The Travelling Companion

The Travelling Companion




by




Hans Christian Andersen




(1835)





OOR John was very sad; for his father
was so ill, he had no hope of his recovery. John sat alone with the sick
man in the little room, and the lamp had nearly burnt out; for it was
late in the night.


“You have been a good son, John,” said the sick father, “and God will
help you on in the world.” He looked at him, as he spoke, with mild,
earnest eyes, drew a deep sigh, and died; yet it appeared as if he still
slept.


John wept bitterly. He had no one in the wide world now; neither father,
mother, brother, nor sister. Poor John! he knelt down by the bed, kissed
his dead father’s hand, and wept many, many bitter tears. But at last his
eyes closed, and he fell asleep with his head resting against the hard
bedpost. Then he dreamed a strange dream; he thought he saw the sun
shining upon him, and his father alive and well, and even heard him
laughing as he used to do when he was very happy. A beautiful girl, with
a golden crown on her head, and long, shining hair, gave him her hand;
and his father said, “See what a bride you have won. She is the loveliest
maiden on the whole earth.” Then he awoke, and all the beautiful things
vanished before his eyes, his father lay dead on the bed, and he was all
alone. Poor John!


During the following week the dead man was buried. The son walked behind
the coffin which contained his father, whom he so dearly loved, and would
never again behold. He heard the earth fall on the coffin-lid, and
watched it till only a corner remained in sight, and at last that also
disappeared. He felt as if his heart would break with its weight of
sorrow, till those who stood round the grave sang a psalm, and the sweet,
holy tones brought tears into his eyes, which relieved him. The sun shone
brightly down on the green trees, as if it would say, “You must not be so
sorrowful, John. Do you see the beautiful blue sky above you? Your father
is up there, and he prays to the loving Father of all, that you may do
well in the future.”


“I will always be good,” said John, “and then I shall go to be with my
father in heaven. What joy it will be when we see each other again! How
much I shall have to relate to him, and how many things he will be able
to explain to me of the delights of heaven, and teach me as he once did
on earth. Oh, what joy it will be!”


He pictured it all so plainly to himself, that he smiled even while the
tears ran down his cheeks.


The little birds in the chestnut-trees twittered, “Tweet, tweet;” they
were so happy, although they had seen the funeral; but they seemed as if
they knew that the dead man was now in heaven, and that he had wings much
larger and more beautiful than their own; and he was happy now, because
he had been good here on earth, and they were glad of it. John saw them
fly away out of the green trees into the wide world, and he longed to fly
with them; but first he cut out a large wooden cross, to place on his
father’s grave; and when he brought it there in the evening, he found the
grave decked out with gravel and flowers. Strangers had done this; they
who had known the good old father who was now dead, and who had loved him
very much.


Early the next morning, John packed up his little bundle of clothes, and
placed all his money, which consisted of fifty dollars and a few
shillings, in his girdle; with this he determined to try his fortune in
the world. But first he went into the churchyard; and, by his father’s
grave, he offered up a prayer, and said, “Farewell.”


As he passed through the fields, all the flowers looked fresh and
beautiful in the warm sunshine, and nodded in the wind, as if they wished
to say, “Welcome to the green wood, where all is fresh and bright.”


Then John turned to have one more look at the old church, in which he had
been christened in his infancy, and where his father had taken him every
Sunday to hear the service and join in singing the psalms. As he looked
at the old tower, he espied the ringer standing at one of the narrow
openings, with his little pointed red cap on his head, and shading his
eyes from the sun with his bent arm. John nodded farewell to him, and the
little ringer waved his red cap, laid his hand on his heart, and kissed
his hand to him a great many times, to show that he felt kindly towards
him, and wished him a prosperous journey.


