After this Marlinchen came into the kitchen to her mother, who was
standing by the fire with a pan of hot water before her which she was
constantly stirring round. “Mother,” said Marlinchen, “brother is
sitting at the door, and he looks quite white and has an apple in his
hand. I asked him to give me the apple, but he did not answer me, and I
was quite frightened.” “Go back to him,” said her mother, “and if he
will not answer thee, give him a box on the ear.” So Marlinchen went to
him and said, “Brother, give me the apple.” But he was silent, and she
gave him a box on the ear, on which his head fell down. Marlinchen was
terrified, and began crying and screaming, and ran to her mother, and
said, “Alas, mother, I have knocked my brother’s head off!” and she
wept and wept and could not be comforted. “Marlinchen,” said the
mother, “what hast thou done? but be quiet and let no one know it; it
cannot be helped now, we will make him into black-puddings.” Then the
mother took the little boy and chopped him in pieces, put him into the
pan and made him into black puddings; but Marlinchen stood by weeping
and weeping, and all her tears fell into the pan and there was no need
of any salt.
Then the father came home, and sat down to dinner and said, “But where
is my son?” And the mother served up a great dish of black-puddings,
and Marlinchen wept and could not leave off. Then the father again
said, “But where is my son?” “Ah,” said the mother, “he has gone across
the country to his mother’s great uncle; he will stay there awhile.”
“And what is he going to do there? He did not even say good-bye to me.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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