DANSK

Enebærtræet

ENGLISH

The almond tree


For mange mange hundrede år siden levede der engang en rig mand, som havde en smuk og from kone. De levede lykkeligt sammen og havde blot den sorg, at de ingen børn fik. Konen bad dag og nat til Gud, men de fik dog ingen. Bagved huset var der en gård, hvori der stod et enebærtræ, og en vinterdag, da konen stod derude og skrællede et æble, kom hun til at skære sig i fingeren, så der faldt et par bloddråber på den hvide sne. Hun sukkede og tænkte: "Havde jeg dog blot et barn, der var så hvidt som sne og så rødt som blod." I det samme blev hun så underlig let til mode, og det var, som følte hun, at hendes ønske skulle gå i opfyldelse.

Da en måned var omme, var sneen smeltet, måneden efter begyndte græsset at pippe frem, i den næste stak alle de små blomster hovedet op af jorden. Da der var gået fire måneder sprang knopperne ud, grenene slyngede sig mellem hverandre og fuglene sang, så det klang i skoven. Næste måned stod hun under enebærtræet, der duftede så dejligt, at hendes hjerte fyldtes med glæde og hun faldt på knæ og bad. Da den sjette måned var omme og frugterne på enebærtræet var store og saftige, gik hun stille og tavs omkring, i den syvende måned spiste hun grådig af bærrene og var syg og bedrøvet. Da den ottende måned kom, græd hun og sagde til sin mand: "Når jeg er død, skal du begrave mig under enebærtræet." Hun blev nu gladere igen, og da hun i den niende måned fødte en søn, der var så hvid som sne og så rød som blod, brast hendes hjerte af glæde.

Manden begravede hende under enebærtræet og sørgede dybt over hende. Da der var gået en tid, holdt han op at sørge, og tog sig en anden kone. Hun fødte ham en lille datter. Når konen så på hende følte hun, hvor højt hun elskede hende, men den lille dreng var hende en torn i øjet. Hun slog ham og skubbede til ham, og lod ham aldrig være i fred. Og stadig tænkte hun på, hvordan hun skulle skaffe sin datter hele formuen.

Engang, da konen var gået op på loftet, kom den lille datter og sagde: "Giv mig et æble, mor." Moderen tog straks et æble op af en stor kiste, der havde et meget tungt låg og en stor jernlås. "Skal min bror ikke også have et?" spurgte den lille pige. Konen blev ærgerlig, men sagde dog, at han kunne jo få et, når han kom hjem fra skole. Da hun så ham komme, steg ondskaben op i hende, og hun rev æblet fra sin datter og sagde: "Du skal ikke have, før din bror har fået." Derpå kastede hun æblet ned i kisten igen, og da den lille dreng kom, sagde hun venligt: "Skal du have et æble, min ven." Men i det samme så hun så ondt på ham, at han blev ganske bange. "Tag så selv et," sagde hun og lukkede låget op. Og da drengen bukkede sig ned i kisten, lod hun låget smække i, så hans hovede trillede ned til de røde æbler. Da hun havde gjort det, for der en gysen igennem hende, og hun tænkte: "Bare jeg kunne give en anden skylden for det." Så tog hun hovedet op af kisten bandt det fast til kroppen med et hvidt tørklæde, gav ham et æble i hånden og satte ham på en stol foran døren.

Lidt efter kom Malene ud til sin mor, der stod i køkkenet og rørte i en gryde med kogende vand. "Mor," sagde hun, "min lille bror sidder udenfor døren og er helt hvid i ansigtet. Jeg bad ham om det æble, han har i hånden, men han svarede mig slet ikke." - "Bed ham om det igen," sagde moderen, "og hvis han så heller ikke svarer dig, skal du bare give ham en på øret." Malene gik ind til sin bror, men da han heller ikke svarede denne gang, gav hun ham en ørefigen, så hovedet røg af. Hun blev meget forskrækket og løb grædende ud til sin mor. "Jeg har slået hovedet af min bror," hulkde hun og kunne slet ikke holde op at græde igen. Men moderen tyssede på hende. "Vær stille," sagde hun, "lad os blot sørge for, at ikke et menneske får det at vide. Vi kan jo dog ikke gøre det om. Jeg vil koge ham i surkålen." Derpå hakkede hun den lille dreng i ganske små stykker og puttede ham ned i gryden. Men Malenes tårer faldt deri, så der behøvedes ingen salt.

