not soften them.
They became even more tyrannical and grumpy, for Marouckla grew daily
more beautiful while Helen's ugliness increased. So the stepmother
determined to get rid of Marouckla, for she knew that while she
remained her own daughter would have no suitors. Hunger, every kind
of privation, abuse, every means was used to make the girl's life
miserable. The most wicked of men could not have been more mercilessly
cruel than these two vixens. But in spite of it all Marouckla grew
ever sweeter and more charming.

One day in the middle of winter Helen wanted some wood-violets.

"Listen," cried she to Marouckla; "you must go up the mountain and
find me some violets, I want some to put in my gown; they must be
fresh and sweet-scented--do you hear?"

"But, my dear sister, who ever heard of violets blooming in the snow?"
said the poor orphan.

"You wretched creature! Do you dare to disobey me?" said Helen. "Not
another word; off with you. If you do not bring me some violets from
the mountain forest, I will kill you."

The stepmother also added her threats to those of Helen, and with
vigorous blows they pushed Marouckla outside and shut the door upon
her. The weeping girl made her way to the mountain. The snow lay deep,
and there was no trace of any human being. Long she wandered hither
and thither, and lost herself in the wood. She was hungry, and
shivered with cold, and prayed to die. Suddenly she saw a light in
the distance, and climbed towards it, till she reached the top of
the mountain. Upon the highest peak burnt a large fire, surrounded by
twelve blocks of stone, on which sat twelve strange beings. Of these
the first three had white hair, three were not quite so old, three
were young and handsome, and the rest still younger.

There they all sat silently looking at the fire. They were the twelve
months of the year. The great Setchene (January) was placed higher
than the others; his hair and mustache were white as snow, and in his
hand he held a wand. At first Marouckla was afraid, but after a while
her courage returned and drawing near she said:

"Men of God, may I warm myself at your fire? I am chilled by the
winter cold."

The great Setchene raised his head and answered:

"What brings thee here, my daughter? What dost thou seek?"

"I am looking for violets," replied the maiden.

"This is not the season for violets; dost thou not see the snow
everywhere?" said Setchene.

"I know well, but my siste