Fairy Tales from the German Forests Part 27

"We have only been to call on Lady Larch, mother; she has shut her door tight again or we would have introduced you to her," said Lotty.

PART III

They came home rather late that evening and found the farm in a great state of commotion. The red-haired cow-herd was shouting and crying in an unintelligible way; the house seemed to be deserted. They met the Herr Baron also preparing to set out in a hurry.

"What's the matter? Where is everybody?" said mother.

"The silly old cow-herd has lost one of the best cows; it has strayed off among the bushes, and may die if it is exposed all night. Who knows where the poor creature may have got to in these vast woods?"

The search went on till late at night; the men, including the Herr Baron, walked miles with their lanterns, but in vain. The deaf mute was in a dreadful state of mind and kept crying out in his harsh, disagreeable voice: "Not my fault--_Schimmel's_ fault." (Schimmel was the cow.)

It was difficult enough to sleep that night; but when mother had at last dropped into a light doze, it must have been about four o'clock in the morning, she and the children were aroused by a great shouting and disturbance in the house. They looked out of the window and--what do you think?--there was the lost cow, who had returned after all of her own accord. And with her a dear little black and white calf, who frisked and bounded along as if it thought it was fine fun to be in the world on this lovely morning. Now wasn't that a queer thing, children, queerer than all the fairy stories you have read? for this story is quite true, you must know!

It was an exceptionally fine Sunday, and as father had come down to spend the week-end, mother and the children were in the seventh heaven of joy. It was not possible to go to church; for the nearest town was two hours' walk away, and would be partly over fields that were exposed to the heat of the midday sun. So father and mother and their two little daughters went to the great woodland cathedral.

The service was on the Stellerskuppe; surely no one could wish for a more beautiful place of wors.h.i.+p. Mountain after mountain ranged in the distance, some with rounded or knolled heads, others rising to a peak.

Lottchen called the most pointed one Mesuvius, because she always forgot the "V."

As the children sat there and sang hymns, with their white Sunday frocks on, mother fancied that eyes were peering at them from out the forest depths. If they were merely those of the gentle deer, or if stranger creatures still were watching them as if fascinated, she did not know: she felt there were lookers-on. There is the old story of the G.o.d Pan who played so divinely that all living things came to listen to him.

Perhaps there may be a stirring at times in the souls of the mysterious dwellers in the forest that makes them yearn for immortality and gives them a fuller sense of existence. So that all the woodland sang too at that Sunday service.

On Sunday afternoon, father and mother wanted to go for a longer walk than usual; but the lazy children pet.i.tioned to be left behind.

"You will promise not to go near the pond," said mother. "Remember it is Sunday, and you have your best frocks on; you must not romp or climb trees."

"O no, mother, of course not," said Trudel. "We'll stay in the garden and promise to be very good."

When father and mother returned from their walk, the first thing they saw was Lottchen staggering along with a stand of empty beer-bottles.

"Whatever are you doing, Lottchen?"

"Oh, mother, there are such heaps of people here this afternoon, and there are not enough waitresses to serve them; so Trudel and I are helping. Trudel has got such a lot of tips already; she has bought chocolate with the money. Do tell her to divide it fairly with me!"

Mother looked round. The whole place was covered with tables and benches; a number of gaily dressed people from the neighbouring town were drinking coffee and eating cake or waffeln, a kind of pancake for which the inn was celebrated.

"Mother, don't speak to me, I'm too busy," said Trudel. "I've been waiting on those gentlemen; the maids were shy of them, so I said I would go and ask what they wanted." She pointed out some young men in officers' uniform, who had come from a military school. "I've got 6d. in tips, and I spent it on chocolate."

"Well I never!" said mother, astonished at her daughter's prowess--"you have turned into a waitress, and on Sunday afternoon too. Whatever would your aunts say?"

"I think I had better tell you what the young men said to me," said Trudel seriously. "They said I was a sweet little thing, and that if I were older, they would fall in love with me. I laughed of course; I could see they were only silly old stupid heads. I told them they had not much taste; for their military school was the ugliest building in all the town. They quite agreed with me about this, however, and then they asked me who my father was, and when I said he was a professor, they laughed till I thought they would burst. But now you must excuse me, really, mother darling. I have promised to go into the kitchen and wash up cups and saucers!"

