Hans Christian Andersen The Girl Who Stepped on Bread read online text.

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Information for parents: The Girl Who Stepped on Bread is a fairy tale written by Hans Christian Andersen. It talks about a proud, arrogant girl who was punished for her behavior. This tale is instructive and will interesting for both adults and children from 7 to 11 years old. The text of the fairy tale “The Girl Who Stepped on Bread” is written in a fascinating and simple way. Happy reading to you and your children.

Read the fairy tale The Girl Who Stepped on Bread

You, of course, heard about the girl who stepped on bread so as not to get her shoes dirty, and you also heard about how bad it was for her later. This has been written and published.

She was poor, but proud and arrogant girl. As they say, she had bad inclinations. When she was little, she loved to catch flies and tear off their wings; she liked that flies turned from flying insects into crawling ones. She also caught cockchafer and dung beetles, put them on pins and placed a green leaf or a piece of paper under their legs. The poor insect grabbed the paper with its legs, twisted and twisted, trying to free itself from the pin, and Inge laughed:

Chafer is reading! Look how the leaf turns over!

Over the years she became worse rather than better; Unfortunately for her, she was very pretty, and although she got clicks, they weren’t all the same as they should have been.

A strong one needs a snap for that head! - her own mother used to say. “As a child, you often trampled on my apron, I’m afraid that when you grow up, you will trample on my heart!”

And so it happened.

Inge entered the service of noble gentlemen, in a landowner's house. The gentlemen treated her as if they were their own daughter, and in her new clothes, Inge seemed to become even prettier, but her arrogance grew and grew.

She lived with her owners for a whole year, and then they said to her:

You should visit your old people, Inge!

Inge went, but only to appear to her family in her full regalia. She had already reached the outskirts of her native village, but suddenly she saw that girls and boys were standing and chatting near the pond, and nearby her mother was resting on a rock with an armful of brushwood collected in the forest. Inge - march back: she felt ashamed that she, such an elegant young lady, had such a ragged mother, who, in addition, herself carries brushwood from the forest. Inge didn’t even regret that she didn’t see her parents, she was just annoyed.

Another six months passed.

You need to visit your old people, Inge! - the lady told her again. - Here's some white bread, bring it to them. They will be glad to see you!

Inge dressed up in her best dress, put on new shoes, lifted her dress and carefully walked along the road, trying not to get her shoes dirty - well, there’s nothing to blame her for. But then the path turned onto marshy soil; I had to walk through a muddy puddle. Without thinking twice, Inge threw her bread into the puddle so that she could step on it and cross the puddle without getting her feet wet. But as soon as she stepped on the bread with one foot and raised the other, intending to step onto a dry place, the bread began to sink with her deeper and deeper into the ground - only black bubbles began to flow through the puddle!

What a story!

Where did Inge end up? To the swamp at the brewery. Bolotnitsa is the aunt of goblin and forest maidens; These are known to everyone, books have been written about them, songs have been composed, and they have been depicted in paintings more than once, but very little is known about the swamp; Only when fog rises over the meadows in the summer do people say: “It’s the bolotnaya brewing beer!” So, it was her that Inge ended up in the brewery, but you can’t stand it for long! The sewer is a bright, luxurious peace compared to the swamp brewery! Each vat stinks so much that it makes a person sick, but there are such vats here, apparently and invisible, and they stand tightly, tightly, next to each other; If you find a gap between some of them, then you will now come across wet toads and fat frogs huddled in a ball. Yes, that's where Inge ended up! Finding herself among this cold, sticky, disgusting living mess, Inge trembled and felt that her body was beginning to stiffen. The bread clung tightly to her feet and pulled her along with it, like an amber ball pulling a straw.

Bolotnitsa was at home; The brewery was visited that day by guests: the devil and his great-grandmother, a poisonous old woman. She is never idle, even when visiting, she takes some kind of needlework with her: either she sews shoes from leather, putting on which makes a person restless, or she embroiders gossip, or, finally, she knits thoughtless words that fall from people’s tongues - everything to the detriment and destruction of people! Yes, damn great-grandmother is a master of sewing, embroidering and knitting!

