“Oh yes, dear Felix!” she said. “And my pretty doll can run with us, it will be great fun!” So each of the children, Felix on one side and Christlieb on the other, took one of the doll’s arms, and off they ran full tilt downhill through the bushes, and on and on to the pond surrounded by tall reeds which was also part of Sir Thaddeus von Brakel’s land, and where he sometimes went to shoot wild duck. The children stopped by the pond, and Felix said, “Let’s wait here for a little while. After all, I have a shotgun now, and maybe I can shoot a duck in the reeds just like Papa.”
But at that moment Christlieb cried out, “Oh, my doll, what’s become of my lovely doll?” Sure enough, the poor thing was in a bad way. Neither Christlieb nor Felix had taken any notice of the doll as they ran, and so her clothes got badly torn as they raced through the undergrowth, and she had broken both her little legs. And there wasn’t much left of her pretty waxen face, it was so scratched and ugly. “Oh, my doll, my lovely doll!” wailed Christlieb.
“There, now you see what silly things those peculiar children brought us,” said Felix. “Your doll is a silly clumsy goose if she couldn’t even run with us without getting torn and scratched—give her to me.”
Christlieb sadly handed the misshapen doll to her brother, but she couldn’t help screaming, “Oh no!” when he flung her straight into the pond.
“Never mind,” Felix consoled his sister. “Don’t grieve for the silly thing. I’m going to shoot a duck and you can have the best of its brightly coloured wing feathers.”
There was a rustle in the reeds, and Felix immediately raised his wooden shotgun, but at the same moment he lowered it again and looked thoughtfully ahead. “Why, I’m a silly boy myself,” he said quietly. “Don’t you need powder and shot to fire a gun, and do I have those? And could I load powder into a wooden gun anyway? What’s the stupid wooden thing any good for? And the hunting knife—that’s wooden as well, it won’t cut or stab. I’m sure the sword that Cousin Knickerbockers wore was made of wood too, and that’s why he didn’t want to draw it when he was so scared of Sultan. I see now that Cousin Knickerbockers was just fooling me with his toys. They pretend to be so nice, but they’re no good for anything.” And with that Felix threw his gun, his hunting knife and last of all his cartridge pouch into the pond.
Christlieb was sad about losing her doll, and even Felix couldn’t help feeling gloomy. So they both went home, and when their mother asked, “Where are your toys, children?” Felix innocently told her how he had been duped over the harpist, the gun, the knife and the cartridge pouch, and Christlieb too over her doll.
“Oh,” cried Lady von Brakel, rather vexed, “you silly simple-minded children, you just don’t know how to play with such delicate, pretty things.”
But Sir Thaddeus von Brakel, who had enjoyed hearing Felix’s story, said, “Leave the children alone. To be honest, I’m rather glad that they’re rid of such strangely made toys, presents that only confused and scared them.”
However, neither Lady von Brakel nor the children knew what Sir Thaddeus really meant by saying that.
THE STRANGE CHILD
FELIX AND CHRISTLIEB HAD GONE to the wood early in the morning. Their mother had told them to be back soon, because now they would have to sit in the parlour much more, and do far more reading and writing, so as not to let themselves down too badly in front of the tutor who would soon be arriving. So Felix said, “Let’s have fun running and jumping for the little time we are allowed out.”
They immediately began chasing about, following each other like hounds after hares, but this game and all the others they played began to seem tedious and bore them after a few seconds. They themselves didn’t know how it was that today, of all days, a thousand annoying things had to happen to them. First Felix’s cap was blown into the bushes by the wind, then he stumbled and fell on his nose as he was running along; first Christlieb’s clothes were caught in a thorn bush, then she trod on a sharp stone and cried out in pain. Soon they gave up playing and wandered gloomily through the wood.
“We’ll just have to go home to the parlour,” said Felix, but instead of walking on he threw himself down in the shade of a fine tree. Christlieb followed his example. So there sat the children, full of discontent, staring silently down at the ground. “Oh,” sighed Christlieb, “if only we still had our lovely toys!”
“They’d do us no good,” muttered Felix, “they’d do us no good at all, we’d be bound to spoil them and break them again. Listen, Christlieb, our mother is right. The toys were nice toys, but we didn’t know how to treat them, and that comes of not knowing any of those natural sciences.”
“Oh, dear Felix,” said Christlieb, “you’re right. If we knew the natural sciences off by heart as well as our cousins in all their fine clothes, then you’d still have your huntsman and your harpist, and my lovely doll wouldn’t be in the duck pond. Oh, we’re so clumsy, we don’t know any natural sciences!” And Christlieb began sobbing pitifully and shedding tears. Felix joined in, and both children cried and wailed, “Poor children that we are, we don’t know any natural sciences!”
Bu suddenly they stopped, and said to each other in surprise, “Do you see that, Christlieb?” “Do you hear that, Felix?”
