Now the music began. Big black grasshoppers played on mouth organs. Owls beat themselves on their stomachs: they were the drums. It was a funny concert. Small black trolls with jack-o’-lanterns in their hats were dancing. No one could see the wayfarer, who was standing behind the throne watching and listening to everything. The courtiers entered; they were very elegant and distinguished. But anyone who looked at them carefully could see what they really were: cabbage heads attached to broomsticks, which the troll had made alive by witchcraft, and then dressed in beautifully embroidered robes. But they were of no importance: courtiers are only for show.
After the dancing had gone on for a while, the princess told the troll about her new suitor and asked him what question she should ask him the next morning.
“Listen,” said the troll, “ask him to guess what you are thinking about, and then think about something very commonplace, because he will never guess that. Just think of your shoes. Then have his head cut off, but don’t forget to bring me his eyes tomorrow night, I love to eat them.”
The princess curtsied most humbly and said that she wouldn’t forget the eyes. Then the troll commanded the mountain to open itself again and the princess started her flight back to the castle. Johannes’ friend was flying right behind her, and he beat her so severely with his switches that she moaned loudly about the terrible hailstorm and was glad when she finally reached the window of her bedchamber. The wayfarer flew back to the inn, where Johannes was still sleeping. He took off his wings and went to bed, for he had a right to be tired.
Very early the next morning, when Johannes awoke, his friend told him that he had had a strange dream. He had dreamed about the princess and her shoes. “So when the princess asks you what she is thinking about, do remember to say, her shoes,” he said. Of course, that was what he had heard the troll tell the princess that she should be thinking about; but the wayfarer did not tell Johannes about his visit to the mountain.
“Well, I can just as well say one thing as the other,” said Johannes, “and maybe you have dreamed the true answer, for I am sure that God wants to help me. Still, I think we should say good-by to each other, for if I guess wrong I shall never see you again.”
They kissed and Johannes went into the town and straight up to the castle. The big hall was filled with people; all the judges sat in easy chairs and had eiderdown pillows on which to rest their heads, for they had grave matters to think about. The king paced the floor with a white handkerchief in his hands and constantly dried his eyes. The princess entered; she was even more beautiful than she had been the day before. She greeted everyone graciously and kindly, and took Johannes’ hand in hers and said: “Good morning, dear friend.”
Now Johannes had to guess what she was thinking about. She looked ever so kindly toward him, but when she heard the word “shoes,” her face grew as white as chalk and her body shook. She couldn’t hide that Johannes had given the right answer.
Glory be, how happy the old king was! He turned a somersault, and the people clapped both for him and for Johannes, who had guessed the answer to the first question.
Johannes’ friend was pleased when he heard how well everything had gone. But Johannes folded his hands and thanked God, for he was certain that it was He who had helped him and would probably help him with the other questions. The following morning he would have to answer the second one.
The second evening passed just like the first. As soon as Johannes slept, his traveling companion tied the swan’s wings on his back and followed the princess. But he now brought along two of the bundles of switches and beat her even harder. Again no one saw him and he heard everything that was said. This time the princess was to think about her gloves. Early the next morning he told Johannes that he had dreamed that the princess would think of her gloves.
When Johannes guessed correctly the whole court turned somersaults, as they had seen the king do the day before. But the princess had to lie down on her divan and wouldn’t speak to anyone.
Now everything depended on what Johannes said the next morning. If he guessed right the third time, she would have to marry him and he would inherit the kingdom when her father died; but if he didn’t he would lose his life and the troll would eat his pretty eyes.
That evening Johannes went to bed early, said his prayers, and slept peacefully; while the wayfarer tied the swan’s wings on his back, stuck his sword in his belt, and taking all three bundles of switches with him, flew to the castle.
It was pitch-dark. There was such a storm that the tiles were blown off the roofs, and the trees in the princess’ garden, in which the skeletons hung, swayed as reeds do in the wind. Every minute the lightning flashed, and the thunder roared continually, as if it were one great thunderclap that lasted the whole night through.
The window opened, the princess flew out. Her face was as white as death, but she laughed at the storm, which was not wild enough for her taste. Her white cape whirled around her like a great sail. Johannes’ friend beat her so hard with the three bundles of birch branches that blood dripped down on the earth far below and the princess could hardly fly.
At last she reached the mountain. “It is hailing! What a storm!” she said to the troll. “I have never been out in weather like that before.”
“Yes, you can get too much of a good thing,” said the troll.
Now the princess told him that Johannes had guessed what she had been thinking a second time. “If he guesses right again tomorrow, then he will have won. I shall never visit this mountain again and never be able to do any more magic. Oh, it is so sad!”
“He will not be able to guess your thoughts tomorrow, not unless he is a greater wizard than I am! I shall think of something that he has never seen. Now let us be merry!” The troll took the princess by the hand and they danced among the little trolls and the jack-o’-lanterns. On the walls the glowing red spiders ran up and down like tiny tongues of fire. The owls beat the drums. The crickets sang. The black grasshoppers blew on their mouth organs. It was a grand ball!