John continued his journey, and thought of all the wonderful things he
should see in the large, beautiful world, till he found himself farther
away from home than ever he had been before. He did not even know the
names of the places he passed through, and could scarcely understand the
language of the people he met, for he was far away, in a strange land.
The first night he slept on a haystack, out in the fields, for there was
no other bed for him; but it seemed to him so nice and comfortable that
even a king need not wish for a better. The field, the brook, the
haystack, with the blue sky above, formed a beautiful sleeping-room. The
green grass, with the little red and white flowers, was the carpet; the
elder-bushes and the hedges of wild roses looked like garlands on the
walls; and for a bath he could have the clear, fresh water of the brook;
while the rushes bowed their heads to him, to wish him good morning and
good evening. The moon, like a large lamp, hung high up in the blue
ceiling, and he had no fear of its setting fire to his curtains. John
slept here quite safely all night; and when he awoke, the sun was up, and
all the little birds were singing round him, “Good morning, good morning.
Are you not up yet?”


It was Sunday, and the bells were ringing for church. As the people went
in, John followed them; he heard God’s word, joined in singing the
psalms, and listened to the preacher. It seemed to him just as if he were
in his own church, where he had been christened, and had sung the psalms
with his father. Out in the churchyard were several graves, and on some
of them the grass had grown very high. John thought of his father’s
grave, which he knew at last would look like these, as he was not there
to weed and attend to it. Then he set to work, pulled up the high grass,
raised the wooden crosses which had fallen down, and replaced the wreaths
which had been blown away from their places by the wind, thinking all the
time, “Perhaps some one is doing the same for my father’s grave, as I am
not there to do it ”


Outside the church door stood an old beggar, leaning on his crutch. John
gave him his silver shillings, and then he continued his journey, feeling
lighter and happier than ever. Towards evening, the weather became very
stormy, and he hastened on as quickly as he could, to get shelter; but it
was quite dark by the time he reached a little lonely church which stood
on a hill. “I will go in here,” he said, “and sit down in a corner; for I
am quite tired, and want rest.”


So he went in, and seated himself; then he folded his hands, and offered
up his evening prayer, and was soon fast asleep and dreaming, while the
thunder rolled and the lightning flashed without. When he awoke, it was
still night; but the storm had ceased, and the moon shone in upon him
through the windows. Then he saw an open coffin standing in the centre of
the church, which contained a dead man, waiting for burial. John was not
at all timid; he had a good conscience, and he knew also that the dead
can never injure any one. It is living wicked men who do harm to others.
Two such wicked persons stood now by the dead man, who had been brought
to the church to be buried. Their evil intentions were to throw the poor
dead body outside the church door, and not leave him to rest in his
coffin.


“Why do you do this?” asked John, when he saw what they were going to do;
“it is very wicked. Leave him to rest in peace, in Christ’s name.”


“Nonsense,” replied the two dreadful men. “He has cheated us; he owed us
money which he could not pay, and now he is dead we shall not get a
penny; so we mean to have our revenge, and let him lie like a dog outside
the church door.”


“I have only fifty dollars,” said John, “it is all I possess in the
world, but I will give it to you if you will promise me faithfully to
leave the dead man in peace. I shall be able to get on without the money;
I have strong and healthy limbs, and God will always help me.”


“Why, of course,” said the horrid men, “if you will pay his debt we will
both promise not to touch him. You may depend upon that;” and then they
took the money he offered them, laughed at him for his good nature, and
went their way.


Then he laid the dead body back in the coffin, folded the hands, and took
leave of it; and went away contentedly through the great forest. All
around him he could see the prettiest little elves dancing in the
moonlight, which shone through the trees. They were not disturbed by his
appearance, for they knew he was good and harmless among men. They are
wicked people only who can never obtain a glimpse of fairies. Some of
them were not taller than the breadth of a finger, and they wore golden
combs in their long, yellow hair. They were rocking themselves two
together on the large dew-drops with which the leaves and the high grass
were sprinkled. Sometimes the dew-drops would roll away, and then they
fell down between the stems of the long grass, and caused a great deal of
laughing and noise among the other little people. It was quite charming
to watch them at play. Then they sang songs, and John remembered that he
had learnt those pretty songs when he was a little boy. Large speckled
spiders, with silver crowns on their heads, were employed to spin
suspension bridges and palaces from one hedge to another, and when the
tiny drops fell upon them, they glittered in the moonlight like shining
glass. This continued till sunrise. Then the little elves crept into the
flower-buds, and the wind seized the bridges and palaces, and fluttered
them in the air like cobwebs.


