Prevod

There was once a poor peasant who sat by the hearth one evening, tending the fire, while his wife sat spinning. “How sad it is,” he said, “that we have no children! It is so quiet in our house, while other people’s houses are full of noise and merriment.” “Yes,” answered his wife with a sigh, “if only we had one child, even if it were quite tiny, no bigger than a thumb, I should be content. We would love it with all our hearts.” Now it happened that the woman began to feel unwell, and after seven months she gave birth to a child who was perfectly formed in every limb, but no longer than a thumb. “He is just as we wished,” they said, “and he shall be our darling child,” and because of his size they called him Tom Thumb. They gave him all the food he needed, but the child grew no bigger and remained just as he had been in his first hour of life. Yet his eyes had an intelligent look, and he soon proved a clever, nimble little fellow who succeeded in everything he tried.

One day the peasant was getting ready to go into the forest to cut wood, and he said to himself, “I wish there were someone who could bring the cart after me.” “Oh, Father,” cried Tom Thumb, “I will bring the cart. You may depend on me: it shall be in the forest at the appointed time.” The man laughed and said, “How could you manage that? You are much too small to guide the horse with the reins.” “That does not matter, Father. If Mother will only harness the horse, I shall sit in its ear and call out which way it is to go.” “Well,” answered his father, “we shall give it a try.” When the time came, his mother harnessed the horse and put Tom Thumb in its ear. Then the little fellow called out how the horse was to go: “Gee up! Whoa! Gee! Haw!” And the horse went along as steadily as if a master driver were guiding it, and the cart took the right road to the forest. Just as it was turning a corner, with the little fellow calling, “Haw! Haw!” two strangers happened to come along. “Well,” said one, “what is this? There is a cart going along, and a driver calling to the horse, yet no one can be seen.” “There is something uncanny about it,” said the other. “Let us follow the cart and see where it stops.” But the cart went straight on into the forest and came to the very place where the wood was being cut. When Tom Thumb saw his father, he called to him, “You see, Father, here I am with the cart. Now lift me down.” His father took hold of the horse with his left hand and with his right lifted his little son out of its ear. The boy sat down quite cheerfully on a stalk of straw. When the two strangers caught sight of Tom Thumb, they were so astonished that they did not know what to say. Then one took the other aside and said, “Listen, that little fellow could make our fortune if we put him on show in a big city and charged people to see him. Let us buy him.” They went up to the peasant and said, “Sell us the little man. We shall take good care of him.” “No,” answered his father. “He is my heart’s delight, and I would not sell him for all the gold in the world.” But when Tom Thumb heard of the bargain, he climbed up the folds of his father’s coat, stood on his shoulder, and whispered in his ear, “Father, let me go with them. I shall find my way back to you.” So his father sold him to the two men for a handsome sum. “Where would you like to sit?” they asked him. “Oh, just put me on the brim of your hat. Then I can walk up and down and look at the countryside without falling off.” They did as he wished, and after Tom Thumb had said goodbye to his father, they set off with him. They walked on until dusk, when the little fellow said, “Lift me down a moment. I need to relieve myself.” “Stay where you are,” said the man on whose head he sat. “I shan’t mind. The birds sometimes drop something on me too.” “No,” said Tom Thumb, “I know what is proper. Just lift me down quickly.” The man took off his hat and set the little fellow in a field beside the road. Tom Thumb hopped and crawled about among the clods for a little while, then suddenly slipped into a mousehole he had picked out. “Good evening, gentlemen! Go home without me,” he called, laughing at them. They ran over and poked their sticks into the mousehole, but it was wasted effort: Tom Thumb kept crawling farther back. Soon it grew quite dark, and they had to make their way home, angry and empty-pursed.

When Tom Thumb realized they had gone, he crawled out of the underground passage. “It is dangerous walking about this field in the dark,” he said. “How easily a fellow could break his neck!” Luckily, he came upon an empty snail shell. “Thank goodness,” he said. “Here I can spend the night in safety,” and he settled down inside it. Before long, just as he was about to fall asleep, he heard two men passing by. One said to the other, “How shall we go about getting the rich parson’s money and silver?” “I could tell you that,” Tom Thumb called out. “What was that?” said one of the thieves in alarm. “I heard someone speaking.” They stopped and listened, and Tom Thumb spoke again. “Take me with you, and I will help you.” “Where are you, then?” “Look down here on the ground, and listen for where my voice is coming from,” he answered. At last the thieves found him and lifted him up. “You little imp! What help could you be to us?” they said. “Look,” he answered, “I can creep between the iron bars into the parson’s storeroom and pass out whatever you want.” “Very well,” they said, “we shall see what you can do.” When they reached the parsonage, Tom Thumb crept into the storeroom, but at once shouted at the top of his voice, “Do you want everything in here?” The thieves were frightened and said, “Speak quietly, so that no one wakes up.” But Tom Thumb pretended not to understand them and shouted again, “What do you want? Do you want everything in here?” The cook, who slept in the next room, heard this, sat up in bed, and listened. The thieves had run some distance away in fright, but at last they plucked up their courage again. “The little fellow is teasing us,” they thought, and came back and whispered through the window, “Now stop fooling and pass us something out.” Then Tom Thumb shouted once more, as loudly as he could, “I will give you everything! Just put your hands in.” The listening maid heard this quite plainly, sprang out of bed, and stumbled through the doorway. The thieves fled as though the Wild Huntsman were at their heels. But the maid, finding nothing, went to light a candle. As she returned with it, Tom Thumb slipped out into the barn without being seen. After searching every corner and finding nothing, the maid at last went back to bed, believing she must have been dreaming, though her eyes and ears had been wide open.

