Just Sixteen.

  ETELKA'S CHOICE.

  Etelka lived on the very borders of the Fairy Country.

  It may be that some of you do not believe that there are any such beingsas fairies. In fact, it is not easy to hold to one's faith in them whenone lives in such a country as this of ours. Fairies are the shyest ofcreatures; shyer than the wood-dove, shyer than the glancing dragon-fly.They love silence, seclusion, places where they can sport unseen with nointruding voice or step to startle them: when man comes they go. And Iput it to you whether it is likely that they can enjoy themselves in theUnited States, where every forest with any trees in it worth cuttingdown is liable at any moment to be attacked by an army of wood-choppers;where streams are looked upon as "water power," lakes as "water supply,"and ponds as suitable places for the breeding of fish; where distanceis brought near by railroads, and solitudes only mean a chance for asettler; where people are always poking about the hills and mountains insearch of coal mines or silver mines, and prodding the valleys in hopesof oil wells, and where silence generally means an invitation to asteam-whistle of one kind or another?

  But where Etelka lived no one doubted the reality of fairies any morethan they did that of human beings. Her home was in Bohemia, in theoutskirts of the _Boehmer-wald_, a vast, unpeopled tract of mountainouscountry thickly wooded, full of game, and seldom visited except byhunting-parties in pursuit of stags or wild boars. Etelka's people wereof mixed Sclavonic and gypsy origin. They cultivated a patch of landunder the stewardship of a lord who never came near his estate, but thiswas only their ostensible occupation; for poaching or smuggling goodsacross the frontier brought in a great deal more money to them than didfarming. There were three sons, Marc, Jocko, and Hanserl; Etelka was theonly girl. They were lithe, sinewy young fellows, with the swarthy skinsand glittering black eyes which belonged to their gypsy blood, andsomething furtive and threatening in their looks, but she was different.Her hair and eyes were of a warm brown, her features were delicate, andtheir expression was wistful and sweet. All summer long she ran aboutwith her slender feet and ankles bare. A thin little cotton gown and abead necklace composed her wardrobe for the warmer months. In winter shewore woollen stockings and wooden shoes, a stuff petticoat and a littleshawl. She was always shabby, often ragged, and on cold days scarcelyever warm enough to be comfortable; but she somehow looked pretty in herpoor garments, for beauty is the gift of Heaven, and quite as often sentto huts as to palaces. No one had ever told Etelka that she was pretty,except indeed young Sepperl of the Mill, whom she had seen now and againon her semi-annual visits to the neighboring village to dispose of heryarn, and he had said more with his eyes than with his tongue!

  To her family it made no difference whatever whether she was pretty ornot. They preferred to have her useful, and they took care that sheshould be so. She spun and sewed, she cleaned the pots and pans, cookedthe rye porridge and the cabbage soup, and rarely got a word of thanksfor her pains. Her brothers flung her their jackets to mend or theirgame to dress, without a word of ceremony; if she had refused or delayedto attend to their wants she would have got a rough word, a curse, orperhaps a blow. But Etelka never refused; she was a willing littlecreature, kindly and cheerful, and had no lazy blood in her veins. Soearly and late she worked for them all, and her chief, almost her onlypleasure was when, her tasks despatched, she could escape from the hutwith its atmosphere of smoke and toil, and get away into the forest byherself.

  When once the green and fragrant hush of the high-arched thickets closedher in, she would give a sigh of relief, and a sense of being at hometook possession of her. She did not feel it in the hut, though shecalled that home, and it was the only one she had ever known.

  Did Etelka believe in fairies? Indeed she did! She had a whole volume ofstories about them at her tongue's end. Her great-grandmother had seenthem often; so had her great-aunt. The mother of Dame Gretel, the wisewoman of the village, who herself passed for a witch, had been onintimate terms for a long time with a hoary little kobold who hadtaught her all manner of marvellous things. The same fortunate woman hadonce seen Rubesal, the mountain demon, and had left an account of himand his looks, which were exactly those of a charcoal-burner. Etelkaknew the very hollow where Dame Gretel's mother used to sit and listento the teachings of the kobold, and could point out the ring where anumber of the "good people" had once been seen moving a mystic dance,their wings glancing in the darkness like fire-flies. She, herself, hadnever seen a fairy or a kobold, it is true; everybody was not thusfortunate, but she might some day, who knew? And meantime she had oftenheard them whispering and sighing in their odd little voices closebeside her. You may be sure that Etelka believed in fairies. It was onereason why she liked so well to go to the great forest, which was theirwell-known abiding-place.

