'Yes, if you will promise me two things,' he replied; 'first that you

will take me home to your country and let me be crowned king instead

of your son; and secondly, that you will kill him in case he should

try to take the throne from me--if you will not agree to this I shall

kill you.'

'Kill my own son!' gasped the queen, staring at him in horror.

'You need not do that exactly,' said the robber. 'When he returns,

just lie on the bed and say that you have been taken ill, and add that

you have dreamed that in a forest, a mile away, there are some

beautiful apples. If you could only get some of these you would be

well again, but if not you will die.'

The queen shuddered as she listened. She was fond of her son, but she

was a terrible coward; and so in the end she agreed, hoping that

something would occur to save the prince. She had hardly given her

promise when a step was heard, and the robber hastily hid himself.

'Well, mother,' cried the prince as he entered, 'I have been through

the forest and found the road, so we will start directly we have had

some breakfast.'

'Oh, I feel so ill!' said the queen. 'I could not walk a single step;

and there is only one thing that will cure me.'

'What is that?' asked the prince.

'I dreamed,' answered the queen, in a faint voice, 'that, a mile

away, there is a forest where the most beautiful apples grow, and if I

could have some of them I should soon be well again.'

'Oh! but dreams don't mean anything,' said the prince. 'There is a

magician who lives near here. I'll go to him and ask for a spell to

cure you.'

'My dreams always mean something,' said the queen, shaking her head.

'If I don't get any apples I shall die.' She did not know why the

robber wanted to send the prince to this particular forest, but as a

matter of fact it was full of wild animals who would tear to pieces

any traveller who entered it.

'Well, I'll go,' answered the prince. 'But I really must have some

breakfast first; I shall walk all the faster.'

'If you do not hurry you will find me dead when you come back,'

murmured the queen fretfully. She thought her son was not nearly

anxious enough about her, and by this time she had begun to believe

that she really was as ill as she had said.

* * * * *

When the prince had eaten and drunk, he set off, and soon came to a

forest, and sure enough it was full of lions and tigers, and bears and

wolves, who came rushing towards him; but instead of springing on him

and tearing him to pieces, they lay down on the ground and licked his

hands. He speedily found the tree with the apples which his mother

wanted, but the branches were so high he could not reach them, and

there was no way of climbing up the smooth trunk.

'It is no use after all, I can't get up there,' he said to himself.

'What am I to do now?'

But, as he turned away, his sword chanced to touch the tree, and

immediately two apples fell down. He picked them up joyfully, and was

going away when a little dog came out of a hill close by, and running

up to him, began tugging at his clothes and whining.

'What do you want, little dog?' asked the prince, stooping down to

pat his soft black head.

The dog ran to a hole that was in the hill and sat there looking out,

as much as to say: 'Come along in with me.'

'I may as well go and see what is in there,' thought the prince, and

he went over to the hill. But the hole was so small that he could not

get through it, so he thrust his sword into it, and immediately it

became larger.

'Ha, ha!' he chuckled; 'it's worth something to have a sword like

that.' And he bent down and crept through the hole.

The first thing he beheld, when he entered a room at the very end of a

dark passage, was a beautiful princess, who was bound by an iron chain

to an iron pillar.

'What evil fate brought you here?' he asked in surprise: and the lady

answered:

'It isn't much use for me to tell you lest my lot becomes yours.'

'I am not afraid of that. Tell me who you are and what has brought you

here,' begged the prince.

'My story is not long,' she said, smiling sadly. 'I am a princess from

Arabia, and twelve robbers who dwell in this place are fighting among

themselves as to which shall have me to wife.'

'Shall I save you?' asked the prince. And she answered:

'Yes; but you can't do it. To begin with, how could you break the

chain I am bound with?'

'Oh, that's easy enough,' said he, taking out his sword; and directly

it touched the chain the links fell apart and the princess was free.

'Come!' said the prince, taking her hand. But she drew back.

'No, I dare not!' she cried. 'If we should meet the robbers in the

passage they would kill us both.'

[Illustration: THE PRINCESS OF ARABIA RELEASED FROM THE IRON PILLAR]

'Not they!' said the prince, brandishing his sword. 'But how long

have you been here?' he added quickly.

'About twenty years, I think,' said the princess, reckoning with her

fingers.

'Twenty years!' exclaimed the prince. 'Then you had better shut your

eyes, for when you have been sitting there so long it might hurt you

to go too suddenly into the daylight. So you are the Princess of

Arabia, whose beauty is famous throughout all the world! I, too, am a

prince.'

'Will you not come back to Arabia and marry me, now you have saved my

life?' asked the princess. 'Even if my father is living still, he must

be old, and after his death you can be king.'

'No,' replied the prince, 'I cannot do that--I must live and die in my

own country. But at the end of a year I will follow you and marry

you.' And that was all he would say.

Then the princess took a heavy ring from her finger and put it on his.

Her father's and her mother's names were engraved in it, as well as

her own, and she asked him to keep it as a reminder of his promise.

'I will die before I part from it,' said the prince. 'And if at the

end of a year I am still living, I will come. I believe I have heard

that at the other side of this forest there is a port from which ships

sail to Arabia. Let us hasten there at once.'

Hand in hand they set off through the forest, and when they came to

the port they found a ship just ready to sail. The princess said

good-bye to the prince, and went on board the vessel, and when she

reached her own country there were great rejoicings, for her parents

had never expected to see her again. She told them how a prince had

saved her from the robbers, and was coming in a year's time to marry

her, and they were greatly pleased.

'All the same,' said the king, 'I wish he were here now. A year is a

long time.'

When the princess was no longer before his eyes, the prince

recollected why he had entered the forest, and made all the haste he

could back to the robbers' home.

The robber-chief could smell the apples from afar, for he had a nose

like an ogre, and he said to the queen:

'That is a strange fellow! If he had gone into the forest the wild

beasts must have eaten him unless he has a powerful charm to protect

him. If that is so we must get it away from him.'

'No, he has nothing,' answered the queen, who was quite fascinated by

the robber.

But the robber did not believe her.

'We must think of a way to get it,' he said. 'When he comes in say you

are well again, and have some food ready for him. Then, whilst he is

eating, tell him you dreamed that he was attacked by wild beasts, and

ask him how he managed to escape from them. After he has told you I

can easily find a way to take his charm from him.'

Shortly after the prince came in.

'How are you, mother!' he said gaily. 'Here are your apples. Now you

will soon be well again, and ready to come away with me.'

'Oh, I am better already,' she said. 'And see, your dinner is all hot

for you, eat it up, and then we will start.'

Whilst he was eating she said to him: 'I had a horrible dream while

you were away. I saw you in a forest full of wild animals, and they

were running round you and growling fiercely. How did you manage to

escape from them?'

'Oh, it was only a dream!' laughed the prince.

'But _my_ dreams are always true,' said his mother. 'Tell me how it

was.'

