So
she stayed, and passed the time in pleasure and gaiety, and the little
folks did all they could to make her happy. At last she set out on her
way home. Then first they filled her pockets quite full of money, and
after that they led her out of the mountain again. When she got home,
she wanted to begin her work, and took the broom, which was still
standing in the corner, in her hand and began to sweep. Then some
strangers came out of the house, who asked her who she was, and what
business she had there? And she had not, as she thought, been three
days with the little men in the mountains, but seven years, and in the
meantime her former masters had died. THIRD STORY


A certain mother’s child had been taken away out of its cradle by the
elves, and a changeling with a large head and staring eyes, which would
do nothing but eat and drink, laid in its place. In her trouble she
went to her neighbour, and asked her advice. The neighbour said that
she was to carry the changeling into the kitchen, set it down on the
hearth, light a fire, and boil some water in two egg-shells, which
would make the changeling laugh, and if he laughed, all would be over
with him. The woman did everything that her neighbour bade her. When
she put the egg-shells with water on the fire, the imp said, “I am as
old now as the Wester forest, but never yet have I seen any one boil
anything in an egg-shell!” And he began to laugh at it. Whilst he was
laughing, suddenly came a host of little elves, who brought the right
child, set it down on the hearth, and took the changeling away with
them. 40 The Robber Bridegroom

There was once on a time a miller, who had a beautiful daughter, and as
she was grown up, he wished that she was provided for, and well
married. He thought, “If any good suitor comes and asks for her, I will
give her to him.” Not long afterwards, a suitor came, who appeared to
be very rich, and as the miller had no fault to find with him, he
promised his daughter to him. The maiden, however, did not like him
quite so much as a girl should like the man to whom she is engaged, and
had no confidence in him. Whenever she saw, or thought of him, she felt
a secret horror. Once he said to her, “Thou art my betrothed, and yet
thou hast never once paid me a visit.” The maiden replied, “I know not
where thy house is.” Then said the bridegroom, “My house is out there
in the dark forest.” She tried to excuse herself and said she could not
find the way there. The bridegroom said, “Next Sunday thou must come
out there to me; I have already invited the guests, and I will strew
ashes in order that thou mayst find thy way through the forest.” When
Sunday came, and the maiden had to set out on her way, she became very
uneasy, she herself knew not exactly why, and to mark her way she
filled both her pockets full of peas and lentils. Ashes were strewn at
the entrance of the forest, and these she followed, but at every step
she threw a couple of peas on the ground. She walked almost the whole
day until she reached the middle of the forest, where it was the
darkest, and there stood a solitary house, which she did not like, for
it looked so dark and dismal. She went inside it, but no one was
within, and the most absolute stillness reigned. Suddenly a voice
cried,

“Turn back, turn back, young maiden dear,
’Tis a murderer’s house you enter here.”


The maiden looked up, and saw that the voice came from a bird, which
was hanging in a cage on the wall. Again it cried,

“Turn back, turn back, young maiden dear,
’Tis a murderer’s house you enter here.”


Then the young maiden went on farther from one room to another, and
walked through the whole house, but it was entirely empty and not one
human being was to be found. At last she came to the the cellar, and
there sat an extremely aged woman, whose head shook constantly. “Can
you not tell me,” said the maiden, “if my betrothed lives here?”

“Alas, poor child,” replied the old woman, “whither hast thou come? Thou art in a murderer’s den. Thou thinkest thou art a bride soon to be
married, but thou wilt keep thy wedding with death. Look, I have been
forced to put a great kettle on there, with water in it, and when they
have thee in their power, they will cut thee to pieces without mercy,
will cook thee, and eat thee, for they are eaters of human flesh. If I
do not have compassion on thee, and save thee, thou art lost.”

Thereupon the old woman led her behind a great hogshead where she could
not be seen. “Be as still as a mouse,” said she, “do not make a sound,
or move, or all will be over with thee. At night, when the robbers are
asleep, we will escape; I have long waited for an opportunity.” Hardly
was this done, than the godless crew came home. They dragged with them
another young girl. They were drunk, and paid no heed to her screams
and lamentations. They gave her wine to drink, three glasses full, one
glass of white wine, one glass of red, and a glass of yellow, and with
this her heart burst in twain. Thereupon they tore off her delicate
raiment, laid her on a table, cut her beautiful body in pieces and
strewed salt thereon. The poor bride behind the cask trembled and
shook, for she saw right well what fate the robbers had destined for
her. One of them noticed a gold ring on the little finger of the
murdered girl, and as it would not come off at once, he took an axe and
cut the finger off, but it sprang up in the air, away over the cask and
fell straight into the bride’s bosom. The robber took a candle and
wanted to look for it, but could not find it. Then another of them
said, “Hast thou looked behind the great hogshead?” But the old woman
cried, “Come and get something to eat, and leave off looking till the
morning, the finger won’t run away from you.”

Then the robbers said, “The old woman is right,” and gave up their
search, and sat down to eat, and the old woman poured a
sleeping-draught in their wine, so that they soon lay down in the
cellar, and slept and snored. When the bride heard that, she came out
from behind the hogshead, and had to step over the sleepers, for they
lay in rows on the ground, and great was her terror lest she should
waken one of them. But God helped her, and she got safely over. The old
woman went up with her, opened the doors, and they hurried out of the
murderers’ den with all the speed in their power. The wind had blown
away the strewn ashes, but the peas and lentils had sprouted and grown
up, and showed them the way in the moonlight. They walked the whole
night, until in the morning they arrived at the mill, and then the
maiden told her father everything exactly as it had happened. When the day came when the wedding was to be celebrated, the bridegroom
appeared, and the Miller had invited all his relations and friends. As
they sat at table, each was bidden to relate something. The bride sat
still, and said nothing. Then said the bridegroom to the bride, “Come,
my darling, dost thou know nothing?