wished so much to have a real princess for his wife. One evening a fearful tempest arose. It thundered and lightninged, and the rain poured down from the sky in torrents. Besides, it was as dark as pitch. All at once there was heard a violent knocking at the door, and the old king, the prince's father, went out himself to open it. It was a princess who was standing outside the door. What, with the rain and the wind, she was in a sad condition. The water trickled down from her hair, and her clothes clung to her body. She said she was a real princess. Ah, we shall soon see that, thought the old queen mother. However, she said not a word of what she was going to do, but went quietly into the bedroom, took all the bed clothes off the bed, and put three little peas on the bedstead. She then laid twenty mattresses, one upon another, over the three peas, and put twenty feather beds over the mattresses. Upon this bed the princess was to pass the night. The next morning she was asked how she had slept. Oh, very badly indeed, she replied, I have scarcely closed my eyes the whole night through. I do not know what was in my bed, but I had something hard under me, and am all over black and blue. It has hurt me so much. Now, it was plain that the lady must be a real princess, since she had been able to feel the three little peas through the twenty mattresses and twenty feather beds. None but a real princess could have had such a delicate sense of feeling. The prince accordingly made her his wife, being now convinced that he had found a real princess. The three peas were, however, put into the cabinet of curiosities, where they are still to be seen, provided they are not lost. Was it this a lady of real delicacy? And of the real princess. Anderson's Fairy Tales by Hans Christian Anderson The Shoes of Fortune Chapter 4a Part 1 A Beginning Every author has some peculiarity in his descriptions or in his style of writing. Those who do not like him magnify it, shrug up their shoulders, and exclaim, There he is again! I, for my part, know very well how I can bring about this movement and this exclamation. It would happen immediately if I were to begin here, as I intended to do, with Rome has its Corso, Naples its Toledo. Ah! That Anderson! There he is again! they would cry. Yet I must, to please my fancy, continue quite quietly and add, but Copenhagen has its East Street. Here, then, we will stay for the present. In one of the houses not far from the new market a party was invited. A very large party, in order, as is often the case, to get a return invitation from the others. One half of the company was already seated at the card table. The other half awaited the result of the stereotype preliminary observation of the Lady of the House. Now, let's see what we can do to amuse ourselves. They had got just so far, and the conversation began to crystallize, as it could but do with the scanty stream which the commonplace world supplied. Amongst other things, they spoke of the Middle Ages. Some praised that period as far more interesting, far more poetical than our own two sober present. Indeed, Councilor Knapp defended this opinion so warmly that the hostess declared immediately on his side and both exerted themselves with unwaried eloquence. The Councilor boldly declared that the time of King Hans to be the noblest and the most happy period. While the conversation turned on this subject, and was only for a moment interrupted by the arrival of a journal that contained nothing worth reading, we will just step out into the Anna Chamber, where cloaks, macintoshes, sticks, umbrellas, and shoes were deposited. Here sat two female figures, a young and an old one. One might have thought at first they were servants come to accompany their mistresses home, but on looking nearer one soon saw they could scarcely be mere servants. Their farms were too noble for that, their skin too fine, the cut of their dress too striking. Two fairies were they. The younger, it is true, was not Dame Fortune herself, but one of the waiting-maids of her handmaidens, who carry about the lesser good things that she distributes. The other looked extremely gloomy. It was Care. She always attends to her own serious business herself, as then she is sure of having it done properly. They were telling each other, with a confidential interchange of ideas, where they had been during the day. The messenger of Fortune had only executed a few unimportant commissions, such as saving a new bonnet from a shower of rain, etc. But what she had yet to perform was something quite unusual. I must tell you, said she, that today is my birthday, and in honor of it a pair of walking shoes or galoshes has been entrusted to me, which I am to carry to mankind. These shoes possess the property of instantly transporting him, who has them on to a place or the period in which he most wishes to be. Every wish, as regards time or place, or state of being, will be immediately fulfilled, and so at last man will be happy here below. Do you seriously believe it? replied Care, in a severe tone of reproach. No, he will be very unhappy, and will assuredly bless the moment when he feels that he has freed himself from the fatal shoes. Stupid nonsense, said the other angrily. I will put them here by the door. Someone will make a mistake for certain, and take the wrong ones. He will be a happy man. Such was their conversation. Part 2 What Happened to the Counselor It was late. Counselor Knapp, deeply occupied with the time of King Hans, intended to go home, and malicious fate managed matters so that his feet, instead of finding their way to his own galoshes, slipped into those of fortune. Thus, comparisoned, the good man walked out of the well-lighted rooms into East Street. By the magic power of the shoes he was carried back to the time of King Hans, on which account his foot very naturally sank in the mud and puddles of the street, there having been in those days no pavement in Copenhagen. Well, this is too bad. How dirty it is here, sighed the Counselor. As to pavement, I can find no traces of one, and all the lamps. It seems have gone to sleep. The moon was not yet very high. It was besides rather foggy, so that in the darkness all objects seemed mingled in chaotic confusion. At the next corner hung a votive lamp before a Madonna. But the light it gave was little better than none at all. Indeed, he did not observe it before he was exactly under it, and his eyes as fell upon the bright colors of the pictures which represented the well-known group of the Virgin and the infant Jesus. This is probably a waxwork show, thought he, and the people delay taking down their sign in hopes of a late visitor or two. A few persons in the costume of the time of King Hans passed quickly by him. How strange they look! The good folks come probably from a masquerade. Suddenly was heard the sound of drums and fives. The bright blaze of a fire shot up from time to time, and its ruddy gleams seemed to contend with the bluish light of the torches. The counselor stood still, and watched a most strange procession pass by. First came a dozen drummers, who understood pretty well how to handle their instruments. Then came halberdeers, and some armed with crossbows. The principal person in the procession was a priest. Astonished at what he saw, the counselor asked what was the meaning of all this mummery, and who that man was. That's the Bishop of Zeeland, was the answer. Good heavens! What has taken possession of the Bishop? sighed the counselor, shaking his head. It certainly could not be the Bishop, even though he has considered the most absent man in the whole kingdom, and people told the drollist anecdotes about him. Reflecting on the matter, and without looking right or left, the counselor went through East Street and across the Haber plots. The bridge leading to Palace Square was not to be found, scarcely trusting his senses, the nocturnal wanderer discovered a shallow piece of water, and here fell in with two men who very comfortably were rocking to and fro in a boat. Does your ironer want to cross the ferry to the home? they asked. Across to the home? said the counselor, who knew nothing of the age in which he at that moment was. No, I am going to Christianshofen, to Little Market Street. Both men stared at him in astonishment. Only just tell me where the bridge is, said he. It is really unpardonable that there are no lamps here, and it is as dirty as if one had to wade through a morass. The longer he spoke with the boatman, the more unintelligible did their language become to him. I don't understand your born-olmish dialect, said he, at last, angrily, and turning his back upon them. He was unable to find the bridge. There was no railway, either. It is really disgraceful what a state this place is in, muttered he to himself. Never had his age, with which, however, he was always grumbling, seemed so miserable as on this evening. I'll take a hackney-coach, thought he. But where are the hackney-coaches? None was to be seen. I must go back to the new market. There it is to be hoped I shall find some coaches. For if I don't, I shall never get safe to Christians often. So off he went in the direction of East Street, and had nearly got to the end of it when the moon shone forth. God bless me! What wooden scaffolding is that, which they have set up there? cried he involuntarily, as he looked at East Gate, which in those days was at the end of East Street. He found, however, a little side door open, and through this he went, and stepped into our new market of the present time. It was a huge desolate plain. Some wild bushes stood up here and there, while across the field flowed a broad canal or river. Some wretched hovels for the Dutch sailors resembling great boxes, and after which the place was named, lay about in confused disorder on the opposite bank. I either behold a Fatah Morgana, or I am regularly tipsy, whimpered out the counselor. But what is this? He turned round anew, firmly convinced that he was seriously ill. He gazed at the street formerly so well known to him, and now so strange in appearance, and looked at the houses more attentively. Most of them were of wood, slightly put together, and many had a thatched roof. No, I am far from well, sighed he. And yet I drank only one glass of punch. But I cannot suppose it. It was too really very wrong to give us punch and hot salmon for supper. I shall speak about it at the first opportunity. I have a half-mind to go back again, and say what I suffer. Oh, no, that would be too silly, and Heaven only knows if they are up still. He looked for the house, but it had vanished. It is really dreadful, groaned he with increasing anxiety. I cannot recognize East Street again. There is not a single decent shop from one end to the other. Nothing but wretched huts can I see anywhere, just as if I were at Ringstead. Oh, I am ill. I can scarcely bear myself any longer. Where the deuce can the house be? It must be here on this very spot, yet there is not the slightest idea of resemblance. To such a degree has everything changed this night. At all events, here are some people up and stirring. Oh, I am certainly very ill. He now hid upon a half-open door, through a chink of which a faint light shone. It was a sort of haustory of those times, a kind of public house. The room had some resemblance to the clay-floored halls in Holstein, a pretty numerous company consisting of seamen, Copenhagen burgers, and a few scholars sat here in deep converse over their pewter cans and gave little heed to the person who entered. By your leave, said the counselor to the hostess, who came bustling towards him. I've felt so queer all of a sudden. Would you have the goodness to send for a happy coach, to take me to Christians often? The woman examined him with eyes of astonishment and shook her head. She then addressed him in German. The counselor thought he did not understand Danish, and therefore repeated his wish in German. This, in connection with his costume, strengthened the good woman in the belief that he was a foreigner. That he was ill, she comprehended directly, so she brought him a pitcher of water, which tasted certainly pretty strong of the sea, although it had been fetched from the well. The counselor supported his head on his hand, drew a long breath, and thought over all the wondrous things he saw around him. Is this the daily news of the evening? He asked mechanically, as he saw the hostess push aside a large sheet of paper. The meaning of this counselorship query remained, of course, a riddle to her, yet she handed him the paper without replying. It was a coarse woodcut, representing a splendid meteor, as seen in the town of Cologne, which was to be read below in bright letters. This is very old, said the counselor, whom this piece of antiquity began to make considerably more cheerful. Pray, how did you come into possession of this rare print? It's extremely interesting, although the whole is a mere fable. Such meteorous appearances are to be explained in this way, that they are the reflections of the aurora borealis, and it is highly probable they are caused principally by electricity. Those persons who were sitting near us to him, and heard his speech, stared at him in wonderment, and one of them rose, took off his hat respectfully, and said with a serious countenance, oh no, answered the counselor, I can only join in conversation on this topic and on that, as indeed one must do, according to the demands of the world I present. Modestia is a fine virtue, continued the gentleman. However, as to your speech, I must say, me he seekus fititor, yet I am willing to suspend my judicium. May I ask with whom I have the pleasure of speaking, asked the counselor. I am a bachelor in theologia, answered the gentleman, with a stiff reverence. This reply fully satisfied the counselor. The title suited the dress. He is, certainly, thought he. Some village schoolmaster. Some queer old fellow, such as one still often meets within Jutland. This is no locus dosende, it is true, began the clerical gentleman, yet I beg you earnestly to let us profit of your learning. Your reading in the ancients is seen a dubio of vast extent. Oh yes, I read something, to be sure, replied the counselor. I like reading all useful works, but I do not on that account despise the modern ones. It is only the unfortunate tales of everyday life that I cannot bear. We have enough and more than enough, such in reality. Tales of everyday life? said our bachelor inquiringly. I mean those newfangled novels, twisting and writhing themselves in the dust of commonplace, which also expect to find a reading public. Oh! exclaimed the clerical gentleman, smiling. There has much wit in them, besides they are read at court. The king likes the history of Sir Ifvin and Sir Gaudian particularly, which treats of King Arthur and his knights of the round table. He has more than once joked about it with his high vassals. I have not read that novel, said the counselor. It must be quite a new one, that Highberg has published lately. No, answered the theologian of the time of King Hans. That book is not written by a Highberg, but was imprinted by God Freevon Geeman. Oh! is that the author's name? said the counselor. It is a very old name, and as well as I recollect, he was the first printer that appeared in Denmark. Yes, he is our first printer! replied the clerical gentleman hastily. So far all went on well. Some one of the worthy burgers now spoke of the dreadful pestilence that had raged in the country a few years back, meaning that of 1484. The counselor imagined it was the cholera that was meant, which people made so much fuss about, and the discourse passed off satisfactorily enough. The War of the Buccaneers of 1490 was so recent that it could not fail being alluded to. The English pirates had, they said, most shamefully taken their ships while in the roadstead. And the counselor, before whose eyes the hero-static event of 1801 still floated vividly, agreed entirely with the others in abusing the rascally English. With other topics he was not so fortunate. Every moment brought about some new confusion, and threatened to become a perfect babble. For the worthy bachelor was really too ignorant, and the simplest observations of the counselor sounded to him too daring and fantastical. They looked at one another from the crown of the head to the soles of the feet, and when matters grew too high a pitch, then the bachelor talked in Latin, in the hope of being better understood, but it was of no use after all. What's the matter? asked the hostess, plucking the counselor by the sleeve, and now his recollection returned for in the course of a conversation he had entirely forgotten all that had preceded it. Merciful God, where am I? exclaimed he in agony. And while he so thought all his ideas and feelings of overpowering dizziness, against which he struggled with the utmost power of desperation, encompassed him with renewed force. Let us drink, Clara, than me, than bream and beer, shouted one of the guest. And you shall drink with us. Two maidens approached. One wore a cap of two staring colors, denoting the class of persons to which she belonged. They poured out the liquor and made the most friendly gesticulations, while a cold perspiration trickled down the back of the poor counselor. What's to be the end of this? What's to become of me? groaned he. But he was forced, in spite of his opposition, to drink with the rest. They took hold of the worthy man, who, hearing on every side that he was intoxicated, did not in the least doubt the truth of this certainly not very polite assertion. But on the contrary, implored the ladies and gentlemen present to procure him a hackney-coach. They, however, imagined he was talking Russian. Never before he thought had he been in such a coarse and ignorant company, one might almost fancy the people had turned heathens again. It is the most dreadful moment of my life. The whole world is leaned against me. But suddenly it occurred to him that he might stoop down under the table and then creep unobserved out of the door. He did so. But just as he was going, the others remarked what he was about. They laid hold of him by the legs, and now, happily for him, off fell his fatal shoes. And with them the charm was at an end. The counsellor saw quite distinctly before him a lantern burning, and behind this a large, handsome house. All seemed to him in proper order as usual. It was East Street, splendid and elegant as we now see it. He lay with his feet towards the doorway, and exactly opposite sat the watchman asleep. Gracious Heaven, said he. How I lain here in the street and dreamed. Yes, to East Street. How splendid and light it is. But really it is terrible what an effect that one glass of punch must have had on me. Two minutes later he was sitting in a hackney-coach, and driving to Frederickshafen. He thought of the distress and agony he had endured, and praised from the very bottom of his heart the happy reality of our own time, which, with all its deficiencies, is yet much better than that in which, so much against his inclination, he had lately been. Why, there is a pair of galoshes as sure as I'm alive, said the watchman, awakening from a gentle slumber. They belong no doubt to the lieutenant who lives over there. They lie close to the door. The worthy man was inclined to ring and deliver them at the house, for there was still a light in the window, but he did not, like disturbing the other people in their beds, and so very considerably he left the matter alone. Such a pair of shoes must be very warm and comfortable, said he. The leather is so soft and supple. They fitted his feet as though they had been made for him. To his curious world we live in, continued he, soliloquizing. There is the lieutenant now, who might go quietly to bed if he chose, where no doubt he could stretch himself at his ease. But does he do it? No. He saunters up and down his room, because, probably, he has enjoyed too many of the good things of this world at his dinner. That's a happy fellow. He has neither an infirm mother, nor a whole troop of everlastingly hungry children to torment him. Every evening he goes to a party, where his nice supper costs him nothing. Would to heaven I could but change with him. How happy should I be? While expressing his wishes, the charm of the shoes, which he had put on, began to work. The watchman entered into the being and nature of the lieutenant. He stood in the handsomely furnished apartment, and held between his fingers a small sheet of rose-colored paper on which some verses were written. Written, indeed, by the officer himself. For who has not, at least once in his life, had a lyrical moment? And if one then marks down one's thoughts, poetry is produced. But here was written, O, were I rich? O, were I rich? Such was my wish, yea, such, when hardly three feet high, I longed for much. O, were I rich and officer were I? With sword and uniform and plumes so high, and the time came, and officer was I. But yet I grew not rich. Alas, poor me! Have pity, thou, who all man's wants, dost see. I sat one evening, sunk in dreams of bliss. A maid of seven years old gave me a kiss. I, at that time, was rich in posy, and tales of old, though poor as poor could be. But all she asked for was this posy. Then was I rich, but not in gold, poor me. As thou dost know, who all man's hearts canst see. O, were I rich? oft asked I for this boon, the child grew up to womanhood full soon. She is so pretty, clever, and so kind. O, did she know what's hidden in my mind, a tale of old? Would she to me were kind? But I am condemned to silence, O, poor me, as thou dost know, who all man's hearts canst see. O, were I rich in calm and peace of mind. My grief you then would not hear written find. O, thou, to whom I do my heart devote. O, read this page of Glad Day's now remote. A dark, dark tale which I tonight devote. Dark is the future now. Alas, poor me. Have pity thou, who all man's pains dost see. Such verses as these people write when they are in love. But no man in his senses ever thinks of printing them. Here one of the sorrows of life, in which there is real poetry, gave itself vent. Not that barren grief, which the poet may only hint at, but never depict in its detail, misery and want. That animal necessity, in short, to snatch at least at the fallen leaf of the breadfruit tree, if not at the fruit itself. The higher the position in which one finds one self-transplanted, the greater is the suffering. Every day necessity is the stagnant pool of life. No lovely pictures reflects itself therein. Lieutenant, love, and lack of money. That is a symbolic triangle, or much the same as the half of the Shattered Dye of Fortune. This, the Lieutenant felt most poignantly, and this was the reason he lent his head against the window and side so deeply. The poor watchman out there in the street is far happier than I. He knows not what I term privation. He has a home, a wife and children, who weep with him over his sorrows, who rejoice with him when he is glad. Oh, far happier were I. Could I exchange with him my being, with his desires and with his hopes, perform the weary pilgrimage of life? Oh, he is a hundred times happier than I. In the same moment the watchman was again watchman. It was the shoes that caused the metamorphosis by means of which, unknown to himself, he took upon him the thoughts and feelings of the officer. But, as we have just seen, he felt himself in his new situation much less contented, and now preferred the very thing which, but some minutes before, he had rejected. So then the watchman was again watchman. That was an unpleasant dream, said he. But it was droll enough altogether. I fancied that I was the lieutenant over there, and yet the thing was not very much to my taste after all. I missed my good old mother and dear little ones, who almost tear me to pieces for sheer love. He seated himself once more and nodded. The dream continued to haunt him, for he still had the shoes on his feet. A falling star shone in the dark firmament. There falls another star, said he. But what does it matter? There are always enough left. I should not much mind examining the little glimmering things, somewhat nearer, especially the moon, for that would not slip so easily through a man's fingers. When we die, so at least says the student for whom my wife does the washing, we shall fly about as light as a feather from one such star to the other. That, of course, is not true, but would be pretty enough if it were so. If I could but take a leap up there, my body might stay here on the steps for what I care. Behold, there are certain things in the world to which one ought never to give utterance except with the greatest caution. But doubly careful must one be when we have the shoes of fortune on our feet. Now just listen to what happened to the watchman. As to ourselves, we all know the speed produced by the employment of steam. We have experienced it either on railroads or in boats crossing the sea, but such a flight is like the traveling of a sloth in comparison to the velocity with which light moves. It flies nineteen million times faster than the best racehorse, and yet electricity is quicker still. Death is an electric shock which our heart receives. The freed soul soars upward on the wings of electricity. The sun's light wants eight minutes and some seconds to perform a journey of more than twenty million of our Danish miles. Born by electricity, the soul wants even some minutes less to accomplish the same flight. To it, the space between the heavenly bodies is not greater than the distance between the homes of our friends in town is for us, even if they live a short way from each other. Such an electric shock in the heart, however, costs us the use of the body here below. Unless, like the watchman of East Street, we happen to have on the shoes of fortune. In a few seconds, the watchman had done the fifty-two thousand of our miles up to the moon, which, as everyone knows, was formed out of matter much lighter than our earth, and is, so we should say, as soft as newly fallen snow. He found himself on one of the many circumjacent mountain ridges, with which we are acquainted by means of Dr. Maddler's map of the moon. Within, down it sunk, perpendicularly, into a cauldron, about a Danish mile in depth, while below lay a town whose appearance we can in some measure realize to ourselves by beating the white of an egg into a glass of water. The matter of which it was built was just as soft and formed similar towers with domes and pillars, transparent and rocking in thin air, while above his head our earth was rolling like a large, fiery ball. He perceived immediately a quantity of beings who were certainly what we call men. Yet they looked different to us. A far more correct imagination than that of the pseudo-Herschel had created them, and if they had been placed in rank and file and copied by some skilful painter's hand one would, without doubt, have exclaimed involuntarily. What a beautiful arabesque! They had a language, too, but surely nobody can expect that the soul of the watchman should understand it. Be that as it may, it did comprehend it. For in our souls there germinate far greater powers than we poor mortals, despite all our cleverness, have any notion of. Does she not show us, she, the queen in the land of enchantment, her astounding dramatic talent in all our dreams? There every acquaintance appears and speaks upon the stage, so entirely in character, and with the same tone of voice that none of us, one away, were able to imitate it. How can she recall persons to our mind, of whom we have not fought for years, when suddenly they step forth, every inch a man, resembling the real personages, even to the finest features, and become the heroes or heroines of our world of dreams? In reality such remembrances are rather unpleasant. Every sin, every evil thought, may, like a clock with alarm or chimes, be repeated at pleasure. Then the question is if we can trust ourselves to give an account of every unbecoming word in our heart and on our lips. The watchman's spirit understood the language of the inhabitants of the moon pretty well. The selenites disputed variously about our earth and expressed their doubts if it could be inhabited. The air, they said, must certainly be too dense to allow any rational dweller in the moon the necessary free respiration. They considered the moon alone to be inhabited. They imagined it was the real heart of the universe or planetary system on which the genuine cosmopolites or citizens of the world dwelt. What strange things men know. What strange things selenites sometimes take into their heads. About politics they had a good deal to say, but little Denmark must take care of what it is about and not run counter to the moon, that great realm that might in all ill humor besture itself and dash down a hailstorm in our faces or force the Baltic to overflow the sides of its gigantic basin. We will therefore not listen to what was spoken, and on no condition run in the possibility of telling tales out of school, but we will rather proceed like good quiet citizens to East Street and observe what happened, meanwhile, to the body of the watchman. He sat lifeless on the steps. The morning star, that is to say, the heavy wooden staff headed with iron spikes and which nothing else in common with its sparkling brother in the sky, had glided from his hand. While his eyes were fixed with glassy stare on the moon, looking for the good old fellow of a spirit which still haunted it. What's the hour, watchman? asked a passer-by. But when the watchman gave no reply, the merry roisterer, who was now returning home from a noisy drinking-bout, took it into his head to try what a tweak of the nose would do, on which the supposed sleeper lost his balance. The body lay motionless, stretched out on the pavement. The man was dead. When the patrol came up, all his comrades, who comprehended nothing of the whole affair, were seized with a dreadful fright, for dead he was, and he remained so. The proper authorities were informed of the circumstance, people talked a good deal about it, and in the morning the body was carried to the hospital. Now that would be a very pretty joke if the spirit, when it came back and looked for the body in E Street, were not able to find one. No doubt it would, in its anxiety, run off to the police, and then to the hue and cry office, to announce that the finder will be handsomely rewarded, and at last away to the hospital. Yet we may boldly assert that the soul is shrewdest when it shakes off every fetter, and every sort of leading string. The body only makes it stupid. The seemingly dead body of the watchman wandered, as we have said, to the hospital, where it was brought into the general viewing room, and the first thing that was done here was naturally to pull off the galoshes. When the spirit that was merely gone out on adventures must have returned, with quickness of lightning to its earthly tenement, it took its direction towards the body in a straight line, and a few seconds after life began to show itself in the man. He asserted that the preceding night had been the worst that ever the malice of fate had allotted him. He would not, for two silver marks again, go through what he had endured while moon-stricken. But now, however, it was over. The same day he was discharged from the hospital as perfectly cured. But the shoes, meanwhile, remain behind. End of the Shoes of Fortune, Chapter 4a. Chapter 4b of Anderson's Fairy Tales. