“Oh you were a wonderful mistress!” said Maren. “I’ll never forget how kind you and your husband were.”
“You were with us in the good years! We didn’t have children then. I never saw the student. Well, I saw him, but he didn’t see me. He came home for his mother’s funeral, and I saw him standing by the grave. He was chalk-white and so sad, but it was for his mother’s sake. Later when his father died, he was abroad and didn’t come home, and hasn’t been back since. I know that he never got married. I guess he was a lawyer. He didn’t remember me, and if he had seen me, I’m sure he wouldn’t have recognized me since I’ve become so ugly. So that’s for the best.”
And she talked about the difficult days, how misfortune seemed to overwhelm them. They had five hundred dollars, and since there was a house for sale in their street for two hundred, they though it would pay to buy it and tear it down to build a new one. The house was bought. The masons and carpenters estimated that it would cost a thousand and twenty dollars more. Erik the glove maker had credit, and he got the money on loan from Copenhagen, but the captain who was bringing the money was lost in a shipwreck and the money with him.
“That’s when I had my wonderful boy, who’s sleeping here. His father fell ill with a terrible long-lasting illness. For nine months I had to dress and undress him. Things went from bad to worse for us. We borrowed and borrowed. We lost all our things, and then my husband died! I have toiled and worked, struggled and slaved for the sake of my child. I’ve washed floors, done laundry both fine and coarse. It’s God’s will that I don’t do better, but he will surely let me go soon and then provide for my boy.”
And then she slept.
Later in the morning she felt stronger and strong enough, she thought, to go back to work. She had just gone into the cold water when she was overcome by a shaking, a faint. Convulsively she reached out with her hand, took a step, and fell. Her head was lying on dry land, but her feet were in the river. Her wooden shoes that she had worn in the river—there was a bundle of straw in each of them—floated in the current. She was found by Maren, who came with coffee.
There had been a message from the mayor that she had to meet with him right away. He had something to tell her, but it was too late. A barber was fetched for blood-letting, but the washerwoman was dead.
“She drank herself to death!” said the mayor.
The letter that brought the news of his brother’s death also contained the contents of the will. There was a bequest of six hundred dollars to the glove maker’s widow, who had once served his parents. The money should be paid out to the woman and her child in larger or smaller amounts according to what was best.
“There were some dealings between my brother and her,” said the mayor. “It’s a good thing she’s out of the way. The boy will get it all, and I’ll place him with some good people. He could become a good tradesman.” And God’s blessing fell on those words.
The mayor summoned the boy and promised to provide for him, and told him what a good thing it was that his mother was dead. She was no good!
She was carried to the grave-yard, to the poor people’s cemetery. Maren planted a little rose bush by the grave, and the boy stood beside it.
“My sweet mother!” he said and tears streamed down his face. “Is it true that she was no good?”
“No, she was good!” said the old maid and looked up towards heaven. “I know that from many years’ experience and from her last night. I tell you, she was good. And God in heaven knows it too, no matter if the world says—‘She was no good!’ ”
THE ANTHROPOMORPHIZING OF ANIMALS AND NATURE
THE UGLY DUCKLING
IT WAS SO LOVELY out in the country. It was summer. The wheat was yellow. The oats were green. The hay was up on haystacks down in the green meadows, and the stork walked there on his long red legs speaking Egyptian, a language he had learned from his mother. Around the fields and meadows there were big forests, and in the middle of the forests, deep lakes. Oh yes, it was really lovely there in the country. There was an old estate lying there in the bright sunshine. It had deep canals around it, and from the walls and down to the water big dock plants were growing, so tall that small children could stand upright under the largest of them. It was as overgrown in there as in the densest forest, and there was a duck there sitting on her nest. She was going to hatch her little ducklings, but she was getting tired of it because it took so long, and she rarely had company. The other ducks would rather swim in the canals than run up and sit under a dock leaf to yak and quack with her.
Finally one egg after another cracked. “Peep! Peep!” they said. All the egg yolks had become living and stuck their heads out.
“Quack! Quack! Quick!” she said, and they all quickly hurried the best they could and looked all around under the green leaves. Their mother let them look around as much as they wanted because green is good for the eyes.
“How big the world is!” all the ducklings said because they had quite a different amount of room now than when they were in the egg.
“Do you think this is the whole world?” asked their mother. “It stretches way down on the other side of the garden, right into the minister’s field! But I’ve never been there. You’re all here, aren’t you?” And she got up. “No, I don’t have all! The biggest egg is still lying there. How long is this going to take? I’m getting tired of this!” And she lay down again.
