 CHAPTER 40 THE BLUE MOUNTAINS There were once a Scotsman and an Englishman and an Irishman serving in the army together, who took it into their heads to run away on the first opportunity they could get. The chance came and they took it. They went on travelling for two days through a great forest without food or drink, and without coming across a single house, and every night they had to climb up into the trees through fear of the wild beasts that were in the wood. On the second morning the Scotsman saw from the top of his tree a great castle far away. He said to himself that he would certainly die if he stayed in the forest without anything to eat but the roots of grass, which would not keep him alive very long. As soon then as he got down out of the tree he set off towards the castle, without so much as telling his companions that he had seen it at all. Perhaps the hunger and want they had suffered had changed their nature so much that the one did not care what became of the other if he could save himself. He travelled on most of the day so that it was quite late when he reached the castle, and to his great disappointment found nothing but closed doors and no smoke rising from the chimneys. He thought there was nothing for it but to die after all, and had lain down beside the wall when he heard a window being opened high above him. At this he looked up and saw the most beautiful woman he had ever set eyes on. Oh! it is fortune that has sent you to me! he said. It is indeed, said she, what are you in need of, or what has sent you here? Necessity, said he, I am dying for want of food and drink. Come inside then, she said, there is plenty of both here. Interestingly he went into where she was, and she opened a large room for him where he saw a number of men lying asleep. She then set food before him, and after that showed him to the room where the others were. He lay down on one of the beds and felt sound asleep. And now we must go back to the two that he left behind him in the wood. When nightfall and the time of the wild beasts came upon these, the Englishmen happened to climb up into the very same tree on which the Scotsman was when he got a sight of the castle. And as soon as the day began to dawn the Englishmen looked to the four quarters of heaven, and what did he see but the castle too? Off he went without saying a word to the Irishmen, and everything happened to him just as it had done to the Scotsman. The poor Irishman was now left all alone, and did not know where the others had gone to, so he just stayed where he was, very sad and miserable. When night came he climbed up into the same tree as the Englishmen had been on the night before. As soon as day came he saw the castle and set out towards it, but when he reached it he could see no signs of fire or living being about it. Before long, however, he heard the window opened above his head, looked up, and beheld the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He asked if she would give him food and drink, and she answered kindly and heartily that she would, if only he would come inside. Yes he did very willingly, and she set before him food and drink that he had never seen the like of before. In the room there was a bed, with diamond rings hanging at every loop of the curtains, and everything that was in the room besides astonished him so much that he actually forgot that he was hungry. When she saw that he was not eating at all she asked him what he wanted yet, to which he replied that he would neither eat nor drink till he knew who she was, or where she came from, or who had put her there. I shall tell you that, said she. I am an enchanted princess, and my father has promised that the man who releases me from the spell shall have the third of his kingdom while he is alive, and the whole of it after he is dead, and marry me as well. If ever I saw a man who looked likely to do this, you are the one. I have been here for sixteen years now, and no one who ever came to the castle has asked me who I was except yourself. Every other man that has come so long as I have been here lies asleep in the big room down there. Tell me, then, said the Irishman, what is the spell that has been laid upon you, and how you can be freed from it? There is a little room there, said the princess, and if I could get a man to stay in it from ten o'clock till midnight for three nights on end I should be freed from the spell. I am the man for you, then, said he. I will take on hand to do it. Thereupon she brought him a pipe and tobacco, and he went into the room. But before long he heard a hammering and a knocking on the outside of the door, and was told to open it. I won't, he said. The next moment the door came flying in and those outside along with it. They knocked him down and kicked him and knelt on his body till it came to midnight. But as soon as the cock crew they all disappeared. The Irishman was little more than alive by this time. As soon as daylight appeared the princess came and found him lying full length on the floor, unable to speak a word. She took a bottle, rubbed him from head to foot with something from it, and thereupon he was as sound as ever. But after what he had got that night he was very unwilling to try it a second time. The princess, however, entreated him to stay, saying that the next night would not be so bad, and in the end he gave in and stayed. When it was getting near midnight he heard them ordering him to open the door, and there were three of them for every one that there had been the previous evening. He did not make the slightest movement to go out to them or to open the door, but before long they broke it up and were in on top of him. They laid hold of him and kept throwing him between them up to the ceiling or jumping above him, until the cock crew, when they all disappeared. When day came the princess went to the room to see if he was still alive, and taking the bottle put it to his nostrils, which soon brought him to himself. The first thing he said then was that he was a fool to go on getting himself killed for anyone he ever saw, and was determined to be off and stay there no longer. When the princess learned his intention she entreated him to stay, reminding him that another night would break her from the spell. Besides, she said, if there is a single spark of life in you when the day comes, the stuff that is in this bottle will make you as sound as ever you were. With all this the Irishman decided to stay, but that night there were three at him for every one that was there the two nights before, and it looked very unlikely that he would be alive in the morning after all that he got. When morning dawned and the princess came to see if he was still alive, she found him lying on the floors if dead. She tried to see if there was a breath in him, but she could not quite make it out. Then she put her hand on his pulse and found a faint movement in it. Accordingly she poured what was in the bottle on him, and before long he rose up on his feet, and was as well as he ever was. So that business was finished, and the princess was freed from the spell. The princess then told the Irishman that she must go away for the present, but would return for him in a few days, and a carriage drawn by four gray horses. He told her to be easy, and not to speak like that to him. I have paid dear for you for the last three nights, he said, and if I have to part with you now." But then the twinkling in the eye she had disappeared. He did not know what to do with himself when he saw that she was gone, but before she went she had given him a little rod, with which he could, when he pleased, waken the men who had been sleeping there, some of them for sixteen years. After being thus left alone, he went in and stretched himself on three chairs that were in the room, when what does he see coming in at the door, but a little fair-haired lad? Where did you come from, my lad? said the Irishman. I came to make ready your food for you, said he. Who told you to do that? said the Irishman. My mistress, answered the lad, the princess that was under the spell and is now free. By this the Irishman knew that she had sent the lad to wait on him. The lad also told him that his mistress wished him to be ready the next morning at nine o'clock, when she would come for him with the carriage as she had promised. He was greatly pleased at this, and next morning when the time was drawing near, went out into the garden, but the little fair-haired lad took a big pin out of his pocket, and stuck it into the back of the Irishman's coat without his noticing it, whereupon he fell sound asleep. Before long the princess came with the carriage and four horses, and asked the lad whether his master was awake. He said that he wasn't. It is bad for him, said she, when the night is not long enough for him to sleep. Tell him that if he doesn't meet me at this time to-morrow it is not likely that he will ever see me again all his life. As soon as she was gone the lad took the pin out of his master's coat, who instantly awoke. The first word he said to the lad was, Have you seen her? Yes, said he, and she bade me tell you that if you don't meet her at nine o'clock to-morrow you will never see her again. He was very sorry when he heard this, and could not understand why the sleep should have fallen upon him just when she was coming. He decided, however, to go early to bed that night, in order to rise in time next morning. And so he did. When it was getting near nine o'clock he went out to the garden to wait till she came, and the fair-haired lad along with him. But as soon as the lad got the chance he stuck the pin into his master's coat again, and he fell asleep as before. Only at nine o'clock came the princess in the carriage with the four horses, and asked the lad if his master had got up yet, but he said, No, he was asleep just as he was the day before. Dear, dear, said the princess, I am sorry for him. Was the sleep he had last night not enough for him? Tell him that he will never see me here again, and here is a sword that you will give him in my name and my blessing along with it. With this she went off, and as soon as she had gone the lad took the pin out of his master's coat. He awoke instantly, and the first word he said was, Have you seen her? The lad said that he had, and there was the sword she had left for him. The Irishman was ready to kill the lad out of sheer vexation, but when he gave a glance over his shoulder not a trace of the fair-haired lad was left. Being thus left all alone he thought of going into the room where all the men were lying asleep, and there among the rest he found his two comrades who had deserted along with him. Then he remembered what the princess had told him, that he had only to touch them with the rod she had given him, and they would all awake, and the first he touched were his own comrades. They started to their feet at once, and he gave them as much silver and gold as they could carry when they went away. There was plenty to do before he got all the others awakened, for the two doors of the castle were crowded with them all the day long. The loss of the princess, however, kept rankling in his mind day and night, till finally he thought he would go about the world to see if he could find anyone to give him news of her. So he took the best horse in the stable and set out. Three years he spent travelling through forests and wilderness, but could find no one able to tell him anything of the princess. At last he fell into so great despair that he thought he would put an end to his own life, and for this purpose laid hold of the sword that she had given him by the hands of the fair-haired lad. But on drawing it from its sheath he noticed that there was some writing on the side of the blade. He looked at this and read there, "'You will find me in the Blue Mountains.'" This made him take heart again, and he gave up the idea of killing himself, thinking that he would go on in hope of meeting someone who could tell him where the Blue Mountains were. After he had gone a long way without thinking where he was going, he saw at last a light far away and made straight for it. On reaching it he found it came from a little house, and as soon as the man inside heard the noise of the horse's feet he came out to see who was there. Seeing a stranger on horseback he asked what brought him there and where he was going. "'I have lived here,' said he, "'for three hundred years, and all the time I have not seen a single human being but yourself.' "'I have been going about for the last three years,' said the Irishman, "'to see if I could find any one who could tell me where the Blue Mountains are.' "'Come,' said the old man, "'and stay with me all night. "'I have a book which contains the history of the world, which I shall go through to-night, and if there is such a place