> bare yellow sand. No, indeed, for on this sand grow the strangest

flowers and plants, the leaves and stems of which are so pliant that the

slightest agitation of the water causes them to stir as if they had

life. Fishes, both large and small, glide between the branches as birds

fly among the trees here upon land.



In the deepest spot of all stands the castle of the Sea King. Its walls

are built of coral, and the long Gothic windows are of the clearest

amber. The roof is formed of shells that open and close as the water

flows over them. Their appearance is very beautiful, for in each lies a

glittering pearl which would be fit for the diadem of a queen.



The Sea King had been a widower for many years, and his aged mother kept

house for him. She was a very sensible woman, but exceedingly proud of

her high birth, and on that account wore twelve oysters on her tail,

while others of high rank were only allowed to wear six.



She was, however, deserving of very great praise, especially for her

care of the little sea princesses, her six granddaughters. They were

beautiful children, but the youngest was the prettiest of them all. Her

skin was as clear and delicate as a rose leaf, and her eyes as blue as

the deepest sea; but, like all the others, she had no feet and her body

ended in a fish's tail. All day long they played in the great halls of

the castle or among the living flowers that grew out of the walls. The

large amber windows were open, and the fish swam in, just as the

swallows fly into our houses when we open the windows; only the fishes

swam up to the princesses, ate out of their hands, and allowed

themselves to be stroked.



Outside the castle there was a beautiful garden, in which grew

bright-red and dark-blue flowers, and blossoms like flames of fire; the

fruit glittered like gold, and the leaves and stems waved to and fro

continually. The earth itself was the finest sand, but blue as the flame

of burning sulphur. Over everything lay a peculiar blue radiance, as if

the blue sky were everywhere, above and below, instead of the dark

depths of the sea. In calm weather the sun could be seen, looking like a

reddish-purple flower with light streaming from the calyx.



Each of the young princesses had a little plot of ground in the garden,

where she might dig and plant as she pleased. One arranged her flower

bed in the form of a whale; another preferred to make hers like the

figure of a little mermaid; while the youngest child made hers round,

like the sun, and in it grew flowers as red as his rays at sunset.



She was a strange child, quiet and thoughtful. While her sisters showed

delight at the wonderful things which they obtained from the wrecks of

vessels, she cared only for her pretty flowers, red like the sun, and a

beautiful marble statue. It was the representation of a handsome boy,

carved out of pure white stone, which had fallen to the bottom of the

sea from a wreck.



She planted by the statue a rose-colored weeping willow. It grew rapidly

and soon hung its fresh branches over the statue, almost down to the

blue sands. The shadows had the color of violet and waved to and fro

like the branches, so that it seemed as if the crown of the tree and the

root were at play, trying to kiss each other.



Nothing gave her so much pleasure as to hear about the world above the

sea. She made her old grandmother tell her all she knew of the ships and

of the towns, the people and the animals. To her it seemed most

wonderful and beautiful to hear that the flowers of the land had

fragrance, while those below the sea had none; that the trees of the

forest were green; and that the fishes among the trees could sing so

sweetly that it was a pleasure to listen to them. Her grandmother

called the birds fishes, or the little mermaid would not have understood

what was meant, for she had never seen birds.



"When you have reached your fifteenth year," said the grandmother, "you

will have permission to rise up out of the sea and sit on the rocks in

the moonlight, while the great ships go sailing by. Then you will see

both forests and towns."



In the following year, one of the sisters would be fifteen, but as each

was a year younger than the other, the youngest would have to wait five

years before her turn came to rise up from the bottom of the ocean to

see the earth as we do. However, each promised to tell the others what

she saw on her first visit and what she thought was most beautiful.

Their grandmother could not tell them enough--there were so many things

about which they wanted to know.



None of them longed so much for her turn to come as the youngest--she

who had the longest time to wait and who was so quiet and thoughtful.

Many nights she stood by the open window, looking up through the dark

blue water and watching the fish as they splashed about with their fins

and tails. She could see the moon and stars shining faintly, but through

the water they looked larger than they do to our eyes. When something

like a black cloud passed between her and them, she knew that it was

either a whale swimming over her head, or a ship full of human beings

who never imagined that a pretty little mermaid was standing beneath

them, holding out her white hands towards the keel of their ship.



At length the eldest was fifteen and was allowed to rise to the surface

of the ocean.



When she returned she had hundreds of things to talk about. But the

finest thing, she said, was to lie on a sand bank in the quiet moonlit

sea, near the shore, gazing at the lights of the near-by town, that

twinkled like hundreds of stars, and listening to the sounds of music,

the noise of carriages, the voices of human beings, and the merry

pealing of the bells in the church steeples. Because she could not go

near all these wonderful things, she longed for them all the more.



