CLEVER HANS
I
The mother of Hans said, “Whither away, Hans?”
Hans answered, “To Grethel.”
“Behave well, Hans.”
“Oh, I’ll behave well. Good-bye, Mother.”
“Good-bye, Hans.”
Hans comes to Grethel. “Good day, Grethel.”
“Good day, Hans. What do you bring that is good?”
“I bring nothing, I want to have something given me.”
Grethel presents Hans with a needle.
Hans says, “Good-bye, Grethel.”
“Good-bye, Hans.”
Hans takes the needle, sticks it into a hay-cart, and follows the cart home. “Good evening, Mother.”
“Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?”
“With Grethel.”
“What did you take her?”
“Took nothing; had something given me.”
“What did Grethel give you?”
“Gave me a needle.”
“Where is the needle, Hans?”
“Stuck in the hay-cart.”
“That was ill done, Hans. You should have stuck the needle in your sleeve.”
“Never mind, I’ll do better next time.”
II
“Whither away, Hans?”
“To Grethel, Mother.”
“Behave well, Hans.”
“Oh, I’ll behave well. Good-bye, Mother.”
“Good-bye, Hans.”
Hans comes to Grethel. “Good day, Grethel.”
“Good day, Hans. What do you bring that is good?”
“I bring nothing, I want to have something given me.”
Grethel presents Hans with a knife.
“Good-bye, Grethel.”
“Good-bye, Hans.”
Hans takes the knife, sticks it in his sleeve, and goes home.
“Good evening, Mother.”
“Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?”
“With Grethel.”
“What did you take her?”
“Took her nothing, she gave me something.”
“What did Grethel give you?”
“Gave me a knife.”
“Where is the knife, Hans?”
“Stuck it in my sleeve.”
“That’s ill done, Hans, you should have put the knife in your pocket.”
“Never mind, will do better next time.”
III
“Whither away, Hans?”
“To Grethel, Mother.”
“Behave well, Hans.”
“Oh, I’ll behave well. Good-bye, Mother.”
“Good-bye, Hans.”
Hans comes to Grethel. “Good day, Grethel.”
“Good day, Hans. What good thing do you bring?”
“I bring nothing. I want something given me.”
Grethel presents Hans with a young goat.
“Good-bye, Grethel.”
“Good-bye, Hans.”
Hans takes the goat, ties its legs, and puts it in his pocket. When he gets home it is suffocated.
“Good evening, Mother.”
“Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?”
“With Grethel.”
“What did you take her?”
“Took nothing, she gave me something.”
“What did Grethel give you?”
“She gave me a goat.”
“Where is the goat, Hans?”
“Put it in my pocket.”
“That was ill done, Hans, you should have put a rope round the goat’s neck.”
“Never mind, will do better next time.”
IV
“Whither away, Hans?”
“To Grethel, Mother.”
“Behave well, Hans.”
“Oh, I’ll behave well. Good-bye, Mother.”
“Good-bye, Hans.”
Hans comes to Grethel. “Good day, Grethel.”
“Good day, Hans. What good thing do you bring?”
“I bring nothing, I want something given me.”
Grethel presents Hans with a piece of bacon.
“Good-bye, Grethel.”
“Good-bye, Hans.”
Hans takes the bacon, ties it to a rope, and drags it away behind him. The dogs come and devour the bacon. When he gets home, he has the rope in his hand, and there is no longer anything hanging to it.
“Good evening, Mother.”
“Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?”
“With Grethel.”
“What did you take her?”
“I took her nothing, she gave me something.”
“What did Grethel give you?”
“Gave me a bit of bacon.”
“Where is the bacon, Hans?”
“I tied it to a rope, brought it home, dogs took it.”
“That was ill done, Hans, you should have carried the bacon on your head.”
“Never mind, will do better next time.”
V
“Whither away, Hans?”
“To Grethel, Mother.”
“Behave well, Hans.”
“I’ll behave well. Good-bye, Mother.”
“Good-bye, Hans.”
Hans comes to Grethel. “Good day, Grethel.”
“Good day, Hans. What good thing do you bring?”
“I bring nothing, but would have something given me.”
Grethel presents Hans with a calf.
“Good-bye, Grethel.”
“Good-bye, Hans.”
Hans takes the calf, puts it on his head, and the calf kicks his face.
“Good evening, Mother.”
“Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?”
“With Grethel.”
“What did you take her?”
“I took nothing, but had something given me.”
