The Swineherd - Hans Christian Andersen Level 1,2 / Pasáček vepřů CZ

 

The Swineherd 

There was once a poor Prince, who had a kingdom. His kingdom was very small, but still quite large enough to marry upon; and he wished to marry.

It was certainly rather cool of him to say to the Emperor's daughter, “Will you have me?” But so he did; for his name was renowned far and wide; and there were a hundred princesses who would have answered, “Yes!” and “Thank you kindly.” 

We shall see what this princess said.

Listen!

It happened that where the Prince's father lay buried, there grew a rose tree—a most beautiful rose tree, which blossomed only once in every five years, and even then bore only one flower, but that was a rose! It smelt so sweet that all cares and sorrows were forgotten by him who inhaled its fragrance.

And furthermore, the Prince had a nightingale, who could sing in such a manner that it seemed as though all sweet melodies dwelt in her little throat.

 So the Princess was to have the rose, and the nightingale; and they were accordingly put into large silver caskets, and sent to her.

The Emperor had them brought into a large hall, where the Princess was playing at “Visiting,” with the ladies of the court; and when she saw the caskets with the presents, she clapped her hands for joy.

“Ah, if it were but a little pussy-cat!” said she; but the rose tree, with its beautiful rose came to view.

“Oh, how prettily it is made!” said all the court ladies.

“It is more than pretty,” said the Emperor, “it is charming!”

But the Princess touched it, and was almost ready to cry.

“Fie, papa!” said she. “It is not made at all, it is natural!”

“Let us see what is in the other casket, before we get into a bad humor,” said the Emperor. So the nightingale came forth and sang so delightfully that at first no one could say anything ill-humored of her.

“Superbe! Charmant!” exclaimed the ladies; for they all used to chatter French, each one worse than her neighbor.

“How much the bird reminds me of the musical box that belonged to our blessed Empress,” said an old knight. “Oh yes! These are the same tones, the same execution.”

“Yes! yes!” said the Emperor, and he wept like a child at the remembrance. 

“I will still hope that it is not a real bird,” said the Princess.

“Yes, it is a real bird,” said those who had brought it. “Well then let the bird fly,” 

said the Princess; and she positively refused to see the Prince.

However, he was not to be discouraged; he daubed his face over brown and black; pulled his cap over his ears, and knocked at the door.

“Good day to my lord, the Emperor!” said he. “Can I have employment at the palace?”

“Why, yes,” said the Emperor. “I want some one to take care of the pigs, 

for we have a great many of them.”

So the Prince was appointed “Imperial Swineherd.” 

He had a dirty little room close by the pigsty; and there he sat the whole day, and worked. By the evening he had made a pretty little kitchen-pot. Little bells were hung all round it; and when the pot was boiling, these bells tinkled in the most charming manner, and played the old melody, 

But what was still more curious, whoever held his finger in the smoke of the kitchen-pot, immediately smelt all the dishes that were cooking on every hearth in the city—this, you see, was something quite different from the rose.

Now the Princess happened to walk that way; and when she heard the tune, she stood quite still, and seemed pleased; for she could play “Lieber Augustine”; 

it was the only piece she knew; and she played it with one finger.

“Why there is my piece,” said the Princess. “That swineherd must certainly have been well educated! Go in and ask him the price of the instrument.”

So one of the court-ladies must run in; however, she drew on wooden slippers first.

“What will you take for the kitchen-pot?” said the lady.

“I will have ten kisses from the Princess,” said the swineherd.

“Yes, indeed!” said the lady.

“I cannot sell it for less,” rejoined the swineherd.

“He is an impudent fellow!” said the Princess, and she walked on;

 but when she had gone a little way, the bells tinkled so prettily 

"Ach! du lieber Augustin,
Alles ist weg, weg, weg!"

“Stay,” said the Princess.

 “Ask him if he will have ten kisses from the ladies of my court.”

“No, thank you!” said the swineherd. “Ten kisses from the Princess, 

or I keep the kitchen-pot myself.”