Oh, how eagerly did the youngest sister listen to all these

descriptions! And afterwards, when she stood at the open window looking

up through the dark-blue water, she thought of the great city, with all

its bustle and noise, and even fancied she could hear the sound of the

church bells down in the depths of the sea.



In another year the second sister received permission to rise to the

surface of the water and to swim about where she pleased. She rose just

as the sun was setting, and this, she said, was the most beautiful sight

of all. The whole sky looked like gold, and violet and rose-colored

clouds, which she could not describe, drifted across it. And more

swiftly than the clouds, flew a large flock of wild swans toward the

setting sun, like a long white veil across the sea. She also swam

towards the sun, but it sank into the waves, and the rosy tints faded

from the clouds and from the sea.



The third sister's turn followed, and she was the boldest of them all,

for she swam up a broad river that emptied into the sea. On the banks

she saw green hills covered with beautiful vines, and palaces and

castles peeping out from amid the proud trees of the forest. She heard

birds singing and felt the rays of the sun so strongly that she was

obliged often to dive under the water to cool her burning face. In a

narrow creek she found a large group of little human children, almost

naked, sporting about in the water. She wanted to play with them, but

they fled in a great fright; and then a little black animal--it was a

dog, but she did not know it, for she had never seen one before--came to

the water and barked at her so furiously that she became frightened and

rushed back to the open sea. But she said she should never forget the

beautiful forest, the green hills, and the pretty children who could

swim in the water although they had no tails.



The fourth sister was more timid. She remained in the midst of the sea,

but said it was quite as beautiful there as nearer the land. She could

see many miles around her, and the sky above looked like a bell of

glass. She had seen the ships, but at such a great distance that they

looked like sea gulls. The dolphins sported in the waves, and the great

whales spouted water from their nostrils till it seemed as if a hundred

fountains were playing in every direction.



The fifth sister's birthday occurred in the winter, so when her turn

came she saw what the others had not seen the first time they went up.

The sea looked quite green, and large icebergs were floating about, each

like a pearl, she said, but larger and loftier than the churches built

by men. They were of the most singular shapes and glittered like

diamonds. She had seated herself on one of the largest and let the wind

play with her long hair. She noticed that all the ships sailed past very

rapidly, steering as far away as they could, as if they were afraid of

the iceberg. Towards evening, as the sun went down, dark clouds covered

the sky, the thunder rolled, and the flashes of lightning glowed red on

the icebergs as they were tossed about by the heaving sea. On all the

ships the sails were reefed with fear and trembling, while she sat on

the floating iceberg, calmly watching the lightning as it darted its

forked flashes into the sea.



Each of the sisters, when first she had permission to rise to the

surface, was delighted with the new and beautiful sights. Now that they

were grown-up girls and could go when they pleased, they had become

quite indifferent about it. They soon wished themselves back again, and

after a month had passed they said it was much more beautiful down below

and pleasanter to be at home.



Yet often, in the evening hours, the five sisters would twine their arms

about each other and rise to the surface together. Their voices were

more charming than that of any human being, and before the approach of a

storm, when they feared that a ship might be lost, they swam before the

vessel, singing enchanting songs of the delights to be found in the

depths of the sea and begging the voyagers not to fear if they sank to

the bottom. But the sailors could not understand the song and thought it

was the sighing of the storm. These things were never beautiful to them,

for if the ship sank, the men were drowned and their dead bodies alone

reached the palace of the Sea King.



When the sisters rose, arm in arm, through the water, their youngest

sister would stand quite alone, looking after them, ready to cry--only,

since mermaids have no tears, she suffered more acutely.



"Oh, were I but fifteen years old!" said she. "I know that I shall love

the world up there, and all the people who live in it."



At last she reached her fifteenth year.



"Well, now you are grown up," said the old dowager, her grandmother.

"Come, and let me adorn you like your sisters." And she placed in her

hair a wreath of white lilies, of which every flower leaf was half a

pearl. Then the old lady ordered eight great oysters to attach

themselves to the tail of the princess to show her high rank.



"But they hurt me so," said the little mermaid.



"Yes, I know; pride must suffer pain," replied the old lady.



Oh, how gladly she would have shaken off all this grandeur and laid

aside the heavy wreath! The red flowers in her own garden would have

suited her much better. But she could not change herself, so she said

farewell and rose as lightly as a bubble to the surface of the water.



The sun had just set when she raised her head above the waves. The

clouds were tinted with crimson and gold, and through the glimmering

twilight beamed the evening star in all its beauty. The sea was calm,

and the air mild and fresh. A large ship with three masts lay becalmed

on the water; only one sail was set, for not a breeze stirred, and the

sailors sat idle on deck or amidst the rigging. There was music and song

on board, and as darkness came on, a hundred colored lanterns were

lighted, as if the flags of all nations waved in the air.



The little mermaid swam close to the cabin windows, and now and then, as

the waves lifted her up, she could look in through glass window-panes

and see a number of gayly dressed people.



