The Two Kings’ Children   
   
   
THERE was once upon a time a King who had a little boy of whom it had been foretold that he should be killed by a stag when he was sixteen years of age, and, when he had reached that age, the huntsmen once went hunting with him. In the forest, the King’s son was separated from the others, and all at once he saw a great stag which he wanted to shoot, but could not hit. At length he chased the stag so far that they were quite out of the forest, and then suddenly a great tall man was standing there instead of the stag, and said, “It is well that I have thee, I have already ruined six pairs of glass skates with running after thee, and have not been able to get thee.” Then he took the King’s son with him, and dragged him through a great lake to a great palace, and then he had to sit down to table with him and eat something. When they had eaten something together, the King said, “I have three daughters, thou must keep watch over the eldest for one night, from nine in the evening till six in the morning, and every time the clock strikes, I will come myself and call, and if thou then givest me no answer, to-morrow morning thou shalt be put to death, but if thou always givest me an answer, thou shalt have her to wife.”     1   
  When the young folks went to the bed-room, there stood a stone image of St. Christopher, and the King’s daughter said to it, “My father will come at nine o’clock, and every hour till it strikes three; when he calls, give him an answer instead of the King’s son.” Then the stone image of St. Christopher nodded its head quite quickly, and then more and more slowly till at last it stood still. The next morning the King said to him, “Thou hast done the business well, but I cannot give my daughter away, thou must now watch a night by my second daughter, and then I will consider with myself whether thou canst have my eldest daughter to wife, but I shall come every hour myself, and when I call thee, answer me, and if I call thee and thou dost not reply, thy blood shall flow.” Then they both went into the sleeping-room, and there stood a still larger stone image of St. Christopher, and the King’s daughter said to it, “If my father calls, do you answer him.” Then the great stone image of St. Christopher again nodded its head quite quickly and then more and more slowly, until at last it stood still again. And the King’s son lay down on the threshold, put his hand under his head and slept. The next morning the King said to him, “Thou hast done the business really well, but I cannot give my daughter away; thou must now watch a night by the youngest princess, and then I will consider with myself whether thou canst have my second daughter to wife, but I shall come every hour myself, and when I call thee answer me, and if I call thee and thou answerest not, thy blood shall flow for me.”     2   
  Then they once more went to the sleeping-room together, and there was a much greater and much taller image of St. Christopher than the two first had been. The King’s daughter said to it, “When my father calls, do thou answer.” Then the great tall stone image of St. Christopher nodded quite half an hour with its head, until at length the head stood still again. And the King’s son lay down on the threshold of the door and slept. The next morning the King said, “Thou hast indeed watched well, but I cannot give thee my daughter now; I have a great forest, if thou cuttest it down for me between six o’clock this morning and six at night, I will think about it.” Then he gave him a glass axe, a glass wedge, and a glass mallet. When he got into the wood, he began to cut, but the axe broke in two, then he took the wedge, and struck it once with the mallet, and it became as short and as small as sand. Then he was much troubled and believed he would have to die, and sat down and wept.     3   
  Now, when it was noon, the King said, “One of you girls must take him something to eat.” “No,” said the two eldest, “we will not take it to him; the one by whom he last watched can take him something.” Then the youngest was forced to go and take him something to eat. When she got into the forest, she asked him how he was getting on? “Oh,” said he, “I am getting on very badly.” Then she said he was to come and just eat a little. “Nay,” said he, “I cannot do that, I shall still have to die, so I will eat no more.” Then she spoke so kindly to him and begged him just to try, that he came and ate something. When he had eaten something she said, “I will comb thy hair a while, and then thou wilt feel happier.”     4   
  So she combed his hair, and he became weary and fell asleep, and then she took her handkerchief and made a knot in it, and struck it three times on the earth, and said, “Earth-workers, come forth.” In a moment, numbers of little earth-men came forth, and asked what the King’s daughter commanded? Then said she, “In three hours’ time the great forest must be cut down, and the whole of the wood laid in heaps.” So the little earth-men went about and got together the whole of their kindred to help them with the work. They began at once, and when the three hours were over, all was done, and they came back to the King’s daughter and told her so. Then she took her white handkerchief again and said, “Earth-workers, go home.” On this they all disappeared.     5   
  When the King’s son awoke, he was delighted, and she said, “Come home when it has struck six o’clock.” He did as she told him, and then the King asked, “Hast thou made away with the forest?” “Yes,” said the King’s son. When they were sitting at table, the King said, “I cannot yet give thee my daughter to wife, thou must still do something more for her sake.” So he asked what it was to be, then? “I have a great fish-pond,” said the King. “Thou must go to it tomorrow morning and clear it of all mud until it is as bright as a mirror, and fill it with every kind of fish.” The next morning the King gave him a glass shovel and said, “The fish-pond must be done by six o’clock.” So he went away, and when he came to the fish-pond he stuck his shovel in the mud and it broke in two, then he stuck his hoe in the mud, and broke it also. Then he was much troubled. At noon the youngest daughter brought him something to eat, and asked him how he was getting on? So the King’s son said everything was going very ill with him, and he would certainly have to lose his head. “My tools have broken to pieces again.” “Oh,” said she, “thou must just come and eat something, and then thou wilt be in another frame of mind.” “No,” said he, “I cannot eat, I am far too unhappy for that!” Then she gave him many good words until at last he came and ate something. Then she combed his hair again, and he fell asleep, so once more she took her handkerchief, tied a knot in it, and struck the ground thrice with the knot, and said, “Earth-workers, come forth.” In a moment a great many little earth-men came and asked what she desired, and she told them that in three hours’ time they must have the fish-pond entirely cleaned out, and it must be so clear that people could see themselves reflected in it, and every kind of fish must be in it. The little earth-men went away and summoned all their kindred to help them, and in two hours it was done. Then they returned to her and said, “We have done as thou hast commanded.” The King’s daughter took the handkerchief and once more struck thrice on the ground with it, and said, “Earth-workers, go home again.” Then they all went away.     6   
