.
Читать онлайн книгу.
she closed her eyes, and breathed her last.
The maiden went to her mother’s grave every day and wept, and she continued to be devout and good. When the winter came, the snow spread a white covering on the grave, and when the sun of spring had unveiled it again, the husband took another wife. The new wife brought home with her two daughters, who were fair and beautiful to look upon, but base and black at heart.
Then began a sad time for the unfortunate step-child.
‘Is this stupid goose to sit with us in the parlour?’ they said.
‘Whoever wants to eat bread must earn it; go and sit with the kitchenmaid.’
They took away her pretty clothes, and made her put on an old grey frock, and gave her wooden clogs.
‘Just look at the proud Princess, how well she’s dressed,’ they laughed, as they led her to the kitchen. There, the girl was obliged to do hard work from morning till night, to get up at daybreak, carry water, light the fire, cook, and wash. Not content with that, the sisters inflicted on her every vexation they could think of; they made fun of her, and tossed the peas and lentils among the ashes, so that she had to sit down and pick them out again. In the evening, when she was worn out with work, she had no bed to go to, but had to lie on the hearth among the cinders. And because, on account of that, she always looked dusty and dirty, they called her Ashenputtel.
It happened one day that the Father had a mind to go to the Fair. So he asked both his step-daughters what he should bring home for them.
‘Fine clothes,’ said one.
‘Pearls and jewels,’ said the other.
‘But you, Ashenputtel?’ said he, ‘what will you have?’
‘Father, break off for me the first twig which brushes against your hat on your way home.’
Well, for his two step-daughters he brought beautiful clothes, pearls and jewels, and on his way home, as he was riding through a green copse, a hazel twig grazed against him and knocked his hat off. Then he broke off the branch and took it with him.
When he got home he gave his step-daughters what they had asked for, and to Ashenputtel he gave the twig from the hazel bush.
Ashenputtel thanked him, and went to her mother’s grave and planted the twig upon it; she wept so much that her tears fell and watered it. And it took root and became a fine tree.
Ashenputtel went to the grave three times every day, wept and prayed, and every time a little white bird came and perched upon the tree, and when she uttered a wish, the little bird threw down to her what she had wished for.
Now it happened that the King proclaimed a festival, which was to last three days, and to which all the beautiful maidens in the country were invited, in order that his son might choose a bride.
When the two step-daughters heard that they were also to be present, they were in high spirits, called Ashenputtel, and said:
‘Brush our hair and clean our shoes, and fasten our buckles, for we are going to the feast at the King’s palace.’
Ashenputtel obeyed, but wept, for she also would gladly have gone to the ball with them, and begged her Step-mother to give her leave to go.
‘You, Ashenputtel!’ she said. ‘Why, you are covered with dust and dirt. You go to the festival! Besides you have no clothes or shoes, and yet you want to go to the ball.’
As she, however, went on asking, her Step-mother said:
‘Well, I have thrown a dishful of lentils into the cinders, if you have picked them all out in two hours you shall go with us.’
The girl went through the back door into the garden, and cried, ‘Ye gentle doves, ye turtle doves, and all ye little birds under heaven, come and help me,
‘The good into a dish to throw,
The bad into your crops can go.’
Then two white doves came in by the kitchen window, and were followed by the turtle doves, and finally all the little birds under heaven flocked in, chirping, and settled down among the ashes. And the doves gave a nod with their little heads, peck, peck, peck; and then the rest began also, peck, peck, peck, and collected all the good beans into the dish. Scarcely had an hour passed before they had finished, and all flown out again.
Then the girl brought the dish to her Step-mother, and was delighted to think that now she would be able to go to the feast with them.
But she said, ‘No, Ashenputtel, you have no clothes, and cannot dance; you will only be laughed at.’
But when she began to cry, the Step-mother said:
‘If you can pick out two whole dishes of lentils from the ashes in an hour, you shall go with us.’
And she thought, ‘She will never be able to do that.’
When her Step-mother had thrown the dishes of lentils among the ashes, the girl went out through the back door, and cried, ‘Ye gentle doves, ye turtle doves, and all ye little birds under heaven, come and help me,
‘The good into a dish to throw,
The bad into your crops can go.’
Then two white doves came in by the kitchen window, and were followed by the turtle doves, and all the other little birds under heaven, and in less than an hour the whole had been picked up, and they had all flown away.
Then the girl carried the dish to her Step-mother, and was delighted to think that she would now be able to go to the ball.
But she said, ‘It’s not a bit of good. You can’t go with us, for you’ve got no clothes, and you can’t dance. We should be quite ashamed of you.’
Thereupon she turned her back upon her, and hurried off with her two proud daughters.
As soon as every one had left the house, Ashenputtel went out to her mother’s grave under the hazel-tree, and cried:
‘Shiver and shake, dear little tree,
Gold and silver shower on me.’
Then the bird threw down to her a gold and silver robe, and a pair of slippers embroidered with silk and silver. With all speed she put on the robe and went to the feast. But her step-sisters and their mother did not recognise her, and supposed that she was some foreign Princess, so beautiful did she appear in her golden dress. They never gave a thought to Ashenputtel, but imagined that she was sitting at home in the dirt picking the lentils out of the cinders.
The Prince came up to the stranger, took her by the hand, and danced with her. In fact, he would not dance with any one else, and never left go of her hand. If any one came up to ask her to dance, he said, ‘This is my partner.’
She danced until nightfall, and then wanted to go home; but the Prince said, ‘I will go with you and escort you.’
For he wanted to see to whom the beautiful maiden belonged. But she slipped out of his way and sprang into the pigeon-house.
Then the Prince waited till her Father came, and told him that the unknown maiden had vanished into the pigeon-house.
The old man thought, ‘Could it be Ashenputtel?’ And he had an axe brought to him, so that he might break down the pigeon-house, but there was no one inside.
When they went home, there lay Ashenputtel in her dirty clothes among the cinders, and a dismal oil lamp was burning in the chimney corner. For Ashenputtel had quietly jumped down out of the pigeon-house and ran back to the hazel-tree. There she had taken off her beautiful clothes and laid them on the grave, and the bird had taken them away again. Then she had settled herself among the ashes on the hearth in her old grey frock.
On the second day, when the festival was renewed, and her parents and step-sisters had started forth again, Ashenputtel went to the hazel-tree, and said:
‘Shiver and shake, dear little tree,
Gold and silver shower on me.’
Then