It was a nice, pretty little cap; what would the little
underground man give her for it? that was the question.
Oh, the little man would give her five thalers for it, and gladly.
No; five thalers was not enough for such a pretty little cap--see, there
was a silver bell hanging to it too.
Well, the little man did not want to be hard at a bargain; he would give
her a hundred thalers for it.
No; Christine did not care for money. What else would he give for this
nice, dear little cap?
"See, Christine," said the little man, "I will give you this for the
cap"; and he showed her something in his hand that looked just like a
bean, only it was as black as a lump of coal.
"Yes, good; but what is that?" said Christine.
"That," said the little man, "is a seed from the apple of contentment.
Plant it, and from it will grow a tree, and from the tree an apple.
Everybody in the world that sees the apple will long for it, but nobody
in the world can pluck it but you. It will always be meat and drink to
you when you are hungry, and warm clothes to your back when you are
cold. Moreover, as soon as you pluck it from the tree, another as good
will grow in its place. _Now_, will you give me my hat?"
Oh yes; Christine would give the little man his cap for such a seed as
that, and gladly enough. So the little man gave Christine the seed, and
Christine gave the little man his cap again. He put the cap on his head,
and--puff!--away he was gone, as suddenly as the light of a candle when
you blow it out.
Pages:
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109