Prevod

There was once a man named Frieder and a woman named Katherlieschen, who had married one another and were living together as newlyweds. One day Frieder said, "I'm going out to the fields now, Katherlieschen. When I come back, there must be something fried on the table to satisfy my hunger, and a fresh drink beside it to quench my thirst." "Off you go, Friederchen," answered Katherlieschen. "Off you go. I'll see that everything is just right." When mealtime drew near, she fetched a sausage from the chimney, put it in a frying pan with some butter, and set it over the fire. The sausage began to fry and sizzle, and Katherlieschen stood beside it, holding the handle of the pan and thinking her own thoughts. Then it occurred to her: While the sausage is cooking, you could go down to the cellar and draw the beer. So she secured the pan handle, took a jug, went down to the cellar, and tapped the barrel. The beer flowed into the jug, and Katherlieschen stood watching it. Then it occurred to her: Hold on, the dog upstairs hasn't been shut away. He might take the sausage out of the pan. That would be a fine thing! In a flash she was up the cellar stairs. But the spitz already had the sausage in his mouth and was dragging it away along the ground. Katherlieschen wasted no time: she ran after him and chased him a good way into the fields. But the dog was faster than Katherlieschen and would not let go of the sausage, bounding away with it across the ploughed land. "Gone is gone!" said Katherlieschen, and turned back. Having tired herself out with running, she walked along quite slowly to cool herself down. Meanwhile the beer had kept flowing from the barrel, for Katherlieschen had not turned off the tap, and when the jug was full and could hold no more, the beer ran out over the cellar floor and did not stop until the whole barrel was empty. Katherlieschen saw the disaster while she was still on the stairs. "Goodness!" she cried. "What can you do now to keep Frieder from noticing?" She thought for a little while, and at last remembered that there was still a sack of fine wheat flour in the loft, left over from the last village fair. She would fetch it down and scatter it over the beer. "Yes," she said, "save something when you can, and you'll have it when you're in need." She climbed up to the loft, carried down the sack, and dropped it right onto the jug of beer, knocking it over so that Frieder's drink was now swimming about the cellar too. "That's quite right," said Katherlieschen. "Where one is, the other ought to be as well." And she scattered the flour all over the cellar. When she had finished, she was mightily pleased with her work and said, "How neat and clean it all looks!"

At midday Frieder came home. "Well, wife, what have you made ready for me?" "Oh, Friederchen," she answered, "I meant to fry you a sausage, but while I was drawing the beer to go with it, the dog took it out of the pan, and while I was chasing the dog, the beer ran out, and when I tried to dry up the beer with the wheat flour, I knocked over the jug as well. But don't you worry—the cellar is quite dry again." Frieder said, "Katherlieschen, Katherlieschen, you shouldn't have done that! You let the sausage be stolen and the beer run out of the barrel, and on top of it all you spill our fine flour!" "Well, Friederchen, I didn't know. You should have told me."

The husband thought: If this is how things stand with your wife, you will have to take better care. Now he had saved up a tidy sum in thalers, which he exchanged for gold, and he said to Katherlieschen, "Look, these are little yellow chicks. I'm going to put them in a pot and bury them in the cowshed under the manger. But mind you keep away from them, or it will be the worse for you." "Yes, Friederchen," she said, "I certainly won't go near them!" Now, when Frieder was away, some pedlars came to the village selling earthenware pots and bowls, and asked the young wife whether she wanted to buy anything. "Oh, my good people," said Katherlieschen, "I have no money and can't buy anything. But if you can use little yellow chicks, I should be glad to buy." "Little yellow chicks? Why not? Let us have a look at them." "Then go into the cowshed and dig under the manger, and you'll find the little yellow chicks. I'm not allowed to go near them." The rogues went off, dug, and found nothing but gold. They gathered it up and ran away, leaving their pots and bowls in the house. Katherlieschen thought she ought to put the new crockery to use, and since there was already plenty in the kitchen, she knocked the bottom out of every pot and stuck them all on the fence posts around the house for decoration. When Frieder came home and saw the new ornaments, he said, "Katherlieschen, what have you done?" "Bought them, Friederchen, with the little yellow chicks that were under the manger. I didn't go near them myself. The pedlars had to dig them out." "Oh, wife," said Frieder, "what have you done! Those weren't little chicks; they were pure gold, and all the wealth we had. You shouldn't have done that!" "Well, Friederchen," she answered, "I didn't know. You should have told me beforehand."

Katherlieschen stood thinking for a little while, then said, "Listen, Friederchen, we'll get the gold back. Let's run after the thieves." "Come along, then," said Frieder. "We'll try. But bring bread and cheese, so we'll have something to eat on the way." "Yes, Friederchen, I'll bring them." They set off, and since Frieder was the better walker, Katherlieschen followed behind. All the better for me, she thought. When we turn back, I'll have a head start. Presently she came to a hill where there were deep wheel ruts on either side of the road. "Just look at that," said Katherlieschen. "How they've torn and battered and crushed the poor earth! It will never heal as long as it lives." And out of the kindness of her heart she took her butter and spread it over the ruts to the right and left, so that the wheels would not press so hard on them. As she bent over to perform this act of mercy, a cheese rolled out of her pocket and down the hill. "I've come up this road once already," said Katherlieschen. "I'm not going down again. Another can run after it and fetch it back." So she took another cheese and rolled it down. But the cheeses did not return, so she sent a third rolling after them, thinking: Perhaps they're waiting for company and don't like to walk alone. When all three failed to appear, she said, "I don't know what to make of this! Still, perhaps the third one couldn't find the way and got lost. I'll just send the fourth to call them back." But the fourth did no better than the third. Then Katherlieschen grew angry and threw down the fifth and sixth as well, and those were the last. For a while she stood watching for them to come, but when they still did not appear, she said, "Oh, you'd be fine ones to send for Death—you take your time coming back! Do you think I'm going to wait for you any longer? I'm going on my way. You can run after me; your legs are younger than mine." Katherlieschen went on and found Frieder, who had stopped to wait because he wanted something to eat. "Now, hand over what you've brought." She gave him the dry bread. "Where are the butter and cheese?" her husband asked. "Oh, Friederchen," said Katherlieschen, "I greased the wheel ruts with the butter, and the cheeses will be here soon. One ran away from me, so I sent the others after it to call it back." Frieder said, "You shouldn't have done that, Katherlieschen—spread the butter on the road and roll the cheeses down the hill." "Well, Friederchen, you should have told me!"