Among them, and the most beautiful of all, was a young prince with

large, black eyes. He was sixteen years of age, and his birthday was

being celebrated with great display. The sailors were dancing on deck,

and when the prince came out of the cabin, more than a hundred rockets

rose in the air, making it as bright as day. The little mermaid was so

startled that she dived under water, and when she again stretched out

her head, it looked as if all the stars of heaven were falling around

her.



She had never seen such fireworks before. Great suns spurted fire about,

splendid fireflies flew into the blue air, and everything was reflected

in the clear, calm sea beneath. The ship itself was so brightly

illuminated that all the people, and even the smallest rope, could be

distinctly seen. How handsome the young prince looked, as he pressed the

hands of all his guests and smiled at them, while the music resounded

through the clear night air!



It was very late, yet the little mermaid could not take her eyes from

the ship or from the beautiful prince. The colored lanterns had been

extinguished, no more rockets rose in the air, and the cannon had ceased

firing; but the sea became restless, and a moaning, grumbling sound

could be heard beneath the waves. Still the little mermaid remained by

the cabin window, rocking up and down on the water, so that she could

look within. After a while the sails were quickly set, and the ship went

on her way. But soon the waves rose higher, heavy clouds darkened the

sky, and lightning appeared in the distance. A dreadful storm was

approaching. Once more the sails were furled, and the great ship

pursued her flying course over the raging sea. The waves rose mountain

high, as if they would overtop the mast, but the ship dived like a swan

between them, then rose again on their lofty, foaming crests. To the

little mermaid this was pleasant sport; but not so to the sailors. At

length the ship groaned and creaked; the thick planks gave way under the

lashing of the sea, as the waves broke over the deck; the mainmast

snapped asunder like a reed, and as the ship lay over on her side, the

water rushed in.



The little mermaid now perceived that the crew were in danger; even she

was obliged to be careful, to avoid the beams and planks of the wreck

which lay scattered on the water. At one moment it was pitch dark so

that she could not see a single object, but when a flash of lightning

came it revealed the whole scene; she could see every one who had been

on board except the prince. When the ship parted, she had seen him sink

into the deep waves, and she was glad, for she thought he would now be

with her. Then she remembered that human beings could not live in the

water, so that when he got down to her father's palace he would

certainly be quite dead.



No, he must not die! So she swam about among the beams and planks which

strewed the surface of the sea, forgetting that they could crush her to

pieces. Diving deep under the dark waters, rising and falling with the

waves, she at length managed to reach the young prince, who was fast

losing the power to swim in that stormy sea. His limbs were failing him,

his beautiful eyes were closed, and he would have died had not the

little mermaid come to his assistance. She held his head above the water

and let the waves carry them where they would.



In the morning the storm had ceased, but of the ship not a single

fragment could be seen. The sun came up red and shining out of the

water, and its beams brought back the hue of health to the prince's

cheeks, but his eyes remained closed. The mermaid kissed his high,

smooth forehead and stroked back his wet hair. He seemed to her like the

marble statue in her little garden, so she kissed him again and wished

that he might live.



Presently they came in sight of land, and she saw lofty blue mountains

on which the white snow rested as if a flock of swans were lying upon

them. Beautiful green forests were near the shore, and close by stood a

large building, whether a church or a convent she could not tell. Orange

and citron trees grew in the garden, and before the door stood lofty

palms. The sea here formed a little bay, in which the water lay quiet

and still, but very deep. She swam with the handsome prince to the

beach, which was covered with fine white sand, and there she laid him in

the warm sunshine, taking care to raise his head higher than his body.

Then bells sounded in the large white building, and some young girls

came into the garden. The little mermaid swam out farther from the shore

and hid herself among some high rocks that rose out of the water.

Covering her head and neck with the foam of the sea, she watched there

to see what would become of the poor prince.



It was not long before she saw a young girl approach the spot where the

prince lay. She seemed frightened at first, but only for a moment; then

she brought a number of people, and the mermaid saw that the prince came

to life again and smiled upon those who stood about him. But to her he

sent no smile; he knew not that she had saved him. This made her very

sorrowful, and when he was led away into the great building, she dived

down into the water and returned to her father's castle.



She had always been silent and thoughtful, and now she was more so than

ever. Her sisters asked her what she had seen during her first visit to

the surface of the water, but she could tell them nothing. Many an

evening and morning did she rise to the place where she had left the

prince. She saw the fruits in the garden ripen and watched them

gathered; she watched the snow on the mountain tops melt away; but never

did she see the prince, and therefore she always returned home more

sorrowful than before.



It was her only comfort to sit in her own little garden and fling her

arm around the beautiful marble statue, which was like the prince. She

gave up tending her flowers, and they grew in wild confusion over the

paths, twining their long leaves and stems round the branches of the

trees so that the whole place became dark and gloomy.