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Kathy Wright. Anderson's Fairy Tales by Hans Christian Anderson The Shoes of Fortune, Chapter 4b Part 4 A Moment of Head Importance An Evening's Dramatic Readings A Most Strange Journey Every inhabitant of Copenhagen knows, from personal inspection, how the entrance to Frederick's hospital looks. But, as it is possible that others who are not Copenhagen people may also read this little work, we will beforehand give a short description of it. The extensive building is separated from the street by a pretty high railing. The thick iron bars of which are so far apart that, in all seriousness, it is said, some very thin fellow had, of a night, occasionally squeezed himself through to go and pay his little visits in the town. The part of the body most difficult to manage on such occasion was, no doubt, the head. Here, as is so often the case in the world, long-headed people get through best, so much then for our introduction. One of the young men, whose head, in a physical sense only, might be said to be of the thickest, had the watch that evening. The rain poured down in torrents. Yet, despite these two obstacles, the young man was obliged to go out, if it were but for a quarter of an hour, and, as to telling the doorkeeper about it, that he thought was quite unnecessary, if, with a whole skin, he were able to slip through the railings. There, on the floor, lay the galoshes, which the watchman had forgotten. He never dreamed for a minute that they were those of fortune, and they promised to do him good service in the wet. So he put them on. The question now was if he could squeeze himself through the grading, for he had never tried before. Well, there he stood. Wood to heaven I had got my head through, said he, involuntarily. And instantly, through it slipped, easily and without pain, notwithstanding it was pretty large and thick. But now the rest of the body was to be got through. Ah! I am much too stout, groaned he, aloud, while fixed as in a vice. I had thought the head was the most difficult part of the matter. Oh! Oh! I really cannot squeeze myself through! He now wanted to pull his overhasty head back again, but he could not. For his neck there was room enough, but for nothing more. His first feeling was of anger. His next, that his temper felt to zero. The shoes of fortune had placed him in the most dreadful situation, and unfortunately it never occurred to him to wish himself free. The pitch-black clouds poured down their contents in still heavier torrents. Not a creature was to be seen in the streets. To reach up to the bell was what he did not like. To cry aloud for help would have availed him little. Besides, how ashamed would he have been to be found caught in a trap like an outwitted fox? How was he to twist himself through? He saw clearly that it was his irrevocable destiny to remain a prisoner till dawn or perhaps even late in the morning. Then the smith must be fetched to file away the bars, but all that would not be done so quickly as he could think about it. The whole charity school just opposite would be in motion. All the new booths, with their not very courtier-like swarm of seamen, would join them out of curiosity and would greet him with a wild hurrah while he was standing in his pillory. There would be a mob, a hissing and rejoicing and jeering, ten times worse than in the rows about the Jews some years ago. Oh, my blood is mounting to my brain. Tis enough to drive one mad, I shall go wild. I know not what to do. Oh, were I but loose? My dizziness would then cease. Oh, were my head but loose. You see, he ought to have said that sooner. For the moment he expressed the wish, his head was free, and cured of all his proxisms of love, he hastened off to his room, where the pains consequent on the fright the shoes had prepared for him did not so soon take their leave. But you must not think that the affair is over now, it grows much worse. The night passed, the next day also, but nobody came to fetch the shoes. In the evening dramatic readings were to be given at the little theater in King Street, the house was filled to suffocation, and among other pieces to be recited was a new poem by H. C. Anderson called My Aunt's Spectacles, the contents of which were pretty nearly as follows. A certain person had an aunt who boasted of particular skill in fortune-telling with cards, and who was constantly being stormed by persons that wanted to have a peep into futurity. But she was full of mystery about her art, in which a certain pair of magical spectacles did her essential service. Her nephew, a merry boy, who was his aunt's darling, begged so long for these spectacles that, at last, she lent him the treasure, after having informed him, with many exhortations, that in order to execute the interesting trick, he need only to repair to some place where a great many persons were assembled, and then, from a higher position, once he could overlook the crowd, pass the company in review before him through his spectacles. Immediately the inner man of each individual would be displayed before him, like a game of cards, in which he unerringly might read what the future of every person presented was to be. While pleased the little magician hastened away to prove the powers of the spectacles in the theatre, no play seeming to him more fitted for such a trial, he begged permission of the worthy audience, and set his spectacles on his nose. A motley phantasmagoria presented itself before him, which he describes in a few satirical touches, yet without expressing his opinion openly. He tells the people enough to set them all thinking and guessing, but in order to hurt nobody, he wraps his witty oracular judgments in a transparent veil, or rather in a lurid thundercloud, shooting forth bright sparks of wit, that they may fall in the powder magazine of the expectant audience. The humorous poem was admirably recited, and the speaker much applauded. Among the audience was the young man of the hospital, who seemed to have forgotten his adventure of the preceding night. He had on the shoes, for as yet no lawful owner had appeared to claim them, and besides it was so very dirty out of doors, they were just the thing for him, he thought. The beginning of the poem he praised with great generosity. He even found the idea original and ineffective. But that the end of it, like the Rhine, was very insignificant, proved, in his opinion, the author's want of invention. He was without genius, etc. This was an excellent opportunity to have said something clever. Meanwhile, he was haunted by the idea. He should like to possess such a pair of spectacles himself, then perhaps by using them circumspectly, one would be able to look into the people's hearts, which he thought would be far more interesting than merely to see what was to happen next year. For that we should all know in proper time, but the other never. I can now, said he to himself, fancy the whole row of ladies and gentlemen sitting there in the front row, if one could but see into their hearts. Yes, that would be a revelation. A sort of bazaar. In that Lady Yonder, so strangely dressed, I should find for certain a large millner's shop. In that one the shop is empty, but it wants cleaning-plain enough. But there would also be some good stately shops among them, alas, said he. I know one in which all is stately. But there sits already a spruce young shopman, which is the only thing that's amiss in the whole shop. All would be splendidly decked out, and we should hear, Walk in, gentlemen, pray, walk in. Here you will find all you please to want. I wish to heaven. I could walk in and take a trip right through the hearts of those present. And behold, to the shoes of fortune this was the cue. The whole man shrunk together and a most uncommon journey through the hearts of the front row of spectators now began. The first heart through which he came was that of a middle-aged lady. But he instantly fancied himself in the room of the institution for the cure of the crooked and deformed, where castes of misshapen limbs were displayed in naked reality on the wall. Yet there was this difference. In the institution the castes were taken at the entry of the person. But here they were retained and guarded in the heart while the sound persons went away. They were, namely, castes of female friends whose bodily or mental deformities were here most faithfully preserved. With the snake-like writings of an idea he glided into another female heart. But this seemed to him like a large holy feign. The white dove of innocence fluttered over the altar. How gladly would he have sunk upon his knees. But he must away to the next heart. Yet he still heard the peeling tones of the organ and he himself seemed to have become a newer and a better man. He felt unworthy to tread the neighbouring sanctuary which a poor garret, with a sick bed-rid mother, revealed. But God's warm sun streamed through the open window, lovely roses knotted from the wooden flower boxes on the roof, and two sky-blue birds sang rejoicingly while the sick mother implored God's richest blessings on her pious daughter. He now crept on hands and feet through a butcher's shop. At least on every side and above and below there was not but flesh it was the heart of a most respectable rich man whose name is certain to be found in the directory. He was now in the heart of the wife of this worthy gentleman. It was an old, dilapidated, mouldering dove-coat. The husband's portrait was used as a weather-cock which was connected in some way or other with the doors, and so they opened and shut of their own accord whenever the stern old husband turned round. Hereupon he wandered into a boudoir formed entirely of mirrors, like the one in Castle Rosenberg. But here the glasses magnified to an astonishing degree. On the floor, in the middle of the room, sat, like a Dalai Lama, the insignificant self of the person, quite confounded at his own greatness. He then imagined he had got into a needle-case full of pointed needles of every size. This is certainly the heart of an old maid, thought he. But he was mistaken. It was the heart of a young military man, a man, as people said, of talent and feeling. In the greatest perplexity he now came out of the last heart in the row. He was unable to put his thoughts in order and fancied that his too lively imagination had run away with him. Good heavens, said he, I have surely a disposition to madness. Tis dreadfully hot here. My blood boils in my veins, and it my head is burning like a coal. And he now remembered the important event of the evening before, how his head had got jammed in between the iron railings of the hospital. That's what it is, no doubt, he said. I must do something in time. Under such circumstances a Russian bath might do me good. I only wish I were already on the upper bank. And so there he lay on the uppermost bank in the vapor bath, but with all his clothes on, in his boots and galoshes, while the hot drops fell scalding from the ceiling on his face. All alone, cried he, leaping down. The bathing attendant, on his side, uttered a loud cry of astonishment when he beheld in the bath a man completely dressed. The other, however, retained sufficient presence of mind to whisper to him, Tis a bet, and I've won it. But the first thing he did, as soon as he got home, was to have a large blister put on his chest and back to draw out his madness. The next morning he had a sore chest and a bleeding back, and accepting the fright that was all that he had gained by the shoes of fortune. The watchman, whom we have certainly not forgotten, thought meanwhile of the galoshes he had found and taken with him to the hospital. He now went to fetch them, and as neither the lieutenant nor anybody else in the street claimed them as his property, they were delivered over to the police office. Why, I declare, the shoes look just like my own, said one of the clerks, eyeing the newly found treasure, whose hidden powers, even he, sharp as he was, was not able to discover. One must have more than the eye of a shoemaker to know one pair from the other, said he, soliloquizing, and putting, at the same time, the galoshes in search of an owner beside his own in the corner. Here, sir! said one of the men, who, panting, brought him a tremendous pile of papers. The copying clerk turned round and spoke a while with the man about the reports and legal documents in question. But when he had finished, and his eye fell again on the shoes, he was unable to say whether those to the left or those to the right belonged to him. At all events, it must be those which are wet, thought he. But this time, in spite of his cleverness, he guessed quite wrong, for it was just those of fortune which played as it were into his hands, or rather, on his feet. And why, I should like to know, are the police never to be wrong? So he put them on quickly, stuck his papers in his pocket, and took besides a few under his arm, intending to look them through at home to make the necessary notes. It was noon, and the weather that had threatened rain began to clear up, while gaily dressed holiday folks killed the streets. A little trip to Fredericksburg would do me no great harm, thought he. For I, poor beast of burden that I am, have so much to annoy me that I don't know what a good appetite is. Tis a bitter crust alas, at which I am condemned to gnaw. Nobody could be more steady or quiet than this young man. We therefore wish him joy of the excursion with all our heart, and it will certainly be beneficial for a person who leads so sedentary a life. In the park he met a friend, one of our young poets, who told him that the following day he should set out on his long intended tour. So, you are going away again, said the clerk. You are a very free and happy being. We others are chained by the leg and held fast to our desk. Yes, but it is a chain, friend, which ensures you the blessed bread of existence, answered the poet. You need feel no care for the coming morrow. When you are old, you receive a pension. True, said the clerk, shrugging his shoulders, and yet you are better off, to sit at one's ease and poetize. That is a pleasure. Everybody has something agreeable to say to you, and you are always your own master. No, friend, you should but try what it is to sit from one year's end to the other occupied with and judging the most trivial matters. The poet shook his head. The copying clerk did the same. Each one kept to his own opinion and so they separated. It's a strange race, those poets, said the clerk, who was very fond of soliloquizing. I should like some day, just for a trial, to take such nature up on me and be a poet myself. I am very sure I should make no such miserable verses as the others. Today, me thinks, is a very delicious day for a poet. Nature seems anew to celebrate her awakening into life. The air is so unusually clear, the clouds sail on so buoyantly, and from the green herbage a fragrance is exhaled that fills me with delight. For many a year have I not felt as at this moment. We see already, by the foregoing effusion, that he is become a poet. To give further proof of it, however, would in most cases be insipid, for it is a most foolish notion to fancy a poet different from other men. Among the latter, there may be far more poetical natures than many an acknowledged poet, when examined more closely could boast of. The difference only is that the poet possesses a better mental memory, on which account he is able to retain the feeling and the thought till they can be embodied by means of words, a faculty which the others do not possess. But the transition from a commonplace nature to one that is richly endowed demands always a more or less brick-neck bleep over a certain abyss which yawns threateningly below, and thus must the sudden change with the clerk strike the reader. The sweet air, continued he of the police office, in his dreamy imaginings. How it reminds me of the violets in the garden of my Aunt Magdalena. Yes, then I was a little wild boy, who did not go to school very regularly. Oh, heavens! Tis a long time, since I have thought on those times. The good old soul. She lived behind the exchange. She always had a few twigs or green shoots in the water. Let the winter rage without, as it might. The violets exhaled their sweet breath, whilst I pressed against the window-panes covered with fantastic crosswork the copper coin I had heeded on the stove, and so made peepholes. What splendid vistas were then open to my view. What change! What magnificence! Yet in the canal lay the ships frozen up, and deserted by their whole crews, with a screaming crow for the sole occupant. But when the spring, with a gentle stirring motion, announced her arrival, a new and busy life arose. With songs and hurrahs the ice was sawn asunder, the ships were fresh-tard and rigged, that they might sail away to distant lands. But I have remained here. Must always remain here, sitting at my desk in the office, and patiently see other people fetch their passports to go abroad. Such is my fate alas! sighed he, and was again silent. Great Heaven! What is come to me? Never have I thought or felt like this before. It must be the summer air that affects me, with feelings almost as disquieting as they are refreshing. He felt in his pocket for the papers. The police reports will soon stem the torrent of my ideas, and effectually hinder any rebellious overflowing of the time-worn banks of official duties, he said to himself consolingly, while his eyes ran over the first page. Dame Tigbreath. Tragedy in five acts. What is that? And yet it is undeniably my own handwriting. Have I written the tragedy? Wonderful. Very wonderful. And this. What have I here? Intrigue on the ramparts. Or the Day of Repentance. Vaudeville with new songs to the most favorite airs. The deuce! Where did I get all this rubbish? Someone must have slipped it slyly into my pocket for a joke. There is, too, a letter to me. A crumpled letter, and the seal broken. Yes. It was not a very polite epistle from the manager of a theater in which both pieces were flatly refused. Him. Him, said the clerk breathlessly, and quite exhausted he seated himself on a bank. His thoughts were so elastic, his heart so tender, and involuntarily he picked one of the nearest flowers. It is a simple daisy just bursting out of the bud. What the botanist tells us, after a number of imperfect lectures, the flower proclaimed in a minute. It related the mythus of its birth, told of the power of the sunlight that spread out its delicate leaves, and forced them to impregnate the air with their incense. And then he thought of the manifold struggles of life, which in like manner awakened the budding flowers of feeling in our bosom. Light and air contend with chivalric emulation for the love of the fair flower that bestowed her chief favors on the latter. Full of longing, she turned towards the light, and as soon as it vanished, rolled her tender leaves together and slept in the embraces of the air. It is the light which adorns me, said the flower. But tis the air which enables thee to breathe, said the poet's voice. Close by stood a boy who dashed his stick into a wet ditch. The drops of water splashed up to the green leafy roof, and the clerk thought of the million of ephemera which in a single drop were thrown up to a height that was as great doubtless for their size as for us if we were to be hurled above the clouds. While he thought of this, and of the whole metamorphosis he had undergone, he smiled and said, I sleep and dream. But it is wonderful how one can dream so naturally, and know besides so exactly that it is but a dream. If only to-morrow on awaking I could again call all to mind so vividly. I seen in unusually good spirits my perception of things is clear. I feel as light and cheerful as though I were in heaven, but I know for a certainty that if tomorrow a dim remembrance of it should swim before my mind, it will then seem nothing but stupid nonsense, as I have often experienced already, especially before I enlisted under the banner of the police, for that dispels like a whirlwind all the visions of an unfettered imagination. All we hear or say in a dream that is fair and beautiful is like the gold of the subterranean spirits. It is rich and splendid when it is given us. But viewed by daylight, we find only withered leaves alas, he sighed, quite sorrowfully, and gazed at the chirping birds that hopped contentedly from branch to branch. They are much better off than I. To fly must be a heavenly art. And happy do I prize that creature in which it is I innate? Yes. Could I exchange my nature with any other creature? I feign would be such a happy little lark. He had hardly uttered these hasty words when the skirts and sleeves of his coat folded themselves together into wings. The clothes became feathers and the galoshes claws. He observed it perfectly and laughed in his heart. Now then, there is no doubt that I am dreaming. But I never before was aware of such mad freaks as these. And up he flew into the green roof and sang. But in the song there was no poetry, for the spirit of the poet was gone. The shoes, as is the case with anybody who does what he has to do properly, could only attend to one thing at a time. He wanted to be a poet and he was one. He now wished to be a merry chirping bird, but when he was metamorphosed into one the former peculiarity ceased immediately. It is really pleasant enough, said he. The whole day long I sit in the office amid the driest law papers, and at night I fly in my dream as a lark in the gardens of Fredericksburg. One might really write a very pretty comedy up on it. He now fluttered down into the grass, turned his head gracefully on every side, and with his bill pecked the pliant blades of grass, which, in comparison to his present size, seemed as majestic as the palm branches of northern Africa. Unfortunately the pleasure lasted but a moment. Presently Black Knight overshadowed our enthusiast, who had so entirely missed his part of copying clerk at the police office. Some vast objects seemed to be thrown over him. It was a large oil skin cap, which a sailor boy of the quay had thrown over the struggling bird. A coarse hand sought its way carefully in under the broad rim and seized the clerk over the back and wings. In the first moment of fear he called, indeed, as loud as he could, you impudent little Black Guard. I am a copying clerk at the police office, and you know you cannot insult any belonging to the constabulary force without a chastisement. Besides, you could for nothing rascal. It is strictly forbidden to catch birds in the royal gardens of Fredericksburg. But your blue uniform betrays where you come from. This fine tirade sounded, however, to the ungodly sailor boy, like a mare, bee, bee, bee. He gave the noisy bird a knock on its beak and walked on. He was soon met by two school boys of the upper class, that is to say, as individuals, for with regard to learning they were in the lowest grades in the school, and they bought the stupid bird. So the copy and clerk came to Copenhagen as guest, or rather, as prisoner in a family living in Gother Street. "'Tis well that I'm dreaming,' said the clerk, or I really should get angry. First I was a poet, now sold for a few pence as a lark. No doubt it was that accursed poetical nature which has metamorphosed me into such a poor harmless little creature. It is really pitiable, particularly when one gets into the hands of a little Black Guard, perfect in all sorts of cruelty to animals. All I should like to know is how the story will end.' The two school boys, the proprietors now of the transformed clerk, carried him into an elegant room. A stout stately dame received them with a smile, but she expressed much dissatisfaction that a common field bird, as she called the lark, should appear in such high society. For today, however, she would allow it, and they must shut him in the empty cage that was standing in the window. "'Perhaps he will amuse my good Polly,' added the lady, looking with a benignous smile at a large green parrot that swung himself backwards and forwards most comfortably in his ring, inside a magnificent brass-wired cage. "'Today is Polly's birthday,' said she, with stupid simplicity, and the little brown field bird must wish him joy.' Mr. Polly uttered not a syllable in reply, but swung to and fro with dignified condescension, while a pretty canary, as yellow as gold, that had lately been brought from his sunny-frayed-grant home, began to sing aloud. "'Noisy creature, will you be quiet?' screamed the lady of the house, covering the cage with an embroidered white pocket-hankerchief. Side he. That was a dreadful snowstorm, and he sighed again and was silent. The copying-clerk, or as the lady said, the brown field bird, was put into a small cage, close to the canary, and not far from my good Polly. The only human sounds that the parrot could ball out were, "'Come, let us be men!' Everything else that he said was as unintelligible to everybody as the chirping of the canary. Except to the clerk, who was now a bird too. He understood his companion perfectly. I flew about beneath the green palms and the blossoming almond trees, sang the canary. I flew around, with my brothers and sisters, over the beautiful flowers, and over the glassy lakes, where the bright water-plants nodded to me from below. There, too, I saw many splendidly dressed periquets, that told the drollus stories and the wildest fairy-tales without end. "'Oh, those were uncouth birds,' answered the parrot. They had no education, and talked of whatever came into their head. If my mistress and all her friends can laugh at what I say, so may you too, I should think. It is a great fault to have no taste for what is witty or amusing. Come, let us be men!' "'Ah, you have no remembrance of love for the charming maidens that dance beneath the outspread tents beside the bright fragrant flowers? Do you no longer remember the sweet fruits and the cooling juice in the wild plants of our never-to-be-forgotten home?' said the former inhabitant of the canary isle, continuing his diathrambic. "'Oh, yes,' said the parrot. "'But I am far better off here. I am well fed, and get friendly treatment. I know I'm a clever fellow, and that is all I care about. Come, let us be men!' "'You are of a poetical nature, as it is called. I, on the contrary, possess profound knowledge and inexhaustible wit. You have genius, but clear-sighted, calm discretion, does not take such lofty flights, and utter such high natural tones. For this they have covered you over. They never do the like to me, for I cost more. Besides, they are afraid of my beak, and I have always a witty answer at hand. Come, let us be men!' "'Oh, warm, spicy land of my birth!' sang the canary bird. "'I will sing of thy dark green bowers, of the calm days where the pendant vows kiss the surface of the water. I will sing of the rejoicing of all my brothers and sisters, where the cactus grows in wanton luxuriance.' "'Spare us, your elegant towns!' said the parrot, giggling. Rather speak of something at which one may laugh heartily. Laughing is an infallible sign of the highest degree of mental development. Can a dog or a horse laugh? No, but they can cry. The gift of laughing was given to man alone. "'Ha ha ha!' screamed Polly, and added hysteria-type witticism. "'Come, let us be men!' "'Poor little Danish greybird,' said the canary. "'You have been caught, too. It is, no doubt, cold enough in your woods. But there, at least, is the breath of liberty. Therefore, fly away. In the hurry they have forgotten to shut your cage. And the upper window is open. Fly, my friend, fly away. Farewell!' Instinctively the clerk obeyed. With a few strokes of his wings he was out of the cage. But at the same moment the door, which was only a jar, and which led to the next room began to creak. And supple and creeping came the large tomcat into the room, and begun to pursue him. The frightened canary fluttered about in his cage. The parrot flapped his wings and cried, "'Come, let us be men!' The clerk felt a mortal fright, and flew through the window, far away over the houses and streets. At last he was forced to rest a little. The neighboring house had a something familiar about it. A window stood open. He flew in. It was his own room. He perched upon the table. "'Come, let us be men!' said he involuntarily, imitating the chatter of the parrot. And at the same moment he was again a copying clerk. But he was sitting in the middle of the table. "'Heaven, help me!' cried he. "'How did I get up here?' And so buried in sleep, too. After all, that was a very unpleasant, disagreeable dream that haunted me. The whole story is nothing but silly, stupid nonsense.' Part 6 The Best That The Galoshes Gave The following day, early in the morning, while the clerk was still in bed, someone knocked at his door. It was his neighbor, a young divine, who lived on the same floor. He walked in. "'Let me your galoshes!' said he. "'It is so wet in the garden, though the sun is shining most invitingly. I should like to go out a little.' He got the galoshes. And he was soon below in a little dewy decimal garden, where between two immense walls a plum tree and an apple tree were standing. Even such a little garden as this was considered in the metropolis of Copenhagen as a great luxury. The young man wandered up and down the narrow paths, as well as the prescribed limits would allow. The clock struck six. Without was heard the horn of a post-boy. "'To travel!' "'To travel!' exclaimed he, overcome by most painful and passionate remembrances. "'That is the happiest thing in the world. That is the highest aim of all my wishes. Then at last would the agonizing restlessness be allayed, which destroys my existence. But it must be far, far away. I would behold magnificent Switzerland. I would travel to Italy, and it was a good thing that the power of the galoshes worked as instantaneously as lightning in a powder magazine would do. Otherwise the poor man, with his overstrained wishes, would have traveled about the world too much for himself, as well as for us. In short, he was traveling. He was in the middle of Switzerland, but packed up with eight other passengers in the inside of an eternally creaking diligence. His head ached till it almost split. His weary neck could hardly bear the heavy load, and his feet, pinched by his torturing boots, were terribly swollen. He was in an intermediate state between sleep and waking, at variance with himself, with his company, with the country, and with the government. In his right pocket he had his letter of credit, in the left his passport, and in a small leather and purse some double Louis Dior, carefully sewn up in the bosom of his waistcoat. Every dream proclaimed that one or the other of these valuables was lost, wherefore he started up as in a fever, and the first movement which his hand made described a magic triangle from the right pocket to the left, and then up toward the bosom, to feel if he had them all safe or not. From the roof inside the carriage, umbrellas, walking sticks, hats, and sundry other articles were depending, and hindered the view, which was particularly imposing. He now endeavored as well as he was able to dispel his gloom, which was caused by outward chance circumstances merely, and on the bosom of nature imbibed the milk of purest human enjoyment. Grand, solemn, and dark was the noble landscape around. The gigantic pine forests, on the pointed crags, seemed almost like little tufts of heather, colored by the surrounding clouds. It began to snow, a cold wind blew and roared as though it were seeking a bride. Ah, sigh he! Were we only on the other side of the Alps? Then we should have summer, and I could get my letters of credit cashed. The anxiety I feel about them prevents me enjoying Switzerland. Where but I on the other side? And so saying he was on the other side in Italy, between Florence and Rome. Lake Thresemini, illumined by the evening sun, lay like flaming gold between the dark blue mountain ridges. Here, where Hannibal defeated Flaminias, the rivers now held each other in their green embraces. Lovely half-naked children tended a herd of black swine, beneath a group of fragrant laurel trees, hard by the roadside. Could we render this inimitable picture properly? Then would everybody exclaim, Beautiful, unparalleled Italy! But neither the young divine said so, nor any of his grumbling companions in the coach of the Vetterino. The poisonous flies and gnats swarmed around by thousands. In vain one waved myrtle branches about like mad. The audacious insect population did not cease to sting, nor was there a single person in the well-crammed carriage, whose face was not swollen and sore from their ravenous bites. The poor horses, tortured almost to death, suffered most from this truly Egyptian plague. The flies alighted upon them in large, disgusting swarms, and if the coachmen got down and scraped them off, hardly a minute elapsed before they were there again. The sun now set, a freezing cold, though of short duration, pervaded the whole creation. It was like a horrid gust coming from a burial vault on a warm summer's day. But all around the mountains retained that wonderful green tone which we see in some old pictures, and which, should we not have seen a similar play of color in the south, we declare at once to be unnatural. It was a glorious prospect, but the stomach was empty, the body tired, all that the heart cared and longed for was good-night quarters. Yet how would they be? For these one looked much more anxiously than for the charms of nature, which everywhere were so profusely displayed. The road led through an olive grove, and here the solitary inn was situated. Ten or twelve crippled beggars had encamped outside, the healthiest of them resembled, to use an expression of Marriots, hunger's eldest son when he had come of age. The others were either blind, had withered legs and crept about on their hands, or withered arms and fingerless hands. It was the most wretched misery, dragged from among the filthiest rags. Excellencia miserabili! Side they, thrusting forth their deformed limbs to view, even the hostess, with bare feet, uncombed hair, and dressed in a garment of doubtful color, received the guests grumblingly. The doors were fastened with a loop of string. The floor of the rooms presented a stone paving half torn up. Bats fluttered wildly about the ceiling, and as to the smell they're in, no, that was beyond description. You had better lay the cloth below in the stable, said one of the travelers. There, at all events, one knows what one is breathing. The windows were quickly opened, to let in a little fresh air. Quicker, however, than the breeze, the withered, sallow arms of the beggars were thrust in, accompanied by the eternal wine of miserabili, miserabili! Excellencia! On the walls were displayed innumerable inscriptions, written in nearly every language of Europe, some in verse, some in prose, most of them not very laudatory of bella Italia. The meal was served. It consisted of a soup of salted water, seasoned with pepper, and rancid oil. The last ingredient played a very prominent part in the salad. Stale eggs and roasted coxcombs furnished the grandish of the ripast. The wine even was not without a disgusting taste. It was like a medicinal draught. At night the boxes and other effects of the passengers were placed against the rickety door. One of the travelers kept watch while the others slept. The sentry was our young divine. How close it was in the chamber, the heat oppressive to suffocation, the gnats hummed and stung unceasingly, the miserabili without wine and moaned in their sleep. Traveling would be agreeable enough, said he groaning, if one only had no body or could send it to rest while the spirit went on its pilgrimage unhindered, whether the voice within might call it. Wherever I go I am pursued by a longing that is insatiable, that I cannot explain to myself and that tears my very heart. I want something better than what is, but what is fled in an instant? But what is it? And where is it to be found? Yet I know in reality what it is I wish for. Oh, most happy were I. Could I but reach one