It is now long ago, quite two thousand years, since there was a rich man who had a beautiful and pious wife. They had, however, no children, though they wished for them very much, and the woman prayed for them day and night, but still they had none.
Now there was a courtyard in front of their house in which was a juniper-tree. One day in winter, the woman was standing beneath it, paring an apple. While she was paring the apple, she cut her finger, and the blood fell on the snow. "Ah," said the woman, sighing heavily, and looking at the blood before her, "if I had but a child as red as blood and as white as snow!"
As she spoke, she felt a sudden happiness, as if her wish would come true. She went into the house. A month went by and the snow was gone. Two months, and everything was green. Three months, and all the flowers came out of the earth. Four months, and all the trees in the wood grew thicker, the green branches entwined, and the birds sang until the wood resounded. When the fifth month passed, she stood under the juniper-tree, which smelt so sweetly that her heart leapt. She fell on her knees, beside herself with joy. After the sixth month, the fruit was large and fine, and she was quite still. In the seventh month, she snatched at the juniper-berries and ate them greedily, then grew sick and sorrowful. The eighth month passed, and she called her husband to her, weeping, "If I die, bury me beneath the juniper-tree." Then she was comforted and happy. When the next month was over, she had a child as white as snow and as red as blood. When she beheld it, she was so delighted that she died.
Her husband buried her beneath the juniper-tree and wept sorely. After some time, he was more at ease, and though he still wept, he could bear it. Later, he took another wife.
By the second wife he had a daughter, but the first wife's child was a little son, as red as blood and as white as snow. The woman loved her daughter very much, but when she looked at the little boy, it seemed to cut her to the heart. She thought he would always stand in her way, and she was forever thinking how she could get all the fortune for her daughter. The Evil One filled her mind with this until she was quite wroth with the little boy. She slapped him here and cuffed him there, until the unhappy child was in continual terror, for when he came out of school he had no peace in any place.
One day the woman had gone upstairs to her room, and her little daughter went up too, and said, "Mother, give me an apple." "Yes, my child," said the woman, and gave her a fine apple out of the chest, which had a great heavy lid with a great sharp iron lock. "Mother," said the little daughter, "is brother not to have one too?" This made the woman angry, but she said, "Yes, when he comes out of school." And when she saw from the window that he was coming, it was just as if the Devil entered into her. She snatched the apple away from her daughter and said, "Thou shalt not have one before thy brother." Then she threw the apple into the chest and shut it.
Then the little boy came in at the door, and the Devil made her say to him kindly, "My son, wilt thou have an apple?" but she looked wickedly at him. "Mother," said the little boy, "how dreadful you look! Yes, give me an apple." Then it seemed to her as if she were forced to say to him, "Come with me." She opened the lid of the chest and said, "Take out an apple for thyself." While the little boy was stooping inside, the Devil prompted her, and crash! she shut the lid down. His head flew off and fell among the red apples.
She was overwhelmed with terror and thought, "If I could but make them think that it was not done by me!" So she went upstairs to her chest of drawers, took a white handkerchief, set the head on the neck again, and folded the handkerchief so that nothing could be seen. She set him on a chair in front of the door and put the apple in his hand.
After this, Marlinchen came into the kitchen to her mother, who was standing by the fire with a pan of hot water. "Mother," said Marlinchen, "brother is sitting at the door, and he looks quite white and has an apple in his hand. I asked him to give me the apple, but he did not answer me, and I was quite frightened." "Go back to him," said her mother, "and if he will not answer thee, give him a box on the ear." So Marlinchen went to him and said, "Brother, give me the apple." But he was silent, and she gave him a box on the ear, on which his head fell down. Marlinchen was terrified and began crying and screaming. She ran to her mother and said, "Alas, mother, I have knocked my brother's head off!" and she wept and wept and could not be comforted. "Marlinchen," said the mother, "what hast thou done? But be quiet and let no one know it; it cannot be helped now, we will make him into black-puddings."
Then the mother took the little boy and chopped him in pieces, put him into the pan and made him into black puddings. But Marlinchen stood by weeping and weeping, and all her tears fell into the pan, so there was no need of any salt.
Then the father came home, sat down to dinner, and said, "But where is my son?" The mother served up a great dish of black-puddings, and Marlinchen wept and could not leave off. The father again said, "But where is my son?" "Ah," said the mother, "he has gone across the country to his mother's great uncle; he will stay there awhile." "And what is he going to do there? He did not even say good-bye to me." "Oh, he wanted to go, and asked me if he might stay six weeks; he is well taken care of there." "Ah," said the man, "I feel so unhappy lest all should not be right. He ought to have said good-bye to me." With that he began to eat and said, "Marlinchen, why art thou crying? Thy brother will certainly come back." Then he said, "Ah, wife, how delicious this food is, give me some more." And the more he ate the more he wanted, and he said, "Give me some more, you shall have none of it. It seems to me as if it were all mine."
He ate and ate and threw all the bones under the table until he had finished the whole. But Marlinchen went to her chest of drawers, took her best silk handkerchief, got all the bones from beneath the table, tied them up, and carried them outside the door, weeping tears of blood. Then the juniper-tree began to stir itself, and the branches parted asunder and moved together again, just as if someone was rejoicing and clapping his hands.
At the same time, a mist seemed to arise from the tree, and in the centre of this mist it burned like a fire. A beautiful bird flew out of the fire singing magnificently, and he flew high up in the air. When he was gone, the juniper-tree was just as it had been before, and the handkerchief with the bones was no longer there. Marlinchen, however, was as gay and happy as if her brother were still alive, and she went merrily into the house to eat.