Da faderen kom hjem satte han sig til bords og spurgte: "Hvor er min søn?" Moderen satte et stort fad surkål på bordet, og Malene græd ustandseligt. "Hvor er min søn?" spurgte faderen igen, og moderen svarede: "Haner gået ud på landet til sin bedstefar og bliver der i nogen tid." - "Det er da underligt, han ikke først sagde farvel til mig," sagde faderen. "Han bad mig, om han måtte blive der en seks ugers tid," sagde konen, "og jeg gav ham lov til det. Derude er han jo altid velkommen." - "Det synes jeg slet ikke om," sagde manden og rystede på hovedet, "det er heller ikke pænt af ham, at han ikke har sagt farvel til mig først." Derpå gav han sig til at spise og sagde: "Hold dog op med at græde, Malene. Han kommer jo igen. Hvor den mad dog smager mig," sagde han til sin kone: "Giv mig noget mere. Du kan ligeså godt give mig det hele straks. Jeg har en fornemmelse af, at det er mit altsammen." Han spiste og spiste og kastede alle knoglerne under bordet. Men da de havde rejst sig, tog Malene sit smukkeste silketørklæde, samlede alle benene deri og gravede dem ned under enebærtræet. Og da hun havde gjort det blev hun helt let om hjertet og holdt op med at græde. Pludselig begyndte enebærtræet at bevæge sig, grenene viftede frem og tilbage, og der lagde sig en tåge om dem. Midt ude i tågen var det, som der brændte en klar flamme, og ud af den fløj der en smuk, lille fugl, som sang så kønt, og fløj højt, højt op i luften. Så lettede tågen og enebærtræet stod, som det altid havde stået, men tørklædet med benene var borte. Malene var igen så glad, som om hendes bror levede endnu, og gik munter ind i huset. Fuglen fløj imidlertid af sted og satte sig på en guldsmeds hus og sang:

"Min moder røvede mig mit liv,
og skar mig med sin skarpe kniv,
og satte mig for fader frem,
som spiste mig med glæde.
Min lille søster, from og god,
hun samlede i et klæde
da mine ben, og lagde dem
til hvile under træets rod.
Kvivit, kvivit, hvad jeg er for en dejlig fugl."

Guldsmeden sad i sit værksted og lavede en guldkæde, da han hørte fuglen synge, og han syntes aldrig, han havde hørt noget så dejligt. Hn rejste sig for at gå ud, men da han gik over rendestenen, tabte han den ene tøffel. Han lod den ligge og gik midt ud på gaden, på maven havde han sit skødskind, i den ene hånd en guldkæde og i den anden en tang. Solen skinnede klart, og han skyggede med hånden for øjnene, for rigtig at kunne se fuglen. "Hvor du dog synger dejligt, lille fugl," sagde han, "syng den sang en gang til." - "Nej," sagde den, "to gange synger jeg ikke for ingenting, men giv mig din guldkæde, så skal jeg gøre det." - "Værsgod," sagde guldsmeden og rakte den kæden. Fuglen tog den i den højre klo og begyndte igen at synge:

"Min moder røvede mig mit liv,
og skar mig med sin skarpe kniv,
og satte mig for fader frem,
som spiste mig med glæde.
Min lille søster, from og god,
hun samlede i et klæde
da mine ben, og lagde dem
til hvile under træets rod.
Kvivit, kvivit, hvad jeg er for en dejlig fugl."

