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Page 25
"This evening!" they all said. "How it will shine this evening!"
"Oh!" thought the Tree. "If the evening were but come! If the tapers were but
lighted! And then I wonder what will happen! Perhaps the other trees from the
forest will come to look at me! Perhaps the sparrows will beat against the
windowpanes! I wonder if I shall take root here, and winter and summer stand
covered with ornaments!"
He knew very much about the matter--but he was so impatient that for sheer
longing he got a pain in his back, and this with trees is the same thing as a
headache with us.
The candles were now lighted--what brightness! What splendor! The Tree
trembled so in every bough that one of the tapers set fire to the foliage. It
blazed up famously.
"Help! Help!" cried the young ladies, and they quickly put out the fire.
Now the Tree did not even dare tremble. What a state he was in! He was so
uneasy lest he should lose something of his splendor, that he was quite
bewildered amidst the glare and brightness; when suddenly both folding-doors
opened and a troop of children rushed in as if they would upset the Tree. The
older persons followed quietly; the little ones stood quite still. But it was
only for a moment; then they shouted that the whole place re-echoed with their
rejoicing; they danced round the Tree, and one present after the other was
pulled off.
"What are they about?" thought the Tree. "What is to happen now!" And the
lights burned down to the very branches, and as they burned down they were put
out one after the other, and then the children had permission to plunder the
Tree. So they fell upon it with such violence that all its branches cracked;
if it had not been fixed firmly in the ground, it would certainly have tumbled
down.
The children danced about with their beautiful playthings; no one looked at
the Tree except the old nurse, who peeped between the branches; but it was
only to see if there was a fig or an apple left that had been forgotten.
"A story! A story!" cried the children, drawing a little fat man towards the
Tree. He seated himself under it and said, "Now we are in the shade, and the
Tree can listen too. But I shall tell only one story. Now which will you have;
that about Ivedy-Avedy, or about Humpy-Dumpy, who tumbled downstairs, and yet
after all came to the throne and married the princess?"
"Ivedy-Avedy," cried some; "Humpy-Dumpy," cried the others. There was such a
bawling and screaming--the Fir Tree alone was silent, and he thought to
himself, "Am I not to bawl with the rest? Am I to do nothing whatever?" for he
was one of the company, and had done what he had to do.
And the man told about Humpy-Dumpy that tumbled down, who notwithstanding came
to the throne, and at last married the princess. And the children clapped
their hands, and cried. "Oh, go on! Do go on!" They wanted to hear about
Ivedy-Avedy too, but the little man only told them about Humpy-Dumpy. The Fir
Tree stood quite still and absorbed in thought; the birds in the wood had
never related the like of this. "Humpy-Dumpy fell downstairs, and yet he
married the princess! Yes, yes! That's the way of the world!" thought the Fir
Tree, and believed it all, because the man who told the story was so
good-looking. "Well, well! who knows, perhaps I may fall downstairs, too, and
get a princess as wife!" And he looked forward with joy to the morrow, when
he hoped to be decked out again with lights, playthings, fruits, and tinsel.
"I won't tremble to-morrow!" thought the Fir Tree. "I will enjoy to the full
all my splendor! To-morrow I shall hear again the story of Humpy-Dumpy, and
perhaps that of Ivedy-Avedy too." And the whole night the Tree stood still and
in deep thought.
In the morning the servant and the housemaid came in.
"Now then the splendor will begin again," thought the Fir. But they dragged
him out of the room, and up the stairs into the loft: and here, in a dark
corner, where no daylight could enter, they left him. "What's the meaning of
this?" thought the Tree. "What am I to do here? What shall I hear now, I
wonder?" And he leaned against the wall lost in reverie. Time enough had he
too for his reflections; for days and nights passed on, and nobody came up;
and when at last somebody did come, it was only to put some great trunks in a
corner, out of the way. There stood the Tree quite hidden; it seemed as if he
had been entirely forgotten.
"'Tis now winter out-of-doors!" thought the Tree. "The earth is hard and
covered with snow; men cannot plant me now, and therefore I have been put up
here under shelter till the spring-time comes! How thoughtful that is! How
kind man is, after all! If it only were not so dark here, and so terribly
lonely! Not even a hare! And out in the woods it was so pleasant, when the
snow was on the ground, and the hare leaped by; yes--even when he jumped over
me; but I did not like it then! It is really terribly lonely here!"
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