Tom Thumb had climbed about among the stalks of hay and found a fine place to sleep. There he meant to rest until daylight and then go home to his parents. But other adventures lay in store for him! Ah, there is much sorrow and hardship in the world! As usual, the maid got out of bed at dawn to feed the cattle. First she went to the barn, where she gathered an armful of hay—the very hay in which poor Tom Thumb lay asleep. He was sleeping so soundly that he noticed nothing, and did not wake until he was inside the mouth of the cow, which had scooped him up with the hay. “Good heavens!” he cried. “How did I get into the fulling mill?” But he soon realized where he was. Now he had to take care not to get between the teeth and be crushed, though he could not help sliding down into the stomach. “They forgot to put windows in this little room,” he said, “and no sunshine comes in. Nor is there likely to be a candle!” Altogether, he was very unhappy with his lodgings, and worst of all, more and more hay kept coming through the door, leaving him less and less room. At last, in his distress, he cried as loudly as he could, “Bring me no more fresh fodder! Bring me no more fresh fodder!” The maid was just milking the cow, and when she heard someone speaking but could see no one—and recognized the very voice she had heard in the night—she was so frightened that she slipped off her little stool and spilled the milk. She ran to her master in great haste and cried, “Oh, heavens, Parson! The cow has spoken!” “You are mad,” answered the parson, but he went to the cowshed himself to see what was the matter. Scarcely had he set foot inside when Tom Thumb called out again, “Bring me no more fresh fodder! Bring me no more fresh fodder!” Now the parson himself was frightened. Thinking an evil spirit was at work, he ordered the cow to be killed. So it was slaughtered, and the stomach, with Tom Thumb still inside, was thrown onto the dung heap. Tom Thumb tried to work his way out and had a great struggle, but at last he managed to make an opening. Just as he was about to poke his head out, however, a fresh misfortune befell him. A hungry wolf came bounding past and swallowed the whole stomach in a single gulp. Tom Thumb did not lose heart. “Perhaps,” he thought, “the wolf can be reasoned with,” and he called out from its belly, “Dear Wolf, I know where you can find a splendid feast.” “Where is it to be had?” asked the wolf. “In such-and-such a house. You must crawl in through the drain, and there you will find as much cake, bacon, and sausage as you can eat.” And he described his father’s house exactly. The wolf did not need to be told twice. That night it squeezed in through the drain and ate to its heart’s content in the larder. When it had had its fill, it wanted to leave, but it had grown so fat that it could not get out by the same way. Tom Thumb had counted on this, and now he began making a tremendous din inside the wolf’s belly, kicking up a rumpus and shouting as loudly as he could. “Will you be quiet?” said the wolf. “You will wake the people.” “What of it?” answered the little fellow. “You have had your feast, and now I mean to have my fun.” And he began shouting again with all his might. At last his father and mother woke up, ran to the larder, and peered through a crack. When they saw that a wolf was inside, they hurried away, and the man fetched his axe and the woman her scythe. “Stay behind me,” said the man as they went into the larder. “When I have struck him, if he is not dead yet, you must slash at him and cut his belly open.” Then Tom Thumb heard his father’s voice and cried, “Dear Father, I am here! I am inside the wolf’s belly!” His father exclaimed joyfully, “Thank God, our darling child is found again!” and told his wife to put away the scythe, lest Tom Thumb be hurt. Then he swung his axe and struck the wolf on the head so hard that it fell down dead. They fetched a knife and scissors, cut open its belly, and pulled the little fellow out. “Oh,” said his father, “how we have worried about you!” “Yes, Father, I have been far and wide in the world. Thank goodness I can breathe fresh air again!” “And where have you been?” “Oh, Father, I have been in a mousehole, in a cow’s stomach, and in a wolf’s belly. Now I shall stay with you.” “And we shall never sell you again, not for all the riches in the world.” Then they hugged and kissed their dear Tom Thumb, gave him food and drink, and had new clothes made for him, for his own had been ruined on his travels.