A wonderful light was shining out of the deepest shadows of the dark bushes opposite the children. It flickered like soft moonbeams over the leaves, which trembled for joy, and a sweet musical note mingled with the rustling of the wood, like the wind passing over harp strings and waking slumbering chords as it caresses them. The children felt very strange. All their grief had gone away, yet there were tears in their eyes as a sweet pain they had never known before entered their hearts. The light shone more and more brightly through the bushes, the wonderful musical notes grew louder and louder, the children’s hearts beat faster. They stared at the radiance and then, then they saw that it was the beautiful face of a lovely child smiling and waving to them from the bushes.
“Oh, do come here to us—do come to us, lovely child!” called both Christlieb and Felix, jumping up and reaching out their hands to the beautiful figure.
“I’m coming—I’m coming,” cried a sweet voice in the bushes, and the strange child hovered over to Felix and Christlieb as lightly as if carried on the murmuring morning breeze.
HOW THE STRANGE CHILD PLAYED WITH FELIX AND CHRISTLIEB
“I HEARD YOU WEEPING AND WAILING in the distance,” said the strange child, “and I felt so sorry for you. What’s the matter with you, dear children?”
“We didn’t really know ourselves,” said Felix, “but now I feel it was because we missed you.”
“Yes, Felix is right,” agreed Christlieb, “and now that you’re back we’re happy again! But why did you stay away so long?”
Both children really did feel as if they had known the strange child for ever, and they had all played with each other. It seemed as though their sadness had been only because their dear playmate was not there.
“I’m afraid we don’t have any toys with us,” said Felix, “because I was such a silly boy that yesterday I broke and threw away the nicest of the playthings that Cousin Knickerbockers gave me, but we’d still like to play games with you.”
“Oh, Felix,” said the strange child, laughing out loud. “How can you say such a thing? The toys that you threw away yesterday weren’t good for anything much, but you and Christlieb are surrounded by the most wonderful playthings ever seen!”
“Where? Where are they?” cried Christlieb and Felix.
“Look around you,” said the strange child. And Felix and Christlieb saw all kinds of wonderful flowers gazing out of the thick grass and the velvety moss, as if peering at them with shining eyes, and among them sparkled brightly coloured stones and crystal shells, and little golden beetles danced up and down humming quietly.
“Now let’s build a palace! Help me to collect stones!” cried the strange child, bending down to the ground and beginning to pick up small coloured pebbles. Christlieb and Feli
x helped, and the strange child put the stones together so cleverly that soon tall columns were rising, sparkling in the sun like polished metal, and a lofty golden vault arched above them. Now the strange child kissed the flowers looking up from the grass, and whispering sweetly they twined lovingly together and formed fragrant arcades down which the children danced, leaping with delight. Then, at the sound of a clap from the strange child’s hands, the golden palace roof flew apart, humming (for the little golden beetles had formed it with their wing cases), the columns flowed away like a murmuring silver stream of water, and the bright flowers moved to its banks, sometimes peering curiously down into the water, sometimes nodding their heads in time to the childish babble of the brook. Now the strange child picked blades of grass and broke little twigs off the trees, scattering them on the ground in front of Felix and Christlieb. Next moment the blades of grass turned into the most beautiful dolls ever seen, and the twigs became dear little huntsmen. The dolls danced round Christlieb and let her hold them on her lap, whispering in soft little voices, “Be kind to us, dear Christlieb, be kind to us!” The huntsmen hurried hither and thither, rattling their guns and blowing their horns and shouting, “View halloo! Tally ho!” Now some little hares came out of the bushes, with hounds after them, and the huntsmen gave chase, firing their guns. It was wonderful fun.
Then everything disappeared again, and Christlieb and Felix cried, “Where are the dolls? Where are the huntsmen?”
“Oh, they’re all at your command,” said the strange child. “They’ll be back whenever you want them. But don’t you think it would be fun to walk around the wood for a little while now?”
“Oh yes, oh yes!” cried Felix and Christlieb.
Then the strange child took them both by the hand, crying, “Come on, come on!” And off they went. But you couldn’t really call it running, no, indeed! The children were hovering through the woods and meadows in airy flight, and brightly coloured birds flew around them singing loud and joyful songs. All of a sudden they flew high, high up in the air. “Good morning, children! Good morning, friend Felix!” cried the stork, flying past. “Don’t hurt me! Don’t hurt me—I won’t eat your little pigeon!” croaked the vulture, soaring through the air in terror of the children.
Felix shouted with delight, but Christlieb was beginning to feel scared. “I’m out of breath—I think I’m going to fall!” she cried, and at that very moment the strange child came down to the ground with Christlieb and Felix, saying, “And now I’ll play you a woodland song saying goodbye for today, but I’ll be back tomorrow.”
With those words the child took out a small hunting horn, with winding golden coils like shining wreaths of flowers, and began playing such a wonderful tune on it that the whole wood echoed to the delightful sound of its notes, and the nightingale, who had flown up as if in answer to the horn call, sat in the branches right beside the children and sang her loveliest song. But suddenly the music died away in the distance, and only a faint whisper still sounded from the bushes into which the strange child had disappeared. “Tomorrow—tomorrow I’ll be back!” the child’s voice in the distance called to the children, who hardly knew whether they were on their heads or their heels, for they had never felt such pleasure before.
