FOOTNOTE:

[4] A Hindu religious teacher or saint; in this case a Sikh.

_THE GOLDEN-HEADED FISH_

Once upon a time there lived in Egypt a king who lost his sight from a

bad illness. Of course he was very unhappy, and became more so as

months passed, and all the best doctors in the land were unable to

cure him. The poor man grew so thin from misery that everyone thought

he was going to die, and the prince, his only son, thought so too.

Great was therefore the rejoicing through Egypt when a traveller

arrived in a boat down the river Nile, and after questioning the

people as to the reason of their downcast looks, declared that he was

court physician to the king of a far country, and would, if allowed,

examine the eyes of the blind man. He was at once admitted into the

royal presence, and after a few minutes of careful study announced

that the case, though very serious, was not quite hopeless.

'Somewhere in the Great Sea,' he said, 'there exists a Golden-headed

Fish. If you can manage to catch this creature, bring it to me, and I

will prepare an ointment from its blood which will restore your sight.

For a hundred days I will wait here, but if at the end of that time

the fish should still be uncaught I must return to my own master.'

[Illustration: THE PRINCE HAS PITY ON THE GOLD-HEADED FISH]

The next morning the young prince set forth in quest of the fish,

taking with him a hundred men, each man carrying a net. Quite a little

fleet of boats was awaiting them and in these they sailed to the

middle of the Great Sea. During three months they laboured diligently

from sunrise to sunset, but though they caught large multitudes of

fishes, not one of them had a golden head.

'It is quite useless now,' said the prince on the very last night.

'Even if we find it this evening, the hundred days will be over in an

hour, and long before we could reach the Egyptian capital the doctor

will be on his way home. Still, I will go out again, and cast the net

once more myself.' And so he did, and at the very moment that the

hundred days were up, he drew in the net with the Golden-headed Fish

entangled in its meshes.

'Success has come, but, as happens often, it is too late,' murmured

the young man, who had studied in the schools of philosophy; 'but, all

the same, put the fish in that vessel full of water, and we will take

it back to show my father that we have done what we could.' But when

he drew near the fish it looked up at him with such piteous eyes that

he could not make up his mind to condemn it to death. For he knew well

that, though the doctors of his own country were ignorant of the

secret of the ointment, they would do all in their power to extract

something from the fish's blood. So he picked up the prize of so much

labour, and threw it back into the sea, and then began his journey

back to the palace. When at last he reached it he found the king in a

high fever, caused by his disappointment, and he refused to believe

the story told him by his son.

'Your head shall pay for it! Your head shall pay for it!' cried he;

and bade the courtiers instantly summon the executioner to the palace.

But of course somebody ran at once to the queen, and told her of the

king's order, and she put common clothes on the prince, and filled his

pockets with gold, and hurried him on board a ship which was sailing

that night for a distant island.

'Your father will repent some day, and then he will be thankful to

know you are alive,' said she. 'But one last counsel will I give you,

and that is, take no man into your service who desires to be paid

every month.'

The young prince thought this advice rather odd. If the servant had to

be paid anyhow, he did not understand what difference it could make

whether it was by the year or by the month. However, he had many times

proved that his mother was wiser than he, so he promised obedience.

* * * * *

After a voyage of several weeks, he arrived at the island of which his

mother had spoken. It was full of hills and woods and flowers, and

beautiful white houses stood everywhere in gardens.

'What a charming spot to live in,' thought the prince. And he lost no

time in buying one of the prettiest of the dwellings.

Then servants came pressing to offer their services; but as they all

declared that they must have payment at the end of every month, the

young man, who remembered his mother's words, declined to have

anything to say to them. At length, one morning, an Arab appeared and

begged that the prince would engage him.

'And what wages do you ask?' inquired the prince, when he had

questioned the new-comer and found him suitable.

'I do not want money,' answered the Arab; 'at the end of a year you

can see what my services are worth to you, and can pay me in any way

you like.' And the young man was pleased, and took the Arab for his

servant.

Now, although no one would have guessed it from the look of the side

of the island where the prince had landed, the other part was a

complete desert, owing to the ravages of a horrible monster which came

up from the sea, and devoured all the corn and cattle. The governor

had sent bands of soldiers to lie in wait for the creature in order to

kill it; but, somehow, no one ever happened to be awake at the moment

that the ravages were committed. It was in vain that the sleepy

soldiers were always punished severely--the same thing invariably

occurred next time; and at last heralds were sent throughout the

island to offer a great reward to the man who could slay the monster.

As soon as the Arab heard the news, he went straight to the governor's

palace.

'If my master can succeed in killing the monster, what reward will you

give him?' asked he.

'My daughter and anything besides that he chooses,' answered the

governor. But the Arab shook his head.

'Give him your daughter and keep your wealth,' said he; 'but,

henceforward, let her share in your gains, whatever they are.'

'It is well,' replied the governor; and ordered a deed to be prepared,

which was signed by both of them.

That night the Arab stole down to the shore to watch, but, before he

set out, he rubbed himself all over with some oil which made his skin

smart so badly that there was no chance of _his_ going to sleep as the

soldiers had done. Then he hid himself behind a large rock and waited.

By-and-by a swell seemed to rise on the water, and, a few minutes

later, a hideous monster--part bird, part beast, and part

serpent--stepped noiselessly on to the rocks. It walked stealthily up

towards the fields, but the Arab was ready for it, and, as it passed,

plunged his dagger into the soft part behind the ear. The creature

staggered and gave a loud cry, and then rolled over dead, with its

feet in the sea.

The Arab watched for a little while, in order to make sure that there

was no life left in his enemy, but as the huge body remained quite

still, he quitted his hiding-place, and cut off the ears of his foe.

These he carried to his master, bidding him show them to the governor,

and declare that he himself, and no other, had killed the monster.

'But it was you, and not I, who slew him,' objected the prince.

'Never mind; do as I bid you. I have a reason for it,' answered the

Arab. And though the young man did not like taking credit for what he

had never done, at length he gave in.

The governor was so delighted at the news that he begged the prince to

take his daughter to wife that very day; but the prince refused,

saying that all he desired was a ship which would carry him to see the

world. Of course this was granted him at once, and when he and his

faithful Arab embarked they found, heaped up in the vessel, stores of

diamonds and precious stones, which the grateful governor had secretly

placed there.

So they sailed, and they sailed, and they sailed; and at length they

reached the shores of a great kingdom. Leaving the prince on board,

the Arab went into the town to find out what sort of a place it was.

After some hours he returned, saying that he heard that the king's

daughter was the most beautiful princess in the world, and that the

prince would do well to ask for her hand.

Nothing loth, the prince listened to this advice, and taking some of

the finest necklaces in his hand, he mounted a splendid horse which

the Arab had bought for him, and rode up to the palace, closely

followed by his faithful attendant.

The strange king happened to be in a good humour, and they were

readily admitted to his presence. Laying down his offerings on the

steps of the throne, he prayed the king to grant him his daughter in

marriage.

The monarch listened to him in silence; but answered, after a pause:

'Young man, I will give you my daughter to wife, if that is your wish;

but first I must tell you that she has already gone through the

marriage ceremony with a hundred and ninety young men, and not one of

them lived for twelve hours after. So think, while there is yet

time.'

The prince _did_ think, and was so frightened that he very nearly went

back to his ship without any more words. But just as he was about to

withdraw his proposal the Arab whispered:

'Fear nothing, but take her.'

'The luck must change some time,' he said, at last; 'and who would not

risk his head for the hand of such a peerless princess?'

'As you will,' replied the king. 'Then I will give orders that the

marriage shall be celebrated to-night.'

And so it was done; and after the ceremony the bride and bridegroom

retired to their own apartments to sup by themselves, for such was the

custom of the country. The moon shone bright, and the prince walked to

the window to look out upon the river and upon the distant hills, when

his gaze suddenly fell on a silken shroud neatly laid out on a couch,

with his name embroidered in gold thread across the front; for this

also was the pleasure of the king.

Horrified at the spectacle, he turned his head away, and this time his

glance rested on a group of men, digging busily beneath the window. It

was a strange hour for any one to be at work, and what was the hole

for? It was a curious shape, so long and narrow, almost like---- Ah!

yes, that was what it was! It was _his_ grave that they were digging!

The shock of the discovery rendered him speechless, yet he stood

fascinated and unable to move. At this moment a small black snake

darted from the mouth of the princess, who was seated at the table,

and wriggled quickly towards him. But the Arab was watching for

something of the sort to happen, and seizing the serpent with some

pincers that he held in one hand, he cut off its head with a sharp

dagger.

The king could hardly believe his eyes when, early the next morning,

his new son-in-law craved an audience of his Majesty.

'What, you?' he cried, as the young man entered.

'Yes, I. Why not?' asked the bridegroom, who thought it best to

pretend not to know anything that had occurred. 'You remember, I told

you that the luck must turn at last, and so it has. But I came to ask

whether you would be so kind as to bid the gardeners fill up a great

hole right underneath my window, which spoils the view.'

'Oh! certainly, yes; of course it shall be done!' stammered the king.

'Is there anything else?'

'No, nothing, thank you,' replied the prince, as he bowed and

withdrew.

Now, from the moment that the Arab cut off the snake's head, the

spell, or whatever it was, seemed to have been taken off the princess,

and she lived very happily with her husband. The days passed swiftly

in hunting in the forests, or sailing on the broad river that flowed

past the palace, and when night fell she would sing to her harp, or

the prince would tell her tales of his own country.

One evening a man in a strange garb, with a face burnt brown by the

sun, arrived at court. He asked to see the bridegroom, and falling on

his face announced that he was a messenger sent by the queen of Egypt,

proclaiming him king in succession to his father, who was dead.

'Her Majesty begs you will set out without delay, and your bride also,

as the affairs of the kingdom are somewhat in disorder,' ended the

messenger.

Then the young man hastened to seek an audience of his father-in-law,

who was delighted to find that his daughter's husband was not merely

the governor of a province, as he had supposed, but the king of a

powerful country. He at once ordered a splendid ship to be made ready,

and in a week's time rode down to the harbour, to bid farewell to the

young couple.

In spite of her grief for the dead king, the queen was overjoyed to

welcome her son home, and commanded the palace to be hung with

splendid stuffs to do honour to the bride. The people expected great

things from their new sovereign, for they had suffered much from the

harsh rule of the old one, and crowds presented themselves every

morning with petitions in their hands, which they hoped to persuade

the king to grant. Truly, he had enough to keep him busy; but he was

very happy for all that, till, one night, the Arab came to him, and

begged permission to return to his own land.

Filled with dismay the young man said: 'Leave me! Do you really wish

to leave me?' Sadly the Arab bowed his head.

'No, my master; never could I wish to leave you! But I have received a

summons, and I dare not disobey it.'

The king was silent, trying to choke down the grief he felt at the

thought of losing his faithful servant.

'Well, I must not try to keep you,' he faltered out at last. 'That

would be a poor return for all that you have done for me! Everything I

have is yours; take what you will, for without you I should long ago

have been dead!'

'And without _you_, _I_ should long ago have been dead,' answered the

Arab. '_I_ am the Golden-headed Fish.'

(Adapted from _Contes Armeniens_. Par Frederic Macler, Paris. Ernest

Leroux, Editeur.)

_DORANI_

Once upon a time there lived in a city of Hindustan a seller of scents

and essences, who had a very beautiful daughter named Dorani. This

maiden had a friend who was a fairy, and the two were high in favour

with Indra, the king of fairyland, because they were able to sing so

sweetly and dance so deftly that no one in the kingdom could equal

them for grace and beauty. Dorani had the most lovely hair in the

world, for it was like spun gold, and the smell of it was like the

smell of fresh roses. But her locks were so long and thick that the

weight of it was often unbearable, and one day she cut off a shining

tress, and wrapping it in a large leaf, threw it in the river which

ran just below her window. Now it happened that the king's son was out

hunting, and had gone down to the river to drink, when there floated

towards him a folded leaf, from which came a perfume of roses. The

prince, with idle curiosity, took a step into the water and caught the

leaf as it was sailing by. He opened it, and within he found a lock of

hair like spun gold, and from which came a faint, exquisite odour.