As John left the wood, a strong man’s voice called after him, “Hallo,
comrade, where are you travelling?”


“Into the wide world,” he replied; “I am only a poor lad, I have neither
father nor mother, but God will help me.”


“I am going into the wide world also,” replied the stranger; “shall we
keep each other company?”


“With all my heart,” he said, and so they went on together. Soon they
began to like each other very much, for they were both good; but John
found out that the stranger was much more clever than himself. He had
travelled all over the world, and could describe almost everything. The
sun was high in the heavens when they seated themselves under a large
tree to eat their breakfast, and at the same moment an old woman came
towards them. She was very old and almost bent double. She leaned upon a
stick and carried on her back a bundle of firewood, which she had
collected in the forest; her apron was tied round it, and John saw three
great stems of fern and some willow twigs peeping out. just as she came
close up to them, her foot slipped and she fell to the ground screaming
loudly; poor old woman, she had broken her leg! John proposed directly
that they should carry the old woman home to her cottage; but the
stranger opened his knapsack and took out a box, in which he said he had
a salve that would quickly make her leg well and strong again, so that
she would be able to walk home herself, as if her leg had never been
broken. And all that he would ask in return was the three fern stems
which she carried in her apron.


“That is rather too high a price,” said the old woman, nodding her head
quite strangely. She did not seem at all inclined to part with the fern
stems. However, it was not very agreeable to lie there with a broken leg,
so she gave them to him; and such was the power of the ointment, that no
sooner had he rubbed her leg with it than the old mother rose up and
walked even better than she had done before. But then this wonderful
ointment could not be bought at a chemist’s.


“What can you want with those three fern rods?” asked John of his
fellow-traveller.


“Oh, they will make capital brooms,” said he; “and I like them because I
have strange whims sometimes.” Then they walked on together for a long
distance.


“How dark the sky is becoming,” said John; “and look at those thick,
heavy clouds.”


“Those are not clouds,” replied his fellow-traveller; “they are
mountains—large lofty mountains—on the tops of which we should be above
the clouds, in the pure, free air. Believe me, it is delightful to ascend
so high, tomorrow we shall be there.” But the mountains were not so near
as they appeared; they had to travel a whole day before they reached
them, and pass through black forests and piles of rock as large as a
town. The journey had been so fatiguing that John and his
fellow-traveller stopped to rest at a roadside inn, so that they might
gain strength for their journey on the morrow. In the large public room
of the inn a great many persons were assembled to see a comedy performed
by dolls. The showman had just erected his little theatre, and the people
were sitting round the room to witness the performance. Right in front,
in the very best place, sat a stout butcher, with a great bull-dog by his
side who seemed very much inclined to bite. He sat staring with all his
eyes, and so indeed did every one else in the room. And then the play
began. It was a pretty piece, with a king and a queen in it, who sat on a
beautiful throne, and had gold crowns on their heads. The trains to their
dresses were very long, according to the fashion; while the prettiest of
wooden dolls, with glass eyes and large mustaches, stood at the doors,
and opened and shut them, that the fresh air might come into the room. It
was a very pleasant play, not at all mournful; but just as the queen
stood up and walked across the stage, the great bull-dog, who should have
been held back by his master, made a spring forward, and caught the queen
in the teeth by the slender wrist, so that it snapped in two. This was a
very dreadful disaster. The poor man, who was exhibiting the dolls, was
much annoyed, and quite sad about his queen; she was the prettiest doll
he had, and the bull-dog had broken her head and shoulders off. But after
all the people were gone away, the stranger, who came with John, said
that he could soon set her to rights. And then he brought out his box and
rubbed the doll with some of the salve with which he had cured the old
woman when she broke her leg. As soon as this was done the doll’s back
became quite right again; her head and shoulders were fixed on, and she
could even move her limbs herself: there was now no occasion to pull the
wires, for the doll acted just like a living creature, excepting that she
could not speak. The man to whom the show belonged was quite delighted at
having a doll who could dance of herself without being pulled by the
wires; none of the other dolls could do this.


