WALDEMAR DAA AND HIS DAUGHTERS 655
* I took pity on the fairest of the sjsters,' said the Wind. ' Her courage was like that of a man, and in man's clothes she took service as a sailor on board *na ship. She was sparing of words, and of a dark countenance, but willing at her work. But she did not know how to climb ; so I blew her overboard before anybody found out that she was a woman, and that was well done of me !' said the Wind.
' On such an Easter morning as that on which Waldemar Daa had fancied that he had found the red gold, I heard the tones of a psalm under the stork's nest, among the crumbling walls—it was Anna Dorothea's last song.
' There was no window, only a hole in the wall. The sun rose up like a mass of gold, and looked through. What a splendour he diffused ! Her eyes and her heart were breaking—but that they would have done, even if the sun had not shone that morning on her.
' The stork covered her hut till her death. I sang at her grave ! ' said the Wind. ' I sang at her father's grave ; I know where his grave is, and where hers is, and nobody else knows it.
1 New times, changed times ! The old high road now runs through cultivated fields ; the new road winds among the trim ditches, and soon the railway will come with its train of carriages, and rush over the graves which are forgotten like the names—hu-ush ! passed away ! passed away !
1 That is the story of Waldemar Daa and his daughters. Tell it better, any of you, if you know how,' said the Wind, and turned away—and he was gone.
THE GIRL WHO TROD ON THE LOAF
The story of the girl who trod on the loaf to avoid soiling her shoes, and of the misfortune that befell this girl, is well known. It has been written, and even printed.
She was a poor child, but proud and presumptuous ; there was a bad foundation in her, as the saying is. When she was quite a little child, it was her delight to catch flies and tear off their wings, so as to make them into creeping