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THE
OLIVE FAIRY BOOK
EDITED BY
ANDREW LANG
_WITH EIGHT COLOURED PLATES AND WITH
NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS BY H. J. FORD_
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
91 AND 93 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK
LONDON, BOMBAY, AND CALCUTTA
1907
_Copyright, 1907_
BY LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
_All rights reserved_
_The Plimpton Press Norwood Mass. U.S.A._
THE FAIRY BOOK SERIES
EDITED BY ANDREW LANG
_Crown 8vo, gilt edges._
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[Illustration: THE BLUE PARROT.
[_See p. 16._]
PREFACE
Many years ago my friend and publisher, Mr. Charles Longman, presented
me with _Le Cabinet des Fees_ ('The Fairy Cabinet'). This work almost
requires a swinging bookcase for its accommodation, like the
_Encyclopaedia Britannica_, and in a revolving bookcase I bestowed the
volumes. Circumstances of an intimately domestic character, 'not
wholly unconnected,' as Mr. Micawber might have said, with the
narrowness of my study (in which it is impossible to 'swing a cat'),
prevent the revolving bookcase from revolving at this moment. I can
see, however, that the Fairy Cabinet contains at least forty volumes,
and I think there are about sixty in all. This great plenitude of
fairy tales from all quarters presents legends of fairies, witches,
genii or Djinn, monsters, dragons, wicked step-mothers, princesses,
pretty or plain, princes lucky or unlucky, giants, dwarfs, and
enchantments. The stories begin with those which children like
best--the old _Blue Beard_, _Puss in Boots_, _Hop o' my Thumb_,
_Little Red Riding Hood_, _The Sleeping Beauty_, and _Toads and
Pearls_. These were first collected, written, and printed at Paris in
1697. The author was Monsieur Charles Perrault, a famous personage in
a great _perruque_, who in his day wrote large volumes now unread. He
never dreamed that he was to be remembered mainly by the shabby little
volume with the tiny headpiece pictures--how unlike the fairy way of
drawing by Mr. Ford, said to be known as 'Over-the-wall Ford' among
authors who play cricket, because of the force with which he swipes!
Perrault picked up the rustic tales which the nurse of his little boy
used to tell, and he told them again in his own courtly, witty way.
They do not seem to have been translated into English until nearly
thirty years later, when they were published in English, with the
French on the opposite page, by a Mr. Pote, a bookseller at Eton.
Probably the younger Eton boys learned as much French as they
condescended to acquire from these fairy tales, which are certainly
more amusing than the _Telemaque_ of Messire Francois de Salignac de
la Motte-Fenelon, tutor of the children of France, Archbishop Duke of
Cambrai, and Prince of the Holy Roman Empire.
The success of Perrault was based on the pleasure which the court of
Louis XIV. took in fairy tales; we know that they were told among
Court ladies, from a letter of Madame de Sevigne. Naturally, Perrault
had imitators, such as Madame d'Aulnoy, a wandering lady of more wit
than reputation. To her we owe _Beauty and the Beast_ and _The Yellow
Dwarf_. Anthony Hamilton tried his hand with _The Ram_, a story too
prolix and confused, best remembered for the remark, 'Ram, my friend,
begin at the beginning!' Indeed, the narrative style of the Ram is
lacking in lucidity! Then came _The Arabian Nights_, translated by
Monsieur Galland. Nobody has translated _The Arabian Nights_ so well
as Galland. His is the reverse of a scientific rendering, but it is as
pleasantly readable as the _Iliad_ and _Odyssey_ would be if Alexandre
Dumas had kept his promise to translate Homer. Galland omitted the
verses and a great number of passages which nobody would miss, though
the anthropologist is supposed to find them valuable and instructive
in later scientific translations which do not amuse. Later, Persian
Tales, Tales of the Sea, and original inventions, more or less on the
fairy model, were composed by industrious men and women. They are far
too long--are novels, indeed, and would please no child or mature
person of taste. All these were collected in the vast Fairy Cabinet,
published in 1786, just before the Revolution. Probably their attempt
to be simple charmed a society which was extremely artificial, talked
about 'the simple life' and the 'state of nature,' and was on the eve
of a revolution in which human nature revealed her most primitive
traits in orgies of blood.
That was the end of the Court and of the Court Fairy Tales, and just
when they were demolished, learned men like the Grimms and Sir Walter
Scott began to take an interest in the popular tales of peasants and
savages all the world over. All the world over the tales were found to
be essentially the same things. _Cinderella_ is everywhere; a whole
book has been written on _Cinderella_ by Miss Cox, and a very good
book it is, but not interesting to children. For them the best of the
collections of foreign fairy tales are the German stories by the
Grimms, the _Tales from the Norse_, by Sir G. W. Dasent, (which some
foolish 'grown-ups' denounced as 'improper'), and Miss Frere's Indian
stories. There are hundreds of collections of savage and peasant fairy
tales, but, though many of these are most interesting, especially
Bishop Callaway's Zulu stories (with the Zulu versions), these do not
come in the way of parents and uncles, and therefore do not come in
the way of children. It is my wish that children should be allowed to
choose their own books. Let their friends give them the money and turn
them loose in the book shops! They know their own tastes, and if the
children are born bookish, while their dear parents are the reverse,
(and this does occur!), then the children make the better choice. They
are unaffected in their selections; some want Shakespeares of their
own, and some prefer a volume entitled _Buster Brown_. A few--alas,
how few!--are fond of poetry; a still smaller number are fond of
history. 'We know that there are no fairies, but history stories are
_true_!' say these little innocents. I am not so sure that there are
no fairies, and I am only too well aware that the best 'history
stories' are not true.
What children do love is ghost stories. 'Tell us a ghost story!' they
cry, and I am able to meet the demand, with which I am in sincere
sympathy. Only strong control prevents me from telling the last true
ghost story which I heard yesterday. It would suit children
excellently well. 'The Grey Ghost Story Book' would be a favourite. At
a very early age I read a number of advertisements of books, and wept
because I could not buy dozens of them, and somebody gave me a book on
Botany! It looked all right, nicely bound in green cloth, but within
it was full of all manner of tediousness.
In our Fairy Cabinet, which cannot extend to sixty volumes, we have
aimed at pleasing children, not 'grown-ups,' at whom the old French
writers directed their romances, but have hunted for fairy tales in
all quarters, not in Europe alone. In this volume we open, thanks to
Dr. Ignaz Kuenos, with a story from the Turks. 'Little King Loc' is an
original invention by M. Anatole France, which he very kindly
permitted Mrs. Lang to adapt from _L'Abeille_.
Major Campbell, as previously, tells tales which he collected among
the natives of India. But the sources are usually named at the end of
each story, and when they are not named children will not miss them.
Mrs. Lang, except in cases mentioned, has translated and adapted to
the conditions of young readers the bulk of the collection, and Mrs.
Skovgaard-Pedersen has done 'The Green Knight' from the Danish. I must
especially thank Monsieur Macler for permitting us to use some of his
_Contes Armeniens_ (Paris: Ernest Leroux, Editeur).
_CONTENTS_
PAGE
_Madschun_ 1
_The Blue Parrot_ 9
_Geirlaug the King's Daughter_ 27
_The Story of Little King Loc_ 43
'_A Long-bow Story_' 64
_Jackal or Tiger?_ 71
_The Comb and the Collar_ 87
_The Thanksgiving of the Wazir_ 103
_Samba the Coward_ 108
_Kupti and Imani_ 119
_The Strange Adventures of Little Maia_ 131
_Diamond cut Diamond_ 144
_The Green Knight_ 152
_The Five Wise Words of the Guru_ 167
_The Golden-headed Fish_ 178
_Dorani_ 188
_The Satin Surgeon_ 198
_The Billy Goat and the King_ 211
_The Story of Zoulvisia_ 216
_Grasp all, Lose all_ 234
_The Fate of the Turtle_ 242
_The Snake Prince_ 247
_The Prince and Princess in the Forest_ 256
_The Clever Weaver_ 276
_The Boy who found Fear at last_ 279
_He Wins who Waits_ 289
_The Steel Cane_ 301
_The Punishment of the Fairy Gangana_ 305
_The Silent Princess_ 318
_LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS_
_COLOURED PLATES_
_The Blue Parrot_ _Frontispiece_
'_Stay here and you shall be King_' _To face p._ 60
_The Princess and the Wolves in the Forest_ " 90
_The Boy in the Valley_ " 206
_The Ascent of the Crystal Tower_ " 222
'_Queen of Snakes, give me back my Husband_' " 252
_The Sea-maiden with a wicked Face_ " 284
_The Princess chooses_ " 290
_PLATES_
_Ismenor brings Lino to Riquette_ _To face p._ 12
_The Magician's Wife whistles to the Parrot_ " 22
_The Dragon Discomfited_ " 28
'_Will you lend me your ox, fair maiden?_' " 38
_Abeille finds herself among the Little Men_ " 46
_King Loc carries Abeille away from her Mother_ " 56
_The Bunniah's Story_ " 66
'_Quick! prince! quick! the time is flying,
comb me at once_' " 94
_Samba found skulking by his Wife_ " 110
_The Princess changes Clothes with the Goose-girl_ " 162
'_What think you, O mortal, of my fair and lovely
wife?_' " 170
_The Prince has pity on the Gold-headed Fish_ " 178
'_He never could persuade her to say a single
word._' " 188
_The Princess gets her Letter_ " 200
'_I accept your challenge. Mount and follow me.
I am Zoulvisia._' " 218
_The Witch and her Snakes_ " 226
_The Princess of Arabia released from the Iron
Pillar_ " 262
_The Boy secures the Bracelet_ " 280
_Blind Rage filled the Heart of the Watcher_ " 296
'_The Seven Veils fell from her_' " 332
_ILLUSTRATIONS IN TEXT_
PAGE
_Love at first sight_ 2
_How the Birds were brought to the Sultan_ 5
_The Swallow brings the Note to Lino_ 18
_Pull as He might, He could not get free_ 37
'_Is this the Man that You wish to Marry?_' 62
_The Farmer finds the Queen weeping by the Palanquin_ 73
_The Unlucky Shot_ 75
_Ameer Ali wins the Anklet_ 78
_The Princess saves the White Fox_ 100
_Imani attends to the Crippled Fakir_ 121
_Imani listens to what the Monkeys say_ 127
_Maia carried off by the Cockchafer_ 135
_Maia and the Spiders in the Evening_ 141
_He helped her to jump from the Swallow's back_ 142
_The Poisoned Nail_ 159
_The Invisible Prince goes with the Ladies_ 194
_The King laughs at the Billygoat_ 213
_Suddenly the Tree rose up again and flew away_ 240
_The Snake Prince visits his Wife_ 251
_The Robber-chief catches the Queen_ 259
_The Hawk flies away with the Lamp_ 271
_The Silent Princess speaks at last_ 327
_MADSCHUN_
Once upon a time there lived, in a small cottage among some hills, a
woman with her son, and, to her great grief, the young man, though
hardly more than twenty years of age, had not as much hair on his head
as a baby. But, old as he looked, the youth was very idle, and
whatever trade his mother put him to he refused to work, and in a few
days always came home again.