During the night, when all the people at the inn were gone to bed, some
one was heard to sigh so deeply and painfully, and the sighing continued
for so long a time, that every one got up to see what could be the
matter. The showman went at once to his little theatre and found that it
proceeded from the dolls, who all lay on the floor sighing piteously, and
staring with their glass eyes; they all wanted to be rubbed with the
ointment, so that, like the queen, they might be able to move of
themselves. The queen threw herself on her knees, took off her beautiful
crown, and, holding it in her hand, cried, “Take this from me, but do rub
my husband and his courtiers.”


The poor man who owned the theatre could scarcely refrain from weeping;
he was so sorry that he could not help them. Then he immediately spoke to
John’s comrade, and promised him all the money he might receive at the
next evening’s performance, if he would only rub the ointment on four or
five of his dolls. But the fellow-traveller said he did not require
anything in return, excepting the sword which the showman wore by his
side. As soon as he received the sword he anointed six of the dolls with
the ointment, and they were able immediately to dance so gracefully that
all the living girls in the room could not help joining in the dance. The
coachman danced with the cook, and the waiters with the chambermaids, and
all the strangers joined; even the tongs and the fire-shovel made an
attempt, but they fell down after the first jump. So after all it was a
very merry night. The next morning John and his companion left the inn to
continue their journey through the great pine-forests and over the high
mountains. They arrived at last at such a great height that towns and
villages lay beneath them, and the church steeples looked like little
specks between the green trees. They could see for miles round, far away
to places they had never visited, and John saw more of the beautiful
world than he had ever known before. The sun shone brightly in the blue
firmament above, and through the clear mountain air came the sound of the
huntsman’s horn, and the soft, sweet notes brought tears into his eyes,
and he could not help exclaiming, “How good and loving God is to give us
all this beauty and loveliness in the world to make us happy!”


His fellow-traveller stood by with folded hands, gazing on the dark wood
and the towns bathed in the warm sunshine. At this moment there sounded
over their heads sweet music. They looked up, and discovered a large
white swan hovering in the air, and singing as never bird sang before.
But the song soon became weaker and weaker, the bird’s head drooped, and
he sunk slowly down, and lay dead at their feet.


“It is a beautiful bird,” said the traveller, “and these large white
wings are worth a great deal of money. I will take them with me. You see
now that a sword will be very useful.”


So he cut off the wings of the dead swan with one blow, and carried them
away with him.


They now continued their journey over the mountains for many miles, till
they at length reached a large city, containing hundreds of towers, that
shone in the sunshine like silver. In the midst of the city stood a
splendid marble palace, roofed with pure red gold, in which dwelt the
king. John and his companion would not go into the town immediately; so
they stopped at an inn outside the town, to change their clothes; for
they wished to appear respectable as they walked through the streets. The
landlord told them that the king was a very good man, who never injured
any one: but as to his daughter, “Heaven defend us!”


She was indeed a wicked princess. She possessed beauty enough—nobody
could be more elegant or prettier than she was; but what of that? for she
was a wicked witch; and in consequence of her conduct many noble young
princes had lost their lives. Any one was at liberty to make her an
offer; were he a prince or a beggar, it mattered not to her. She would
ask him to guess three things which she had just thought of, and if he
succeed, he was to marry her, and be king over all the land when her
father died; but if he could not guess these three things, then she
ordered him to be hanged or to have his head cut off. The old king, her
father, was very much grieved at her conduct, but he could not prevent
her from being so wicked, because he once said he would have nothing more
to do with her lovers; she might do as she pleased. Each prince who came
and tried the three guesses, so that he might marry the princess, had
been unable to find them out, and had been hanged or beheaded. They had
all been warned in time, and might have left her alone, if they would.
The old king became at last so distressed at all these dreadful
circumstances, that for a whole day every year he and his soldiers knelt
and prayed that the princess might become good; but she continued as
wicked as ever. The old women who drank brandy would color it quite black
before they drank it, to show how they mourned; and what more could they
do?