The prince wondered for some time whether he should tell her or not,

but at last he decided to let her into the secret.

'One should tell one's mother everything,' he thought. And he told

her.

'See, mother, here are a sword and a mail shirt which I found in the

first house we entered in the forest, and as long as I carry them

nothing can hurt me. That is what saved me from the wild beasts.'

'How can I be thankful enough!' exclaimed the queen. And directly the

prince's back was turned, she hurried to tell the robber.

* * * * *

The robber, as soon as he heard the news, made a sleeping-draught, and

bade the queen give it to her son before he went to bed that night.

Accordingly, as soon as the prince began to get sleepy, the queen

handed him the cup containing the draught.

'Drink this, to please me,' she said. 'It will do you good after all

you've gone through, and make you sleep well.'

'What an odd taste it has!' murmured the prince as he drank it.

Immediately he fell asleep; and the robber came in and took away his

sword and shirt of mail.

'These things belong to my brother,' he said. After he had got them

both in his hand the robber woke him.

'I am the master now,' said he. 'Choose one of two things--either you

must die, or your eyes will be put out, and you will be sent back to

the forest.'

The prince's blood grew cold at these words. Then a thought struck

him, and he turned to his mother: 'Is this _your_ doing?' he asked

sternly. And though she burst into tears and denied it, the prince

knew she was not telling the truth.

'Well,' said he, '"whilst there is life there is hope." I will go back

to the forest.'

Then the robber put out his eyes, gave him a stick, and some food and

drink, and drove him into the forest, hoping that the wild beasts

would kill him, as he no longer had the sword and shirt to protect

him.

'Now,' he said to the queen, 'we will return to your country.'

The next day they set sail, and as soon as they reached home, they

were married, and the robber became king.

Meanwhile the poor prince was wandering about in the forest, hoping to

find someone who would help him, and perhaps take him into service,

for now he had no money and no home. It so happened that there had

been a great hunt in the forest, and the wild beasts had all fled

before the hunters and were hiding, so nothing did him any harm. At

last one day, just when his food was all gone and he had made up his

mind that he must surely die of hunger, he came to the port whence the

ships sailed for Arabia. One vessel was just ready to start, and the

captain was going on board when he saw the prince.

'Why, here is a poor blind fellow!' he said. 'No doubt that is the

work of the robbers. Let us take him to Arabia with us. Would you like

to come, my good man?' he asked the prince.

Oh, how glad he was to hear someone speak kindly to him again! And he

answered that he would, and the sailors helped him to climb up the

side of the ship. When they got to Arabia the captain took him to the

public baths, and ordered one of the slaves to wash him. Whilst he was

being washed the princess's ring slipped off his finger and was

afterwards found by the slave who cleaned out the bath. The man showed

it to a friend of his who lived at the palace.

'Why, it is the princess's ring!' he said. 'Where did it come from?'

'It fell off a blind man's finger,' said the slave. 'He must have

stolen it; but I dare say you will be able to return it to the

princess.'

So that evening the man took the ring to the palace and gave it to

his daughter, who was the princess's favourite slave, and the girl

gave it to her mistress. When the princess saw it she uttered a cry of

joy.

'It is the ring I gave my betrothed!' she said. 'Take me to him at

once.'

The bath-keeper thought it strange that the princess should be

betrothed to a blind beggar, but he did as she bade him, and when she

saw the prince she cried:

'At last you have come! The year is over, and I thought you were dead.

Now we will be married immediately.' And she went home and told the

king that he was to send an escort to bring her betrothed to the

palace. Naturally the king was rather surprised at the sudden arrival

of the prince; but when he heard that he was blind he was very much

annoyed.

'I cannot have a blind person to succeed me,' he said. 'It is

perfectly absurd!'

But the princess had had her own way all her life, and in the end the

king gave way as he had always done. The prince was taken to the

palace with much ceremony and splendour; but in spite of this the king

was not contented. Still, it could not be helped, and really it was

time the princess was married, though she looked as young as ever.

There had been hundreds of knights and princes who had begged her to

bestow her hand upon them, but she would have nothing to do with

anyone; and now she had taken it into her head to marry this blind

prince, and nobody else would she have.

* * * * *

One evening, as it was fine, the prince and princess went into the

garden, and sat down under a tree.

Two ravens were perched on a bush near by, and the prince, who could

understand bird language, heard one of them say: 'Do you know that it

is Midsummer-eve to-night?'

'Yes,' said the other.

'And do you know that part of the garden which is known as the

Queen's Bed?'

'Yes.'

'Well, perhaps you don't know this, that whoever has bad eyes, or no

eyes at all, should bathe his eye-sockets in the dew that falls there

to-night, because then he will get his sight back. Only he must do it

between twelve and one o'clock.'

That was good news for the prince and princess to hear, and the young

man begged the princess to lead him to the place called the Queen's

Bed, which was the little plot of grass where the queen used often to

lie down and take her midday nap. Then, between twelve and one

o'clock, he bathed his eyes with the dew that was falling there, and

found he could see again as well as ever.

'I can see you!' he said to the princess, gazing at her as if he had

never seen anything before.

'I don't believe it,' she answered.

'Well, go and hang your handkerchief on a bush, and if I find it at

once you _must_ believe me,' he said.

And so she did, and he went straight up to the handkerchief.

'Yes, indeed, you can see,' cried the princess. 'To think that my

mother's bed has really given back your sight!' and she went to the

bank and sat down again; and by-and-by, as the day was hot, the

princess fell asleep. As the prince watched her he suddenly saw

something shining on her neck. It was a little golden lamp that gave

out a bright light, and it hung from a golden chain. The prince

thought he would like to examine it more closely, so he unfastened the

chain, but as he did so the lamp fell to the ground. Before he could

pick it up a hawk flew in, snatched up the little lamp and flew away

again with it. The prince set off in pursuit, and ran on and on

without being able to catch the bird, until at length he had lost his

way. Trying to find it, he wandered on, up and down, until he came to

the forest where he had found the princess.

Meantime, the princess woke up, and finding herself alone she set out

to look for him. In the end she also lost her way, and as she was

walking about, not knowing what to do, the robbers captured her and

took her back to the cave from which the prince had rescued her. So

there they were after all their trouble--no better off than before!

[Illustration: THE HAWK FLIES AWAY WITH THE LAMP]

The prince wandered on, trying to find his way back to Arabia, until

he chanced one day to meet twelve youths, walking gaily through the

forest, singing and laughing. 'Where are you going?' he asked. And

they told him they were looking for work.

'I'll join you, if I may,' said the prince. And they answered: 'The

more the merrier.'

Then the prince went with them, and they all journeyed on until they

met an old troll.

'Where are you going, my masters?' asked the troll.

'To seek service,' they told him.

'Then come and serve me,' he said; 'there will be plenty to eat and

drink, and not much work to do, and if, at the end of a year, you can

answer three questions, I'll give you each a sack of gold. Otherwise

you must be turned into beasts.'

