I have been very nearly carried away, it is a good thing that you are come, for I want something to strengthen me. It is cold in the water, and I have stood here six hours. Have you brought anything for me? Ah, how much good that does, and how it warms me, it is as good as a hot meal, and not so dear. Drink a little, my boy; you look quite pale; you are shivering in your thin clothes, and autumn has really come. Oh, how cold the water is! I hope I shall not be ill. But no, I must not be afraid of that. Give me a little more, and you may have a sip too, but only a sip; you must not get used to it, my poor, dear child. I work hard and suffer pain with my poor hands, but I do it willingly, that I may be able to bring you up honestly and truthfully, my dear boy.


Oh, you poor thing; how you do work, standing there in the water! You really do need something to give you a little warmth, and yet spiteful people cry out about the few drops you take. Many will take more than they ought, but they don't call that drinking! They are all right, you are good for nothing indeed!


And so he spoke to you in that way, did he, my child? He says you have a mother who is good for nothing. Well, perhaps he is right, but he should not have said it to my child. How much has happened to me from that house!


Yes. I remember you were in service there, and lived in the house when the mayor's parents were alive; how many years ago that is. Bushels of salt have been eaten since then, and people may well be thirsty. The mayor's great dinner-party to-day ought to have been put off, but the news came too late. The footman told me the dinner was already cooked, when a letter came to say that the mayor's younger brother in Copenhagen is dead.


Dead!


Yes, certainly, but why do you take it so much to heart? I suppose you knew him years ago, when you were in service there?


Is he dead? Oh, he was such a kind, good-hearted man, there are not many like him. Oh, dear me; I feel quite ill: everything is going round me, I cannot bear it. Is the bottle empty?


Dear me, you are ill indeed. Come, cheer up; perhaps it will pass off. No, indeed, I see you are really ill; the best thing for me to do is to lead you home.


But my washing yonder?


I will take care of that. Come, give me your arm. The boy can stay here and take care of the linen, and I'll come back and finish the washing; it is but a trifle.


I have stood too long in the cold water, and I have had nothing to eat the whole day since the morning. O kind Heaven, help me to get home; I am in a burning fever. Oh, my poor child,


Many thanks, you good soul. Now the boy is asleep, I will tell you all. He is soon asleep. How gentle and sweet he looks as he lies there with his eyes closed! He does not know how his mother has suffered; and Heaven grant he never may know it. I was in service at the counsellor's, the father of the mayor, and it happened that the youngest of his sons, the student, came home. I was a young wild girl then, but honest; that I can declare in the sight of Heaven. The student was merry and gay, brave and affectionate; every drop of blood in him was good and honorable; a better man never lived on earth. He was the son of the house, and I was only a maid; but he loved me truly and honorably, and he told his mother of it. She was to him as an angel upon earth; she was so wise and loving. He went to travel, and before he started he placed a gold ring on my finger; and as soon as he was out of the house, my mistress sent for me. Gently and earnestly she drew me to her, and spake as if an angel were speaking. She showed me clearly, in spirit and in truth, the difference there was between him and me. 'He is pleased now,' she said, 'with your pretty face; but good looks do not last long. You have not been educated like he has. You are not equals in mind and rank, and therein lies the misfortune. I esteem the poor,' she added. 'In the sight of God, they may occupy a higher place than many of the rich; but here upon earth we must beware of entering upon a false track, lest we are overturned in our plans, like a carriage that travels by a dangerous road. I know a worthy man, an artisan, who wishes to marry you. I mean Eric, the glovemaker. He is a widower, without children, and in a good position. Will you think it over?' Every word she said pierced my heart like a knife; but I knew she was right, and the thought pressed heavily upon me. I kissed her hand, and wept bitter tears, and I wept still more when I went to my room, and threw myself on the bed. I passed through a dreadful night; God knows what I suffered, and how I struggled. The following Sunday I went to the house of God to pray for light to direct my path. It seemed like a providence that as I stepped out of church Eric came towards me; and then there remained not a doubt in my mind. We were suited to each other in rank and circumstances. He was, even then, a man of good means. I went up to him, and took his hand, and said, 'Do you still feel the same for me?' 'Yes; ever and always,' said he. 'Will you, then, marry a maiden who honors and esteems you, although she cannot offer you her love? but that may come.' 'Yes, it will come,' said he; and we joined our hands together, and I went home to my mistress. The gold ring which her son had given me I wore next to my heart. I could not place it on my finger during the daytime, but only in the evening, when I went to bed. I kissed the ring till my lips almost bled, and then I gave it to my mistress, and told her that the banns were to be put up for me and the glovemaker the following week. Then my mistress threw her arms round me, and kissed me. She did not say that I was 'good for nothing;' very likely I was better then than I am now; but the misfortunes of this world, were unknown to me then. At Michaelmas we were married, and for the first year everything went well with us. We had a journeyman and an apprentice, and you were our servant, Martha.


Ah, yes, and you were a dear, good mistress. I shall never forget how kind you and your husband were to me.


Yes, those were happy years when you were with us, although we had no children at first. The student I never met again. Yet I saw him once, although he did not see me. He came to his mother's funeral. I saw him, looking pale as death, and deeply troubled, standing at her grave; for she was his mother. Sometime after, when his father died, he was in foreign lands, and did not come home. I know that he never married, I believe he became a lawyer. He had forgotten me, and even had we met he would not have known me, for I have lost all my good looks, and perhaps that is all for the best. We had five hundred dollars, and there was a house in the street to be sold for two hundred, so we thought it would be worth our while to pull it down and build a new one in its place; so it was bought. The builder and carpenter made an estimate that the new house would cost ten hundred and twenty dollars to build. Eric had credit, so he borrowed the money in the chief town. But the captain, who was bringing it to him, was shipwrecked, and the money lost. Just about this time, my dear sweet boy, who lies sleeping there, was born, and my husband was attacked with a severe lingering illness. For three quarters of a year I was obliged to dress and undress him. We were backward in our payments, we borrowed more money, and all that we had was lost and sold, and then my husband died. Since then I have worked, toiled, and striven for the sake of the child. I have scrubbed and washed both coarse and fine linen, but I have not been able to make myself better off; and it was God's will. In His own time He will take me to Himself, but I know He will never forsake my boy.


She has drunk herself to death,


There was something between my brother and her, I remember, it is a good thing that she is out of the way, for now the boy will have the whole. I will place him with honest people to bring him up, that he may become a respectable working man. she was good for nothing.


Oh, my poor mother! Is it true what they say, that she was good for nothing?


No, indeed, it is not true, she was worth a great deal; I knew it years ago, and since the last night of her life I am more certain of it than ever. I say she was a good and worthy woman, and God, who is in heaven, knows I am speaking the truth, though the world may say, even now she was good for nothing.


I am only a woman! He doesn't bite, he has no teeth. He is like one of the family, faithful and grumpy; but the latter is my grandchildren's fault, for they have teased him; they play at wedding, and want to give him the part of the bridesmaid, and that's too much for him, poor old fellow.


O, what a delicious dish!


Listen, what a drumming there is on the burdock-leaves; turn, turn, turn; turn, turn, turn,


There come the drops, they are trickling down the stalks. We shall have it very wet here presently. I am very glad we have such good houses, and that the little one has one of his own. There has been really more done for us than for any other creature; it is quite plain that we are the most noble people in the world. We have houses from our birth, and the burdock forest has been planted for us. I should very much like to know how far it extends, and what lies beyond it.


There can be nothing better than we have here. I wish for nothing more.


Yes, but I do. I should like to be taken to the palace, and boiled, and laid upon a silver dish, as was done to all our ancestors; and you may be sure it must be something very uncommon.


The nobleman's castle, perhaps, has fallen to decay, or the burdock wood may have grown out. You need not be in a hurry; you are always so impatient, and the youngster is getting just the same. He has been three days creeping to the top of that stalk. I feel quite giddy when I look at him.


You must not scold him, he creeps so very carefully. He will be the joy of our home; and we old folks have nothing else to live for. But have you ever thought where we are to get a wife for him? Do you think that farther out in the wood there may be others of our race?


There may be black snails, no doubt, black snails without houses; but they are so vulgar and conceited too. But we can give the ants a commission; they run here and there, as if they all had so much business to get through. They, most likely, will know of a wife for our youngster.


I certainly know a most beautiful bride, but I fear it would not do, for she is a queen.


That does not matter, has she a house?


She has a palace, a most beautiful ant-palace with seven hundred passages.


Thank-you, but our boy shall not go to live in an ant-hill. If you know of nothing better, we will give the commission to the white gnats; they fly about in rain and sunshine; they know the burdock wood from one end to the other.


We have a wife for him, a hundred man-steps from here there is a little snail with a house, sitting on a gooseberry-bush; she is quite alone, and old enough to be married. It is only a hundred man-steps from here.


Then let her come to him. He has the whole burdock forest; she has only a bush.


But a beautiful speech was made by the mother-snail. The father could not speak; he was too much overcome. Then they gave the whole burdock forest to the young snails as an inheritance, and repeated what they had so often said, that it was the finest place in the world, and that if they led upright and honorable lives, and their family increased, they and their children might some day be taken to the nobleman's palace, to be boiled black, and laid on a silver dish.


What a ridiculous little shoot! No one will recognize it; not even the thistle nor the stinging-nettle.


It must be a kind of garden plant,


Where are you coming? It is stupid nonsense to allow yourself to shoot out in this way; we are not here to support you.


It must be some degenerate species. I do not know it, and it is not mentioned in any system.


Not known in any system!


They imagined evil in their hearts, but God turned it to good.


Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.


That plant is a foreigner, no doubt. We can never conduct ourselves like that in this country.


This will be as useful as any,


I am afraid I carried this plant away from the forest in my bundle, and it has been burnt to ashes long ago. But I did not know any better.


You did not know, any better! Ignorance upon ignorance indeed!


Here is where the plant stood, it is a sacred place.


Good-day.


Many thanks.


