spring had returned.

Once more he shook his wings. They were stronger than formerly and bore
him forward quickly, and before he was well aware of it he was in a
large garden where the apple-trees stood in full bloom, where the
syringas sent forth their fragrance and hung their long green branches
down into the winding canal. Oh! everything was so lovely, so full of
the freshness of spring! And out of the thicket came three beautiful
white Swans. They displayed their feathers so proudly and swam so
lightly, so lightly! The Duckling knew the glorious creatures, and was
seized with a strange sadness.

"I will fly to them, those kingly birds!" said he. "They will kill me,
because I, ugly as I am, have dared to approach them. But it matters
not. Better to be killed by them than to be bitten by the Ducks, pecked
by the Hens, kicked by the girl who feeds the poultry, and to have so
much to suffer during the winter!"

[Illustration]

He flew into the water and swam towards the beautiful creatures. They
saw him and shot forward to meet him. "Only kill me," said the poor
creature, and he bowed his head low, expecting death. But what did he
see in the water? He saw beneath him his own form, no longer that of a
plump, ugly grey bird--it was that of a Swan.

It matters not to have been born in a duck-yard, if one has been hatched
from a Swan's egg. And now the Swan began to see the good of all the
trouble he had been through. He would never have known how happy he was
if he had not first had all his sorrow and unhappiness to bear.

The larger Swans swam round him, and stroked him with their beaks. Some
little children were running about in the garden; they threw grain and
bread into the water, and the youngest exclaimed: "There is a new one!"
The others also cried out: "Yes, a new Swan has come!" and they clapped
their hands, and danced around.

They ran to their father and mother, bread and cake were thrown into
the water, and every one said: "The new one is best, so young and so
beautiful!" And the old Swans bowed before him. The young Swan felt
quite ashamed, and hid his head under his wings. He scarcely knew what
to do. He was too happy, but still not proud, for a good heart is never
proud.

He remembered how he had been persecuted and laughed at, and he now
heard everyone say that he was the most beautiful of all beautiful
birds. The syringas bent down their branches toward him low into the
water, and the sun shone