“That must not be, either!” said the Princess.

 “But do you all stand before me that no one may see us.”

And the court-ladies placed themselves in front of her, and spread out their dresses—the swineherd got ten kisses, and the Princess—the kitchen-pot.

That was delightful! The pot was boiling the whole evening, and the whole of the following day. They knew perfectly well what was cooking at every fire throughout the city, from the chamberlain's to the cobbler's; the court-ladies danced and clapped their hands.

“We know who has soup, and who has pancakes for dinner to-day, who has cutlets, and who has eggs. How interesting!”

“Yes, but keep my secret, for I am an Emperor's daughter.”

The swineherd—that is to say—the Prince, for no one knew that he was other than an ill-favored swineherd, let not a day pass without working at something; he at last constructed a rattle, which, when it was swung round, played all the waltzes and jig tunes, which have ever been heard since the creation of the world.

“Ah, that is superbe!” said the Princess when she passed by. “I have never heard prettier compositions! Go in and ask him the price of the instrument; but mind, he shall have no more kisses!”

“He will have a hundred kisses from the Princess!” said the lady who had been to ask.

“I think he is not in his right senses!” said the Princess, and walked on, but when she had gone a little way, she stopped again. “One must encourage art,” said she, 

“I am the Emperor's daughter. Tell him he shall, as on yesterday, have ten kisses from me, and may take the rest from the ladies of the court.”

“Oh—but we should not like that at all!” said they. “What are you muttering?” asked the Princess. “If I can kiss him, surely you can. Remember that you owe everything to me.” So the ladies were obliged to go to him again.

“A hundred kisses from the Princess,” said he, “or else let everyone keep his own!”

“Stand round!” said she; and all the ladies stood round her whilst the kissing was going on.

“What can be the reason for such a crowd close by the pigsty?” said the Emperor, who happened just then to step out on the balcony; he rubbed his eyes, and put on his spectacles. “They are the ladies of the court; I must go down and see what they are about!” So he pulled up his slippers at the heel, for he had trodden them down.

As soon as he had got into the court-yard, he moved very softly, and the ladies were so much engrossed with counting the kisses, that all might go on fairly, that they did not perceive the Emperor. He rose on his tiptoes.

“What is all this?” said he, when he saw what was going on, and he boxed the Princess's ears with his slipper, just as the swineherd was taking the eighty-sixth kiss.

“March out!” said the Emperor, for he was very angry; and both Princess and swineherd were thrust out of the city.

The Princess now stood and wept, the swineherd scolded, and the rain poured down.

“Alas! Unhappy creature that I am!” said the Princess. “If I had but married the handsome young Prince! Ah! how unfortunate I am!”

And the swineherd went behind a tree, washed the black and brown color from his face, threw off his dirty clothes, and stepped forth in his princely robes; he looked so noble that the Princess could not help bowing before him.

“I am come to despise thee,” said he. “Thou would'st not have an honorable Prince! Thou could'st not prize the rose and the nightingale, but thou wast ready to kiss the swineherd for the sake of a trumpery plaything. Thou art rightly served.”

He then went back to his own little kingdom, and shut the door of his palace in her face. Now she might well sing,

"Ach! du lieber Augustin,

Alles ist weg, weg, weg!"

The Swineherd by Hans Christian Andersen   Level 2

ONCE upon a time lived a poor prince; his kingdom was very small, but it was large enough to enable him to marry, and marry he would. It was rather bold of him that he went and asked the emperor’s daughter: “Will you marry me?” but he ventured to do so, for his name was known far and wide, and there were hundreds of princesses who would have gladly accepted him, but would she do so? Now we shall see.

On the grave of the prince’s father grew a rose-tree, the most beautiful of its kind.
It bloomed only once in five years, and then it had only one single rose upon it, but what a rose! It had such a sweet scent that one instantly forgot all sorrow and grief when one smelt it. He had also a nightingale, which could sing as if every sweet melody was in its throat. This rose and the nightingale he wished to give to the princess; and therefore both were put into big silver cases and sent to her.

