In the moonlit night when everyone was sleeping, the little mermaid sat close to the helmsman, who was at the wheel, and stared down into the clear water, and thought she saw her father’s castle. On the highest tower stood her old grandmother with her silver crown on her head, starring up at the keel of the ship through the currents. Then her sisters came up to the surface, stared sadly at her, and wrung their white hands. She waved to them and smiled, and wanted to tell them that she was well and happy, but then the ship’s boy approached, and the sisters dove down, and he thought that the white that he had seen was foam on the sea.
The next morning the ship sailed into the magnificent port in the neighboring kingdom. All the church bells rang, and trombones were played from the high towers while soldiers marched with waving banners and dazzling bayonets. There was a party every day. One festivity followed another, but the princess wasn’t there yet. She was being educated far away in a holy temple, they said, where she was learning all the royal virtues. But at last she came.
The little mermaid waited eagerly to see her beauty, and she could not deny it. She had never seen a more lovely creature. Her skin was so clear and fine, and behind the long dark eyelashes smiled a pair of faithful dark-blue eyes!
“It’s you!” exclaimed the prince, “you, who saved me, when I lay like a corpse on the beach!” And he gathered his blushing bride in his arms. “Oh, I’m so incredibly happy!” he said to the little mermaid. “The best thing I could wish for has come true. You’ll share my joy since you love me better than any of the others.” And the little mermaid kissed his hand, and thought she felt her heart breaking already, for his wedding night would bring her death and change her to foam upon the sea.
All the church bells rang, and heralds rode through the streets, proclaiming the engagement. Fragrant oils burned in precious silver lamps on all the altars. The priests waved their censers, and the bride and groom grasped hands and received the blessing of the bishop. The little mermaid was dressed in silk and gold and was holding the bride’s train, but her ears did not hear the festive music; her eyes didn’t see the sacred ceremony. She was thinking about her last night of life and about everything she had lost in this world.
That same evening the bride and groom went aboard the ship. The cannons boomed, all the flags were waving, and in the center of the ship a precious tent of gold and purple with the loveliest cushions had been raised. The bridal couple were going to sleep there in the cool, quiet night.
The sails swelled in the wind, and the ship glided smoothly and almost motionlessly across the clear sea.
When it became dark, colorful lamps were lit, and the sailors danced merrily on the deck. The little mermaid had to think about the first time she peered above the waves and saw the same splendor and joy, and she whirled in the dance, swaying as a swallow when it’s being chased. Everyone cheered her, and never had she danced so well before. It was as if sharp knives cut into her fine little feet, but she didn’t feel it; the pain was sharper in her heart. She knew it was the last evening she would see the man for whom she had left her home and family, and for whom she had given her beautiful voice and suffered unending agony without him having the least idea. It was the last night she would breathe the same air as him, would see the deep sea, and the starry blue sky. An eternal night without thought or dreams awaited her, she who had no soul and could not win one. And there was joy and merriment on the ship until long past midnight; she laughed and danced with the thought of death in her heart. The prince kissed his lovely bride, and she played with his black hair, and arm in arm they went to bed in the magnificent tent.
It became hushed and still on the ship, only the helmsman was on deck. The little mermaid laid her white arm on the railing and looked to the east towards dawn. She knew that the first sunbeam would kill her. Then she saw her sisters rise up from the sea, and they were as pale as she was, their long beautiful hair no longer streaming in the wind. It had all been cut off.
“We have given it to the sea witch so she would help you, so that you won’t die tonight! She has given us a knife. Here it is! Do you see how sharp it is? Before the sun rises, you must stab the prince in the heart, and when his warm blood drips on your feet, they will grow together into a fish tail, and you’ll become a mermaid again, and come back into the sea with us and live your three hundred years before you become dead, salty sea foam. Hurry! Either you or he must die before the sun rises. Our old grandmother is grieving so much that all her white hair has fallen out, as ours fell to the witch’s scissors. Kill the prince and come back! Hurry, don’t you see the red streak in the sky? In a few minutes the sun will rise, and then you must die!” and they heaved a strange, deep sigh and sank in the waves.
The little mermaid drew the purple curtain away from the tent and saw the beautiful bride sleeping with her head on the prince’s chest. Then she bent down and kissed him on his handsome forehead, looked at the sky, where the morning glow was increasing, looked at the sharp knife, and cast her eyes again upon the prince, who in his dreams said his bride’s name. Only she was in his thoughts, and the knife quivered in her hand, but then she threw it far out into the waves that turned red where it fell, like drops of blood trickling up from the water. One last time she looked at the prince with her partly glazed eyes, dove from the ship into the sea, and felt her body dissolving into foam.
The sun rose from the sea. The rays fell warmly and gently upon the deadly cold sea foam, and the little mermaid did not feel death. She saw the clear sun, and above her swirled hundreds of beautiful, transparent creatures. Through them she could see the ship’s white sails and the red clouds in the sky. Their voices were melodies, but so unearthly that no human ear could hear them, just as no earthly eye could see them. They swayed though the air on their own lightness without wings. The little mermaid saw that she had a shape like them that rose up more and more from the foam.
“To whom am I going?” she said, and her voice sounded like the others and so heavenly that no earthly music could express it.
“To the daughters of the air!” the others answered. “The mermaid has no immortal soul and can never win one unless she wins the love of a human. Her eternal existence depends on an outside power. Daughters of the air don’t have an eternal soul either, but they can shape one through their good deeds. We fly to the warm countries, where pestilence kills people, and we bring cool breezes. We spread the scent of flowers through the air and send peaceful rest and healing knowledge. After we have struggled to do all the good we can for three hundred years, we can earn an immortal soul and share in the human’s eternal joy. You, poor little mermaid, have striven with all your heart for the same thing we have. You have suffered and endured and raised yourself to the world of the air spirits. Through good deeds you can earn yourself an immortal soul in three hundred years.”
The little mermaid lifted her clear arms up towards God’s sun, and for the first time she felt tears. There was noise and life on the ship again, and she saw the prince with his beautiful bride searching for her. They stared mournfully at the bubbling foam, as if they knew she had thrown herself on the waves. Invisibly she kissed the bride’s forehead, smiled at the prince and rose with the other children of the air up into the rosy cloud sailing in the sky.
“In three hundred years we’ll sail into God’s kingdom like this.”
“We can get there even faster,” whispered one. “We swirl unseen into a human home, where there are children, and every day we find a good child who brings joy to his parents and deserves their love, God reduces our time of testing. A child doesn’t know when we fly through the room, and if we smile with joy at him, a year is