as the Blue Mountains in it, we shall find it out.' The Irishman stayed there all night, and as soon as morning came rose to go. The old man said he had not gone to sleep all night for going through the book, but there was not a word about the Blue Mountains in it. "'But I'll tell you what,' he said, "'if there is such a place on earth at all, I have a brother who lives nine hundred miles from here, and he is sure to know where they are if any one in this world does.' The Irishman answered that he could never go these nine hundred miles, for his horse was giving in already. "'That doesn't matter,' said the old man, "'I can do better than that. "'I have only to blow my whistle, and you will be at my brother's house before night of all.' So he blew the whistle, and the Irishman did not know where on earth he was until he found himself at the other old man's door, who also told him that it was three hundred years since he had seen any one, and asked him where he was going. "'I am going to see if I can find any one that can tell me where the Blue Mountains are,' he said. "'If he will stay with me tonight,' said the old man, "'I have a book of the history of the world, and I shall know where they are before daylight if there is such a place in it at all.' He stayed there all night, but there was not a word in the book about the Blue Mountains. Seeing that he was rather cast down, the old man told him that he had a brother nine hundred miles away, and that if information could be got about them from any one it would be from him. "'And I will enable you,' he said, to reach the place where he lives before night. So he blew his whistle, and the Irishman landed at the brother's house before night-hall. So he blew his whistle, and the Irishman landed at the brother's house before night-fall. When the old man saw him, he said he had not seen a single man for three hundred years, and was very much surprised to see any one come to him now. "'Where are you going to?' he said. "'I am going about asking for the Blue Mountains,' said the Irishman. "'The Blue Mountains,' said the old man. "'Yes,' said the Irishman. "'I've never heard the name before, but if they do exist I shall find them out. I am the master of all the birds in the world, and have only to blow my whistle, and every one will come to me. I shall then ask each of them to tell where it came from, and if there is any way of finding out the Blue Mountains, that is it.' So he blew his whistle, and when he blew it, then all the birds of the world began to gather. The old man questioned each of them as to where they had come from, but there was not one of them that had come from the Blue Mountains. After he had run over them all, however, he missed a big eagle that was wanting, and wondered that it had not come. Soon afterwards he saw something big coming towards him, darkening the sky. It kept coming nearer and growing bigger, and what was this after all but the eagle? When she arrived, the old man scolded her and asked what had kept her so long behind. I couldn't help it, she said. I had more than twenty times further to come than any bird has come here today. Where have you come from, then? said the old man. From the Blue Mountains, said she. Indeed, said the old man, and what are they doing there? They are making ready this very day, said the eagle, for the marriage of the daughter of the king of the Blue Mountains. For three years now she has refused to marry anyone whatsoever, until she should give up all hope of the coming of the man who released her from the spell. Now she can wait no longer. For three years is the time that she agreed with her father to remain without marrying. The Irishman knew that it was for himself she had been waiting so long, but he was unable to make any better of it, for he had no hope of reaching the Blue Mountains all his life. The old man noticed how sad he grew, and asked the eagle what she would take for carrying this man on her back to the Blue Mountains. I must have three score cattle killed, said she, and cut up into quarters, and every time I look over my shoulder he must throw one of them into my mouth. As soon as the Irishman and the old man heard her demand they went out hunting, and before evening they had killed three score cattle. They made quarters of them, as the eagle told them, and then the old man asked her to lie down, till they would get it all heaped up on her back. First of all, though, they had to get a ladder of fourteen steps to enable them to get onto the eagle's back, and there they piled up the meat as well as they could. Then the old man told the Irishman to mount, and to remember to throw a quarter of beef to her every time she looked round. He went up, and the old man gave the eagle the word to be off, which she instantly obeyed, and every time she turned her head the Irishman threw a quarter of beef into her mouth. As they came near the borders of the kingdom of the Blue Mountains, however, the beef was done, and when the eagle looked over her shoulder what was the Irishman at but throwing a stone between her tail and her neck? At this she turned a complete somersault and threw the Irishman off into the sea, where he fell into the bay that was right in front of the king's palace. Fortunately the points of his toes just touched the bottom, and he managed to get ashore. When he went up into the town all the streets were gleaming with light, and the wedding of the princess was just about to begin. He went into the first house he came to, and this happened to be the house of the king's hen-wife. He asked the old woman what was causing all the noise and light in the town. The princess, said she, is going to be married denied against her will, for she has been expecting every day that the man who freed her from the spell would come. There is a guinea for you, said he. The old woman went, and soon returned along with the princess. She and the Irishman recognized each other, and were married, and had a great wedding that lasted for a year and a day. CHAPTER 41 THE TINDERBOX A soldier came marching along the high road, left, right, a left, right. He had his knapsack on his back and a sword by his side, for he had been to the wars and was now returning home. An old witch met him on the road. She was very ugly to look at. Her upper lip hung down to her breast. Good evening, soldier. She said, what a fine sword and knapsack you have. You are something like a soldier. You ought to have as much money as you would like to carry. Thank you, old witch, said the soldier. Do you see that great tree there? said the witch, pointing to a tree beside them. It is hollow within. You must climb up to the top, and then you will see a hole there through which you will let yourself down into the tree. I will tie a rope around your waist so that I may be able to pull you up again when you call. What shall I do down there? asked the soldier. Get money, answered the witch. Listen. When you reach the bottom of the tree, you will find yourself in a large hall. It is light there, for there are more than 300 lamps burning. Then you will see three doors which you can open. The keys are in the locks. If you go into the first room, you will see a great chest in the middle of the floor with a dog sitting upon it. It has eyes as large as sarsas, but you needn't trouble about him. I will give you my blue checkered apron, which you must spread out on the floor, and then go back quickly and fetch the dog and set him upon it. Open the chest and take as much money as you like. It is copper there, if you would rather have silver. You must go into the next room, where there is a dog with eyes as large as mill wheels. But don't take any notice of him, just set him upon the apron and help yourself to the money. If you prefer gold, you can get that too. If you go into the third room and as much as you like to carry, but the dog that guards the chest there has eyes as large as the round tower at Copenhagen. He is a savage dog, I can tell you, but you needn't be afraid of him. Only put him on my apron, and he won't touch you. And you can take out of the chest as much gold as you like. Come, this is not bad, said the soldier. But what am I to give you, old witch? For surely you are not going to do this for nothing. Yes, I am, replied the witch. Not a single farthing will I take. For me, you shall bring nothing but an old tenderbox, which my grandmother forgot last time she was down there. Well, tie the rope around my waist, said the soldier. Here it is, said the witch. And here is my blue chuck apron. Then the soldier climbed up the tree, let himself down through the hall, and found himself standing, as the witch had said, underground in a large hall, where 300 lamps were burning. Well, he opened the first door. Ugh, there sat the dog, with eyes as big as saucers glaring at him. Your fine fellow, said the soldier, and put him on the witch's apron. Took as much copper as his pockets could hold. Then he shut the chest, put the dog on it again, and went into the second room, where, sure enough, there sat a dog with eyes as large as mill-wheels. You had better not look at me so hard, said the soldier. Your eyes will come out of their sockets. And then he set the dog on the apron. When he saw all the silver in the chest, he threw away the copper he had taken, and filled his pockets and abstract with nothing but silver. Then he went into the third room, horrors. The dog there had two eyes, each as large as the round tower at Copenhagen, bending around in its head-like wheels. Good evening, said the soldier, and saluted. For he had never seen a dog like this before. But when he had examined him more closely, he thought to himself, now then I've had enough of this, and put him down on the floor and open the chest. Heavens, what a heap of gold there was, with all that he could buy up the whole tower, and all the sugarpigs, all the tin soldiers, wisps, and rocking horses in all the world. Now he threw away all the silver, with which he had filled his pockets and knapsack, and filled them with gold instead. Yes, all his pockets, his knapsack, cap, and boots even, so that he could hardly walk. Now he was rich indeed. He put the dog back on the chest, shut the door, and then crawled up through the tree. Now pull me up again, old witch. Have you got the tinderbox also? Asked the witch. Botheration, said the soldier. I clean forgot it. And he went back and fetched it. The witch pulled him up, and there he stood again on the high road, his pockets, knapsack, cap, and boots filled with gold. What do you want to do with the tinderbox? Asked the soldier. That doesn't matter to you, replied the witch. You have gotten your money, give me my tinderbox. We'll see, said the soldier. Tell me at once what you want to do with it, or I will draw my sword and cut off your head. No, screamed the witch. The soldier immediately cut off her head. That was the end of her. But he tied up all his gold in her apron, slung it like a bundle over his shoulder, and put the tinderbox in his pocket, and set out towards the town. It was a splendid town. He turned into the finest inn, ordered the best chamber, and his favourite dinner. For now that he had so much money, he was really rich. It certainly occurred to the servant who had to clean his boots, that they were astonishingly old boots for such a rich thord. But that was because he had not yet bought new ones. Next day he appeared in respectable boots and fined those. Now, instead of a common soldier, he had become a noble lord, and the people told him about all the grand doings of the town and the king, and what a beautiful princess his daughter was. How can one get to see her? Asked the soldier. She has never seen at all, they told him. She lives in a great copper castle, surrounded by many walls and towers. No one except the king may go in or out, for it is prophesied that she will marry a common soldier, and the king cannot submit to that. I should very much like to see her, thought the soldier, but he could not get permission. Now he lived very gaily, went to the theatre, drove in the king's garden, and gave the poor a great deal of money, which was very nice of him. He had experienced, in former times, how hard it was not to have a farthing in the world. Now he was rich, wore fine clothes, and made many friends, who all said that he was an excellent man, a real nobleman, and a soldier like that. But, as he was always spending money and never made any more, at last the day came that he had nothing left but two shillings, and he had to leave the beautiful rooms in which he had been living, and go into a little attic under the roof, and clean his own boots, and amend them with a darning needle. None of his friends came to visit him there, for there were too many stairs to climb. It was a dark evening, and he could not even buy a