“Verily, the bundle weighs as heavily as if it were full
of cobble stones, and the apples and pears are as heavy as lead! I can
scarcely breathe.” He had a mind to put everything down again, but the
old woman would not allow it. “Just look,” said she mockingly, “the
young gentleman will not carry what I, an old woman, have so often
dragged along. You are ready with fine words, but when it comes to be
earnest, you want to take to your heels. Why are you standing loitering
there?” she continued. “Step out. No one will take the bundle off
again.” As long as he walked on level ground, it was still bearable,
but when they came to the hill and had to climb, and the stones rolled
down under his feet as if they were alive, it was beyond his strength. The drops of perspiration stood on his forehead, and ran, hot and cold,
down his back. “Dame,” said he, “I can go no farther. I want to rest a
little.” “Not here,” answered the old woman, “when we have arrived at
our journey’s end, you can rest; but now you must go forward. Who knows
what good it may do you?” “Old woman, thou art becoming shameless!”
said the count, and tried to throw off the bundle, but he laboured in
vain; it stuck as fast to his back as if it grew there. He turned and
twisted, but he could not get rid of it. The old woman laughed at this,
and sprang about quite delighted on her crutch. “Don’t get angry, dear
sir,” said she, “you are growing as red in the face as a turkey-cock! Carry your bundle patiently. I will give you a good present when we get
home.”

What could he do? He was obliged to submit to his fate, and crawl along
patiently behind the old woman. She seemed to grow more and more
nimble, and his burden still heavier. All at once she made a spring,
jumped on to the bundle and seated herself on the top of it; and
however withered she might be, she was yet heavier than the stoutest
country lass. The youth’s knees trembled, but when he did not go on,
the old woman hit him about the legs with a switch and with
stinging-nettles. Groaning continually, he climbed the mountain, and at
length reached the old woman’s house, when he was just about to drop. When the geese perceived the old woman, they flapped their wings,
stretched out their necks, ran to meet her, cackling all the while. Behind the flock walked, stick in hand, an old wench, strong and big,
but ugly as night. “Good mother,” said she to the old woman, “has
anything happened to you, you have stayed away so long?” “By no means,
my dear daughter,” answered she, “I have met with nothing bad, but, on
the contrary, with this kind gentleman, who has carried my burthen for
me; only think, he even took me on his back when I was tired. The way,
too, has not seemed long to us; we have been merry, and have been
cracking jokes with each other all the time.” At last the old woman
slid down, took the bundle off the young man’s back, and the baskets
from his arm, looked at him quite kindly, and said, “Now seat yourself
on the bench before the door, and rest. You have fairly earned your
wages, and they shall not be wanting.” Then she said to the goose-girl,
“Go into the house, my dear daughter, it is not becoming for thee to be
alone with a young gentleman; one must not pour oil on to the fire, he
might fall in love with thee.” The count knew not whether to laugh or
to cry. “Such a sweetheart as that,” thought he, “could not touch my
heart, even if she were thirty years younger.” In the meantime the old
woman stroked and fondled her geese as if they were children, and then
went into the house with her daughter. The youth lay down on the bench,
under a wild apple-tree. The air was warm and mild; on all sides
stretched a green meadow, which was set with cowslips, wild thyme, and
a thousand other flowers; through the midst of it rippled a clear brook
on which the sun sparkled, and the white geese went walking backwards
and forwards, or paddled in the water. “It is quite delightful here,”
said he, “but I am so tired that I cannot keep my eyes open; I will
sleep a little. If only a gust of wind does not come and blow my legs
off my body, for they are as rotten as tinder.”

When he had slept a little while, the old woman came and shook him till
he awoke. “Sit up,” said she, “thou canst not stay here; I have
certainly treated thee hardly, still it has not cost thee thy life. Of
money and land thou hast no need, here is something else for thee.”
Thereupon she thrust a little book into his hand, which was cut out of
a single emerald. “Take great care of it,” said she, “it will bring
thee good fortune.” The count sprang up, and as he felt that he was
quite fresh, and had recovered his vigor, he thanked the old woman for
her present, and set off without even once looking back at the
beautiful daughter. When he was already some way off, he still heard in
the distance the noisy cry of the geese. For three days the count had to wander in the wilderness before he
could find his way out. He then reached a large town, and as no one
knew him, he was led into the royal palace, where the King and Queen
were sitting on their throne. The count fell on one knee, drew the
emerald book out of his pocket, and laid it at the Queen’s feet. She
bade him rise and hand her the little book. Hardly, however, had she
opened it, and looked therein, than she fell as if dead to the ground. The count was seized by the King’s servants, and was being led to
prison, when the Queen opened her eyes, and ordered them to release
him, and every one was to go out, as she wished to speak with him in
private. When the Queen was alone, she began to weep bitterly, and said, “Of
what use to me are the splendours and honours with which I am
surrounded; every morning I awake in pain and sorrow. I had three
daughters, the youngest of whom was so beautiful that the whole world
looked on her as a wonder. She was as white as snow, as rosy as
apple-blossom, and her hair as radiant as sun-beams. When she cried,
not tears fell from her eyes, but pearls and jewels only. When she was
fifteen years old, the King summoned all three sisters to come before
his throne. You should have seen how all the people gazed when the
youngest entered, it was just as if the sun were rising! Then the King
spoke, “My daughters, I know not when my last day may arrive; I will
to-day decide what each shall receive at my death. You all love me, but
the one of you who loves me best, shall fare the best.” Each of them
said she loved him best. “Can you not express to me,” said the King,
“how much you do love me, and thus I shall see what you mean?” The
eldest spoke. “I love my father as dearly as the sweetest sugar.” The
second, “I love my father as dearly as my prettiest dress.” But the
youngest was silent. Then the father said, “And thou, my dearest child,
how much dost thou love me?” “I do not know, and can compare my love
with nothing.” But her father insisted that she should name something.