At length she could bear it no longer and told one of her sisters all

about it. Then the others heard the secret, and very soon it became

known to several mermaids, one of whom had an intimate friend who

happened to know about the prince. She had also seen the festival on

board ship, and she told them where the prince came from and where his

palace stood.



"Come, little sister," said the other princesses. Then they entwined

their arms and rose together to the surface of the water, near the spot

where they knew the prince's palace stood. It was built of

bright-yellow, shining stone and had long flights of marble steps, one

of which reached quite down to the sea. Splendid gilded cupolas rose

over the roof, and between the pillars that surrounded the whole

building stood lifelike statues of marble. Through the clear crystal of

the lofty windows could be seen noble rooms, with costly silk curtains

and hangings of tapestry and walls covered with beautiful paintings. In

the center of the largest salon a fountain threw its sparkling jets

high up into the glass cupola of the ceiling, through which the sun

shone in upon the water and upon the beautiful plants that grew in the

basin of the fountain.



Now that the little mermaid knew where the prince lived, she spent many

an evening and many a night on the water near the palace. She would swim

much nearer the shore than any of the others had ventured, and once she

went up the narrow channel under the marble balcony, which threw a broad

shadow on the water. Here she sat and watched the young prince, who

thought himself alone in the bright moonlight.



She often saw him evenings, sailing in a beautiful boat on which music

sounded and flags waved. She peeped out from among the green rushes, and

if the wind caught her long silvery-white veil, those who saw it

believed it to be a swan, spreading out its wings.



Many a night, too, when the fishermen set their nets by the light of

their torches, she heard them relate many good things about the young

prince. And this made her glad that she had saved his life when he was

tossed about half dead on the waves. She remembered how his head had

rested on her bosom and how heartily she had kissed him, but he knew

nothing of all this and could not even dream of her.



She grew more and more to like human beings and wished more and more to

be able to wander about with those whose world seemed to be so much

larger than her own. They could fly over the sea in ships and mount the

high hills which were far above the clouds; and the lands they

possessed, their woods and their fields, stretched far away beyond the

reach of her sight. There was so much that she wished to know! but her

sisters were unable to answer all her questions. She then went to her

old grandmother, who knew all about the upper world, which she rightly

called "the lands above the sea."



"If human beings are not drowned," asked the little mermaid, "can they

live forever? Do they never die, as we do here in the sea?"



"Yes," replied the old lady, "they must also die, and their term of life

is even shorter than ours. We sometimes live for three hundred years,

but when we cease to exist here, we become only foam on the surface of

the water and have not even a grave among those we love. We have not

immortal souls, we shall never live again; like the green seaweed when

once it has been cut off, we can never flourish more. Human beings, on

the contrary, have souls which live forever, even after the body has

been turned to dust. They rise up through the clear, pure air, beyond

the glittering stars. As we rise out of the water and behold all the

land of the earth, so do they rise to unknown and glorious regions which

we shall never see."



"Why have not we immortal souls?" asked the little mermaid, mournfully.

"I would gladly give all the hundreds of years that I have to live, to

be a human being only for one day and to have the hope of knowing the

happiness of that glorious world above the stars."



"You must not think that," said the old woman. "We believe that we are

much happier and much better off than human beings."



"So I shall die," said the little mermaid, "and as the foam of the sea I

shall be driven about, never again to hear the music of the waves or to

see the pretty flowers or the red sun? Is there anything I can do to win

an immortal soul?"



"No," said the old woman; "unless a man should love you so much that you

were more to him than his father or his mother, and if all his thoughts

and all his love were fixed upon you, and the priest placed his right

hand in yours, and he promised to be true to you here and

hereafter--then his soul would glide into your body, and you would

obtain a share in the future happiness of mankind. He would give to you

a soul and retain his own as well; but this can never happen. Your

fish's tail, which among us is considered so beautiful, on earth is

thought to be quite ugly. They do not know any better, and they think it

necessary, in order to be handsome, to have two stout props, which they

call legs."



Then the little mermaid sighed and looked sorrowfully at her fish's

tail. "Let us be happy," said the old lady, "and dart and spring about

during the three hundred years that we have to live, which is really

quite long enough. After that we can rest ourselves all the better. This

evening we are going to have a court ball."



It was one of those splendid sights which we can never see on earth. The

walls and the ceiling of the large ballroom were of thick but

transparent crystal. Many hundreds of colossal shells,--some of a deep

red, others of a grass green,--with blue fire in them, stood in rows on

each side. These lighted up the whole salon, and shone through the walls

so that the sea was also illuminated. Innumerable fishes, great and

small, swam past the crystal walls; on some of them the scales glowed

with a purple brilliance, and on others shone like silver and gold.

Through the halls flowed a broad stream, and in it danced the mermen and

the mermaids to the music of their own sweet singing.



