by Maria Tatar
The father was overjoyed, for he had been very upset about abandoning the children in the forest.
Not long after that, every square inch of the country was stricken by famine, and one night the children could hear the mother talking with their father after they had gone to bed: “We’ve eaten everything up again. All that’s left is half a loaf of bread, and when that’s gone, we’re finished. The children have to go. This time we’ll take them deeper into the forest so that they won’t be able to find a way out. Otherwise there’s no hope for us.”
All this weighed heavily on the husband’s heart, and he thought: “It would be better if we shared the last crust of bread with the children.” But the woman would not listen to anything he said. She did nothing but nag and find fault. In for a penny, in for a pound, and since he had given in the first time, he also had to give in a second time.
The children were still awake and heard the entire conversation. When their parents had fallen asleep, Hansel got up and wanted to go out and pick up some pebbles as he had done before, but the woman had locked the door, and Hansel couldn’t get out. Hansel comforted his sister and said: “Don’t cry, Gretel. Just get some sleep. The good Lord will protect us.”
Early the next morning the woman came and woke the children up. They each got a crust of bread, this time even smaller than last time. On the way into the woods, Hansel crushed the bread in his pocket and stopped from time to time to scatter crumbs on the ground.
“Hansel, why do you keep looking back and lagging behind?” asked the father. “Keep on walking.”
“I’m looking at my little dove, the one sitting on the roof and trying to say good-bye to me,” Hansel replied.
“You fool,” said the woman. “That isn’t your little dove. Those are the rays of the morning sun shining on the chimney.”
Little by little, Hansel managed to scatter all the crumbs on the path.
The woman took the children deeper into the forest, to a place where they had never been before. Once again a large fire was built, and the mother said: “Don’t move away from here, children. If you get tired, you can nap for a while. We’re going to go into the forest to chop some wood. In the evening, when we’re done, we’ll come to get you.”
It was noontime, and Gretel shared her bread with Hansel, who had used up his bread when he scattered crumbs on the path. Then they fell asleep. The evening went by, but no one came to get the poor children. They awoke when it was pitch dark, and Hansel comforted his sister by saying: “Just wait until the moon comes out, Gretel. Then we’ll be able to see the crumbs of bread I strewed on the path. They will point the way home for us.”
When the moon came out, they left for home, but they couldn’t find any of the crumbs because the many thousands of birds flying around in the forest and across the fields had eaten them. Hansel said to Gretel: “We’ll find the way back,” but they couldn’t find it. They walked all night long and then on into the next day from early in the morning until late at night. But they couldn’t find their way out of the woods, and they got hungrier and hungrier, for there was nothing to eat but a few berries that they found scattered on the ground. When their legs could no longer carry them and they were completely exhausted, they lay down under a tree and fell asleep.
Three days had passed since they had left their father’s house. They started walking again but just got deeper and deeper into the woods. If help didn’t arrive soon, they were sure to perish. At noontime they saw a beautiful bird, white as snow, perched on a branch. It was singing so sweetly that they stopped to listen to it. When it had finished its song, it flapped its wings and flew on ahead of them. They followed the bird, which led them to a little house, and the bird perched right up on the roof. When they got closer to the house, they realized it was made of bread and that the roof was made of cake and the windows of sparkling sugar.
“Let’s have a taste,” Hansel said. “May the Lord bless our meal. I’ll try a piece of the roof, Gretel, and you can taste the window. That’s sure to be sweet.” Hansel reached up and broke off a small piece of the roof to see whether it was any good. Gretel went over to the windowpane and nibbled on it. Suddenly a gentle voice called from inside:
“Nibble, nibble, where’s the mouse?
Who’s that nibbling at my house?”
The children replied:
“The wind so mild,
The heavenly child.”
They continued eating, without being in the least distracted. Hansel, who liked the taste of the roof, tore off a big piece. Gretel knocked out an entire windowpane and sat down on the ground to savor it. Suddenly the door opened, and a woman as old as the hills, leaning on a crutch, hobbled out. Hansel and Gretel were so terrified that they dropped everything in their hands. The old woman wagged her head and said: “Well, dear little children. How in the world did you get here? Just come right in. You can stay with me, and no harm will come to you in my house.”
She took them by the hand and led them into her little house. A fine meal of milk and pancakes, with sugar, apples, and nuts, was set before them. A little later, two beautiful little beds were made up for them with white sheets. Hansel and Gretel lay down in them and felt as if they were in heaven.
The old woman had only pretended to be kind. She was really a wicked witch, who waylaid little children and had built the house of bread just to get them inside. As soon as a child fell into her hands, she killed it, cooked it, and ate it. That meant a day of real feasting for her. Witches have red eyes and can’t see very far, but like animals, they do have a keen sense of smell, and they can always tell when a human being is around. When Hansel and Gretel got near her, she laughed fiendishly and hissed: “They’re mine! This time they won’t get away!” Early in the morning, before the children were up, she got out of bed and gazed at the two of them sleeping so peacefully with their soft red cheeks. And she muttered quietly to herself: “They will make a tasty little morsel.”