  When the King’s son awoke, the fish-pond was done. Then the King’s daughter went away also, and told him that when it was six he was to come to the house. When he arrived at the house the King asked, “Hast thou got the fish-pond done?” “Yes,” said the King’s son. That was very good.     7   
  When they were again sitting at table, the King said, “Thou hast certainly done the fish-pond, but I cannot give thee my daughter yet; thou must just do one thing more.” What is that, then?” asked the King’s son. The King said he had a great mountain on which there was nothing but briars which must all be cut down, and at the top of it the youth must build up a great castle, which must be as strong as could be conceived, and all the furniture and fittings belonging to a castle must be inside it. And when he arose next morning the King gave him a glass axe and a glass gimlet with him, and he was to have all done by six o’clock. As he was cutting down the first briar with the axe, it broke off short, and so small that the pieces flew all round about, and he could not use the gimlet either. Then he was quite miserable, and waited for his dearest to see if she would not come and help him in his need. When it was mid-day she came and brought him something to eat. He went to meet her and told her all, and ate something, and let her comb his hair and fell asleep. Then she once more took the knot and struck the earth with it, and said, “Earth-workers, come forth!” Then came once again numbers of earth-men, and asked what her desire was. Then said she, “In the space of three hours they must cut down the whole of the briars, and a castle must be built on the top of the mountain that must be as strong as any one could conceive, and all the furniture that pertains to a castle must be inside it. They went away, and summoned their kindred to help them and when the time was come, all was ready. Then they came to the King’s daughter and told her so, and the King’s daughter took her handkerchief and struck thrice on the earth with it, and said “Earth-workers, go home,” on which they all disappeared. When therefore the King’s son awoke and saw everything done, he was as happy as a bird in air.     8   
  When it had struck six, they went home together. Then said the King, “Is the castle ready?” “Yes,” said the King’s son. When they sat down to table, the King said, “I cannot give away my youngest daughter until the two eldest are married.” Then the King’s son and the King’s daughter were quite troubled, and the King’s son had no idea what to do. But he went by night to the King’s daughter and ran away with her. When they had got a little distance away, the King’s daughter peeped round and saw her father behind her. “Oh,” said she, “what are we to do? My father is behind us, and will take us back with him. I will at once change thee into a briar, and myself into a rose, and I will shelter myself in the midst of the bush.” When the father reached the place, there stood a briar with one rose on it, then he was about to gather the rose, when the thorn came and pricked his finger so that he was forced to go home again. His wife asked why he had not brought their daughter back with him? So he said he had nearly got up to her, but that all at once he had lost sight of her, and a briar with one rose was growing on the spot.     9   
  Then said the Queen, “If thou hadst but gathered the rose, the briar would have been forced to come too.” So he went back again to fetch the rose, but in the meantime the two were already far over the plain, and the King ran after them. Then the daughter once more looked round and saw her father coming, and said, “Oh, what shall we do now? I will instantly change thee into a church and myself into a priest, and I will stand up in the pulpit, and preach.” When the King got to the place, there stood a church, and in the pulpit was a priest preaching. So he listened to the sermon, and then went home again.     10   
  Then the Queen asked why he had not brought their daughter with him, and he said, “Nay, I ran a long time after her, and just as I thought I should soon overtake her, a church was standing there and a priest was in the pulpit preaching.” “Thou shouldst just have brought the priest,” said his wife, “and then the church would soon have come. It is no use to send thee, I must go there myself.” When she had walked for some time, and could see the two in the distance, the King’s daughter peeped round and saw her mother coming, and said, “Now we are undone, for my mother is coming herself: I will immediately change thee into a fish-pond and myself into a fish.”     11   
  When the mother came to the place, there was a large fish-pond, and in the midst of it a fish was leaping about and peeping out of the water, and it was quite merry. She wanted to catch the fish but she could not. Then she was very angry, and drank up the whole pond in order to catch the fish, but it made her so ill that she was forced to vomit, and vomited the whole pond out again. Then she cried, “I see very well that nothing can be done now,” and said that now they might come back to her. Then the King’s daughter went back again, and the Queen gave her daughter three walnuts, and said, “With these thou canst help thyself when thou art in thy greatest need.” So the young folks went once more away together. And, when they had walked quite ten miles, they arrived at the castle from whence the King’s son came, and close by it was a village. When they reached it, the King’s son said, “Stay here, my dearest, I will just go to the castle, and then will I come with a carriage and with attendants to fetch thee.”     12   