The landlady could not praise Trudel enough. Such a useful little girl, she does everything in a most orderly way and wipes down the table when she has finished! "If ever you want her to learn housekeeping, pray send her to me, I should be delighted to teach her," she said.

"Yes," thought mother, "and make a nice little slavey of her into the bargain. No, no, our Trudel is not going to turn into a housemaid!"

If Trudel had been some years older, father and mother might have objected to these experiences; but, as it was, they only laughed.

PART IV

As the world is full of fact and fancy, so is this story. Whether it is based mostly on fact or on fancy we will leave to the German philosophers to decide, but I have heard that they are doubtful on this point, with regard to the world, I mean.

It was a magical evening. Trudel was so engrossed in a game of cards with the boys that she could not be induced to come out; moreover she had a slight cold and the evenings were chilly. A glorious sunset glow illumined the sky as mother and Lottchen set out for their never-to-be-forgotten walk.

"We will go up and see the fire on the heath; I love the smell of dry pine wood burning," said mother.

"I love to see the fire dancing and crackling," said Lottchen. "How still everything is."

"It is the calm of twilight. The wind usually drops in the evening,"

said mother.

"Look, look, over there by those dark woods there is something moving,"

said Lotty. "I think it is a white cat."

"A white cat! How queer that she should have strayed so far; she does not belong to the farm, I know."

"Hus.h.!.+ perhaps she is not a cat at all--then she will vanish." And lo and behold when they looked again, there was no cat there, though they had distinctly seen it a minute before on the field at the wood's edge.

"She is really a witch, I believe," said mother, with the curious expression on her face that Lotty knew so well.

Going further up the hill, they saw a wonderful sight. Twenty or more peasant girls were busy working, hacking the ground, their faces illuminated by the wonderful sunset glow. They wore short full peasant skirts edged with bright-coloured ribbons, and each had a gaily coloured scarf pinned round the neck and bodice.

We learned afterwards that they were preparing the ground to plant young fir-trees on a clearing. Germans are so careful of their woods, they replant what has been cut down, so that they have a great wealth in wood that we cannot boast of in England. I believe that they would _like_ to cut off all the dead branches in order to make the woods quite tidy! But this would be rather too big a job even for the German nation to accomplis.h.!.+

A man dressed in green with a feather in his cap, and a gun over his shoulder stood by watching the girls at their work.

He was a forester and seemed to act as overseer. He gave the signal to stop work as the strangers (mother and Lotty) approached. The women hid their tools under the dry heather until the next day, and then strapped on the big baskets they carried on their backs, without which they hardly felt properly dressed. They then marched along together, singing a melodious song in unison. As they came to the cross-roads they parted company; some went this way, some that; all kept up the tune, which echoed farther and farther, fainter and fainter in the distance.

Before long Lottchen and her mother were alone; but they felt that the ground they stood on, was enchanted. Mother said it was like a scene from the opera. They watched the fire; how the flames leaped and crackled; yet they were dying down. The fire made a bright contrast to the dark fir-woods which formed the background to the picture. The glory died from the sky; but yet it was strangely light; darker and darker grew the woods near the fire. Suddenly Lotty espied bright sparks among the trees.

"I do believe they have set the wood on fire," said mother.

"O no, mother, don't you see; let us crouch down and hide; it is the fairies: they are coming to the fire."

The air was suddenly full of bright beings.

"There is a wood fire on the hill; High on the heath it glimmers still.

Who are these beings in the air With gauzy robes and flowing hair?

Is it the wreathing smoke I see That forms itself so curiously?

Nay, they alight: they form a ring, Around the flickering fire spring, And from those embers burning low They light their wands, they gleam, they glow, Like firework stars of rainbow hue, Green, yellow, orange, lilac, blue!

Ah what a scene, how wild, how strange!

The stars each moment break and change In thousand colours; look on high: Each slender wand points to the sky, Then waves and trembles: lo afar On lonely woods falls many a star!"

And all this Trudel had missed. It seemed too great a pity, with that silly old card playing.