“How plump, how beautiful she is! She must have been fed on nut-kernels,” said an old robber-woman, who had a long, scrubby beard, and bushy eyebrows that hung down over her eyes. “She will taste as good as a fatted lamb!” And then she drew out a knife, the blade of which shone so that it was quite dreadful to behold.
“Let her alone,” called out a little robber-child. “She will give me her muff, and her pretty frock; she shall sleep in my bed!”
“I will have a ride in her carriage,” said the little robber-maiden. She would have her will, for she was very spoiled, and very headstrong. She and Gerda got in; and then away they drove over the stumps of felled trees, deeper and deeper into the woods. The little robber-maiden was as tall as Gerda, but stronger, broader-shouldered, and of dark complexion; her eyes were quite black. She embraced little Gerda, and said, “They shall not kill you as long as I am not displeased with you. You are, doubtless, a princess?”
“No,” said little Gerda, who then related all that had happened to her, and how much she cared about little Kay.
The little robber-maiden looked at her with a serious air, nodded her head slightly, and said, “They shall not kill you, even if I am angry with you: then I will do it myself;” and she dried Gerda’s eyes, and put both her hands in the handsome muff, which was so soft and warm.
At length the carriage stopped. They were in the midst of the courtyard of a robber’s castle. It was full of cracks from top to bottom; and out of the openings magpies and rooks were flying; and the great bulldogs, each of which looked as if he could swallow a man, jumped up, but they did not bark, for that was forbidden.
In the midst of the large, old, smoking hall burnt a great fire on the stone floor. The smoke disappeared under the stones, and had to seek its own egress. In an immense cauldron soup was boiling; and rabbits and hares were being roasted on a spit.
“You shall sleep with me to-night, with my little animals,” said the little robber-maiden. They had something to eat and drink; and then went into a corner, where straw and carpets were lying. Beside them, on perches, sat nearly a hundred pigeons, all asleep, seemingly, but yet they moved a little when the robber-maiden came. “They are all mine,” said she, at the same time seizing one that was next to her by the legs, and shaking it so that its wings fluttered.
“Kiss it!” cried the little girl, flapping the pigeon in Gerda’s face. “There are a lot of them,” continued she, pointing to a hole high up in the wall. “They would all fly away immediately, if they were not well fastened in. And here is my dear old Bac.” She laid hold of the horns of a reindeer, that had a bright copper ring round its neck, and was tethered to the spot. “We are obliged to lock this fellow in, too, or he would make his escape. Every evening I tickle his neck with my sharp knife, which he is very much afraid of!” and the little girl drew forth a long knife from a crack in the wall, and let it glide gently across the reindeer’s neck. The poor animal began to kick and the girl laughed, and pulled Gerda into bed with her.
“Do you intend to keep your knife while you sleep?” asked Gerda, looking at it rather fearfully.