Prevod

Once upon a time there was a widower who had a son and a daughter by his first wife. They were both good children, and dearly loved one another. After a while the man married again, taking a widow who had a daughter by her first husband. This daughter was both ugly and wicked, and so was her mother. From the day the new wife came into the house, the man’s children could find no peace in any nook or corner, so the boy thought it best to go out into the world and try to earn his own bread. After travelling for a time, he came to the king’s palace, where he found work under the master of the stables. He was so diligent and capable that the horses in his care grew sleek and fat, with coats that shone.

But his sister, who had stayed at home, had a dreadful life. Both her stepmother and the woman’s daughter were forever at her heels, scolding and railing wherever she went, and she never had an hour’s peace. She had to do all the heaviest work, was given harsh words morning and night, and little food besides.

One day they sent her to the brook to fetch water. Then an ugly, hideous head rose above the water. “Wash me!” said the head. “Yes, I’ll gladly wash you,” said the man’s daughter, and began to rub and wash the ugly face;

but she thought it dreadful work. When she had finished, another head rose out of the water, uglier still. “Brush me!” said the head. “Yes, I’ll gladly brush you!” said the girl, and set to work on its tangled hair, though you may be sure it was no pleasant task. When she had done, a still more hideous and ugly head rose out of the water. “Kiss me!” said the head. “Yes, I’ll kiss you,” said the man’s daughter, and so she did, though she thought it the worst task she had ever had in her life. Then the heads spoke to one another, asking what they should do for someone so kind.

“Let her become the fairest maiden alive, with a complexion as bright as day,” said the first head. “Let gold fall from her hair whenever she brushes it,” said the second. “Let gold fall from her mouth whenever she speaks,” said the third head. When the man’s daughter came home as beautiful and fair as the day, her stepmother and stepsister grew angrier than ever, and worse still when she spoke and they saw gold coins fall from her mouth. The stepmother flew into such a rage that she drove the man’s daughter out to the pigsty. There she could stay with all her golden finery, but she was not allowed to set foot inside the house.

It was not long before the mother sent her own daughter to the brook to fetch water. When she arrived with her buckets, the first head rose out of the water. “Wash me!” it said. “Let the devil wash you!” answered the woman’s own daughter.

Then the second rose up. “Brush me!” said the head. “Let the devil brush you!” said the woman’s daughter. Down it sank, and up came the third head. “Kiss me!” said the head. “Let the devil kiss you, you great snout!” said the girl. Then the heads spoke to one another again, asking what they should do to someone so ill-natured. They agreed that she should have a nose four ells long, a mouth that jutted out three ells, and a pine bush in the middle of her head, and that ashes should fall from her mouth whenever she spoke.

When she came home to the door with her water buckets, she called in to her mother. “Open the door!” she said. “Open it yourself, my own dear daughter!” said her mother. “I can’t reach past my nose,” said the daughter. When her mother came out and saw her, you can well imagine how she felt, and how she screamed and carried on; but neither nose nor mouth grew any smaller for that.

The brother of the man’s daughter, who served at the king’s palace, had painted a portrait of his sister and brought it with him. Every morning and evening he knelt before the portrait and prayed to Our Lord for his sister, so dearly did he love her. The other stableboys had heard him, so they peeped through the keyhole into his room and saw him kneeling before a picture.

Then they spread the story that every morning and evening the boy knelt and prayed to an idol he kept, and at last they went to the king himself and asked him to look through the boy’s keyhole and see for himself. The king would not believe it, but at length they persuaded him, and he crept on tiptoe to the door and peeped inside. Sure enough, he saw the boy kneeling, with his hands clasped, before the picture on the wall.

“Open the door!” shouted the king, but the boy did not hear. The king called a second time, but the boy was praying so earnestly that he still heard nothing. “Open the door, I say!” shouted the king again. “It is I who wish to come in.” At that the boy sprang to the door and unlocked it, and in his haste forgot to hide the portrait. When the king came in and saw it, he stood as though spellbound, unable to stir from the spot, so beautiful did he find the picture. “There cannot be such a lovely woman in all the world,” said the king. But the boy told him that it was his sister he had painted, and if she was no prettier, she was certainly no uglier. “Well, if she is so beautiful, I will have her for my queen,” said the king, and ordered the boy to set off that very instant and fetch her, and on no account to linger on the way. The boy promised to hurry as fast as he could, and left the palace.