Derpå fløj fuglen hen til skomagerens hus og satte sig på taget og sang:

"Min moder røvede mig mit liv,
og skar mig med sin skarpe kniv,
og satte mig for fader frem,
som spiste mig med glæde.
Min lille søster, from og god,
hun samlede i et klæde
da mine ben, og lagde dem
til hvile under træets rod.
Kvivit, kvivit, hvad jeg er for en dejlig fugl."

Skomageren hørte det og kom ud i skjorteærmer, men måtte holde hånden for øjnene, da solen blændede ham. "Hvor du synger kønt, lille fugl," sagde han, og kaldte på sin kone, for at hun skulle komme ud og høre det. Hun kaldte på sin datter, og alle børnene og svenden og pigen kom ud på gaden for at se fuglen. Den var helt rød og grøn, men om halsen havde den en gylden ring, og dens øjne strålede som stjerner. "Syng den sang en gang til," bad skomageren. "Nej," svarede den, "to gange synger jeg ikke for ingenting." Manden sendte da sin kone ind for at hente et par røde sko og rakte fuglen dem. Den tog dem i sin venstre klo og begyndte igen at synge:

"Min moder røvede mig mit liv,
og skar mig med sin skarpe kniv,
og satte mig for fader frem,
som spiste mig med glæde.
Min lille søster, from og god,
hun samlede i et klæde
da mine ben, og lagde dem
til hvile under træets rod.
Kvivit, kvivit, hvad jeg er for en dejlig fugl."

Da den havde sunget det, fløj den videre med kæden i højre og skoene i venstre klo, og da den kom til en mølle, satte den sig på taget. Møllevingerne gik: Klap, klap, inde i møllen sad der tyve svende og huggede på en sten: Hak, hak. Fuglen satte sig i et lindetræ og begyndte at synge:

"Min moder røvede mig mit liv,
og skar mig med sin skarpe kniv,"

da hørte den ene op med at arbejde,

"og satte mig for fader frem,
som spiste mig med glæde."

da var der to til, som holdt op,

"Min lille søster, from og god,"

nu hørte fire op

"hun samlede i et klæde"

nu var det kun otte, som huggede,

"da mine ben, og lagde dem"

nu kun syv

"til hvile under træets rod."

og nu kun en.

"Kvivit, kvivit, hvad jeg er for en dejlig fugl."

Da holdt også den sidste op og sagde: "Hvor du dog synger kønt, lille fugl, syng det en gang til." - "Nej," svarede fuglen, "to gange synger jeg ikke for ingenting. Giv mig den møllesten, så skal jeg gøre det." - "Ja," svarede svenden, "hvis det var min alene, skulle du såmænd gerne få den." Men alle de andre var enige om, at den skulle have stenen. Fuglen fløj nu ned til dem og fik møllestenen om halsen som en krave og sang så igen:

"Min moder røvede mig mit liv,
og skar mig med sin skarpe kniv,
og satte mig for fader frem,
som spiste mig med glæde.
Min lille søster, from og god,
hun samlede i et klæde
da mine ben, og lagde dem
til hvile under træets rod.
Kvivit, kvivit, hvad jeg er for en dejlig fugl."

Da den havde sunget det, fløj den af sted med møllestenen om halsen og kæden i den højre og skoene i den venstre klo. Langt bort fløj den, og da den satte sig, var det på taget af faderens hus.

Inde i stuen sad faderen og moderen og Malene ved bordet, og manden sagde: "Jeg ved ikke, hvor det kan være, men jeg er så glad og let om hjertet i dag." - "Det er jeg slet ikke," sagde hans kone, "jeg er så angst, som om et uvejr skulle bryde løs." Men Malene sad og græd og græd. Da kom fuglen flyvende og satte sig på taget, og faderen sagde: "Hvor solen skinner dejligt i dag. Jeg er til mode, som om jeg skulle se en gammel ven igen." - "Og jeg er så bange, så tænderne klaprer i munden på mig," sagde konen. "Blodet brænder som ild i mine årer," og hun trak urolig op og ned i sit kjoleliv. Men Malene sad i en krog med tallerkenen for øjnene og græd, så den var ganske våd af hendes tårer. Nu satte fuglen sig i enebærtræet og sang:

"Min moder røvede mig mit liv,
og skar mig med sin skarpe kniv,"

Da holdt konen hænderne forførerne og kneb øjnene til, men det susede for hendes ører som i den stærkeste storm, øjnene brændte i hovedet på hende, og det var, som om lynene flammede rundt om hende.