She saw Inge, adjusted her glasses, looked at her again and said: “Yes, she has the makings! I ask you to give it to me in memory of today's visit! It will make an excellent statue for my great-grandson’s front room!”

The swamp woman gave in to Inga, and the girl ended up in hell - people with inclinations can get there not by a direct path, but by a roundabout one!

The front occupied an endless space; look forward - your head will spin, look back - too. The entire hallway was crowded with exhausted sinners, waiting for the doors of mercy to open. They had to wait a long time! Huge, fat, waddling spiders entwined their legs with a thousand-year-old web; she squeezed them like pincers, binding them tighter than copper chains. In addition, the souls of sinners were tormented by eternal painful anxiety. The stingy one, for example, was tormented by the fact that he left the key in the lock of his cash drawer, others... and there will be no end if we start listing the torments and torments of all sinners!

Inga had to experience all the horror of the idol’s position; her feet seemed to be screwed to the bread.

“So be neat! I didn’t want to get my shoes dirty, and that’s how I feel now!” she said to herself. “Look, they’re staring at me!” Indeed, all the sinners looked at her; evil passions shone in their eyes, speaking without words; I was terrified just looking at them!

“Well, it’s nice to look at me!” thought Inge. “I’m pretty myself and dressed smartly!” And she looked at herself - her neck did not move. Oh, how she got dirty in the swamp brewery! She didn't even think about it! Her dress was completely covered with mucus, it clung to her hair and smacked her neck, and from every fold of the dress toads peeked out, barking like fat, hoarse pugs. Passion, how unpleasant it was! “Well, the others here don’t look any better than me!” Inge consoled herself.

The worst thing was the feeling of terrible hunger. Is it really impossible for her to bend down and break off a piece of bread on which she is standing? No, her back did not bend, her arms and legs did not move, she seemed completely petrified and could only move her eyes in all directions, around, even turn them out of their sockets and look back. Ugh, how disgusting that turned out! And on top of all this, flies appeared and began to crawl back and forth over her eyes; she blinked her eyes, but the flies did not fly away - their wings were plucked off, and they could only crawl. What a pain it was! And then there’s this hunger! Towards the end, it began to seem to Inga that her insides had devoured themselves, and inside she felt empty, terribly empty!

Well, if this goes on for too long, I won't be able to stand it! - said Inge, but she had to endure it; there was no change.

Suddenly, a hot tear fell on her head, rolled down her face onto her chest and then onto the bread; followed by another, a third, a whole hail of tears. Who could cry about Inga?

Didn’t she still have a mother on earth? The bitter tears of a mother, which she shed because of her child, always reach him, but do not free him, but only burn him, increasing his torment. The terrible, unbearable hunger, however, was the worst of all! Trample bread under your feet, and not be able to break off even a piece of it! It seemed to her that everything inside her had devoured itself, and she had become a thin, empty reed, sucking in every sound. She clearly heard everything that was said about her up there, and they said nothing but bad things. Even her mother, although bitterly and sincerely mourned her, still repeated: “Arrogance does not lead to good! Arrogance has ruined you, Inge! How you upset me!

And Inge’s mother and everyone up there already knew about her sin, they knew that she stepped on bread and fell through the ground. One shepherd saw all this from the hill and told others.

How you upset your mother, Inge! - repeated the mother. - Yes, I didn’t expect anything else!

“It would have been better for me not to have been born!” thought Inge. “What is the use of my mother now whining about me!”

She also heard the words of her masters, respectable people, who treated her like a daughter: “She is a big sinner! She did not honor the gifts of the Lord, she trampled them underfoot! The doors of mercy will not open for her soon!”

“They should have raised me better, more strictly!” thought Inge. “They would drive the vices out of me if they were in me!”

She also heard the song that people composed about her, a song “about an arrogant girl who stepped on bread so as not to get her shoes dirty.” Everyone sang it.

“When I think about it, what I had to listen to and suffer for my offense!” thought Inge. “Let others pay for theirs too! And how many would have to! Oh, how I’m tormented!”