aim? Could but reach the happiest of all? And as he spoke the word, he was again in his home. The long white curtains hung down from the windows, and in the middle of the floor stood the black coffin. In it he lay in the sleep of death. His wish was fulfilled. The body rested while the spirit went unhindered on its pilgrimage. Let no one deem himself happy before his end, were the words of Salon, and here was a new and brilliant proof of the wisdom of the old apathem. Every corpse is a sphinx of immortality. Here, too, on the black coffin the sphinx gave us no answer to what he, who lay within, had written two days before. O mighty death, thy silence teaches not. Thou leadest only to the near grave's brink. Is broken now the ladder of my thoughts? Do I, instead of mounting, only sink? Our heaviest grief the world off seeeth not. Our sorest pain we hide from stranger eyes, and for the sufferer there is nothing left, but the green mound that o'er the coffin lies. Two figures were moving in the chamber. We knew them both. It was the Fairy of Care, and the Emissary of Fortune. They both bent over the corpse. Do you now see, said Care, what happiness your galoshes have brought to mankind? To him, at least, who slumbers here they have brought an imperishable blessing, answered the other. Ah, no, replied Care. He took his departure himself. He was not called away. His mental powers here below were not strong enough to reach the treasures lying beyond this life, and which his destiny ordained he should obtain. I will now confer a benefit on him. And she took the galoshes from his feet. His sleep of death was ended, and he, who had been, thus called back again to life, arose from his dread couch in all the vigor of youth. Care vanished, and with her the galoshes. She has no doubt taken them for herself, to keep them to all eternity. End of the Shoes of Fortune, Chapter 4b Out in the woods stood a nice little fir tree. The place he had was a very good one. The sun shone on him, as to the fresh air, there was enough of that, and round him grew many large-sized comrades, pines as well as furs. But the little fir wanted so very much to be a grown-up tree. He did not think of the warm sun and of the fresh air. He did not care for the little cottage children that ran about and prattled when they were in the woods looking for wild strawberries. The children often came with a whole picture full of berries, or with a long row of them threaded onto a straw, and sat down near the young tree and said, Oh, how pretty he is! What a nice little fir! But this was what the tree could not bear to hear. At the end of the year, he had shot up a good deal, and after another year, he was another long bit taller. For with fir trees, one could always tell by the shoots how many years old they are. Oh, were I but such a tall, high tree as the others are, sighed he. Then I should be able to spread out my branches, and with the tops to look out into the whole world. Then the birds would build nests among my branches, and when there was a breeze, I could bend with as much statelyness as the others. Neither the sunbeams, nor the birds, nor the red clouds, which morning and evening sailed above him, gave the little tree any pleasure. In winter, when the snow lay glittering on the ground, a hare would often come leaping along and jump right over the little tree. Oh, that made him so angry! But two winters were passed, and in the third, the tree was so large that the hare was obliged to go around it. To grow and grow, to get taller and be taller, bought the tree. That, after all, is the most delightful thing in the world. In the autumn, the woodcutters always came and fell some of the largest trees. This happened every year, and the young fir tree, which had now grown to a very cuddly size, trembled at the sight, for the magnificent trees fell to earth with noise and cracking. The branches were lopped off, and the trees looked long and bare. They were hardly to be recognized. Then they were laden carts, and horses dragged them out of the wood. Where did they go? What became of them? In spring, when the swallows and the storks came, the tree asked them, Don't you know where they had been taken? Have you not met them anywhere? The swallows did not know anything about it, but the stork looked musing, nodding his head, and said, Yes, I think I know. I met many ships when I was flying hither from Egypt. On the ships were magnificent masts, and they ventured to assert that it was they that smelt of fur. I may congratulate you, for they lifted themselves on high most magnificently. Oh, were I but old enough to fly across the sea, but how does the sea look in reality? What is it like? That would take a long time to explain to the stork, and with these words, off he went. Rejoicing that growth, said the sunbeams, rejoicing their vigorous growth, and in the fresh life that moveth within thee. And the wind kissed the tree, and the dew wept tears over him, but the fur understood it not. When Christmas came, quite young trees were cut down, trees which are often not as large, or of the same age as the fur tree, who could never rest, was always wanted to be off. These young trees, and they were always the finest looking, retained their branches. They were laid on carts, and horses drew them out of the wood. Where are they going to? That's the fur. They are not taller than I. There was one indeed that was considerably shorter, and why did they retain all the branches? Where are they taken? We know. We know. Sure, the sparrows. We have peered in the windows at the town below. We know where they are taken. The greatest splendour and the greatest magnificence one can imagine awake them. We peeked through the windows, and we saw them planted in the middle of a warm room, and ornamented with the most splendid things, with gilded apples, with gingerbread, with toys, and many hundred lights. And then, that's the fur tree, trembling in every bow. And then, what happens then? We did not see anything more. It was incomparably beautiful. I would not faint now if I am destined for such a glorious career throughout the tree rejoicing. That is still better than to come across the sea. What a longing I do suffer. Where Christmas but come, I am now tall and my branches spread like the others that were carried off last year. Oh, were I already on the car? Were I in a warm room with all the splendour and magnificence? Yes, then something better, something still grander will surely follow. Oh, wherefore should they thus ornament me? Something better, something still grander must follow. But what? Oh, how I long, how I suffer. I do not know myself what is the matter with me. Rejoice in our presence, said the air in the sunlight. Rejoice in thy own fresh youth. But the tree did not rejoice at all. He grew and grew, and was green both winter and summer. People saw him and said, What a fine tree! And towards Christmas, he was one of the first that was cut down. The axe struck deep into his very pit. The tree fell to the earth with a sigh. He fell to panic, but was like a swoon. He could not think of happiness, for he was sorrowful at being separated from his home, from the place where he had sprung up. He well knew that he should never see his dear old comrades, the little bushes and the flowers around him any more, perhaps not even the birds. The departure was not at all agreeable. The tree only came to himself when he was unloaded in a courtyard with other trees, and heard a man say, That one is splendid, we don't want the others. Then two servants came in, rich livery, and carried the fir tree into a large and splendid drawing-ring. Portraits were hung on the walls, and near the white porcelain stow stood two large Chinese vases with lions on the covers. There, too, were large easy chairs, silken sofas, large tables full of picture books and full of toys, with hundreds and hundreds of crowns, or at least the children said so. And the fir tree was stuck up right in a cask that was filled with sand, but no one could see it was a cask, for green cloth was hung all around it, and it stood on a large gaily-colded carpet. Oh, how the tree quivered! What was to happen? The servants as well as the young ladies decorated it. On one branch there hung little nets cut out of coloured paper, and each net was filled with sugar plums, and among the other bowels gilded apples and walnuts were suspended, looking as though they had grown there, and little blue and white tapers were placed amongst the leaves. Dolls that looked for all the world like men, the tree had never beheld such before, were seen among the foliage, and at the very top, a large star of gold tinsel was fixed. It was really splendid, beyond description splendid. This evening they all said, how it will shine this evening. Oh, thought the tree! If the evening were but come, if the tapers were but lighted, and then I would wonder what will happen. Perhaps the other trees from the forest will come to look at me, perhaps the sparrows will beat against the window panes. I wonder if I shall take root here, and winter and summer stand covered with ornaments. He knew very much about the matter, but he was so impatient that for sheer longing he got a pain in his back, and this with trees is the same as a headache is with us. The candles were now lighted, what brightness, what splendour! The tree trembled so in every bow that one of the tapers set fire to the foliage. It blazed up famously, Help! Help! cried the young ladies, and they quickly put out the fire. Now the tree did not even dare tremble. What a state he was in! He was so uneasy, lest he should lose something of his splendour, that he was quite bewildered in its glare and the brightness, when suddenly both folding doors opened and a troop of children rushed in as if they would upset the tree. The older persons followed quietly, the little ones stood quite still, but it was only for a moment, then they shouted that the whole place re-echoed with their joicing, they danced around the tree and one present after another was pulled off. What have they about thought the tree? What is to happen now? And the lights burned down to the very branches, and as they burned down they were put out one after the other, and then the children had permission to plunder the tree. So they fell upon it with such violence that all the branches cracked. If it had not been firmly fixed in the ground it would certainly have tumbled down. The children danced about with their beautiful playthings. No one looked at the tree except the old nurse who peaked between the branches, but it was only to see if there was a fig or an apple left that had been forgotten. A story! A story! cried the children, drawing the little fat man towards the tree. He seated himself under it and said, Now we are in the shade, and the tree can listen too, but I shall tell only one story. Now which will you have? That about Evady Evady, or about Humpty Dumpty, who tumbled down the stairs, and yet after all came to the throne and married the princess. Evady Evady, cried some, Humpty Dumpty, cried others, but there was such a bawling and screaming the fir tree alone was silent, and he thought to himself, Am I not to bawl with the rest? Am I to do nothing whatsoever? For he was one of the company, and he had done what he had to do. And the man told about Humpty Dumpty that tumbled down, who notwithstanding came to the throne, and at last married the princess, and the children clapped their hands and cried, Oh go on, do go on. They wanted to hear about Evady Evady too, but the little man only told them about Humpty Dumpty. The fir tree stood quite still and absorbed in thought. Birds in the woods have never related the likes of this. Humpty Dumpty fell downstairs, and yet he married the princess. Yes, yes, that is the way of the world thought the fir tree, and believed it all, because the man who told the story was so good looking. Well, well, who knows, perhaps I may fall downstairs too and get a princess for a wife. And he looked forward with joy to the morrow, when he hoped to be decked out again in lights, play things, fruits and tinsel. I won't tremble tomorrow, thought the fir tree. I will enjoy to the full of all my splendour. Tomorrow I shall hear again the story of Humpty Dumpty, and perhaps that of Evady Evady too. In the morning the servants and the housemaid came in. Now then the splendour will begin again, thought the fir tree. But they dragged him out of the room, and looked the stairs into the loft, and here, in a dark corner, when no daylight could enter, they left him. What's the meaning of this, thought the tree? What am I to do here? What shall I hear now, I wonder? And he leaned against a wall, lost in reverie. Time enough had he too for his reflections, for days and nights passed on, and nobody came up, and when at last someone did, it was only to put some great trunks in a corner out of the way. There stood the tree, quite hidden, it seemed as if he had been entirely forgotten. It is now winter out of doors, thought the tree. The earth is hard and covered with snow, men cannot plant me now, and therefore I have been put up here in shelter till springtime comes. How kind man is, after all, if it only were not so dark up here, and so terribly lonely, not even a hair. Out in the woods it was so pleasant when the snow was on the ground and the hair leaped by, yes, even when he jumped over me, but I did not like it then. It really is terribly lonely here. Squeak, squeak, said a little mouse, at the same moment peeping out of his hole. And then another one came, they sniffed about the fir tree and rustled among the branches. It is dreadfully cold to the mouse, but for that it would be delightful here, old fur, wouldn't it? I am by no means old to the fir tree, as many are one considerably older than I am. Why do you come from us the mice, and what can you do? They were extremely curious. Tell us about the most beautiful spot on earth. Have you ever been there? Were you even in the larder, where cheese is lying in shells, where ham hangs from above, where one dances about on tallow candles, the place where one enters lean and comes out fat and portly? I know no such place at the tree, but I know the wood, where the sun shines, and where the little birds sing. And then he told all about his youth, and the little mice had never heard the light before, and they listened and said, Well, to be sure, how much have you seen? How happy you must have been. I, said the fir tree, thinking over what he himself had related. Yes, in reality, those were happy times. And then he told them about Christmas Eve, when he was decked out with cakes and candles. Oh, said the little mice, how fortunate you have been, old fir tree. I am by no means old, said he. I came from the wood this winter, I am in my prime, and I am only rather short from my age. What delightful stories you know, said the mice. And the next night, they came with four other little mice, who were to hear what the tree recounted. The more he related, the more he remembered himself. And it appeared as if those times have really been happy times. They may still come, Humpty Dumpty fell downstairs, and yet he got a princess, and he thought at that moment of a nice little birch tree growing out in the woods. To the fir, that would have been a real charming princess. Here was Humpty Dumpty, asked the mice. So then the fir tree told the whole fairy tale, for he could remember every single word of it, and the little mice jumped for joy at the very top of the tree. Next night, two more mice came, and on Sunday, two rats even. But they said the stories were not interesting, which fed to the little mice, and they too, now began to think them not so very amusing either. Do you know only one story, asked the rats? Only that one answered the tree. I heard it on my happiest evening, but I did not then know how happy I was. It is a very stupid story. Don't you know the one about bacon and tallow candles? Can't you tell any louder stories? No, said the tree. Then goodbye, said the rats, and they went home. At last the little mice stayed away also, and the tree sighed. After all, it was very pleasant when the sleep little mice ran about me, and listened to what I told them. Now that too is over. But I will take good care to enjoy myself when I am brought out again, but when was that to be? Why, one morning there came a quantity of people and set to work in the loft. The trunks were moved, the tree was pulled out of the throne, rather hard as it is true, down on the floor, but a man drew him towards the stairs with a daylight shone. Now a merry life will begin again, thought the tree. He felt the fresh air, the first sunbeam, and now he was out in a courtyard. All passed so quickly, there was so much going on, the tree quite forgot to look at himself. The court adjoined a garden, and all was in flower. The roses hung so fresh and odorous over a balustrade. The lindens were in blossom, the swallows flew by, and said, Queer Vee, my husband is come, but it was not the fir tree that they meant. Now then I shall really enjoy my life, said he, exultingly, and spread out his branches, but alas, they were all withered in yellow. It was in a corner that he lay, among weeds nettles. The golden star of tinsel was still on top of the tree, and blitted in the sunshine. In the courtyard, some of the merry children were playing, who were danced at Christmas round the fir tree, and were so glad at the sight of him. One of the youngest ran and tore off the golden star. Only look what is still on the ugly old Christmas tree, said he, trampling on the branches, so that they crept beneath his feet. And the tree beheld the beauty of the flowers and the freshness of the garden. He beheld himself, and wished he had remained, in the dark corner of his loft. He thought of his first youth in the wood, of the merry Christmas Eve, and of the little mice who had listened with so much pleasure to the story of Humpty Dumpty. Tis over, tis past, said the poor tree, had I rejoiced when I had reason to do so, but now tis past, tis past. And the gardener's boy chopped the tree into small pieces. There were a whole heap lying there. The wood flamed up splendidly under a large brewing copper, and it sighed so deeply, each sigh was like a shot. The boys played about in the court, and the youngest wore the golden star in his breast, which the tree had had on the happiest evening of his life. However, that was over now. The tree gone, the story at an end. All, all was over. Every tale must end at last. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Jennifer Doar. Anderson's Fairy Tales by Hans Christian Anderson. The Snow Queen. Now then, let us begin. When we are at the end of the story, we shall know more than we know now. But to begin. Once upon a time, there was a wicked sprite. Indeed, he was the most mischievous of all sprites. One day he was in a very good humor, for he had made a mirror with the power of causing all that was good and beautiful when it was reflected therein to look poor and mean. But that which was good for nothing, and looked ugly, was shown magnified and increased in ugliness. In this mirror the most beautiful landscapes look like boiled spinach, and the best persons were turned into frights, or appeared to stand on their heads. Their faces were so distorted that they were not to be recognized, and if anyone had a mole, you might be sure that it would be magnified and spread over both nose and mouth. That's glorious fun, said the sprite. If a good thought passed through a man's mind, then a grin was seen in the mirror. And the sprite laughed heartily at his clever discovery. All the little sprites who went to his school, for he kept a sprite school, told each other that a miracle had happened, and that now, only as they thought, it would be possible to see how the world really looked. They ran about with the mirror, and at last it was not a land or a person who was not represented distorted in the mirror. So then they thought they would fly up to the sky and have a joke there. The higher they flew with the mirror, the more terribly it grinned. They could hardly hold it fast. Higher and higher still they flew, nearer and nearer to the stars, when suddenly the mirror shook so terribly with grinning, that it flew out of their hands and fell to the earth, where it was dashed in a hundred million more pieces. And now it worked much more evil than before. For some of these pieces were hardly so large as a grain of sand, and they flew about in the wide world, and when they got into people's eyes, there they stayed, and the people saw everything perverted, or only had an eye for that which was evil. This happened because the very smallest bit had the same power which the whole mirror had possessed. Some persons even got a splinter in their heart, and then it made one shudder, for their heart became like a lump of ice. Some of the broken pieces were so large that they were used for window panes, through which one could not see one's friends. Other pieces were put in spectacles, and that was a sad affair when people put on their glasses to see well and rightly. Then the wicked sprite laughed, till he almost choked. For all this tickled his fancy, the fine splinters still flew about in the air, and now we shall hear what happened next. Second story. A little boy and a little girl. In a large town where there are so many houses and so many people, that there is no roof left for everybody to have a little garden, and where, on this account, most persons are obliged to content themselves with flowers and pots. There lived two little children, who had a garden somewhat larger than a flower pot. They were not brother and sister, but they cared for each other as much as if they were. Their parents lived exactly opposite. They inhabited two garrets, and where the roof of the one house joined that of the other, and the gutter ran along the extreme end of it. There was to each house a small window. One needed only to step over the gutter to get from one window to the other. The children's parents had large wooden boxes there, in which vegetables for the kitchen were planted, and little rose trees besides. There was a rose in each box, and they grew splendidly. They now thought of placing the boxes across the gutter, so that they nearly reached from one window to the other, and looked just like two walls of flowers. The tendrils of the peas hung down over the boxes, and the rose trees shot up long branches, twined round the windows, and then bent towards each other. It was almost like a triumphant arch of foliage and flowers. The boxes were very high, and the children knew that they must not creep over them. So they often obtained permission to get out of the windows to each other, and to sit on their little stools among the roses, where they could play delightfully. In winter, there was an end of this pleasure. The windows were often frozen over, but then they heated copper farthings on the stove, and laid the hot farthing on the window pane, and then they had a capital peep hole, quite nicely rounded, and out of each peep a gentle friendly eye. It was the little boy and the little girl who were looking out. His name was Kay. Hers was Gerda. In summer, with one jump, they could get to each other. But in winter, they were obliged first to go down the long stairs, and then up the long stairs again. And out of doors, there was quite a snowstorm. It is the white bees that are swarming, said Kay's old grandmother. Do the white bees choose a queen? Asked the little boy, for he knew that the honeybees always have one. Yes, said the grandmother. She flies where the swarm hangs in the thickest clusters. She is the largest of all, and she can never remain quietly on the earth, but goes up again into the black clouds. Many a winter's night, she flies through the streets of the town and peeps in at the windows. And they then freeze, and so wondrous a manner that they look like flowers. Yes, I have seen it, said both the children. And so they knew that it was true. Can the snow queen come in, said the little girl. Only let her come in, said the little boy. Then I put her on the stove, and she'd melt. And then his grandmother padded his head, and told him other stories. In the evening, when little Kay was at home, and half undressed, he climbed up on the chair by the window and peeped out of the little hole. A few snowflakes were falling, and one, the largest of all, remained lying on the edge of a flower pot. The flake of snow grew larger and larger, and at last it was like a young lady, dressed in the finest white gauze, made of a million little flakes like stars. She was so beautiful and delicate, but she was of ice, of dazzling, sparkling ice. Yet she lived. Her eyes gazed fixedly like two stars, but there was neither quiet nor a pose in them. She nodded towards the window, and beckoned with her hand. The little boy was frightened and jumped down from the chair. It seemed to him as if, at the same moment, a large bird flew past the window. The next day it was a sharp frost, and the spring came. The sun shone, the green leaves appeared, the swallows built their nests, the windows were open, and the little children again sat in their pretty garden, high up on the leads at the top of the house. That summer the roses flowered in unwanted beauty. The little girl had learned to him. In which there was something about roses, and then she thought of her own flowers, and she sang the verse to the little boy, who then sang it with her. The rose in the valley is blooming so sweet, and angels descend there, the children, to greet. And the children held each other by the hand, kissed the roses, looked up at the clear sunshine, and spoke as though they really saw angels there. What lovely summer days those were! How delightful to be out in the air! Near the fresh rose bushes, that seemed as if they would never finish blossoming. Kay and Gerda looked at the picture book full of beasts and of birds, and it was then, the clock in the church tower was just striking five, that Kay said, Oh, I feel such a sharp pain in my heart, and now something has got into my eye. The little girl put her arms around his neck. He winked his eyes. Now there was nothing to be seen. I think it is out now, said he, but it was not. It was just one of those pieces of glass from the magic mirror that had got into his eye, and poor Kay had got another piece right in his heart. It will soon become like ice. It did not hurt any longer, but there it was. What are you crying for, asked he. You look so ugly, there's nothing to matter with me. Oh, he said at once, that rose is cankered. And look, this one is quite crooked. After all, these roses are very ugly. They are just like the box they are planted in. And then he gave the box a good kick with his foot, and pulled both the roses up. What are you doing, cried the little girl? And as he perceived her fright, he pulled up another rose, got in at the window, and hastened off from dear little Gerda. Afterwards, when she brought her picture book, he asked, What horrid beasts have you there? And if his grandmother told him stories, he always interrupted her. Besides, if he could manage it, he would get behind her, put on her spectacles, and imitate her way of speaking. He copied all her ways. And then everybody laughed at him. He was soon able to imitate the gait and manner of everyone in the street, everything that was peculiar and displeasing in them that Kay knew how to imitate. And at such times, all the people said, the boy is certainly very clever. But it was a glass he had got in his eye, the glass that was sticking in his heart, which made him tease even little Gerda, whose whole soul was devoted to him. His games now were quite different to what they had formerly been. They were so very knowing. One winter's day, when the flakes of snow were flying about, he spread the skirts of his blue coat and caught the snow as it fell. Look through this glass Gerda, said he. And every flake seemed larger and appeared like a magnificent flower or beautiful star. It was splendid to look at. Look, how clever said Kay. That's much more interesting than real flowers. They are as exact as possible. There is not a fault in them if they did not melt. It was not long after this that Kay came one day with large gloves on, and his little sledge at his back and bawled right into Gerda's ears. I have permission to go out into the square where the others are playing. And off he was in a moment. There in the marketplace some of the boldest of the boys used to tie their sledges to the carts as they passed by, and so they were pulled along and got a good ride. It was so capital. Just as they were in the very height of their amusement, a large sledge passed by. It was painted quite white, and there was someone in it wrapped up in a rough white mantle of fur, with a rough white fur cap on his head. The sledge drove round the square twice, and Kay tied on his sledge as quickly as he could, and off he drove with it. On they went quicker and quicker into the next street, and the person who drove turned round to Kay and nodded to him in a friendly manner, just as if they knew each other. Every time he was going to untie his sledge, the person nodded to him, and then Kay sat quiet. And so on they went till they came outside the gates of the town. Then the snow began to fall so thickly that the little boy could not see an arms length before him. But still on he went, when suddenly he let go the strength he held in his hand in order to get loose from the sledge. But it was of no use. Still the little vehicle rushed on with the quickness of the wind. He then cried as loud as he could, but no one heard him. The snow drifted and the sledge flew on, and sometimes it gave a jerk as though they were driving over hedges and ditches. He was quite frightened, and he tried to repeat the Lord's prayer, but all he could do, he was only able to remember the multiplication table. The snowflakes grew larger and larger till at last they looked just like great white fowls. Suddenly they flew on one side, the large sled stopped, and the person who drove rose up. It was a lady, her cloak and cap were of snow. She was tall and of slender figure, and of a dazzling whiteness. It was the snow queen. We have traveled fast, said she, but it is freezingly cold. Come under my bare skin. And she put him in the sledge beside her, wrapped the fur around him, and he felt as though he were sinking in a snow wreath. Are you still cold? asked she. And then she kissed his forehead. It was colder than ice. It penetrated to his very heart, which was already almost a frozen lump. It seemed to him as if you were about to die. But a moment more, and it was quite congenial to him, and he did not remark the cold that was around him. My sledge! Do not forget my sledge! It was the first thing he thought of. It was there tied to one of the white chickens, who flew along with it on his back behind the large sledge. The snow queen kissed Kay once more, and then he forgot little Gerda, grandmother, and all whom he had left at his home. Now you will have no more kisses, said she, or else I should kiss you to death. Kay looked at her. She was very beautiful. A more clever or a more lovely countenance he could not fancy to himself, and she no longer appeared of ice as before when she sat outside the window and back into him. In his eyes she was perfect. He did not fear her at all, and told her that he could calculate in his head and with fractions even, that he knew the number of square miles there were in the different countries, and how many inhabitants they contained, and she smiled while he spoke. It then seemed to him as if what he knew was not enough, and he looked upwards in the large, huge, empty space above him. And on she flew with him, flew high over the black clouds, while the storm moaned and whistled as though it were singing some old tune. On they flew over woods and lakes, over seas and many lands, and beneath them the chilling storm rushed fast. The wolves howled, the snow crackled. Above them flew large screaming crows, but higher up appeared the moon, quite large and bright, and it was on it that Kay gazed during long, long winter's night, while by day he slept at the feet of the snow queen. Third story of the flower garden at the old woman's who understood witchcraft. But what became of little Gerdo when Kay did not return? Where could he be? Nobody knew. Nobody could give any intelligence. All the boys knew was that they had seen him tie his sledge to another large and splendid one, which drove down the street and out of the town. Nobody knew where he was. Many sad tears were shed, and little Gerdo wept long and bitterly. At last she said he must be dead, that he had been drowned in the river which flowed close to the town. Oh, those were very long and dismal winter evenings. At last spring came with its warm sunshine. Kay is dead and gone, said little Gerdo. That I don't believe, said the sunshine. Kay is dead and gone, said she to the swallows. That I don't believe, said they. And at last little Gerdo did not think so any longer either. I'll put on my red shoes, said she one morning. Kay has never seen them. And then I'll go down to the river and ask there. It was quite early. She kissed her old grandmother who was still asleep, put on her red shoes, and went alone to the river. Is it true that you have taken my little play-fellow? I will make you a present of my red shoes if you will give him back to me. And as it seemed to her the blue waves nodded in a strange manner. Then she took off her red shoes, the most precious things she possessed, and threw them both into the river. But they fell close to the bank, and the little waves bore them immediately to land. It was as if the stream would not take what was dearest to her. For in reality