The youths thought this sounded easy enough, so they went home with

the troll to his castle.

'You will find all that you want here,' he said; 'and all you need do

is to take care of the house, for I am going away, and shall only

return when the year is over.'

Then he went away, and the young men, left to themselves, had a fine

time of it; for they did no work, and only amused themselves with

singing and drinking. Every day they found the table laid with good

things to eat and drink, and when they had finished, the plates and

dishes were cleared away by invisible hands. Only the prince, who was

sad for his lost princess, ate and drank sparingly, and worked hard

keeping the house in order.

One day, as he sat in his own room, he heard the voice of the old

troll beneath his window talking to another troll.

'To-morrow,' said he, 'the year is up.'

'And what questions will you ask?' inquired the other.

'First I shall ask how long they have been here--they don't know, the

young fools! Secondly I shall ask what shines on the roof of the

castle.'

'And what is that?'

'The lamp that was stolen by me from the princess as she slept in the

garden.'

'And what is the third question?'

'I shall ask where the food and drink they consume every day come

from. I steal it from the king's table; but they don't know that.'

* * * * *

The day after, the troll entered.

'Now I shall ask my questions,' said he. 'To begin with: How long have

you been here?'

The young men had been so busy drinking and making merry that they had

forgotten all about the agreement, so they remained silent.

'One week,' said one, at last.

'Two months,' guessed another. But the prince answered, 'One year.'

'Right,' replied the troll. But the second question was more

difficult.

'What is it that shines on the roof?'

The young men guessed and guessed. 'The sun--the moon.' But none of

them really knew.

'May I answer?' asked the prince.

'Yes, certainly,' replied the troll; and the prince spoke.

'The lamp that you stole from the princess whilst she was asleep in

the garden.' And again the troll nodded.

The third question was harder still.

'Where does the meat and drink you have had here come from?'

None of the young men could guess.

'May I say?' asked the prince.

'Yes, if you can,' replied the troll.

'It comes from the king's table,' said the prince.

And that was all. Now they might take the sacks of gold and go, and

the young men went off in such a hurry that the prince was left

behind. Presently, they met an old man who asked for money.

'No, we haven't any,' they answered.

So they hurried on, and by-and-by up came the prince.

'Has your lordship a piece of money for a poor man?' asked the old

fellow.

'Yes,' said the prince, and gave him his whole sackful.

'I don't want it,' said the old man, who was really the troll they had

just left in disguise. 'But since you're so generous, here is the

princess's lamp, and the princess herself is in the cave where you

found her; but how you're going to save her again without the magic

sword I don't know.'

When he heard that, the prince knew where she was; and that was the

beginning of her rescue. So he disguised himself to look like a

peddler and travelled on until he reached his own city, where his

mother, the queen, and the robber-chief were living. Then he went in

to a goldsmith's shop and ordered a great number of kitchen pots to be

made out of pure gold. That was not an order the goldsmith had every

day, but the things were ready at last, saucepans and kettles and

gridirons all of pure gold. Then the prince put them in his basket and

went up to the palace, and asked to see the queen.

Directly she heard about the wonderful gold pots and pans she came out

at once, and began unpacking the basket and admiring the things. She

was so absorbed in them that the prince soon found an opportunity to

steal into the bedroom and take the sword and shirt which were hung

there, and go back again without his mother having noticed his

absence.

'The things are all beautiful!' she said. 'How much would you take for

them?'

'Name your own price, your majesty,' answered the prince.

'I really don't know what to say,' said the queen. 'Wait till my

husband comes back--men understand such things better; and then, as

you are a stranger, he would like to chat with you a little.' The

prince bowed, and waited silently in a corner.

* * * * *

Soon after the robber returned.

'Come and see all these lovely gold saucepans!' cried the queen.

But, as the robber entered the room, the prince touched him with the

magic sword, and he fell to the ground.

'Perhaps, now you know me, mother,' the prince said, taking off his

disguise, 'you had better repent for all the wrong you have done me,

or your life will be short.'

'Oh, have mercy!' she cried, 'I could not help it. I was so

frightened.'

The prince had mercy. He ordered the wicked king to be stripped of his

fine clothes, and to be driven into the forest, where the wild beasts

tore him to pieces. The queen he sent to her own country. Then he set

off for the cave where the princess was sitting chained as before, and

with the help of the magic sword he rescued her again without any

difficulty. They soon reached the port and set sail for Arabia, where

they were married; and till they died, a long while after, they

reigned happily over both countries.

(From _Eventyr fra Gylbauck samlede og optegnede af Evald Tang

Kristensen_. Translated from the Danish by Mrs. Skovgaard-Pedersen.)

_THE CLEVER WEAVER_

Once upon a time the king of a far country was sitting on his throne,

listening to the complaints of his people, and judging between them.

That morning there had been fewer cases than usual to deal with, and

the king was about to rise and go into his gardens, when a sudden stir

was heard outside, and the lord high chamberlain entered, and inquired

if his majesty would be graciously pleased to receive the ambassador

of a powerful emperor who lived in the east, and was greatly feared by

the neighbouring sovereigns. The king, who stood as much in dread of

him as the rest, gave orders that the envoy should be admitted at

once, and that a banquet should be prepared in his honour. Then he

settled himself again on his throne, wondering what the envoy had to

say.

The envoy said nothing. He advanced to the throne where the king was

awaiting him, and stooping down, traced on the floor with a rod which

he held in his hand a black circle all round it. Then he sat down on a

seat that was near, and took no further notice of anyone.

The king and his courtiers were equally mystified and enraged at this

strange behaviour, but the envoy sat as calm and still as an image,

and it soon became plain that they would get no explanation from

_him_. The ministers were hastily summoned to a council, but not one

of them could throw any light upon the subject. This made the king

more angry than ever, and he told them that unless before sunset they

could find someone capable of solving the mystery he would hang them

all.

The king was, as the ministers knew, a man of his word; and they

quickly mapped out the city into districts, so that they might visit

house by house, and question the occupants as to whether they could

fathom the action of the ambassador. Most of them received no reply

except a puzzled stare; but, luckily, one of them was more observant

than the rest, and on entering an empty cottage where a swing was

swinging of itself, he began to think it might be worth while for him

to see the owner. Opening a door leading into another room, he found a

second swing, swinging gently like the first, and from the window he

beheld a patch of corn, and a willow which moved perpetually without

any wind, in order to frighten away the sparrows. Feeling more and

more curious, he descended the stairs and found himself in a large

light workshop in which was seated a weaver at his loom. But all the

weaver did was to guide his threads, for the machine that he had

invented to set in motion the swings and the willow pole made the loom

work.

When he saw the great wheel standing in the corner, and had guessed

the use of it, the merchant heaved a sigh of relief. At any rate, if

the weaver could not guess the riddle, he at least might put the

minister on the right track. So without more ado he told the story of

the circle, and ended by declaring that the person who could explain

its meaning should be handsomely rewarded.