“Oh, if only it were tomorrow now!” said Felix and Christlieb as they hurried home to tell their parents what had happened to them in the wood.
WHAT SIR THADDEUS VON BRAKEL AND HIS WIFE SAID ABOUT THE STRANGE CHILD, AND WHAT HAPPENED NEXT
“I’m inclined to think the children were just dreaming all this!” said Sir Thaddeus von Brakel to his wife when Felix and Christlieb, full of their meeting with the strange child, couldn’t stop praising their new friend’s lovely nature, charming songs, and the wonderful games they had played together. “But now that I come to think of it again,” Sir Thaddeus went on, “it strikes me that they can’t both have dreamt the same dream at once in exactly the same way, and I really don’t know what to make of it all.”
“Don’t let it trouble you, dear husband,” replied Lady von Brakel. “I’ll be bound the strange child is only Gottlieb the schoolmaster’s son from the next village. He must have come over here and filled the children’s heads with this nonsense, and I hope he won’t do it again.”
However, Sir Thaddeus didn’t share his wife’s opinion, and he wanted to know more about what was really behind the children’s story, so he called Felix and Christlieb back and asked them to describe the child’s appearance and clothing in detail. As far as appearance was concerned, both children agreed that the child had a face as white as a lily, rosy cheeks, lips as red as cherries and curly golden hair, all so beautiful that they could hardly express their admiration. But as for their new friend’s clothing, they agreed only in saying that no, the child definitely did not wear a striped blue jacket with trousers to match and a black leather cap, like Gottlieb the schoolmaster’s son. All that they could say, however vaguely, about what their friend wore sounded fantastic and nonsensical. For Christlieb said the child had on a beautiful, gauzy, shining dress made of rose petals, while Felix was sure that the child was dressed in a light-green suit sparkling like springtime leaves in the sunshine. And the child, Felix went on, knew far too much about hunting to be part of any schoolmaster’s family, but must come from some place where they knew all about forestry and hunting, and he would certainly be the best huntsman in the world.
“Oh, Felix,” Christlieb interrupted him. “How can you say that dear little girl is going to be a huntsman? Yes, she may know a lot about hunting, but she knows even more about keeping house, or she wouldn’t have dressed those dolls so prettily for me and given them such lovely little dishes to eat from!”
So Felix thought the strange child was a boy, and Christlieb insisted that their new friend was a girl, and they could not agree.
Lady von Brakel said, “There’s no point in talking to the children about such nonsense any more.” But Sir Thaddeus said, “Of course I need only follow them into the wood to find out more about this wonderful strange child who plays with them. And yet somehow I feel that if I did I would be spoiling some great pleasure of theirs, so I won’t do it.”
Next day, when Felix and Christlieb went into the wood at the usual time of day, the strange child was already waiting for them, and while yesterday they had played wonderful games, today their friend conjured up the most amazing sights, so that Felix and Christlieb kept shouting for joy. It was both amusing and very pretty to hear the strange child talking so softly and gently to the flowers, the bushes, the trees and the brook as they played. And they all answered back in language that the children could understand. The strange child called to the alder bushes, “Hello, you talkative folk, what are you whispering to each other about, what are you murmuring?” Then the alder branches shook more vigorously, laughing and whispering, “Aha—ho ho—we’re pleased to hear the message our friend the morning wind gave us as he blew this way from the blue mountains, arriving ahead of the sun. He brought us love and kisses from the golden ruler of the sky, and several wing beats full of the sweetest fragrance.”
“Oh, hush!” said the flowers, interrupting the chatter of the bushes, “do be quiet about that fickle wind who boasts of the sweet scents he entices from us with his false caresses. Let the bushes whisper and murmur, children, but look at us, listen to us, we love you so much, we’ll be sure to look our best day after day to please you, we’ll be wearing the most beautiful bright colours.”
“And do you think we don’t love you too, you lovely flowers?” said the strange child, but Christlieb knelt down on the ground and spread out her arms as if she wanted to embrace all the beautiful flowers growing around her, crying out, “Oh, I really, really love you so much!”
“I like you flowers in your wonderful clothes too,” said Felix, “but I like green best, the green of the bushes and the trees and the wood. It’s the wood that gives you pretty little children protection and shelter!”
Then a rustling
voice spoke from the tall dark pine trees. “That’s a true word you spoke, boy, and you needn’t fear us when friend Stormwind comes blowing along—he’s a rough fellow, and we have to tussle with him rather violently.”
“Oh,” cried Felix, “creak and groan and roar as much as you like, you great woodland giants, that’s what really pleases a huntsman’s heart.”
“You are quite right,” said the brook, splashing and murmuring as it flowed through the wood, “you are perfectly right, but why hunt all the time, why follow the hunt in storms and roaring winds? Come, sit down on the moss and listen to me. I have travelled from distant, faraway lands, out of a deep ravine—I will tell you wonderful fairy tales, I always have something new to say, ripple after ripple, on and on and on. And I will show you the loveliest pictures, just look into the shining mirror of my surface—see the hazy blue sky, the golden clouds, the bushes and flowers and the wood—see yourselves, I will take you fair children lovingly to my breast!”
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