  When he got to the castle, they all rejoiced greatly at having the King’s son back again, and he told them he had a bride who was now in the village, and they must go with the carriage to fetch her. Then they harnessed the horses at once, and many attendants seated themselves outside the carriage. When the King’s son was about to get in, his mother gave him a kiss, and he forgot everything which had happened, and also what he was about to do. On this his mother ordered the horses to be taken out of the carriage again, and every one went back into the house. But the maiden sat in the village and watched and watched, and thought he would come and fetch her, but no one came. Then the King’s daughter took service in the mill which belonged to the castle, and was obliged to sit by the pond every afternoon and clean the tubs. And the Queen came one day on foot from the castle, and went walking by the pond, and saw the well-grown maiden sitting there, and said, “What a fine strong girl that is! She pleases me well!” Then she and all with her looked at the maid, but no one knew her. So a long time passed by during which the maiden served the miller honourably and faithfully. In the meantime, the Queen had sought a wife for her son, who came from quite a distant part of the world. When the bride came, they were at once to be married. And many people hurried together, all of whom wanted to see everything. Then the girl said to the miller that he might be so good as to give her leave to go also. So the miller said, “Yes, do go there.” When she was about to go, she opened one of the three walnuts, and a beautiful dress lay inside it. She put it on, and went into the church and stood by the altar. Suddenly came the bride and bridegroom, and seated themselves before the altar, and when the priest was just going to bless them, the bride peeped half round and saw the maiden standing there. Then she stood up again, and said she would not be given away until she also had as beautiful a dress as that lady there. So they went back to the house again, and sent to ask the lady if she would sell that dress. No, she would not sell it, but the bride might perhaps earn it. Then the bride asked her how she was to do this? Then the maiden said if she might sleep one night outside the King’s son’s door, the bride might have what she wanted. So the bride said, “Yes, she was to do that.” But the servants were ordered to give the King’s son a sleeping drink, and then the maiden laid herself down on the threshold and lamented all night long. She had had the forest cut down for him, she had had the fish-pond cleaned out for him, she had had the castle built for him, she had changed him into a briar, and then into a church, and at last into a fish-pond, and yet he had forgotten her so quickly. The King’s son did not hear one word of it, but the servants had been awakened, and had listened to it, and had not known what it could mean. The next morning when they were all up, the bride put on the dress, and went away to the church with the bridegroom. In the meantime the maiden opened the second walnut, and a still more beautiful dress was inside it. She put it on, and went and stood by the altar in the church, and everything happened as it had happened the time before. And the maiden again lay all night on the threshold which led to the chamber of the King’s son, and the servant was once more to give him a sleeping-drink. The servant, however, went to him and gave him something to keep him awake, and then the King’s son went to bed, and the miller’s maiden bemoaned herself as before on the threshold of the door, and told of all that she had done. All this the King’s son heard, and was sore troubled, and what was passed came back to him. Then he wanted to go to her, but his mother had locked the door. The next morning, however, he went at once to his beloved, and told her everything which had happened to him, and prayed her not to be angry with him for having forgotten her. Then the King’s daughter opened the third walnut, and within it was a still more magnificent dress, which she put on, and went with her bridegroom to church, and numbers of children came who gave them flowers, and offered them gay ribbons to bind about their feet, and they were blessed by the priest, and had a merry wedding. But the false mother and the bride had to depart. And the mouth of the person who last told all this is still warm.     13   

   
The Seven Swabians   
   
   
SEVEN Swabians were once together. The first was Master Schulz; the second, Jackli; the third, Marli; the fourth, Jergli; the fifth, Michal; the sixth, Hans; the seventh, Veitli: all seven had made up their minds to travel about the world to seek adventures and perform great deeds. But in order that they might go in security and with arms in their hands, they thought it would be advisable that they should have one solitary, but very strong, and very long spear made for them. This spear all seven of them took in their hands at once; in front walked the boldest and bravest, and that was Master Schulz; all the others followed in a row, and Veitli was the last. Then it came to pass one day in the hay-making month (July), when they had walked a long distance, and still had a long way to go before they reached the village where they were to pass the night, that as they were in a meadow in the twilight a great beetle or hornet flew by them from behind a bush, and hummed in a menacing manner. Master Schulz was so terrified that he all but dropped the spear, and a cold perspiration broke out over his whole body. “Hark! hark!” cried he to his comrades. “Good heavens! I hear a drum.” Jackli, who was behind him holding the spear, and who perceived some kind of a smell, said, “Something is most certainly going on, for I taste powder and matches.” At these words Master Schulz began to take to flight, and in a trice jumped over a hedge, but as he just happened to jump on to the teeth of a rake which had been left lying there after the hay-making, the handle of it struck against his face and gave him a tremendous blow. “Oh dear! Oh dear!” screamed Master Schulz. “Take me prisoner; I surrender! I surrender!” The other six all leapt over, one on the top of the other, crying, “If you surrender, I surrender too! If you surrender, I surrender too!” At length, as no enemy was there to bind and take them away, they saw that they had been mistaken, and in order that the story might not be known, and they be treated as fools and ridiculed, they all swore to each other to hold their peace about it until one of them accidentally spoke of it.     1   
  Then they journeyed onwards. The second danger which they survived cannot be compared with the first. Some days afterwards, their path led them through a fallow-field where a hare was sitting sleeping in the sun. Her ears were standing straight up, and her great glassy eyes were wide open. All of them were alarmed at the sight of the horrible wild beast, and they consulted together as to what it would be the least dangerous to do. For if they were to run away, they knew that the monster would pursue and swallow them whole. So they said, “We must go through a great and dangerous struggle. Boldly ventured, is half won,” and all seven grasped the spear, Master Schulz in front, and Veitli behind. Master Schulz was always trying to keep the spear back, but Veitli had become quite brave while behind, and wanted to dash forward and cried,
           “Strike home, in every Swabian’s name,   
Or else I wish ye may be lame.”   