'Come with me at once,' he said. 'The sun is low in the heavens, and

there is no time to lose.'

The weaver stood thinking for a moment and then walked across to a

window, outside of which was a hen-coop with two knuckle-bones lying

beside it. These he picked up, and taking the hen from the coop, he

tucked it under his arm.

'I am ready,' he answered, turning to the minister.

In the hall the king still sat on his throne, and the envoy on his

seat. Signing to the minister to remain where he was, the weaver

advanced to the envoy, and placed the knuckle-bones on the floor

beside him. For answer, the envoy took a handful of millet seed out of

his pocket and scattered it round; upon which the weaver set down the

hen, who ate it up in a moment. At that the envoy rose without a word,

and took his departure.

As soon as he had left the hall, the king beckoned to the weaver.

'You alone seem to have guessed the riddle,' said he, 'and great shall

be your reward. But tell me, I pray you, what it all means?'

'The meaning, O king,' replied the weaver, 'is this: The circle drawn

by the envoy round your throne is the message of the emperor, and

signifies, "If I send an army and surround your capital, will you lay

down your arms?" The knuckle-bones which I placed before him told him,

"You are but children in comparison with us. Toys like these are the

only playthings you are fit for." The millet that he scattered was an

emblem of the number of soldiers that his master can bring into the

field; but by the hen which ate up the seed he understood that one of

our men could destroy a host of theirs.'

'I do not think,' he added, 'that the emperor will declare war.'

'You have saved me and my honour,' cried the king, 'and wealth and

glory shall be heaped upon you. Name your reward, and you shall have

it even to the half of my kingdom.'

'The small farm outside the city gates, as a marriage portion for my

daughter, is all I ask,' answered the weaver, and it was all he would

accept. 'Only, O king,' were his parting words, 'I would beg of you to

remember that weavers also are of value to a state, and that they are

sometimes cleverer even than ministers!'

(From _Contes Armeniens_. Par Frederic Macler.)

_THE BOY WHO FOUND FEAR AT LAST_

Once upon a time there lived a woman who had one son whom she loved

dearly. The little cottage in which they dwelt was built on the

outskirts of a forest, and as they had no neighbours, the place was

very lonely, and the boy was kept at home by his mother to bear her

company.

They were sitting together on a winter's evening, when a storm

suddenly sprang up, and the wind blew the door open. The woman started

and shivered, and glanced over her shoulder as if she half expected to

see some horrible thing behind her. 'Go and shut the door,' she said

hastily to her son, 'I feel frightened.'

'Frightened?' repeated the boy. 'What does it feel like to be

frightened?'

'Well--just frightened,' answered the mother. 'A fear of something,

you hardly know what, takes hold of you.'

'It must be very odd to feel like that,' replied the boy. 'I will go

through the world and seek fear till I find it.' And the next morning,

before his mother was out of bed, he had left the forest behind him.

After walking for some hours he reached a mountain, which he began to

climb. Near the top, in a wild and rocky spot, he came upon a band of

fierce robbers, sitting round a fire. The boy, who was cold and tired,

was delighted to see the bright flames, so he went up to them and

said, 'Good greeting to you, sirs,' and wriggled himself in between

the men, till his feet almost touched the burning logs.

The robbers stopped drinking and eyed him curiously, and at last the

captain spoke.

'No caravan of armed men would dare to come here, even the very birds

shun our camp, and who are you to venture in so boldly?'

'Oh, I have left my mother's house in search of fear. Perhaps you can

show it to me?'

'Fear is wherever _we_ are,' answered the captain.

'But _where_?' asked the boy, looking round. 'I see nothing.'

'Take this pot and some flour and butter and sugar over to the

churchyard which lies down there, and bake us a cake for supper,'

replied the robber. And the boy, who was by this time quite warm,

jumped up cheerfully, and slinging the pot over his arm, ran down the

hill.

When he got to the churchyard he collected some sticks and made a

fire; then he filled the pot with water from a little stream close by,

and mixing the flour and butter and sugar together, he set the cake on

to cook. It was not long before it grew crisp and brown, and then the

boy lifted it from the pot and placed it on a stone, while he put out

the fire. At that moment a hand was stretched from a grave, and a

voice said:

'Is that cake for me?'

'Do you think I am going to give to the dead the food of the living?'

replied the boy, with a laugh. And giving the hand a tap with his

spoon, and picking up the cake, he went up the mountain side,

whistling merrily.

'Well, have you found fear?' asked the robbers when he held out the

cake to the captain.

[Illustration: THE BOY SECURES THE BRACELET]

'No; was it there?' answered the boy. 'I saw nothing but a hand which

came from a grave, and belonged to someone who wanted my cake, but I

just rapped the fingers with my spoon, and said it was not for him,

and then the hand vanished. Oh, how nice the fire is!' And he flung

himself on his knees before it, and so did not notice the glances of

surprise cast by the robbers at each other.

'There is another chance for you,' said one at length. 'On the other

side of the mountain lies a deep pool; go to that, and perhaps you may

meet fear on the way.'

'I hope so, indeed,' answered the boy. And he set out at once.

He soon beheld the waters of the pool gleaming in the moonlight, and

as he drew near he saw a tall swing standing just over it, and in the

swing a child was seated, weeping bitterly.

'That is a strange place for a swing,' thought the boy; 'but I wonder

what he is crying about.' And he was hurrying on towards the child,

when a maiden ran up and spoke to him.

'I want to lift my little brother from the swing,' cried she, 'but it

is so high above me, that I cannot reach. If you will get closer to

the edge of the pool, and let me mount on your shoulder, I think I can

reach him.'

'Willingly,' replied the boy, and in an instant the girl had climbed

to his shoulders. But instead of lifting the child from the swing, as

she could easily have done, she pressed her feet so firmly on either

side of the youth's neck, that he felt that in another minute he would

be choked, or else fall into the water beneath him. So gathering up

all his strength, he gave a mighty heave, and threw the girl

backwards. As she touched the ground a bracelet fell from her arm, and

this the youth picked up.

'I may as well keep it as a remembrance of all the queer things that

have happened to me since I left home,' he said to himself, and

turning to look for the child, he saw that both it and the swing had

vanished, and that the first streaks of dawn were in the sky.

With the bracelet on his arm, the youth started for a little town

which was situated in the plain on the further side of the mountain,

and as, hungry and thirsty, he entered its principal street, a Jew

stopped him. 'Where did you get that bracelet?' asked the Jew. 'It

belongs to me.'

'No, it is mine,' replied the boy.

'It is not. Give it to me at once, or it will be the worse for you!'

cried the Jew.

'Let us go before a judge, and tell him our stories,' said the boy.

'If he decides in your favour, you shall have it; if in mine, I will

keep it!'

To this the Jew agreed, and the two went together to the great hall,

in which the kadi was administering justice. He listened very

carefully to what each had to say, and then pronounced his verdict.

