The Goose-Girl at the Well

Once upon a time, there was a very old woman who lived with her flock of geese in a lonely place among the mountains. She had a little house there. The lonely place was surrounded by a big forest.

Every morning the old woman took her walking stick and hobbled into the forest. Even though she was old, she was quite active and gathered grass for her geese. She also picked all the wild fruit she could reach and carried everything home on her back.

Anyone would have thought the heavy load would have weighed her to the ground, but she always brought it safely home. If she met anyone, she greeted them kindly. "Good day, dear friend, it's a fine day.

Ah, you wonder why I carry grass, but everyone must carry his own burden." Still, people did not like to meet her if they could help it. They took a longer way around. When a father passed her with his sons, he whispered to them, "Beware of the old woman.

She has claws under her gloves. She is a witch."

One morning, a handsome young man was walking through the forest. The sun shone brightly, the birds sang, a cool breeze blew through the leaves, and he was full of joy. He had not met anyone yet, when he suddenly saw the old witch kneeling on the ground cutting grass with a sickle.

She had already stuffed a whole load into her cloth, and next to it stood two baskets filled with wild apples and pears. "Good little mother," he said, "how can you carry all that away?" "I must carry it, dear sir," she answered.

"Rich folks' children don't have to do such things, but for us peasants, the saying goes: don't look behind you, you will only see how crooked your back is!"

"Will you help me?" she said when he stopped beside her. "You still have a straight back and young legs. It would be easy for you. Besides, my house is not far from here. It stands on the heath behind that hill.

You could run up there in no time." The young man felt sorry for the old woman. "My father is certainly not a peasant," he replied, "but a rich count. Still, to show you that not only peasants can carry things, I will take your bundle." "If you try it," she said, "I will be very glad.

You will have to walk for an hour, but what does that matter? You must also carry the apples and pears." The young man became a little worried when he heard about an hour's walk, but the old woman would not let him off.

She packed the bundle on his back and hung the two baskets on his arm. "See, it is quite light," she said. "No, it is not light," answered the count, making a sad face. "The bundle weighs as if it were full of cobblestones, and the apples and pears are as heavy as lead!

I can hardly breathe." He wanted to put everything down again, but the old woman would not allow it. "Just look," she said mockingly, "the young gentleman will not carry what I, an old woman, have often dragged along.

You are good with fine words, but when it comes to action, you want to run away. Why are you standing there?" she continued. "Step out. No one will take the bundle off again."

As long as he walked on level ground, it was bearable. But when they came to the hill and had to climb, and the stones rolled under his feet as if they were alive, it was too much. Sweat stood on his forehead and ran hot and cold down his back.

"Old woman," he said, "I cannot go any further. I need to rest." "Not here," answered the old woman. "When we get home, you can rest. Now you must go on. Who knows what good it may do you?" "Old woman, you are being shameless!" said the count and tried to throw off the bundle.

But he could not. It stuck to his back as if it grew there. He turned and twisted, but he could not get rid of it. The old woman laughed and hopped about on her crutch. "Don't get angry, dear sir," she said. "You are as red as a turkey-cock!

Carry your bundle patiently. I will give you a good present when we get home."

What could he do? He had to accept his fate and crawl along behind the old woman. She seemed to become more nimble, and his burden grew heavier. Suddenly, she jumped onto the bundle and sat on top of it. As withered as she was, she was heavier than any farm girl.

The young man's knees trembled. When he did not go on, the old woman hit his legs with a switch and with stinging nettles. Groaning, he climbed the mountain. At last, he reached the old woman's house and was about to collapse.

When the geese saw the old woman, they flapped their wings, stretched their necks, ran to meet her, and cackled. Behind the flock walked an old woman, strong and big, but ugly as night, with a stick in her hand. "Good mother," she said to the old woman, "has something happened?

You stayed away so long." "Not at all, my dear daughter," answered the old woman. "I met nothing bad. On the contrary, this kind gentleman carried my burden for me. Think, he even carried me on his back when I was tired. The way did not seem long.

We were merry and cracked jokes the whole time." Then the old woman slid down, took the bundle off the young man's back and the baskets from his arm. She looked at him kindly and said, "Now sit on the bench in front of the door and rest.

You have earned your wages, and they will not be missing." Then she said to the goose-girl, "Go into the house, my dear daughter. It is not proper for you to be alone with a young gentleman.

One must not pour oil on the fire; he might fall in love with you." The count did not know whether to laugh or cry. "A sweetheart like that," he thought, "could not touch my heart, even if she were thirty years younger." Meanwhile, the old woman petted her geese as if they were children and then went into the house with her daughter.

The young man lay down on the bench under a wild apple tree. The air was warm and mild. Around him was a green meadow with cowslips, wild thyme, and a thousand other flowers. Through the meadow flowed a clear brook sparkling in the sun.

