The leaf is kept, but thefriendship does no longer exist. Here is a foreign hothouse plant, tootender for the gardens of the North. It is almost as if its leavesstill smelt sweet! She gave it to him out of her own garden- anobleman's daughter.
  Here is a water-lily that he had plucked himself, and watered withsalt tears- a lily of sweet water. And here is a nettle: what mayits leaves tell us? What might he have thought when he plucked andkept it? Here is a little snowdrop out of the solitary wood; here isan evergreen from the flower-pot at the tavern; and here is a simpleblade of grass.
  The lilac bends its fresh fragrant flowers over the dead man'shead; the swallow passes again- "twit, twit;" now the men come withhammer and nails, the lid is placed over the dead man, while hishead rests on the dumb book- so long cherished, now closed for ever!
  THE END.
  1872
  FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN
  THE ELF OF THE ROSE
  by Hans Christian Andersen
  IN the midst of a garden grew a rose-tree, in full blossom, and inthe prettiest of all the roses lived an elf. He was such a littlewee thing, that no human eye could see him. Behind each leaf of therose he had a sleeping chamber. He was as well formed and as beautifulas a little child could be, and had wings that reached from hisshoulders to his feet. Oh, what sweet fragrance there was in hischambers! and how clean and beautiful were the walls! for they werethe blushing leaves of the rose.
  During the whole day he enjoyed himself in the warm sunshine, flewfrom flower to flower, and danced on the wings of the flyingbutterflies. Then he took it into his head to measure how many stepshe would have to go through the roads and cross-roads that are onthe leaf of a linden-tree. What we call the veins on a leaf, he tookfor roads; ay, and very long roads they were for him; for before hehad half finished his task, the sun went down: he had commenced hiswork too late. It became very cold, the dew fell, and the wind blew;so he thought the best thing he could do would be to return home. Hehurried himself as much as he could; but he found the roses all closedup, and he could not get in; not a single rose stood open. The poorlittle elf was very much frightened. He had never before been out atnight, but had always slumbered secretly behind the warmrose-leaves. Oh, this would certainly be his death. At the other endof the garden, he knew there was an arbor, overgrown with beautifulhoney-suckles. The blossoms looked like large painted horns; and hethought to himself, he would go and sleep in one of these till themorning. He flew thither; but "hush!" two people were in the arbor,- ahandsome young man and a beautiful lady. They sat side by side, andwished that they might never be obliged to part. They loved each othermuch more than the best child can love its father and mother.
  "But we must part," said the young man; "your brother does notlike our engagement, and therefore he sends me so far away onbusiness, over mountains and seas. Farewell, my sweet bride; for soyou are to me."
  And then they kissed each other, and the girl wept, and gave him arose; but before she did so, she pressed a kiss upon it so ferventlythat the flower opened. Then the little elf flew in, and leaned hishead on the delicate, fragrant walls. Here he could plainly hearthem say, "Farewell, farewell;" and he felt that the rose had beenplaced on the young man's breast. Oh, how his heart did beat! Thelittle elf could not go to sleep, it thumped so loudly. The youngman took it out as he walked through the dark wood alone, and kissedthe flower so often and so violently, that the little elf was almostcrushed. He could feel through the leaf how hot the lips of theyoung man were, and the rose had opened, as if from the heat of thenoonday sun.
  There came another man, who looked gloomy and wicked. He was thewicked brother of the beautiful maiden. He drew out a sharp knife, andwhile the other was kissing the rose, the wicked man stabbed him todeath; then he cut off his head, and buried it with the body in thesoft earth under the linden-tree.
  "Now he is gone, and will soon be forgotten," thought the wickedbrother; "he will never come back again. He was going on a longjourney over mountains and seas; it is easy for a man to lose his lifein such a journey. My sister will suppose he is dead; for he cannotcome back, and she will not dare to question me about him."
  Then he scattered the dry leaves over the light earth with hisfoot, and went home through the darkness; but he went not alone, as hethought,- the little elf accompanied him. He sat in a dry rolled-uplinden-leaf, which had fallen from the tree on to the wicked man'shead, as he was digging the grave. The hat was on the head now,which made it very dark, and the little elf shuddered with frightand indignation at the wicked deed.
  It was the dawn of morning before the wicked man reached home;he took off his hat, and went into his sister's room. There lay thebeautiful, blooming girl, dreaming of him whom she loved so, and whowas now, she supposed, travelling far away over mountain and sea.Her wicked brother stopped over her, and laughed hideously, asfiends only can laugh. The dry leaf fell out of his hair upon thecounterpane; but he did not notice it, and went to get a littlesleep during the early morning hours. But the elf slipped out of thewithered leaf, placed himself by the ear of the sleeping girl, andtold her, as in a dream, of the horrid murder; described the placewhere her brother had slain her lover, and buried his body; and toldher of the linden-tree, in full blossom, that stood close by.
  "That you may not think this is only a dream that I have toldyou," he said, "you will find on your bed a withered leaf."
  Then she awoke, and found it there. Oh, what bitter tears sheshed!