it had not got little Kay, but Gerdo thought that she had not thrown the shoes out far enough. So she clambered into a boat which lay among the rushes, went to the furthest end, and threw out the shoes. But the boat was not fastened, and the motion which she occasioned made it drift from the shore. She observed this and hastened to get back, but before she could do so the boat was more than a yard from the land, and was gliding quickly onward. Little Gerdo was very frightened and began to cry, but no one heard her except the sparrows, and they could not carry her to land, but they flew along the bank and sang as if to comfort her. Here we are, here we are. The boat drifted with the stream. Little Gerdo sat quite still without shoes, for they were swimming behind the boat, but she could not reach them, because the boat went much faster than they did. The banks on both sides were beautiful, lovely flowers, venerable trees, and slopes with sheep and cows, but not a human being was to be seen. Perhaps the river will carry me to little Kay, said she. And then she grew less sad. She rose and looked for many hours at the beautiful green banks. Presently she sailed by a large cherry orchard, where was a little cottage with curious red and blue windows. It was thatched, and before it two wooden soldiers stood sentry, and presented arms when anyone went past. Gerdo called to them, for she thought they were alive, but they of course did not answer. She came close to them, for the stream drifted the boat quite near the land. Gerdo called still louder, and an old woman then came out of the cottage, leaning upon a crooked stick. She had a large broad-brimmed hat on, painted with the most splendid flowers. Poor little child, said the old woman, how did you get upon the large rapid river to be driven about so in the wide world? And then the old woman went into the water, caught hold of the boat with her crooked stick, drew it to the bank, and lifted little Gerdo out. And Gerdo was so glad to be on dry land again, but she was rather afraid of the strange old woman. But come and tell me who you are, and how you came here, said she. And Gerdo told her all, and the old woman shook her head and said, Aha! Aha! And when Gerdo had told her everything, and asked her if she had not seen little Kay, the woman answered that he had not passed there, but he no doubt would come. And she told her not to be cast down, but taste of cherries, which were finer than any in a picture book, each of which could tell a whole story. She then took Gerdo by the hand, led her into the little cottage, and locked the door. The windows were very high up, the glass was red, blue, and green, and the sunlight shone through quite wondrously in all sorts of colors. On the table stood the most exquisite cherries, and Gerdo ate as many as she chose, for she had permission to do so. While she was eating, the old woman combed her hair with a golden comb, and her hair curled and shone with a lovely golden color around that sweet little face, which was so round and so like a rose. I have often longed for such a dear little girl, said the old woman. Now you shall see how well we agree together. And while she combed little Gerdo's hair, the child forgot her foster brother Kay more and more. For the old woman understood magic, but she was no evil being. She only practiced witchcraft a little for her own private amusement, and now she wanted very much to keep little Gerdo. She therefore went out in the garden, stretched out her crooked stick towards the rose bushes, which, beautifully as they were blowing, all sank into the earth, and no one could tell where they had stood. The old woman feared that if Gerdo should see the roses, she would then think of her own, would remember little Kay, and run away from her. She now led Gerdo into the flower garden. Oh, what odor and what loveliness was there! Every flower that one could think of, every season, stood there in fullest bloom. No picture book could be gayer or more beautiful. Gerdo jumped for joy and played till the sunset behind the tall cherry tree. She then had a pretty bed with a red silken coverlet filled with blue violets. She fell asleep and had as pleasant dreams as ever a queen on her wedding day. The next morning she went to play with the flowers in the warm sunshine, and thus passed away a day. Gerdo knew every flower, and numerous as they were, it still seemed to Gerdo that one was wanting, though she did not know which. One day while she was looking at the hat of the old woman painted with flowers, the most beautiful of them all seemed to her to be a rose. The old woman had forgotten to take it from her hat when she made the others vanish in the earth. But so it is as one's thoughts are not collected. What, said Gerdo, are there no roses here? And she ran about amongst the flower beds and looked and looked, but there was not one to be found. She then sat down and wept. But her hot tears fell just where a rose bush had sunk. And when her warm tears watered the ground, the tree shot up suddenly as fresh and blooming as when it had been swallowed up. Gerdo kissed the roses, thought of her own dear roses at home, and with them of little Kay. Oh, how long I have stayed, said the little girl. I intended to look for Kay. Don't you know where he is? She asked of the roses. Do you think he is dead and gone? Dead he certainly is not, said the roses. We have been in the earth where all the dead are, but Kay was not there. Many thanks, said little Gerdo. And she went to the other flowers, looked into their cups, and asked, don't you know where little Kay is? But every flower stood in the sunshine and dreamed its own fairytale or its own story. And they all told her very many things, but not one knew anything of Kay. Well, what did the tiger lily say? Here is thou not the drum? Boom, boom. Those are the only two tones. Always boom, boom. Hark to the plaintive song of the old woman, to the call of the priests. The Hindu woman in her long robe stands upon the funeral pile. The flames rise around her and are dead husband. But the Hindu woman thinks on the living one in the surrounding circle. On him whose eyes burn hotter than the flames. On him the fire of whose eyes pierces her heart. More than the flames which soon will burn her body to ashes. Can the heart's flame die in the flame of the funeral pile? I don't understand that at all, said little Gerdo. That is my story, said the lily. What did the convulvulists say? Projecting over a narrow mountain path, there hangs an old futile castle. Thick evergreens grow on the dilapidated walls and around the altar. Where a lovely maiden is standing, she bends over the railing and looks out upon the rose. No fresher rose hangs on the branches than she. No apple blossom carried away by the wind is more buoyant. How her silk and robe is rustling. Is he not yet come? Is it Kay that you mean? asked little Gerdo. I'm speaking about my story, about my dream, answered the convulvulists. What did the snowdrops say? Between the trees, a long board is hanging. It is a swing. Two little girls are sitting in it, and swing themselves backwards and forwards. Their frocks are as white as snow, and long green silk ribbons flutter from their bonnets. Their brother, who is older than they are, stands up in the swing. He twines his arms round the cords to hold himself fast, for in one hand he has a little cup, and in the other a clay pipe. He is blowing soap bubbles. The swing moves and the bubbles float in charming changing colors. The last is still hanging to the end of the pipe, and rocks in the breeze. The swing moves. The little black dog, as light as a soap bubble, jumps up on his hind legs to try to get into the swing. It moves. The dog falls down. Barks and is angry. They tease him. The bubble bursts. A swing. A bursting bubble. Such is my song. What you relate may be very pretty, but you tell it in so melancholy a manner, and do not mention Kay. What do the hyacinths say? They were once upon a time three sisters, quite transparent and very beautiful. The robe of the one was red, that of the second blue, and that of the third white. They danced hand in hand beside the calm lake in the clear moonshine. They were not elfin maidens, but mortal children. A sweet fragrance was smelt. And the maidens vanished in the wood. The fragrance grew stronger. Three coffins and in them three lovely maidens glided out of the forest and across the lake. The shining glowworms flew around, like little floating lights. Do the dancing maidens sleep? Or are they dead? The odor of the flowers say they are corpses. The evening bell tolls for the dead. You make me quite sad, said little Gerda. I cannot help thinking of the dead maidens. Oh, is little Kay really dead? The roses have been in the earth, and they say no. Ding dong! Sounded the hyacinth bells. We do not toll for little Kay. We do not know him. That is our way of singing, the only one we have. And Gerda went to the renunculuses, that looked forth from among the shining green leaves. You are a little bright sun, said Gerda. Tell me if you know where I can find my play-fellow. And the renunculus shone brightly, and looked again at Gerda. What song could the renunculus sing? It was one that said nothing about Kay either. In a small court, the bright sun was shining in the first days of spring. The beams glided down the white walls of a neighbor's house, and close by the fresh yellow flowers were growing, shining like gold in the warm sun rays. An old grandmother was sitting in the air. Her granddaughter, the poor and lovely servant, just come for a short visit. She knows her grandmother. There was gold, pure virgin gold in that blessed kiss. There, that is my little story, said the renunculus. My poor old grandmother, sighed Gerda. Yes, she is longing for me, no doubt. She is sorrowing for me as she did for little Kay. But I will soon come home, and then I will bring Kay with me. It is of no use asking the flowers. They only know their own old rhymes, and can tell me nothing. And she tucked up her frock to enable her to run quicker. But the narcissist gave her a knock on the leg, just as she was going to jump over it. She stood still, looked at the long yellow flower, and asked, You perhaps know something? And she bent down to the narcissist, and what did it say? I can see myself. I can see myself. Oh, how odorous I am. Up in the little garret there stands, half dressed, a little dancer. She stands now on one leg, now on both. She despises the whole world, yet she lives only in imagination. She pours water out of the teapot over a piece of stuff, which she holds in her hand. It is the bodice. Cleanliness is a fine thing. The white dress is hanging on the hook. It was washed in the teapot, and dried on the roof. She puts it on. Ties a saffron-colored kerchief round her neck. And then the gown looks whiter. I can see myself. I can see myself. That's nothing to me, said little Gerda. That does not concern me. And then off she ran to the further end of the garden. The gate was locked, but she shook the rusted bolt, till it was loosened. And the gate opened, and little Gerda ran off barefooted into the wide world. She looked round her thrice, but no one followed her. At last she could run no longer. She sat down on a large stone, and when she looked about her, she saw that the summer had passed. It was late in the autumn. But that one could not remark in the beautiful garden, where there was always sunshine, and where there were flowers the whole year round. Dear me, how long I have stayed, said Gerda. Autumn has come. I must not rest any longer. And she got up to go further. Oh, how tender and weary her little feet were. All around it looked so cold and raw. The long willow leaves were quite yellow, and the fog dripped from them like water. One leaf fell after the other. The sloes only stood full of fruit, which set one's teeth on edge. Oh, how dark and comfortless it was in the dreary world. Fourth story. The Prince and Princess. Gerda was obliged to rest herself again, when exactly opposite to her a large raven came hopping over the white snow. He had long been looking at Gerda and shaking his head. And now he said, Ca, ca. Good day, good day. He could not say it better, but he felt a sympathy for the little girl and asked her where she was going all alone. The word alone Gerda understood quite well, and felt how much was expressed by it. So she told the raven her whole history, and asked if he had not seen Kay. The raven nodded very gravely and said, It may be, it may be. What, do you really think so? Cried the little girl, and she nearly squeezed the raven to death. So much did she kiss him. Gently, gently, said the raven. I think I know. I think that it may be little Kay. But now he has forgotten you for the princess. Does he live with a princess, asked Gerda? Yes, listen, said the raven. But it will be difficult for me to speak your language. If you understand the raven language, I can tell you better. No, I have not learned it, said Gerda. But my grandmother understands it, and she can speak gibberish too. I wish I had learned it. No matter, said the raven, I will tell you as well as I can. However, it will be bad enough. And then he told all he knew. In the kingdom, where we now are, there lives a princess, who is extraordinarily clever, for she has read all the newspapers in the whole world and has forgotten them again. So clever is she. She was lately, it is said, sitting on her throne, which is not very amusing, after all, when she began humming an old tune. And it was just, oh, why should I not be married? That song is not without its meaning, said she. And so then she was determined to marry, but she would have a husband who knew how to give an answer when he was spoken to. Not one who looked only as if he were a great personage. For that is so tiresome. She then had all the ladies of the court drummed together. And when they heard her intention, all were very pleased and said, we are very glad to hear it. It is the very thing we were thinking of. You may believe every word I say, said the raven, for I have a tame sweetheart that hops about in the palace quite free. And it was she who told me all this. The newspapers appeared forthwith, with a border of hearts and the initials of the princess. And therein you might read that every good-looking young man was at liberty to come to the palace and speak to the princess. And he who spoke in such wise as showed he felt himself at home there. That one the princess would choose for her husband. Yes, yes, said the raven. You may believe it. It is as true as I am sitting here. People came in crowds. There was a crush and a hurry, but no one was successful either on the first or second day. They could all talk well enough when they were out in the street. But as soon as they came inside the palace gates and saw the guard richly dressed in silver and the lackeys in gold on the staircase and the large illuminated saloons, then they were abashed. And when they stood before the throne on which the princess was sitting, all they could do was to repeat the last word they had uttered. And to hear it again did not interest her very much. It was just as if the people within were under a charm and had fallen into a trance until they had came out again into the street. For then, oh then, they could chatter enough. There was a whole row of them standing from the town gates to the palace. I was there myself to look, said the raven. They grew hungry and thirsty, but from the palace they got nothing, whatever, not even a glass of water. Some of the cleverest, it is true, had taken bread and butter with them, but none shared it with his neighbor. For each thought, let him look hungry, and then the princess won't have him. But Kay, little Kay, said Gerda, when did he come? Was he among the number? Patience, patience, we are just come to him. It was on the third day when a little personage without horse or equipage came marching right boldly up to the palace. His eyes shone like yours. He had beautiful long hair, but his clothes were very shabby. That was Kay, cried Gerda, with a voice of delight. Oh, now I found him, and she clapped her hands for joy. He had a little knapsack at his back, said the raven. No, that was certainly his sledge, said Gerda, for when he went away he took his sledge with him. That may be, said the raven. I did not examine him so minutely. But I know from my tame sweetheart that when he came into the courtyard of the palace and saw the bodyguard in silver, the lackeys on the staircase, he was not the least abashed. He nodded and said to them, it must be very tiresome to stand on the stairs. For my part I shall go in. The saloons were gleaming with lusters, privy counselors and excellencies were walking about barefooted, and wore gold keys. It was enough to make anyone feel uncomfortable. His boots creaked, too, so loudly, but still he was not at all afraid. That's Kay for certain, said Gerda, I know he had on new boots. I have heard them creaking in Grandma Ma's room. Yes, they creaked, said the raven, and on he went boldly up to the princess, who was sitting on a pearl as large as a spinning wheel. All the ladies of the court, with their attendants and attendants, and all the cavaliers with their gentleman and gentleman's gentleman, stood round, and the nearer they stood to the door, the prouder they looked. It was hardly possible to look at the gentleman's gentleman, so very hotly did he stand in the doorway. It must have been terrible, said little Gerda. And did Kay get the princess? Were I not a raven, I should have taken the princess myself, although I am promised. It is said he spoke as well as I speak when I talk raven language. This I learned from my tame sweetheart. He was bold and nicely behaved, he had not come to woo the princess, but only to hear her wisdom. She pleased him, and he pleased her. Yes, yes, for certain that was Kay, said Gerda, he was so clever he could reckon fractions in his head. Oh, won't you take me to the palace? That is very easily said, answered the raven. But how are we to manage it? I'll speak to my tame sweetheart about it. She must advise us. For so much I must tell you, such a little girl as you are will never get permission to enter. Oh, yes I shall, said Gerda. When Kay hears that I am here, he will come out directly to fetch me. Wait for me here on these steps, said the raven. He moved his head backwards and forwards and flew away. The evening was closing in when the raven returned. Ca, ca, said he. She sends you her compliments. And here is a roll for you. She took it out of the kitchen where there is bread enough. You are hungry, no doubt. It is not possible for you to enter the palace, for you are barefooted. The guards in silver and the lackeys in gold would not allow it. But do not cry, you shall come in still. My sweetheart knows a little back stair that leads to the bed chamber. And she knows where she can get the key of it. And they went into the garden in the large avenue where one leaf was falling after the other. And when the lights in the palace had all gradually disappeared, the raven led little Gerda to the back door, which stood half open. Oh, how Gerda's heart beat with anxiety and longing, it was just as if she had been about to do something wrong. And yet she only wanted to know if little Kay was there. Yes, he must be there. She called to mind his intelligent eyes and his long hair so vividly. She could quite see him as he used to laugh when they were sitting under the roses at home. He will no doubt be glad to see you, to hear what a long way you have come for his sake, to know how unhappy all at home were when he did not come back. Oh, what a fright and joy it was! They were now on the stairs, a single lamp was burning there, and on the floor stood the tame raven, turning her head on every side and looking at Gerda, who bowed as her grandmother had taught her to do. My intended has told me so much good of you, my dear young lady, said the tame raven. Your tale is very affecting. If you will take the lamp, I will go before. We will go straight on, for we shall meet no one. I think there is somebody just behind us, said Gerda, and something rushed past. It was like shadowy figures on the wall, horses with flowing mains and thin legs, huntsmen, ladies, and gentlemen on horseback. They are only dreams, said the raven. They come to fetch the thoughts of the high personages to the chase, to swell, for now you can observe them in bed all the better. But let me find, when you enjoy honor and distinction, that you possess a grateful heart. Tch, that's not worth talking about, said the raven of the woods. They now entered the first saloon, which was of rose-colored satin, with artificial flowers on the wall. Here the dreams were rushing past, but they hastened by so quickly that Gerda could not see the high personages. One hall was more magnificent than the other. One might indeed well be abashed, and at last they came into the bed-chamber. The ceiling of the room resembled a large palm-tree with leaves of glass, of costly glass, and in the middle, from a thick golden stem, hung two beds, each of which resembled a lily. One was white, and in this lay the princess. The other was red, and it was here that Gerda was to look for a little K. She bent back one of the red leaves, and saw a brown neck. Oh, that was K! She called him quite loud by name, held the lamp towards him. The dreams rushed back again into the chambers. He awoke, turned his head, and it was not little K. The prince was only like him about the neck, but he was young and handsome, and out of the white lily leaves the princess peeped, too, and asked what was the matter. Then little Gerda cried and told her her whole story, and all that the raven had done for her. Poor little thing, said the prince and the princess. They praised the ravens very much and told them they were not at all angry with them, but they were not to do so again. However, they should have a reward. Will you fly about here at Liberty, asked the princess, or would you like to have a fixed appointment as court ravens, with all the broken bits from the kitchen? And both the ravens nodded and begged for a fixed appointment, for they thought of their old age and said, it's a good thing to have a provision for our old days. And the prince got up and let Gerda sleep in his bed, and more than this he could not do. She folded her little hands and thought, how good men and animals are, and she then fell asleep and slept soundly. All the dreams flew in again, and they now looked like the angels. They drew a little sledge in which little Kay sat and nodded his head, but the whole was only a dream, and therefore all vanished as soon as she awoke. The next day she was dressed from head to foot in silk and velvet. They offered to let her stay at the palace, and lead a happy life, but she begged to have a little carriage with a horse in front, and for a small pair of shoes. Then she said she would again go forth in the wide world and look for Kay. Shoes and a muff were given her. She was too, dressed very nicely, and when she was about to set off, a new carriage stopped before the door. It was a pure gold, and the arms of the prince and princess shone like a star upon it. The coachmen, the footmen, and the outriders, for outriders were there too, all wore golden crowns. The prince and the princess assisted her in the carriage themselves, and wished her all success. The raven of the woods, who was now married, accompanied her for the first three miles. He sat beside Gerda, for he could not bear riding backwards. The other raven stood in the doorway and flapped her wings. She could not accompany Gerda because she suffered from headaches since she had had a fixed appointment and ate so much. The carriage was lined inside with sugar plums, and in the seats were fruits and gingerbread. Farewell, farewell, cried prince and princess, and Gerda wept, and the raven wept. Thus passed the first miles. And then the raven bade her farewell. And this was the most painful separation of all. He flew into a tree and beat his black wings as long as he could see the carriage that shone from afar like a sunbeam. Fifth story, the little robber maiden. They drove through the dark wood, but the carriage shone like a torch, and it dazzled the eyes of the robbers so that they could not bear to look at it. Tis gold, tis gold, they cried, and they rushed forward, seized the horses, knocked down the little pastelion, the coachman, and the servants, and pulled little Gerda out of the carriage. How plump, how beautiful she is, she must have been fed on nut kernels, said the old female robber, who had a long, scrubby beard, and bushy eyebrows that hung down over her eyes. She is as good as a fatted lamb, how nice she will be. And then she drew out a knife, the blade of which shone so that it was quite dreadful to behold. Oh, cried the woman at the same moment, she had been bitten in the ear by her own little daughter, who hung at her back, and who was so wild and unmanageable, that it was quite amusing to see her. You naughty child, said the mother. And now she had not time to kill Gerda. She shall play with me, said the little robber child. She shall give me her muff, and her pretty frock. She shall sleep in my bed. And then she gave her mother another bite, so that she jumped, and ran round with the pain, and the robbers laughed, and said, look how she is dancing with the little one. I will go into the carriage, said the little robber maiden. And she would have her will, for she was very spoiled and very headstrong. She and Gerda got in, and then away they drove over the stumps of fell trees, deeper and deeper into the woods. The little robber maiden was tall as Gerda, but stronger, broader shouldered, and of dark complexion. Her eyes were quite black, they looked almost melancholy. She embraced little Gerda, and said they shall not kill you, as long as I am not displeased with you. You are doubtless a princess? No, said little Gerda, who then related all that had happened to her, and how much she cared about little Kay. The little robber maiden looked at her with a serious air, nodded her head slightly and said, they shall not kill you, even if I am angry with you, then I will do it myself. And she dried Gerda's eyes, and put both hands in the handsome muff, which was so soft and warm. At length the carriage stopped. They were in the midst of the courtyard of a robber's castle. It was full of cracks from top to bottom, and out of the openings, magpies and rooks were flying. And the great bulldogs, each of which looked as if he could swallow a man, jumped up, but they did not bark, for that was forbidden. In the midst of the large old smoking hall, burnt a great fire on the stone floor. The smoke disappeared under the stones, and had to seek its own egress. In an immense cauldron, soup was boiling, and rabbits and hares were being roasted on a spit. You shall sleep with me tonight, with all my animals, said the little robber maiden. They had something to eat and drink, and then went into a corner, where straw and carpets were lying. Beside them, unlazed in perches, sat nearly a hundred pigeons all asleep, seemingly, but yet they moved a little when the robber maiden came. They are all mine, said she, at the same time seizing one that was next to her by the legs, and shaking it so that its wings fluttered. Kiss it, cried the little girl, and flung the pigeon and gird his face. Up there is the rabble of the wood, continued she, pointing to several laths, which were fastened before a hole, high up in the wall. That's the rabble. They would all fly away immediately if they were not well fastened in. And here is my dear old bach. And she laid hold of the horns of a reindeer that had a bright copper ring around its neck, and was tethered to the spot. We are obliged to lock this fellow in, too, or he would make his escape. Every evening I tickle his neck with my sharp knife. He is so frightened at it. And the little girl drew forth a long knife from a crack in the wall, and let it glide over the reindeer's neck. The poor animal kicked. The girl laughed, and pulled Girda into bed with her. Do you intend to keep your knife while you sleep, asked Girda looking at it rather fearfully? I always sleep with the knife, said the little robbermaiden. There is no knowing what may happen. But tell me now, once more, all about little Kay, and why you have started off in the wide world alone. And Girda related all from the very beginning. The wood pigeons coot above in their cage, and the others slept. The little robbermaiden wound her arm around Girda's neck, held the knife in the other hand, and snored so loudly that everybody could hear her. But Girda could not close her eyes, for she did not know whether she was to live or die. The robber sat around the fire, sang and drank, and the old female robber jumped about so that it was quite dreadful for Girda to see her. Then the wood pigeon said, coo, coo. We have seen little Kay, a white hen carries his sledge. He himself sat in the carriage of the Snow Queen, who passed here, down just over the wood, as we lay in our nest. She blew upon us young ones, and all died except we too. Coo, coo. What is that you say up there, cried little Girda? Where did the Snow Queen go to? Do you know anything about it? She has no doubt gone to Lapland, for there is always snow and ice there. Only ask the reindeer who is tethered there. Ice and snow is there. There it is glorious and beautiful, said the reindeer. One can spring about in the large, shining valleys. The Snow Queen has her summer tent there, but her fixed abode is high up towards the North Pole, on the island called Spitzbergen. Okay, poor little Kay, sighed Girda. Do you choose to be quiet, said the rubber maiden? If you don't, I shall make you. In the morning Girda told her all that the wood pigeons had said, and the little maiden looked very serious. But she nodded her head and said, That's no matter. That's no matter. Do you know where Lapland lies? She asked of the reindeer. Who should know better than I, said the animal, and his eyes rolled in his head. I was born and bred there. There I leapt about on the fields of snow. Listen, said the rubber maiden to Girda. You see that the men are gone, but my mother is still here, and will remain. However, towards morning she takes a draft out of the large flask, and then she sleeps a little. Then I will do something for you. She now jumped out of bed, flew to her mother with her arms round her neck, and pulling her by the beard said, Good morrow, my own sweet nanny goat of a mother! And her mother took hold of her nose, and pinched it till it was red and blue. But this was all done out of pure love. When the mother had taken us up at her flask, and was having a nap, the little rubber maiden went to the reindeer and said, I should very much like to give you still many a tickling with the sharp knife, for then you are so amusing. However, I will untether you, and help you out, so that you may go back to Lapland. But you must make good use of your legs, and take this little girl for me to the place of the Snow Queen, where her playfellow is. You have heard, I suppose, all she has said, for she spoke loud enough, and you were listening. The reindeer gave a bound for joy. The rubber maiden lifted up little Girda, and took the precaution to bind her fast on the reindeer's back. She even gave her a small cushion to sit on. Here are your worsted leggings, for it will be cold. But the muff I shall keep for myself, for it is so very pretty. But I do not wish you to be cold. Here is a pair of lying gloves of my mothers. They just reach up to your elbow. On with them. Now you look about the hands, just like my ugly old mother, and Girda wept for joy. I can't bear to see you fretting, said the little rubber maiden. This is just the time when you ought to look pleased. Here are two loaves and a ham for you, so that you won't starve. The bread and the meat were fastened to the reindeer's back. The little maiden opened the door, called in all the dogs, and then, with her knife, cut the rope that fastened the animal, and said to him, Now off with you, but take good care of the little girl. And Girda stretched out her hands with the large wadded gloves towards the rubber maiden, and said, Farewell. And the reindeer flew on over the brush and bramble through the great wood, over more and heath, as fast as he could go. Ja, ja, was heard in the sky. It was just as if somebody was sneezing. These are my old northern lights, said the reindeer. Look how they gleam. And on he now sped, still quicker. Day and night, on he went. The loaves were consumed, and the ham too. And now they were in Lapland. Sixth story. The Lapland woman and the Finland woman. Suddenly they stopped before a little house, which looked very miserable. The roof reached to the ground, and the door was so low that the family were obliged to creep upon their stomachs when they went in or out. Nobody was at home, except an old Lapland woman, who was dressing fish by the light of an oil lamp. And the reindeer told her the whole of Gerda's history, but first of all his own, for that seemed to him of much greater importance. Gerda was so chilled that she could not speak. Poor thing, said the Lapland woman. You have far to run still. You have more than a hundred miles to go before you get to Finland. There the Snow Queen has her country house, and burns blue lights every evening. I will give you a few words for me, which I will write on a dried haberdine, for paper I have none. This you can take with you to the Finland woman, and she will be able to give you more information than I can. When Gerda had warned herself and had eaten and drunk, the Lapland woman wrote a few words on a dried haberdine, begged Gerda to take care of them, put her