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But the ninth time it rose
in the air, it remained away, and did not return. The boy searched
everywhere for it, but he searched in vain, for it could not be found;
it was gone.
"I know very well where she is," sighed the top; "she is in the
swallow's nest, and has married the swallow."
The more the top thought of this, the more he longed for the ball.
His love increased the more, just because he could not get her; and
that she should have been won by another, was the worst of all.
The
top still twirled about and hummed, but he continued to think of the
ball; and the more he thought of her, the more beautiful she seemed to
his fancy.
Thus several years passed by, and his love became quite old. The
top, also, was no longer young; but there came a day when he looked
handsomer than ever; for he was gilded all over. He was now a golden
top, and whirled and danced about till he hummed quite loud, and was
something worth looking at; but one day he leaped too high, and then
he, also, was gone.
They searched everywhere, even in the cellar,
but he was nowhere to be found. Where could he be? He had jumped
into the dust-bin, where all sorts of rubbish were lying:
cabbage-stalks, dust, and rain-droppings that had fallen down from the
gutter under the roof.
"Now I am in a nice place," said he; "my gilding will soon be
washed off here. Oh dear, what a set of rabble I have got amongst!"
And then he glanced at a curious round thing like an old apple,
which lay near a long, leafless cabbage-stalk.
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He did not even turn round, for he could not;
and yet he was young and freshly cast, but prudent and sedate. He
had been born old, and did not at all resemble the birds flying in the
air- the sparrows, and the swallows; no, he despised them, these
mean little piping birds, these common whistlers. He admitted that the
pigeons, large and white and shining like mother-o'-pearl, looked like
a kind of weather-cock; but they were fat and stupid, and all their
thoughts and endeavours were directed to filling themselves with food,
and besides, they were tiresome things to converse with.
The birds
of passage had also paid the weather-cock a visit and told him of
foreign countries, of airy caravans and robber stories that made one's
hair stand on end. All this was new and interesting; that is, for
the first time, but afterwards, as the weather-cock found out, they
repeated themselves and always told the same stories, and that's
very tedious, and there was no one with whom one could associate,
for one and all were stale and small-minded.
"The world is no good!" he said.
"The world is no good!" he said. "Everything in it is so stupid."
The weather-cock was puffed up, and that quality would have made
him interesting in the eyes of the cucumber if it had known it, but it
had eyes only for the yard cock, who was now in the yard with it.
The wind had blown the planks, but the storm was over.
"What do you think of that crowing?" said the yard cock to the
hens and chickens. "It was a little rough- it wanted elegance."
And the hens and chickens came up on the dung-hill, and the cock
strutted about like a lord.
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The emperor of the country heard of it, and declared that he who
would really find out where the sound came from should receive the
title of "Bellringer to the World," even if there was no bell at all.
Now many went out into the wood for the sake of this splendid
berth; but only one of them came back with some sort of explanation.
None of them had gone far enough, nor had he, and yet he said that the
sound of the bell came from a large owl in a hollow tree. It was a
wisdom owl, which continually knocked its head against the tree, but
he was unable to say with certainty whether its head or the hollow
trunk of the tree was the cause of the noise.
It was a
wisdom owl, which continually knocked its head against the tree, but
he was unable to say with certainty whether its head or the hollow
trunk of the tree was the cause of the noise.
He was appointed "Bellringer to the World," and wrote every year a
short dissertation on the owl, but by this means people did not become
any wiser than they had been before.
It was just confirmation-day. The clergyman had delivered a
beautiful and touching sermon, the candidates were deeply moved by it;
it was indeed a very important day for them; they were all at once
transformed from mere children to grown-up people; the childish soul
was to fly over, as it were, into a more reasonable being.
The sun shone most brightly; and the sound of the great unknown
bell was heard more distinctly than ever. They had a mind to go
thither, all except three. One of them wished to go home and try on
her ball dress, for this very dress and the ball were the cause of her
being confirmed this time, otherwise she would not have been allowed
to go. The second, a poor boy, had borrowed a coat and a pair of boots
from the son of his landlord to be confirmed in, and he had to
return them at a certain time.