“What did Grethel give you?”
“A calf.”
“Where have you the calf, Hans?”
“I set it on my head and it kicked my face.”
“That was ill done, Hans, you should have led the calf, and put it in the stall.”
“Never mind, will do better next time.”
VI
“Whither away, Hans?”
“To Grethel, Mother.”
“Behave well, Hans.”
“I’ll behave well. Good-bye, Mother.”
“Good-bye, Hans.”
Hans comes to Grethel. “Good day, Grethel.”
“Good day, Hans. What good thing do you bring?”
“I bring nothing, but would have something given me.”
Grethel says to Hans, “I will go with you.”
Hans takes Grethel, ties her to a rope, leads her to the rack, and binds her fast. Then Hans goes to his mother.
“Good evening, Mother.”
“Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?”
“With Grethel.”
“What did you take her?”
“I took her nothing.”
“What did Grethel give you?”
“She gave me nothing, she came with me.”
“Where have you left Grethel?”
“I led her by the rope, tied her to the rack, and scattered some grass for her.”
“That was ill done, Hans, you should have cast friendly eyes on her.”
“Never mind, will do better.”
Hans went into the stable, cut out all the calves’ and sheep’s eyes, and threw them in Grethel’s face. Then Grethel became angry, tore herself lose and ran away, and became the Bride of Hans.
THE IRON STOVE
In the days when wishing was having, a King’s Son was enchanted by an old Witch, and shut up in an Iron Stove in a forest. There he passed many years, and no one could deliver him.
Then a King’s Daughter came into the forest, who had lost herself and could not find her father’s kingdom again. After she had wandered about for nine days, she at length came to the Iron Stove. Then a voice issued from it, and asked her, “Whence come you, and whither go you?”
She answered, “I have lost my father’s kingdom, and cannot get home again.”
Then a voice inside the Iron Stove said, “I will help you to get home, and that indeed most swiftly, if you will promise to do what I desire of you. I am the son of a far greater King than your father, and I will marry you.”
Then was she afraid, and thought, “Alas! What use could I have with an Iron Stove?” But as she much wished to get home to her father, she promised to do as he desired.
He said, “You shall return here, and bring a knife with you, and scrape a hole in the iron.”
Then he gave her a companion who walked near her, but did not speak. In two hours he took her home. There was great joy in the castle when the King’s Daughter came back, and the old King fell on her neck, and kissed her.
She, however, was sorely troubled, and said, “Dear Father, what I have suffered! I should never have got home again from the great wild forest, if I had not come to an Iron Stove. But I have been forced to give my word that I will go back to it, set it free, and marry it.”
Then the old King was so terrified that he all but fainted, for he had only this one daughter. They, therefore, resolved they would send, in her place, the miller’s daughter, who was very beautiful. They took her there, gave her a knife, and said she was to scrape at the Iron Stove. So she scraped at it for four-and-twenty hours, but could not bring off the least morsel of it.
When day dawned, a voice in the stove said, “It seems to me it is day outside.”
Then she answered, “It seems so to me too. I fancy I hear the noise of my father’s mill.”
“So you are a miller’s daughter! Then go your way at once. Let the King’s Daughter come here.”
She went away at once, and told the old King that the man outside there would have none of her – he wanted the King’s Daughter.
They, however, still had a swineherd’s daughter, who was even prettier than the miller’s daughter, and they determined to give her a piece of gold to go to the Iron Stove, instead of the King’s Daughter. So she was taken thither, and she also had to scrape for four-and-twenty hours. She, likewise, made nothing of it.
When day broke, a voice inside the stove cried, “It seems to me it is day outside!”
Then answered she, “So it seems to me. I fancy I hear my father’s horn blowing.”
“Then you are a swineherd’s daughter! Go away at once. Tell the King’s Daughter to come, and tell her all must be done as was promised. And if she does not come, everything in the kingdom shall be ruined, and destroyed, and not one stone be left standing on another.”
When the King’s Daughter heard that, she began to weep. But now there was nothing for it but to keep her promise. So she took leave of her father, put a knife in her pocket, and went forth to the Iron Stove in the forest.
When she got there, she began to scrape, and the iron gave way, and when two hours were over, she had already scraped a small hole. Then she peeped in, and saw a youth so handsome, and so brilliant with gold and with precious jewels, that her very soul was delighted. Therefore, she went on scraping, and made the hole so large that he was able to get out.
Then said he, “You are mine, and I am yours. You are my Bride, and have released me.”