They danced until it was very late and the princess had to return or she would be missed at the castle. The troll said he would follow her home: that would give them a little more time together.
As they flew through the storm, Johannes’ friend wore out his three bundles of switches on their backs. Never before had the troll experienced such a hailstorm. Outside the castle he said good-by to the princess and whispered to her, “Think of my head.”
The wayfarer had heard what the troll said. Just as the princess had disappeared into her bedchamber and the troll turned to fly home, he grabbed him by his long black beard and with one stroke of his sword cut off the troll’s head. He threw the body into the lake for the fishes to eat, but the ugly head he wrapped in his silk handkerchief and took it with him to the inn; then he went to bed and to sleep.
The next morning he gave the handkerchief to Johannes but told him that he must not untie it before the princess had asked him to guess what she was thinking about.
The big hall in the castle was so crowded with people that they stood as close together as radishes do when they have been bound in bunches by a farmer. The judges and the king’s council were sitting in their easy chairs, resting their heads on eiderdown pillows. The king had put on brand-new robes and had had his crown and his scepter polished, which made them look very nice. But the princess was very pale and dressed in black; she looked as if she were attending a funeral.
“What am I thinking about?” she asked.
Johannes untied the handkerchief. He was shocked and frightened when he saw the horrible head of the troll. All the people shuddered, for it was a terrifying sight, but the princess sat as still as a stone statue and did not utter a word. At last she rose. Without looking at anyone or at anything, without turning to the right or the left, she sighed deeply, gave Johannes her hand, and said: “Now you are my master. Tonight we shall be married.”
“That’s what I like to hear!” shouted the king.
“That’s the way it ought to be!”
Everyone shouted, “Hurrah!” The royal guards marched down the streets with a band in front of them. The church bells rang; the old ladies who sold the candy took the black crepe off their chocolate pigs. Three oxen, stuffed with ducks and chickens, were roasted on the town square for everyone to eat. The fountains splashed the finest wine; and if you bought two pennies’ worth of pretzels, then the baker gave you six muffins with raisins as part of the bargain.
When evening came, the whole town was illuminated; the soldiers fired their cannons, and little boys shot off firecrackers. In the castle all the most elegant people in the country were gathered; they ate and drank and toasted each other and all the young people danced; one could hear the young girls singing far away:
“So many a fair maiden
Calls for a dance so gay.
The air with music is laden.
Beautiful maiden, turn about,
Stamp your feet, and whirl,
Until your shoes are worn out.
But the princess was still a witch and didn’t love Johannes at all. The wayfarer had not forgotten this, so he gave Johannes three feathers from the swan’s wings and a little bottle filled with liquid, and said to him: “Tonight, next to the marriage bed place a large tub of water and throw these feathers and empty this liquid into it. When the princess starts to get into bed, push her into the tub and duck her three times under the water; then she will no longer be a witch and will love you dearly.”
Johannes took his friend’s advice. When he shoved the princess underneath the water the first time, she screamed and changed into a black swan with fiery eyes, who wiggled and strained in his grasp. The second time she was plunged into the water, she became a white swan with a black ring around her neck. Johannes prayed to God as he pushed her under the third time; and instantly she changed into the most beautiful princess. She was even lovelier than before; and she thanked him, with tears in her eyes, for having broken the evil spell.
The next day the king came visiting; so did the court and half of the people of the town. They all wanted to pay their respects to the bridal couple. Last of all came Johannes’ traveling companion. He had a knapsack on his back and a walking stick in his hand. Johannes kissed him and begged him not to leave. “All my good fortune is your doing!” he cried.
But his friend shook his head; then he spoke softly and gently. “No, my time on earth is over. I have paid my debt. Do you remember the dead man whom the evil men wanted to harm? You gave everything you owned so that he could rest in his coffin. I am the dead man.” With these words he disappeared.
The wedding celebration lasted a month. Johannes and the princess loved each other ever so much. The old king lived for many years and enjoyed having his grandchildren sit on his knee and play with his scepter, while Johannes ruled the whole kingdom.
8
The Little Mermaid
Far, far from land, where the waters are as blue as the petals of the cornflower and as clear as glass, there, where no anchor can reach the bottom, live the mer-people. So deep is this part of the sea that you would have to pile many church towers on top of each other before one of them emerged above the surface.
Now you must not think that at the bottom of the sea there is only white sand. No, here grow the strangest plants and trees; their stems and leaves are so subtle that the slightest current in the water makes them move, as if they were alive. Big and small fishes flit in and out among their branches, just as the birds do up on earth. At the very deepest place, the mer-king has built his castle. Its walls are made of coral and its long pointed windows of amber. The roof is oyster shells that are continually opening and closing. It looks very beautiful, for in each shell lies a pearl, so lustrous that it would be fit for a queen’s crown.