The white geese walked back and forth or paddled in the water. "It is lovely here," he said. "But I am so tired I cannot keep my eyes open. I will sleep a little. I hope the wind does not blow my legs off my body, for they feel like tinder."

When he had slept a little while, the old woman came and woke him. "Sit up," she said. "You cannot stay here. I treated you harshly, but it did not cost you your life. You do not need money or land.

Here is something else for you." She put into his hand a little book cut from a single emerald. "Take good care of it," she said. "It will bring you good luck." The count jumped up. He felt fresh and strong.

He thanked the old woman for her gift and set off without even looking back at the beautiful daughter. He could still hear the noisy cry of the geese in the distance.

For three days the count wandered in the wilderness before he could find his way out. Then he reached a large town. No one knew him. He was led into the royal palace, where the King and Queen sat on their throne.

The count knelt, drew the emerald book from his pocket, and laid it at the Queen's feet. She told him to rise and hand her the little book. But as soon as she opened it and looked inside, she fell to the ground as if dead.

The King's servants seized the count and were about to lead him to prison when the Queen opened her eyes. She ordered them to release him and asked everyone to leave, for she wished to speak with him alone.

When the Queen was alone, she began to cry bitterly. "What use are the splendor and honors around me?" she said. "Every morning I wake in pain and sorrow. I had three daughters. The youngest was so beautiful that the whole world thought she was a wonder.

She was as white as snow, as rosy as apple blossom, and her hair shone like sunbeams. When she cried, not tears but pearls and jewels fell from her eyes. When she was fifteen, the King summoned all three sisters to come before his throne.

You should have seen how the people stared when the youngest entered! It was as if the sun were rising! Then the King said, 'My daughters, I do not know when my last day will come. Today I will decide what each shall receive at my death.

You all love me, but the one who loves me best shall fare best.' Each said she loved him best. 'Can you not tell me,' said the King, 'how much you love me? Then I will understand.' The eldest said, 'I love my father as much as the sweetest sugar.' The second said, 'I love my father as much as my prettiest dress.' But the youngest was silent.

Then the father said, 'And you, my dearest child, how much do you love me?' 'I do not know,' she said. 'I cannot compare my love to anything.' But her father insisted that she name something. So at last she said, 'The best food does not please me without salt.

Therefore, I love my father like salt.' When the King heard that, he became furious and said, 'If you love me like salt, your love shall be repaid with salt.' Then he divided the kingdom between the two older daughters, but he had a sack of salt tied on the youngest's back, and two servants led her into the wild forest.

We all begged and pleaded for her," said the Queen, "but the King's anger could not be calmed. How she cried when she had to leave us! The whole road was strewn with pearls that flowed from her eyes.

Soon the King regretted his harshness and had the whole forest searched for the poor child, but no one could find her. When I think that wild beasts may have eaten her, I cannot contain my sorrow.

Sometimes I hope she is still alive, hiding in a cave or found shelter with kind people. But imagine, when I opened your little emerald book, a pearl lay inside, exactly like the ones that fell from my daughter's eyes. The sight stirred my heart.

You must tell me how you came by that pearl." The count told her he had received it from the old woman in the forest, who seemed strange and must be a witch. But he had not seen or heard anything of the Queen's child.

The King and the Queen decided to seek out the old woman. They thought that where the pearl came from, they might find news of their daughter.

The old woman was sitting in her lonely place at her spinning wheel, spinning. It was already dusk, and a log burning on the hearth gave a dim light. Suddenly, there was a noise outside. The geese were coming home from the pasture, crying hoarsely. Soon the daughter also entered.

But the old woman barely thanked her and only shook her head a little. The daughter sat beside her, took her spinning wheel, and twisted the threads as nimbly as a young girl. They sat like that for two hours and never spoke a word.

At last something rustled at the window, and two fiery eyes peered in. It was an old night owl that cried, "Whoo!" three times. The old woman looked up a little and said, "Now, my little daughter, it is time for you to go out and do your work." She rose and went out.

Where did she go? Over the meadows, ever onward into the valley. At last she came to a well with three old oak trees standing beside it. The moon had risen large and round over the mountain. It was so light that one could find a needle.

She removed a skin that covered her face, bent down to the well, and began to wash herself. When she finished, she dipped the skin in the water and laid it on the meadow to bleach in the moonlight and dry. But how the maiden had changed!

Such a change was never seen! When the gray mask fell off, her golden hair burst forth like sunbeams and spread like a mantle over her whole form. Her eyes shone as brightly as the stars in heaven, and her cheeks bloomed soft red like apple blossom.

But the fair maiden was sad. She sat down and cried bitterly. One tear after another forced itself from her eyes and rolled through her long hair to the ground. She sat there and would have stayed a long time if she had not heard a rustling and cracking in the branches of a nearby tree. She sprang up like a deer startled by a hunter's shot. Just then the moon was hidden by a dark cloud, and in an instant the maiden put on the old skin and vanished like a light blown out by the wind.