Good-day. Thank you


Ah, yes; Holger Danske will not appear in my lifetime, but the boy who is in bed there may very likely live to see him when the event really comes to pass.


That is the most beautiful coat of arms in the world. The lions represent strength; and the hearts, gentleness and love.


Ah, yes; that is indeed a noble heart in the Danish arms,


What you have been carving is very beautiful, grandfather. Holger Danske and the old coat of arms; it seems to me as if I have seen the face somewhere.


No, that is impossible, but I have seen it, and I have tried to carve it in wood, as I have retained it in my memory. It was a long time ago, while the English fleet lay in the roads, on the second of April, when we showed that we were true, ancient Danes. I was on board the Denmark, in Steene Bille's squadron; I had a man by my side whom even the cannon balls seemed to fear. He sung old songs in a merry voice, and fired and fought as if he were something more than a man. I still remember his face, but from whence he came, or whither he went, I know not; no one knows. I have often thought it might have been Holger Danske himself, who had swam down to us from Kronenburg to help us in the hour of danger. That was my idea, and there stands his likeness.


He knew how to fight also, for he lashed the follies and prejudices of people during his whole life.


Tycho Brahe was another of those who used a sword, but not one to cut into the flesh and bone, but to make the way of the stars of heaven clear, and plain to be understood. And then he whose father belonged to my calling,--yes, he, the son of the old image-carver, he whom we ourselves have seen, with his silvery locks and his broad shoulders, whose name is known in all lands;--yes, he was a sculptor, while I am only a carver. Holger Danske can appear in marble, so that people in all countries of the world may hear of the strength of Denmark. Now let us drink the health of Bertel.


Ah, yes, remember me, you Danish people, keep me in your memory, I will come to you in the hour of need. Boom, boom.


The horse eats himself up;


Oh, take me with you,


Never mind; follow me. Yonder is the house.


We shall get into trouble about that pig.


Oh, never mind, we will go home to my father's house. It is here in the wood.


Is there in this nut a carriage, with a pair of horses?


Yes, there is a golden carriage, with two golden horses,


Then give me that nut,


Is there, in this nut, a pretty little neckerchief like the one Christina has on her neck?


There are ten neckerchiefs in it, as well as beautiful dresses, stockings, and a hat and veil.


Then I will have that one also, and it is a pretty one too. You may keep that one, it is quite as pretty.


What is in it?


The best of all things for you,


It is just what I expected! How should there be room in a little nut like this for the best thing of all? Christina will find her two nuts just the same; there will be neither fine clothes or a golden carriage in them.


Only think. She is going to the rich innkeeper's, at the hotel in Herning, many miles west from here. She is to assist the landlady in the housekeeping; and, if afterwards she behaves well and remains to be confirmed, the people will treat her as their own daughter.


Did you know me again, Ib?


You are become quite a grand lady, Christina, and I am only a rough working man; but I have often thought of you and of old times.


Christina, if you have not become too grand, and if you can be contented to live in my mother's house as my wife, we will be married some day. But we can wait for a while.


Oh yes. Let us wait a little longer, Ib. I can trust you, for I believe that I do love you. But let me think it over.


Christina must not refuse this good fortune.


Then will you write a few words to her?


The letter written by you to your father I have read, and see from it that you are prosperous in everything, and that still better fortune is in store for you. Ask your own heart, Christina, and think over carefully what awaits you if you take me for your husband, for I possess very little in the world. Do not think of me or of my position; think only of your own welfare. You are bound to me by no promises; and if in your heart you have given me one, I release you from it. May every blessing and happiness be poured out upon you, Christina. Heaven will give me the heart's consolation. Ever your sincere friend, IB.


You have found in the earth the best thing you could find,


The best thing, the very best thing for me,--and found in the earth! Well, if it really is so, then the gypsy woman was right in her prophecy.


Can I be of any service to you? This little girl brought me up here; but I am a stranger in this city. Are there no neighbors or any one whom I can call?


It makes me unhappy to think that I shall die, and leave this poor child. Oh, what will become of her?


In the early ages of the world, these people could not be found in Switzerland. They are a colony from the north, where their ancestors still dwell, and are called Swedes.


Come out on the roof with me. Come out on the roof with me, little Rudy. What people say about falling down is all nonsense, you will not fall, unless you are afraid. Come, now, set one foot here and another there, and feel your way with your fore-feet. Keep your eyes wide open, and move softly, and if you come to a hole jump over it, and cling fast as I do.


Higher, higher! see to what height we have grown, and how fast we hold, even to the narrow edges of the rocks.


We and you, you and we.


Mine is the power to seize and crush. Once a beautiful boy was stolen from me by man,--a boy whom I had kissed, but had not kissed to death. He is again among mankind, and tends the goats on the mountains. He is mine; I will send for him.


Seize him, indeed. I cannot do it. That monster of a cat has taught him her tricks. That child of the human race has a power within him which keeps me at a distance; I cannot possibly reach the boy when he hangs from the branches of trees, over the precipice; or I would gladly tickle his feet, and send him heels over head through the air; but I cannot accomplish it.


We must accomplish it, either you or I must; and I will--I will!


No, no!


You shall not catch him; you shall not seize him!


Greater and stronger than he have I seized!


The wind took the covering, but not the man; it could even seize upon him, but not hold him fast. The children of strength are more powerful, more ethereal, even than we are. They can rise higher than our parent, the sun. They have the magic words that rule the wind and the waves, and compel them to serve and obey; and they can, at last, cast off the heavy, oppressive weight of mortality, and soar upwards.


Your father was the postilion, and I was the postilion's dog. We have often travelled the same journey together; I knew all the dogs and men on this side of the mountain. It is not my habit to talk much; but now that we have so little time to converse together, I will say something more than usual. I will relate to you a story, which I have reflected upon for a long time. I do not understand it, and very likely you will not, but that is of no consequence. I have, however, learnt from it that in this world things are not equally divided, neither for dogs nor for men. All are not born to lie on the lap and to drink milk: I have never been petted in this way, but I have seen a little dog seated in the place of a gentleman or lady, and travelling inside a post-chaise. The lady, who was his mistress, or of whom he was master, carried a bottle of milk, of which the little dog now and then drank; she also offered him pieces of sugar to crunch. He sniffed at them proudly, but would not eat one, so she ate them herself. I was running along the dirty road by the side of the carriage as hungry as a dog could be, chewing the cud of my own thoughts, which were rather in confusion. But many other things seemed in confusion also. Why was not I lying on a lap and travelling in a coach? I could not tell; yet I knew I could not alter my own condition, either by barking or growling.


You are getting too strong for me, but I will not use my claws against you. Clamber away over the mountains; it was I who taught you to climb. Do not fancy you are going to fall, and you will be quite safe.


Rudy is going away over the mountains,


He is always in such a hurry, and I don't like taking leave,


We and you--you and we.


The Jungfrau,


The Monk and the Eiger.


We are not very badly off, here in the canton Valais, we have the chamois, they do not die so fast as the wild goats, and it is certainly much better here now than in former times. How highly the old times have been spoken of, but ours is better. The bag has been opened, and a current of air now blows through our once confined valley. Something better always makes its appearance when old, worn-out things fail.


It was they who cut a road out of the solid rock over the Simplon--such a road, that I need only say to a child of three years old, 'Go down to Italy, you have only to keep in the high road,' and the child will soon arrive in Italy, if he followed my directions. Hurrah! long live Napoleon Buonaparte.


Hold fast, Rudy! hold fast, with all your might.


Will you write a letter for me? Saperli cannot write; Saperli can only take the letters to the post.


A letter for you! who do you wish to write to?


To the Lord Christ,


What do you mean?


Saperli wants to send a letter to Jesus Christ, to pray Him to let Saperli die, and not the master of the house here.


A letter would not reach Him up above; it would not give him back whom we have lost.


Now you must work for us,


Oh, it is Rudy,


He kissed me in the dance,


Ah, ah, he has kissed Annette, has he? he has begun with A, and I suppose he will kiss through the whole alphabet.


Nothing is too high for a man to reach: he must climb with confidence in himself, and he will not fail.


Never despair! A visit to the mill, to say good evening to the miller, and good evening to little Babette, can do no harm. No one ever fails who has confidence in himself. If I am to be Babette's husband, I must see her some time or other.


There was no one at home in the house, Only a kitten at play.


Mew,


Babette is at Interlachen, many days' journey from here. It is certainly a long way for any one who takes the high-road, but not so far if he takes a short cut across the mountain, and that just suits a chamois-hunter. I have been that way before, for it leads to the home of my childhood, where, as a little boy, I lived with my grandfather. And there are shooting matches at Interlachen. I will go, and try to stand first in the match. Babette will be there, and I shall be able to make her acquaintance.


We and you--you and we.


It is really a splendid town, like none other that I have ever seen,


Who may that young stranger be?


He speaks French as it is spoken in the Swiss cantons.


And makes himself understood very well when he speaks German,


He lived here, when a child, with his grandfather, in a house on the road to Grindelwald,


You are from the canton Valais.


I came by a much shorter way. I came over the mountains. There is no road so high that a man may not venture upon it.


Ah, yes; and break your neck, and you look like one who will break his neck some day, you are so daring.


Oh, nothing ever happens to a man if he has confidence in himself,


Nuts are given to us, but they are not cracked for us.


but they are old-maids, they are nearly thirty.


Nothing can be more beautiful than this,


Nothing! To-morrow I must return home,


Come and visit us at Bex, my father will be pleased to see you.


Hast thou a lover?


I have none. Do not let us go such a long way round. We must keep to the left; it is much shorter.


Ah, yes, and fall into some crevasse. Do you pretend to be a guide, and not know the road better than that?


I know every step of the way, and my thoughts are collected, while yours are down in the valley yonder. We should think of the Ice Maiden while we are up here; men say she is not kind to their race.


I fear her not. She could not keep me when I was a child; I will not give myself up to her now I am a man.


Give me your hand. I will help you to mount.


You help me. I do not yet require a woman to help me to climb.