The emperor ordered them to be carried into the great hall where the princess was just playing “Visitors are coming” with her ladies-in-waiting; when she saw the large cases with the presents therein, she clapped her hands for joy.
“I wish it were a little pussy cat,” she said. But then the rose-tree with the beautiful rose was unpacked.

“Oh, how nicely it is made,” exclaimed the ladies.
“It is more than nice,” said the emperor, “it is charming.”
The princess touched it and nearly began to cry.
“For shame, pa,” she said, “it is not artificial, it is natural!”
“For shame, it is natural” repeated all her ladies.

“Let us first see what the other case contains before we are angry,” said the emperor; then the nightingale was taken out, and it sang so beautifully that no one could possibly say anything unkind about it.
“Superbe, charmant,” said the ladies of the court, for they all prattled French, one worse than the other.

“How much the bird reminds me of the musical box of the late lamented empress,” said an old courtier, “it has exactly the same tone, the same execution.”
“You are right,” said the emperor, and began to cry like a little child.

“I hope it is not natural,” said the princess.
“Yes, certainly it is natural,” replied those who had brought the presents.
“Then let it fly,” said the princess, and refused to see the prince.

But the prince was not discouraged. He painted his face, put on common clothes, pulled his cap over his forehead, and came back.
“Good day, emperor,” he said, “could you not give me some employment at the court?”

“There are so many,” replied the emperor, “who apply for places, that for the present 

I have no vacancy, but I will remember you. But wait a moment; it just comes into my mind, I require somebody to look after my pigs, for I have a great many.”

Thus the prince was appointed imperial swineherd, and as such he lived in a wretchedly small room near the pigsty; there he worked all day long, and when it was night he had made a pretty little pot. There were little bells round the rim, and when the water began to boil in it, the bells began to play the old tune:
“A jolly old sow once lived in a sty,
Three little piggies had she,” &c.

But what was more wonderful was that, when one put a finger into the steam rising from the pot, one could at once smell what meals they were preparing on every fire in the whole town. That was indeed much more remarkable than the rose. When the princess with her ladies passed by and heard the tune, she stopped and looked quite pleased, for she also could play it—in fact, it was the only tune she could play, and she played it with one finger.

“That is the tune I know,” she exclaimed. “He must be a well-educated swineherd. 

Go and ask him how much the instrument is.”
One of the ladies had to go and ask; but she put on pattens.
“What will you take for your pot?” asked the lady.
“I will have ten kisses from the princess,” said the swineherd.
“God forbid,” said the lady.
“Well, I cannot sell it for less,” replied the swineherd.
“What did he say?” said the princess.
“I really cannot tell you,” replied the lady.
“You can whisper it into my ear.”

“It is very naughty,” said the princess, and walked off.
But when she had gone a little distance, the bells rang again so sweetly:
“A jolly old sow once lived in a sty,
Three little piggies had she,” &c.

“Ask him,” said the princess, “if he will be satisfied with ten kisses from one of my ladies.”
“No, thank you,” said the swineherd: “ten kisses from the princess, or I keep my pot.”

“That is tiresome,” said the princess. “But you must stand before me, so that nobody can see it.”
The ladies placed themselves in front of her and spread out their dresses, and she gave 

the swineherd ten kisses and received the pot.

That was a pleasure! Day and night the water in the pot was boiling; there was not a single fire in the whole town of which they did not know what was preparing on it, the chamberlain’s as well as the shoemaker’s. The ladies danced and clapped their hands for joy.

“We know who will eat soup and pancakes; we know who will eat porridge and cutlets;

 oh, how interesting!”
“Very interesting, indeed,” said the mistress of the household.

 “But you must not betray me, for I am the emperor’s daughter.”
“Of course not,” they all said.