“What a horrible princess!” said John; “she ought to be well flogged. If
I were the old king, I would have her punished in some way.”


Just then they heard the people outside shouting, “Hurrah!” and, looking
out, they saw the princess passing by; and she was really so beautiful
that everybody forgot her wickedness, and shouted “Hurrah!” Twelve lovely
maidens in white silk dresses, holding golden tulips in their hands, rode
by her side on coal-black horses. The princess herself had a snow-white
steed, decked with diamonds and rubies. Her dress was of cloth of gold,
and the whip she held in her hand looked like a sunbeam. The golden crown
on her head glittered like the stars of heaven, and her mantle was formed
of thousands of butterflies’ wings sewn together. Yet she herself was
more beautiful than all.


When John saw her, his face became as red as a drop of blood, and he
could scarcely utter a word. The princess looked exactly like the
beautiful lady with the golden crown, of whom he had dreamed on the night
his father died. She appeared to him so lovely that he could not help
loving her.


“It could not be true,” he thought, “that she was really a wicked witch,
who ordered people to be hanged or beheaded, if they could not guess her
thoughts. Every one has permission to go and ask her hand, even the
poorest beggar. I shall pay a visit to the palace,” he said; “I must go,
for I cannot help myself.”


Then they all advised him not to attempt it; for he would be sure to
share the same fate as the rest. His fellow-traveller also tried to
persuade him against it; but John seemed quite sure of success. He
brushed his shoes and his coat, washed his face and his hands, combed his
soft flaxen hair, and then went out alone into the town, and walked to
the palace.


“Come in,” said the king, as John knocked at the door. John opened it,
and the old king, in a dressing gown and embroidered slippers, came
towards him. He had the crown on his head, carried his sceptre in one
hand, and the orb in the other. “Wait a bit,” said he, and he placed the
orb under his arm, so that he could offer the other hand to John; but
when he found that John was another suitor, he began to weep so
violently, that both the sceptre and the orb fell to the floor, and he
was obliged to wipe his eyes with his dressing gown. Poor old king! “Let
her alone,” he said; “you will fare as badly as all the others. Come, I
will show you.” Then he led him out into the princess’s pleasure gardens,
and there he saw a frightful sight. On every tree hung three or four
king’s sons who had wooed the princess, but had not been able to guess
the riddles she gave them. Their skeletons rattled in every breeze, so
that the terrified birds never dared to venture into the garden. All the
flowers were supported by human bones instead of sticks, and human skulls
in the flower-pots grinned horribly. It was really a doleful garden for a
princess. “Do you see all this?” said the old king; “your fate will be
the same as those who are here, therefore do not attempt it. You really
make me very unhappy,—I take these things to heart so very much.”


John kissed the good old king’s hand, and said he was sure it would be
all right, for he was quite enchanted with the beautiful princess. Then
the princess herself came riding into the palace yard with all her
ladies, and he wished her “Good morning.” She looked wonderfully fair and
lovely when she offered her hand to John, and he loved her more than
ever. How could she be a wicked witch, as all the people asserted? He
accompanied her into the hall, and the little pages offered them
gingerbread nuts and sweetmeats, but the old king was so unhappy he could
eat nothing, and besides, gingerbread nuts were too hard for him. It was
decided that John should come to the palace the next day, when the judges
and the whole of the counsellors would be present, to try if he could
guess the first riddle. If he succeeded, he would have to come a second
time; but if not, he would lose his life,—and no one had ever been able
to guess even one. However, John was not at all anxious about the result
of his trial; on the contrary, he was very merry. He thought only of the
beautiful princess, and believed that in some way he should have help,
but how he knew not, and did not like to think about it; so he danced
along the high-road as he went back to the inn, where he had left his
fellow-traveller waiting for him. John could not refrain from telling him
how gracious the princess had been, and how beautiful she looked. He
longed for the next day so much, that he might go to the palace and try
his luck at guessing the riddles. But his comrade shook his head, and
looked very mournful. “I do so wish you to do well,” said he; “we might
have continued together much longer, and now I am likely to lose you; you
poor dear John! I could shed tears, but I will not make you unhappy on
the last night we may be together. We will be merry, really merry this
evening; to-morrow, after you are gone, shall be able to weep
undisturbed.”


