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.
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
3
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.
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.
"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.
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.
"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.
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