  One day the desire to escape from home was unusually strong upon her.Her mother was out of sorts for some reason and had been particularlyharsh. Her father, who sometimes stood her friend, had gone to thevillage with a bundle of hare-skins which he hoped to trade for oil andbrandy. Her brothers, who had some private expedition on foot, had kepther running since early morning. She had grown tired and a little crossat their many exactions, and when, finally, all was made ready, and theyset out with their guns and snares and a knapsack full of food, and hermother, sitting with her pipe beside the fire, had fallen into a doze,Etelka gladly closed the door behind her and stole away. The soup wassimmering in its pot, the bowls were ready set on the table. She wouldnot be missed. For an hour or two she might feel that she belonged toherself.

  The forest felt deliciously cool and still as she walked fast up thelittle glade which led to the Fairy Spring. This was a small pool ofclear water, bubbling strongly up from a sandy bottom, and curiouslywalled round with smooth stones, which seemed fitted and joined by thelabor of man, though in reality they were a freak of nature.

  Etelka sat herself down on this stony rim, dipped her hands in the waterand sprinkled a little on her hot forehead. A tall spear of featherygrass grew just by. Presently it began to bend and sway as ifwind-blown, and dance lightly up and down before her face. She took nonotice at first; then it occurred to her, as no wind was blowinganywhere else, it was odd that this particular grass-blade should be insuch active motion.

  "How queer," she said, looking hard at the grass-blade; "it seems to bealive!"

  A shrill, small laugh echoed her words, and suddenly, as if her eyes hadbeen magically opened to see, she became aware that a tiny shape ingreen, with a pointed cap on its head, was sitting upon the blade ofgrass and moving it to and fro with hand and foot. The littlecountenance under the cap was full of mischief and malice, and thebright eyes regarded her with a strange glee. Etelka knew instantly thather wish had come true, and that at last she was face to face with averitable fairy.

  "Oh!" was all she could say in her amazement.

  "Well, stupid, do you know who I am?" asked the creature in a voice asshrill as its laugh.

  "Yes, mein Herr," faltered Etelka.

  "Here you have gone about all your days wishing you could see a fairy,"continued the small creature, "and there we were close by all the time,and you never opened your eyes to look. How do you like me now you dosee me?"

  "Very much, Herr Fairy," replied Etelka, gaining courage. "I think youare beautiful."

  The fairy seemed pleased at this compliment, which was evidentlysincere.

  "Thou art a good maiden enough, as maidens go," he said, accosting hermore familiarly. "I have long had my eye on thee, Etelklein. I have satup in the roof-thatch and heard Jocko and Hanserl scold and hector, andthe mother order thee about, and I have noted that thou wast almostalways kind and humble, and seldom answered them back again. Thou artneat-handed, too, and that we fairies think much of. Many a drink ofgood new milk have I had, which I should have missed hadst thouforgotten to scour the pail. So now in return I will do something forthee. Listen.

  "Thou must know that each fairy of the _Boehmer-wald_ has the privilegeonce every hundred years of gran
ting one wish to a mortal. All do notexercise it. Some crabbed ones do not like the human folk enough to bewilling to do them a good turn, others again are too lazy or toopleasure-loving to go out of their way for the purpose. I am neither ofthese. Now, hearken. I will give thee the power that every time thoudancest a piece of gold shall lie under thy foot--or, instead of thegold, a flower shall spring up out of the ground; which wilt thou have?"

  "Yes; which wilt thou have?" cried another sharp voice, and a secondfairy appeared, out of the air as it were, and seated himself on thevery tip of the grass-blade. "Don't be in a hurry. Think a bit beforeyou choose, Etelka. Why, child, what are you looking so scared about?"

  For Etelka had grown pale, and had not been able to repress a littlescream at this sudden apparition. She rallied her courage and tried tolook brave, but her heart misgave her. Was the wood full of these unseencreatures?

  "It is only my gossip," explained fairy number one. "Thimblerig is hisname. Mine is Pertzal. He usually comes after me wherever I go. Youneedn't be afraid of _him_. Now, gold-piece or flower--decide."