On a fine summer morning he was lying as usual half asleep in the
little garden in front of the cottage when the sultan's daughter came
riding by, followed by a number of gaily dressed ladies. The youth
lazily raised himself on his elbow to look at her, and that one glance
changed his whole nature.
'I will marry her and nobody else,' he thought. And jumping up, he
went to find his mother.
'You must go at once to the sultan, and tell him that I want his
daughter for my wife,' he said.
'WHAT?' shouted the old woman, shrinking back into a corner, for
nothing but sudden madness could explain such an amazing errand.
'Don't you understand? You must go at once to the sultan and tell him
that I want his daughter for my wife,' repeated the youth impatiently.
'But--but, do you know what you are saying?' stammered the mother.
'You will learn no trade, and have only the five gold pieces left you
by your father, and can you really expect that the sultan would give
his daughter to a penniless bald-pate like you?'
'That is _my_ affair; do as I bid you.' And neither day nor night did
her son cease tormenting her, till, in despair, she put on her best
clothes, and wrapped her veil about her, and went over the hill to the
palace.
It was the day that the sultan set apart for hearing the complaints
and petitions of his people, so the woman found no difficulty in
gaining admission to his presence.
[Illustration: LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT]
'Do not think me mad, O Excellency,' she began, 'though I know I must
seem like it. But I have a son who, since his eyes have rested on the
veiled face of the princess, has not left me in peace day or night
till I consented to come to the palace, and to ask your Excellency for
your daughter's hand. It was in vain I answered that my head might pay
the forfeit of my boldness, he would listen to nothing. Therefore am
I here; do with me even as you will!'
Now the sultan always loved anything out of the common, and this
situation was new indeed. So, instead of ordering the trembling
creature to be flogged or cast into prison, as some other sovereigns
might have done, he merely said: 'Bid your son come hither.'
The old woman stared in astonishment at such a reply. But when the
sultan repeated his words even more gently than before, and did not
look in anywise angered, she took courage, and bowing again she
hastened homeward.
'Well, how have you sped?' asked her son eagerly as she crossed the
threshold.
'You are to go up to the palace without delay, and speak to the sultan
himself,' replied the mother. And when he heard the good news, his
face lightened up so wonderfully that his mother thought what a pity
it was that he had no hair, as then he would be quite handsome.
'Ah, the lightning will not fly more swiftly,' cried he. And in
another instant he was out of her sight.
When the sultan beheld the bald head of his daughter's wooer, he no
longer felt in the mood for joking, and resolved that he must somehow
or other shake himself free of such an unwelcome lover. But as he had
summoned the young man to the palace, he could hardly dismiss him
without a reason, so he hastily said:
'I hear you wish to marry my daughter? Well and good. But the man who
is to be her husband must first collect all the birds in the world,
and bring them into the gardens of the palace; for hitherto no birds
have made their homes in the trees.'
The young man was filled with despair at the sultan's words. How was
he to snare all these birds? and even if he _did_ succeed in catching
them it would take years to carry them to the palace! Still, he was
too proud to let the sultan think that he had given up the princess
without a struggle, so he took a road that led past the palace and
walked on, not noticing whither he went.
In this manner a week slipped by, and at length he found himself
crossing a desert with great rocks scattered here and there. In the
shadow cast by one of these was seated a holy man or dervish, as he
was called, who motioned to the youth to sit beside him.
'Something is troubling you, my son,' said the holy man; 'tell me what
it is, as I may be able to help you.'
'O, my father,' answered the youth, 'I wish to marry the princess of
my country; but the sultan refuses to give her to me unless I can
collect all the birds in the world and bring them into his garden. And
how can I, or any other man, do that?'
'Do not despair,' replied the dervish, 'it is not so difficult as it
sounds. Two days' journey from here, in the path of the setting sun,
there stands a cypress tree, larger than any other cypress that grows
upon the earth. Sit down where the shadow is darkest, close to the
trunk, and keep very still. By-and-by you will hear a mighty rushing
of wings, and all the birds in the world will come and nestle in the
branches. Be careful not to make a sound till everything is quiet
again, and then say "Madschun!" At that the birds will be forced to
remain where they are--not one can move from its perch; and you will
be able to place them all over your head and arms and body, and in
this way you must carry them to the sultan.'
With a glad heart the young man thanked the dervish, and paid such
close heed to his directions that, a few days later, a strange figure
covered with soft feathers walked into the presence of the sultan. The
princess's father was filled with surprise, for never had he seen such
a sight before. Oh! how lovely were those little bodies, and bright
frightened eyes! Soon a gentle stirring was heard, and what a
multitude of wings unfolded themselves: blue wings, yellow wings, red
wings, green wings. And when the young man whispered 'Go,' they first
flew in circles round the sultan's head, and then disappeared through
the open window, to choose homes in the garden.
[Illustration: HOW THE BIRDS WERE BROUGHT TO THE SULTAN]
'I have done your bidding, O Sultan, and now give me the princess,'
said the youth. And the sultan answered hurriedly:
'Yes! oh, yes! you have pleased me well! Only one thing remains to
turn you into a husband that any girl might desire. That head of
yours, you know--it is so _very_ bald! Get it covered with nice thick
curly hair, and _then_ I will give you my daughter. You are so clever
that I am sure this will give you no trouble at all.'
Silently the young man listened to the sultan's words, and silently he
sat in his mother's kitchen for many days to come, till, one morning,
the news reached him that the sultan had betrothed his daughter to the
son of the wizir, and that the wedding was to be celebrated without
delay in the palace. With that he arose in wrath, and made his way
quickly and secretly to a side door, used only by the workmen who kept
the building in repair, and, unseen by anyone, he made his way into
the mosque, and then entered the palace by a gallery which opened
straight into the great hall. Here the bride and bridegroom and two or
three friends were assembled, waiting for the appearance of the sultan
for the contract to be signed.
'Madschun!' whispered the youth from above. And instantly everyone
remained rooted to the ground; and some messengers whom the sultan had
sent to see that all was ready shared the same fate.
At length, angry and impatient, the sultan went down to behold with
his own eyes what had happened, but as nobody could give him any
explanation, he bade one of his attendants to fetch a magician, who
dwelt near one of the city gates, to remove the spell which had been
cast by some evil genius.
'It is your own fault,' said the magician, when he had heard the
sultan's story. 'If you had not broken your promise to the young man,
your daughter would not have had this ill befall her. Now there is
only one remedy, and the bridegroom you have chosen must yield his
place to the bald-headed youth.'
Sore though he was in his heart, the sultan knew that the magician was
wiser than he, and despatched his most trusted servants to seek out
the young man without a moment's delay and bring him to the palace.
The youth, who all this time had been hiding behind a pillar, smiled
to himself when he heard these words, and, hastening home, he said to
his mother: 'If messengers from the sultan should come here and ask
for me, be sure you answer that it is a long while since I went away,
and that you cannot tell where I may be, but that if they will give
you money enough for your journey, as you are very poor, you will do
your best to find me.' Then he hid himself in the loft above, so that
he could listen to all that passed.
The next minute someone knocked loudly at the door, and the old woman
jumped up and opened it.
'Is your bald-headed son here?' asked the man outside. 'If so, let him
come with me, as the sultan wishes to speak with him directly.'
'Alas! sir,' replied the woman, putting a corner of her veil to her
eyes, 'he left me long since, and since that day no news of him has
reached me.'
'Oh! good lady, can you not guess where he may be? The sultan intends
to bestow on him the hand of his daughter, and he is certain to give a
large reward to the man who brings him back.'
'He never told me whither he was going,' answered the crone, shaking
her head. 'But it is a great honour that the sultan does him, and well
worth some trouble. There _are_ places where, perhaps, he may be
found, but they are known to me only, and I am a poor woman and have
no money for the journey.'
'Oh! that will not stand in the way,' cried the man. 'In this purse
are a thousand gold pieces; spend them freely. Tell me where I can
find him and you shall have as many more.'
'Very well,' said she, 'it is a bargain; and now farewell, for I must
make some preparations; but in a few days at furthest you shall hear
from me.'
For nearly a week both the old woman and her son were careful not to
leave the house till it was dark, lest they should be seen by any of
the neighbours, and as they did not even kindle a fire or light a
lantern, everyone supposed that the cottage was deserted. At length
one fine morning, the young man got up early and dressed himself, and
put on his best turban, and after a hasty breakfast took the road to
the palace.
The huge negro before the door evidently expected him, for without a
word he let him pass, and another attendant who was waiting inside
conducted him straight into the presence of the sultan, who welcomed
him gladly.
'Ah, my son! where have you hidden yourself all this time?' said he.
And the bald-headed man answered:
'Oh, Sultan! Fairly I won your daughter, but you broke your word, and
would not give her to me. Then my home grew hateful to me, and I set
out to wander through the world! But now that you have repented of
your ill-faith, I have come to claim the wife who is mine of right.
Therefore bid your wizir prepare the contract.'
So a fresh contract was prepared, and at the wish of the new
bridegroom was signed by the sultan and the wizir in the chamber where
they met. After this was done, the youth begged the sultan to lead him
to the princess, and together they entered the big hall, where
everyone was standing exactly as they were when the young man had
uttered the fatal word.
'Can you remove the spell?' asked the sultan anxiously.
'I think so,' replied the young man (who, to say the truth, was a
little anxious himself), and stepping forward, he cried:
'Let the victims of Madschun be free!'
No sooner were the words uttered than the statues returned to life,
and the bride placed her hand joyfully in that of her new bridegroom.
As for the old one, he vanished completely, and no one ever knew what
became of him.
(Adapted from _Tuerkische Volksmaerchen aus Stambul_. Dr. Ignaz Kuenos.
E. J. Brill, Leiden.)
_THE BLUE PARROT_
In a part of Arabia where groves of palms and sweet-scented flowers
give the traveller rest after toilsome journeys under burning skies,
there reigned a young king whose name was Lino. He had grown up under
the wise rule of his father, who had lately died, and though he was
only nineteen, he did not believe, like many young men, that he must
change all the laws in order to show how clever he was, but was
content with the old ones which had made the people happy and the
country prosperous. There was only one fault that his subjects had to
find with him, and that was that he did not seem in any hurry to be
married, in spite of the prayers that they frequently offered him.
The neighbouring kingdom was governed by the Swan fairy, who had an
only daughter, the Princess Hermosa, who was as charming in her way as
Lino in his. The Swan fairy always had an ambassador at the young
king's court, and on hearing the grumbles of the citizens that Lino
showed no signs of taking a wife, the good man resolved that _he_
would try his hand at match-making. 'For,' he said, 'if there is any
one living who is worthy of the Princess Hermosa he is to be found
here. At any rate, I can but try and bring them together.'
Now, of course, it was not proper to offer the princess in marriage,
and the difficulty was to work upon the unconscious king so as to get
the proposal to come from _him_. But the ambassador was well used to
the ways of courts, and after several conversations on the art of
painting, which Lino loved, he led the talk to portraits, and
mentioned carelessly that a particularly fine picture had lately been
made of his own princess. 'Though, as for a likeness,' he concluded,
'perhaps it is hardly as good as this small miniature, which was
painted a year ago.'
