The Witch in the Stone Boat(31) · page 21 2 3101The little fishes swimming about under the water had seen the toad quite plainly, and heard what she had said; so they put up their heads to see the little girl.102When they saw her, they thought her so pretty that they were very sorry she should go down with the ugly toad to live.103No; that must not happen.104They assembled in the water round the green stalk which supported the leaf on which she was sitting, and nibbled the stem in two.105Away floated the leaf down the stream, bearing Thumbelina far beyond the reach of the toad.106On she sailed past several towns, and the little birds sitting in the bushes saw her, and sang, ‘What a pretty little girl!’107The leaf floated farther and farther away; thus Thumbelina left her native land.108A beautiful little white butterfly fluttered above her, and at last settled on the leaf.109Thumbelina pleased him, and she, too, was delighted, for now the toads could not reach her, and it was so beautiful where she was travelling; the sun shone on the water and made it sparkle like the brightest silver.110She took off her sash, and tied one end round the butterfly; the other end she fastened to the leaf, so that now it glided along with her faster than ever.111A great cockchafer came flying past; he caught sight of Thumbelina, and in a moment had put his arms round her slender waist, and had flown off with her to a tree.112The green leaf floated away down the stream, and the butterfly with it, for he was fastened to the leaf and could not get loose from it.113Oh, dear! how terrified poor little Thumbelina was when the cockchafer flew off with her to the tree!114But she was especially distressed on the beautiful white butterfly’s account, as she had tied him fast, so that if he could not get away he must starve to death.115But the cockchafer did not trouble himself about that; he sat down with her on a large green leaf, gave her the honey out of the flowers to eat, and told her that she was very pretty, although she wasn’t in the least like a cockchafer.116Later on, all the other cockchafers who lived in the same tree came to pay calls; they examined Thumbelina closely, and remarked, ‘Why, she has only two legs!117How very miserable!’118‘She has no feelers!’ cried another.119‘How ugly she is!’ said all the lady chafers--and yet Thumbelina was really very pretty.120The cockchafer who had stolen her knew this very well; but when he heard all the ladies saying she was ugly, he began to think so too, and would not keep her; she might go wherever she liked.121So he flew down from the tree with her and put her on a daisy.122There she sat and wept, because she was so ugly that the cockchafer would have nothing to do with her; and yet she was the most beautiful creature imaginable, so soft and delicate, like the loveliest rose-leaf.123The whole summer poor little Thumbelina lived alone in the great wood.124She plaited a bed for herself of blades of grass, and hung it up under a clover-leaf, so that she was protected from the rain; she gathered honey from the flowers for food, and drank the dew on the leaves every morning.125Thus the summer and autumn passed, but then came winter--the long, cold winter.126All the birds who had sung so sweetly about her had flown away; the trees shed their leaves, the flowers died; the great clover-leaf under which she had lived curled up, and nothing remained of it but the withered stalk.127She was terribly cold, for her clothes were ragged, and she herself was so small and thin.128Poor little Thumbelina! she would surely be frozen to death.129It began to snow, and every snow-flake that fell on her was to her as a whole shovelful thrown on one of us, for we are so big, and she was only an inch high.130She wrapt herself round in a dead leaf, but it was torn in the middle and gave her no warmth; she was trembling with cold.131Just outside the wood where she was now living lay a great corn-field.132But the corn had been gone a long time; only the dry, bare stubble was left standing in the frozen ground.133This made a forest for her to wander about in.134All at once she came across the door of a field-mouse, who had a little hole under a corn-stalk.135There the mouse lived warm and snug, with a store-room full of corn, a splendid kitchen and dining-room.136Poor little Thumbelina went up to the door and begged for a little piece of barley, for she had not had anything to eat for the last two days.137‘Poor little creature!’ said the field-mouse, for she was a kind-hearted old thing at the bottom.138‘Come into my warm room and have some dinner with me.’139As Thumbelina pleased her, she said: ‘As far as I am concerned you may spend the winter with me; but you must keep my room clean and tidy, and tell me stories, for I like that very much.’140And Thumbelina did all that the kind old field-mouse asked, and did it remarkably well too.141‘Now I am expecting a visitor,’ said the field-mouse; ‘my neighbour comes to call on me once a week.142He is in better circumstances than I am, has great, big rooms, and wears a fine black-velvet coat.143If you could only marry him, you would be well provided for.144But he is blind.145You must tell him all the prettiest stories you know.’146But Thumbelina did not trouble her head about him, for he was only a mole.147He came and paid them a visit in his black-velvet coat.148‘He is so rich and so accomplished,’ the field-mouse told her.149‘His house is twenty times larger than mine; he possesses great knowledge, but he cannot bear the sun and the beautiful flowers, and speaks slightingly of them, for he has never seen them.’150Thumbelina had to sing to him, so she sang ‘Lady-bird, lady-bird, fly away home!’ and other songs so prettily that the mole fell in love with her; but he did not say anything, he was