The mer-king had been a widower for many years; his mother kept house for him. She was a very intelligent woman but a little too proud of her rank: she wore twelve oysters on her tail; the nobility were only allowed six. Otherwise, she was a most praiseworthy woman, and she took excellent care of her grandchildren, the little princesses. They were six lovely mermaids; the youngest was the most beautiful. Her complexion was as fine as the petal of a rose and her eyes as blue as the deepest lake but, just like everyone else down there, she had no feet; her body ended in a fishtail.
The mermaids were allowed to play all day in the great hall of the castle, where flowers grew on the walls. The big amber windows were kept open and the fishes swam in and out, just as the swallows up on earth fly in through our windows if they are open. But unlike the birds of the air, the fishes were not frightened, they swam right up to the little princesses and ate out of their hands and let themselves be petted.
Around the castle was a great park where there grew fiery-red and deep-blue trees. Their fruits shone as though they were the purest gold, their flowers were like flames, and their branches and leaves were ever in motion. The earth was the finest sand, not white but blue, the color of burning sulphur. There was a blue tinge to everything, down on the bottom of the sea. You could almost believe that you were suspended in mid-air and had the blue sky both above and below you. When the sea was calm, the sun appeared like a crimson flower, from which all light flowed.
Each little princess had her own garden, where she could plant the flowers she liked. One of them had shaped her flower bed so it resembled a whale; and another, as a mermaid. The youngest had planted red flowers in hers: she wanted it to look like the sun; it was round and the crimson flowers did glow as though they were so many little suns. She was a strange little child: quiet and thoughtful. Her sisters’ gardens were filled with all sorts of things that they had collected from shipwrecks, but she had only a marble statue of a boy in hers. It had been cut out of stone that was almost transparently clear and had sunk to the bottom of the sea when the ship that had carried it was lost. Close to the statue she had planted a pink tree; it looked like a weeping willow. The tree was taller than the sculpture. Its long soft branches bent toward the sand; it looked as if the top of the tree and its root wanted to kiss each other.
The princesses liked nothing better than to listen to their old grandmother tell about the world above. She had to recount countless times all she knew about ships, towns, human beings, and the animals that lived up on land. The youngest of the mermaids thought it particularly wonderful that the flowers up there had fragrance, for that they did not have on the bottom of the sea. She also liked to hear about the green forest, where the fishes that swam among the branches could sing most beautifully. Grandmother called the birds “fishes”; otherwise, her little grandchildren would not have understood her, since they had never seen a bird.
“But when you are fifteen, then you will be allowed to swim to the surface,” she promised. “Then you can climb up on a rock and sit and watch the big ships sail by. If you dare, you can swim close enough to the shore to see the towns and the forest.”
The following year, the oldest of the princesses would be fifteen. From one sister to the next, there was a difference in age of about a year, which meant that the youngest would have to wait more than five whole years before she would be allowed to swim up from the bottom of the sea and take a look at us. But each promised the others that she would return after her first day above, and tell about the things she had seen and describe what she thought was loveliest of all. For the old grandmother could not satisfy their curiosity.
None of the sisters longed so much to see the world above as the youngest, the one who had to wait the longest before she could leave her home. Many a night this quiet, thoughtful little mermaid would stand by the open window, looking up through the dark blue waters where the fishes swam. She could see the moon and the stars; they looked paler but larger down here under the sea. Sometimes a great shadow passed by like a cloud and then she knew that it was either a whale or a ship, with its crew and passengers, that was sailing high above her. None on board could have imagined that a little beautiful
mermaid stood in the depths below them and stretched her little white hands up toward the keel of their ship.
The oldest of the sisters had her fifteenth birthday and swam up to the surface of the sea. When she returned she had hundreds of things to tell. But of everything that had happened to her, the loveliest experience by far, she claimed, had been to lie on a sandbank, when the sea was calm and the moon was out, and look at a great city. The lights from the windows and streets had shone like hundreds of stars; and she had been able to hear the rumbling of the carriages and the voices of human beings and, best of all, the sound of music. She had seen all the church towers and steeples and heard their bells ring. And just because she would never be able to enter the city, she longed to be able to do that more than anything else.
How carefully her youngest sister listened to every word and remembered everything that she had been told. When, late in the evening, the little mermaid would stand dreaming by the window and look up through the blue water, then she imagined that she could see the city and hear the bells of the churches ringing.
The next year the second of the sisters was allowed to swim away from home. Her little head had emerged above the water just at the moment when the sun was setting. This sight had been so beautiful that she could hardly describe it. The whole heaven had been covered in gold and the clouds that had sailed above her had been purple and crimson. A flight of wild swans, like a white veil just above the water, had flown by. She had swum toward the sun, but it had set, taking the colors of the clouds, sea, and sky with it.