So they ate the dry bread together, and Frieder said, "Katherlieschen, did you make our house safe before you left?" "No, Friederchen, you should have told me beforehand." "Then go home and make the house safe before we go any farther. Bring something else to eat as well. I'll wait here for you." Katherlieschen went back, thinking: Friederchen wants something else to eat. I suppose he doesn't like butter and cheese, so I'll take a clothful of dried pears and a jug of vinegar to drink. Then she bolted the upper half of the door, but lifted the lower half off its hinges and hoisted it onto her shoulder, believing that if she brought the door to safety, the house must be safe too. Katherlieschen took her time on the road, thinking: That will give Friederchen a longer rest. When she reached him again, she said, "There, Friederchen, here's the front door. Now you can keep the house safe yourself." "Oh, heavens!" he said. "What a clever wife I have! She takes off the bottom half of the door so that anything can get in, and bolts the top half. It's too late to go home again now, but since you've brought the door this far, you can carry it the rest of the way." "I'll carry the door, Friederchen, but the dried pears and the jug of vinegar are getting too heavy for me. I'll hang them on the door, and it can carry them."

Now they went into the forest and searched for the rogues, but could not find them. At last it grew dark, so they climbed a tree, meaning to spend the night there. Hardly had they settled themselves when along came those fellows who carry off whatever will not walk away with them, and find things before they are lost. They sat down directly beneath the tree where Frieder and Katherlieschen were perched, lit a fire, and prepared to divide their spoils. Frieder climbed down on the other side, gathered some stones, and climbed back up with them, intending to stone the thieves to death. But the stones missed, and the rogues cried, "It will soon be morning. The wind is shaking down the pine cones." Katherlieschen still had the door on her shoulder, and because it weighed so heavily on her, she thought the dried pears must be to blame, and said, "Friederchen, I must throw down the dried pears." "No, Katherlieschen, not now," he answered. "They might give us away." "Oh, Friederchen, I must. They're weighing on me far too much." "Then do it, in the hangman's name!" So the dried pears tumbled down through the branches, and the fellows below said, "The birds are dropping their dung." A little later, since the door was still weighing on her, Katherlieschen said, "Oh, Friederchen, I must pour out the vinegar." "No, Katherlieschen, you mustn't. It might give us away." "Oh, Friederchen, I must. It's weighing on me far too much." "Then do it, in the hangman's name!" So she poured out the vinegar, splashing the fellows below. They said to one another, "The dew is dripping down already." At last Katherlieschen thought: Could it be the door that's weighing on me so? And she said, "Friederchen, I must throw down the door." "No, Katherlieschen, not now. It might give us away." "Oh, Friederchen, I must. It's weighing on me far too much." "No, Katherlieschen, hold on tight to it!" "Oh, Friederchen, I'm letting it fall." "Well," Frieder answered angrily, "then let it fall, in the devil's name!" Down it fell with a tremendous crash, and the fellows below cried, "The devil's coming down from the tree!" They fled, leaving everything behind. Early the next morning, when the two climbed down, they found all their gold again and carried it home.

When they were back at home, Frieder said, "Katherlieschen, now you must be diligent and work." "Yes, Friederchen, I will. I'll go out to the field and reap the corn." When Katherlieschen reached the field, she said to herself, "Shall I eat before I reap, or sleep before I reap? Ah, I'll eat first!" So Katherlieschen ate, and grew sleepy over her meal, and began to reap, and half dreaming she cut all her clothes to pieces: her apron, her skirt, and her shift. When Katherlieschen woke again after a long sleep, she stood there half naked and said to herself, "Am I myself, or am I not? Oh, I'm not myself!" By this time night had fallen, so Katherlieschen ran into the village, knocked at her husband's window, and called, "Friederchen!" "What is it?" "I'd like to know whether Katherlieschen is in there." "Yes, yes," Frieder answered. "She must be lying asleep in here." "Good," she said, "then I must be home already," and ran away.

Outside she found some rogues who were setting out to steal. She went up to them and said, "I'll help you steal." The rogues supposed she knew her way about the village and were quite willing. Katherlieschen went up to the houses and called, "People, have you got anything? We've come to steal." The rogues thought: This will never do, and wished they could get rid of Katherlieschen again. So they said to her, "The parson has turnips in a field outside the village. Go and pull up some turnips for us!" Katherlieschen went out to the field and began pulling them up, but she was so lazy that she never straightened her back. A man came by, saw her, and stopped, thinking it must be the devil grubbing about among the turnips. He ran off to the village to see the parson and said, "Parson, the devil's in your turnip field, pulling up your turnips!" "Oh, heavens," answered the parson, "I have a lame foot. I can't go out and banish him." "Then I'll carry you on my back," said the man, and carried him out. When they reached the field, Katherlieschen got up and stretched herself to her full height. "Oh, the devil!" cried the parson, and both hurried away. In his great fright, the parson could run more nimbly on his lame foot than the man who had carried him could on his sound legs.