"og satte mig for fader frem,
som spiste mig med glæde."

"Hører du, der er en fugl, som synger så dejligt," råbte manden. "Se, hvor solen skinner, og kan du lugte en duft som af skovmærker."

"Min lille søster, from og god"

Da skjulte Malene hovedet i sit skød og græd, som om hendes hjerte skulle briste. "Jeg vil dog ud og se den fugl," sagde manden, men hans kone greb ham i armen og sagde: "Du må ikke gøre det. Jeg har en fornemmelse, som om hele huset stod i lys lue." Han brød sig imidlertid ikke om, hvad hun sagde, men gik ud og så på fuglen, der sang.

"hun samlede i et klæde
da mine ben, og lagde dem
til hvile under træets rod.
Kvivit, kvivit, hvad jeg er for en dejlig fugl."

Derpå gav fuglen slip på den gyldne kæde, og den faldt lige om halsen på manden og passede ham aldeles. Han gik ind og viste sin kone den og sagde: "Sikken en dejlig kæde, den kønne, lille fugl har givet mig." Men konen var så bange, at hun faldt besvimet om på gulvet og tabte huen af hovedet. Fuglen begyndte igen at synge:

"Min moder røvede mig mit liv,
og skar mig med sin skarpe kniv,"

"Gid jeg lå tusinde favne under jorden," jamrede hun.

"og satte mig for fader frem,
som spiste mig med glæde."

Nu blev hun så bleg som et lig.

"Min lille søster, from og god,"

"Gud ved, om fuglen ikke også giver mig noget," tænkte Malene og gik ud til den.

"hun samlede i et klæde
da mine ben, og lagde dem
til hvile under træets rod."

I det samme kastede den skoene ned til hende.

"Kvivit, kvivit, hvad jeg er for en dejlig fugl."

Malene blev på en gang så glad, tog de røde sko på og gav sig til at danse og springe. "Det er dog en dejlig fugl," tænkte hun, "jeg er så glad, så glad, og sikken et par fine, røde sko." - "Jeg tror, verden forgår," stønnede konen og rejste sig op, "jeg må ud og have noget frisk luft." Men næppe var hun kommet udenfor døren, før fuglen smed møllestenen lige i hovedet på hende, så hun faldt om så død som en sild. Faderen og Malene, der havde hørt bulderet, kom styrtende ud. I det samme slog der en klar lue op, og damp og røg dannede en tæt tåge. Da den spredte sig, stod den lille bror der lyslevende, og lykkelige og glade tog de hinanden i hånden og gik ind i huset.
Long time ago, perhaps as much as two thousand years, there was a rich man, and he had a beautiful and pious wife, and they loved each other very much, and they had no children, though they wished greatly for some, and the wife prayed for one day and night. Now, in the courtyard in front of their house stood an almond tree; and one day in winter the wife was standing beneath it, and paring an apple, and as she pared it she cut her finger, and the blood fell upon the snow. "Ah," said the woman, sighing deeply, and looking down at the blood, "if only I could have a child as red as blood, and as white as snow!" And as she said these words, her heart suddenly grew light, and she felt sure she should have her wish. So she went back to the house, and when a month had passed the snow was gone; in two months everything was green; in three months the flowers sprang out of the earth; in four months the trees were in full leaf, and the branches were thickly entwined; the little birds began to sing, so that the woods echoed, and the blossoms fell from the trees; when the fifth month had passed the wife stood under the almond tree, and it smelt so sweet that her heart leaped within her, and she fell on her knees for joy; and when the sixth month had gone, the fruit was thick and fine, and she remained still; and the seventh month she gathered the almonds, and ate them eagerly, and was sick and sorrowful; and when the eighth month had passed she called to her husband, and said, weeping, "If I die, bury me under the almond tree." Then she was comforted and happy until the ninth month had passed, and then she bore a child as white as snow and as red as blood, and when she saw it her joy was so great that she died.