What beautiful things you have brought home! You have brought good luck with you, Rudy. I must give you a kiss, my dear boy.


How handsome you are, Rudy!


Don't flatter,


I must say once more,


that you are very lucky. Well, in that I believe you are right. They must have returned home by this time, it is already two days over the time which they fixed upon. I must go to Bex.


There is a limit to everything. The eagle could not be taken; it would be folly to attempt it.


What is the news at the mill? Here in the house there is secret love-making going on, which the father knows nothing about. Rudy and Babette have been treading on each other's paws, under the table, all the evening. They trod on my tail twice, but I did not mew; that would have attracted notice.


Well, I should have mewed,


What might suit the kitchen would not suit the parlor. I am quite curious to know what the miller will say when he finds out this engagement.


Here, you from the kitchen, what do you think? The miller knows all now. Everything has come to a delightful end. Rudy came here this evening, and he and Babette had much whispering and secret conversation together. They stood in the path near the miller's room. I lay at their feet; but they had no eyes or thoughts for me. 'I will go to your father at once,' said he; 'it is the most honorable way.' 'Shall I go with you?' asked Babette; 'it will give you courage.' 'I have plenty of courage,' said Rudy; 'but if you are with me, he must be friendly, whether he says Yes or No.' So they turned to go in, and Rudy trod heavily on my tail; he certainly is very clumsy. I mewed; but neither he nor Babette had any ears for me. They opened the door, and entered together. I was before them, and jumped on the back of a chair. I hardly know what Rudy said; but the miller flew into a rage, and threatened to kick him out of the house. He told him he might go to the mountains, and look after the chamois, but not after our little Babette.


What did they say! why, all that people generally do say when they go a-wooing--'I love her, and she loves me; and when there is milk in the can for one, there is milk in the can for two.'


'But she is so far above you,' said the miller; 'she has heaps of gold, as you know. You should not attempt to reach her.' 'There is nothing so high that a man cannot reach, if he will,' answered Rudy; for he is a brave youth. 'Yet you could not reach the young eagle,' said the miller, laughing. 'Babette is higher than the eagle's nest.' 'I will have them both,' said Rudy. 'Very well; I will give her to you when you bring me the young eaglet alive,' said the miller; and he laughed till the tears stood in his eyes. 'But now I thank you for this visit, Rudy; and if you come to-morrow, you will find nobody at home. Good-bye, Rudy.' 'A promise is a promise between man and man,' said Rudy. 'Do not weep, Babette; I shall bring the young eagle.' 'You will break your neck, I hope,' said the miller, 'and we shall be relieved from your company.'


Yet, for all that, it is a very strange affair,


You must come and help. I want to carry off the young eaglet from the top of the rock. We will take young Ragli with us.


Had you not better first try to take down the moon? That would be quite as easy a task. You seem to be in good spirits.


Yes, indeed I am. I am thinking of my wedding. But to be serious, I will tell you all about it, and how I am situated.


You are a daring fellow, but it is no use; you will break your neck.


No one falls, unless he is afraid,


I have thee now,


There is what you asked for,


The young eaglet! You are not to be discouraged by difficulties, I see,


And you will keep your word. Each has his own characteristic, whether it is honor or courage.


But how is it you did not break your neck?


Because I held fast, and I mean to hold fast to Babette.


You must get her first,


Oh, thank you,


But you have not won Babette yet,


Have you heard the fresh news at the mill? Rudy has brought us the young eagle, and he is to take Babette in exchange. They kissed each other in the presence of the old man, which is as good as an engagement. He was quite civil about it; drew in his claws, and took his afternoon nap, so that the two were left to sit and wag their tails as much as they pleased. They have so much to talk about that it will not be finished till Christmas.


How those two do sit and chatter together. I have had enough of their mewing.


Spirits of strength, as the children of the sun call you, ye are but worms! Let but a snow-ball roll, and you and your houses and your towns are crushed and swept away. They are playing at work underground, like moles. They are digging passages beneath the earth, and the noise is like the reports of cannons. I shall throw down my palaces, for the clamor is louder than the roar of thunder. They play at being masters down there, those spirits of strength! but the powers of nature are still the rulers.


Worms! You, the lords of the powers of nature! There they sit, these thoughts! There they sit in their power over nature's strength. I see them all. One sits proudly apart, like a king; others sit together in a group; yonder, half of them are asleep; and when the steam dragon stops, they will get out and go their way. The thoughts go forth into the world,


There goes another avalanche,


It will not reach us,


I am like the luggage. I am here as a necessary appendage.


There sit those two. Many a chamois have I crushed. Millions of Alpine roses have I snapped and broken off; not a root have I spared. I know them all, and their thoughts, those spirits of strength!


There rolls another avalanche,


I have been so amused,


He is a perfect fop. The book may be very good, but that finely combed fellow who gave it to you is not worth much.


He looks something like a flour-sack without any flour,


You do not wish me to stay, then this is an appointment you expected--this good friend whom you prefer to me. Shame on you, Babette!


You are detestable! Go away. I hate you.


I have not deserved this,


So much as I loved thee, Rudy, and yet thou canst think ill of me.


How did you come here?


I am at home. I am watching my flocks.


Your flocks! where do they find pasture? There is nothing here but snow and rocks.


Much you know of what grows here. Not far beneath us there is beautiful pasture-land. My goats go there. I tend them carefully; I never miss one. What is once mine remains mine.


You are bold,


And so are you,


Have you any milk in the house? if so, give me some to drink; my thirst is intolerable.


I have something better than milk, which I will give you. Some travellers who were here yesterday with their guide left behind them a half a flask of wine, such as you have never tasted. They will not come back to fetch it, I know, and I shall not drink it; so you shall have it.


How good it is! I have never before tasted such warm, invigorating wine. You are surely Annette, the schoolmaster's daughter, will you give me a kiss?


Yes, if you will give me that beautiful ring which you wear on your finger.


My betrothal ring?


Yes, just so,


The whole world is mine, why therefore should I grieve? Everything is created for our enjoyment and happiness. The stream of life is a stream of happiness; let us flow on with it to joy and felicity.


What strange creatures human beings are. Babette and Rudy have fallen out with each other. She sits and cries, and he thinks no more about her.


That does not please me to hear,


Nor me either, but I do not take it to heart. Babette may fall in love with the red whiskers, if she likes, but he has not been here since he tried to get on the roof.


Well, that quarrel is all over. Rudy is come back, and they are friends again, which they say is the greatest of all pleasures. I heard the rats say one night, that the greatest pleasure in the world was to eat tallow candles and to feast on rancid bacon. Which are we to believe, the rats or the lovers?


Neither of them, it is always the safest plan to believe nothing you hear.


Here in this house there ought to be a wedding-day kept, or else I would not give a mew for the whole affair.


There is going to be great feasting. Ducks and pigeons have been killed, and a whole roebuck hangs on the wall. It makes me lick my lips when I think of it. To-morrow morning they will begin the journey.


Oh! oh, that I had died on the happiest day of my life, my wedding-day. O my God, it would have been a mercy and a blessing had Rudy travelled far away from me, and I had never known him. None know what will happen in the future.


Now we are masters of the house,


How delightful it must be to live there,


How very beautiful it is, and what happiness to be here!


Earth has nothing more to bestow upon me, an evening like this is worth a whole life. Often have I realized my good fortune, but never more than in this moment. I feel that if my existence were to end now, I should still have lived a happy life. What a glorious world this is; one day ends, and another begins even more beautiful than the last. How infinitely good God is, Babette!


I have such complete happiness in my heart,


Earth has no more to bestow,


God grant you all that is brightest and best!


He will. He will to-morrow. To-morrow you will be wholly mine, my own sweet wife.


The boat!


I will fetch it back,


Mine! mine! I kissed thee when thou wert a little child. I once kissed thee on the mouth, and now I have kissed thee from heel to toe; thou art wholly mine. Thou art mine,


Thou art mine!


Where can Rudy and Babette be in this awful weather?


In the deep water! far down he lies, as if beneath a glacier. Ah, the Ice Maiden has him at last.


Mine!


How cruel, why should he die just as the day of happiness drew near? Merciful God, enlighten my understanding, shed light upon my heart; for I cannot comprehend the arrangements of Thy providence, even while I bow to the decree of Thy almighty wisdom and power. Woe is me, was the germ of sin really in my heart? was my dream a glimpse into the course of my future life, whose thread must be violently broken to rescue me from sin? Oh, miserable creature that I am!


God permits nothing to happen, which is not the best for us.


Read your book, Sarah,


I cannot any longer be an idle spectator of those beaming eyes, which express such a deep and earnest longing for the words of the gospel,


I know very little of the law of my fathers, but Sarah's mother was firm in her belief as a daughter of Israel, and I vowed to her on her deathbed that our child should never be baptized. I must keep my vow: it is to me even as a covenant with God Himself.


Thou shalt keep the Sabbath holy,


Does God reckon by days and hours?


What do you suppose awaiteth thee?


I know, retribution.


Yes, the retribution of a Christian. The teaching of Christ, the Teacher, commands us to forgive our enemies, to love our neighbors; for God is love. Depart in peace: return to thy home. I give thee back to thy loved ones. But in future be mild and humane to all who are in trouble.


Oh how could I imagine such mercy and forgiveness! I expected pain and torment. It seemed to me so sure that I took poison, which I secretly carried about me; and in a few hours its effects will destroy me. I must die! Nothing can save me! But before I die, explain to me the teaching which is so full of love and mercy, so great and God-like. Oh, that I may hear his teaching, and die a Christian!


Let not my child become a Christian;


Honor thy father and thy mother.


I am not admitted among the Christians, they mock me as a Jewish girl; the neighbors' boys did so last Sunday when I stood looking in through the open church door at the candles burning on the altar, and listening to the singing. Ever since I sat on the school-bench I have felt the power of Christianity; a power which, like a sunbeam, streams into my heart, however closely I may close my eyes against it. But I will not grieve thee, my mother, in thy grave. I will not be unfaithful to my father's vow. I will not read the Bible of the Christian. I have the God of my fathers, and in Him I will trust.


