much care about them; but back in the corner there was a little baby with red cheeks, and this was Marie’s darling. The tears came to her eyes.
‘Ah!’ she cried, turning to Nutcracker, ‘I really will do all I can to help you. But it’s very hard.’
Nutcracker looked at her so piteously that she determined to sacrifice everything—for she remembered the mouse king with all his seven mouths wide open to swallow the poor young fellow; so that night she set down all her sugar figures in front of the cupboard, as she had the sweetmeats the night before. She kissed the shepherd, the shepherdess, and the lambs; and at last she brought her best beloved of all, the little red-cheeked baby from its corner, but did put it a little further back than the rest. Farmer Feldkuemmel and the Maid of Orleans had to stand in the front rank of all.
‘This is really getting too bad,’ said Marie’s mother the next morning; ‘some nasty mouse or other must have made a hole in the glass cupboard, for poor Marie’s sugar figures are all eaten and gnawed.’ Marie really could not restrain her tears. But she was soon able to smile again; for she thought, ‘What does it matter? Nutcracker is safe.’
In the evening Marie’s mother was telling her father and Godpapa Drosselmeier about the mischief which some mouse was doing in the children’s cupboard, and her father said:
‘It’s a regular nuisance! What a pity it is that we can’t get rid of it. It’s destroying all the poor child’s things.’
Fritz intervened, and remarked:
‘The baker downstairs has a fine grey Councilor-of-Legation; I’ll go and get hold of him, and he’ll soon put a stop to it, and bite the mouse’s head off, even if it’s Dame Mouseyrinks herself, or her son, the king of the mice.’
‘Oh, yes!’ said his mother, laughing, ‘and jump up on to the chairs and tables, knock down the cups and glasses, and do ever so much mischief besides.’
‘No, no!’ answered Fritz; ‘the baker’s Councilor-of-Legation’s a very clever fellow. I wish I could walk about on the edge of the roof, as he does.’
‘Don’t let us have a nasty cat in the house in the night-time,’ said Louise, who hated cats.
‘Fritz is quite right though,’ said the mother; ‘unless we set a trap. Haven’t we got such a thing in the house?’
‘Godpapa Drosselmeier’s the man to get us one,’ said Fritz; ‘it was he who invented them, you know.’ Everybody laughed. And when the mother said they did not possess such a thing, Drosselmeier said he had plenty; and he actually sent a very fine one round that day. When the cook was browning the fat, Marie—with her head full of the marvels of her Godpapa’s tale—called out to her:
‘Ah, take care, Queen! Remember Dame Mouseyrinks and her people.’ But Fritz drew his sword, and cried, ‘Let them come if they dare! I’ll give an account of them.’ But everything about the hearth remained quiet and undisturbed. As Drosselmeier was fixing the browned fat on a fine thread, and setting the trap gently down in the glass cupboard, Fritz cried:
‘Now, Godpapa Clockmaker, mind that the mouse king doesn’t play you some trick!’
Ah, how did it fare with Marie that night? Something as cold as ice went tripping about on her arm, and something rough and nasty laid itself on her cheek, and cheeped and queaked in her ear. The horrible mouse king came and sat on her shoulder, foamed a blood-red foam out of all his seven mouths, and chattering and grinding his teeth, he hissed into Marie’s ear:
‘Hiss, hiss!—keep away—don’t go in there—ware of that house—don’t you be caught—death to the mouse—hand out your picture-books—none of your scornful looks!—Give me your dresses—also your laces—or, if you don’t, leave you I won’t—Nutcracker I’ll bite—drag him out of your sight—his last hour is near—so tremble for fear!—Fee, fa, fo, fum—his last hour is come!—Hee hee, pee pee—queak—queak!’
Marie was overwhelmed with anguish and sorrow, and was looking quite pale and upset when her mother said to her next morning:
‘This horrid mouse hasn’t been caught. But never mind, dear, we’ll catch the nasty thing yet, never fear. If the traps won’t do, Fritz shall fetch the grey Councilor of Legation.’
As soon as Marie was alone, she went up to the glass cupboard, and said to Nutcracker, in a voice broken by sobs:
‘Ah, my dear, good Mr. Drosselmeier, what can I do for you, poor unfortunate girl that I am! Even if I give that horrid king of the mice all my picture-books, and my new dress which the Child Christ gave me at Christmas as well, he’s sure to go on asking for more; so I soon shan’t have anything more left, and he’ll want to eat me! Oh, poor thing that I am! What shall I do? What shall I do?’
As she was thus crying and lamenting, she noticed that a great spot of blood had been left, since the eventful night of the battle, upon Nutcracker’s neck. Since she had known that he was really young Mr. Drosselmeier, her Godpapa’s nephew, she had given up carrying him in her arms, and petting and kissing him; indeed, she felt a delicacy about touching him at all. But now she took him carefully out of his shelf, and began to wipe off this blood-spot with her handkerchief. What were her feelings when she found that Nutcracker was growing warmer and warmer in her hand, and beginning to move! She put him back into the cupboard as fast as she could. His mouth began to wobble backwards and forwards, and he began to whisper, with much difficulty:
‘Ah, dearest Miss Stahlbaum—most precious of friends! How deeply I am indebted to you for everything—for everything! But don’t, don’t sacrifice any of your picture-books or pretty dresses for me. Get me a sword—a sword is what I want. If you get me that, I’ll manage the rest—though—he may—’
There Nutcracker’s speech died away, and his eyes, which had been expressing the most sympathetic grief, grew staring and lifeless again.
Marie felt no fear; she jumped for joy, rather, now that she knew how to help Nutcracker without further painful sacrifices. But where on earth was she to get hold of a sword for him? She resolved to take counsel with Fritz; and that evening, when their father and mother had gone out, and they two were sitting beside the glass cupboard, she told him what had passed between her and Nutcracker with the king of the mice, and what it was that was required to rescue Nutcracker.
The thing which chiefly exercised Fritz’s mind was Marie’s statement as to the unexemplary conduct of his red hussars in the great battle. He asked her once more, most seriously, to assure him if it really was the truth; and when she had repeated her statement, on her word of honor, he advanced to the cupboard, and made his hussars a most affecting address; and, as a punishment for their behavior, he solemnly took their plumes one by one out of their busbies, and prohibited them from sounding the march of the hussars of the guard for the space of a twelvemonth. When he had performed this duty, he turned to Marie, and said:
‘As far as the sword is concerned, I have it in my power to assist Nutcracker. I placed an old Colonel of Cuirassiers on retirement on a pension, no longer ago than yesterday, so that he has no further occasion for his sabre, which is sharp.’
This Colonel was settled, on his pension, in the back corner of the third shelf. He was fetched out from thence, and his sabre—still a bright and handsome silver weapon—taken off, and girt about Nutcracker.
Next night Marie could not close an eye for anxiety. About midnight she fancied she heard a strange stirring and noise in the sitting-room—a rustling
