‘Well, that is a queer sort of a pleasure,’ said the hen; ‘I think you must be crazy. Not to speak of myself, ask the cat--he is the most sensible animal I know--whether he would like to swim or to plunge to the bottom of the water. Ask our mistress, the old woman--there is no one in the world wiser than she--do you think she would take pleasure in swimming, and in the waters closing over her head?’ ‘You do not understand me,’ said the duckling. ‘What, we do not understand you! so you think yourself wiser than the cat, and the old woman, not to speak of myself. Do not fancy any such thing, child, but be thankful for all the kindness that has been shown you. Are you not lodged in a warm room, and have you not the advantage of society from which you can learn something? But you are a simpleton, and it is wearisome to have anything to do with you. Believe me, I wish you well. I tell you unpleasant truths, but it is thus that real friendship is shown. Come, for once give yourself the trouble to learn to purr, or to lay eggs.’ ‘I think I will go out into the wide world again,’ said the duckling. ‘Well, go,’ answered the hen. So the duckling went. He swam on the surface of the water, he plunged beneath, but all animals passed him by, on account of his ugliness. And the autumn came, the leaves turned yellow and brown, the wind caught them and danced them about, the air was very cold, the clouds were heavy with hail or snow, and the raven sat on the hedge and croaked:--the poor duckling was certainly not very comfortable! One evening, just as the sun was setting with unusual brilliancy, a flock of large beautiful birds rose from out of the brushwood; the duckling had never seen anything so beautiful before; their plumage was of a dazzling white, and they had long, slender necks. They were swans; they uttered a singular cry, spread out their long, splendid wings, and flew away from these cold regions to warmer countries, across the open sea. They flew so high, so very high! and the little ugly duckling’s feelings were so strange; he turned round and round in the water like a mill-wheel, strained his neck to look after them, and sent forth such a loud and strange cry, that it almost frightened himself.--Ah! he could not forget them, those noble [Illustration: AND THE CAT SAID, ‘CAN YOU PURR?’] birds! those happy birds! When he could see them no longer, he plunged to the bottom of the water, and when he rose again was almost beside himself. The duckling knew not what the birds were called, knew not whither they were flying, yet he loved them as he had never before loved anything; he envied them not, it would never have occurred to him to wish such beauty for himself; he would have been quite contented if the duck in the duck-yard had but endured his company--the poor ugly animal!