The Strawberry Thief

: The Diamond Fairy Book

FROM THE GERMAN BY PAULINE SCHANZ.





THE mid-day sun was shining brightly as two children ran merrily down

the steep grassy slope leading from the little village to the

neighbouring forest. Their loose, scanty clothing left head, neck, and

feet bare. But this did not trouble them, for the sun's rays kissed

their little round limbs, and the children liked to feel their warm

kisses.



They were brother and sister; each carried a small jar to fill with

strawberries, which their mother would sell in the town on the morrow.

They were very poor, almost the poorest people in the village. Their

mother, a widow, had to work hard to procure bread for herself and

children.



When strawberries or nuts were in season, or even the early violets, the

children went into the forest to seek them, and by the fruit or flowers

they gathered helped to earn many a groschen. The happy children ran

joyously along as though they were the rulers of the beautiful world

that stretched so seductively before them. The forest berries were

still scarce, and would fetch a high price in the town; this is why they

started so early in the afternoon, whilst other people still rested in

their cool rooms.



Deep in the forest was many a spot, well known to the children, where

large masses of strawberry plants flourished and bloomed, covering the

ground with a luxurious carpet. White star-like blossoms in profusion

looked roguishly out from the ample foliage; the little green and

bright-red berries were there in crowds, but the ripe, dark-red fruit

was difficult to find.



Very slowly the work proceeded, and as the gathered treasures in their

small jars grew higher and higher the sun sank lower and lower. Busy

with their task, the children forgot laughter and chattering; they

tasted none of the lovely berries, scarcely looked at the violets and

anemones; the sun's rays peeping through the branches the cock-chafers

and butterflies were alike unheeded.



"Lorchen," cried Fried, at length, throwing back his sunburnt, heated

face; "look, Lorchen, my jar is full!"



Lorchen looked up, her face flushed with toil; her poor little jar was

scarcely half-full. Oh, how she envied her brother his full jar! Fried

was a good boy--he loved his little sister dearly. He made her sit down

on the soft grass, placed his jar beside her, and did not cease his work

until Lorchen's jar was likewise filled. Their day's work was now ended.

But it was so beautiful in the forest. The birds sang so joyfully among

the leaves, everything exhaled the fragrance of the dewy evening that

crept slowly between the trembling branches.



At a little distance a small stretch of meadow shimmered through the

trees. The bright sunshine still rested on the fresh, green grass, and

thousands of daffodils, bluebells, pinks, and forget-me-nots unfolded

there their varied beauties. It was a delightful play-place for the

children. They hastened thither, placed their jars carefully behind a

large tree-trunk, and soon forgot their hard afternoon's work in a merry

game. Greyer grew the shadows, closer the dusk of evening veiled the

lonely forest. Then the brother and sister thought of returning--the

rest had strengthened their weary limbs, and their game in the flowery

meadow had made them cheerful and merry.



Now the dew that wetted their bare feet, and hunger that began to make

itself felt, urged them to return home. They ran to the tree behind

which they had placed their jars, but oh, horror! the jars had vanished.

At first the children thought they had mistaken the place; they searched

farther, behind every trunk, behind every bush, but no trace of the jars

could they find.



They had vanished, together with the precious fruit. What would their

mother say when they returned home, their task unfulfilled? With the

price of the berries she intended to buy meal to make bread. They had

been almost without bread for several days, and now they had not even

the jars in which to gather other berries.



Lorchen began to sob loudly; Fried's face grew crimson with rage, and

his eyes sparkled, he did not weep. The darkness increased, the

tree-trunks looked black and spectral, the wind rustled in the branches.

Who could have stolen their berries? No one had come near the meadow.

Squirrels and lizards could not carry away jars. The poor children stood

helpless beside the old tree-trunk. They could not return to their

mother empty-handed; they feared she would reproach them for losing

sight of their jars.



The little maiden shivered in her thin frock, and wept with fear,

hunger, and fatigue. Fried took his little sister's hand, and said:

"Listen, Lorchen: you must run home, it is night now in the forest. Tell

mother our jars have disappeared, eat your supper, and go to bed and to

sleep. I will remain here and search behind every tree and everywhere,

until I find the jars. I am neither hungry nor tired, and am not afraid

to pass the night alone in the forest, in spite of all the stories our

grand-mother used to tell of wicked spirits in the forest, hobgoblins

who tease children, will-o'-the-wisps, and mountain-demons who store

their treasures beneath the earth."



Lorchen shuddered and looked fearfully around--she was a timid, weakly

child. Wrapping her little arms in her apron, she wept bitterly.



"Come home with me, Fried," she pleaded. "I am afraid to go through the

gloomy forest alone!"



Fried took her hand and went with her until they saw the lights of the

village. Then he stopped and said: "Now run along alone; see, there is

the light burning in our mother's window. I shall turn back, I cannot go

home empty-handed."



