The Butterfly
by
Hans Christian Andersen
(1861)
THERE was once a butterfly who wished for a bride, and, as may be
supposed, he wanted to choose a very pretty one from among the flowers. He
glanced, with a very critical eye, at all the flower-beds, and found that the
flowers were seated quietly and demurely on their stalks, just as maidens
should sit before they are engaged; but there was a great number of them, and
it appeared as if his search would become very wearisome. The butterfly did not
like to take too much trouble, so he flew off on a visit to the daisies. The
French call this flower “Marguerite,” and they say that the little daisy can
prophesy. Lovers pluck off the leaves, and as they pluck each leaf, they ask a
question about their lovers; thus: “Does he or she love me?—Ardently?
Distractedly? Very much? A little? Not at all?” and so on. Every one speaks
these words in his own language. The butterfly came also to Marguerite to
inquire, but he did not pluck off her leaves; he pressed a kiss on each of
them, for he thought there was always more to be done by kindness.
“Darling Marguerite daisy,” he said to her, “you
are the wisest woman of all the flowers. Pray tell me which of the flowers I
shall choose for my wife. Which will be my bride? When I know, I will fly
directly to her, and propose.”