Her husband buried her under the almond tree, and he wept sore; time passed, and he became less sad; and after he had grieved a little more he left off, and then he took another wife.

His second wife bore him a daughter, and his first wife's child was a son, as red as blood and as white as snow. Whenever the wife looked at her daughter she felt great love for her, but whenever she looked at the little boy, evil thoughts came into her heart, of how she could get all her husband's money for her daughter, and how the boy stood in the way; and so she took great hatred to him, and drove him from one corner to another, and gave him a buffet here and a cuff there, so that the poor child was always in disgrace; when he came back after school hours there was no peace for him. Once, when the wife went into the room upstairs, her little daughter followed her, and said, "Mother, give me an apple." - "Yes, my child," said the mother, and gave her a fine apple out of the chest, and the chest had a great heavy lid with a strong iron lock. "Mother," said the little girl, "shall not my brother have one too?" That was what the mother expected, and she said, "Yes, when he comes back from school." And when she saw from the window that he was coming, an evil thought crossed her mind, and she snatched the apple, and took it from her little daughter, saying, "You shall not have it before your brother." Then she threw the apple into the chest, and shut to the lid. Then the little boy came in at the door, and she said to him in a kind tone, but with evil looks, "My son, will you have an apple?" - "Mother," said the boy, "how terrible you look! yes, give me an apple!" Then she spoke as kindly as before, holding up the cover of the chest, "Come here and take out one for yourself." And as the boy was stooping over the open chest, crash went the lid down, so that his head flew off among the red apples. But then the woman felt great terror, and wondered how she could escape the blame. And she went to the chest of drawers in her bedroom and took a white handkerchief out of the nearest drawer, and fitting the head to the neck, she bound them with the handkerchief, so that nothing should be seen, and set him on a chair before the door with the apple in his hand.

Then came little Marjory into the kitchen to her mother, who was standing before the fire stirring a pot of hot water. "Mother," said Marjory, "my brother is sitting before the door and he has an apple in his hand, and looks very pale; I asked him to give me the apple, but he did not answer me; it seems very strange." - "Go again to him," said the mother, "and if he will not answer you, give him a box on the ear." So Marjory went again and said, "Brother, give me the apple." But as he took no notice, she gave him a box on the ear, and his head fell off, at which she was greatly terrified, and began to cry and scream, and ran to her mother, and said, "O mother.1 I have knocked my brother's head off!" and cried and screamed, and would not cease. "O Marjory!" said her mother, "what have you done? but keep quiet, that no one may see there is anything the matter; it can't be helped now; we will put him out of the way safely."

When the father came home and sat down to table, he said, "Where is my son?" But the mother was filling a great dish full of black broth, and Marjory was crying bitterly, for she could not refrain. Then the father said again, "Where is my son?" - "Oh," said the mother, "he is gone into the country to his great-uncle's to stay for a little while." - "What should he go for?" said the father, "and without bidding me good-bye, too!" - "Oh, he wanted to go so much, and he asked me to let him stay there six weeks; he will be well taken care of." - "Dear me," said the father, "I am quite sad about it; it was not right of him to go without bidding me good-bye." With that he began to eat, saying, "Marjory, what are you crying for? Your brother will come back some time." After a while he said, "Well, wife, the food is very good; give me some more." And the more he ate the more he wanted, until he had eaten it all up, and be threw the bones under the table. Then Marjory went to her chest of drawers, and took one of her best handkerchiefs from the bottom drawer, and picked up all the bones from under the table and tied them up in her handkerchief, and went out at the door crying bitterly. She laid them in the green grass under the almond tree, and immediately her heart grew light again, and she wept no more. Then the almond tree began to wave to and fro, and the boughs drew together and then parted, just like a clapping of hands for joy; then a cloud rose from the tree, and in the midst of the cloud there burned a fire, and out of the fire a beautiful bird arose, and, singing most sweetly, soared high into the air; and when he had flown away, the almond tree remained as it was before, but the handkerchief full of bones was gone. Marjory felt quite glad and light-hearted, just as if her brother were still alive. So she went back merrily into the house and had her dinner. The bird, when it flew away, perched on the roof of a goldsmith's house, and began to sing,

