49 lines
3.1 KiB
Plaintext
49 lines
3.1 KiB
Plaintext
THE LlTTLE MATCHGIRL
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Once upon a time . . . a llttle glrl tried to make a living by selling
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matches in the street.
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It was New Year's Eve and the snowclad streets were deserted. From brightly
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lit windows came the tinkle of laughter and the sound of singing. People were
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getting ready to bring in the New Year. But the poor little matchseller sat
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sadly beside the fountain. Her ragged dress and worn shawl did not keep out
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the cold and she tried to keep her bare feet from touching the frozen ground.
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She hadn't sold one box of matches all day and she was frightened to go home,
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for her father would certainly be angry. It wouldn't be much warmer anyway, in
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the draughty attic that was her home. The little girl's fingers were stiff
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with cold. If only she could light a match! But what would her father say at
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such a waste! Falteringly she took out a match and lit it. What a nice warm
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flame! The little matchseller cupped her hand over it, and as she did so, she
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magically saw in its light a big brightly burning stove.
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She held out her hands to the heat, but just then the match went out and
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the vision faded. The night seemed blacker than before and it was getting
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colder. A shiver ran through the little girl's thin body.
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After hesitating for a long time, she struck another match on the wall, and
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this time, the glimmer turned the wall into a great sheet of crystal. Beyond
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that stood a fine table laden with food and lit by a candlestick. Holding out
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her arms towards the plates, the little matchseller seemed to pass through the
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glass, but then the match went out and the magic faded. Poor thing: in just a
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few seconds she had caught a glimpse of everything that life had denied her:
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warmth and good things to eat. Her eyes filled with tears and she lifted her
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gaze to the lit windows, praying that she too might know a little of such
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happiness.
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She lit the third match and an even more wonderful thing happened. There
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stood a Christmas tree hung with hundreds of candles, glittering with tinsel
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and coloured balls. "Oh, how lovely!" exclaimed the little matchseller,
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holding up the match. Then, the match burned her finger and flickered out. The
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light from the Christmas candles rose higher and higher, then one of the
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lights fell, leaving a trail behind it. "Someone is dying," murmured the
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little girl, as she remembered her beloved Granny who used to say: "When a
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star falls, a heart stops beating!"
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Scarcely aware of what she was doing, the little matchseller lit another
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match. This time, she saw her grandmother.
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"Granny, stay with me!" she pleaded, as she lit one match after the other,
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so that her grandmother could not disappear like all the other visions.
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However, Granny did not vanish, but gazed smilingly at her. Then she opened
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her arms and the little girl hugged her crying: "Granny, take me away with
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you!"
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A cold day dawned and a pale sun shone on the fountain and the icy road.
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Close by lay the lifeless body of a little girl surrounded by spent matches. "
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Poor little thing!" exclaimed the passersby. "She was trying to keep warm!"
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But by that time, the little matchseller was far away where there is
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neither cold, hunger nor pain.
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