The Sleeping Beauty in the Wood of The Blue Fairy Book

By Andrew Lang
* Parental Guidance Suggested

THERE were formerly a king and a queen, who were so sorry that they
had no children; so sorry that it cannot be expressed. They went to all
the waters in the world; vows, pilgrimages, all ways were tried, and all
to no purpose.

At last, however, the Queen had a daughter. There was a very fine
christening; and the Princess had for her god- mothers all the fairies
they could find in the whole kingdom (they found seven), that every one
of them might give her a gift, as was the custom of fairies in those days.
By this means the Princess had all the perfections imaginable.

After the ceremonies of the christening were over, all the company returned to the King's palace, where was prepared a
great feast for the fairies. There was placed before every one of them a magnificent cover with a case of massive gold,
wherein were a spoon, knife, and fork, all of pure gold set with diamonds and rubies. But as they were all sitting down at
table they saw come into the hall a very old fairy, whom they had not invited, because it was above fifty years since she
had been out of a certain tower, and she was believed to be either dead or enchanted.

The King ordered her a cover, but could not furnish her with a case of gold as the others, because they had only seven
made for the seven fairies. The old Fairy fancied she was slighted, and muttered some threats between her teeth. One of
the young fairies who sat by her overheard how she grumbled; and, judging that she might give the little Princess some
unlucky gift, went, as soon as they rose from table, and hid herself behind the hangings, that she might speak last, and
repair, as much as she could, the evil which the old Fairy might intend.

In the meanwhile all the fairies began to give their gifts to the Princess. The youngest gave her for gift that she should be
the most beautiful person in the world; the next, that she should have the wit of an angel; the third, that she should have a
wonderful grace in everything she did; the fourth, that she should dance perfectly well; the fifth, that she should sing like
a nightingale; and the sixth, that she should play all kinds of music to the utmost perfection.

The old Fairy's turn coming next, with a head shaking more with spite than age, she said that the Princess should have
her hand pierced with a spindle and die of the wound. This terrible gift made the whole company tremble, and everybody
fell a-crying.

At this very instant the young Fairy came out from behind the hangings, and spake these words aloud:

"Assure yourselves, O King and Queen, that your daughter shall not die of this disaster. It is true, I have no power to
undo entirely what my elder has done. The Princess shall indeed pierce her hand with a spindle; but, instead of dying, she
shall only fall into a profound sleep, which shall last a hundred years, at the expiration of which a king's son shall come
and awake her."

The King, to avoid the misfortune foretold by the old Fairy, caused immediately proclamation to be made, whereby
everybody was forbidden, on pain of death, to spin with a distaff and spindle, or to have so much as any spindle in their
houses. About fifteen or sixteen years after, the King and Queen being gone to one of their houses of pleasure, the young
Princess happened one day to divert herself in running up and down the palace; when going up from one apartment to
another, she came into a little room on the top of the tower, where a good old woman, alone, was spinning with her
spindle. This good woman had never heard of the King's proclamation against spindles.
"What are you doing there, goody?" said the Princess.

"I am spinning, my pretty child," said the old woman, who did not know who she was.

"Ha!" said the Princess, "this is very pretty; how do you do it? Give it to me, that I may see if I can do so."

She had no sooner taken it into her hand than, whether being very hasty at it, somewhat unhandy, or that the decree of the
Fairy had so ordained it, it ran into her hand, and she fell down in a swoon.

The good old woman, not knowing very well what to do in this affair, cried out for help. People came in from every
quarter in great numbers; they threw water upon the Princess's face, unlaced her, struck her on the palms of her hands,
and rubbed her temples with Hungary- water; but nothing would bring her to herself.

And now the King, who came up at the noise, bethought himself of the prediction of the fairies, and, judging very well
that this must necessarily come to pass, since the fairies had said it, caused the Princess to be carried into the finest
apartment in his palace, and to be laid upon a bed all embroidered with gold and silver.

One would have taken her for a little angel, she was so very beautiful; for her swooning away had not diminished one bit
of her complexion; her cheeks were carnation, and her lips were coral; indeed, her eyes were shut, but she was heard to
breathe softly, which satisfied those about her that she was not dead. The King commanded that they should not disturb
her, but let her sleep quietly till her hour of awaking was come.

The good Fairy who had saved her life by condemning her to sleep a hundred years was in the kingdom of Matakin,
twelve thousand leagues off, when this accident befell the Princess; but she was instantly informed of it by a little dwarf,
who had boots of seven leagues, that is, boots with which he could tread over seven leagues of ground in one stride. The
Fairy came away immediately, and she arrived, about an hour after, in a fiery chariot drawn by dragons.

The King handed her out of the chariot, and she approved everything he had done, but as she had very great foresight,
she thought when the Princess should awake she might not know what to do with herself, being all alone in this old
palace; and this was what she did: she touched with her wand everything in the palace (except the King and Queen)--
governesses, maids of honor, ladies of the bedchamber, gentlemen, officers, stewards, cooks, undercooks, scullions,
guards, with their beefeaters, pages, footmen; she likewise touched all the horses which were in the stables, pads as well
as others, the great dogs in the outward court and pretty little Mopsey too, the Princess's little spaniel, which lay by her
on the bed.

Immediately upon her touching them they all fell asleep, that they might not awake before their mistress and that they
might be ready to wait upon her when she wanted them. The very spits at the fire, as full as they could hold of partridges
and pheasants, did fall asleep also. All this was done in a moment. Fairies are not long in doing their business.

And now the King and the Queen, having kissed their dear child without waking her, went out of the palace and put forth
a proclamation that nobody should dare to come near it.

This, however, was not necessary, for in a quarter of an hour's time there grew up all round about the park such a vast
number of trees, great and small, bushes and brambles, twining one within another, that neither man nor beast could pass
through; so that nothing could be seen but the very top of the towers of the palace; and that, too, not unless it was a good
way off. Nobody; doubted but the Fairy gave herein a very extraordinary sample of her art, that the Princess, while she
continued sleeping, might have nothing to fear from any curious people.

When a hundred years were gone and passed the son of the King then reigning, and who was of another family from that
of the sleeping Princess, being gone a-hunting on that side of the country, asked:
What those towers were which he saw in the middle of a great thick wood?

Everyone answered according as they had heard. Some said:

That it was a ruinous old castle, haunted by spirits.

Others, That all the sorcerers and witches of the country kept there their sabbath or night's meeting.

The common opinion was: That an ogre lived there, and that he carried thither all the little children he could catch, that
he might eat them up at his leisure, without anybody being able to follow him, as having himself only the power to pass
through the wood.

The Prince was at a stand, not knowing what to believe, when a very good countryman spake to him thus:

"May it please your royal highness, it is now about fifty years since I heard from my father, who heard my grandfather
say, that there was then in this castle a princess, the most beautiful was ever seen; that she must sleep there a hundred
years, and should be waked by a king's son, for whom she was reserved."

The young Prince was all on fire at these words, believing, without weighing the matter, that he could put an end to this
rare adventure; and, pushed on by love and honor, resolved that moment to look into it.

Scarce had he advanced toward the wood when all the great trees, the bushes, and brambles gave way of themselves to
let him pass through; he walked up to the castle which he saw at the end of a large avenue which he went into; and what
a little surprised him was that he saw none of his people could follow him, because the trees closed again as soon as he
had passed through them. However, he did not cease from continuing his way; a young and amorous prince is always
valiant.

He came into a spacious outward court, where everything he saw might have frozen the most fearless person with horror.
There reigned all over a most frightful silence; the image of death everywhere showed itself, and there was nothing to be
seen but stretched-out bodies of men and animals, all seeming to be dead. He, however, very well knew, by the ruby
faces and pimpled noses of the beefeaters, that they were only asleep; and their goblets, wherein still remained some
drops of wine, showed plainly that they fell asleep in their cups.

He then crossed a court paved with marble, went up the stairs and came into the guard chamber, where guards were
standing in their ranks, with their muskets upon their shoulders, and snoring as loud as they could. After that he went
through several rooms full of gentlemen and ladies, all asleep, some standing, others sitting. At last he came into a
chamber all gilded with gold, where he saw upon a bed, the curtains of which were all open, the finest sight was ever
beheld--a princess, who appeared to be about fifteen or sixteen years of age, and whose bright and, in a manner,
resplendent beauty, had somewhat in it divine. He approached with trembling and admiration, and fell down before her
upon his knees.

And now, as the enchantment was at an end, the Princess awaked, and looking on him with eyes more tender than the
first view might seem to admit of:

"Is it you, my Prince?" said she to him. "You have waited a long while."

The Prince, charmed with these words, and much more with the manner in which they were spoken, knew not how to
show his joy and gratitude; he assured her that he loved her better than he did himself; their discourse was not well
connected, they did weep more than talk--little eloquence, a great deal of love. He was more at a loss than she, and we
need not wonder at it; she had time to think on what to say to him; for it is very probable (though history mentions
nothing of it) that the good Fairy, during so long a sleep, had given her very agreeable dreams. In short, they talked four
hours together, and yet they said not half what they had to say.

In the meanwhile all the palace awaked; everyone thought upon their particular business, and as all of them were not in
love they were ready to die for hunger. The chief lady of honor, being as sharp set as other folks, grew very impatient,
and told the Princess aloud that supper was served up. The Prince helped the Princess to rise; she was entirely dressed,
and very magnificently, but his royal highness took care not to tell her that she was dressed like his great-grandmother,
and had a point band peeping over a high collar; she looked not a bit less charming and beautiful for all that.

They went into the great hall of looking-glasses, where they supped, and were served by the Princess's officers, the
violins and hautboys played old tunes, but very excellent, though it was now above a hundred years since they had
played; and after supper, without losing any time, the lord almoner married them in the chapel of the castle, and the chief
lady of honor drew the curtains. They had but very little sleep--the Princess had no occasion; and the Prince left her next
morning to return to the city, where his father must needs have been in pain for him. The Prince told him:

That he lost his way in the forest as he was hunting, and that he had lain in the cottage of a charcoal-burner, who gave
him cheese and brown bread.

The King, his father, who was a good man, believed him; but his mother could not be persuaded it was true; and seeing
that he went almost every day a-hunting, and that he always had some excuse ready for so doing, though he had lain out
three or four nights together, she began to suspect that he was married, for he lived with the Princess above two whole
years, and had by her two children, the eldest of which, who was a daughter, was named Morning, and the youngest, who
was a son, they called Day, because he was a great deal handsomer and more beautiful than his sister.

The Queen spoke several times to her son, to inform herself after what manner he did pass his time, and that in this he
ought in duty to satisfy her. But he never dared to trust her with his secret; he feared her, though he loved her, for she was
of the race of the Ogres, and the King would never have married her had it not been for her vast riches; it was even
whispered about the Court that she had Ogreish inclinations, and that, whenever she saw little children passing by, she
had all the difficulty in the world to avoid falling upon them. And so the Prince would never tell her one word.

But when the King was dead, which happened about two years afterward, and he saw himself lord and master, he openly
declared his marriage; and he went in great ceremony to conduct his Queen to the palace. They made a magnificent entry
into the capital city, she riding between her two children.

Soon after the King went to make war with the Emperor Contalabutte, his neighbor. He left the government of the
kingdom to the Queen his mother, and earnestly recommended to her care his wife and children. He was obliged to
continue his expedition all the summer, and as soon as he departed the Queen-mother sent her daughter-in-law to a
country house among the woods, that she might with the more ease gratify her horrible longing.

Some few days afterward she went thither herself, and said to her clerk of the kitchen:

"I have a mind to eat little Morning for my dinner to- morrow."

"Ah! madam," cried the clerk of the kitchen.

"I will have it so," replied the Queen (and this she spoke in the tone of an Ogress who had a strong desire to eat fresh
meat), "and will eat her with a sauce Robert."
The poor man, knowing very well that he must not play tricks with Ogresses, took his great knife and went up into little
Morning's chamber. She was then four years old, and came up to him jumping and laughing, to take him about the neck,
and ask him for some sugar-candy. Upon which he began to weep, the great knife fell out of his hand, and he went into
the back yard, and killed a little lamb, and dressed it with such good sauce that his mistress assured him that she had
never eaten anything so good in her life. He had at the same time taken up little Morning, and carried her to his wife, to
conceal her in the lodging he had at the bottom of the courtyard.

About eight days afterward the wicked Queen said to the clerk of the kitchen, "I will sup on little Day."

He answered not a word, being resolved to cheat her as he had done before. He went to find out little Day, and saw him
with a little foil in his hand, with which he was fencing with a great monkey, the child being then only three years of age.
He took him up in his arms and carried him to his wife, that she might conceal him in her chamber along with his sister,
and in the room of little Day cooked up a young kid, very tender, which the Ogress found to be wonderfully good.