Neither of the two claimants had proved his right to the bracelet,

therefore it must remain in the possession of the judge till its

fellow was brought before him.

When they heard this, the Jew and the boy looked at each other, and

their eyes said: 'Where are we to go to find the other one?' But as

they knew there was no use in disputing the decision, they bowed low

and left the hall of audience.

* * * * *

Wandering he knew not whither, the youth found himself on the

sea-shore. At a little distance was a ship which had struck on a

hidden rock, and was rapidly sinking, while on deck the crew were

gathered, with faces white as death, shrieking and wringing their

hands.

'Have you met with fear?' shouted the boy. And the answer came above

the noise of the waves.

'Oh, help! help! We are drowning!'

Then the boy flung off his clothes, and swam to the ship, where many

hands were held out to draw him on board.

'The ship is tossed hither and thither, and will soon be sucked down,'

cried the crew again. 'Death is very near, and we are frightened!'

[Illustration: THE SEA-MAIDEN WITH A WICKED FACE]

'Give me a rope,' said the boy in reply, and he took it, and made it

safe round his body at one end, and to the mast at the other, and

sprang into the sea. Down he went, down, down, down, till at last his

feet touched the bottom, and he stood up and looked about him. There,

sure enough, a sea-maiden with a wicked face was tugging hard at a

chain which she had fastened to the ship with a grappling iron, and

was dragging it bit by bit beneath the waves. Seizing her arms in both

his hands, he forced her to drop the chain, and the ship above

remaining steady, the sailors were able gently to float her off the

rock. Then taking a rusty knife from a heap of seaweed at his feet, he

cut the rope round his waist and fastened the sea-maiden firmly to a

stone, so that she could do no more mischief, and bidding her

farewell, he swam back to the beach, where his clothes were still

lying.

The youth dressed himself quickly and walked on till he came to a

beautiful shady garden filled with flowers, and with a clear little

stream running through. The day was hot, and he was tired, so he

entered the gate, and seated himself under a clump of bushes covered

with sweet-smelling red blossoms, and it was not long before he fell

asleep. Suddenly a rush of wings and a cool breeze awakened him, and

raising his head cautiously, he saw three doves plunging into the

stream. They splashed joyfully about, and shook themselves, and then

dived to the bottom of a deep pool. When they appeared again they were

no longer three doves, but three beautiful damsels, bearing between

them a table made of mother of pearl. On this they placed drinking

cups fashioned from pink and green shells, and one of the maidens

filled a cup from a crystal goblet, and was raising it to her mouth,

when her sister stopped her.

'To whose health do you drink?' asked she.

'To the youth who prepared the cake, and rapped my hand with the spoon

when I stretched it out of the earth,' answered the maiden, 'and was

never afraid as other men were! But to whose health do you drink?'

'To the youth on whose shoulders I climbed at the edge of the pool,

and who threw me off with such a jerk, that I lay unconscious on the

ground for hours,' replied the second. 'But you, my sister,' added

she, turning to the third girl, 'to whom do you drink?'

'Down in the sea I took hold of a ship and shook it and pulled it till

it would soon have been lost,' said she. And as she spoke she looked

quite different from what she had done with the chain in her hands,

seeking to work mischief. 'But a youth came, and freed the ship and

bound me to a rock. To his health I drink,' and they all three lifted

their cups and drank silently.

As they put their cups down, the youth appeared before them.

'Here am I, the youth whose health you have drunk; and now give me the

bracelet that matches a jewelled band which of a surety fell from the

arm of one of you. A Jew tried to take it from me, but I would not let

him have it, and he dragged me before the kadi, who kept my bracelet

till I could show him its fellow. And I have been wandering hither and

thither in search of it, and that is how I have found myself in such

strange places.'

'Come with us, then,' said the maidens, and they led him down a

passage into a hall, out of which opened many chambers, each one of

greater splendour than the last. From a shelf heaped up with gold and

jewels the eldest sister took a bracelet, which in every way was

exactly like the one which was in the judge's keeping, and fastened it

to the youth's arm.

'Go at once and show this to the kadi,' said she, 'and he will give

you the fellow to it.'

'I shall never forget you,' answered the youth, 'but it may be long

before we meet again, for I shall never rest till I have found fear.'

Then he went his way, and won the bracelet from the kadi. After this,

he again set forth in his quest of fear.

On and on walked the youth, but fear never crossed his path, and one

day he entered a large town, where all the streets and squares were so

full of people, he could hardly pass between them.

'Why are all these crowds gathered together?' he asked of a man who

stood next him.

'The ruler of this country is dead,' was the reply, 'and as he had no

children, it is needful to choose a successor. Therefore each morning

one of the sacred pigeons is let loose from the tower yonder, and on

whomsoever the bird shall perch, that man is our king. In a few

minutes the pigeon will fly. Wait and see what happens.'

Every eye was fixed on the tall tower which stood in the centre of the

chief square, and the moment that the sun was seen to stand straight

over it, a door was opened and a beautiful pigeon, gleaming with pink

and grey, blue and green, came rushing through the air. Onward it

flew, onward, onward, till at length it rested on the head of the boy.

Then a great shout arose:

'The king! the king!' but as he listened to the cries, a vision,

swifter than lightning, flashed across his brain. He saw himself

seated on a throne, spending his life trying, and never succeeding, to

make poor people rich; miserable people happy; bad people good; never

doing anything he wished to do, not able even to marry the girl that

he loved.

'No! no!' he shrieked, hiding his face in his hands; but the crowds

who heard him thought he was overcome by the grandeur that awaited

him, and paid no heed.

'Well, to make quite sure, let fly more pigeons,' said they, but each

pigeon followed where the first had led, and the cries arose louder

than ever:

'The king! the king!' And as the young man heard, a cold shiver, that

he knew not the meaning of, ran through him.

'This is fear whom you have so long sought,' whispered a voice, which

seemed to reach his ears alone. And the youth bowed his head as the

vision once more flashed before his eyes, and he accepted his doom,

and made ready to pass his life with fear beside him.

(Adapted from _Tuerkische Volksmaerchen_. Von Dr. Ignaz Kuenos. E. J.

Brill, Leiden.)

_HE WINS WHO WAITS_

Once upon a time there reigned a king who had an only daughter. The

girl had been spoiled by everybody from her birth, and, besides being

beautiful, was clever and wilful, and when she grew old enough to be

married she refused to have anything to say to the prince whom her

father favoured, but declared she would choose a husband for herself.

By long experience the king knew that when once she had made up her

mind, there was no use expecting her to change it, so he inquired

meekly what she wished him to do.

'Summon all the young men in the kingdom to appear before me a month

from to-day,' answered the princess; 'and the one to whom I shall give

this golden apple shall be my husband.'

'But, my dear--' began the king, in tones of dismay.

'The one to whom I shall give this golden apple shall be my husband,'

repeated the princess, in a louder voice than before. And the king

understood the signal, and with a sigh proceeded to do her bidding.