  Etelka was in a whirl of confusion. It was dreadful to have to make upher mind all in a moment about such an important thing. Her thoughtsflew to Sepperl of the Mill. He was fond of flowers, she knew; the millgarden was always full of blue flax, poppies, and lavender, and Sepperlspent all his spare hours in working over it. Suppose--suppose--thething over which she had sometimes shyly glowed and blushed were tohappen, how pleasant it would be to dance flowers all day long forSepperl!

  Then her mind reverted to the hut, to her mother and the boys, who werealways craving after the luxuries of life which they could not have, andfiercely envying those who were better off than themselves. Would theynot be happier and better and kinder for the gold which she had it inher power to give them? They would not forgive her if she lost such achance, that she knew. And even so far as Sepperl went, gold never cameamiss to a poor man's door. So many things could be bought with it.

  "One cannot eat flowers," said Etelka to herself with a sigh; yet stillshe hesitated, and her heart felt heavy within her.

  "Choose," repeated the two fairies, each echoing the other.

  "I choose the gold-piece," said Etelka. The fairy faces clouded over asshe spoke, and she knew she had chosen wrong.

  "Very well," said Pertzal, "have thy wish." He vanished as he spoke.Etelka sat alone by the bubbling spring, and she rubbed her eyes andasked herself if it were not all a dream.

  "I will put it to the test," she thought; and jumping up she began todance beneath the trees, slowly and doubtfully at first, and then withswift and joyful bounds and steps, for as she danced, ever and anon uponthe ground beneath her feet appeared a glittering coin. She danced solong that when at last she ceased she sank down exhausted. The beautifulyellow pieces lay thickly around her, some larger, some smaller, as iftheir size depended upon the vigor of her movements. She had neverdreamed of such wealth before, and she gathered them up and tied them inthe corner of her shawl, half-fearing they might turn to brass orpebbles; but when she neared home and looked at them again they werestill gold.

  Her mother was standing at the door with a black look on her face.

  "Where hast thou been, thou idle baggage?" she demanded. "I drop asleepfor one moment, and when I wake the fire is well-nigh out."

  Etelka glanced at the setting sun. In her excitement she had not markedthe flight of time. It was much later than she had supposed.

  "I am sorry," she faltered. Then, to appease her mother's anger, sheuntied the corner of her shawl and showed the fairy money.

  "See what I have brought," she said; "they are all for thee."

  The old woman fairly gasped in her surprise.

  "Gold!" she cried, clutching the coins which Etelka held out. "Realgold! More than I ever saw before. Where didst get it, girl? Who gave itthee?"

  "The fairies!" exclaimed Etelka joyfully. "And they taught me how to getmore when we are again in need."

  "Do you dare to make a mock of me?" screamed her mother, aiming a blowat her with the staff which she held in her hand. "Fairies indeed! Afine story! Tell the truth, hussy. Didst thou meet some count in theforest--or the landgrave himself?"

  "I met nobody," persisted Etelka, "no one at all except the fairy andthe other fairy, and it was they who gave me the gift."

  Her mother's staff descended with a whack on her shoulder.

  "Get thee in," she said harshly. "Thou are lying." But she held fast tothe gold all the same, and when Etelka's back was turned she hid itsecretly away.

  So the first fruit of the fairy gift was a blow!

  Later, when the father came back from the village, there was anotherscene of severity and suspicion. Neither of Etelka's parents believedher story. They treated her like a culprit who will not confess hisguilt. It was worse yet when her brothers returned the following day. Invain she wept and protested, in vain she implored them to believe her.

  "It's easy enough to talk," Jocko declared at last, "but to prove thywords is not so easy. If thou hast the power to dance gold-pieces intoexistence, why, face to work and dance! Then we shall know whether ornot to believe thee."

  Strange to say, this method of proving her veracity had not occurred toEtelka's mind. After her troubled sleep and unhappy day she had begunto feel that the interview with the fairies was no more than a dream,and she scarcely ventured on the test, dreading that the strange giftbestowed upon her might have been withdrawn.

  Slowly and fearfully she began to dance, while her family watched everymovement with eyes of scornful incredulity. Suddenly Marc, uttering agreat oath, stooped and picked up something from the hard-troddenearthen floor. It was a gold-piece!

