Акупунктура, Аюрведа Ароматерапия и эфирные масла, Консультации специалистов: Рэйки; Гомеопатия; Народная медицина; Йога; Лекарственные травы; Нетрадиционная медицина; Дыхательные практики; Гороскоп; Правильное питание Эзотерика

The Three Wishes

Once upon a time a woodcutter lived happily with his wife in a pretty little log cabin in the middle of a thick forest. Each morning he set off singing to work, and when he came home in the evening, a plate of hot steaming soup was always waiting for him. One day he had a strange surprise. He came upon a big fir tree with strange open holes on the trunk. It looked somehow different from the other trees, and as he was about to chop it down, the alarmed face of an elf popped out of a hole. ‘What’s all this banging?’ asked the elf. ‘You’re not thinking of cutting down the tree, are you? It’s my home. I live here!’ The woodcutter dropped his axe in astonishment. ‘Well, I…’ he stammered. ‘With all the other trees there are in this forest, you have to pick this one. Lucky I was in, or I would have found myself homeless.’ Taken aback at these words, the woodcutter quickly recovered, for after all the elf was quite tiny, while he himself was a big hefty chap, and he boldly replied, ‘I’ll cut down any tree I like, so…’ ‘All right! All right!’ broke in the elf. ‘Shall we put it in this way: if you don’t cut down this tree, I grant you three wishes. Agreed?’ The woodcutter scratched his head. ‘Three wishes, you say? Yes, I agree.’ And he began to hack at another tree. As he worked and sweated at his task, the woodcutter kept thinking about the magic wishes. ‘I’ll see what my wife thinks…’ The woodcutter’s wife was busily cleaning a pot outside the house when her husband arrived. Grabbing her round the waist, he twirled her in delight. ‘Hooray! Hooray! Our luck is in!’ The woman could not understand why her husband was so pleased with himself and she struggled herself free. Later, however, over a glass of fine wine at the table, the woodcutter told his wife of his meeting with the elf, and she too began to picture the wonderful things that the elf’s three wishes might give them. The woodcutter’s wife took a first sip of wine from her husband’s glass. ‘Nice’, she said, smacking her lips. ‘I wish I had a string of sausages to go with it, though…’ Instantly she bit her tongue, but too late. Out of the air appeared the sausages, while the woodcutter stuttered with rage. ‘… what have you done! Sausages… What a stupid waste of a wish! You foolish woman. I wish they would stick up your nose!’ No sooner said than done. For the sausages leapt up and stuck fast to the end of the woman’s nose. This time, the woodcutter’s wife flew into a rage. ‘You idiot, what have you done? With all the things we could have wished for…’ The mortified woodcutter, who had just repeated his wife’s own mistake, exclaimed: ‘I’d chop…’ Luckily he stopped himself in time, realizing with horror that he’d been on the point of having his tongue chopped off. As his wife complained and blamed him, the poor man burst out laughing, ‘If only you knew how funny you look with those sausages on the end of your nose!’ Now that really upset the woodcutter’s wife. She hadn’t thought of her looks. She tried to tug away the sausages but they would not budge. She pulled again and again, but in vain. The sausages were firmly attached to her nose. Terrified, she exclaimed, ‘They’ll be there for the rest of my life!’ Feeling sorry for his wife and wondering how he could ever put up with^[1] a woman with such an awkward nose, the woodcutter said, ‘I’ll try.’ Grasping the string of sausages, he tugged with all his might. But he simply pulled his wife over on top of him. The pair sat on the floor, gazing sadly at each other. ‘What shall we do now?’ they said, each thinking the same thought. ‘There’s only one thing we can do…’ ventured the woodcutter’s wife timidly. ‘Yes, I’m afraid so…’ her husband sighed, remembering their dreams of riches, and he bravely wished the third and last wish, ‘I wish the sausages would leave my wife’s nose.’ And they did. Instantly, husband and wife hugged each other tearfully, saying, ‘Maybe we’ll be poor, but we’ll be happy again!’ That evening, the only reminder of the woodcutter’s meeting with the elf was the string of sausages. So the couple fried them, gloomily thinking of what that meal had cost them.

Goldilocks^[2] and the three bears

Once upon a time^[3] there were three bears, who lived together in a house of their own in a wood. One of them was a little, small wee bear; one was a middle-sized bear, and the other was a great, huge bear. They had each a pot for their porridge, a little pot for the little, small wee bear and a middle-sized pot for the middle bear and a great pot for the great, huge bear. They each had a chair to sit in; a little chair for the little, small wee bear and a middle-sized chair for the middle bear and a great chair for the great, huge bear. And they had each a bed to sleep in; a little bed for the little, small wee bear and a middle-sized bed for the middle bear and a great bed for the great, huge bear.

One day, after they had made porridge for their breakfast, and poured it into their porridge pots, they walked out into the wood while the porridge was cooling, that they might not burn their mouths by beginning too soon to eat it. While they were walking, a little girl came into the house. This little girl had golden curls that tumbled down her back to her waist, and everyone called her by Goldilocks. Goldilocks had been walking through the woods on the way to visit her grandmother, but she had taken a shortcut and lost her way. After wandering around the woods for a very long time, and starting to despair of ever seeing her grandmamma or her parents again, she came across a little house. She was very relieved, because she was certain that whoever lived in the house would help her. You see, she did not know that the house belonged to the three bears.

Goldilocks went up to the house and knocked on the door, but nobody answered. After a while, she looked through the window and saw the porridge on the table that the bears had made for their breakfast. She said to herself: ‘Oh how I wish I could eat some of that porridge! I’m so very hungry.’

Now perhaps Goldilocks should have waited until the bears came home, and then, perhaps they would have asked her to breakfast – for they were good bears, although a little rough or so, as the manner of a bear is – but very good natured and hospitable. Goldilocks did something rather naughty instead. She tried the latch on the door of the house and found that it was open – because you see the bears didn’t expect that anyone would come along and steal their porridge, and so they hadn’t bothered to lock the door of the house when they went out. Goldilocks went inside. First she tasted the porridge of the great, huge bear, and that was too hot for her. Then she tasted the porridge of the middle bear, and that was too cold for her. Then she went to the porridge of the little, small wee bear, and tasted it. And that was neither too hot nor too cold, but just right; and she liked it so well, that she ate it all up.

Little Goldilocks then sat down in the chair of the great, huge bear, and that was too hard for her. So she sat down in the chair of the middle bear, but that was too soft for her. Then she sat down in the chair of the little, small wee bear, and that was neither too hard nor too soft, but just right. So she sat until the bottom of the chair came out, and down came she, plump upon the ground – and the naughty little girl laughed out loud.

Then Goldilocks went upstairs into the bed chamber in which the three bears slept. First she lay down upon the bed of the great, huge bear, but that was too high at the head for her. Next she lay down upon the bed of the middle bear, and that was too high at the foot for her. Finally she lay down upon the bed of the little, small wee bear, and that was neither too high at the head, nor at the foot, but just right. So she covered herself up comfortably, and lay there until she fell fast asleep.

By this time the three bears thought their porridge would be cool enough, so they came home to breakfast. Now naughty Goldilocks had left the spoon of the great, huge bear, standing in his porridge.

‘SOMEBODY HAS BEEN AT MY PORRIDGE!’

Growled the great, huge bear, in his great gruff voice. When the middle bear looked at his, he saw that the spoon was standing in it too. ‘Somebody has been at my porridge!’ said the middle bear, in his middle voice.

Then the little, small wee bear looked at his, and there was the spoon in the porridge pot, but the porridge was all gone.

‘Somebody has been at my porridge, and has eaten it all up!’ said the little, small wee bear, in his little, small wee voice.

Upon this the three bears, seeing that someone had entered their house, and eaten up the little, small wee bear’s breakfast, began to look about them. Now Goldilocks had not put the hard cushion straight when she arose from the chair of the great, huge bear. ‘SOMEBODY HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY CHAIR!’ said the great, huge bear, in his great, rough, gruff voice.

The little girl had squished down the soft cushion of the middle Bear. ‘Somebody has been sitting in my chair!’ said the middle bear, in his middle voice.

And you know what the naughty little girl had done to the third chair? ‘Somebody has been sitting in my chair, and has sat the bottom of it out!’ said the little, small wee bear, in his little, small, wee voice.

Then the three bears thought that they should look around the house more, so they went upstairs into their bedroom. Now Goldilocks had pulled the pillow of the great, huge bear out of its place.

‘SOMEBODY HAS BEEN LYING IN MY BED!’ said the great, huge bear, in his great, rough, gruff voice. Goldilocks had pulled the bed cover of the middle bear out of its place.

‘Somebody has been lying in my bed!’ said the middle bear, in his middle voice.

And when the small, wee bear came to look at his bed, there was the bed cover in its place, and the pillow in its place and the bolster. But on the pillow was a pool of golden curls, and the angelic face of a little girl snoring away, fast asleep.

‘Somebody has been lying in my bed, and here she is!’ Said the little, small wee bear, in his little, small wee voice.

Goldilocks heard in her sleep the great rough gruff voice of the great huge bear, but she was so fast asleep that it was no more to her than the roaring of wind or the rumbling of thunder. She had heard the voice of the middle, but it was as if she had only heard someone speaking in a dream. But when she heard the little, small wee voice of the little, small wee bear, it was so sharp and so shrill that it wakened her at once.

Up she started, and when she saw the three bears at one side of the bed she had the fright of her life. To tell you the truth, the bears were almost as alarmed by her as^[4] she was by them.

Goldilocks jumped off the bed and ran downstairs, out of the door and down the garden path. She ran and she ran until she reached the house of her grandmama. When she told her grandmama about the house of the three bears who lived in the wood, her granny said: ‘My my, what a wild imagination you have, child!’

But Goldilocks knew that the story was true, and as for the three bears, whenever they went out of their wee house in the woods, they always locked the door in case Goldilocks came back and stole their porridge again. But they need not have worried about Goldilocks because, for as long as she lived she never took anything that didn’t belong to her – unless of course she had the permission of the owner.

The Sly Fox and the Little Red Hen

Once there was a little red hen. She lived in a little red henhouse, safe and sound, with a little blue door and windows all around. She was a happy hen. Every day she searched for grain with a peck, peck, peck and a cluck, cluck, cluck. But then a sly young fox and his mother moved into a nearby den. The sly fox was always hungry. He licked his lips when he grain with a peck, peck, peck and a cluck, cluck, cluck. And then the sly fox tried to catch the little red hen. He plotted and planned, again and again. But the little red hen was clever. She always got away, with a peck, peck, peck and a cluck, cluck, cluck. But then the sly fox thought up a very sly plan. ‘Mother, boil some water in a pan,’ he said. ‘I’ll bring home supper tonight.’ Then he crept over to the little red henhouse. And he waited until at last the little red hen came out to search for grain with a peck, peck, peck and a cluck, cluck, cluck. Quick as a flash, the sly fox slipped into the henhouse. And he waited until the little red hen came hurrying home. As soon as she saw the fox, she flew up to the rafters. ‘You can’t catch me now!’ she laughed, with a peck, peck, peck and a cluck, cluck, cluck. ‘All part of my plan,’ smiled the fox on the ground. And slowly he started to chase his tail, round and round and round and round, faster and faster… until the little red hen up in the rafters grew dizzy. ‘Oh!’ she clucked. ‘My poor head’s spinning. I’m all in a tizzy.’ And she dropped down – plop! – straight into the fox’s sack. ‘Ha!’ laughed the fox. And then the fox slung the sack over his shoulder and set off for home with the little red hen. After a while, he stopped for a rest. The sun was warm and soon he was snoozing. ‘Now’s my chance,’ whispered the little red hen, and out she crept without a peck, peck, peck or a cluck, cluck, cluck. Quickly she rolled some large stones into the sack and tied a knot at the top. Then she ran all the way home and didn’t stop till she was safe in her little red henhouse. The fox woke up and went on his way, hungry for his supper. ‘This hen is heavy!’ he said to himself, licking his lips. ‘She’ll make a good meal.’ ‘Is the pot boiling, Mother?’ he called at the den. ‘Look who I’ve got! It’s the little red hen.’ ‘Throw her in, son,’ said his mother. ‘She’ll make a nice snack.’ So the sly fox opened up the sack. Into the boiling water crashed the stones with a SPLASH! And that was the end of the sly fox and his mother. And the little red hen lived happily ever after in her little red henhouse, searching for grain with a peck, peck, peck and a cluck, cluck, cluck.

A Stolen Horse

It was in South America. A rich Spaniard was riding home when suddenly the horse fell lame.^[5] As it happened far from his home, he did not know what to do, for he saw that his horse would not be able^[6] to bring him home. A little later he met an Indian riding a fine horse and asked him to exchange the horses. The Indian refused to do this. But the Spaniard, being much stronger than the Indian, made him give up^[7] his horse. And the Spaniard rode away, leaving his lame horse to the Indian who was soon left far behind. But the Indian followed him and came to the town where he found the Spaniard. He went to a judge and said that the Spaniard had stolen his horse.

Then the Spaniard was asked to swear that the horse was his own and he had had it for many years. Then the Indian asked to send for the horse. This was done. And the Indian said: ‘This man swears that he has had this horse for many years; let him, therefore tell you in which of the eyes the horse is blind.’

The Spaniard said at once: ‘In the right eye.’

‘You are wrong’, said the Indian. ‘Neither in the right nor in the left, it is not blind at all.’

And so the horse was returned to the Indian.

Dirty Boots

Once Swift went on a journey, accompanied by his servant. They were both on horseback.^[8] The journey was long, so when night came, they had to stop at an inn.

In the morning Swift asked for his boots. The servant brought them, but the writer saw that they were as dirty as the night before. ‘Why haven’t you cleaned my boots?’ he asked his lazy servant.

‘Well, sir, as you are going to ride today, I thought that if I cleaned them, they would soon be dirty again’.

‘All right, get the horses ready,^[9]’ Swift said, and went to have his breakfast. Then he paid his bill and left the inn. His servant was already in front of the inn with the horses.

‘Well, let’s go on.’

‘But, sir, I’m hungry, I haven’t had my breakfast yet.’

‘Never mind, if you had, you would soon be hungry again’, the author replied and rode away. The lazy servant had to follow his master, but he never forgot the lesson he had been taught.