It was very quickly known among the inhabitants of the town that another
suitor had arrived for the princess, and there was great sorrow in
consequence. The theatre remained closed, the women who sold sweetmeats
tied crape round the sugar-sticks, and the king and the priests were on
their knees in the church. There was a great lamentation, for no one
expected John to succeed better than those who had been suitors before.


In the evening John’s comrade prepared a large bowl of punch, and said,
“Now let us be merry, and drink to the health of the princess.” But after
drinking two glasses, John became so sleepy, that he could not keep his
eyes open, and fell fast asleep. Then his fellow-traveller lifted him
gently out of his chair, and laid him on the bed; and as soon as it was
quite dark, he took the two large wings which he had cut from the dead
swan, and tied them firmly to his own shoulders. Then he put into his
pocket the largest of the three rods which he had obtained from the old
woman who had fallen and broken her leg. After this he opened the window,
and flew away over the town, straight towards the palace, and seated
himself in a corner, under the window which looked into the bedroom of
the princess.


The town was perfectly still when the clocks struck a quarter to twelve.
Presently the window opened, and the princess, who had large black wings
to her shoulders, and a long white mantle, flew away over the city
towards a high mountain. The fellow-traveller, who had made himself
invisible, so that she could not possibly see him, flew after her through
the air, and whipped the princess with his rod, so that the blood came
whenever he struck her. Ah, it was a strange flight through the air! The
wind caught her mantle, so that it spread out on all sides, like the
large sail of a ship, and the moon shone through it. “How it hails, to be
sure!” said the princess, at each blow she received from the rod; and it
served her right to be whipped.


At last she reached the side of the mountain, and knocked. The mountain
opened with a noise like the roll of thunder, and the princess went in.
The traveller followed her; no one could see him, as he had made himself
invisible. They went through a long, wide passage. A thousand gleaming
spiders ran here and there on the walls, causing them to glitter as if
they were illuminated with fire. They next entered a large hall built of
silver and gold. Large red and blue flowers shone on the walls, looking
like sunflowers in size, but no one could dare to pluck them, for the
stems were hideous poisonous snakes, and the flowers were flames of fire,
darting out of their jaws. Shining glow-worms covered the ceiling, and
sky-blue bats flapped their transparent wings. Altogether the place had a
frightful appearance. In the middle of the floor stood a throne supported
by four skeleton horses, whose harness had been made by fiery-red
spiders. The throne itself was made of milk-white glass, and the cushions
were little black mice, each biting the other’s tail. Over it hung a
canopy of rose-colored spider’s webs, spotted with the prettiest little
green flies, which sparkled like precious stones. On the throne sat an
old magician with a crown on his ugly head, and a sceptre in his hand. He
kissed the princess on the forehead, seated her by his side on the
splendid throne, and then the music commenced. Great black grasshoppers
played the mouth organ, and the owl struck herself on the body instead of
a drum. It was altogether a ridiculous concert. Little black goblins with
false lights in their caps danced about the hall; but no one could see
the traveller, and he had placed himself just behind the throne where he
could see and hear everything. The courtiers who came in afterwards
looked noble and grand; but any one with common sense could see what they
really were, only broomsticks, with cabbages for heads. The magician had
given them life, and dressed them in embroidered robes. It answered very
well, as they were only wanted for show. After there had been a little
dancing, the princess told the magician that she had a new suitor, and
asked him what she could think of for the suitor to guess when he came to
the castle the next morning.


“Listen to what I say,” said the magician, “you must choose something
very easy, he is less likely to guess it then. Think of one of your
shoes, he will never imagine it is that. Then cut his head off; and mind
you do not forget to bring his eyes with you to-morrow night, that I may
eat them.”