The swineherd—that is to say, the prince—but they did not know otherwise than that he was a real swineherd—did not waste a single day without doing something; he made a rattle, which, when turned quickly round, played all the waltzes, galops, and polkas known since the creation of the world.

“But that is superbe,” said the princess passing by. “I have never heard a more beautiful composition. Go down and ask him what the instrument costs; but I shall not kiss him again.”

“He will have a hundred kisses from the princess,” 

said the lady, who had gone down to ask him.
“I believe he is mad,” said the princess, and walked off, but soon she stopped. “One must encourage art,” she said. “I am the emperor’s daughter! Tell him I will give him ten kisses, as I did the other day; the remainder one of my ladies can give him.”

“But we do not like to kiss him” said the ladies.
“That is nonsense,” said the princess; “if I can kiss him, you can also do it. 

Remember that I give you food and employment.” And the lady had to go down once more.
“A hundred kisses from the princess,” said the swineherd, “or everybody keeps his own.”

“Place yourselves before me,” said the princess then. 

They did as they were bidden, and the princess kissed him.
“I wonder what that crowd near the pigsty means!” said the emperor, who had just come out on his balcony. He rubbed his eyes and put his spectacles on.

“The ladies of the court are up to some mischief, I think. I shall have to go down and see.” He pulled up his shoes, for they were down at the heels, and he was very quick about it. When he had come down into the courtyard he walked quite softly, and the ladies were so busily engaged in counting the kisses, that all should be fair, that they did not notice the emperor. He raised himself on tiptoe.

“What does this mean?” he said, when he saw that his daughter was kissing the swineherd, and then hit their heads with his shoe just as the swineherd received the sixty-eighth kiss.

“Go out of my sight,” said the emperor, for he was very angry; and both the princess and the swineherd were banished from the empire. There she stood and cried, the swineherd scolded her, and the rain came down in torrents.
“Alas, unfortunate creature that I am!” said the princess, “I wish I had accepted the prince. Oh, how wretched I am!”

The swineherd went behind a tree, wiped his face, threw off his poor attire and stepped forth in his princely garments; he looked so beautiful that the princess could not help bowing to him.

“I have now learnt to despise you,” he said. “You refused an honest prince; you did not appreciate the rose and the nightingale; but you did not mind kissing a swineherd for his toys; you have no one but yourself to blame!”

And then he returned into his kingdom and left her behind. She could now sing at her leisure:

"Ach! du lieber Augustin,
Alles ist weg, weg, weg!"

PASÁČEK VEPŘŮ  / Pohádka /  film CZ Dabing

Byl jednou chudý, ale náramně chytrý princ. Měl království tuze malé, ale přece dost velké, aby se na to mohl oženit. A on se ženit chtěl.
Byl trochu smělý, a dokonce si troufal říci císařově dceři:
„Chceš mě?“
Chcete vědět, jak ho přijala? Tak poslyšte!

Na hrobě princova otce rostl krásný, překrásný růžový keř. Kvetl však jenom každý pátý rok a měl vždycky jen jediný květ. Ale to byla růže! Voněla tak sladce, že při té vůni zapomněl na všechny žaly a starosti. A pak měl princ slavíka, který uměl tak zpívat, jako by měl v hrdélku všechny krásné melodie světa.
Tu růži a toho slavíka měla princezna dostat. Proto je vložil princ do velkých stříbrných pouzder a poslal do císařského paláce.
Císař si je dal přenést do velkého sálu, v němž si princezna často hrála se svými dvorními dámami na "návštěvy". Ani princezna, ani dvorní dámy nic jiného nedělaly.
Když císařova dcera spatřila velká stříbrná pouzdra, radostí tleskala rukama.
„Kdyby to tak byla malá kočička!“ pravila, když otvírala první pouzdro.