A Traveller’s Tale

In the autumn of 1935, when I was a young man, I was traveling in the north-west of India. One evening, after hunting in the forest all day, I was returning alone to the place where I had put up my tent. It was getting dark,^[10] and I was walking along a narrow path. On my right was a wide river; on my left, a thick, dark forest. Suddenly I saw two green eyes looking at me from among the trees. A man-eating tiger^[11] was getting ready to jump on me.

What could I do? Should I jump into the river and hope to save my life by swimming? I looked to the right. In the river there was an immense crocodile waiting to welcome me with its mouth wide open.

I was so frightened that I shut my eyes. I heard branches moving as the tiger jumped. I opened my eyes. What do you think had happened? The tiger had jumped right over me and was now in the jaws of the crocodile. That’s a true story, believe it or not!

The Letter-Box Key

Once an Englishman went to the seashore for his summer holidays. He asked his housekeeper to post him all letters that she would receive during his absence. She promised him to do that.

The Englishman rested very well. A month passed but he received no letters. He thought it strange and he rang up his housekeeper:

‘Why didn’t you post my letters?’

‘Because you didn’t leave me the key of the letter-box,’ was the reply.

The Englishman apologized and promised to send her the key. In some days he put the key into an envelope, wrote down his address on it and posted the letter.

Another month was passing but still he did not receive the letters.

When at the end of the month he returned home, he spoke angrily with his housekeeper.

‘But what could I do?’ asked the poor woman. ‘The key which you posted was in the locked letter-box too.’

The Emperor’s New Clothes

Many years ago there was an Emperor so fond of^[12] new clothes that he spent all his money on new dresses. He did not care about his soldiers, going to the theatre, or going for a ride in his carriage, he only liked to show off his new clothes. He had a coat for every hour of the day.

In the great city where he lived, life was always gay. Every day many strangers came to town, and among them one day came two swindlers. They let it be known they were weavers, and they said they could weave the most magnificent fabrics imaginable. Not only were their colors and patterns uncommonly fine, but clothes made of this cloth had a wonderful way of becoming invisible to anyone who was unfit for his office, or who was unusually stupid.

‘Those would be just the clothes for me,’ thought the Emperor. ‘If I wore them I would be able to discover which men in my empire are unfit for their posts. And I could tell the wise men from the fools. Yes, I certainly must get some of the stuff woven for me right away.’ He paid the two swindlers a large sum of money to start work at once.

They set up two looms and pretended to weave, though there was nothing on the looms. All the finest silk and the purest old thread which they demanded went into their traveling bags, while they worked the empty looms far into the night.

‘I’d like to know how those weavers are getting on with the cloth,’ the Emperor thought, but he felt slightly uncomfortable when he remembered that those who were unfit for their position would not be able to see the fabric. It couldn’t have been that he doubted himself, yet he thought he’d rather send someone else to see how things were going. The whole town knew about the cloth’s peculiar power, and all were impatient to find out how stupid their neighbors were.

‘I’ll send my honest old minister to the weavers,’ the Emperor decided. ‘He’ll be the best one to tell me how the material looks, for he’s a sensible man and no one does his duty better.’

So the honest old minister went to the room where the two swindlers sat working away at their empty looms.

‘Heaven help me,’ he thought as his eyes flew wide open, ‘I can’t see anything at all’. But he did not say so.

Both the swindlers begged him to be so kind as to come near to approve the excellent pattern, the beautiful colors. They pointed to the empty looms, and the poor old minister stared as hard as he dared. He couldn’t see anything, because there was nothing to see. ‘Heaven have mercy,’ he thought. ‘Can it be that I’m a fool? I’d have never guessed it, and not a soul must know. Am I unfit to be the minister? It would never do to let on that I can’t see the cloth.’

‘Don’t hesitate to tell us what you think of it,’ said one of the weavers.

‘Oh, it’s beautiful – it’s enchanting.’ The old minister peered through his spectacles. ‘Such a pattern, what colors!’ I’ll be sure to tell the Emperor how delighted^[13] I am with it.’

‘We’re pleased to hear that,’ the swindlers said. They proceeded to name all the colors and to explain the intricate pattern. The old minister paid the closest attention, so that he could tell it all to the Emperor. And so he did.

The swindlers at once asked for more money, more silk and gold thread, to get on with the weaving. But it all went into their pockets. Not a thread went into the looms, though they worked at their weaving as hard as ever.

The Emperor presently sent another trustworthy official to see how the work progressed and how soon it would be ready. The same thing happened to him that had happened to the minister. He looked and he looked, but as there was nothing to see in the looms he couldn’t see anything.

‘Isn’t it a beautiful piece of goods?’ the swindlers asked him, as they displayed and described their imaginary pattern.

‘I know I’m not stupid,’ the man thought, ‘so it must be that I’m unworthy of my good office. That’s strange. I mustn’t let anyone find it out, though.’ So he praised the material he did not see. He declared he was delighted with the beautiful colors and the exquisite pattern. To the Emperor he said, ‘It held me spellbound.’

All the town was talking of this splendid cloth, and the Emperor wanted to see it for himself while it was still in the looms. Attended by a band of chosen men, among whom were his two old trusted officials – the ones who had been to the weavers – he set out to see the two swindlers. He found them weaving with might and main, but without a thread in their looms.

‘Magnificent,’ said the two officials already duped. ‘Just look, Your Majesty, what colors! What a design!’ They pointed to the empty looms, each supposing that the others could see the stuff.

‘What’s this?’ thought the Emperor. ‘I can’t see anything. This is terrible!

Am I a fool? Am I unfit to be the Emperor? What a thing to happen to me of all people! – Oh! It’s very pretty,’ he said. ‘It has my highest approval.’ And he nodded approbation at the empty loom. Nothing could make him say that he couldn’t see anything.

His whole retinue stared and stared. One saw no more than another, but they all joined the Emperor in exclaiming, ‘Oh! It’s very pretty,’ and they advised him to wear clothes made of this wonderful cloth especially for the great procession he was soon to lead. ‘Magnificent! Excellent! Unsurpassed!’ were bandied from mouth to mouth, and everyone did his best to seem well pleased. The Emperor gave each of the swindlers a cross to wear in his buttonhole, and the title of ‘Sir Weaver.’

Before the procession the swindlers sat up all night and burned more than six candles, to show how busy they were finishing the Emperor’s new clothes. They pretended to take the cloth off the loom. They made cuts in the air with huge scissors. And at last they said, ‘Now the Emperor’s new clothes are ready for him.’

Then the Emperor himself came with his noblest noblemen, and the swindlers each raised an arm as if they were holding something. They said, ‘These are the trousers, here’s the coat, and this is the mantle,’ naming each garment. ‘All of them are as light as a spider web. One would almost think he had nothing on, but that’s what makes them so fine.’

‘Exactly,’ all the noblemen agreed, though they could see nothing, for there was nothing to see.

‘If Your Imperial Majesty will condescend to take your clothes off,’ said the swindlers, ‘we will help you on with your new ones here in front of the long mirror.’

The Emperor undressed, and the swindlers pretended to put his new clothes on him, one garment after another. They took him around the waist and seemed to be fastening something – that was his train – as the Emperor turned round and round before the looking glass.

‘How well Your Majesty’s new clothes look. Aren’t they becoming!’ He heard on all sides, ‘That pattern, so perfect! Those colors, so suitable! It is a magnificent outfit.’

Then the minister of public processions announced: ‘Your Majesty’s canopy is waiting outside.’

‘Well, I’m supposed to be ready,’ the Emperor said, and turned again for one last look in the mirror. ‘It is a remarkable fit, isn’t it?’ He seemed to regard his costume with the greatest interest.

The noblemen who were to carry his train stooped low and reached for the floor as if they were picking up his mantle. Then they pretended to lift and hold it high. They didn’t dare admit they had nothing to hold.

So off went the Emperor in procession under his splendid canopy. Everyone in the streets and the windows said, ‘Oh, how fine are the Emperor’s new clothes! Don’t they fit him to perfection? And see his long train!’ Nobody would confess that he couldn’t see anything, for that would prove him either unfit for his position, or a fool. No costume the Emperor had worn before was ever such a complete success.

‘But he hasn’t got anything on,’ a little child said.

‘Did you ever hear such innocent prattle?’ said its father. And one person whispered to another what the child had said, ‘He hasn’t anything on. A child says he hasn’t anything on.’

‘But he hasn’t got anything on!’ the whole town cried out at last.

The Emperor shivered, for he suspected they were right. But he thought, ‘This procession has got to go on.’ So he walked more proudly than ever, as his noblemen held high the train that wasn’t there at all.

The Princess and the Pea

Once upon a time there was a prince who wanted to marry a princess; but she would have to be a real princess. He travelled all over the world to find one, but nowhere could he get what he wanted. There were princesses enough, but it was difficult to find out whether they were real ones. There was always something about them that was not as it should be. So he came home again and was sad, for he would have liked very much to have a real princess.

One evening a terrible storm came on; there was thunder and lightning, and the rain poured down in torrents. Suddenly a knocking was heard at the city gate, and the old king went to open it.

It was a princess standing out there in front of the gate. But, good gracious!^[14] what a sight the rain and the wind had made her look. The water ran down from her hair and clothes; it ran down into the toes of her shoes and out again at the heels. And yet she said that she was a real princess.

Well, we’ll soon find that out, thought the old queen. But she said nothing, went into the bedroom, took all the bedding off the bedstead, and laid a pea on the bottom; then she took twenty mattresses and laid them on the pea, and then twenty eider-down beds on top of the mattresses.

On this the princess had to lie all night. In the morning she was asked how she had slept.

‘Oh, very badly!’ said she. ‘I have scarcely closed my eyes all night. Heaven only knows what was in the bed, but I was lying on something hard, so that I am black and blue^[15] all over my body. It’s horrible!’

Now they knew that she was a real princess because she had felt the pea right through the twenty mattresses and the twenty eider-down beds.

Nobody but a real princess could be as sensitive as that.

So the prince took her for his wife, for now he knew that he had a real princess; and the pea was put in the museum, where it may still be seen, if no one has stolen it.

There, that is a true story.

The Lion and the Mouse

Once when a Lion was asleep a little Mouse began running up and down upon him; this soon wakened the Lion, who placed his huge paw upon him, and opened his big jaws to swallow him. ‘Pardon, my King,’ cried the little Mouse: ‘forgive me this time, I shall never forget it: who knows but what I may be able to do you a turn^[16] some of these days?’ The Lion was so tickled at^[17] the idea of the Mouse being able to help him, that he lifted up his paw and let him go.

Some time after the Lion was caught in a trap, and the hunters who desired to carry him alive to the King, tied him to a tree while they went in search of a wagon to carry him on. Just then the little Mouse happened to pass by, and seeing the sad plight in which the Lion was, went up to him and soon gnawed^[18] away the ropes that bound the King of the Beasts. ‘Was I not right?’ said the little Mouse.

The Small Red Feather

There once lived a man with his wife. They were very poor and always hungry. The man often went to the forest, but he was a bad hunter and sometimes brought home only a small bird.

One day he went to the forest again. But it was a very bad day for him: he did not find even a small bird. He was tired^[19] and sad. He sat down to rest under a tree. Then he heard a sweet song of a bird.

He looked up and saw a very small bird whose feathers were red. The bird said, ‘I see that you are poor and hungry. I want to help you. I’ll give you one of my feathers. Take it home and cook it. You will have a good dinner. Come back tomorrow, and I’ll give you another feather.’

He thanked the bird and went home. He put the feather into a pot and told everything to his wife.

‘Silly, how can the feather become food?’ You must catch the bird and kill it. Then we can cook the bird and eat it.’

He did not answer, but looked into the pot and saw there a good dinner.

Every day he went to the forest, and every day the small bird gave him a red feather that made a dinner for the man and his wife.

But his wife was very greedy. Every day she said to the man, ‘We must not have only the little red feather. We must have the bird. Then we can cook two, three or four feathers every day and we shall have as much food as we like.’

‘But the little bird is my friend. I shall not kill it.’ One day the woman followed her husband into the forest, but he did not see her. The woman heard the sweet song of the little red bird. She took a stone and killed it. The bird fell down off the tree. The man was very sad, but the wife said, ‘Now we shall have much food every day.’

They went home. At home the woman pulled one red feather off the bird and put it into the hot water. She cooked and cooked it, but the feather was just a feather. And from that day on they were again always hungry.

Mr Fox

Lady Mary was young, and Lady Mary was beautiful. She had two brothers, and more admirers than she could count.

But of them all, the bravest and most gallant was a Mr Fox, whom she met when she was down at her father’s country house. No one knew who Mr Fox was; but he was certainty brave, and surely rich, and of all her lovers Lady Mary cared for him alone.

At last it was agreed upon between them that they should be married. Lady Mary asked Mr Fox where they should live, and he described to her his castle, and where it was; but, strange to say, did not ask her or her brothers to come and see it.

So one day, near the wedding day, when her brothers were out, and Mr Fox was away for a day or two on business, as he said, Lady Mary set out for Mr Fox’s castle.

And after many searchings, she came at last to it, and a fine strong house it was, with high walls and a deep moat.

And when she came up to the gateway she saw written on it:

Be bold, be bold.

But as the gate was open, she went through it, and found no one there.

So she went up to the doorway, and over it she found written:

Be bold, be bold, but not too bold.

Still she went on, till she came into the hall, and went up the broad stairs till she came to a door in the gallery, over which was written:

Be bold, be bold, but not too bold,

Lest that your heart’s blood should run cold.

But Lady Mary was a brave one, she was, and she opened the door, and what do you think she saw?

She saw skeletons of beautiful young ladies all stained with blood.

So Lady Mary thought it was high time to get out of that horrid place, and she closed the door, went through the gallery, and was just going down the stairs, and out of the hall, when who should she see through the window but Mr Fox dragging a beautiful young lady along from the gateway to the door.

Lady Mary rushed downstairs, and hid herself behind a cask, just in time, as Mr Fox came in with the poor young lady, who seemed to have fainted.

Just as he got near Lady Mary, Mr Fox saw a diamond ring^[20] glittering on the finger of the young lady he was dragging, and he tried to pull it off.

But it was tightly fixed, and would not come off, so Mr Fox drew his sword, raised it, and brought it down upon the hand of the poor lady.

The sword cut off the hand, which jumped up into the air, and fell of all places in the world into Lady Mary’s hands.