* * * * *

The young men arrived--tall and short, dark and fair, rich and poor.

They stood in rows in the great courtyard in front of the palace, and

the princess, clad in robes of green, with a golden veil flowing

behind her, passed before them all, holding the apple. Once or twice

she stopped and hesitated, but in the end she always passed on, till

she came to a youth near the end of the last row. There was nothing

specially remarkable about him, the bystanders thought; nothing that

was likely to take a girl's fancy. A hundred others were handsomer,

and all wore finer clothes; but he met the princess's eyes frankly and

with a smile, and she smiled too, and held out the apple.

'There is some mistake,' cried the king, who had anxiously watched her

progress, and hoped that none of the candidates would please her. 'It

is impossible that she can wish to marry the son of a poor widow, who

has not a farthing in the world! Tell her that I will not hear of it,

and that she must go through the rows again and fix upon someone

else'; and the princess went through the rows a second and a third

time, and on each occasion she gave the apple to the widow's son.

'Well, marry him if you will,' exclaimed the angry king; 'but at least

you shall not stay here.' And the princess answered nothing, but threw

up her head, and taking the widow's son by the hand, they left the

castle.

That evening they were married, and after the ceremony went back to

the house of the bridegroom's mother, which, in the eyes of the

princess, did not look much bigger than a hen-coop.

The old woman was not at all pleased when her son entered bringing his

bride with him.

'As if we were not poor enough before,' grumbled she. 'I dare say this

is some fine lady who can do nothing to earn her living.' But the

princess stroked her arm, and said softly:

'Do not be vexed, dear mother; I am a famous spinner, and can sit at

my wheel all day without breaking a thread.'

[Illustration: THE PRINCESS CHOOSES]

And she kept her word; but in spite of the efforts of all three, they

became poorer and poorer; and at the end of six months it was agreed

that the husband should go to the neighbouring town to get work. Here

he met a merchant who was about to start on a long journey with a

train of camels laden with goods of all sorts, and needed a man to

help him. The widow's son begged that he would take him as a servant,

and to this the merchant assented, giving him his whole year's salary

beforehand. The young man returned home with the news, and next day

bade farewell to his mother and his wife, who were very sad at parting

from him.

'Do not forget me while you are absent,' whispered the princess as she

flung her arms round his neck; 'and as you pass by the well which lies

near the city gate, stop and greet the old man you will find sitting

there. Kiss his hand, and then ask him what counsel he can give you

for your journey.'

Then the youth set out, and when he reached the well where the old man

was sitting he asked the questions as his wife had bidden him.

'My son,' replied the old man, 'you have done well to come to me, and

in return remember three things: "She whom the heart loves, is ever

the most beautiful." "Patience is the first step on the road to

happiness." "He wins who waits."'

The young man thanked him and went on his way. Next morning early the

caravan set out, and before sunset it had arrived at the first halting

place, round some wells, where another company of merchants had

already encamped. But no rain had fallen for a long while in that

rocky country, and both men and beasts were parched with thirst. To be

sure, there _was_ another well about half a mile away, where there was

always water; but to get it you had to be lowered deep down, and,

besides, no one who had ever descended that well had been known to

come back.

However, till they could store some water in their bags of goat-skin,

the caravans dared not go further into the desert, and on the night of

the arrival of the widow's son and his master, the merchants had

decided to offer a large reward to anyone who was brave enough to go

down into the enchanted well and bring some up. Thus it happened that

at sunrise the young man was aroused from his sleep by a herald making

his round of the camp, proclaiming that every merchant present would

give a thousand piastres to the man who would risk his life to bring

water for themselves and their camels.

The youth hesitated for a little while when he heard the proclamation.

The story of the well had spread far and wide, and long ago had

reached his ears. The danger was great, he knew; but then, if he came

back alive, he would be the possessor of eighty thousand piastres. He

turned to the herald who was passing the tent:

'_I_ will go,' said he.

'What madness!' cried his master, who happened to be standing near.

'You are too young to throw away your life like that. Run after the

herald and tell him you take back your offer.' But the young man shook

his head, and the merchant saw that it was useless to try and persuade

him.

'Well, it is your own affair,' he observed at last. 'If you must go,

you must. Only, if you ever return, I will give you a camel's load of

goods and my best mule besides.' And touching his turban in token of

farewell, he entered the tent.

Hardly had he done so than a crowd of men were seen pouring out of the

camp.

'How can we thank you!' they exclaimed, pressing round the youth. 'Our

camels as well as ourselves are almost dead of thirst. See! here is

the rope we have brought to let you down.'

'Come, then,' answered the youth. And they all set out.

On reaching the well, the rope was knotted securely under his arms, a

big goat-skin bottle was given him, and he was gently lowered to the

bottom of the pit. Here a clear stream was bubbling over the rocks,

and, stooping down, he was about to drink, when a huge Arab appeared

before him, saying in a loud voice:

'Come with me!'

The young man rose, never doubting that his last hour had come; but as

he could do nothing, he followed the Arab into a brilliantly lighted

hall, on the further side of the little river. There his guide sat

down, and drawing towards him two boys, one black and the other white,

he said to the stranger:

'I have a question to ask you. If you answer it right, your life shall

be spared. If not, your head will be forfeit, as the head of many

another has been before you. Tell me: which of my two children do I

think the handsomer.'

The question did not seem a hard one, for while the white boy was as

beautiful a child as ever was seen, his brother was ugly even for a

negro. But, just as the youth was going to speak, the old man's

counsel flashed into the youth's mind, and he replied hastily: 'The

one whom we love best is always the handsomest.'

'You have saved me!' cried the Arab, rising quickly from his seat, and

pressing the young man in his arms. 'Ah! if you could only guess what

I have suffered from the stupidity of all the people to whom I have

put that question, and I was condemned by a wicked genius to remain

here until it was answered! But what brought you to this place, and

how can I reward you for what you have done for me?'

'By helping me to draw enough water for my caravan of eighty merchants

and their camels, who are dying for want of it,' replied the youth.

'That is easily done,' said the Arab. 'Take these three apples, and

when you have filled your skin, and are ready to be drawn up, lay one

of them on the ground. Half-way to the earth, let fall another, and at

the top, drop the third. If you follow my directions no harm will

happen to you. And take, besides, these three pomegranates, green,

red and white. One day you will find a use for them!'

The young man did as he was told, and stepped out on the rocky waste,

where the merchants were anxiously awaiting him. Oh, how thirsty they

all were! But even after the camels had drunk, the skin seemed as full

as ever.

Full of gratitude for their deliverance, the merchants pressed the

money into his hands, while his own master bade him choose what goods

he liked, and a mule to carry them.

So the widow's son was rich at last, and when the merchant had sold

his merchandise, and returned home to his native city, his servant

hired a man by whom he sent the money and the mule back to his wife.