He wanted to take her away with him to his kingdom, but she entreated him to let her go once again to her father. The King’s Son allowed her to do so, but she was not to say more to her father than three words, and then she was to come back again.
So she went home, but she spoke more than three words, and instantly the Iron Stove disappeared, and was taken far away over glass mountains and piercing swords. But the King’s Son was set free, and no longer shut up in it.
After this, she bade good-bye to her father, took some money with her, but not much, and went back to the great forest, and looked for the Iron Stove, but it was nowhere to be found. For nine days she sought it. Then her hunger grew so great that she did not know what to do, for she could no longer live.
When it was evening, she seated herself in a small tree, and made up her mind to spend the night there, as she was afraid of wild beasts. When midnight drew near, she saw in the distance a small light, and thought, “Ah, there I may be saved!” She got down from the tree, and went toward the light, and on the way she prayed. Then she came to a little old house, and much grass had grown all about it, and a small heap of wood lay in front of it.
She thought, “Ah, whither have I come!” and peeped in through the window. But she saw nothing inside but Toads, big and little, except a table covered with wine and roast meat, while the plates and glasses were of silver. Then she took courage, and knocked at the door. The fat Toad cried:
“Little green Waiting-Maid,
Waiting-Maid with the limping leg,
Little Dog of the limping leg,
Hop hither and thither,
And quickly see who is without!”
and a small Toad came along and opened the door to her.
When she entered, they all bade her welcome, and she was forced to sit down. They asked, “Where have you come from, and whither are you going?”
Then she related all that had befallen her, and how because she had disobeyed the order which had been given her not to say more than three words, the stove, and the King’s Son also, had disappeared, and now she was seeking him over hill and dale until she found him. At that, the old fat one said:
“Little green Waiting-Maid,
Waiting-Maid with the limping leg,
Little Dog of the limping leg,
Hop hither and thither,
And bring me the great box.”
Then the little one went and brought the box. After this they gave her meat and drink, and took her to a well-made bed, which felt like silk and velvet. She laid herself therein, in God’s name, and slept.
When morning came she arose, and the old Toad gave her three needles out of the great box, which she was to take with her; they would be needed by her, for she had to cross a high Glass Mountain, and go over three piercing swords and a great lake. If she did all this, she would get her lover back again. Then she gave her three things, which she was to take the greatest care of, namely, three large needles, a plough-wheel, and three nuts.
With these she traveled onwards, and when she came to the Glass Mountain, which was so slippery, she stuck the three needles first behind her feet and then before them, and so got over it. And when she was over it, she hid them in a place which she marked carefully. After this she came to the three piercing swords, and then she seated herself on her plough-wheel, and rolled over them. At last she arrived in front of a great lake, and when she had crossed it, she came to a large and beautiful castle.
She went in and asked for a place. She knew, however, that the King’s Son whom she had released from the Iron Stove in the great forest, was in the castle. Then she was taken as a scullery-maid at low wages. But, already the King’s Son had another maiden by his side, whom he wanted to marry, for he thought that she had long been dead.
In the evening, when she had washed up and was done, she felt in her pocket and found the three nuts which the old Toad had given her. She cracked one with her teeth, and was going to eat the kernel, when, lo and behold, there was a stately royal garment in it! But when the Bride heard of this she came and asked for the dress, and wanted to buy it, and said, “It is not a dress for a servant-girl.”
She said, no, she would not sell it, but if the Bride would grant her one thing she should have it, and that was, leave to sleep one night in her Bridegroom’s chamber. The Bride gave her permission because the dress was so pretty, and she had never had one like it.
When it was evening, she said to her Bridegroom, “That silly girl will sleep in your room.”
“If you are willing so am I,” said he.
She, however, gave him a glass of wine in which she had poured a sleeping-draught. So the Bridegroom and the scullery-maid went to sleep in the room, and he slept so soundly that she could not waken him.
She wept the whole night and cried, “I set you free when you were in an Iron Stove in the wild forest. I sought you, and walked over a Glass Mountain, and three sharp swords, and a great lake before I found you, and yet you will not hear me!”
The servants sat by the chamber-door, and heard how she thus wept the whole night through, and in the morning they told it to their lord.
And the next evening, when she had washed up, she opened the second nut, and a far more beautiful dress was within it. When the Bride beheld it, she wished to buy that also. But the girl would not take money, and begged that she might once again sleep in the Bridegroom’s chamber. The Bride, however, gave him a sleeping-drink, and he slept so soundly that he could hear nothing.