Mr Fox looked about a bit, but did not think of looking behind the cask, so at last he went on dragging the young lady up the stairs.

As soon as she heard him pass through the gallery, Lady Mary crept out of the door, down through the gateway, and ran home as fast as she could.

Now it happened that the very next day the marriage contract of Lady Mary and Mr Fox was to be signed, and there was a splendid breakfast before that.

And when Mr Fox was seated at table opposite Lady Mary, he looked at her.

‘How pale you are this morning, my dear.’

‘Yes,’ said she, ‘I had a bad night’s rest last night. I had horrible dreams.’

‘Dreams go by contraries,^[21]’ said Mr Fox; ‘but tell us your dream, and your sweet voice will make the time pass till the happy hour comes.’

‘I dreamed,’ said Lady Mary, ‘that I went to your castle, and I found it in the woods, with high walls, and a deep moat, and over the gateway was written:

Be bold, be bold.’

‘But it is not so, nor it was not so,’ said Mr Fox.

‘And when I came to the doorway, over it was written:

Be bold, be bold, but not too bold.’

‘It is not so, nor it was not so,’ said Mr Fox.

‘And then I went upstairs, and came to a gallery, at the end of which was a door, on which was written:

‘Be bold, be bold, but not too bold,

Lest that your heart’s blood should run cold.’

‘It is not so, nor it was not so,’ said Mr Fox.

‘And then – and then I opened the door, and the room was filled^[22] with skeletons of poor dead women!’

‘It is not so, nor it was not so. And God forbid^[23] it should be so,’ said Mr Fox.

‘I then dreamed that I rushed down the gallery, and just as I was going down the stairs I saw you, Mr Fox, coming up to the hall door, dragging after you a poor young lady, rich and beautiful.’

‘It is not so, nor it was not so. And God forbid it should be so,’ said Mr Fox.

‘I rushed downstairs, just in time to hide myself behind a cask, when you, Mr Fox, came in dragging the young lady by the arm.

And, as you passed me, Mr Fox, I thought I saw you try and get off her diamond ring, and when you could not, Mr Fox, it seemed to me in my dream, that you out with your sword and hacked off the poor lady’s hand to get the ring.’

‘It is not so, nor it was not so. And God forbid it should be so,’ said Mr Fox, and was going to say something else as he rose from his seat, when Lady Mary cried out:

‘But it is so, and it was so. Here’s hand and ring I have to show,’ and pulled out the lady’s hand from her dress, and pointed it straight at Mr Fox.

At once her brothers and her friends drew their swords and cut Mr Fox into a thousand pieces.

The Useful Dragon

Once upon a time there lived a dragon whose name was Komodo. He could breathe fire,^[24] and all the people who lived nearby were afraid of him. When they heard him or saw him, they ran away and hid. They could always hear him because he had six feet, and wore three pairs of shoes, and each of his shoes creaked.

One day he met a little girl who wasn’t afraid of him. ‘Why are you so fierce?’ she asked. ‘Why do you breathe fire when you see anybody?’

‘Well,’ said Komodo, ‘I never really thought about it. Shall I stop it?’

‘Yes, please,’ said the little girl whose name was Susie.

‘All right,’ said Komodo, ‘I’ll try.’

They said good-bye to each other, and Susie went home. It was beginning to get dark. Susie was surprised^[25] because all the lamps in the town were not lit. She found out^[26] that it was because of the lamplighter, whose name was Charlie.

Charlie hadn’t lit^[27] – the street lamps^[28] because he was still in bed. He was tired after lighting the lamps the night before.

The mayor of the town was very angry with^[29] Charlie. ‘What must I do about that?’ he thought.

Then Susie had an idea. She ran to Komodo’s cave, brought him to the town. Komodo breathed fire on each lamp and lit it.

How glad the people were! Now they were not afraid of the dragon.^[30] They could see he was a friendly animal. And after that Komodo came and lit the lamps every time when Charlie had his holiday.

A Horse and a Dog

Once upon a time there was a horse whose name was Reginald. Every morning he was delivering milk, he usually met his friend Blackie, who was a little black dog.

Reginald didn’t want to be a milkman’s horse. He wanted to be a racehorse and win the Derbi. And Blackie, who had rather short legs, wanted to be able to run very fast, like a hound.

One afternoon they were sitting in Reginald’s stable. Suddenly Blackie said that he had an idea.

‘Why do we not eat coal?’ he said. ‘Trains eat coal and run fast.’

They thought about this for a long time, and at last Reginald said: ‘Let’s try it.’

So they went down to the coal cellar. They were going to take some coal, when Mrs Marry, the landlady, came in.

‘What! You are stealing my coal!’ – she began to cry, and she picked up a piece of coal and threw it at them. They ran away. They had never run so fast in their lives before.^[31]

Just then the Mayor was looking out of the window.

‘Oh, that horse can run fast I’m sure it can win the Derby,^[32] look at the dog; it’s a real hound I’ll give them each a medal.’ And he did.

Why Parrots Repeat Words

Long time ago all the birds could talk like people. Most of all the birds, people liked the talkative parrot, because this honest bird always told the truth.

He lived with a dishonest cruel man. One night the man killed his friend’s cow. When the friend came to look for it in the morning, he asked the dishonest cruel man, ‘Did you kill my cow yesterday?’

‘No, I didn’t,’ said the man.

‘Is that the truth? Let’s ask the parrot, because he always tells the truth.’

‘Yes, he did. This dishonest cruel man killed the cow,’ answered the parrot.

When night came, the man had an idea. He put a great cup on the parrot’s head. Then he poured a lot of water on the cup.

In the morning his friend and some other people came to his house again.

‘I know that this dishonest cruel man killed my cow. The parrot says that he did.’

‘You are wrong! That parrot tells lies. He will not tell the truth even about what happened last night. Ask him if there was the moon in the sky yesterday.’

‘No,’ said the parrot. ‘There was no moon, it was raining all night.’

‘It is impossible! This bird tells lies! What shall we do?’ the people said. ‘Fly away! You can’t live with us!’

So the parrot flew away unhappily into the forest where he met a mocking-bird^[33] and told him his story.

‘Why did you not repeat words as I do?’ asked the mocking-bird. ‘Men always think their words are clever.’

‘But the man told lies and he was not intelligent,’ said the parrot.

‘That is nothing,’ answered the mocking-bird. ‘Say what they say, and they will think you are a wonderful and polite bird.’

‘Yes, I see,’ said the parrot, ‘from now on, I will only repeat their words.’

The Frog Prince

One fine evening a young princess put on her bonnet and clogs, and went out to take a walk by herself in a wood; and when she came to a cool spring of water with a rose in the middle of it, she sat down to rest a while. Now she had a golden ball in her hand, which was her favorite toy; and she was always playing with it.

After a time she threw it up so high that she missed catching it as it fell; and the ball rolled along on the ground, until it fell down into the spring. The princess looked into the spring, but it was very deep, so deep that she could not see the bottom of it. She began to cry, and said, ‘If I could only get my ball again, I would give all my fine clothes and jewels, and everything that I have in the world.’

While she was speaking, a frog put its head out of the water, and said, ‘Princess, why do you cry?’

‘Oh!’ said she, ‘what can you do for me, you nasty frog? My golden ball has fallen into the spring.’

The frog said, ‘I do not want your pearls, and jewels, and fine clothes; but if you will love me, and let me live with you and eat from your golden plate, and sleep on your bed, I will bring you your ball again.’

‘What nonsense,’ thought the princess, ‘this silly frog is talking! He can never even get out^[34] of the spring to visit me, though he may be able to get my ball for me, and therefore I will tell him he shall have what he asks.’

So she said to the frog, ‘Well, if you will bring me my ball, I will do all you ask.’

Then the frog put his head down, and dived deep under the water; and after a little while he came up again, with the ball in his mouth, and threw it on the edge of the spring.

As soon as the young princess saw her ball, she ran to pick it up; and she was so happy to have it in her hand again, that she never thought of the frog, but ran home with it as fast as she could.

The frog called after her, ‘Stay, princess, and take me with you as you promised,’

But she did not stop.

The next day, just as the princess had sat down to dinner, she heard a strange noise – tap, tap – plash, plash – as if something was coming up the marble staircase, and soon afterwards there was a knock at the door, and a little voice cried out and said:

‘Open the door, my princess dear,

Open the door to your true love here!

And mind the words that you and I said

By the fountain cool, in the greenwood shade.’

Then the princess ran to the door and opened it, and there she saw the frog, whom she had forgotten. She shut the door as fast as she could and came back to her seat.

The king, her father, saw that something had frightened her and asked her what the matter was.

‘There is a nasty frog,’ said she, ‘at the door, that lifted my ball for me out of the spring this morning. I told him that he should live with me here, thinking that he could never get out of the spring; but there he is at the door, and he wants to come in.’

While she was speaking the frog knocked again at the door, and said:

‘Open the door, my princess dear,

Open the door to your true love here!

And mind the words that you and I said

By the fountain cool, in the greenwood shade.’

Then the king said to the young princess, ‘As you have given your word you must keep it; so go and let him in.’

She opened the door, and the frog hopped into the room, and then straight on – tap, tap – plash, plash – from the bottom of the room to the top, till he came up close to the table where the princess sat.

‘Give me a chair,’ said he to the princess, ‘and let me sit next to you.’

As soon as she had done this, the frog said, ‘Put your plate nearer to me, that I may eat out of it.’

This she did, and when he had eaten as much as he could, he said, ‘Now I am tired; carry me upstairs, and put me into your bed.’ And the princess, though very unwilling, took him up in her hand, and put him upon the pillow of her own bed, where he slept all night long.

As soon as it was light the frog jumped up, hopped downstairs, and went out of the house.

‘Now, then,’ thought the princess, ‘at last he is gone, and I will not be bothered by him.’

But she was mistaken; for when night came again she heard the same tapping at the door; and the frog came once more, and said:

‘Open the door, my princess dear,

Open the door to your true love here!

And mind the words that you and I said

By the fountain cool, in the greenwood shade.’

And when the princess opened the door the frog came in, and slept on her pillow. And the third night he did the same. But when the princess awoke on the following morning she was astonished^[35] to see, instead of the frog, a handsome prince with the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen.

He told her that he had been enchanted^[36] by a witch, who had changed him into a frog; and that he had been fated^[37] to be a frog till some princess should take him out of the spring, and let him eat from her plate, and sleep on her bed for three nights.

‘You,’ said the prince, ‘have broken his cruel charm, and now I have nothing to wish for but that you should go with me into my father’s kingdom, where I will marry you, and love you as long as you live.’

Then they went together to the prince’s kingdom and there they lived happily ever after.

The Wind and the Sun

The Wind and the Sun were disputing which was the stronger. Suddenly they saw a traveller coming down the road, and the Sun said, ‘I see a way to decide our dispute.^[38] Whichever of us can cause that traveller to take off his cloak shall be regarded as the stronger. You begin.’ So the Sun retired behind a cloud, and the Wind began to blow as hard as it could upon the traveller. But the harder he blew the more closely did the traveller wrap his cloak round him, till at last the Wind had to give up in despair. Then the Sun came out and shone in all his glory upon the traveller, who soon found it too hot to walk with his cloak on.

The Old Witch

Once upon a time there were two girls who lived with their mother and father.

Their father had no work, and the girls wanted to go away and seek their fortunes.

Now one girl wanted to go to service, and her mother said she might if she could find a place.

Well, she went all about the town, but no one wanted a girl like her.

So she went on farther into the country, and she came to the place where there was an oven where there was lots of bread baking.

And the bread said, ‘Little girl, little girl, take us out, take us out.

We have been baking seven years, and no one has come to take us out.’

So the girl took out the bread, laid it on the ground and went on her way.

Then she met a cow, and the cow said, ‘Little girl, little girl, milk me, milk me! Seven years have I been waiting, and no one has come to milk me.’

The girl milked the cow into the pails that stood by.

As she was thirsty she drank some, and left the rest in the pails by the cow.

Then she went on a little farther, and came to an apple-tree, so loaded with fruit that its branches were breaking down, and the tree said, ‘Little girl, little girl, help me shake my fruit. My branches are breaking, it is so heavy.’

And the girl said, ‘Of course I will, you poor tree.’

So she shook the fruit all off, propped up the branches, and left the fruit on the ground under the tree.

Then she went on again till she came to a house.

Now in this house there lived a witch, and this witch took girls into her house as servants.

And when she heard that this girl had left her home to seek service, she said that she would try her, and give her good wages. The witch told the girl what work she was to do.

‘You must keep the house clean and tidy, sweep the floor and the fireplace; but there is one thing you must never do. You must never look up the chimney, or something bad will befall you.’

So the girl promised to do as she was told, but one morning as she was cleaning, and the witch was out, she forgot what the witch said, and looked up the chimney.

When she did this a great bag of money fell down in her lap.^[39]

This happened again and again.

So the girl started to go off home.^[40] When she had gone some way she heard the witch coming after her.

So she ran to the apple-tree and cried:

‘Apple-tree, apple-tree, hide me,

So the old witch can’t find me;

If she does she’ll pick my bones,

And bury me under the marble stones.’

So the apple-tree hid her.

When the witch came up she said:

‘Tree of mine, tree of mine,

Have you seen a girl

With a willy-willy wag, and a long-tailed bag,

Who’s stole my money, all I had?’

And the apple-tree said, ‘No, mother; not for seven years.’

When the witch had gone down another way, the girl went on again, and just as she got to the cow heard the witch coming after her again, so she ran to the cow and cried:

‘Cow, cow, hide me,

So the old witch can’t find me;

If she does she’ll pick my bones,

And bury me under the marble stones.’

So the cow hid her. When the old witch came up, she looked about and said to the cow:

‘Cow of mine, cow of mine,

Have you seen a girl

With a willy-willy wag, and a long-tailed bag,

Who’s stole my money, all I had?’

And the cow said, ‘No, mother, not for seven years.’

When the witch had gone off another way, the little girl went on again, and when she was near the oven she heard the witch coming after her again, so she ran to the oven and cried:

‘Oven, oven, hide me,

So the old witch can’t find me;

If she does she’ll pick my bones,

And bury me under the marble stones.’

And the oven said, ‘I’ve no room, ask the baker,’ and the baker hid her behind the oven.

When the witch came up she looked here and there and everywhere, and then said to the baker:

‘Man of mine, man of mine,

Have you seen a girl,

With a willy-willy wag, and a long-tailed bag,

Who’s stole my money, all I had?’

