Andrew Lang_Fairy Book 01 (35 page)

Not long afterward there was again great dearth in the
land, and the children heard their mother address their
father thus in bed one night: "Everything is eaten up
once more; we have only half a loaf in the house, and
when that's done it's all up with us. The children must
be got rid of; we'll lead them deeper into the wood this
time, so that they won't be able to find their way out
again. There is no other way of saving ourselves." The
man's heart smote him heavily, and he thought: "Surely
it would be better to share the last bite with one's
children!" But his wife wouldn't listen to his arguments, and
did nothing but scold and reproach him. If a man yields
once he's done for, and so, because he had given in the
first time, he was forced to do so the second.

But the children were awake, and had heard the
conversation. When the old people were asleep Hansel got
up, and wanted to go out and pick up pebbles again, as
he had done the first time; but the woman had barred the
door, and Hansel couldn't get out. But he consoled his
little sister, and said: "Don't cry, Grettel, and sleep
peacefully, for God is sure to help us."

At early dawn the woman came and made the children
get up. They received their bit of bread, but it was even
smaller than the time before. On the way to the wood
Hansel crumbled it in his pocket, and every few minutes
he stood still and dropped a crumb on the ground.
"Hansel, what are you stopping and looking about you for?"
said the father. "I'm looking back at my little pigeon,
which is sitting on the roof waving me a farewell,"
answered Hansel. "Fool!" said the wife; "that isn't your
pigeon, it's the morning sun glittering on the chimney."
But Hansel gradually threw all his crumbs on the path.
The woman led the children still deeper into the forest
farther than they had ever been in their lives before.
Then a big fire was lit again, and the mother said: "Just
sit down there, children, and if you're tired you can sleep
a bit; we're going into the forest to cut down wood, and
in the evening when we're finished we'll come back to
fetch you." At midday Grettel divided her bread with
Hansel, for he had strewn his all along their path. Then
they fell asleep, and evening passed away, but nobody
came to the poor children. They didn't awake till it was
pitch dark, and Hansel comforted his sister, saying:
"Only wait, Grettel, till the moon rises, then we shall see
the bread-crumbs I scattered along the path; they will
show us the way back to the house." When the moon
appeared they got up, but they found no crumbs, for the
thousands of birds that fly about the woods and fields had
picked them all up. "Never mind," said Hansel to Grettel;
"you'll see we'll find a way out"; but all the same they
did not. They wandered about the whole night, and the
next day, from morning till evening, but they could not
find a path out of the wood. They were very hungry, too,
for they had nothing to eat but a few berries they found
growing on the ground. And at last they were so tired
that their legs refused to carry them any longer, so they
lay down under a tree and fell fast asleep.

On the third morning after they had left their father's
house they set about their wandering again, but only got
deeper and deeper into the wood, and now they felt that
if help did not come to them soon they must perish. At
midday they saw a beautiful little snow-white bird sitting
on a branch, which sang so sweetly that they stopped still
and listened to it. And when its song was finished it
flapped its wings and flew on in front of them. They
followed it and came to a little house, on the roof of which
it perched; and when they came quite near they saw that
the cottage was made of bread and roofed with cakes,
while the window was made of transparent sugar. "Now
we'll set to," said Hansel, "and have a regular blow-out.
[20]
I'll eat a bit of the roof, and you, Grettel, can eat some
of the window, which you'll find a sweet morsel." Hansel
stretched up his hand and broke off a little bit of the roof
to see what it was like, and Grettel went to the casement
and began to nibble at it. Thereupon a shrill voice called
out from the room inside:

"Nibble, nibble, little mouse,
Who's nibbling my house?"

The children answered:

"Tis Heaven's own child,
The tempest wild,"

and went on eating, without putting themselves about.
Hansel, who thoroughly appreciated the roof, tore down
a big bit of it, while Grettel pushed out a whole round
window-pane, and sat down the better to enjoy it. Suddenly
the door opened, and an ancient dame leaning on a
staff hobbled out. Hansel and Grettel were so terrified
that they let what they had in their hands fall. But the
old woman shook her head and said: "Oh, ho! you dear
children, who led you here? Just come in and stay with
me, no ill shall befall you." She took them both by the
hand and let them into the house, and laid a most
sumptuous dinner before them—milk and sugared pancakes,
with apples and nuts. After they had finished, two
beautiful little white beds were prepared for them, and when
Hansel and Grettel lay down in them they felt as if they
had got into heaven.

