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Updated: May 16, 2025
"They are growing up," thought the mother, "and suitors will soon appear, who will refuse my daughter when they see this hateful Dobrunka, who grows beautiful on purpose to spite me. I must get rid of her, cost what it may." One day in the middle of January, Katinka took a fancy for some violets.
"This is not the season for them," returned January, in his gruff voice; "there are no strawberries under the snow." "I know it," replied Dobrunka, sadly; "but my mother and sister will beat me to a jelly if I do not bring them some. My good sirs, please to tell me where I can find them."
Dobrunka did not even know that she was pretty, and she could not understand why her stepmother flew into a rage at the mere sight of her. The poor child was obliged to do all the work of the house; she had to sweep, cook, wash, sew, spin, weave, cut the grass, and take care of the cow, while Katinka lived like a princess that is to say, did nothing.
They did not return; and it was not till spring that a shepherd found the two corpses in the forest. Dobrunka remained the sole mistress of the house, the cow, and the garden, to say nothing of a piece of meadow adjoining the house. But when a good and pretty girl has a field under her window, the next thing that follows is a young farmer who offers her his heart and hand.
There was once a woman who was left a widow with two children. The elder, who was only her stepdaughter, was named Dobrunka; the younger, who was as wicked as her mother, was called Katinka. The mother worshiped her daughter, but she hated Dobrunka, simply because she was as beautiful as her sister was ugly.
The Twelve Months were in their places, motionless and silent. "My good sirs," said Dobrunka, "please to let me warm myself by your fire; I am almost frozen with cold." "Why have you returned?" asked January. "What are you looking for?" "I am looking for strawberries," answered she.
Dobrunka worked with a good will, and took reproaches and blows with the gentleness of a lamb; but nothing soothed her stepmother, for every day added to the beauty of the elder sister and the ugliness of the younger.
September rose and stirred the fire with the staff, when, behold! the flames ascended, the snow melted, and the trees put forth a few yellow leaves, which fell one by one before the wind it was autumn. The only flowers were a few late pinks, daisies, and immortelles. Dobrunka saw but one thing, an apple-tree with its rosy fruit. "Make haste, my child; shake the tree," said September.
The third day the wicked sister took a fancy for some red apples. The same threats, the same insults, and the same violence followed. Dobrunka ran to the mountain, and was fortunate enough to find the Twelve Months warming themselves, motionless and silent. "You here again, my child?" said old January, making room for her by the fire.
She called Dobrunka and said, "Go to the forest and bring me a bunch of violets, that I may put them in my bosom and enjoy their fragrance." "Oh, sister, what an idea!" answered Dobrunka; "as if there were any violets under the snow!" "Hold your tongue, stupid fool," returned her sister, "and do as I bid you.
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