So the baker said, ‘Look in the oven.’

The old witch went to look, and the oven said, ‘Get in and look in the furthest corner.’

The witch did so, and when she was inside the oven shut her door, and the witch was kept there for a very long time.

The girl then went off again, and reached her home with her money bags, married a rich man, and lived happy ever afterwards.

The other sister then thought she would go and do the same.

And she went the same way.

But when she reached the oven, and the bread said, ‘Little girl, little girl, take us out. Seven years have we been baking, and no one has come to take us out’, the girl said, ‘No, I don’t want to burn my fingers.’

So she went on till she met the cow, and the cow said, ‘Little girl, little girl, milk me, milk me, do. Seven years have I been waiting, and no one has come to milk me.’

But the girl said, ‘No, I can’t milk you, I’m in a hurry,’ and went on faster.

Then she came to the apple-tree, and the apple-tree asked her to help shake the fruit.

‘No, I can’t; another day perhaps I may,’ and went on till she came to the witch’s house.

Well, it happened to her just the same as to the other girl – she forgot what she was told, and, one day when the witch was out, looked up the chimney, and down fell a bag of money. Well, she thought she would be off at once. When she reached the apple-tree, she heard the witch coming after her, and she cried:

‘Apple-tree, apple-tree, hide me,

So the old witch can’t find me;

If she does she’ll pick my bones,

And bury me under the marble stones.’

But the tree didn’t answer, and she ran on further.

Presently the witch came up and said:

‘Tree of mine, tree of mine,

Have you seen a girl,

With a willy-willy wag, and a long-tailed bag,

Who’s stole my money, all I had?’

The tree said, ‘Yes, mother; she’s gone down that way.’

So the old witch went after her and caught her; she took all the money away from her, beat her, and sent her off home just as she was.

The Bundle of Sticks

An old man on the point of death summoned his sons around him to give them some parting advice. He ordered his servants to bring in a faggot of sticks, and said to his eldest son, ‘Break it.’ The son strained and strained, but with all his efforts was unable to break the Bundle. The other sons also tried, but none of them was successful. ‘Untie the faggots,’ said the father, ‘and each of you take a stick.’ When they had done so, he called out to them, ‘Now, break,’ and each stick was easily broken. ‘You see my meaning,’ said their father.

The Selfish Giant (O. Wilde)

Every afternoon, as they were coming from school, the children used to go and play in the Giant’s garden.

It was a large lovely garden, with soft green grass. Here and there over the grass stood beautiful flowers like stars, and there were twelve peach-trees that in the spring-time broke out into delicate blossoms of pink and pearl, and in the autumn bore rich fruit.^[41]

The birds sat on the trees and sang so sweetly that the children used to stop their games in order to listen to them.

‘How happy we are here!’ they cried to each other.

One day the Giant came back. He had been to visit his friend the Cornish ogre, and had stayed with him for seven years. After the seven years were over he had said all that he had to say, for his conversation was limited, and he determined^[42] to return to his own castle. When he arrived he saw the children playing in the garden.

‘What are you doing here?’ he cried in a very gruff voice, and the children ran away.

‘My own garden is my own garden,’ said the Giant; ‘anyone can understand that, and I will allow nobody to play in it but myself.’

So he built a high wall all round it, and put up a notice-board.^[43] He was a very selfish Giant. The poor children had now nowhere to play. They tried to play on the road, but the road was very dusty and full of hard stones, and they did not like it. They used to wander round the high wall when their lessons were over, and talk about the beautiful garden inside.

‘How happy we were there,’ they said to each other.

Then the Spring came, and all over the country there were little blossoms and little birds. Only in the garden of the Selfish Giant it was still winter. The birds did not care to sing in it as there were no children, and the trees forgot to blossom. Once a beautiful flower put its head out from the grass, but when it saw the notice-board it was so sorry for the children that it slipped back into the ground again, and went off to sleep.

The only people who were pleased were the Snow and the Frost.

‘Spring has forgotten this garden,’ they cried, ‘so we will live here all the year round.’

The Snow covered up the grass with her great white cloak, and the Frost painted all the trees silver. Then they invited the North Wind to stay with them, and he came.

He was wrapped in furs, and he roared all day about the garden, and blew the chimney-pots down.

‘This is a delightful spot,’ he said, ‘we must ask the Hail on a visit.’

So the Hail came. Every day for three hours he rattled on the roof of the castle till he broke most of the slates, and then he ran round and round the garden as fast as he could go. He was dressed in grey, and his breath was like ice.

‘I cannot understand why the Spring is so late in coming,’ said the Selfish Giant, as he sat at the window and looked out at his cold white garden; ‘I hope there will be a change in the weather.’

But the Spring never came, nor the Summer. The Autumn gave golden fruit to every garden, but to the Giant’s garden she gave none.

‘He is too selfish,’ she said.

So it was always Winter there, and the North Wind, and the Hail, and the Frost, and the Snow danced about through the trees.

One morning the Giant was lying awake in bed when he heard some lovely music.

It sounded so sweet to his ears that he thought it must be the King’s musicians passing by.

It was really only a little linnet singing outside his window, but it was so long since he had heard a bird sing in his garden that it seemed to him to be the most beautiful music in the world.

Then the Hail stopped dancing over his head, and the North Wind ceased roaring, and a delicious perfume came to him through the open casement.

‘I believe the Spring has come at last,’ said the Giant; and he jumped out of bed and looked out.

What did he see? He saw a most wonderful sight.

Through a little hole in the wall the children had crept in, and they were sitting in the branches of the trees. In every tree that he could see there was a little child.

And the trees were so glad to have the children back again that they had covered themselves with blossoms, and were waving their arms gently above the children’s heads.

The birds were flying about and twittering with delight, and the flowers were looking up through the green grass and laughing. It was a lovely scene, only in one corner it was still winter. It was the farthest corner of the garden, and in it was standing a little boy. He was so small that he could not reach up to the branches of the tree, and he was wandering all round it, crying bitterly.

The poor tree was still quite covered with frost and snow, and the North Wind was blowing and roaring above it.

‘Climb up, little boy!’ said the Tree, and it bent its branches down as low as it could; but the boy was too tiny.

And the Giant’s heart melted as he looked out.

‘How selfish I have been!’ he said; ‘now I know why the Spring would not come here. I will put that poor little boy on the top of the tree, and then I will knock down the wall, and my garden shall be the children’s playground for ever and ever.’

He was really very sorry for what he had done. So he crept downstairs and opened the front door quite softly, and went out into the garden.

But when the children saw him they were so frightened that they all ran away, and the garden became winter again. Only the little boy did not run, for his eyes were so full of tears that he did not see the Giant coming. And the Giant stole up behind him and took him gently in his hand, and put him up into the tree.

And the tree broke at once into blossom, and the birds came and sang on it, and the little boy stretched out his two arms and flung them round the Giant’s neck, and kissed him. And the other children, when they saw that the Giant was not wicked any longer, came running back, and with them came the Spring.

‘It is your garden now, little children,’ said the Giant, and he took a great axe and knocked down the wall.

And when the people were going to market at twelve o’clock they found the Giant playing with the children in the most beautiful garden they had ever seen.

All day long they played, and in the evening they came to the Giant to bid him good-bye.

‘But where is your little companion?’ he said: ‘the boy I put into the tree.’

The Giant loved him the best because he had kissed him.

‘We don’t know,’ answered the children; ‘he has gone away.’

‘You must tell him to be sure and come here tomorrow,’ said the Giant.

But the children said that they did not know where he lived, and had never seen him before; and the Giant felt very sad.

Every afternoon, when school was over, the children came and played with the Giant. But the little boy whom the Giant loved was never seen again. The Giant was very kind to all the children, yet he wanted to see his first little friend, and often spoke about him.

‘How I would like to see him!’ he used to say.

Years went over, and the Giant grew very old and feeble. He could not play about any more, so he sat in a huge armchair, and watched the children at their games, and admired his garden.

‘I have many beautiful flowers,’ he said; ‘but the children are the most beautiful flowers of all.’

One winter morning he looked out of his window as he was dressing.

He did not hate the Winter now, for he knew that it was merely the Spring asleep, and that the flowers were resting. Suddenly he rubbed his eyes in wonder, and looked and looked.

It certainly was a marvelous sight. In the farthest corner of the garden was a tree quite covered^[44] with lovely white blossoms. Its branches were all golden, and silver fruit hung down from them, and under it stood the little boy he loved.

Downstairs ran the Giant in great joy, and out into the garden. He hastened across the grass, and came near to the child.

And when he came quite close his face grew red with anger, and he said, ‘Who has dared to wound you?’

For on the palms of the child’s hands were the prints of two nails, and the prints of two nails were on the little feet.

‘Who has dared to wound you?’ cried the Giant; ‘tell me, that I may take my big sword and kill him.’

‘No!’ answered the child; ‘but these are the wounds of Love.’

‘Who are you?’ said the Giant, and a strange awe fell on him, and he knelt before the little child.

And the child smiled on the Giant, and said to him, ‘You let me play once in your garden, today you shall come with me to my garden, which is Paradise.’

And when the children ran in that afternoon, they found the Giant lying dead under the tree, all covered with white blossoms.

Rumpelstiltskin

Once there was a miller who was poor, but who had a beautiful daughter. Now it happened that he had to go and speak to the king, and in order to make himself appear important he said to him, ‘I have a daughter who can spin straw into gold.’

The king said to the miller, ‘That is an art which pleases me well, if your daughter is as clever as you say, bring her tomorrow to my palace, and I will put her to the test.’

And when the girl was brought to him he took her into a room which was quite full of straw, gave her a spinning-wheel and a reel, and said, ‘Now set to work, and if by tomorrow morning early you have not spun this straw into gold during the night, you must die.’

Thereupon he himself locked up the room, and left her in it alone. So there sat the poor miller’s daughter, and could not tell what to do, she had no idea how straw could be spun into gold, and she grew more and more frightened, until at last she began to cry.

But all at once the door opened, and in came a little man, and said, ‘Good evening, mistress miller, why are you crying?’

‘Oh,’ answered the girl, ‘I have to spin straw into gold, and I do not know how to do it.’

‘What will you give me,’ said the manikin, ‘if I do it for you?’

‘My necklace,’ said the girl.

The little man took the necklace, seated himself in front of the wheel, and whirr, whirr, whirr, three turns, and the reel was full, then he put another on, and whirr, whirr, whirr, three times round, and the second was full too. And so it went on until the morning, when all the straw was spun, and all the reels were full of gold.

By daybreak the king was already there, and when he saw the gold he was astonished and delighted, but his heart became only more greedy. He had the miller’s daughter taken into another room full of straw, which was much larger, and commanded her to spin that also in one night if she valued her life. The girl knew not how to help herself, and was crying, when the door opened again, and the little man appeared, and said, ‘What will you give me if I spin that straw into gold for you?’

‘The ring on my finger,’ answered the girl.

The little man took the ring, again began to turn the wheel, and by morning had spun all the straw into glittering gold.

The king rejoiced beyond measure at the sight of^[45] it, but still he had not enough gold, and he had the miller’s daughter taken into a still larger room full of straw, and said, ‘You must spin this, too, in the course of this night, but if you succeed, you shall be my wife.’

Even if she be a miller’s daughter, thought he, I could not find a richer wife in the whole world.

When the girl was alone the manikin came again for the third time, and said, ‘What will you give me if I spin the straw for you this time also?’

‘I have nothing left that I could give,’ answered the girl.

‘Then promise me, if you should become queen, to give me your first child.’

Who knows whether that will ever happen, thought the miller’s daughter, and, not knowing how else to help herself in this strait, she promised the manikin what he wanted, and for that he once more spun the straw into gold.

And when the king came in the morning, and found all as he had wished, he took her in marriage, and the pretty miller’s daughter became a queen.

A year after, she born a beautiful child, and she never gave a thought to the manikin. But suddenly he came into her room, and said, ‘Now give me what you promised.’

The queen was horror-struck, and offered the manikin all the riches of the kingdom if he would leave her the child. But the manikin said, ‘No, something alive is dearer to me than all the treasures in the world.’

Then the queen began to cry, so that the manikin pitied her.

‘I will give you three days time,’ said he, ‘if by that time you find out my name, then shall you keep your child.’

So the queen thought the whole night of all the names that she had ever heard, and she sent a messenger over the country to inquire, far and wide, for any other names that there might be. When the manikin came the next day, she began with Caspar, Melchior, Balthazar, and said all the names she knew, one after another, but to every one the little man said, ‘That is not my name.’

On the second day she had inquiries made in the neighborhood as to the names of the people there, and she repeated to the manikin the most uncommon and curious. Perhaps your name is Shortribs, or Sheepshanks, or Laceleg, but he always answered, ‘That is not my name.’

On the third day the messenger came back again, and said, ‘I have not been able to find a single new name, but as I came to a high mountain at the end of the forest, where the fox and the hare bid each other good night,^[46] there I saw a little house, and before the house a fire was burning, and round about the fire quite a ridiculous little man was jumping, he hopped upon one leg, and shouted –

‘Today I bake, tomorrow brew, the next I’ll have the young queen’s child.

Ha, glad am I that no one knew that Rumpelstiltskin I am styled.’

You may imagine how glad the queen was when she heard the name. And when soon afterwards the little man came in, and asked, ‘Now, mistress queen, what is my name?’

At first she said, ‘Is your name Conrad?’

‘No.’

‘Is your name Harry?’

‘No.’

‘Perhaps your name is Rumpelstiltskin?’

‘The devil has told you that! The devil has told you that,’ cried the little man, and in his anger he plunged his right foot so deep into the earth that his whole leg went in, and then in rage he pulled at his left leg so hard with both hands that he tore himself in two.

The Frogs and the Well

Two Frogs lived together in a marsh. But one hot summer the marsh dried up, and they left it to look for another place to live in: for frogs like damp places if they can get them. By and by^[47] they came to a deep well, and one of them looked down into it, and said to the other, ‘This looks a nice cool place. Let us jump in and settle here.’ But the other, who had a wiser head on his shoulders, replied, ‘Not so fast, my friend. Supposing this well dried up like the marsh, how should we get out again?’

Moral: Look before you leap.