But Hans knew how to meet this, and said,
           “Thunder and lightning, it’s fine to prate,   
But for dragon-hunting thou’rt aye too late.”   
Michal cried,
           “Nothing is wanting, not even a hair,   
Be sure the Devil himself is there.”   
Then it was Jergli’s turn to speak,
           “If it be not, it’s at least his mother,   
Or else it’s the Devil’s own step-brother.”   
And now Marli had a bright thought, and said to Veitli,
           “Advance, Veitli, advance, advance,   
And I behind will hold the lance.”   
Veitli, however, did not attend to that, and Jackli said,
           “’Tis Schulz’s place the first to be,   
No one deserves that honour but he.”   
Then Master Schulz plucked up his courage, an said, gravely,
           “Then let us boldly advance to the fight,   
And thus we shall show our valour and might.”   
  2   
  Hereupon they all together set on the dragon. Master Schulz crossed himself, and prayed for God’s assistance, but as all this was of no avail, and he was getting nearer and nearer to the enemy, he screamed “Oho! Oho! ho! ho! ho!” in the greatest anguish. This awakened the hare, which in great alarm darted swiftly away. When Master Schulz saw her thus flying from the field of battle, he cried in his joy.
           “Quick, Veitli, quick, look there, look there,   
The monster’s nothing but a hare!”   
  3   
  But the Swabian allies went in search of further adventures, and came to the Moselle, a mossy, quiet, deep river, over which there are few bridges, and which in many places people have to cross in boats. As the seven Swabians did not know this, they called to a man who was working on the opposite side of the river, to know how people contrived to get across. The distance and their way of speaking made the man unable to understand what they wanted, and he said, “What? what?” in the way people speak in the neighbourhood of Treves. Master Schulz thought he was saying, “Wade, wade through the water,” and as he was the first, began to set out and went into the Moselle. It was not long before he sank in the mud and the deep waves which drove against him, but his hat was blown on the opposite shore by the wind, and a frog sat down beside it and croaked “Wat, wat, wat.” The other six on the opposite side heard that, and said, “Oho, comrades, Master Schulz is calling us; if he can wade across, why cannot we?” So they all jumped into the water together in a great hurry, and were drowned, and thus one frog took the lives of all six of them, and not one of the Swabian allies ever reached home again.

   
One-Eye, Two-Eyes, and Three-Eyes   
   
   
THERE was once a woman who had three daughters, the eldest of whom was called One-eye, because she had only one eye in the middle of her forehead, and the second, Two-eyes, because she had two eyes like other folks, and the youngest, Three-eyes, because she had three eyes; and her third eye was also in the centre of her forehead. However, as Two-eyes saw just as other human beings did, her sisters and her mother could not endure her. They said to her, “Thou, with thy two eyes, art no better than the common people; thou dost not belong to us!” They pushed her about, and threw old clothes to her, and gave her nothing to eat but what they left, and did everything that they could to make her unhappy. It came to pass that Two-eyes had to go out into the fields and tend the goat, but she was still quite hungry, because her sisters had given her so little to eat. So she sat down on a ridge and began to weep, and so bitterly that two streams ran down from her eyes. And once when she looked up in her grief, a woman was standing beside her, who said, “Why art thou weeping, little Two-eyes?” Two-eyes answered, “Have I not reason to weep, when I have two eyes like other people, and my sisters and mother hate me for it, and push me from one corner to another, throw old clothes at me, and give me nothing to eat but the scraps they leave? To-day they have given me so little that I am still quite hungry.” Then the wise woman said, “Wipe away thy tears, Two-eyes, and I will tell thee something to stop thee ever suffering from hunger again; just say to thy goat,
           “Bleat, my little goat, bleat,   
Cover the table with something to eat,”   
and then a clean well-spread little table will stand before thee, with the most delicious food upon it of which thou mayest eat as much as thou art inclined for, and when thou hast had enough, and hast no more need of the little table, just say,
           “Bleat, bleat, my little goat, I pray,   
And take the table quite away,”   
and then it will vanish again from thy sight.” Hereupon the wise woman departed. But Two-eyes thought, “I must instantly make a trial, and see if what she said is true, for I am far too hungry,” and she said,
           “Bleat, my little goat, bleat,   
Cover the table with something to eat,&148;   
and scarcely had she spoken the words than a little table, covered with a white cloth, was standing there, and on it was a plate with a knife and fork, and a silver spoon; and the most delicious food was there also, warm and smoking as if it had just come out of the kitchen. Then Two-eyes said the shortest prayer she knew, “Lord God, be with us always, Amen,” and helped herself to some food, and enjoyed it. And when she was satisfied, she said, as the wise woman had taught her,
           “Bleat, bleat, my little goat, I pray,   
And take the table quite away,”   
and immediately the little table and everything on it was gone again. “This is a delightful way of keeping house!” thought Two-eyes, and was quite glad and happy.     1   