And Inge’s soul became even rougher, tougher than her shell.

You can't get better in a society like here! I don't want to! Look, they're staring at me! - she said and finally became bitter and embittered at all people. - We were delighted, now we found something to shout about! Oh, how I am tormented!

She also heard how her story was told to children, and the little ones called her “the atheist.” - She's so nasty! Now let him suffer thoroughly! - the children said.

Inge heard only one bad thing about herself from her children’s lips.

But then one day, tormented by hunger and anger, she again hears her name and her story. They told it to an innocent little girl, and the little girl suddenly burst into tears about the arrogant, vain Inga.

And will she really never come back up here? - asked the little one.

Never! - they answered her.

And if she asks for forgiveness, promises never to do that again?

Yes, she doesn’t want to ask for forgiveness at all!

Oh, how I wish she would ask for forgiveness! - said the girl and for a long time could not console herself. - I would give mine Dollhouse, if only she would be allowed to return to earth! Poor, poor Inge!

These words reached Inge’s heart, and she seemed to feel better: for the first time a living soul was found who said: “poor Inge!” and did not add a single word about her sin. The little, innocent girl cried and asked for her!.. Some strange feeling gripped Inge’s soul; It seemed she would have cried herself, but she couldn’t, and this was a new torment.

On earth the years flew by like an arrow, but underground everything remained the same. Inge heard her name less and less often - people on earth remembered her less and less. But one day a sigh reached her: “Inge! Inge! How you upset me! I always foresaw this!” It was Inge's mother who was dying.

She sometimes heard her name from the lips of her old owners. The hostess, however, always expressed herself humbly: “Perhaps we will see you again, Inge! Nobody knows where they will end up!”

But Inge knew that her venerable mistress would not end up where she ended up.

Time crawled slowly, painfully slowly.

And so, Inge again heard her name and saw two bright stars flashing above her: it was a pair of meek eyes that closed on the ground. Many years have passed since the little girl cried inconsolably for “poor Inge”; the little one managed to grow up, grow old, and was called back by the Lord God to Himself. IN last minute, when the memories of a whole life flash in the soul with a bright light, the dying woman remembered her bitter tears about Inge, so vividly that she involuntarily exclaimed: “Lord, maybe I, like Inge, without knowing it, trampled underfoot Your all-good gifts, perhaps my soul was infected with arrogance, and only Your mercy did not allow me to fall lower, but supported me! Don’t leave me at my last hour!”

And so, as soon as she realized this with contrition, a ray of light penetrated into the underground abyss, stronger than the sun, which melts the snow idol made in the yard by the boys, and faster than a snowflake melts on the warm lips of a child, Inge’s petrified shell melted. The little bird soared from the depths like lightning to freedom. But, finding ourselves among white light, she shrank from fear and shame - she was afraid and ashamed of everyone and hastily hid in a dark crack in some dilapidated wall. Here she sat, huddled, trembling all over, not making a sound - she didn’t have a voice. She sat like that for a long time before she dared to look around and admire the splendor of God’s world. Yes, God's world was magnificent! The air was fresh and soft, the moon was shining brightly, the trees and bushes were fragrant; it was so cozy in the corner where the bird had taken refuge, and the dress she was wearing was so clean and elegant. What love, what beauty was poured out in God’s world! And all the thoughts that were moving in the bird’s chest were ready to pour out in a song, but the bird could not sing, no matter how much it wanted to; she could neither crow like a cuckoo nor click like a nightingale! But the Lord hears even the silent praise of the worm and heard this silent praise that mentally rushed to heaven, like a psalm that sounded in David’s chest before he found words and melody for it.

The bird's silent praise grew day by day and was just waiting for an opportunity to result in a good deed.

Christmas Eve has arrived. The peasant put a pole at the fence and tied an unthreshed sheaf of oats to the top - let the birds also joyfully celebrate the Nativity of the Savior!

On Christmas morning the sun rose and illuminated the sheaf; quickly flew into the chirping bird's treat. From the crevice in the wall there was also a sound: “pi!” pi! The thought poured out into sound, the faint squeak was a real hymn of joy: the thought was preparing to be embodied in a good deed, and the bird flew out of its hiding place. They knew in heaven what kind of bird it was.