Why the Sea is Salt (A. Lang)

Once upon a time, long ago there were two brothers, the one rich and the other poor. When Christmas Eve^[48] came, the poor one had not a bite in the house, either of meat or bread; so he went to his brother, and begged him, in God’s name, to give him something for Christmas Day. It was by no means the first time that the brother had been forced to give something to him, and he was not better pleased at being asked now than he generally was.

‘If you will do what I ask you, you shall have a whole ham,’ said he. The poor one immediately thanked him, and promised this.

‘Well, here is the ham, and now you must go straight to Dead Man’s Hall,’ said the rich brother, throwing the ham to him.

‘Well, I will do what I have promised,’ said the other, and he took the ham and set off. He went on and on for the livelong day, and at nightfall he came to a place where there was a bright light.

‘I have no doubt this is the place,’ thought the man with the ham.

An old man with a long white beard was standing in the outhouse, chopping logs.

‘Good-evening,’ said the man with the ham.

‘Good-evening to you. Where are you going at this late hour?’ said the man.

‘I am going to Dead Man’s Hall, if only I am on the right track,’ answered the poor man.

‘Oh! Yes, you are right enough, for it is here,’ said the old man. ‘When you get inside they will all want to buy your ham, for they don’t get much meat to eat there; but you must not sell it unless you can get the hand-mill which stands behind the door for it. When you come out again I will teach you how to stop the hand-mill, which is useful for almost everything.’

So the man with the ham thanked the other for his good advice, and rapped at the door.

When he got in, everything happened just as the old man had said it would: all the people, great and small, came round him like ants on an ant-hill, and each tried to outbid the other for the ham.

‘By rights my old woman and I ought to have it for our Christmas dinner, but, since you have set your hearts upon it, I must just give it up to you,’ said the man. ‘But, if I sell it, I will have the handmill which is standing there behind the door.’

At first they would not hear to this, and haggled and bargained with the man, but he stuck to what he had said, and the people were forced to give him the hand-mill. When the man came out again into the yard, he asked the old wood-cutter how he was to stop the hand-mill, and when he had learned that, he thanked him and set off home with all the speed he could, but did not get there until after the clock had struck twelve on Christmas Eve.

‘Where in the world have you been?’ said the old woman. ‘Here I have sat waiting hour after hour, and have not even two sticks to lay across each other under the Christmas porridge-pot.’

‘Oh! I could not come before; I had something of importance to see about, and a long way to go, too; but now you shall just see!’ said the man, and then he set the hand-mill on the table, and bade it first grind light, then a table-cloth, and then meat, and beer, and everything else that was good for a Christmas Eve’s supper; and the mill ground all that he ordered. ‘Bless me!’ said the old woman as one thing after another appeared; and she wanted to know where her husband had got the mill from, but he would not tell her that.

‘Never mind where I got it; you can see that it is a good one, and the water that turns it will never freeze,’ said the man. So he ground meat and drink, and all kinds of good things, to last all Christmas-tide,^[49] and on the third day he invited all his friends to come to a feast.

Now when the rich brother saw all that there was at the banquet and in the house, he was both vexed and angry, for he grudged everything his brother had. ‘On Christmas Eve he was so poor that he came to me and begged for a trifle, for God’s sake, and now he gives a feast as if he were both a count and a king!’ thought he. ‘But, for heaven’s sake, tell me where you got your riches from,’ said he to his brother.

‘From behind the door,’ said he who owned the mill, for he did not choose to satisfy his brother on that point; but later in the evening, when he had taken a drop too much, he could not refrain^[50] from telling how he had come by the handmill. ‘There you see what has brought me all my wealth!’ said he, and brought out the mill, and made it grind first one thing and then another. When the brother saw that, he insisted on having the mill, and after a great deal of persuasion got it; but he had to give three hundred dollars for it, and the poor brother was to keep it till the haymaking was over, for he thought: ‘If I keep it as long as that, I can make it grind meat and drink that will last many a long year.’ During that time you may imagine that the mill did not grow rusty, and when hay harvest came, the rich brother got it, but the other had taken good care not to teach him how to stop it. It was evening when the rich man got the mill home, and in the morning he bade the old woman go out and spread the hay after the mowers, and he would attend to the house himself that day, he said.

So, when dinner-time drew near, he set the mill on the kitchen-table, and said: ‘Grind herrings and milk pottage, and do it both quickly and well.’

So the mill began to grind herrings and milk pottage, and first all the dishes and tubs were filled, and then it came out all over the kitchen-floor. The man twisted and turned it, and did all he could to make the mill stop, but, howsoever he turned it and screwed it, the mill went on grinding, and in a short time the pottage rose so high that the man was like to be drowned. So he threw open the parlor door, but it was not long before the mill had ground the parlor full too, and it was with difficulty and danger that the man could go through the stream of pottage and get hold of the door-latch. When he got the door open, he did not stay long in the room, but ran out, and the herrings and pottage came after him, and it streamed out over both farm and field. Now the old woman, who was out spreading the hay, began to think dinner was long in coming, and said to the women and the mowers: ‘Though the master does not call us home, we may as well go. It may be that he finds he is not good at making pottage and I should do well to help him.’ So they began to straggle homeward, but when they had got a little way up the hill they met the herrings and pottage and bread, all pouring forth and winding about one over the other, and the man himself in front of the flood. ‘Would to heaven that each of you had a hundred stomachs! Take care that you are not drowned in the pottage!’ he cried as he went by them as if Mischief were at his heels, down to where his brother dwelt. Then he begged him, for God’s sake, to take the mill back again, and that in an instant, for, said he: ‘If it grind one hour more the whole district will be destroyed by herrings and pottage.’ But the brother would not take it until the other paid him three hundred dollars, and that he was obliged to do. Now the poor brother had both the money and the mill again. So it was not long before he had a farmhouse much finer than that in which his brother lived, but the mill ground him so much money that he covered it with plates of gold; and the farmhouse lay close by the sea-shore, so it shone and glittered far out to sea. Everyone who sailed by there now had to be put in to visit the rich man in the gold farmhouse, and everyone wanted to see the wonderful mill, for the report of it spread far and wide, and there was no one who had not heard tell of it.

After a long, long time came also a skipper who wished to see the mill. He asked if it could make salt. ‘Yes, it could make salt,’ said he who owned it, and when the skipper heard that, he wished with all his might and main to have the mill, let it cost what it might, for, he thought, if he had it, he would get off having to sail far away over the perilous sea for freights of salt. At first the man would not hear of parting with it, but the skipper begged and prayed, and at last the man sold it to him, and got many, many thousand dollars for it. When the skipper had got the mill on his back he did not stay there long, for he was so afraid that the man would change his mind, and he had no time to ask how he was to stop it grinding, but got on board his ship as fast as he could.

When he had gone a little way out to sea he took the mill on deck. ‘Grind salt, and grind both quickly and well,’ said the skipper. So the mill began to grind salt, till it spouted out like water, and when the skipper had got the ship filled he wanted to stop the mill, but whichsoever way he turned it, and how much soever he tried, it went on grinding, and the heap of salt grew higher and higher, until at last the ship sank. There lies the mill at the bottom of the sea, and still, day by day, it grinds on; and that is why the sea is salt.

The Goose-Girl (A. Lang)

Once upon a time an old queen, whose husband had been dead for many years, had a beautiful daughter. When she grew up she was betrothed to a prince who lived a great way off. Now, when it was the time to be married and to depart into a foreign kingdom, her old mother gave her much costly baggage, and many ornaments, gold and silver, trinkets and knickknacks, for she loved her daughter very much. She gave her a waiting-maid also, who was to ride with her and hand her over to the bridegroom, and she provided each of them with a horse for the journey. The Princess’s horse was called Falada, and could speak.

When the hour for departure drew near the old mother went to her bedroom, and cut her fingers with a small knife till they bled; then she held a white rag under them, and let three drops of blood fall into it, she gave it to her daughter, and said: ‘Dear child, take great care of this rag: it may be of use to you on the journey.’

So they took a sad farewell^[51] of each other, and the Princess stuck the rag in front of her dress, mounted her horse, and set forth on the journey to her bridegroom’s kingdom. After they had ridden for about an hour the Princess began to feel very thirsty, and said to her waiting-maid: ‘Get down and fetch me some water in my golden cup out of the stream: I would like a drink.’ ‘If you’re thirsty,’ said the maid, ‘dismount^[52] yourself, and lie down by the water and drink; I don’t mean to be your servant any longer.’ The Princess was so thirsty that she got down, bent over the stream, and drank, as she wasn’t allowed to drink out of the golden goblet. As she drank she said: ‘Oh heaven, what am I to do?’ and the three drops of blood replied:

‘If your mother only knew, her heart would surely break in two.’

But the Princess was kind, and said nothing about her maid’s rude behavior, and quietly mounted her horse again. They rode for several miles, but the day was hot, and the sun’s rays were hot, and the Princess was soon thirsty again. And as they passed a brook she called once more to her waiting-maid: ‘Get down and give me a drink from my golden cup,’ for she had long ago forgotten her maid’s rude words. But the waiting-maid replied, more angrily even than before: ‘If you want a drink, you can dismount and get it; I don’t mean to be your servant.’ Then the Princess was compelled^[53] by her thirst to get down, and bending over the flowing water she cried and said: ‘Oh! Heaven, what am I to do?’ and the three drops of blood replied:

‘If your mother only knew, her heart would surely break in two.’

And as she drank, and leaned right over the water, the rag containing the three drops of blood fell from her bosom and floated down the stream, and she in her anxiety never even noticed her loss. But the waiting-maid had observed it with delight, as she knew it gave her power over the bride, and without the drops of blood the Princess had become weak and powerless. When she wished to get on her horse Falada again, the waiting-maid called out: ‘I mean to ride Falada: you must mount my horse^[54]’. The Princess obeyed. Then the waiting-maid commanded her to take off her royal robes, and to put on her common ones, and finally she made her swear by heaven not to say a word about the matter when they reached the palace; and if she hadn’t taken this oath^[55] she would have been killed on the spot. But Falada observed everything, and laid it all to heart.

The waiting-maid now mounted Falada, and the real bride the worse horse, and so they continued their journey till they arrived at the palace yard. There was great rejoicing over the arrival, and the Prince sprang forward to meet them, and taking the waiting-maid for his bride, he lifted her down from her horse and led her upstairs to the royal chamber. In the meantime the real Princess was left in the courtyard. The old King, who was looking out of his window, beheld her in this plight, and it struck him how beautiful she looked. He went at once to the royal chamber, and asked the bride who it was she had brought with her and had left thus standing in the court below. ‘Oh!’ replied the bride, ‘I brought her with me to keep me company on the journey; give the girl something to do, that she may not be idle.’ But the old King had no work for her, and couldn’t think of anything; so he said, ‘I’ve a small boy who looks after the geese, she’d better help him.’ The youth’s name was Curdken, and the real bride was made to help him in looking after geese.

Soon after this the false bride said to the Prince: ‘Dearest husband, I pray you grant me a favor.’ He answered: ‘That I will.’ ‘Then let the slaughterer cut off the head of the horse I rode here upon, because it behaved very badly on the road.’ But the truth was she was afraid lest the horse should speak and tell how she had treated the Princess. The faithful Falada was doomed to die. When the news came to the ears of the real Princess she went to the slaughterer, and secretly promised him a piece of gold if he would do something for her. There was in the town a large dark gate, through which she had to pass night and morning with the geese; would he ‘kindly hang up Falada’s head there, that she might see it once again?’ The slaughterer said he would do as she desired, chopped off the head, and nailed it firmly over the gateway.

Early next morning, as she and Curdken were driving their flock through the gate, she said as she passed under: ‘Oh! Falada, ‘tis you hang there’;

and the head replied:

‘Tis you; pass under, Princess fair: If your mother only knew, Her heart would surely break in two.’

Then she left the tower and drove the geese into a field. And when they had reached the common where the geese fed she sat down and unloosed her hair, which was of pure gold. Curdken loved to see it glitter in the sun, and wanted much to pull some hair out. Then she spoke:

‘Wind, wind, gently sway, Blow Curdken’s hat away; Let him chase o’er field and wold Till my locks of ruddy gold, Now astray and hanging down, Be combed and plaited in a crown.’

Then a gust of wind blew Curdken’s hat away, and he had to chase it over hill and dale. When he returned from the pursuit she had finished her combing and curling, and his chance of getting any hair was gone. Curdken was very angry, and wouldn’t speak to her. So they herded the geese till evening and then went home.

The next morning, as they passed under the gate, the girl said:

‘Oh! Falada, ‘tis you hang there’;

and the head replied:

‘Tis you; pass under, Princess fair: If your mother only knew, Her heart would surely break in two.’

Then she went on her way till she came to the common, where she sat down and began to comb out her hair; then Curdken ran up to her and wanted to grasp some of the hair from her head, but she called out hastily:

‘Wind, wind, gently sway, Blow Curdken’s hat away; Let him chase o’er field and wold Till my locks of ruddy gold, Now astray and hanging down, Be combed and plaited in a crown.’

Then a puff of wind came and blew Curdken’s hat far away, so that he had to run after it; and when he returned she had long finished putting up her golden locks, and he couldn’t get any hair; so they watched the geese till it was dark.

But that evening when they got home Curdken went to the old King, and said: ‘I refuse to herd geese any longer with that girl.’ ‘For what reason?’ asked the old King. ‘Because she does nothing but annoy me all day long,’ replied Curdken; and he proceeded to relate all her iniquities, and said: ‘Every morning as we drive the flock through the dark gate she says to a horse’s head that hangs on the wall:

‘Oh! Falada, ‘tis you hang there’; and the head replies:

‘Tis you; pass under, Princess fair: If your mother only knew, Her heart would surely break in two.’

And Curdken went on to tell what passed on the common where the geese fed, and how he had always to chase his hat.

The old King bade him go and drive forth his flock as usual next day; and when morning came he himself took up his position behind the dark gate, and heard how the goose-girl greeted Falada. Then he followed her through the field, and hid himself behind a bush on the common. He soon saw with his own eyes how the goose-boy and the goose-girl looked after the geese, and how after a time the maiden sat down and loosed her hair, that glittered like gold, and repeated:

‘Wind, wind, gently sway, Blow Curdken’s hat away; Let him chase o’er field and wold Till my locks of ruddy gold Now astray and hanging down, Be combed and plaited in a crown.’