This was hitherto all mighty well; but one evening this wicked Queen said to her clerk of the kitchen:

"I will eat the Queen with the same sauce I had with her children."

It was now that the poor clerk of the kitchen despaired of being able to deceive her. The young Queen was turned of
twenty, not reckoning the hundred years she had been asleep; and how to find in the yard a beast so firm was what
puzzled him. He took then a resolution, that he might save his own life, to cut the Queen's throat; and going up into her
chamber, with intent to do it at once, he put himself into as great fury as he could possibly, and came into the young
Queen's room with his dagger in his hand. He would not, however, surprise her, but told her, with a great deal of respect,
the orders he had received from the Queen-mother.

"Do it; do it" (said she, stretching out her neck). "Execute your orders, and then I shall go and see my children, my poor
children, whom I so much and so tenderly loved."

For she thought them dead ever since they had been taken away without her knowledge.

"No, no, madam" (cried the poor clerk of the kitchen, all in tears); "you shall not die, and yet you shall see your children
again; but then you must go home with me to my lodgings, where I have concealed them, and I shall deceive the Queen
once more, by giving her in your stead a young hind."

Upon this he forthwith conducted her to his chamber, where, leaving her to embrace her children, and cry along with
them, he went and dressed a young hind, which the Queen had for her supper, and devoured it with the same appetite as
if it had been the young Queen. Exceedingly was she delighted with her cruelty, and she had invented a story to tell the
King, at his return, how the mad wolves had eaten up the Queen his wife and her two children.

One evening, as she was, according to her custom, rambling round about the courts and yards of the palace to see if she
could smell any fresh meat, she heard, in a ground room, little Day crying, for his mamma was going to whip him,
because he had been naughty; and she heard, at the same time, little Morning begging pardon for her brother.

The Ogress presently knew the voice of the Queen and her children, and being quite mad that she had been thus
deceived, she commanded next morning, by break of day (with a most horrible voice, which made everybody tremble),
that they should bring into the middle of the great court a large tub, which she caused to be filled with toads, vipers,
snakes, and all sorts of serpents, in order to have thrown into it the Queen and her children, the clerk of the kitchen, his
wife and maid; all whom she had given orders should be brought thither with their hands tied behind them.

They were brought out accordingly, and the executioners were just going to throw them into the tub, when the King (who
was not so soon expected) entered the court on horseback (for he came post) and asked, with the utmost astonishment,
what was the meaning of that horrible spectacle.

No one dared to tell him, when the Ogress, all enraged to see what had happened, threw herself head foremost into the
tub, and was instantly devoured by the ugly creatures she had ordered to be thrown into it for others. The King could not
but be very sorry, for she was his mother; but he soon comforted himself with his beautiful wife and his pretty children.

Beauty and the Beast of The Blue Fairy Book

By Andrew Lang
* Parental Guidance Suggested

ONCE upon a time, in a very far-off country, there lived a

merchant who had been so fortunate in all his undertakings
that he 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, pic- tures, 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
tranquillity. 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 ecstacies 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-by for ever, 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 to-morrow," 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-by 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 to- morrow 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-by, Beauty; good-by, 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 for
ever, 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 cosily 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 ecstacies. 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-by 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 for ever, 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-by 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. 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 good-by 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
near- est 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 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 stately 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 is wanting to 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.

THE END

Cinderella or The Little Glass Slipper

By Charles Perrault
* Parental Guidance Suggested

ONCE there was a gentleman who married, for his second

wife, the proudest and most haughty woman that was ever
seen. She had, by a former husband, two daughters of her
own humor, who were, indeed, exactly like her in all things.
He had likewise, by another wife, a young daughter, but of
unparalleled goodness and sweetness of temper, which she
took from her mother, who was the best creature in the
world.

No sooner were the ceremonies of the wedding over but the

mother-in-law began to show herself in her true colors. She
could not bear the good qualities of this pretty girl, and the
less because they made her own daughters appear the more
odious. She employed her in the meanest work of the house:
she scoured the dishes, tables, etc., and scrubbed madam's
chamber, and those of misses, her daughters; she lay up in a
sorry garret, upon a wretched straw bed, while her sisters lay
in fine rooms, with floors all inlaid, upon beds of the very
newest fashion, and where they had looking-glasses so large
that they might see themselves at their full length from head
to foot.

The poor girl bore all patiently, and dared not tell her father, who would have rattled her off; for his wife
governed him entirely. When she had done her work, she used to go into the chimney-corner, and sit down
among cinders and ashes, which made her commonly be called Cinderwench; but the youngest, who was
not so rude and uncivil as the eldest, called her Cinderella. However, Cinderella, notwithstanding her mean
apparel, was a hundred times handsomer than her sisters, though they were always dressed very richly.

It happened that the King's son gave a ball, and invited all persons of fashion to it. Our young misses were
also invited, for they cut a very grand figure among the quality. They were mightily delighted at this
invitation, and wonderfully busy in choosing out such gowns, petticoats, and head-clothes as might become
them. This was a new trouble to Cinderella; for it was she who ironed her sisters' linen, and plaited their
ruffles; they talked all day long of nothing but how they should be dressed. "For my part," said the eldest,
"I will wear my red velvet suit with French trimming."

"And I," said the youngest, "shall have my usual petticoat; but then, to make amends for that, I will put on
my gold-flowered manteau, and my diamond stomacher, which is far from being the most ordinary one in
the world."

They sent for the best tire-woman they could get to make up their head-dresses and adjust their double
pinners, and they had their red brushes and patches from Mademoiselle de la Poche.

Cinderella was likewise called up to them to be consulted in all these matters, for she had excellent notions,
and advised them always for the best, nay, and offered her services to dress their heads, which they were
very willing she should do. As she was doing this, they said to her:

"Cinderella, would you not be glad to go to the ball?"

"Alas!" said she, "you only jeer me; it is not for such as I am to go thither."

"Thou art in the right of it," replied they; "it would make the people laugh to see a Cinderwench at a ball."

Anyone but Cinderella would have dressed their heads awry, but she was very good, and dressed them
perfectly well They were almost two days without eating, so much were they transported with joy. They
broke above a dozen laces in trying to be laced up close, that they might have a fine slender shape, and
they were continually at their looking-glass. At last the happy day came; they went to Court, and Cinderella
followed them with her eyes as long as she could, and when she had lost sight of them, she fell a-crying.

Her godmother, who saw her all in tears, asked her what was the matter.

"I wish I could -- I wish I could -- "; she was not able to speak the rest, being interrupted by her tears and
sobbing.

This godmother of hers, who was a fairy, said to her, "Thou wishest thou couldst go to the ball; is it not
so?"

"Y -- es," cried Cinderella, with a great sigh.

"Well," said her godmother, "be but a good girl, and I will contrive that thou shalt go." Then she took her
into her chamber, and said to her, "Run into the garden, and bring me a pumpkin."

Cinderella went immediately to gather the finest she could get, and brought it to her godmother, not being
able to imagine how this pumpkin could make her go to the ball. Her godmother scooped out all the inside
of it, having left nothing but the rind; which done, she struck it with her wand, and the pumpkin was
instantly turned into a fine coach, gilded all over with gold.

She then went to look into her mouse-trap, where she found six mice, all alive, and ordered Cinderella to
lift up a little the trapdoor, when, giving each mouse, as it went out, a little tap with her wand, the mouse
was that moment turned into a fine horse, which altogether made a very fine set of six horses of a beautiful
mouse-colored dapple-gray. Being at a loss for a coachman,

"I will go and see," says Cinderella, "if there is never a rat in the rat-trap -- we may make a coachman of
him."

"Thou art in the right," replied her godmother; "go and look."
Cinderella brought the trap to her, and in it there were three huge rats. The fairy made choice of one of the
three which had the largest beard, and, having touched him with her wand, he was turned into a fat, jolly
coachman, who had the smartest whiskers eyes ever beheld. After that, she said to her: "Go again into the
garden, and you will find six lizards behind the watering-pot, bring them to me." She had no sooner done
so but her godmother turned them into six footmen, who skipped up immediately behind the coach, with
their liveries all bedaubed with gold and silver, and clung as close behind each other as if they had done
nothing else their whole lives. The Fairy then said to Cinderella:

"Well, you see here an equipage fit to go to the ball with; are you not pleased with it?"

"Oh! yes," cried she; "but must I go thither as I am, in these nasty rags?"

Her godmother only just touched her with her wand, and, at the same instant, her clothes were turned into
cloth of gold and silver, all beset with jewels. This done, she gave her a pair of glass slippers, the prettiest
in the whole world. Being thus decked out, she got up into her coach; but her godmother, above all things,
commanded her not to stay till after midnight, telling her, at the same time, that if she stayed one moment
longer, the coach would be a pumpkin again, her horses mice, her coachman a rat, her footmen lizards, and
her clothes become just as they were before. She promised her godmother she would not fail of leaving the
ball before midnight; and then away she drives, scarce able to contain herself for joy. The King's son who
was told that a great princess, whom nobody knew, was come, ran out to receive her; he gave her his hand
as she alighted out of the coach, and led her into the ball, among all the company. There was immediately a
profound silence, they left off dancing, and the violins ceased to play, so attentive was everyone to
contemplate the singular beauties of the unknown new-comer. Nothing was then heard but a confused noise
of:

"Ha! how handsome she is! Ha! how handsome she is!"

The King himself, old as he was, could not help watching her, and telling the Queen softly that it was a
long time since he had seen so beautiful and lovely a creature.

All the ladies were busied in considering her clothes and headdress, that they might have some made next
day after the same pattern, provided they could meet with such fine material and as able hands to make
them.

The King's son conducted her to the most honorable seat, and afterward took her out to dance with him;
she danced so very gracefully that they all more and more admired her. A fine collation was served up,
whereof the young prince ate not a morsel, so intently was he busied in gazing on her. She went and sat
down by her sisters, showing them a thousand civilities, giving them part of the oranges and citrons which
the Prince had presented her with, which very much surprised them, for they did not know her. While
Cinderella was thus amusing her sisters, she heard the clock strike eleven and three-quarters, whereupon
she immediately made a courtesy to the company and hasted away as fast as she could.

When she got home she ran to seek out her godmother, and, after having thanked her, she said she could
not but heartily wish she might go next day to the ball, because the King's son had desired her. As she was
eagerly telling her godmother whatever had passed at the ball, her two sisters knocked at the door, which
Cinderella ran and opened.

"How long you have stayed!" cried she, gaping, rubbing her eyes and stretching herself as if she had been
just waked out of her sleep; she had not, however, any manner of inclination to sleep since they went from
home.

"If thou hadst been at the ball," said one of her sisters, "thou wouldst not have been tired with it. There
came thither the finest princess, the most beautiful ever was seen with mortal eyes; she showed us a
thousand civilities, and gave us oranges and citrons."
Cinderella seemed very indifferent in the matter; indeed, she asked them the name of that princess; but they
told her they did not know it, and that the King's son was very uneasy on her account and would give all
the world to know who she was. At this Cinderella, smiling, replied:

"She must, then, be very beautiful indeed; how happy you have been! Could not I see her? Ah! dear Miss
Charlotte, do lend me your yellow suit of clothes which you wear every day."

"Ay, to be sure!" cried Miss Charlotte; "lend my clothes to such a dirty Cinderwench as thou art! I should
be a fool."

Cinderella, indeed, expected well such answer, and was very glad of the refusal; for she would have been
sadly put to it if her sister had lent her what she asked for jestingly.

The next day the two sisters were at the ball, and so was Cinderella, but dressed more magnificently than
before. The King's son was always by her, and never ceased his compliments and kind speeches to her; to
whom all this was so far from being tiresome that she quite forgot what her godmother had recommended
to her; so that she, at last, counted the clock striking twelve when she took it to be no more than eleven; she
then rose up and fled, as nimble as a deer. The Prince followed, but could not overtake her. She left behind
one of her glass slippers, which the Prince took up most carefully. She got home but quite out of breath,
and in her nasty old clothes, having nothing left her of all her finery but one of the little slippers, fellow to
that she dropped. The guards at the palace gate were asked:

If they had not seen a princess go out.

Who said: They had seen nobody go out but a young girl, very meanly dressed, and who had more the air
of a poor country wench than a gentlewoman.

When the two sisters returned from the ball Cinderella asked them: If they had been well diverted, and if
the fine lady had been there.

They told her: Yes, but that she hurried away immediately when it struck twelve, and with so much haste
that she dropped one of her little glass slippers, the prettiest in the world, which the King's son had taken
up; that he had done nothing but look at her all the time at the ball, and that most certainly he was very
much in love with the beautiful person who owned the glass slipper.

What they said was very true; for a few days after the King's son caused it to be proclaimed, by sound of
trumpet, that he would marry her whose foot the slipper would just fit. They whom he employed began to
try it upon the princesses, then the duchesses and all the Court, but in vain; it was brought to the two sisters,
who did all they possibly could to thrust their foot into the slipper, but they could not effect it. Cinderella,
who saw all this, and knew her slipper, said to them, laughing:

"Let me see if it will not fit me."

