“Oh,” sighed the duckling, “happily I am so ugly; even a dog does not bite me”.
And so he lay quite still, while the shot rattled through the rushes. Gun after gun was fired over him. It was late in the day before all became quiet. But even then the poor duckling did not dare to move. He waited quietly for several hours and then he looked carefully around him. He saw, nobody. Then he hastened away from the moor as fast as he could. He ran over field and meadow till a storm arose.
Towards evening he reached a poor little cottage. It was ready to fall, and stood because it could not decide on which side to fall first. The storm continued so violent that the duckling could go no farther. He sat down by the cottage, and then he noticed that the door was not closed. There was, therefore, a narrow opening near the bottom. It was large enough for him. He slipped through very quietly, and got a shelter for the night.
Here, in this cottage, lived a woman, a cat, and a hen. The cat, whom his mistress called “My little son,” was a great favorite. He could raise his back, and purr, and could even throw out sparks from his fur. The hen had very short legs, so she was called “Chickie Short-legs.” She laid good eggs, and her mistress loved her very much.
In the morning they discovered the strange visitor. The cat began to purr and the hen began to cluck.
“What is that noise about?” said the old woman. She was looking around the room, but her sight was not very good. Therefore when she saw the duckling she thought it was a fat duck.
“Oh, what a surprise!” she exclaimed. “I hope it is not a drake, for then I shall have some ducks’ eggs. I must wait and see”.
So she allowed the duckling to remain for three weeks. But there were no eggs.
The cat was the master of the house, and the hen was the mistress. They always said, “We and the world”. They believed themselves to be half the world, and the better half, too. The duckling had a different opinion on the subject, but the hen did not to listen to such doubts.
“Can you lay eggs?” the hen asked.
“No”.
“Then cease talking!”
“Can you raise your back, or purr, or throw out sparks?” asked the cat.
“No”.
“Then you have no right to express an opinion when sensible people are speaking”.
So the duckling sat in a corner. He was very sad.
When the sunshine and the fresh air came into the room through the open door, he wanted to swim and spoke of it.
“What an absurd idea!” said the hen. “You have nothing else to do; therefore you have foolish ideas. Purr or lay eggs – and they will pass away”.
“But it is so delightful to swim,” said the duckling, “and so refreshing to feel the water when you dive down to the bottom”.
“Delightful, indeed! It is a queer sort of pleasure,” said the hen. “You must be crazy! Ask the cat – he is the cleverest animal. Ask him how he likes to swim, or to dive under the water. Of course, I will not speak of my own opinion. Ask our mistress, the old woman; there is no one in the world more clever than she is. Do you think she likes to swim and feel the water over her head?”
“I see you don’t understand me”, said the duckling.
“We don’t understand you? Who can understand you, I wonder? Do you consider yourself more clever than the cat or the old woman? I will say nothing of myself. Don’t imagine such nonsense, child. Thank your good fortune that we receive you here so well. Are you not in a warm room and in society from which you may learn something? But you are a chatterer, and your company is not very agreeable. Believe me, I speak only for your good. I may tell you unpleasant truths. But that is a proof of my friendship. I advise you, therefore, to lay eggs and learn to purr as quickly as possible”.
“I believe I must go out into the world again”, said the duckling.
“Yes, do”, said the hen.
So the duckling left the cottage and soon found water on which he could swim and dive. But all other animals avoided him because of his ugly appearance.
Autumn came, and the leaves in the forest turned to orange and gold. Then, as winter approached, the they fell and the wind whirled them into the cold air. The clouds, heavy with hail and snowflakes, hung low in the sky. The raven stood among the reeds and cried, “Croak, croak”. All this was very sad for the poor little duckling.
One evening, just as the sun was setting amid radiant clouds, there came a large flock of beautiful birds out of the bushes. The duckling did not see them before. They were swans; and they curved their graceful necks. Their soft plumage shone with dazzling whiteness.
They uttered a strange cry as they spread their glorious wings and flew away from those cold regions to warmer countries across the sea. They mounted higher and higher in the air.
The ugly little duckling had a strange sensation as he watched them. He whirled himself in the water like a wheel, stretched out his neck towards them, and uttered a cry. His cry was so strange that it frightened even himself. He could not forget those beautiful, happy birds! And when at last they were out of his sight, he dived under the water and rose again with excitement. He did not know the names of these birds, but he liked them.
He was not envious of these beautiful creatures; it never occurred to him to wish. Poor ugly creature! He just wanted to live with the ducks peacefully. That was all that he wanted.
The winter grew colder and colder; he swam about on the water. But every night the space on which he swam became smaller and smaller. At length it froze so hard that the ice in the water crackled as he moved. The duckling became exhausted at last and lay still and helpless.
Early in the morning, a peasant who was passing by, saw him. He broke the ice in pieces with his wooden shoe and carried the duckling home to his wife. The warmth revived the poor little creature. But when the children wanted to play with him, the duckling was afraid of them. So he started up in terror, fluttered into the milk pan, and splashed the milk about the room.
Then the woman clapped her hands, which frightened him still more. He flew first into the butter cask, then into the meal tub and out again. The woman screamed and struck at him with the tongs; the children laughed and screamed and tried to catch him. But he escaped luckily.
The door was open; the poor duckling slipped out among the bushes and lay down exhausted in the snow.
It is very sad to relate all the misery and privations which the poor little duckling endured during the hard winter. But when it passed he found himself[8] one morning in a moor, amongst the rushes. He felt the warm sun and heard the lark. It was a beautiful spring.
Then the young bird felt that his wings were strong. He flapped them against his sides and rose high into the air. They bore him onwards, and finally he found himself in a large garden. The apple trees were in full blossom, and the fragrant elders bent their long green branches down to the stream. Everything looked beautiful in the freshness of early spring. From a thicket came three beautiful white swans. They were rustling their feathers and swimming lightly over the water. The duckling saw these lovely birds and felt more unhappy than ever.
“I will fly to these royal birds,” he exclaimed, “and they will kill me because. I am very ugly, and I must not approach them. But it does not matter. Let them kill me. It’s better. The ducks peck me, the hens beat me, the maiden who feeds the poultry pushes me. If they don’t kill me, I’ll starve with hunger in the winter”.
Then