Part Three

The Floating Island

Beate was now a year older. During that year she had never forgotten Little Beate. She had looked for her in the orchard and far away in the pasture.

When Mother had asked Viggo about Little Beate he answered that the country was full of vikings and wild beasts, and that he did not know anything about the doll.

Big Beate had many dolls given to her, but not one was like Little Beate. No one was so sweet and good natured, no one so pretty and graceful.

Either the dolls had cheeks that were too red or they could not be dressed right--stiff and clumsy they all were when they tried to move their arms and legs, and it was no use at all to talk to them.

Beate had a beautiful play house with a table and chairs and a bureau in one corner.

It was a Saturday, and the next day, Sunday, she expected her friends, Marie and Louise, on a visit, for it was her birthday; therefore she wanted to decorate her doll house as prettily as she could. All the furniture was placed just right, and she had strewn fresh leaves on the floor, but she needed some pretty little ornaments for her bureau.

Beate knew what to do. On the hillside by the Black Pond she remembered that she had seen the prettiest little snail shells anyone might wish for, round and fluted with yellow and brown markings. They would be just the thing for the bureau, if she could only find empty ones. She ran off to search for them, slipping in and out through the hazel bushes, and creeping in under the mountain ashes and junipers on the steep hillside, and picking empty snail shells by the dozen.

But all of a sudden she heard a bird cry such a weird cry from the lake. She peeped out between the green branches and saw a big, big bird swimming about down there; it had a long blue neck and a white breast, but its back was shining black. It swam over the lake so fast that you could see a streak in the water behind it, and then suddenly it dived and was gone.

Beate stood there and stared at the water, waiting to see it come up again, but she waited and she waited and no bird came. She began to be frightened, thinking the poor bird was drowned, when she saw it shoot up again far away almost in the middle of the lake.

It flapped its wings, making round rings about itself, which spread farther and farther over the dark surface of the water. Then it began to swim again very slowly towards a tiny green island which lay there. When it came to the island it stretched its neck and looked carefully around to all sides. Then it crept up into the high weeds and grasses which hung out over the water.

Beate could not get tired of looking at the pretty little island. It was so pretty and so little, not bigger than one-quarter of the parlor floor, and oblong, with here and there tiny bays and points. Willow bushes grew out of the grass in some places and in one end grew a little white-barked birch tree. Beate thought she had never seen anything half so lovely as the little green island on the black water. It seemed just like a strange little land, all by itself. She kept watching it through the bushes hoping all the time the bird would come again, but it stayed on the island.

At last the evening breeze began to ruffle the surface of the water a little and Beate remembered that she must hurry home. She bent down to pick a few more snail shells which she might give to Marie and Louise. Again she looked up and peeped through the leaves and branches to say good-night to the island, when--think of it! The little green island was gone.

Beate wouldn't believe her own eyes, she thought she must have moved without knowing it, so that the bushes hid the island from her, but no, she was sitting exactly in the same spot.

She thought of goblins and fairies and ran up the path to the top of the hill as fast as she could. But when she got there she had to look again. And she became more astonished than ever for now she saw the little green island again but far from the place where she first saw it. It was sailing slowly towards the southern end of the lake and the silver birch was its sail.

As soon as Beate reached home she found Anne, the nurse, and told her what she had seen.

Anne knew all about the floating island, it had been on the lake for many years, she said. But there were many strange things about it. Every time there was to be a fine year for the farmers the island was green all summer, but if there was to be a bad year the grass on it grew yellow and brown and there were but few leaves on the little birch. Yes, old Anne would not be surprised if there appeared blood red spots on the island in years of warfare and trouble.

Every year there was a loon's nest there, and Anne had her own opinions both of the loon and the island; but when Beate wanted to know more, old Anne only shook her head, for she was not the kind that told everything she knew.

But one thing she would tell and that was, that if anyone stood on the floating island and took a loon's egg out of the nest and wished for something, that wish would come true, if the egg was put safely back into the nest again. If you wished to become the Princess of England your wish would indeed be fulfilled, said old Anne. But there was one more thing to notice; you must not talk about it to a living soul.