Her sisters burst out a-laughing, and began to banter her. The gentleman who was sent to try the slipper
looked earnestly at Cinderella, and, finding her very handsome, said:

It was but just that she should try, and that he had orders to let everyone make trial.

He obliged Cinderella to sit down, and, putting the slipper to her foot, he found it went on very easily, and
fitted her as if it had been made of wax. The astonishment her two sisters were in was excessively great, but
still abundantly greater when Cinderella pulled out of her pocket the other slipper, and put it on her foot.
Thereupon, in came her godmother, who, having touched with her wand Cinderella's clothes, made them
richer and more magnificent than any of those she had before. And now her two sisters found her to be that
fine, beautiful lady whom they had seen at the ball. They threw themselves at her feet to beg pardon for all
the ill- treatment they had made her undergo. Cinderella took them up, and, as she embraced them, cried:

That she forgave them with all her heart, and desired them always to love her.

She was conducted to the young prince, dressed as she was; he thought her more charming than ever, and, a
few days after, married her. Cinderella, who was no less good than beautiful, gave her two sisters lodgings
in the palace, and that very same day matched them with two great lords of the Court.

THE END

The Story of Aladdin and the

Wonderful Lamp
by Andrew Lang
* Parental Guidance Suggested

There once lived a poor tailor, who had a son called Aladdin, a careless, idle boy who
would do nothing but play all day long in the streets with little idle boys like himself.
This so grieved the father that he died; yet, in spite of his mother's tears and
prayers, Aladdin did not mend his ways. One day, when he was playing in the streets
as usual, a stranger asked him his age, and if he were not the son of Mustapha the
tailor.

"I am, sir," replied Aladdin; "but he died a long while ago."

On this the stranger, who was a famous African magician, fell on his neck and kissed
him, saying: "I am your uncle, and knew you from your likeness to my brother. Go to
your mother and tell her I am coming."

Aladdin ran home, and told his mother of his newly found uncle.

"Indeed, child," she said, "your father had a brother, but I always thought he was
dead."

However, she prepared supper, and bade Aladdin seek his uncle, who came laden
with wine and fruit. He presently fell down and kissed the place where Mustapha
used to sit, bidding Aladdin's mother not to be surprised at not having seen him
before, as he had been forty years out of the country. He then turned to Aladdin, and
asked him his trade, at which the boy hung his head, while his mother burst into
tears. On learning that Aladdin was idle and would learn no trade, he offered to take
a shop for him and stock it with merchandise. Next day he bought Aladdin a fine suit
of clothes, and took him all over the city, showing him the sights, and brought him
home at nightfall to his mother, who was overjoyed to see her son so fine.

Next day the magician led Aladdin into some beautiful gardens a long way outside
the city gates. They sat down by a fountain, and the magician pulled a cake from his
girdle, which he divided between them. They then journeyed onwards till they almost
reached the mountains. Aladdin was so tired that he begged to go back, but the
magician beguiled him with pleasant stories, and led him on in spite of himself.

At last they came to two mountains divided by a narrow valley.

"We will go no farther," said the false uncle. "I will show you something wonderful;
only do you gather up sticks while I kindle a fire."

When it was lit the magician threw on it a powder he had about him, at the same
time saying some magical words. The earth trembled a little and opened in front of
them, disclosing a square flat stone with a brass ring in the middle to raise it by.
Aladdin tried to run away, but the magician caught him and gave him a blow that
knocked him down.

"What have I done, uncle?" he said piteously; whereupon the magician said more
kindly: "Fear nothing, but obey me. Beneath this stone lies a treasure which is to be
yours, and no one else may touch it, so you must do exactly as I tell you."

At the word treasure, Aladdin forgot his fears, and grasped the ring as he was told,
saying the names of his father and grandfather. The stone came up quite easily and
some steps appeared. "Go down," said the magician; "at the foot of those steps you
will find an open door leading into three large halls. Tuck up your gown and go
through them without touching anything, or you will die instantly. These halls lead
into a garden of fine fruit trees. Walk on till you come to a niche in a terrace where
stands a lighted lamp. Pour out the oil it contains and bring it to me." He drew a ring
from his finger and gave it to Aladdin, bidding him prosper.

Aladdin found everything as the magician had said, gathered some fruit off the trees,
and, having got the lamp, arrived at the mouth of the cave. The magician cried out in
a great hurry:

"Make haste and give me the lamp." This Aladdin refused to do until he was out of
the cave. The magician flew into a terrible passion, and throwing some more powder
on the fire, he said something, and the stone rolled back into its place.

The magician left Persia for ever, which plainly showed that he was no uncle of
Aladdin's, but a cunning magician who had read in his magic books of a wonderful
lamp, which would make him the most powerful man in the world. Though he alone
knew where to find it, he could only receive it from the hand of another. He had
picked out the foolish Aladdin for this purpose, intending to get the lamp and kill him
afterwards.

For two days Aladdin remained in the dark, crying and lamenting. At last he clasped
his hands in prayer, and in so doing rubbed the ring, which the magician had
forgotten to take from him.

Immediately an enormous and frightful genie rose out of the earth, saying:

"What wouldst thou with me? I am the Slave of the Ring, and will obey thee in all
things."

Aladdin fearlessly replied: "Deliver me from this place!" whereupon the earth
opened, and he found himself outside. As soon as his eyes could bear the light he
went home, but fainted on the threshold. When he came to himself he told his
mother what had passed, and showed her the lamp and the fruits he had gathered in
the garden, which were in reality precious stones. He then asked for some food.

"Alas! child," she said, "I have nothing in the house, but I have spun a little cotton
and will go and sell it."
Aladdin bade her keep her cotton, for he would sell the lamp instead. As it was very
dirty she began to rub it, that it might fetch a higher price. Instantly a hideous genie
appeared, and asked what she would have. She fainted away, but Aladdin, snatching
the lamp, said boldly:

"Fetch me something to eat!"

The genie returned with a silver bowl, twelve silver plates containing rich meats, two
silver cups, and two bottles of wine. Aladdin's mother, when she came to herself,
said:

"Whence comes this splendid feast?"

"Ask not, but eat," replied Aladdin.

So they sat at breakfast till it was dinner-time, and Aladdin told his mother about the
lamp. She begged him to sell it, and have nothing to do with devils.

"No," said Aladdin, "since chance has made us aware of its virtues, we will use it and
the ring likewise, which I shall always wear on my finger." When they had eaten all
the genie had brought, Aladdin sold one of the silver plates, and so on till none were
left. He then had recourse to the genie, who gave him another set of plates, and thus
they lived for many years.

One day Aladdin heard an order from the Sultan proclaimed that everyone was to
stay at home and close his shutters while the princess, his daughter, went to and
from the bath. Aladdin was seized by a desire to see her face, which was very
difficult, as she always went veiled. He hid himself behind the door of the bath, and
peeped through a chink. The princess lifted her veil as she went in, and looked so
beautiful that Aladdin fell in love with her at first sight. He went home so changed
that his mother was frightened. He told her he loved the princess so deeply that he
could not live without her, and meant to ask her in marriage of her father. His
mother, on hearing this, burst out laughing, but Aladdin at last prevailed upon her to
go before the Sultan and carry his request. She fetched a napkin and laid in it the
magic fruits from the enchanted garden, which sparkled and shone like the most
beautiful jewels. She took these with her to please the Sultan, and set out, trusting in
the lamp. The grand-vizir and the lords of council had just gone in as she entered the
hall and placed herself in front of the Sultan. He, however, took no notice of her. She
went every day for a week, and stood in the same place.

When the council broke up on the sixth day the Sultan said to his vizir: "I see a
certain woman in the audience-chamber every day carrying something in a napkin.
Call her next time, that I may find out what she wants."

Next day, at a sign from the vizir, she went up to the foot of the throne, and
remained kneeling till the Sultan said to her: "Rise, good woman, and tell me what
you want."

She hesitated, so the Sultan sent away all but the vizir, and bade her speak freely,
promising to forgive her beforehand for anything she might say. She then told him of
her son's violent love for the princess.

"I prayed him to forget her," she said, "but in vain; he threatened to do some
desperate deed if I refused to go and ask your Majesty for the hand of the princess.
Now I pray you to forgive not me alone, but my son Aladdin."

The Sultan asked her kindly what she had in the napkin, whereupon she unfolded the
jewels and presented them.

He was thunderstruck, and turning to the vizir said: "What sayest thou? Ought I not
to bestow the princess on one who values her at such a price?"

The vizir, who wanted her for his own son, begged the Sultan to withhold her for
three months, in the course of which he hoped his son would contrive to make him a
richer present. The Sultan granted this, and told Aladdin's mother that, though he
consented to the marriage, she must not appear before him again for three months.

Aladdin waited patiently for nearly three months, but after two had elapsed his
mother, going into the city to buy oil, found everyone rejoicing, and asked what was
going on.

"Do you not know," was the answer, "that the son of the grand-vizir is to marry the
Sultan's daughter to-night?"

Breathless, she ran and told Aladdin, who was overwhelmed at first, but presently
bethought him of the lamp. He rubbed it, and the genie appeared, saying: "What is
thy will?"

Aladdin replied: "The Sultan, as thou knowest, has broken his promise to me, and the
vizir's son is to have the princess. My command is that to-night you bring hither the
bride and bridegroom." "Master, I obey," said the genie.

Aladdin then went to his chamber, where, sure enough at midnight the genie
transported the bed containing the vizir's son and the princess.

"Take this new-married man," he said, "and put him outside in the cold, and return at
daybreak." Whereupon the genie took the vizir's son out of bed, leaving Aladdin with
the princess.

"Fear nothing," Aladdin said to her; "you are my wife, promised to me by your unjust
father, and no harm shall come to you."

The princess was too frightened to speak, and passed the most miserable night of
her life, while Aladdin lay down beside her and slept soundly. At the appointed hour
the genie fetched in the shivering bridegroom, laid him in his place, and transported
the bed back to the palace.

Presently the Sultan came to wish his daughter good-morning. The unhappy vizir's
son jumped up and hid himself, while the princess would not say a word, and was
very sorrowful.

The Sultan sent her mother to her, who said: "How comes it, child, that you will not
speak to your father? What has happened?"

The princess sighed deeply, and at last told her mother how, during the night, the
bed had been carried into some strange house, and what had passed there. Her
mother did not believe her in the least, but bade her rise and consider it an idle
dream.

The following night exactly the same thing happened, and next morning, on the
princess's refusing to speak, the Sultan threatened to cut off her head. She then
confessed all, bidding him ask the vizir's son if it were not so. The Sultan told the vizir
to ask his son, who owned the truth, adding that, dearly as he loved the princess, he
had rather die than go through another such fearful night, and wished to be
separated from her. His wish was granted, and there was an end of feasting and
rejoicing.

When the three months were over, Aladdin sent his mother to remind the Sultan of
his promise. She stood in the same place as before, and the Sultan, who had
forgotten Aladdin, at once remembered him, and sent for her. On seeing her poverty
the Sultan felt less inclined than ever to keep his word, and asked the vizir's advice,
who counselled him to set so high a value on the princess that no man living could
come up to it.

The Sultan then turned to Aladdin's mother, saying: "Good woman, a Sultan must
remember his promises, and I will remember mine, but your son must first send me
forty basins of gold brimful of jewels, carried by forty black slaves, led by as many
white ones, splendidly dressed. Tell him that I await his answer." The mother of
Aladdin bowed low and went home, thinking all was lost. She gave Aladdin the
message, adding: "He may wait long enough for your answer!"

"Not so long, mother, as you think," her son replied "I would do a great deal more
than that for the princess."

He summoned the genie, and in a few moments the eighty slaves arrived, and filled
up the small house and garden.

Aladdin made them set out to the palace, two and two, followed by his mother. They
were so richly dressed, with such splendid jewels in their girdles, that everyone
crowded to see them and the basins of gold they carried on their heads.

They entered the palace, and, after kneeling before the Sultan, stood in a half-circle
round the throne with their arms crossed, while Aladdin's mother presented them to
the Sultan.

He hesitated no longer, but said: "Good woman, return and tell your son that I wait
for him with open arms."

She lost no time in telling Aladdin, bidding him make haste. But Aladdin first called
the genie. "I want a scented bath," he said, "a richly embroidered habit, a horse
surpassing the Sultan's, and twenty slaves to attend me. Besides this, six slaves,
beautifully dressed, to wait on my mother; and lastly, ten thousand pieces of gold in
ten purses."

No sooner said than done. Aladdin mounted his horse and passed through the
streets, the slaves strewing gold as they went. Those who had played with him in his
childhood knew him not, he had grown so handsome.

