The Little Match Girl

It was terribly cold. Snow was falling and it was almost completely dark. It was evening—the last evening of the year. In this cold and darkness, a poor little girl walked through the streets. She had no hat on her head and her feet were bare. When she left home, she had worn slippers, but what good were they? They were very large slippers that her mother had worn before her. They were so big that the little girl lost them as she hurried across the street, because two carriages came rolling by very fast.

One slipper was nowhere to be found. The other was grabbed by a boy, who ran off with it. He thought it would be perfect for a cradle when he had children someday. So the little girl walked on with her tiny bare feet, which were quite red and blue from the cold. She carried a bundle of matches in an old apron, and she held another bundle in her hand. No one had bought anything from her the whole day. No one had given her a single coin.

She crept along, shivering from cold and hunger. She was a true picture of sorrow, the poor little thing! The snowflakes fell on her long, fair hair, which curled beautifully around her neck. But of course she didn't think about that now. From every window, candles were shining, and the smell of roast goose filled the air. You see, it was New Year's Eve. Yes, she thought about that.

In a corner between two houses, where one jutted out a bit further, she sat down and curled up. She pulled her little feet close to her, but she grew colder and colder. She didn't dare go home, because she hadn't sold any matches and didn't have a single coin to bring to her father. She knew he would hit her. And at home it was cold too, because only a roof was above her, and the wind howled through it, even though the biggest cracks were stuffed with straw and rags.

Her little hands were almost numb with cold. Oh, a single match could give her so much comfort if she only dared to take one out of the bundle, strike it against the wall, and warm her fingers. She took one. "Rischt!" How it blazed! How it burned!

It gave a warm, bright flame, like a candle, as she held her hands over it. It was a wonderful light. It seemed to the little girl as if she was sitting in front of a large iron stove with shiny brass feet and a brass ornament on top.

The fire burned so warmly. It felt so nice. The little girl already stretched out her feet to warm them too, but then the small flame went out. The stove vanished. She only held the burnt match in her hand.

She struck another match against the wall. It burned brightly, and where the light fell on the wall, it became transparent like a veil. She could see into the room. On the table was a snow-white tablecloth with a beautiful porcelain dinner set, and a roast goose was steaming with apples and dried plums. And even more wonderful, the goose jumped off the dish and waddled across the floor with a knife and fork in its chest, right up to the poor little girl. Then the match went out, and only the thick, cold, damp wall was left.

She lit another match. Now she was sitting under the most magnificent Christmas tree. It was even larger and more decorated than the one she had seen through the glass door of the rich merchant's house. Thousands of lights burned on the green branches, and colorful pictures like those in shop windows looked down on her. The little girl stretched out her hands toward them, but then the match went out. The lights of the Christmas tree rose higher and higher. She saw them now as stars in the sky. One star fell and left a long trail of fire.

"Someone is dying!" said the little girl. Her old grandmother, the only one who had ever loved her, and who was now dead, had told her that when a star falls, a soul goes up to God.

She struck another match against the wall. It became light again, and in the glow stood her old grandmother, so bright and radiant, so gentle, and with such a loving look.

"Grandmother!" cried the little girl. "Oh, take me with you! I know you will disappear when the match goes out. You will vanish like the warm stove, the delicious roast goose, and the beautiful Christmas tree!" And she quickly struck the whole bundle of matches against the wall, because she wanted to keep her grandmother with her.

The matches burned so brightly that it was brighter than day. Never before had the grandmother been so beautiful and so tall. She took the little girl in her arms, and they both flew upward, in brightness and joy, high, so high.

And up there, there was no cold, no hunger, and no fear. They were with God.

But in the corner, at the cold hour of dawn, sat the poor girl, with rosy cheeks and a smile on her lips, leaning against the wall. She had frozen to death on the last evening of the old year. Stiff and cold, she sat there, with the matches, one bundle of which was burnt. "She wanted to warm herself," people said. No one had any idea of the beautiful things she had seen. No one even dreamed of the splendor in which, with her grandmother, she had entered into the joys of the new year.