The Little Match Girl

Most terribly cold it was; it snowed, and was nearly quite dark, and evening—the last evening of the year. In this cold and darkness there went along the street a poor little girl, bareheaded, and with naked feet. When she left home she had slippers on, it is true; but what was the good of that? They were very large slippers, which her mother had hitherto worn; so large were they; and the poor little thing lost them as she scuffled away across the street, because of two carriages that rolled by dreadfully fast.

It was terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was almost dark. It was evening, the last evening of the year. In the cold and darkness, a poor little girl walked along the street, bareheaded and barefoot. She had worn slippers when she left home, but what good were they? The slippers were very large, and her mother had worn them until then. The poor little girl lost them as she hurried across the street because two carriages were rushing past terribly fast.

One slipper was nowhere to be found; the other had been laid hold of by an urchin, and off he ran with it; he thought it would do capitally for a cradle when he some day or other should have children himself. So the little maiden walked on with her tiny naked feet, that were quite red and blue from cold. She carried a quantity of matches in an old apron, and she held a bundle of them in her hand. Nobody had bought anything of her the whole livelong day; no one had given her a single farthing.

One slipper was nowhere to be found. A boy had grabbed the other and run off with it. He thought it would make a fine cradle if he had children of his own someday. So the little girl walked on with her tiny bare feet, which were red and blue from the cold. She carried many matches in an old apron and held a bundle of them in her hand. No one had bought anything from her all day. No one had given her a single penny.

She crept along trembling with cold and hunger—a very picture of sorrow, the poor little thing!

She crept along, trembling with cold and hunger. The poor little thing looked so sad!

The flakes of snow covered her long fair hair, which fell in beautiful curls around her neck; but of that, of course, she never once now thought. From all the windows the candles were gleaming, and it smelt so deliciously of roast goose, for you know it was New Year's Eve; yes, of that she thought.

Snowflakes covered her long, fair hair, which fell in beautiful curls around her neck. But of course, she never gave her hair a thought now. Candles glowed in all the windows, and the delicious smell of roast goose filled the air. For, you know, it was New Year’s Eve. Yes, she thought about that.

In a corner formed by two houses, of which one advanced more than the other, she seated herself down and cowered together. Her little feet she had drawn close up to her, but she grew colder and colder, and to go home she did not venture, for she had not sold any matches and could not bring a farthing of money: from her father she would certainly get blows, and at home it was cold too, for above her she had only the roof, through which the wind whistled, even though the largest cracks were stopped up with straw and rags.

She sat down and curled up in a corner between two houses. One house jutted out farther than the other. She drew her little feet close to her, but she grew colder and colder. She did not dare go home because she had not sold any matches and could not bring home a farthing. Her father would certainly beat her, and it was cold at home too. She had only the roof over her, and the wind whistled through it, though the largest cracks were stuffed with straw and rags.

Her little hands were almost numbed with cold. Oh! a match might afford her a world of comfort, if she only dared take a single one out of the bundle, draw it against the wall, and warm her fingers by it. She drew one out. “Rischt!” how it blazed, how it burnt! It was a warm, bright flame, like a candle, as she held her hands over it: it was a wonderful light. It seemed really to the little maiden as though she were sitting before a large iron stove, with burnished brass feet and a brass ornament at top. The fire burned with such blessed influence; it warmed so delightfully. The little girl had already stretched out her feet to warm them too; but—the small flame went out, the stove vanished: she had only the remains of the burnt-out match in her hand.

Her little hands were almost numb with cold. Oh, a match could bring her so much comfort! If only she dared take one from the bundle, strike it against the wall, and warm her fingers by it. She pulled one out. “Rischt!” How it blazed and burned! As she held her hands over it, the flame was warm and bright, like a candle. It was a wonderful light. The little girl felt as if she were sitting before a large iron stove with polished brass feet and a brass ornament on top. The fire had such a comforting effect. It warmed her so delightfully. The little girl had already stretched out her feet to warm them too. But the little flame went out, and the stove vanished. She had only the remains of the burnt-out match in her hand.