on the reindeer, bound her fast, and away sprang the animal. Ja, ja, was again heard in the air, the most charming blue lights burned the whole night in the sky, and at last they came to Finland. They knocked at the chimney of the Finland woman, for as to adore she had none. There was such a heat inside that the Finland woman herself went about almost naked. She was diminutive and dirty. She immediately loosened little Gerda's clothes, pulled off her thick gloves and boots, for otherwise the heat would have been too great. And after laying a piece of ice on the reindeer's head, read what was written on the fish skin. She read it three times. She then knew it by heart, so she put the fish into the cupboard, for it might very well be eaten, and she never threw anything away. Then the reindeer related his own story first, and afterwards that of little Gerda. And the Finland woman winked her eyes, but said nothing. You are so clever, said the reindeer. You can, I know, twist all the winds of the world together in a knot. If the seaman loosens one knot, then he has a good wind. If a second, then it blows pretty stiffly. If he undoes the third and fourth, then it rages so that the forests are upturned. Will you give the little maiden a potion that she may possess the strength of twelve men and vanquish the snow queen? The strength of twelve men, said the Finland woman. Much good that would be. Then she went to the cupboard, and drew out a large skin rolled up. When she had unrolled it, strange characters would be seen written thereon, and the Finland woman read at such a rate that the perspiration trickled down her forehead. But the reindeer begged so hard for little Gerda, and Gerda looked so imploringly with tearful eyes at the Finland woman that she winked and drew the reindeer aside into a corner, where they whispered together, while the animal got some fresh ice put on his head. To his true little K is at the snow queens, and finds everything there quite to his taste, and he thinks it the very best place in the world. But the reason of that is, he has a splinter of glass in his eye, and in his heart. These must be got out first, otherwise he will never go back to mankind, and the snow queen will retain her power over him. But can you give little Gerda nothing to take which will induce her with power over the whole? I could give her no more power than what she has already. Don't you see how great it is? Don't you see how men and animals are forced to serve her? How well she gets through the world barefooted? She must not hear of her power from us. That power lies in her heart, because she is a sweet and innocent child. If she cannot get to the snow queen by herself, and rid little K of the glass, we cannot help her. Two miles hence the garden of the snow queen begins. Thither you may carry the little girl. Set her down by the large bush with red berries, standing in the snow. Don't stay talking, but hasten back as fast as possible. And now the Finland woman placed little Gerda on the reindeer's back, and off he ran with all imaginable speed. Oh, I have not got my boots. I have not brought my gloves, cried little Gerda. She remarked she was without them for the cutting frost, but the reindeer dared not stand still. On he ran till he came to the great bush with the red berries, and there he set Gerda down, kissed her mouth. While large bright tears flowed from the animals' eyes, and then back he went as fast as possible. There stood poor Gerda now, without shoes or gloves, in the very middle of dreadful icy Finland. She ran on as fast as she could. There then came a whole regimen of snowflakes, but they did not fall from above, and they were quite bright and shining from the aurora borealis. The flakes ran along the ground, and the nearer they came, the larger they grew. Gerda well remembered how large and strange this… Gerda remembered how large and strange the snowflakes appeared when she once saw them through a magnifying glass. But now they were large and terrific in another manner. They were all alive. They were the outposts of the Snow Queen. They had the most wondrous shapes. Some looked like large, ugly porcupines, others like snakes knotted together with their heads sticking out, and others again like small, fat bears, with the hair standing on end. All were of dazzling whiteness. All were living snowflakes. Little Gerda repeated the Lord's Prayer. The cold was so intense that she could see her own breath, which came like smoke out of her mouth. It grew thicker and thicker, and took the form of little angels that grew more and more when they touched the earth. All had helms on their heads, and lances, and shields in their hands. They increased in numbers, and when Gerda had finished the Lord's Prayer, she was surrounded by a whole legion. They thrust at the horrid snowflakes with their spears so that they flew into a thousand pieces, and Little Gerda walked on bravely at insecurity. The angels patted her hands and feet, and then she felt the cold less, and went on quickly towards the palace of the Snow Queen. But now we shall see how Kay fared. He never thought of Gerda, and least of all, that she was standing before the palace. Seventh story. What took place in the palace of the Snow Queen, and what happened afterward? The walls of the palace were of driving snow, and the windows and doors of cutting winds. There were more than a hundred halls there, according as the snow was driven by the winds. The largest was many miles in extent. All were lighted up by the powerful aurora borealis, and all were so large, so empty, so icy cold, and so resplendent. Murth never rained there. There was never even a little bear ball with the storm for music, while the polar bears went on their hind legs and showed off their steps. Never a little tea party of white young lady foxes, vast, cold, and empty were the halls of the Snow Queen. The northern lights shone with such precision that one could tell exactly when they were at their highest or lowest degree of brightness. In the middle of the empty, endless hall of snow was a frozen lake. It was cracked in a thousand pieces, but each piece was so like the other that it seemed the work of a cunning artificer. In the middle of this lake sat the Snow Queen when she was at home, and then she said she was sitting in the mirror of understanding, and that this was the only one and the best thing in the world. Little Kay was quite blue, yes nearly black with cold, but he did not observe it, for she had kissed away all feeling of cold from his body, and his heart was a lump of ice. He was dragging along some pointed flat pieces of ice, which he laid together in all possible ways, for he wanted to make something with them, just as we have little flat pieces of wood to make geometrical figures with, called the Chinese puzzle. Kay made all sorts of figures, the most complicated, for it was an ice puzzle for the understanding. In his eyes the figures were extraordinarily beautiful, and of the utmost importance, for the bit of glass which was in his eye caused this. He found whole figures which represented a written word, but he never could manage to represent just the word he wanted. That word was eternity. And the Snow Queen had said, If you can discover that figure, you shall be your own master, and I will make you a present of the whole world, and a pair of new skates. But he could not find it out. I am going now to warm lands, said the Snow Queen. I must have a look down into the black cauldrons. It was the volcanoes, Vesuvius and Etna that she meant. I will just give them a coating of white, for that is as it ought to be. Besides, it is good for the oranges and the grapes, and then away she flew, and Kay sat quite alone in the empty halls of ice that were miles long, and looked at the blocks of ice, and thought and thought, till his skull was almost cracked. There he sat, quite benumbed and motionless. One would have imagined he was frozen to death. Suddenly Little Gerta stepped through the great portal into the palace. The gate was formed of cutting winds. But Gerta repeated her evening prayer, and the winds were laid as though they slept, and the Little Maiden entered the vast empty cold halls. There she beheld Kay. She recognized him, flew to embrace him, and cried out, her arms firmly holding him the while. Kay, sweet little Kay, have I then found you at last? But he sat quite still, benumbed and cold. Then Little Gerta shed burning tears, and they fell on his bosom. They penetrated to his heart. They thawed the lumps of ice, and consumed the splinters of the looking glass. He looked at her, and she sang the hymn. The rose in the valley is blooming so sweet, and angels descend there, the children to greet. Hereupon Kay burst into tears. He wept so much that the splinter rolled out of his eye, and he recognized her, and shouted, Gerta, sweet little Gerta, where have you been so long? And where have I been? He looked round. How cold it is here, said he. How empty and cold! And he held fast by Gerta, who laughed and wept for joy. It was so beautiful that even the blocks of ice danced about for joy. And when they retired and laid themselves down, they formed exactly the letters which the Snow Queen had told them to find out. So now he was his own master, and he would have the whole world in a pair of new skates into the bargain. Gerta kissed his cheeks, and they grew quite blooming. She kissed his eyes, and they shone like her own. She kissed his hands and feet, and he was again well in merry. The Snow Queen might come back as soon as she liked. There stood his discharge, written in resplendent masses of ice. They took each other by the hand, and wandered forth out of the large hall. They talked of their old grandmother, and of the roses upon the roof, and wherever they went the wind ceased raging, and the sun burst forth, and when they reached the bush with the red berries, they found the reindeer waiting for them. He had brought another, a young one, with him, whose udder was filled with milk, which he gave to the little ones, and kissed their lips. They then carried Kay and Gerta first to the Finland woman, where they warmed themselves in the warm room, and learned what they were to do on their journey home. And they went to the Lapland woman, who made some new clothes for them, and repaired their sledges. The reindeer and the young hind leaped along beside them, and accompanied them to the boundary of the country. Here the first vegetation peep forth. Here Kay and Gerta took leave of the Lapland woman. Farewell, farewell, they all said, and the first green buds appeared. The first little birds began to chirp, and out of the wood came riding on a magnificent horse, which Gerta knew. It was one of the leaders in the golden carriage, a young damsel with a bright red cap on her head, and armed with pistols. It was the little robber maiden, who tired of being at home, and determined to make a journey to the north, and afterwards in another direction, if that did not please her. She recognized Gerta immediately, and Gerta knew her too. It was a joyful meeting. You are a fine fellow for tramping about, said she eat a little Kay. I should like to know, Faith, if you deserve that one, should run from one end of the world to the other for your sake. But Gerta patted her cheeks and inquired for the prince and princess. They are gone abroad, said the other. But the raven, asked little Gerta, Oh, the raven is dead, she answered. His tame sweetheart is a widow, and wears a bit of black worsted round her leg. She laments most piteously, but it's all mere talk and stuff. Now tell me what you've been doing and how you managed to catch him. And Gerta and Kay both told their story. And schnip schnap schner, Baszler, said the robber maiden, and she took the hands of each and promised that she should someday pass through their town where they lived. She would come and visit them, and then away she rode. Kay and Gerta took each other's hand. It was lovely spring weather, with abundance of flowers and a verger. The church bells rang and the children recognized the high towers and the large town. It was that in which they dwelt. They entered and hastened up to their grandmother's room where everything was standing as formerly. The clock said tick-tack, and the fingers moved round, but as they entered they remarked that they were now grown up. The roses on the leads hung blooming at the open window. There stood the little children's chairs, and Kay and Gerta sat down on them holding each other by the hand. They both had forgotten the cold empty splendor of the snow queen, as though it had been a dream. The grandmother sat in the bright sunshine and read aloud from the Bible. Unless ye become as little children, ye cannot enter the kingdom of heaven. And Kay and Gerta looked in each other's eyes, and all at once they understood the old hymn. The rose in the valley is blooming so sweet, and angels descend there the children to greet. There sat the two grown up persons, grown up and yet children, children at least in heart. And it was summertime. Summer. Glorious summer. End of The Snow Queen. Grasshopper and Elite Frog once wanted to see which could jump highest, and they invited the whole world and everybody else besides who chose to come to see the festival. Three famous jumpers were they, as everyone would say, when they all meant together in the room. I will give my daughter to him who jumps highest, exclaimed the king, for it is not so amusing when there is no prize to jump for. The flea was the first to step forward. He had exquisite manners and bowed to the company on all sides, for he had noble blood and was, moreover, accustomed to the society of man alone, and that makes a great difference. Then came the grasshopper. He was considerably heavier, but he was well mannered and wore a green uniform, which he had by right of birth. He said, moreover, that he belonged to a very ancient Egyptian family, and that in the house where he then was, he was thought much of. The fact was, he had been just brought out of the fields and put in a pace board house, three stories high, all made of court cards, with the color side inwards, and doors and windows cut out of the body of the queen of hearts. I sing so well, said he, that sixteen native grasshoppers who have chirped from infancy and yet got no house built of cards to live in grew thinner than they were before for sheer vexation when they heard me. It was thus that the flea and the grasshopper gave an account of themselves and thought they were quite good enough to marry a princess. The leapfrog said nothing, but people gave it as their opinion that he therefore thought the more, and when the house-dugs snuffed at him with the snows, he confessed the leapfrog was of good family. The old counselor, who had had three orders given him to make him hold his tongue, asserted that the leapfrog was a prophet, for that one could see on his back, if there would be a severe or mild winter, and that was what one could not see even on the back of the man who writes the almanac. I say nothing, it is true, exclaimed the king, but I have my own opinion, not withstanding. Now the trial was to take place. The flea jumped so high that nobody could see where he went to, so they all asserted he had not jumped at all, and that was dishonorable. The grasshopper jumped only half as high, but he leaped into the king's face, who said that was ill-mannered. The leapfrog stood still for a long time, lost in thought. It was believed at last he would not jump at all. I only hope he is not unwell, said the house dog, when pop! He made a jump all on one side into the lap of the princess, who was sitting on a little golden stool close by. Hereupon the king said, there is nothing above my daughter, therefore, to bound up to her is the highest jump that can be made, but for this one must possess understanding, and the leapfrog has shown that he has understanding. He is brave and intellectual, and so he won the princess. It's all the same to me, said the flea. She may have the old leapfrog for all I care. I jumped the highest, but in this world merit seldom meets its reward. A fine exterior is what people look at nowadays. The flea then went into foreign service, where it is said he was killed. The grasshopper sat without on a green bank, and reflected on worldly things. And he said too, yes, a fine exterior is everything. A fine exterior is what people care about. And then he began chirping his peculiar melancholy song, from which we have taken this history, and which may, very possibly, be all untrue. Although it does stand here printed in black and white, and of Chapter 7, recording by Kathleen Larberg. Chapter 8 of Anderson's Fairy Tales. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Anderson's Fairy Tales by Hans Christian Anderson. Chapter 8 The Elder Bush Once upon a time, there was a little boy who had taken cold. He had gone out and got his feet wet, though nobody could imagine how it had happened, for it was quite dry weather. So his mother undressed him, put him to bed, and had the teapot brought in to make him a good cup of elderflower tea. Just at that moment, the merry old man came in who lived up atop of the house, all alone. For he neither had wife nor children, but he liked children very much and knew so many fairy tales that it was delightful. Now, drink your tea, said the boy's mother, then perhaps you may hear a fairy tale. If I had but something new to tell, said the old man, but how did the child get his feet wet? That is the very thing that nobody can make out, said his mother. Am I to hear a fairy tale, asked the little boy. Yes, if you can tell me exactly, for I must know that first, how deep the gutter is in the little street opposite that you pass through in going to school. Just up to the middle of my boot, said the child, but then I must go into the deep hole. Aha, that's where the wet feet came from, said the old man. I ought now to tell you a story, but I don't know anymore. You can make one in a moment, said the little boy. My mother says that all you look at can be turned into a fairy tale, and that you can find a story in everything. Yes, but such tales and stories are good for nothing. The right sort come of themselves. They tap at my forehead and say, here we are. Won't there be a tap soon, asked the little boy, and his mother laughed, put some elder flowers in the teapot and poured boiling water upon them. Do tell me something, pray do. Yes, if a fairy tale would come of its own accord, but they are proud and haughty and come only when they choose. Stop, he said all of a sudden. I have it. Pay attention. There is one in the teapot. And the little boy looked at the teapot. The cover rose more and more and the elder flowers came forth so fresh and white and shot up long branches out of the spout. Even did they spread themselves on all sides and grew larger and larger. It was a splendid elder bush, a whole tree, and it reached into the very bed and pushed the curtains aside. How it bloomed. And what an odor in the middle of the bush sat a friendly looking old woman in a most strange dress. It was quite green, like the leaves of the elder and was trimmed with large white elder flowers so that at first one could not tell whether it was a stuff or a natural green and real flowers. What's that woman's name? asked the boy. The Greeks and the Romans said the old man called her a dry-eyed. But that we do not understand. The people who live in the new booths have a much better name for her. They called her old granny and she it is to whom you are to pay attention. Now listen and look at the beautiful elder bush. Just another large blooming elder tree stands near the new booths. It grew there in the corner of a little miserable courtyard and under it sat of an afternoon in the most splendid sunshine to old people and old old semen and his old old wife. They had great grandchildren and were soon to celebrate the 50th anniversary of their marriage. But they could not exactly recollect the date and old granny sat in the tree and looked as pleased as now. I know the date, said she, but those below did not hear her for they were talking about old times. Yes, can't you remember when we were very little? said the old semen and ran and played about. It was the very same courtyard where we are now and we stuck slips in the ground and made a garden. I remember it well, said the old woman. I remember it quite well. We watered the slips and one of them was an elder bush. It took root, put forth green shoots and grew up to be the large tree under which we old folks are now sitting. To be sure, said he. And there in the corner stood a water pail where I used to swim my boats. True, but first we went to school to learn somewhat, said she, and then we were confirmed. We both cried, but in the afternoon we went up the round tower and looked down on Copenhagen and far, far away over the water. Then we went to Fredericksburg where the King and Queen were sailing about in their splendid barges. But I had a different sort of sailing to that later and that too for many a year, a long way off on great voyages. Yes, many a time have I wept for your sake, said she. I thought you were dead and gone and lying down in the deep waters. Many a night have I gone up to see if the wind had not changed and changed it had, sure enough, but you never came. I remember so well one day when the rain was pouring down in torrents. The scavengers were before the house where I was in service and I had come up with the dust and remained standing at the door. It was dreadful weather. When just as I was there the postman came and gave me a letter. It was from you. What a tour that letter had made. I opened it instantly and read. I laughed and wept. I was so happy. In it I read that you were in warm lands where the coffee tree grows. What a blessed land that must be. You related so much and I saw it all while the rain was pouring down and I standing there with the dust box. At the same moment came someone who embraced me. Yes, but you gave him a good box on his ear that made it tingle. But I did not know it was you. You arrived as soon as your letter and you were so handsome that you still are. And had a long yellow silk handkerchief around your neck and a brand new hat on. Oh, you were so dashing. Good heavens. What weather it was and what a state the street was in. And then we married, said he. Don't you remember? And then we had our first little boy and then Mary and Nicholas and Peter and Christian. Yes, and how they all grew up to be honest people and were beloved by everybody. And their children also have children, said the old sailor. Yes, those were our grandchildren full of strength and vigor. It was me thinks about this season that we had our wedding. Yes, this very day is the 50th anniversary of the marriage, said old granny, sticking her head between the two old people who thought it was their neighbor who nodded to them. They looked at each other and held one another by the hand. Soon after came their children and their grandchildren for they knew well enough that it was the day of their 50th anniversary and had come with their congratulations that very morning. But the old people had forgotten it. Although they were able to remember all that had happened many years ago. And the elder Bush sent forth a strong odor in the sun that was just about to set and shown right in the old people's faces. They both looked so rosy-cheeked and the youngest of the grandchildren danced around them and called out quite delighted that there was to be something very splendid that evening. They were all to have hot potatoes. An old nanny nodded in the bush and shouted hurrah with the rest. But that is no fairy tale, said the little boy who was listening to the story. The thing is, you must understand it, said the narrator. Let us ask old nanny. That was no fairy tale. It is true, said old nanny. But now it is coming. The most wonderful fairy tales grow out of that which is reality. Were that not the case, you know, my magnificent elder Bush could not have grown out of the teapot. And then she took the little boy out of bed, laid him on her bosom, and the branches of the elder tree full of flowers closed around her. They sat in an aerial dwelling and it flew with them through the air. Oh, it was a wondrous beautiful. Old nanny had grown all of a sudden a young and pretty maiden, but her robe was still the same green stiff with white flowers, which she had worn before. On her bosom she had a real elder flower and in her yellow waving hair a wreath of the flowers. Her hair was so large and blue that it was a pleasure to look at them. She kissed the boy and now they were of the same age and felt alike. Hand in hand they went out of the bower and they were standing in the beautiful garden of their home. Near the green lawn Papa's walking stick was tied and for the little ones it seemed to be endowed with life. For as soon as they got astride it the round polished knob was turned into a magnificent neighing head. A loud black mane fluttered in the breeze and four slender yet strong legs shot out. The animal was strong and handsome and the way they went at full gallop round the lawn. Huzzah! Now we are riding miles off, said the boy. We are riding away to the castle where we were last year. And they rode around the grass plot and the little maiden who we know was no one else but old nanny kept on crying out now we are in the country. Don't you see the farmhouse yonder? And this is an elder tree standing beside it and the cock is scraping away the earth for the hands. Look how he struts and now we are close to the church. It lies high upon the hill between the large oak trees one of which is half decayed. And now we are by the smithy where the fire is blazing and where the half-naked men are banging with their hammers to the sparks flying about. Away away to the beautiful country seat. And all that the little maiden who sat behind on the stick spoke of flew by in reality. The boy saw it all and yet they were only going around the grass plot. Then they played in a side avenue and marked out a little garden on the earth and they took elder blossoms from their own hair, planted them and they grew just like those the old people planted when they were children as related before. They went hand in hand as the old people had done when they were children. But not to the round tower or to Frederickburg. No, the little damsel wound her arms round the boy and then they flew far away through all Denmark. And spring came and summer and then it was autumn and then winter. And a thousand pictures were reflected in the eye and in the heart of the boy. And the little girl always sang to him this you will never forget. And during their whole flight the elder tree smelled so sweet and odorous. He remarked the roses and the fresh beaches but the elder tree had a more wondrous fragrance for its flowers hung on the breast of the little maiden and there too did he often lay his head during the flight. It is lovely here in spring said the young maiden and they stood in a beech wood that had just put on its first green where the woodroof at their feet sent forth its fragrance and the pale red anemone looked so pretty among the verger. Oh, would it were always spring in the sweetly smelling Danish beech forests. It is lovely here in summer since she and she flew past old castles of bygone days of chivalry where the red walls and the embattled gables were mirrored in the canal where the swans were swimming and peered up into the old cool avenues. In the fields the corn was waving like the sea in the ditches red and yellow flowers were growing well wild drone flowers and blooming convolutions were creeping in the hedges and towards evening the moon rose round and large and the hay cocks and the meadows smelled so sweetly. This one never forgets. It is lovely here in autumn, said the little maiden, and suddenly the atmosphere grew as blue again as before. The forest grew red and green and yellow colored. The dogs came leaping along and whole flocks of wildfowl flew over the cairn where blackberry bushes were hanging round the old stones. The sea was dark blue covered with ships full of white sails and in the barn old women, maidens and children were sitting picking hops into a large cask the young sang songs but the old told fairy tales of mountain sprites and soothsayers nothing could be more charming. It is delightful here in winter, said the old maiden, and all the trees were covered with whore frost. They looked like white corals. The snow crackled underfoot as if one had new boots on and one falling star after the other was seen in the sky. The Christmas tree was lighted in the room, presents were there and good humor reigned. In the country the violins sounded in the room of the peasant. The newly baked cakes were attacked. Even the poorest child said it is really delightful here in winter. Yes it was delightful and the little maiden showed the boy everything and the elder tree still was fragrant and the red flag with the white cross was still waving the flag under which the old seamen in the new boots had sailed. And the boy grew up to be a lad and was to go forth in a wide world far. Far away to warm lands where the coffee tree grows but at his departure the little maiden took an elder blossom from her bosom and gave it to him to keep. And it was placed between the leaves of his prayer book and when in four lands he opened the book. It was always at the place where the keepsake flower lay and the more he looked at it the fresher it became. He felt as if it were the fragrance of the Danish groves and from among the leaves of the flowers he could distinctly see the little maiden peeping forth with her bright little blue eyes. And then she whispered it is delightful here in spring, summer, autumn and winter and a hundred visions glided before his mind. Thus passed many years and he was now an old man and sat with his old wife under the blooming tree. They held each other by the hand as the old grandfather and grandmother Yonder in the new booths did and they talked exactly like them of old times and of the fiftieth anniversary of their wedding. The little maiden with the blue eyes and the elder blossoms in her hair sat in the tree nodded to both of them and said today is the fiftieth anniversary and then she took two flowers out of her hair and kissed them. First they shone like silver then like gold and when they laid them on the heads of the old people each flower became a golden crown. So there they both sat like a king and a queen under the fragrant tree that looked exactly like an elder. The old man told his wife the story of old nanny as it had been told to him when a boy and it seemed to both of them it contained much that resembled their own history and those parts that were like it pleased them both. Thus it is said the old maiden in the tree. Some call me old nanny others a dryad but in reality my name is Remembrance. To I who sit in the tree that grows and grows I can remember I can tell things. Let me see if you have my flower still. And the old man opened his prayer book. There lay the elder blossom as fresh as if it had been placed there but a short time before and Remembrance nodded and the old people decked with crowns of gold sat in the flush of the evening sun. They closed their eyes and and yes that's the end of the story. The little boy lay in his bed. He did not know if he had dreamed or not or if he had been listening while someone told him the story. The teapot was standing on the table but no elder tree was growing out of it. And the old man who had been talking was just on the point of going out the door and he did go. How splendid that was said the little boy. Mother I have been to warm countries. So I should think said the mother when one has drunk two good cupfuls of elder flower tea to his likely enough one goes into warm climates and she tucked him up nicely lest he should take cold. You have had a good sleep while I have been sitting here and arguing with him whether it was a story or a fairytale. And where's old Danny asked the little boy in the teapots at his mother and there she may remain. End of chapter 8 recording by Dave Shaw in beautiful Bellevue, Nebraska. Chapter 9 The Belle People said the evening bell is sounding the sun is setting for a strange wondrous tone was heard in the narrow streets of a large town. It was like the sound of a church bell but it was only heard for a moment for the rolling of the carriages and the voices of the multitude made too great a noise. Those persons who were walking outside the town where the houses were farther apart with gardens or little fields between them could see the evening sky still better and heard the sound of the bell much more distinctly. It was as if the tones came from a church in the still forest. People looked with a ward and felt their minds attuned most solemnly. A long time passed and people said to each other I wonder if there is a church out in the wood? The bell has a tone that is wondrous sweet let us stroll thither and examine the mater nearer and the rich people drove out and the poor walked but the way seemed strangely long to them and when they came to a clump of willows which grew on the skirts of the forest they sat down and looked up at the long branches and fancy they were now in the depth of the green wood. The confectioner of the town came out and set up his booth there and soon after came another confectioner who hung a bell over his stand as a sign or ornament but it had no clapper and it was tarred over to preserve it from the rain. When all the people returned home they said it had been very romantic and that it was quite a different sort of thing to a picnic or tea party. There were three persons who asserted they had penetrated to the end of the forest and that they