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There was once upon a time a miller, who had a beautiful |
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daughter, and as she was grown up, he wished that she was |
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provided for, and well married. He thought, if any good suitor |
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comes and asks for her, I will give her to him. Not long |
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afterwards, a suitor came, who appeared to be very rich, and as |
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the miller had no fault to find with him, he promised his |
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daughter to him. The maiden, however, did not like him quite |
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so much as a girl should like the man to whom she is engaged, and |
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had no confidence in him. Whenever she saw, or thought of him, |
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she felt a secret horror. Once he said to her, you are my |
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betrothed, and yet you have never once paid me a visit. The |
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maiden replied, I know not where your house is. Then said the |
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bridegroom, my house is out there in the dark forest. She |
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tried to excuse herself |
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and said she could not find the way there. The bridegroom said, |
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next sunday you must come out there to me, I have already |
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invited the guests, and I will strew ashes in order that you may |
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find your way through the forest. When sunday came, and the |
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maiden had to set out on her way, she became very uneasy, she |
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herself knew not exactly why, and to mark her way she filled both |
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her pockets full of peas and lentils. Ashes were strewn at the |
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entrance of the forest, and these she followed, but at every step |
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she threw a couple of peas on the ground. She walked almost the |
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whole day until she reached the middle of the forest, where it |
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was the darkest, and there stood a solitary house, which she did |
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not like, for it looked so dark and dismal. She went inside it, |
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but no one was within, and the most absolute stillness reigned. |
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Suddenly a voice cried, |
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turn back, turn back, young maiden dear, |
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'tis a murderer's house you enter here. |
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The maiden looked up, and saw that the voice came from a bird, |
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which was hanging in a cage on the wall. Again it cried, |
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turn back, turn back, young maiden dear, |
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'tis a murderer's house you enter here. |
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Then the young maiden went on farther from one room to another, |
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and walked through the whole house, but it was entirely empty |
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and not one human being was to be found. At last she came to the |
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the cellar, and there sat an extremely aged woman, whose head |
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shook constantly. Can you not tell me, said the maiden, if my |
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betrothed lives here. |
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Alas, poor child, replied the old woman, whither have you come. |
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You are in a murderer's den. You think you are a bride soon to be |
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married, but you will keep your wedding with death. Look, I |
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have been forced to put a great kettle on there, with water in it, |
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and when they have you in their power, they will cut you to |
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pieces without mercy, will cook you, and eat you, for they are |
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eaters of human flesh. If I do not have compassion on you, and |
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save you, you are lost. |
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Thereupon the old woman led her behind a great hogshead |
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where she could not be seen. Be still as a mouse, said she, do |
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not make a sound, or move, or all will be over with you. At |
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night, when the robbers are asleep, we will escape, I have long |
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waited for an opportunity. Hardly was this done, than the godless |
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crew came home. They dragged with them another young girl. They |
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were drunk, and paid no heed to her screams and lamentations. |
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They gave her wine to drink, three glasses full, one glass of |
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white wine, one glass of red, and a glass of yellow, and with |
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this her heart burst in twain. Thereupon they tore off her |
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delicate raiment, laid her on a table, cut her beautiful body |
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in pieces and strewed salt thereon. The poor bride behind the |
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cask trembled and shook, for she saw right well what fate the |
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robbers had destined for her. One of them noticed a gold ring on |
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the finger of the murdered girl, and as it would not come off at |
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once, he took an axe and cut the finger off, but it sprang up in |
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the air, away over the cask and fell straight into the bride's |
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bosom. The robber took a candle and wanted to look for it, but |
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could not find it. Then another of them said, have you |
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looked behind the great hogshead. But the old woman cried, |
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come and get something to eat, and leave off looking till the |
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morning, the finger won't run away from you. |
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Then the robbers said, the old woman is right, and gave up their |
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search, and sat down to eat, and the old woman poured a |
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sleeping-draught in their wine, so that they soon lay down |
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in the cellar, and slept and snored. When the bride heard |
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that, she came out from behind the hogshead, and had to step |
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over the sleepers, for they lay in rows on the ground, and great |
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was her terror lest she should waken one of them. But God |
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helped her, and she got safely over. The old woman went up with |
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her, opened the doors, and they hurried out of the murderer's den |
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with all the speed in their power. The wind had blown away the |
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strewn ashes, but the peas and lentils had sprouted and grown up, |
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and showed them the way in the moonlight. They walked the whole |
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night, until in the morning they arrived at the mill, and then the |
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maiden told her father everything exactly as it had happened. |
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When the day came for the wedding to be celebrated, the bridegroom |
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appeared, and the miller had invited all his relations and |
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friends. As they sat at table, each was bidden to relate |
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something. The bride sat still, and said nothing. Then said the |
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bridegroom to the bride, come, my darling, do you know nothing. |
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Relate something to us like the rest. She replied, then I will |
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relate a dream. I was walking alone through a wood, and at last |
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I came to a house, in which no living soul was, but on the wall |
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there was a bird in a cage which cried, |
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turn back, turn back, young maiden dear, |
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'tis a murderer's house you enter here. |
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And this it cried once more. My darling, I only dreamt this. |
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Then I went through all the rooms, and they were all empty, and |
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there was something so horrible about them. At last I went down |
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into the cellar, and there sat a very very old woman, whose head |
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shook. I asked her, does my bridegroom live in this house. She |
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answered, alas poor child, you have got into a murderer's den, |
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your bridegroom does live here, but he will hew you in pieces, |
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and kill you, and then he will cook you, and eat you. My darling |
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I only dreamt this. But the old woman hid me behind a great |
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hogshead, and scarcely was I hidden, when the robbers came home, |
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dragging a maiden with them, to whom they gave three kinds of |
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wine to drink, white, red, and yellow, with which her heart broke |
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in twain. My darling, I only dreamt this. Thereupon they pulled |
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off her pretty clothes, and hewed her fair body in pieces on a |
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table, and sprinkled them with salt. My darling, I only dreamt |
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this. And one of the robbers saw that there was still a ring on |
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her little finger, and as it was hard to draw off, he took an axe |
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and cut it off, but the finger sprang up in the air, and sprang |
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behind the great hogshead, and fell in my bosom. And there is the |
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finger with the ring. And with these words she drew it forth, and |
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showed it to those present. |
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The robber, who had during this story become as pale as ashes, |
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leapt up and wanted to escape, but the guests held him fast, and |
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delivered him over to justice. Then he and his whole troop were |
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executed for their infamous deeds. |
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