She rubbed another against the wall: it burned brightly, and where the light fell on the wall, there the wall became transparent like a veil, so that she could see into the room. On the table was spread a snow-white tablecloth; upon it was a splendid porcelain service, and the roast goose was steaming famously with its stuffing of apple and dried plums. And what was still more capital to behold was, the goose hopped down from the dish, reeled about on the floor with knife and fork in its breast, till it came up to the poor little girl; when—the match went out and nothing but the thick, cold, damp wall was left behind. She lighted another match. Now there she was sitting under the most magnificent Christmas tree: it was still larger, and more decorated than the one which she had seen through the glass door in the rich merchant's house.

She struck another match against the wall. It burned brightly, and where its light fell, the wall became transparent like a veil. She could see into the room. A snow-white tablecloth covered the table, and a splendid set of porcelain dishes stood on it. A roast goose, stuffed with apples and dried plums, was steaming. Even more wonderful to see, the goose hopped down from the dish. With a knife and fork in its breast, it waddled across the floor toward the poor little girl. Then the match went out, and nothing remained but the thick, cold, damp wall. She lit another match. Now she was sitting beneath the most magnificent Christmas tree. It was even larger and more decorated than the one she had seen through the glass door of the rich merchant’s house.

Thousands of lights were burning on the green branches, and gaily-colored pictures, such as she had seen in the shop-windows, looked down upon her. The little maiden stretched out her hands towards them when—the match went out. The lights of the Christmas tree rose higher and higher, she saw them now as stars in heaven; one fell down and formed a long trail of fire.

Thousands of lights glowed on the green branches. Brightly colored pictures, like those she had seen in shop windows, looked down at her. The little girl reached out her hands toward them, but the match went out. The lights of the Christmas tree rose higher and higher. She saw them now as stars in the sky. One fell, leaving a long trail of fire.

“Someone is just dead!” said the little girl; for her old grandmother, the only person who had loved her, and who was now no more, had told her, that when a star falls, a soul ascends to God.

“Someone has just died!” said the little girl. Her old grandmother was the only person who had loved her, and she had died. She had told the girl that when a star falls, a soul rises to God.

She drew another match against the wall: it was again light, and in the lustre there stood the old grandmother, so bright and radiant, so mild, and with such an expression of love.

She struck another match against the wall, and there was light again. In its glow stood her old grandmother, bright and radiant, gentle and full of love.

“Grandmother!” cried the little one. “Oh, take me with you! You go away when the match burns out; you vanish like the warm stove, like the delicious roast goose, and like the magnificent Christmas tree!” And she rubbed the whole bundle of matches quickly against the wall, for she wanted to be quite sure of keeping her grandmother near her. And the matches gave such a brilliant light that it was brighter than at noon-day: never formerly had the grandmother been so beautiful and so tall. She took the little maiden, on her arm, and both flew in brightness and in joy so high, so very high, and then above was neither cold, nor hunger, nor anxiety—they were with God.

“Grandmother!” cried the little girl. “Oh, take me with you! You go away when the match burns out. You vanish like the warm stove, the delicious roast goose, and the magnificent Christmas tree!” She quickly struck the whole bundle of matches against the wall. She wanted to be sure of keeping her grandmother near her. The matches gave off a brilliant light, brighter than the midday sun. Her grandmother had never looked so beautiful or so tall. She took the little girl in her arms, and they flew upward in brightness and joy. They rose so high, so very high, where there was no cold, hunger, or worry. They were with God.

But in the corner, at the cold hour of dawn, sat the poor girl, with rosy cheeks and with a smiling mouth, leaning against the wall—frozen to death on the last evening of the old year. Stiff and stark sat the child there with her matches, of which one bundle had been burnt. “She wanted to warm herself,” people said. No one had the slightest suspicion of what beautiful things she had seen; no one even dreamed of the splendor in which, with her grandmother she had entered on the joys of a new year.

But in the corner, in the cold of dawn, the poor girl sat leaning against the wall. Her cheeks were rosy, and her mouth was smiling. She had frozen to death on the last evening of the old year. The child sat stiff and lifeless with her matches. One bundle had been burned. “She wanted to warm herself,” people said. No one had the slightest idea of the beautiful things she had seen. No one even dreamed of the splendor in which she and her grandmother had entered the joys of a new year.