The princess curtsied low, and said she would not forget the eyes.


The magician then opened the mountain and she flew home again, but the
traveller followed and flogged her so much with the rod, that she sighed
quite deeply about the heavy hail-storm, and made as much haste as she
could to get back to her bedroom through the window. The traveller then
returned to the inn where John still slept, took off his wings and laid
down on the bed, for he was very tired. Early in the morning John awoke,
and when his fellow-traveller got up, he said that he had a very
wonderful dream about the princess and her shoe, he therefore advised
John to ask her if she had not thought of her shoe. Of course the
traveller knew this from what the magician in the mountain had said.


“I may as well say that as anything,” said John. “Perhaps your dream may
come true; still I will say farewell, for if I guess wrong I shall never
see you again.”


Then they embraced each other, and John went into the town and walked to
the palace. The great hall was full of people, and the judges sat in
arm-chairs, with eider-down cushions to rest their heads upon, because
they had so much to think of. The old king stood near, wiping his eyes
with his white pocket-handkerchief. When the princess entered, she looked
even more beautiful than she had appeared the day before, and greeted
every one present most gracefully; but to John she gave her hand, and
said, “Good morning to you.”


Now came the time for John to guess what she was thinking of; and oh, how
kindly she looked at him as she spoke. But when he uttered the single
word shoe, she turned as pale as a ghost; all her wisdom could not help
her, for he had guessed rightly. Oh, how pleased the old king was! It was
quite amusing to see how he capered about. All the people clapped their
hands, both on his account and John’s, who had guessed rightly the first
time. His fellow-traveller was glad also, when he heard how successful
John had been. But John folded his hands, and thanked God, who, he felt
quite sure, would help him again; and he knew he had to guess twice more.
The evening passed pleasantly like the one preceding. While John slept,
his companion flew behind the princess to the mountain, and flogged her
even harder than before; this time he had taken two rods with him. No one
saw him go in with her, and he heard all that was said. The princess this
time was to think of a glove, and he told John as if he had again heard
it in a dream. The next day, therefore, he was able to guess correctly
the second time, and it caused great rejoicing at the palace. The whole
court jumped about as they had seen the king do the day before, but the
princess lay on the sofa, and would not say a single word. All now
depended upon John. If he only guessed rightly the third time, he would
marry the princess, and reign over the kingdom after the death of the old
king: but if he failed, he would lose his life, and the magician would
have his beautiful blue eyes. That evening John said his prayers and went
to bed very early, and soon fell asleep calmly. But his companion tied on
his wings to his shoulders, took three rods, and, with his sword at his
side, flew to the palace. It was a very dark night, and so stormy that
the tiles flew from the roofs of the houses, and the trees in the garden
upon which the skeletons hung bent themselves like reeds before the wind.
The lightning flashed, and the thunder rolled in one long-continued peal
all night. The window of the castle opened, and the princess flew out.
She was pale as death, but she laughed at the storm as if it were not bad
enough. Her white mantle fluttered in the wind like a large sail, and the
traveller flogged her with the three rods till the blood trickled down,
and at last she could scarcely fly; she contrived, however, to reach the
mountain. “What a hail-storm!” she said, as she entered; “I have never
been out in such weather as this.”


“Yes, there may be too much of a good thing sometimes,” said the
magician.


Then the princess told him that John had guessed rightly the second time,
and if he succeeded the next morning, he would win, and she could never
come to the mountain again, or practice magic as she had done, and
therefore she was quite unhappy. “I will find out something for you to
think of which he will never guess, unless he is a greater conjuror than
myself. But now let us be merry.”


Then he took the princess by both hands, and they danced with all the
little goblins and Jack-o’-lanterns in the room. The red spiders sprang
here and there on the walls quite as merrily, and the flowers of fire
appeared as if they were throwing out sparks. The owl beat the drum, the
crickets whistled and the grasshoppers played the mouth-organ. It was a
very ridiculous ball. After they had danced enough, the princess was
obliged to go home, for fear she should be missed at the palace. The
magician offered to go with her, that they might be company to each other
on the way. Then they flew away through the bad weather, and the
traveller followed them, and broke his three rods across their shoulders.
The magician had never been out in such a hail-storm as this. Just by the
palace the magician stopped to wish the princess farewell, and to whisper
in her ear, “To-morrow think of my head.”