Ale byla v něm krásná růže.
„Ta je ale krásně zhotovena!“ říkaly všechny dvorní dámy.
„Ta je víc nežli krásná,“ pravil císař, „ta je nádherná!“
Ale princezna k ní přivoněla a byla by se málem dala do pláče.
„Fuj, otče!“ pravila. „Vždyť není umělá, ale skutečná!“
„Fuj!“ pravili všichni dvořané. „Je skutečná!“

„Podívejme se nejprve, co je v druhém pouzdru, nežli se rozhněváme!“ mínil císař.
A tu se objevil slavík. Zpíval tak krásně, že hned nemohli o něm říci nic zlého.
„Šarmant!“ pravily dvorní dámy, neboť hovořily všechny francouzsky, jedna hůř než druhá.
„Ten pták mi připomíná hrací skříňku nebožky císařovny,“ pravil jeden starý kavalír. „Ach ano, týž hlas, týž přednes.“
„Ano!“ pravil císař a rozplakal se jako malé dítě.
„Ani bych nevěřila, že je skutečný,“ řekla princezna.
„Ovšem, je to skutečný pták,“ pravili Ti, kteří jej přinesli.
„Tak jej nechte, ať si lítá!“ řekla princezna a nechtěla rozhodně dovolit, aby princ přišel.
Ten se však nedal zmást. Pomazal si obličej hnědou a černou barvou, narazil si na hlavu čepici a zaklepal.

„Dobrý den, císaři!“ pravil. „Nemohl bych v zámku dostat nějakou službu?“
„Inu, bylo tady již mnoho takových, kteří práci hledají,“ odpověděl císař. „Ale uvidíme. Potřebuji někoho, kdo umí pást vepře. My totiž máme mnoho vepřů.“
A tak byl princ přijat za císařského pasáčka vepřů. Bydlel v chudobné komůrce dole u chlévů. Ale byl celý den venku u prasečího chlívku a na čemsi pracoval. Když byl večer, dohotovil hezounký malý kotlík, na kterém byly kolem dokola samé rolničky. Když se voda v kotlíku vařila, rolničky překrásně zvonily a hrály starou melodii:

„Měl jsem, měl jsem,
ale nemám více ..... “
Ale největší umění bylo v tom, že když jsi strčil prst do páry vycházející z kotlíku, mohls hned cítit, jaká jídla se připravují na všech ohništích, co jich bylo v městě. No, tohle bylo přece něco jiného nežli ta růže!
Šla kolem princezna se všemi svými dvorními dámami, a když uslyšela melodii, zastavila se a vesele se dívala. Uměla totiž také hrát tu písničku. To však bylo jediné, co dovedla, ale hrála to jedním prstem.
„Vždyť já tuhle píseň znám,“ pravila, „to je nějaký vzdělaný pasáček! Poslyšte, jděte k němu a zeptejte se, co ten nástroj stojí!“
Jedna dvorní dáma tam musela běžet, ale dříve si obula střevíce s vysokými podpatky.

„Co žádáš za ten kotlík?“ zeptala se.
„Chci deset hubiček od princezny,“ odpověděl pasáček.
„Pánbůh chraň!“ pravila dvorní dáma.
„Inu, já neslevím,“ prohlásil pasáček.
„Tak co řekl?“ tázala se princezna.
„Ani to nemohu opakovat!“ pravila dvorní dáma. „Je to strašlivé!“
„Tak mi to pošeptej!“
I pošeptala jí to.
„Ten nezpůsoba!“ zvolala princezna a šla dál.
Ale sotva ušla několik kroků, zvonily rolničky zas krásně:
„Měl jsem, měl jsem,
ale nemám více ..... “
„Poslyš!“ řekla princezna. „Zeptej se ho, nechce-li deset hubiček od mých dvorních dam!“
„Ne, děkuji!“ odpověděl pasáček. „Deset hubiček od princezny, jinak si kotlík nechám!“
„Tohle je hloupé!“ řekla princezna. „Ale tak se aspoň postavte přede mne, aby to nikdo neviděl!“
Dvorní dámy se postavili před ni a roztáhly sukně. Tak dostal pasáček deset hubiček a princezna dostala kotlík.