'I will send the pomegranates also,' thought he 'for if I leave them

in my turban they may some day fall out,' and he drew them out of his

turban. But the fruit had vanished, and in their places were three

precious stones, green, white and red.

For a long time he remained with the merchant, who gradually trusted

him with all his business, and gave him a large share of the money he

made. When his master died, the young man wished to return home, but

the widow begged him to stay and help her; and one day he awoke with a

start, to remember that twenty years had passed since he had gone

away.

'I want to see my wife,' he said next morning to his mistress. 'If at

any time I can be of use to you, send a messenger to me; meanwhile, I

have told Hassan what to do.' And mounting a camel he set out.

* * * * *

Now, soon after he had taken service with the merchant a little boy

had been born to him, and both the princess and the old woman toiled

hard all day to get the baby food and clothing. When the money and the

pomegranates arrived there was no need for them to work any more, and

the princess saw at once that they were not fruit at all, but precious

stones of great value. The old woman, however, not being accustomed,

like her daughter-in-law, to the sight of jewels, took them only for

common fruit, and wished to give them to the child to eat. She was

very angry when the princess hastily took them from her and hid them

in her dress, while she went to the market and bought the three finest

pomegranates she could find, which she handed the old woman for the

little boy.

Then she bought beautiful new clothes for all of them, and when they

were dressed they looked as fine as could be. Next, she took out one

of the precious stones which her husband had sent her, and placed it

in a small silver box. This she wrapped up in a handkerchief

embroidered in gold, and filled the old woman's pockets with gold and

silver pieces.

'Go, dear mother,' she said, 'to the palace, and present the jewel to

the king, and if he asks you what he can give you in return, tell him

that you want a paper, with his seal attached, proclaiming that no one

is to meddle with anything you may choose to do. Before you leave the

palace distribute the money amongst the servants.'

The old woman took the box and started for the palace. No one there

had ever seen a ruby of such beauty, and the most famous jeweller in

the town was summoned to declare its value. But all he could say was:

'If a boy threw a stone into the air with all his might, and you could

pile up gold as high as the flight of the stone, it would not be

sufficient to pay for this ruby.'

At these words the king's face fell. Having once seen the ruby he

could not bear to part with it, yet all the money in his treasury

would not be enough to buy it. So for a little while he remained

silent, wondering what offer he could make the old woman, and at last

he said:

'If I cannot give you its worth in money, is there anything you will

take in exchange?'

'A paper signed by your hand, and sealed with your seal, proclaiming

that I may do what I will, without let or hindrance,' answered she

promptly. And the king, delighted to have obtained what he coveted at

so small a cost, gave her the paper without delay. Then the old woman

took her leave and returned home.

The fame of this wonderful ruby soon spread far and wide, and envoys

arrived at the little house to know if there were more stones to sell.

Each king was so anxious to gain possession of the treasure that he

bade his messenger outbid all the rest, and so the princess sold the

two remaining stones for a sum of money so large that if the gold

pieces had been spread out they would have reached from here to the

moon. The first thing she did was to build a palace by the side of the

cottage, and it was raised on pillars of gold, in which were set great

diamonds, which blazed night and day. Of course the news of this

palace was the first thing that reached the king her father, on his

return from the wars, and he hurried to see it. In the doorway stood a

young man of twenty, who was his grandson, though neither of them knew

it, and so pleased was the king with the appearance of the youth, that

he carried him back to his own palace, and made him commander of the

whole army.

Not long after this, the widow's son returned to his native land.

There, sure enough, was the tiny cottage where he had lived with his

mother, but the gorgeous building beside it was quite new to him. What

had become of his wife and his mother, and who could be dwelling in

that other wonderful place. These were the first thoughts that flashed

through his mind; but not wishing to betray himself by asking

questions of passing strangers, he climbed up into a tree that stood

opposite the palace and watched.

[Illustration: BLIND RAGE FILLED THE HEART OF THE WATCHER]

By-and-by a lady came out, and began to gather some of the roses and

jessamine that hung about the porch. The twenty years that had passed

since he had last beheld her vanished in an instant, and he knew her

to be his own wife, looking almost as young and beautiful as on the

day of their parting. He was about to jump down from the tree and

hasten to her side, when she was joined by a young man who placed his

arm affectionately round her neck. At this sight the angry husband

drew his bow, but before he could let fly the arrow, the counsel of

the wise man came back to him: 'Patience is the first step on the road

to happiness.' And he laid it down again.

At this moment the princess turned, and drawing her companion's head

down to hers, kissed him on each cheek. A second time blind rage

filled the heart of the watcher, and he snatched up his bow from the

branch where it hung, when words, heard long since, seemed to sound in

his ears:

'He wins who waits.' And the bow dropped to his side. Then, through

the silent air came the sound of the youth's voice:

'Mother, can you tell me nothing about my father? Does he still live,

and will he never return to us?'

'Alas! my son, how can I answer you?' replied the lady. 'Twenty years

have passed since he left us to make his fortune, and, in that time,

only once have I heard aught of him. But what has brought him to your

mind just now?'

'Because last night I dreamed that he was here,' said the youth, 'and

then I remembered what I have so long forgotten, that I _had_ a

father, though even his very history was strange to me. And now, tell

me, I pray you, all you can concerning him.'

And standing under the jessamine, the son learnt his father's history,

and the man in the tree listened also.

'Oh,' exclaimed the youth, when it was ended, while he twisted his

hands in pain, 'I am general-in-chief, you are the king's daughter,

and we have the most splendid palace in the whole world, yet my father

lives we know not where, and for all we can guess, may be poor and

miserable. To-morrow I will ask the king to give me soldiers, and I

will seek him over the whole earth till I find him.'

Then the man came down from the tree, and clasped his wife and son in

his arms. All that night they talked, and when the sun rose it still

found them talking. But as soon as it was proper, he went up to the

palace to pay his homage to the king, and to inform him of all that

had happened and who they all really were. The king was overjoyed to

think that his daughter, whom he had long since forgiven and sorely

missed, was living at his gates, and was, besides, the mother of the

youth who was so dear to him. 'It was written beforehand,' cried the

monarch. 'You are my son-in-law before the world, and shall be king

after me.'

And the man bowed his head.

He had waited; and he had won.

(From _Contes Armeniens_. Par Frederic Macler.)

_THE STEEL CANE_

Once upon a time there lived an old woman who had a small cottage on

the edge of the forest. Behind the cottage was a garden in which all

sorts of vegetables grew, and, beyond that, a field with two or three

cows in it, so her neighbours considered her quite rich, and envied

her greatly.

As long as she was strong enough to work all day in her garden the old

woman never felt lonely, but after a while she had a bad illness,

which left her much weaker than before, and she began to think that

now and then it would be nice to have some one to speak to. Just at

this moment she heard of the death of a shepherd and his wife, who

dwelt on the other side of the plain, leaving a little boy quite alone

in the world.