But the traveller heard it, and just as the princess slipped through the
window into her bedroom, and the magician turned round to fly back to the
mountain, he seized him by the long black beard, and with his sabre cut
off the wicked conjuror’s head just behind the shoulders, so that he
could not even see who it was. He threw the body into the sea to the
fishes, and after dipping the head into the water, he tied it up in a
silk handkerchief, took it with him to the inn, and then went to bed. The
next morning he gave John the handkerchief, and told him not to untie it
till the princess asked him what she was thinking of. There were so many
people in the great hall of the palace that they stood as thick as
radishes tied together in a bundle. The council sat in their arm-chairs
with the white cushions. The old king wore new robes, and the golden
crown and sceptre had been polished up so that he looked quite smart. But
the princess was very pale, and wore a black dress as if she were going
to a funeral.


“What have I thought of?” asked the princess, of John. He immediately
untied the handkerchief, and was himself quite frightened when he saw the
head of the ugly magician. Every one shuddered, for it was terrible to
look at; but the princess sat like a statue, and could not utter a single
word. At length she rose and gave John her hand, for he had guessed
rightly.


She looked at no one, but sighed deeply, and said, “You are my master
now; this evening our marriage must take place.”


“I am very pleased to hear it,” said the old king. “It is just what I
wish.”


Then all the people shouted “Hurrah.” The band played music in the
streets, the bells rang, and the cake-women took the black crape off the
sugar-sticks. There was universal joy. Three oxen, stuffed with ducks and
chickens, were roasted whole in the market-place, where every one might
help himself to a slice. The fountains spouted forth the most delicious
wine, and whoever bought a penny loaf at the baker’s received six large
buns, full of raisins, as a present. In the evening the whole town was
illuminated. The soldiers fired off cannons, and the boys let off
crackers. There was eating and drinking, dancing and jumping everywhere.
In the palace, the high-born gentlemen and beautiful ladies danced with
each other, and they could be heard at a great distance singing the
following song:—


<blockquote class="small">
“Here are maidens, young and fair,
Dancing in the summer air;
Like two spinning-wheels at play,
Pretty maidens dance away-
Dance the spring and summer through
Till the sole falls from your shoe.”
</blockquote>
But the princess was still a witch, and she could not love John. His
fellow-traveller had thought of that, so he gave John three feathers out
of the swan’s wings, and a little bottle with a few drops in it. He told
him to place a large bath full of water by the princess’s bed, and put
the feathers and the drops into it. Then, at the moment she was about to
get into bed, he must give her a little push, so that she might fall into
the water, and then dip her three times. This would destroy the power of
the magician, and she would love him very much. John did all that his
companion told him to do. The princess shrieked aloud when he dipped her
under the water the first time, and struggled under his hands in the form
of a great black swan with fiery eyes. As she rose the second time from
the water, the swan had become white, with a black ring round its neck.
John allowed the water to close once more over the bird, and at the same
time it changed into a most beautiful princess. She was more lovely even
than before, and thanked him, while her eyes sparkled with tears, for
having broken the spell of the magician. The next day, the king came with
the whole court to offer their congratulations, and stayed till quite
late. Last of all came the travelling companion; he had his staff in his
hand and his knapsack on his back. John kissed him many times and told
him he must not go, he must remain with him, for he was the cause of all
his good fortune. But the traveller shook his head, and said gently and
kindly, “No: my time is up now; I have only paid my debt to you. Do you
remember the dead man whom the bad people wished to throw out of his
coffin? You gave all you possessed that he might rest in his grave; I am
that man.” As he said this, he vanished.


The wedding festivities lasted a whole month. John and his princess loved
each other dearly, and the old king lived to see many a happy day, when
he took their little children on his knees and let them play with his
sceptre. And John became king over the whole country.