Stories from Hans Andersen | Page 7

and in the other a clay pipe. He is blowing
soap-bubbles. As the swing moves the bubbles fly upwards in all their
changing colours, the last one still hangs from the pipe swayed by the
wind, and the swing goes on. A little black dog runs up, he is almost as
light as the bubbles, he stands up on his hind legs and wants to be taken
into the swing, but it does not stop. The little dog falls with an angry
bark; they jeer at it; the bubble bursts. A swinging plank, a fluttering

foam picture--that is my story!'
'I daresay what you tell me is very pretty, but you speak so sadly and
you never mention little Kay.'
What says the hyacinth?
'They were three beautiful sisters, all most delicate, and quite
transparent. One wore a crimson robe, the other a blue, and the third
was pure white. These three danced hand-in-hand, by the edge of the
lake in the moonlight. They were human beings, not fairies of the wood.
The fragrant air attracted them, and they vanished into the wood; here
the fragrance was stronger still. Three coffins glide out of the wood
towards the lake, and in them lie the maidens. The fire-flies flutter
lightly round them with their little flickering torches. Do these dancing
maidens sleep, or are they dead? The scent of the flower says that they
are corpses. The evening bell tolls their knell.'
'You make me quite sad,' said little Gerda; 'your perfume is so strong it
makes me think of those dead maidens. Oh, is little Kay really dead?
The roses have been down underground, and they say no.'
'Ding, dong,' tolled the hyacinth bells; 'we are not tolling for little Kay;
we know nothing about him. We sing our song, the only one we know.'
And Gerda went on to the buttercups shining among their dark green
leaves.
'You are a bright little sun,' said Gerda. 'Tell me if you know where I
shall find my playfellow.'
The buttercup shone brightly and returned Gerda's glance. What song
could the buttercup sing? It would not be about Kay.
'God's bright sun shone into a little court on the first day of spring. The
sunbeams stole down the neighbouring white wall, close to which
bloomed the first yellow flower of the season; it shone like burnished
gold in the sun. An old woman had brought her arm-chair out into the

sun; her granddaughter, a poor and pretty little maid-servant, had come
to pay her a short visit, and she kissed her. There was gold, heart's gold,
in the kiss. Gold on the lips, gold on the ground, and gold above, in the
early morning beams! Now that is my little story,' said the buttercup.
'Oh, my poor old grandmother!' sighed Gerda. 'She will be longing to
see me, and grieving about me, as she did about Kay. But I shall soon
go home again and take Kay with me. It is useless for me to ask the
flowers about him. They only know their own stories, and have no
information to give me.'
Then she tucked up her little dress, so that she might run the faster; but
the narcissus blossoms struck her on the legs as she jumped over them,
so she stopped and said, 'Perhaps you can tell me something.'
She stooped down close to the flower and listened. What did it say?
'I can see myself, I can see myself,' said the narcissus. 'Oh, how sweet
is my scent. Up there in an attic window stands a little dancing girl half
dressed; first she stands on one leg, then on the other, and looks as if
she would tread the whole world under her feet. She is only a delusion.
She pours some water out of a teapot on to a bit of stuff that she is
holding; it is her bodice. "Cleanliness is a good thing," she says. Her
white dress hangs on a peg; it has been washed in the teapot, too, and
dried on the roof. She puts it on, and wraps a saffron-coloured scarf
round her neck, which makes the dress look whiter. See how high she
carries her head, and all upon one stem. I see myself, I see myself!'
'I don't care a bit about all that,' said Gerda; 'it's no use telling me such
stuff.'
And then she ran to the end of the garden. The door was fastened, but
she pressed the rusty latch, and it gave way. The door sprang open, and
little Gerda ran out with bare feet into the wide world. She looked back
three times, but nobody came after her. At last she could run no further,
and she sat down on a big stone. When she looked round