Once upon a time there lived a Girl, young and pretty, who lost her Mother at an early age, and her Step mother behaved very cruelly to her. Although she sometimes had to do work beyond her years, she was left to herself, and forced to do, unpitied, more than her strength would allow. She could not by any means touch the heart of the wicked woman, who was always discontented and unsatisfied. The more industriously she worked the more was laid upon her, and the Stepmother was always contriving how to inflict an additional burden, and make her daughter’s life more intolerable.
One day the Stepmother said to the Girl, “Here are twelve pounds of quills for you to strip, and remember if you are not ready with them by this evening you will get a good beating. Do you think you are to idle all day?” The poor Girl set to work, while the tears rolled fast down her cheeks, for she saw that it was impossible to finish her work by the time. Every now and then, as the heap of feathers before her increased, she sighed and clasped her hands, and then recollecting herself, stripped the quills quicker than before. Once she put her elbows on the table, and burying her face in her hands, exclaimed, “Alas! then, is there nobody on earth who will pity me?” As she spoke she heard a soft voice reply, “Comfort yourself, my child; I am come to help you.” The Girl looked up and saw an Old Woman standing by her side, who took her hand, and said to her, “Trust me and tell me what are your troubles.” Encouraged by her kind voice, the Girl told the Old Woman of her sad life, how one burden was heaped upon another until she could make no end even with the most unremitting labour. She told her also of the beating promised by her Stepmother if she did not finish the feathers that evening. Her tears began to flow again as she concluded her tale, but the Old Woman said to her, “Dry your tears and rest yourself while I go on with your work.” The Girl lay down upon a bed and went to sleep; and the Old Woman sat down at the table, and made such short work with her thin fingers that the twelve pounds of feathers were soon ready. When the Girl awoke she found a great heap of snow-white feathers before her, and everything in the room put in order, but the Old Woman had disappeared. So the Girl thanked God, and waited till evening, when, the Stepmother coming into the room, was astonished to see the work finished. “Do you not see, simpleton,” she cried, “what one can do when one is industrious? But was there nothing else that you could have begun, instead of sitting there with your hands in your lap?” and she went out muttering, “The Girl can eat more than bread; I must set her some harder job.”
The next morning, accordingly, she called the Girl and gave her a spoon, saying, “Take this and empty the pond at the bottom of the garden with it, and mind you know what will follow if you have not finished by the evening.” The Girl took the spoon and perceived that it had a hole in it, and even if there had not been she never could have emptied the pond in time. However she fell on her knees by the side of the water and began to scoop it out. Soon the Old Woman appeared again, and as soon as she heard the cause of the Girl’s grief, she said to her, “Well, never mind; do you go and lie down in yon thicket, and let me do your work.” The Girl did as she was bid, and the good Old Woman, when she was alone, only touched the pond and immediately all the water ascended in the form of vapour and mingled with the clouds. The pond was then completely dry, and when the sun set, the Girl awoke, and saw nothing but the fishes skipping about in the mud. So she went and told her Stepmother she had done her work. “You ought to have been ready long ago,” said she, pale with rage, and turned away to think of some fresh device.
The next morning she said to the Girl, “You must build me a fine palace in yon plain, and get it ready by the evening.” The poor Maiden was terrified when she heard this, and asked, “How can I possibly complete such a work?” “I will take no refusal,” screamed the Stepmother; “if you can empty a pond with a spoon with a hole in it, you can also build a palace. And I require it done to-day, and should it be wanting in one kitchen or cellar you will catch what you well deserve.”
So saying, she drove the Girl out of doors, who went on till she came to the valley where the stones lay piled up; but they were all so heavy that she could not move the very smallest of them. The poor Maiden sat down and cried, but hoped still the good Old Woman would come to her assistance. In a short time she did make her appearance, and bade the Maiden go and sleep in the shade while she erected the castle for her, in which she told her she might dwell when she was happy. As soon as the Old Woman was alone she touched the stones, and immediately they raised themselves and formed the walls as if giants were building. Then the scaffolding raised itself, and it seemed as if countless hands were laying stone upon stone. The tiles were laid on in order on the roofs by invisible hands, and by noonday a large weathercock, in the shape of a figure with a turning wand, appeared on the summit of the tower. The interior of the castle was also completed by the evening,—how the Old Woman did it I know not,—but the walls of the various rooms were hung with silk and velvet, and highly ornamented chairs were also placed in them, and richly carved armchairs by marble tables, while crystal chandeliers hung in the halls, and mirrored themselves in the smooth walls; green parrots also were there in golden cages, and many other peculiar birds, which sang charmingly; and about everything there was a magnificence as if a king were to inhabit the palace.
The sun was just about to sink when the Maiden awoke and perceived the light of a thousand lamps shining from the castle. With hasty steps she entered it through the open door, passing up a flight of steps covered with red cloth, and adorned with flowers on the gilt balustrade. As soon as she entered the room and saw its magnificence she stood aghast, and how long she might have remained so I know not, had she not thought of her Stepmother. “Ah!” said she to herself, “perhaps if she were established here she would be contented, and harass me no more.” With this thought she ran to her Stepmother and pointed to the finished palace. “I will go and see it,” said she, and hastened off; but as soon as she entered the hall she was forced to cover her eyes for fear of being blinded by the glare of the lamps.
