HANS ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES
grew the first yellow flower of spring, glittering like gold in the warm sunshine. An old grandmother sat without in her arm-chair, her grand-daughter, a pretty, lowly maiden, had just returned home from a short visit; she kissed her grand-mother; there was gold, pure gold, in that loving kiss:
'Gold was the flower!
Gold the fresh, bright, morning hour!'
'That is my little story,' said the buttercup.
'My poor old grandmother!' sighed Gerda; 'yes, she must be wishing for me, just as she wished for little Kay. But I shall soon go home again, and take Kay with me. It is of no use to ask the flowers about him; they only know their own song, they can give me no information.' And she folded her little frock round her, that she might run the faster; but, in jumping over the narcissus, it caught her foot, as if wishing to stop her, so she turned and looked at the tall yellow flower, 'Have you any news to give me?' She bent over the narcissus, waiting for an answer.
And what said the narcissus?
'I can look at myself! I can see myself! Oh, how sweet is my fragrance!' Up in the little attic-chamber stands a little dancer. She rests sometimes on one leg, sometimes on two. She has trampled the whole world under her feet; she is nothing but an illusion. She pours water from a tea-pot upon a piece of cloth she holds in her hand—it is her bodice; cleanliness is a fine thing! Her white dress hangs on the hook, that has also been washed by the water from the teapot, and dried on the roof of the house. She puts it on, and wraps a saffron-coloured handkerchief round her neck; it makes the dress look all the whiter. With one leg extended, 88