When the Sultan saw him he came down from his throne, embraced him, and led him
into a hall where a feast was spread, intending to marry him to the princess that very
day.
But Aladdin refused, saying, "I must build a palace fit for her," and took his leave.

Once home he said to the genie: "Build me a palace of the finest marble, set with
jasper, agate, and other precious stones. In the middle you shall build me a large hall
with a dome, its four walls of massy gold and silver, each side having six windows,
whose lattices, all except one, which is to be left unfinished, must be set with
diamonds and rubies. There must be stables and horses and grooms and slaves; go
and see about it!"

The palace was finished by next day, and the genie carried him there and showed
him all his orders faithfully carried out, even to the laying of a velvet carpet from
Aladdin's palace to the Sultan's. Aladdin's mother then dressed herself carefully, and
walked to the palace with her slaves, while he followed her on horseback. The Sultan
sent musicians with trumpets and cymbals to meet them, so that the air resounded
with music and cheers. She was taken to the princess, who saluted her and treated
her with great honour. At night the princess said good-bye to her father, and set out
on the carpet for Aladdin's palace, with his mother at her side, and followed by the
hundred slaves. She was charmed at the sight of Aladdin, who ran to receive her.

"Princess," he said, "blame your beauty for my boldness if I have displeased you."

She told him that, having seen him, she willingly obeyed her father in this matter.
After the wedding had taken place Aladdin led her into the hall, where a feast was
spread, and she supped with him, after which they danced till midnight.

Next day Aladdin invited the Sultan to see the palace. On entering the hall with the
four-and-twenty windows, with their rubies, diamonds, and emeralds, he cried:

"It is a world's wonder! There is only one thing that surprises me. Was it by accident
that one window was left unfinished?"

"No, sir, by design," returned Aladdin. "I wished your Majesty to have the glory of
finishing this palace."

The Sultan was pleased, and sent for the best jewelers in the city. He showed them
the unfinished window, and bade them fit it up like the others.

"Sir," replied their spokesman, "we cannot find jewels enough."

The Sultan had his own fetched, which they soon used, but to no purpose, for in a
month's time the work was not half done. Aladdin, knowing that their task was vain,
bade them undo their work and carry the jewels back, and the genie finished the
window at his command. The Sultan was surprised to receive his jewels again and
visited Aladdin, who showed him the window finished. The Sultan embraced him, the
envious vizir meanwhile hinting that it was the work of enchantment.

Aladdin had won the hearts of the people by his gentle bearing. He was made captain
of the Sultan's armies, and won several battles for him, but remained modest and
courteous as before, and lived thus in peace and content for several years.

But far away in Africa the magician remembered Aladdin, and by his magic arts
discovered that Aladdin, instead of perishing miserably in the cave, had escaped, and
had married a princess, with whom he was living in great honour and wealth. He
knew that the poor tailor's son could only have accomplished this by means of the
lamp, and travelled night and day till he reached the capital of China, bent on
Aladdin's ruin. As he passed through the town he heard people talking everywhere
about a marvellous palace.

"Forgive my ignorance," he asked, "what is this palace you speak of?"

"Have you not heard of Prince Aladdin's palace," was the reply, "the greatest wonder
of the world? I will direct you if you have a mind to see it."

The magician thanked him who spoke, and having seen the palace knew that it had
been raised by the genie of the lamp, and became half mad with rage. He
determined to get hold of the lamp, and again plunge Aladdin into the deepest
poverty.

Unluckily, Aladdin had gone a-hunting for eight days, which gave the magician plenty
of time. He bought a dozen copper lamps, put them into a basket, and went to the
palace, crying: "New lamps for old!" followed by a jeering crowd.

The princess, sitting in the hall of four-and-twenty windows, sent a slave to find out
what the noise was about, who came back laughing, so that the princess scolded her.

"Madam," replied the slave, "who can help laughing to see an old fool offering to
exchange fine new lamps for old ones?"

Another slave, hearing this, said: "There is an old one on the cornice there which he
can have." Now this was the magic lamp, which Aladdin had left there, as he could
not take it out hunting with him. The princess, not knowing its value, laughingly bade
the slave take it and make the exchange. She went and said to the magician: "Give
me a new lamp for this."

He snatched it and bade the slave take her choice, amid the jeers of the crowd. Little
he cared, but left off crying his lamps, and went out of the city gates to a lonely
place, where he remained till nightfall, when he pulled out the lamp and rubbed it.
The genie appeared, and at the magician's command carried him, together with the
palace and the princess in it, to a lonely place in Africa. Next morning the Sultan
looked out of the window towards Aladdin's palace and rubbed his eyes, for it was
gone. He sent for the vizir, and asked what had become of the palace. The vizir
looked out too, and was lost in astonishment. He again put it down to enchantment,
and this time the Sultan believed him, and sent thirty men on horseback to fetch
Aladdin in chains. They met him riding home, bound him, and forced him to go with
them on foot. The people, however, who loved him, followed, armed, to see that he
came to no harm. He was carried before the Sultan, who ordered the executioner to
cut off his head. The executioner made Aladdin kneel down, bandaged his eyes, and
raised his scimitar to strike.

At that instant the vizir, who saw that the crowd had forced their way into the
courtyard and were scaling the walls to rescue Aladdin, called to the executioner to
stay his hand. The people, indeed, looked so threatening that the Sultan gave way
and ordered Aladdin to be unbound, and pardoned him in the sight of the crowd.

Aladdin now begged to know what he had done.

"False wretch!" said the Sultan, "come hither," and showed him from the window the
place where his palace had stood.
Aladdin was so amazed that he could not say a word.

"Where is my palace and my daughter?" demanded the Sultan. "For the first I am not
so deeply concerned, but my daughter I must have, and you must find her or lose
your head." Aladdin begged for forty days in which to find her, promising if he failed
to return and suffer death at the Sultan's pleasure. His prayer was granted, and he
went forth sadly from the Sultan's presence. For three days he wandered about like a
madman, asking everyone what had become of his palace, but they only laughed and
pitied him. He came to the banks of a river, and knelt down to say his prayers before
throwing himself in. In so doing he rubbed the magic ring he still wore. The genie he
had seen in the cave appeared, and asked his will.

"Save my life, genie," said Aladdin, "and bring my palace back."

"That is not in my power," said the genie; "I am only the slave of the ring; you must
ask the slave of the lamp."

"Even so," said Aladdin "but thou canst take me to the palace, and set me down
under my dear wife's window." He at once found himself in Africa, under the window
of the princess, and fell asleep out of sheer weariness.

He was awakened by the singing of the birds, and his heart was lighter. He saw
plainly that all his misfortunes were owing to the loss of the lamp, and vainly
wondered who had robbed him of it. That morning the princess rose earlier than she
had done since she had been carried into Africa by the magician, whose company she
was forced to endure once a day. She, however, treated him so harshly that he dared
not live there altogether. As she was dressing, one of her women looked out and saw
Aladdin. The princess ran and opened the window, and at the noise she made Aladdin
looked up. She called to him to come to her, and great was the joy of these lovers at
seeing each other again.

After he had kissed her Aladdin said: "I beg of you, Princess, in God's name, before
we speak of anything else, for your own sake and mine, tell me what has become of
an old lamp I left on the cornice in the hall of four-and-twenty windows, when I went
a-hunting."

"Alas!" she said "I am the innocent cause of our sorrows," and told him of the
exchange of the lamp. "Now I know," cried Aladdin, "that we have to thank the
African magician for this! Where is the lamp?"

"He carries it about with him," said the princess, "I know, for he pulled it out of his
breast to show me. He wishes me to break my faith with you and marry him, saying
that you were beheaded by my father's command. He is forever speaking ill of you,
but I only reply by my tears. If I persist, I doubt not that he will use violence."

Aladdin comforted her, and left her for a while. He changed clothes with the first
person he met in the town, and having bought a certain powder returned to the
princess, who let him in by a little side door.

"Put on your most beautiful dress," he said to her, "and receive the magician with
smiles, leading him to believe that you have forgotten me. Invite him to sup with you,
and say you wish to taste the wine of his country. He will go for some, and while he is
gone I will tell you what to do." She listened carefully to Aladdin, and when he left her
arrayed herself gaily for the first time since she left China. She put on a girdle and
head-dress of diamonds, and seeing in a glass that she looked more beautiful than
ever, received the magician, saying to his great amazement: "I have made up my
mind that Aladdin is dead, and that all my tears will not bring him back to me, so I
am resolved to mourn no more, and have therefore invited you to sup with me; but I
am tired of the wines of China, and would fain taste those of Africa."

The magician flew to his cellar, and the princess put the powder Aladdin had given
her in her cup. When he returned she asked him to drink her health in the wine of
Africa, handing him her cup in exchange for his as a sign she was reconciled to him.

Before drinking the magician made her a speech in praise of her beauty, but the
princess cut him short saying:

"Let me drink first, and you shall say what you will afterwards." She set her cup to her
lips and kept it there, while the magician drained his to the dregs and fell back
lifeless.

The princess then opened the door to Aladdin, and flung her arms round his neck, but
Aladdin put her away, bidding her to leave him, as he had more to do. He then went
to the dead magician, took the lamp out of his vest, and bade the genie carry the
palace and all in it back to China. This was done, and the princess in her chamber
only felt two little shocks, and little thought she was at home again.

The Sultan, who was sitting in his closet, mourning for his lost daughter, happened to
look up, and rubbed his eyes, for there stood the palace as before! He hastened
thither, and Aladdin received him in the hall of the four-and-twenty windows, with the
princess at his side. Aladdin told him what had happened, and showed him the dead
body of the magician, that he might believe. A ten days' feast was proclaimed, and it
seemed as if Aladdin might now live the rest of his life in peace; but it was not to be.

The African magician had a younger brother, who was, if possible, more wicked and
more cunning than himself. He travelled to China to avenge his brother's death, and
went to visit a pious woman called Fatima, thinking she might be of use to him. He
entered her cell and clapped a dagger to her breast, telling her to rise and do his
bidding on pain of death. He changed clothes with her, coloured his face like hers,
put on her veil and murdered her, that she might tell no tales. Then he went towards
the palace of Aladdin, and all the people thinking he was the holy woman, gathered
round him, kissing his hands and begging his blessing. When he got to the palace
there was such a noise going on round him that the princess bade her slave look out
of the window and ask what was the matter. The slave said it was the holy woman,
curing people by her touch of their ailments, whereupon the princess, who had long
desired to see Fatima, sent for her. On coming to the princess the magician offered
up a prayer for her health and prosperity. When he had done the princess made him
sit by her, and begged him to stay with her always. The false Fatima, who wished for
nothing better, consented, but kept his veil down for fear of discovery. The princess
showed him the hall, and asked him what he thought of it.

"It is truly beautiful," said the false Fatima. "In my mind it wants but one thing."

"And what is that?" said the princess.

"If only a roc's egg," replied he, "were hung up from the middle of this dome, it would
be the wonder of the world."

After this the princess could think of nothing but a roc's egg, and when Aladdin
returned from hunting he found her in a very ill humour. He begged to know what
was amiss, and she told him that all her pleasure in the hall was spoilt for the want of
a roc's egg hanging from the dome. "It that is all," replied Aladdin, "you shall soon be
happy."

He left her and rubbed the lamp, and when the genie appeared commanded him to
bring a roc's egg. The genie gave such a loud and terrible shriek that the hall shook.

"Wretch!" he cried, "is it not enough that I have done everything for you, but you
must command me to bring my master and hang him up in the midst of this dome?
You and your wife and your palace deserve to be burnt to ashes; but this request
does not come from you, but from the brother of the African magician whom you
destroyed. He is now in your palace disguised as the holy woman--whom he
murdered. He it was who put that wish into your wife's head. Take care of yourself, for
he means to kill you." So saying the genie disappeared.

Aladdin went back to the princess, saying his head ached, and requesting that the
holy Fatima should be fetched to lay her hands on it. But when the magician came
near, Aladdin, seizing his dagger, pierced him to the heart.

"What have you done?" cried the princess. "You have killed the holy woman!"

"Not so," replied Aladdin, "but a wicked magician," and told her of how she had been
deceived. After this Aladdin and his wife lived in peace. He succeeded the Sultan
when he died, and reigned for many years, leaving behind him a long line of kings.

The Little
Mermaid
By Hans Christian Andersen

* Parental Guidance Suggested

Far out in the ocean the water is as blue as the petals of the loveliest cornflower, and
as clear as the purest glass. But it is very deep too. It goes down deeper than any
anchor rope will go, and many, many steeples would have to be stacked one on top
of another to reach from the bottom to the surface of the sea. It is down there that
the sea folk live.