But the scullery-maid wept the whole night long, and cried, “I set you free when you were in an Iron Stove in the wild forest. I sought you, and walked over a Glass Mountain, and over three sharp swords and a great lake before I found you, and yet you will not hear me!”
The servants sat by the chamber-door and heard her weeping the whole night through, and in the morning informed their lord of it.
And on the third evening, when she had washed up, she opened the third nut, and within it was a still more beautiful dress which was stiff with pure gold.
When the Bride saw that, she wanted to have it, but the maiden gave it up only on condition that she might for the third time sleep in the Bridegroom’s apartment. The King’s Son was, However, on his guard, and threw the sleeping-draught away.
Now, therefore, when she began to weep and to cry, “Dearest Love, I set you free when you were in the Iron Stove in the terrible wild forest,” the King’s Son leapt up and said, “You are the true one, you are mine, and I am yours.”
Thereupon, while it was still night, he got into a carriage with her, and they took away the false Bride’s clothes so that she could not get up. When they came to the great lake, they sailed across it, and when they reached the three sharp-cutting swords they seated themselves on the plough-wheel, and when they got to the Glass Mountain they thrust the three needles in it. And so at length they reached the little old house. But when they went inside that, it was a great castle, and the Toads were all disenchanted, and were King’s children, and full of happiness.
Then the wedding was celebrated, and the King’s Son and the Princess remained in the castle, which was much larger than the castles of their fathers. But, as the old King grieved at being left alone, they fetched him away, and brought him to live with them. And they had two Kingdoms, and lived together happily ever afterward.
A Mouse did run,
The story’s done!
SWEET PORRIDGE
There was a poor, good little girl, who lived alone with her mother, and they had nothing more to eat.
So the child went into the forest, and an Old Woman met her, who knew of her sorrow, and gave her a Little Pot, which, when she said:
“Boil, Little Pot, boil!”
would cook good sweet Porridge. And when she said:
“Stop, Little Pot, stop!”
it ceased to cook.
The little girl took the Pot home to her mother. And now they were freed from their poverty and hunger, and ate sweet Porridge as often as they liked.
Once on a time, when the little girl had gone out, the mother said:
“Boil, Little Pot, boil!”
And it began to cook, and she ate till she was satisfied. Then she wanted the Pot to stop cooking, but did not know the word.
So it went on cooking, and the Porridge rose over the edge. And still it cooked on till the kitchen, and the whole house was full, and then the next house, and then the whole street, just as if it wanted to satisfy the hunger of the whole world. And there was the greatest trouble, and no one knew how to stop it. At last, when only a single house was left, the child came home and just said:
“Stop, Little Pot, stop!”
and it stopped cooking.
And whosoever wished to return to the town, had to eat his way back.
SNOW-WHITE AND ROSE-RED
There was once a poor widow who lived in a lonely cottage. In front of the cottage was a garden wherein stood two rose-trees, one of which bore white and the other red roses. She had two children who were like the two rose-trees. One was called Snow-White, and the other Rose-Red.
They were as good and happy, as busy and cheerful as ever two children in the world were, only Snow-White was more quiet and gentle than Rose-Red. Rose-Red liked better to run about in the meadows and fields seeking flowers and catching butterflies. But Snow-White sat at home with her mother, and helped her with the housework, or read to her when there was nothing to do.
The two children were so fond of each other, that they always held each other by the hand when they went out together. When Snow-White said, “We will not leave each other,” Rose-Red answered, “Never so long as we live.” And their mother would add, “What one has, she must share with the other.”
They often ran about the forest alone and gathered red berries. Beasts never did them any harm, but came close to them trustfully. The little hare would eat a cabbage-leaf out of their hands, the roe grazed by their side, the stag leapt merrily by them, and the birds sat still upon the boughs, and sang whatever they knew.
No mishap overtook them. If they stayed too late in the forest, and night came on, they laid themselves down near one another upon the moss, and slept until morning. Their mother knew this, and had no worry on their account.
One day, when they had spent the night in the wood and the dawn had roused them, they saw a beautiful Child in a shining white dress sitting near their bed. He got up and looked quite kindly at them, but said nothing and went away into the forest. And when they looked round, they found that they had been sleeping quite close to a precipice, and would certainly have fallen into it in the darkness, if they had gone only a few paces farther. And their mother told them that it must have been the Angel who watches over good children.