When the prince reached home that day he looked so sad and was so

quiet that his father wondered if any ill had befallen him, and asked

what was the matter. Then the youth took from his breast the tress of

hair which he had found in the river, and holding it up to the light,

replied:

'See, my father, was ever hair like this? Unless I may win and marry

the maiden that owns that lock I must die!'

[Illustration: 'HE NEVER COULD PERSUADE HER TO SAY A SINGLE WORD']

So the king immediately sent heralds throughout all his dominions to

search for the damsel with hair like spun gold; and at last he learned

that she was the daughter of the scent-seller. The object of the

herald's mission was quickly noised abroad, and Dorani heard of it

with the rest; and, one day, she said to her father:

'If the hair is mine, and the king requires me to marry his son, I

must do so; but, remember, you must tell him that if, after the

wedding, I stay all day at the palace, every night will be spent in my

old home.'

The old man listened to her with amazement, but answered nothing, as

he knew she was wiser than he. Of course the hair was Dorani's, and

heralds soon returned and informed the king, their master, who

summoned the scent-seller, and told him that he wished for his

daughter to be given in marriage to the prince. The father bowed his

head three times to the ground, and replied:

'Your highness is our lord, and all that you bid us we will do. The

maiden asks this only--that if, after the wedding, she stays all day

at the palace, she may go back each night to her father's house.'

The king thought this a very strange request; but said to himself it

was, after all, his son's affair, and the girl would surely soon get

tired of going to and fro. So he made no difficulty, and everything

was speedily arranged and the wedding was celebrated with great

rejoicings.

At first, the condition attaching to his wedding with the lovely

Dorani troubled the prince very little, for he thought that he would

at least see his bride all day. But, to his dismay, he found that she

would do nothing but sit the whole time upon a stool with her head

bowed forward upon her knees, and he could never persuade her to say a

single word. Each evening she was carried in a palanquin to her

father's house, and each morning she was brought back soon after

daybreak; and yet never a sound passed her lips, nor did she show by

any sign that she saw, or heard, or heeded her husband.

One evening the prince, very unhappy and troubled, was wandering in an

old and beautiful garden near the palace. The gardener was a very aged

man, who had served the prince's great grandfather; and when he saw

the prince he came and bowed himself to him, and said:

'Child! child! why do you look so sad--is aught the matter?' Then the

prince replied, 'I am sad, old friend, because I have married a wife

as lovely as the stars, but she will not speak to me, and I know not

what to do. Night after night she leaves me for her father's house,

and day after day she sits in mine as though turned to stone, and

utters no word, whatever I may do or say.'

The old man stood thinking for a moment, and then he hobbled off to

his own cottage. A little later he came back to the prince with five

or six small packets, which he placed in his hands and said:

'To-morrow, when your bride leaves the palace, sprinkle the powder

from one of these packets upon your body, and while seeing clearly,

you will become yourself invisible. More I cannot do for you, but may

all go well!'

And the prince thanked him, and put the packets carefully away in his

turban.

The next night, when Dorani left for her father's house in her

palanquin, the prince took out a packet of the magic powder and

sprinkled it over himself, and then hurried after her. He soon found

that, as the old man had promised, he was invisible to everyone,

although he felt as usual, and could see all that passed. He speedily

overtook the palanquin and walked beside it to the scent-seller's

dwelling. There it was set down, and, when his bride, closely veiled,

left it and entered the house, he, too, entered unperceived.

At the first door Dorani removed one veil; then she entered another

doorway at the end of a passage where she removed another veil; next

she mounted the stairs, and at the door of the women's quarters

removed a third veil. After this she proceeded to her own room where

were set two large basins, one of attar of roses and one of water; in

these she washed herself, and afterwards called for food. A servant

brought her a bowl of curds, which she ate hastily, and then arrayed

herself in a robe of silver, and wound about her strings of pearls,

while a wreath of roses crowned her hair. When fully dressed, she

seated herself upon a four-legged stool over which was a canopy with

silken curtains, these she drew around her, and then called out:

'Fly, stool, to the palace of rajah Indra.'

Instantly the stool rose in the air, and the invisible prince, who had

watched all these proceedings with great wonder, seized it by one leg

as it flew away, and found himself being borne through the air at a

rapid rate.

In a short while they arrived at the house of the fairy who, as I told

you before, was the favourite friend of Dorani. The fairy stood

waiting on the threshold, as beautifully dressed as Dorani herself

was, and when the stool stopped at her door she cried in astonishment:

'Why, the stool is flying all crooked to-day! What is the reason of

that, I wonder? I suspect that you have been talking to your husband,

and so it will not fly straight.'

But Dorani declared that she had not spoken one word to him, and she

couldn't think why the stool flew as if weighed down at one side. The

fairy still looked doubtful, but made no answer, and took her seat

beside Dorani, the prince again holding tightly one leg. Then the

stool flew on through the air until it came to the palace of Indra the

rajah.

All through the night the women sang and danced before the rajah

Indra, whilst a magic lute played of itself the most bewitching music;

till the prince, who sat watching it all, was quite entranced. Just

before dawn the rajah gave the signal to cease; and again the two

women seated themselves on the stool, and, with the prince clinging to

the leg, it flew back to earth, and bore Dorani and her husband safely

to the scent-seller's shop. Here the prince hurried away by himself

past Dorani's palanquin with its sleepy bearers, straight on to the

palace; and, as he passed the threshold of his own rooms he became

visible again. Then he lay down upon a couch and waited for Dorani's

arrival.

[Illustration: THE INVISIBLE PRINCE GOES WITH THE LADIES]

As soon as she arrived she took a seat and remained as silent as

usual, with her head bowed on her knees. For a while not a sound was

heard, but presently the prince said:

'I dreamed a curious dream last night, and as it was all about you I

am going to tell it you, although you heed nothing.'

The girl, indeed, took no notice of his words, but in spite of that he

proceeded to relate every single thing that had happened the evening

before, leaving out no detail of all that he had seen or heard. And

when he praised her singing--and his voice shook a little--Dorani just

looked at him; but she said naught, though, in her own mind, she was

filled with wonder. 'What a dream!' she thought. 'Could it have been a

dream? How could he have learnt in a dream all she had done or said?'

Still she kept silent; only she looked that once at the prince, and

then remained all day as before, with her head bowed upon her knees.

When night came the prince again made himself invisible and followed

her. The same things happened again as had happened before, but Dorani

sang better than ever. In the morning the prince a second time told

Dorani all that she had done, pretending that he had dreamt of it.

Directly he had finished Dorani gazed at him, and said:

'Is it true that you dreamt this, or were you really there?'

'I was there,' answered the prince.

'But why do you follow me?' asked the girl.

'Because,' replied the prince, 'I love you, and to be with you is

happiness.'

This time Dorani's eyelids quivered; but she said no more, and was

silent the rest of the day. However, in the evening, just as she was

stepping into her palanquin, she said to the prince:

'If you love me, prove it by not following me to-night.'

And so the prince did as she wished, and stayed at home.

That evening the magic stool flew so unsteadily that they could hardly

keep their seats, and at last the fairy exclaimed:

'There is only one reason that it should jerk like this! You have been

talking to your husband!'

And Dorani replied: 'Yes, I have spoken; oh, yes, I have spoken!' But

no more would she say.

That night Dorani sang so marvellously that at the end the rajah Indra

rose up and vowed that she might ask what she would and he would give

it to her. At first she was silent; but, when he pressed her, she

answered:

'Give me the magic lute.'

The rajah, when he heard this, was displeased with himself for having

made so rash a promise, because this lute he valued above all his

possessions. But as he had promised, so he must perform, and with an

ill grace he handed it to her.

'You must never come here again,' said he, 'for, once having asked so

much, how will you in future be content with smaller gifts?'

Dorani bowed her head silently as she took the lute, and passed with

the fairy out of the great gate, where the stool awaited them. More

unsteadily than before, it flew back to earth.

When Dorani got to the palace that morning she asked the prince

whether he had dreamt again. He laughed with happiness, for this time

she had spoken to him of her own free will; and he replied:

'No; but I begin to dream now--not of what _has_ happened in the past,

but of what _may_ happen in the future.'

That day Dorani sat very quietly, but she answered the prince when he

spoke to her; and when evening fell, and with it the time for her

departure, she still sat on. Then the prince came close to her and

said softly:

'Are you not going to your house, Dorani?'

At that she rose and threw herself weeping into his arms, whispering

gently:

'Never again, my lord, never again would I leave thee!'

So the prince won his beautiful bride; and though they neither of them

dealt any further with fairies and their magic, they learnt more daily

of the magic of Love, which one may still learn, although fairy magic

has fled away.

(Punjabi Story, Major Campbell, Feroshepore.)

_THE SATIN SURGEON_

Once upon a time there was a very rich and powerful king who, in spite

of having been married several times, had only two daughters.

The elder was extremely plain--she squinted and was hunchbacked; but

at the same time she was very clever and amusing, so, though at heart

both spiteful and untruthful, she was her father's favourite.

The younger princess, on the other hand, was both lovely and

sweet-tempered, and those who knew her well could hardly say whether

her charming face or pleasant manners was the more attractive.

The neighbouring country was governed by a young emperor, who, though

not much over twenty years of age, had shown great courage in battle,

and, had he wished it, might very likely have conquered the whole

world. Luckily he preferred peace to war, and occupied his time with

trying to rule his own kingdom well and wisely. His people were very

anxious that he should marry, and as the two princesses were the only

ladies to be heard of of suitable age and rank, the emperor sent

envoys to their father's court to ask for the hand of one of them in

marriage. But, as he was resolved only to marry a woman whom he could

love and be happy with, he determined to see the lady himself before

making up his mind. For this purpose he set out in disguise not long

after the departure of his ambassadors, and arrived at the palace very

soon after they did; but as he had foolishly kept his plan secret, he

found, when he reached the court, that they had already made proposals

for the elder princess.

Now the emperor might just as well have gone openly, for his presence

soon became known; and when the king heard of it he prepared to

receive him royally, though of course he had to pretend that he had no

idea who he was. So it was settled that the ambassadors should present

their master under the name of one of the princes, and in this manner

he was received by the king.

At night there was a grand ball at which the young emperor was able to

see the two princesses and to make their acquaintance. The ugly face

and figure and spiteful remarks of the elder displeased him so greatly

that he felt he could not marry her even if she owned ten kingdoms,

whilst the sweet face and gentle manners of the younger sister charmed

him so much that he would gladly have shared his throne with her had

she been only a simple shepherdess.

He found it very difficult to conceal his thoughts and to pay the

elder princess the amount of attention due to her, though he did his

best to be polite; while all he saw or heard during the next few days

only increased his love for her younger sister, and at last he

confessed that his dearest wish was to make her his wife, if she and

her father would grant his desire.

He had commanded his ambassadors to put off their farewell audience

for a little time, hoping that the king might perceive the state of

his feelings; but when it could be deferred no longer, he bade them

propose in his name for the younger princess.

On hearing this news, so different from what he had been led to

expect, the king who--as we have said before--was devoted to his elder

daughter and entirely under her influence, could hardly contain his

displeasure. Directly the audience was over he sent for the princess

and told her of the insolent proposal the emperor had made for her

sister. The princess was even more furious than her father, and after

consulting together they decided to send the younger daughter to some

distant place out of reach of the young emperor; but _where_ this

should be they did not quite know. However, at length, after they had

both racked their brains to find a suitable prison, they fixed on a

lonely castle called the Desert Tower, where they thought she would be

quite safe.

Meantime, it was thought best to let the court gaieties go on as

usual, and orders were given for all sorts of splendid entertainments;

and on the day that was fixed for carrying off the princess, the whole

court was invited to a great hunt in the forest.