''It was my mother who murdered me;
It was my father who ate of me;
It was my sister Marjory
Who all my bones in pieces found;
hem in a handkerchief she bound,
And laid them under the almond tree.
Kywitt, kywitt, kywitt, I cry,
Oh what a beautiful bird am I!"

The goldsmith was sitting in his shop making a golden chain, and when he heard the bird, who was sitting on his roof and singing, he started up to go and look, and as he passed over his threshold he lost one of his slippers; and he went into the middle of the street with a slipper on one foot and-only a sock on the other; with his apron on, and the gold chain in one hand and the pincers in the other; and so he stood in the sunshine looking up at the bird. "Bird," said he, "how beautifully you sing; do sing that piece over again." - "No," said the bird, "I do not sing for nothing twice; if you will give me that gold chain I will sing again." - "Very well," said the goldsmith, "here is the gold chain; now do as you said." Down came the bird and took the gold chain in his right claw, perched in front of the goldsmith, and sang,

"It was my mother who murdered me;
It was my father who ate of me;
It was my sister Marjory
Who all my bones in pieces found;
Them in a handkerchief she bound,
And laid them under the almond tree.
Kywitt, kywitt, kywitt, I cry,
Oh what a beautiful bird am I!"

Then the bird flew to a shoemaker's, and perched on his roof, and sang,

"It was my mother who murdered me;
It was my father who ate of me;
It was my sister Marjory
Who all my bones in pieces found;
Them in a handkerchief she bound,
And laid them under the almond tree.
Kywitt, kywitt, kywitt, I cry,
Oh what a beautiful bird am I!"

When the shoemaker heard, he ran out of his door in his shirt sleeves and looked up at the roof of his house, holding his hand to shade his eyes from the sun. "Bird," said he, "how beautifully you sing!" Then he called in at his door, "Wife, come out directly; here is a bird singing beautifully; only listen." Then he called his daughter, all his children, and acquaintance, both young men and maidens, and they came up the street and gazed on the bird, and saw how beautiful it was with red and green feathers, and round its throat was as it were gold, and its eyes twinkled in its head like stars. "Bird," said the shoemaker, "do sing that piece over again." - "No," said the bird, "I may not sing for nothing twice; you must give me something." - "Wife," said the man, "go into the shop; on the top shelf stands a pair of red shoes; bring them here." So the wife went and brought the shoes. "Now bird," said the man, "sing us that piece again." And the bird came down and took the shoes in his left claw, and flew up again to the roof, and sang,

"It was my mother who murdered me;
It was my father who ate of me;
It was my sister Marjory
Who all my bones in pieces found;
hem in a handkerchief she bound,
And laid them under the almond tree.
Kywitt, kywitt, kywitt, I ciy,
Oh what a beautiful bird am I!"