He turned quickly into the forest. Lorchen waited a moment, and cried,

"Fried, Fried!" Then, receiving no answer, she fled swiftly up the

grassy slope she had descended so merrily a few hours previously.



Their mother, who had grown uneasy at their prolonged absence, was

standing at the door when Lorchen returned, weeping and breathless. Poor

child, she had scarcely strength enough left to tell that they had lost

strawberries and jars, and that Fried had remained behind.






The mother grew sad as she listened--she had scarcely any bread left,

and knew not whence to procure more; but Fried remaining in the forest

was worse than all, for she, like all the villagers, firmly believed in

hobgoblins. Sadly she lay down to rest beside her little daughter.



Fried ran ever farther and farther into the forest, through whose thick

foliage the stars looked down timidly. He said his evening prayer, and

no longer feared the rustling of the leaves, the cracking of the

branches, or the whisper of the night wind in the trees.



Soon the moon arose, and it was light enough for Fried to seek his jars.

In vain his search--the hours passed and he found nothing. At length he

saw a small mountain overgrown with shrubs. Then the moon crept behind a

thick cloud, and all was dark. Tired out, Fried sank down behind a tree

and almost fell asleep. Suddenly he saw a bright light moving about

close to the mountain, He sprang up and hastened towards it.



Coming closer, he heard a peculiar noise, as of groans uttered by a man

engaged in heavy toil. He crept softly forward, and beheld, to his

astonishment, a little dwarf, who was trying to push some heavy object

into a hole, that apparently led into the mountain. The little man wore

a silver coat and a red cap with points, to which the wonderful light, a

large, sparkling precious stone, was fastened.



Fried soon stood close behind the dwarf, who in his eagerness had not

observed the boy's approach, and saw with indignation that the object

the little man was striving so hard to push into the hole was his jar of

strawberries. In great wrath Fried seized a branch that lay near, and

gave the little man a mighty blow. Thereupon the dwarf uttered a cry

very like the squeak of a small mouse, and tried to creep into the hole.






But Fried held him fast by his silver coat, and angrily demanded where

he had put his other jar of strawberries. The dwarf replied he had no

other jar, and strove to free himself from the grasp of the little

giant.



Fried again seized his branch, which so terrified the dwarf that he

cried: "The other jar is inside; I will fetch it for you."



"I should wait a long time," said Fried, "if I once let you escape; no,

I will go with you and fetch my own jar."



The dwarf stepped forward, the light in his cap shining brighter than

the brightest candle. Fried followed, his jar in one hand, and the

branch in the other. Thus they journeyed far into the mountain. The

dwarf crept along like a lizard, but Fried, whose head almost touched

the roof, could scarcely get along.



At length strains of lovely music resounded through the vaulted

passages: a little farther on their journey was stopped by a grey stone

wall. Taking a silver hammer from his doublet, the little dwarf gave

three sounding knocks on the wall; it sprang asunder, and as it opened

such a flood of light streamed forth that Fried was obliged to close his

eyes. Half-blinded, with hand shading his face, he followed the dwarf,

the stone door closed behind them, and Fried was in the secret dwellings

of the gnomes.



A murmur of soft voices, mingled with the sweet strains of the music,

sounded in his ears. When at length he was able to remove his hand from

his eyes, he saw a wondrous sight. A beauteous, lofty hall, hewn out of

the rock, lay before him; on the walls sparkled thousands of precious

stones such as his guide had worn in his cap. They served instead of

candles, and shed forth a radiance that almost blinded human eyes.



Between them hung wreaths and sprays of flowers such as Fried had never

before seen. All around crowds of wonderful little dwarfs stood gazing

at him full of curiosity.



In the centre of the hall stood a throne of green transparent stone,

with cushions of soft mushrooms. On this sat the gnome-King; around him

was thrown a golden mantle, and on his head was a crown cut from a

flaming carbuncle. Before the throne the dwarf, Fried's guide, stood

relating his adventure.



When the dwarf ceased speaking, the King rose, approached the boy, who

still stood by the door, surrounded by the gnomes, and said: "You human

child, what has brought you to my secret dwelling?"



"My Lord Dwarf," replied Fried politely, "I desire my strawberries which

yonder dwarf has stolen. I pray you order them to be restored to me, and

then suffer me to return to my mother."



The King thought for a few moments, then he said: "Listen, to-day we

hold a great feast, for which your strawberries are necessary. I will,

therefore, buy them. I will also allow you to remain with us a short

time, then my servants shall lead you back to the entrance of the

mountain."



"Have you money to buy my strawberries?" asked the boy.



"Foolish child, know you not that the gold, silver, and copper come out

of the earth? Come with me and see my treasure-chambers."






