Part 17 (2/2)

It is very likely I may go supperless to bed, but then there is the pleasure of gathering flowers, making hay, and playing tricks.”

Remembrance and expectation made her laugh.

The b.u.t.terfly stretched out its dazzling wings, and, after it had settled on a nettle, waved itself backwards and forwards in the suns.h.i.+ne. There was also something else upon the nettle, which looked like a shrivelled-up light brown leaf. The sun was just then s.h.i.+ning down with great force upon the spot, and while she looked the brown object moved, and two little leaves rose gently up which by and by became two beautiful little wings; and behold, it was a b.u.t.terfly just come out of the chrysalis! Fresh life was infused into it by the warm rays of the sun, and how happy it was!

The two b.u.t.terflies must have been friends whom some unlucky chance had separated. They flew about, played at hide-and-seek, waltzed with each other, and seemed to be thoroughly enjoying themselves in the bright suns.h.i.+ne. One flew away three times into a neighboring orchard.

The other seated itself on a nettle to rest. Karine went gently towards it, put her hands quickly over it, and got possession both of the b.u.t.terfly and the nettle. She then put them into the basket, which she covered with a red cotton handkerchief, and went home happy.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

The nettles were bought by an old countess, who lived in a grand apartment, and had a weakness for nettle soup. Karine received a silver piece for them. With this in her hand, the b.u.t.terfly in her basket, and also two large gingercakes which had been given to her by the kind countess, the happy girl went into the room where her mother and little brother awaited her. There were great rejoicings over the piece of silver, the gingercakes, and the b.u.t.terfly.

But the b.u.t.terfly did not appear as happy with the children as the children were with the b.u.t.terfly. It would not eat any of the gingerbread, or anything else which the children offered, but was always fluttering against the window-pane, and when it rested on the ledge it put out a long proboscis, drew it in again, and appeared to be sucking something; however, it found nothing to suit its taste, so it flew about again, and beat its wings with such force against the window-pane, that Karine began to fear it would come to grief. Two days pa.s.sed in this way. The b.u.t.terfly would not be happy.

”It wants to get out,” thought Karine; ”it wants to find a home and something to eat.” So she opened the window.

Ah, how joyfully the b.u.t.terfly flew out into the open air! it seemed to be quite happy. Karine ran after it to see which way it took. It flew over the churchyard, which was near Karine's dwelling. There little yellow star-like flowers of every description were in bud; among them the spring campanula, otherwise called the morning-star.

Into the calyxes of these little flowers it thrust its proboscis, and sucked a sweet juice therefrom; for at the bottom of the calyx of almost every flower there is a drop of sweet juice which G.o.d has provided for the nourishment of insects,--bees, drones, b.u.t.terflies, and many other little creatures.

The b.u.t.terfly then flew to the bunch of nettles on the hill. The large nettle which had stung Karine's finger now bore three white bell-shaped flowers, which looked like a crown on the top of the stalk, and many others were nearly out. The b.u.t.terfly drew honey from the white nettle-blossoms and embraced the plant with its wings, as children do a tender mother.

”It has now returned to its home,” thought Karine, and she felt very glad to have given the b.u.t.terfly its liberty.

Summer came. The child enjoyed herself under the lime-trees in the churchyard, and in the meadows where she got the beautiful yellow catkins, which were as soft as the down of the goslings, and which she was so fond of playing with, also the young twigs which she liked cutting into pipes or whistles. Fir-trees and pines blossomed and bore fir-cones; the sheep and calves were growing, and drank the dew, which is called the ”Blessed Virgin's hand,” out of the trumpet moss, which with its small white and purple cup grew on the steep shady banks.

Karine now gathered flowers to sell. The nettles had long ago become too old and rank, but the nettle b.u.t.terflies still flew merrily about among them.

One day Karine saw her old friend sit on a leaf, as if tired and worn out, and when it flew away the child found a little gray egg lying on the very spot where it had rested, whereupon she made a mark on the nettle and the leaf.

She forgot the nettles for a long time, and it seemed as if the b.u.t.terfly had also forgotten them, for it was there no more. Larger and more beautiful b.u.t.terflies were flying about there, higher up in the air. There was the magnificent Apollo-bird, with large white wings and scarlet eyes; also the Antiopa, with its beautiful blue and white velvet band on the edge of its dark velvet dress; and farther on the dear little blue glittering Zefprinner, and many others.

Karine gathered flowers, and then went into the hay-field to work; still, it often happened that she and her little brother went supperless to bed. But then their father played on the violin, and made them forget that they were hungry, and its tones lulled them to sleep.

One day, when Karine was pa.s.sing by the nettles, she stopped, rejoiced to see them again. She saw that the nettles were a little bent down, and, upon examination, found a number of small green caterpillars, resembling those which we call cabbage-grubs, and they seemed to enjoy eating the nettle leaves as much as the old countess did her nettle soup. She saw that they covered the exact spot where she had made a mark, and that the leaf was nearly eaten up by the caterpillars, and Karine immediately thought that they must be the b.u.t.terfly's children.

And so they were, for they had come from its eggs.

”Ah!” thought Karine, ”if my little brother and I, who sometimes can eat more than our father and mother can give us, could become b.u.t.terflies, and find something to eat as easily as these do, would it not be pleasant?” She broke off the nettle on which the b.u.t.terfly had laid its eggs,--but this time she carefully wound her handkerchief round her hand,--and carried it home.

On her arrival there, she found all the little grubs had crawled away, with the exception of one, which was still eating and enjoying itself. Karine put the nettle into a gla.s.s of water, and every day a fresh leaf appeared. The caterpillar quickly increased in size, and seemed to thrive wonderfully well. The child took great pleasure in it, and wondered within herself how large it would be at last, and when its wings would come.

But one morning it appeared very quiet and sleepy, and would not eat, and became every moment more weary, and seemed ill. ”O,” said Karine, ”it is certainly going to die, and there will be no b.u.t.terfly from it; what a pity!”

It was evening, and the next morning Karine found with astonishment that the caterpillar had spun round itself a sort of web, in which it lay, no longer a living green grub, but a stiff brown chrysalis. She took it out of the coc.o.o.n; it was as if enclosed in a sh.e.l.l. ”It is dead,” said the child, ”and is now lying in its coffin! But I will still keep it, for it has been so long with us, and at any rate it will be something belonging to my old favorite.” Karine then laid it on the earth in a little flower-pot which stood in the window, in which there was a balsam growing.

The long winter came, and much, very much snow. Karine and her little brother had to run barefooted through it all. The boy got a cough. He became paler and paler, would not eat anything, and lay tired and weary, just like the grub of the caterpillar shortly before it became a chrysalis.

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