The Little Match Girl
Hans Christian Andersen
It was bitterly cold, snow was falling and darkness was gathering, for it was the last evening of the old year – it was New Year’s Eve.
In the cold and gloom a poor little girl walked, bareheaded and barefoot, through the streets. She had been wearing slippers, it is true, when she left home, but what good were they? They had been her mother’s, so you can imagine how big they were. The little girl had lost them as she ran across the street to escape from two carriages that were being driven terribly fast. One slipper could not be found, and a boy had run off with the other, saying that it would come in handy as a cradle some day when he had children of his own.
So the little girl walked about the streets on her naked feet, which were read and blue with the cold. In her apron she carried a great many matches, and she had a packet of them in her hand as well. Nobody had bought any from her, and no one had given her a single penny all day. She crept along, shivering and hungry, the picture of misery, poor little thing!
The snowflakes fell on her long golden hair which curled so prettily about her neck, but she did not think of her appearance now. Lights were shining in every window, and there was a glorious smell of roast goose in the street, for this was New Year’s Eve, and she could not think of anything else.
She huddled down in a heap in a corner formed by two houses, one of which projected further out into the street than the other, but though she tucked her little legs up under her, she felt colder and colder. She did not dare go home, for she had sold no matches and earned not a single penny. Her father would be sure to beat her, and besides it was so cold at home, for they had nothing but the roof above them and the wind whirled through that, even though the largest cracks were stuffed with straw and rags. Her thin hands were almost numb with cold. If only she dared pull just one small match from the packet, strike it on the wall and warm her fingers!
She pulled one out – scr-ratch! – how it spluttered and burnt! It had a warm, bright flame like a tiny candle when she held her hand over it – but what a strange light! It seemed to the little girl as if she were sitting in front of a great iron stove with polished brass knobs and brass ornaments. The fire burnt so beautifully and gave out such a lovely warmth. Oh, how wonderful that was! The child had already stretched her feet to warm them, too, when – out went the flame, the stove vanished and there she sat with the burnt match in her hand.
She struck another – it burnt clearly and, where the light fell upon the wall, the bricks became transparent, like gauze. She could see right into the room, where a shining white cloth was spread on the table. It was covered with beautiful china and in the center of it stood a roast goose, stuffed with prunes and apples, steaming deliciously. And what was even more wonderful was that the goose hopped down from the dish, waddled across the floor with carving knife and fork in its back, waddled straight up to the poor child! Then – out went the match, and nothing could be seen but the thick, cold wall.
She struck another match, and suddenly she was sitting under the most beautiful Christmas tree. It was much larger and much lovelier than the one she had seen last year through the glass doors of the rich merchant’s house. A thousand candles lit up the green branches, and gaily colored balls like those in the shop windows looked down upon her. The little girl reached forward with both hands – then, out went the match. The many candles on the Christmas tree rose higher and higher through the air, and she saw that they had now turned into bright stars. One of them fell, streaking the sky with light.
“Now someone is dying,” said the little girl, for her old grandmother, the only one who had ever been good to her but who was now dead, had said, “Whenever a star falls, a soul goes up to God.”
She struck another match on the wall. Once more there was light, and in the glow stood her old grandmother, oh, so bright and shining, and looking so gentle, kind and loving. “Granny!” cried the little girl. “Oh, take me with you! I know you will disappear when the match is burnt out; you will vanish like the warm stove, the lovely roast goose and the great glorious Christmas tree!”
Then she quickly struck all the rest of the matches she had in the packet, for she did so want to keep her grandmother with her.
The matches flared up with such a blaze that it was brighter than broad daylight, and her old grandmother had never seemed so beautiful before, so stately before. She took the little girl in her arms and flew with her high up, oh, so high, towards glory and joy! Now they knew neither cold nor hunger nor fear, for they were both with God.
But in the cold dawn, in the corner formed by the two houses, sat the little girl with rosy cheeks and smiling lips, dead – frozen to death on the last evening of the old year. The dawn of the New Year rose on the huddled figure of the girl. She was still holding the matches, and half a packet had been burnt.
“She was evidently trying to warm herself,” people said. But no one knew what beautiful visions she had seen and in what a blaze of glory she had entered with her dear old grandmother into the heavenly joy and gladness of a new year.
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