She grabbed Hansel with her scrawny arm, took him off to a little shed, and closed the barred door on him. Hansel could cry all he wanted, it didn’t do him any good. Then she went back to Gretel, shook her until she was awake, and shouted: “Get up, lazybones. Go get some water and cook your brother something good to eat. He’s staying out there in the shed until he’s put on some weight. When he’s nice and fat, I’ll eat him up.”
Gretel began crying as loud as she could, but it did no good at all. She had to do whatever the wicked witch told her. The finest food was cooked for poor Hansel, and Gretel got nothing but crab shells. Every morning the old woman would slink over to the little shed and shout: “Hansel, hold out your finger so that I can tell if you’re plump enough.”
Hansel would stick a little bone through the bars, and the old woman, who had poor eyesight, believed that it was Hansel’s finger and couldn’t figure out why he wasn’t putting on weight. When a month had gone by and Hansel was still as scrawny as ever, she lost her patience and decided that she couldn’t wait any longer. “Hey there, Gretel,” she shouted at the girl. “Go get some water and be quick about it. I don’t care whether Hansel’s lean or plump. Tomorrow I’m going to butcher him, and then I’ll cook him up for dinner.”
The poor little sister sobbed with grief, and tears flowed down her cheeks. “Dear God, help us,” she cried out. “If only the wild animals in the forest had eaten us up, at least then we would have died together.”
“Spare me your blubbering!” the old woman said. “Nothing can help you now.”
Early the next morning, Gretel had to go fill the kettle with water and light the fire. “First we’ll do some baking,” the old woman said. “I’ve already heated up the oven and kneaded the dough.”
She pushed poor Gretel over to the oven, from which flames were leaping. “Crawl in,” said the witch, “and see if it’s hot enough to slide the bread in.”
The witch was planning to shut the door as soon as Gretel got into the oven. Then she was going to bake her and eat her up too. But Gretel saw what was on her mind and said: “I don’t know how to crawl in there! How in the world can I manage that?”
“Silly goose,” the old woman said. “There’s enough room. Just look, I can get in,” and she scrambled over to the oven and stuck her head in it. Gretel gave her a big shove that sent her sprawling. Then she shut the iron door and bolted it. Phew! The witch began screeching dreadfully. But Gretel ran off, and the godless witch burned to death in a horrible way.
Gretel ran straight to Hansel, opened the door to the little shed, and shouted: “Hansel, we’re saved! The old witch is dead.”
Like a bird fleeing its cage, Hansel flew out the door as soon as it opened. How thrilled they were: they hugged and kissed and jumped up and down for joy! Since there was nothing more to fear, they went right into the witch’s house. In every corner there were chests filled with pearls and jewels. “These are even better than pebbles,” said Hansel and put what he could into his pockets.
Gretel said, “I’ll take some home too,” and she filled up her little apron.
“Let’s get going right now,” said Hansel. “We have to get out of this witch’s forest.”
After walking for several hours, they reached a lake. “We won’t be able to get across,” said Hansel. “There’s not a bridge in sight.”
“There aren’t any boats around either,” Gretel said, “but here comes a white duck. She will help us cross, if I ask.” She shouted:
“Help us, help us, little duck,
Swim to us, then we’re in luck.
Nary a bridge here, far or wide,
Help us, give us both a ride.”
The duck came paddling over. Hansel got on its back and told his sister to sit down next to him. “No,” said Gretel, “that would be too heavy a load for the little duck. She can take us over one at a time.”
That’s just what the good little creature did. When they were brought safely to the other side and had walked on for some time, the woods began to look more and more familiar. Finally they could see their father’s house in the distance. They began running, and they raced right into the house, throwing their arms around their father. The man had not had a happy hour since the day that he had abandoned his children in the forest. His wife had died. Gretel emptied her apron, and pearls and jewels rolled all over the floor. Hansel reached into his pockets and pulled out one handful of jewels after another. Their worries were over, and they lived together in perfect happiness.
My fairy tale is done. See the mouse run. Whoever catches it gets to make a great big fur hat out of it.
THE FISHERMAN
AND HIS WIFE
nce upon a time a fisherman lived with his wife in a pigsty not far from the sea. Every single day, the fisherman went off to fish, and he fished and he fished.
One day he dropped his line into the water, stared out at the surface, and he sat and he sat.
The line sank down to the bottom, way deep down, and when the fisherman pulled it back up, there was a huge flounder at the other end of it. The flounder said to him: “Listen to what I have to say, fisherman. I’m pleading with you. Why not let me live? I’m not really a flounder. I’m an enchanted prince. What would be the point of killing me? I won’t even taste very good. Put me back in the water and let me swim away.”
“You can save your breath,” the man replied. “Why in the world would I want a talking flounder?” And so he put him back into the peaceful waters, and the flounder swam back to the bottom, leaving a long trail of blood behind him. The fisherman got up and went back home to his wife in the pigsty.