  "By Heavens!" he exclaimed, "the girl spoke true! or"--with a return ofsuspicion--"is it one of those she gave thee which thou hast dropped?"turning to his mother.

  But as Etelka, with heart suddenly grown lighter, went on bounding andtwirling, one shining coin after another shone out on the floor beneathher feet, and with howls and screams of joy her relatives precipitatedthemselves upon them. It seemed as if they could never have enough. IfEtelka paused to rest they urged her on.

  "Dance thou!" they cried. "Dance, Etelklein, liebchen, susschen,darling of our hearts, do not stop! Keep on till we are all rich."

  One hour, two, passed, and still Etelka obeyed their eager behest anddanced on. The boys' pockets, her father's pouch, her mother's lap werefull, and yet they demanded more.

  At last, quite worn out, she sank in a heap on the ground.

  "I cannot take another step," she sighed.

  "Oh, well," Jocko reluctantly admitted, "that may do for to-night.To-morrrow we will have some more of it."

  From that day all was changed for the family in the forest hut. Everyone, except Etelka, fell to work straightway to squander the fairy gold.The sons made expeditions to the distant town, and came back laden withgoods of the most incongruous kinds,--silks, velvets, tobacco,gold-embroidered caps, bonbons, carved pipes, gayly painted china, giltclocks, toys of all descriptions; anything and everything which hadpleased their untutored fancy. The father and mother smoked all daylong, till the air of the hut was dense and stifling. Brandy and_kirsch-wasser_ flowed in streams. Etelka alone profited nothing fromthe fairy gift. To be sure she had her share of the dainties which theothers devoured, and her brothers now and then tossed her a ribbon or abrightly colored handkerchief; but for these she did not much care, andher liberty, for which she did care, was greatly abridged. No longer wasshe suffered to wander at will in the forest. She had become tooprecious for that. Something might happen to her, they all declared, abear or a wolf might come along and attack her, or she might slip andsprain her ankle, which, so far as they were concerned, would be just asbad! No, Etelka must run no risks; she must stay at home, and be readyto dance for them whenever they needed her.

  The slender limbs grew very weary, and the heart which gave them lifewas often heavy, as time went on, and more and more gold was needed
tosatisfy the exactions of her family. Money easily won is still moreeasily spent. The fairy gold melted fast in the rapacious fingers whichclutched it. Soon--for appetite grows by what it feeds upon--the littlehut no longer sufficed the growing ambition of Etelka's brothers. It wastoo poor, too lonely, too everything, they declared; they must allremove to Budweis or Linz; the city was the only fit place for people tolive in who had money to spend.

  Etelka was not consulted. She was ordered to pack this and that, and toleave the other behind, that was all, and was made to dance a few extrahours to pay the travelling expenses. All the homely old furniture wasleft in the hut, as not smart enough for the grand city home they weregoing to. They took only the things they had bought since their goodluck began; but these filled a great cart, on the top of which Etelkaand her mother were perched. She cast one last look toward her belovedforest, to which she had not been allowed a farewell visit. Jockocracked his long whip, the oxen slowly moved forward. "Good-by toeverything," said Etelka in her heart, but she dared not say it aloud.

  A quick pang shot through her as they passed the mill garden, gay withflowers, where Sepperl, hoe in hand, was standing. His eyes met herswith deep and silent reproach, then were averted. She did notunderstand, but it made her very sad. No one had told her that a fewweeks before, Sepperl had asked her in marriage of her father, and hadbeen roughly refused. Such an offer would have been looked upon asunheard-of good fortune six months previously; now it was regardedalmost as an insult! Marry Etelka! Take their gold-earner away fromthem! It was out of the question. What was the fool thinking of? ButEtelka heard nothing of all this.

  Haunted by the recollection of Sepperl's wistful glance, she went herway with the others. Little heart had she for the new home which seemedto them so fine. It was high up in an old building, overlooking acrowded street. The rooms seemed very large and empty after the foresthut, and the first care of the family was to furnish them. With recklessdisregard of good taste as well as of expense, Marc and Jocko andHanserl rushed away to the market and the shops, and presently thestairs began to fill with porters bringing up all manner ofthings,--beds and chairs and tables, gaudy carpets for the floors,ill-painted pictures in showy frames for the walls, a piano on whichnone of them knew how to play, a music-box of extraordinary size whichcould play without assistance, looking-glasses, lamps, wonderful chinafigures, a parrot in a gilded cage, with a dreadful command of profanelanguage. The rooms were filled and more than filled in no time, andfor the payment of all these things Etelka must dance!