"Not even to Father and Mother?" asked Beate.

"No," said Anne, "not to a living soul."

Beate could think of nothing but the island all that evening, and when she had closed her eyes she could dream of nothing else all night. Now it was covered with blood-red spots--now it was green; then she thought that the loon cried "I am the Princess of England, but I have been bewitched and must stay a loon."

Just as soon as Beate got up in the morning she begged her father to row her and Marie and Louise out to the floating island, when they came to visit her in the afternoon, and that he promised.

But he also asked how she had happened to think of that and what she wanted there. Beate thought first that she would tell him everything, but then she remembered Anne's words and only said that she wished to go out there because the little green island was so pretty, and she wished to look at it more closely.

"Yes, indeed, it is pretty and you shall see a loon's nest too," said the father stroking Beate's brown hair.

Then Beate's face grew red and the tears came to her eyes, for she knew well enough about the loon's nest and about the eggs.

In the afternoon the father took the three little girls down to the lake. Viggo was along too, but there was no boat, only a raft, not large enough to carry all of them, so he had to stay behind. And he was perfectly willing for he was now older and had grown more thoughtful than when we last heard of him. Now he helped the little girls on the raft.

The water was like a mirror, black and shining. The big pine forest on one shore and the green hillside on the other stood on their heads and looked at themselves in the smooth surface. Round about, close to the water's edge, stood the tall grasses high and straight, like regiments of soldiers guarding the quiet little lake. And here and there lay broad green leaves and large snowy water-lilies swimming on the dark water. Beate's friends thought this was the loveliest thing they had ever seen, and they begged the father to stop and get some of the pretty water-lilies for them. But Beate alone was longing for the floating island.

It lay in the middle of the lake, and when they drew near, it looked as if there were two little islands, one on top of the water and one below its surface, and the latter was almost prettier than the former. The father rowed close up to the island and around it, and when he came to the other side the loon plunged out of the reeds into the water and was gone.

"There is the loon's nest," said the father and landed the raft.

The little girls leaned over the edge while the father held them, first one, then the other. What joy! The loon's nest lay on the very edge of the little tiny island hidden among the grasses, and in the nest lay two big grayish-brown eggs, with black spots, larger than any goose eggs.

Marie and Louise shouted and laughed, but Beate felt strangely frightened and was very quiet. She begged her father to let her stand on the island, only a minute, and would he let her take one of the eggs in her hand?

The father would not deny her that, but lifted her up onto the floating island. But he told her she must be very careful, just lift the egg gently between her two fingers for if the bird noticed that the egg had been touched she would not hatch it.

And now Beate stood on the green floating island. She grew quite pale, she was so excited when she bent down to pick up the grayish-brown egg. She lifted it carefully between her two fingers. Now she might wish for anything in the wide, wide world. And what do you think she wished for? To become the Princess of England? Oh, no, she knew something far better than that. Then her lips moved softly and she whispered to herself, "And now I wish that Little Beate was with me once more and would never, never leave me."

Carefully and with trembling hand, she put the egg back into the nest. What was the pink something her eye caught sight of among the tall reeds close to the nest? It was her doll. Beate gave one shriek of joy--"Little Beate, my own Little Beate," she sobbed when she had her own dearest friend in her arms again. She covered her with tears and kisses, she held her tight in her arms as if she would never in the world let her go.

Her father, Marie, and Louise stood by without saying a word. At last the father stroked Beate's hair, kissed his little girl, and lifted her on to the raft again.

Such a birthday party as Beate had now she never had before nor since. What did it matter that a year's rains and snows had faded the pink of Little Beate's cheeks and bleached her brown curls? She was the guest of honor and sat on the prettiest chair. She had all the cookies and chocolate that she wanted. She was petted and loved, and at night, tired and happy Big Beate slept with her little friend in her arms.