And she touched Elisa’s hand with the nettle, which like a burning fire, woke her up. It was bright day, and right next to where she had been sleeping, lay a nettle like the one she had seen in her dream. Then she fell on her knees and thanked God, and went out of the cave to begin her work.
With her fine hands, she reached down into the nasty nettles, which were like scorching fire. They burned big blisters on her hands and arms, but she bore it gladly, to rescue her dear brothers. And so she broke each nettle with her bare feet and spun the green flax.
When the sun went down, her brothers came, and they were frightened to find her so silent. They thought their evil step-mother had cast a new spell, but when they saw her hands, they realized what she was doing for their sakes, and the youngest brother burst into tears. Wherever his tears fell, the pain left her, and the burning blisters disappeared.
She worked all night because she could have no rest until she had saved her beloved brothers. All the next day, while the swans were away, she sat there alone, but time had never flown so quickly. One shirt was already finished, and she started on the next one.
Then she heard a hunting horn echo through the hills, and it scared her. The sound came closer, and she heard dogs barking. Frightened, she ran into the cave and wound the nettles and her knitting into a bundle and sat down on it.
Just then a big dog sprang from the thicket, and then another and another; they barked loudly and ran back and forth. Within a few minutes all the hunters were standing outside the cave, and the most handsome of them all was the king of the country. He went into the cave, and never had he seen a more beautiful girl than Elisa.
“How did you get here, you beautiful child?” he asked.
Elisa shook her head. She didn’t dare speak, of course, since her brothers’ lives and safety were at stake, and she hid her hands under her apron, so the king would not see what she was suffering.
“Come with me!” he said, “You can’t stay here! If you’re as good as you are beautiful, I’ll dress you in silk and velvet and set a gold crown on your head, and you’ll live in my richest castle.”
He lifted her up onto his horse, and she cried and wrung her hands, but the king said, “I only want your happiness. Some day you’ll thank me for this.” Then he galloped away through the hills with her in front of him on the horse, and the hunters followed after them. As the sun was setting, the magnificent royal city with its churches and domes was lying before them, and the king led her into the castle, where enormous fountains splashed under the high ceilings in rooms of marble. The walls and ceilings were decorated with paintings, but she had no eye for them. She cried and grieved, and passively let the women dress her in royal clothing, braid pearls in her hair, and draw fine gloves over her burned fingers.
When she stood there in all her glory, she was so dazzlingly beautiful that the court bowed down deeply to her, and the king chose her for his queen, even though the arch-bishop shook his head and whispered that the beautiful forest maiden must be a witch, who had bedazzled their eyes and bewitched the king’s heart.
But the king didn’t listen to him. Instead he had the musicians play and had the most splendid dishes served. The most beautiful girls danced around Elisa, and she was led through fragrant gardens into magnificent chambers, but not a smile crossed her lips, or appeared in her eyes, where sorrow seemed to have taken up eternal residence. Then the king opened a door to a tiny room, close by her bedroom; it was decorated with expensive green carpets and resembled the cave where she had been. The bundles of flax she had spun from the nettles were lying on the floor, and hanging up by the ceiling was the shirt she had finished. One of the hunters had brought all this along as a curiosity.
“You can dream about your former home here,” said the king. “Here’s the work that you used to do. It’ll amuse you to think back to that time now that you’re surrounded with luxury.”
When Elisa saw these things that were so close to her heart, a smile came to her lips, and the blood returned to her cheeks. She thought about her brothers’ salvation and kissed the king’s hand. In return he pulled her to his heart and had all the church bells proclaim the wedding feast. The beautiful silent girl from the forest was to be queen of the land.
The arch-bishop whispered evil words into the king’s ear, but they did not reach his heart. The wedding was set, and the arch-bishop himself had to place the crown on her head. Although he pressed the narrow band down on her forehead with evil resentment so that it hurt, there was a heavier band pressing on her heart—the sorrow she felt about her brothers, and she did not feel the bodily pain. Since a single word would kill her brothers, her mouth was silent, but in her eyes lay a deep love for the good, handsome king, who did everything he could to please her. Day by day she grew to love him more and more. Oh, if only she dared to confide in him, to tell him of her suffering! But she had to remain silent, and in silence she had to finish her work. Night after night she stole away from his side and went into her little closet that resembled the cave. She knit one thick shirt after the other, but when she started on the seventh one, she ran out of flax.
She knew that the nettles that she should use grew in the churchyard, but she had to pick them herself. How was she going to get there?
“Oh, what is the pain in my fingers compared to the agony in my heart!” she thought. “I must risk it. God won’t desert me!” With terror in her heart, as if she were on her way to do an evil deed, she stole down to the garden in the moonlit night. She went through the long avenues of trees and out on the empty streets, to the churchyard. On one of the widest tombstones she saw a ring of vampires—hideous witches, who took off their rags as if they were going to bathe and then dug down into the fresh graves with their long, thin fingers, pulled the corpses out, and ate their flesh. Elisa had to pass right by them, and they cast their evil eyes on her; but she said her prayers, gathered the burning nettles, and carried them home to the castle.
Only a single person saw her—the arch-bishop. He was awake when others slept. Now he felt vindicated, for the queen was not what she seemed. She was a witch, who had bewitched the king and all the people.
In the confessional he told the king what he had seen, and what he feared, and when the harsh words came from his tongue, the images of the carved saints shook their heads as if they wanted to say, “It isn’t so. Elisa is innocent!” But the arch-bishop explained it differently. He said they were witnessing against her and shaking their heads over her sin. Two heavy tears rolled down the king’s cheeks, and he went home with doubt in his heart. He pretended to sleep that night, but remained wide awake. He noticed how Elisa got up, and how she repeated this every night, and every night he followed her quietly and saw her disappear into her little chamber.
Day by day his face grew more troubled. Elisa saw this and didn’t know why, but it worried her, and she was still suffering in her heart for her brothers. Her salty tears streamed down and fell upon her royal velvet and purple clothing. They lay there like glimmering diamonds, and everyone who saw the rich magnificence wished to be the queen. In the meantime she had finished her work. Only one shirt was left, but she was again out of flax and didn’t have a single nettle. One last time she would have to go to the churchyard and pick a few handfuls. She thought about the lonely trip and about the terrible vampires with dread, but her will was firm, as was her faith in God.