The king took it, and looked at it closely.
'Ah!' he sighed, 'that must be flattered! It cannot be possible that
any woman should be such a miracle of beauty.'
'If you could only see her,' answered the ambassador.
The king did not reply, but the ambassador was not at all surprised
when, the following morning, he was sent for into the royal presence.
'Since you showed me that picture,' began Lino, almost before the door
was shut, 'I have not been able to banish the face of the princess
from my thoughts. I have summoned you here to inform you that I am
about to send special envoys to the court of the Swan fairy, asking
her daughter in marriage.'
'I cannot, as you will understand, speak for my mistress in so
important a matter,' replied the ambassador, stroking his beard in
order to conceal the satisfaction he felt. 'But I know that she will
certainly be highly gratified at your proposal.'
'If that is so,' cried the king, his whole face beaming with joy,
'then, instead of sending envoys, I will go myself, and take you with
me. In three days my preparations will be made, and we will set out.'
* * * * *
Unluckily for Lino, he had for his neighbour on the other side a
powerful magician named Ismenor, who was king of the Isle of Lions,
and the father of a hideous daughter, whom he thought the most
beautiful creature that ever existed. Riquette, for such was her name,
had also fallen in love with a portrait, but it was of King Lino, and
she implored her father to give him to her for a husband. Ismenor, who
considered that no man lived who was worthy of his treasure, was about
to send his chief minister to King Lino on this mission, when the news
reached him that the king had already started for the court of the
Swan fairy. Riquette was thrown into transports of grief, and implored
her father to prevent the marriage, which Ismenor promised to do; and
calling for an ugly and humpbacked little dwarf named Rabot, he
performed some spells which transported them quickly to a rocky valley
through which the king and his escort were bound to pass. When the
tramp of horses was heard, the magician took out an enchanted
handkerchief, which rendered invisible any one who touched it. Giving
one end to Rabot, and holding the other himself, they walked unseen
amongst the horsemen, but not a trace of Lino was to be found. And
this was natural enough, because the king, tired out with the
excitement and fatigue of the last few days, had bidden the heavy
coaches, laden with presents for the princess, to go forwards, while
he rested under the palms with a few of his friends. Here Ismenor
beheld them, all sound asleep; and casting a spell which prevented
their waking till he wished them to do so, he stripped the king of all
his clothes and dressed him in those of Rabot, whom he touched with
his ring, saying:
'Take the shape of Lino until you have wedded the daughter of the Swan
fairy.'
And so great was the magician's power that Rabot positively believed
himself to be really the king!
When the groom had mounted Lino's horse, and had ridden out of sight,
Ismenor aroused the king, who stared with astonishment at the dirty
garments in which he was dressed; but before he had time to look about
him, the magician caught him up in a cloud, and carried him off to his
daughter.
Meantime Rabot had come up with the others, who never guessed for a
moment that he was not their own master.
'I am hungry,' said he, 'give me something to eat at once.'
'May it please your majesty,' answered the steward, 'the tents are not
even set up, and it will be at least an hour before your supper is
served! We thought----'
'Who taught you to think?' interrupted the false king rudely. 'You are
nothing but a fool! Get me some horse's flesh directly--it is the best
meat in the world!'
The steward could hardly believe his ears. King Lino, the most polite
man under the sun, to speak to his faithful servant in such a manner!
And to want horse's flesh too! Why he was so delicate in his appetite
that he lived mostly on fruit and cakes. Well, well, there was no
knowing what people would come to; and, anyhow, he must obey at once,
if he wished to keep his head on his shoulders. Perhaps, after all, it
was love which had driven him mad, and, if so, by-and-by he might come
right again.
Whatever excuses his old servants might invent for their master, by
the time the procession reached the Swan's fairy capital there were no
more horses left, and they were forced to walk up to the palace on
foot. Hiding their surprise as best they could, they begged the king
to follow them, dismounting from their own horses, as he, they
supposed, preferred to walk. They soon perceived the Swan fairy and
her daughter awaiting them on a low balcony, under which the king
stopped.
'Madam,' he said, 'you may be surprised that I have come to ask your
daughter's hand in so unceremonious a fashion; but the journey is
long, and I was hungry and ate my horse, which is the best meat in the
world; and I forced my courtiers to eat theirs also. But for all that
I am a great king, and wish to be your son-in-law. And now that is
settled, where is Hermosa?'
[Illustration: ISMENOR BRINGS LINO TO RIQUETTE]
'Sire,' answered the queen, not a little displeased as well as
amazed at the king's manner, which was so different from anything she
had been led to expect. 'You possess my daughter's portrait, and it
can have made but little impression on you if you don't recognise her
at once.'
'I don't remember any portrait,' replied Rabot; 'but perhaps it may be
in my pocket after all.' And he searched everywhere, while the
ladies-in-waiting looked on with astonishment, but of course found
nothing. When he had finished he turned to the princess, who stood
there blushing and angry, and said:
'If it is you whom I have come to marry, I think you are very
beautiful, and I am sure if I had even seen your portrait I should
have remembered it. Let us have the wedding as soon as possible; and,
meantime, I should like to go to sleep, for your country is very
different from mine, and I can assure you that after walking over
stones and sand for days and days one needs a little rest.'
And without waiting for a reply he bade one of the pages conduct him
to his room, where he was soon snoring so loud that he could be heard
at the other end of the town.
As soon as he was out of their sight the poor princess flung herself
into her mother's arms, and burst into tears. For fifteen days she had
had King Lino's portrait constantly before her, while the letter from
their own ambassador speaking of the young man's grace and charm had
never left her pocket. True, the portrait was faithful enough, but how
could that fair outside contain so rough and rude a soul? Yet this
even she might have forgiven had the king shown any of the signs of
love and admiration to which she had been so long accustomed. As for
her mother, the poor Swan fairy was so bewildered at the extraordinary
manners of her new son-in-law, that she was almost speechless.
Matters were in this state when King Lino's chamberlain begged for a
private audience of her majesty, and no sooner were they alone than he
told her that he feared that his master had suddenly gone mad, or had
fallen under the spell of some magician.
'I had been lost in astonishment before,' said he, 'but now that he
has failed to recognise the princess, and no longer possesses her
portrait, which he never would part from for a single instant, my
amazement knows no bounds. Perhaps, madam, your fairy gifts may be
able to discover the reason of this change in one whose courtesy was
the talk of the kingdom.' And with a low bow he took his departure.
The queen stood where the chamberlain left her, thinking deeply.
Suddenly her face cleared, and going to an old chest which she kept in
a secret room, she drew from it a small mirror. In this mirror she
could see faithfully reflected whatever she wished, and at this moment
she desired above all things to behold King Lino _as he really was_.
Ah! the chamberlain was right! It was not he who was lying on his bed
snoring till the whole palace shook beneath him. No, _this_ was her
real son-in-law--the man dressed in dirty clothes, and imprisoned in
one of Ismenor's strongest towers, and kissing the portrait of
Hermosa, which had escaped the wizard's notice, owing to the young
king having worn it, for better concealment, tied amongst his hair.
Calling hastily to her daughter, she bade her also look, and Hermosa
had the pleasure of gazing on Lino, who was behaving exactly as she
could have wished. The mirror was still in her hand when the door of
the prison opened, and there entered the hideous Riquette, who, from
her upraised eyes, seemed to be begging from Lino some favour which he
refused to grant. Of course Hermosa and her mother could not hear
their words, but from Riquette's angry face as she left the room, it
was not difficult to guess what had happened. But the mirror had more
to tell, for it appeared that in fury at her rejection by the king,
Riquette had ordered four strong men to scourge him till he fainted,
which was done in the sight of Hermosa, who in horror dropped the
mirror, and would have fallen, had she not been caught by her mother.
'Control yourself, my child,' said the fairy. 'We have need of all our
wits if we are to rescue the king from the power of those wicked
people. And first it is necessary to know who the man that has taken
his name and his face really is.'
Then, picking up the mirror, she wished that she might behold the
false lover; and the glass gave back a vision of a dirty, greasy
groom, lying, dressed as he was, on her bed of state.
'So this is the trick Ismenor hoped to play us! Well, we will have our
revenge, whatever it costs us to get it. Only we must be very careful
not to let him guess that he has not deceived us, for his skill in
magic is greater than mine, and I shall have to be very prudent. To
begin with, I must leave you, and if the false king asks why, then
answer that I have to settle some affairs on the borders of my
kingdom. Meanwhile, be sure you treat him most politely, and arrange
fetes to amuse him. If he shows any sign of being suspicious, you can
even give him to understand that, on your marriage, I intend to give
up the crown to your husband. And now farewell!' So saying, the Swan
fairy waved her hand, and a cloud came down and concealed her, and
nobody imagined that the beautiful white cloud that was blown so
rapidly across the sky was the chariot that was carrying the Swan
fairy to the tower of Ismenor.
* * * * *
Now the tower was situated in the midst of a forest, so the queen
thought that, under cover of the dark trees, it would be quite easy
for her to drop to earth unseen. But the tower was so thoroughly
enchanted that the more she tried to reach the ground the tighter
something tried to hold her back. At length, by putting forth all the
power she possessed, she managed to descend to the foot of the tower,
and there, weak and faint as she was with her exertions, she lost no
time in working her spells, and found that she could only overcome
Ismenor by means of a stone from the ring of Gyges. But how was she to
get this ring? for the magic book told her that Ismenor guarded it
night and day among his most precious treasures. However, get it she
must, and in the meantime the first step was to see the royal prisoner
himself. So, drawing out her tablets, she wrote as follows:
[Illustration: THE SWALLOW BRINGS THE NOTE TO LINO]
'The bird which brings you this letter is the Swan fairy, mother of
Hermosa, who loves you as much as you love her!' And after this
assurance, she related the wicked plot of which he had been the
victim. Then, quickly changing herself into a swallow, she began to
fly round the tower, till she discovered the window of Lino's prison.
It was so high up that bars seemed needless, especially as four
soldiers were stationed in the passage outside, therefore the fairy
was able to enter, and even to hop on his shoulder, but he was so much
occupied with gazing at the princess's portrait that it was some time
before she could attract his attention. At last she gently scratched
his cheek with the corner of the note, and he looked round with a
start. On perceiving the swallow he knew at once that help had come,
and tearing open the letter, he wept with joy on seeing the words it
contained, and asked a thousand questions as to Hermosa, which the
swallow was unable to answer, though, by repeated nods, she signed to
him to read further. 'Must I indeed pretend to wish to marry that
horrible Riquette?' he cried, when he had finished. 'Can I obtain the
stone from the magician?'