“How’s it going?” asked an old duck who came to visit.
“The one egg is taking much too long,” said the duck who was lying there. “It won’t hatch! But look at the others! They’re the most beautiful ducklings I’ve seen. They all look like their father, that beast! He hasn’t come to visit me.”
“Let me see the egg that won’t hatch,” said the old duck. “You can be sure it’s a turkey egg. I was fooled like that one time too, and I had a lot of trouble and care with those children because they’re afraid of water, let me tell you. I couldn’t get them in. I quacked and snapped, but it didn’t help! Let me see the egg. Yes, it’s a turkey egg. Just leave it lying there and go teach the others to swim.”
“I’ll just sit here a little bit longer,” said the duck. “Since I’ve sat here this long, I can just as well sit a little longer.”
“Suit yourself,” said the old duck, and she left.
Finally the big egg cracked. “Peep, peep!” said the chick and tumbled out. He was so big and ugly. The duck looked at him. “That is one big duckling!” she said. “None of the others look like that. Can it be that it’s a turkey chick? Well, we’ll soon find out about that. He’s going in the water if I have to kick him in myself!”
The next day the weather was lovely. The sun was shining on all the green burdock leaves. The mother duck with her whole family went down by the canal. Splash! She jumped into the water. “Quack, quack, quick” she said, and one duck after another plopped in. The water covered their heads, but they came up right away and floated very nicely. Their legs paddled instinctively, and they were all in the water, even the ugly gray chick was swimming along.
“No, that’s no turkey,” she said. “Look how nicely he uses his feet, how straight he holds himself. It’s my own child! In reality he’s really quite attractive when you look closely at him. Quack, quack, quick! Come with me, and I’ll take you into the world and introduce you in the hen yard, but stay close to me so no one steps on you and watch out for the cats.”
They went into the hen yard. It was terribly noisy there because there were two families fighting over an eel head, but in the end the cat got it.
“See, that’s the way of the world,” said the mother duck and licked her beak because she had also wanted the eel head. “Now shake a leg,” she said. “Hurry over and curtsey deeply to that old duck over there. She is the most distinguished of them all. She has Spanish blood. That’s why she’s so stout, and notice that she has a red cloth around her leg. That’s extremely wonderful, and the greatest recognition a duck can have. It means so
much. It means they’ll never get rid of her, and she’ll be recognized by animals and people—Hurry up!—Not pigeon-toed! A properly raised duckling places his feet far apart, like father and mother. All right, now duck from the neck and say ‘Quack!’”
And so they did, but the other ducks around looked at them and said quite loudly, “So, now we’ll have another set, as if there weren’t enough of us already! And ugh, how ugly that one duckling is! We won’t tolerate him!”—And right away a duck flew over to him and bit him in the neck.
“Leave him alone,” his mother said. “He’s not doing anything to anyone.”
“No, but he’s too big and too odd,” said the duck who had bitten him. “So he has to be bullied.”
“Those are lovely children mother has,” said the old duck with the cloth around her leg. “All pretty, except that one, who isn’t a success. I would wish she could make it over again.”
“It can’t be done, Your Highness,” said the mother duck. “He isn’t attractive, but he has a wonderful disposition and swims as beautifully as the others, maybe even better. I think he’ll grow more attractive, or maybe with time he’ll get a little smaller. He was in the egg too long, and so he didn’t get the correct shape.” Then she picked at his neck and smoothed him out. “And he’s a drake after all,” she said, “so it doesn’t matter so much. I think he’ll be strong and make a splash in the world.”
“The other ducklings are lovely,” said the old duck. “Make yourselves at home, and if you find an eel head, you may bring it to me!”
And they made themselves at home.
But the poor duckling who had been last out of the egg and who looked so dreadful was bitten, pushed, and made fun of, by both the ducks and the chickens. “He’s too big,” they all said, and the turkey rooster, who was born with spurs and thought he was an emperor, blew himself up like a clipper ship under full sail, went right up to him, gobbled at him, and turned red in the face. The poor duckling didn’t know whether he was coming or going, and was very sad because he was so ugly. Indeed, he was the laughing stock of the entire hen yard.
That’s how it went the first day, and later it became worse and worse. The poor duckling was chased by all of them. Even his siblings were mean to him and said continually, “if only the cat would take you, you nasty fright!” and his mother said, “I just wish you were far away.” The ducks bit him, the chickens pecked him, and the girl who fed the animals kicked at him with her foot.