My Bible lies on the table yonder. Read me something from it; the night appears so long, and my spirit thirsts to hear the word of God.


Mother, thy child may not receive Christian baptism, nor be admitted into the congregation of Christian people. Thou hast so willed it, and I will respect thy command. We are therefore still united here on earth; but in the next world there will be a higher union, even with God Himself, who leads and guides His people till death. He came down from heaven to earth to suffer for us, that we should bring forth the fruits of repentance. I understand it now. I know not how I learnt this truth, unless it is through the name of Christ.


Poor Sarah, she is overcome with hard work and night watching.


John baptized you with water, but I will baptize you with the Holy Ghost.


Yes, I'll give my daughter to him who jumps highest, for it would be mean to let these people jump for nothing.


I sing so, that sixteen native crickets who have chirped from their youth up, and have never yet had a card house of their own, would become thinner than they are with envy if they were to hear me.


I shall not say anything more. I only go on quietly, and always think the best. that was horribly rude.


I only hope he's not become unwell,


Tap!


The highest leap was taken by him who jumped up to my daughter; for therein lies the point; but it requires head to achieve that, and the Skipjack has shown that he has a head.


I jumped highest, after all. But it's all the same. Let her have the goose-bone with its lump of wax and bit of stick. I jumped to the highest; but in this world a body is required if one wishes to be seen.


Body is required! body is required!


Poor little creature! your whole life consists only of a single day. How very short. It must be quite melancholy.


Melancholy! what do you mean? Everything around me is so wonderfully bright and warm, and beautiful, that it makes me joyous.


But only for one day, and then it is all over.


Over! what is the meaning of all over? Are you all over too?


No; I shall very likely live for thousands of your days, and my day is whole seasons long; indeed it is so long that you could never reckon it out.


No? then I don't understand you. You may have thousands of my days, but I have thousands of moments in which I can be merry and happy. Does all the beauty of the world cease when you die?


No, it will certainly last much longer,--infinitely longer than I can even think of.


Well, then, we have the same time to live; only we reckon differently.


Poor little Ephemera! what a terribly short life!


Good-night, good-night.


We will rock you and lull you. Go to sleep, go to sleep. We will sing you to sleep, and shake you to sleep, and it will do your old twigs good; they will even crackle with pleasure. Sleep sweetly, sleep sweetly, it is your three-hundred-and-sixty-fifth night. Correctly speaking, you are but a youngster in the world. Sleep sweetly, the clouds will drop snow upon you, which will be quite a cover-lid, warm and sheltering to your feet. Sweet sleep to you, and pleasant dreams.


But where is the little blue flower that grows by the water? and the purple bell-flower, and the daisy?


Here we are, we are here,


But the beautiful thyme of last summer, where is that? and the lilies-of-the-valley, which last year covered the earth with their bloom? and the wild apple-tree with its lovely blossoms, and all the glory of the wood, which has flourished year after year? even what may have but now sprouted forth could be with us here.


We are here, we are here,


Why this is beautiful, too beautiful to be believed. I have them all here, both great and small; not one has been forgotten. Can such happiness be imagined?


In heaven with the Eternal God, it can be imagined, and it is possible,


It is right so, it is best, no fetters hold me now. I can fly up to the very highest point in light and glory. And all I love are with me, both small and great. All--all are here.


The tree is down! The old oak,--our landmark on the coast! It must have fallen in the storm of last night. Who can replace it? Alas! no one.


Sing aloud on the happy morn, All is fulfilled, for Christ is born; With songs of joy let us loudly sing, 'Hallelujahs to Christ our King.'


Everything has been bestowed here,


No, not everything, one fairy has not yet brought her gift, but she will, even if years should elapse, she will bring her gift; it is the last pearl that is wanting.


Wanting! nothing must be wanting here; and if it is so, let us fetch it; let us seek the powerful fairy; let us go to her.


She will come, she will come some day unsought!


Her pearl must not be missing; it must be there, that the crown, when worn, may be complete. Where is she to be found? Where does she dwell? Tell me, and I will procure the pearl.


Will you do that? Then I will lead you to her directly, wherever she may be. She has no abiding place; she rules in the palace of the emperor, sometimes she enters the peasant's humble cot; she passes no one without leaving a trace of her presence. She brings her gift with her, whether it is a world or a bauble. To this child she must come. You think that to wait for this time would be long and useless. Well, then, let us go for this pearl--the only one lacking amidst all this wealth.


Whither art thou leading me? Here dwells no fairy whose pearl could be counted amongst the best gifts of life.


Yes, she is here; here in this sacred hour,


Do you see the shimmer of the rainbow, which unites earth to heaven?


Gee-up, my five horses.


You must not say that, for only one of them belongs to you.


Gee-up, my five horses!


Now I must beg you not to say that again, for if you do, I shall hit your horse on the head, so that he will drop dead on the spot, and there will be an end of him.


I promise you I will not say it any more. Good day. Gee-up, all my horses!


I'll gee-up your horses for you,


Oh, now I have no horse at all,


I might get permission to stay here for the night. Then I shall be obliged to lie out here. I can lie up there, it will make a famous bed, but I hope the stork will not fly down and bite my legs;


If I could only get some, too,


Oh, dear,


Is any one up there? Why are you lying up there? Come down, and come into the house with me. All right, but we must have something to eat first.


Hush!


Hallo! what have you got in your sack!


Oh, it is a conjuror, and he says we need not eat porridge, for he has conjured the oven full of roast meat, fish, and pie.


Wonderful! What does he say now?


He says, that there are three bottles of wine for us, standing in the corner, by the oven.


Could he conjure up the evil one? I should like to see him now, while I am so merry.


Oh, yes! my conjuror can do anything I ask him,--can you not? Do you hear? he answers 'Yes,' but he fears that we shall not like to look at him.


Oh, I am not afraid. What will he be like?


Well, he is very much like a sexton.


Ha! then he must be ugly. Do you know I cannot endure the sight of a sexton. However, that doesn't matter, I shall know who it is; so I shall not mind. Now then, I have got up my courage, but don't let him come too near me.


Stop, I must ask the conjuror,


What does he say?


He says that you must go and open that large chest which stands in the corner, and you will see the evil one crouching down inside; but you must hold the lid firmly, that he may not slip out.


Will you come and help me hold it? Oh. I saw him, and he is exactly like our sexton. How dreadful it is! You must sell your conjuror to me, ask as much as you like, I will pay it; indeed I would give you directly a whole bushel of gold.


No, indeed, I cannot, only think how much profit I could make out of this conjuror.


But I should like to have him,


Well, you have been so good as to give me a night's lodging, I will not refuse you; you shall have the conjuror for a bushel of money, but I will have quite full measure. a bushel of money,


So you shall, but you must take away the chest as well. I would not have it in the house another hour; there is no knowing if he may not be still there.


Farewell. Now what shall I do with this stupid chest; it is as heavy as if it were full of stones: I shall be tired if I roll it any farther, so I may as well throw it in the river; if it swims after me to my house, well and good, and if not, it will not much matter.


No, leave it alone, let me out first.


Oh, he is in there still, is he? I must throw him into the river, that he may be drowned.


Oh, no; oh, no. I will give you a whole bushel full of money if you will let me go.


Why, that is another matter. I have been well paid for my horse. How vexed Great Claus will be when he finds out how rich I have become all through my one horse; but I shall not tell him exactly how it all happened.


What can he want it for? What does this mean? Where did you get so much money?


Oh, for my horse's skin, I sold it yesterday.


It was certainly well paid for then. Skins, skins, who'll buy skins? A bushel of money, for each,


Are you mad? do you think we have money to spend by the bushel?


Skins, skins, who'll buy skins? a bushel of money.


He is making fools of us. Skins, skins! yes, we'll mark your skin for you, till it is black and blue. Out of the town with him,


Ah. Little Claus shall pay me for this; I will beat him to death.


There, now you cannot make a fool of me again;


That is a very wicked man,


Good morning. Yes. I am going to the town with my old grandmother; she is sitting at the back of the wagon, but I cannot bring her into the room. Will you take her a glass of mead? but you must speak very loud, for she cannot hear well.


Hallo! you have killed my grandmother; see, here is a great hole in her forehead.


How is this?


did I not kill him? I must go and see for myself. How did you get all this money?


You killed my grandmother instead of me,


That is a good price at all events. Whose is it, and where did you get it?


You shall pay for this. You have played me another trick. Now I'm going to drown you in the river.


Oh dear, oh dear. I am very young, yet I am soon going to heaven.


And I, poor fellow. I who am so old already, cannot get there.


Open the sack, creep into it instead of me, and you will soon be there.


With all my heart. Will you take care of my cattle?


Yes,


How light he seems now. Ah, it is because I have been to a church. There you may lie! you will play me no more tricks now. How is this? Did I not drown you just now?


Yes, you threw me into the river about half an hour ago.


But wherever did you get all these fine beasts?


These beasts are sea-cattle. I'll tell you the whole story, and thank you for drowning me; I am above you now, I am really very rich. I was frightened, to be sure, while I lay tied up in the sack, and the wind whistled in my ears when you threw me into the river from the bridge, and I sank to the bottom immediately; but I did not hurt myself, for I fell upon beautifully soft grass which grows down there; and in a moment, the sack opened, and the sweetest little maiden came towards me. She had snow-white robes, and a wreath of green leaves on her wet hair. She took me by the hand, and said, 'So you are come, Little Claus, and here are some cattle for you to begin with. About a mile farther on the road, there is another herd for you.' Then I saw that the river formed a great highway for the people who live in the sea. They were walking and driving here and there from the sea to the land at the, spot where the river terminates. The bed of the river was covered with the loveliest flowers and sweet fresh grass. The fish swam past me as rapidly as the birds do here in the air. How handsome all the people were, and what fine cattle were grazing on the hills and in the valleys!