“You see, now,” she said to the Maiden, “how easily it is done; I wish I had set you something harder to do!” and then, going into every room, she peered about in all corners to find out something that was wanting, but she could not. “Now we will go up stairs,” said she with an envious look at the Maiden; “I must also inspect the kitchens and cellars, and if there is anything forgotten you shall suffer for it.” There was the fire, however, burning on the hearth, the meat cooking in the pots, nippers and scales hanging on the wall, and the bright copper utensils ranged in rows. Nothing was wanting, not even the coal-scuttle or the water-pails! “Where is the door to the cellar?” exclaimed the Old Woman, after she had looked all round. “I warn you; you will catch it, if it is not well filled with wine-casks!” So saying, she raised the trap-door herself and went down the steps, but, before she had got down very far the heavy door fell upon her. The Maiden heard a cry, and raised the door up as quickly as she could to render assistance, but before she reached the bottom of the stairs she found the Old Woman lying dead upon them. The noble castle belonged now to the Maiden, who dwelt there all alone, and felt quite bewildered with her good fortune. For in every closet the most beautiful dresses were hung upon the walls, with their trains powdered with gold and silver, or with pearls and precious stones; and, moreover, she had not a wish which was not immediately fulfilled. Soon the fame of her beauty and riches went abroad through the whole world, and every day suitors introduced themselves to her presence, but none of them pleased her. At length, however, came a young Prince, who touched her heart, and to whom she betrothed herself. Now, in the castle garden stood a green linden tree, under which they were one day sitting engaged in conversation. “I will go home and obtain my father’s consent to our marriage,” said the young Prince to his companion; “wait here for me under this tree, for I shall be back in a few hours.” The Maiden kissed him first on his left cheek, and said, “Keep true to me, and let nobody kiss you on this cheek, till you return. I will wait for you here.”
So she remained under the tree until the sun went down, but the Prince did not return; and, although she waited three days afterwards, from morning till evening, he came not. When the fourth day passed with the same result, the Maiden thought that some misfortune had fallen upon him, and she resolved to go out and search for him till she found him. So she packed up three of her most beautiful dresses: the one powdered with stars of gold, the second with silver moons, and the third with golden suns; she took also a handful of jewels in a handkerchief, and, thus furnished, began her travels. At every place she came to she inquired after her betrothed lover, but nobody had seen him or knew him. So she wandered on, far and wide over the world, but with no result, and at last, in despair, she hired herself to a farmer as a Shepherdess, and concealed her clothes and jewels under a stone.
Thus she lived for a couple of years tending her flocks in sadness, and ever thinking of her beloved Prince. At this time she possessed a calf which would feed out of her hands, and if she said to it the following rhyme it would kneel down while she stroked it:
“Little calf, little calf, kneel you down,
Forget not your Mistress, deary!
Like the King’s son who his sweetheart left
Under the linden, dreary.”
When two years had passed, a report was spread everywhere, that the King’s daughter was about to be married. Now, the road to the city passed through the village where the Maiden dwelt, and so it happened that one day, as she was watching her flocks, the Bridegroom of the Princess passed by. He was sitting proudly upon his horse and did not observe the Shepherdess, who recognised him at once as her former lover. The shock was, as it were, like a sharp knife thrust into her heart. “Alas!” she cried, “I thought he was true to me, but he has, indeed, forgotten me.”
The next day he rode by her again: as he passed she sung—
“Little calf, little calf, kneel you down—
Forget not your Mistress, deary!
Like the King’s son who his sweetheart left
Under the linden, dreary.”
The Prince looked round when he heard the voice, and stopped his horse. He looked earnestly at the face of the Shepherdess and pressed his hand to his forehead as if trying to recollect something; but in a minute or two, he rode on and disappeared. “Alas! alas!” cried the Maiden, “he knows me no longer!”
Soon after this occurrence, a great festival of three days duration was appointed to be held at the royal court, and all the King’s subjects were invited to it. “Now I will make a last trial,” thought the Maiden; and on the evening of the first day, she went to the stone under which she had buried her treasures. She drew out the dress adorned with the golden suns, and, putting it on, bedecked herself also with the jewels. Her hair, which till now she had hidden under a cap, she allowed to fall down in its natural curls, and, thus apparelled, she went to the city unperceived in the dusky twilight. As soon, however, as she entered the well lighted ball-room all were struck with her beauty, but nobody knew who she was. The Prince went up to her but did not recognise her; and after he had danced with her, her manners so enchanted him that he altogether slighted the other bride. As soon as the ball was over, she disappeared in the crowd, and, hastening back to the village, put on her shepherd’s dress before the day broke.
The second evening she took out the dress with the silver moons, and adorned her hair with a crescent of precious stones. As soon as she appeared in the ball-room all eyes were turned on her, and the Prince, intoxicated with love, danced with her alone, quite forgetful of any other person. Before she went away he made her promise to come again on the following evening.
When she thus appeared for the third time, she wore her star dress, which glittered with every step she took, not to mention her girdle and head-dress, which were stars of diamonds. The Prince took her arm as soon as she entered the room, and asked who she was, “for,” said he, “it seems to me as if I had known you before.”
“Have you forgotten what I did when you parted from me?” asked the Maiden, at the same time kissing him on his left cheek. As soon as she did this, a mist, as it were, fell from his eyes, and he recognised his true Bride. “Come,” he said, “I must remain here no longer;” and taking her by the hand he led her out to his carriage. As if the wind were pulling, the horses galloped to the wonderful castle, whose windows were already lighted up, and shone to a long distance. As the carriage passed beneath the linden-tree innumerable glow-worms swarmed among the boughs, so that the leaves were shaken and sent down their fragrance. On the castle steps bloomed the flowers, and from the aviaries came the songs of many rare birds! but in the hall the whole court stood assembled, and the priests to celebrate the marriage of the young Prince and the True Bride.
