The Goose-girl

THE GOOSE-GIRL

Once upon a time an old queen, whose husband had been dead for many

years, had a beautiful daughter. When she grew up she was betrothed to

a prince who lived a great way off. Now, when the time drew near for her

to be married and to depart into a foreign kingdom, her old mother gave

her much costly baggage, and many ornaments, gold and silver, trinkets

and knicknacks, and, in fact, everything that belonged to a royal

trousseau, for she loved her daughter very dearly. She gave her a

waiting-maid also, who was to ride with her and hand her over to the

bridegroom, and she provided each of them with a horse for the journey.

Now the Princess’s horse was called Falada, and could speak.

When the hour for departure drew near the old mother went to her

bedroom, and taking a small knife she cut her fingers till they bled;

then she held a white rag under them, and letting three drops of blood

fall into it, she gave it to her daughter, and said: “Dear child, take

great care of this rag: it may be of use to you on the journey.”

So they took a sad farewell of each other, and the Princess stuck the

rag in front of her dress, mounted her horse, and set forth on the

journey to her bridegroom’s kingdom. After they had ridden for about

an hour the Princess began to feel very thirsty, and said to her

waiting-maid: “Pray get down and fetch me some water in my golden cup

out of yonder stream: I would like a drink.” “If you’re thirsty,” said

the maid, “dismount yourself, and lie down by the water and drink; I

don’t mean to be your servant any longer.” The Princess was so thirsty

that she got down, bent over the stream, and drank, for she wasn’t

allowed to drink out of the golden goblet. As she drank she murmured:

“Oh! heaven, what am I to do?” and the three drops of blood replied:

“If your mother only knew,

Her heart would surely break in two.”

But the Princess was meek, and said nothing about her maid’s rude

behavior, and quietly mounted her horse again. They rode on their

way for several miles, but the day was hot, and the sun’s rays smote

fiercely on them, so that the Princess was soon overcome by thirst

again. And as they passed a brook she called once more to her

waiting-maid: “Pray get down and give me a drink from my golden

cup,” for she had long ago forgotten her maid’s rude words. But the

waiting-maid replied, more haughtily even than before: “If you want a

drink, you can dismount and get it; I don’t mean to be your servant.”

Then the Princess was compelled by her thirst to get down, and bending

over the flowing water she cried and said: “Oh! heaven, what am I to

do?” and the three drops of blood replied:

“If your mother only knew,

Her heart would surely break in two.”

And as she drank thus, and leaned right over the water, the rag

containing the three drops of blood fell from her bosom and floated down

the stream, and she in her anxiety never even noticed her loss. But the

waiting-maid had observed it with delight, as she knew it gave her power

over the bride, for in losing the drops of blood the Princess had become

weak and powerless. When she wished to get on her horse Falada again,

the waiting-maid called out: “I mean to ride Falada: you must mount

my beast”; and this too she had to submit to. Then the waiting-maid

commanded her harshly to take off her royal robes, and to put on her

common ones, and finally she made her swear by heaven not to say a word

about the matter when they reached the palace; and if she hadn’t taken

this oath she would have been killed on the spot. But Falada observed

everything, and laid it all to heart.

The waiting-maid now mounted Falada, and the real bride the worse horse,

and so they continued their journey till at length they arrived at the

palace yard. There was great rejoicing over the arrival, and the Prince

sprang forward to meet them, and taking the waiting-maid for his bride,

he lifted her down from her horse and led her upstairs to the royal

chamber. In the meantime the real Princess was left standing below in

the courtyard. The old King, who was looking out of his window, beheld

her in this plight, and it struck him how sweet and gentle, even

beautiful, she looked. He went at once to the royal chamber, and asked

the bride who it was she had brought with her and had left thus standing

in the court below. “Oh!” replied the bride, “I brought her with me to

keep me company on the journey; give the girl something to do, that she

may not be idle.” But the old King had no work for her, and couldn’t

think of anything; so he said, “I’ve a small boy who looks after the

geese, she’d better help him.” The youth’s name was Curdken, and the

real bride was made to assist him in herding geese.

Soon after this the false bride said to the Prince: “Dearest husband,

I pray you grant me a favor.” He answered: “That I will.” “Then let the

slaughterer cut off the head of the horse I rode here upon, because it

behaved very badly on the journey.” But the truth was she was afraid

lest the horse should speak and tell how she had treated the Princess.

She carried her point, and the faithful Falada was doomed to die.

When the news came to the ears of the real Princess she went to the

slaughterer, and secretly promised him a piece of gold if he would do

something for her. There was in the town a large dark gate, through

which she had to pass night and morning with the geese; would he “kindly

hang up Falada’s head there, that she might see it once again?” The

slaughterer said he would do as she desired, chopped off the head, and

nailed it firmly over the gateway.

Early next morning, as she and Curdken were driving their flock through

the gate, she said as she passed under:

“Oh! Falada, ‘tis you hang there”;

and the head replied:

“‘Tis you; pass under, Princess fair:

If your mother only knew,

Her heart would surely break in two.”