No one on earth has such lovely voices as they, but the little mermaid

sang more sweetly than all. The whole court applauded her with hands and

tails, and for a moment her heart felt quite gay, for she knew she had

the sweetest voice either on earth or in the sea. But soon she thought

again of the world above her; she could not forget the charming prince,

nor her sorrow that she had not an immortal soul like his. She crept

away silently out of her father's palace, and while everything within

was gladness and song, she sat in her own little garden, sorrowful and

alone. Then she heard the bugle sounding through the water and thought:

"He is certainly sailing above, he in whom my wishes center and in whose

hands I should like to place the happiness of my life. I will venture

all for him and to win an immortal soul. While my sisters are dancing in

my father's palace I will go to the sea witch, of whom I have always

been so much afraid; she can give me counsel and help."



Then the little mermaid went out from her garden and took the road to

the foaming whirlpools, behind which the sorceress lived. She had never

been that way before. Neither flowers nor grass grew there; nothing but

bare, gray, sandy ground stretched out to the whirlpool, where the

water, like foaming mill wheels, seized everything that came within its

reach and cast it into the fathomless deep. Through the midst of these

crushing whirlpools the little mermaid was obliged to pass before she

could reach the dominions of the sea witch. Then, for a long distance,

the road lay across a stretch of warm, bubbling mire, called by the

witch her turf moor.



Beyond this was the witch's house, which stood in the center of a

strange forest, where all the trees and flowers were polypi, half

animals and half plants. They looked like serpents with a hundred heads,

growing out of the ground. The branches were long, slimy arms, with

fingers like flexible worms, moving limb after limb from the root to the

top. All that could be reached in the sea they seized upon and held

fast, so that it never escaped from their clutches.



The little mermaid was so alarmed at what she saw that she stood still

and her heart beat with fear. She came very near turning back, but she

thought of the prince and of the human soul for which she longed, and

her courage returned. She fastened her long, flowing hair round her

head, so that the polypi should not lay hold of it. She crossed her

hands on her bosom, and then darted forward as a fish shoots through the

water, between the supple arms and fingers of the ugly polypi, which

were stretched out on each side of her. She saw that they all held in

their grasp something they had seized with their numerous little arms,

which were as strong as iron bands. Tightly grasped in their clinging

arms were white skeletons of human beings who had perished at sea and

had sunk down into the deep waters; skeletons of land animals; and oars,

rudders, and chests, of ships. There was even a little mermaid whom they

had caught and strangled, and this seemed the most shocking of all to

the little princess.



She now came to a space of marshy ground in the wood, where large, fat

water snakes were rolling in the mire and showing their ugly,

drab-colored bodies. In the midst of this spot stood a house, built of

the bones of shipwrecked human beings. There sat the sea witch, allowing

a toad to eat from her mouth just as people sometimes feed a canary with

pieces of sugar. She called the ugly water snakes her little chickens

and allowed them to crawl all over her bosom.



"I know what you want," said the sea witch. "It is very stupid of you,

but you shall have your way, though it will bring you to sorrow, my

pretty princess. You want to get rid of your fish's tail and to have two

supports instead, like human beings on earth, so that the young prince

may fall in love with you and so that you may have an immortal soul."

And then the witch laughed so loud and so disgustingly that the toad and

the snakes fell to the ground and lay there wriggling.



"You are but just in time," said the witch, "for after sunrise to-morrow

I should not be able to help you till the end of another year. I will

prepare a draft for you, with which you must swim to land to-morrow

before sunrise; seat yourself there and drink it. Your tail will then

disappear, and shrink up into what men call legs.



"You will feel great pain, as if a sword were passing through you. But

all who see you will say that you are the prettiest little human being

they ever saw. You will still have the same floating gracefulness of

movement, and no dancer will ever tread so lightly. Every step you take,

however, will be as if you were treading upon sharp knives and as if the

blood must flow. If you will bear all this, I will help you."



"Yes, I will," said the little princess in a trembling voice, as she

thought of the prince and the immortal soul.



"But think again," said the witch, "for when once your shape has become

like a human being, you can no more be a mermaid. You will never return

through the water to your sisters or to your father's palace again. And

if you do not win the love of the prince, so that he is willing to

forget his father and mother for your sake and to love you with his

whole soul and allow the priest to join your hands that you may be man

and wife, then you will never have an immortal soul. The first morning

after he marries another, your heart will break and you will become foam

on the crest of the waves."



"I will do it," said the little mermaid, and she became pale as death.



"But I must be paid, also," said the witch, "and it is not a trifle that

I ask. You have the sweetest voice of any who dwell here in the depths

of the sea, and you believe that you will be able to charm the prince

with it. But this voice you must give to me. The best thing you possess

will I have as the price of my costly draft, which must be mixed with my

own blood so that it may be as sharp as a two-edged sword."



"But if you take away my voice," said the little mermaid, "what is left

for me?"