The emperor and the young princess were counting the hours till this

morning, which promised to be so delightful, should dawn. The king and

his guest arrived together at the meeting-place, but what was the

surprise and distress of the young man at not seeing the object of his

love amongst the ladies present. He waited anxiously, looking up and

down, not hearing anything that the king said to him; and when the

hunt began and she still was absent, he declined to follow, and spent

the whole day seeking her, but in vain.

[Illustration: THE PRINCESS GETS HER LETTER]

On his return, one of his attendants told him that some hours before

he had met the princess's carriage, escorted by a troop of soldiers

who were riding on each side, so that no one could get speech of her.

He had followed them at a distance, and saw them stop at the Desert

Tower, and on its return he noticed that the carriage was empty. The

emperor was deeply grieved by this news. He left the court at once,

and ordered his ambassadors to declare war the very next day, unless

the king promised to set free the princess. And more than this, no

sooner had he reached his own country than he raised a large army,

with which he seized the frontier towns, before his enemy had had time

to collect any troops. But, ere he quitted the court, he took care to

write a letter to his beloved princess, imploring her to have

patience and trust to him; and this he gave into the hands of his

favourite equerry, who would he knew lay down his life in his service.

With many precautions the equerry managed to examine the surroundings

of the tower, and at last discovered, not only where the princess

lodged, but that a little window in her room looked out on a desolate

plot full of brambles.

Now the unhappy princess was much annoyed that she was not even

allowed to take the air at this little window, which was the only one

in her room. Her keeper was her elder sister's former nurse, a woman

whose eyes never slept. Not for an instant could she be induced to

stir from the side of the princess, and she watched her slightest

movement.

One day, however, the spy was for once busy in her room writing an

account of the princess to her elder sister, and the poor prisoner

seized the opportunity to lean out of the window. As she looked about

her she noticed a man hidden amongst the bushes, who stepped forward

as soon as he caught sight of her, and showed her a letter, which he

took from his jerkin. She at once recognised him as one of the

emperor's attendants, and let down a long string, to which he tied the

letter. You can fancy how quickly she drew it up again, and luckily

she had just time to read it before her gaoler had finished her report

and entered the room.

The princess's delight was great, and next day she managed to write an

answer on a sheet of her note book, and to throw it down to the

equerry, who hastened to carry it back to his master. The emperor was

so happy at having news of his dear princess, that he resolved, at all

risks, to visit the Desert Tower himself, if only to see her for a

moment. He ordered his equerry to ask leave to visit her, and the

princess replied that she should indeed rejoice to see him, but that

she feared that her gaoler's watchfulness would make his journey

useless, unless he came during the short time when the old woman was

writing alone in her own room.

Naturally, the bare idea of difficulties only made the emperor more

eager than ever. He was ready to run any risks, but, by the advice of

the equerry, he decided to try cunning rather than force. In his next

letter he enclosed a sleeping powder, which the princess managed to

mix with her gaoler's supper, so that when the emperor reached the

tower in the evening the princess appeared fearlessly at her window on

hearing his signal. They had a long and delightful conversation, and

parted in the fond hope that their meeting had not been observed. But

in this they were sadly mistaken. The watchful eyes of the old nurse

were proof against any sleeping draught--she had seen and heard all;

and lost no time in writing to report everything to her mistress.

The news made the spiteful little hunchback furious, and she resolved

to be cruelly revenged for the contempt with which the emperor had

treated her. She ordered her nurse to pretend not to notice what might

be passing, and meantime she had a trap made so that if the emperor

pushed his way through the brambles at the foot of the tower, it would

not only catch him, as if he were a mouse, but would let loose a

number of poisoned arrows, which would pierce him all over. When it

was ready, the trap was hidden amongst the brambles without being

observed by the princess.

That same evening the emperor hurried to the tower with all the

impatience of love. As he came near he heard the princess break into a

long, joyous peal of laughter. He advanced quickly to give the usual

signal, when suddenly his foot trod on something, he knew not what. A

sharp, stinging pain ran through him, and he turned white and faint,

but, luckily, the trap had only opened a little way, and only a few of

the arrows flew out. For a moment he staggered, and then fell to the

ground covered with blood.

Had he been alone he would have died very shortly, but his faithful

squire was close at hand, and carried his master off to the wood where

the rest of his escort were waiting for him. His wounds were bound up,

and some poles were cut to make a rough litter, and, almost

unconscious, the emperor was borne away out of his enemy's country to

his own palace.

All this time the princess was feeling very anxious. She had been

whiling away the hours before this meeting by playing with a little

pet monkey, which had been making such funny faces that, in spite of

her troubles, she had burst into the hearty laugh overheard by the

emperor. But by-and-by she grew restless, waiting for the signal which

never came, and, had she dared, would certainly have rebelled when her

gaoler, whom she believed to be fast asleep, ordered her to go to bed

at once.

A fortnight passed, which was spent in great anxiety by the poor girl,

who grew thin and weak with the uncertainty. At the end of this

period, when the nurse went to her room one morning as usual in order

to write her daily report, she carelessly left the key in the door.

This was perceived by the princess, who turned it upon her so quickly

and quietly that she never found out she was locked in till she had

finished writing, and got up to seek her charge.

Finding herself free, the princess flew to the window, and to her

horror saw the arrows lying about amongst the bloodstained brambles.

Distracted with terror she slipped down the stairs and out of the

tower, and ran for some time along a path, when with great good luck

she met the husband of her own nurse, who had only just learned of her

imprisonment, and was on his way to try and find out whether he could

serve her. The princess begged him to get her some men's clothes while

she awaited him in a little wood close by. The good man was overjoyed

to be of use, and started at once for the nearest town, where he soon

discovered a shop where the court lackeys were accustomed to sell

their masters' cast-off clothes. The princess dressed herself at once

in the disguise he had brought, which was of rich material and covered

with precious stones; and, putting her own garments into a bag, which

her servant hung over his shoulders, they both set out on their

journey.

This lasted longer than either of them expected. They walked by day as

far as the princess could manage, and by night they slept in the open

air. One evening they camped in a lovely valley watered by a rippling

stream, and towards morning the princess was awakened by a charming

voice singing one of the songs of her own childhood. Anxious to find

out where the sound came from, she walked to a thicket of myrtles,

where she saw a little boy with a quiver at his back and an ivory bow

in his hand, singing softly to himself as he smoothed the feathers of

his shafts.

'Are you surprised at seeing my eyes open?' he asked, with a smile.

'Ah! I am not always blind. And sometimes it is well to know what sort

of a heart needs piercing. It was I who sent out my darts the day that

you and the emperor met, so, as I have caused the wound, I am in duty

bound to find the cure!'

Then he gave her a little bottle full of a wonderful salve with which

to dress the emperor's wounds when she found him.

'In two days you can reach his palace,' he said. 'Do not waste time,

for sometimes time is life.'

The princess thanked the boy with tears in her eyes, and hastened to

awake her guide so that they might start, and set off at once on their

way.

[Illustration: THE BOY IN THE VALLEY]

As the boy had foretold, in two days the tower and walls of the city

came in sight, and her heart beat wildly at the thought that she would

soon be face to face with the emperor, but on inquiring after his

health she learned, to her horror, that he was sinking fast. For a

moment her grief was so great that she nearly betrayed herself. Then,

calling all her courage to her aid, she announced that she was a

doctor, and that if they would leave him in her charge for a few days

she would promise to cure him.

Now, in order to make a good appearance at court the new doctor

resolved to have an entire suit made of pale blue satin. She bought

the richest, most splendid stuff to be had in the shops, and summoned

a tailor to make it for her, engaging to pay him double if he would

finish the work in two hours. Next she went to the market, where she

bought a fine mule, bidding her servant see that its harness was

adorned with trappings of blue satin also.

Whilst all was being made ready the princess asked the woman in whose

house she lived whether she knew any of the emperor's attendants, and

found to her satisfaction that her cousin was his majesty's chief

valet. The doctor then bade the woman inform everyone she met that on

hearing of the emperor's illness a celebrated surgeon had hastened to

attend him, and had undertaken to cure him entirely; declaring himself

prepared to be burnt alive in case of failure.

The good woman, who loved nothing better than a bit of gossip, hurried

to the palace with her news. Her story did not lose in telling. The

court physicians were very scornful about the new-comer, but the

emperor's attendants remarked that as, in spite of their remedies, his

majesty was dying before their eyes, there could be no harm in

consulting this stranger.

So the lord chamberlain begged the young doctor to come and prescribe

for the royal patient without delay; and the doctor sent a message at

once, that he would do himself the honour to present himself at the

palace, and he lost no time in mounting his mule and setting out. As

the people and soldiers saw him ride past they cried out:

'Here comes the Satin Surgeon! Look at the Satin Surgeon! Long live

the Satin Surgeon!' And, on arriving, he was announced by this name,

and at once taken to the sick room of the dying man.

The emperor was lying with his eyes closed, and his face as white as

the pillow itself; but directly he heard the new-comer's voice, he

looked up and smiled, and signed that he wished the new doctor to

remain near him. Making a low bow, the Satin Surgeon assured the

emperor that he felt certain of curing his malady, but insisted that

everyone should leave the room except the emperor's favourite equerry.

He then dressed the wounds with the magic salve which the boy had

given him, and it so relieved the emperor's pain that he slept soundly

all that night.

When morning broke, the courtiers and doctors hurried to the emperor's

chamber, and were much surprised to find him free of pain. But they

were promptly ordered out of the room by the Satin Surgeon, who

renewed the dressings with such good results that next morning the

emperor was nearly well, and able to leave his bed. As he grew

stronger, his thoughts dwelt more and more on the cause of all his

sufferings, and his spirits grew worse as his health grew better. The

face and voice of his new doctor reminded him of the princess who had,

he imagined, betrayed him, and caused him such dreadful torture; and,

unable to bear the thought, his eyes filled with tears.

The doctor noticed his sad countenance and did all he could to enliven

his patient with cheerful talk and amusing stories, till at last he

won the emperor's confidence and heard all the story of his love for a

lady who had treated him cruelly, but whom, in spite of everything, he

could not help loving. The Satin Surgeon listened with sympathy, and

tried to persuade the emperor that possibly the princess was not so

much to blame as might appear; but, eager though the sick man was to

believe this, it took a long while to persuade him of it. At length a

day came when the emperor was nearly well, and for the last time the

doctor dressed the wounds with the precious salve. Then, both patient

and surgeon, being wearied out with something they could not explain,

fell asleep and slept for hours.

Early next morning, the princess, having decided to resume her own

clothes which she had brought with her in a bag, dressed herself with

great care and put on all her jewels so as to make herself look as

lovely as possible. She had just finished when the emperor awoke,

feeling so strong and well that he thought he must be dreaming, nor

could he believe himself to be awake when he saw the princess draw

aside his curtains.

For some minutes they gazed at each other, unable to speak, and then

they only uttered little gasps of joy and thankfulness. By-and-by the

princess told him the whole story of her adventures since their last

interview at the Desert Tower; and the emperor, weak as he was, threw

himself at her feet with vows of love and gratitude, without ever

giving a thought to the fact that the household and court physicians

were awaiting their summons in the ante-room.

The emperor, anxious to prove how much he owed to the Satin Surgeon,

opened his door himself, and great was everyone's surprise and joy at

seeing him in such perfect health. Like good courtiers, they hastened

in to praise and compliment the Satin Surgeon, but what was their

astonishment on finding that he had disappeared, leaving in his place

the loveliest princess in the whole world.

'Whilst thanking the surgeon for his miraculous cure, you might at the

same time do homage to your empress,' observed the emperor. He wished

to have the marriage celebrated the same day, but the princess

declared that she must wait to get her father's permission first.

Messengers were therefore instantly despatched to the neighbouring

capital, and soon returned with the king's consent, for he had lately

discovered all the mischief caused by his elder daughter.

The spiteful princess was so furious at the failure of her plans that

she took to her bed, and died in a fit of rage and jealousy. No one

grieved for her, and the king, being tired of the fatigues of

Government, gave up his crown to his younger daughter; so the two

kingdoms henceforth became one.

(From the _Cabinet des Fees_.)

