you have been, old Fir-tree!"
"I am by no means old," said he. "I came from the woods this winter; I
am in my prime, and am only rather short for my age."
"What delightful stories you know!" said the Mice; and the next night
they came with four other little Mice, who were to hear what the tree
recounted; and the more he related, the more plainly he remembered all
himself; and it appeared as if those times had really been happy times.
"But they may still come--they may still come. Klumpy-Dumpy fell
downstairs and yet he got a princess," and he thought at the moment of a
nice little Birch-tree growing out in the woods; to the Fir, that would
be a real charming princess.
"Who is Klumpy-Dumpy?" asked the Mice. So then the Fir-tree told the
whole fairy tale, for he could remember every single word of it; and the
little Mice jumped for joy up to the very top of the Tree. Next night
two more Mice came, and on Sunday two Rats, even; but they said the
stories were not interesting, which vexed the little Mice; and they,
too, now began to think them not so very amusing either.
"Do you know only one story?" asked the Rats.
"Only that one," answered the Tree. "I heard it on my happiest evening;
but I did not then know how happy I was."
"It is a very stupid story. Don't you know one about bacon and tallow
candles? Can't you tell any larder stories?"
"No," said the Tree.
"Then good-bye," said the Rats; and they went home.
At last the little Mice stayed away also; and the Tree sighed: "After
all, it was very pleasant when the sleek little Mice sat around me and
listened to what I told them. Now that too is over. But I will take
good care to enjoy myself when I am brought out again."
But when was that to be? Why, one morning there came a quantity of
people and set to work in the loft. The trunks were moved, the Tree was
pulled out and thrown--rather hard, it is true--down on the floor, but a
man drew him toward the stairs, where the daylight shone.
"Now a merry life will begin again," thought the Tree. He felt the fresh
air, the first sunbeam--and now he was out in the courtyard. All passed
so quickly, there was so much going on around him, that the Tree quite
forgot to look to himself. The court adjoined a garden, and all was in
flower; the roses hung so fresh and odorous over the balustrade, the
lindens were in blossom, the Swallows flew by, and said, "Quirre-vit! my
husband is come!" but it was not the Fir-tre
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