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But they did not get on well, for the real nightingale
sang in its own natural way, but the artificial bird sang only
waltzes.
"That is not a fault," said the music-master, "it is quite perfect
to my taste," so then it had to sing alone, and was as successful as
the real bird; besides, it was so much prettier to look at, for it
sparkled like bracelets and breast-pins. Three and thirty times did it
sing the same tunes without being tired; the people would gladly
have heard it again, but the emperor said the living nightingale ought
to sing something.
But where was she? No one had noticed her when
she flew out at the open window, back to her own green woods.
"What strange conduct," said the emperor, when her flight had been
discovered; and all the courtiers blamed her, and said she was a
very ungrateful creature.
"But we have the best bird after all," said one, and then they
would have the bird sing again, although it was the thirty-fourth time
they had listened to the same piece, and even then they had not learnt
it, for it was rather difficult.
But the music-master praised the bird
in the highest degree, and even asserted that it was better than a
real nightingale, not only in its dress and the beautiful diamonds,
but also in its musical power. "For you must perceive, my chief lord
and emperor, that with a real nightingale we can never tell what is
going to be sung, but with this bird everything is settled. It can
be opened and explained, so that people may understand how the waltzes
are formed, and why one note follows upon another."
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One morning she danced past a door that she knew well; they were
singing a psalm inside, and a coffin was being carried out covered
with flowers. Then she knew that she was forsaken by every one and
damned by the angel of God.
She danced, and was obliged to go on dancing through the dark
night. The shoes bore her away over thorns and stumps till she was all
torn and bleeding; she danced away over the heath to a lonely little
house. Here, she knew, lived the executioner; and she tapped with
her finger at the window and said:
"Come out, come out! I cannot come in, for I must dance."
Here, she knew, lived the executioner; and she tapped with
her finger at the window and said:
"Come out, come out! I cannot come in, for I must dance."
And the executioner said: "I don't suppose you know who I am. I
strike off the heads of the wicked, and I notice that my axe is
tingling to do so."
"Don't cut off my head!" said Karen, "for then I could not
repent of my sin. But cut off my feet with the red shoes."
And then she confessed all her sin, and the executioner struck off
her feet with the red shoes; but the shoes danced away with the little
feet across the field into the deep forest.
And he carved her a pair of wooden feet and some crutches, and
taught her a psalm which is always sung by sinners; she kissed the
hand that guided the axe, and went away over the heath.
"Now, I have suffered enough for the red shoes," she said; "I will
go to church, so that people can see me." And she went quickly up to
the church-door; but when she came there, the red shoes were dancing
before her, and she was frightened, and turned back.
During the whole week she was sad and wept many bitter tears,
but when Sunday came again she said: "Now I have suffered and
striven enough.
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But Marguerite did not answer him; she was offended that he should
call her a woman when she was only a girl; and there is a great
difference. He asked her a second time, and then a third; but she
remained dumb, and answered not a word. Then he would wait no
longer, but flew away, to commence his wooing at once. It was in the
early spring, when the crocus and the snowdrop were in full bloom.
"They are very pretty," thought the butterfly; "charming little
lasses; but they are rather formal."
Then, as the young lads often do, he looked out for the elder
girls. He next flew to the anemones; these were rather sour to his
taste. The violet, a little too sentimental. The lime-blossoms, too
small, and besides, there was such a large family of them. The
apple-blossoms, though they looked like roses, bloomed to-day, but
might fall off to-morrow, with the first wind that blew; and he
thought that a marriage with one of them might last too short a
time. The pea-blossom pleased him most of all; she was white and
red, graceful and slender, and belonged to those domestic maidens
who have a pretty appearance, and can yet be useful in the kitchen.
The pea-blossom pleased him most of all; she was white and
red, graceful and slender, and belonged to those domestic maidens
who have a pretty appearance, and can yet be useful in the kitchen. He
was just about to make her an offer, when, close by the maiden, he saw
a pod, with a withered flower hanging at the end.
"Who is that?" he asked.
"That is my sister," replied the pea-blossom.
"Oh, indeed; and you will be like her some day," said he; and he
flew away directly, for he felt quite shocked.
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