_THE BILLY GOAT AND THE KING_

Once there lived a certain king who understood the language of all

birds and beasts and insects. This knowledge had of course been given

him by a fairy godmother; but it was rather a troublesome present, for

he knew that if he were ever to reveal anything he had thus learned he

would turn into a stone. How he managed to avoid doing so long before

this story opens I cannot say, but he had safely grown up to manhood,

and married a wife, and was as happy as monarchs generally are.

This king, I must tell you, was a Hindu; and when a Hindu eats his

food he has a nice little place on the ground freshly plastered with

mud, and he sits in the middle of it with very few clothes on--which

is quite a different way from ours.

Well, one day the king was eating his dinner in just such a nice,

clean, mud-plastered spot, and his wife was sitting opposite to wait

upon him and keep him company. As he ate he dropped some grains of

rice upon the ground, and a little ant, who was running about seeking

a living, seized upon one of the grains and bore it off towards his

hole. Just outside the king's circle this ant met another ant, and the

king heard the second one say:

'Oh, dear friend, do give me that grain of rice, and get another one

for yourself. You see my boots are so dirty that, if I were to go upon

the king's eating place, I should defile it, and I can't do that, it

would be so very rude.'

But the owner of the grain of rice only replied:

'If you want rice go and get it. No one will notice your dirty boots;

and you don't suppose that I am going to carry rice for all our

kindred?'

Then the king laughed.

The queen looked at herself up and down, but she could not see or feel

anything in her appearance to make the king laugh, so she said:

'What are you laughing at?'

'Did I laugh?' replied the king.

'Of course you did,' retorted the queen; 'and if you think that I am

ridiculous I wish you would say so, instead of behaving in that stupid

way! What are you laughing at?'

'I'm not laughing at anything,' answered the king.

'Very well, but you _did_ laugh, and I want to know why.'

'Well, I'm afraid I can't tell you,' said the king.

'You _must_ tell me,' replied the queen impatiently. 'If you laugh

when there's nothing to laugh at you must be ill or mad. What is the

matter?'

Still the king refused to say, and still the queen declared that she

must and would know. For days the quarrel went on, and the queen gave

her husband no rest, until at last the poor man was almost out of his

wits, and thought that, as life had become for him hardly worth living

while this went on, he might as well tell her the secret and take the

consequences.

'But,' thought he, 'if I am to become a stone, I am not going to lie,

if I can help it, on some dusty highway, to be kicked here and there

by man and beast, flung at dogs, be used as the plaything of naughty

children, and become generally restless and miserable. I will be a

stone at the bottom of the cool river, and roll gently about there

until I find some secure resting-place where I can stay for ever.'

So he told his wife that if she would ride with him to the middle of

the river he would tell her what he had laughed at. She thought he

was joking, and laughingly agreed; their horses were ordered and they

set out.

[Illustration: THE KING LAUGHS AT THE BILLYGOAT]

On the way they came to a fine well beneath the shade of some lofty,

wide-spreading trees, and the king proposed that they should get off

and rest a little, drink some of the cool water, and then pass on. To

this the queen consented; so they dismounted and sat down in the

shade by the well-side to rest.

It happened that an old goat and his wife were browsing in the

neighbourhood, and, as the king and queen sat there, the nanny goat

came to the well's brink and peering over saw some lovely green leaves

that sprang in tender shoots out of the side of the well.

'Oh!' cried she to her husband, 'come quickly and look. Here are some

leaves which make my mouth water; come and get them for me!'

Then the billy goat sauntered up and looked over, and after that he

eyed his wife a little crossly.

'You expect me to get you those leaves, do you? I suppose you don't

consider how in the world I am to reach them? You don't seem to think

at all; if you did you would know that if I tried to reach those

leaves I should fall into the well and be drowned!'

'Oh,' cried the nanny goat, 'why should you fall in? Do try and get

them!'

'I am not going to be so silly,' replied the billy goat.

But the nanny goat still wept and entreated.

'Look here,' said her husband, 'there are plenty of fools in the

world, but I am not one of them. This silly king here, because he

can't cure his wife of asking questions, is going to throw his life

away. But I know how to cure you of your follies, and I'm going to.'

And with that he butted the nanny goat so severely that in two minutes

she was submissively feeding somewhere else, and had made up her mind

that the leaves in the well were not worth having.

Then the king, who had understood every word, laughed once more.

The queen looked at him suspiciously, but the king got up and walked

across to where she sat.

'Are you still determined to find out what I was laughing at the other

day?' he asked.

'Quite,' answered the queen angrily.

'Because,' said the king, tapping his leg with his riding whip, 'I've

made up my mind not to tell you, and moreover, I have made up my mind

to stop you mentioning the subject any more.'

'What _do_ you mean?' asked the queen nervously.

'Well,' replied the king, 'I notice that if that goat is displeased

with his wife, he just butts her, and that seems to settle the

question----'

'Do you mean to say you would _beat_ me?' cried the queen.

'I should be extremely sorry to have to do so,' replied the king; 'but

I have got to persuade you to go home quietly, and to ask no more

silly questions when I say I cannot answer them. Of course, if you

_will_ persist, why----'

And the queen went home, and so did the king; and it is said that they

are both happier and wiser than ever before.

(Punjabi Story, Major Campbell, Feroshepore)

_THE STORY OF ZOULVISIA_

In the midst of a sandy desert, somewhere in Asia, the eyes of

travellers are refreshed by the sight of a high mountain covered with

beautiful trees, among which the glitter of foaming waterfalls may be

seen in the sunlight. In that clear, still air it is even possible to

hear the song of the birds, and smell of the flowers; but though the

mountain is plainly inhabited--for here and there a white tent is

visible--none of the kings or princes who pass it on the road to

Babylon or Baalbec ever plunge into its forests--or, if they do, they

never come back. Indeed, so great is the terror caused by the evil

reputation of the mountain that fathers, on their death-beds, pray

their sons never to try to fathom its mysteries. But in spite of its

ill-fame, a certain number of young men every year announce their

intention of visiting it and, as we have said, are never seen again.

* * * * *

Now there was once a powerful king who ruled over a country on the

other side of the desert, and, when dying, gave the usual counsel to

his seven sons. Hardly, however, was he dead than the eldest, who

succeeded to the throne, announced his intention of hunting in the

enchanted mountain. In vain the old men shook their heads and tried to

persuade him to give up his mad scheme. All was useless; he went, but

did not return; and in due time the throne was filled by his next

brother.

And so it happened to the other five, but when the youngest became

king, and he also proclaimed a hunt in the mountain, a loud lament was

raised in the city.

'Who will reign over us when you are dead? For dead you surely will

be,' cried they. 'Stay with us, and we will make you happy.' And for a

while he listened to their prayers, and the land grew rich and

prosperous under his rule. But in a few years the restless fit again

took possession of him, and this time he would hear nothing. Hunt in

that forest he would, and calling his friends and attendants round

him, he set out one morning across the desert.

They were riding through a rocky valley, when a deer sprang up in

front of them and bounded away. The king instantly gave chase,

followed by his attendants; but the animal ran so swiftly that they

never could get up to it, and at length it vanished in the depths of

the forest.

Then the young man drew rein for the first time, and looked about him.

He had left his companions far behind, and, glancing back, he beheld

them entering some tents, dotted here and there amongst the trees. For

himself, the fresh coolness of the woods was more attractive to him

than any food, however delicious, and for hours he strolled about as

his fancy led him.

By-and-by, however, it began to grow dark, and he thought that the

moment had arrived for them to start for the palace. So, leaving the

forest with a sigh, he made his way down to the tents, but what was

his horror to find his men lying about, some dead, some dying. These

were past speech, but speech was needless. It was as clear as day that

the wine they had drunk contained deadly poison.

'I am too late to help you, my poor friends,' he said, gazing at them

sadly; 'but at least I can avenge you! Those that have set the snare

will certainly return to see to its working. I will hide myself

somewhere, and discover who they are!'

Near the spot where he stood he noticed a large walnut tree, and into

this he climbed. Night soon fell, and nothing broke the stillness of

the place; but with the earliest glimpse of dawn a noise of galloping

hoofs was heard.

Pushing the branches aside the young man beheld a youth approaching,

mounted on a white horse. On reaching the tents the cavalier

dismounted, and closely inspected the dead bodies that lay about them.

Then, one by one, he dragged them to a ravine close by and threw them

into a lake at the bottom. While he was doing this, the servants who

had followed him led away the horses of the ill-fated men, and the

courtiers were ordered to let loose the deer, which was used as a

decoy, and to see that the tables in the tents were covered as before

with food and wine.

Having made these arrangements he strolled slowly through the forest,

but great was his surprise to come upon a beautiful horse hidden in

the depths of a thicket.

'There was a horse for every dead man,' he said to himself. 'Then

whose is this?'

'Mine!' answered a voice from a walnut tree close by. 'Who are you

that lure men into your power and then poison them? But you shall do

so no longer. Return to your house, wherever it may be, and we will

fight before it!'

The cavalier remained speechless with anger at these words; then with

a great effort he replied:

'I accept your challenge. Mount and follow me. I am Zoulvisia.' And,

springing on his horse, he was out of sight so quickly that the king

had only time to notice that light seemed to flow from himself and his

steed, and that the hair under his helmet was like liquid gold.

Clearly, the cavalier was a woman. But who could she be? Was she queen

of all the queens? Or was she chief of a band of robbers? She was

neither: only a beautiful maiden.

[Illustration: 'I ACCEPT YOUR CHALLENGE. MOUNT AND FOLLOW ME. I AM

ZOULVISIA.']

Wrapped in these reflections, he remained standing beneath the

walnut tree, long after horse and rider had vanished from sight. Then

he awoke with a start, to remember that he must find the way to the

house of his enemy, though where it was he had no notion. However, he

took the path down which the rider had come, and walked along it for

many hours till he came to three huts side by side, in each of which

lived an old fairy and her sons.

The poor king was by this time so tired and hungry that he could

hardly speak, but when he had drunk some milk, and rested a little, he

was able to reply to the questions they eagerly put to him.

'I am going to seek Zoulvisia,' said he, 'she has slain my brothers

and many of my subjects, and I mean to avenge them.'

He had only spoken to the inhabitants of one house, but from all three

came an answering murmur.

'What a pity we did not know! Twice this day has she passed our door,

and we might have kept her prisoner.'

But though their words were brave their hearts were not, for the mere

thought of Zoulvisia made them tremble.

'Forget Zoulvisia, and stay with us,' they all said, holding out their

hands; 'you shall be our big brother, and we will be your little

brothers.' But the king would not.

Drawing from his pocket a pair of scissors, a razor and a mirror, he

gave one to each of the old fairies, saying:

'Though I may not give up my vengeance I accept your friendship, and

therefore leave you these three tokens. If blood should appear on the

face of either know that my life is in danger, and, in memory of our

sworn brotherhood, come to my aid.'

'We will come,' they answered. And the king mounted his horse and set

out along the road they showed him.

By the light of the moon he presently perceived a splendid palace,

but, though he rode twice round it, he could find no door. He was

considering what he should do next, when he heard the sound of loud

snoring, which seemed to come from his feet. Looking down, he beheld

an old man lying at the bottom of a deep pit, just outside the walls,

with a lantern by his side.

'Perhaps _he_ may be able to give me some counsel,' thought the king;

and, with some difficulty, he scrambled into the pit and laid his hand

on the shoulder of the sleeper.

'Are you a bird or a snake that you can enter here?' asked the old

man, awakening with a start. But the king answered that he was a mere

mortal, and that he sought Zoulvisia.

'Zoulvisia? The world's curse?' replied he, gnashing his teeth. 'Out

of all the thousands she has slain I am the only one who has escaped,

though why she spared me only to condemn me to this living death I

cannot guess.'

'Help me if you can,' said the king. And he told the old man his

story, to which he listened intently.