light. But, all at once, it flashed across him that there was a little end of tinder in the tinder box, which he had taken from the hollow tree into which the witch had helped him down. He found the box, with the tinder in it, and just as he was kindling a light, and had struck a spark out of the tinder box, the door burst open, and the dog with eyes as large as saucers, which he had seen down in the tree, stood before him, and said, What does my master come out? What's the meaning of this? explained the soldier. This is a pretty kind of tinder box. If I can give whatever I want like this, get me money. He cried to the dog, and, hey, presto, he was off and back again, holding a great purse full of money in his mouth. Now the soldier knew what a capital tinder box this was. If he rubbed once, the dog that sat on the chest of copper appeared. If he rubbed twice, there came the dog that watched over the silver chest. If he rubbed three times, the one that guarded the gold appeared. Now the soldier went down again to his beautiful rooms, and appeared once more in splendid clothes. All his friends immediately recognized him again, and paid him great court. One day he thought to himself, It is very strange that no one can get to see the princess. They all say she is very pretty, but what's the use of that if she has to do forever in the great copper castle with all the towers? Can I not manage to see her somehow? What of my tinder box? And so he struck a spark and presto. There came the dog with the eyes as a larger saucer. It is the middle of the night, I know, said the soldier. But I should very much like to see the princess for a moment. The dog was already out the door, and before the soldier could look around, in he came with the princess. She was lying asleep on the dog's back, and was so beautiful that anyone could see she was a real princess. The soldier really could not refrain himself from kissing her. He was a thorough soldier. Then the dog ran back with the princess, but when it was morning, and the king and queen were drinking tea, the princess said that the night before, she had had such a strange dream about a dog and a soldier. She had ridden on the dog's back, and the soldier had kissed her. That is certainly a fine story, said the queen. But the next night one of the ladies in waiting was to watch the princess's bed, to see if it was only a dream, or if it actually happened. The prince had an overpowering longing to see the princess again, and so the dog came in the middle of the night and fetched her, running as fast as he could. But the lady in waiting slipped on India rubber shoes and followed them. When she saw them disappear into a large house, she thought to herself, Now I know where it is. And made a great cross on the door with a piece of chalk. Then she went home and lay down, and the dog came back also with the princess. But when he saw that a cross had been made on the door of the house where the soldier lived, he took a piece of chalk also, and made a crosses on all the doors in the town. And that was very clever, for now the lady in waiting could not find the right house, as there were crosses on all the doors. Early the next morning, the king, queen, lady in waiting, and officers came to see where the princess had been. There it is, said the king, when he saw the first door with a cross on it. No, there it is, my dear, said the queen, when she likewise saw a door with a cross. But there's one here, and there's another one. They all exclaimed. Wherever they looked, there was a cross on the door. Then they realized that the sign would not help them at all. But the queen was an extremely clever woman, who could do a greater deal more than just drive in a coach. She took her great golden scissors, and cut up a piece of silk, and made a pretty little bag of it. This she filled with the finest buckwheat grain, and tied it around the princess's neck. This done, she cut out a little hole in the bag, so that the grains would screw the whole road, wherever the princess went. In the night the dog came again, took the princess on his back, and ran away with her to the soldier, who was very much in love with her, and would have liked to have been a prince, so that he might have had her for his wife. The dog did not notice how the grains were strewed right from the castle to the soldier's window, where he ran up the wall with the princess. In the morning the king and queen saw plainly where their daughter had been, and they took the soldier and put him in prison. There he sat. Oh, how dark and dull it was in there! And they told him, Tomorrow you will be hanged! Hearing that did not exactly cheer him. And he had left his tinder-box in the inn. Next morning he could see through the iron gate in front of his little window, how the people were hurrying out of the town to see his hanging. Next morning he could see through the iron gate in front of his little window, how the people were hurrying out of the town to see him hanged. He heard the drums and saw the soldiers marching. All the people were running to and fro. Just below his window was a shoemaker's apprentice, with leather, apron, and shoes. He was skipping along so merrily that one of his shoes fell off and fell against the wall, just where the soldier was sitting, peering through the iron gating. Oh, shoemaker boy, you needn't be in such a hurry, said the soldier to him. There's nothing going on till I arrive, but if you will run back to the house where I live and fetch me my tinder-box, I will give you four shillings, but you must put your best foot foremost. The shoemaker's boy was very willing to earn four shillings, and fetched the tinder-box, gave it to the soldier, and yes, now you shall hear. Outside the town a great scaffold had been erected, and all the round was standing the soldiers and hundreds of thousands of people. The king and queen were sitting on a magnificent throne opposite the judges and the whole council. The soldier was already standing on the top of the ladder, but when they wanted to put the rope around his neck, he said that the fulfilment of one innocent request was always granted to the poor criminal before he underwent his punishment. He would so much like to smoke a small pipe of tobacco, it would be his last pipe in this world. The king could not refuse him this, so he took out his tinder-box and rubbed it once, twice, three times, and though and behold there stood all three dogs, the one with eyes as larger saucers, the second with eyes as large as mill-wheels, and the third with eyes as large as the round tower of Copenhagen. Help me now so I may not be hanged, cried the soldier, and thereupon the dogs fell upon the judges and the whole council, seizing them up by the legs, others by the nose, and threw them so high into the air that they fell and were smashed to pieces. I won't stand for this, said the king, but the largest dog seized him too, and the queen as well, and threw them up after the ebbers. They frightened the soldiers, and all the people cried, Good soldier, you shall be our king, and merit the beautiful princess. Then they put the soldier into the king's coach, and the three dogs danced in front, crying, Hurrah! And the boys whistled, and the soldiers presented arms. The princess came out of the copper castle, and became queen, and that pleased her very much. The wedding festivities lasted for eight days, and the dogs sat at table, and made eyes at every one. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Don Larson in Dawson, Minnesota. The Yellow Fairy Book, edited by Andrew Lang, Chapter 42. The Witch in the Stone Boat, from the Icelandic. There were once a king and a queen, and they had a son called Sigurd, who was very strong, and active, and good-looking. When the king came to be bowed down with the weight of his ears, he spoke to his son, and said that now it was time for him to look out for a fitting match for himself, for he did not know how long he might last now, and he would like to see him married before he died. Sigurd was not averse to this, and asked his father where he thought it best to look for a wife. The king answered that in a certain country there was a king who had a beautiful daughter, and he thought it would be most desirable if Sigurd could get her. So the two parted, and Sigurd prepared for the journey, and went to where his father had directed him. He came to the king, and asked his daughter's hand, which he readily granted him, but only on the condition that he should remain there as long as he could, for the king himself was not strong and not very able to govern his kingdom. Sigurd accepted this condition, but added that he would have to get leave to go home again to his own country when he heard news of his father's death. After that Sigurd married the princess, and helped his father-in-law to govern the kingdom. He and the princess loved each other dearly, and after a year a son came to them, who was two years old when word came to Sigurd that his father was dead. Sigurd now prepared to return home with his wife and child, and went on board ship to go by sea. They had sailed for several days when the breeze suddenly fell, and there came a dead calm, at a time when they needed only one day's voyage to reach home. Sigurd and his queen were one day on deck when most of the others on the ship had fallen asleep. There they sat and talked for a while, and had their little son along with them. After a time Sigurd became so heavy with sleep that he could no longer keep awake, so he went below and lay down, leaving the queen alone on the deck playing with her son. A good while after Sigurd had gone down below, the queen saw something black on the sea, which seemed to be coming nearer. As it approached she could make out that it was a boat, and could see the figure of someone sitting in it and rowing it. At last the boat came alongside the ship, and now the queen saw that it was a stone boat, out of which there came up on board the ship a fearfully ugly witch. The queen was more frightened than words can describe, and could neither speak a word, nor move from the place so as to awaken the king or the sailors. The witch came right up to the queen, took the child from her, and laid it on the deck. Then she took the queen and stripped her of all her fine clothes, which she proceeded to put on herself, and looked then like a human being. Last of all, she took the queen, put her into the boat, and said, This spell I lay upon you, that you slacken not your course until you come to my brother in the underworld. The queen sat stunned and motionless, but the boat at once shot away from the ship with her, and before long she was out of sight. When the boat could no longer be seen, the child began to cry, and though the witch tried to quiet it, she could not manage it. So she went below to where the king was sleeping with the child on her arm, and awakened him, scolding him for leaving them alone on the ship. It was great carelessness of him, she said, to leave no one to watch the ship with her. Sigurd was greatly surprised to hear his queen scold him so much, for she had never said an angry word to him before. But he thought it was quite excusable in this case, and tried to quiet the child along with her, but it was no use. Then he went and wakened the sailors, and bade them hoist the sails, for Abreys had sprung up and was blowing straight towards the harbor. They soon reached the land which Sigurd was to rule over, and found all the people sorrowful for the old king's death, but they became glad when they got Sigurd back to court, and made him king over them. The king's son, however, hardly ever stopped crying from the time he had been taken from his mother on the deck of the ship, although he had always been such a good child before, so that at last the king had to get in nurse for him, one of the maids of the court. As soon as the child got into her charge, he stopped crying, and behaved well as before. After the sea voyage it seemed to the king that the queen had altered very much in many ways and not for the better. He thought her much more haughty and stubborn and difficult to deal with than she used to be. Before long others began to notice this as well as the king. In the court there were two young fellows, one of eighteen years old, the other of nineteen, who were very fond of playing chess, and often sat long inside playing at it. Their room was next the queen's, and often during the day they heard the queen talking. One day they paid more attention than usual when they heard her talk, and put their ears close to a crack in the wall between the rooms, and heard the queen say quite plainly, When I yawn a little, then I am a nice little maiden. When I yawn half way, then I am half a troll. And when I yawn fully, then I am a troll altogether. As she said this she yawned