Then a gust of wind came and blew Curdken’s hat away, so that he had to fly over hill and dale after it, and the girl in the meantime quietly combed and plaited her hair: all this the old King observed, and returned to the palace without anyone having noticed him. In the evening when the goose-girl came home he called her aside, and asked her why she behaved as she did. ‘I may not tell you why; how dare I confide my woes to anyone? For I swore not to by heaven, otherwise I should have lost my life.’ The old King begged her to tell him all, and left her no peace, but he could get nothing out of her. At last he said: ‘Well, if you won’t tell me, confide your trouble to the iron stove there,’ and he went away. Then she crept to the stove, and began to sob and cry and to pour out her poor little heart, and said: ‘Here I sit, deserted by all the world, I who am a king’s daughter, and a false waiting-maid has forced me to take off my own clothes, and has taken my place with my bridegroom, while I have to fulfill the lowly office of goose-girl. If my mother only knew Her heart would surely break in two.’

But the old King stood outside at the stove chimney, and listened to her words. Then he entered the room again, and bidding her leave the stove, he ordered royal apparel to be put on her, in which she looked amazingly lovely. Then he summoned his son, and revealed to him that he had got the false bride, who was nothing but a waiting-maid, while the real one was standing at his side. The young King rejoiced from his heart when he saw her beauty and learned how good she was, and a great banquet was prepared, to which everyone was invited. The bridegroom sat at the head of the table, the Princess on one side of him and the waiting-maid on the other; but she was so dazzled that she did not recognize the Princess in her glittering garments. Now when they had eaten and drunk, and were merry, the old King asked the waiting-maid to solve a knotty point for him. ‘What,’ said he, ‘should be done to a certain person who has deceived everyone?’ and he proceeded to relate the whole story, ending up with, ‘Now what sentence should be passed?’ Then the false bride answered: ‘She deserves to be put naked into a barrel with sharp nails, which should be dragged by two white horses up and down the street till she is dead.’

‘You are the person,’ said the King, ‘and you have passed sentence on yourself; and even so it shall be done to you.’ And when the sentence had been carried out the young King was married to his real bride, and both reigned over the kingdom in peace and happiness.

Beauty and the Beast

Once upon a time, in a very far-off country, there lived a merchant who was enormously rich. As he had, however, six sons and six daughters, he found that his money was not too much to let them all have everything they fancied, as they were accustomed to do.

But one day a most unexpected misfortune befell them. Their house caught fire and was speedily burnt to the ground, with all the splendid furniture, the books, pictures, gold, silver, and precious goods it contained; and this was only the beginning of their troubles. Their father, who had until this moment prospered in all ways, suddenly lost every ship he had upon the sea, either by dint of pirates, shipwreck, or fire. Then he heard that his clerks in distant countries, whom he trusted entirely, had proved unfaithful; and at last from great wealth he fell into the direst poverty.

All that he had left was a little house in a desolate place at least a hundred leagues from the town in which he had lived, and to this he was forced to retreat with his children, who were in despair at the idea of leading such a different life. Indeed, the daughters at first hoped that their friends, who had been so numerous while they were rich, would insist on their staying in their houses now they no longer possessed one. But they soon found that they were left alone, and that their former friends even attributed their misfortunes to their own extravagance, and showed no intention of offering them any help. So nothing was left for them but to take their departure to the cottage, which stood in the midst of a dark forest, and seemed to be the most dismal place upon the face of the earth. As they were too poor to have any servants, the girls had to work hard, like peasants, and the sons, for their part, cultivated the fields to earn their living. Roughly clothed, and living in the simplest way, the girls regretted unceasingly the luxuries and amusements of their former life; only the youngest tried to be brave and cheerful. She had been as sad as anyone when misfortune overtook her father, but, soon recovering her natural gaiety, she set to work to make the best of things, to amuse her father and brothers as well as she could, and to try to persuade her sisters to join her in dancing and singing. But they would do nothing of the sort, and, because she was not as doleful as themselves, they declared that this miserable life was all she was fit for. But she was really far prettier and cleverer than they were; indeed, she was so lovely that she was always called Beauty. After two years, when they were all beginning to get used to their new life, something happened to disturb their tranquility. Their father received the news that one of his ships, which he had believed to be lost, had come safely into port with a rich cargo. All the sons and daughters at once thought that their poverty was at an end, and wanted to set out directly for the town; but their father, who was more prudent, begged them to wait a little, and, though it was harvest time, and he could ill be spared, determined to go himself first, to make inquiries. Only the youngest daughter had any doubt but that they would soon again be as rich as they were before, or at least rich enough to live comfortably in some town where they would find amusement and gay companions once more. So they all loaded their father with commissions for jewels and dresses which it would have taken a fortune to buy; only Beauty, feeling sure that it was of no use, did not ask for anything. Her father, noticing her silence, said: ‘And what shall I bring for you, Beauty?’

‘The only thing I wish for is to see you come home safely,’ she answered.

But this only vexed her sisters, who fancied she was blaming them for having asked for such costly things. Her father, however, was pleased, but as he thought that at her age she certainly ought to like pretty presents, he told her to choose something.

‘Well, dear father,’ she said, ‘as you insist upon it, I beg that you will bring me a rose. I have not seen one since we came here, and I love them so much.’

So the merchant set out and reached the town as quickly as possible, but only to find that his former companions, believing him to be dead, had divided between them the goods which the ship had brought; and after six months of trouble and expense he found himself as poor as when he started, having been able to recover only just enough to pay the cost of his journey. To make matters worse, he was obliged to leave the town in the most terrible weather, so that by the time he was within a few leagues of his home he was almost exhausted with cold and fatigue. Though he knew it would take some hours to get through the forest, he was so anxious to be at his journey’s end that he resolved to go on; but night overtook him, and the deep snow and bitter frost made it impossible for his horse to carry him any further. Not a house was to be seen; the only shelter he could get was the hollow trunk of a great tree, and there he crouched all the night which seemed to him the longest he had ever known. In spite of his weariness the howling of the wolves kept him awake, and even when at last the day broke he was not much better off, for the falling snow had covered up every path, and he did not know which way to turn.

At length he made out some sort of track, and though at the beginning it was so rough and slippery that he fell down more than once, it presently became easier, and led him into an avenue of trees which ended in a splendid castle. It seemed to the merchant very strange that no snow had fallen in the avenue, which was entirely composed of orange trees, covered with flowers and fruit. When he reached the first court of the castle he saw before him a flight of agate steps, and went up them, and passed through several splendidly furnished rooms. The pleasant warmth of the air revived him, and he felt very hungry; but there seemed to be nobody in all this vast and splendid palace whom he could ask to give him something to eat. Deep silence reigned everywhere, and at last, tired of roaming through empty rooms and galleries, he stopped in a room smaller than the rest, where a clear fire was burning and a couch was drawn up closely to it. Thinking that this must be prepared for someone who was expected, he sat down to wait till he should come, and very soon fell into a sweet sleep.

When his extreme hunger wakened him after several hours, he was still alone; but a little table, upon which was a good dinner, had been drawn up close to him, and, as he had eaten nothing for twenty-four hours, he lost no time in beginning his meal, hoping that he might soon have an opportunity of thanking his considerate entertainer, whoever it might be. But no one appeared, and even after another long sleep, from which he awoke completely refreshed, there was no sign of anybody, though a fresh meal of dainty cakes and fruit was prepared upon the little table at his elbow. Being naturally timid, the silence began to terrify him, and he resolved to search once more through all the rooms; but it was of no use. Not even a servant was to be seen; there was no sign of life in the palace! He began to wonder what he should do, and to amuse himself by pretending that all the treasures he saw were his own, and considering how he would divide them among his children. Then he went down into the garden, and though it was winter everywhere else, here the sun shone, and the birds sang, and the flowers bloomed, and the air was soft and sweet. The merchant, in ecstasies with all he saw and heard, said to himself:

‘All this must be meant for me. I will go this minute and bring my children to share all these delights.’

In spite of being so cold and weary when he reached the castle, he had taken his horse to the stable and fed it. Now he thought he would saddle it for his homeward journey, and he turned down the path which led to the stable. This path had a hedge of roses on each side of it, and the merchant thought he had never seen or smelt such exquisite flowers. They reminded him of his promise to Beauty, and he stopped and had just gathered one to take to her when he was startled by a strange noise behind him. Turning round, he saw a frightful Beast, which seemed to be very angry and said, in a terrible voice:

‘Who told you that you might gather my roses? Was it not enough that I allowed you to be in my palace and was kind to you? This is the way you show your gratitude, by stealing my flowers! But your insolence shall not go unpunished.’ The merchant, terrified by these furious words, dropped the fatal rose, and, throwing himself on his knees, cried: ‘Pardon me, noble sir. I am truly grateful to you for your hospitality, which was so magnificent that I could not imagine that you would be offended by my taking such a little thing as a rose.’ But the Beast’s anger was not lessened by this speech.

‘You are very ready with excuses and flattery,’ he cried; ‘but that will not save you from the death you deserve.’

‘Alas!’ thought the merchant, ‘if my daughter could only know what danger her rose has brought me into!’

And in despair he began to tell the Beast all his misfortunes, and the reason of his journey, not forgetting to mention Beauty’s request.

‘A king’s ransom would hardly have procured all that my other daughters asked,’ he said: ‘but I thought that I might at least take Beauty her rose. I beg you to forgive me, for you see I meant no harm.’

The Beast considered for a moment, and then he said, in a less furious tone:

‘I will forgive you on one condition – that is, that you will give me one of your daughters.’

‘Ah!’ cried the merchant, ‘if I were cruel enough to buy my own life at the expense of one of my children’s, what excuse could I invent to bring her here?’

‘No excuse would be necessary,’ answered the Beast. ‘If she comes at all she must come willingly. On no other condition will I have her. See if any one of them is courageous enough, and loves you well enough to come and save your life. You seem to be an honest man, so I will trust you to go home. I give you a month to see if either of your daughters will come back with you and stay here, to let you go free. If neither of them is willing, you must come alone, after bidding them good-bye forever, for then you will belong to me. And do not imagine that you can hide from me, for if you fail to keep your word I will come and fetch you!’ added the Beast grimly.

The merchant accepted this proposal, though he did not really think any of his daughters could be persuaded to come. He promised to return at the time appointed, and then, anxious to escape from the presence of the Beast, he asked permission to set off at once. But the Beast answered that he could not go until next day.

‘Then you will find a horse ready for you,’ he said. ‘Now go and eat your supper, and await my orders.’

The poor merchant, more dead than alive, went back to his room, where the most delicious supper was already served on the little table which was drawn up before a blazing fire. But he was too terrified to eat, and only tasted a few of the dishes, for fear the Beast should be angry if he did not obey his orders. When he had finished he heard a great noise in the next room, which he knew meant that the Beast was coming. As he could do nothing to escape his visit, the only thing that remained was to seem as little afraid as possible; so when the Beast appeared and asked roughly if he had supped well, the merchant answered humbly that he had, thanks to his host’s kindness. Then the Beast warned him to remember their agreement, and to prepare his daughter exactly for what she had to expect.

‘Do not get up tomorrow,’ he added, ‘until you see the sun and hear a golden bell ring. Then you will find your breakfast waiting for you here, and the horse you are to ride will be ready in the courtyard. He will also bring you back again when you come with your daughter a month hence. Farewell. Take a rose to Beauty, and remember your promise!’

The merchant was only too glad when the Beast went away, and though he could not sleep for sadness, he lay down until the sun rose. Then, after a hasty breakfast, he went to gather Beauty’s rose, and mounted his horse, which carried him off so swiftly that in an instant he had lost sight of the palace, and he was still wrapped in gloomy thoughts when it stopped before the door of the cottage.

His sons and daughters, who had been very uneasy at his long absence, rushed to meet him, eager to know the result of his journey, which, seeing him mounted upon a splendid horse and wrapped in a rich mantle, they supposed to be favorable. He hid the truth from them at first, only saying sadly to Beauty as he gave her the rose:

‘Here is what you asked me to bring you; you little know what it has cost.’

But this excited their curiosity so greatly that presently he told them his adventures from beginning to end, and then they were all very unhappy. The girls lamented loudly over their lost hopes, and the sons declared that their father should not return to this terrible castle, and began to make plans for killing the Beast if it should come to fetch him. But he reminded them that he had promised to go back. Then the girls were very angry with Beauty, and said it was all her fault and that if she had asked for something sensible this would never have happened, and complained bitterly that they should have to suffer for her folly.

Poor Beauty, much distressed, said to them:

‘I have, indeed, caused this misfortune, but I assure you I did it innocently. Who could have guessed that to ask for a rose in the middle of summer would cause so much misery? But as I did the mischief it is only just that I should suffer for it. I will therefore go back with my father to keep his promise.’

At first nobody would hear of this arrangement and her father and brothers, who loved her dearly, declared that nothing should make them let her go; but Beauty was firm. As the time drew near she divided all her little possessions between her sisters, and said good-bye to everything she loved, and when the fatal day came she encouraged and cheered her father as they mounted together the horse which had brought him back. It seemed to fly rather than gallop, but so smoothly that Beauty was not frightened; indeed, she would have enjoyed the journey if she had not feared what might happen to her at the end of it. Her father still tried to persuade her to go back, but in vain. While they were talking the night fell, and then, to their great surprise, wonderful colored lights began to shine in all directions, and splendid fireworks blazed out before them; all the forest was illuminated by them, and even felt pleasantly warm, though it had been bitterly cold before. This lasted until they reached the avenue of orange trees, where were statues holding flaming torches, and when they got nearer to the palace they saw that it was illuminated from the roof to the ground, and music sounded softly from the courtyard. ‘The Beast must be very hungry,’ said Beauty, trying to laugh, ‘if he makes all this rejoicing over the arrival of his prey.

But, in spite of her anxiety, she could not help admiring all the wonderful things she saw.

The horse stopped at the foot of the flight of steps leading to the terrace, and when they had dismounted her father led her to the little room he had been in before, where they found a splendid fire burning, and the table daintily spread with a delicious supper.

The merchant knew that this was meant for them, and Beauty, who was rather less frightened now that she had passed through so many rooms and seen nothing of the Beast, was quite willing to begin, for her long ride had made her very hungry. But they had hardly finished their meal when the noise of the Beast’s footsteps was heard approaching, and Beauty clung to her father in terror, which became all the greater when she saw how frightened he was. But when the Beast really appeared, though she trembled at the sight of him, she made a great effort to hide her terror, and saluted him respectfully.