“Did you catch anything today, husband?” the wife said when her husband returned home.
“No,” the fisherman replied. “I did catch a flounder who claimed he was an enchanted prince, but I let him get away.”
“Did you make a wish?” his wife asked.
“No,” the fisherman replied. “What in the world would I wish for?”
“That’s not hard to figure out,” the wife said. “Living in a pigsty is pretty dreadful. The stench is really disgusting. You could have asked for a little cottage. Go back and talk to him. If you tell him we would like to have a little cottage, he’s sure to give us one.”
“How can I go back there again?” asked the fisherman.
“Didn’t you catch him and then let him swim away? He’s sure to help us. Go back there right now,” the wife said to him.
The fisherman didn’t really want to go back, but he also didn’t want to irritate his wife, and so he made his way back to the shore.
When he got there, the sea was dark green with shades of yellow and not nearly as calm as before. He stood there and said:
“Flounder, flounder in the sea,
Rise on up, swim here to me,
My wife whose name is Ilsebill
Has sent me here against my will.”
The flounder swam up to him and asked: “Well, what does she want?”
“My wife tells me that since I managed to catch you, I should also have made a wish. She’s tired of living in a pigsty, and she’d rather live in a little cottage.”
“Just go on home,” the flounder said. “She’s already living in it.”
The fisherman went home, and his wife was no longer stuck in the pigsty. Instead she was sitting on a bench by the door of a little cottage. She took him by the hand and said: “Come on in and take a look around. This is much better, isn’t it?” They went indoors and found a little hallway and a lovely little parlor and a bedroom with a bed for each of them, and a kitchen with a pantry, and all the best furnishings and utensils, tin and brass, everything you could ever want. And behind the cottage there was a little farmyard with chickens and ducks, along with a garden full of vegetables and fruit. “Just look,” said the wife, “isn’t this wonderful?”
“Let’s just hope it stays that way, and then we can live in peace.”
“We’ll see about that,” said the wife. And they sat down to eat and went to bed.
Everything was fine for a week or two, then the woman said: “Listen to me, husband, this cottage is getting just a bit too crowded, and the barnyard and garden are really too small. That flounder could have given us a bigger house. I’d rather be living in a big stone castle. Go talk to the flounder and tell him to give us a castle.”
“Dear wife,” said the husband. “This cottage is really good enough for us. Why would we want to live in a castle?”
“Nonsense,” the wife replied. “Just go talk to the flounder. He’ll take care of it.”
“No, wife,” said the man. “The flounder just gave us this cottage. I don’t want to go back again. He might be offended.”
“Get going now,” said the wife. “He can do it, and he won’t mind at all.”
The man went with a heavy heart, and he wanted to turn back. He thought to himself: “This is just not right,” but he left anyway.
When he arrived at the shore, he saw that the water was no longer green and yellow but purple and dark blue and gray and murky on top of that. But it was still calm. He stood there and said:
“Flounder, flounder in the sea,
Rise on up, swim here to me,
My wife whose name is Ilsebill
Has sent me here against my will.”
“Well, what does she want this time?” asked the flounder.
The fisherman was very upset and said: “Now she wants to live in a big stone castle.”
“Just go home. She’s already standing at the entrance,” the flounder said.
The fisherman left and thought that he would go back home, but when he got there, he found a big stone castle, and his wife was standing at the top of the steps and was about
to enter. She took him by the hand and said: “Come on inside.”
He walked in with her. Inside the castle there was a great front hall with a marble floor. The many servants who were there flung open the doors for them. The walls were all bright and covered with beautiful tapestries, and in the rooms there were chairs and tables of pure gold. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceilings. The rooms and bedchambers were all carpeted. The tables were weighed down with so much food and with so many bottles of the finest wine that they were on the verge of collapsing. Behind the castle there was a courtyard with barns and stables, and with the most elegant carriages, along with stalls for horses and cows. There was also a magnificent garden with the most beautiful flowers and fruit trees, and a park that was at least a half mile long, with stags and deer and hares in it, along with everything else you could possibly imagine.
“Well,” said the woman, “now isn’t this better?”
“Yes, it is,” the fisherman said. “And may it stay that way. We can keep this beautiful castle and live in peace.”
“We’ll just see about that,” his wife said. “Let’s sleep on it.” And with that they went to bed.
The next morning the wife woke up first. It was dawn, and she could see from her bed the magnificent countryside around the castle. Her husband was just beginning to stretch when she poked him in the side with her elbow and said: “Husband, get up and look out the window. Why can’t we be the rulers of this land? Go talk to the flounder and tell him that we want to be king.”
“But my dear wife,” said the man. “Why would we want to be king? I don’t want to be king.”
“Well,” said the wife, “Maybe you don’t want to be king, but I want to be king. Go talk to the flounder and tell him that I want to be king.”
“But wife,” said the fisherman. “Why would you want to be king? I can’t tell him that.”