The winter was harsh, the waters were covered with thick ice, and for the birds and animals of the forest it was hard times. A little bird flew over the road, looking for and finding grains in the snow furrows made by the sleigh, and crumbs of bread near the horse feeding stations; but she herself always ate only one grain, one crumb, and then called other hungry sparrows to feed. She also flew to the cities, looked around and, seeing pieces of bread crumbled from the window by a merciful hand, she also ate only one, and gave the rest to others.

During the winter, the bird collected and distributed so many bread crumbs that they all together weighed as much as the bread that Inge stepped on so as not to get her shoes dirty. And when the last crumb was found and given away, the bird’s gray wings turned white and spread wide.

There's a sea swallow flying! - the children said when they saw the white bird. The bird dived into the waves, then soared towards the sun's rays, and suddenly disappeared in this radiance. Nobody saw where she went. - She flew away into the sun! - said the children.

You, of course, heard about the girl who stepped on bread so as not to get her shoes dirty, and you also heard about how bad it was for her later. This has been written and published.

She was poor, but proud and arrogant girl. As they say, she had bad inclinations. When she was little, she loved to catch flies and tear off their wings; she liked that flies turned from flying insects into crawling ones. She also caught cockchafers and dung beetles, put them on pins and placed a green leaf or a piece of paper under their legs.

The poor insect grabbed the paper with its legs, twisted and twisted, trying to free itself from the pin, and Inge laughed:

The cockchafer is reading! Look how the leaf turns over!

Over the years she became worse rather than better; Unfortunately for her, she was very pretty, and although she got clicks, they weren’t all the ones she should have.

A strong one needs a snap for that head! - her own mother used to say. “As a child, you often trampled on my apron, I’m afraid that when you grow up, you will trample on my heart!”

And so it happened.

She lived with her owners for a whole year, and then they told her:

You should visit your old people, Inge!

Another six months passed.

You need to visit your old people, Inge! - the lady told her again. - Here's some white bread, bring it to them. They will be glad to see you!

Inge dressed up in her best dress, put on new shoes, lifted her dress and carefully walked along the road, trying not to get her shoes dirty - well, there’s nothing to blame her for. But then the path turned onto marshy soil; I had to walk through a muddy puddle. Without hesitation, Inge threw her bread into the puddle so that she could step on it and cross the puddle without getting her feet wet. But as soon as she stepped on the bread with one foot and raised the other, intending to step onto a dry place, the bread began to sink with her deeper and deeper into the ground - only black bubbles began to appear in the puddle!

What a story!

Where did Inge end up? To the swamp at the brewery. Bolotnitsa is the aunt of goblin and forest maidens; These are known to everyone: books have been written about them, songs have been composed, and they have been depicted in paintings more than once, but very little is known about the swamp; Only when the fog rises over the meadows in the summer do people say that “the swamp is brewing beer!” So, it was her that Inge ended up in the brewery, but you can’t stand it for long! The sewer is a bright, luxurious peace compared to the swamp brewery! Each vat stinks so much that it makes a person sick, but there are such vats here, apparently and invisible, and they stand tightly, tightly, next to each other; If you find a gap between some of them, then you will now come across wet toads and fat frogs huddled in a ball. Yes, that's where Inge ended up! Finding herself among this cold, sticky, disgusting living mess, Inge trembled and felt that her body was beginning to stiffen. The bread clung tightly to her feet and pulled her along with it, like an amber ball pulling a straw.

Bolotnitsa was at home; The brewery was visited that day by guests: the devil and his great-grandmother, a poisonous old woman. She is never idle, even when visiting, she takes some kind of needlework with her: she either sews shoes from leather, putting on which makes a person restless, or embroiders gossip, or, finally, knits thoughtless words that fall from people’s tongues - all in harm and destruction to people! Yes, damn great-grandmother is a master of sewing, embroidering and knitting!

She saw Inge, adjusted her glasses, looked at her again and said:

“Yes, she has the makings! I will ask you to give it to me in memory of today's visit! It will make an excellent statue for my great-grandson’s front room!”