But why did you come up again, if it was all so beautiful down there? I should not have done so?


Well, it was good policy on my part; you heard me say just now that I was told by the sea-maiden to go a mile farther on the road, and I should find a whole herd of cattle. By the road she meant the river, for she could not travel any other way; but I knew the winding of the river, and how it bends, sometimes to the right and sometimes to the left, and it seemed a long way, so I chose a shorter one; and, by coming up to the land, and then driving across the fields back again to the river, I shall save half a mile, and get all my cattle more quickly.


What a lucky fellow you are! Do you think I should get any sea-cattle if I went down to the bottom of the river?


Yes, I think so, but I cannot carry you there in a sack, you are too heavy. However if you will go there first, and then creep into a sack, I will throw you in with the greatest pleasure.


Thank you, but remember, if I do not get any sea-cattle down there I shall come up again and give you a good thrashing.


No, now, don't be too fierce about it! See what a hurry they are in, they are longing to get down again.


Come, help me, make haste, or you'll get beaten. Put in a stone, or I may not sink. Plump!


I'm afraid he will not find any cattle,


Now, drink your tea, perhaps you will hear a story.


Yes, if I only knew a fresh one. But how did the little fellow get his wet feet?


That, nobody can understand.


Will you tell me a story?


Yes, if you can tell me as nearly as possible how deep is the gutter in the little street where you go to school.


Just half as high as my top-boots, but then I must stand in the deepest holes.


There, now we know where you got your wet feet. I ought to tell you a story, but the worst of it is, I do not know any more.


You can make one up. Mother says you can tell a fairy tale about anything you look at or touch.


That is all very well, but such tales or stories are worth nothing! No, the right ones come by themselves and knock at my forehead saying: 'Here I am.'


Will not one knock soon? Pray, tell me a story.


Yes, if stories came by themselves; they are so proud, they only come when they please.--But wait, there is one. Look at the teapot; there is a story in it now.


What is this woman's name?


Well, the Romans and Greeks used to call her a Dryad; but we do not understand that. Out in the sailors' quarter they give her a better name; there she is called elder-tree mother. Now, you must attentively listen to her and look at the beautiful elder-tree.


Well, do you remember? when we were quite small and used to run about and play--it was in the very same yard where we now are--we used to put little branches into the ground and make a garden.


Yes, I remember it very well; we used to water the branches, and one of them, an elder-tree branch, took root, and grew and became the large tree under which we are now sitting as old people.


Certainly, you are right, and in yonder corner stood a large water-tub; there I used to sail my boat, which I had cut out myself--it sailed so well; but soon I had to sail somewhere else.


But first we went to school to learn something, and then we were confirmed; we both wept on that day, but in the afternoon we went out hand in hand, and ascended the high round tower and looked out into the wide world right over Copenhagen and the sea; then we walked to Fredericksburg, where the king and the queen were sailing about in their magnificent boat on the canals.


But soon I had to sail about somewhere else, and for many years I was travelling about far away from home.


And I often cried about you, for I was afraid lest you were drowned and lying at the bottom of the sea. Many a time I got up in the night and looked if the weathercock had turned; it turned often, but you did not return. I remember one day distinctly: the rain was pouring down in torrents; the dust-man had come to the house where I was in service; I went down with the dust-bin and stood for a moment in the doorway, and looked at the dreadful weather. Then the postman gave me a letter; it was from you. Heavens! how that letter had travelled about. I tore it open and read it; I cried and laughed at the same time, and was so happy! Therein was written that you were staying in the hot countries, where the coffee grows. These must be marvellous countries. You said a great deal about them, and I read all while the rain was pouring down and I was standing there with the dust-bin. Then suddenly some one put his arm round my waist-


Yes, and you gave him a hearty smack on the cheek,


I did not know that it was you--you had come as quickly as your letter; and you looked so handsome, and so you do still. You had a large yellow silk handkerchief in your pocket and a shining hat on. You looked so well, and the weather in the street was horrible!


Then we married. Do you remember how we got our first boy, and then Mary, Niels, Peter, John, and Christian?


Oh yes; and now they have all grown up, and have become useful members of society, whom everybody cares for.


And their children have had children again. Yes, these are children's children, and they are strong and healthy. If I am not mistaken, our wedding took place at this season of the year.


Yes, to-day is your golden wedding-day,


That was no fairy tale, but now it comes! Real life furnishes us with subjects for the most wonderful fairy tales; for otherwise my beautiful elder-bush could not have grown forth out of the teapot.


Hooray! now we shall ride far away, many miles! we shall ride to the nobleman's estate where we were last year.


Now we are in the country! Do you see the farmhouse there, with the large baking stove, which projects like a gigantic egg out of the wall into the road? The elder-tree spreads its branches over it, and the cock struts about and scratches for the hens. Look how proud he is! Now we are near the church; it stands on a high hill, under the spreading oak trees; one of them is half dead! Now we are at the smithy, where the fire roars and the half-naked men beat with their hammers so that the sparks fly far and wide. Let's be off to the beautiful farm!


You will never forget that! It is beautiful here in spring. Oh! that it were always spring in the fragrant beechwood! Here it is splendid in summer! One can never forget it! Here it is beautiful in autumn!


Here it's agreeable in winter!


It is beautiful in winter!


Here it is beautiful in spring, in summer, in autumn, and in winter. To-day is the golden wedding!


Yes, so it is. Some call me Little Elder-tree Mother; others a Dryad; but my real name is 'Remembrance.' It is I who sit in the tree which grows and grows. I can remember things and tell stories! But let's see if you have still got your flower.


How beautiful it was! Mother, I have been to warm countries!


I believe you, if one takes two cups of hot elder-tea it is quite natural that one gets into warm countries! You have slept soundly while I was arguing with the old man whether it was a story or a fairy tale!


And what has become of the little elder-tree mother?


She is in the teapot, and there she may remain.


My poor flowers are quite dead, they were so pretty yesterday evening, and now all the leaves are hanging down quite withered. What do they do that for. Why do the flowers look so faded to-day?


Don't you know what is the matter with them? The flowers were at a ball last night, and therefore, it is no wonder they hang their heads.


But flowers cannot dance?


Yes indeed, they can. When it grows dark, and everybody is asleep, they jump about quite merrily. They have a ball almost every night.


Can children go to these balls?


Yes, little daisies and lilies of the valley.


Where do the beautiful flowers dance?


Have you not often seen the large castle outside the gates of the town, where the king lives in summer, and where the beautiful garden is full of flowers? And have you not fed the swans with bread when they swam towards you? Well, the flowers have capital balls there, believe me.


I was in the garden out there yesterday with my mother, but all the leaves were off the trees, and there was not a single flower left. Where are they? I used to see so many in the summer.


They are in the castle. You must know that as soon as the king and all the court are gone into the town, the flowers run out of the garden into the castle, and you should see how merry they are. The two most beautiful roses seat themselves on the throne, and are called the king and queen, then all the red cockscombs range themselves on each side, and bow, these are the lords-in-waiting. After that the pretty flowers come in, and there is a grand ball. The blue violets represent little naval cadets, and dance with hyacinths and crocuses which they call young ladies. The tulips and tiger-lilies are the old ladies who sit and watch the dancing, so that everything may be conducted with order and propriety.


But, is there no one there to hurt the flowers for dancing in the king's castle?


No one knows anything about it. The old steward of the castle, who has to watch there at night, sometimes comes in; but he carries a great bunch of keys, and as soon as the flowers hear the keys rattle, they run and hide themselves behind the long curtains, and stand quite still, just peeping their heads out. Then the old steward says, 'I smell flowers here,' but he cannot see them. I smell flowers here,


Oh how capital. Should I be able to see these flowers?


Yes, mind you think of it the next time you go out, no doubt you will see them, if you peep through the window. I did so to-day, and I saw a long yellow lily lying stretched out on the sofa. She was a court lady.


Can the flowers from the Botanical Gardens go to these balls? It is such a distance!


Oh yes, whenever they like, for they can fly. Have you not seen those beautiful red, white, and yellow butterflies, that look like flowers? They were flowers once. They have flown off their stalks into the air, and flap their leaves as if they were little wings to make them fly. Then, if they behave well, they obtain permission to fly about during the day, instead of being obliged to sit still on their stems at home, and so in time their leaves become real wings. It may be, however, that the flowers in the Botanical Gardens have never been to the king's palace, and, therefore, they know nothing of the merry doings at night, which take place there. I will tell you what to do, and the botanical professor, who lives close by here, will be so surprised. You know him very well, do you not? Well, next time you go into his garden, you must tell one of the flowers that there is going to be a grand ball at the castle, then that flower will tell all the others, and they will fly away to the castle as soon as possible. And when the professor walks into his garden, there will not be a single flower left. How he will wonder what has become of them!


But how can one flower tell another? Flowers cannot speak?


No, certainly not, but they can make signs. Have you not often seen that when the wind blows they nod at one another, and rustle all their green leaves?


Can the professor understand the signs?


Yes, to be sure he can. He went one morning into his garden, and saw a stinging nettle making signs with its leaves to a beautiful red carnation. It was saying, 'You are so pretty, I like you very much.' But the professor did not approve of such nonsense, so he clapped his hands on the nettle to stop it. Then the leaves, which are its fingers, stung him so sharply that he has never ventured to touch a nettle since. You are so pretty, I like you very much.


Oh how funny!


How can anyone put such notions into a child's head?


How can anyone put such nonsense into a child's head! what absurd fancies there are!


You must really get up Sophy, and be content to lie in the drawer to-night; the poor flowers are ill, and they must lie in your bed, then perhaps they will get well again.


I know you are going to a ball to-night. I wonder if my flowers have really been there. I wonder if my flowers are still lying in Sophy's bed, how much I should like to know. Now all the flowers are certainly dancing in there, oh how much I should like to see them. If they would only come in here. Oh what a splendid sight there was to be sure!


How can you put such things in a child's head? they are all foolish fancies;


There must be a ball here to-night. Why did not somebody tell me?