'Take heed then to my counsel,' answered the old man. 'Know that every

day at sunrise Zoulvisia dresses herself in her jacket of pearls, and

mounts the steps of her crystal watch-tower. From there she can see

all over her lands, and behold the entrance of either man or demon. If

so much as one is detected she utters such fearful cries that those

who hear her die of fright. But hide yourself in a cave that lies near

the foot of the tower, and plant a forked stick in front of it; then,

when she has uttered her third cry, go forth boldly, and look up at

the tower. And go without fear, for you will have broken her power.'

[Illustration: THE ASCENT OF THE CRYSTAL TOWER]

Word for word the king did as the old man had bidden him, and when

he stepped forth from the cave, their eyes met.

'You have conquered me,' said Zoulvisia, 'and are worthy to be my

husband, for you are the first man who has not died at the sound of my

voice!' And letting down her golden hair, she drew up the king to the

summit of the tower as with a rope. Then she led him into the hall of

audience, and presented him to her household.

'Ask of me what you will, and I will grant it to you,' whispered

Zoulvisia with a smile, as they sat together on a mossy bank by the

stream. And the king prayed her to set free the old man to whom he

owed his life, and to send him back to his own country.

* * * * *

'I have finished with hunting, and with riding about my lands,' said

Zoulvisia, the day that they were married. 'The care of providing for

us all belongs henceforth to you.' And turning to her attendants, she

bade them bring the horse of fire before her.

'This is your master, O my steed of flame,' cried she; 'and you will

serve him as you have served me.' And kissing him between his eyes,

she placed the bridle in the hand of her husband.

The horse looked for a moment at the young man, and then bent his

head, while the king patted his neck and smoothed his tail, till they

felt themselves old friends. After this he mounted to do Zoulvisia's

bidding, but before he started she gave him a case of pearls

containing one of her hairs, which he tucked into the breast of his

coat.

He rode along for some time, without seeing any game to bring home for

dinner. Suddenly a fine stag started up almost under his feet, and he

at once gave chase. On they sped, but the stag twisted and turned so

that the king had no chance of a shot till they reached a broad river,

when the animal jumped in and swam across. The king fitted his

cross-bow with a bolt, and took aim, but though he succeeded in

wounding the stag, it contrived to gain the opposite bank, and in his

excitement he never observed that the case of pearls had fallen into

the water.

* * * * *

The stream, though deep, was likewise rapid, and the box was swirled

along miles, and miles, and miles, till it was washed up in quite

another country. Here it was picked up by one of the water-carriers

belonging to the palace, who showed it to the king. The workmanship of

the case was so curious, and the pearls so rare, that the king could

not make up his mind to part with it, but he gave the man a good

price, and sent him away. Then, summoning his chamberlain, he bade him

find out its history in three days, or lose his head.

But the answer to the riddle, which puzzled all the magicians and wise

men, was given by an old woman, who came up to the palace and told the

chamberlain that, for two handfuls of gold, she would reveal the

mystery.

Of course the chamberlain gladly gave her what she asked, and in

return she informed him that the case and the hair belonged to

Zoulvisia.

'Bring her hither, old crone, and you shall have gold enough to stand

up in,' said the chamberlain. And the old woman answered that she

would try what she could do.

She went back to her hut in the middle of the forest, and standing in

the doorway, whistled softly. Soon the dead leaves on the ground began

to move and to rustle, and from underneath them there came a long

train of serpents. They wriggled to the feet of the witch, who stooped

down and patted their heads, and gave each one some milk in a red

earthen basin. When they had all finished, she whistled again, and

bade two or three coil themselves round her arms and neck, while she

turned one into a cane and another into a whip. Then she took a

stick, and on the river bank changed it into a raft, and seating

herself comfortably, she pushed off into the centre of the stream.

All that day she floated, and all the next night, and towards sunset

the following evening she found herself close to Zoulvisia's garden,

just at the moment that the king, on the horse of flame, was returning

from hunting.

'Who are you?' he asked in surprise; for old women travelling on rafts

were not common in that country. 'Who are you, and why have you come

here?'

'I am a poor pilgrim, my son,' answered she, 'and having missed the

caravan, I have wandered foodless for many days through the desert,

till at length I reached the river. There I found this tiny raft, and

to it I committed myself, not knowing if I should live or die. But

since you have found me, give me, I pray you, bread to eat, and let me

lie this night by the dog who guards your door!'

This piteous tale touched the heart of the young man, and he promised

that he would bring her food, and that she should pass the night in

his palace.

'But mount behind me, good woman,' cried he, 'for you have walked far,

and it is still a long way to the palace.' And as he spoke he bent

down to help her, but the horse swerved on one side.

And so it happened twice and thrice, and the old witch guessed the

reason, though the king did not.

'I fear to fall off,' said she; 'but as your kind heart pities my

sorrows, ride slowly, and lame as I am, I think I can manage to keep

up.'

At the door he bade the witch to rest herself, and he would fetch her

all she needed. But Zoulvisia his wife grew pale when she heard whom

he had brought, and besought him to feed the old woman and send her

away, as she would cause mischief to befall them.

The king laughed at her fears, and answered lightly:

'Why, one would think she was a witch to hear you talk! And even if

she were, what harm could she do to us?' And calling to the maidens he

bade them carry her food, and to let her sleep in their chamber.

Now the old woman was very cunning, and kept the maidens awake half

the night with all kinds of strange stories. Indeed, the next morning,

while they were dressing their mistress, one of them suddenly broke

into a laugh, in which the others joined her.

'What is the matter with you?' asked Zoulvisia. And the maid answered

that she was thinking of a droll adventure told them the evening

before by the new-comer.

'And, oh, madam!' cried the girl, 'it may be that she is a witch, as

they say; but I am sure she never would work a spell to harm a fly!

And as for her tales, they would pass many a dull hour for you, when

my lord was absent!'

So, in an evil hour, Zoulvisia consented that the crone should be

brought to her, and from that moment the two were hardly ever apart.

* * * * *

One day the witch began to talk about the young king, and to declare

that in all the lands she had visited she had seen none like him.

'It was so clever of him to guess your secret so as to win your

heart,' said she. 'And of course he told you his, in return?'

'No, I don't think he has got any,' returned Zoulvisia.

'Not got any secrets?' cried the old woman scornfully. 'That is

nonsense! Every man has a secret, which he always tells to the woman

he loves. And if he has not told it to _you_, it is that he does not

love you!'

[Illustration: THE WITCH AND HER SNAKES]

These words troubled Zoulvisia mightily, though she would not confess

it to the witch. But the next time she found herself alone with her

husband, she began to coax him to tell her in what lay the secret of

his strength. For a long while he put her off with caresses, but when

she would be no longer denied, he answered:

'It is my sabre that gives me strength, and day and night it lies by

my side. But now that I have told you, swear upon this ring, that I

will give you in exchange for yours, that you will reveal it to

nobody.' And Zoulvisia swore; and instantly hastened to betray the

great news to the old woman.

Four nights later, when all the world was asleep, the witch softly

crept into the king's chamber and took the sabre from his side as he

lay sleeping. Then, opening her lattice, she flew on to the terrace

and dropped the sword into the river.

The next morning everyone was surprised because the king did not, as

usual, rise early and go off to hunt. The attendants listened at the

keyhole and heard the sound of heavy breathing, but none dared enter,

till Zoulvisia pushed past. And what a sight met their gaze! There lay

the king almost dead, with foam on his mouth, and eyes that were

already closed. They wept, and they cried to him, but no answer came.

Suddenly a shriek broke from those who stood hindmost, and in strode

the witch, with serpents round her neck and arms and hair. At a sign

from her they flung themselves with a hiss upon the maidens, whose

flesh was pierced with their poisonous fangs. Then turning to

Zoulvisia, she said:

'I give you your choice--will you come with me, or shall the serpents

slay you also?' And as the terrified girl stared at her, unable to

utter one word, she seized her by the arm and led her to the place

where the raft was hidden among the rushes. When they were both on

board she took the oars, and they floated down the stream till they

had reached the neighbouring country, where Zoulvisia was sold for a

sack of gold to the king.

Now, since the young man had entered the three huts on his way

through the forest, not a morning had passed without the sons of the

three fairies examining the scissors, the razor and the mirror, which

the young king had left them. Hitherto the surfaces of all three

things had been bright and undimmed, but on this particular morning,

when they took them out as usual, drops of blood stood on the razor

and the scissors, while the little mirror was clouded over.

'Something terrible must have happened to our little brother,' they

whispered to each other, with awestruck faces; 'we must hasten to his

rescue ere it be too late.' And putting on their magic slippers they

started for the palace.

The servants greeted them eagerly, ready to pour forth all they knew,

but that was not much; only that the sabre had vanished, none knew

where. The new-comers passed the whole of the day in searching for it,

but it could not be found, and when night closed in, they were very

tired and hungry. But how were they to get food? The king had not

hunted that day, and there was nothing for them to eat. The little men

were in despair, when a ray of the moon suddenly lit up the river

beneath the walls.

'How stupid! Of course there are fish to catch,' cried they; and

running down to the bank they soon succeeded in landing some fine

fish, which they cooked on the spot. Then they felt better, and began

to look about them.

Further out, in the middle of the stream, there was a strange

splashing, and by-and-by the body of a huge fish appeared, turning and

twisting as if in pain. The eyes of all the brothers were fixed on the

spot, when the fish leapt in the air, and a bright gleam flashed

through the night. 'The sabre!' they shouted, and plunged into the

stream, and with a sharp tug, pulled out the sword, while the fish lay

on the water, exhausted by its struggles. Swimming back with the

sabre to land, they carefully dried it in their coats, and then

carried it to the palace and placed it on the king's pillow. In an

instant colour came back to the waxen face, and the hollow cheeks

filled out. The king sat up, and opening his eyes he said:

'Where is Zoulvisia?'

'That is what we do not know,' answered the little men; 'but now that

you are saved you will soon find out.' And they told him what had

happened since Zoulvisia had betrayed his secret to the witch.

'Let me go to my horse,' was all he said. But when he entered the

stable he could have wept at the sight of his favourite steed, which

was nearly in as sad a plight as his master had been. Languidly he

turned his head as the door swung back on its hinges, but when he

beheld the king he rose up, and rubbed his head against him.

'Oh, my poor horse! How much cleverer were you than I! If I had acted

like you I should never have lost Zoulvisia; but we will seek her

together, you and I.'

* * * * *

For a long while the king and his horse followed the course of the

stream, but nowhere could he learn anything of Zoulvisia. At length,

one evening, they both stopped to rest by a cottage not far from a

great city, and as the king was lying outstretched on the grass,

lazily watching his horse cropping the short turf, an old woman came

out with a wooden bowl of fresh milk, which she offered him.

He drank it eagerly, for he was very thirsty, and then laying down the

bowl, began to talk to the woman, who was delighted to have someone to

listen to her conversation.

'You are in luck to have passed this way just now,' said she, 'for in

five days the king holds his wedding banquet. Ah! but the bride is

unwilling, for all her blue eyes and her golden hair! And she keeps by

her side a cup of poison, and declares that she will swallow it

rather than become his wife. Yet he is a handsome man too, and a

proper husband for her--more than she could have looked for, having

come no one knows whither, and bought from a witch----'

The king started. Had he found her after all? His heart beat

violently, as if it would choke him; but he gasped out:

'Is her name Zoulvisia?'

'Ay, so she says, though the old witch---- But what ails you?' she

broke off, as the young man sprang to his feet and seized her wrists.

'Listen to me,' he said. 'Can you keep a secret?'

'Ay,' answered the old woman again, 'if I am paid for it.'

'Oh, you shall be paid, never fear--as much as your heart can desire!

Here is a handful of gold: you shall have as much again if you will do

my bidding.' The old crone nodded her head.

'Then go and buy a dress such as ladies wear at court, and manage to

get admitted into the palace, and into the presence of Zoulvisia. When

there, show her this ring, and after that she will tell you what to

do.'

So the old woman set off, and clothed herself in a garment of yellow

silk, and wrapped a veil closely round her head. In this dress she

walked boldly up the palace steps behind some merchants whom the king

had sent for to bring presents for Zoulvisia.

At first the bride would have nothing to say to any of them; but on

perceiving the ring, she suddenly grew as meek as a lamb. And thanking

the merchants for their trouble, she sent them away, and remained

alone with her visitor.