"Your beautiful form, your graceful walk, and your expressive eyes.

Surely with these you can enchain a man's heart. Well, have you lost

your courage? Put out your little tongue, that I may cut it off as my

payment; then you shall have the powerful draft."



"It shall be," said the little mermaid.



Then the witch placed her caldron on the fire, to prepare the magic

draft.



"Cleanliness is a good thing," said she, scouring the vessel with snakes

which she had tied together in a large knot. Then she pricked herself in

the breast and let the black blood drop into the caldron. The steam that

rose twisted itself into such horrible shapes that no one could look at

them without fear. Every moment the witch threw a new ingredient into

the vessel, and when it began to boil, the sound was like the weeping of

a crocodile. When at last the magic draft was ready, it looked like the

clearest water.



"There it is for you," said the witch. Then she cut off the mermaid's

tongue, so that she would never again speak or sing. "If the polypi

should seize you as you return through the wood," said the witch, "throw

over them a few drops of the potion, and their fingers will be torn into

a thousand pieces." But the little mermaid had no occasion to do this,

for the polypi sprang back in terror when they caught sight of the

glittering draft, which shone in her hand like a twinkling star.



So she passed quickly through the wood and the marsh and between the

rushing whirlpools. She saw that in her father's palace the torches in

the ballroom were extinguished and that all within were asleep. But she

did not venture to go in to them, for now that she was dumb and going to

leave them forever she felt as if her heart would break. She stole into

the garden, took a flower from the flower bed of each of her sisters,

kissed her hand towards the palace a thousand times, and then rose up

through the dark-blue waters.



The sun had not risen when she came in sight of the prince's palace and

approached the beautiful marble steps, but the moon shone clear and

bright. Then the little mermaid drank the magic draft, and it seemed as

if a two-edged sword went through her delicate body. She fell into a

swoon and lay like one dead. When the sun rose and shone over the sea,

she recovered and felt a sharp pain, but before her stood the handsome

young prince.



He fixed his coal-black eyes upon her so earnestly that she cast down

her own and then became aware that her fish's tail was gone and that she

had as pretty a pair of white legs and tiny feet as any little maiden

could have. But she had no clothes, so she wrapped herself in her long,

thick hair. The prince asked her who she was and whence she came. She

looked at him mildly and sorrowfully with her deep blue eyes, but could

not speak. He took her by the hand and led her to the palace.






Every step she took was as the witch had said it would be; she felt as

if she were treading upon the points of needles or sharp knives. She

bore it willingly, however, and moved at the prince's side as lightly as

a bubble, so that he and all who saw her wondered at her graceful,

swaying movements. She was very soon arrayed in costly robes of silk and

muslin and was the most beautiful creature in the palace; but she was

dumb and could neither speak nor sing.



Beautiful female slaves, dressed in silk and gold, stepped forward and

sang before the prince and his royal parents. One sang better than all

the others, and the prince clapped his hands and smiled at her. This was

a great sorrow to the little mermaid, for she knew how much more sweetly

she herself once could sing, and she thought, "Oh, if he could only know

that I have given away my voice forever, to be with him!"



The slaves next performed some pretty fairy-like dances, to the sound of

beautiful music. Then the little mermaid raised her lovely white arms,

stood on the tips of her toes, glided over the floor, and danced as no

one yet had been able to dance. At each moment her beauty was more

revealed, and her expressive eyes appealed more directly to the heart

than the songs of the slaves. Every one was enchanted, especially the

prince, who called her his little foundling. She danced again quite

readily, to please him, though each time her foot touched the floor it

seemed as if she trod on sharp knives.



The prince said she should remain with him always, and she was given

permission to sleep at his door, on a velvet cushion. He had a page's

dress made for her, that she might accompany him on horseback. They rode

together through the sweet-scented woods, where the green boughs touched

their shoulders, and the little birds sang among the fresh leaves. She

climbed with him to the tops of high mountains, and although her tender

feet bled so that even her steps were marked, she only smiled, and

followed him till they could see the clouds beneath them like a flock of

birds flying to distant lands. While at the prince's palace, and when

all the household were asleep, she would go and sit on the broad marble

steps, for it eased her burning feet to bathe them in the cold sea

water. It was then that she thought of all those below in the deep.



Once during the night her sisters came up arm in arm, singing

sorrowfully as they floated on the water. She beckoned to them, and they

recognized her and told her how she had grieved them; after that, they

came to the same place every night. Once she saw in the distance her

old grandmother, who had not been to the surface of the sea for many

years, and the old Sea King, her father, with his crown on his head.

They stretched out their hands towards her, but did not venture so near

the land as her sisters had.



As the days passed she loved the prince more dearly, and he loved her as

one would love a little child. The thought never came to him to make her

his wife. Yet unless he married her, she could not receive an immortal

soul, and on the morning after his marriage with another, she would

dissolve into the foam of the sea.