Will you dance with me?


You are the right sort to dance with, certainly. Hem, hem, a-hem;


We cannot live long. To-morrow morning we shall be quite dead; and you must tell little Ida to bury us in the garden, near to the grave of the canary; then, in the summer we shall wake up and be more beautiful than ever.


No, you must not die,


Do you remember what the flowers told you to say to me? You are not kind at all, and yet they all danced with you. This shall be your pretty coffin, and by and by, when my cousins come to visit me, they shall help me to bury you out in the garden; so that next summer you may grow up again more beautiful than ever.


Some one is dying,


Grandmother. O take me with you; I know you will go away when the match burns out; you will vanish like the warm stove, the roast goose, and the large, glorious Christmas-tree.


She tried to warm herself,


When you have reached your fifteenth year, you will have permission to rise up out of the sea, to sit on the rocks in the moonlight, while the great ships are sailing by; and then you will see both forests and towns.


Oh, were I but fifteen years old. I know that I shall love the world up there, and all the people who live in it.


Well, now, you are grown up, so you must let me adorn you like your other sisters;


But they hurt me so,


Pride must suffer pain,


Farewell,


Come, little sister,


If human beings are not drowned, can they live forever? do they never die as we do here in the sea?


Yes, they must also die, and their term of life is even shorter than ours. We sometimes live to three hundred years, but when we cease to exist here we only become the foam on the surface of the water, and we have not even a grave down here of those we love. We have not immortal souls, we shall never live again; but, like the green sea-weed, when once it has been cut off, we can never flourish more. Human beings, on the contrary, have a soul which lives forever, lives after the body has been turned to dust. It rises up through the clear, pure air beyond the glittering stars. As we rise out of the water, and behold all the land of the earth, so do they rise to unknown and glorious regions which we shall never see.


Why have not we an immortal soul? I would give gladly all the hundreds of years that I have to live, to be a human being only for one day, and to have the hope of knowing the happiness of that glorious world above the stars.


You must not think of that, we feel ourselves to be much happier and much better off than human beings.


So I shall die, and as the foam of the sea I shall be driven about never again to hear the music of the waves, or to see the pretty flowers nor the red sun. Is there anything I can do to win an immortal soul?


No, unless a man were to love you so much that you were more to him than his father or mother; and if all his thoughts and all his love were fixed upon you, and the priest placed his right hand in yours, and he promised to be true to you here and hereafter, then his soul would glide into your body and you would obtain a share in the future happiness of mankind. He would give a soul to you and retain his own as well; but this can never happen. Your fish's tail, which amongst us is considered so beautiful, is thought on earth to be quite ugly; they do not know any better, and they think it necessary to have two stout props, which they call legs, in order to be handsome.


Let us be happy, and dart and spring about during the three hundred years that we have to live, which is really quite long enough; after that we can rest ourselves all the better. This evening we are going to have a court ball.


He is certainly sailing above, he on whom my wishes depend, and in whose hands I should like to place the happiness of my life. I will venture all for him, and to win an immortal soul, while my sisters are dancing in my father's palace, I will go to the sea witch, of whom I have always been so much afraid, but she can give me counsel and help.


I know what you want, it is very stupid of you, but you shall have your way, and it will bring you to sorrow, my pretty princess. You want to get rid of your fish's tail, and to have two supports instead of it, like human beings on earth, so that the young prince may fall in love with you, and that you may have an immortal soul.


You are but just in time, for after sunrise to-morrow I should not be able to help you till the end of another year. I will prepare a draught for you, with which you must swim to land tomorrow before sunrise, and sit down on the shore and drink it. Your tail will then disappear, and shrink up into what mankind calls legs, and you will feel great pain, as if a sword were passing through you. But all who see you will say that you are the prettiest little human being they ever saw. You will still have the same floating gracefulness of movement, and no dancer will ever tread so lightly; but at every step you take it will feel as if you were treading upon sharp knives, and that the blood must flow. If you will bear all this, I will help you.


Yes, I will,


But think again, for when once your shape has become like a human being, you can no more be a mermaid. You will never return through the water to your sisters, or to your father's palace again; and if you do not win the love of the prince, so that he is willing to forget his father and mother for your sake, and to love you with his whole soul, and allow the priest to join your hands that you may be man and wife, then you will never have an immortal soul. The first morning after he marries another your heart will break, and you will become foam on the crest of the waves.


I will do it,


But I must be paid also, and it is not a trifle that I ask. You have the sweetest voice of any who dwell here in the depths of the sea, and you believe that you will be able to charm the prince with it also, but this voice you must give to me; the best thing you possess will I have for the price of my draught. My own blood must be mixed with it, that it may be as sharp as a two-edged sword.


But if you take away my voice, what is left for me?


Your beautiful form, your graceful walk, and your expressive eyes; surely with these you can enchain a man's heart. Well, have you lost your courage? Put out your little tongue that I may cut it off as my payment; then you shall have the powerful draught.


It shall be,


Cleanliness is a good thing. There it is for you. If the polypi should seize hold of you as you return through the wood, throw over them a few drops of the potion, and their fingers will be torn into a thousand pieces.


Do you not love me the best of them all?


Yes, you are dear to me, for you have the best heart, and you are the most devoted to me; you are like a young maiden whom I once saw, but whom I shall never meet again. I was in a ship that was wrecked, and the waves cast me ashore near a holy temple, where several young maidens performed the service. The youngest of them found me on the shore, and saved my life. I saw her but twice, and she is the only one in the world whom I could love; but you are like her, and you have almost driven her image out of my mind. She belongs to the holy temple, and my good fortune has sent you to me instead of her; and we will never part.


Ah, he knows not that it was I who saved his life. I carried him over the sea to the wood where the temple stands: I sat beneath the foam, and watched till the human beings came to help him. I saw the pretty maiden that he loves better than he loves me; He says the maiden belongs to the holy temple, therefore she will never return to the world. They will meet no more: while I am by his side, and see him every day. I will take care of him, and love him, and give up my life for his sake.


I must travel. I must see this beautiful princess; my parents desire it; but they will not oblige me to bring her home as my bride. I cannot love her; she is not like the beautiful maiden in the temple, whom you resemble. If I were forced to choose a bride, I would rather choose you, my dumb foundling, with those expressive eyes. You are not afraid of the sea, my dumb child,


It was you, who saved my life when I lay dead on the beach. Oh, I am too happy, my fondest hopes are all fulfilled. You will rejoice at my happiness; for your devotion to me is great and sincere.


We have given our hair to the witch, to obtain help for you, that you may not die to-night. She has given us a knife: here it is, see it is very sharp. Before the sun rises you must plunge it into the heart of the prince; when the warm blood falls upon your feet they will grow together again, and form into a fish's tail, and you will be once more a mermaid, and return to us to live out your three hundred years before you die and change into the salt sea foam. Haste, then; he or you must die before sunrise. Our old grandmother moans so for you, that her white hair is falling off from sorrow, as ours fell under the witch's scissors. Kill the prince and come back; hasten: do you not see the first red streaks in the sky? In a few minutes the sun will rise, and you must die.


Where am I?


Among the daughters of the air,


A mermaid has not an immortal soul, nor can she obtain one unless she wins the love of a human being. On the power of another hangs her eternal destiny. But the daughters of the air, although they do not possess an immortal soul, can, by their good deeds, procure one for themselves. We fly to warm countries, and cool the sultry air that destroys mankind with the pestilence. We carry the perfume of the flowers to spread health and restoration. After we have striven for three hundred years to all the good in our power, we receive an immortal soul and take part in the happiness of mankind. You, poor little mermaid, have tried with your whole heart to do as we are doing; you have suffered and endured and raised yourself to the spirit-world by your good deeds; and now, by striving for three hundred years in the same way, you may obtain an immortal soul.


After three hundred years, thus shall we float into the kingdom of heaven,


And we may even get there sooner,


Unseen we can enter the houses of men, where there are children, and for every day on which we find a good child, who is the joy of his parents and deserves their love, our time of probation is shortened. The child does not know, when we fly through the room, that we smile with joy at his good conduct, for we can count one year less of our three hundred years. But when we see a naughty or a wicked child, we shed tears of sorrow, and for every tear a day is added to our time of trial!


I should so very much like to have a little child; can you tell me where I can find one?


Oh, that can be easily managed,


Here is a barleycorn of a different kind to those which grow in the farmer's fields, and which the chickens eat; put it into a flower-pot, and see what will happen.


Thank you,


It is a beautiful flower,


What a pretty little wife this would make for my son,


Croak, croak, croak


Don't speak so loud, or she will wake,


and then she might run away, for she is as light as swan's down. We will place her on one of the water-lily leaves out in the stream; it will be like an island to her, she is so light and small, and then she cannot escape; and, while she is away, we will make haste and prepare the state-room under the marsh, in which you are to live when you are married.


Here is my son, he will be your husband, and you will live happily in the marsh by the stream.


Croak, croak, croak,


What a lovely little creature;


She has only two legs! how ugly that looks.


She has no feelers,


Her waist is quite slim. Pooh! she is like a human being.


Oh! she is ugly,


You are quite welcome to stay with me all the winter, if you like; but you must keep my rooms clean and neat, and tell me stories, for I shall like to hear them very much.


We shall have a visitor soon,


my neighbor pays me a visit once a week. He is better off than I am; he has large rooms, and wears a beautiful black velvet coat. If you could only have him for a husband, you would be well provided for indeed. But he is blind, so you must tell him some of your prettiest stories.


He is very rich and learned, and his house is twenty times larger than mine,


Lady-bird, lady-bird, fly away home,


He will sing no more now. How miserable it must be to be born a little bird! I am thankful that none of my children will ever be birds, for they can do nothing but cry, 'Tweet, tweet,' and always die of hunger in the winter.


Yes, you may well say that, as a clever man! What is the use of his twittering, for when winter comes he must either starve or be frozen to death. Still birds are very high bred.