  In the evening, when she went home with her goat, she found a small earthenware dish, with some food, which her sisters had set ready for her, but she did not touch it. Next day she again went out with her goat, and left the few bits of broken bread which had been handed to her, lying untouched. The first and second time that she did this, her sisters did not remark it at all, but as it happened every time, they did observe it, and said, “There is something wrong about Two-eyes, she always leaves her food untasted, and she used to eat up everything that was given her; she must have discovered other ways of getting food.” In order that they might learn the truth, they resolved to send One-eye with Two-eyes when she went to drive her goat to the pasture, to observe what Two-eyes did when she was there, and whether any one brought her anything to eat and drink. So when Two-eyes set out the next time, One-eye went to her and said, “I will go with you to the pasture, and see that the goat is well taken care of, and driven where there is food.” But Two-eyes knew what was in One-eye’s mind, and drove the goat into high grass and said, “Come, One-eye, we will sit down and I will sing something to you.” One-eye sat down and was tired with the unaccustomed walk and the heat of the sun, and Two-eyes sang constantly,
           “One eye, wakest thou?   
One eye, sleepest thou?”   
until One-eye shut her one eye, and fell asleep, and as soon as Two-eyes saw that One-eye was fast asleep, and could discover nothing, she said,
           “Bleat, my little goat, bleat,   
Cover the table with something to eat,”   
and seated herself at her table, and ate and drank until she was satisfied, and then she again cried,
           “Bleat, bleat, my little goat, I pray,   
And take the table quite away,”   
and in an instant all was gone. Two-eyes now awakened One-eye, and said “One-eye, you want to take care of the goat, and go to sleep while you are doing it, and in the meantime the goat might run all over the world. Come, let us go home again.” So they went home, and again Two-eyes let her little dish stand untouched, and One-eye could not tell her mother why she would not eat it, and to excuse herself said, “I fell asleep when I was out.”     2   
  Next day the mother said to Three-eyes, “This time thou shalt go and observe if Two-eyes eats anything when she is out, and if any one fetches her food and drink, for she must eat and drink in secret.” So Three-eyes went to Two-eyes, and said, “I will go with you and see if the goat is taken proper care of, and driven where there is food.” But Two-eyes knew what was in Three-eyes’ mind, and drove the goat into high-grass and said, “We will sit down, and I will sing something to you, Three-eyes.” Three-eyes sat down and was tired with the walk and with the heat of the sun, and Two-eyes began the same song as before, and sang,
           “Three eyes, are you waking?”   
but then, instead of singing,
           “Three eyes, are you sleeping?”   
as she ought to have done, she thoughtlessly sang,
           “Two eyes, are you sleeping?”   
and sang all the time,
           “Three eyes, are you waking?   
Two eyes, are you sleeping?”   
Then two of the eyes which Three-eyes had, shut and fell asleep, but the third, as it had not been named in the song, did not sleep. It is true that Three-eyes shut it, but only in her cunning, to pretend it was asleep too, but it blinked, and could see everything very well. And when Two-eyes thought that Three-eyes was fast asleep she used her little charm,
           “Bleat, my little goat, bleat,   
Cover the table with something to eat,”   
and ate and drank as much as her heart desired, and then ordered the table to go away again,
           “Bleat, bleat, my little goat, I pray,   
And take the table quite away,”   
and Three-eyes had seen everything. Then Two-eyes came to her, waked her and said, “Have you been asleep, Three-eyes? You are a good care-taker! Come, we will go home.” And when they got home, Two-eyes again did not eat, and Three-eyes said to the mother, “Now, I know why that high-minded thing there does not eat. When she is out, she says to the goat,
           “Bleat, my little goat, bleat,   
Cover the table with something to eat,”   
and then a little table appears before her covered with the best of food, much better than any we have here, and when she has eaten all she wants, she says,
           “Bleat, bleat, my little goat, I pray,   
And take the table quite away,”   
and all disappears. I watched everything closely. She put two of my eyes to sleep by using a certain form of words, but luckily the one in my forehead kept awake.” Then the envious mother cried, “Dost thou want to fare better than we do? The desire shall pass away,” and she fetched a butcher’s knife, and thrust it into the heart of the goat, which fell down dead.     3   
  When Two-eyes saw that, she went out full of trouble, seated herself on the ridge of grass at the edge of the field and wept bitter tears. Suddenly the wise woman once more stood by her side, and said, “Two-eyes, why art thou weeping?” “Have I not reason to weep?” she answered. “The goat which covered the table for me every day when I spoke your charm, has been killed by my mother, and now I shall again have to bear hunger and want.” The wise woman said. “Two-eyes, I will give thee a piece of good advice; ask the sisters to give thee the entrails of the slaughtered goat, and bury them in the ground in front of the house, and thy fortune will be made.” Then she vanished, and Two-eyes went home and said to her sisters, “Dear sisters, do give me some part of my goat; I don’t wish for what is good, but give me the entrails.” Then they laughed and said, “If that’s all you want, you can have it.” So Two-eyes took the entrails and buried them quietly in the evening, in front of the house-door, as the wise woman had counselled her to do.     4   