"Do you not love me the best of them all?" the eyes of the little

mermaid seemed to say when he took her in his arms and kissed her fair

forehead.



"Yes, you are dear to me," said the prince, "for you have the best heart

and you are the most devoted to me. You are like a young maiden whom I

once saw, but whom I shall never meet again. I was in a ship that was

wrecked, and the waves cast me ashore near a holy temple where several

young maidens performed the service. The youngest of them found me on

the shore and saved my life. I saw her but twice, and she is the only

one in the world whom I could love. But you are like her, and you have

almost driven her image from my mind. She belongs to the holy temple,

and good fortune has sent you to me in her stead. We will never part.



"Ah, he knows not that it was I who saved his life," thought the little

mermaid. "I carried him over the sea to the wood where the temple

stands; I sat beneath the foam and watched till the human beings came to

help him. I saw the pretty maiden that he loves better than he loves

me." The mermaid sighed deeply, but she could not weep. "He says the

maiden belongs to the holy temple, therefore she will never return to

the world--they will meet no more. I am by his side and see him every

day. I will take care of him, and love him, and give up my life for his

sake."



Very soon it was said that the prince was to marry and that the

beautiful daughter of a neighboring king would be his wife, for a fine

ship was being fitted out. Although the prince gave out that he

intended merely to pay a visit to the king, it was generally supposed

that he went to court the princess. A great company were to go with him.

The little mermaid smiled and shook her head. She knew the prince's

thoughts better than any of the others.



"I must travel," he had said to her; "I must see this beautiful

princess. My parents desire it, but they will not oblige me to bring her

home as my bride. I cannot love her, because she is not like the

beautiful maiden in the temple, whom you resemble. If I were forced to

choose a bride, I would choose you, my dumb foundling, with those

expressive eyes." Then he kissed her rosy mouth, played with her long,

waving hair, and laid his head on her heart, while she dreamed of human

happiness and an immortal soul.



"You are not afraid of the sea, my dumb child, are you?" he said, as

they stood on the deck of the noble ship which was to carry them to the

country of the neighboring king. Then he told her of storm and of calm,

of strange fishes in the deep beneath them, and of what the divers had

seen there. She smiled at his descriptions, for she knew better than

any one what wonders were at the bottom of the sea.



In the moonlight night, when all on board were asleep except the man at

the helm, she sat on deck, gazing down through the clear water. She

thought she could distinguish her father's castle, and upon it her aged

grandmother, with the silver crown on her head, looking through the

rushing tide at the keel of the vessel. Then her sisters came up on the

waves and gazed at her mournfully, wringing their white hands. She

beckoned to them, and smiled, and wanted to tell them how happy and well

off she was. But the cabin boy approached, and when her sisters dived

down, he thought what he saw was only the foam of the sea.



The next morning the ship sailed into the harbor of a beautiful town

belonging to the king whom the prince was going to visit. The church

bells were ringing, and from the high towers sounded a flourish of

trumpets. Soldiers, with flying colors and glittering bayonets, lined

the roads through which they passed. Every day was a festival, balls and

entertainments following one another. But the princess had not yet

appeared. People said that she had been brought up and educated in a

religious house, where she was learning every royal virtue.



At last she came. Then the little mermaid, who was anxious to see

whether she was really beautiful, was obliged to admit that she had

never seen a more perfect vision of beauty. Her skin was delicately

fair, and beneath her long, dark eyelashes her laughing blue eyes shone

with truth and purity.



"It was you," said the prince, "who saved my life when I lay as if dead

on the beach," and he folded his blushing bride in his arms.



"Oh, I am too happy!" said he to the little mermaid; "my fondest hopes

are now fulfilled. You will rejoice at my happiness, for your devotion

to me is great and sincere."



The little mermaid kissed his hand and felt as if her heart were already

broken. His wedding morning would bring death to her, and she would

change into the foam of the sea.



All the church bells rang, and the heralds rode through the town

proclaiming the betrothal. Perfumed oil was burned in costly silver

lamps on every altar. The priests waved the censers, while the bride and

the bridegroom joined their hands and received the blessing of the

bishop. The little mermaid, dressed in silk and gold, held up the

bride's train; but her ears heard nothing of the festive music, and her

eyes saw not the holy ceremony. She thought of the night of death which

was coming to her, and of all she had lost in the world.



On the same evening the bride and bridegroom went on board the ship.

Cannons were roaring, flags waving, and in the center of the ship a

costly tent of purple and gold had been erected. It contained elegant

sleeping couches for the bridal pair during the night. The ship, under a

favorable wind, with swelling sails, glided away smoothly and lightly

over the calm sea.