'Grandmother,' asked Zoulvisia, as soon as the door was safely shut,

'where is the owner of this ring?'

'In my cottage,' answered the old woman, 'waiting for orders from

you.'

'Tell him to remain there for three days; and now go to the king of

this country, and say that you have succeeded in bringing me to

reason. Then he will let me alone and will cease to watch me. On the

third day from this I shall be wandering about the garden near the

river, and there your guest will find me. The rest concerns myself

only.'

* * * * *

The morning of the third day dawned, and with the first rays of the

sun a bustle began in the palace; for that evening the king was to

marry Zoulvisia. Tents were being erected of fine scarlet cloth,

decked with wreaths of sweet-smelling white flowers, and in them the

banquet was spread. When all was ready a procession was formed to

fetch the bride, who had been wandering in the palace gardens since

daylight, and crowds lined the way to see her pass. A glimpse of her

dress of golden gauze might be caught, as she passed from one flowery

thicket to another; then suddenly the multitude swayed, and shrank

back, as a thunderbolt seemed to flash out of the sky to the place

where Zoulvisia was standing. Ah! but it was no thunderbolt, only the

horse of fire! And when the people looked again, it was bounding away

with two persons on its back.

* * * * *

Zoulvisia and her husband both learnt how to keep happiness when they

had got it; and _that_ is a lesson that many men and woman never learn

at all. And besides, it is a lesson which nobody can teach, and that

every boy and girl must learn for themselves.

(From _Contes Armeniens_. Par Frederic Macler.)

_GRASP ALL, LOSE ALL_

Once, in former times, there lived in a certain city in India a poor

oil-seller, called Dena, who never could keep any money in his

pockets; and when this story begins he had borrowed from a banker, of

the name of Lena, the sum of one hundred rupees; which, with the

interest Lena always charged, amounted to a debt of three hundred

rupees. Now Dena was doing a very bad business, and had no money with

which to pay his debt, so Lena was very angry, and used to come round

to Dena's house every evening and abuse him until the poor man was

nearly worried out of his life. Lena generally fixed his visit just

when Dena's wife was cooking the evening meal, and would make such a

scene that the poor oil-seller and his wife and daughter quite lost

their appetites, and could eat nothing. This went on for some weeks,

till, one day, Dena said to himself that he could stand it no longer,

and that he had better run away; and, as a man cannot fly easily with

a wife and daughter, he thought he must leave them behind. So that

evening, instead of turning into his house as usual after his day's

work, he just slipped out of the city without knowing very well where

he was going.

At about ten o'clock that night Dena came to a well by the wayside,

near which grew a giant peepul tree; and, as he was very tired, he

determined to climb it, and rest for a little before continuing his

journey in the morning. Up he went and curled himself so comfortably

amongst the great branches that, overcome with weariness, he fell

fast asleep. Whilst he slept, some spirits, who roam about such places

on certain nights, picked up the tree and flew away with it to a

far-away shore where no creature lived, and there, long before the sun

rose, they set it down. Just then the oil-seller awoke; but instead of

finding himself in the midst of a forest, he was amazed to behold

nothing but waste shore and wide sea, and was dumb with horror and

astonishment. Whilst he sat up, trying to collect his senses, he began

to catch sight here and there of twinkling, flashing lights, like

little fires, that moved and sparkled all about, and wondered what

they were. Presently he saw one so close to him that he reached out

his hand and grasped it, and found that it was a sparkling red stone,

scarcely smaller than a walnut. He opened a corner of his loin-cloth

and tied the stone in it; and by-and-by he got another, and then a

third, and a fourth, all of which he tied up carefully in his cloth.

At last, just as the day was breaking, the tree rose, and, flying

rapidly through the air, was deposited once more by the well where it

had stood the previous evening.

When Dena had recovered a little from the fright which the

extraordinary antics of the tree had caused him, he began to thank

Providence that he was alive, and, as his love of wandering had been

quite cured, he made his way back to the city and to his own house.

Here he was met and soundly scolded by his wife, who assailed him with

a hundred questions and reproaches. As soon as she paused for breath,

Dena replied:

'I have only this one thing to say, just look what I have got!' And,

after carefully shutting all the doors, he opened the corner of his

loin-cloth and showed her the four stones, which glittered and flashed

as he turned them over and over.

'Pooh!' said his wife, 'the silly pebbles! If it was something to eat,

now, there'd be some sense in them; but what's the good of _such_

things?' And she turned away with a sniff, for it had happened that

the night before, when Lena had come round as usual to storm at Dena,

he had been rather disturbed to find that his victim was from home,

and had frightened the poor woman by his threats. Directly, however,

he heard that Dena had come back, Lena appeared in the doorway. For

some minutes he talked to the oil-seller at the top of his voice,

until he was tired, then Dena said:

'If your honour would deign to walk into my humble dwelling, I will

speak.'

So Lena walked in, and the other, shutting as before all the doors,

untied the corner of his loin-cloth and showed him the four great

flashing stones.

'This is all,' said he, 'that I have in the world to set against my

debt, for, as your honour knows, I haven't a penny, but the stones are

pretty!'

Now Lena looked and saw at once that these were magnificent rubies,

and his mouth watered for them; but as it would never do to show what

was in his mind, he went on:

'What do I care about your stupid stones? It is my money I want, my

lawful debt which you owe me, and I shall get it out of you yet

somehow or another, or it will be the worst for you.'

To all his reproaches Dena could answer nothing, but sat with his

hands joined together beseechingly, asking for patience and pity. At

length Lena pretended that, rather than have a bad debt on his hand,

he would be at the loss of taking the stones in lieu of his money;

and, whilst Dena nearly wept with gratitude, he wrote out a receipt

for the three hundred rupees; and, wrapping the four stones in a

cloth, he put them into his bosom, and went off to his house.

'How shall I turn these rubies into money?' thought Lena, as he walked

along; 'I daren't keep them, for they are of great value, and if the

rajah heard that I had them he would probably put me into prison on

some pretence and seize the stones and all else that I have as well.

But what a bargain I have got! Four rubies worth a king's ransom, for

one hundred rupees! Well, well, I must take heed not to betray my

secret.' And he went on making plans. Presently he made up his mind

what to do, and, putting on his cleanest clothes, he set off to the

house of the chief wazir, whose name was Musli, and, after seeking a

private audience, he brought out the four rubies and laid them before

him.

The wazir's eyes sparkled as he beheld the splendid gems.

'Fine, indeed,' murmured he. 'I can't buy them at their real value;

but, if you like to take it, I will give you ten thousand rupees for

the four.'

To this the banker consented gratefully; and handing over the stones

in exchange for the rupees, he hurried home, thanking his stars that

he had driven such a reasonable bargain and obtained such an enormous

profit.

After Lena had departed the wazir began casting about in his mind what

to do with the gems; and very soon determined that the best thing to

do was to present them to the rajah, whose name was Kahre. Without

losing a moment, he went that very day to the palace, and sought a

private interview with the rajah; and when he found himself alone with

his royal master, he brought the four jewels and laid them before him.

'Oh, ho!' said the rajah, 'these are priceless gems, and you have done

well to give them to me. In return I give you and your heirs the

revenues of ten villages.'

Now the wazir was overjoyed at these words, but only made his deepest

obeisance; and, whilst the king put the rubies into his turban,

hurried away beaming with happiness at the thought that for ten

thousand rupees he had become lord of ten villages. The rajah was also

equally pleased, and strolled off with his new purchases to the

women's quarters and showed them to the queen, who was nearly out of

her mind with delight. Then, as she turned them over and over in her

hands, she said: 'Ah! if I had eight more such gems, what a necklace

they would make! Get me eight more of them or I shall die!'

'Most unreasonable of women,' cried the rajah, 'where am I to get

eight more such jewels as these? I gave ten villages for them, and yet

you are not satisfied!'

'What does it matter?' said the rani; 'do you want me to die? Surely

you can get some more where these came from?' And then she fell to

weeping and wailing until the rajah promised that in the morning he

would make arrangements to get some more such rubies, and that if she

would be patient she should have her desire.

In the morning the rajah sent for the wazir, and said that he must

manage to get eight more rubies like those he had brought him the day

before, 'and if you don't I shall hang you,' cried the rajah, for he

was very cross. The poor wazir protested in vain that he knew not

where to seek them; his master would not listen to a word he said.

'You _must_,' said he; 'the rani shall not die for the want of a few

rubies! Get more where those came from.'

* * * * *

The wazir left the palace, much troubled in mind, and bade his slaves

bring Lena before him. 'Get me eight more such rubies as those you

brought yesterday,' commanded the wazir, directly the banker was shown

into his presence. 'Eight more, and be quick, or I am a dead man.'

'But how can I?' wailed Lena; 'rubies like those don't grow upon

bushes!'

'Where did you get them from?' asked the wazir.

'From Dena, the oil-seller,' said the banker.

'Well, send for him and ask him where _he_ got them,' answered the

wazir. 'I am not going to hang for twenty Denas!' And more slaves were

sent to summon Dena.

When Dena arrived he was closely questioned, and then all three

started to see the rajah, and to him Dena told the whole story.

'What night was it that you slept in the peepul tree?' demanded the

rajah.

'I can't remember,' said Dena; 'but my wife will know.'

Then Dena's wife was sent for, and she explained that it was on the

last Sunday of the new moon.

Now everyone knows that it is on the Sunday of the new moon that

spirits have special power to play pranks upon mortals. So the rajah

forbade them all, on pain of death, to say a word to anyone; and

declared that, on the next Sunday of the new moon, they four--Kahre,

Musli, Lena and Dena--would go and sit in the peepul tree and see what

happened.

The days dragged on to the appointed Sunday, and that evening the four

met secretly, and entered the forest. They had not far to go before

they reached the peepul tree, into which they climbed as the rajah had

planned. At midnight the tree began to sway, and presently it moved

through the air.

'See, sire,' whispered Dena, 'the tree is flying!'

'Yes, yes,' said the rajah, 'you have told the truth. Now sit quiet,

and we shall see what happens.'

Away and away flew the tree with the four men clinging tightly to its

branches, until at last it was set down by the waste sea-shore where a

great wide sea came tumbling in on a desert beach. Presently, as

before, they began to see little points of light that glistened like

fires all around them. Then Dena thought to himself:

'Think! last time I only took four that came close to me, and I got

rid of all my debt in return. This time I will take all I can get and

be rich!'

'If I got ten thousand rupees for four stones,' thought Lena, 'I will

gather forty now for myself, and become so wealthy that they will

probably make me a wazir at least!'

'For four stones I received ten villages,' Musli was silently

thinking; 'now I will get stones enough to purchase a kingdom, become

a rajah, and employ wazirs of my own!'

[Illustration: SUDDENLY THE TREE ROSE UP AGAIN AND FLEW AWAY]

And Kahre thought: 'What is the good of only getting eight stones?

Why, here are enough to make twenty necklaces; and wealth means

power!'

Full of avarice and desire, each scrambled down from the tree, spread

his cloth, and darted hither and thither picking up the precious

jewels, looking the while over his shoulder to see whether his

neighbour fared better than he. So engrossed were they in the business

of gathering wealth that the dawn came upon them unawares; and

suddenly the tree rose up again and flew away, leaving them upon the

sea-shore staring after it, each with his cloth heavy with priceless

jewels.

* * * * *

Morning broke in the city, and great was the consternation in the

palace when the chamberlains declared that the rajah had gone out the

evening before and had not returned.

'Ah!' said one, 'it is all right! Musli wazir will know where he is,

for it was he who was the king's companion.'

Then they went to the wazir's house, and there they learnt that the

wazir had left it the evening before and had not returned; 'but,' said

a servant, 'Lena the banker will know where he is, for it was with him

that Musli went.'

Then they visited the house of Lena, and there they learnt that the

banker had gone out the evening before, and that he too had not

returned; but the porter told them that he was accompanied by Dena the

oil-seller, so he would know where they were.