Perhaps this was the one who sang to me so sweetly in the summer, and how much pleasure it gave me, you dear, pretty bird. Farewell, you pretty little bird, farewell; thank you for your delightful singing during the summer, when all the trees were green, and the warm sun shone upon us.


Thank you, pretty little maiden. I have been so nicely warmed, that I shall soon regain my strength, and be able to fly about again in the warm sunshine.


Oh, it is cold out of doors now; it snows and freezes. Stay in your warm bed; I will take care of you.


No, I cannot.


Farewell, then, farewell, you good, pretty little maiden. Tweet, tweet,


You are going to be married, Tiny. My neighbor has asked for you. What good fortune for a poor child like you. Now we will prepare your wedding clothes. They must be both woollen and linen. Nothing must be wanting when you are the mole's wife.


In four weeks the wedding must take place. Nonsense. Now don't be obstinate, or I shall bite you with my white teeth. He is a very handsome mole; the queen herself does not wear more beautiful velvets and furs. His kitchen and cellars are quite full. You ought to be very thankful for such good fortune.


Farewell bright sun. Farewell, farewell. Greet the little swallow from me, if you should see him again.


Tweet, tweet. Cold winter is coming, and I am going to fly away into warmer countries. Will you go with me? You can sit on my back, and fasten yourself on with your sash. Then we can fly away from the ugly mole and his gloomy rooms,--far away, over the mountains, into warmer countries, where the sun shines more brightly--than here; where it is always summer, and the flowers bloom in greater beauty. Fly now with me, dear little Tiny; you saved my life when I lay frozen in that dark passage.


Yes, I will go with you,


This is my house, but it would not do for you to live there--you would not be comfortable. You must choose for yourself one of those lovely flowers, and I will put you down upon it, and then you shall have everything that you can wish to make you happy.


That will be delightful,


Oh, how beautiful he is!


Yes,


You must not be called Tiny any more. It is an ugly name, and you are so very pretty. We will call you Maia.


Farewell, farewell. Tweet, tweet,


There goes the old washerwoman up the lane, the poor woman can hardly drag herself along, and now she had to drag a pail of water from the well. Be a good boy, Tuk, and run across and help the old woman, won't you?


It would be a great pity if you did not know your lesson to-morrow morning; you helped me, and now I will help you, and Providence will always keep those who help themselves;


Cluck, cluck, cluck. I am a hen from Kjoge,


Crack, crack,


Thorwalsden lived close to me, and here I am now, quite comfortable.


Tuk! little Tuk!


I bring you many greetings from Corsor. I lie on the sea-shore. I have high-roads and pleasure-gardens; I have given birth to a poet who was witty and entertaining, which they are not all. I once wanted to fit out a ship to sail round the world, but I did not accomplish it, though most likely I might have done so. But I am fragrant with perfume, for close to my gates most lovely roses bloom.


Don't forget the names of these towns,


Yes, that it has. Croak, it is always wet, and as quiet as death in Soroe. Croak. One must dress according to the weather. It is wet, and my town is just like a bottle. By the cork we must go in, and by the cork we must come out again. In olden times I had beautiful fish, and now I have fresh, rosy-cheeked boys in the bottom of the bottle, and they learn wisdom, Hebrew and Greek.


Croak.


Hark, so you hear the cock crow, little Tuk. 'Cock-a-doodle-doo.' The fowls are flying out of Kjoge. You shall have a large farm-yard. You shall never suffer hunger or want. The bird of good omen shall be yours, and you shall become a rich and happy man; your house shall rise up like King Waldemar's towers, and shall be richly adorned with marble statues, like those at Prastoe. Understand me well; your name shall travel with fame round the world like the ship that was to sail from Corsor, and at Roeskilde,--Don't forget the names of the towns, as King Hroar said,--you shall speak well and clearly little Tuk, and when at last you lie in your grave you shall sleep peacefully, as--


As if I lay in Soroe,


Many thanks, you good child, for your help yesterday. I hope all your beautiful dreams will come true.


There is still one thing that could save her. Bring her the loveliest rose in the world; one which exhibits the purest and brightest love, and if it is brought to her before her eyes close, she will not die.


No one has yet named the flower. No one has pointed out the spot where it blooms in all its splendor. It is not a rose from the coffin of Romeo and Juliet, or from the grave of Walburg, though these roses will live in everlasting song. It is not one of the roses which sprouted forth from the blood-stained fame of Winkelreid. The blood which flows from the breast of a hero who dies for his country is sacred, and his memory is sweet, and no rose can be redder than the blood which flows from his veins. Neither is it the magic flower of Science, to obtain which wondrous flower a man devotes many an hour of his fresh young life in sleepless nights, in a lonely chamber.


I know where it blooms. I know where the loveliest rose in the world is. It is seen on the blooming cheeks of my sweet child, when it expresses the pure and holy love of infancy; when refreshed by sleep it opens its eyes, and smiles upon me with childlike affection.


This is a lovely rose, but there is one still more lovely.


Yes, one far more lovely. I have seen it, and a loftier and purer rose does not bloom. But it was white, like the leaves of a blush-rose. I saw it on the cheeks of the queen. She had taken off her golden crown, and through the long, dreary night, she carried her sick child in her arms. She wept over it, kissed it, and prayed for it as only a mother can pray in that hour of her anguish.


Holy and wonderful in its might is the white rose of grief, but it is not the one we seek.


No; the loveliest rose in the world I saw at the Lord's table. I saw it shine as if an angel's face had appeared. A young maiden knelt at the altar, and renewed the vows made at her baptism; and there were white roses and red roses on the blushing cheeks of that young girl. She looked up to heaven with all the purity and love of her young spirit, in all the expression of the highest and purest love.


May she be blessed! but no one has yet named the loveliest rose in the world.


Mother, only hear what I have read. Greater love hath no man than this,


I see it. He who beholds this, the loveliest rose on earth, shall never die.


Bump


bang, bang,


Tan-ta-ra-ra, tan-ta-ra-ra,


Hurrah! hurrah!


A happy New Year,


Good-morning,


Your name and profession?


See for yourself in the passport,


I am myself;


I throw shillings and pence among the people; I give balls, no less than thirty-one; indeed, that is the highest number I can spare for balls. My ships are often frozen in, but in my offices it is warm and comfortable. My name is JANUARY. I'm a merchant, and I generally bring my accounts with me.


We'll dance the bung out of the cask at carnival time,


I'll prepare a merry tune for you and for myself too. Unfortunately I have not long to live--the shortest time, in fact, of my whole family--only twenty-eight days. Sometimes they pop me in a day extra; but I trouble myself very little about that. Hurrah!


You must not shout so,


Certainly I may shout,


I'm Prince Carnival, travelling under the name of FEBRUARY.


MARCH, March,


don't you smell something? Make haste into the guard room; they're drinking punch there; that's your favorite drink. I can smell it out here already. Forward, Master March.


If the world were only a little more settled,


but sometimes I'm obliged to be in a good humor, and sometimes a bad one, according to circumstances; now rain, now sunshine. I'm kind of a house agent, also a manager of funerals. I can laugh or cry, according to circumstances. I have my summer wardrobe in this box here, but it would be very foolish to put it on now. Here I am. On Sundays I go out walking in shoes and white silk stockings, and a muff.


Your health, and God bless you,


Now comes the young lady,


In the sweat of the face shalt thou eat bread,


it is written in the Bible.


Crack, crack.


This tree I shall guard and cherish,


that it may grow large by Christmas Eve, and reach from the ground to the ceiling, to be covered and adorned with flaming candles, golden apples, and little figures. The fire-stool will be as warm as a stove, and I shall then bring a story book out of my pocket, and read aloud till all the children in the room are quite quiet. Then the little figures on the tree will become lively, and the little waxen angel at the top spread out his wings of gold-leaf, and fly down from his green perch. He will kiss every one in the room, great and small; yes, even the poor children who stand in the passage, or out in the street singing a carol about the 'Star of Bethlehem.'


Well, now the coach may drive away, we have the whole twelve. Let the horses be put up.


First, let all the twelve come to me, one after another. The passports I will keep here. Each of them is available for one month; when that has passed, I shall write the behavior of each on his passport. Mr. JANUARY, have the goodness to come here.


I have something very dreadful to tell you,


Keep it to yourself then. Remember that I am hatching eggs; it may agitate me, and will affect them.


You must know it at once. The daughter of our host in Egypt has arrived here. She has ventured to take this journey, and now she is lost.


She who sprung from the race of the fairies, is it? Oh, tell me all about it; you know I cannot bear to be kept waiting at a time when I am hatching eggs.


Well, you see, mother, she believed what the doctors said, and what I have heard you state also, that the moor-flowers which grow about here would heal her sick father; and she has flown to the north in swan's plumage, in company with some other swan-princesses, who come to these parts every year to renew their youth. She came, and where is she now!


You enter into particulars too much, and the eggs may take cold; I cannot bear such suspense as this.


Well. I have kept watch; and this evening I went among the rushes where I thought the marshy ground would bear me, and while I was there three swans came. Something in their manner of flying seemed to say to me, 'Look carefully now; there is one not all swan, only swan's feathers.' You know, mother, you have the same intuitive feeling that I have; you know whether a thing is right or not immediately.


Yes, of course, but tell me about the princess; I am tired of hearing about the swan's feathers.


Well, you know that in the middle of the moor there is something like a lake. You can see the edge of it if you raise yourself a little. Just there, by the reeds and the green banks, lay the trunk of an elder-tree; upon this the three swans stood flapping their wings, and looking about them; one of them threw off her plumage, and I immediately recognized her as one of the princesses of our home in Egypt. There she sat, without any covering but her long, black hair. I heard her tell the two others to take great care of the swan's plumage, while she dipped down into the water to pluck the flowers which she fancied she saw there. The others nodded, and picked up the feather dress, and took possession of it. I wonder what will become of it? thought I, and she most likely asked herself the same question. If so, she received an answer, a very practical one; for the two swans rose up and flew away with her swan's plumage. 'Dive down now!' they cried; 'thou shalt never more fly in the swan's plumage, thou shalt never again see Egypt; here, on the moor, thou wilt remain.' So saying, they tore the swan's plumage into a thousand pieces, the feathers drifted about like a snow-shower, and then the two deceitful princesses flew away. Dive down now! thou shalt never more fly in the swan's plumage, thou shalt never again see Egypt; here, on the moor, thou wilt remain.