tremendously, and in a moment had put on the appearance of a fearfully ugly troll. Then there came up through the floor of the room a three-headed giant with a trough full of meat, who saluted her as his sister, and set down the trough before her. She began to eat out of it, and never stopped till she had finished it. The young fellows saw all this going on, but did not hear the two of them say anything to each other. They were astonished though at how greedily the queen devoured the meat, and how much she ate of it, and were no longer surprised that she took so little when she sat at table with the king. As soon as she had finished it the giant disappeared with the trough by the same way as he had come, and the queen returned to her human shape. Now we must go back to the king's son after he had been put in charge of the nurse. One evening, after she had lit a candle and was holding the child, several planks sprang up in the floor of the room, and out at the opening came a beautiful woman dressed in white with an iron belt round her waist, to which was fastened an iron chain that went down into the ground. The woman came up to the nurse, took the child from her, and pressed it to her breast. Then she gave it back to the nurse, and returned by the same way as she had come, and the floor closed over her again. Although the woman had not spoken a single word to her, the nurse was very much frightened, but told no one about it. Next evening the same thing happened again, just as before, but as the woman was going away she said in a sad tone, two are gone, and one only is left, and then disappeared as before. The nurse was still more frightened when she heard the woman say this, and thought that perhaps some danger was hanging over the child, though she had no ill opinion of the unknown woman, who indeed had behaved towards the child as if it were her own. The most mysterious thing was the woman saying, and only one is left, but the nurse guessed that this must mean that only one day was left, since she had come for two days already. At last the nurse made up her mind to go to the king, and told him the whole story, and asked him to be present in person next day about the time when the woman usually came. The king promised to do so, and came to the nurse's room a little before the time, and sat down on a chair with his drawn sword in his hand. Soon after the planks in the floor sprang up as before, and the woman came up, dressed in white, with the iron belt and chain. The king saw at once that it was his own queen, and immediately hewed asunder the iron chain that was fastened to the belt. This was followed by such noises and crashings down in the earth that all the king's palace shook, so that no one expected anything else than to see every bit of it shaken to pieces. At last, however, the noises and shaking stopped, and they began to come to themselves again. The king and queen embraced each other, and she told him the whole story, how the witch came to the ship when they were all asleep, and sent her off in the boat. After she had gone so far that she could not see the ship, she sailed on through darkness until she landed beside a three-headed giant. The giant wished her to marry him, but she refused, whereupon he shut her up by herself and told her she would never get free until she consented. After a time she began to plan how to get her freedom, and at last told him that she would consent if he would allow her to visit her son on earth three days on end. This he agreed to, but put on her this iron-belt and chain, the other end of which he fastened round his own waist, and the great noises that were heard when the king cut the chain must have been caused by the giants falling down the underground passage when the chain gave away so suddenly. The giant's dwelling, indeed, was right under the palace, and the terrible shakings must have been caused by him in his death-throws. The king now understood how the queen he had had for some time past had been so ill-tempered. He at once had a sack drawn over her head and made her be stoned to death, and after that torn in pieces by untamed horses. The two young fellows also told now what they had heard and seen in the queen's room, for before this they had been afraid to say anything about it on account of the queen's power. The real queen was now restored to all her dignity and was beloved by all. The nurse was married to a nobleman, and the king and queen gave her splendid presence. End of Chapter 42 Chapter 43 of the Yellow Fairy Book 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 Sarah Jennings. The Yellow Fairy Book, edited by Andrew Lang. Chapter 43 Thumbelina There was once a woman who wanted to have quite a tiny little child, but she did not know where to get one from. So one day she went to an old witch and said to her, I should so much like to have a tiny little child. Can you tell me where I can get one? Oh, we have just got one ready, said the witch. Here is a barley-corn for you, but it's not the kind the farmer sows in his field, or feeds the cocks and hens with, I can tell you. Put it in a flower pot, and then you will see something happen. Oh, thank you, said the woman, and gave the witch a shilling, for that was what it cost. Then she went home and planted the barley-corn. Immediately there grew out of it a large and beautiful flower, which looked like a tulip, but the petals were tightly closed as if it were still only a bud. What a beautiful flower exclaimed the woman, and she kissed the red and yellow petals. But as she kissed them the flower burst open. It was a real tulip, such as one can see any day. But in the middle of the blossom on the green velvety petals sat a little girl, quite tiny, trim and pretty. She was scarcely half a thumb in height, so they called her Thumbelina. An elegant, polished walnut shell served Thumbelina as a cradle. The blue petals of a violet were her mattress, and a rose leaf her coverlet. There she lay at night, but in the daytime she used to play about on the table. Here the woman had put a bowl surrounded by a ring of flowers, with their stalks in water. In the middle of which floated a great tulip petal, and on this Thumbelina sat and sailed from one side of the bowl to the other, rowing herself with two white horse-hairs for oars. It was such a pretty sight. She could sing, too, with a voice that was more soft and sweet than ever had been heard before. One night, when she was lying in her pretty little bed, an old toad crept in through a broken pane in the window. She was very ugly, clumsy and clammy. She hopped onto the table where Thumbelina lay asleep under the red rose leaf. This would make a beautiful wife for my son, said the toad, taking up the walnut shell with Thumbelina inside, and hopping with it through the window into the garden. There flowed a great wide stream, with slippery and marshy banks. Here the toad lived with her son. Oh, how ugly and clammy he was, just like his mother. Croak, croak, croak, was all he could say when he saw the pretty little girl in the walnut shell. Don't talk so loud or you'll wake her, said the old toad. She might escape us even now. She is as light as a feather. We will put her at once on a broad water lily leaf in the stream. That will be quite an island for her. She is so small in light. She can't run away from us there, whilst we are preparing the guest chamber under the marsh where she will live. Outside in the brook grew many water lilies with broad green leaves, which looked as if they were swimming about on the water. The leaf furthest away was the largest, and to this the old toad swam with Thumbelina in her walnut shell. The tiny Thumbelina woke up very early in the morning, and when she saw where she was she began to cry bitterly, for on every side of the great green leaf was water, and she could not get to the land. The old toad was down under the marsh, decorating her room with rushes and yellow marigold leaves, to make it very grand for her new daughter-in-law. Then she swam out with her ugly son to the leaf-wear Thumbelina lay. She wanted to fetch the pretty cradle to put into her room before Thumbelina herself came there. The old toad bowed low in the water before her and said, Here is my son, you shall marry him, and live in great magnificence down under the marsh. Croak, croak, croak, was all that the son could say. Then they took the neat little cradle and swam away with it. But Thumbelina sat alone on the great green leaf and wept, for she did not want to live with the clammy toad or marry her ugly son. The little fishes swimming about under the water had seen the toad quite plainly, and heard what she said, so they put up their heads to see the little girl. When they saw her they thought her so pretty that they were very sorry she should go down with the ugly toad to live. No, that must not happen. They assembled in the water round the green stock, which supported the leaf on which she was sitting, and nibbled the stem in two. Away floated the leaf down the stream, bearing Thumbelina far beyond the reach of the toad. On she sailed past several towns, and the little birds sitting in the bushes saw her and sang, What a pretty little girl. The leaf floated farther and farther away. Thus Thumbelina left her native land. A beautiful little white butterfly fluttered above her, and at last settled on the leaf. Thumbelina pleased him, and she, too, was delighted, for now the toads could not reach her. And it was so beautiful where she was traveling. The sun shone on the water and made it sparkle like the brightest silver. She took off her sash and tied one end round the butterfly. The other end she fashioned to the leaf, so that now it glided along with her faster than ever. A great cockchafer came flying past. He caught sight of Thumbelina, and in a moment had put his arms round her slender waist, and had flown off with her to a tree. The green leaf floated away down the stream, and the butterfly with it, for he was fastened to the leaf, and could not get loose from it. Oh, dear, how terrified poor little Thumbelina was when the cockchafer flew off with her to the tree. But she was especially distressed on the beautiful white butterfly's account, as she had tied him so fast that if he could not get away he must starve to death. But the cockchafer did not trouble himself about that. He sat down with her on a large green leaf, gave her the honey out of the flowers to eat, and told her that she was very pretty, although she wasn't in the least like a cockchafer. Later on all the cockchavers who lived in the same tree came to pay calls. They examined Thumbelina closely and remarked, Why, she has only two legs. How very miserable! She has no feelers, cried another. How ugly she is, said all the lady-chavers. And yet Thumbelina was really very pretty. The cockchafer who had stolen her knew this very well. But when he heard all the ladies saying she was ugly, he began to think so too, and would not keep her. She might go wherever she liked. So he flew down from the tree with her and put her on a daisy. There she sat and wept, because she was so ugly that the cockchafer would have nothing to do with her. And yet she was the most beautiful creature imaginable, so soft and delicate, like the loveliest rose leaf. The whole summer poor little Thumbelina lived alone in the great wood. She played at a bed for herself of blades of grass, and hugged up under a clover-leaf, so that she was protected from the rain. She gathered honey from the flowers for food, and drank the dew on the leaves every morning. Thus the summer and autumn passed, but then came winter, the long, cold winter. All the birds who had sung so sweetly about her had flown away. The trees shed their leaves, the flowers died. The great clover-leaf under which she had lived curled up, and nothing remained of it but the withered stalk. She was terribly cold, for her clothes were ragged, and she herself was so small and thin. Poor little Thumbelina, she would surely be frozen to death. It began to snow, and every snowflake that fell on her was to her as a whole shovelful throne on one of us, for we are so big, and she was only an inch high. She wrapped herself round in a dead leaf, but it was torn in the middle and gave her no warmth. She was trembling with cold. Just outside the wood where she was now living, lay a great corn field. But the corn had been gone a long time, only the dry-bear stubble was left standing in the frozen ground. This made a forest for her to wander about in. All at once she came to the door of a field mouse who had a little hole under her corn stalk. There the mouse lived warm and snug, with a storm-room full of corn, a splendid kitchen and dining-room. Poor little Thumbelina went up to the door and begged for a little piece of barley, for she had not had anything to eat