Werner sat down on a rock and examined the stone wall. It was smooth, had no crevices, and was covered with mosses and gay lichens; he could see nothing more. So he sat and waited. At last he heard a gentle fluttering above him and a hazel nut fell at his feet. “Take! Take!” cried the little bird. “Crack! Crack!”
Werner took the nut and looked at it. He could discover nothing peculiar about it, but when he shook it, it rattled as though something hard were inside. He cracked it and found a dainty golden key. In the meantime the little bird had flown to the stone wall. Clinging to it with both delicate little feet, she began pecking away so busily among the lichens, that the pieces fairly flew. At last she cried: “Here! Here!”
Werner came near, and noticed a small, silver-bound keyhole. The golden key fitted exactly into it, and when Werner turned it, a strange, fine, ringing sound came from the stone wall, and a heavy door, that fitted as exactly into its frame as though it had been cut into the rock, swung slowly open. A warm bluish air came from the opening, and an odor of burning pine needles and of wax candles just blown out, was wafted toward him.
“Oh, how this smells of Christmas!” said little Werner.
But the little bird cried: “Go in! Go in! Quick! Quick!”
Scarcely had Werner, who was just a little frightened, taken a few steps into the gloomy passage, when he felt a draft behind him, and suddenly it grew quite dark, for the door had again silently closed. Now indeed he began to lose courage, for to return was impossible, yet he saw that a faint heart would avail him little—so on he went, groping his way resolutely along the black passage.
III. Christmasland
Soon his path grew brighter and he stepped out into the strangest country he had ever seen. The air was warm, but not with the warmth of summer, but as it is in heated rooms, and fragrant with many sweet odors. No sun shone in the sky, yet everywhere was an even, tempered brightness. Of the country itself he saw but little, for behind him was the huge wall of rock through which he had entered, and round about him tall bushes bearing the queerest fruits obstructed the view. As he walked along, lost in wonder, he came to a broad avenue that led to a distant building. Bordering this avenue on both sides were great apple trees, on which grew golden and silver apples. Old men who looked like gnomes, with their long gray beards, and pretty little children were busily engaged picking these apples and heaping them up in large baskets, many of which stood already filled to the brim with their glittering load. No one paid any attention to little Werner, who, with growing astonishment, directed his steps toward the building in the background, which proved to be a large castle, with towering steeples and gilded domes and roofs. On either side of the avenue lay large fields on which grew low plants. Here, too, every one was busy gathering and harvesting, and in the different fields, distinguished by different colors according to the plants they bore, he could see gay, dainty figures diligently loading little two-wheeled carts, drawn by gold-colored, shaggy ponies.
As Werner approached the castle he noticed a fragrant odor of honey cake, growing stronger and stronger, and on looking more closely, he perceived that the entire castle was made of this delectable stuff. The foundation consisted of large blocks, the walls of smooth cakes ornamented in the most enticing way with citron and almonds. Everywhere were exquisite reliefs of marzipan, the balustrades and galleries and balconies of sugar, the beautiful statues of chocolate standing in gilded niches, and the glittering, gay windows made of transparent bon-bons—indeed, here was a castle good enough to eat! At the artistic entrance the handle of the doorbell was of transparent sugar. Werner took heart, and pulled with all his might. No bell rang, however, but a voice from within cried, “Kikeriki!” so loud and shrill that the frightened boy stepped hastily back. The cry was repeated again and again, like an echo growing fainter and fainter, losing itself in the interior of the building. Then there was silence. The door now opened softly and before him stood so strange a creature that had it not lived and moved, Werner would undoubtedly have taken it for a large jumping-jack.
“By leaf gold and honey cake!” said this merry person. “A visitor? Why, that is a most remarkable event!” And then, whether from pleasure or astonishment, he threw his limbs repeatedly up over his head, so that it was almost dreadful to see. Swinging his arms and legs back and forth, he asked: “Well, my boy, and what do you want?”