The swamp woman gave in to Inga, and the girl ended up in hell - people with inclinations can get there not in a direct way, but in a roundabout way!

Inga had to experience all the horror of the idol’s position; her feet seemed to be screwed to the bread.

“So be neat! I didn’t want to get my shoes dirty, and that’s how I feel now! - she said to herself. “Look, they’re staring at me!” Indeed, all the sinners were looking at her; evil passions shone in their eyes, speaking without words; I was terrified just looking at them!

“Well, it’s nice to look at me! - thought Inge. “I’m pretty myself and dressed smartly!” And she looked at herself - her neck did not move. Oh, how she got dirty in the swamp brewery! She didn't even think about it! Her dress was completely covered with mucus, it clung to her hair and smacked her neck, and from every fold of the dress toads peeked out, barking like fat, hoarse pugs. Passion, how unpleasant it was! “Well, the others here don’t look any better than me!” - Inge consoled herself.

The worst thing was the feeling of terrible hunger. Is it really impossible for her to bend down and break off a piece of bread on which she is standing? No, her back did not bend, her arms and legs did not move, she seemed completely petrified and could only move her eyes in all directions, all around, even turn them out of their sockets and look back. Ugh, how disgusting that turned out! And on top of all this, flies appeared and began to crawl back and forth over her eyes; she blinked her eyes, but the flies did not fly away - their wings were plucked off, and they could only crawl. What a pain it was! And then there’s this hunger! Towards the end, it began to seem to Inga that her insides had devoured themselves, and inside she felt empty, terribly empty!

Well, if this goes on for too long, I won't be able to stand it! - said Inge, but she had to endure it: change did not come.

Suddenly a hot tear fell on her head, rolled down her face onto her chest and then onto the bread; followed by another, a third, a whole hail of tears. Who could cry about Inga?

Did she not have a mother left on earth? The bitter tears of a mother, which she shed because of her child, always reach him, but do not free him, but only burn him, increasing his torment. The terrible, unbearable hunger, however, was the worst of all! Trample bread under your feet and not be able to break off even a piece of it! It seemed to her that everything inside her had devoured itself, and she had become a thin, empty reed, sucking in every sound. She clearly heard everything that was said about her up there, and they only said bad things. Even her mother, although bitterly and sincerely mourned her, still repeated: “Arrogance does not lead to good! Arrogance has ruined you, Inge! How you upset me!

And Inge’s mother and everyone up there already knew about her sin, they knew that she stepped on the bread and fell through the ground. One shepherd saw all this from the hill and told others.

How you upset your mother, Inge! - repeated the mother. - Yes, I didn’t expect anything else!

“It would have been better for me not to have been born! - thought Inge. “What’s the use of my mother now whining about me!”

“They should have raised me better, more strictly! - thought Inge. “They would drive the vices out of me if they were in me!”

She also heard the song that people composed about her, a song about an arrogant girl who stepped on bread so as not to get her shoes dirty. Everyone sang it.

“When I think about it, what I had to listen to and suffer for my offense! - thought Inge. - Let others pay for theirs too! And how many would have to! Oh, how I’m tormented!”

And Inge’s soul became even rougher, tougher than her shell.

She also heard her story being told to children, and the little ones called her an atheist.

She's so nasty! Now let him suffer thoroughly! - the children said.

Inge heard only one bad thing about herself from her children’s lips. But then one day, tormented by hunger and anger, she again hears her name and her story. They told it to an innocent little girl, and the little girl suddenly burst into tears about the arrogant, vain Inga.

And will she never come back up here? - asked the little one.

Never! - they answered her.

And if she asks for forgiveness, promises never to do that again?

Yes, she doesn’t want to ask for forgiveness at all!

Oh, how I wish she would ask for forgiveness! - said the girl and for a long time could not console herself. “I would give up my dollhouse if only she would be allowed to return to earth!” Poor, poor Inge!

