‘She shall play with me,’ said the little robber-maiden, ‘she shall give me her muff and her pretty frock, and sleep with me in my bed!’ And then she bit her mother again, till the robber-wife sprang up and shrieked with pain, whilst the robbers all laughed, saying, ‘Look at her playing with her young one!’
‘I will get into the carriage,’ and so spoiled and wayward was the little robber-maiden that she always had her own way, and she and Gerda sat together in the carriage, and drove over stock and stone farther and farther into the wood. The little robber-maiden was about as tall as Gerda, but much stronger; she had broad shoulders, and a very dark skin; her eyes were quite black, and had an expression almost melancholy. She put her arm round Gerda’s waist, and said, ‘She shall not kill thee so long as I love thee! Art thou not a princess?’
‘No!’ said Gerda; and then she told her all that had happened to her, and how much she loved little Kay.
The robber-maiden looked earnestly in her face, shook her head, and said, ‘She shall not kill thee even if I do quarrel with thee; then, indeed, I would rather do it myself!’ And she dried Gerda’s tears, and put both her hands into the pretty muff that was so soft and warm.
The carriage at last stopped in the middle of the courtyard of the robbers’ castle. This castle was half-ruined; crows and ravens flew out of the openings, and some fearfully large bull-dogs, looking as if they could devour a man in a moment, jumped round the carriage; they did not bark, for that was forbidden.
The maidens entered a large, smoky hall, where a tremendous fire was blazing on the stone floor; the smoke rose up to the ceiling, seeking a way of escape, for there was no chimney; a large caldron full of soup was boiling over the fire, whilst hares and rabbits were roasting on the spit.
‘Thou shalt sleep with me and my little pets to-night!’ said the robber-maiden. Then they had some food, and afterwards went to the corner wherein lay straw and a piece of carpet. Nearly a hundred pigeons were perched on staves and laths around them; they seemed to be asleep, but were startled when the little maidens approached.
‘These all belong to me,’ said Gerda’s companion, and seizing hold of one of the nearest, she held the poor bird by the feet and swung it. ‘Kiss it,’ said she, flapping it into Gerda’s face. ‘The rabble from the wood sit up there,’ continued she, pointing to a number of laths fastened across a hole in the wall; ‘those are wood-pigeons, they would fly away if I did not keep them shut up. And here is my old favourite!’ She pulled forward by the horn a reindeer who wore a bright copper ring round his neck, by which he was fastened to a large stone. ‘We are obliged to chain him up, or he would run away from us; every evening I tickle his neck with my sharp dagger; it makes him fear me so much!’ and the robber-maiden drew out a long dagger from a gap in the wall, and passed it over the reindeer’s throat; the poor animal struggled and kicked, but the girl laughed, and then she pulled Gerda into bed with her.
‘Will you keep the dagger in your hand whilst you sleep?’ asked Gerda, looking timidly at the dangerous plaything.
‘I always sleep with my dagger by my side,’ replied the little robber-maiden; ‘one never knows what may happen. But now tell me all over again what you told me before about