Now don't suppose that there are only bare white sands at the bottom of the sea. No
indeed! The most marvelous trees and flowers grow down there, with such pliant
stalks and leaves that the least stir in the water makes them move about as though
they were alive. All sorts of fish, large and small, dart among the branches, just as
birds flit through the trees up here. From the deepest spot in the ocean rises the
palace of the sea king. Its walls are made of coral and its high pointed windows of
the clearest amber, but the roof is made of mussel shells that open and shut with the
tide. This is a wonderful sight to see, for every shell holds glistening pearls, any one
of which would be the pride of a queen's crown.

The sea king down there had been a widower for years, and his old mother kept
house for him. She was a clever woman, but very proud of her noble birth. Therefore
she flaunted twelve oysters on her tail while the other ladies of the court were only
allowed to wear six. Except for this she was an altogether praiseworthy person,
particularly so because she was extremely fond of her granddaughters, the little sea
princesses. They were six lovely girls, but the youngest was the most beautiful of
them all. Her skin was as soft and tender as a rose petal, and her eyes were as blue
as the deep sea, but like all the others she had no feet. Her body ended in a fish tail.

The whole day long they used to play in the palace, down in the great halls where
live flowers grew on the walls. Whenever the high amber windows were thrown open
the fish would swim in, just as swallows dart into our rooms when we open the
windows. But these fish, now, would swim right up to the little princesses to eat out
of their hands and let themselves be petted.

Outside the palace was a big garden, with flaming red and deep-blue trees. Their
fruit glittered like gold, and their blossoms flamed like fire on their constantly waving
stalks. The soil was very fine sand indeed, but as blue as burning brimstone. A
strange blue veil lay over everything down there. You would have thought yourself
aloft in the air with only the blue sky above and beneath you, rather than down at
the bottom of the sea. When there was a dead calm, you could just see the sun, like
a scarlet flower with light streaming from its calyx.

Each little princess had her own small garden plot, where she could dig and plant
whatever she liked. One of them made her little flower bed in the shape of a whale,
another thought it neater to shape hers like a little mermaid, but the youngest of
them made hers as round as the sun, and there she grew only flowers which were as
red as the sun itself. She was an unusual child, quiet and wistful, and when her
sisters decorated their gardens with all kinds of odd things they had found in sunken
ships, she would allow nothing in hers except flowers as red as the sun, and a pretty
marble statue. This figure of a handsome boy, carved in pure white marble, had sunk
down to the bottom of the sea from some ship that was wrecked. Beside the statue
she planted a rose-colored weeping willow tree, which thrived so well that its graceful
branches shaded the statue and hung down to the blue sand, where their shadows
took on a violet tint, and swayed as the branches swayed. It looked as if the roots
and the tips of the branches were kissing each other in play.

Nothing gave the youngest princess such pleasure as to hear about the world of
human beings up above them. Her old grandmother had to tell her all she knew
about ships and cities, and of people and animals. What seemed nicest of all to her
was that up on land the flowers were fragrant, for those at the bottom of the sea had
no scent. And she thought it was nice that the woods were green, and that the fish
you saw among their branches could sing so loud and sweet that it was delightful to
hear them. Her grandmother had to call the little birds "fish," or the princess would
not have known what she was talking about, for she had never seen a bird.

"When you get to be fifteen," her grandmother said, "you will be allowed to rise up
out of the ocean and sit on the rocks in the moonlight, to watch the great ships
sailing by. You will see woods and towns, too."

Next year one of her sisters would be fifteen, but the others - well, since each was a
whole year older than the next the youngest still had five long years to wait until she
could rise up from the water and see what our world was like. But each sister
promised to tell the others about all that she saw, and what she found most
marvelous on her first day. Their grandmother had not told them half enough, and
there were so many thing that they longed to know about.

The most eager of them all was the youngest, the very one who was so quiet and
wistful. Many a night she stood by her open window and looked up through the dark
blue water where the fish waved their fins and tails. She could just see the moon and
stars. To be sure, their light was quite dim, but looked at through the water they
seemed much bigger than they appear to us. Whenever a cloud-like shadow swept
across them, she knew that it was either a whale swimming overhead, or a ship with
many human beings aboard it. Little did they dream that a pretty young mermaid
was down below, stretching her white arms up toward the keel of their ship.

The eldest princess had her fifteenth birthday, so now she received permission to rise
up out of the water. When she got back she had a hundred things to tell her sisters
about, but the most marvelous thing of all, she said, was to lie on a sand bar in the
moonlight, when the sea was calm, and to gaze at the large city on the shore, where
the lights twinkled like hundreds of stars; to listen to music; to hear the chatter and
clamor of carriages and people; to see so many church towers and spires; and to
hear the ringing bells. Because she could not enter the city, that was just what she
most dearly longed to do.

Oh, how intently the youngest sister listened. After this, whenever she stood at her
open window at night and looked up through the dark blue waters, she thought of
that great city with all of its clatter and clamor, and even fancied that in these
depths she could hear the church bells ring.

The next year, her second sister had permission to rise up to the surface and swim
wherever she pleased. She came up just at sunset, and she said that this spectacle
was the most marvelous sight she had ever seen. The heavens had a golden glow,
and as for the clouds - she could not find words to describe their beauty. Splashed
with red and tinted with violet, they sailed over her head. But much faster than the
sailing clouds were wild swans in a flock. Like a long white veil trailing above the sea,
they flew toward the setting sun. She too swam toward it, but down it went, and all
the rose-colored glow faded from the sea and sky.

The following year, her third sister ascended, and as she was the boldest of them all
she swam up a broad river that flowed into the ocean. She saw gloriously green,
vine-colored hills. Palaces and manor houses could be glimpsed through the splendid
woods. She heard all the birds sing, and the sun shone so brightly that often she had
to dive under the water to cool her burning face. In a small cove she found a whole
school of mortal children, paddling about in the water quite naked. She wanted to
play with them, but they took fright and ran away. Then along came a little black
animal - it was a dog, but she had never seen a dog before. It barked at her so
ferociously that she took fright herself, and fled to the open sea. But never could she
forget the splendid woods, the green hills, and the nice children who could swim in
the water although they didn't wear fish tails.

The fourth sister was not so venturesome. She stayed far out among the rough
waves, which she said was a marvelous place. You could see all around you for miles
and miles, and the heavens up above you were like a vast dome of glass. She had
seen ships, but they were so far away that they looked like sea gulls. Playful dolphins
had turned somersaults, and monstrous whales had spouted water through their
nostrils so that it looked as if hundreds of fountains were playing all around them.

Now the fifth sister had her turn. Her birthday came in the wintertime, so she saw
things that none of the others had seen. The sea was a deep green color, and
enormous icebergs drifted about. Each one glistened like a pearl, she said, but they
were more lofty than any church steeple built by man. They assumed the most
fantastic shapes, and sparkled like diamonds. She had seated herself on the largest
one, and all the ships that came sailing by sped away as soon as the frightened
sailors saw her there with her long hair blowing in the wind.

In the late evening clouds filled the sky. Thunder cracked and lightning darted across
the heavens. Black waves lifted those great bergs of ice on high, where they flashed
when the lightning struck.

On all the ships the sails were reefed and there was fear and trembling. But quietly
she sat there, upon her drifting iceberg, and watched the blue forked lightning strike
the sea.

Each of the sisters took delight in the lovely new sights when she first rose up to the
surface of the sea. But when they became grown-up girls, who were allowed to go
wherever they liked, they became indifferent to it. They would become homesick,
and in a month they said that there was no place like the bottom of the sea, where
they felt so completely at home.

On many an evening the older sisters would rise to the surface, arm in arm, all five in
a row. They had beautiful voices, more charming than those of any mortal beings.
When a storm was brewing, and they anticipated a shipwreck, they would swim
before the ship and sing most seductively of how beautiful it was at the bottom of
the ocean, trying to overcome the prejudice that the sailors had against coming
down to them. But people could not understand their song, and mistook it for the
voice of the storm. Nor was it for them to see the glories of the deep. When their ship
went down they were drowned, and it was as dead men that they reached the sea
king's palace.

On the evenings when the mermaids rose through the water like this, arm in arm,
their youngest sister stayed behind all alone, looking after them and wanting to
weep. But a mermaid has no tears, and therefore she suffers so much more.

"Oh, how I do wish I were fifteen!" she said. "I know I shall love that world up there
and all the people who live in it."

And at last she too came to be fifteen.

"Now I'll have you off my hands," said her grandmother, the old queen dowager.
"Come, let me adorn you like your sisters." In the little maid's hair she put a wreath
of white lilies, each petal of which was formed from half of a pearl. And the old queen
let eight big oysters fasten themselves to the princess's tail, as a sign of her high
rank.

"But that hurts!" said the little mermaid.

"You must put up with a good deal to keep up appearances," her grandmother told
her.

Oh, how gladly she would have shaken off all these decorations, and laid aside the
cumbersome wreath! The red flowers in her garden were much more becoming to
her, but she didn't dare to make any changes. "Good-by," she said, and up she went
through the water, as light and as sparkling as a bubble.

The sun had just gone down when her head rose above the surface, but the clouds
still shone like gold and roses, and in the delicately tinted sky sparkled the clear
gleam of the evening star. The air was mild and fresh and the sea unruffled. A great
three-master lay in view with only one of all its sails set, for there was not even the
whisper of a breeze, and the sailors idled about in the rigging and on the yards.
There was music and singing on the ship, and as night came on they lighted
hundreds of such brightly colored lanterns that one might have thought the flags of
all nations were swinging in the air.

The little mermaid swam right up to the window of the main cabin, and each time
she rose with the swell she could peep in through the clear glass panes at the crowd
of brilliantly dressed people within. The handsomest of them all was a young Prince
with big dark eyes. He could not be more than sixteen years old. It was his birthday
and that was the reason for all the celebration. Up on deck the sailors were dancing,
and when the Prince appeared among them a hundred or more rockets flew through
the air, making it as bright as day. These startled the little mermaid so badly that she
ducked under the water. But she soon peeped up again, and then it seemed as if all
the stars in the sky were falling around her. Never had she seen such fireworks. Great
suns spun around, splendid fire-fish floated through the blue air, and all these things
were mirrored in the crystal clear sea. It was so brilliantly bright that you could see
every little rope of the ship, and the people could be seen distinctly. Oh, how
handsome the young Prince was! He laughed, and he smiled and shook people by
the hand, while the music rang out in the perfect evening.

It got very late, but the little mermaid could not take her eyes off the ship and the
handsome Prince. The brightly colored lanterns were put out, no more rockets flew
through the air, and no more cannon boomed. But there was a mutter and rumble
deep down in the sea, and the swell kept bouncing her up so high that she could look
into the cabin.

Now the ship began to sail. Canvas after canvas was spread in the wind, the waves
rose high, great clouds gathered, and lightning flashed in the distance. Ah, they were
in for a terrible storm, and the mariners made haste to reef the sails. The tall ship
pitched and rolled as it sped through the angry sea. The waves rose up like towering
black mountains, as if they would break over the masthead, but the swan-like ship
plunged into the valleys between such waves, and emerged to ride their lofty
heights. To the little mermaid this seemed good sport, but to the sailors it was
nothing of the sort. The ship creaked and labored, thick timbers gave way under the
heavy blows, waves broke over the ship, the mainmast snapped in two like a reed,
the ship listed over on its side, and water burst into the hold.

Now the little mermaid saw that people were in peril, and that she herself must take
care to avoid the beams and wreckage tossed about by the sea. One moment it
would be black as pitch, and she couldn't see a thing. Next moment the lightning
would flash so brightly that she could distinguish every soul on board. Everyone was
looking out for himself as best he could. She watched closely for the young Prince,
and when the ship split in two she saw him sink down in the sea. At first she was
overjoyed that he would be with her, but then she recalled that human people could
not live under the water, and he could only visit her father's palace as a dead man.
No, he should not die! So she swam in among all the floating planks and beams,
completely forgetting that they might crush her. She dived through the waves and
rode their crests, until at length she reached the young Prince, who was no longer
able to swim in that raging sea. His arms and legs were exhausted, his beautiful eyes
were closing, and he would have died if the little mermaid had not come to help him.
She held his head above water, and let the waves take them wherever the waves
went.

At daybreak, when the storm was over, not a trace of the ship was in view. The sun
rose out of the waters, red and bright, and its beams seemed to bring the glow of life
back to the cheeks of the Prince, but his eyes remained closed. The mermaid kissed
his high and shapely forehead. As she stroked his wet hair in place, it seemed to her
that he looked like that marble statue in her little garden. She kissed him again and
hoped that he would live.

She saw dry land rise before her in high blue mountains, topped with snow as
glistening white as if a flock of swans were resting there. Down by the shore were
splendid green woods, and in the foreground stood a church, or perhaps a convent;
she didn't know which, but anyway it was a building. Orange and lemon trees grew in
its garden, and tall palm trees grew beside the gateway. Here the sea formed a little
harbor, quite calm and very deep. Fine white sand had been washed up below the
cliffs. She swam there with the handsome Prince, and stretched him out on the sand,
taking special care to pillow his head up high in the warm sunlight.