  And dance she did, but with a heavy heart and no spring in her feet.Accustomed to the quiet of the forest neighborhood, the sounds andsmells of the city oppressed her greatly. The crowd and bustlefrightened her, the roar of noise kept her awake at night, she felt asif she could not breathe. Things grew worse rather than better. Theirextravagance provoked notice, and the fame of their riches and theirignorance soon brought about them a crew of tempters and needyadventurers. Men with evil eyes and sly greedy faces began to appear atall hours, to smoke and drink with Marc and Jocko, to gamble with themand win their money. Much money did they win, and all that was lostEtelka must make good. With her will or without it, she mustdance,--dance always to content her rapacious kindred. They could hardlyendure to spare her for the most needful rest. Time and again when shehad sunk exhausted on her bed to sleep, while dice rattled and glassesclinked in the next room, Hanserl or Jocko had rushed in to awaken herroughly and demand that she should get up at once and dance. Stumblingand half blind with drowsiness the poor girl would do her best, but hermovements being less brisk and buoyant, the coins would be of smallervalue, and she would be sworn at for her pains, and threatened with direpenalties if she did not do better next time.

  No wonder that under this treatment she grew pale and thin. The prettycheeks lost their roundness, the pink faded from them, her eyes weredull and lustreless. A great homesickness took possession of her. Nightand day she pined for the forest hut. So wan and unhappy was she, thateven the hard hearts of those who profited by her should have beentouched by it; but no one noticed her looks or cared that she wasunhappy, so long as she would keep on dancing and coin gold for them.

  At last came a day when she could not rise from her bed. Marc came andthreatened her, he even pulled her on to her feet, but it was in vain;she fell down with weakness and could not stand. Alarmed at last, Jockohastened after a doctor. He came, felt Etelka's pulse, shook his head.

  "What has she been doing?" he asked.

  Nothing, they told him, nothing at all! Then he shook his head stillmore portentously.

  "Ah, well, in that case it is all of no use," he said. "She is all givenout. She must die."

  And now indeed those who had let Etelka tire herself to death for themwere thoroughly frightened. With her would perish all their hopes, forthe gold she had earned for them had been spent as fast as made; nothinghad been laid up. They took wonderfully good care of her now. There wasnothing she fancied that they would not willingly have brought her; butall the poor child asked for was to be left alone and suffered to liestill, not to be forced to keep on with that weary dancing!

  Gradually the spent flame of life flickered feebly upward within her,and as she gained a little in strength, a longing after the forest tookpossession of her. The wish seemed utterly foolish to her family, butthey would not refuse it, for their one desire was to have her get welland able to earn gold for them again. So the big wagon and the oxen werehired, Etelka on her bed was laid carefully in it, Marc took the goad,and slowly, slowly, the sick girl was carried back to her old home.

  All was unchanged there. Dust lay thickly on the rude furniture whichhad been left behind, on the pots and pans which hung upon the wall, butno one had meddled with them or lifted the latch of the door since thefamily went away. The cool hush and stillness of the place was like abalm to Etelka's overstrained nerves. She slept that night as she hadnot slept for weeks, and on the morrow was visibly stronger. Marc didnot stay with her long. The quiet of the hut disgusted him, and afterenduring it for a day or two he went back to the others in the city,leaving Etelka alone with her father and mother. He gave strict ordersthat he was to be sent for the moment that Etelka was able to use herfeet again. Then, indeed, she must fall to work and dance to make up forall this wasted time.

  Poor Etelka rejoiced to see him go. She had learned to fear her brothersand almost to dislike them.

  The day after he went, she begged her father to carry her in his arms tothe edge of the forest and lay her under a tree. She wanted to feel thewind in her face again, she said. He consented at last, though grumblinga little at the trouble. Etelka was comfortably placed on a bear-skinunder the shade of a spreading fir, and after a while, as her eyes wereclosed and she seemed to be asleep, her father stole away and left her.She was in full sight of the hut, so there seemed no danger in leavingher alone.