had always heard the wonderful sounds of the bell but it had seen to them as if it had come from the town. One wrote a whole poem about it and said the bell sounded like the voice of a mother to a good dear child and that no melody was sweeter than the tones of the bell. The king of the country was also observant of it and vowed that he who could discover when the sound proceeded should have the title of universal bell-ringer even if it were not really a bell. Many persons now went to the wood for the sake of getting the place but one only returned with a sort of explanation for nobody went far enough that one not further than the others. However, he said that the sound proceeded from a very large owl in a hollow tree a sort of learned owl that continually knocked its head against the branches but whether the sound came from his head or from the hollow tree that no one could say with certainty. So now he got the place of universal bell-ringer and wrote yearly a short treatise on the owl but everybody was just as wise as before. It was the day of confirmation the clergymen had spoken so touchingly the children who were confirmed had been greatly moved it was an eventful day for them from children they become all at once grown-up persons it was as if their infant souls were now to fly all at once into persons with more understanding. The sun was shining gloriously the children that had been confirmed went out of the town and from the wood was borne towards them the sounds of the unknown bell with wonderful distinctness they all immediately felt a wish to go thither all except three one of them had to go home to try on a bald dress for it was just the dress and the ball which had caused her to be confirmed this time for otherwise she would not have come. The other was a poor boy who had borrowed his coat and boots to be confirmed in from the innkeeper's son and he was to give them back by a certain hour the third said that he never went to a strange place if his parents were not with him that he had always been a good boy hitherto and would still be so now that he was confirmed and that one ought not to laugh at him for it the others however did make fun of him after all there were three therefore that did not go the others hastened on the sun shone the birds sang and the children sang too and each held the other by the hand for as yet they had none of them any high office and were all of equal rank in the eye of God but two of the youngest soon grew tired and both returned to town two little girls sat down and twined garlands so they did not go either and when the others reached the willow tree where the confectioner was they said now we are there in reality the bell does not exist it is only a fancy that people have taken into their heads at the same moment the bell sounded deep in the wood so clear and solemnly that five or six determined to penetrate somewhat further it was so thick and the foliage so dense that it was quite fatiguing to proceed woodroof and anemones grew almost too high blooming convolvuluses and blackberry bushes hung in long garlands from tree to tree where the nightingale sang and the sunbeams were playing it was very beautiful but it was no place for girls to go their clothes would get so torn large blocks of stone lay there overgrown with moss of every color the fresh spring buckled forth and made a strange gurgling sound the head surely cannot be the bell said one of the children lying down and listening this must be looked to so he remained and let the others go on without him they afterwards came to a little house made of branches and the bark of trees a large wild apple tree bent over it as if it would shower down all its blessings on the roof where roses were blooming the long stems twined round the gable on which there hung a small bell was it that which people had heard yes everybody was unanimous on the subject except one who said that the bell was too small and too fine to be heard at so great a distance and besides it was very different tones to those that could move a human heart in such a manner it was a king's son who spoke where on the other said such people always want to be wiser than everybody else they now let him go on alone and as he went his breasts was filled more and more with a forest solitude but he still heard the little bell with which the others were so satisfied and now and then when the wind blew he could also hear the people singing who were sitting at tea where the confectioner had his tent but the deep sound of the bell rose louder it was almost as if an organ were accompanying it and the tones came from the left hand the side where the heart is placed a rustling was heard in the bushes and a little boy stood before the king's son a boy in wooden shoes and with so short a jacket that one could see what long wrists he had both knew each other the boy was that one among the children who could not come because he had to go home and return his jacket and boots to the innkeeper's son this he had done and was now going on in wooden shoes and in his humble dress for the bell sounded with so deep a tone and with such strange power that proceed he must why then we can go together said the king's son but the poor child that had been confirmed was quite ashamed he looked at his wooden shoes pulled at the short sleeves of his jacket and said that he was afraid he could not walk so fast besides he thought that the bell must be looked for to the right for that was the place where all sorts of beautiful things were to be found but there we shall not meet said the king's son nodding at the same time to the poor boy who went into the darkest thickest part of the wood where thorns tore his humble dress and scratched his face and hands and feet till they bled the king's son got some scratches too but the son shone on his path and it is him that we will follow for he was an excellent and resolute youth I must and will find the bell said he even if I'm obliged to go to the end of the world the ugly apes sat upon the trees and grinned shall we thresh him said they shall we thresh him he is the son of a king but on he went without being disheartened deeper and deeper into the wood where the most wonderful flowers were growing there stood white lilies with blood red stamina sky blue tulips which shone as they waved in the winds and apple trees the apples of which looked exactly like large soap bubbles so only think how the trees must have sparkled in the sunshine around the nicest green meads where the deer were playing in the grass grew magnificent oaks and beaches and if the bark of one of the trees was cracked their grass and long creeping plants grew in the crevices and there were large calm lakes there too in which white swans were swimming and beat the air with their wings the king's son often stood still and listened he thought the bell sounded from the depth of these still lakes but then he remarked again that the tone proceeded not from there but farther off from out the depth of the forest the sun now set the atmosphere glowed like fire it was still in the woods so very still and he fell on his knees sung his evening hymn and said I cannot find what I seek the sun is going down and night is coming the dark dark night yet perhaps I may be able once more to see the round great sun before he entirely disappears I will climb up yonder rock and he seized hold of the creeping plants and the roots of trees climbed up the moist stones where the water snakes were writhing and the totes were croaking and he gained this summit before the sun had quite gone down how magnificent was the sight from this height the sea the great the glorious sea that dashed its long waves against the coast was stretched out before him and yonder where sea and sky meet stood the sun like a large shining altar all melted together in the most glowing colors and the wood in the sea sang a song of rejoicing and his heart sang with the rest all nature was a vast holy church in which the trees and the buoyant clouds were the pillars flowers and grass the velvet carpeting and heaven itself the large cupola the red colors above faded away as the sun vanished but a million stars were lighted a million lamps shone and the king's son spread out his arms towards heaven and wood and sea when at the same moment coming by a path to the right appeared in his wooden shoes and jacket the poor boy who had been confirmed with him he had followed his own path and had reached the spot just as soon as the son of the king had done they ran towards each other and stood together hand in hand in the vast church of nature and of poetry while over them sounded the invisible holy bell blessed spirits floated around them and lifted up their voices in a rejoicing hallelujah end of section nine the bell chapter 10 of anderson's fairy tales this is a libra vox recording all libra vox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit libravox.org anderson's fairy tales by hans christian anderson chapter 10 the old house in the street up there was an old a very old house it was almost 300 years old for that might be known by reading the great beam on which the date of the year was carved together with tulips and hotbines there were whole verses spelt as in former times and over every window was a distorted face cut out of the beam the one story stood forward a great way over the other and directly under the eaves was a leadened spout with a dragon's head the rainwater should have run out of the mouth but it ran out of the belly for there was a hole in the spout all the other houses in the street were so new and so neat with large window panes and smooth walls one could easily see that they would have nothing to do with the old house they certainly thought how long is that old decayed thing to stand that there is a spectacle in the street and then the projecting window stands so far out that no one could see from our windows what happens in that direction the steps are as broad as those of a palace and as high as to a church tower the iron railings looked just like the door to an old family vault and then they have brass tops that's so stupid on the other side of the street were also new and neat houses and they thought just as the others did but at the window opposite the old house there sat a little boy with fresh rosy cheeks and bright beaming eyes he certainly liked the old house best and that both in sunshine and moonshine and when he looked across at the wall where the water had fallen out he could sit and find out there the strangest figures imaginable exactly as the street had imagined before with steps projecting windows and pointed gables he could see soldiers with halberds and spouts where the water ran like dragons and serpents that was a house to look at and there lived an old man who wore plush breeches and he had a coat with large brass buttons and a wig that won't he was a real wig every morning there came an old fellow to him who put his rooms in order and went on errands otherwise the old man in the plush breeches was quite alone in the old house now and then he came to the window and looked out and the little boy nodded to him and the old man nodded again and so they became acquaintances and then they were friends although they had never spoken to each other but that made no difference the little boy heard his parents say the old man opposite is very well off but he is so very very lonely the Sunday following the little boy took something and wrapped it up in a piece of paper went downstairs and stood in the doorway and when the man who went on errands came past he said to him I say master will you give this to the old man over the way from me I have two pewter soldiers this is one of them and he shall have it for I know he is so very very lonely and the old errand man looked quite pleased nodded and took the pewter soldier over to the old house afterwards there came a message it was to ask if the little boy himself had not a wish to come over and pay a visit and so he got the permission of his parents and then went over to the old house and the brass balls of the iron railings so much brighter than ever one would have thought they were polished on account of the visit and it was as if the carved out trumpeters for there were trumpeters who stood in tulips carved out on the door blew with all their might their cheeks appeared so much rounder than before yes they blew tratter atrah the little boy comes tratter atrah and then the door opened the whole passage was hung with portraits of knights in armor and ladies in silken gowns and the armor rattled and the silken gowns rustled and then there was a flight of stairs which went a good way upwards and a little way downwards and then one came on a balcony which was in a very dilapidated state sure enough with large holes and long crevices but grass grew there and leaves grew out of them altogether for the whole balcony outside the yard and the walls were overgrown with so much green stuff that it looked like a garden only a balcony here stood old flower pots with faces and asses ears and the flowers grew just as they liked one of the pots was quite overrun on all sides with pinks that is to say with the green part shoot stood by shoot and it said quite distinctly the air has cherished me the sun has kissed me and promised me a little flower on sunday a little flower on sunday and then they entered a chamber where the walls were covered with hogs leather and printed with gold flowers the gilding decays but hogs leather stays said the walls and there stood easy chairs with such high backs and so carved out and with arms on both sides sit down sit down said they ugh how I creak now I shall certainly get the gout like the old clothes press ugh and then the little boy came into the room where the projecting windows were and where the old man sat I thank you for the pewter soldier my little friend said the old man and I thank you because you came over to me thanky thanky or cranky cranky sounded from all the furniture there's so much of it that each article stood in the other's way to get a look at the little boy in the middle of the wall hung a picture representing a beautiful lady so young so glad but dressed quite as in former times with clothes that stood quite stiff and with powder in her hair she neither said thanky thanky nor cranky cranky but looked with her mild eyes at the little boy who directly asked the old man where did he get her yonder at the brokers said the old man where there are so many pictures hanging no one knows or cares about them for they are all of them buried but I knew her in bygone days and now she has been dead and gone these 50 years under the picture in a glazed frame there hung a bouquet of withered flowers they were almost 50 years old they looked so very old the pendulum of the great clock went to and fro and the hands turned and everything in the room became still older but they did not observe it they say at home said the little boy that you were so very very lonely oh said he the old thoughts with what they may bring with them come and visit me and now you also come I am very well off then he took a book with pictures it down from the shelf there were whole long processions and pageants with the strangest characters which one never sees nowadays soldiers like the name of clubs and citizens waving flags the tailors had theirs with a pair of shears held by two lions and the shoemakers theirs without boots but with an eagle that had two heads for the shoemakers must have everything so that they can say it is a pair yes that was a picture book the old man now went into the other room to fetch preserves apples and nuts yes it was delightful over there in the old house I cannot bear it any longer said the pewter soldier who sat on the drawers it is so lonely and melancholy here but when one has been in a family circle one cannot accustom oneself to this life I cannot bear it any longer the whole day is so long and the evenings are still longer here it is not at all as it is over the way at your home where your father and mother spoke so pleasantly and where you and all your sweet children made such a delightful noise nay how lonely the old man is do you think that he gets kisses do you think he gets mild eyes or a christmas tree he will get nothing but a grave I can bear it no longer you must not let it grieve you so much said the little boy I find it so very delightful here and then all the old thoughts with what they may bring with them they come and visit here yes it's all very well but I see nothing of them and I don't know them said the pewter soldier I cannot bear it but you must say the little boy then it came the old man with the most pleased and happy face the most delicious preserves apples and nuts and so the little boy thought no more about the pewter soldier the little boy returned home happy and pleased and weeks and days passed away and nods were made to the old house and from the old house and then the little boy went over there again the carved crumpeters blew trotter atrah there is the little boy trotter atrah and the swords and the armor on the knight's portrait rattled and the silk gowns rustled the hog's leather spoke and the old chairs had the gout in their legs and the rheumatism in their backs look it was exactly like the first time for over there one day and one hour were just like another I cannot bear it said the pewter soldier I have shed pewter tears it is too melancholy rather let me go to the wars and lose arms and legs it would at least be a change I cannot bear it longer now I know what it is to have a visit from one's old thoughts with what they may bring with them I have had a visit from mine and you may be sure it was no pleasant thing in the end I wasn't last about to jump down from the drawers I saw you all over there at home so distinctly as if you really were here it was again that Sunday morning all you children stood before the table and sung your psalms as you do every morning you stood devotely with folded hands and father and mother were just as pious and then the door was opened and little sister Mary who is not two years old yet and who always dances when she hears music or singing of whatever kind it may be was put into the room though she ought not to have been there and then she began to dance but could not keep time because the tones were so long and then she stood first on one leg and bent her head forwards and then on the other leg and bent her head forwards but all would not do you stood very seriously all together although it was difficult enough but I laughed to myself and then I fell off the table and got a bump which I have still for it was not right of me to laugh but the hole now passes before me again in thought and everything that I have lived to see and these are the old thoughts with what they may bring with them tell me if you still sing on Sundays tell me something about little Mary and how my comrade the other pewter soldier lives yes he is happy enough that's sure I cannot bear it any longer you were given away as a present said the little boy you must remain can you not understand that the old man now came with a draw in which there was so much to be seen both tin boxes and balsam boxes old cards so large and so gilded such as one never sees them now and several drawers were opened and the piano was opened it had landscapes on the inside of the lid and it was so hoarse when the old man played on it and then he hummed a song yes she could sing that said he and nodded to the portrait which he had brought at the brokers and the old man's eyes shone so bright I will go to the wars I will go to the wars shout to the pewter soldier as loud as he could and threw himself off the drawers right down onto the floor what became of him the old man sought and the little boy sought he was away and stayed away I shall find him said the old man but he never found him the floor was too open the pewter soldier had fallen through a crevice and there he lay as in an open tomb that day passed and the little boy went home and that week passed and several weeks too the windows were quite frozen the little boy was obliged to sit and breathe on them to get a peephole to the old house and there the snow had blown into all the carved work and inscriptions it lay quite up over the steps just as if there was no one at home nor was there anyone at home the old man was dead in the evening there was a hearse seen before the door and he was born into it in his coffin he was now to go out into the country to lie in his grave he was driven out there but no one followed all his friends were dead and the little boy kissed his hand to the coffin as it was driven away some days afterwards there was an auction at the old house and the little boy saw from his window how they carried the old knights and the old ladies away the flowerpots of the long years the old chairs and the old clothes presses something came here and something came there the portrait of her who had been found at the brokers came to the brokers again and there it hung for no one knew her more no one cared about the old picture in the spring they pulled the house down for as people said it was a ruin one could see from the street right into the room with the hog's leather hanging which was slashed and torn and the green grass and leaves about the balcony hung quite wild about the falling beams and then it was put to rights that was a relief said the neighbouring houses a fine house was built there with large windows and smooth white walls but before it where the old house had in fact stood was a little garden laid out and a wild grapevine ran up the wall of the neighbouring house before the garden there was a large iron railing with an iron door it looked quite splendid and people stood still and peeped in and the sparrows hung by scores in the vine and chatted away at each other as well as they could but it was not about the old house for they could not remember it so many years had passed so many that the little boy had grown up to be a whole man yet a clever man and a pleasure to his parents and he had just been married and together with his little wife had come to live in the house here where the garden was and he stood by her while she planted a fieldflower that she found so pretty she planted it with her little hand and pressed the earth around it with her fingers how what was that she had stuck herself there sat something pointed straight out of the soft mould it was yes guess it was the pewter soldier he that was lost up in the old man's and had tumbled and turned about amongst the timber and the rubbish and had at last laid for many years in the ground the young wife wiped the dirt off the soldier first with a green leaf and then with her fine handkerchief it had such a delightful smell that it was to the pewter soldier just as if he had awakened from a trance let me see him said the young man he laughed and then shook his head may it cannot be he but it reminds me of a story about a pewter soldier which i had when i was a little boy and then he told his wife about the old house and the old man and about the pewter soldier that he sent over to him because he was so very very lonely and he told it as correctly as it had really been so that the tears came into the eyes of his young wife on account of the old house and the old man it may possibly be however that it is the same pewter soldier said she i will take care of it and remember all that you have told me but you must show me the old man's grave but i do not know it said he and no one knows it all his friends were dead no one took care of it and i was then a little boy how very very lonely he must have been said she very very lonely said the pewter soldier but it is delightful not to be forgotten delightful shouted something close by but no one except the pewter soldier saw that it was a piece of the hog's leather hangings it had lost all its gilding it looked like a piece of wet clay but it had an opinion and it gave it the gilding decays but hog's leather stays this the pewter soldier did not believe end of chapter 10 chapter 11 of anderson's fairy tales this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Paul Michael 1084 anderson's fairy tales by hands christian anderson the happy family really the largest green leaf in this country is a duck leaf if one holds it before one it is like a whole apron and if one holds it over one's head in rainy weather it is almost as good as an umbrella for it is so immensely large the bird up never grows alone but where that grows one there always grows several it is great delight and all this delightfulness is snails food great white snails which persons of quality in former times may fricassees of ate and said how delicious before they thought it tasted so delicate lived on duck leaves and therefore bird ox seems to have sown now there was an old manor house where they no longer ate snails they were quite extinct but the bird ox were not extinct they grew and grew all over the walls and all the beds they could not get mastery over them it was the whole forest of bird ox here and there stood an apple and a plum tree or else no one would ever have thought it was a garden all was bird ox and there lived the last two venerable old snails they themselves knew not how old they were but they could remember very well that there have been many more that they were of a family from foreign lands and that for them and theirs the whole forest was planted they had never been outside it but they knew that there was still something more in the world which was called the manor house and that there they were boiled and then they came back and they were placed on a silver dish but what happened further they knew not or in fact what it was to be boiled and lay on a silver dish they could not possibly imagine but it was said to be delightful and particularly genteel neither the chafers the toads nor the earthworms who they asked about it could give them any information none of them had ever been boiled or laid on a silver dish the old white snails were the first persons of distinction in the world that they knew the forest was planted for their sake and the manor house was there so that they might be boiled and laid upon a silver dish now they had lived a very lonely and happy life and as they had no children themselves they had adopted a little common snail which they brought up as their own but the little one would not grow for he was of a common family but the old ones especially dame mother snail thought they could observe how he increased inside and she begged father if he could not see it that he would at least feel the little snail's shell and then he felt it and he found the good dame was right one day there was a heavy storm of rain here how it beats down like a drum upon the dock weaves so father snail there are also raindrops said mother snail and now the rain pours right down the stalk you will see that it will be wet here i am very happy to think that we have our good house and the little one has his also there is more done for us and for all of the creatures sure enough but can you not see that we are folks of quality in the world we are provided with a house from our birth and the bird of forest is planted for our sakes i should like to know how far it extends and what there is outside there is nothing at all so father snail no place can be better than ours and i have nothing to wish for yes said the dame i would willingly go to the manor house and be boiled and laid on a silver dish all our forefathers have been treated so there is something extraordinary in it you may be sure the manor house has most likely fallen into ruin so father snail all the bird oaks have grown up over it so that they cannot come out they do not however be in any haste about that but you are always in a tremendous hurry and the little one is beginning to be the same has he not been creeping up the stalk these three days he gives me a headache when i look up at him he must not scold him said mother snail he creeps so carefully he will afford as much pleasure and we have nothing but him to live for but have you not thought of it where shall we get a wife do you not think that there are some of our species at a great distance in the interior of the bird oaks forest black snails i dare say there are enough of said the old one black snails without a house but they are so common and so conceited but we might give the ants a commission to look for us i know one sure enough the most charming one said one of the ants but i am afraid we shall hardly succeed for she is a queen that is nothing said the old folks has she a house she has a palace said the ants the finest ants palace with 700 passengers i thank you said mother snail our sun shall not go into an anthill if you know nothing better than that we shall give the commission to the white gnats they fly far and wide in rain and sunshine they know the whole forest here both within and without we have a wife for him said the gnats at 100 human paces from here there sits a little snail in her house on a gooseberry bush she's quite lonely and old enough to be married she's only a hundred human paces well then let her come to him said the old ones he has a whole forest of bird oaks she only has a bush and so they went and fetched little miss snail it was a whole week before she arrived but therein was just the very best of it for one could thus see that she was of the same species and then the marriage was celebrated six earthworms shana as well as they could in other respects the hole went off very quietly for the old folks could not bear the noise and merriment but old dame snail made a brilliant speech father snail could not speak he was too much effective and so they gave them as a dowry and inheritance the whole forest of bird oaks and said what they had always said that it was the best in the world and if they lit honestly and decently and increased and multiplied they and their children would once in the course of time come to the manor house be boiled black and laid on silver dishes after this speech was made the old ones crapped into their shells and never more came out they slept the young couple governed the forest and had numerous progeny but they were never boiled and never came onto the silver dishes so from this they concluded that the manor house had fallen into ruins and at all the men in their world were extinct and there's no one contradicts them so of course it was so and the rain beat down on the bird oaks leaves to make drum music for their sake and the sun shone in order to get the bird oaks forest a colour for their sakes and they were very happy and the whole family was happy for they indeed were so end of the happy family recording by paul michael 1084 chapter 12 of anderson's fairy tales this is a librae vox recording our librae vox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit librae vox.org recording by claudia zalto anderson's fairy tales by hands christian anderson chapter 12 the story of a mother a mother said there with her little child she was so downcast so afraid that it should die it was so pale the small eyes had closed themselves and it drew its breath so softly now and then with a deep respiration as if it sighed and the mother looked still more sorrowfully on the little creature then in knocking was heard at the door and in came a poor old man wrapped up as in a large horse clothed for its warmth one and he needed it as it was the cold winter season everything out of doors was covered with ice and snow and the wind blew so that it cut the face as the old man trembled with cold and the little child slept a moment the mother went and poured some ale into a pot and set it on the stove that it might be warm for him the old man sat and rocked the cradle and the mother sat down on a chair close by him and looked at her little sick child that drew its breath so deep and raised its little hand do you not think that I shall save him said she our lord will not take him from me and the old man it was death himself he nodded so strangely it could just as well signify yes as no and the mother looked down in her lap and the tears ran down over her cheeks her head became so heavy she had not closed her eyes for three days and nights and now she slept but only for a minute when she started up and trembled with cold what is that said she and looked on all sides but the old man was gone and her little child was gone he had taken it with him and the old clock in the corner bird and bird the great laden weight ran down to the floor and then the clock also stood still but the poor mother ran out of the house and cried aloud for her child out there in the midst of the snow there said a woman in long black clothes and she said death has been in thy chamber and I saw him hasten away with thy little child he goes faster than the wind and he never brings back what he takes oh only tell me which way he went said the mother tell me the way and I shall find him I know it said the woman in the black clothes but before I tell it thou must first sing for me all the songs thou hast sung for thy child I am fond of them I have heard them before I am night I saw thy tears while thou sangst them I will sing them all all said the mother but do not stop me now I may overtake him I may find my child but night stood still and mute then the mother wrung her hands sang and wept and there were many songs but yet many more tears and then night said go to the right into the dark pine forest thither I saw death take his way with thy little child their roads crossed each other in the depth of the forest and she no longer knew whether she should go then there stood a thorn bush there was neither leaf nor flower on it it was also in the cold winter season and ice flakes hung on the branches has thou not seen death go past with my little child said the mother yes said the