So they departed to Dena's house, and Dena's wife met them with a

torrent of reproaches and wailings, for Dena too had gone off the

evening before to Lena's house and had not returned.

In vain they waited, and searched--never did any of the hapless four

return to their homes; and the confused tale which was told by Dena's

wife was the only clue to their fate.

To this day, in that country, when a greedy man has overreached

himself, and lost all in grasping at too much, folks say:

'All has he lost!--neither Dena, nor Lena, nor Musli, nor Kahre

remain.' And not five men in a hundred know how the proverb began, nor

what it really signifies.

(Major Campbell, Feroshepore.)

_THE FATE OF THE TURTLE_

In a very hot country, far away to the east, was a beautiful little

lake where two wild ducks made their home, and passed their days

swimming and playing in its clear waters. They had it all to

themselves, except for a turtle, who was many years older than they

were, and had come there before them, and, luckily, instead of taking

a dislike to the turtle, as so often happens when you have only one

person to speak to, they became great friends, and spent most of the

day in each other's company.

All went on smoothly and happily till one summer, when the rains

failed and the sun shone so fiercely that every morning there was a

little less water in the lake and a little more mud on the bank. The

water-lilies around the edge began to droop, and the palms to hang

their heads, and the ducks' favourite swimming place, where they could

dive the deepest, to grow shallower and shallower. At length there

came a morning when the ducks looked at each other uneasily, and

before nightfall they had whispered that if at the end of two days

rain had not come, they must fly away and seek a new home, for if they

stayed in their old one, which they loved so much, they would

certainly die of thirst.

Earnestly they watched the sky for many hours before they tucked their

heads under their wings and fell asleep from sheer weariness, but not

the tiniest cloud was to be seen covering the stars that shone so big

and brilliant, and hung so low in the heavens that you felt as if you

could touch them. So, when the morning broke, they made up their

minds that they must go and tell the turtle of their plans, and bid

him farewell.

They found him comfortably curled up on a pile of dead rushes, more

than half asleep, for he was old, and could not venture out in the

heat as he once used.

'Ah! here you are,' he cried; 'I began to wonder if I was ever going

to see you again, for, somehow, though the lake has grown smaller, I

seem to have grown weaker, and it is lonely spending all day and night

by oneself!'

'Oh! my friend,' answered the elder of the two ducks, 'if you have

suffered we have suffered also. Besides, I have something to tell you,

that I fear will cause you greater pain still. If we do not wish to

die of thirst we must leave this place at once, and seek another where

the sun's rays do not come. My heart bleeds to say this, for there is

nothing--nothing else in the world--which would have induced us to

separate from you.'

The turtle was so astonished as well as so distressed at the duck's

speech that for a moment he could find no words to reply. But when he

had forced back his tears, he said in a shaky voice:

'How can you think that I am able to live without you, when for so

long you have been my only friends? If you leave me, death will

speedily put an end to my grief.'

'_Our_ sorrow is as great as yours,' answered the other duck, 'but

what can we do? And remember that if we are not here to drink the

water, there will be the more for you! If it had not been for this

terrible misfortune, be sure that nothing would have parted us from

one whom we love so dearly.'

'My friends,' replied the turtle, 'water is as necessary to me as to

you, and if death stares in your faces, it stares in mine also. But in

the name of all the years we have passed together, do not, I beseech

you, leave me to perish here alone! Wherever you may go take me with

you!'

There was a pause. The ducks felt wretched at the thought of

abandoning their old comrade, yet, at the same time, how could they

grant his prayer? It seemed quite impossible, and at length one of

them spoke:

'Oh, how can I find words to refuse?' cried he, 'yet how can we do

what you ask? Consider that, like yours, our bodies are heavy and our

feet small. Therefore, how could we walk with you over mountains and

deserts, till we reached a land where the sun's rays no longer burn?

Why, before the day was out we should all three be dead of fatigue and

hunger! No, our only hope lies in our wings--and, alas! you cannot

fly!'

'No, I cannot fly, of course,' answered the turtle, with a sigh. 'But

you are so clever, and have seen so much of the world--surely you can

think of some plan?' And he fixed his eyes eagerly on them. Now, when

the ducks saw how ardently the turtle wished to accompany them their

hearts were touched, and making a sign to their friend that they

wished to be alone they swam out into the lake to consult together.

Though he could not hear what they said, the turtle could watch, and

the half-hour that their talk lasted felt to him like a hundred years.

At length he beheld them returning side by side, and so great was his

anxiety to know his fate he almost died from excitement before they

reached him.

'We hope we have found a plan that may do for you,' said the big duck

gravely, 'but we must warn you that it is not without great danger,

especially if you are not careful to follow our directions.'

'How is it possible that I should not follow your directions when my

life and happiness are at stake?' asked the turtle joyfully. 'Tell me

what they are, and I will promise to obey them gratefully.'

'Well, then,' answered the duck, 'whilst we are carrying you through

the air, in the manner that we have fixed upon, you must remain as

quiet as if you were dead. However high above the earth you may find

yourself, you must not feel afraid, nor move your feet nor open your

mouth. No matter what you see or hear, it is absolutely needful for

you to be perfectly still, or I cannot answer for the consequences.'

'I will be absolutely obedient,' answered the turtle, 'not only on

this occasion but during all my life; and once more I promise

faithfully not to move head or foot, to fear nothing, and never to

speak a word during the whole journey.'

This being settled, the ducks swam about till they found, floating in

the lake, a good stout stick. This they tied to their necks with some

of the tough water-lily roots, and returned as quickly as they could

to the turtle.

'Now,' said the elder duck, pushing the stick gently towards his

friend, 'take this stick firmly in your mouth, and do not let it go

till we have set you down on earth again.'

The turtle did as he was told, and the ducks in their turn seized the

stick by the two ends, spread their wings and mounted swiftly into the

air, the turtle hanging between them.

For a while all went well. They swept across valleys, over great

mountains, above ruined cities, but no lake was to be seen anywhere.

Still, the turtle had faith in his friends, and bravely hung on to the

stick.

At length they saw in the distance a small village, and very soon they

were passing over the roofs of the houses. The people were so

astonished at the strange sight, that they all--men, women and

children--ran out to see it, and cried to each other:

'Look! look! behold a miracle! Two ducks supporting a turtle! Was ever

such a thing known before!' Indeed, so great was the surprise that men

left their ploughing and women their weaving in order to add their

voices to their friends'.

The ducks flew steadily on, heeding nothing of the commotion below;

but not so the turtle. At first he kept silence, as he had been bidden

to do, but at length the clamour below proved too much for him, and he

began to think that everyone was envying him the power of travelling

through the air. In an evil moment he forgot the promises he had made

so solemnly, and opened his mouth to reply, but, before he could utter

a word, he was rushing so swiftly through the air that he quickly

became unconscious, and in this state was dashed to pieces against the

side of a house. Then the ducks let fall after him the stick that had

held up their friend, and which was of no further use. Sadly they

looked at each other and shook their heads.

'We feared it would end so,' said they, 'yet, perhaps, he was right

after all. Certainly this death was better than the one which awaited

him.'

(From _Les Contes et Fables Indiennes_. Par M. Galland, 1724.)

_THE SNAKE PRINCE_

Once upon a time there lived by herself, in a city, an old woman who

was desperately poor. One day she found that she had only a handful of

flour left in the house, and no money to buy more nor hope of earning

it. Carrying her little brass pot, very sadly she made her way down to

the river to bathe and to obtain some water, thinking afterwards to

come home and to make herself an unleavened cake of what flour she had

left; and after that she did not know what was to become of her.

Whilst she was bathing she left her little brass pot on the river bank

covered with a cloth, to keep the inside nice and clean; but when she

came up out of the river and took the cloth off to fill the pot with

water, she saw inside it the glittering folds of a deadly snake. At

once she popped the cloth again into the mouth of the pot and held it

there; and then she said to herself:

'Ah, kind death! I will take thee home to my house, and there I will

shake thee out of my pot and thou shalt bite me and I will die, and

then all my troubles will be ended.'

With these sad thoughts in her mind the poor old woman hurried home,

holding her cloth carefully in the mouth of the pot; and when she got

home she shut all the doors and windows, and took away the cloth, and

turned the pot upside down upon her hearthstone. What was her surprise

to find that, instead of the deadly snake which she expected to see

fall out of it, there fell out with a rattle and a clang a most

magnificent necklace of flashing jewels!

For a few minutes she could hardly think or speak, but stood staring;

and then with trembling hands she picked the necklace up, and folding

it in the corner of her veil, she hurried off to the king's hall of

public audience.

'A petition, O king!' she said. 'A petition for thy private ear

alone!' And when her prayer had been granted, and she found herself

alone with the king, she shook out her veil at his feet, and there

fell from it in glittering coils the splendid necklace. As soon as the

king saw it he was filled with amazement and delight, and the more he

looked at it the more he felt that he must possess it at once. So he

gave the old woman five hundred silver pieces for it, and put it

straightway into his pocket. Away she went full of happiness; for the

money that the king had given her was enough to keep her for the rest

of her life.

As soon as he could leave his business the king hurried off and showed

his wife his prize, with which she was as pleased as he, if not more

so; and, as soon as they had finished admiring the wonderful necklace,

they locked it up in the great chest where the queen's jewellery was

kept, the key of which hung always round the king's neck.

A short while afterwards, a neighbouring king sent a message to say

that a most lovely girl baby had been born to him; and he invited his

neighbours to come to a great feast in honour of the occasion. The

queen told her husband that of course they must be present at the

banquet, and she would wear the new necklace which he had given her.

They had only a short time to prepare for the journey, and at the last

moment the king went to the jewel chest to take out the necklace for

his wife to wear, but he could see no necklace at all, only, in its

place, a fat little boy baby crowing and shouting. The king was so

astonished that he nearly fell backwards, but presently he found his

voice, and called for his wife so loudly that she came running,

thinking that the necklace must at least have been stolen.

'Look here! look!' cried the king, 'haven't we always longed for a

son? And now heaven has sent us one!'

'What do you mean?' cried the queen. 'Are you mad?'

'Mad? no, I hope not,' shouted the king, dancing in excitement round

the open chest. 'Come here, and look! Look what we've got instead of

that necklace!'

Just then the baby let out a great crow of joy, as though he would

like to jump up and dance with the king; and the queen gave a cry of

surprise, and ran up and looked into the chest.

'Oh!' she gasped, as she looked at the baby, 'what a darling! Where

could he have come from?'

'I'm sure I can't say,' said the king; 'all I know is that we locked

up a necklace in the chest, and when I unlocked it just now there was

no necklace, but a baby, and as fine a baby as ever was seen.'

By this time the queen had the baby in her arms. 'Oh, the blessed

one!' she cried, 'fairer ornament for the bosom of a queen than any

necklace that ever was wrought. Write,' she continued, 'write to our

neighbour and say that we cannot come to his feast, for we have a

feast of our own, and a baby of our own! Oh, happy day!'

So the visit was given up; and, in honour of the new baby, the bells

of the city, and its guns, and its trumpets, and its people, small and

great, had hardly any rest for a week; there was such a ringing, and

banging, and blaring, and such fireworks, and feasting, and rejoicing,

and merry-making, as had never been seen before.

A few years went by; and, as the king's boy baby and his neighbour's

girl baby grew and throve, the two kings arranged that as soon as they

were old enough they should marry; and so, with much signing of

papers and agreements, and wagging of wise heads, and stroking of

grey beards, the compact was made, and signed, and sealed, and lay

waiting for its fulfilment. And this too came to pass; for, as soon as

the prince and princess were eighteen years of age, the kings agreed

that it was time for the wedding; and the young prince journeyed away

to the neighbouring kingdom for his bride, and was there married to

her with great and renewed rejoicings.

