Thus Cat-skin lived for a long time very sorrowfully. ‘Ah! pretty princess!’ thought she, ‘what will now become of thee!’ But it happened one day that a feast was to be held in the king’s castle; so she said to the cook, ‘May I go up a little while and see what is going on? I will take care and stand behind the door.’ And the cook said, ‘Yes, you may go, but be back again in half an hour’s time to rake out the ashes.’ Then she took her little lamp, and went into her cabin, and took off the fur skin, and washed the soot from off her face and hands, so that her beauty shone forth like the sun from behind the clouds. She next opened her nut-shell, and brought out of it the dress that shone like the sun, and so went to the feast. Every one made way for her, for nobody knew her, and they thought she could be no less than a king’s daughter. But the king came up to her and held out his hand and danced with her, and he thought in his heart, ‘I never saw one half so beautiful.’
When the dance was at an end, she curtsied; and when the king looked round for her, she was gone, no one knew whither. The guards who stood at the castle gate were called in; but they had seen no one. The truth was, that she had run into her little cabin, pulled off her dress, blacked her face and hands, put on the fur-skin cloak, and was Cat-skin again. When she went into the kitchen to her work, and began to rake the ashes, the cook said, ‘Let that alone till the morning, and heat the king’s soup; I should like to run up now and give a peep; but take care you don’t let a hair fall into it, or you will run a chance of never eating again.’
As soon as the cook went away, Cat-skin heated the king’s soup and toasted up a slice of bread as nicely as ever she could; and when it was ready, she went and looked in the cabin for her little golden ring, and put it into the dish in which the soup was. When the dance was over, the king ordered his soup to be brought in, and it pleased him so well, that he thought he had never tasted any so good before. At the bottom he saw a gold ring lying, and as he could not make out how it had got there, he ordered the cook to be sent for. The cook was frightened when she heard the order, and said to Cat-skin, ‘You must have let a hair fall into the soup; if it be so, you will have a good beating.’ Then she went before the king, and he asked her who had cooked the soup. ‘I did,’ answered she. But the king said, ‘That is not true; it was better done than you could do it.’ Then she answered, ‘To tell the truth, I did not cook it, but Cat-skin did.’ ‘Then let Cat-skin come up,’ said the king: and when she came, he said to her, ‘Who are you?’ ‘I am a poor child,’ said she, ‘who has lost both father and mother.’ ‘How came you in my palace?’ asked he. ‘I am good for nothing,’ said she, ‘but to be scullion girl, and to have boots and shoes thrown at my head.’ ‘But how did you get the ring that was in the soup?’ asked the king. But she would not own that she knew any thing about the ring; so the king sent her away again about her business.
After a time there was another feast, and Cat-skin asked the cook to let her go up and see it as before. ‘Yes,’ said she, ‘but come back again in half an hour, and cook the king the soup that he likes so much.’ Then she ran to her little cabin, washed herself quickly, and took the dress out which was silvery as the moon, and put it on; and when she went in looking like a king’s daughter, the king went up to her and rejoiced at seeing her again, and when the dance began, he danced with her. After the dance was at an end, she managed to slip out so slily that the king did not see where she was gone; but she sprang into her little cabin and made herself into Cat-skin again, and went into the kitchen to cook the soup. Whilst the cook was above, she got the golden necklace, and dropped it into the soup; then it was brought to the king, who ate it, and it pleased him as well as before; so he sent for the cook, who was again forced to tell him that Cat-skin had cooked it. Cat-skin was brought again before the king; but she still told him that she was only fit to have the boots and shoes thrown at her head.
But when the king had ordered a feast to be got ready for the third time, it happened just the same as before. ‘You must be a witch, Cat-skin,’ said the cook; ‘for you always put something into the soup, so that it pleases the king better than mine.’ However, she let her go up as before. Then she put on the dress which sparkled like the stars, and went into the ball-room in it: and the king danced with her again, and thought she had never looked so beautiful as she did then: so whilst he was dancing with her, he put a gold ring on her finger without her seeing it, and ordered that the dance should be kept up for a long time. When it was at an end, he would have held her fast by the hand; but she slipped away and sprang so quickly through the crowd that he lost sight of her; and she ran as fast as she could into her little cabin under the stairs. But this time she kept away too long, and stayed beyond the half-hour; so she had not time to take off her fine dress, but threw her fur mantle over it, and in her haste did not soot herself all over, but left one finger white.
Then she ran into the kitchen and cooked the king’s soup; and as soon as the cook was gone, she put the golden brooch into the dish. When the king got to the bottom, he ordered Cat-skin to be called once more, and soon saw the white finger and the ring that he had put on it whilst they were dancing: so he seized her hand, and kept fast hold of it, and when she wanted to loose herself and spring away, the fur cloak fell off a little on one side, and the starry dress sparkled underneath it. Then he got hold of the fur and tore it off, and her golden hair and beautiful form were seen, and she could no longer hide herself: so she washed the soot and ashes from off her face, and showed herself to be the most beautiful princess upon the face of the earth. But the king said, ‘You are my beloved bride, and we will never more be parted from each other.’ And the wedding feast was held, and a merry day it was.