thorn bush but I will not tell thee which way he took unless thou will first warm me up at thy heart I am freezing to death I shall become a lump of ice and she pressed the thorn bush to her rest so firmly that it might be thoroughly warmed and the thorns went right into her flesh and her blood flowed in large drops but the thorn bush shot forth fresh green leaves and there came flowers on it in the cold winter night the heart of the afflicted mother was so warm and the thorn bush told her the way she should go she then came to enlarge lake where there was neither ship nor boat the lake was not frozen sufficiently to bear her neither was it open nor low enough that she could wade through it and across it she must go if she would find her child then she lay down to drink up the lake and that was an impossibility for a human being but the afflicted mother thought that a miracle might happen nevertheless oh what would I not give to come to my child said the weeping mother and she wept still more and her eyes sunk down in the depth of the waters and became two precious pearls but the water bore her up as if she sat in a swing and she flew in the rocking waves to the shore on the opposite side where there stood a mile broad strange house one knew not if it were a mountain with forests and caverns or if it were built up but the poor mother could not see it she had wept her eyes out where shall I find death who took away my little child said he he has not come here yet said the old grave woman who was appointed to look after death great greenhouse how have you been able to find the way hither and who has helped you our lord has helped me said she he is merciful and you will also be so where shall I find my little child may I know not said the woman and you cannot see many flowers and trees have withered this night death will soon come and plant them over again you certainly know that every person has his or her life's tree or flower just as everyone happens to be settled they look like other plants but they have pulsations of the heart children's hearts can also beat go after yours perhaps you may know your child's but what will you give me if I tell you what you shall do more I have nothing to give said the afflicted mother but I will go to the world's end for you nay I have nothing to do there said the woman but you can give me your long black hair you know yourself that it is fine and that I like you shall have my white hair instead and that's always something do you demand nothing else said she that I will gladly give you and she gave her her fine black hair and got the old woman's snow white hair instead so they went into death's great greenhouse where flowers and trees grew strangely into one another there stood fine higher synths under glass bells and there stood strong stemped peonies they grew water plants some so fresh others half sick the water snakes laid down on them and black crabs pinched their stalks there stood beautiful palm trees oaks and plantings there stood parsley and flowering time every tree and every flower had its name each of them was a human life the human frame still lived one in china and another in greenland round about in the world there were large trees in small pots so that they stood so stunted in growth and ready to burst the pots in other places there was a little dull flower in rich mold with moss round about it and it was so petted and nursed but the distressed mother bent down over all the smallest plants and heard within them how the human heart beat and amongst millions she knew her little child's there it is cried she and stretched her hands out over a little blue crocus that hung quite sickly on one side don't touch the flower said the old woman but place yourself here and when death comes i expect him every moment do not let him pluck the flower up but threaten him that you will do the same with the others then he will be afraid he is responsible for them to our lord and no one dares to pluck them up before he gives leave all at once an icy cold rushed through the great hall and the blind mother could feel that it was death that came how has thou been able to find their way hither he asked how could thou come quicker than i i am a mother said she and death stretched out his long hand towards the fine little flower but she held her hands fast around his so tight and yet afraid that she should touch one of the leaves then death blew on her hands and she felt that it was colder than the cold wind and her hands fell down powerless thou can't not do anything against me said death but our lord can said she i only do his bidding said death i am his gardener i take all his flowers and trees and plant them out in the great garden of paradise in the unknown land but how they grow there and how it is there i dare not tell thee give me back my child said the mother and she wept and prayed at once she seized hold of two beautiful flowers close by with each hand and cried out to death i will tear all thy flowers off for i am in despair touch them not said death thou says that thou art so unhappy and now thou wilt make another mother equally unhappy another mother said the poor woman and directly let go her hold of both the flowers there thou hast thine eyes said death i fished them up from the lake they shone so bright i knew not they were thine take them again they are now brighter than before now look down into the deep well close by i shall tell thee the names of the two flowers thou wouldst have torn up and thou wilt see their whole future life their whole human existence and see what thou was about to disturb and destroy and she looked down into the well and it was a happiness to see how the one became a blessing to the world to see how much happiness and joy were felt everywhere and she saw the other's life and it was sorrow and distress horror and wretchedness both of them are god's will said death which of them is misfortune's flower and which is that of happiness asked she that i will not tell thee said death but this thou shalt know from me that the one flower was thy own child it was thy child's fate thou sourced thy own child's future life then the mother screamed with terror which of them was my child tell it me save the innocent save my child from all that misery rather take it away take it into god's kingdom forget my tears forget my prayers and all that i have done i do not understand thee said death will thou have thy child again or shall i go with it there where thou dost not know then the mother wrung her hands fell on her knees and prayed to our lord oh hear me not when i pray against thy will which is the best hear me not hear me not and she bowed her head down in her lap and death took her child and went with it into the unknown land end of section 12 the story of a mother chapter 13 of anderson's fairy tales this is a librivox recording all librivox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit librivox.org recording by claudia salto anderson's fairy tales by hands christian anderson chapter 13 the false color there was once a fine gentleman all of whose movables were a boot jack and a hair comb but he had the finest false colors in the world and it is about one of these colors that we are now to hear a story it was so old that it began to think of marriage and it happened that it came to be washed in company with a garter nay said the color i never did see anything so slender and so fine so soft and so neat may i not ask your name that i shall not tell you said the garter where do you live asked the color but the garter was so bashful so modest and thought it was a strange question to answer you are certainly a girl said the color that is to say an inside girl i see well that you are both for use and ornament my dear young lady i will thank you not to speak to me said the garter i think i have not given the least occasion for it yes when one is as handsome as you said the color that is occasion enough don't come so near me i beg of you said the garter you look so much like those men folks i am also a fine gentleman said the color i have a boot jack and a hair comb but that was not true for it was his master who had them but he boasted don't come so near me said the garter i am not accustomed to it prude exclaimed the color and then it was taken out of the washing tub it was starched hung over the back of a chair in the sunshine and was then laid on the ironing blanket then came the warm box iron dear lady said the color dear widow lady i feel quite hot i am quite changed i begin to unfold myself you will burn a hole in me oh i offer you my hand rag said the box iron and went proudly over the collar for she fenced it she was a steam engine that would go on the railroad and draw the wagons rag said the box iron the collar was a little jagged at the edge and so came the long scissors to cut off the jagged part oh said the collar you are certainly the first opera dancer how well you can stretch your legs out it is the most graceful performance i have ever seen no one can imitate you i know it said the scissors you deserve to be a baroness said the collar all that i have is a fine gentleman a bujak and a hair comb if i only had the barony do you seek my hand said the scissors for she was angry and without moridu she cut him and then he was condemned i shall now be obliged to ask the hair comb it is surprisingly how well you preserve your teeth miss said the collar have you never thought of being betrothed yes of course you may be sure of that said the hair comb i am betrothed to the bujak betrothed exclaimed the collar now there was no other to court and so he despised it a long time passed away then the collar came into the reg chest at the paper mill there was a large company of regs defined by themselves and the course by themselves just as it should be they all had much to say but the collar the most for he was a real boaster i have had such an immense number of sweethearts said the collar i could not be in peace it is true i was always a fine starched up gentleman i had both a bujak and a hair comb which i never used you should have seen me then you should have seen me when i lay down i shall never forget my first love she was a girdle so fine so soft and so charming she threw herself into a tub of water for my sake there was also a widow who became glowing hot but i left her standing till she got black again there was also the first opera dancer she gave me that cut which i now go with she was so ferocious my own hair comb was in love with me she lost all her teeth from the heartache yes i have lived to see much of that sort of thing but i am extremely sorry for the garter i mean the girl that went into the water tub i have much on my conscience i want to become white paper and it became so all the rags were turned into white paper but the collar came to be just this very piece of white paper we here see and on which the story is printed and that was because it boasted so terribly afterwards of what had never happened to it it would be well for us to be aware that we may not act in a similar manner for we can never know if we may not in the course of time also come into the rag chest and be made into white paper and then have our whole life's history printed on it even the most secret and be obliged to run about and tell it ourselves just like this collar end of section 13 the false collar chapter 14 of anderson's fairy tales this is a libra vox recording all libra vox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit libra vox.org recording by ena schumacher the shadow it is in the hot lands that the sun burns sure enough there are people become quite a mahogany brown a and in the hottest lands they are burnt to negroes but now it was only into the hot lands that a lonely man had come from the cold there he thought that he could run about just as well at home but he soon found out his mistake he and all sensible folks were obliged to stay within doors the window shutters and doors were closed the whole day it looked as if the whole house slept or there was no one at home the narrow street with the high houses was built so that the sunshine must fall there from morning till evening it was really not to be born the learned man from the cold lands he was a young man and seemed to be a clever man sat in a glowing oven it took a fix on him he became quite meager even a shadow shrunken for the sun had also an effect on it it was first towards evening when the sun was down that they began to freshen up again in the warm lands every window has a balcony and the people came out on all the balconies in the street for one must have a even if one be accustomed to mahogany note the word mahogany can be understood in danish as having two meanings in general it means the reddish brown wood itself but in jest it signifies excessively fine which arose from an anecdote of neyberdor in cope and hargan the seamen's quarter a sailor's wife who was always proud and fine in her way came to her neighbor and complained that she had got a splinter in her finger what of asked the neighbor's wife because the mahogany splinter said the other the hogany it cannot be less with you exclaimed the woman and then said the proverb it is so mahogany that is so excessively fine is derived end note it was lively both up and down the street tailors and shoemakers and all the folks moved out into the street chairs and tables were brought forth and candles burnt yes above a thousand lights were burning and the one talked and the other sung and people walked and church bells rang and asses went along with a dingle dingle dong for they too had bells on the street boys were screaming and hooting and shouting and shooting with devils and detonating balls and they came corksbearers and hood wearers for there were funerals with some and him and then the den of carriage is driving and company arriving yes it wasn't truth lively enough down in the street only in that single house which stood opposite that in which the learned foreigner lived it was quite still and yet someone lived there for there stood flowers at the balcony they grew so well in the sun's heat and that they could not do unless they were watered and someone must water them there must be somebody there the door opposite was also opened late in the evening but it was dark within at least in the front room further in there was heard the sound of music the learned foreigner thought it quite marvellous but now it might be that he only imagined it for he found everything marvellous out there in the warm lands if they had only been no sun the stranger's landlord said that he didn't know who had taken the house opposite one saw no person about and as to the music it appeared to him to be extremely tiresome it is as if someone sat there and practiced a piece that he could not master always the same piece how shall master it says he but yet he cannot master it however long he plays one night the stranger woke he slept with the doors of the balcony open the curtain before it was raised by the wind and he thought that a strange luster came from the opposite neighbor's house all the flowers shun like flames in the most beautiful colors and in the midst of the flowers stood a slender graceful maiden it was as if she also shone the light really hurt his eyes he now opened them quite wide yes he was quite awake with one spring he was on the floor he crept gently behind the curtain but the maiden was gone the flowers shun no longer but there they stood fresh and blooming as ever the door was a jar and far within the music sounded so soft and delightful one could really melt away in sweet thoughts from it yet it was like a piece of enchantment and who lived there where was the actual entrance the whole of the ground floor was a row of shops and their people could not always be running through one evening the stranger sat out on the balcony a light burned to the room behind him and thus it was quite natural that his shadow should fall on his opposite neighbor's wall yes there it sat directly opposite between the flowers on the balcony and when the stranger moved the shadow also moved for that it always does i think my shadow is the only living thing one sees over there says the learned man see how nicely it sits between the flowers the door stands half open now the shadow should be coming and go into the room look about and then come and tell me what it had seen come now be useful and do me a service said he ingest have the kindness to step in now i thought going and then he nodded to the shadow and the shadow nodded again well then go but don't stay away the stranger rose and his shadow on the opposite neighbor's balcony rose also the stranger turned around and the shadow also turned around yes if anyone had paid particular attention to it they would have seen quite distinctly that the shadow went in through the half open balcony door of the opposite neighbor just as the stranger went into his own room let the long curtain fall down after him next morning the learned man went out to drink coffee and read the newspapers what is that said he as he came into the sunshine i have no shadow so then it has actually gone last night and not come again it is really tiresome this annoyed him not so much because the shadow was gone but because he knew there was a story about a man without a shadow note pete schlemel the shadowless man and note it was known to everybody at home and in the cold lands and if the learned man now came there and told his story they would say that he was imitating it and that he had no need to do he would therefore not talk about it at all and that was wisely thought in the evening he went out again on the balcony he had placed the light directly behind them for he knew that the shadow would always have its master full screen but he could not entice it he made himself little he made himself great but no shadow came again he said him him but it was of no use it was vexatious but in the warm lands everything grows so quickly and after the lapse of eight days he observed to his great joy that a new shadow came in the sunshine in the course of three weeks he had a very fair shadow which when he set out was home in the northern lands grew more and more in the journey so that had lasted so long it's so large that it was more than sufficient the learned man then came home and he wrote books about what was true of the world and about what was good and what was beautiful and they passed days and years yes many years passed away one evening as he was sitting in his room there was a gentle knocking at the door come in said he but no one came in so he opened the door and there stood before him such an extremely lean man that he felt quite strange as to the rest the man was very finely dressed he must be a gentleman whom have I the honor of speaking asked the learned man yes I thought as much said the fine man I thought you would not know me I have got so much body I have even got flesh and clothes you certainly never thought of seeing me so well off do you not know your old shadow you certainly thought I should never more return things have gone on well with me since I last with you I have in all respects become very well off shall I purchase my freedom from service if so I can do it and then he rattled a whole bunch of valuable seals that hung to his watch and he stuck his hand in the thick gold chain he wore around his neck may how all his fingers glittered with diamond rings and then all were pure gems may I cannot recover from my surprise said the learned man what is the meaning of all this something common is it not said the shadow but you yourself do not belong to the common order and I as you know well have from a child followed in your footsteps as soon as you found I was capable to go out alone in the world I went more and way I am in the most brilliant circumstances but there came a sort of desire over me to see you once more before you die you will die I suppose I also wish to see this land again for you know we always love our native land I know you have got another shadow again have I anything to pay to it or you if so you will oblige me by saying what it is nay is it really thou said the learned man it is most remarkable I never imagined that one's old shadow could come again as a man tell me what I have to pay said the shadow for I don't like to be in any sort of debt how can't thou talk so said the learned man what debt is there to talk about make that self as free as anyone else I am extremely glad to hear of thy good fortune sit down old friend and tell me a little how it has gone with thee and what thou has seen in our opposite neighbors there in the warm lands yes I will tell you all about it said the shadow and sat down but then you must also promise me that wherever you may meet me you will never say to anyone here in the town that I have been your shadow I intend to get betrothed for I can provide for more than one family be quiet at thy ease about that said the learned man I shall not say to anyone who thou actually art here's my hand I promise it and a man's bond is his word a word is his shadow said the shadow and as such it must speak it was really quite astonishing how much of a man it was it was dressed entirely in black and of the very finest cloth it had patent leather boots and a hat that could be folded together so that it was bare crown and brim not to speak of what we already know it had seals gold neck chain and diamond rings yes the shadow was well-dressed and it was just that which made quite a man now I shall tell you of my adventures said the shadow and then he sat with the polished boots as heavily as he could on the arm of the learned man's new shadow which lay like a poodle-dog at his feet now this was perhaps from arrogance and the shadow on the ground kept itself so still and quiet that it might hear all that past it wished to know how it could get free and work its way up so as to become its own master do you know who lived in our opposite neighbor's house said the shadow it was the most charming of all beings it was pussy I lived there for three weeks and that has as much effect as if one had lived 3 000 years and read all that was composed and written that is what I say and it is right I have seen everything and I know everything pussy cried the learned man yes yes she often dwells recluse in large cities pussy yes I've seen her a single short moment but sleep came to my eyes she stood on the balcony and shone as the aurora borealis shines go on go on that word on the balcony and went through the doorway and then I was in the antechamber said the shadow you always sat and looked over to the antechamber there was no light there was a sort of twilight but the one door stood open directly opposite the other through a long row of rooms and saloons and there it was lighted up I should have been completely killed if I had gone over to the maiden but I was circumspect I took time to think and that one must always do and what did star then see asked the learned man I saw everything and I shall tell all to you but it is no pride on my part as a free man and with the knowledge I have not to speak of my position in life my excellent circumstances I certainly wish that you would say you to me note it is the custom in Denmark for intimate acquaintances to use the second person singular do thou when speaking to each other when a friendship is formed between men they generally affirm it when occasion offers either in public or private by drinking to each other and exclaiming thy health at the same time striking their glasses together this is called drinking do's they are then do's broadre thou brothers and ever afterwards use the pronoun thou to each other it being regarded as more familiar than dare you father mother system brother say vow to one another without regard to age or rank master and mistresses say vow to their servants the superior to the inferior but servants and inferiors do not use the same term to their masters or superiors nor is it ever used when speaking to a stranger or anyone with whom they are but slightly acquainted then they say as in English you end note I beg your pardon said the learned man just an old habit with me you are perfectly right and I shall remember it but now you must tell me all that you saw everything said the shadow for I saw everything and I know everything how did it look in the furthest saloon asked the learned man was it there as in the fresh woods was it there as in a holy church with a saloons like the starlit fernament when we stand on the high mountains everything was there said the shadow I did not go quite in I remained in the foremost room in the twilight but I stood there quite well I saw everything and I know everything I have been in the antechamber at the court of pussy but what did you see did all the guards of the olden times pass through the large saloons did the old heroes combat there did sweet children play there and relate their dreams I tell you I was there and you can conceive what I saw everything there was to be seen had you come over there you would not have been a man but I became so and besides I learned to know my inward nature my innate qualities the relationship I had with pussy at the time I was with you I thought not with that but always you know it well when the sun rose and the sun went down I became so strangely great in the moonlight I was very near being more distinct than yourself at that time I did not understand my nature it was revealed to me in the antechamber I became a man I came out matured but you were no longer in the warm lands as a man I was ashamed to go as I did I was in want of boots of clothes of the whole human varnish that makes a man perceptible I took my way I tell it to you but you will not put it in any book I took my way to the cake woman I hid myself behind her the woman didn't think how much she concealed I went out first in the evening I ran about the streets in the moonlight I made myself long up the walls it tickles the back so delightfully I ran up and ran down peeped into the highest windows into the saloons and on the roofs I peeped in where no one could peep and I saw what no one else saw what no one else should see that is in fact a base world I would not be a man if it were not now once accepted and regarded as something to be so I saw the most unimaginable things with the woman with the men with parents and with the sweet matchless children I saw said the shadow but no human being must know but what they would all so willingly know what is bad in their neighbor had I written a newspaper it would have been read but I wrote direct to the persons themselves and there was consternation in all the times where I came they were so afraid of me and yet they were so excessively fond of me the professors made a professor of me the tailors gave me new clothes I am well furnished the master of the mint struck new coin for me and the woman said I was so handsome and so I became the man I am and I now bid you farewell here's my card I live on the sunny side of the street and I'm always at home in rainy weather and so away went the shadow that was most extraordinary said the learned man years and days passed away then the shadow came again how goes it said the shadow alas said the learned man I write about the true and the good and the beautiful but no one cares to hear such things I'm quite desperate for I take it so much to heart but I don't said the shadow I become fat and it is that one wants to become you do not understand the world you will become ill by it you must travel I shall make a tour the summer will you go with me I should like to have a traveling companion will you go with me as shadow it will be a great pleasure for me to have you with me I shall pay the traveling expenses no this is too much said the learned man it is just as one takes it said the shadow it will do you much good to travel will you be my shadow you shall have everything free on the journey nay that is too bad said the learned man but it is just so with the world said the shadow and so it will be in a way it went again the learned man was not at all in the most enviable state grief and torment followed him and what he said about the true and the good and the beautiful was to most persons like roses for Kyle he was quite ill at last you really look like a shadow said his friends to him and the learned man trembled for he thought of it you must go to a watering place said the shadow he came and visited him there is nothing else for it I will take you with me for all the quaints and sake I will pay the traveling expenses and you write the descriptions and if they are a little amusing for me on the way I will go to a watering place my beard does not grow out as it ought and that is also a sickness and one must have a beard now you be wise and accept the offer we shall travel as comrades and so they traveled the shadow was master and the master was the shadow they drove with each other they rode and walked together side by side before and behind just as the sun was the shadow always took care to keep itself in the master's place now the learned man didn't think much about that he was a very kind-hearted man and particularly mild and friendly and so he said one day to the shadow as we have now become companions and in this way have grown up together from childhood shall we not drink thou together it is more familiar you are right said the shadow who was now the proper master he just said in a very straightforward and well-meant manner you as a learned man certainly know how strange nature's some persons cannot bear to touch grey paper or they become ill others shiver in every limb if one rub a pane of glass with a nail I have just such a feeling on hearing you say thou to me I feel myself as if pressed into the earth in my first situation with you you see that it is a feeling that it is not pride I cannot allow you to say thou to me but I will willingly say thou to you so it is half done so the shadow said thou to its former master this is rather too bad thought he that I must say you and he say thou but he was obliged to put up with it so they came to a watering place where there were many strangers and amongst them was a princess who was troubled with seeing too well and that was so alarming she directly observed that stranger who had just come was quite a different sort of person to all the others he has come here in order to get his beard to grow they say but I see the real cause he cannot cast a shadow she had become inquisitive and so she entered into conversation directly with strange gentlemen on their promenades as the daughter of a king she needed not to stand upon trifles so she said your complaint is that you cannot cast a shadow your royal highness must be improving considerably said the shadow I know your complaint is that you see too clearly but it has decreased you are cured I just happen to have a very unusual shadow do you not see that person who always goes with me other persons have a common shadow but I do not like what is common to all we give our servants finer cloth for their livery than we ourselves use and so I had my shadow trimmed up into a man yes you see I have even given him a shadow it is somewhat expensive but I like to have something for myself what thought the princess should I really be cured these baths are the first in the world in our time water has wonderful powers but I shall not leave the place what now begins to be amusing here I'm extremely fond of that stranger would not his beard should not grow for that case he will leave us in the evening the princess in the shadow danced together in a large ballroom she was light but he was still lighter she had never had such a partner in the dance she told him from what land she came and he knew that land he had been there but then she was not at home he had peeped in at the window above and below he had seen both the one and the other and so he could answer the princess and make insinuations so that she was quite astonished he must be the wisest man in the whole world she felt such respect for what he knew so that when they again danced together she fell in love with him and that the shadow could remark for she almost pierced him through with her eyes so they danced once more together and she was about to declare herself but she was discreet the thought of her country and kingdom and of the many persons she would have to reign over he is a wise man she said to herself it is well and he dances delightfully that is also good but has he solid knowledge that is just as important he must be examined so she began by degrees to question him about the most difficult things she could think of in which she herself could not have answered so that the shadow made a strange face you cannot answer these questions said the princess they belonged to my childhoods learning said the shadow i really believe my shadow but the door there can answer them your shadow said the princess that would indeed be marvellous i will not say for certainty that he can set the shadow but i think so he has now followed me for so many years and listened to my conversation i should think it possible but your well highness will permit me to observe that he is so proud of passing himself off for man that when he is to be in a proper humor and he must be so to answer well he must be treated quite like a man oh i like that said the princess so she went to the learned man by the door and she spoke to him about the sun and the moon and about persons out of and in the world and he answered with wisdom and prudence what a man that must be who has so wise a shadow thought she it will be a real blessing to my people in kingdom if i choose him for my consort i will do it they were soon agreed but the princess and the shadow but no one was to know about it before she arrived in her own kingdom no one not even my shadow said the shadow and