for the last two days. Poor little creature said the field mouse, for she was a kind-hearted old thing at the bottom. Coming to my warm room and have some dinner with me. As Thumbelina pleased her, she said, As far as I am concerned you may spend the winter with me, but you must keep my room clean and tidy, and tell me stories, for I like that very much. And Thumbelina did all that the kind old field mouse asked, and did it remarkably well too. Now I am expecting a visitor, said the field mouse, and my neighbour comes to call on me once a week. He is in better circumstances than I am, and has great big rooms, and wears a fine black velvet coat. If you could only marry him, you would be well provided for. But he is blind. You must tell him all the prettiest stories you know. But Thumbelina did not trouble her head about him, for he was only a mole. He came and paid them a visit in his black velvet coat. He is so rich and so accomplished, the field mouse told her. His house is twenty times larger than mine. He possesses great knowledge, but he cannot bear the sun and the beautiful flowers, and speaks sleightingly of them, for he has never seen them. Thumbelina had to sing to him, so she sang Ladybird, Ladybird, Fly Away Home, and other songs so prettily that the mole fell in love with her. But he did not say anything. He was a very cautious man. A short time before he had dug a long passage through the ground from his own house to that of his neighbour. In this he gave the field mouse and Thumbelina permission to walk as often as they liked. But he begged them not to be afraid of the dead bird that lay in the passage. It was a real bird with beak and feathers, and must have died a little time ago, and now laid buried just where he had made his tunnel. The mole took a piece of rotten wood in his mouth, for that closed like fire in the dark, and went in front, lighting them through the long dark passage. When they came to the place where the dead bird lay, the mole put his broad nose against the ceiling and pushed a hole through so that the daylight could shine down. In the middle of the path lay a dead swallow, his pretty wings pressed close to his sides, his claws and head drawn under his feathers. The poor bird had evidently died of cold. Thumbelina was very sorry, for she was very fond of all little birds. They had sung and twitted so beautifully to her all through the summer. But the mole kicked him with his bandy legs and said, now he can't sing any more. It must be very miserable to be a little bird, and thankful that none of my little children are. Birds always starve in winter. Yes, you speak like a sensible man, said the field mouse. What has a bird, in spite of all his singing, in the winter time? He must starve and freeze, and that must be very pleasant for him, I must say. Thumbelina did not say anything. But when the other two had passed on, she bent down to the bird, brushed aside the feathers from his head, and kissed his closed eyes gently. Perhaps it was he that sang to me so prettily in the summer, she thought. Oh, how much pleasure he did give me, dear little bird. The mole closed up the hole again, which led in the light, and then escorted the lady's home. But Thumbelina could not sleep that night, so she got out of bed and played a great big blanket of straw, and carried it off and spread it over the dead bird, and piled upon it thistle down as soft as cotton wool, which she had found in the field mouse's room, so that the poor little thing should lie warmly buried. Farewell, pretty little bird, she said. Farewell, and thank you for your beautiful songs in the summer, when the trees were green and the sun shone down warmly on us. And she laid her head against the bird's heart. But the bird was not dead. He had been frozen, but now that she had warned him he was coming to life again. In autumn the swallows fly away to foreign lands, but there are some who are late and starting, and then they get so cold that they drop down as if dead, and the snow comes and covers them over. Thumbelina trembled, she was so frightened, for the bird was very large in comparison with herself, only in its high. But she took courage, piled up the down more closely over the poor swallow, fetched her own cover lid, and laid it over his head. Next night she crept out again to him. There he was alive, but very weak. He could only open his eyes for a moment and look at Thumbelina, who was standing in front of him with a piece of rotten wood in her hand, for she had no other lantern. Thank you, pretty little child, said the swallow to her. I am beautifully warm. Soon I shall regain my strength, and then I shall be able to fly out again into the warm sunshine. Oh, she said, it is very cold outside. It is snowing and freezing. Stay in your warm bed. I will take care of you. Then she brought him water in a petal, which he drank, after which he related to her how he had torn one of his wings on a bramble, so that he could not fly as fast as the other swallows who had flown far away to warmer lands. So at last he had dropped down exhausted, and then he could remember no more. The whole winter he remained down there, and Thumbelina looked after him and nursed him tenderly. Neither the mole nor the field mouse learned anything of this, but they could not bear the poor swallow. When the spring came and the sun warmed the earth again, the swallow said farewell to Thumbelina, who opened the hole in the roof for him, which the mole had made. The sunshine brightly down upon her, and the swallow asked her if she would go with him. She could sit upon his back. Thumbelina wanted very much to fly far away into the green wood, but she knew that the old field mouse would be sad if she ran away. No, I mustn't come, she said. Farewell, dear good little girl, said the swallow, and flew off into the sunshine. Thumbelina gazed after him with the tears standing in her eyes, but she was very fond of the swallow. Tweet-tweet sang the bird and flew into the green wood. Thumbelina was very unhappy. She was not allowed to go out into the warm sunshine. The corn, which had been sowed in the field over the field mouse's home, grew high up into the air, and made a thick forest for the poor little girl, who was only an inch high. Now you are to be a bride, Thumbelina, said the field mouse, for our neighbour has proposed for you. What a piece of fortune for a poor child like you! Now you must set to work at your linen for your dowry, for nothing must be lacking if you are to become the wife of our neighbour the Mole. Thumbelina had to spin all day long, and every evening the Mole visited her, and told her that when the summer was over the sun would not shine so hot. Now it was burning the earth as hard as a stone. Yes, when the summer had passed they would keep the wedding. But she was not at all pleased about it, for she did not like this stupid Mole. Every morning when the sun was rising, and every evening when it was setting, she would steal out of the house door, and when the breeze parted the ears of corn so that she could see the blue sky through them, she thought how bright and beautiful it must be outside, and longed to see her dear swallow again. But he never came, no doubt he had flown away far into the great green wood. By the autumn Thumbelina had finished the dowry. In four weeks you will be married, said the Field Mouse. Don't be obstinate, or I shall bite you with my sharp white teeth. You will get a fine husband. The King himself has not such a velvet coat. His storeroom and cellar are full, and you should be thankful for that. Well, the wedding day arrived. The Mole had come to fetch Thumbelina to live with him deep down under the ground, never to come out into the warm sun again, for that was what he didn't like. The poor little girl was very sad, for now she must say goodbye to the beautiful sun. Farewell, bright sun, she cried, stretching out her arms toward it, and taking another step outside the house, for now the corn had been reaped, and only the dry stubble was left standing. Farewell, farewell, she said, and put her arms around a red flower that grew there. Give my love to the dear Swallow when you see him. Tweet, tweet, sounded in her ear all at once. She looked up. There was the Swallow flying past. As soon as he saw Thumbelina he was very glad. She told him how unwilling she was to marry the ugly Mole, as then she had to live underground, where the sun never shone, and she could not help bursting into tears. The cold winter is coming now, said the Swallow. I must fly away to warmer lands. Will you come with me? You can sit on my back, and we will fly far away from the ugly Mole and his dark house, over the mountains, to the warm countries where the sun shines more brightly than here, where it is always summer, and there are always beautiful flowers. Do come with me, dear little Thumbelina, who saved my life when I lay frozen in the dark tunnel. Yes, I will go with you, said Thumbelina, and got on the Swallow's back with her feet on one of his outstretched wings. Up he flew into the air, over woods and seas, over the great mountains where the snow is always lying, and if she was cold she crept under his warm feathers, only keeping her little head out to admire all the beautiful things in the world beneath. At last they came to the warm lands. There the sun was brighter, the sky seemed twice as high, and in the hedges hung the finest green and purple grapes, in the woods grew oranges and lemons, the air was scented with myrtle and mint, and on the roads were pretty little children running about and playing with great gorgeous butterflies. But the Swallow flew further on, and it became more and more beautiful. Under the most splendid green trees beside a blue lake stood a glittering white marble castle. Vines hung about the high pillars. There were many Swallow's nests, and in one of these lived the Swallow who was carrying Thumbelina. Here is my house, said he, but it won't do for you to live with me. I am not too tidy enough to please you. Find a home for yourself in one of the lovely flowers that grow down there. Now I will set you down, and you can do whatever you like. That will be splendid, said she, clapping her little hands. There lay a great white marble column which had fallen to the ground and broken into three pieces. But between these grew the most beautiful white flowers. The Swallow flew down with Thumbelina and set her upon one of the broad leaves. But there, to her astonishment, she found a tiny little man sitting in the middle of the flower, as white and transparent as if he were made of glass. He had the prettiest golden crown on his head, and the most beautiful wings on his shoulders. He himself was no bigger than Thumbelina. He was the spirit of the flower. In each blossom there dwelt a tiny man or woman, but this one was the king over the others. How handsome he is, whispered Thumbelina to the Swallow. The little prince was very much frightened at the Swallow, for in comparison with one so tiny as himself he seemed a giant. But when he saw Thumbelina he was delighted, for she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. So he took his golden crown from off his head and put it on hers, asking her her name, and if she would be his wife, and then she would be queen of all the flowers. Yes, he was a different kind of husband to the son of the toad and the mole with the black velvet coat. She said yes to the noble prince, and out of each flower came a lady and gentleman, each so tiny and pretty that it was a pleasure to see them. Each brought Thumbelina a present, but the best of all was a beautiful pair of wings which were fastened onto her back, and now she too could fly from flower to flower. They all wished her joy, and the Swallow sat above in his nest and sang the wedding march, and that he did as well as he could. But he was sad, because he was very fond of Thumbelina and did not want to be separated from her. You shall not be called Thumbelina, said the spirit of the flower to her. That is an ugly name, and you are much too pretty for that. We will call you May Blossom. Farewell, farewell, said the little Swallow with a heavy heart, and flew away to further lands, far, far away, right back to Denmark. There he had a little nest above a window where his wife lived, who can tell fairy stories. Tweet, tweet, he sang to her. And that is the way we learned the whole story. The Nightingale In China, as I dare say you know, the Emperor is a Chinamen, and all his courtiers are also Chinamen. The story I am going to tell you happened many years ago, but it is worthwhile for you to listen to it, before it is forgotten. The Emperor's palace was the most splendid in the world, all made of priceless porcelain, but so brittle and delicate that you had to take great care how you touched it. In the garden