Brother took sister by the hand and said: "Look here; we haven't
had one single happy hour since our mother died. That stepmother of ours beats
us regularly every day, and if we dare go near her she kicks us away. We never
get anything but hard dry crusts to eat -- why, the dog under the table is
better off than we are. She does throw him a good morsel or two now and then.
Oh dear! if our own dear mother only knew all about it! Come along, and let us
go forth into the wide world together."
So off they started through fields
and meadows, over hedges and ditches, and walked the whole day long, and when
it rained sister said:
"Heaven and our hearts are
weeping together."
Towards evening they came to a large
forest, and were so tired out with hunger and their long walk, as well as all
their trouble, that they crept into a hollow tree and soon fell fast asleep.
Next morning, when they woke up, the
sun was already high in the heavens and was shining down bright and warm into
the tree. Then said brother:
"I'm so thirsty, sister; if I
did but know where to find a little stream, I'd go and have a drink. I do
believe I hear one." He jumped up, took sister by the hand, and they set
off to hunt for the brook.
Now their cruel stepmother was in
reality a witch, and she knew perfectly well that the two children had run
away. She had crept secretly after them, and had cast her spells over all the
streams in the forest.
Presently the children found a little brook dancing and glittering
over the stones, and brother was eager to drink of it, but as it rushed past
sister heard it murmuring:
"Who drinks of me will be a
tiger!" who drinks of me will bea tiger!"
So she cried out, "Oh! dear brother, pray don't drink, or you'll
be turned into a wild beast and tear me to pieces."
Brother was dreadfully thirsty, but
he did not drink.
"Very well," said he,
"I'll wait till we come to the next spring."
When they came to the second brook,
sister heard it repeating too:
"Who drinks of me will be a
wolf! I who drinks of me will be a wolf!"
And she cried, "Oh! brother,
pray don't drink here either, or you'll be turned into a wolf and eat me
up."
Again brother did not drink, but he
said:
"Well, I'll wait a little
longer till we reach the next stream, but then, whatever you may say, I really
must drink, for I can bear this thirst no longer."
And when they got to the third
brook, sister heard it say as it rushed past:
"Who drinks of me will be a
roe! who drinks of me will be a roe!"
And she begged, "Ah! brother,
don't drink yet, or you'll become a roe and run away from me."
But her brother was already kneeling
by the brook and bending over it to drink, and, sure enough, no sooner had his
lips touched the water than he fell on the grass transformed into a little
Roebuck.
Sister cried bitterly over her poor
bewitched brother, and the little Roe wept too, and sat sadly by her side. At
last the girl said:
"Never mind, dear little fawn,
I will never forsake you," and she took off her golden garter and tied it
round the Roe's neck.
Then she pluckedrushes and plaited a
soft cord of them, which she fastened to the collar. When she had done this she
led the Roe farther and farther, right into the depths of the forest.
After they had gone a long, long way
they came to a little house, and when the girl looked into it she found it was
quite empty, and she thought. "Perhaps we might stay and live here."
So she hunted up leaves and moss to
make a soft bed for the little Roe, and every morning and evening she went out
and gathered roots, nuts, and berries for herself, and tender young grass for
the fawn. And he fed from her hand, and played round her and seemed quite
happy. In the evening, when sister was tired, she said her prayers and then
laid her head on the fawn's back and fell sound asleep with it as a pillow. And
if brother had but kept his natural form, really it would have been a most
delightful kind of life.
They had been living for some time
in the forest in this way, when it came to pass that the King of that country
had a great hunt through the woods. Then the whole forest rang with such a
blowing of horns, baying of dogs, and joyful cries of huntsmen, that the little
Roe heard it and longed to join in too.
"Ah!" said he to sister,
"do let me go off to the hunt! I can't keep still any longer."
And he begged and prayed till at
last she consented.
"But," said she,
"mind you come back in the evening. I shall lock my door fast for fear of
those wild huntsmen; so, to make sure of my knowing you, knock at the door and
say, 'My sister dear, open; I'm here.' If you don't speak I shan't open the
door."
So off sprang the little Roe, and he
felt quite well and happy in the free open air.
The King and his huntsmen soon saw
the beautiful creature and started in pursuit, but they could not come up with
it, and whenever they thought they were sure to catch it, it bounded off to one
side into the bushes and disappeared. When night came on it ran home, and
knocking at the door of the little house cried:
"My sister dear, open; I'm
here." The door opened, and he ran in and rested all night on his soft
mossy bed.
Next morning the hunt began again,
and as soon as the little Roe heard the horns and the "Ho! ho!" of
the huntsmen, he could not rest another moment, and said:
"Sister, open the door, I must
get out."
So sister opened the door and said,
"Now mind and get back by nightfall, and say your little rhyme."
As soon as the King and his huntsmen
saw the Roe with the golden collar they all rode off after it, but it was far
too quick and nimble for them. This went on all day, but as evening came on the
huntsmen had gradually encircled the Roe, and one of them wounded it slightly
in the foot, so that it limped and ran off slowly.
Then the huntsman stole after it as
far as the little house, and heard it call out, "My sister dear, open; I'm
here," and he saw the door open and close immediately after the fawn had
run in.
The huntsman remembered all this
carefully, and went off straight to the King and told him all he had seen and
heard.
"To-morrow we will hunt
again," said the King.
Poor sister was terribly frightened
when she saw how her little Fawn had been wounded. She washed off the blood,
bound up the injured foot with herbs, and said: "Now, dear, go and lie
down and rest, so that your wound may heal."
