When the sisters initially had permission to ascend the surface, they were each delighted. However, as grown-up girls, they could now travel wherever they pleased and had grown apathetic to it. They wished them back again in the water, and after a month had passed, they acknowledged, that it was more resplendent down below, and generally more enchanting to be at home.
Having still to wait her turn, the youngest sister felt quite forlorn. “Oh, if I were fifteen old,” she spoke, “I know that I should love the world up there and the people who live in it.”
At last the Little Mermaid reached her fifteenth year.
“Well, now you are grown up,” affirmed the stately dowager, her grandmother, “I shall adorn you like your sisters.” Lovingly, she placed a wreath of white lilies in her hair. Next, she commanded eight jumbo oysters to attach them to the tail of the princess which properly betoken high rank.
“But they hurt me so!” protested The Little Mermaid.
“Pride must suffer pain,” replied the grandmother.
O, how eagerly she would have shaken all this pomp and lain aside the wreath. The red flowers in her own garden would have suited her better. But she could not alter her attire which the old-age tradition required.
Nodding farewell, she raised lightly as a bubble to the surface of the water. The sun had just set as she rose her head above the waves, and through the glimmering twilight beamed the evening star in all its beauty, and the clouds were tinted with crimson and gold.
Looming nearby, she beheld a large ship, which laid becalmed on the water for not a breeze stirred. The sailors, who sat idle on deck, enjoyed rare leisure. The mermaid heard music on board. As darkness drew near, one hundred colored lanterns were lit.
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