  Next morning, when they all awoke, and went to the house-door, there stood a strangely magnificent tree with leaves of silver, and fruit of gold hanging among them, so that in all the wide world there was nothing more beautiful or precious. They did not know how the tree could have come there during the night, but Two-eyes saw that it had grown up out of the entrails of the goat, for it was standing on the exact spot where she had buried them. Then the mother said to One-eye. “Climb up, my child, and gather some of the fruit of the tree for us.” One-eye climbed up, but when she was about to get hold of one of the golden apples, the branch escaped from her hands, and that happened each time, so that she could not pluck a single apple, let her do what she might. Then said the mother, “Three-eyes, do you climb up; you with your three eyes can look about you better than One-eye. One-eye slipped down, and Three-eyes climbed up. Three-eyes was not more skilful, and might search as she liked, but the golden apples always escaped her. At length the mother grew impatient, and climbed up herself, but could get hold of the fruit no better than One-eye and Three-eyes, for she always clutched empty air. Then said Two-eyes, “I will just go up, perhaps I may succeed better.” The sisters cried, “You indeed, with your two eyes, what can you do?” But Two-eyes climbed up, and the golden apples did not get out of her way, but came into her hand of their own accord, so that she could pluck them one after the other, and brought a whole apronful down with her. The mother took them away from her, and instead of treating poor Two-eyes any better for this, she and One-eye and Three-eyes were only envious, because Two-eyes alone had been able to get the fruit, and they treated her still more cruelly.     5   
  It so befell that once when they were all standing together by the tree, a young knight came up. “Quick, Two-eyes,” cried the two sisters, “creep under this, and don’t disgrace us!” and with all speed they turned an empty barrel which was standing close by the tree over poor Two-eyes, and they pushed the golden apples which she had been gathering, under it too. When the knight came nearer he was a handsome lord, who stopped and admired the magnificent gold and silver trees, and said to the two sisters, “To whom does this fine tree belong? Any one who would bestow one branch of it on me might in return for it ask whatsoever he desired.” Then One-eye and Three-eyes replied that the tree belonged to them, and that they would give him a branch. They both took great trouble, but they were not able to do it, for the branches and fruit both moved away from them every time. Then said the knight, “It is very strange that the tree should belong to you, and that you should still not be able to break a piece off.” They again asserted that the tree was their property. Whilst they were saying so, Two-eyes rolled out a couple of golden apples from under the barrel to the feet of the knight, for she was vexed with One-eye and Three-eyes, for not speaking the truth. When the knight saw the apples he was astonished, and asked where they came from. One-eye and Three-eyes answered that they had another sister, who was not allowed to show herself, for she had only two eyes like any common person. The knight, however, desired to see her, and cried, “Two-eyes, come forth.” Then Two-eyes, quite comforted, came from beneath the barrel, and the knight was surprised at her great beauty, and said, “Thou, Two-eyes, canst certainly break off a branch from the tree for me.” “Yes,” replied Two-eyes, “that I certainly shall be able to do, for the tree belongs to me.” And she climbed up, and with the greatest ease broke off a branch with beautiful silver leaves and golden fruit, and gave it to the knight. Then said the knight, “Two-eyes, what shall I give thee for it?” “Alas!” answered Two-eyes, “I suffer from hunger and thirst, grief and want, from early morning till late night; if you would take me with you, and deliver me from these things, I should be happy,” So the knight lifted Two-eyes on to his horse, and took her home with him to his father’s castle, and there he gave her beautiful clothes and meat and drink to her heart’s content, and as he loved her so much he married her, and the wedding was solemnized with great rejoicing. When Two-eyes was thus carried away by the handsome knight, her two sisters grudged her good fortune in downright earnest. “The wonderful tree, however, still remains with us,” thought they, “and even if we can gather no fruit from it, still every one will stand still and look at it, and come to us and admire it. Who knows what good things may be in store for us?” But next morning, the tree had vanished, and all their hopes were at an end. And when Two-eyes looked out of the window of her own little room to her great delight it was standing in front of it, and so it had followed her.     6   
  Two-eyes lived a long time in happiness. Once two poor women came to her in her castle, and begged for alms. She looked in their faces, and recognized her sisters, One-eye, and Three-eyes, who had fallen into such poverty that they had to wander about and beg their bread from door to door. Two-eyes, however, made them welcome, and was kind to them, and took care of them, so that they both with all their hearts repented the evil that they had done their sister in their youth.     7   

   
Snow-White and Rose-Red   
   
   
THERE was once a poor widow who lived in a lonely cottage. In front of the cottage was a garden wherein stood two rose-trees, one of which bore white and the other red roses. She had two children who were like the two rose-trees, and one was called Snow-white and the other Rose-red. They were as good and happy, as busy and cheerful, as ever two children in the world were, only Snow-white was more quiet and gentle than Rose-red. Rose-red liked better to run about in the meadows and fields seeking flowers and catching butterflies; but Snow-white sat at home with her mother, and helped her with her house-work, or read to her when there was nothing to do.     1   
  The two children were so fond of each other that they always held each other by the hand when they went out together, and when Snow-white said, “We will not leave each other,” Rose-red answered, “Never so long as we live,” and their mother would add, “What one has she must share with the other.”     2   