When the brother came home to fetch his sister, the stepmother and her own daughter insisted on coming too. So they all set out together, and the man’s daughter brought a little chest in which she kept her gold, and a dog called Lille Kaværn;

those two things were all she had inherited from her mother. After they had travelled for a while, they had to cross a lake. The brother sat at the helm, while the mother and the two stepsisters sat in the bow, and they sailed on for a long, long time.

At last they could see a shore. “Where you see that white shore, we shall land,” said the brother, pointing across the lake. “What is my brother saying?” asked the man’s daughter.

“He says you must throw your chest into the water,” answered the stepmother. “Well, if my brother says so, I suppose I must,” said the man’s daughter, and she threw the chest overboard.

When they had sailed on for a while, the brother pointed across the lake again. “There you can see the palace we are going to,” he said. “What is my brother saying?” asked the man’s daughter.

“Now he says you must throw your dog into the lake,” answered the stepmother. The man’s daughter wept and grieved, for Lille Kaværn was the dearest thing she had in the world, but at last she threw him overboard.

“If my brother says so, I must do it, but God knows how unwillingly I throw you into the water, Lille Kaværn!” she said. Then they sailed a good way farther. “There you can see the king coming out to welcome you,” said the brother, pointing towards the shore.

“What is my brother saying?” his sister asked again. “Now he says you must hurry and throw yourself into the water,” answered the stepmother. She lamented and wept, but since her brother said so, she felt she must obey, and she leapt into the lake.

When they reached the palace and the king saw the hideous bride, with her nose four ells long, her mouth jutting out three ells, and a bush in the middle of her head, he was quite horrified. But everything was ready for the wedding, the brewing and baking were done, and the wedding guests sat waiting, so the king had to take her as she was. Angry he was, though, and no one could blame him; and so he had the boy thrown into the pit of serpents.

On the first Thursday evening after this, a beautiful woman came into the palace kitchen and very politely asked the kitchen maid, who slept there, to lend her a brush. The maid gave her one, and she brushed her hair until gold rained down. A little dog had come with her, and she said to him, “Go out, Lille Kaværn, and see whether day is coming soon!” She said this three times, and the third time she sent the dog out, the first grey light of dawn was appearing. Then she had to leave, but as she went she said:

“Shame on you, ugly Bush Bride! You shall lie in the king’s arms, while I lie in gravel and sand, and my brother in the pit of serpents, with no tears shed. Now I shall come twice more, and then never again.” In the morning the kitchen maid told what she had seen and heard, and the king said that the following Thursday evening he would keep watch in the kitchen himself to see whether it was true. As soon as darkness began to fall, he came out to join the maid in the kitchen.

But however much he rubbed his eyes and tried to stay awake, it was no use, for the Bush Bride hummed and sang until his eyes closed, and when the beautiful woman came, he was snoring fast asleep. Just as before, she borrowed a brush and brushed her hair until gold rained down. Then she sent the dog out three times, and when dawn broke, she left.

As she went, she said the same words as before. “Now I shall come once more, and then never again,” she said at last. On the third Thursday evening the king was determined to keep watch again. He had two men support him, one under each arm, and told them to shake and pinch him whenever he began to fall asleep. He also set two men to guard the Bush Bride. But as the evening wore on, the Bush Bride began to hum and sing again, until the king’s eyes began to close and his head drooped to one side. Then the beautiful woman came, borrowed the brush, and brushed her hair until gold rained down;

afterwards she sent little Kavern out to see whether day was coming soon, and this she did three times. The third time, dawn was breaking, and she said:

“Shame on you, ugly Bush Bride! You shall lie in the king’s arms, while I lie in gravel and sand, and my brother in the pit of serpents, with no tears shed. Now I shall never come again,” she said, and made to leave. But the two men supporting the king seized his hands and pressed the knife into his fist, and so he managed to cut her little finger deeply enough to draw blood and break the spell. Then the true bride was freed, and the king awoke. She told him all that had happened, and how her stepmother and the woman’s own daughter had betrayed her. Her brother was at once brought out of the pit of serpents—the serpents had not done him the slightest harm—and the stepmother and her own daughter were thrown down there instead. But no one can tell how happy the king was to be rid of the ugly Bush Bride and to have in her place a queen as beautiful and bright as day itself. Now the true wedding was held, and such a wedding it was that it was heard of and talked of throughout seven kingdoms. The king and his bride drove to church, and little Kavern sat in the carriage too.

When the marriage service was over, they drove home again, but after that I stayed with them no longer.