The wound was really so slight that
it was quite well next day, and the little Roe did not feel it at all. No
sooner did it hear the sounds of hunting in the forest than it cried:
"I can't stand this, I must be
there too; I'll take care they shan't catch me."
Sister began to cry, and said,
"They are certain to kill you, and then I shall be left all alone in the
forest and forsaken by everyone. I can't and won't let you out."
"Then I shall die of
grief," replied the Roe, "for when I hear that horn I feel as if I
must jump right out of my skin."
So at last, when sister found there
was nothing else to be done, she opened the door with a heavy heart, and the
Roe darted forth full of glee and health into the forest.
As soon as the King saw the Roe, he
said to his huntsman, "Now then, give chase to it all day till evening,
but mind and be careful not to hurt it."
When the sun had set the King said
to his huntsman, "Now come and show me the little house in the wood."
And when he got to the house he
knocked at the door and said, "My sister dear, open; I'm here." Then
the door opened and the King walked in, and there stood the loveliest maiden he
had ever seen.
The girl was much startled when
instead of the little Roe she expected she saw a man with a gold crown on his
head walk in. But the King looked kindly at her, held out his hand, and said,
"Will you come with me to my castle and be my dear wife?"
"Oh yes!" replied the
maiden, "but you must let my Roe come too. I could not possibly forsake
it."
"It shall stay with you as long
as you live, and shall want for nothing," the King promised.
In the meantime the Roe came
bounding in, and sister tied the rush cord once more to its collar, took the
end in her hand, and so they left the little house in the forest together.
The King lifted the lonely maiden on
to his horse, and led her to his castle, where the wedding was celebrated with
the greatest splendour. The Roe was petted and caressed, and ran about at will
in the palace gardens.
Now all this time the wicked
stepmother, who had been the cause of these poor children's misfortunes and
trying adventures, was feeling fully persuaded that sister had been torn to
pieces by wild beasts, and brother shot to death in the shape of a Roe. When
she heard how happy and prosperous they were, her heart was filled with envy
and hatred, and she could think of nothing but how to bring some fresh
misfortune on them. Her own daughter, who was as hideous as night and had only
one eye, reproached her by saying, "It is I who ought to have had this
good luck and been Queen."
"Be quiet, will you," said
the old woman; "when the time comes I shall be at hand."
Now after some time it happened one
day when the King was out hunting that the Queen gave birth to a beautiful
little boy. The old witch thought here was a good chance for her; so she took
the form of the lady in waiting, and, hurrying into the room where the Queen
lay in her bed, called out, "The bath is quite ready; it will help to make
you strong again. Come, let us be quick, for fear the water should get
cold." Her daughter was at hand, too, and between them they carried the
Queen, who was still very weak, into the bath-room and laid her in the bath;
then they locked the door and ran away.
They took care beforehand to make a
blazing hot fire under the bath, so that the lovely young Queen might be
suffocated.
As soon as they were sure this was
the case, the old witch tied a cap on her daughter's head and laid her in the
Queen's bed. She managed, too, to make her figure and general appearance look
like the Queen's, but even her power could not restore the eye she had lost; so
she made her lie on the side of the missing eye, in order to prevent the King's
noticing anything.
In the evening, when the King came
home and heard the news of his son's birth, he was full of delight, and
insisted on going at once to his dear wife's bedside to see how she was getting
on. But the old witch cried out, "Take care and keep the curtains drawn;
don't let the light get into the Queen's eyes; she must be kept perfectly
quiet." So the King went away and never knew that it was a false Queen who
lay in the bed.
When midnight came and everyone in
the palace was sound asleep, the nurse who alone watched by the baby's cradle
in the nursery saw the door open gently, and who should come in but the real
Queen. She lifted the child from its cradle, laid it on her arm, and nursed it
for some time. Then she carefully shook up the pillows of the little bed, laid
the baby down and tucked the coverlet in all round him. She did not forget the
little Roe either, but went to the corner where it lay, and gently stroked its
back. Then she silently left the room, and next morning when the nurse asked
the sentries if they had seen any one go into the castle that night, they all
said, "No, we saw no one at all."
For many nights the Queen came in
the same way, but she never spoke a word, and the nurse was too frightened to
say anything about her visits.
After some little time had elapsed
the Queen spoke one night, and said:
"Is my child well? Is my Roe well?
I'll come back twice and then farewell."
The nurse made no answer, but as soon as the Queen had disappeared
she went to the King and told him all. The King exclaimed, "Good heavens!
what do you say? I will watch myself to-night by the child's bed."
When the evening came he went to the
nursery, and at midnight the Queen appeared and said:
"Is my child well? Is my Roe well?
I'll come back once and then farewell."
And she nursed and petted the child as usual before she disappeared.
The King dared not trust himself to speak to her, but the following night he
kept watch again.
That night when the Queen came she
said:
"Is my child well? Is my Roe well?
I've come back once and then farewell."
Then the King could restrain himself no longer, but sprang to her
side and cried, "You can be no one but my dear wife!"
"Yes," said she, "I
am your dear wife!" and in the same moment she was restored to life, and
was as fresh and well and rosy as ever. Then she told the King all the cruel
things the wicked witch and her daughter had done. The King had them both
arrested at once and brought to trial, and they were condemned to death. The
daughter was led into the forest, where the wild beasts tore her to pieces, and
the old witch was burnt at the stake.
As soon as she reduced to ashes the
spell was taken off the little Roe, and he was restored to his natural shape
once more, and so brother and sister lived happily ever after.
