to-night." But the flowers appeared as if they did not understand, and
not a leaf moved; still Ida felt quite sure she knew all about it. She
lay awake a long time after she was in bed, thinking how pretty it
must be to see all the beautiful flowers dancing in the king's garden.
"I wonder if my flowers have really been there," she said to
herself, and then she fell asleep. In the night she awoke; she had
been dreaming of the flowers and of the student, as well as of the
tiresome lawyer who found fault with him. It was quite still in
Ida's bedroom; the night-lamp burnt on the table, and her father and
mother were asleep. "I wonder if my flowers are still lying in Sophy's
bed," she thought to herself; "how much I should like to know." She
raised herself a little, and glanced at the door of the room where all
her flowers and playthings lay; it was partly open, and as she
listened, it seemed as if some one in the room was playing the
piano, but softly and more prettily than she had ever before heard it.
"Now all the flowers are certainly dancing in there," she thought, "oh
how much I should like to see them," but she did not dare move for
fear of disturbing her father and mother. "If they would only come
in here," she thought; but they did not come, and the music
continued to play so beautifully, and was so pretty, that she could
resist no longer. She crept out of her little bed, went softly to
the door and looked into the room. Oh what a splendid sight there
was to be sure! There was no night-lamp burning, but the room appeared
quite light, for the moon shone through the window upon the floor, and
made it almost like day. All the hyacinths and tulips stood in two
long rows down the room, not a single flower remained in the window,
and the flower-pots were all empty. The flowers were dancing
gracefully on the floor, making turns and holding each other by
their long green leaves as they swung round. At the piano sat a
large yellow lily which little Ida was sure she had seen in the
summer, for she remembered the student saying she was very much like
Miss Lina, one of Ida's friends. They all laughed at him then, but now
it seemed to little Ida as if the tall, yellow flower was really
like the young lady. She had just the same manners while playing,
bending her long yellow face from side to side, and nodding in time to
the beautiful music. Then she saw a large purple crocus jump into
the middle of the table where the playthings stood, go up to the
doll's bedstead and draw back the curtains; there lay the sick
flowers, but they got up directly, and nodded to the others as a
sign that they wished to dance with them. The old rough doll, with the
broken mouth, stood up and bowed to the pretty flowers. They did not
look ill at all now, but jumped about and were very merry, yet none of
them noticed little Ida. Presently it seemed as if something fell from
the table. Ida looked that way, and saw a slight carnival rod
jumping down among the flowers as if it belonged to them; it was,
however, very smooth and neat, and a little wax doll with a broad
brimmed hat on her head, like the one worn by the lawyer, sat upon it.
The carnival rod hopped about among the flowers on its three red
stilted feet, and stamped quite loud when it danced the Mazurka; the
flowers could not perform this dance, they were too light to stamp
in that manner. All at once the wax doll which rode on the carnival
rod seemed to grow larger and taller, and it turned round and said
to the paper flowers, "How can you put such things in a child's
head? they are all foolish fancies;" and then the doll was exactly
like the lawyer with the broad brimmed hat, and looked as yellow and
as cross as he did; but the paper dolls struck him on his thin legs,
and he shrunk up again and became quite a little wax doll. This was
very amusing, and Ida could not help laughing. The carnival rod went
on dancing, and the lawyer was obliged to dance also. It was no use,
he might make himself great and tall, or remain a little wax doll with
a large black hat; still he must dance. Then at last the other flowers
interceded for him, especially those who had lain in the doll's bed,
and the carnival rod gave up his dancing. At the same moment a loud
knocking was heard in the drawer, where Ida's doll Sophy lay with many
other toys. Then the rough doll ran to the end of the table, laid
himself flat down upon it, and began to pull the drawer out a little
way.
Then Sophy raised himself, and looked round quite astonished,
"There must be a ball here to-night," said Sophy. "Why did not
somebody tell me?"
"Will you dance with me?" said the rough doll.
"You are the right sort to dance with, certainly," said she,
turning her back upon him.
Then she seated herself on the edge of the drawer, and thought
that perhaps one of the flowers would ask her to dance; but none of
them came. Then she coughed, "Hem, hem, a-hem;" but for all that not
one came. The shabby doll now danced quite alone, and not very
badly, after all. As none of the flowers seemed to notice Sophy, she
let herself down from the drawer to the floor, so as to make a very
great noise. All the flowers came round her directly, and asked if she
had hurt herself, especially those who had lain in her bed. But she
was not hurt at all, and Ida's flowers thanked her for the use of
the nice bed, and were very kind to her. They led her into the
middle of the room, where the moon shone, and danced with her, while
all the other flowers formed a circle round them. Then Sophy was
very happy, and said they might keep her bed; she did not mind lying
in the drawer at all. But the flowers thanked her very much, and
said,-
"We cannot live long. To-morrow morning we shall be quite dead;
and you must tell little Ida to bury us in the garden, near to the
grave of the canary; then, in the summer we shall wake up and be
more beautiful than ever."
"No, you must not die," said Sophy, as she kissed the flowers.
Then the door of the room opened, and a number of beautiful
flowers danced in. Ida could not imagine where they could come from,
unless they were the flowers from the king's garden. First came two
lovely roses, with little golden crowns on their heads; these were the
king and queen. Beautiful stocks and carnations followed, bowing to
every one present. They had also music with them. Large poppies and
peonies had pea-shells for instruments, and blew into them till they
were quite red in the face. The bunches of blue hyacinths and the
little white snowdrops jingled their bell-like flowers, as if they
were real bells. Then came many more flowers: blue violets, purple
heart's-ease, daisies, and lilies of the valley, and they all danced
together, and kissed each other. It was very beautiful to behold.