Snow-White and Rose-Red kept their mother’s little cottage so neat, that it was a pleasure to look inside it. In the summer, Rose-Red took care of the house, and every morning laid a wreath of flowers by her mother’s bed before she awoke, in which was a rose from each tree. In the winter, Snow-White lit the fire and hung the kettle on the hook. The kettle was of copper and shone like gold, so brightly was it polished.
In the evening, when the snowflakes fell, the mother said, “Go, Snow-White, and bolt the door,” and then they sat round the hearth, and the mother took her spectacles and read aloud out of a large book. The two girls listened as they sat and span. And close by them lay a lamb upon the floor, and behind them upon a perch sat a white dove with its head hidden beneath its wings.
One evening, as they were thus sitting comfortably together, some one knocked at the door as if he wished to be let in. The mother said, “Quick, Rose-Red, open the door, it must be a traveler who is seeking shelter.”
Rose-Red went and pushed back the bolt, thinking that it was a poor man, but it was not. It was a Bear that stretched his broad, black head within the door.
Rose-Red screamed and sprang back, the lamb bleated, the dove fluttered, and Snow-White hid herself behind her mother’s bed.
But the Bear began to speak and said, “Do not be afraid. I will do you no harm! I am half-frozen, and only want to warm myself a little beside you.”
“Poor Bear,” said the mother, “lie down by the fire. Only take care that you do not burn your coat.” Then she cried, “Snow-White, Rose-Red, come out, the Bear will do you no harm, he means well.”
So they both came out, and by-and-by the lamb and dove came nearer, and were not afraid of him.
The Bear said, “Here, Children, knock the snow out of my coat a little;” so they brought the broom and swept the Bear’s hide clean. And he stretched himself by the fire and growled contentedly and comfortably.
It was not long before they grew quite at home, and played tricks with their clumsy guest. They tugged at his hair with their hands, put their feet upon his back and rolled him about, or they took a hazel-switch and beat him, and, when he growled, they laughed. But the Bear took it all in good part, only when they were too rough he called out, “Leave me alive, Children:
“Snowy-white, Rosy-red,
Will you beat your lover dead?”
When it was bedtime, and the others went to sleep, the mother said to the Bear, “You may lie there by the hearth, and then you will be safe from the cold and the bad weather.”
As soon as day dawned the two children let him out, and he trotted across the snow into the forest.
Henceforth the Bear came every evening at the same time, laid himself down by the hearth, and let the children amuse themselves with him as much as they liked. They got so used to him, that the doors were never fastened until their black friend had arrived.
When spring was come and all outside was green, the Bear said one morning to Snow-White, “Now I must go away, and cannot come back for the whole summer.”
“Where are you going, then, dear Bear?” asked Snow-White.
“I must go into the forest and guard my treasures from the wicked Dwarfs. In the winter, when the earth is frozen hard, they are obliged to stay below and cannot work their way through. But now, when the sun has thawed and warmed the earth, they break through it, and come out to pry and steal. And what once gets into their hands and in their caves, does not easily see daylight again.”
Snow-White was very sorry for his going away. And as she unbolted the door for him, and the Bear was hurrying out, he caught against the bolt and a piece of his hairy coat was torn off. It seemed to Snow-White as if she saw gold shining through it, but she was not sure about it. The Bear ran away quickly, and was soon out of sight behind the trees.
A short time afterward, the mother sent her children into the forest to get fire-wood. There they found a big tree which lay felled on the ground, and close by the trunk something was jumping backward and forward in the grass. But they could not make out what it was.
When they came nearer they saw a Dwarf with an old withered face and a snow-white beard a yard long. The end of the beard was caught in a crevice of the tree, and the little fellow was jumping backward and forward like a dog tied to a rope, and did not know what to do.
He glared at the girls with his fiery red eyes and cried, “Why do you stand there? Can you not come here and help me?”
“What are you about there, Little Man?” asked Rose-Red.
“You stupid, prying goose!” answered the Dwarf; “I was going to split the tree to get a little wood for cooking. The little bit of food that one of us wants gets burnt up directly with thick logs. We do not swallow so much as you coarse, greedy folk. I had just driven the wedge safely in, and everything was going as I wished; but the wretched wood was too smooth and suddenly sprang asunder, and the tree closed so quickly that I could not pull out my beautiful white beard. So now it is tight in, and I cannot get away. And you silly, sleek, milk-faced things laugh! Ugh! how odious you are!”