The bells began to ring in the great white building, and a number of young girls came
out into the garden. The little mermaid swam away behind some tall rocks that stuck
out of the water. She covered her hair and her shoulders with foam so that no one
could see her tiny face, and then she watched to see who would find the poor Prince.

In a little while one of the young girls came upon him. She seemed frightened, but
only for a minute; then she called more people. The mermaid watched the Prince
regain consciousness, and smile at everyone around him. But he did not smile at her,
for he did not even know that she had saved him. She felt very unhappy, and when
they led him away to the big building she dived sadly down into the water and
returned to her father's palace.

She had always been quiet and wistful, and now she became much more so. Her
sisters asked her what she had seen on her first visit up to the surface, but she would
not tell them a thing.

Many evenings and many mornings she revisited the spot where she had left the
Prince. She saw the fruit in the garden ripened and harvested, and she saw the snow
on the high mountain melted away, but she did not see the Prince, so each time she
came home sadder than she had left. It was her one consolation to sit in her little
garden and throw her arms about the beautiful marble statue that looked so much
like the Prince. But she took no care of her flowers now. They overgrew the paths
until the place was a wilderness, and their long stalks and leaves became so
entangled in the branches of the tree that it cast a gloomy shade.

Finally she couldn't bear it any longer. She told her secret to one of her sisters.
Immediately all the other sisters heard about it. No one else knew, except a few
more mermaids who told no one - except their most intimate friends. One of these
friends knew who the Prince was. She too had seen the birthday celebration on the
ship. She knew where he came from and where his kingdom was.

"Come, little sister!" said the other princesses. Arm in arm, they rose from the water
in a long row, right in front of where they knew the Prince's palace stood. It was built
of pale, glistening, golden stone with great marble staircases, one of which led down
to the sea. Magnificent gilt domes rose above the roof, and between the pillars all
around the building were marble statues that looked most lifelike. Through the clear
glass of the lofty windows one could see into the splendid halls, with their costly silk
hangings and tapestries, and walls covered with paintings that were delightful to
behold. In the center of the main hall a large fountain played its columns of spray up
to the glass-domed roof, through which the sun shone down on the water and upon
the lovely plants that grew in the big basin.

Now that she knew where he lived, many an evening and many a night she spent
there in the sea. She swam much closer to shore than any of her sisters would dare
venture, and she even went far up a narrow stream, under the splendid marble
balcony that cast its long shadow in the water. Here she used to sit and watch the
young Prince when he thought himself quite alone in the bright moonlight.

On many evenings she saw him sail out in his fine boat, with music playing and flags
a-flutter. She would peep out through the green rushes, and if the wind blew her long
silver veil, anyone who saw it mistook it for a swan spreading its wings.

On many nights she saw the fishermen come out to sea with their torches, and heard
them tell about how kind the young Prince was. This made her proud to think that it
was she who had saved his life when he was buffeted about, half dead among the
waves. And she thought of how softly his head had rested on her breast, and how
tenderly she had kissed him, though he knew nothing of all this nor could he even
dream of it.

Increasingly she grew to like human beings, and more and more she longed to live
among them. Their world seemed so much wider than her own, for they could skim
over the sea in ships, and mount up into the lofty peaks high over the clouds, and
their lands stretched out in woods and fields farther than the eye could see. There
was so much she wanted to know. Her sisters could not answer all her questions, so
she asked her old grandmother, who knew about the "upper world," which was what
she said was the right name for the countries above the sea.

"If men aren't drowned," the little mermaid asked, "do they live on forever? Don't
they die, as we do down here in the sea?"

"Yes," the old lady said, "they too must die, and their lifetimes are even shorter than
ours. We can live to be three hundred years old, but when we perish we turn into
mere foam on the sea, and haven't even a grave down here among our dear ones.
We have no immortal soul, no life hereafter. We are like the green seaweed - once cut
down, it never grows again. Human beings, on the contrary, have a soul which lives
forever, long after their bodies have turned to clay. It rises through thin air, up to the
shining stars. Just as we rise through the water to see the lands on earth, so men rise
up to beautiful places unknown, which we shall never see."
"Why weren't we given an immortal soul?" the little mermaid sadly asked. "I would
gladly give up my three hundred years if I could be a human being only for a day, and
later share in that heavenly realm."

"You must not think about that," said the old lady. "We fare much more happily and
are much better off than the folk up there."

"Then I must also die and float as foam upon the sea, not hearing the music of the
waves, and seeing neither the beautiful flowers nor the red sun! Can't I do anything
at all to win an immortal soul?"

"No," her grandmother answered, "not unless a human being loved you so much that
you meant more to him than his father and mother. If his every thought and his whole
heart cleaved to you so that he would let a priest join his right hand to yours and
would promise to be faithful here and throughout all eternity, then his soul would
dwell in your body, and you would share in the happiness of mankind. He would give
you a soul and yet keep his own. But that can never come to pass. The very thing
that is your greatest beauty here in the sea - your fish tail - would be considered ugly
on land. They have such poor taste that to be thought beautiful there you have to
have two awkward props which they call legs."

The little mermaid sighed and looked unhappily at her fish tail.

"Come, let us be gay!" the old lady said. "Let us leap and bound throughout the three
hundred years that we have to live. Surely that is time and to spare, and afterwards
we shall be glad enough to rest in our graves. - We are holding a court ball this
evening."

This was a much more glorious affair than is ever to be seen on earth. The walls and
the ceiling of the great ballroom were made of massive but transparent glass. Many
hundreds of huge rose-red and grass-green shells stood on each side in rows, with
the blue flames that burned in each shell illuminating the whole room and shining
through the walls so clearly that it was quite bright in the sea outside. You could see
the countless fish, great and small, swimming toward the glass walls. On some of
them the scales gleamed purplish-red, while others were silver and gold. Across the
floor of the hall ran a wide stream of water, and upon this the mermaids and mermen
danced to their own entrancing songs. Such beautiful voices are not to be heard
among the people who live on land. The little mermaid sang more sweetly than
anyone else, and everyone applauded her. For a moment her heart was happy,
because she knew she had the loveliest voice of all, in the sea or on the land. But her
thoughts soon strayed to the world up above. She could not forget the charming
Prince, nor her sorrow that she did not have an immortal soul like his. Therefore she
stole out of her father's palace and, while everything there was song and gladness,
she sat sadly in her own little garden.

Then she heard a bugle call through the water, and she thought, "That must mean he
is sailing up there, he whom I love more than my father or mother, he of whom I am
always thinking, and in whose hands I would so willingly trust my lifelong happiness. I
dare do anything to win him and to gain an immortal soul. While my sisters are
dancing here, in my father's palace, I shall visit the sea witch of whom I have always
been so afraid. Perhaps she will be able to advise me and help me."

The little mermaid set out from her garden toward the whirlpools that raged in front
of the witch's dwelling. She had never gone that way before. No flowers grew there,
nor any seaweed. Bare and gray, the sands extended to the whirlpools, where like
roaring mill wheels the waters whirled and snatched everything within their reach
down to the bottom of the sea. Between these tumultuous whirlpools she had to
thread her way to reach the witch's waters, and then for a long stretch the only trail
lay through a hot seething mire, which the witch called her peat marsh. Beyond it her
house lay in the middle of a weird forest, where all the trees and shrubs were polyps,
half animal and half plant. They looked like hundred-headed snakes growing out of
the soil. All their branches were long, slimy arms, with fingers like wriggling worms.
They squirmed, joint by joint, from their roots to their outermost tentacles, and
whatever they could lay hold of they twined around and never let go. The little
mermaid was terrified, and stopped at the edge of the forest. Her heart thumped with
fear and she nearly turned back, but then she remembered the Prince and the souls
that men have, and she summoned her courage. She bound her long flowing locks
closely about her head so that the polyps could not catch hold of them, folded her
arms across her breast, and darted through the water like a fish, in among the slimy
polyps that stretched out their writhing arms and fingers to seize her. She saw that
every one of them held something that it had caught with its hundreds of little
tentacles, and to which it clung as with strong hoops of steel. The white bones of men
who had perished at sea and sunk to these depths could be seen in the polyps' arms.
Ships' rudders, and seamen's chests, and the skeletons of land animals had also
fallen into their clutches, but the most ghastly sight of all was a little mermaid whom
they had caught and strangled.

She reached a large muddy clearing in the forest, where big fat water snakes
slithered about, showing their foul yellowish bellies. In the middle of this clearing was
a house built of the bones of shipwrecked men, and there sat the sea witch, letting a
toad eat out of her mouth just as we might feed sugar to a little canary bird. She
called the ugly fat water snakes her little chickabiddies, and let them crawl and
sprawl about on her spongy bosom.

"I know exactly what you want," said the sea witch. "It is very foolish of you, but just
the same you shall have your way, for it will bring you to grief, my proud princess.
You want to get rid of your fish tail and have two props instead, so that you can walk
about like a human creature, and have the young Prince fall in love with you, and win
him and an immortal soul besides." At this, the witch gave such a loud cackling laugh
that the toad and the snakes were shaken to the ground, where they lay writhing.

"You are just in time," said the witch. "After the sun comes up tomorrow, a whole year
would have to go by before I could be of any help to you. J shall compound you a
draught, and before sunrise you must swim to the shore with it, seat yourself on dry
land, and drink the draught down. Then your tail will divide and shrink until it
becomes what the people on earth call a pair of shapely legs. But it will hurt; it will
feel as if a sharp sword slashed through you. Everyone who sees you will say that you
are the most graceful human being they have ever laid eyes on, for you will keep
your gliding movement and no dancer will be able to tread as lightly as you. But
every step you take will feel as if you were treading upon knife blades so sharp that
blood must flow. I am willing to help you, but are you willing to suffer all this?"

"Yes," the little mermaid said in a trembling voice, as she thought of the Prince and of
gaining a human soul.

"Remember!" said the witch. "Once you have taken a human form, you can never be
a mermaid again. You can never come back through the waters to your sisters, or to
your father's palace. And if you do not win the love of the Prince so completely that
for your sake he forgets his father and mother, cleaves to you with his every thought
and his whole heart, and lets the priest join your hands in marriage, then you will win
no immortal soul. If he marries someone else, your heart will break on the very next
morning, and you will become foam of the sea."

"I shall take that risk," said the little mermaid, but she turned as pale as death.

"Also, you will have to pay me," said the witch, "and it is no trifling price that I'm
asking. You have the sweetest voice of anyone down here at the bottom of the sea,
and while I don't doubt that you would like to captivate the Prince with it, you must
give this voice to me. I will take the very best thing that you have, in return for my
sovereign draught. I must pour my own blood in it to make the drink as sharp as a
two-edged sword."

"But if you take my voice," said the little mermaid, "what will be left to me?"

"Your lovely form," the witch told her, "your gliding movements, and your eloquent
eyes. With these you can easily enchant a human heart. Well, have you lost your
courage? Stick out your little tongue and I shall cut it off. I'll have my price, and you
shall have the potent draught."

"Go ahead," said the little mermaid.

The witch hung her caldron over the flames, to brew the draught. "Cleanliness is a
good thing," she said, as she tied her snakes in a knot and scoured out the pot with
them. Then she pricked herself in the chest and let her black blood splash into the
caldron. Steam swirled up from it, in such ghastly shapes that anyone would have
been terrified by them. The witch constantly threw new ingredients into the caldron,
and it started to boil with a sound like that of a crocodile shedding tears. When the
draught was ready at last, it looked as clear as the purest water.

"There's your draught," said the witch. And she cut off the tongue of the little
mermaid, who now was dumb and could neither sing nor talk.

"If the polyps should pounce on you when you walk back through my wood," the
witch said, "just spill a drop of this brew upon them and their tentacles will break in a
thousand pieces." But there was no need of that, for the polyps curled up in terror as
soon as they saw the bright draught. It glittered in the little mermaid's hand as if it
were a shining star. So she soon traversed the forest, the marsh, and the place of
raging whirlpools.

She could see her father's palace. The lights had been snuffed out in the great
ballroom, and doubtless everyone in the palace was asleep, but she dared not go
near them, now that she was stricken dumb and was leaving her home forever. Her
heart felt as if it would break with grief. She tip-toed into the garden, took one flower
from each of her sisters' little plots, blew a thousand kisses toward the palace, and
then mounted up through the dark blue sea.

The sun had not yet risen when she saw the Prince's palace. As she climbed his
splendid marble staircase, the moon was shining clear. The little mermaid swallowed
the bitter, fiery draught, and it was as if a two-edged sword struck through her frail
body. She swooned away, and lay there as if she were dead. When the sun rose over
the sea she awoke and felt a flash of pain, but directly in front of her stood the
handsome young Prince, gazing at her with his coal-black eyes. Lowering her gaze,
she saw that her fish tail was gone, and that she had the loveliest pair of white legs
any young maid could hope to have. But she was naked, so she clothed herself in her
own long hair.