This evidently pleased the Beast. After looking at her he said, in a tone that might have struck terror into the boldest heart, though he did not seem to be angry:

‘Good-evening, old man. Good-evening, Beauty.’

The merchant was too terrified to reply, but Beauty answered sweetly: ‘Good-evening, Beast.’

‘Have you come willingly?’ asked the Beast. ‘Will you be content to stay here when your father goes away?’

Beauty answered bravely that she was quite prepared to stay.

‘I am pleased with you,’ said the Beast. ‘As you have come of your own accord, you may stay. As for you, old man,’ he added, turning to the merchant, ‘at sunrise tomorrow you will take your departure. When the bell rings get up quickly and eat your breakfast, and you will find the same horse waiting to take you home; but remember that you must never expect to see my palace again.’

Then turning to Beauty, he said:

‘Take your father into the next room, and help him to choose everything you think your brothers and sisters would like to have. You will find two traveling-trunks there; fill them as full as you can. It is only just that you should send them something very precious as a remembrance of yourself.’

Then he went away, after saying, ‘Good-bye, Beauty; good-bye, old man’; and though Beauty was beginning to think with great dismay of her father’s departure, she was afraid to disobey the Beast’s orders; and they went into the next room, which had shelves and cupboards all round it. They were greatly surprised at the riches it contained. There were splendid dresses fit for a queen, with all the ornaments that were to be worn with them; and when Beauty opened the cupboards she was quite dazzled by the gorgeous jewels that lay in heaps upon every shelf. After choosing a vast quantity, which she divided between her sisters – for she had made a heap of the wonderful dresses for each of them – she opened the last chest, which was full of gold.

‘I think, father,’ she said, ‘that, as the gold will be more useful to you, we had better take out the other things again, and fill the trunks with it.’ So they did this; but the more they put in the more room there seemed to be, and at last they put back all the jewels and dresses they had taken out, and Beauty even added as many more of the jewels as she could carry at once; and then the trunks were not too full, but they were so heavy that an elephant could not have carried them!

‘The Beast was mocking us,’ cried the merchant; ‘he must have pretended to give us all these things, knowing that I could not carry them away.’

‘Let us wait and see,’ answered Beauty. ‘I cannot believe that he meant to deceive us. All we can do is to fasten them up and leave them ready.’

So they did this and returned to the little room, where, to their astonishment, they found breakfast ready. The merchant ate his with a good appetite, as the Beast’s generosity made him believe that he might perhaps venture to come back soon and see Beauty. But she felt sure that her father was leaving her forever, so she was very sad when the bell rang sharply for the second time, and warned them that the time had come for them to part. They went down into the courtyard, where two horses were waiting, one loaded with the two trunks, the other for him to ride. They were pawing the ground in their impatience to start, and the merchant was forced to bid Beauty a hasty farewell; and as soon as he was mounted he went off at such a pace that she lost sight of him in an instant. Then Beauty began to cry, and wandered sadly back to her own room. But she soon found that she was very sleepy, and as she had nothing better to do she lay down and instantly fell asleep. And then she dreamed that she was walking by a brook bordered with trees, and lamenting her sad fate, when a young prince, handsomer than anyone she had ever seen, and with a voice that went straight to her heart, came and said to her, ‘Ah, Beauty! You are not so unfortunate as you suppose. Here you will be rewarded for all you have suffered elsewhere. Your every wish shall be gratified. Only try to find me out, no matter how I may be disguised, as I love you dearly, and in making me happy you will find your own happiness. Be as true-hearted as you are beautiful, and we shall have nothing left to wish for.’

‘What can I do, Prince, to make you happy?’ said Beauty.

‘Only be grateful,’ he answered, ‘and do not trust too much to your eyes. And, above all, do not desert me until you have saved me from my cruel misery.’

After this she thought she found herself in a room with a stately and beautiful lady, who said to her:

‘Dear Beauty, try not to regret all you have left behind you, for you are destined to a better fate. Only do not let yourself be deceived by appearances.’

Beauty found her dreams so interesting that she was in no hurry to awake, but presently the clock roused her by calling her name softly twelve times, and then she got up and found her dressing-table set out with everything she could possibly want; and when her toilet was finished she found dinner was waiting in the room next to hers. But dinner does not take very long when you are all by yourself, and very soon she sat down cozily in the corner of a sofa, and began to think about the charming Prince she had seen in her dream.

‘He said I could make him happy,’ said Beauty to herself.

‘It seems, then, that this horrible Beast keeps him a prisoner. How can I set him free? I wonder why they both told me not to trust to appearances? I don’t understand it. But, after all, it was only a dream, so why should I trouble myself about it? I had better go and find something to do to amuse myself.’

So she got up and began to explore some of the many rooms of the palace.

The first she entered was lined with mirrors, and Beauty saw herself reflected on every side, and thought she had never seen such a charming room. Then a bracelet which was hanging from a chandelier caught her eye, and on taking it down she was greatly surprised to find that it held a portrait of her unknown admirer, just as she had seen him in her dream. With great delight she slipped the bracelet on her arm, and went on into a gallery of pictures, where she soon found a portrait of the same handsome Prince, as large as life, and so well painted that as she studied it he seemed to smile kindly at her. Tearing herself away from the portrait at last, she passed through into a room which contained every musical instrument under the sun, and here she amused herself for a long while in trying some of them, and singing until she was tired. The next room was a library, and she saw everything she had ever wanted to read, as well as everything she had read, and it seemed to her that a whole lifetime would not be enough to even read the names of the books, there were so many. By this time it was growing dusk, and wax candles in diamond and ruby candlesticks were beginning to light themselves in every room.

Beauty found her supper served just at the time she preferred to have it, but she did not see anyone or hear a sound, and, though her father had warned her that she would be alone, she began to find it rather dull.

But presently she heard the Beast coming, and wondered tremblingly if he meant to eat her up now.

However, as he did not seem at all ferocious and only said gruffly:

‘Good-evening, Beauty,’ she answered cheerfully and managed to conceal her terror. Then the Beast asked her how she had been amusing herself, and she told him all the rooms she had seen.

Then he asked if she thought she could be happy in his palace; and Beauty answered that everything was so beautiful that she would be very hard to please if she could not be happy. And after about an hour’s talk Beauty began to think that the Beast was not nearly so terrible as she had supposed at first. Then he got up to leave her, and said in his gruff voice:

‘Do you love me, Beauty? Will you marry me?’

‘Oh! What shall I say?’ cried Beauty, for she was afraid to make the Beast angry by refusing.

‘Say `yes’ or `no’ without fear,’ he replied.

‘Oh! No, Beast,’ said Beauty hastily.

‘Since you will not, good-night, Beauty,’ he said.

And she answered, ‘Good-night, Beast,’ very glad to find that her refusal had not provoked him. And after he was gone she was very soon in bed and asleep, and dreaming of her unknown Prince. She thought he came and said to her:

‘Ah, Beauty! Why are you so unkind to me? I fear I am fated to be unhappy for many a long day still.’

And then her dreams changed, but the charming Prince figured in them all; and when morning came her first thought was to look at the portrait, and see if it was really like him, and she found that it certainly was.

This morning she decided to amuse herself in the garden, for the sun shone, and all the fountains were playing; but she was astonished to find that every place was familiar to her, and presently she came to the brook where the myrtle trees were growing where she had first met the Prince in her dream, and that made her think more than ever that he must be kept a prisoner by the Beast. When she was tired she went back to the palace, and found a new room full of materials for every kind of work – ribbons to make into bows, and silks to work into flowers. Then there was an aviary full of rare birds, which were so tame that they flew to Beauty as soon as they saw her, and perched upon her shoulders and her head.

‘Pretty little creatures,’ she said, ‘how I wish that your cage was nearer to my room, that I might often hear you sing!’

So saying she opened a door, and found, to her delight, that it led into her own room, though she had thought it was quite the other side of the palace.

There were more birds in a room farther on, parrots and cockatoos that could talk, and they greeted Beauty by name; indeed, she found them so entertaining that she took one or two back to her room, and they talked to her while she was at supper; after which the Beast paid her his usual visit, and asked her the same questions as before, and then with a gruff ‘good-night’ he took his departure, and Beauty went to bed to dream of her mysterious Prince. The days passed swiftly in different amusements, and after a while Beauty found out another strange thing in the palace, which often pleased her when she was tired of being alone. There was one room which she had not noticed particularly; it was empty, except that under each of the windows stood a very comfortable chair; and the first time she had looked out of the window it had seemed to her that a black curtain prevented her from seeing anything outside. But the second time she went into the room, happening to be tired, she sat down in one of the chairs, when instantly the curtain was rolled aside, and a most amusing pantomime was acted before her; there were dances, and colored lights, and music, and pretty dresses, and it was all so gay that Beauty was in ecstasies. After that she tried the other seven windows in turn, and there was some new and surprising entertainment to be seen from each of them, so that Beauty never could feel lonely any more. Every evening after supper the Beast came to see her, and always before saying good-night asked her in his terrible voice:

‘Beauty, will you marry me?’

And it seemed to Beauty, now she understood him better, that when she said, ‘No, Beast,’ he went away quite sad. But her happy dreams of the handsome young Prince soon made her forget the poor Beast, and the only thing that at all disturbed her was to be constantly told to distrust appearances, to let her heart guide her, and not her eyes, and many other equally perplexing things, which, consider as she would, she could not understand.

So everything went on for a long time, until at last, happy as she was, Beauty began to long for the sight of her father and her brothers and sisters; and one night, seeing her look very sad, the Beast asked her what was the matter. Beauty had quite ceased to be afraid of him. Now she knew that he was really gentle in spite of his ferocious looks and his dreadful voice. So she answered that she was longing to see her home once more. Upon hearing this, the Beast seemed sadly distressed, and cried miserably.

‘Ah! Beauty, have you the heart to desert an unhappy Beast like this? What more do you want to make you happy? Is it because you hate me that you want to escape?’

‘No, dear Beast,’ answered Beauty softly, ‘I do not hate you, and I should be very sorry never to see you any more, but I long to see my father again. Only let me go for two months, and I promise to come back to you and stay for the rest of my life.’

The Beast, who had been sighing dolefully while she spoke, now replied:

‘I cannot refuse you anything you ask, even though it should cost me my life. Take the four boxes you will find in the room next to your own, and fill them with everything you wish to take with you. But remember your promise and come back when the two months are over, or you may have cause to repent it, for if you do not come in good time you will find your faithful Beast dead. You will not need any chariot to bring you back. Only say good-bye to all your brothers and sisters the night before you come away, and when you have gone to bed turn this ring round upon your finger and say firmly: ‘I wish to go back to my palace and see my Beast again.’ Good-night, Beauty. Fear nothing, sleep peacefully, and before long you shall see your father once more.’

As soon as Beauty was alone she hastened to fill the boxes with all the rare and precious things she saw about her, and only when she was tired of heaping things into them did they seem to be full.

Then she went to bed, but could hardly sleep for joy. And when at last she did begin to dream of her beloved Prince she was grieved to see him stretched upon a grassy bank, sad and weary, and hardly like himself.

‘What is the matter?’ she cried.

He looked at her reproachfully, and said:

‘How can you ask me, cruel one? Are you not leaving me to my death perhaps?’

‘Ah! Don’t be so sorrowful,’ cried Beauty; ‘I am only going to assure my father that I am safe and happy. I have promised the Beast faithfully that I will come back, and he would die of grief if I did not keep my word!’

‘What would that matter to you?’ said the Prince ‘Surely you would not care?’

‘Indeed, I should be ungrateful if I did not care for such a kind Beast,’ cried Beauty indignantly. ‘I would die to save him from pain. I assure you it is not his fault that he is so ugly.’

Just then a strange sound woke her – someone was speaking not very far away; and opening her eyes she found herself in a room she had never seen before, which was certainly not nearly so splendid as those she was used to in the Beast’s palace. Where could she be? She got up and dressed hastily, and then saw that the boxes she had packed the night before were all in the room. While she was wondering by what magic the Beast had transported them and herself to this strange place she suddenly heard her father’s voice, and rushed out and greeted him joyfully. Her brothers and sisters were all astonished at her appearance, as they had never expected to see her again, and there was no end to the questions they asked her. She had also much to hear about what had happened to them while she was away, and of her father’s journey home. But when they heard that she had only come to be with them for a short time, and then must go back to the Beast’s palace forever, they lamented loudly. Then Beauty asked her father what he thought could be the meaning of her strange dreams, and why the Prince constantly begged her not to trust to appearances. After much consideration, he answered: ‘You tell me yourself that the Beast, frightful as he is, loves you dearly, and deserves your love and gratitude for his gentleness and kindness; I think the Prince must mean you to understand that you ought to reward him by doing as he wishes you to, in spite of his ugliness.’

Beauty could not help seeing that this seemed very probable; still, when she thought of her dear Prince who was so handsome, she did not feel at all inclined to marry the Beast. At any rate, for two months she need not decide, but could enjoy herself with her sisters. But though they were rich now, and lived in town again, and had plenty of acquaintances, Beauty found that nothing amused her very much; and she often thought of the palace, where she was so happy, especially as at home she never once dreamed of her dear Prince, and she felt quite sad without him.

Then her sisters seemed to have got quite used to being without her, and even found her rather in the way, so she would not have been sorry when the two months were over, but for her father and brothers, who begged her to stay, and seemed so grieved at the thought of her departure, that she had not the courage to say good-bye to them. Every day when she got up she meant to say it at night, and when night came she put it off again, until at last she had a dismal dream which helped her to make up her mind.^[56] She thought she was wandering in a lonely path in the palace gardens, when she heard groans which seemed to come from some bushes hiding the entrance of a cave, and running quickly to see what could be the matter, she found the Beast stretched out upon his side, apparently dying. He reproached her faintly with being the cause of his distress, and at the same moment a stately lady appeared, and said very gravely:

‘Ah! Beauty, you are only just in time to save his life. See what happens when people do not keep their promises! If you had delayed one day more, you would have found him dead.’

Beauty was so terrified by this dream that the next morning she announced her intention of going back at once, and that very night she said goodbye to her father and all her brothers and sisters, and as soon as she was in bed she turned her ring round upon her finger, and said firmly, ‘I wish to go back to my palace and see my Beast again,’ as she had been told to do.