he had his own thoughts about it now they were in the country where the princess reigned when she was at home listen my good friend said the shadow to the learned man have now become as happy and mighty as anyone can be i will therefore do something particular for thee thou shalt always live with me in the palace drive with me in my world carriage and have ten thousand pounds a year but then i must submit to be called shadow by all and everyone thou must not say that thou has ever been a man and once a year when i sit on the balcony in the sunshine i must lie at my feet as the shadow shall do i must tell thee i'm going to marry the king's daughter and the nuptials are to take place this evening nay this is going too far said the learned man i will not have it i will not do it it is to deceive the whole country and the princess too i will tell everything that i am a man and that thou art a shadow that art only dressed up there is no one who will believe it said the shadow be reasonable or i will call the god i will go directly to the princess said the learned man but i will go first said the shadow and i will go to prison and that he was obliged to do for the sentinels obeyed him whom they knew the king's daughter was to marry you tremble said the princess as the shadow came into her chamber has anything happened he must not be unwell this evening now that we are to have our nuptials celebrated i have lived to see the most cruel thing that anyone can live to see said the shadow only imagine yes it is true such a poor shadow skull cannot bear much only think my shadow has become mad he thinks that he is a man and that i now only think that i am his shadow it is terrible said the princess but he has confined is he not that he is i am afraid that he will never recover oh a shadow said the princess he is very unfortunate it would be a real work of charity to deliver him from the little life he has and when i think properly over the matter i am of opinion that it will be necessary to do away with him in all stillness it is certainly hard said the shadow for he was a faithful servant and then he gave a sort of sigh you are a noble character said the princess the whole city was illuminated in the evening and the cannons went off with a boom boom and the soldiers presented arms that was a marriage a princess in the shadow went out on the balcony to show themselves and get another hurrah the lonely man heard nothing of all this for they had deprived him of life end of chapter 14 chapter 15 of anderson's fairy tales this is a librivox recording all librivox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit librivox.org recording by alan wayman anderson's fairy tales by hands christine anderson chapter 15 the little natch girl most terribly cold it was it snowed and was nearly quite dark and evening the last evening of the year in this cold and darkness they went along the street a poor little girl bareheaded and with naked feet when she left home she had slippers on it is true but what was the good of that they were very large slippers which her mother had hitherto worn so large were they and the poor little thing lost them as she scuttled away across the street because of two carriages that rolled by dreadfully fast one slipper was nowhere to be found the other had been laid hold off by an urchin and off he ran with it he thought it would do capitely for a cradle when he someday or other should have children himself so the little maiden walked on with her tiny naked feet that were quite red and blue from cold she carried a quantity of matches in an old apron and she held a bundle of them in her hand nobody had bought anything off her the whole live long day no one had given her a single farthing she crept along trembling with cold and hunger a very picture of sorrow the poor little thing the flakes of snow covered her long fair hair which fell in beautiful curls around her neck but of that of course she never once now thought from all the windows the candles were gleaming and it smelled so deliciously of roast goose for you know it was New Year's Eve yes of that she thought in a corner formed by two houses of which one advanced more than the other she seated herself down and cowered together her little feet she had drawn close up to her but she grew colder and colder and to go home she did not venture for she had not sold any matches and could not bring a farthing of money from her father she would certainly get blows and at home it was cold too for above her she had only the roof through which the wind whistled even though the largest cracks were stopped up with straw and rags her little hands were almost numbed with cold oh her match might afford her a world of comfort if she only dared take a single one out of the bundle draw it against the wall and warm her fingers by it she drew one out how it blazed how it burns it was a warm bright flame like a candle as she held her hands over it it was a wonderful light it seemed really to the little maiden as though she was sitting before a large iron stove with burnished brass feet and a brass ornament at top the fire burned with such blessed influence it warmed so delightfully the little girl had already stretched out her feet to warm them too but the small flame went out the stove vanished she had only the remains of the burnt out match in her hand she rubbed another against the wall it burned brightly and where the light fell on the wall there the wall became transparent like a veil so that she could see into the room on the table was spread a snow white tablecloth upon it was a splendid porcelain service and the roast goose was steaming famously with its stuffing of apple and dried plums and what was still more capital to behold was the goose hopped down from the dish reeled about on the floor with knife and fork in its breast till it came up to the poor little girl when the match went out and nothing but the thick cold damn wall was left behind she knighted another match now there she was sitting under the most magnificent Christmas tree it was still larger and more decorated than the one which she had seen through the glass door in the rich merchant's house thousands of lights were burning on the green branches and gaily colored pictures such as she had seen in the shop windows looked down upon her the little maiden stretched out her hands towards them when the match went out the lights of the Christmas tree rose higher and higher she saw them now as stars in heaven one fell down and formed a long trail of fire someone is just dead said the little girl for her old grandmother the only person who had loved her and who was now no more had told her that when a star falls a soul ascends to god she drew another match against the wall it was again light and in the luster there stood the old grandmother so bright and radiant so mild and with such an expression of love grandmother cried the little one oh take me with you you go away when the match burns out you vanish like the warm stove like the delicious roast goose and like the magnificent Christmas tree and she rubbed the whole bundle of matches quickly against the wall for she wanted to be quite sure of keeping her grandmother near her and the matches gave such a brilliant light that it was brighter than at noonday never formally had the grandmother been so beautiful and so tall she took the little maiden on her arm and both flew in brightness and enjoy so high so very high and then above was neither cold nor hunger nor anxiety they were with god but in the corner at the cold hour of dawn sat the poor girl with rosy cheeks and with a smiling mouth leaning against the wall frozen to death on the last evening of the old year stiff and stark sat the child there with her matches of which one bundle had been burnt she wanted to warm herself people said no one had the slightest suspicion of what beautiful things she had seen no one even dreamed of the splendor in which with her grandmother she had entered on the joys of a new year end of chapter 15 chapter 16 of anderson's fairy tales this is a libra vox recording all libra vox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit libra vox.org recording by inna schumacher the dream of little tuck ah yes that was little tuck in reality his name was not tuck but that was what he called himself before he could speak plain he meant it for charles and it is all well enough if one does but know it he had now to take care of his little sister augusta who was much younger than himself and he was besides to learn his lesson at the same time but these two things would not do together at all they sat the poor little fellow with his sister on his lap and he sang to her all the songs he knew and he glanced the while from time to time into the geography book that lay open before him by the next morning he was to have learned all the towns in zealand by heart and to know about them all that is possible to be known his mother now came home for she had been out and took little augusta on her arm tuck ran quickly to the window and read so eagerly that he pretty nearly read his eyes out before it got darker and darker but his mother had no money to buy candle there goes the old washerwoman over the way said his mother she looked up the window the poor woman can hardly drag herself along and she must now drag the pale home from the fountain be a good boy tacky and run across and help the old woman won't you so tack ran over quickly and helped her but when he came back again into the room it was quite dark and as to a light there was no thought of such a thing he was now to go to bed there was an old turn up beds dead in a delay and thought about his geography lesson and of zealand and of all that his master had told him he ought to be sure to have read over his lesson again but that you know he could not do he therefore put his geography book under his pillow because he had heard that was a very good thing to do when one wants to learn one's lesson but one cannot however rely upon it entirely well there he lay and thought and thought and thought and ordered once it was just as if someone kissed his eyes and mouth he slept and yet he did not sleep it was as though the old washerwoman gazed on him with her mild eyes and said it were a great sin if you were not to know your lessons tomorrow morning you have aided me i therefore will now help you and the loving god will do so at all times and all of a sudden the book and a text pillow began scraping and scratching click click that was an old hen who came creeping along and she was from koji i'm a koja hen note koji a town in the bay of koji to see the koji hens is an expression similar to showing a child london which is said to be done by taking his head in both hands and so lifting him off the ground at the invasion of the english in 1807 an encounter of a no very glorious nature took place between the british troops and the undisciplined danish militia end note said she and then she related how many inhabitants they were there and about the battle that had taken place and which after all was hardly worth talking about gobbledygravity plump down fell somebody it was a wooden bird the pop and j used at the shooting matches at prasto now he said that there were just as many inhabitants as he had nails in his body and he was very proud the waltzin lived almost next door to me note prasto is still smaller town than koji some hundred paces from it lies the manor house niso where for waltzin the famed sculpture generally sojourned during his stay in denmark and where he called many of his immortal works into existence end note plump here i lie capitally but this attack was no longer that lying down all at once he was on horseback on he went at full gallop still galloping on and on a night with a gleaming plume and most magnificently dressed held him before him on the horse and thus they rode through the wood to the old town of bordenborg and that was a large and very lively town high towers rose from the castle of the king and the brightness of many candles streamed from all the windows within was dancin song and king wildmer and the young richly attired maids of honor danced together the morn now came and as soon as the sun appeared the whole town and the king's palace crumbled together and one tower after the other and at last only a single one remained standing where the castle had been before note bordenborg in the reign of king wildmer a considerable place now an unimportant little town one solitary tower only and some remains of a wall show where the castle once stood end note and the town was so small and poor and the schoolboys came along with their books under their arms and said two thousand inhabitants but that was not true for there were not so many and little tucky laying his bed it seemed to him as if he dreamed and yet as if he were not dreaming however somebody was close beside him little tucky little tucky cried somewhere near it was a seaman quite a little personage so little as if he were a midshipman but a midshipman he was not many remembrances from corso note corso on the great belt called formally before the introduction of steam vessels when travelers were often obliged to wait a long time for a favorable wind the most tiresome of towns the poet baggason was born here end note that is a town that is just rising into importance a lively town that has steamboats and stage coaches formally people called it ugly but that is no longer true i lie on the sea said corso i have high roads and gardens and i've given birth to a poet who was witty and amusing which all poets are not i once intended to equip a ship that was to sail all around the earth but i did not do it although i could have done so and then too i smell so deliciously for close before the gate bloom the most beautiful roses little tuck looked and all was red and green before his eyes but as soon as the confusion of colors was somewhat over all of a sudden they appeared a wooded slope close to the bay and high above stood a magnificent old church with two high pointed towers from out the hillside spouted fountains and thick streams of water so that there was a continual splashing and close beside them sat an old king with a golden crown upon his white head for that was king hoa near the fountains close to the town of rose guild as it is now called and up the slope into the old church went all the kings and queens of danmark hand in hand all with their golden crowns and the organ played in the fountains rustle little tucks saw all heard all do not forget the diet said king crore note rose guild once the capital of danmark the town takes its name from king crore and the many fountains in the neighborhood in the beautiful cathedral the greater number of the kings and queens of danmark are interred in rosegill too the members of the danish diet assemble end note again all disappeared yes and whether it seemed to him just as if one turned over a leaf in a book and now stood there an old peasant woman who came from sorb note sorb a very quiet little town beautifully situated surrounded by woods and lakes whole book danmark's molier founded here an academy for the sons of the nobles the poets hoa and ingerman were appointed professors here the latter lives there still end note where grass grows in the marketplace she had an old gray linen hanging over her head and back it was so wet it certainly must have been raining yes that it has said she and she now related many pretty things out of whole book's comedies and about wildmer and absalon but all at once she cowered together and her head began shaking backwards and forwards and she looked as if she were going to make a spring croak croak said she it is wet it is wet there is such a pleasant deathlike stillness and salt she was now suddenly a frog croak and now she was an old woman one must dress according to the weather said she it is wet it is wet my town is just like a bottle and one gets in by the neck and by the neck one must get out again in former times i had the finest fish and now i have fresh rosy cheek boys at the bottom of the bottle who learn wisdom hebrew greek croak when she spoke it sounded just like the noise of frogs or as if one walked with great boots over more or is the same tone so uniform and so tiring that little tuck fell into a good sound sleep which by the by could not do him any harm but even in the sleep there came a dream or whatever else it was his little sister augusta she with the blue eyes and the fair curling hair was suddenly a tall beautiful girl and without having wings was yet able to fly and she now flew over zealand over the green woods and blue lakes do you hear the cockro cockadoodle the cocks are flying up from koji you will have a farm yard so large oh so very large you will suffer neither hunger nor thirst you will get on in the world you will be a rich and happy man your house will exalt itself like king Voldemort's tower and will be richly decorated with marble statues like that at prasto you understand what i mean your name shall circulate with renown all around the earth like unto the ship that was to have sailed from course all and in rose skill do not forget the diet said king raw then you will speak well and wisely little tucky and when at last you sink into your grave you shall sleep as quietly as if a land saw said tuck awaking it was bright day and he was now quite unable to call to mind his dream that however was not at all necessary for one may not know what the future will bring and out of bed he jumped and read his book and now all at once he knew his whole lesson and the old washerwoman popped her head in at the door nodded to him friendly and said thanks many thanks my good child for your help may the good ever-loving god fulfill your loveliest dream little tucky did not know at all what he had dreamed but the loving god knew it at the end of chapter 16 chapter 17 of anderson's fairy tales this is a levy vox recording all levy vox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit levy vox dot org recording by kathleen larberg anderson's fairy tales by hands christian anderson chapter 17 the naughty boy a long time ago there lived an old poet a thoroughly kind old poet as he was sitting one evening in his room a dreadful storm arose without and the rain streamed down from heaven but the old poets that warm and comfortable in his chimney corner where the fire blazed and the roasting apple hissed those who have not a roof over their heads would be wetted to the skin said the good old poet oh let me in let me in i am cold and i'm so wet exclaimed suddenly a child that stood crying at the door and knocking for admittance while the rain poured down and the wind made all the windows rattle poor thing said the old poet as he went to open the door there stood a little boy quite naked and the water ran down from his long golden hair he trembled with cold and had he not come into a warm room he would most certainly have perished in the frightful tempest poor child said the old poet as he took the boy by the hand come in come in and i will soon restore thee thou should have wine and roasted apples for thou art fairly a charming child and the boy was so really his eyes were like two bright stars and although the water trickled down his hair it waved in beautiful curls he looked exactly like a little angel but he was so pale and his whole body trembled with cold he had a nice little bonus hand but it was quite spoiled by the rain and the tints of his many colored arrows ran one into the other the old poet seated himself beside his hearth and took the little fellow on his lap he squeezed the water out of his dripping hair warmed his hands between his own and boiled for him some sweet wine then the boy recovered his cheeks again grew rosy he jumped down from the lap where he was sitting and danced around the kind old poet you are a merry fellow said the old man what's your name my name is cute but answered the boy don't you know me there lies my bow it shoots well i can assure you look the weather is now clearing up and the moon is shining clear again through the window while your bow is quite spoiled said the old poet that were sad indeed said the boy and he took the bow in his hand and examined it on every side oh it is dry again and it's not hurt at all the string is quite tight i will try it directly and he bent his bow took aim and shot an arrow at the old poet right into his heart you see now that my bow is not spoiled said he laughing and away he ran the naughty boy to shoot the old poet in that way he who had taken him into his warm room who had treated him so kindly and who had given him warm wine and the very best apples the poor poet lay on the earth and wept for the arrow had really flown into his heart five said he how naughty a boy Cupid is i will tell all children about him that they may take care and not play with him for he will only cause him sorrow and many a heartache and all good children to whom he related the story took great heat of this naughty Cupid but he made fools of them still for he is astonishingly cunning when the university students come from the lectures he runs beside them in a black coat and with the book under his arm it is quite impossible for them to know him and they walk along with him arm in arm as if he too were a student like themselves and then on perceived he thrusts an arrow to their bosom when the young maidens come from being examined by the clergyman or go to church to be confirmed there he is again close behind them yes he is forever following people at the play he sits in the great chandelier and burns in bright flames so that people think it really is a flame but they soon discover it is something else he rose about in the garden of the palace and upon the ramparts yes once he even shot your father and mother right in the heart ask them only and you will hear what they'll tell you oh he is a naughty boy that Cupid you must never have anything to do with him he is forever running after everybody only think he shot an arrow once at your old grandmother but that is a long time ago and it is all past now however a thing of that sort she never forgets fine naughty Cupid but now you know him and you know too how ill behaved he is end of chapter 17 recording by Kathleen Larbert chapter 18 of Anderson's fairy tales this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Catalina Watt Anderson's fairy tales by Hans Christian Anderson chapter 18 the red shoes there was once a little girl who was very pretty and delicate but in summer she was forced to run about with bare feet she was so poor and in winter were very large wooden shoes which made her little insteps quite red and that looked so dangerous in the middle of the village lived old dame shoemaker she sat and sewed together as well as she could a little pair of shoes out of old red strips of cloth they were very clumsy but it was a kind thought they were meant for the little girl the little girl was called Karen on the very day her mother was buried Karen received the red shoes and wore them for the first time they were certainly not intended for mourning but she had no others and with stocking the speed she followed the poor straw coffin in them suddenly a large old carriage drove up and a large old lady sat in it she looked at the little girl felt compassion for her and then said to the clergyman here give me the little girl I will adopt her and Karen believed all this happened on account of the red shoes but the old lady thought they were horrible and they were burnt but Karen herself was cleanly and nicely dressed she must learn to read and so and people said she was a nice little thing but the looking glass said thou art more than nice thou art beautiful now the queen once traveled through the land and she had her little daughter with her and this little daughter was a princess and people streamed to the castle and Karen was there also and the little princess stood in her fine white dress in a window and let herself be stared at she had neither a train nor a golden crown but splendid red Morocco shoes they were certainly far handsomer than those dame shoemaker had made for little Karen nothing in the world can be compared with red shoes now Karen was old enough to be confirmed she had new clothes and was to have new shoes also the rich shoemaker in the city took the measure of her little foot this took place at his house in his room where stood large glass cases filled with elegant shoes and brilliant boots all this looked charming but the old lady could not see well and so had no pleasure in them in the midst of the shoes stood a pair of red ones just like those the princess had worn how beautiful they were the shoemaker said also they had been made for the child of account but had not fitted that must be patent leather said the old lady they shined so yes they shine said Karen and they fitted and were bought but the old lady knew nothing about their being red else she would never have allowed Karen to have gone in red shoes to be confirmed yet such was the case everybody looked at her feet and when she sat through the chancell door on the church pavement it seemed to her as if the old figures on the tombs those portraits of old preachers and preachers wives with stiff ruffs and long black dresses fixed their eyes on her red shoes and she thought only of them as the clergyman laid his hand upon her head and spoke of the holy baptism of the covenant with god and how she should be now a matured christian and the organ peeled so solemnly the sweet children's voices sang and the old music director sang but Karen only thought of her red shoes in the afternoon the old lady heard from everyone that the shoes had been red and she said that it was very wrong of Karen that it was not at all becoming and that her future Karen should only go in black shoes to church even when she should be older the next Sunday there was the sacrament and Karen looked at the black shoes looked at the red ones looked at them again and put on the red shoes the sun shone gloriously Karen and the old lady walked along the path through the corn it was rather dusty there at the church door stood an old soldier with a crutch and with a wonderfully long beard which was more red than white and he bowed to the ground and asked the old lady whether he might dust her shoes and Karen stretched out her little foot see what beautiful dancing shoes said the soldier sit firm when you dance and he put his hand out towards the soles and the old lady gave the old soldier arms and went into the church with Karen and all the people in the church looked at Karen's red shoes and all the pictures and as Karen knelt before the altar and raised the cup to her lips she only thought of the red shoes and they seemed to swim in it and she forgot to sing her psalm and she forgot to pray our father in heaven now all the people went out of church and the old lady got into her carriage Karen raised her foot to get in after her when the old soldier said look what beautiful dancing shoes and Karen could not help dancing a step or two and when she began her feet continued to dance it was just as though the shoes had power over them she danced around the church corner she could not leave off the coachman was obliged to run after and catch hold of her and he lifted her in the carriage but her feet continued to dance so that she trod on the old lady dreadfully at length she took the shoes off and then her legs had peace the shoes were placed in a closet at home but Karen could not avoid looking at them now the old lady was sick and it was said she could not recover she must be nursed and waited upon and there was no one whose duty it was so much as Karen's but there was a great ball in the city to which Karen was invited she looked at the old lady who could not recover she looked at the red shoes and she thought there could be no sin in it she put on the red shoes she might do that also she thought but then she went to the ball and began to dance when she wanted to dance to the right the shoes were danced to the left and when she wanted to dance up the room the shoes danced back again down the steps into the street and out of the city gate she danced and was forced to dance straight out into the gloomy wood then it was suddenly light up among the trees and she fancied it must be the moon for there was a face but it was the old soldier with the red beard he sat there nodded his head and said look what beautiful dancing shoes then she was terrified and wanted to fling off the red shoes but they clung fast and she pulled down her stockings but the shoes seemed to have grown to her feet and she danced and must dance over fields and meadows in rain and sunshine by night and day but at night it was the most fearful she danced over the church yard but the dead did not dance they had something better to do than to dance she wished to seat herself on a poor man's grave where the bitter tansy grew but for her there was neither peace nor rest and when she danced towards the open church door she saw an angel standing there he wore long white garments he had wings which reached from his shoulders up to the earth his countenance was severe in grave and in his hand he held a sword broad and glittering dance shout thou he said dance and I read shoes till thou art pale and cold till thy skin shrivels up and thou art a skeleton dance shout thou from door to door and where proud vain children dwell thou shalt knock that they may hear thee and tremble dance shout thou mercy cried Karen but she did not hear the angel's reply for the shoes carried her through the gate and to the fields across roads and bridges and she must keep ever dancing one morning she danced past a door which she knew well within sounded a psalm a coffin decked with flowers was born forth then she knew that the old lady was dead and felt that she was abandoned by all and condemned by the angel of god she danced and she was forced to dance through the gloomy night the shoes carried her over stack and stone she was torn till she bled she danced over the heath till she came to a little house here she knew dwelt the executioner and she tapped with her fingers at the window and said come out come out I cannot come in for I am forced to dance and the executioner said thou dost not know who I am I fancy I strike bad people's heads off and I hear that my axe rings don't strike my head off said Karen then I can't repent of my sins but strike off my feet in the red shoes and then she confessed her entire sin and the executioner struck off her feet with the red shoes but the shoes danced away with the little feet across the field into the deep wood and he carved out little wooden feet for her and crutches taught to the psalm criminals always sing and she kissed the hand which had wielded the axe and went over the heath now I have suffered enough for the red shoes said she now I will go into church that people may see me and she hastened towards the church door but when she was near it the red shoes danced before her and she was terrified and turned around the whole week she was unhappy and wept many bitter tears but when sunday returned she said well now I have suffered and struggled enough I really believe I am as good as many a one who sits in the church and holds her head so high and away she went boldly but she had got no farther than the church yard gate before she saw the red shoes dancing before her and she was frightened and turned back and repented of her sin from her heart and she went to the parsonage and begged that they would take her into service she would be very industrious she said and would do everything she could she did not care about the wages only she wished to have a home and be with good people and the clergyman's wife was sorry for her and took her into service and she was industrious and thoughtful she sat still and listened when the clergyman read the bible in the evenings all the children thought a great deal of her but when they spoke of dress and grandeur and beauty she shook her head the following sunday when the family was going to church they asked her whether she would not go with them but she glanced sorrowfully with tears in her eyes at her crutches the family went to hear the word of god but she went alone into her little chamber there was only room for a bed and chair to stand in it and here she sat down with her prayer book and while she read with a pious mind the wind bore the strains of the organ towards her and she raised her tearful counsels and said oh god help me and the sun shone so clearly and straight before her stood the angel of god in white garments the same she had seen that night at the church door but he no longer carried the sharp sword but in it stared a splendid green spray full of roses and he touched the ceiling with the spray and the ceiling rose so high and where he had touched it they gleamed a golden star and he touched the walls and they widened out and she saw the organ which was playing she saw the old pictures of the preachers and the preacher's wives the congregation sat in cushion seats and sang out of their prayer books for the church itself had come to the poor girl in her narrow chamber or else she had come into the church she sat in the pew with the clergyman's family and when they had ended the psalm and looked up they nodded and said it is right that thou art come it was through mercy she said and the organ pealed and the children's voices in the choir sounded so sweet and soft that clear sunshine streamed so warmly through the window into the pew where Karen sat her heart was so full of sunshine peace and joy that it broke her soul flew on the sunshine to god and there no one asked after the red shoes end of chapter 18 recording by Kathleen a what london please visit seen the future dot blog spot dot co dot uk end of anderson's fairy tales by hands christian anderson