Accordingly the next morning, when Riquette paid him her daily visit,
he received her much more graciously than usual. The magician's
daughter could not contain her delight at this change, and in answer
to her expressions of joy, Lino told her that he had had a dream by
which he had learned the inconstancy of Hermosa; also that a fairy had
appeared and informed him that if he wished to break the bonds which
bound him to the faithless princess and transfer his affections to the
daughter of Ismenor, he must have in his possession for a day and a
night a stone from the ring of Gyges, now in the possession of the
magician. This news so enchanted Riquette, that she flung her arms
round the king's neck and embraced him tenderly, greatly to his
disgust, as he would infinitely have preferred the sticks of the
soldiers. However, there was no help for it, and he did his best to
seem pleased, till Riquette relieved him by announcing that she must
lose no time in asking her father and obtaining from him the precious
stone.
His daughter's request came as a great surprise to Ismenor, whose
suspicions were instantly excited; but, think as he would, he could
not see any means by which the king, so closely guarded, might have
held communication with the Swan fairy. Still, he would do nothing
hastily, and, hiding his dismay, he told Riquette that his only wish
was to make her happy, and that as she wished so much for the stone he
would fetch it for her. Then he went into the closet where all his
spells were worked, and in a short time he discovered that his enemy
the Swan fairy was at that moment inside his palace.
'So that is it!' he said, smiling grimly. 'Well, she shall have a
stone by all means, but a stone that will turn everyone who touches it
into marble.' And placing a small ruby in a box, he returned to his
daughter.
'Here is the talisman which will gain you the love of King Lino,' he
said; 'but be sure you give him the box unopened, or else the stone
will lose all its virtue.' With a cry of joy Riquette snatched the box
from his hands, and ran off to the prison, followed by her father,
who, holding tightly the enchanted handkerchief, was able, unseen, to
watch the working of the spell. As he expected, at the foot of the
tower stood the Swan fairy, who had had the imprudence to appear in
her natural shape, waiting for the stone which the prince was to throw
to her. Eagerly she caught the box as it fell from the prince's hands,
but no sooner had her fingers touched the ruby, than a curious
hardening came over her, her limbs stiffened, and her tongue could
hardly utter the words 'We are betrayed.'
'Yes, you _are_ betrayed,' cried Ismenor, in a terrible voice; 'and
_you_,' he continued, dragging the king to the window, 'you shall turn
into a parrot, and a parrot you will remain until you can persuade
Hermosa to crush in your head.'
He had hardly finished before a blue parrot flew out into the forest;
and the magician, mounting in his winged chariot, set off for the Isle
of Swans, where he changed everybody into statues, exactly in the
positions in which he found them, not even excepting Rabot himself.
Only Hermosa was spared, and her he ordered to get into his chariot
beside him. In a few minutes he reached the Forest of Wonders, when
the magician got down, and dragged the unhappy princess out after him.
'I have changed your mother into a stone, and your lover into a
parrot,' said he, 'and you are to become a tree, and a tree you will
remain until you have crushed the head of the person you love best in
the world. But I will leave you your mind and memory, that your
tortures may be increased a thousand-fold.'
Great magician as he was, Ismenor could not have invented a more
terrible fate had he tried for a hundred years. The hours passed
wearily by for the poor princess, who longed for a wood-cutter's axe
to put an end to her misery. How were they to be delivered from their
doom? And even supposing that King Lino _did_ fly that way, there were
thousands of blue parrots in the forest, and how was she to know him,
or he her? As to her mother--ah! that was too bad to think about! So,
being a woman, she kept on thinking.
Meanwhile the blue parrot flew about the world, making friends
wherever he went, till, one day, he entered the castle of an old
wizard who had just married a beautiful young wife. Grenadine, for
such was her name, led a very dull life, and was delighted to have a
playfellow, so she gave him a golden cage to sleep in, and delicious
fruits to eat. Only in one way did he disappoint her--he never would
talk as other parrots did.
'If you only knew how happy it would make me, I'm sure you would try,'
she was fond of saying; but the parrot did not seem to hear her.
One morning, however, she left the room to gather some flowers, and
the parrot, finding himself alone, hopped to the table, and, picking
up a pencil, wrote some verses on a piece of paper. He had just
finished when he was startled by a noise, and letting fall the pencil,
he flew out of the window.
Now hardly had he dropped the pencil when the wizard lifted a corner
of the curtain which hung over the doorway, and advanced into the
room. Seeing a paper on the table, he picked it up, and great was his
surprise as he read:
'Fair princess, to win your grace,
I will hold discourse with you;
Silence, though, were more in place
Than chatt'ring like a cockatoo.'
'I half suspected it was enchanted,' murmured the wizard to himself.
And he fetched his books and searched them, and found that instead of
being a parrot, the bird was really a king who had fallen under the
wrath of a magician, and that magician the man whom the wizard hated
most in the world. Eagerly he read on, seeking for some means of
breaking the enchantment, and at last, to his great joy, he discovered
the remedy. Then he hurried to his wife, who was lying on some
cushions under the tree on which the parrot had perched, and informed
her that her favourite was really the king of a great country, and
that, if she would whistle for the bird, they would all go together to
a certain spot in the Forest of Marvels, 'where I will restore him to
his own shape. Only you must not be afraid or cry out, whatever I do,'
added he, 'or everything will be spoilt.' The wizard's wife jumped up
in an instant, so delighted was she, and began to whistle the song
that the parrot loved; but as he did not wish it to be known that he
had been listening to the conversation he waited until she had turned
her back, when he flew down the tree and alighted on her shoulder.
Then they got into a golden boat, which carried them to a clearing in
the forest, where three tall trees stood by themselves.
[Illustration: THE MAGICIAN'S WIFE WHISTLES TO THE PARROT]
'I want these trees for my magic fire,' he said to his wife; 'put
the parrot on that branch, he will be quite safe, and go yourself to a
little distance. If you stay too near you may get your head crushed in
their fall.'
At these words the parrot suddenly remembered the prophecy of Ismenor,
and held himself ready, his heart beating at the thought that in one
of those trees he beheld Hermosa. Meanwhile the magician took a spade,
and loosened the earth of the roots of the three trees so that they
might fall all together. Directly the parrot observed them totter he
spread his wings and flew right under the middle one, which was the
most beautiful of the three. There was a crash, then Lino and Hermosa
stood facing each other, clasped hand in hand.
After the first few moments, the princess's thoughts turned to her
mother, and falling at the feet of the magician, who was smiling with
delight at the success of his plan, she implored him to help them once
more, and to give the Swan fairy back her proper shape.
'That is not so easy,' said he, 'but I will try what I can do.' And
transporting himself to his palace to obtain a little bottle of
poisoned water, he waited till nightfall, and started at once for
Ismenor's tower. Of course, had Ismenor consulted his books he would
have seen what his enemy was doing, he might have protected himself;
but he had been eating and drinking too much, and had gone to bed,
sleeping heavily. Changing himself into a bat, the magician flew into
the room, and hiding himself in the curtains, he poured all the liquid
over Ismenor's face, so that he died without a groan. At the same
instant the Swan fairy became a woman again, for no magician, however
powerful, can work spells which last beyond his own life.
So when the Swan fairy returned to her capital she found all her
courtiers waiting at the gate to receive her, and in their midst,
beaming with happiness, Hermosa and King Lino. Standing behind them,
though a long way off, was Rabot; but his dirty clothes had given
place to clean ones, when his earnest desire was granted, and the
princess had made him head of her stables.
And here we must bid them all farewell, feeling sure they will have
many years of happiness before them after the terrible trials through
which they have passed.
(Adapted and shortened from _Le Cabinet des Fees_.)
_GEIRLAUG THE KING'S DAUGHTER_
One day a powerful king and his beautiful wife were sitting in the
gardens of their capital city, talking earnestly about the future life
of their little son, who was sleeping by their side in his beautiful
golden cradle. They had been married for many years without children,
so when this baby came they thought themselves the happiest couple in
the whole world. He was a fine sturdy little boy, who loved to kick
and to strike out with his fists; but even if he had been weak and
small they would still have thought him the most wonderful creature
upon earth, and so absorbed were they in making plans for him, that
they never noticed a huge dark shadow creeping up, till a horrible
head with gleaming teeth stretched over them, and in an instant their
beloved baby was snatched away.
For a while the king and queen remained where they were, speechless
with horror. Then the king rose slowly, and holding out his hand to
his wife, led her weeping into the palace, and for many days their
subjects saw no more of them.
Meanwhile the dragon soared high into the air, holding the cradle
between his teeth, and the baby still slept on. He flew so fast that
he soon crossed the borders of another kingdom, and again he beheld
the king and queen of the country seated in the garden with a little
girl lying in a wonderful cradle of white satin and lace. Swooping
down from behind as he had done before, he was just about to seize the
cradle, when the king jumped up and dealt him such a blow with his
golden staff that the dragon not only started back, but in his pain
let fall the boy, as he spread his wings and soared into the air away
from all danger.
'That was a narrow escape,' said the king, turning to his wife, who
sat pale with fright, and clasping her baby tightly in her arms.
'Frightful,' murmured the queen; 'but look, what is that glittering
object that is lying out there?' The king walked in the direction of
her finger, and to his astonishment beheld another cradle and another
baby.
'Ah! the monster must have stolen this as he sought to steal
Geirlaug,' cried he. And stooping lower, he read some words that were
written on the fine linen that was wound round the boy. 'This is
Grethari, son of Grethari the king!' Unfortunately it happened that
the two neighbouring monarchs had had a serious quarrel, and for some
years had ceased holding communication with each other. So, instead of
sending a messenger at once to Grethari to tell him of the safety of
his son, the king contented himself with adopting the baby, which was
brought up with Geirlaug the princess.
For a while things went well with the children, who were as happy as
the day was long, but at last there came a time when the queen could
no more run races or play at hide-and-seek with them in the garden as
she was so fond of doing, but lay and watched them from a pile of soft
cushions. By-and-by she gave up doing even that, and people in the
palace spoke with low voices, and even Geirlaug and Grethari trod
gently and moved quietly when they drew near her room. At length, one
morning, they were sent for by the king himself, who, his eyes red
with weeping, told them that the queen was dead.
[Illustration: THE DRAGON DISCOMFITED]
Great was the sorrow of the two children, for they had loved the
queen very dearly, and life seemed dull without her. But the
lady-in-waiting who took care of them in the tower which had been
built for them while they were still babies, was kind and good, and
when the king was busy or away in other parts of his kingdom she made
them quite happy, and saw that they were taught everything that a
prince and princess ought to know. Thus two or three years passed,
when, one day, as the children were anxiously awaiting their father's
return from a distant city, there rode post haste into the courtyard
of the palace a herald whom the king had sent before him, to say that
he was bringing back a new wife.
Now, in itself, there was nothing very strange or dreadful in the fact
that the king should marry again, but, as the old lady-in-waiting soon
guessed, the queen, in spite of her beauty, was a witch, and as it was
easy to see that she was jealous of everyone who might gain power over
her husband, it boded ill for Geirlaug and Grethari. The faithful
woman could not sleep for thinking about her charges, and her soul
sank when, a few months after the marriage, war broke out with a
country across the seas, and the king rode away at the head of his
troops. Then there happened what she had so long expected. One night,
when, unlike her usual habit, she was sleeping soundly--afterwards she
felt sure that a drug had been put into her food--the witch came to
the tower. Exactly what she did there no one knew, but, when the sun
rose, the beds of Grethari and Geirlaug were empty. At dawn the queen
summoned some of her guards, and told them that she had been warned in
a dream that some evil fate would befall her through a wild beast, and
bade them go out and kill every animal within two miles of the palace.