These words reached Inge’s heart, and she seemed to feel better: for the first time a living soul was found who said: “poor Inge!” - and did not add a word about her sin. The little, innocent girl cried and asked for her!.. Some strange feeling gripped Inge’s soul; It seemed she would have cried herself, but she couldn’t, and this was a new torment.

“Inge! Inge! How you upset me! I always foresaw this!” It was Inge's mother who was dying.

She sometimes heard her name from the lips of her old owners.

The hostess, however, always expressed herself humbly: “Perhaps we will see you again, Inge! Nobody knows where they will end up!”

But Inge knew that her venerable mistress would not end up where she ended up.

Time crawled slowly, painfully slowly.

And then Inge again heard her name and saw two bright stars flashing above her: it was a pair of meek eyes that closed on the ground. Many years have passed since the little girl cried inconsolably for “poor Inga”: the little one managed to grow up, grow old, and was called back to Himself by the Lord God. At the last minute, when the memories of a whole life flash in the soul with a bright light, the dying woman remembered her bitter tears about Inga, so vividly that she involuntarily exclaimed:

“Lord, maybe I, like Inge, without knowing it, trampled underfoot Your all-good gifts, maybe my soul was infected with arrogance, and only Your mercy did not allow me to fall lower, but supported me! Don’t leave me at my last hour!”

And the dying woman’s bodily eyes closed, and her spiritual ones opened, and since Inge was her last thought, she saw with her spiritual gaze what was hidden from the earthly - she saw how low Inge had fallen. At this sight, the pious soul burst into tears and appeared before the throne of the Heavenly King, crying and praying for the sinful soul as sincerely as she had cried as a child. These sobs and prayers echoed in the empty shell that contained the tormented soul, and Inge’s soul was, as it were, suppressed by this unexpected love for her in heaven. God's angel cried for her! What did she do to deserve this? The tormented soul looked back at her entire life, at everything she had done, and burst into tears such as Inge had never known. Self-pity filled her: it seemed to her that the doors of mercy would remain locked for her forever! And so, as soon as she realized this with contrition, a ray of light penetrated into the underground abyss, stronger than the sun, which melts the snow idol made in the yard by the boys, and faster than a snowflake melts on the warm lips of a child, Inge’s petrified shell melted. The little bird soared from the depths like lightning to freedom. But, finding herself among the white light, she cowered with fear and shame - she was afraid of everyone, ashamed, and hastily hid in a dark crack in some dilapidated wall. Here she sat, huddled, trembling all over, not making a sound - she didn’t have a voice. She sat like that for a long time before she dared to look around and admire the splendor of God’s world. Yes, God's world was magnificent! The air was fresh and soft, the moon was shining brightly, the trees and bushes were fragrant; it was so cozy in the corner where the bird had taken refuge, and the dress she was wearing was so clean and elegant. What love, what beauty was poured into God's world! And all the thoughts that were moving in the bird’s chest were ready to pour out in a song, but the bird could not sing, no matter how much it wanted to; she could neither crow like a cuckoo nor click like a nightingale! But the Lord hears even the silent praise of the worm and heard this silent praise that mentally rushed to heaven, like a psalm that sounded in David’s chest before he found words and melody for it.

The bird's silent praise grew day by day and was just waiting for an opportunity to result in a good deed.

Christmas Eve has arrived. The peasant put a pole at the fence and tied an unthreshed sheaf of oats to the top - let the birds also joyfully celebrate the Nativity of the Savior!

The winter was harsh, the waters were covered with thick ice, and difficult times had come for the birds and animals of the forest. A little bird flew over the road, looking for and finding grains in the snow furrows made by the sleigh, and crumbs of bread near the horse feeding stations; but she herself always ate only one grain, one crumb, and then called other hungry sparrows to feed. She also flew to the cities, looked around and, seeing pieces of bread crumbled from the window by a merciful hand, she also ate only one, and gave the rest to others.

There's a sea swallow flying! - the children said when they saw the white bird.

The bird dived into the waves, then soared towards the sun's rays - and suddenly disappeared in this radiance. Nobody saw where she went.

She flew off into the sun! - said the children.

