And the man asked after the fairy tales — whether the woman from the marsh had seen them on her way.
"By the big brew!" said the woman, "have you not had enough of fairy tales? I thought most people had had enough of them. There are other things to be looked after, and other things to mind. Even children have got beyond them. Give the little boys a cigar and the little girls a new crinoline — they care much more for these. Listen to fairy tales! No, indeed, there are other things to be looked after, much more important things to be done!"
"What do you mean by that?" asked the man. "And what do you know about the world? You see only frogs and will-o'-the-wisps."
"You had better beware of the will-o'-the-wisps," said the woman; "they are out. They have been let loose. Let's talk about them! Come and see me in the marsh, where I am wanted; there I'll tell you all about it, but make haste, while your seven four-leaved clovers, with the six-leaved one, are fresh, and while the moon still stands high."
And away went the woman from the marsh.
The clock struck twelve in the clock-tower; before it struck a quarter past the man was down in the yard, and had passed through the garden and stood in the meadow. The mist had disappeared, and the woman from the marsh had stopped brewing.
"You've been a long time coming," said the woman from the marsh. "Witches get on faster than men, and I am glad I was born a witch."
"What have you got to tell me now?" asked the man. "Is it something about the fairy tales?"
"Can you never get further than to ask about them?" said the woman.
"Then is it about the poetry of the future that you can tell me?" asked the man.
"Don't begin with any of your grand phrases," said the woman, "and I'11 be sure to answer you. You think only of poetry, — you ask only about fairy tales, as if they were the mistress of everything. She is the oldest, but she is generally taken for the youngest. I know her well enough! I have also been young, and that's no child's complaint. I was once a pretty elfin maid, and have danced with the others in the moonlight. I have listened to the nightingale and have walked in the woods, and met the fairy-tale maiden who was always gadding about. Sometimes she would take up her quarters for the night in a half-blown tulip, or in a globe-flower. At other times she would steal into the church and wrap herself up in the black crape which hung round the candles on the altar."
"You seem to be well informed," said the man.
"Well, I should say I know as much as you!" said the woman from