But the only beasts they found were two black foals of wondrous
beauty, fitted for the king's riding; it seemed a pity to kill them,
for what harm could two little foals do anyone? So they let them run
away, frisking over the plain, and returned to the palace.
'Did you see _nothing_, really _nothing_?' asked the queen, when they
again appeared before her.
'Nothing, your majesty,' they replied. But the queen did not believe
them, and when they were gone, she gave orders to her steward that at
supper the guards should be well plied with strong drink so that their
tongues should be loosened, and, further, that he was to give heed to
their babble, and report to her, whatever they might let fall.
'Your majesty's commands have been obeyed,' said the steward when,
late in the evening, he begged admittance to the royal apartments;
'but, after all, the men have told you the truth. I listened to their
talk from beginning to end, and nothing did they see save two black
foals.' He might have added more, but the look in the queen's blazing
eyes terrified him, and, bowing hastily, he backed quickly out of her
presence.
In a week's time the king came home, and right glad were all the
courtiers to see him.
'Now, perhaps, she will find some one else to scream at,' whispered
they amongst themselves. 'She' was the queen, who had vented her rage
on her attendants during these days, though what had happened to make
her so angry nobody knew. But whatever might be the meaning of it,
things would be sure to improve with the king to rule in the palace
instead of his wife. Unfortunately, their joy only lasted a short
while; for the very first night after the king's arrival the queen
related the evil dream she had dreamt in his absence, and begged him
to go out the next morning and kill every living creature he saw
within two miles of the city. The king, who always believed everything
the queen said, promised to do as she wished. But before he had ridden
through the lovely gardens that surrounded the palace, he was
attracted by the singing of two little blue birds perched on a
scarlet-berried holly, which made him think of everything beautiful
that he had ever heard of or imagined. Hour after hour passed by, and
still the birds sang, and still the king listened, though of course he
never guessed that it was Geirlaug and Grethari whose notes filled him
with enchantment. At length darkness fell; the birds' voices were
hushed, and the king awoke with a start to find that for that day his
promise to the queen could not be kept.
'Well! did you see anything?' she asked eagerly, when the king entered
her apartments.
'Ah, my dear, I am almost ashamed to confess to you. But the fact is
that before I rode as far as the western gate the singing of two
strange little blue birds made me forget all else in the world. And
you will hardly believe it--but not until it grew dark did I remember
where I was and what I should have been doing. However, to-morrow
nothing shall hinder me from fulfilling your desires.'
'There will be no to-morrow,' muttered the queen, as she turned away
with a curious glitter in her eyes. But the king did not hear her.
That night the king gave a great supper in the palace in honour of the
victory he had gained over the enemy. The three men whom the queen had
sent forth to slay the wild beasts held positions of trust in the
household, for to them was committed the custody of the queen's
person. And on the occasion of a feast their places were always next
that of the king, so it was easy for the queen to scatter a slow but
fatal poison in their cups without anyone being the wiser. Before dawn
the palace was roused by the news that the king was dead, and that the
three officers of the guards were dying also. Of course nobody's cries
and laments were as loud as those of the queen. But when once the
splendid funeral was over, she gave out that she was going to shut
herself up in a distant castle till the year of her mourning was over,
and after appointing a regent of the kingdom, she set out attended
only by a maid who knew all her secrets. Once she had left the palace
she quickly began to work her spells, to discover under what form
Geirlaug and Grethari lay hidden. Happily, the princess had studied
magic under a former governess, so was able to fathom her
step-mother's wicked plot, and hastily changed herself into a whale,
and her foster-brother into its fin. Then the queen took the shape of
a shark and gave chase.
For several hours a fierce battle raged between the whale and the
shark, and the sea around was red with blood; first one of the
combatants got the better, and then the other, but at length it became
plain to the crowd of little fishes gathered round to watch, that the
victory would be to the whale. And so it was. But when, after a mighty
struggle, the shark floated dead and harmless on the surface of the
water, the whale was so exhausted that she had only strength enough to
drag her wounded body into a quiet little bay, and for three days she
remained there as still and motionless as if she had been dead
herself. At the end of the three days her wounds were healed, and she
began to think what it was best to do.
'Let us go back to your father's kingdom,' she said to Grethari, when
they had both resumed their proper shapes, and were sitting on a high
cliff above the sea.
'How clever you are! I never should have thought of that!' answered
Grethari, who, in truth, was not clever at all. But Geirlaug took a
small box of white powder from her dress, and sprinkled some over him
and some over herself, and, quicker than lightning, they found
themselves in the palace grounds from which Grethari had been carried
off by the dragon so many years before.
'Now take up the band with the golden letters and bind it about your
forehead,' said Geirlaug, 'and go boldly up to the castle. And,
remember, however great may be your thirst, you must drink nothing
till you have first spoken to your father. If you do, ill will befall
us both.'
'_Why_ should I be thirsty?' replied Grethari, staring at her in
astonishment. 'It will not take me five minutes to reach the castle
gate.' Geirlaug held her peace, but her eyes had in them a sad look.
'Good-bye,' she said at last, and she turned and kissed him.
Grethari had spoken truly when he declared that he could easily get to
the castle in five minutes. At least, no one would have dreamed that
it could possibly take any longer. Yet, to his surprise, the door
which stood so widely open that he could see the colour of the
hangings within never appeared to grow any nearer, while each moment
the sun burned more hotly, and his tongue was parched with thirst.
'I don't understand! What _can_ be the matter with me--and why haven't
I reached the castle long ago?' he murmured to himself, as his knees
began to knock under him with fatigue, and his head to swim. For a few
more paces he staggered on blindly, when, suddenly, the sound of
rushing water smote upon his ears; and in a little wood that bordered
the path he beheld a stream falling over a rock. At this sight his
promise to Geirlaug was forgotten. Fighting his way through the
brambles that tore his clothes, he cast himself down beside the
fountain, and seizing the golden cup that hung from a tree, he drank a
deep draught.
When he rose up the remembrance of Geirlaug and of his past life had
vanished, and, instead, something stirred dimly within him at the
vision of the white-haired man and woman who stood in the open door
with outstretched hands.
'Grethari! Grethari! So you have come home at last,' cried they.
* * * * *
For three hours Geirlaug waited in the spot where Grethari had left
her, and then she began to understand what had happened. Her heart was
heavy, but she soon made up her mind what to do, and pushing her way
out of the wood, she skirted the high wall that enclosed the royal
park and gardens, till she reached a small house where the forester
lived with his two daughters.
'Do you want a girl to sweep, and to milk the cows?' asked she, when
one of the sisters answered her knock.
'Yes, we do, very badly; and as you look strong and clean, we will
take you for a servant if you like to come,' replied the young woman.
'But, first, what is your name?'
'Lauphertha,' said Geirlaug quickly, for she did not wish anyone to
know who she was; and following her new mistress into the house, she
begged to be taught her work without delay. And so clever was she,
that, by-and-by, it began to be noised abroad that the strange girl
who had come to live in the forester's house had not her equal in the
whole kingdom for skill as well as beauty. Thus the years slipped
away, during which Geirlaug grew to be a woman. Now and then she
caught glimpses of Grethari as he rode out to hunt in the forest, but
when she saw him coming she hid herself behind the great trees, for
her heart was still sore at his forgetfulness. One day, however, when
she was gathering herbs, he came upon her suddenly, before she had
time to escape, though as she had stained her face and hands brown,
and covered her beautiful hair with a scarlet cap, he did not guess
her to be his foster-sister.
'What is your name, pretty maiden?' asked he.
'Lauphertha,' answered the girl with a low curtesy.
'Ah! it is you, then, of whom I have heard so much,' said he; 'you are
too beautiful to spend your life serving the forester's daughters.
Come with me to the palace, and my mother the queen will make you one
of her ladies in waiting.'
'Truly, that would be a great fortune,' replied the maiden. 'And, if
you really mean it, I will go with you. But how shall I know that you
are not jesting?'
'Give me something to do for you, and I will do it, whatever it is,'
cried the young man eagerly. And she cast down her eyes, and answered:
'Go to the stable, and bind the calf that is there so that it shall
not break loose in the night and wander away, for the forester and his
daughters have treated me well, and I would not leave them with aught
of my work still undone.'
[Illustration: PULL AS HE MIGHT HE COULD NOT GET FREE]
So Grethari set out for the stable where the calf stood, and wound the
rope about its horns. But when he had made it fast to the wall, he
found that a coil of the rope had twisted itself round his wrist, and,
pull as he might, he could not get free. All night he wriggled and
struggled till he was half dead with fatigue. But when the sun rose
the rope suddenly fell away from him, and, very angry with the maiden
he dragged himself back to the palace. 'She is a witch,' he muttered
crossly to himself, 'and I will have no more to do with her.' And he
flung himself on his bed and slept all day.
Not long after this adventure the king and queen sent their beloved
son on an embassy to a neighbouring country to seek a bride from
amongst the seven princesses. The most beautiful of all was, of
course, the one chosen, and the young pair took ship without delay for
the kingdom of the prince's parents. The wind was fair and the vessel
so swift that, in less time than could have been expected, the harbour
nearest the castle was reached. A splendid carriage had been left in
readiness close to the beach, but no horses were to be found, for
every one had been carried off to take part in a great review which
the king was to hold that day in honour of his son's marriage.
'I can't stay here all day,' said the princess, crossly, when Grethari
told her of the plight they were in. 'I am perfectly worn out as it
is, and you will have to find something to draw the carriage, if it is
only a donkey. If you don't, I will sail back straight to my father.'
Poor Grethari was much troubled by the words of the princess. Not that
he felt so very much in love with her, for during the voyage she had
shown him several times how vain and bad tempered she was; but as a
prince and a bridegroom, he could not, of course, bear to think that
any slight had been put upon her. So he hastily bade his attendants to
go in search of some animal, and bring it at once to the place at
which they were waiting.
[Illustration: 'WILL YOU LEND ME YOUR OX, FAIR MAIDEN?']
During the long pause the princess sat in the beautiful golden coach,
her blue velvet mantle powdered with silver bees drawn closely round
her, so that not even the tip of her nose could be seen. At length a
girl appeared driving a young ox in front of her, followed by one of
the prince's messengers, who was talking eagerly.
'Will you lend me your ox, fair maiden?' asked Grethari, jumping up
and going to meet them. 'You shall fix your own price, and it shall be
paid ungrudgingly, for never before was king's son in such a plight.'
'My price is seats for me and my two friends behind you and your bride
at the wedding feast,' answered she. And to this Grethari joyfully
consented.
Six horses would not have drawn the coach at the speed of this one ox.
Trees and fields flew by so fast that the bride became quite giddy,
and expected, besides, that they would be upset every moment. But, in
spite of her fears, nothing happened, and they drew up in safety at
the door of the palace, to the great surprise of the king and queen.