a very cautious man.151A short time before he had dug a long passage through the ground from his own house to that of his neighbour; in this he gave the field-mouse and Thumbelina permission to walk as often as they liked.152But he begged them not to be afraid of the dead bird that lay in the passage: it was a real bird with beak and feathers, and must have died a little time ago, and now laid buried just where he had made his tunnel.153The mole took a piece of rotten wood in his mouth, for that glows like fire in the dark, and went in front, lighting them through the long dark passage.154When they came to the place where the dead bird lay, the mole put his broad nose against the ceiling and pushed a hole through, so that the daylight could shine down.155In the middle of the path lay a dead swallow, his pretty wings pressed close to his sides, his claws and head drawn under his feathers; the poor bird had evidently died of cold.156Thumbelina was very sorry, for she was very fond of all little birds; they had sung and twittered so beautifully to her all through the summer.157But the mole kicked him with his bandy legs and said:158‘Now he can’t sing any more!159It must be very miserable to be a little bird!160I’m thankful that none of my little children are; birds always starve in winter.’161‘Yes, you speak like a sensible man,’ said the field-mouse.162‘What has a bird, in spite of all his singing, in the winter-time?163He must starve and freeze, and that must be very pleasant for him, I must say!’164Thumbelina did not say anything; but when the other two had passed on she bent down to the bird, brushed aside the feathers from his head, and kissed his closed eyes gently.165‘Perhaps it was he that sang to me so prettily in the summer,’ she thought.166‘How much pleasure he did give me, dear little bird!’167The mole closed up the hole again which let in the light, and then escorted the ladies home.168But Thumbelina could not sleep that night; so she got out of bed, and plaited a great big blanket of straw, and carried it off, and spread it over the dead bird, and piled upon it thistle-down as soft as cotton-wool, which she had found in the field-mouse’s room, so that the poor little thing should lie warmly buried.169‘Farewell, pretty little bird!’ she said.170‘Farewell, and thank you for your beautiful songs in the summer, when the trees were green, and the sun shone down warmly on us!’171Then she laid her head against the bird’s heart.172But the bird was not dead: he had been frozen, but now that she had warmed him, he was coming to life again.173In autumn the swallows fly away to foreign lands; but there are some who are late in starting, and then they get so cold that they drop down as if dead, and the snow comes and covers them over.174Thumbelina trembled, she was so frightened; for the bird was very large in comparison with herself--only an inch high.175But she took courage, piled up the down more closely over the poor swallow, fetched her own coverlid and laid it over his head.176Next night she crept out again to him.177There he was alive, but very weak; he could only open his eyes for a moment and look at Thumbelina, who was standing in front of him with a piece of rotten wood in her hand, for she had no other lantern.178‘Thank you, pretty little child!’ said the swallow to her.179‘I am so beautifully warm!180Soon I shall regain my strength, and then I shall be able to fly out again into the warm sunshine.’181‘Oh!’ she said, ‘it is very cold outside; it is snowing and freezing! stay in your warm bed; I will take care of you!’182Then she brought him water in a petal, which he drank, after which he related to her how he had torn one of his wings on a bramble, so that he could not fly as fast as the other swallows, who had flown far away to warmer lands.183So at last he had dropped down exhausted, and then he could remember no more.184The whole winter he remained down there, and Thumbelina looked after him and nursed him tenderly.185Neither the mole nor the field-mouse learnt anything of this, for they could not bear the poor swallow.186When the spring came, and the sun warmed the earth again, the swallow said farewell to Thumbelina, who opened the hole in the roof for him which the mole had made.187The sun shone brightly down upon her, and the swallow asked her if she would go with him; she could sit upon his back.188Thumbelina wanted very much to fly far away into the green wood, but she knew that the old field-mouse would be sad if she ran away.checked by a teacher189‘No, I mustn’t come!’ she said.190‘Farewell, dear good little girl!’ said the swallow, and flew off into the sunshine.191Thumbelina gazed after him with the tears standing in her eyes, for she was very fond of the swallow.192‘Tweet, tweet!’ sang the bird, and flew into the green wood.193Thumbelina was very unhappy.194She was not allowed to go out into the warm sunshine.195The corn which had been sowed in the field over the field-mouse’s home grew up high into the air, and made a thick forest for the poor little girl, who was only an inch high.196‘Now you are to be a bride, Thumbelina!’ said the field-mouse, ‘for our neighbour has proposed for you!197What a piece of fortune for a poor child like you!198Now you must set to work at your linen for your dowry, for nothing must be lacking if you are to become the wife of our neighbour, the mole!’199Thumbelina had to spin all day long, and every evening the mole visited her, and told her that when the summer was over the sun would not shine so hot; now it was burning the earth as hard as a stone.200Yes, when the summer had passed, they would keep the wedding.1 2 3← previousThe Tinder-boxnext →The Nightingale↑ back to The Yellow Fairy BookThis page in Markdown → https://md.mova.elamur.ai/free/en/corpora/tales/pg640/47/page/2/