they were the most beautiful flowers, and on the loveliest of them were tied silver bells which tinkled so that if you passed you could not help looking at the flowers. Everything in the Emperor's garden was admirably arranged with a view to effect, and the garden was so large that even the gardener himself did not know where it ended. If you ever got beyond it, you came to a stately forest with great trees and deep lakes in it. The forest sloped down to the sea, which was a clear blue. Large ships could sail under the boughs of the trees, and in these trees there lived a Nightingale. She sang so beautifully that even the poor fisherman who had so much to do stood and listened when he came at night to cast his nets. How beautiful it is, he said, but he had to attend to his work and forgot about the bird. But when she sang the next night and the fisherman came there again, he said the same thing. How beautiful it is! From all the countries round came travelers to the Emperor's town who were astonished at the palace and the garden, but when they heard the Nightingale, they all said, This is the finest thing after all. The travelers told all about it when they went home and learned scholars wrote many books upon the town, the palace and the garden, but they did not forget the Nightingale, and all the poets composed splendid verses on the Nightingale and the forest by the deep sea. The books were circulated throughout the world, and some of them reached the Emperor. He sat in his golden chair and read and read. He nodded his head every moment, for he liked reading the brilliant accounts of the town, the palace and the garden. But the Nightingale is better than all, he saw written. What is that? said the Emperor. I don't know anything about the Nightingale. Is there such a bird in my empire and so near as in my garden? I have never heard it, fancy reading for the first time about it in a book. And he called his first Lord to him. He was so proud that if anyone of lower rank than his own ventured to speak to him or ask him anything he would say nothing but and that does not mean anything. Here is a most remarkable bird which is called a Nightingale, said the Emperor. They say it is the most glorious thing in my kingdom. Why has no one ever said anything to me about it? I have never before heard it mentioned, said the First Lord. I will look for it and find it. But where was it to be found? The First Lord ran up and downstairs through the halls and corridors, but none of those he met had ever heard of the Nightingale, and the First Lord ran again to the Emperor and told him that it must be an invention on the part of those who had written those books. Your Imperial Majesty cannot really believe all that is written. There are some inventions called the Black Art. But the book in which I read this, said the Emperor, is sent me by His Great Majesty, the Emperor of Japan, so it cannot be untrue, and I will hear the Nightingale. She must be here this evening. She has my gracious permission to appear, and if she does not, the whole court shall be trampled underfoot after supper. Zing Pei, said the First Lord, and he ran down the stairs through the halls and corridors, and half the court ran with him, for they did not want to be trampled underfoot. Everyone was asking after the wonderful Nightingale which all the world knew of, except those at court. At last they met a poor little girl in the kitchen who said, Oh, I know the Nightingale well! How she sings! I have permission to carry the scraps over from the court meals to my poor sick mother, and when I am going home at night, tired and weary, and rest for a little in the wood, then I hear the Nightingale singing. It brings tears to my eyes, and I feel as if my mother were kissing me. Little Kitchen Maid, said the First Lord, I will give you a place in the kitchen, and you shall have leave to see the Emperor at dinner, if you can lead us to the Nightingale, for she is invited to come to court this evening. And so they all went into the wood where the Nightingale was wont to sing, and half the court went too. When they were on the way there, they heard a cow mooing. Oh! said the courtiers, now we have found her. What a wonderful power for such a small beast to have! I am sure we have heard her before. No, that is a cow mooing, said the Little Kitchen Maid. We are still a long way off. Then the frogs began to croak in the marsh. Splendid, said the Chinese chaplain, now we hear her. It sounds like a little church bell. No, no, those are frogs, said the Little Kitchen Maid, but I think we shall soon hear her now. Then the Nightingale began to sing. There she is, cried the little girl. Listen, she is sitting there, and she pointed to a little dark grey bird up in the branches. Is it possible? said the First Lord. I should never have thought it. How ordinary she looks! She must surely have lost her feathers, because she sees so many distinguished men round her. Little Nightingale, called out the Little Kitchen Maid, our gracious emperor wants you to sing before him. With the greatest of pleasure, said the Nightingale, and she sang so gloriously that it was a pleasure to listen. It sounds like glass bells, said the First Lord, and look how her little throat works. It is wonderful that we have never heard her before. She will be a great success at court. Shall I sing once more for the emperor? asked the Little Nightingale, thinking that the emperor was there. My esteemed Little Nightingale, said the First Lord. I have the great pleasure to invite you to court this evening, where his gracious imperial highness will be enchanted with your charming song. It sounds best in the green wood, said the Nightingale, but still she came gladly when she heard that the emperor wished it. At the palace everything was splendidly prepared. The porcelain walls and floors glittered in the light of many thousand gold lamps. The most gorgeous flowers which tinkled out well were placed in the corridors. There was such a hurrying and draught that all the bells jingled so much that one could not hear oneself speak. In the centre of the great hall where the emperor sat was a golden perch on which the Nightingale sat. The whole court was there, and the little kitchen maid was allowed to stand behind the door now that she was a court cook. Everyone was dressed in his best, and everyone was looking towards the little grey bird to whom the emperor nodded. The Nightingale sang so gloriously that the tears came into the emperor's eyes and ran down his cheeks. Then the Nightingale sang even more beautifully. It went straight to all hearts. The emperor was so delighted that he said she should wear his gold slipper round her neck. But the Nightingale thanked him and said she had had enough reward already. I have seen tears in the emperor's eyes. That is a great reward, and emperor's tears have such power. Then she sang again with her gloriously sweet voice. That is the most charming coquetry I have ever seen, said all the ladies round, and they all took to holding water in their mouths that they might gurgle whenever anyone spoke to them. Then they thought themselves Nightingales. Yes, the lackeys and chambermaids announced that they were pleased, which means a great deal, for they are the most difficult people of all to satisfy. In short, the Nightingale was a real success. She had to stay at court now. She had her own cage and permission to walk out twice in the day and once at night. She was given twelve servants who each held a silken string which was fastened round her leg. There was little pleasure in flying about like this. The whole town was talking about the wonderful bird, and when two people met each other one would say, Nightingale and the other Gale, and then they would both sigh and understand one another. Yes, and eleven grocer's children were called after her, but not one of them could sing a note. One day the emperor received a large parcel on which was written, the Nightingale. Here is another new book about our famous bird, said the emperor. But it was not a book, but a little mechanical toy which lay in a box, an artificial Nightingale which was like the real one, only that it was set all over with diamonds, rubies, and sapphires. When it was wound up it could sing the piece the real bird sang, and moved its tail up and down and glittered with silver and gold. Round its neck was a little collar on which was written, the Nightingale of the Emperor of Japan is nothing compared to that of the Emperor of China. This is magnificent, they all said, and the man who had brought the clockwork bird received on the spot the title of Bringer of the Imperial First Nightingale. Now they must sing together, what a duet we shall have! And so they sang together, but their voices did not blend for the real Nightingale sang in her way, and the clockwork bird sang waltzes. It is not its fault, said the bandmaster, it keeps very good time and is quite after my style. Then the artificial bird had to sing alone, it gave just as much pleasure as the real one, and then it was so much prettier to look at, it sparkled like bracelets and necklaces. Three and thirty times it sang the same piece without being tired. People would like to have heard it again, but the Emperor thought that the living Nightingale should sing now. But where was she? No one had noticed that she had flown out of the open window away to her green woods. What shall we do? said the Emperor, and all the courts scolded and said that the Nightingale was very ungrateful. But we have still the best bird, they said, and the artificial bird had to sing again, and that was the thirty-fourth time they had heard the same piece. But they did not yet know it by heart, it was much too difficult, and the bandmaster praised the bird tremendously. Yes, he assured them it was better than a real Nightingale, not only because of its beautiful plumage and diamonds, but inside as well. For see, my lords and ladies, and your Imperial Majesty, with the real Nightingale one can never tell what will come out, but all is known about the artificial bird. You can explain it. You can open it and show people where the waltzes lie, how they go, and how one follows the other. That's just what we think, said everyone, and the bandmaster received permission to show the bird to the people the next Sunday. They should hear it sing, commanded the Emperor. And they heard it, and they were as pleased as if they had been intoxicated with tea after the Chinese fashion, and they all said, Oh! and held up their forefingers and nodded time. But the poor fisherman who had heard the real Nightingale said, This one sings well enough. The tune glides out. But there is something wanting. I don't know what. The real Nightingale was banished from the kingdom. The artificial bird was put on silken cushions by the Emperor's bed, all the presents which it received, gold and precious stones lay round it, and it was given the title of Imperial Night Singer, first from the left. For the Emperor counted that side as the more distinguished, being the side on which the heart is, the Emperor's heart is also on the left. And the bandmaster wrote a work of twenty-five volumes about the artificial bird. It was so learned, long, and so full of the hardest Chinese words that everyone said they had read it and understood it. For once they had been very stupid about a book, and had been trampled under foot in consequence. So a whole year passed. The Emperor, the court, and all the Chinese knew every note of the artificial bird's song by heart, but they liked it all the better for this. They could even sing with it, and they did. The straight boy sang tra-la-la-la-la, and the Emperor sang too sometimes. It was indeed delightful. But one evening, when the artificial bird was singing its best, and the Emperor lay in bed listening to it, something in the bird went crack. Something snapped. War! All the wheels ran down, and then the music ceased. The Emperor sprang up and had his physician summoned, but what could he do? Then the clockmaker came, and after a great deal of talking and examining, he put the bird somewhat in order, but he said that it must be very seldom used as the works were nearly worn out, and it was impossible to put in new ones. Here was a calamity, only once a year was the artificial bird allowed to sing, and even that was almost too much for it. But then the bandmaster made a little speech full of hard words, saying that it was just as good as before, and so, of course, it was just as good as before. So five years passed, and then a great sorrow came to the nation. The Chinese look upon their Emperor as everything, and now he was ill, and not likely to live, it was said. Already a new Emperor had been chosen, and the people stood outside in the street and asked the First Lord how the old Emperor