  They often ran about the forest alone and gathered red berries, and no beasts did them any harm, but came close to them trustfully. The little hare would eat a cabbage-leaf out of their hands, the roe grazed by their side, the stag leapt merrily by them, and the birds sat still upon the boughs, and sang whatever they knew.     3   
  No mishap overtook them; if they had stayed too late in the forest and night came on, they laid themselves down near one another upon the moss, and slept until morning came, and their mother knew this and had not distress on their account.     4   
  Once when they had spent the night in the wood and the dawn had roused them, they saw a beautiful child in a shining white dress sitting near their bed. He got up and looked quite kindly at them, but said nothing and went away into the forest. And when they looked round they found that they had been sleeping quite close to a precipice, and would certainly have fallen into it in the darkness if they had gone only a few paces further. And their mother told them that it must have been the angel who watches over good children.     5   
  Snow-white and Rose-red kept their mother’s little cottage so neat that it was a pleasure to look inside it. In the summer Rose-red took care of the house, and every morning laid a wreath of flowers by her mother’s bed before she awoke, in which was a rose from each tree. In the winter Snow-white lit the fire and hung the kettle on the wrekin. The kettle was of copper and shone like gold, so brightly was it polished. In the evening, when the snowflakes fell, the mother said, “Go, Snow-white, and bolt the door,” and then they sat round the hearth, and the mother took her spectacles and read aloud out of a large book, and the two girls listened as they sat and span. And close by them lay a lamb upon the floor, and behind them upon a perch sat a, white dove with its head hidden beneath its wings.     6   
  One evening, as they were thus sitting comfortably together, some one knocked at the door, as if he wished to be let in. The mother said. “Quick, Rose-red, open the door, it must be a traveller who is seeking shelter.” Rose-red went and pushed back the bolt, thinking that it was a poor man, but it was not; it was a bear that stretched his broad, black head within the door.     7   
  Rose-red screamed and sprang back, the lamb bleated, the dove fluttered, and Snow-white hid herself behind her mother’s bed. But the bear began to speak and said, “Do not be afraid, I will do you no harm! I am half-frozen, and only want to warm myself a little beside you.”     8   
  “Poor bear,” said the mother, “lie down by the fire, only take care that you do not burn your coat.” Then she cried, “Snow-white, Rose-red, come out, the bear will do you no harm, he means well.” So they both came out, and by-and-by the lamb and dove came nearer, and were not afraid of him. The bear said, “Here, children, knock the snow out of my coat a little;” so they brought the broom and swept the bear’s hide clean; and he stretched himself by the fire and growled contentedly and comfortably. It was not long before they grew quite at home, and played tricks with their clumsy guest. They tugged his hair with their hands, put their feet upon his back and rolled him about, or they took a hazel-switch and beat him, and when he growled they laughed. But the bear took it all in good part, only, when they were too rough, he called out, “Leave me alive, children,
           “Snowy-white, Rosy-red,   
Will you beat your lover dead?”   
  9   
  When it was bed-time, and the others went to bed, the mother said to the bear, “You can lie there by the hearth, and then you will be safe from the cold and the bad weather.” As soon as day dawned the two children let him out, and he trotted across the snow into the forest.     10   
  Henceforth the bear came every evening at the same time, laid himself down by the hearth, and let the children amuse themselves with him as much as they liked; and they got so used to him that the doors were never fastened until their black friend had arrived.     11   
  When spring had come and all outside was green, the bear said one morning to Snow-white, “Now I must go away, and cannot come back for the whole summer.” “Where are you going, then, dear bear,?” asked Snow-white. “I must go into the forest and guard my treasures from the wicked dwarfs. In the winter, when the earth is frozen hard, they are obliged to stay below and cannot work their way through; but now, when the sun has thawed and warmed the earth, they break through it, and come out to pry and steal; and what once gets into their hands, and in their caves, does not easily see daylight again.”     12   
  Snow-white was quite sorry for his going away, and as she unbolted the door for him, and the bear was hurrying out, he caught against the bolt and a piece of his hairy coat was torn off, and it seemed to Snow-white as if she had seen gold shining through it, but she was not sure about it. The bear ran away quickly, and was soon out of sight behind the trees.     13   
  A short time afterwards the mother sent her children into the forest to get fire-wood. There they found a big tree which lay felled on the ground, and close by the trunk something was jumping backwards and forwards in the grass, but they could not make out what it was. When they came nearer they saw a dwarf with an old withered face and a snow-white beard a yard long. The end of the beard was caught in a crevice of the tree, and the little fellow was jumping backwards and forwards like a dog tied to a rope, and did not know what to do.     14   
  He glared at the girls with his fiery red eyes and cried, “Why do you stand there? Can you not come here and help me?” “What are you about there, little man?” asked Rose-red. “You stupid, prying goose!” answered the dwarf; “I was going to split the tree to get a little wood for cooking. The little bit of food that one of us wants get burnt up directly with thick logs; we do not swallow so much as you coarse, greedy folk. I had just driven the wedge safely in, and everything was going as I wished; but the wretched wood was too smooth and suddenly sprang asunder, and the tree closed so quickly that I could not pull out my beautiful white beard; so now it is tight in and I cannot get away, and the silly, sleek, milk-faced things laugh! Ugh! how odious you are!”     15   