At last the flowers wished each other good-night. Then little
Ida crept back into her bed again, and dreamt of all she had seen.
When she arose the next morning, she went quickly to the little table,
to see if the flowers were still there. She drew aside the curtains of
the little bed. There they all lay, but quite faded; much more so than
the day before. Sophy was lying in the drawer where Ida had placed
her; but she looked very sleepy.
"Do you remember what the flowers told you to say to me?" said
little Ida. But Sophy looked quite stupid, and said not a single word.
"You are not kind at all," said Ida; "and yet they all danced with
you."
Then she took a little paper box, on which were painted
beautiful birds, and laid the dead flowers in it.
"This shall be your pretty coffin," she said; "and by and by, when
my cousins come to visit me, they shall help me to bury you out in the
garden; so that next summer you may grow up again more beautiful
than ever."
Her cousins were two good-tempered boys, whose names were James
and Adolphus. Their father had given them each a bow and arrow, and
they had brought them to show Ida. She told them about the poor
flowers which were dead; and as soon as they obtained permission, they
went with her to bury them. The two boys walked first, with their
crossbows on their shoulders, and little Ida followed, carrying the
pretty box containing the dead flowers. They dug a little grave in the
garden. Ida kissed her flowers and then laid them, with the box, in
the earth. James and Adolphus then fired their crossbows over the
grave, as they had neither guns nor cannons.
THE END
.
1872
FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN
LITTLE TINY OR THUMBELINA
by Hans Christian Andersen
THERE was once a woman who wished very much to have a little
child, but she could not obtain her wish. At last she went to a fairy,
and said, "I should so very much like to have a little child; can
you tell me where I can find one?"
"Oh, that can be easily managed," said the fairy. "Here is a
barleycorn of a different kind to those which grow in the farmer's
fields, and which the chickens eat; put it into a flower-pot, and
see what will happen."
"Thank you," said the woman, and she gave the fairy twelve
shillings, which was the price of the barleycorn. Then she went home
and planted it, and immediately there grew up a large handsome flower,
something like a tulip in appearance, but with its leaves tightly
closed as if it were still a bud. "It is a beautiful flower," said the
woman, and she kissed the red and golden-colored leaves, and while she
did so the flower opened, and she could see that it was a real
tulip. Within the flower, upon the green velvet stamens, sat a very
delicate and graceful little maiden. She was scarcely half as long
as a thumb, and they gave her the name of "Thumbelina," or Tiny,
because she was so small. A walnut-shell, elegantly polished, served
her for a cradle; her bed was formed of blue violet-leaves, with a
rose-leaf for a counterpane. Here she slept at night, but during the
day she amused herself on a table, where the woman had placed a
plateful of water. Round this plate were wreaths of flowers with their
stems in the water, and upon it floated a large tulip-leaf, which
served Tiny for a boat. Here the little maiden sat and rowed herself
from side to side, with two oars made of white horse-hair. It really
was a very pretty sight. Tiny could, also, sing so softly and
sweetly that nothing like her singing had ever before been heard.
One night, while she lay in her pretty bed, a large, ugly, wet toad
crept through a broken pane of glass in the window, and leaped right
upon the table where Tiny lay sleeping under her rose-leaf quilt.
"What a pretty little wife this would make for my son, said the
toad, and she took up the walnut-shell in which little Tiny lay
asleep, and jumped through the window with it into the garden.
In the swampy margin of a broad stream in the garden lived the
toad, with her son. He was uglier even than his mother, and when he
saw the pretty little maiden in her elegant bed, he could only cry,
"Croak, croak, croak."
"Don't speak so loud, or she will wake," said the toad, "and
then she might run away, for she is as light as swan's down. We will
place her on one of the water-lily leaves out in the stream; it will
be like an island to her, she is so light and small, and then she
cannot escape; and, while she is away, we will make haste and
prepare the state-room under the marsh, in which you are to live
when you are married."
Far out in the stream grew a number of water-lilies, with broad
green leaves, which seemed to float on the top of the water. The
largest of these leaves appeared farther off than the rest, and the
old toad swam out to it with the walnut-shell, in which little Tiny
lay still asleep. The tiny little creature woke very early in the
morning, and began to cry bitterly when she found where she was, for
she could see nothing but water on every side of the large green leaf,
and no way of reaching the land. Meanwhile the old toad was very
busy under the marsh, decking her room with rushes and wild yellow
flowers, to make it look pretty for her new daughter-in-law. Then
she swam out with her ugly son to the leaf on which she had placed
poor little Tiny. She wanted to fetch the pretty bed, that she might
put it in the bridal chamber to be ready for her. The old toad bowed
low to her in the water, and said, "Here is my son, he will be your
husband, and you will live happily in the marsh by the stream."
"Croak, croak, croak," was all her son could say for himself; so
the toad took up the elegant little bed, and swam away with it,
leaving Tiny all alone on the green leaf, where she sat and wept.
She could not bear to think of living with the old toad, and having
her ugly son for a husband. The little fishes, who swam about in the
water beneath, had seen the toad, and heard what she said, so they
lifted their heads above the water to look at the little maiden. As
soon as they caught sight of her, they saw she was very pretty, and it
made them very sorry to think that she must go and live with the
ugly toads. "No, it must never be!" so they assembled together in
the water, round the green stalk which held the leaf on which the
little maiden stood, and gnawed it away at the root with their
teeth. Then the leaf floated down the stream, carrying Tiny far away
out of reach of land.
Tiny sailed past many towns, and the little birds in the bushes
saw her, and sang, "What a lovely little creature;" so the leaf swam
away with her farther and farther, till it brought her to other lands.
A graceful little white butterfly constantly fluttered round her,