The old woman had appeared to be most friendly, but
she was really an old witch who had waylaid the children,
and had only built the little bread house in order to
lure them in. When anyone came into her power she
killed, cooked, and ate him, and held a regular feast-day
for the occasion. Now witches have red eyes, and cannot
see far, but, like beasts, they have a keen sense of smell,
and know when human beings pass by. When Hansel and
Grettel fell into her hands she laughed maliciously, and
said jeeringly: "I've got them now; they sha'n't escape
me." Early in the morning, before the children were
awake, she rose up, and when she saw them both sleeping
so peacefully, with their round rosy cheeks, she muttered
to herself: "That'll be a dainty bite." Then she seized
Hansel with her bony hand and carried him into a little
stable, and barred the door on him; he might scream as
much as he liked, it did him no good. Then she went to
Grettel, shook her till she awoke, and cried: "Get up, you
lazy-bones, fetch water and cook something for your
brother. When he's fat I'll eat him up." Grettel began
to cry bitterly, but it was of no use; she had to do what
the wicked witch bade her.

So the best food was cooked for poor Hansel, but Grettel
got nothing but crab-shells. Every morning the old woman
hobbled out to the stable and cried: "Hansel, put out
your finger, that I may feel if you are getting fat." But
Hansel always stretched out a bone, and the old dame,
whose eyes were dim, couldn't see it, and thinking always
it was Hansel's finger, wondered why he fattened so
slowly. When four weeks had passed and Hansel still
remained thin, she lost patience and determined to wait no
longer. "Hi, Grettel," she called to the girl, "be quick and
get some water. Hansel may be fat or thin, I'm going to
kill him to-morrow and cook him." Oh! how the poor
little sister sobbed as she carried the water, and how the
tears rolled down her cheeks! "Kind heaven help us now!"
she cried; "if only the wild beasts in the wood had eaten
us, then at least we should have died together." "Just
hold your peace," said the old hag; "it won't help you."

Early in the morning Grettel had to go out and hang
up the kettle full of water, and light the fire. "First we'll
bake," said the old dame; "I've heated the oven already
and kneaded the dough." She pushed Grettel out to the
oven, from which fiery flames were already issuing.
"Creep in," said the witch, "and see if it's properly heated,
so that we can shove in the bread." For when she had
got Grettel in she meant to close the oven and let the girl
bake, that she might eat her up too. But Grettel
perceived her intention, and said: "I don't know how I'm to
do it; how do I get in?" "You silly goose!" said the hag,
"the opening is big enough; see, I could get in myself,"
and she crawled toward it, and poked her head into the
oven. Then Grettel gave her a shove that sent her right
in, shut the iron door, and drew the bolt. Gracious! how
she yelled, it was quite horrible; but Grettel fled, and the
wretched old woman was left to perish miserably.

Grettel flew straight to Hansel, opened the little stable-door,
and cried: "Hansel, we are free; the old witch is
dead." Then Hansel sprang like a bird out of a cage when
the door is opened. How they rejoiced, and fell on each
other's necks, and jumped for joy, and kissed one another!
And as they had no longer any cause for fear, they went
in the old hag's house, and here they found, in every
corner of the room, boxes with pearls and precious stones.
"These are even better than pebbles," said Hansel, and
crammed his pockets full of them; and Grettel said: "I
too will bring something home," and she filled her apron
full. "But now," said Hansel, "let's go and get well away
from the witch's wood." When they had wandered about
for some hours they came to a big lake. "We can't get
over," said Hansel; "I see no bridge of any sort or kind."
"Yes, and there's no ferry-boat either," answered Grettel;
"but look, there swims a white duck; if I ask her she'll
help us over," and she called out:

"Here are two children, mournful very,
Seeing neither bridge nor ferry;
Take us upon your white back,
And row us over, quack, quack!"