The marriage preparations were hurried on, and by the end of the week
everything was ready. It was, perhaps, fortunate that the princess was
too busy with her clothes and her jewels during this period to pay
much heed to Grethari, so that by the time the wedding day came round
he had almost forgotten how cross and rude she had been on the
journey.
The oldest men and women in the town agreed that nothing so splendid
had ever been seen as the bridal procession to the great hall, where
the banquet was to be held, before the ceremony was celebrated in the
palace. The princess was in high good humour, feeling that all eyes
were upon her, and bowed and smiled right and left. Taking the
prince's hand, she sailed proudly down the room, where the guests were
already assembled, to her place at the head of the table by the side
of the bridegroom. As she did so, three strange ladies in shining
dresses of blue, green, and red, glided in and seated themselves on a
vacant bench immediately behind the young couple. The red lady was
Geirlaug, who had brought with her the forester's daughters, and in
one hand she held a wand of birch bark, and in the other a closed
basket.
Silently they sat as the feast proceeded; hardly anyone noticed their
presence, or, if they did, supposed them to be attendants of their
future queen. Suddenly, when the merriment was at its height, Geirlaug
opened the basket, and out flew a cock and hen. To the astonishment of
everyone, the birds circled about in front of the royal pair, the cock
plucking the feathers out of the tail of the hen, who tried in vain to
escape from him.
'Will you treat me as badly as Grethari treated Geirlaug?' cried the
hen at last. And Grethari heard, and started up wildly. In an instant
all the past rushed back to him; the princess by his side was
forgotten, and he only saw the face of the child with whom he had
played long years ago.
'Where is Geirlaug?' he exclaimed, looking round the hall; and his
eyes fell upon the strange lady. With a smile she held out a ring
which he had given her on her twelfth birthday, when they were still
children, without a thought of the future. 'You and none other shall
be my wife,' he said, taking her hand, and leading her into the middle
of the company.
It is not easy to describe the scene that followed. Of course, nobody
understood what had occurred, and the king and queen imagined that
their son had suddenly gone mad. As for the princess her rage and fury
were beyond belief. The guests left the hall as quickly as they could,
so that the royal family might arrange their own affairs, and in the
end it was settled that half the kingdom must be given to the despised
princess, instead of a husband. She sailed back at once to her
country, where she was soon betrothed to a young noble, whom, in
reality, she liked much better than Grethari. That evening Grethari
was married to Geirlaug, and they lived happily till they died, and
made all their people happy also.
(From _Neuislaendischen Volksmaerchen_.)
_THE STORY OF LITTLE KING LOC_
Two or three miles from the coast of France, anyone sailing in a ship
on a calm day can see deep, deep down, the trunks of great trees
standing up in the water. Many hundreds of years ago these trees
formed part of a large forest, full of all sorts of wild animals, and
beyond the forest was a fine city, guarded by a castle in which dwelt
the Dukes of Clarides. But little by little the sea drew nearer to the
town; the foundations of the houses became undermined and fell in, and
at length a shining sea flowed over the land. However, all this
happened a long time after the story I am going to tell you.
The Dukes of Clarides had always lived in the midst of their people,
and protected them both in war and peace.
At the period when this tale begins the Duke Robert was dead, leaving
a young and beautiful duchess who ruled in his stead. Of course
everyone expected her to marry again, but she refused all suitors who
sought her hand, saying that, having only one soul she could have only
one husband, and that her baby daughter was quite enough for her.
* * * * *
One day, she was sitting in the tower, which looked out over a rocky
heath, covered in summer with purple and yellow flowers, when she
beheld a troop of horsemen riding towards the castle. In the midst,
seated on a white horse with black and silver trappings, was a lady
whom the duchess at once knew to be her friend the Countess of
Blanchelande, a young widow like herself, mother of a little boy two
years older than Abeille des Clarides. The duchess hailed her arrival
with delight, but her joy was soon turned into weeping when the
countess sank down beside her on a pile of cushions, and told the
reason of her visit.
'As you know,' she said, taking her friend's hand and pressing it
between her own, 'whenever a Countess of Blanchelande is about to die
she finds a white rose lying on her pillow. Last night I went to bed
feeling unusually happy, but this morning when I woke the rose was
resting against my cheek. I have no one to help me in the world but
you, and I have come to ask if you will take Youri my son, and let him
be a brother to Abeille?'
Tears choked the voice of the duchess, but she flung herself on the
countess's neck, and pressed her close. Silently the two women took
leave of each other, and silently the doomed lady mounted her horse
and rode home again. Then, giving her sleeping boy into the care of
Francoeur, her steward, she laid herself quietly on her bed, where,
the next morning, they found her dead and peaceful.
So Youri and Abeille grew up side by side, and the duchess faithfully
kept her promise, and was a mother to them both. As they got bigger
she often took them with her on her journeys through her duchy, and
taught them to know her people, and to pity and to aid them.
It was on one of these journeys that, after passing through meadows
covered with flowers, Youri caught sight of a great glittering expanse
lying beneath some distant mountains.
'What is that, godmother?' he asked, waving his hand. 'The shield of a
giant, I suppose.'
'No; a silver plate as big as the moon!' said Abeille, twisting
herself round on her pony.
'It is neither a silver plate nor a giant's shield,' replied the
duchess; 'but a beautiful lake. Still, in spite of its beauty, it is
dangerous to go near it, for in its depths dwell some Undines, or
water spirits, who lure all passers-by to their deaths.'
Nothing more was said about the lake, but the children did not forget
it, and one morning, after they had returned to the castle, Abeille
came up to Youri.
'The tower door is open,' whispered she; 'let us go up. Perhaps we
shall find some fairies.'
But they did not find any fairies; only, when they reached the roof,
the lake looked bluer and more enchanting than ever. Abeille gazed at
it for a moment, and then she said:
'Do you see? I mean to go there!'
'But you mustn't,' cried Youri. 'You heard what your mother said. And,
besides, it is so far; how could we get there?'
'_You_ ought to know that,' answered Abeille scornfully. 'What is the
good of being a man, and learning all sorts of things, if you have to
ask me. However, there are plenty of other men in the world, and I
shall get one of them to tell me.'
Youri coloured; Abeille had never spoken like this before, and,
instead of being two years younger than himself, she suddenly seemed
many years older. She stood with her mocking eyes fixed on him, till
he grew angry at being outdone by a girl, and taking her hand he said
boldly:
'Very well, we will _both_ go to the lake.'
* * * * *
The next afternoon, when the duchess was working at her tapestry
surrounded by her maidens, the children went out, as usual, to play in
the garden. The moment they found themselves alone, Youri turned to
Abeille, and holding out his hand, said:
'Come.'
'Come where?' asked Abeille, opening her eyes very wide.
'To the lake, of course,' answered the boy.
Abeille was silent. It was one thing to pretend you meant to be
disobedient some day, a long time off, and quite another to start for
such a distant place without anyone knowing that you had left the
garden. 'And in satin shoes, too! How stupid boys were to be sure.'
'Stupid or not, I am going to the lake, and you are going with me!'
said Youri, who had not forgotten or forgiven the look she had cast on
him the day before. 'Unless,' added he, 'you are afraid, and in that
case I shall go alone.'
This was too much for Abeille. Bursting into tears, she flung herself
on Youri's neck, and declared that wherever he went she would go too.
So, peace having been made between them, they set out.
[Illustration: ABEILLE FINDS HERSELF AMONG THE LITTLE MEN]
It was a hot day, and the townspeople were indoors waiting till the
sun was low in the sky before they set out either to work or play, so
the children passed through the streets unperceived, and crossed the
river by the bridge into the flowery meadows along the road by which
they had ridden with the duchess. By-and-by Abeille began to feel
thirsty, but the sun had drunk up all the water, and not a drop was
left for her. They walked on a little further, and by good luck found
a cherry-tree covered with ripe fruit, and after a rest and a
refreshing meal, they were sure that they were strong enough to reach
the lake in a few minutes. But soon Abeille began to limp and to say
that her foot hurt her, and Youri had to untie the ribbons that
fastened her shoe and see what was the matter. A stone had got in, so
this was easily set right, and for a while they skipped along the path
singing and chattering, till Abeille stopped again. This time her shoe
had come off, and turning to pick it up she caught sight of the towers
of the castle, looking such a long way off that her heart sank, and
she burst into tears.
'It is getting dark, and the wolves will eat us,' sobbed she. But
Youri put his arms round her and comforted her.
'Why we are close to the lake now. There is nothing to be afraid of!
We shall be home again to supper,' cried he. And Abeille dried her
eyes, and trotted on beside him.
Yes, the lake was there, blue and silvery with purple and gold irises
growing on its banks, and white water-lilies floated on its bosom. Not
a trace was there of a man, or of one of the great beasts so much
feared by Abeille, but only the marks of tiny forked feet on the sand.
The little girl at once pulled off her torn shoes and stockings and
let the water flow over her, while Youri looked about for some nuts or
strawberries. But none were to be found.
'I noticed, a little way back, a clump of blackberry bushes,' said he.
'Wait here for me, and I will go and gather some fruit, and after that
we will start home again.' And Abeille, leaning her head drowsily
against a cushion of soft moss, murmured something in reply, and soon
fell asleep. In her dream a crow, bearing the smallest man that ever
was seen, appeared hovering for a moment above her, and then vanished.
At the same instant Youri returned and placed by her side a large
leaf-full of strawberries.
'It is a pity to wake her just yet,' thought he, and wandered off
beyond a clump of silvery willows to a spot from which he could get a
view of the whole lake. In the moonlight, the light mist that hung
over the surface made it look like fairyland. Then gradually the
silver veil seemed to break up, and the shapes of fair women with
outstretched hands and long green locks floated towards him. Seized
with a sudden fright, the boy turned to fly. But it was too late.
Unconscious of the terrible doom that had befallen her
foster-brother, Abeille slept on, and did not awake even when a crowd
of little men with white beards down to their knees came and stood in
a circle round her.
'What shall we do with her?' asked Pic, who seemed older than any of
them, though they were all very old.
'Build a cage and put her into it,' answered Rug.
'No! No! What should such a beautiful princess do in a cage?' cried
Dig. And Tad, who was the kindest of them all, proposed to carry her
home to her parents. But the other gnomes were too pleased with their
new toy to listen to this for a moment.
'Look, she is waking,' whispered Pau. And as he spoke Abeille slowly
opened her eyes. At first she imagined she was still dreaming; but as
the little men did not move, it suddenly dawned upon her that they
were real, and starting to her feet, she called loudly:
'Youri! Youri! Where are you?'
At the sound of her voice the gnomes only pressed more closely round
her, and, trembling with fear, she hid her face in her hands. The
gnomes were at first much puzzled to know what to do; then Tad,
climbing on a branch of the willow tree that hung over her, stooped
down, and gently stroked her fingers. The child understood that he
meant to be kind, and letting her hands fall, gazed at her captors.
After an instant's pause she said:
'Little men, it is a great pity that you are so ugly. But, all the
same, I will love you if you will only give me something to eat, as I
am dying of hunger.'