  But Etelka was not asleep. She was thinking with all her might, thinkingof the fairy, wishing she could see him again and ask him to undo thefatal gift which had brought such misery into her life.

  Suddenly, as she lay thinking these thoughts, her cheek was tickledsharply. She opened her eyes. There stood the same odd little figure ingreen which she had seen before; as then a grass-blade was in his hand,and leaning over his shoulder was his gossip Thimblerig. Etelka almostscreamed in her joy.

  "Thou seemest pleased to see us," remarked Pertzal with a mocking smile.

  "Oh, I am glad, indeed I am," cried poor Etelka. "Dear kind Herr Fairy,have pity! Don't let me dance gold any more!"

  "What! Tired already? What queer creatures mortals be!" began Pertzalteasingly; but the kinder Thimblerig interposed.

  "Tired of her gift, of course she is! You knew she would be when yougave it, Gossip! Don't plague the poor child. Look how thin she hasgrown. But, Etelka, I must tell thee that when once a fairy has grantedto a mortal his wish, he has no power to take it back again."

  "What!" cried Etelka in despair, "must I then go on da
ncing forever tillI die?"

  "He cannot take it back," repeated Thimblerig. "But do not cry so; thereis another way. A second fairy can grant a wish which will contradictthe first, and so all may be made right. Now, Etelka, I have a kindnessfor thee as well as Pertzal here, and like him I have the right to granta favor to a mortal. Now, listen. Dance thee never so well or dance theenever so long, from henceforward shall never gold-piece lie under footof thine for all thy dancing! And, furthermore, if ever thou art marriedto a man whom thou lovest, I endow thee with this gift, that when thoudancest with will and because thy heart is light, violets and daisiesand all sweet blossoms shall spring at thy tread, till all about thee isas a garden."

  "Now I will add this piece of advice," said Pertzal, grinningmaliciously. "If ever this does happen, hold thy tongue about thy giftto thy husband. The best of men can hardly resist the temptation ofmaking money out of their womenkind,--safety lies in silence."

  "Oh, how can I thank you?" sighed Etelka.

  "Thank us by being happy," said Thimblerig. Then the fairies faded fromsight, and Etelka was alone.

  I have not time to tell of the wrath of Etelka's father and mother andbrothers, when, as she grew strong enough to dance again for theirbidding, it was found that no gold-pieces followed her light steps, andthat the fairy gift had been withdrawn. Their ill-humor and discontentmade the life of the hut worse than ever it had been before. Etelka sankinto her former insignificance. Very willingly and faithfully she workedfor them all, but she could not win them to content. One after anotherthe boys departed from home. Marc enlisted as a soldier, Jocko joined aparty of smugglers and disappeared over the Italian frontier, Hanserltook service with the charcoal-burners high up on the mountains. WhenSepperl of the Mill asked again for Etelka's hand in marriage thefollowing year, there was no question as to what answer should be givenhim. Her father was only too glad to say yes. Etelka was made happy atlast.

  She had been a wife several months before she made trial of her secondfairy gift. It was one evening when she and Sepperl were in theirgarden, and he was telling her his plans with regard to a bit of wasteland which he had lately fenced in.

  "It will take many roots and seeds to make it like the rest," heremarked, "but little by little we can do it without feeling the cost,and in the end it will be the best of all."

  Then, with a sudden flash in her eyes, Etelka left her husband and beganto dance. To and fro over the bare earth she sped with quick gracefulsteps, now advancing, now retreating, now describing circles, with herarm poised above her head like wings and her laughing eyes fixed onSepperl. He was puzzled by this freak on the part of his pretty wife,but stood watching her with great admiration, her cheeks were soflushed, and her movements so light and dainty.

  She stopped at last, came to him, and laid her hand on his arm.

  Then with a sudden flash in her eyes, Etelka left herhusband and began to dance.--_Page 202_.]

  "Now look," she said.

  And lo! where had been bare, brown earth a half-hour before, was now agreen sward enamelled all over with buttercups, violets, pink-and-whiteMichaelmas daisies, and pansies of every shade of gold and purple.

  Sepperl stood transfixed. "Hast thou commerce with the elves?" he asked.

  But Etelka did not reply. The words of Pertzal recurred to her memory,"Silence is safety," and they were like a wise hand laid on her lips.She only laughed like a silver bell, shook her head, and left onSepperl's cheek a happy kiss!