Then she fell asleep instantly, and only woke up to hear the clock saying ‘Beauty, Beauty’ twelve times in its musical voice, which told her at once that she was really in the palace once more. Everything was just as before, and her birds were so glad to see her! But Beauty thought she had never known such a long day, for she was so anxious to see the Beast again that she felt as if suppertime would never come.

But when it did come and no Beast appeared she was really frightened; so, after listening and waiting for a long time, she ran down into the garden to search for him. Up and down the paths and avenues ran poor Beauty, calling him in vain, for no one answered, and not a trace of him could she find; until at last, quite tired, she stopped for a minute’s rest, and saw that she was standing opposite the shady path she had seen in her dream. She rushed down it, and, sure enough, there was the cave, and in it lay the Beast – asleep, as Beauty thought. Quite glad to have found him, she ran up and stroked his head, but, to her horror, he did not move or open his eyes.

‘Oh! He is dead; and it is all my fault,’ said Beauty, crying bitterly.

But then, looking at him again, she fancied he still breathed, and, hastily fetching some water from the nearest fountain, she sprinkled it over his face, and, to her great delight, he began to revive.

‘Oh! Beast, how you frightened me!’ she cried. ‘I never knew how much I loved you until just now, when I feared I was too late to save your life.’

‘Can you really love such an ugly creature as I am?’ said the Beast faintly. ‘Ah! Beauty, you only came just in time. I was dying because I thought you had forgotten your promise. But go back now and rest, I shall see you again by and by.’

Beauty, who had half expected that he would be angry with her, was reassured by his gentle voice, and went back to the palace, where supper was awaiting her; and afterward the Beast came in as usual, and talked about the time she had spent with her father, asking if she had enjoyed herself, and if they had all been very glad to see her.

Beauty answered politely, and quite enjoyed telling him all that had happened to her. And when at last the time came for him to go, and he asked, as he had so often asked before, ‘Beauty, will you marry me?’

She answered softly, ‘Yes, dear Beast.’

As she spoke a blaze of light^[57] sprang up before the windows of the palace; fireworks crackled and guns banged, and across the avenue of orange trees, in letters all made of fire-flies, was written: ‘Long live the Prince and his Bride.’

Turning to ask the Beast what it could all mean, Beauty found that he had disappeared, and in his place stood her long-loved Prince! At the same moment the wheels of a chariot were heard upon the terrace, and two ladies entered the room. One of them Beauty recognized as the lady she had seen in her dreams; the other was also so grand and queenly that Beauty hardly knew which to greet first.

But the one she already knew said to her companion:

‘Well, Queen, this is Beauty, who has had the courage to rescue your son from the terrible enchantment. They love one another, and only your consent to their marriage will make them perfectly happy.’

‘I consent with all my heart,’ cried the Queen. ‘How can I ever thank you enough, charming girl, for having restored my dear son to his natural form?’

And then she tenderly embraced Beauty and the Prince, who had meanwhile been greeting the Fairy and receiving her congratulations.

‘Now,’ said the Fairy to Beauty, ‘I suppose you would like me to send for all your brothers and sisters to dance at your wedding?’

And so she did, and the marriage was celebrated the very next day with the utmost splendor, and Beauty and the Prince lived happily ever after.

Англо-русский словарь

A

absence – отсутствие

accompany – сопровождать

admirer – поклонник

anger – гнев

angry – сердитый

anxiety – тревога

apologize – извиниться

attached – прикрепленный

awe – страх, трепет

B

bake – печь

becoming – подобающий

bedding – постельные принадлежности, постельное белье

bedstead – кровать (без матраса)

believe – верить

betroth – обручаться

bill – счёт

blame – обвинять

blind – слепой

blossom – цветение, цветок

blow down – сдувать

boil – кипятить, варить

bold – храбрый

bonnet – берет, дамская шляпка

boot – сапог

bottom – дно

branches (ед. ч. branch) – сучья дерева, ветки

brave – смелый

brew – варить

brook – ручей

bundle – связка, пучок

C

canopy – навес, балдахин

casement – оконная створка

cask – бочонок

catch – ловить

chariot – колесница

chimney – дымоход, очаг

chimney-pot – колпак дымохода

clean – чистить

cloak – плащ, накидка

clogs (ед. ч. clog) – башмаки

coal – уголь

complain – жаловаться

condescend – снисходить

consent – согласие

cook – готовить

creak – скрипеть

creep (crept, crept) – красться

cruel – жестокий

cut (cut, cut) – резать

D

damp – влажный

dare (to do smth) – осмелиться (сделать что-либо)

dazzle – ослеплять

deceive – обманывать

depart – отправляться

despair – отчаяние

dirty – грязный

dishonest – нечестный

dispute – спорить

drag – тащить

dragon – дракон

dry up – высохнуть

E

edge – край

eider-down – пуховое (одеяло)

elf – эльф

envelope – конверт

exclaim – воскликнуть

F

fabrics – ткань

faggot – вязанка, охапка

faintly – слабо, тихо, едва

fall down – упасть

feast – праздник

feather – перо

feeble – слабый

fierce – свирепый

fine clothes – нарядная одежда

fire – огонь

forest – лес

frighten – путать(ся), испугаться

fry (fried) – жарить

G

garment – одеяние

gateway – выход

gaze – уставиться, смотреть неотрывно

glitter – сверкать

gloomily – мрачно, хмуро

glory – победа

gorgeous – прекрасный

grain – зерно

grasp – хватать

greedy – жадный

grind – молоть, перемалывать

grudge – жалеть, испытывать недоброе чувство

H

hack – отрубить

hail – град

hand-mill – ручная мельница

hare – заяц

hasten – спешить, торопиться

hay – сено

heap – куча, гора

hear (heard, heard) – слышать

heel – пятка

hen – курочка

henhouse – курятник

herring – сельдь

hesitate – колебаться, медлить

hide (hid) – спрятаться

honest – честный

hop – скакать, подпрыгивать

hound – гончая

housekeeper – домашняя работница, экономка

hug (hugged) – обнимать

huge – огромный

hungry – голодный

hunter – охотник

I

immense – огромный, громадный, необъятный

Indian – индиец

inn – гостиница

innocent – невинный

instantly – немедленно, тут же

intelligent – умный

J

jaws – челюсти, пасть, рот

journey – поездка, путешествие, прогулка

joy – наслаждение

judge – судья

K

key – ключ

kill – убить

kneel (knelt, knelt) – преклонить колени

knick-knack – пустячок, украшение

knot – завязывать

L

lamplighter – фонарщик

landlady – хозяйка, домовладелица

lay to heart – принимать близко к сердцу

lazy – ленивый

leap – прыгать

letter-box – почтовый ящик

lick – лизать

linnet – коноплянка

lock – закрывать на замок

log cabin – сруб, бревенчатый дом

loom – ткацкий станок

lover – возлюбленный

M

magnificent – великолепный

manikin – карлик, человечек

mantle – мантия

marble – мраморный

marriage – женитьба

marry – жениться

marsh – пруд, заболоченное место

Mayor – мэр

meal – пища

meaning – замысел

merely – всего лишь, только

milk – доить

mill – мельница

miller – мельник

move – двигать(ся)

N

narrow – узкий

noble – знатный

noblemen – аристократы, дворяне (ед. ч. – nobleman)

O

obey – подчиняться

ogre – огр

oven – печь

P

pails – кадки, ведра (ед. ч. – pail)

palm – ладонь

paradise – рай

pass – проходить

pass by – проходить мимо

path – тропинка, тропа

pattern – узор

paw – лапа

pay – платить

pea – горошина

peach-tree – персиковое дерево

pearl – жемчуг

picture – представлять себе, воображать

plight – положение, состояние

plunge – погрузить, вонзить

polite – вежливый

poor – бедный

post – отправлять

pottage – похлебка

prattle – лепет

pretend – делать вид

prosper – процветать

provide – снабдить, обеспечить

pull – тянуть

R

racehorse – скаковая лошадь

rag – лоскут

rejoice – ликовать

reminder – напоминание

repeat – повторять

retinue – свита

retire – уходить, удаляться

return – возвращать, возвращаться

rich – богатый

ride – ехать верхом, оседлать

ridiculous – нелепый

roar – реветь, рычать

roll – катить, закатывать

rub – тереть

S

sack – мешок

safe and sound – в безопасности, целый и невредимый

sausage – колбаса

scarcely – едва, с трудом

scratch – чесать, скрести

see (saw) – увидеть или понимать (увидел, понял)

settle – осесть, поселиться

shake – трясти

shiver – дрожать

should – должен (здесь)

shut (shut, shut) – закрыть, закрывать

sigh – вздыхать

sink – тонуть

skeleton – скелет

skipper – шкипер, капитан судна

sling – повесить

slip – проскользнуть

sly – хитрый, коварный

snooze – дремать

Spaniard – испанец

spin – прясть, вращать

splendid – роскошный

splendor – великолепие

spring – источник

stable – конюшня, стойло

stare – уставиться

steal (stole, stolen) – красть

stick – палка

strange – странный

straw – солома

summon – собрать, призвать к себе

suspect – подозревать

swallow – глотать

swear (swore, sworn) – клясться

swindler – мошенник

sword – меч

T

takeout – вынимать

talkative – разговорчивый

tear (tore, torn) – разрывать

tell lies – говорить ложь

tell the truth – сказать правду

therefore – таким образом

think (thought, thought) – думать

throw – кидать

tidy – опрятный, аккуратный, чистый

tightly – плотно

timidly – робко, неуверенно

toe – носок

torrent – шторм

train – шлейф

trinket – безделушка

tug (tugged) – тянуть, тащить

U

unfit – непригодный, неподходящий

unsurpassed – непревзойденный

unwilling – не желая

utmost – совершенно

V

value – ценить

venture – решиться

vexed – раздосадованный

wagon – повозка, телега

waiting-maid – горничная

weaver – ткач

well – колодец

whirl – кружение, вихрь

wicked – злой

willy-willy wag – корзинка

wish – желать

woodcutter – лесоруб

wound – ранить

wrap – закутаться, обернуть

wrong – неправильный, ошибочный

Примечания

1

to put up with – мириться, терпеть

(обратно)

2

Goldilocks – Златовласка

(обратно)

3

once upon a time – как-то раз, однажды, давным-давно

(обратно)

4

as… as – также… как и

(обратно)

5

fell lame – захромал

(обратно)

6

to be able – иметь возможность, мочь

(обратно)

7

to give up – сдавать(ся), оставлять

(обратно)

8

to be on horseback – верхом на лошади

(обратно)

9

to get ready – готовить(ся)

(обратно)

10

to get dark – темнеть

(обратно)

11

a man-eating tiger – тигр-людоед

(обратно)

12

to be fond of – сильно интересоваться, быть в восторге от

(обратно)

13

to be delighted – быть в восторге

(обратно)

14

good gracious! – Господи!

(обратно)

15

black and blue – в синяках

(обратно)

16

to do a turn – вернуть долг, оказать ответную услугу

(обратно)

17

to be tickled at smth – по душе

(обратно)

18

to gnaw away – прогрызать

(обратно)

19

to be tired – устать

(обратно)

20

diamond ring – кольцо с бриллиантом

(обратно)

21

dreams go by contraries – дурной сон может предвещать хорошее и наоборот

(обратно)

22

to be filled with – быть наполненным чем-либо

(обратно)

23

God forbid – не дай Бог

(обратно)

24

to breathe fire – извергать огонь

(обратно)

25

to be surprised – удивиться

(обратно)

26

to find out (found out) – узнать, обнаружить

(обратно)

27

to be lit – зд. гореть

(обратно)

28

street lamps – уличные фонари

(обратно)

29

to be angry with – сердиться на

(обратно)

30

to be afraid of the dragon – бояться дракона

(обратно)

31

They had never run so fast in their lives before. – Они никогда не бегали так быстро прежде.

(обратно)

32

to win the Derby – выиграть Дерби (ежегодные скачки, проводящиеся неподалеку от Лондона)

(обратно)

33

mocking-bird – пересмешник

(обратно)

34

to get out of smth – выбраться

(обратно)

35

to be astonished – быть пораженным/ой

(обратно)

36

to be enchanted – быть заколдованным

(обратно)

37

to be fated – быть обреченным

(обратно)

38

to decide a dispute – разрешить спор

(обратно)

39

fell in her lap – упал(а) ей прямо в руки

(обратно)

40

to send off home – отправить домой, восвояси

(обратно)

41

to bear fruits – нести плоды

(обратно)

42

to determine – намереваться

(обратно)

43

to put up a notice-board – установить доску для объявлений

(обратно)

44

to be covered – быть покрытым

(обратно)

45

at the sight of smth – при виде чего-либо

(обратно)

46

bid each other good night – пожелали друг другу спокойной ночи

(обратно)

47

by and by (= overtime, eventually) – долго ли, коротко ли; со временем

(обратно)

48

Christmas Eve – сочельник

(обратно)

49

Christmas-tide – святки

(обратно)

50

to refrain from – удержаться

(обратно)

51

take a farewell – попрощаться

(обратно)

52

to dismount – спешиться

(обратно)

53

to be compelled – быть вынужденным

(обратно)

54

to mount a horse – оседлать лошадь

(обратно)

55

to take an oath – поклясться

(обратно)

56

to make up one’s mind – решить что-либо сделать

(обратно)

57

blaze of light – вспышка

(обратно)

Оглавление

The Three Wishes

Goldilocks[2] and the three bears

The Sly Fox and the Little Red Hen

A Stolen Horse

Dirty Boots

A Traveller’s Tale

The Letter-Box Key

The Emperor’s New Clothes

The Princess and the Pea

The Lion and the Mouse

The Small Red Feather

Mr Fox

The Useful Dragon

A Horse and a Dog

Why Parrots Repeat Words

The Frog Prince

The Wind and the Sun

The Old Witch

The Bundle of Sticks

The Selfish Giant (O. Wilde)

Rumpelstiltskin

The Frogs and the Well

Why the Sea is Salt (A. Lang)

The Goose-Girl (A. Lang)

Beauty and the Beast

Англо-русский словарь

  A

  B

  C

  D

  E

  F

  G

  H

  I

  J

  K

  L

  M

  N

  O

  P

  R

  S

  T

  U

  V

Fueled by Johannes Gensfleisch zur Laden zum Gutenberg

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