was. He said, and shook his head. Cold and pale lay the Emperor in his splendid great bed. The whole court believed him dead, and one after the other left him to pay their respects to the new Emperor. Everywhere in the halls and corridors, cloth was laid down so that no footsteps could be heard, and everything was still. Very, very still, and nothing came to break the silence. The Emperor longed for something to come and relieve the monotony of this death-like stillness. If only someone would speak to him! If only someone would sing to him! Music would carry his thoughts away, and would break the spell lying on him. The moon was streaming in at the open window, but that, too, was silent. Quite silent. Music! Music! cried the Emperor. You little bright golden bird, sing! Do sing! I gave you gold and jewels. I have hung my gold slipper around your neck with my own hand. Sing! Do sing! But the bird was silent. There was no one to wind it up, and so it could not sing. And all was silent. So terribly silent. All at once there came in at the window the most glorious burst of song. It was the little living Nightingale, who, sitting outside on a bow, had heard the need of her Emperor, and had come to sing to him of comfort and hope. And as she sang, the blood flowed quicker and quicker in the Emperor's weak limbs, and life began to return. Thank you, thank you, said the Emperor. You divine little bird, I know you. I chased you from my kingdom, and you have given me life again. How can I reward you? You have done that already, said the Nightingale. I brought tears to your eyes the first time I sang. I shall never forget that. They are jewels that rejoice a singer's heart. But now sleep and get strong again. I will sing you a lullaby. And the Emperor fell into a deep, calm sleep as she sang. The sun was shining through the window when he awoke, strong and well. None of his servants had come back yet, for they thought he was dead. But the Nightingale sat and sang to him. You must always stay with me, said the Emperor. You shall sing whenever you like, and I will break the artificial bird into a thousand pieces. Don't do that, said the Nightingale. He did his work as long as he could. Keep him as you have done. I cannot build my nest in the palace and live here, but let me come whenever I like. I will sit in the evening on the bow outside the window, and I will sing you something that will make you feel happy and grateful. I will sing of joy and of sorrow. I will sing of evil and the good which lies hidden from you. The little singing bird flies all around, to the poor fisherman's hut, to the farmer's cottage, to all those who are far away from you and your court. I love your heart more than your crown, though that has about it a brightness of something holy. Now I will sing to you again, but you must promise me one thing. Anything, said the Emperor, standing up in his imperial robes, which he had himself put on, and fastening on his sword, richly embossed with gold. One thing, I beg of you. Don't tell anyone that you have a little bird who tells you everything. It will be much better not to. Then the Nightingale flew away. The servants came in to look at their dead Emperor. The Emperor said, Good morning. End of Chapter 44 Chapter 45 of the Yellow Fairy Book This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Red by Caliban The Yellow Fairy Book Edited by Andrew Lang Chapter 45 Hermod and Hadvor From the Icelandic Once upon a time there were a king and a queen who had an only daughter called Hadvor, who was fair and beautiful, and being an only child was heir to the kingdom. The king and queen also had a foster son named Hermod. It was just about the same age as Hadvor, and was good-looking, as well as clever at most things. Hermod and Hadvor often played together while there were children, and liked each other so much that while they were still young, they secretly plighted their trough to each other. As time went on, the queen felt sick, and, suspecting that it was her last illness, sent for the king to come to her. When he came, she told him that she had no long time to live. And therefore wished to ask one thing of him, which was that if he married another wife, he should promise to take no other than the queen of Hetland, the good. The king gave the promise, and thereafter the queen died. Time went past, and the king, growing tired of living alone, fitted out his ship and sailed out to sea. As he sailed, there came upon him so thick a mist that he altogether lost his bearings. But after a long trouble he found land. There he laid his ship to, and went on shore all alone. After walking for some time, he came to a forest into which he went a little way and stopped. Then he heard sweet music from a harp, and went in the direction of the sound until they came to a clearing. And there he saw three women, one of whom sat on a golden chair, and was beautifully and grandly dressed. She held a harp in her hands, and it was very sorrowful. A second was also finally dressed, but younger in appearance, and also sat on a chair, but it was not so grand as the first ones. The third stood beside him, and was very pretty to look at. She had a green cloak over her other clothes, and it was easy to see that she was a maid to the other two. After the king had looked at them for a little while, he went forward and saluted them. The one that sat on the golden chair asked him who he was and where he was going. He told her all the story, how he was a king and had lost his queen, and was now on his way to Hetland, the good to ask the queen of that country in marriage. She answered that fortune had contrived this wonderfully, who pirates had flundered Hetland, and killed the king, and she had fled from the land in terror, and had come hither after great trouble. And she was the very person he was looking for. And the others were his daughter and maid. The king immediately asked her hand. She gladly received his proposal and accepted him at once. Thereafter they all set out and made their way to the ship. And after that nothing is told of their voyage until the king reached his own country. There he made a great feast, and celebrated his marriage with this woman, and after that things are quiet for a time. Hermod and Hadworth took but a little notice of the queen and her daughter. But, on the other hand, Hadworth and the queen's maid, whose name was Olaf, were very friendly, and Olaf came often to visit Hadworth in her castle. But before long the king went out to war. And no sooner was he away than the queen came to talk with Hermod, and said that she wanted him to marry her daughter. Hermod told her straight and plain he would not do so. And which the queen grew terribly angry, and said that in that case neither should he have Hadworth, for she would now lay the spell on him. That he should go to a desert island, and there be a lion by day, and a man by night. He should also always think of Hadworth, which would cause him all the more sorrow. And from this spell he would never be freed until Hadworth burned the lion's skin, and that would not happen very soon. As soon as the queen had finished her speech, Hermod replied that he also laid a spell on her. And that was, that as soon as he was freed from her enchantments, she should become a rat and her daughter a mouse, and fight with each other in the hall until he had killed them with his sword. After this, Hermod disappeared. And no one knew what had become of him. The queen'd cause search to be made for him, but he could nowhere be found. One time when Olaf was in the castle beside Hadworth, she asked the princess if he knew where Hermod had gone to. And this Hadworth became very sad and said that she did not. I shall tell you, then, said Olaf, for I know all about it. Hermod has disappeared to the wicked devices of the queen, for she is a witch and so is her daughter, though they have put on these beautiful forms. Because Hermod would not fall in love with the queen's plans and marry her daughter, she has laid a spell on him to go on an island and be a lion by day and a man by night, and never be freed from this until you burn the lion's skin. Besides, said Olaf, she has looked out for a match for you, and she has a brother in the underworld, a three-headed giant, whom she means to turn into a beautiful prince and get him married to you. This is no new thing for the queen. She took me away from my parents' house and compelled me to serve her. But she has never done me any harm for the green cloak I wear protects me against all mischief. Had for now became still sadder than before the thought of the marriage destined for her, and it treated Olaf to think of some plan to save her. I think, said Olaf, that your war will come up through the floor of the castle to you, and so you must be prepared when you hear the noise of his coming and the floor begins to open and have at hand a blazing pitch and pour plenty of it into the opening. That will prove too much for him. About this time the king came home from his expedition, and thought at a great blow that no one knew what had become of hairmen. But the queen consoled him as best she could, and after a time the king thought less about the disappearance. Hadmore remained in the castle, and had made preparations to receive her war when he came. One night not long after, a loud noise and rumbling was heard underneath the castle. Hadmore had once guessed what it was and told her mates to be ready to help her. The noise and the thundering grew louder and louder until the floor began to open, whereupon Hadmore had them take the call in a pitch and pour plenty of it into the opening. With that the noises grew fainter and fainter, to the last they ceased altogether. Next morning the queen rose early and went out to the palace gate, and there she found her brother the giant lying dead. She went up to him and said, I pronounce this spell, that you become a beautiful prince and that Hadmore shall be unable to say anything against the charges I shall bring against her. The body of the dead giant now became that of a beautiful prince, and the queen went in again. I don't think, said she to the king, that your daughter is as good as she said to be. My brother came and asked her hand, and she had him put to death. I had found his dead body lying at the palace gate. The king went along with the queen to see the body. I thought it all very strange. So beautiful a youth, he said, would have been a worthy match for Hadmore, and he would readily have agreed to their marriage. The queen asked Lee to decide what Hadmore's punishment should be, which the king was very willing to allow so as to escape from punishing his own daughter. The queen's decision was that the king should make a big grave mound for her brother, and put Hadmore into it beside him. Olaf knew all the plans of the queen, and went to tell the princess what had been done, whereupon Hadmore earnestly entreated her to tell him what to do. First and foremost, said Olaf, you must get a wide cloak to wear over your other clothes when you are put into the mound. The giant's ghost will walk after you are both left together in there, and he will have two dogs along with him. He will ask you to cut pieces out of his legs to give to the dogs. That you must not promise to do unless he tells you where Hamid has gone to, and it tells you how to find him. He will then let you stand on his shoulders so as to get out of the mound, but he means to cheat you all the same, and will catch you by the cloak to pull you back again. But you must take care to have the cloak loose on your shoulders, so that he will only get hold of that. The mound was already now, and the giant laid in it. And into it Hadmore had to go without being allowed to make any defense. After they were both left there, everything happened just as Olaf had said. The prince became a giant again, and asked Hadmore to cut the pieces out of his legs for the dogs. But she refused, until he told her that Hamid was in a desert island, which she could not reach unless she took the skin off the soles of his feet and made shoes out of that. With these shoes she could travel both on land and sea. This Hadmore now did, and the giant then let her up on his shoulders to get out of the mound. As she sprang out he caught hold of a cloak, but she had taken care to let it lie loose on her shoulders. And so escaped! She now made her way down to the sea, to where she knew there was the shortest distance over to the island to which Hamid was. This straight she easily crossed with the shoes kept her up. On reaching the island she found a sandy beach all along by the sea, and high cliffs above. Nor could she see any way to get up these, and so being both sad at heart and tired with the long journey, she lay down and fell asleep. As she slept she dreamed that a tall