So saying, the King led him from the hall through long rooms, in which

mountains of gold, silver, and copper were piled; in other rooms lay

like masses of precious stones. Presently they came to a grotto, in the

centre of which stood a large vase. From out this vase poured three

sparkling streams, each of a different colour: they flowed out of the

grotto and discharged themselves into the veins of the rocks.



Beside these streams knelt dwarfs, filling buckets with the flowing

gold, silver, and copper, which other dwarfs carried away and stored in

the King's treasure-chambers. But the greatest quantity flowed into the

crevices of the mountain, from whence men dig it out with much toil.



Fried would have liked to fill his pockets with the precious metals, but

did not dare ask the gnome-King's permission. They soon returned to the

hall where the feast was prepared. On a long white marble table stood

rows of golden dishes filled with various dainties, prepared from

Fried's strawberries. In the background sat the musicians, bees and

grasshoppers, that the dwarfs had caught in the forest. The dwarfs ate

off little gold plates, and Fried ate with them. But the pieces were so

tiny, they melted on his tongue before he could taste them.



After the feast came dancing. The gnome-men were old and shrivelled,

with faces like roots of trees; all wore silver coats and red caps. The

gnome-maidens were tall and stately, and wore on their heads wreaths of

flowers that sparkled as though wet with dew. Fried danced with them,

but because his clothes were so poor, his partner took a wreath of

flowers from the wall and placed it on his head. Very pretty it looked

on his bright, brown hair--but he could not see this, for the dwarfs

have no looking-glasses. The bees buzzed and hummed like flutes and

trombones, the grasshoppers chirped like fiddles.



The dancing ended, Fried approached the King, who was resting on his

green throne, and said: "My Lord King, be so good as to pay for my

berries, and have me guided out of the mountain, for it is time I

returned to my mother."






The King nodded his carbuncle crown, and wrapping his golden mantle

around him, departed to fetch the money. How Fried rejoiced at the

thought of taking that money home! Being very tired, he mounted the

throne, seated himself on the soft mushroom cushion from which the

gnome-King had just risen, and, ere that monarch returned, Fried was

sleeping sound as a dormouse.



Day was dawning in the forest when he awoke. His limbs were stiff, and

his bare feet icy cold. He rubbed his eyes and stretched himself. He

still sat beneath the tree from whence, on the previous evening, he had

seen the light moving. "Where am I?" he muttered; then he remembered

falling asleep on the gnome-King's mushroom cushion. He also remembered

the money he had been promised, and felt in his pockets--they were

empty. Yes, he remembered it all. This was the morning his mother should

have gone to town, and he had neither berries nor money. Tears flowed

from his eyes, and he reviled the dwarfs who had carried him sleeping

from the mountain, and cheated him out of his money. Rising sorrowfully,

he went to the mountain, but though he searched long and carefully, no

opening could he find.



There was nothing for it but to return home, and this he did with a

heavy heart. No one was stirring when he reached the village. Gently he

knocked on the shutter of the room where his mother slept. "Wake up,

mother," he cried. "It is I, your Fried."



Quickly the door of the little house opened.



"Thank Heaven you have returned," said his mother, embracing him. "But

has nothing happened to you all night alone in the forest?"



"Nothing, mother," he replied; "I only had a foolish dream about the

gnomes who dwell in the mountain."



And whilst his mother lit the stove, Fried related his dream. She shook

her head on hearing it, for she believed her boy had really seen and

heard these wonderful things.



Then Lorchen came in, and her mother told her to unfasten the shutters.

The child obeyed, but on re-entering the room, she cried aloud, and

placed her hands on her brother's head.



Something heavy and sparkling fell to the ground. They picked it up. It

was the wreath of many-coloured flowers Fried's partner had given him at

the dance. But the flowers were not like those that grow in the fields

and meadows: they were cold, and sparkling, like those that adorned the

walls of the mountain hall, and which the gnome-maidens wore in their

hair.



It was now clear that Fried had really spent the night with the dwarfs.

They all thought the flowers were only coloured glass; but as they

sparkled so brilliantly, and filled the cottage with indescribable

splendour, the mother determined to ask advice about them. She therefore

broke a tiny branch from the wreath and took it to the town to a

goldsmith, who told her, to her great astonishment, that the branch was

composed of the most costly gems, rubies, diamonds, and sapphires. In

exchange for it, he gave her a sack of gold so heavy she could scarcely

carry it home.



Want was now at an end for ever, for the wreath was a hundred times

more valuable than the tiny branch. Great excitement prevailed in the

village when the widow's good fortune was made known, and all the

villagers ran into the forest to search for the wonderful hole. But

their searching was vain--none ever found the entrance to the mountain.

From henceforth the widow and her children lived very happily; they

remained pious and industrious in spite of their wealth, did good to the

poor, and were contented to the end of their lives.