The Prince asked who she was, and how she came to be there. Her deep blue eyes
looked at him tenderly but very sadly, for she could not speak. Then he took her hand
and led her into his palace. Every footstep felt as if she were walking on the blades
and points of sharp knives, just as the witch had foretold, but she gladly endured it.
She moved as lightly as a bubble as she walked beside the Prince. He and all who
saw her marveled at the grace of her gliding walk.

Once clad in the rich silk and muslin garments that were provided for her, she was
the loveliest person in all the palace, though she was dumb and could neither sing
nor speak. Beautiful slaves, attired in silk and cloth of gold, came to sing before the
Prince and his royal parents. One of them sang more sweetly than all the others, and
when the Prince smiled at her and clapped his hands, the little mermaid felt very
unhappy, for she knew that she herself used to sing much more sweetly.

"Oh," she thought, "if he only knew that I parted with my voice forever so that I could
be near him."

Graceful slaves now began to dance to the most wonderful music. Then the little
mermaid lifted her shapely white arms, rose up on the tips of her toes, and skimmed
over the floor. No one had ever danced so well. Each movement set off her beauty to
better and better advantage, and her eyes spoke more directly to the heart than any
of the singing slaves could do.

She charmed everyone, and especially the Prince, who called her his dear little
foundling. She danced time and again, though every time she touched the floor she
felt as if she were treading on sharp-edged steel. The Prince said he would keep her
with him always, and that she was to have a velvet pillow to sleep on outside his
door.

He had a page's suit made for her, so that she could go with him on horseback. They
would ride through the sweet scented woods, where the green boughs brushed her
shoulders, and where the little birds sang among the fluttering leaves.

She climbed up high mountains with the Prince, and though her tender feet bled so
that all could see it, she only laughed and followed him on until they could see the
clouds driving far below, like a flock of birds in flight to distant lands.

At home in the Prince's palace, while the others slept at night, she would go down the
broad marble steps to cool her burning feet in the cold sea water, and then she would
recall those who lived beneath the sea. One night her sisters came by, arm in arm,
singing sadly as they breasted the waves. When she held out her hands toward them,
they knew who she was, and told her how unhappy she had made them all. They
came to see her every night after that, and once far, far out to sea, she saw her old
grandmother, who had not been up to the surface this many a year. With her was the
sea king, with his crown upon his head. They stretched out their hands to her, but
they did not venture so near the land as her sisters had.
Day after day she became more dear to the Prince, who loved her as one would love
a good little child, but he never thought of making her his Queen. Yet she had to be
his wife or she would never have an immortal soul, and on the morning after his
wedding she would turn into foam on the waves.

"Don't you love me best of all?" the little mermaid's eyes seemed to question him,
when he took her in his arms and kissed her lovely forehead.

"Yes, you are most dear to me," said the Prince, "for you have the kindest heart. You
love me more than anyone else does, and you look so much like a young girl I once
saw but never shall find again. I was on a ship that was wrecked, and the waves cast
me ashore near a holy temple, where many young girls performed the rituals. The
youngest of them found me beside the sea and saved my life. Though I saw her no
more than twice, she is the only person in all the world whom I could love. But you
are so much like her that you almost replace the memory of her in my heart. She
belongs to that holy temple, therefore it is my good fortune that I have you. We shall
never part."

"Alas, he doesn't know it was I who saved his life," the little mermaid thought. "I
carried him over the sea to the garden where the temple stands. I hid behind the
foam and watched to see if anyone would come. I saw the pretty maid he loves
better than me." A sigh was the only sign of her deep distress, for a mermaid cannot
cry. "He says that the other maid belongs to the holy temple. She will never come out
into the world, so they will never see each other again. It is I who will care for him,
love him, and give all my life to him."

Now rumors arose that the Prince was to wed the beautiful daughter of a neighboring
King, and that it was for this reason he was having such a superb ship made ready to
sail. The rumor ran that the Prince's real interest in visiting the neighboring kingdom
was to see the King's daughter, and that he was to travel with a lordly retinue. The
little mermaid shook her head and smiled, for she knew the Prince's thoughts far
better than anyone else did.

"I am forced to make this journey," he told her. "I must visit the beautiful Princess, for
this is my parents' wish, but they would not have me bring her home as my bride
against my own will, and I can never love her. She does not resemble the lovely
maiden in the temple, as you do, and if I were to choose a bride, I would sooner
choose you, my dear mute foundling with those telling eyes of yours." And he kissed
her on the mouth, fingered her long hair, and laid his head against her heart so that
she came to dream of mortal happiness and an immortal soul.

"I trust you aren't afraid of the sea, my silent child ' he said, as they went on board
the magnificent vessel that was to carry them to the land of the neighboring King.
And he told her stories of storms, of ships becalmed, of strange deep-sea fish, and of
the wonders that divers have seen. She smiled at such stories, for no one knew about
the bottom of the sea as well as she did.

In the clear moonlight, when everyone except the man at the helm was asleep, she
sat on the side of the ship gazing down through the transparent water, and fancied
she could catch glimpses of her father's palace. On the topmost tower stood her old
grandmother, wearing her silver crown and looking up at the keel of the ship through
the rushing waves. Then her sisters rose to the surface, looked at her sadly, and
wrung their white hands. She smiled and waved, trying to let them know that all went
well and that she was happy. But along came the cabin boy, and her sisters dived out
of sight so quickly that the boy supposed the flash of white he had seen was merely
foam on the sea.

Next morning the ship came in to the harbor of the neighboring King's glorious city.
All the church bells chimed, and trumpets were sounded from all the high towers,
while the soldiers lined up with flying banners and glittering bayonets. Every day had
a new festivity, as one ball or levee followed another, but the Princess was still to
appear. They said she was being brought up in some far-away sacred temple, where
she was learning every royal virtue. But she came at last.

The little mermaid was curious to see how beautiful this Princess was, and she had to
grant that a more exquisite figure she had never seen. The Princess's skin was clear
and fair, and behind the long, dark lashes her deep blue eyes were smiling and
devoted.

"It was you!" the Prince cried. "You are the one who saved me when I lay like a dead
man beside the sea." He clasped the blushing bride of his choice in his arms. "Oh, I
am happier than a man should be!" he told his little mermaid. "My fondest dream -
that which I never dared to hope - has come true. You will share in my great joy, for
you love me more than anyone does."

The little mermaid kissed his hand and felt that her heart was beginning to break. For
the morning after his wedding day would see her dead and turned to watery foam.

All the church bells rang out, and heralds rode through the streets to announce the
wedding. Upon every altar sweet-scented oils were burned in costly silver lamps. The
priests swung their censers, the bride and the bridegroom joined their hands, and the
bishop blessed their marriage. The little mermaid, clothed in silk and cloth of gold,
held the bride's train, but she was deaf to the wedding march and blind to the holy
ritual. Her thought turned on her last night upon earth, and on all she had lost in this
world.

That same evening, the bride and bridegroom went aboard the ship. Cannon
thundered and banners waved. On the deck of the ship a royal pavilion of purple and
gold was set up, and furnished with luxurious cushions. Here the wedded couple were
to sleep on that calm, clear night. The sails swelled in the breeze, and the ship glided
so lightly that it scarcely seemed to move over the quiet sea. All nightfall brightly
colored lanterns were lighted, and the mariners merrily danced on the deck. The little
mermaid could not forget that first time she rose from the depths of the sea and
looked on at such pomp and happiness. Light as a swallow pursued by his enemies,
she joined in the whirling dance. Everyone cheered her, for never had she danced so
wonderfully. Her tender feet felt as if they were pierced by daggers, but she did not
feel it. Her heart suffered far greater pain. She knew that this was the last evening
that she ever would see him for whom she had forsaken her home and family, for
whom she had sacrificed her lovely voice and suffered such constant torment, while
he knew nothing of all these things. It was the last night that she would breathe the
same air with him, or look upon deep waters or the star fields of the blue sky. A
never-ending night, without thought and without dreams, awaited her who had no
soul and could not get one. The merrymaking lasted long after midnight, yet she
laughed and danced on despite the thought of death she carried in her heart. The
Prince kissed his beautiful bride and she toyed with his coal-black hair. Hand in hand,
they went to rest in the magnificent pavilion.
A hush came over the ship. Only the helmsman remained on deck as the little
mermaid leaned her white arms on the bulwarks and looked to the east to see the
first red hint of daybreak, for she knew that the first flash of the sun would strike her
dead. Then she saw her sisters rise up among the waves. They were as pale as she,
and there was no sign of their lovely long hair that the breezes used to blow. It had all
been cut off.

'We have given our hair to the witch," they said, "so that she would send you help,
and save you from death tonight. She gave us a knife. Here it is. See the sharp blade!
Before the sun rises, you must strike it into the Prince's heart, and when his warm
blood bathes your feet they will grow together and become a fish tail. Then you will
be a mermaid again, able to come back to us in the sea, and live out your three
hundred years before you die and turn into dead salt sea foam. Make haste! He or
you must die before sunrise. Our old grandmother is so grief-stricken that her white
hair is falling fast, just as ours did under the witch's scissors. Kill the Prince and come
back to us. Hurry! Hurry! See that red glow in the heavens! In a few minutes the sun
will rise and you must die." So saying, they gave a strange deep sigh and sank
beneath the waves.

The little mermaid parted the purple curtains of the tent and saw the beautiful bride
asleep with her head on the Prince's breast. The mermaid bent down and kissed his
shapely forehead. She looked at the sky, fast reddening for the break of day. She
looked at the sharp knife and again turned her eyes toward the Prince, who in his
sleep murmured the name of his bride. His thoughts were all for her, and the knife
blade trembled in the mermaid's hand. But then she flung it from her, far out over the
waves. Where it fell the waves were red, as if bubbles of blood seethed in the water.
With eyes already glazing she looked once more at the Prince, hurled herself over the
bulwarks into the sea, and felt her body dissolve in foam.

The sun rose up from the waters. Its beams fell, warm and kindly, upon the chill sea
foam, and the little mermaid did not feel the hand of death. In the bright sunlight
overhead,she saw hundreds of fair ethereal beings. They were so transparent that
through them she could see the ship's white sails and the red clouds in the sky. Their
voices were sheer music, but so spirit-like that no human ear could detect the sound,
just as no eye on earth could see their forms. Without wings, they floated as light as
the air itself. The little mermaid discovered that she was shaped like them, and that
she was gradually rising up out of the foam.

'Who are you, toward whom I rise?" she asked, and her voice sounded like those
above her, so spiritual that no music on earth could match it.

"We are the daughters of the air," they answered. "A mermaid has no immortal soul,
and can never get one unless she wins the love of a human being. Her eternal life
must depend upon a power outside herself. The daughters of the air do not have an
immortal soul either, but they can earn one by their good deeds. We fly to the south,
where the hot poisonous air kills human beings unless we bring cool breezes. We
carry the scent of flowers through the air, bringing freshness and healing balm
wherever we go. When for three hundred years we have tried to do all the good that
we can, we are given an immortal soul and a share in mankind's eternal bliss. You,
poor little mermaid, have tried with your whole heart to do this too. Your suffering
and your loyalty have raised you up into the realm of airy spirits, and now in the
course of three hundred years you may earn by your good deeds a soul that will
never die."
The little mermaid lifted her clear bright eyes toward God's sun, and for the first time
her eyes were wet with tears.

On board the ship all was astir and lively again. She saw the Prince and his fair bride
in search of her. Then they gazed sadly into the seething foam, as if they knew she
had hurled herself into the waves. Unseen by them, she kissed the bride's forehead,
smiled upon the Prince, and rose up with the other daughters of the air to the rose-
red clouds that sailed on high.

"This is the way that we shall rise to the kingdom of God, after three hundred years
have passed."

"We may get there even sooner," one spirit whispered. "Unseen, we fly into the
homes of men, where there are children, and for every day on which we find a good
child who pleases his parents and deserves their love, God shortens our days of trial.
The child does not know when we float through his room, but when we smile at him
in approval one year is taken from our three hundred. But if we see a naughty,
mischievous child we must shed tears of sorrow, and each tear adds a day to the
time of our trial."
THE END

Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs

By the Brothers Grimm
* Parental Guidance Suggested

Once upon a time in the middle of winter, when the flakes of snow were falling like
feathers from the sky, a queen sat at a window sewing, and the frame of the window
was made of black ebony. And whilst she was sewing and looking out of the window
at the snow, she pricked her finger with the needle, and three drops of blood fell
upon the snow. And the red looked pretty upon the white snow, and she thought to
herself, would that I had a child as white as snow, as red as blood, and as black as
the wood of the window-frame.