The Robber-Bridegroom
There was once a miller who had a pretty daughter; and when she was grown up, he thought to himself, ‘If a seemly man should come to ask her for his wife, I will give her to him that she may be taken care of.’ Now it so happened that one did come, who seemed to be very rich, and behaved very well; and as the miller saw no reason to find fault with him, he said he should have his daughter. Yet the maiden did not love him quite so well as a bride ought to love her bridegroom, but, on the other hand, soon began to feel a kind of inward shuddering whenever she saw or thought of him.
One day he said to her, ‘Why do you not come and see my home, since you are to be my bride?’ ‘I do not know where your house is,’ said the girl. ‘’Tis out there,’ said her bridegroom, ‘yonder in the dark green wood.’ Then she began to try and avoid going, and said, ‘But I cannot find the way thither.’ ‘Well, but you must come and see me next Sunday,’ said the bridegroom; ‘I have asked some guests to meet you, and that you may find your way through the wood, I will strew ashes for you along the path.’
When Sunday came and the maiden was to go out, she felt very much troubled, and took care to put on two pockets, and filled them with peas and beans. She soon came to the wood, and found her path strewed with ashes; so she followed the track, and at every step threw a pea on the right and a bean on the left side of the road; and thus she journeyed on the whole day till she came to a house which stood in the middle of the dark wood. She saw no one within, and all was quite still, till on a sudden she heard a voice cry,
‘Turn again, bonny bride!
Turn again home!
Haste from the robber’s den,
Haste away home!’
She looked around, and saw a little bird sitting in a cage that hung over the door; and he flapped his wings, and again she heard him cry,
‘Turn again, bonny bride!
Turn again home!
Haste from the robber’s den,
Haste away home!’
However, the bride went in, and roamed along from one room to another, and so over all the house; but it was quite empty, and not a soul could she see. At last she came to a room where a very very old woman was sitting. ‘Pray, can you tell me, my good woman
,’ said she, ‘if my bridegroom lives here?’ ‘Ah! my dear child!’ said the old woman, ‘you are come to fall into the trap laid for you: your wedding can only be with Death, for the robber will surely take away your life; if I do not save you, you are lost!’ So she hid the bride behind a large cask, and then said to her, ‘Do not stir or move yourself at all, lest some harm should befall you; and when the robbers are asleep we will run off; I have long wished to get away.’
She had hardly done this when the robbers came in, and brought another young maiden with them that had been ensnared like the bride. Then they began to feast and drink, and were deaf to her shrieks and groans: and they gave her some wine to drink, three glasses, one of white, one of red, and one of yellow; upon which she fainted and fell down dead. Now the bride began to grow very uneasy behind the cask, and thought that she too must die in her turn. Then the one that was to be her bridegroom saw that there was a gold ring on the little finger of the maiden they had murdered; and as he tried to snatch it off, it flew up in the air and fell down again behind the cask just in the bride’s lap. So he took a light and searched about all round the room for it, but could not find any thing; and another of the robbers said, ‘Have you looked behind the large cask yet?’ ‘Pshaw!’ said the old woman, ‘come, sit still and eat your supper now, and leave the ring alone till tomorrow; it won’t run away, I’ll warrant.’
So the robbers gave up the search, and went on with their eating and drinking; but the old woman dropped a sleeping-draught into their wine, and they laid themselves down and slept, and snored roundly. And when the bride heard this, she stepped out from behind the cask; and as she was forced to walk over the sleepers, who were lying about on the floor, she trembled lest she should awaken some of them. But heaven aided her, so that she soon got through her danger; and the old woman went up stairs with her, and they both ran away from the murderous den. The ashes that had been strewed were now all blown away, but the peas and beans had taken root and were springing up, and showed her the way by the light of the moon. So they walked the whole night, and in the morning reached the mill; when the bride told her father all that had happened to her.
As soon as the day arrived when the wedding was to take place, the bridegroom came; and the miller gave orders that all his friends and relations should be asked to the feast. And as they were all sitting at table, one of them proposed that each of the guests should tell some tale. Then the bridegroom said to the bride, when it came to her turn, ‘Well, my dear, do you know nothing? come, tell us some story. ‘Yes,’ answered she, ‘I can tell you a dream that I dreamt. I once thought I was going through a wood, and went on and on till I came to a house where there was not a soul to be seen, but a bird in a cage, that cried out twice,
“Turn again, bonny bride!
Turn again home!
Haste from the robber’s den,
Haste away home!”
– I only dreamt that, my love. Then I went through all the rooms, which were quite empty, until I came to a room where there sat a very old woman; and I said to her, “Does my bridegroom live here?” but she answered, “Ah! my dear child! you have fallen into a murderer’s snare; your bridegroom will surely kill you;” – I only dreamt that, my love. But she hid me behind a large cask; and hardly had she done this, when the robbers came in, dragging a young woman along with them; then they gave her three kinds of wine to drink, white, red, and yellow, till she fell dead upon the ground; – I only dreamt that, my love. After they had done this, one of the robbers saw that there was a gold ring on her little finger, and snatched at it; but it flew up to the ceiling, and then fell behind the great cask just where I was, and into my lap; and here is the ring!’ At these words she brought out the ring and showed it to the guests.