The duck swam toward them, and Hansel got on her
back and bade his little sister sit beside him. "No,"
answered Grettel, "we should be too heavy a load for the
duck: she shall carry us across separately." The good
bird did this, and when they were landed safely on the
other side, and had gone for a while, the wood became
more and more familiar to them, and at length they saw
their father's house in the distance. Then they set off to
run, and bounding into the room fell on their father's neck.
The man had not passed a happy hour since he left them
in the wood, but the woman had died. Grettel shook out
her apron so that the pearls and precious stones rolled
about the room, and Hansel threw down one handful after
the other out of his pocket. Thus all their troubles were
ended, and they lived happily ever afterward.

My story is done. See! there runs a little mouse;
anyone who catches it may make himself a large fur cap out
of it.
[21]

A poor widow once lived in a little cottage with a
garden in front of it, in which grew two rose trees, one
bearing white roses and the other red. She had two
children, who were just like the two rose trees; one was
called Snow-white and the other Rose-red, and they were
the sweetest and best children in the world, always diligent
and always cheerful; but Snow-white was quieter and
more gentle than Rose-red. Rose-red loved to run about
the fields and meadows, and to pick flowers and catch
butterflies; but Snow-white sat at home with her mother
and helped her in the household, or read aloud to her when
there was no work to do. The two children loved each
other so dearly that they always walked about hand in
hand whenever they went out together, and when Snow-white
said, "We will never desert each other," Rose-red
answered: "No, not as long as we live"; and the mother
added: "Whatever one gets she shall share with the
other." They often roamed about in the woods gathering
berries and no beast offered to hurt them; on the
contrary, they came up to them in the most confiding
manner; the little hare would eat a cabbage leaf from their
hands, the deer grazed beside them, the stag would bound
past them merrily, and the birds remained on the branches
and sang to them with all their might.

No evil ever befell them; if they tarried late in the
wood and night overtook them, they lay down together
on the moss and slept till morning, and their mother knew
they were quite safe, and never felt anxious about them.
Once, when they had slept all night in the wood and had
been wakened by the morning sun, they perceived a
beautiful child in a shining white robe sitting close to
their resting-place. The figure got up, looked at them
kindly, but said nothing, and vanished into the wood.
And when they looked round about them they became
aware that they had slept quite close to a precipice, over
which they would certainly have fallen had they gone on
a few steps further in the darkness. And when they told
their mother of their adventure, she said what they had
seen must have been the angel that guards good children.

Snow-white and Rose-red kept their mother's cottage
so beautifully clean and neat that it was a pleasure to go
into it. In summer Rose-red looked after the house, and
every morning before her mother awoke she placed a
bunch of flowers before the bed, from each tree a rose.
In winter Snow-white lit the fire and put on the kettle,
which was made of brass, but so beautifully polished that
it shone like gold. In the evening when the snowflakes
fell their mother said: "Snow-white, go and close the
shutters," and they drew round the fire, while the mother
put on her spectacles and read aloud from a big book and
the two girls listened and sat and span. Beside them on
the ground lay a little lamb, and behind them perched a
little white dove with its head tucked under its wings.

One evening as they sat thus cosily together someone
knocked at the door as though he desired admittance.
The mother said: "Rose-red, open the door quickly; it
must be some traveler seeking shelter." Rose-red
hastened to unbar the door, and thought she saw a poor man
standing in the darkness outside; but it was no such thing,
only a bear, who poked his thick black head through the
door. Rose-red screamed aloud and sprang back in
terror, the lamb began to bleat, the dove flapped its
wings, and Snow-white ran and hid behind her mother's
bed. But the bear began to speak, and said: "Don't be
afraid: I won't hurt you. I am half frozen, and only wish
to warm myself a little." "My poor bear," said the
mother, "lie down by the fire, only take care you don't
burn your fur." Then she called out: "Snow-white and
Rose-red, come out; the bear will do you no harm; he is
a good, honest creature." So they both came out of their
hiding-places, and gradually the lamb and dove drew near
too, and they all forgot their fear. The bear asked the
children to beat the snow a little out of his fur, and they
fetched a brush and scrubbed him till he was dry. Then
the beast stretched himself in front of the fire, and
growled quite happily and comfortably. The children soon
grew quite at their ease with him, and led their helpless
guest a fearful life. They tugged his fur with their hands,
put their small feet on his back, and rolled him about here
and there, or took a hazel wand and beat him with it; and
if he growled they only laughed. The bear submitted to
everything with the best possible good-nature, only when
they went too far he cried: "Oh! children, spare my life!