Soon after that she had a little daughter, who was as white as snow, and as red as
blood, and her hair was as black as ebony, and she was therefore called little snow-
white. And when the child was born, the queen died.

After a year had passed the king took to himself another wife. She was a beautiful
woman, but proud and haughty, and she could not bear that anyone else chould
surpass her in beauty. She had a wonderful looking-glass, and when she stood in
front of it and looked at herself in it, and said, looking-glass, looking-glass, on the
wall, who in this land is the fairest of all.

The looking-glass answered, thou, o queen, art the fairest of all.

Then she was satisfied, for she knew that the looking-glass spoke the truth.

But snow-white was growing up, and grew more and more beautiful, and when she
was seven years old she was as beautiful as the day, and more beautiful than the
queen herself. And once when the queen asked her looking-glass, looking-glass,
looking-glass, on the wall, who in this land is the fairest of all.

It answered, thou art fairer than all who are here, lady queen. But more beautiful still
is snow-white, as I ween.
Then the queen was shocked, and turned yellow and green with envy. From that
hour, whenever she looked at snow-white, her heart heaved in her breast, she hated
the girl so much. And envy and pride grew higher and higher in her heart like a weed,
so that she had no peace day or night. She called a huntsman, and said, take the
child away into the forest. I will no longer have her in my sight. Kill her, and bring me
back her lung and liver as a token. The huntsman obeyed, and took her away but
when he had drawn his knife, and was about to pierce snow-white's innocent heart,
she began to weep, and said, ah dear huntsman, leave me my life. I will run away
into the wild forest, and never come home again.

And as she was so beautiful the huntsman had pity on her and said, run away, then,
you poor child. The wild beasts will soon have devoured you, thought he, and yet it
seemed as if a stone had been rolled from his heart since it was no longer needful for
him to kill her. And as a young bear just then came running by he stabbed it, and cut
out its lung and liver and took them to the queen as proof that the child was dead.
The cook had to salt them, and the wicked queen ate them, and thought she had
eaten the lung and liver of snow-white.

But now the poor child was all alone in the great forest, and so terrified that she
looked at all the leaves on the trees, and did not know what to do. Then she began to
run, and ran over sharp stones and through thorns, and the wild beasts ran past her,
but did her no harm.

She ran as long as her feet would go until it was almost evening, then she saw a little
cottage and went into it to rest herself. Everything in the cottage was small, but
neater and cleaner than can be told. There was a table on which was a white cover,
and seven little plates, and on each plate a little spoon, moreover, there were seven
little knives and forks, and seven little mugs. Against the wall stood seven little beds
side by side, and covered with snow-white counterpanes.

Little snow-white was so hungry and thirsty that she ate some vegetables and bread
from each plate and drank a drop of wine out of each mug, for she did not wish to
take all from one only. Then, as she was so tired, she laid herself down on one of the
little beds, but none of them suited her, one was too long, another too short, but at
last she found that the seventh one was right, and so she remained in it, said a
prayer and went to sleep.

When it was quite dark the owners of the cottage came back. They were seven
dwarfs who dug and delved in the mountains for ore. They lit their seven candles,
and as it was now light within the cottage they saw that someone had been there, for
everything was not in the same order in which they had left it.

The first said, who has been sitting on my chair.

The second, who has been eating off my plate.

The third, who has been taking some of my bread.

The fourth, who has been eating my vegetables.

The fifth, who has been using my fork.

The sixth, who has been cutting with my knife.

The seventh, who has been drinking out of my mug.

Then the first looked round and saw that there was a little hollow on his bed, and he
said, who has been getting into my bed. The others came up and each called out,
somebody has been lying in my bed too. But the seventh when he looked at his bed
saw little snow-white, who was lying asleep therein. And he called the others, who
came running up, and they cried out with astonishment, and brought their seven
little candles and let the light fall on little snow-white. Oh, heavens, oh, heavens,
cried they, what a lovely child. And they were so glad that they did not wake her up,
but let her sleep on in the bed. And the seventh dwarf slept with his companions, one
hour with each, and so passed the night.

When it was morning little snow-white awoke, and was frightened when she saw the
seven dwarfs. But they were friendly and asked her what her name was. My name is
snow-white, she answered. How have you come to our house, said the dwarfs. Then
she told them that her step-mother had wished to have her killed, but that the
huntsman had spared her life, and that she had run for the whole day, until at last
she had found their dwelling.

The dwarfs said, if you will take care of our house, cook, make the beds, wash, sew
and knit, and if you will keep everything neat and clean you can stay with us and you
shall want for nothing. Yes, said snow-white, with all my heart. And she stayed with
them. She kept the house in order for them. In the mornings they went to the
mountains and looked for copper and gold, in the evenings they came back, and then
their supper had to be ready. The girl was alone the whole day, so the good dwarfs
warned her and said, beware of your step-mother, she will soon know that you are
here, be sure to let no one come in.

But the queen, believing that she had eaten snow-white's lung and liver, could not
but think that she was again the first and most beautiful of all, and she went to her
looking-glass and said, looking-glass, looking-glass, on the wall, who in this land is
the fairest of all.

And the glass answered, oh, queen, thou art fairest of all I see, but over the hills,
where the seven dwarfs dwell, snow-white is still alive and well, and none is so fair as
she.

Then she was astounded, for she knew that the looking-glass never spoke falsely,
and she knew that the huntsman had betrayed her, and that little snow-white was
still alive.

And so she thought and thought again how she might kill her, for so long as she was
not the fairest in the whole land, envy let her have no rest. And when she had at last
thought of something to do, she painted her face, and dressed herself like an old
pedlar-woman, and no one could have known her. In this disguise she went over the
seven mountains to the seven dwarfs, and knocked at the door and cried, pretty
things to sell, very cheap, very cheap. Little snow-white looked out of the window and
called out, good-day my good woman, what have you to sell. Good things, pretty
things, she answered, stay-laces of all colors, and she pulled out one which was
woven of bright-colored silk. I may let the worthy old woman in, thought snow-white,
and she unbolted the door and bought the pretty laces. Child, said the old woman,
what a fright you look, come, I will lace you properly for once. Snow-white had no
suspicion, but stood before her, and let herself be laced with the new laces. But the
old woman laced so quickly and so tightly that snow-white lost her breath and fell
down as if dead. Now I am the most beautiful, said the queen to herself, and ran
away.

Not long afterwards, in the evening, the seven dwarfs came home, but how shocked
they were when they saw their dear little snow-white lying on the ground, and that
she neither stirred nor moved, and seemed to be dead. They lifted her up, and, as
they saw that she was laced too tightly, they cut the laces, then she began to
breathe a little, and after a while came to life again. When the dwarfs heard what had
happened they said, the old pedlar-woman was no one else than the wicked queen,
take care and let no one come in when we are not with you.

But the wicked woman when she had reached home went in front of the glass and
asked, looking-glass, looking-glass, on the wall, who in this land is the fairest of all.

And it answered as before, oh, queen, thou art fairest of all I see, but over the hills,
where the seven dwarfs dwell, snow-white is still alive and well, and none is so fair as
she.

When she heard that, all her blood rushed to her heart with fear, for she saw plainly
that little snow-white was again alive. But now, she said, I will think of something that
shall really put an end to you. And by the help of witchcraft, which she understood,
she made a poisonous comb. Then she disguised herself and took the shape of
another old woman. So she went over the seven mountains to the seven dwarfs,
knocked at the door, and cried, good things to sell, cheap, cheap. Little snow-white
looked out and said, go away, I cannot let anyone come in. I suppose you can look,
said the old woman, and pulled the poisonous comb out and held it up. It pleased the
girl so well that she let herself be beguiled, and opened the door. When they had
made a bargain the old woman said, now I will comb you properly for once. Poor little
snow-white had no suspicion, and let the old woman do as she pleased, but hardly
had she put the comb in her hair than the poison in it took effect, and the girl fell
down senseless. You paragon of beauty, said the wicked woman, you are done for
now, and she went away.

But fortunately it was almost evening, when the seven dwarfs came home. When
they saw snow-white lying as if dead upon the ground they at once suspected the
step-mother, and they looked and found the poisoned comb. Scarcely had they taken
it out when snow-white came to herself, and told them what had happened. Then
they warned her once more to be upon her guard and to open the door to no one.

The queen, at home, went in front of the glass and said, looking-glass, looking-glass,
on the wall, who in this land is the fairest of all.

Then it answered as before, oh, queen, thou art fairest of all I see, but over the hills,
where the seven dwarfs dwell, snow-white is still alive and well, and none is so fair as
she.

When she heard the glass speak thus she trembled and shook with rage. Snow-white
shall die, she cried, even if it costs me my life.

Thereupon she went into a quite secret, lonely room, where no one ever came, and
there she made a very poisonous apple. Outside it looked pretty, white with a red
cheek, so that everyone who saw it longed for it, but whoever ate a piece of it must
surely die.
When the apple was ready she painted her face, and dressed herself up as a farmer's
wife, and so she went over the seven mountains to the seven dwarfs. She knocked at
the door. Snow-white put her head out of the window and said, I cannot let anyone in,
the seven dwarfs have forbidden me. It is all the same to me, answered the woman, I
shall soon get rid of my apples. There, I will give you one.

No, said snow-white, I dare not take anything. Are you afraid of poison, said the old
woman, look, I will cut the apple in two pieces, you eat the red cheek, and I will eat
the white. The apple was so cunningly made that only the red cheek was poisoned.
Snow-white longed for the fine apple, and when she saw that the woman ate part of
it she could resist no longer, and stretched out her hand and took the poisonous half.
But hardly had she a bit of it in her mouth than she fell down dead. Then the queen
looked at her with a dreadful look, and laughed aloud and said, white as snow, red as
blood, black as ebony-wood, this time the dwarfs cannot wake you up again.

And when she asked of the looking-glass at home, looking-glass, looking-glass, on the
wall, who in this land is the fairest of all.

And it answered at last, oh, queen, in this land thou art fairest of all. Then her
envious heart had rest, so far as an envious heart can have rest.

The dwarfs, when they came home in the evening, found snow-white lying upon the
ground, she breathed no longer and was dead. They lifted her up, looked to see
whether they could find anything poisonous, unlaced her, combed her hair, washed
her with water and wine, but it was all of no use, the poor child was dead, and
remained dead. They laid her upon a bier, and all seven of them sat round it and
wept for her, and wept three days long.

Then they were going to bury her, but she still looked as if she were living, and still
had her pretty red cheeks. They said, we could not bury her in the dark ground, and
they had a transparent coffin of glass made, so that she could be seen from all sides,
and they laid her in it, and wrote her name upon it in golden letters, and that she was
a king's daughter. Then they put the coffin out upon the mountain, and one of them
always stayed by it and watched it. And birds came too, and wept for snow-white,
first an owl, then a raven, and last a dove.

And now snow-white lay a long, long time in the coffin, and she did not change, but
looked as if she were asleep, for she was as white as snow, as red as blood, and her
hair was as black as ebony.

It happened, however, that a king's son came into the forest, and went to the dwarfs,
house to spend the night. He saw the coffin on the mountain, and the beautiful snow-
white within it, and read what was written upon it in golden letters. Then he said to
the dwarfs, let me have the coffin, I will give you whatever you want for it. But the
dwarfs answered, we will not part with it for all the gold in the world. Then he said, let
me have it as a gift, for I cannot live without seeing snow-white. I will honor and prize
her as my dearest possession. As he spoke in this way the good dwarfs took pity
upon him, and gave him the coffin.

And now the king's son had it carried away by his servants on their shoulders. And it
happened that they stumbled over a tree-stump, and with the shock the poisonous
piece of apple which snow-white had bitten off came out of her throat. And before
long she opened her eyes, lifted up the lid of the coffin, sat up, and was once more
alive. Oh, heavens, where am I, she cried. The king's son, full of joy, said, you are
with me. And told her what had happened, and said, I love you more than everything
in the world, come with me to my father's palace, you shall be my wife.

And snow-white was willing, and went with him, and their wedding was held with
great show and splendor. But snow-white's wicked step-mother was also bidden to
the feast. When she had arrayed herself in beautiful clothes she went before the
looking-glass, and said, looking-glass, looking-glass, on the wall, who in this land is
the fairest of all.

The glass answered, oh, queen, of all here the fairest art thou, but the young queen
is fairer by far as I trow.

Then the wicked woman uttered a curse, and was so wretched, so utterly wretched
that she knew not what to do. At first she would not go to the wedding at all, but she
had no peace, and had to go to see the young queen. And when she went in she
recognized snow-white, and she stood still with rage and fear, and could not stir. But
iron slippers had already been put upon the fire, and they were brought in with tongs,
and set before her. Then she was forced to put on the red-hot shoes, and dance until
she dropped down dead.

THE END