Then she left the tower and drove the geese into a field. And when they

had reached the common where the geese fed she sat down and unloosed

her hair, which was of pure gold. Curdken loved to see it glitter in the

sun, and wanted much to pull some hair out. Then she spoke:

“Wind, wind, gently sway,

Blow Curdken’s hat away;

Let him chase o’er field and wold

Till my locks of ruddy gold,

Now astray and hanging down,

Be combed and plaited in a crown.”

Then a gust of wind blew Curdken’s hat away, and he had to chase it over

hill and dale. When he returned from the pursuit she had finished

her combing and curling, and his chance of getting any hair was gone.

Curdken was very angry, and wouldn’t speak to her. So they herded the

geese till evening and then went home.

The next morning, as they passed under the gate, the girl said:

“Oh! Falada, ‘tis you hang there;”

and the head replied:

“‘Tis you; pass under, Princess fair:

If your mother only knew,

Her heart would surely break in two.”

Then she went on her way till she came to the common, where she sat down

and began to comb out her hair; then Curdken ran up to her and wanted to

grasp some of the hair from her head, but she called out hastily:

“Wind, wind, gently sway,

Blow Curdken’s hat away;

Let him chase o’er field and wold

Till my locks of ruddy gold,

Now astray and hanging down,

Be combed and plaited in a crown.”

Then a puff of wind came and blew Curdken’s hat far away, so that he had

to run after it; and when he returned she had long finished putting

up her golden locks, and he couldn’t get any hair; so they watched the

geese till it was dark.

But that evening when they got home Curdken went to the old King, and

said: “I refuse to herd geese any longer with that girl.” “For what

reason?” asked the old King. “Because she does nothing but annoy me

all day long,” replied Curdken; and he proceeded to relate all her

iniquities, and said: “Every morning as we drive the flock through the

dark gate she says to a horse’s head that hangs on the wall:

 “‘Oh! Falada, ‘tis you hang there’;

and the head replies:

 “‘’Tis you; pass under, Princess fair:

 If your mother only knew,

 Her heart would surely break in two.’”

And Curdken went on to tell what passed on the common where the geese

fed, and how he had always to chase his hat.

The old King bade him go and drive forth his flock as usual next day;

and when morning came he himself took up his position behind the dark

gate, and heard how the goose-girl greeted Falada. Then he followed her

through the field, and hid himself behind a bush on the common. He soon

saw with his own eyes how the goose-boy and the goose-girl looked after

the geese, and how after a time the maiden sat down and loosed her hair,

that glittered like gold, and repeated:

“Wind, wind, gently sway,

Blow Curdken’s hat away;

Let him chase o’er field and wold

Till my locks of ruddy gold

Now astray and hanging down,

Be combed and plaited in a crown.”

Then a gust of wind came and blew Curdken’s hat away, so that he had to

fly over hill and dale after it, and the girl in the meantime quietly

combed and plaited her hair: all this the old King observed, and

returned to the palace without anyone having noticed him. In the evening

when the goose-girl came home he called her aside, and asked her why she

behaved as she did. “I may not tell you why; how dare I confide my woes

to anyone? for I swore not to by heaven, otherwise I should have lost my

life.” The old King begged her to tell him all, and left her no peace,

but he could get nothing out of her. At last he said: “Well, if you

won’t tell me, confide your trouble to the iron stove there,” and he

went away. Then she crept to the stove, and began to sob and cry and to

pour out her poor little heart, and said: “Here I sit, deserted by all

the world, I who am a king’s daughter, and a false waiting-maid has

forced me to take off my own clothes, and has taken my place with my

bridegroom, while I have to fulfill the lowly office of goose-girl.

“If my mother only knew

Her heart would surely break in two.”

But the old King stood outside at the stove chimney, and listened to her

words. Then he entered the room again, and bidding her leave the stove,

he ordered royal apparel to be put on her, in which she looked amazingly

lovely. Then he summoned his son, and revealed to him that he had got

the false bride, who was nothing but a waiting-maid, while the real one,

in the guise of the ex-goose-girl, was standing at his side. The young

King rejoiced from his heart when he saw her beauty and learned how good

she was, and a great banquet was prepared, to which everyone was bidden.

The bridegroom sat at the head of the table, the Princess on one side of

him and the waiting-maid on the other; but she was so dazzled that she

did not recognize the Princess in her glittering garments. Now when they

had eaten and drunk, and were merry, the old King asked the waiting-maid

to solve a knotty point for him. “What,” said he, “should be done to a

certain person who has deceived everyone?” and he proceeded to relate

the whole story, ending up with, “Now what sentence should be passed?”

Then the false bride answered: “She deserves to be put stark naked into

a barrel lined with sharp nails, which should be dragged by two white

horses up and down the street till she is dead.”

“You are the person,” said the King, “and you have passed sentence on

yourself; and even so it shall be done to you.” And when the sentence

had been carried out the young King was married to his real bride, and

both reigned over the kingdom in peace and happiness.(1)

(1) Grimm.