But the bird flew away and lighted on a goldsmith's house, and began to sing:
"My mother she killed me,
My father he ate me,
My sister, little Marlinchen,
Gathered together all my bones,
Tied them in a silken handkerchief,
Laid them beneath the juniper-tree,
Kywitt, kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!"
The goldsmith was making a gold chain when he heard the bird singing on his roof. The song seemed very beautiful to him. He stood up, but as he crossed the threshold he lost one of his slippers. He went right up the middle of the street with one shoe on and one sock, wearing his apron, holding the gold chain in one hand and pincers in the other. He stood still and said to the bird, "How beautifully thou canst sing! Sing me that piece again." "No," said the bird, "I'll not sing it twice for nothing! Give me the golden chain, and then I will sing it again for thee." "There," said the goldsmith, "there is the golden chain for thee, now sing me that song again." Then the bird came and took the golden chain in his right claw, sat in front of the goldsmith, and sang the song again.
Then the bird flew away to a shoemaker, lighted on his roof, and sang the same song. The shoemaker heard it and ran out in his shirt sleeves. "Bird," said he, "how beautifully thou canst sing!" He called his wife, daughter, children, and apprentices. They all came and looked at the beautiful bird with red and green feathers, a neck like gold, and eyes that shone like stars. "Bird," said the shoemaker, "now sing me that song again." "Nay," said the bird, "I do not sing twice for nothing; thou must give me something." "Wife," said the man, "go to the garret and bring down the pair of red shoes on the top shelf." The wife brought the shoes. "There, bird," said the man, "now sing me that piece again." Then the bird came and took the shoes in his left claw, flew back on the roof, and sang the song again.
When he had sung, he flew away. In his right claw he had the chain and in his left the shoes. He flew far away to a mill where the mill went "klipp klapp," and twenty miller's men were hewing a stone, "hick hack." The bird sat on a lime-tree in front of the mill and sang:
"My mother she killed me,"
Then one of them stopped working.
"My father he ate me,"
Then two more stopped.
"My sister, little Marlinchen,"
Then four more stopped.
"Gathered together all my bones,
Tied them in a silken handkerchief,"
Now eight only were hewing.
"Laid them beneath"
Now only five.
"The juniper-tree,"
And now only one.
"Kywitt, kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!"
The last one stopped and said, "Bird, how beautifully thou singest! Sing that once more for me." "Nay," said the bird, "I will not sing twice for nothing. Give me the millstone, and then I will sing it again." "Yes," said he, "if it belonged to me only, thou shouldst have it." The others agreed. Then the bird came down, and the twenty millers raised the stone with a beam. The bird stuck his neck through the hole, put the stone on as if it were a collar, flew back to the tree, and sang the song again.
When he had done singing, he spread his wings. With the chain in his right claw, the shoes in his left, and the millstone round his neck, he flew far away to his father's house.
In the room sat the father, the mother, and Marlinchen at dinner. The father said, "How light-hearted I feel, how happy I am!" "Nay," said the mother, "I feel so uneasy, just as if a heavy storm were coming." Marlinchen sat weeping. Then the bird came and seated itself on the roof. The father said, "Ah, I feel so truly happy, and the sun is shining so beautifully, I feel just as if I were about to see some old friend again." "Nay," said the woman, "I feel so anxious, my teeth chatter, and I seem to have fire in my veins." She tore her stays open. Marlinchen sat crying. Then the bird sat on the juniper tree and sang:
"My mother she killed me,"
The mother stopped her ears and shut her eyes, but there was a roaring in her ears like a storm, and her eyes burnt like lightning.
"My father he ate me,"
"Ah, mother," said the man, "that is a beautiful bird! He sings so splendidly, and the sun shines so warm, and there is a smell just like cinnamon."
"My sister, little Marlinchen,"
Marlinchen laid her head on her knees and wept. The man said, "I am going out, I must see the bird quite close." "Oh, don't go," said the woman, "I feel as if the whole house were shaking and on fire." But the man went out.
"Gathered together all my bones,
Tied them in a silken handkerchief,
Laid them beneath the juniper-tree,
Kywitt, kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!"
On this, the bird let the golden chain fall, and it fell exactly round the man's neck, fitting beautifully. He went in and said, "Just look what a fine bird that is, and what a handsome gold chain he has given me!" But the woman was terrified and fell down on the floor, her cap falling off. Then the bird sang once more:
"My mother she killed me."
"Would that I were a thousand feet beneath the earth so as not to hear that!"
"My father he ate me,"
Then the woman fell down again as if dead.
"My sister, little Marlinchen,"
"Ah," said Marlinchen, "I too will go out and see if the bird will give me anything." She went out.
"Gathered together all my bones,
Tied them in a silken handkerchief,"
Then he threw down the shoes to her.
"Laid them beneath the juniper-tree,
Kywitt, kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!"
Then she was light-hearted and joyous. She put on the new red shoes and danced into the house. "Ah," said she, "I was so sad when I went out and now I am so light-hearted; that is a splendid bird, he has given me a pair of red shoes!" "Well," said the woman, springing to her feet, her hair standing up like flames of fire, "I feel as if the world were coming to an end! I, too, will go out and see if my heart feels lighter." As she went out at the door, crash! the bird threw down the millstone on her head, and she was entirely crushed by it.
The father and Marlinchen heard what had happened and went out. Smoke, flames, and fire were rising from the place. When that was over, there stood the little brother. He took his father and Marlinchen by the hand, and all three were right glad. They went into the house to dinner and ate.