In the
neighbourhood was an inn where a wedding was being kept; when he heard
the music, he fancied he was already in Paradise, until at length he
lost all consciousness. The poor boy never awoke again; the heat of the
strong wine and the cold night-dew deprived him of life, and he
remained in the grave in which he had laid himself. When the farmer heard the news of the boy’s death he was terrified, and
afraid of being brought to justice indeed, his distress took such a
powerful hold of him that he fell fainting to the ground. His wife, who
was standing on the hearth with a pan of hot fat, ran to him to help
him. But the flames darted against the pan, the whole house caught
fire, in a few hours it lay in ashes, and the rest of the years they
had to live they passed in poverty and misery, tormented by the pangs
of conscience. 186 The True Sweethearts

There was once on a time a girl who was young and beautiful, but she
had lost her mother when she was quite a child, and her step-mother did
all she could to make the girl’s life wretched. Whenever this woman
gave her anything to do, she worked at it indefatigably, and did
everything that lay in her power. Still she could not touch the heart
of the wicked woman by that; she was never satisfied; it was never
enough. The harder the girl worked, the more work was put upon her, and
all that the woman thought of was how to weigh her down with still
heavier burdens, and make her life still more miserable. One day she said to her, “Here are twelve pounds of feathers which thou
must pick, and if they are not done this evening, thou mayst expect a
good beating. Dost thou imagine thou art to idle away the whole day?”
The poor girl sat down to the work, but tears ran down her cheeks as
she did so, for she saw plainly enough that it was quite impossible to
finish the work in one day. Whenever she had a little heap of feathers
lying before her, and she sighed or smote her hands together in her
anguish, they flew away, and she had to pick them out again, and begin
her work anew. Then she put her elbows on the table, laid her face in
her two hands, and cried, “Is there no one, then, on God’s earth to
have pity on me?” Then she heard a low voice which said, “Be comforted,
my child, I have come to help thee.” The maiden looked up, and an old
woman was by her side. She took the girl kindly by the hand, and said,
“Only tell me what is troubling thee.” As she spoke so kindly, the girl
told her of her miserable life, and how one burden after another was
laid upon her, and she never could get to the end of the work which was
given to her. “If I have not done these feathers by this evening, my
step-mother will beat me; she has threatened she will, and I know she
keeps her word.” Her tears began to flow again, but the good old woman
said, “Do not be afraid, my child; rest a while, and in the meantime I
will look to thy work.” The girl lay down on her bed, and soon fell
asleep. The old woman seated herself at the table with the feathers,
and how they did fly off the quills, which she scarcely touched with
her withered hands! The twelve pounds were soon finished, and when the
girl awoke, great snow-white heaps were lying, piled up, and everything
in the room was neatly cleared away, but the old woman had vanished. The maiden thanked God, and sat still till evening came, when the
step-mother came in and marvelled to see the work completed. “Just
look, you awkward creature,” said she, “what can be done when people
are industrious; and why couldst thou not set about something else? There thou sittest with thy hands crossed.” When she went out she said,
“The creature is worth more than her salt. I must give her some work
that is still harder.”

Next morning she called the girl, and said, “There is a spoon for thee;
with that thou must empty out for me the great pond which is beside the
garden, and if it is not done by night, thou knowest what will happen.”
The girl took the spoon, and saw that it was full of holes; but even if
it had not been, she never could have emptied the pond with it. She set
to work at once, knelt down by the water, into which her tears were
falling, and began to empty it. But the good old woman appeared again,
and when she learnt the cause of her grief, she said, “Be of good
cheer, my child. Go into the thicket and lie down and sleep; I will
soon do thy work.” As soon as the old woman was alone, she barely
touched the pond, and a vapour rose up on high from the water, and
mingled itself with the clouds. Gradually the pond was emptied, and
when the maiden awoke before sunset and came thither, she saw nothing
but the fishes which were struggling in the mud. She went to her
step-mother, and showed her that the work was done. “It ought to have
been done long before this,” said she, and grew white with anger, but
she meditated something new. On the third morning she said to the girl, “Thou must build me a castle
on the plain there, and it must be ready by the evening.” The maiden
was dismayed, and said, “How can I complete such a great work?” “I will
endure no opposition,” screamed the step-mother. “If thou canst empty a
pond with a spoon that is full of holes, thou canst build a castle too. I will take possession of it this very day, and if anything is wanting,
even if it be the most trifling thing in the kitchen or cellar, thou
knowest what lies before thee!” She drove the girl out, and when she
entered the valley, the rocks were there, piled up one above the other,
and all her strength would not have enabled her even to move the very
smallest of them. She sat down and wept, and still she hoped the old
woman would help her. The old woman was not long in coming; she
comforted her and said, “Lie down there in the shade and sleep, and I
will soon build the castle for thee. If it would be a pleasure to thee,
thou canst live in it thyself.” When the maiden had gone away, the old
woman touched the gray rocks. They began to rise, and immediately moved
together as if giants had built the walls; and on these the building
arose, and it seemed as if countless hands were working invisibly, and
placing one stone upon another. There was a dull heavy noise from the
ground; pillars arose of their own accord on high, and placed
themselves in order near each other. The tiles laid themselves in order
on the roof, and when noon-day came, the great weather-cock was already
turning itself on the summit of the tower, like a golden figure of the
Virgin with fluttering garments. The inside of the castle was being
finished while evening was drawing near.