woman came to her and said, I know that you are Princess Hadmore, you are searching for Hamid. He is on this island, but it will be hard for you to get to him if you have no one to help you, for you cannot climb the cliffs by your own strength. I have therefore let down a rope by which you will be able to climb up, and as the island is so large that you might not find Hamid's dwelling place so easily, I lay down this clue beside you. You need only hold the end of the thread, and a clue will run on before and show you the way. I also lay this belt beside you, to put on when you awaken. It will keep you from growing faint with hunger. The woman now disappeared, and Hadmore woke, and saw that all her dream had been true. The rope hung down from the cliff, and the clue in the belt lay beside her. The belt she put on, the rope enabled her to climb up the cliff, and the clue led her on till she came to the mouth of a cave which was not very big. She went into the cave and saw there a low couch, under which she crept and lay down. When evening came, she heard the noise of footsteps outside, and became aware that the lion had come to the mouth of the cave, and shook itself there, after which she heard a man coming towards the couch. She was sure this was Hamid, because she had heard him speaking to himself about his own condition, and calling to mind Hadmore and other things in the old days. Hadmore made no sign, but waited till he had fallen asleep, and then crept out and burned the lion's skin which he had left outside. She then went back into the cave and awakened Hamid, and they had a most joyful meeting. In the morning they talked over their plans, and were most of the losses to how to get out of the island. Hadmore told Hamid her dream, and said that she suspected there was someone in the island who would be able to help. Hamid said he knew of a witch there, who was ready to help anyone, and that the only plan was to go to her. So they went to the witch's cave, and found her there with the fifteen young sons, and asked her to help them to get to the mainland. There are other things easier than that, said she. The giant that was buried will be waiting for you, and will attack you on the way as he has turned himself into a big whale. I shall lend you a boat, however, then if you meet the whale and think your lives are in danger, then you can name me by name. They thanked her greatly for her help and advice, and set out from the island, but on the way they saw a huge fish coming towards them, with great splashing and dashing waves. They were sure of what it was, and they thought they had a good reason as ever to call upon the witch, and so they did. The next minute they saw coming after them another huge whale, followed by fifteen smaller ones. All of them swam past the boat and went on to meet the whale. There was a fierce battle then, and the sea became so stormy that it was not very easy to keep the boat from being filled by the waves. After this fight had gone on for some time, they saw that the sea was dyed with blood. The big whale and the fifteen smaller ones disappeared, and they got to land, safe and sound. Now the story goes back to the king's hall. Well, strange things had happened in the meantime. The queen and her daughter had disappeared, but a rat and a mouse were always fighting with each other there. There were ever so many people that tried to drive them away, but no one could manage it. Thus some time went on while the king was almost beside himself with sorrow and care for the loss of his queen, and because these monsters destroyed all mirth in the hall. One evening, however, they all sat dull and downhearted. In came Hermit with a sword by his side and saluted the king, who received him with the greatest joy, as if he had come back from the dead. Before Hermit sat down, however, he went to where the rat and mouse were fighting, and cut them in two with his sword. All were astonished then by seeing two witches lying dead on the floor of the hall. Hermit now told the whole story to the king, who was very glad to be rid of such wild features. Next he asked for the hand of Hadwar, which the king readily gave him, and now being an old man gave the kingdom to him as well. And so Hermit became king. Olaf married a good-looking nobleman, and that is the end of the story. Chapter 46 The Steadfast Tin Soldier There were once upon a time five and twenty tin soldiers, all brothers as they were made out of the same old tin spoon. Their uniform was red and blue, and they shouldered their guns and looked straight in front of them. The first words that they heard in this world, when the lid of the box in which they lay was taken off, were, Hurrah tin soldiers! This was exclaimed by a little boy clapping his hands. They had been given to him because it was his birthday, and now he began setting them out on the table. Each soldier was exactly like the other in shape, except just one who had been made last when the tin had run short. But there he stood as firmly on his one leg as the others did on two, and he is the one that became famous. There were many other playthings on the table on which they were being set out. But the nicest of all was a pretty little castle made of cardboard, with windows through which you could see into the rooms. In front of the castle stood some little trees surrounding a tiny mirror which looked like a lake. Wax swans were floating about and reflecting themselves in it. That was all very pretty, but the most beautiful thing was a little lady who stood in the open doorway. She was cut out of paper, but she had on a dress of the finest muslin, with a scarf of narrow blue ribbon around her shoulders, fastened in the middle with a glittering rose made of gold paper, which was as large as her head. The little lady was stretching out both her arms, for she was a dancer, and was lifting up one leg so high in the air that the tin soldier couldn't find it anywhere, and thought that she too had only one leg. That's the wife for me, he thought. But she is so grand and lives in a castle, whilst I have only a box with four and twenty others. This is no place for her, but I must make her acquaintance. Then he stretched himself out behind a snuff box that lay on the table. From thence he could watch the dainty little lady, who continued to stand on one leg without losing her balance. When the night came all the other tin soldiers went into their box, and the people of the house went to bed. Then the toys began to play at visiting, dancing, and fighting. The tin soldiers rattled in their box, for they wanted to be out too, but they could not raise the lid. The nutcrackers played at leapfrog, and the slate pencil ran about the slate. There was such a noise that the canary woke up and began to talk to them, in poetry too. The only two who did not stir from their places were the tin soldier and the little dancer. She remained on tiptoe, with both arms outstretched. He stood steadfastly on his one leg, never moving his eyes from her face. The clock struck twelve, and crack off flew the lid of the snuff box, but there was no snuff inside, only a little black imp. That was the beauty of it. Hello, tin soldier, said the imp. Don't look at things that aren't intended for the likes of you. But the tin soldier took no notice, and seemed not to hear. Very well, wait till to-morrow, said the imp. When it was morning and the children had got up, the tin soldier was put in the window. And whether it was the wind or the black little imp, I don't know, but all at once the window flew open and out fell the little tin soldier, head over heels, from the third-story window. That was a terrible fall, I can tell you. He landed on his head with his leg in the air, his gun being wedged between two paving-stones. The nursery maid and the little boy came down at once to look for him, but though they were so near him that they almost trod on him, they did not notice him. If the tin soldier had only cried out, here I am, they must have found him. But he did not think it fitting for him to cry out, because he had on his uniform. Soon it began to drizzle, then the drops came faster, and then there was a regular downpour. When it was over two little street boys came along. Just look, cried one, here is a tin soldier. He shall sail up and down in a boat. So they made a little boat out of newspaper, put the tin soldier in it, and made him sail up and down the gutter. Both the boys ran along beside him clapping their hands. What great waves there were in the gutter! What a swift current! The paper boat tossed up and down, and in the middle of the stream it went so quick that the tin soldier trembled. But he remained steadfast, showed no emotion, looked straight in front of him, shouldering his gun. All at once the boat passed under a long tunnel that was as dark as his box had been. Where can I be coming now, he wondered. Oh, dear, this is the black imp's fault. If only the little lady were sitting beside me in the boat, it might be twice as dark for all I should care. Suddenly there came along a great water-ratch that lived in the tunnel. How have you a passport? asked the rat. Out with your passport. But the tin soldier was silent, and grasped his gun more firmly. The boat sped on and the rat behind it. Oh, how he showed his teeth! As he cried to the chips of wood and straw, hold him, hold him! He has not paid the toll, he has not shown his passport. But the current became swifter and stronger. The tin soldier could already see daylight where the tunnel ended, but in his ears there sounded a roaring enough to frighten any brave man. Only think, at the end of the tunnel, the gutter discharged itself into a great canal. That would be just as dangerous for him as it would be for us to go down a waterfall. Now he was so near to it that he could not hold on any longer. On went the boat, the poor tin soldier keeping himself as stiff as he could go. No one should say of him afterwards that he had flinched. The boat whirled three, four times round, and became filled to the brim with water. It began to sink. The tin soldier was standing up to his neck in water, and deeper and deeper sank the boat, and softer and softer grew the paper. Now the water was over his head. He was thinking of the pretty little dancer whose face he should never see again. And there sounded in his ears over and over again, forward, forward, soldier bold, deaths before the grim and cold. The paper came in two, and the soldier fell, but at that moment he was swallowed by a great fish. Oh, how dark it was inside, even darker than in the tunnel, and was really very close quarters. But there the steadfast little tin soldier lay full-length, shouldering his gun. Up and down swam the fish, then he made the most dreadful contortions, and became suddenly quite still. Then it was as if a flash of lightning had passed through him. The daylight streamed in, and a voice exclaimed, Why, here is the little tin soldier! The fish had been caught, taken to market, sold, and brought into the kitchen, where the cook had cut it open with a great knife. She took up the soldier between her finger and thumb, and carried him into the room where everyone wanted to see the hero who had been found inside a fish. But the tin soldier was not at all proud. They put him on the table, and no but what strange things do happen in this world. The tin soldier was in the same room in which he had been before. He saw the same children, and the same toys on the table, and there was the same grand castle with the pretty little dancer. She was still standing on one leg with the other high in the air. She, too, was steadfast. That touched the tin soldier. He was nearly going to shed tin tears, but that would not have been fitting for a soldier. He looked at her, but said nothing. All at once one of the little boys took up the tin soldier and threw him into the stove, giving no reasons, but doubtless the little black imp in the snuff box was at the bottom of this, too. There the tin soldier lay, and felt a heat that was truly terrible, but whether he was suffering from actual fire or from the ardour of his passion, he did not know. All his colour had disappeared, whether this had happened on his travels, or whether it was the result of trouble, who can say. He looked at the little lady, she looked at him, and he felt that he was melting, but he remained steadfast with his gun at his shoulder. Suddenly a door opened. The draught caught up the little dancer, and off she flew like a silt to the tin soldier in the stove, burst into flames, and that was the end of her. Then the tin soldier melted down into a little lump, and when the next morning the maid was taking out the ashes, she found him in the shape of a heart. There was nothing left of the little dancer but her gilt rose, burnt as black as a cinder.