inside, even darker than in the tunnel, and it was
really very close quarters! But there the steadfast little Tin-soldier
lay full length, shouldering his gun.

Up and down swam the fish, then he made the most dreadful contortions,
and became suddenly quite still. Then it was as if a flash of lightning
had passed through him; the daylight streamed in, and a voice exclaimed,
'Why, here is the little Tin-soldier!' The fish had been caught, taken
to market, sold, and brought into the kitchen, where the cook had cut it
open with a great knife. She took up the soldier between her finger and
thumb, and carried him into the room, where everyone wanted to see the
hero who had been found inside a fish; but the Tin-soldier was not at
all proud. They put him on the table, and--no, but what strange things
do happen in this world!--the Tin-soldier was in the same room in which
he had been before! He saw the same children, and the same toys on
the table; and there was the same grand castle with the pretty little
Dancer. She was still standing on one leg with the other high in the
air; she too was steadfast. That touched the Tin-soldier, he was nearly
going to shed tin-tears; but that would not have been fitting for a
soldier. He looked at her, but she said nothing.

All at once one of the little boys took up the Tin-soldier, and threw
him into the stove, giving no reasons; but doubtless the little black
imp in the snuff-box was at the bottom of this too.

There the Tin-soldier lay, and felt a heat that was truly terrible; but
whether he was suffering from actual fire, or from the ardour of his
passion, he did not know. All his colour had disappeared; whether this
had happened on his travels or whether it was the result of trouble, who
can say? He looked at the little lady, she looked at him, and he felt
that he was melting; but he remained steadfast, with his gun at his
shoulder. Suddenly a door opened, the draught caught up the little
Dancer, and off she flew like a sylph to the Tin-soldier in the stove,
burst into flames--and that was the end of her! Then the Tin-soldier
melted down into a little lump, and when next morning the maid was
taking out the ashes, she found him in the shape of a heart. There was
nothing left of the little Dancer but her gilt rose, burnt as black as a
cinder.

BLOCKHEAD-HANS

Far away in the country lay an old manor-house where lived an old squire
who had two sons. They thought themselves so cl