When it grew dark, a number of colored lamps were lighted and the

sailors danced merrily on the deck. The little mermaid could not help

thinking of her first rising out of the sea, when she had seen similar

joyful festivities, so she too joined in the dance, poised herself in

the air as a swallow when he pursues his prey, and all present cheered

her wonderingly. She had never danced so gracefully before. Her tender

feet felt as if cut with sharp knives, but she cared not for the pain; a

sharper pang had pierced her heart.



She knew this was the last evening she should ever see the prince for

whom she had forsaken her kindred and her home. She had given up her

beautiful voice and suffered unheard-of pain daily for him, while he

knew nothing of it. This was the last evening that she should breathe

the same air with him or gaze on the starry sky and the deep sea. An

eternal night, without a thought or a dream, awaited her. She had no

soul, and now could never win one.



All was joy and gaiety on the ship until long after midnight. She smiled

and danced with the rest, while the thought of death was in her heart.

The prince kissed his beautiful bride and she played with his raven hair

till they went arm in arm to rest in the sumptuous tent. Then all became

still on board the ship, and only the pilot, who stood at the helm, was

awake. The little mermaid leaned her white arms on the edge of the

vessel and looked towards the east for the first blush of morning--for

that first ray of the dawn which was to be her death. She saw her

sisters rising out of the flood. They were as pale as she, but their

beautiful hair no longer waved in the wind; it had been cut off.



"We have given our hair to the witch," said they, "to obtain help for

you, that you may not die to-night. She has given us a knife; see, it is

very sharp. Before the sun rises you must plunge it into the heart of

the prince. When the warm blood falls upon your feet they will grow

together again into a fish's tail, and you will once more be a mermaid

and can return to us to live out your three hundred years before you are

changed into the salt sea foam. Haste, then; either he or you must die

before sunrise. Our old grandmother mourns so for you that her white

hair is falling, as ours fell under the witch's scissors. Kill the

prince, and come back. Hasten! Do you not see the first red streaks in

the sky? In a few minutes the sun will rise, and you must die."



Then they sighed deeply and mournfully, and sank beneath the waves.



The little mermaid drew back the crimson curtain of the tent and beheld

the fair bride, whose head was resting on the prince's breast. She bent

down and kissed his noble brow, then looked at the sky, on which the

rosy dawn grew brighter and brighter. She glanced at the sharp knife and

again fixed her eyes on the prince, who whispered the name of his bride

in his dreams.



She was in his thoughts, and the knife trembled in the hand of the

little mermaid--but she flung it far from her into the waves. The water

turned red where it fell, and the drops that spurted up looked like

blood. She cast one more lingering, half-fainting glance at the prince,

then threw herself from the ship into the sea and felt her body

dissolving into foam.



The sun rose above the waves, and his warm rays fell on the cold foam of

the little mermaid, who did not feel as if she were dying. She saw the

bright sun, and hundreds of transparent, beautiful creatures floating

around her--she could see through them the white sails of the ships and

the red clouds in the sky. Their speech was melodious, but could not be

heard by mortal ears--just as their bodies could not be seen by mortal

eyes. The little mermaid perceived that she had a body like theirs and

that she continued to rise higher and higher out of the foam. "Where am

I?" asked she, and her voice sounded ethereal, like the voices of those

who were with her. No earthly music could imitate it.



"Among the daughters of the air," answered one of them. "A mermaid has

not an immortal soul, nor can she obtain one unless she wins the love of

a human being. On the will of another hangs her eternal destiny. But the

daughters of the air, although they do not possess an immortal soul,

can, by their good deeds, procure one for themselves. We fly to warm

countries and cool the sultry air that destroys mankind with the

pestilence. We carry the perfume of the flowers to spread health and

restoration.



"After we have striven for three hundred years to do all the good in our

power, we receive an immortal soul and take part in the happiness of

mankind. You, poor little mermaid, have tried with your whole heart to

do as we are doing. You have suffered and endured, and raised yourself

to the spirit world by your good deeds, and now, by striving for three

hundred years in the same way, you may obtain an immortal soul."



The little mermaid lifted her glorified eyes toward the sun and, for the

first time, felt them filling with tears.



On the ship in which she had left the prince there were life and noise,

and she saw him and his beautiful bride searching for her. Sorrowfully

they gazed at the pearly foam, as if they knew she had thrown herself

into the waves. Unseen she kissed the forehead of the bride and fanned

the prince, and then mounted with the other children of the air to a

rosy cloud that floated above.



"After three hundred years, thus shall we float into the kingdom of

heaven," said she. "And we may even get there sooner," whispered one of

her companions. "Unseen we can enter the houses of men where there are

children, and for every day on which we find a good child that is the

joy of his parents and deserves their love, our time of probation is

shortened. The child does not know, when we fly through the room, that

we smile with joy at his good conduct--for we can count one year less of

our three hundred years. But when we see a naughty or a wicked child we

shed tears of sorrow, and for every tear a day is added to our time of

trial."