Now, I must tell you that the old woman who had sold the king the

necklace had been called in by him to be the nurse of the young

prince; and although she loved her charge dearly, and was a most

faithful servant, she could not help talking just a little, and so,

by-and-by, it began to be rumoured that there was some magic about the

young prince's birth; and the rumour of course had come in due time to

the ears of the parents of the princess. So now that she was going to

be the wife of the prince, her mother (who was curious, as many other

people are) said to her daughter on the eve of the ceremony:

'Remember that the first thing you must do is to find out what this

story is about the prince. And in order to do it, you must not speak a

word to him whatever he says until he asks you why you are silent;

then you must ask him what the truth is about his magic birth; and

until he tells you, you must not speak to him again.'

And the princess promised that she would follow her mother's advice.

Therefore when they were married, and the prince spoke to his bride,

she did not answer him. He could not think what was the matter, but

even about her old home she would not utter a word. At last he asked

why she would not speak; and then she said:

'Tell me the secret of your birth.'

Then the prince was very sad and displeased, and although she pressed

him sorely he would not tell her, but always reply:

'If I tell you, you will repent that ever you asked me.'

For several months they lived together; and it was not such a happy

time for either as it ought to have been, for the secret was still a

secret, and lay between them like a cloud between the sun and the

earth, making what should be fair, dull and sad.

[Illustration: THE SNAKE PRINCE VISITS HIS WIFE]

At length the prince could bear it no longer; so he said to his wife

one day: 'At midnight I will tell you my secret if you still wish it;

but you will repent it all your life.' However, the princess was

overjoyed that she had succeeded, and paid no attention to his

warnings.

That night the prince ordered horses to be ready for the princess and

himself a little before midnight. He placed her on one, and mounted

the other himself, and they rode together down to the river to the

place where the old woman had first found the snake in her brass pot.

There the prince drew rein and said sadly: 'Do you still insist that I

should tell you my secret?' And the princess answered 'Yes.' 'If I

do,' answered the prince, 'remember that you will regret it all your

life.' But the princess only replied 'Tell me!'

'Then,' said the prince, 'know that I am the son of the king of a far

country, but by enchantment I was turned into a snake.'

The word 'snake' was hardly out of his lips when he disappeared, and

the princess heard a rustle and saw a ripple on the water; and in the

faint moonlight she beheld a snake swimming into the river. Soon it

disappeared and she was left alone. In vain she waited with beating

heart for something to happen, and for the prince to come back to her.

Nothing happened and no one came; only the wind mourned through the

trees on the river bank, and the night birds cried, and a jackal

howled in the distance, and the river flowed black and silent beneath

her.

In the morning they found her, weeping and dishevelled, on the river

bank; but no word could they learn from her or from anyone as to the

fate of her husband. At her wish they built on the river bank a little

house of black stone; and there she lived in mourning, with a few

servants and guards to watch over her.

A long, long time passed by, and still the princess lived in mourning

for her prince, and saw no one, and went nowhere away from her house

on the river bank and the garden that surrounded it. One morning, when

she woke up, she found a stain of fresh mud upon the carpet. She sent

for the guards, who watched outside the house day and night, and asked

them who had entered her room while she was asleep. They declared that

no one _could_ have entered, for they kept such careful watch that not

even a bird could fly in without their knowledge; but none of them

could explain the stain of mud. The next morning, again, the princess

found another stain of wet mud, and she questioned everyone most

carefully; but none could say how the mud came there. The third night

the princess determined to lie awake herself and watch; and, for fear

that she might fall asleep, she cut her finger with a penknife and

rubbed salt into the cut, that the pain of it might keep her from

sleeping. So she lay awake, and at midnight she saw a snake come

wriggling along the ground with some mud from the river in its mouth;

and when it came near the bed, it reared up its head and dropped its

muddy head on the bedclothes. She was very frightened, but tried to

control her fear, and called out:

'Who are you, and what do you here?'

And the snake answered:

'I am the prince, your husband, and I am come to visit you.'

Then the princess began to weep; and the snake continued:

'Alas! did I not say that if I told you my secret you would repent it?

and have you not repented?'

'Oh, indeed!' cried the poor princess, 'I have repented it, and shall

repent it all my life! Is there nothing I can do?'

And the snake answered:

'Yes, there is one thing, if you dared to do it.'

'Only tell me,' said the princess, 'and I will do _anything_!'

'Then,' replied the snake, 'on a certain night you must put a large

bowl of milk and sugar in each of the four corners of this room. All

the snakes in the river will come out to drink the milk, and the one

that leads the way will be the queen of the snakes. You must stand in

her way at the door, and say: "Oh, Queen of Snakes, Queen of Snakes,

give me back my husband!" and perhaps she will do it. But if you are

frightened, and do not stop her, you will never see me again.' And he

glided away.

On the night of which the snake had told her, the princess got four

large bowls of milk and sugar, and put one in each corner of the room,

and stood in the doorway waiting. At midnight there was a great

hissing and rustling from the direction of the river, and presently

the ground appeared to be alive with horrible writhing forms of

snakes, whose eyes glittered and forked tongues quivered as they moved

on in the direction of the princess's house. Foremost among them was a

huge, repulsive scaly creature that led the dreadful procession. The

guards were so terrified that they all ran away; but the princess

stood in the doorway, as white as death, and with her hands clasped

tight together for fear she should scream or faint, and fail to do her

part. As they came closer and saw her in the way, all the snakes

raised their horrid heads and swayed them to and fro, and looked at

her with wicked beady eyes, while their breath seemed to poison the

very air. Still the princess stood firm, and, when the leading snake

was within a few feet of her, she cried: 'Oh, Queen of Snakes, Queen

of Snakes, give me back my husband!' Then all the rustling, writhing

crowd of snakes seemed to whisper to one another 'Her husband? her

husband?' But the queen of snakes moved on until her head was almost

in the princess's face, and her little eyes seemed to flash fire. And

still the princess stood in the doorway and never moved, but cried

again: 'Oh, Queen of Snakes, Queen of Snakes, give me back my

husband!' Then the queen of snakes replied: 'To-morrow you shall have

him--to-morrow!' When she heard these words and knew that she had

conquered, the princess staggered from the door, and sank upon her bed

and fainted. As in a dream, she saw that her room was full of snakes,

all jostling and squabbling over the bowls of milk until it was

finished. And then they went away.

[Illustration: 'QUEEN OF SNAKES, GIVE ME BACK MY HUSBAND']

In the morning the princess was up early, and took off the mourning

dress which she had worn for five whole years, and put on gay and

beautiful clothes. And she swept the house and cleaned it, and adorned

it with garlands and nosegays of sweet flowers and ferns, and prepared

it as though she were making ready for her wedding. And when night

fell she lit up the woods and gardens with lanterns, and spread a

table as for a feast, and lit in the house a thousand wax candles.

Then she waited for her husband, not knowing in what shape he would

appear. And at midnight there came striding from the river the prince,

laughing, but with tears in his eyes; and she ran to meet him, and

threw herself into his arms, crying and laughing too.

So the prince came home; and the next day they two went back to the

palace, and the old king wept with joy to see them. And the bells, so

long silent, were set a-ringing again, and the guns firing, and the

trumpets blaring, and there was fresh feasting and rejoicing.

And the old woman who had been the prince's nurse became nurse to the

prince's children--at least she was called so; though she was far too

old to do anything for them but love them. Yet she still thought that

she was useful, and knew that she was happy. And happy, indeed, were

the prince and princess, who in due time became king and queen, and

lived and ruled long and prosperously.

(Major Campbell, Feroshepore.)

_THE PRINCE AND PRINCESS IN THE FOREST_

There were, once upon a time, a king and queen of Denmark who had an

only son, a handsome and clever lad. When he was eighteen, his father,

the old king, fell very ill, and there was no hope that he would ever

get well again. The queen and the prince were very unhappy, for they

loved him dearly; but though they did all they could, he only grew

worse and worse, and, one day, when the summer had come and the birds

were singing, he raised his head and, taking a long look out of the

window, fell back dead.

During many weeks the queen could hardly eat or sleep, so sorely did

she grieve for him, and the prince feared that she would die also if

she went on weeping; so he begged her to go with him to a beautiful

place that he knew of on the other side of the forest, and after some

time she consented. The prince was overjoyed, and arranged that they

should set off early next morning.

They travelled all day, only stopping now and then to rest, and

already the queen began to be better and to take a little interest in

the things she saw. Just as the evening was coming on they entered the

forest. Here it was quite dark, for the trees grew so close together

that the sun could not shine through them, and very soon they lost the

path, and wandered helplessly about wondering what they should do.

'If we sleep in this dreadful place,' said the queen, who was tired

and frightened, 'the wild beasts will eat us.' And she began to cry.

'Cheer up, mother,' answered her son, 'I have a feeling that luck is

coming to us.' And at the next turning they came to a little house, in

the window of which a light was burning.

'Didn't I tell you so?' cried the prince. 'Stay here a moment and I

will go and see if I can get food and shelter for the night.' And away

he ran as fast as he could go, for by this time they were very hungry,

as they had brought very little food with them and had eaten up every

scrap! When one takes a long journey on foot one does not like to have

too much to carry.

The prince entered the house and looked about him, going from one room

to the other, but seeing nobody and finding nothing to eat. At last,

as he was going sorrowfully away, he caught sight of a sword and shirt

of mail hanging on the wall in an inner room, with a piece of paper

fastened under them. On the paper was some writing, which said that

whoever wore the coat and carried the sword would be safe from all

danger.

The prince was so delighted at the sight that he forgot how hungry he

was, and instantly slipped on the coat of chain armour under his

tunic, and hid the sword under his cloak, for he did not mean to say

anything about what he had found. Then he went back to his mother, who

was waiting impatiently for him.

'What have you been doing all this time?' she asked angrily. 'I

thought you had been killed by robbers!'

'Oh, just looking round,' he answered; 'but though I searched

everywhere I could find nothing to eat.'

'I am very much afraid that it is a robbers' den,' said the queen. 'We

had better go on, hungry though we are.'

'No, it isn't; but still, we had better not stay here,' replied the

prince, 'especially as there is nothing to eat. Perhaps we shall find

another house.'

They went on for some time, until, sure enough, they came to another

house, which also had a light in the window.

'We'll go in here,' said the prince.

'No, no; I am afraid!' cried the queen. 'We shall be attacked and

killed! It is a robbers' den: I am sure it is!'

'Yes, it looks like it; but we can't help that,' said her son. 'We

have had nothing to eat for hours, and I'm nearly as tired as you.'

The poor queen was, indeed, quite worn out; she could hardly stand for

fatigue, and in spite of her terror was half anxious to be persuaded.

'And there's going to be a storm,' added the prince; who feared

nothing now that he had the sword.

So they went into the house, where they found nobody. In the first

room stood a table laid for a meal, with all sorts of good things to

eat and drink, though some of the dishes were empty.

'Well, this looks nice,' said the prince, sitting down and helping

himself to some delicious strawberries piled on a golden dish, and

some iced lemonade. Never had anything tasted so nice; but, all the

same, it _was_ a robbers' den they had come to, and the robbers, who

had only just dined, had gone out into the forest to see whom they

could rob.

When the queen and the prince could eat no more they remembered that

they were very tired, and the prince looked about till he discovered a

comfortable bed, with silken sheets, standing in the next room.

'You get into bed, mother,' he said, 'and I'll lie down by the side.

Don't be alarmed; you can sleep quite safely till the morning.' And he

lay down with his sword in his hand, and kept watch until the day

began to break; then the queen woke up and said she was quite rested

and ready to start again.

'First I'll go out into the forest and see if I can find our road,'

said the prince. 'And while I'm gone you light the fire and make some

coffee. We must eat a good breakfast before we start.'

[Illustration: THE ROBBER-CHIEF CATCHES THE QUEEN]

And he ran off into the wood.

After he had gone the queen lit the fire, and then thought she would

like to see what was in the other rooms; so she went from one to

another, and presently came to one that was very prettily furnished,

with lovely pictures on the walls, and pale blue curtains and soft

yellow cushions and comfortable easy chairs. As she was looking at all

these things, suddenly a trap-door opened in the floor, and the

robber-chief came out of the hole and seized her ankles. The queen

almost died of fright, and shrieked loudly, then fell on her knees and

begged him to spare her life.