Why, that is terrible. I feel as if I could hardly bear to hear any more, but you must tell me what happened next.


The princess wept and lamented aloud; her tears moistened the elder stump, which was really not an elder stump but the Marsh King himself, he who in marshy ground lives and rules. I saw myself how the stump of the tree turned round, and was a tree no more, while long, clammy branches like arms, were extended from it. Then the poor child was terribly frightened, and started up to run away. She hastened to cross the green, slimy ground; but it will not bear any weight, much less hers. She quickly sank, and the elder stump dived immediately after her; in fact, it was he who drew her down. Great black bubbles rose up out of the moor-slime, and with these every trace of the two vanished. And now the princess is buried in the wild marsh, she will never now carry flowers to Egypt to cure her father. It would have broken your heart, mother, had you seen it.


You ought not to have told me, at such a time as this; the eggs might suffer. But I think the princess will soon find help; some one will rise up to help her. Ah! if it had been you or I, or one of our people, it would have been all over with us.


I mean to go every day, to see if anything comes to pass;


But she cannot be left to lie here, and in my nest there are already so many. But stay, I have thought of something: the wife of the Viking has no children, and how often she has wished for a little one. People always say the stork brings the little ones; I will do so in earnest this time. I shall fly with the child to the Viking's wife; what rejoicing there will be!


So you see, that the princess is not dead, for she must have sent her little one up here; and now I have found a home for her.


Ah, I said it would be so from the first, but now think a little of your own family. Our travelling time draws near, and I sometimes feel a little irritation already under the wings. The cuckoos and the nightingale are already gone, and I heard the quails say they should go too as soon as the wind was favorable. Our youngsters will go through all the manoeuvres at the review very well, or I am much mistaken in them.


How is this? have I had a wicked dream? Is it not my own lovely cherub that lies there.


All the husbands are here, and ready! wives and children also!


How light we are! Something pleasant seems creeping over us, even down to our toes, as if we were full of live frogs. Ah, how delightful it is to travel into foreign lands!


Hold yourselves properly in the line with us. Do not use your beaks so much; it tries the lungs.


the cattle know when to leave their pasture, but a foolish man knows not the measure of his own appetite.


that even the welcome guest becomes wearisome when he sits too long in the house.


It is always like this here, and this is how we live in our warm country,


Is there anything more to see? are we going farther into the country?


There is nothing further for us to see. Beyond this delightful region there are immense forests, where the branches of the trees entwine round each other, while prickly, creeping plants cover the paths, and only an elephant could force a passage for himself with his great feet. The snakes are too large, and the lizards too lively for us to catch. Then there is the desert; if you went there, your eyes would soon be full of sand with the lightest breeze, and if it should blow great guns, you would most likely find yourself in a sand-drift. Here is the best place for you, where there are frogs and locusts; here I shall remain, and so must you.


We three flew away together through the air, a hunter caught sight of us, and shot at us with an arrow. The arrow struck our young friend and sister, and slowly singing her farewell song she sank down, a dying swan, into the forest lake. On the shores of the lake, under a spreading birch-tree, we laid her in the cold earth. We had our revenge; we bound fire under the wings of a swallow, who had a nest on the thatched roof of the huntsman. The house took fire, and burst into flames; the hunter was burnt with the house, and the light was reflected over the sea as far as the spreading birch, beneath which we laid her sleeping dust. She will never return to the land of Egypt.


Deceit and lies! I should like to run my beak deep into their chests.


And perhaps break it off, then what a sight you would be. Think first of yourself, and then of your family; all others are nothing to us.


Yes, I know, but to-morrow I can easily place myself on the edge of the open cupola, when the learned and wise men assemble to consult on the state of the sick man; perhaps they may come a little nearer to the truth.


Love is a life-giver. The highest love produces the highest life. Only through love can the sick man be cured.


What a beautiful thought!


I don't quite understand it, however, it is not my fault, but the fault of the thought; whatever it may be, I have something else to think of.


That in some way she would, after all, manage to succeed;


I should like to get away the swan's feathers from those two treacherous princesses, then, at least, they would not be able to fly over again to the wild moor, and do more wickedness. I can hide the two suits of feathers over yonder, till we find some use for them.


But where will you put them?


In our nest on the moor. I and the young ones will carry them by turns during our flight across; and as we return, should they prove too heavy for us, we shall be sure to find plenty of places on the way in which we can conceal them till our next journey. Certainly one suit of swan's feathers would be enough for the princess, but two are always better. In those northern countries no one can have too many travelling wrappers.


No one will thank you for it, but you are master; and, excepting at breeding time, I have nothing to say.


If thine enemy were to pull down thine house about thy ears, and thou shouldest be sleeping in unconscious security, I would not wake thee; even if I had the power I would never do it, for my ears still tingle with the blow that thou gavest me years ago. I have never forgotten it.


If a thing is to be done well. I must do it myself.


I could wish that thou wouldst always remain my dumb frog child, for thou art too terrible when thou art clothed in a form of beauty.


One can scarcely believe that she was ever small enough to lie in the cup of the water-lily, and now she is grown up, and the image of her Egyptian mother, especially about the eyes. Ah, we shall never see her again; perhaps she has not discovered how to help herself, as you and the wise men said she would. Year after year have I flown across and across the moor, but there was no sign of her being still alive. Yes, and I may as well tell you that you that each year, when I arrived a few days before you to repair the nest, and put everything in its place, I have spent a whole night flying here and there over the marshy lake, as if I had been an owl or a bat, but all to no purpose. The two suit of swan's plumage, which I and the young ones dragged over here from the land of the Nile, are of no use; trouble enough it was to us to bring them here in three journeys, and now they are lying at the bottom of the nest; and if a fire should happen to break out, and the wooden house be burnt down, they would be destroyed.


And our good nest would be destroyed, too, but you think less of that than of your plumage stuff and your moor-princess. Go and stay with her in the marsh if you like. You are a bad father to your own children, as I have told you already, when I hatched my first brood. I only hope neither we nor our children may have an arrow sent through our wings, owing to that wild girl. Helga does not know in the least what she is about. We have lived in this house longer than she has, she should think of that, and we have never forgotten our duty. We have paid every year our toll of a feather, an egg, and a young one, as it is only right we should do. You don't suppose I can wander about the court-yard, or go everywhere as I used to do in old times. I can do it in Egypt, where I can be a companion of the people, without forgetting myself. But here I cannot go and peep into the pots and kettles as I do there. No, I can only sit up here and feel angry with that girl, the little wretch; and I am angry with you, too; you should have left her lying in the water lily, then no one would have known anything about her.


You are far better than your conversation. I know you better than you know yourself.


He is the handsomest of them all, but I won't tell him so.


I would let the dogs loose after him over the moor and across the heath. Hurrah! that would be a spectacle for the gods, and better still to follow in its course.


Never once to my lord and husband has a word passed my lips of what I have to suffer through you; my heart is full of grief about you. The love of a mother is greater and more powerful than I ever imagined. But love never entered thy heart; it is cold and clammy, like the plants on the moor. A bitter time will come for thee at last, and it will be terrible for me too. It had been better for thee if thou hadst been left on the high-road, with the cold night wind to lull thee to sleep.


Who art thou? whose outward appearance is that of an animal, while thou willingly performest acts of mercy?


Let me get at thee! let me get at thee, that I may plunge this knife into thy body. Thou art pale as ashes, thou beardless slave.


Thou must sit behind me, not before me. Thy magic beauty has a magic power which comes from an evil origin, and I fear it; still I am sure to overcome through my faith in Christ.


Where hast thou stolen that beauteous maiden?


Jesus Christ.


Daughter of the moorland, thou hast come from the swamp and the marshy earth, but from this thou shalt arise. The sunlight shining into thy inmost soul proves the origin from which thou hast really sprung, and has restored the body to its natural form. I am come to thee from the land of the dead, and thou also must pass through the valley to reach the holy mountains where mercy and perfection dwell. I cannot lead thee to Hedeby that thou mayst receive Christian baptism, for first thou must remove the thick veil with which the waters of the moorland are shrouded, and bring forth from its depths the living author of thy being and thy life. Till this is done, thou canst not receive consecration.


Am I looking at my own image in the deep water?


Is it myself that I see represented on a white shield?


My child! the flower of my heart--my lotus flower of the deep water! In swan's plumage I came here, and here I threw off my feather dress. Then I sank down through the wavering ground, deep into the marsh beneath, which closed like a wall around me; I found myself after a while in fresher water; still a power drew me down deeper and deeper. I felt the weight of sleep upon my eyelids. Then I slept, and dreams hovered round me. It seemed to me as if I were again in the pyramids of Egypt, and yet the waving elder trunk that had frightened me on the moor stood ever before me. I observed the clefts and wrinkles in the stem; they shone forth in strange colors, and took the form of hieroglyphics. It was the mummy case on which I gazed. At last it burst, and forth stepped the thousand years' old king, the mummy form, black as pitch, black as the shining wood-snail, or the slimy mud of the swamp. Whether it was really the mummy or the Marsh King I know not. He seized me in his arms, and I felt as if I must die. When I recovered myself, I found in my bosom a little bird, flapping its wings, twittering and fluttering. The bird flew away from my bosom, upwards towards the dark, heavy canopy above me, but a long, green band kept it fastened to me. I heard and understood the tenor of its longings. Freedom! sunlight! to my father! Then I thought of my father, and the sunny land of my birth, my life, and my love. Then I loosened the band, and let the bird fly away to its home--to a father. Since that hour I have ceased to dream; my sleep has been long and heavy, till in this very hour, harmony and fragrance awoke me, and set me free.