No, to bylo radosti! Celý večer a celý den se musela voda v kotlíku vařit. Nebylo v celém městě ohniště, aby v zámku nevěděli, co se tam vaří, a to jak u pana ředitele, tak u ševce. Dvorní dámy tančily a tleskaly rukama.
„My víme, kdo bude mít sladkou polévku se svítkem! My víme, kdo bude mít krupičnou kaši a karbanátky! To je zajímavé!“
„Náramně zajímavé,“ pravila dvorní hofmistryně.
„Tak jenom si to hezky nechte pro sebe! Jsem přece dcera císařova!“
„Budeme mlčet jako hrob!“ ubezpečovaly ji všechny.

Pasáček ..... totiž princ, ale to ony nevěděly a myslely, že je to opravdový pasáček ..... vynalezl zase, sotva uplynul den, něco jiného. Byl to mlýnek. Když jím někdo otáčel, zněly z něho všechny taneční melodie, jaké byly známy od stvoření světa.
„Ale tohle je šarmant!“ zvolala princezna, když tudy šla. „Ještě nikdy jsem neslyšela krásnější skladby. Poslyš! Jdi a zeptej se pasáčka, co ten mlýnek stojí! Ale líbat se nedám!“
„Chce za něj sto hubiček od princezny,“ řekla dvorní dáma, která se tam šla zeptat.

„Zdá se, že blázní!“ zvolala princezna.
I šla dál, ale když ušla kousek cesty, zastavila se.
„Musíme podporovat umění,“ pravila. „Jsem přece dcera císařova. Řekni mu, že mu dám deset hubiček jako včera a ty ostatní ať si vezme od dvorních dam!“
„Ovšem, ale nám se do toho líbání nechce!“ namítaly dvorní dámy.
„Mnoho řečí!“ odsekla princezna. „Když já jej mohu políbit, můžete Vy také! Pamatujte si, že Vám dávám stravu a plat!“
Dvorní dáma se musela vrátit k pasáčkovi.

„Sto hubiček od princezny,“ řekl, „nebo si necháme každý své!“
„Tak se postavte přede mne!“ nařídila princezna.
Všechny dvorní dámy se postavily před ni a on se dal do líbání.
„Jakýpak je to tam dole u prasečího chlívku sběh lidí?“ podivil se císař, který vyšel také na procházku. Mnul si oči a nasadil si brýle.
„Vždyť to jsou dvorní dámy a hrají si! To se musím na ně podívat!“
I povytáhl si pantofle vzadu, aby je neztratil, neboť to byly vlastně sešlapané střevíce. A pospíšil si tam!
Zcela tiše se přiblížil.

Dvorní dámy byly docela zaměstnány počítáním hubiček, aby hra byla poctivá a on nedostal příliš mnoho, ale také ne příliš málo. Ani při tom císaře nezpozorovaly. Ten se postavil na špičky a zíral.
„Copak je tohle!“ zvolal, když viděl, jak se ti dva tam líbají.
A právě když pasáček dostával osmdesátou šestou hubičku, přetáhl je pantoflem po hlavě.
„Ven!“ vzkřikl císař, neboť byl tuze rozhněván.
A princezna se dala do pláče, pasáček huboval a přitom pršelo, jen se lilo.
„Ach, já ubohá!“ fňukala princezna. „Že jsem si nevzala toho krásného prince! Ach, jak jsem nešťastná!“

A pasáček šel za strom, smyl si černou a hnědou barvu z obličeje, odhodil ošklivé šaty a vystoupil před císařovu dceru ve svém oděvu jako princ. Byl tak krásný, že se mu princezna musela až poklonit.
„Nechtěla sis mě vzít!“ pravil. „Nerozuměla jsi růži a slavíkovi, ale s pasáčkem ses mohla líbat pro hračku!“
Princ odešel do své říše, přirazil vrata a zastrčil závoru. Teď mohla princezna stát venku a zpívat si:
„Měla jsem, měla jsem, ale nemám více ...