  The children tried very hard, but they could not pull the beard out, it was caught too fast. “I will run and fetch some one,” said Red-rose. “You senseless goose!” snarled the dwarf; “why should you fetch some one? You are already two too many for me; can you not think of something better?” “Don’t be too impatient,” said Snow-white, “I will help you,” and she pulled her scissors out of her pocket, and cut off the end of the beard.     16   
  As soon as the dwarf felt himself free he laid hold of a bag which lay amongst the roots of the tree, and which was full of gold, and lifted it up, grumbling to himself, “Uncouth people, to cut off a piece of my fine beard. Bad luck to you!” and then he swung the bag upon his back, and went off without even once looking at the children.     17   
  Some time after that Snow-white and Rose-red went to catch a dish of fish. As they came near the brook they saw something like a large grasshopper jumping towards the water, as if it were going to leap in. They ran to it and found it was the dwarf. “Where are you going?” said Rose-red; “you surely don’t want to go into the water?” “I am not such a fool!” cried the dwarf; “don’t you see that the accursed fish wants to pull me in?” The little man had been sitting there fishing, and unluckily the wind had twisted his beard with the fishing-line; just then a big, fish bit, and the feeble creature had not the strength to pull it out; the fish kept the upper hand and pulled the dwarf towards him. He held on to all the reeds and rushes, but it was of little good, he was forced to follow the movements of the fish, and was in urgent danger of being dragged into the water.     18   
  The girls came just in time; they held him fast and tried to free his beard from the line, but all in vain, beard and line were entangled fast together. Nothing was left but to bring out the scissors and cut the beard, whereby a small part of it was lost.     19   
  When the dwarf saw that he screamed out, “Is that civil, you toad-stool, to disfigure one’s face? Was it not enough to clip off the end of my beard? Now you have cut off the best part of it. I cannot let myself be seen by my people. I wish you had been made to run the soles off your shoes!” Then he took out a sack of pearls which lay in the rushes, and without saying a word more he dragged it away and disappeared behind a stone.     20   
  It happened that soon afterwards the mother sent the two children to the town to buy needles and thread, and laces and ribbons. The road led them across a heath upon which huge pieces of rock lay strewn here and there. Now they noticed a large bird hovering in the air, flying slowly round and round above them; it sank lower and lower, and at last settled near a rock not far off. Directly afterwards they heard a loud, piteous cry. They ran up and saw with horror that the eagle had seized their old acquaintance the dwarf, and was going to carry him off.     21   
  The children, full of pity, at once took tight hold of the little man, and pulled against the eagle so long that at last he let his booty go. As soon as the dwarf had recovered from his first fright he cried with his shrill voice, “Could you not have done it more carefully? You dragged at my brown coat so that it is all torn and full of holes, you helpless clumsy creatures!” Then he took up a sack full of precious stones and slipped away again under the rock into his hole. The girls, who by this time were used to his thanklessness, went on their way and did their business in the town.     22   
  As they crossed the heath again on their way home they surprised the dwarf, who had emptied out his bag of precious stones in a clean spot, and had not thought that any one would come there so late. The evening sun shone upon the brilliant stones; they glittered and sparkled with all colours so beautifully that the children stood still and looked at them. “Why do you stand gaping there?” cried the dwarf, and his ashen-grey face became copper-red with rage. He was going on with his bad words when a loud growling was heard, and a black bear came trotting towards them out of the forest. The dwarf sprang up in a fright, but he could not get to his cave, for the bear was already close. Then in the dread of his heart he cried, “Dear Mr. Bear, spare me, I will give you all my treasures; look, the beautiful jewels lying there! Grant me my life; what do you want with such a slender little fellow as I? you would not feel me between your teeth. Come, take these two wicked girls, they are tender morsels for you, fat as young quails; for mercy’s sake eat them!” The bear took no heed of his words, but gave the wicked creature a single blow with his paw, and he did not move again.     23   
  The girls had run away, but the bear called to them, “Snow-white and Rose-red, do not be afraid; wait, I will come with you.” Then they knew his voice and waited, and when he came up to them suddenly his bearskin fell off, and he stood there a handsome man, clothed all in gold. “I am a King’s son,” he said, “and I was bewitched by that wicked dwarf, who had stolen my treasures; I have had to run about the forest as a savage bear until I was freed by his death. Now he has got his well-deserved punishment.”     24   
  Snow-white was married to him, and Rose-red to his brother, and they divided between them the great treasure which the dwarf had gathered together in his cave. The old mother lived peacefully and happily with her children for many years. She took the two rose-trees with her, and they stood before her window, and every year bore the most beautiful roses, white and red.