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"Gather them quickly, Marouckla," said Tchervène. Joyfully she thanked the months, and having filled her apron ran happily home. Helen and her mother wondered at seeing the strawberries, which filled the house with their delicious fragrance. "Wherever did you find them?" asked Helen crossly. "Right up among the mountains; those from under the beech trees are not bad."
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.
There they all sate silently looking at the fire. They were the twelve months of the year. 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 Setchène raised his head and answered: "What brings thee here, my daughter? What dost thou seek?"
The grass became green, and from between its blades peeped the pale primrose. It was spring, and the meadows were blue with violets. "Gather them quickly, Marouckla," said March. Joyfully she hastened to pick the flowers, and having soon a large bunch she thanked them and ran home. Helen and the stepmother were amazed at the sight of the flowers, the scent of which filled the house.
September ordered her to gather some quickly. The girl was delighted and shook the tree. First one apple fell, then another. "That is enough," said September; "hurry home." Thanking the Months she returned joyfully. Helen and the stepmother wondered at seeing the fruit. "Where did you gather them?" asked the stepsister. "There are more on the mountain-top," answered Marouckla.
Only a few flowers of autumn were visible, such as the fleabane and red gillyflower, autumn colchicums in the ravine, and under the beeches bracken and tufts of northern heather. At first Marouckla looked in vain for red apples. Then she espied a tree which grew at a great height, and from the branches of this hung the bright red fruit. Zarè ordered her to gather some quickly.
There was once a widow who had two daughters, Helen, her own child by her dead husband, and Marouckla, his daughter by his first wife. She loved Helen, but hated the poor orphan because she was far prettier than her own daughter. Marouckla did not think about her good looks, and could not understand why her stepmother should be angry at the sight of her. The hardest work fell to her share.
Helen, meanwhile, did nothing but dress herself in her best clothes and go to one amusement after another. But Marouckla never complained; she bore the scoldings and bad temper of mother and sister with a smile on her lips, and the patience of a lamb. But this angelic behaviour did not soften them.
For long she wandered hither and thither; the icy northeast wind whistled in the mountain, but no voice answered her cries. Day after day Marouckla worked and prayed, and waited; but neither stepmother nor sister returned, they had been frozen to death on the mountain. The inheritance of a small house, a field, and a cow fell to Marouckla.
Helen kept the flowers for herself and her mother; she did not even thank her stepsister for the trouble she had taken. The next day she desired Marouckla to fetch her strawberries. "Run," said she, "and fetch me strawberries from the mountain: they must be very sweet and ripe." "But who ever heard of strawberries ripening in the snow?" exclaimed Marouckla.
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