A rustle was heard among the group as she spoke. Some were very angry
at being called ugly, and said she deserved no better fate than to be
left where she was. Others laughed, and declared that it did not
matter what a mere mortal thought about them; while Tad bade Bog,
their messenger, fetch her some milk and honey, and the finest white
bread that was made in their ovens under the earth. In less time than
Abeille would have taken to tie her shoe he was back again, mounted on
his crow. And by the time she had eaten the bread and honey and drunk
the milk, Abeille was not frightened any more, and felt quite ready to
talk.
'Little men,' she said, looking up with a smile, 'your supper was very
good, and I thank you for it. My name is Abeille, and my brother is
called Youri. Help me to find him, and tell me which is the path that
leads to the castle, for mother must think something dreadful has
happened to us!'
'But your feet are so sore that you cannot walk,' answered Dig. 'And
we may not cross the bounds into your country. The best we can do is
to make a litter of twigs and cover it with moss, and we will bear you
into the mountains, and present you to our king.'
Now, many a little girl would have been terrified at the thought of
being carried off alone, she did not know where. But Abeille, when she
had recovered from her first fright, was pleased at the notion of her
strange adventure.
'How much she would have to tell her mother and Youri on her return.
Probably _they_ would never go inside a mountain, if they lived to be
a hundred.' So she curled herself comfortably on her nest of moss, and
waited to see what would happen.
Up, and up, and up they went; and by-and-by Abeille fell asleep again,
and did not wake till the sun was shining. Up, and up, and up, for the
little men could only walk very slowly, though they could spring over
rocks quicker than any mortal. Suddenly the light that streamed
through the branches of the litter began to change. It seemed hardly
less bright, but it was certainly different; then the litter was put
down, and the gnomes crowded round and helped Abeille to step out of
it.
Before her stood a little man not half her size, but splendidly
dressed and full of dignity. On his head was a crown of such huge
diamonds that you wondered how his small body could support it. A
royal mantle fell from his shoulders, and in his hand he held a lance.
'King Loc,' said one of the forest gnomes, 'we found this beautiful
child asleep by the lake, and have brought her to you. She says that
her name is Abeille, and her mother is the Duchess des Clarides.'
'You have done well,' answered the king; 'she shall be one of us.' And
standing on tiptoe, so that he could kiss her hand, he told her that
they would all take care of her and make her happy, and that anything
she wished for she should have at once.
'I want a pair of shoes,' replied Abeille.
'Shoes!' commanded the king, striking the ground with his lance; and
immediately a lovely pair of silver shoes embroidered with pearls were
slipped on her feet by one of the gnomes.
'They are beautiful shoes,' said Abeille rather doubtfully; 'but do
you think they will carry me all the way back to my mother?'
'No, they are not meant for rough roads,' replied the king, 'but for
walking about the smooth paths of the mountain, for we have many
wonders to show you.'
'Little King Loc,' answered Abeille, 'take away these beautiful
slippers and give me a pair of wooden shoes instead, and let me go
back to my mother.' But King Loc only shook his head.
'Little King Loc,' said Abeille again--and this time her voice
trembled--'let me go back to my mother and Youri, and I will love you
with all my heart, nearly as well as I love them.'
'Who is Youri?' asked King Loc.
'Why--Youri--who has lived with us since I was a baby,' replied
Abeille; surprised that he did not know what everyone else was aware
of, and never guessing that by mentioning the boy she was sealing her
own fate. For King Loc had already thought what a good wife she would
make him in a few years' time, and he did not want Youri to come
between them. So he was silent, and Abeille, seeing he was not
pleased, burst into tears.
'Little King Loc,' she cried, taking hold of a corner of his mantle,
'think how unhappy my mother will be. She will fancy that wild beasts
have eaten me, or that I have got drowned in the lake.'
'Be comforted,' replied King Loc; 'I will send her a dream, so that
she shall know that you are safe.'
At this Abeille's sad face brightened. 'Little King Loc,' she said,
smiling, 'how clever you are! But you must send her a dream every
night, so that she shall see _me_--and _me_ a dream, so that I may see
her.'
And this King Loc promised to do.
When Abeille grew accustomed to do without her mother and Youri, she
made herself happy enough in her new home. Everyone was kind to her,
and petted her, and then there were such quantities of new things for
her to see. The gnomes were always busy, and knew how to fashion
beautiful toys as well or better than the people who lived on the
earth; and now and then, wandering with Tad or Dig in the underground
passages, Abeille would catch a glimpse of blue sky through a rent in
the rocks, and this she loved best of all. In this manner six years
passed away.
'His Highness King Loc wishes to see you in his presence chamber,'
said Tad, one morning, to Abeille, who was singing to herself on a
golden lute; and Abeille, wondering why the king had grown so formal
all of a sudden, got up obediently. Directly she appeared, King Loc
opened a door in the wall which led into his treasure chamber. Abeille
had never been there before, and was amazed at the splendid things
heaped up before her. Gold, jewels, brocades, carpets, lay round the
walls, and she walked about examining one glittering object after
another, while King Loc mounted a throne of gold and ivory at one end
of the hall, and watched her. 'Choose whatever you wish,' he said at
last. A necklace of most lovely pearls was hanging from the wall, and
after hesitating for a moment between that and a circlet of diamonds
and sapphires, Abeille stretched up her hand towards it. But before
she touched it her eyes lighted on a tiny piece of sky visible through
a crack of the rock, and her hand dropped by her side. 'Little King
Loc, let me go up to the earth once again,' she said.
Then King Loc made a sign to the treasurer, who opened a coffer full
of nothing but precious stones, larger and more dazzling than were
worn by any earthly monarch. 'Choose what you will, Abeille,'
whispered King Loc.
But Abeille only shook her head.
'A drop of dew in the garden at Clarides is brighter to me than the
best of those diamonds,' she answered, 'and the bluest of the stones
are not as blue as the eyes of Youri.' And as she spoke a sharp pain
ran through the heart of King Loc. For an instant he said nothing,
then he lifted his head and looked at her. 'Only those who despise
riches should possess them. Take this crown, from henceforth you are
the Princess of the Gnomes.'
During thirty days no work was done in those underground regions, for
a feast was held in honour of the new princess. At the end of that
period, the king appeared before Abeille, clad in his most splendid
garments, and solemnly asked her to be his wife.
'Little King Loc,' answered the girl, 'I love you as you are, for your
goodness and kindness to me; but never, never can I love you as
anything else.'
The king sighed. It was only what he had expected; still, his
disappointment was great, though he tried bravely to hide it, and even
to smile as he said: 'Then, Abeille, will you promise me one thing? If
there should come a day when you find that there is somebody whom you
_could_ love, will you tell me?'
And in her turn Abeille promised.
After this, in spite of the fact that everyone was just as kind to her
as before, Abeille was no longer the merry child who passed all her
days playing with the little gnomes. People who dwell under the earth
grow up much faster than those who live on its surface, and, at
thirteen, the girl was already a woman. Besides, King Loc's words had
set her thinking; she spent many hours by herself, and her face was no
longer round and rosy, but thin and pale. It was in vain that the
gnomes did their best to entice her into her old games, they had lost
their interest, and even her lute lay unnoticed on the ground.
But one morning a change seemed to come over her. Leaving the room
hung with beautiful silks, where she usually sat alone, she entered
the king's presence, and taking his hand she led him through long
corridors till they came to a place where a strip of blue sky was to
be seen.
'Little King Loc,' she said, turning her eyes upon him, 'let me behold
my mother again, or I shall surely die.' Her voice shook, and her
whole body trembled. Even an enemy might have pitied her; but the
king, who loved her, answered nothing. All day long Abeille stayed
there, watching the light fade, and the sky grow pale. By-and-by the
stars came out, but the girl never moved from her place. Suddenly a
hand touched her. She looked round with a start, and there was King
Loc, covered from head to foot in a dark mantle, holding another over
his arm. 'Put on this and follow me,' was all he said. But Abeille
somehow knew that she was going to see her mother.
On, and on, and on they went, through passages where Abeille had never
been before, and at length she was out in the world again. Oh! how
beautiful it all was! How fresh was the air, and how sweet was the
smell of the flowers! She felt as if she should die with joy, but at
that moment King Loc lifted her off the ground, and, tiny though he
was, carried her quite easily across the garden and through an open
door into the silent castle.
'Listen, Abeille,' he whispered softly. 'You have guessed where we are
going, and you know that every night I send your mother a vision of
you, and she talks to it in her dream, and smiles at it. To-night it
will be no vision she sees, but you yourself; only remember, that if
you touch her or speak to her my power is lost, and never more will
she behold either you or your image.'
By this time they had reached the room which Abeille knew so well, and
her heart beat violently as the gnome carried her over the threshold.
By the light of a lamp hanging over the bed Abeille could see her
mother, beautiful still, but with a face that had grown pale and sad.
As she gazed the sadness vanished, and a bright smile came in its
stead. Her mother's arms were stretched out towards her, and the girl,
her eyes filled with tears of joy, was stooping to meet them, when
King Loc hastily snatched her up, and bore her back to the realm of
the gnomes.
If the king imagined that by granting Abeille's request he would make
her happy, he soon found out his mistake, for all day long the girl
sat weeping, paving no heed to the efforts of her friends to comfort
her.
'Tell me what is making you so unhappy?' said King Loc, at last. And
Abeille answered:
[Illustration: KING LOC CARRIES ABEILLE AWAY FROM HER MOTHER]
'Little King Loc, and all my friends here, you are so good and kind
that I know that you are miserable when I am in trouble. I would be
happy if I could, but it is stronger than I. I am weeping because I
shall never see again Youri de Blanchelande, whom I love with all my
heart. It is a worse grief than parting with my mother, for at least I
know where she is and what she is doing; while, as for Youri, I
cannot tell if he is dead or alive.'
The gnomes were all silent. Kind as they were, they were not mortals,
and had never felt either great joys or deep sorrows. Only King Loc
dimly guessed at something of both, and he went away to consult an
old, old gnome, who lived in the lowest depth of the mountain, and had
spectacles of every sort, that enabled him to see all that was
happening, not only on the earth, but under the sea.
Nur, for such was his name, tried many of these spectacles before he
could discover anything about Youri de Blanchelande.
'There he is!' he cried at last. 'He is sitting in the palace of the
Undines, under the great lake; but he does not like his prison, and
longs to be back in the world, doing great deeds.'
It was true. In the seven years that had passed since he had left the
castle of Clarides to go with Abeille to the blue lake, Youri in his
turn had become a man.
The older he grew the more weary he got of the petting and spoiling he
received at the hands of the green-haired maidens, till, one day, he
flung himself at the feet of the Undine queen, and implored permission
to return to his old home.
The queen stooped down and stroked his hair.
'We cannot spare you,' she murmured gently. 'Stay here, and you shall
be king, and marry me.'
'But it is Abeille I want to marry,' said the youth boldly. But he
might as well have talked to the winds, for at last the queen grew
angry, and ordered him to be put in a crystal cage which was built for
him round a pointed rock.
