“Let’s go home to our house,” said Ib. “It’s here in the woods.” And away they went. They came to a road, but it didn’t lead home. It got dark, and they were afraid. The wonderful silence around them was broken by terrible screams from the big horned owl, or sounds from birds they didn’t recognize. Finally they were both tangled up in a bush. Christine cried and Ib cried, and after they had cried for a while, they laid down in the leaves and fell asleep.
The sun was high in the sky when they awoke. They were freezing, but up on the heights close by, the sun shone down through the trees. They could warm themselves there, and from there Ib thought they could see his parents’ house. But they were far away from it in another part of the forest. They climbed all the way to the top of the heights and stood on a slope by a clear, transparent lake. There was a school of fish there shining in the sunlight. What they saw was so unexpected, and close by was a large bush full of nuts, as many as seven in a bunch. They picked them, cracked them, and ate the fine kernels that were ripening. Then came yet another surprise—a terrifying one! A large old woman stepped out from the bush. Her face was dark brown, and her hair was very black and shiny. The whites of her eyes flashed like a black person’s. She had a bundle on her back and a knotty stick in her hand. She was a gypsy. The children didn’t understand what she said right away. She took three big nuts out of her pocket and said that the most beautiful things were hidden in them—they were wishing nuts.
Ib looked at her, and since she was so friendly, he gathered his courage and asked if he could have the nuts. The woman gave them to him and then picked a whole pocket full from those on the bush.
Ib and Christine gazed wide-eyed at the three wishing nuts.
“Is there a coach with horses in this one?” Ib asked.
“There’s a gold carriage with golden horses,” said the woman.
“Give it to me!” said little Christine, and Ib gave it to her. The woman tied the nut up inside Christine’s scarf.
“Is there a beautiful little scarf like the one Christine is wearing in this one?” asked Ib.
“There are ten scarves,” said the woman. “There are fine dresses, stockings, and a hat.”
“I want that one too!” said Christine, and little Ib gave her the second nut too. The third nut was a little black one.
“You can keep that one,” said Christine. “It’s pretty too.”
“What’s in that one?” asked Ib.
“The very best thing for you,” said the woman.
Ib held the nut tightly. The woman promised to set them on the right path home, and so they walked, but they went in exactly the opposite direction than they should have gone, but you can’t accuse her of wanting to steal children because of that.
In the pathless forest they met Chr?n, a forest ranger. He knew Ib and led the children home. Everyone was very worried about them, and they were forgiven, although they both deserved a good spanking, first because they let the pig fall into the water, and then because they ran away.
Christine came home to the heath, and Ib remained in the little house in the woods. The first thing he did that night was to take out the nut that hid the
“Well, I suppose I could have guessed that,” thought Ib. “How would there be room inside that little nut for the very best
And winter came and then the New Year.
Several years went by. It was time for Ib to be confirmed, and he lived far from the minister. At that time the bargeman came one day and told Ib’s parents that little Christine was now going out to earn her living. It was very fortunate for her that she had come into such good hands. She was going to work for the rich innkeeper further west in Herning. She was going to help the mistress there, and if she did well and was confirmed there, they would keep her on.
Then Ib and Christine said good bye to each other. People called them sweethearts, and she showed him at their parting that she still had the two nuts he had given her when they were lost in the woods, and she told him that in her chest she kept the little wooden shoes he had carved for her as a boy. And so they parted.
Ib was confirmed, but he lived at home with his mother because he was a good clog maker, and he took good care of the little plot of land in the summer. His mother had no one else to help because Ib’s father had died.
Only rarely did they hear anything about Christine from a postal carrier or an itinerant eel-trader. She was doing well at the rich innkeeper’s, and when she was confirmed, she wrote her father a letter with greetings for Ib and his mother. She wrote that she had gotten six new shifts and a lovely dress from the master and mistress. The news was certainly good.
The next spring, on a beautiful day, there was somebody at Ib and his mother’s door. It was the bargeman with Christine. She had come for a visit for the day. She had been given the opportunity to catch a ride to Tem and back and took advantage of it. She was beautiful, like a real lady, and was wearing fine clothes that were well sewn and suited her nicely. There she stood in all her glory, and Ib was in his old, everyday clothes. He couldn’t think of anything to say, but he took her hand and held it tightly. He was intensely happy, but couldn’t get his tongue to work. Little Christine didn’t have that problem. She could talk and had much to say, and she kissed Ib right on the lips.
“Don’t you know me any more?” she asked, but even when they were alone and he was still holding her hand, all he could say was, “You’ve become a fine lady! And I look so straggly! But oh, how I have thought about you, Christine! And about old times!”
And they walked arm in arm up the ridge and looked out over the Guden river to the heath with the wide slopes of heather, and Ib didn’t say anything. But when they separated, it was clear to him that Christine had to become his wife. They had been called sweethearts from their childhood. He thought of them as an engaged couple, even though neither of them had said it.
They only had a few hours together before she would go back to Tem where early the next morning she would