The children tried very hard, but they could not pull the beard out, it was caught too fast.
“I will run and fetch some one,” said Rose-Red.
“You senseless goose!” snarled the Dwarf. “Why should you fetch some one? You are already two too many for me. Can you not think of something better?”
“Don’t be impatient,” said Snow-White, “I will help you,” and she pulled her scissors out of her pocket, and cut off the end of the beard.
As soon as the Dwarf felt himself free, he grabbed a bag which lay amongst the roots of the tree, and which was full of gold, and lifted it up, grumbling to himself, “Rude people, to cut off a piece of my fine beard! Bad luck to you!” and then he swung the bag upon his back, and went off without even once looking at the children.
Some time after that Snow-White and Rose-Red went to catch a dish of fish. As they came near the brook, they saw something like a large grasshopper jumping toward the water, as if it were going to leap in. They ran to it and found it was the Dwarf.
“Where are you going?” said Rose-Red; “you surely don’t want to go into the water?”
“I am not such a fool!” cried the Dwarf; “don’t you see that the accursed fish wants to pull me in?” The Little Man had been sitting there fishing, and unluckily the wind had twisted his beard with the fishing-line. Just then a big fish bit, and the feeble creature had not strength to pull it out. The fish kept the upper hand and was pulling the Dwarf toward him. He held on to all the reeds and rushes, but it was of little good, he was forced to follow the fish, and was in great danger of being dragged into the water.
The girls came just in time. They held him fast and tried to free his beard from the line. But all in vain, beard and line were entangled fast together. Nothing was left but to bring out the scissors and cut the beard, whereby a small part of it was lost.
When the Dwarf saw that, he screamed out, “Is that civil, you toadstool, to disfigure one’s face? Was it not enough to clip off the end of my beard? Now you have cut off the best part of it. I cannot let myself be seen by my people. I wish you had been made to run the soles off your shoes!” Then he took out a sack of pearls which lay in the rushes, and, without saying a word more, he dragged it away and disappeared behind a stone.
It happened that soon afterward the mother sent the two children to the town to buy needles and thread, and laces and ribbons. The road led them across a heath upon which huge pieces of rock lay strewn about. They now noticed a large bird hovering in the air, flying slowly round and round above them. It sank lower and lower, and at last settled near a rock not far off. Directly afterward they heard a loud, piteous cry. They ran up and saw, with horror, that the eagle had seized their old acquaintance the Dwarf, and was going to carry him off.
The children, full of pity, at once took tight hold of the Little Man, and pulled against the eagle so long that at last he let his booty go.
As soon as the Dwarf had recovered from his first fright, he cried with his shrill voice, “Could you not have done it more carefully! You dragged at my brown coat, so that it is all torn and full of holes. You helpless, clumsy creatures!” Then he took up a sack full of precious stones, and slipped away again under the rock into his hole.
The girls, who by this time were used to his thanklessness, went on their way and did their business in the town.
As they crossed the heath again on their way home they surprised the Dwarf, who had emptied out his bag of precious stones in a clean spot, and had not thought that any one would come there at such a late hour. The evening sun shone upon the brilliant stones. They glittered and sparkled with all colors so beautifully, that the children stood still and looked at them.
“Why do you stand gaping there?” cried the Dwarf, and his ashen-gray face became copper-red with rage. He was going on with his bad words, when a loud growling was heard, and a black Bear came trotting toward them out of the forest. The Dwarf sprang up in a fright, but he could not get to his cave, for the Bear was already close.
Then in the fear of his heart he cried, “Dear Mr. Bear, spare me! I will give you all my treasures! Look, the beautiful jewels lying there! Grant me my life. What do you want with such a slender little fellow as I? You would not feel me between your teeth. Come, take these two wicked girls, they are tender morsels for you, fat as young quails. For mercy’s sake eat them!”
The Bear took no heed of his words, but gave the wicked creature a single blow with his paw, and he did not move again.
The girls had run away, but the Bear called to them, “Snow-White and Rose-Red, do not be afraid. Wait, I will come with you.”
Then they knew his voice and waited. And when he came up to them, suddenly his bear-skin fell off, and he stood there a handsome man, clothed all in gold.
“I am a King’s Son,” he said, “and I was bewitched by that wicked Dwarf, who had stolen my treasures. I have had to run about the forest as a savage bear until I was freed by his death. Now he has got his well-deserved punishment.”