It was here that King Loc, aided by the spectacles of Nur, found him
after many weeks' journey. As we know, the gnomes walk slowly, and the
way was long and difficult. Luckily, before he started, he had taken
with him his magic ring, and the moment it touched the wall the
crystal cage split from top to bottom.
'Follow that path, and you will find yourself in the world again,' he
said to Youri; and without waiting to listen to the young man's
thanks, set out on the road he had come.
'Bog,' he cried, to the little man on the crow, who had ridden to meet
him. 'Hasten to the palace and inform the Princess Abeille that Youri
de Blanchelande, for seven years a captive in the kingdom of the
Undines, has now returned to the castle of Clarides.'
* * * * *
The first person whom Youri met as he came out of the mountain was the
tailor who had made all his clothes from the time that he came to live
at the castle. Of this old friend, who was nearly beside himself with
joy at the sight of the little master, lost for so many years, the
count begged for news of his foster-mother and Abeille.
'Alas! my lord, where can you have been that you do not know that the
Princess Abeille was carried off by the gnomes on the very day that
you disappeared yourself? At least, so we guess. Ah! that day has left
many a mark on our duchess! Yet she is not without a gleam of hope
that her daughter is living yet, for every night the poor mother is
visited by a dream which tells her all that the princess is doing.'
The good man went on to tell of all the changes that seven years had
brought about in the village, but Youri heard nothing that he said,
for his mind was busy with thoughts of Abeille.
[Illustration: 'STAY HERE AND YOU SHALL BE KING']
At length he roused himself, and ashamed of his delay, he hastened to
the chamber of the duchess, who held him in her arms as if she would
never let him go. By-and-by, however, when she became calmer, he began
to question her about Abeille, and how best to deliver her from the
power of the gnomes. The duchess then told him that she had sent out
men in all directions to look for the children directly they were
found to be missing, and that one of them had noticed a troop of
little men far away on the mountains, evidently carrying a litter. He
was hastening after them, when, at his feet, he beheld a tiny satin
slipper, which he stooped to pick up. But as he did so a dozen of the
gnomes had swarmed upon him like flies, and beat him about the head
till he dropped the slipper, which they took away with them, leaving
the poor man dizzy with pain. When he recovered his senses the group
on the mountain had disappeared.
* * * * *
That night, when everyone was asleep, Youri and his old servant
Francoeur, stole softly down into the armoury, and dressed themselves
in light suits of chain armour, with helmets and short swords, all
complete. Then they mounted two horses that Francoeur had tied up in
the forest, and set forth for the kingdom of the gnomes. At the end of
an hour's hard riding, they came to the cavern which Francoeur had
heard from childhood led into the centre of the earth. Here they
dismounted, and entered cautiously, expecting to find darkness as
thick as what they had left outside. But they had only gone a few
steps when they were nearly blinded by a sudden blaze of light, which
seemed to proceed from a sort of portcullis door, which barred the way
in front of them.
'Who are you?' asked a voice. And the count answered:
'Youri de Blanchelande, who has come to rescue Abeille des Clarides.'
And at these words the gate slowly swung open, and closed behind the
two strangers.
Youri listened to the clang with a spasm of fear in his heart; then
the desperate position he was in gave him courage. There was no
retreat for him now, and in front was drawn up a large force of
gnomes, whose arrows were falling like hail about him. He raised his
shield to ward them off, and as he did so his eyes fell on a little
man standing on a rock above the rest, with a crown on his head and a
royal mantle on his shoulders. In an instant Youri had flung away his
shield and sprung forward, regardless of the arrows that still fell
about him.
[Illustration: 'IS THIS THE MAN THAT YOU WISH TO MARRY?']
'Oh, is it you, is it _really_ you, my deliverer? And is it your
subjects who hold as a captive Abeille whom I love?'
'I am King Loc,' was the answer. And the figure with the long beard
bent his eyes kindly on the eager youth. 'If Abeille has lived with us
all these years, for many of them she was quite happy. But the gnomes,
of whom you think so little, are a just people, and they will not keep
her against her will. Beg the princess to be good enough to come
hither,' he added, turning to Rug.
Amidst a dead silence Abeille entered the vast space and looked around
her. At first she saw nothing but a vast host of gnomes perched on the
walls and crowding on the floor of the big hall. Then her eyes met
those of Youri, and with a cry that came from her heart she darted
towards him, and threw herself on his breast.
'Abeille,' said the king, when he had watched her for a moment, with a
look of pain on his face, 'is this the man that you wish to marry?'
'Yes, Little King Loc, this is he and nobody else! And see how I can
laugh now, and how happy I am!' And with that she began to cry.
'Hush, Abeille! there must be no tears to-day,' said Youri, gently
stroking her hair. 'Come, dry your eyes, and thank King Loc, who
rescued me from the cage in the realm of the Undines.'
As Youri spoke Abeille lifted her head, and a great light came into
her face. At last she understood.
'You did that for me?' she whispered. 'Ah, Little King Loc----!'
* * * * *
So, loaded with presents, and followed by regrets, Abeille went home.
In a few days the marriage took place; but however happy she was, and
however busy she might be, never a month passed by without a visit
from Abeille to her friends in the kingdom of the gnomes.
(Adapted and shortened from the story of _Abeille_, by M. Anatole
France.)
'_A LONG-BOW STORY_'
One day a bunniah,[1] or banker, was walking along a country road when
he overtook a farmer going in the same direction. Now the bunniah was
very grasping, like most of his class, and was lamenting that he had
had no chance of making any money that day; but at the sight of the
man in front he brightened up wonderfully.
'That is a piece of luck,' he said to himself. 'Let me see if this
farmer is not good for something'; and he hastened his steps.
After they had bid one another good day very politely, the bunniah
said to the farmer:
'I was just thinking how dull I felt, when I beheld you, but since we
are going the same way, I shall find the road quite short in such
agreeable company.'
'With all my heart,' replied the farmer; 'but what shall we talk
about? A city man like you will not care to hear about cattle and
crops.'
'Oh,' said the bunniah, 'I'll tell you what we will do. We will each
tell the other the wildest tale we can imagine, and he who first
throws doubt on the other's story shall pay him a hundred rupees.'
To this the farmer agreed, and begged the bunniah to begin, as he was
the bigger man of the two; and privately he made up his mind that,
however improbable it might be, nothing should induce him to hint that
he did not believe in the bunniah's tale. Thus politely pressed the
great man started:
'I was going along this road one day, when I met a merchant travelling
with a great train of camels laden with merchandise----'
'Very likely,' murmured the farmer; 'I've seen that kind of thing
myself.'
'No less than one hundred and one camels,' continued the bunniah, 'all
tied together by their nose strings--nose to tail--and stretching
along the road for almost half a mile----'
'Well?' said the farmer.
'Well, a kite swooped down on the foremost camel and bore him off,
struggling, into the air, and by reason of them all being tied
together the other hundred camels had to follow----'
'Amazing, the strength of that kite!' said the farmer.
'But--well--yes, doubtless; yes--well--one hundred and one camels--and
what did he do with them?'
'You doubt it?' demanded the bunniah.
'Not a bit!' said the farmer heartily.
'Well,' continued the bunniah, 'it happened that the princess of a
neighbouring kingdom was sitting in her private garden, having her
hair combed by her maid, and she was looking upward, with her head
thrown back, whilst the maid tugged away at the comb, when that
wretched kite, with its prey, went soaring overhead; and, as luck
would have it, the camels gave an extra kick just then, the kite lost
his hold, and the whole hundred and one camels dropped right into the
princess's left eye!'
'Poor thing!' said the farmer; 'it's so painful having anything in
one's eye.'
'Well,' said the bunniah, who was now warming to his task, 'the
princess shook her head, and sprang up, clapping her hand on her eye.
"Oh dear!" she cried, "I've got something in my eye, and how it _does_
smart!"'
'It always does,' observed the farmer, 'perfectly true. Well, what
did the poor thing do?'
'At the sound of her cries, the maid came running to her assistance.
"Let me look," said she; and with that she gave the princess's eyelid
a twitch, and out came a camel, which the maid put in her pocket--'
('Ah!' grunted the farmer)--'and then she just twisted up the corner
of her headcloth and fished a hundred more of them out of the
princess's eye, and popped them all into her pocket with the other.'
Here the bunniah gasped as one who is out of breath, but the farmer
looked at him slowly. 'Well?' said he.
'I can't think of anything more now,' replied the bunniah. 'Besides,
that is the end; what do you say to it?'
'Wonderful,' replied the farmer, 'and no doubt perfectly true!'
'Well, it is your turn,' said the bunniah. 'I am so anxious to hear
your story. I am sure it will be very interesting.'
'Yes, I think it will,' answered the farmer, and he began:
'My father was a very prosperous man. Five cows he had, and three yoke
of oxen, and half a dozen buffaloes, and goats in abundance; but of
all his possessions the thing he loved best was a mare. A well bred
mare she was--oh, a very fine mare!'
'Yes, yes,' interrupted the bunniah, 'get on!'
'I'm getting on,' said the farmer, 'don't you hurry me! Well, one day,
as ill-luck would have it, he rode that mare to market with a torn
saddle, which galled her so, that when they got home she had a sore on
her back as big as the palm of your hand.'
'Yes,' said the bunniah impatiently, 'what next?'
[Illustration: THE BUNNIAH'S STORY]
'It was June,' said the farmer, 'and you know how, in June, the air
is full of dust-storms with rain at times? Well, the poor beast got
dust in that wound, and what's more, with the dust some grains of
wheat, and, what with the dust and the heat and the wet, that wheat
sprouted and began to grow!'
'Wheat does when it gets a fair chance,' said the bunniah.
'Yes; and the next thing we knew was that there was a crop of wheat on
that horse's back as big as anything you ever saw in a hundred-acre
field, and we had to hire twenty men to reap it!'
'One generally has to hire extra hands for reaping,' said the bunniah.
'And we got four hundred maunds of wheat off that mare's back!'
continued the farmer.
'A good crop!' murmured the bunniah.
'And your father,' said the farmer, 'a poor wretch, with hardly enough
to keep body and soul together--(the bunniah snorted, but was
silent)--came to my father, and he said, putting his hands together as
humble as could be----'
The bunniah here flashed a furious glance at his companion, but bit
his lips and held his peace.
'"I haven't tasted food for a week. Oh! great master, let me have the
loan of sixteen maunds of wheat from your store, and I will repay
you."'
'"Certainly, neighbour," answered my father; "take what you need, and
repay it as you can."'
'Well?' demanded the bunniah with fury in his eye.
'Well, he took the wheat away with him,' replied the farmer; 'but he
never repaid it, and it's a debt to this day. Sometimes I wonder
whether I shall not go to law about it.'
Then the bunniah began running his thumb quickly up and down the
fingers of his right hand, and his lips moved in quick calculation.
'What is the matter?' asked the farmer.
'The wheat is the cheaper; I'll pay you for the wheat,' said the
bunniah, with the calmness of despair, as he remembered that by his
own arrangement he was bound to give the farmer a hundred rupees.
And to this day they say in those parts, when a man owes a debt: 'Give
me the money; or, if not that, give me at least the wheat.'
(This is from oral tradition.)