“You are right,” said the emperor, and began to
cry like a little child.
“I hope it is not natural,” said the princess.
“Yes, certainly it is natural,” replied those who had brought
the presents.
“Then let it fly,” said the princess, and refused to see the
prince.
But the prince was not discouraged. He painted his face, put on
common clothes, pulled his cap over his forehead, and came back.
“Good day, emperor,” he said, “could you not give me some
employment at the court?”
“There are so many,” replied the emperor, “who apply for
places, that for the present I have no vacancy, but I will
remember you. But wait a moment; it just comes into my mind, I
require somebody to look after my pigs, for I have a great many.”
Thus the prince was appointed imperial swineherd, and as such
he lived in a wretchedly small room near the pigsty; there he
worked all day long, and when it was night he had made a pretty
little pot. There were little bells round the rim, and when the
water began to boil in it, the bells began to play the old tune:
“A jolly old sow once lived in a sty,
Three little piggies had she,” &c.
But what was more wonderful was that, when one put a finger
into the steam rising from the pot, one could at once smell what
meals they were preparing on every fire in the whole town. That
was indeed much more remarkable than the rose. When the princess
with her ladies passed by and heard the tune, she stopped and
looked quite pleased, for she also could play it—in fact, it was
the only tune she could play, and she played it with one finger.
“That is the tune I know,” she exclaimed. “He must be a
well-educated swineherd. Go and ask him how much the instrument
is.”
One of the ladies had to go and ask; but she put on pattens.
“What will you take for your pot?” asked the lady.
“I will have ten kisses from the princess,” said the swineherd.
“God forbid,” said the lady.
“Well, I cannot sell it for less,” replied the swineherd.
“What did he say?” said the princess.
“I really cannot tell you,” replied the lady.
“You can whisper it into my ear.”
“It is very naughty,” said the princess, and walked off.
But when she had gone a little distance, the bells rang again
so sweetly:
“A jolly old sow once lived in a sty,
Three little piggies had she,” &c.
“Ask him,” said the princess, “if he will be satisfied with ten
kisses from one of my ladies.”
“No, thank you,” said the swineherd: “ten kisses from the
princess, or I keep my pot.”
“That is tiresome,” said the princess. “But you must stand
before me, so that nobody can see it.”
The ladies placed themselves in front of her and spread out
their dresses, and she gave the swineherd ten kisses and received
the pot.
That was a pleasure! Day and night the water in the pot was
boiling; there was not a single fire in the whole town of which
they did not know what was preparing on it, the chamberlain’s as
well as the shoemaker’s. The ladies danced and clapped their hands
for joy.
“We know who will eat soup and pancakes; we know who will eat
porridge and cutlets; oh, how interesting!”
“Very interesting, indeed,” said the mistress of the household.
“But you must not betray me, for I am the emperor’s daughter.”
“Of course not,” they all said.
The swineherd—that is to say, the prince—but they did not know
otherwise than that he was a real swineherd—did not waste a single
day without doing something; he made a rattle, which, when turned
quickly round, played all the waltzes, galops, and polkas known
since the creation of the world.
“But that is superbe,” said the princess passing by. “I
have never heard a more beautiful composition. Go down and ask him
what the instrument costs; but I shall not kiss him again.”
“He will have a hundred kisses from the princess,” said the
lady, who had gone down to ask him.
“I believe he is mad,” said the princess, and walked off, but
soon she stopped. “One must encourage art,” she said. “I am the
emperor’s daughter! Tell him I will give him ten kisses, as I did
the other day; the remainder one of my ladies can give him.”
“But we do not like to kiss him,” said the ladies.
“That is nonsense,” said the princess; “if I can kiss him, you
can also do it. Remember that I give you food and employment.” And
the lady had to go down once more.
“A hundred kisses from the princess,” said the swineherd, “or
everybody keeps his own.”
“Place yourselves before me,” said the princess then. They did
as they were bidden, and the princess kissed him.
“I wonder what that crowd near the pigsty means!” said the
emperor, who had just come out on his balcony. He rubbed his eyes
and put his spectacles on.
“The ladies of the court are up to some mischief, I think. I
shall have to go down and see.” He pulled up his shoes, for they
were down at the heels, and he was very quick about it. When he
had come down into the courtyard he walked quite softly, and the
ladies were so busily engaged in counting the kisses, that all
should be fair, that they did not notice the emperor. He raised
himself on tiptoe.
“What does this mean?” he said, when he saw that his daughter
was kissing the swineherd, and then hit their heads with his shoe
just as the swineherd received the sixty-eighth kiss.
“Go out of my sight,” said the emperor, for he was very angry;
and both the princess and the swineherd were banished from the
empire. There she stood and cried, the swineherd scolded her, and
the rain came down in torrents.
“Alas, unfortunate creature that I am!” said the princess, “I
wish I had accepted the prince. Oh, how wretched I am!”
The swineherd went behind a tree, wiped his face, threw off his
poor attire and stepped forth in his princely garments; he looked
so beautiful that the princess could not help bowing to him.
“I have now learnt to despise you,” he said. “You refused an
honest prince; you did not appreciate the rose and the
nightingale; but you did not mind kissing a swineherd for his
toys; you have no one but yourself to blame!”
And then he returned into his kingdom and left her behind. She
could now sing at her leisure:
“A jolly old sow once lived in a sty,
Three little piggies has she,” &c.
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