Then he ran and flew over the hedge. The small birds in the bushes flew up in the air in fright. “It’s because I’m so ugly,” thought the duckling and closed his eyes, but he ran off anyway and came out to the big marshes where the wild ducks lived. He lay there the whole night, tired and sorrowful.
In the morning the wild ducks flew up and looked at the new comrade. “What kind of a fellow are you?” they said, and the duckling turned from side to side and greeted everyone as best he could.
“You’re remarkably ugly,” said the wild ducks, “but it doesn’t matter to us, as long as you don’t marry into our family.”—Poor thing! He wasn’t thinking of getting married, only hoped he would be allowed to lie in the rushes and drink some of the marsh water.
He lay there for two whole days. Then two wild geese came, or rather two ganders, for they were both males, and they hadn’t been out of the egg for long, and that’s why they were so fresh.
“Hey fellow,” they said. “You’re so ugly that you’re likable. Would you like to come along and migrate with us? Right near here in another bog are some sweet wild geese—all of them maidens who know how to quack, I tell you. You could get lucky, even as ugly as you are!”
Just then there was a “bang! bang!” up above, and both wild geese fell dead into the rushes, and the water turned blood red. “Bang! bang!” sounded again, and whole flocks of wild geese flew up from the rushes, and then there was more firing. It was a big hunt. The hunters were lying all around the marshes. Some were even sitting up in the tree branches that reached way out over the rushes. The blue smoke drifted like clouds in between the dark trees and hung far out over the water. Through the mud came the hunting dogs: splash, splash. Rushes and reeds swayed from side to side. It was fright ful for the poor duckling who turned his head around to hide it under his wing, and just then a dreadfully big dog was right by him. The tongue was hanging out of its mouth, and the eyes were shining so terribly nastily. He brought his mouth right down to the duckling, showed his sharp teeth and—splash! splash! He was gone again without taking him.
“Oh, thank God,” sighed the duckling. “I’m so ugly that even the dog can’t be bothered to bite me.”
And he lay perfectly still as the bullets whistled in the rushes, and shot after shot rang out.
Not until late in the day was it quiet, but the poor duckling didn’t dare get up. He waited several more hours before he looked around, and then he hurried away from the marsh as fast as he could. He ran over fields and meadows. It was so windy that it was hard for him to keep going.
Towards evening he reached a humble little farmer’s hut. It was so run down that it didn’t know itself on which side to collapse so it remained standing. The wind was blowing so hard around the duckling that he had to sit on his tail to avoid blowing over, and it got worse and worse. Then he noticed that the door was hanging on one hinge and was hanging so crookedly that he could slip through the crack into the room, and that’s what he did.
An old woman lived there with her cat and her hen, and the cat, whom she called Sonny, could arch his back and purr. He could even give off sparks if you petted him against the grain. The hen had quite small, low legs, and so she was called Cluckie-LittleLeg. She laid good eggs, and the woman was as fond of her as of her own child.
In the morning they noticed the foreign duckling at once, and the cat started to purr, and the hen to cluck.
“What’s this?!” said the woman and looked all around, but she didn’t see very well, and so she thought the duckling was a fat run-away duck. “This is a rare find,” she said. “Now I can have duck eggs, as long as it’s not a drake. We’ll have to find out.”
So the duckling was put on a three week trial, but no eggs appeared. The cat was the head of the household, and the hen was the mistress, and they said all the time, “We and the world” because they thought that they were half of it, and that the best half. The duckling thought there might be another opinion, but the hen wouldn’t tolerate that.
“Can you lay eggs?” she asked.
“No.”
“Well then, keep your mouth shut.”
And the cat said, “Can you arch your back, purr, and give off sparks?”
“No.”
“Well then you can’t have an opinion when sensible people are talking.”
And the duckling sat in the corner in a bad mood. He started thinking about the fresh air and sunshine and had such a great longing to float on the water. At last he couldn’t help it, he had to tell the hen.
“What’s the matter with you?” she asked. “You don’t have anything to do, that’s why you get these wild ideas. Lay eggs or purr, and it’ll pass.”
“But it’s so lovely to float on the water,” said the duckling. “So lovely to have it wash over your head and dive down to the bottom.”
“Sure, that’s a great pleasure,” said the hen. “You’ve gone completely crazy! Just ask the cat—he’s the wisest one I know—if he likes floating on the water or diving. I won’t speak about myself. Ask our mistress, the old woman. No one in the world is wiser than she is. Do you think she wants to float and have water gush over her head?”