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The Little Match Girl
Hans Christian Andersen
Most terribly cold it was; it snowed, and was nearly
quite dark, and evening-- the last evening of the year. In this cold and
darkness there went along the street a poor little girl, bareheaded, and with
naked feet. When she left home she had slippers on, it is true; but what was the
good of that? They were very large slippers, which her mother had hitherto worn;
so large were they; and the poor little thing lost them as she scuffled away
across the street, because of two carriages that rolled by dreadfully fast.
One slipper was nowhere to be found; the other had been
laid hold of by an urchin, and off he ran with it; he thought it would do
capitally for a cradle when he some day or other should have children himself.
So the little maiden walked on with her tiny naked feet, that were quite red and
blue from cold. She carried a quantity of matches in an old apron, and she held
a bundle of them in her hand. Nobody had bought anything of her the whole
livelong day; no one had given her a single farthing.
She crept along trembling with cold and hunger--a very
picture of sorrow, the poor little thing!
The flakes of snow covered her long fair hair, which
fell in beautiful curls around her neck; but of that, of course, she never once
now thought. From all the windows the candles were gleaming, and it smelt so
deliciously of roast goose, for you know it was New Year's Eve; yes, of that she
thought.
In a corner formed by two houses, of which one advanced
more than the other, she seated herself down and cowered together. Her little
feet she had drawn close up to her, but she grew colder and colder, and to go
home she did not venture, for she had not sold any matches and could not bring a
farthing of money: from her father she would certainly get blows, and at home it
was cold too, for above her she had only the roof, through which the wind
whistled, even though the largest cracks were stopped up with straw and rags.
Her little hands were almost numbed with cold. Oh! a
match might afford her a world of comfort, if she only dared take a single one
out of the bundle, draw it against the wall, and warm her fingers by it. She
drew one out. "Rischt!" how it blazed, how it burnt! It was a warm, bright
flame, like a candle, as she held her hands over it: it was a wonderful light.
It seemed really to the little maiden as though she were sitting before a large
iron stove, with burnished brass feet and a brass ornament at top. The fire
burned with such blessed influence; it warmed so delightfully. The little girl
had already stretched out her feet to warm them too; but--the small flame went
out, the stove vanished: she had only the remains of the burnt-out match in her
hand.
She rubbed another against the wall: it burned brightly,
and where the light fell on the wall, there the wall became transparent like a
veil, so that she could see into the room. On the table was spread a snow-white
tablecloth; upon it was a splendid porcelain service, and the roast goose was
steaming famously with its stuffing of apple and dried plums. And what was still
more capital to behold was, the goose hopped down from the dish, reeled about on
the floor with knife and fork in its breast, till it came up to the poor little
girl; when--the match went out and nothing but the thick, cold, damp wall was
left behind. She lighted another match. Now there she was sitting under the most
magnificent Christmas tree: it was still larger, and more decorated than the one
which she had seen through the glass door in the rich merchant's house.
Thousands of lights were burning on the green branches,
and gaily-colored pictures, such as she had seen in the shop-windows, looked
down upon her. The little maiden stretched out her hands towards them when--the
match went out. The lights of the Christmas tree rose higher and higher, she saw
them now as stars in heaven; one fell down and formed a long trail of fire.
"Someone is just dead!" said the little girl; for her
old grandmother, the only person who had loved her, and who was now no more, had
told her, that when a star falls, a soul ascends to God.
She drew another match against the wall: it was again
light, and in the lustre there stood the old grandmother, so bright and radiant,
so mild, and with such an expression of love.
"Grandmother!" cried the little one. "Oh, take me with
you! You go away when the match burns out; you vanish like the warm stove, like
the delicious roast goose, and like the magnificent Christmas tree!" And she
rubbed the whole bundle of matches quickly against the wall, for she wanted to
be quite sure of keeping her grandmother near her. And the matches gave such a
brilliant light that it was brighter than at noon-day: never formerly had the
grandmother been so beautiful and so tall. She took the little maiden, on her
arm, and both flew in brightness and in joy so high, so very high, and then
above was neither cold, nor hunger, nor anxiety--they were with God.
But in the corner, at the cold hour of dawn, sat the
poor girl, with rosy cheeks and with a smiling mouth, leaning against the
wall--frozen to death on the last evening of the old year. Stiff and stark sat
the child there with her matches, of which one bundle had been burnt. "She
wanted to warm herself," people said. No one had the slightest suspicion of what
beautiful things she had seen; no one even dreamed of the splendor in which,
with her grandmother she had entered on the joys of a new year.
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