And when he had finished he flew away, with the chain in his right claw and the shoes in his left claw, and he flew till he reached a mill, and the mill went "clip-clap, clip-clap, clip-clap." And in the mill sat twenty millers-men hewing a millstone- "hick-hack, hick-hack, hick-hack," while the mill was going "clip-clap, clip-clap, clip-clap." And the bird perched on a linden tree that stood in front of the mill, and sang, "It was my mother who murdered me; " Here one of the men looked up. "It was my father who ate of me;" Then two more looked up and listened. "It was my sister Marjory " Here four more looked up. "Who all my bones in pieces found; Them in a handkerchief she bound," Now there were only eight left hewing. "And laid them under the almond tree." Now only five. "Kywitt, kywitt, kywitt, I cry," Now only one. "Oh what a beautiful bird am I!" At length the last one left off, and he only heard the end. "Bird," said he, "how beautifully you sing; let me hear it all; sing that again!" - "No," said the bird, "I may not sing it twice for nothing; if you will give me the millstone I will sing it again." - "Indeed," said the man, "if it belonged to me alone you should have it." - "All right," said the others, "if he sings again he shall have it." Then the bird came down, and all the twenty millers heaved up the stone with poles - "yo! heave-ho! yo! heave-ho!" and the bird stuck his head through the hole in the middle, and with the millstone round his neck he flew up to the tree and sang,

"It was my mother who murdered me;
It was my father who ate of me;
It was my sister Marjory
Who all my bones in pieces found;
Them in a handkerchief she bound,
And laid them under the almond tree.
Kywitt, kywitt, kywitt, I cry,
Oh what a beautiful bird am I!"

And when he had finished, he spread his wings,, having in the right claw the chain, and in the left claw the shoes, and round his neck the millstone, and he flew away to his father's house.

In the parlour sat the father, the mother, and Marjory at the table; the father said, "How light-hearted and cheerful I feel." - "Nay," said the mother, "I feel very low, just as if a great storm were coming." But Marjory sat weeping; and the bird came flying, and perched on the roof "Oh," said the father, "I feel so joyful, and the sun is shining so bright; it is as if I were going to meet with an old friend." - "Nay," said the wife, "I am terrified, my teeth chatter, and there is fire in my veins," and she tore open her dress to get air; and Marjory sat in a corner and wept, with her plate before her, until it was quite full of tears. Then the bird perched on the almond tree, and sang, '' It was my mother who murdered me; " And the mother stopped her ears and hid her eyes, and would neither see nor hear; nevertheless, the noise of a fearful storm was in her ears, and in her eyes a quivering and burning as of lightning. "It was my father who ate of me;'' "O mother!" said the-father, "there is a beautiful bird singing so finely, and the sun shines, and everything smells as sweet as cinnamon. ''It was my sister Marjory " Marjory hid her face in her lap and wept, and the father said, "I must go out to see the bird." - "Oh do not go!" said the wife, "I feel as if the house were on fire." But the man went out and looked at the bird. "Who all my bones in pieces found; Them in a handkerchief she bound, And laid them under the almond tree. Kywitt, kywitt, kywitt, I cry, Oh what a beautiful bird am I!"

With that the bird let fall the gold chain upon his father's neck, and it fitted him exactly. So he went indoors and said, "Look what a beautiful chain the bird has given me." Then his wife was so terrified that she fell all along on the floor, and her cap came off. Then the bird began again to sing, "It was my mother who murdered me;" - "Oh," groaned the mother, "that I were a thousand fathoms under ground, so as not to be obliged to hear it." - "It was my father who ate of me;" Then the woman lay as if she were dead. "It was my sister Marjory " - "Oh," said Marjory, "I will go out, too, and see if the bird will give me anything." And so she went. "Who all my bones in pieces found; Them in a handkerchief she bound," Then he threw the shoes down to her. "And laid them under the almond tree. Kywitt, kywitt, kywitt, I cry, Oh what a beautiful bird am I!"

And poor Marjory all at once felt happy and joyful, and put on her red shoes, and danced and jumped for joy. "Oh dear," said she, "I felt so sad before I went outside, and now my heart is so light! He is a charming bird to have given me a pair of red shoes." But the mother's hair stood on end, and looked like flame, and she said, "Even if the world is coming to an end, I must go out for a little relief." Just as she came outside the door, crash went the millstone on her head, and crushed her flat. The father and daughter rushed out, and saw smoke and flames of fire rise up; but when that had gone by, there stood the little brother; and he took his father and Marjory by the hand, and they felt very happy and content, and went indoors, and sat to the table, and had their dinner.




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