When the robber saw all this, and heard what she said, he grew as pale as ashes with fright, and wanted to run off; but the guests held him fast and gave him up to justice, so that he and all his gang met with the due reward of their wickedness.
The Three Sluggards
The king of a country a long way off had three sons. He liked one as well as another, and did not know which to leave his kingdom to after his death: so when he was dying he called them all to him, and said, ‘Dear children, the laziest sluggard of the three shall be king after me.’ ‘Then,’ said the eldest, ‘the kingdom is mine; for I am so lazy that when I lie down to sleep, if any thing were to fall into my eyes so that I could not shut them, I should still go on sleeping.’ The second said, ‘Father, the kingdom belongs to me; for I am so lazy that when I sit by the fire to warm myself, I would sooner have my toes burnt than take the trouble to draw my legs back.’ The third said, ‘Father, the kingdom is mine; for I am so lazy that if I were going to be hanged, with the rope round my neck, and somebody were to put a sharp knife into my hands to cut it, I had rather be hanged than raise my hand to do it.’ When the father heard this, he said, ‘You shall be the king; for you are the fittest man.’
The Seven Ravens
There was once a man who had seven sons, and last of all one daughter. Although the little girl was very pretty, she was so weak and small that they thought she could not live but they said she should at once be christened.
So the father sent one of his sons in haste to the spring to get some water, but the other six ran with him. Each wanted to be first at drawing the water, and so they were in such a hurry that all let their pitchers fall into the well, and they stood foolishly looking at one another, and did not know what to do, for none dared go home. In the meantime the father was uneasy, and could not tell what made the young men stay so long. ‘Surely,’ said he, ‘the whole seven must have forgotten themselves over some game of play;’ and when he had waited still longer and they yet did not come, he flew into a rage and wished them all turned into ravens. Scarcely had he spoke these words when he heard a croaking over his head, and looked up and saw seven ravens as black as coals flying round and round. Sorry as he was to see his wish so fulfilled, he did not know how what was done could be undone, and comforted himself as well as he could for the loss of his seven sons with his dear little daughter, who soon became stronger and every day more beautiful.
For a long time she did not know that she had ever had any brothers; for her father and mother took care not to speak of them before her: but one day by chance she heard the people about her speak of them. ‘Yes,’ said they, ‘she is beautiful indeed, but still ’tis a pity that her brothers should have been lost for her sake.’ Then she was much grieved, and went to her father and mother, and asked if she had any brothers, and what had become of them. So they dared no longer hide the truth from her, but said it was the will of heaven, and that her birth was only the innocent cause of it; but the little girl mourned sadly about it every day, and thought herself bound to do all she could to bring her brothers back; and she had neither rest nor ease, till at length one day she stole away, and set out into the wide world to find her brothers, wherever they might be, and free them, whatever it might cost her.
She took nothing with her but a little ring which her father and mother had given her, a loaf of bread in case she should be hungry, a little pitcher of water in case she should be thirsty, and a little stool to rest upon when she should be weary. Thus she went on and on, and journeyed till she came to the world’s end: then she came to the sun, but the sun looked much too hot and fiery; so she ran away quickly to the moon, but the moon was cold and chilly, and said, ‘I smell flesh and blood this way!’ so she took herself away in a hurry and came to the stars, and the stars were friendly and kind to her, and each star sat upon his own little stool; but the morning-star rose up and gave her a little piece of wood, and said, ‘If you have not this little piece of wood, you cannot unlock the castle that stands on the glass mountain, and there your brothers live.’ The little girl took the piece of wood, rolled it up in a little cloth, and went on again until she came to the glass mountain, and found the door shut. Then she fe
lt for the little piece of wood; but when she unwrapped the cloth it was not there, and she saw she had lost the gift of the good stars. What was to be done? she wanted to save her brothers, and had no key of the castle of the glass mountain; so this faithful little sister took a knife out of her pocket and cut off her little finger, that was just the size of the piece of wood she had lost, and put it in the door and opened it.
As she went in, a little dwarf came up to her, and said, ‘What are you seeking for?’ ‘I seek for my brothers, the seven ravens,’ answered she. Then the dwarf said, ‘My masters are not at home; but if you will wait till they come, pray step in.’ Now the little dwarf was getting their dinner ready, and he brought their food upon seven little plates, and their drink in seven little glasses, and set them upon the table, and out of each little plate their sister ate a small piece, and out of each little glass she drank a small drop; but she let the ring that she had brought with her fall into the last glass.
On a sudden she heard a fluttering and croaking in the air, and the dwarf said, ‘Here come my masters.’ When they came in, they wanted to eat and drink, and looked for their little plates and glasses. Then said one after the other, ‘Who has eaten from my little plate? and who has been drinking out of my little glass?
Grimms' Fairy Tales Page 24