Hans Christian Andersen - Tales of G. Chr. Andersen Publishing: T-va I.D. Sytina Tipo-lit. I.I. Pashkova, Moscow, 1908 Translator: A.A. Fedorov-Davydov OCR, spell check and translation into modern spelling: Ernest Hemingway Holiday (Read Ernest Hemingway's most touching novel "The Holiday That Is Always With You")

A girl who stepped on bread.

The story, which talks about a girl who stepped on bread in order not to get her shoes dirty, and the punishment she suffered for this, was not only written, but also published. That's the whole story! But where did Inga go? self made , and now she took it with her. She sewed special prickly insoles for people's shoes so that they would not know peace and could not sit still for a minute; she embroidered a fabric of lies and knitted thoughtless words that fell to the ground - all to the grief and misfortune of people. Yes, she knew how to sew, embroider and knit, this old grandmother. She noticed Inga, pulled her glasses up her nose and looked at her carefully again. And it was a terrible place. And then the flies came and began to crawl over her eyes back and forth, and she blinked her eyes, but the flies did not fly away, because they could not fly: their wings were torn off, and they could only crawl. It was torture; Moreover, hunger was increasing. Towards the end it began to seem to her that her insides were devouring themselves, and an emptiness was forming inside. big sin , - she trampled the gift of God with her feet; the doors of mercy are closed for her forever." “You should have punished me, and not indulged me in everything,” thought Inga. She heard them sing a song written about her, a song about a proud girl who stepped on bread so that not to get your shoes dirty. And this song was sung all over the country. “Why do I have to listen to so much bad things and, in addition, suffer so cruelly? - thought Inga. Others must also bear punishment for their sins... Let’s face it, even then the punishment won’t be enough... Oh, how I suffer!”... And her soul turned to stone even more than her body. “Here, among this society, one cannot become kind . And I don’t want to be kind at all. Look how they all stare at me!" Her soul was full of anger and hatred towards all people. "Well, there, up there, they're telling something again... Oh, how terribly I suffer!" She heard, how mothers told their children about her, and the little ones called her the godless Inga, “She’s so nasty, so evil! - they said. “She must endure cruel torment.” And every day from the lips of children she heard cruel words. But one day, when anger and hunger were sharpening her empty body, and when she listened to how her story was told to a small innocent child, a tiny girl, she suddenly she heard that the little girl, having heard the story about the angry and proud Inga, suddenly began to cry. “Will Inga never, never come back upstairs?” And they answered her: “Never,” even if she asks. forgiveness and promises never to do this again? Then yes, but she doesn’t want to ask for forgiveness,” they said from above. “I would so much like her to ask!” I would give away the doll and all my toys, if only she could come back. This is too terrible... Poor Inga! These words sank deep into Inga’s heart, and she felt good for the first time that someone said about her: “ Poor Inga!" and did not remember her mistakes. The little innocent girl cried for her and begged for mercy for her; Something strange happened to herself: she suddenly wanted to cry, but there were no tears, and this caused unbearable torment. No one knows what awaits him "... But Inga knew that her good mistress would never get to where she was. And again a lot of time passed, many hard, bitter days. And once again Inga heard her name and saw like two pure, shining stars; then the gentle eyes were closing on the earth. So many years had already passed since the little girl mourned “poor Inga” that this girl managed to become an old woman whom God again called to Himself at this hour; When her whole life appeared before her, she remembered how she once cried bitterly while listening to Inga’s story. Those moments and sensations appeared so vividly before the old woman in her dying hour that the words escaped her loudly: “My God.” , God! Maybe I, like Inga, often trampled underfoot the gifts You gave me, not knowing what I was doing; Perhaps I too was overwhelmed by pride, but You, in Your mercy, did not let me fall, You supported me. Don't leave me in my last hour"... Eyes old woman closed, and the soul opened in the face of the unknown. She, whose last thought fervently turned to Inga, - she now saw how she had fallen deeply, and, seeing, the pious woman began to cry bitterly: she stood in heaven like a child, and shed tears for poor Inga... And these tears, and the prayers echoed like an echo in the empty, unholy shell that clothed the soul that was undergoing cruel suffering; never did the unknown feeling of love shake her: the angel of the Lord wept for her.