She ran back home trembling like an aspen leaf. The old woman stood on the threshold, and the girl was about to tell what had happened, but the old woman laughed kindly and said, "I already know everything." She led her into the room and lit a new log.

She did not sit down to spin again but fetched a broom and began to sweep and clean. "Everything must be clean and sweet," she said. "But mother," said the maiden, "why do you work at this late hour?

What are you expecting?" "Do you know what time it is?" asked the old woman. "Not yet midnight," answered the maiden, "but already past eleven." "Do you not remember," continued the old woman, "that it is three years today since you came to me? Your time is up.

We can no longer stay together." The girl was terrified and said, "Alas, dear mother, will you send me away? Where shall I go? I have no friends and no home to go to. I have always done as you told me, and you have always been satisfied with me.

Do not send me away." The old woman would not tell the maiden what lay ahead. "My time here is over," she said. "When I leave, the house and rooms must be clean. So do not hinder me. Do not worry about yourself.

You shall find a roof to shelter you, and the wages I give you will content you." "But tell me what will happen," the maiden begged. "I tell you again, do not hinder me. Do not say another word.

Go to your chamber, take the skin off your face, and put on the silk dress you wore when you came to me. Then wait in your chamber until I call you."

But I must tell again of the King and Queen who had traveled with the count to seek out the old woman in the wilderness. The count had lost them in the woods by night and had to walk on alone. The next day it seemed he was on the right path.

He walked on until darkness fell. Then he climbed a tree, intending to spend the night there, for he feared losing his way. When the moon lit up the countryside, he saw a figure coming down the mountain.

She had no stick in her hand, but he could see it was the goose-girl he had seen in the old woman's house. "Aha," he cried, "there she comes. If I catch one witch, the other shall not escape me!" But how astonished he was when she went to the well, took off the skin, and washed herself.

Her golden hair fell all around her, and she was more beautiful than anyone he had ever seen in the whole world. He hardly dared to breathe. He stretched his head as far forward through the leaves as he dared and stared at her.

Either he bent too far, or whatever the cause, the branch suddenly cracked. At that very moment, the maiden slipped into the skin, sprang away like a deer, and as the moon was suddenly covered, disappeared from his sight.

As soon as she disappeared, the count climbed down from the tree and hurried after her with quick steps. He had not gone long before he saw in the twilight two figures coming over the meadow.

It was the King and Queen, who had seen from a distance the light shining in the old woman's little house and were going to it. The count told them the wonderful things he had seen at the well. They did not doubt that it was their lost daughter.

They walked on full of joy and soon came to the little house. The geese were sitting all around it with their heads under their wings, sleeping. Not one moved. The King and Queen looked in the window. The old woman sat quietly spinning, nodding her head, and never looking around.

The room was perfectly clean, as if the little mist men who carry no dust lived there. But they did not see their daughter. They gazed for a long time. At last they gathered their courage and knocked softly at the window. The old woman seemed to have been expecting them.

She rose and called out kindly, "Come in. I already know you."

When they entered, the old woman said, "You could have saved yourself the long walk if you had not unjustly driven away your child three years ago. She is so good and lovable. No harm has come to her. For three years she has tended the geese.

With them she has learned no evil but has kept a pure heart. You, however, have been punished enough by the misery you have lived in." Then she went to the chamber and called, "Come out, my little daughter." The door opened, and the princess stepped out in her silk dress with her golden hair and shining eyes.

It was as if an angel from heaven had entered.

She went up to her father and mother, threw her arms around their necks, and kissed them. They all had to weep for joy. The young count stood near them. When she saw him, she became as red as a moss rose. She did not know why.

The King said, "My dear child, I have given away my kingdom. What shall I give you?" "She needs nothing," said the old woman. "I give her the tears she has wept for you. They are precious pearls, finer than those found in the sea and worth more than your whole kingdom.

And I give her my little house as payment for her services." When the old woman had said that, she disappeared from their sight. The walls rattled a little. When the King and Queen looked around, the little house had changed into a splendid palace.

A royal table was set, and servants were running back and forth.

The story goes on, but my grandmother, who told it to me, had partly lost her memory and forgot the rest. I will always believe that the beautiful princess married the count and that they stayed together in the palace and lived there in all happiness as long as God willed.

Whether the snow-white geese that were kept near the little hut were really young maidens (no one should be offended) whom the old woman had taken under her protection, and whether they now got their human form back and stayed as handmaids to the young queen, I do not exactly know.

But I suspect it. This much is certain: the old woman was no witch, as people thought, but a wise woman who meant well. Very likely it was she who at the princess's birth gave her the gift of weeping pearls instead of tears.

That does not happen nowadays, or else the poor would soon become rich.