But the bird trembled with fear and fear of everything that surrounded her; she was ashamed of herself, ashamed in front of all living beings, and hastily hid in a dark hole in an old, dilapidated wall; So, cowered, she sat, trembling all over, not making a single sound, because she had no voice; She sat there for a long time, not seeing the beauty surrounding her. And it was wonderfully good all around! The air was warm and soft, the moon flooded the earth with its clear radiance; a fragrance rose from the trees and bushes; It was cozy where she sat, and the feathers on her were so clean and delicate. “There’s a seagull flying over the water!” - said the children when they saw the white bird; - there she sank into the sea, there she rose in splendor The tormented soul mentally remembered all her deeds committed on earth, and Inga herself trembled with sobs that she did not know; She felt bitter, pained for herself; she felt that the doors of mercy would never open before her, and while she felt this, destroyed, a shining ray burst into the abyss, and its power was more powerful than the sun's ray melting the snowman set up by the boy, and faster than a snowflake melting on the warm lips of a child, Inga’s petrified body blurred into mist, and the little bird, with the speed of lightning, rose up to the ground, to the people. sunlight

You, of course, heard about the girl who stepped on bread so as not to get her shoes dirty, and you also heard about how bad it was for her later. This has been written and published.

She was poor, but proud and arrogant girl. As they say, she had bad inclinations. When she was little, she loved to catch flies and tear off their wings; she liked that flies turned from flying insects into crawling ones. She also caught cockchafers and dung beetles, put them on pins and placed a green leaf or a piece of paper under their legs.

The poor insect grabbed the paper with its legs, twisted and twisted, trying to free itself from the pin, and Inge laughed:

The cockchafer is reading! Look how the leaf turns over!

Over the years she became worse rather than better; Unfortunately for her, she was very pretty, and although she got clicks, they weren’t all the ones she should have.

A strong one needs a snap for that head! - her own mother used to say. “As a child, you often trampled on my apron, I’m afraid that when you grow up, you will trample on my heart!”

And so it happened.

She lived with her owners for a whole year, and then they told her:

You should visit your old people, Inge!

Another six months passed.

You need to visit your old people, Inge! - the lady told her again. - Here's some white bread, bring it to them. They will be glad to see you!

Inge dressed up in her best dress, put on new shoes, lifted her dress and carefully walked along the road, trying not to get her shoes dirty - well, there’s nothing to blame her for. But then the path turned onto marshy soil; I had to walk through a muddy puddle. Without hesitation, Inge threw her bread into the puddle so that she could step on it and cross the puddle without getting her feet wet. But as soon as she stepped on the bread with one foot and raised the other, intending to step onto a dry place, the bread began to sink with her deeper and deeper into the ground - only black bubbles began to appear in the puddle!

What a story!

Bolotnitsa was at home; The brewery was visited that day by guests: the devil and his great-grandmother, a poisonous old woman. She is never idle, even when visiting, she takes some kind of needlework with her: she either sews shoes from leather, putting on which makes a person restless, or embroiders gossip, or, finally, knits thoughtless words that fall from people’s tongues - all in harm and destruction to people! Yes, damn great-grandmother is a master of sewing, embroidering and knitting!

She saw Inge, adjusted her glasses, looked at her again and said:

“Yes, she has the makings! I will ask you to give it to me in memory of today's visit! It will make an excellent statue for my great-grandson’s front room!”

The swamp woman gave in to Inga, and the girl ended up in hell - people with inclinations can get there not in a direct way, but in a roundabout way!

The front occupied an endless space; look forward - your head will spin, look back - too. The entire hallway was crowded with exhausted sinners, waiting for the doors of mercy to open. They had to wait a long time! Huge, fat, waddling spiders entwined their legs with a thousand-year-old web; she squeezed them like pincers, binding them tighter than copper chains. In addition, the souls of sinners were tormented by eternal painful anxiety. The stingy man, for example, was tormented by the fact that he left the key in the lock of his cash drawer, others... and there will be no end if we begin to list the torments and torments of all sinners!