'That will just suit me,' she said; and sent a man over to bring the

child, whom she intended to adopt for her own.

Now the boy, who was about twelve years old, ought to have considered

himself very lucky, for his new mother was as kind to him as the old

one. But, unfortunately, he made friends with some bad rude companions

whose tricks caused them to be a terror to everyone, and the poor old

woman never ceased regretting her lost solitude.

Things went on in this way for some years, till the boy became a man.

'Perhaps, if he were to be married he might sober down,' she thought

to herself. And she inquired among the neighbours what girls there

were of an age to choose from. At length one was found, good and

industrious, as well as pretty; and as the young man raised no

objections the wedding took place at once, and the bride and

bridegroom went to live in the cottage with the old woman. But no

change was to be seen in the husband's conduct. All day long he was

out amusing himself in the company of his former friends, and if his

wife dared to say anything to him on his return home he beat her with

his stick. And next year, when a baby was born to them, he beat it

also.

At length the old woman's patience was worn out. She saw that it was

quite useless to expect the lazy, idle creature to mend his ways, and

one day she said to him:

'Do you mean to go on like this for ever? Remember, you are no longer

a boy, and it is time that you left off behaving like one. Come, shake

off your bad habits, and work for your wife and child, and above all,

stop beating them. If not I will transform you into an ass, and heavy

loads shall be piled on your back, and men shall ride you. Briars

shall be your food, a goad shall prick you, and in your turn you shall

know how it feels to be beaten.'

But if she expected her words to do any good she soon found out her

mistake, for the young man only grew angry and cried rudely:

'Bah! hold your tongue or I will whip you also.'

'_Will_ you?' she answered grimly: and, swift as lightning she picked

up a steel cane that stood in the corner and laid it across his

shoulders. In an instant his ears had grown long and his face longer,

his arms had become legs, and his body was covered with close grey

hair. Truly, he was an ass; and a very ugly one, too!

'Leave the house!' commanded the old woman. And, shambling awkwardly,

he went.

As he was standing in the path outside, not knowing what to do, a man

passed by.

'Ho! my fine fellow, you are exactly what I was looking for! You don't

seem to have a master, so come with me. I will find something for you

to do.' And taking him by the ear he led him from the cottage.

For seven years the ass led a hard life, just as the old woman had

foretold. But instead of remembering that he had brought all his

suffering on himself, and being sorry for his evil ways, he grew

harder, and more bitter. At the end of the seven years his ass skin

wore out, and he became a man again, and one day returned to the

cottage.

His wife opened the door in answer to his knock; then, letting fall

the latch, she ran inside, crying:

'Grandmother! grandmother! your son has come back!'

'I thought he would,' replied the old woman, going on with her

spinning. 'Well, we could have done very well without him. But as he

is here I suppose he must come in.'

And come in he did. But as the old woman expected, he behaved still

worse than before. For some weeks she allowed him to do what he liked;

then at last she said:

'So experience has taught you nothing! After all, there are very few

people who have sense to learn by it. But take care lest I change you

into a wolf, to be a prey for dogs and men!'

'You talk too much. I shall break your head for you!' was all the

answer she got.

Had the young man looked at her face he might have taken warning, but

he was busy making a pipe, and took no notice. The next moment the

steel cane had touched his shoulders, and a big grey wolf bounded

through the door.

Oh! what a yapping among the dogs, and what a shouting among the

neighbours as they gave chase.

For seven years he led the life of a hunted animal, often cold and

nearly always hungry, and never daring to allow himself a sound sleep.

At the end of that time his wolf skin wore out also, and again he

appeared at the cottage door. But the second seven years had taught

him no more than the first--his conduct was worse than before; and one

day he beat his wife and son so brutally that they screamed to the old

woman to come to their aid.

She did, and brought the steel cane with her. In a second the ruffian

had vanished, and a big black crow was flying about the room, crying

'Gour! Gour!'

The window was open, and he darted through it; and seeking the

companions who had ruined him, he managed to make them understand what

had happened.

'We will avenge you,' said they; and taking up a rope, set out to

strangle the old woman.

But she was ready for them. One stroke of her cane and they were all

changed into a troop of black crows, and _this_ time their feathers

are lasting still.

(From _Contes Armeniens_. Par Frederic Macler.)

_THE PUNISHMENT OF THE FAIRY GANGANA_

Once upon a time there lived a king and queen who ruled over a country

so small that you could easily walk round it in one day. They were

both very good, simple people; not very wise, perhaps, but anxious to

be kind to everybody; and this was often a mistake, for the king

allowed all his subjects to talk at once, and offer advice upon the

government of the kingdom as well as upon private matters. And the end

of it all was, that it was very difficult to get any laws made, and,

still more, to get anyone to obey them.

Now, no traveller ever passed through the kingdom without inquiring

how it came to be so small. And this was the reason. As soon as

Petaldo (for that was the king's name) had been born, his father and

mother betrothed him to the niece of their friend the fairy

Gangana--if she should ever have one. But as the years passed on, and

Gangana was still without a niece, the young prince forgot all about

his destined bride, and when he was twenty-five he secretly married

the beautiful daughter of a rich farmer, with whom he had fallen

violently in love.

When the fairy heard the news she fell into a violent rage, and

hurried off to tell the king. The old man thought in his heart that

his son had waited quite long enough; but he did not dare to say so,

lest some dreadful spell might be thrown over them all, and they

should be changed into birds or snakes, or, worst of all, into

stones. So, much against his will, he was obliged to disinherit the

young man, and to forbid him to come to court. Indeed, he would have

been a beggar had it not been for the property his wife had had given

her by the farmer, which the youth obtained permission to erect into a

kingdom.

Most princes would have been very angry at this treatment, especially

as the old king soon died, and the queen was delighted to reign in his

place. But Petaldo was a contented young man, and was quite satisfied

with arranging his tiny court on the model of his father's, and having

a lord chamberlain, and a high steward and several gentlemen in

attendance; while the young queen appointed her own ladies-in-waiting

and maids of honour. He likewise set up a mint to coin money, and

chose a seneschal as head of the five policemen who kept order in the

capital and punished the boys who were caught in the act of throwing

stones at the palace windows.

The first to fill this important office was the young king's

father-in-law, an excellent man of the name of Caboche. He was much

beloved by everyone, and so sensible that he was not at all vain at

rising at once to the dignity of seneschal, when he had only been a

common farmer, but went about his fields every day as usual. This

conduct so struck his king that very soon he never did anything

without consulting him.

Each morning Caboche and his son-in-law had breakfast together, and

when they had finished, the king took out of his iron chest great

bundles of state papers, which he desired to talk over with his

seneschal. Sometimes they would spend two hours at least in deciding

these important matters, but more often after a few minutes Caboche

would say:

'Excuse me, sire, but your majesty does not understand this affair in

the least. Leave it to me, and I will settle it.'

'But what am I to do, then?' asked the king. And his minister

answered:

'Oh, you can rule your wife, and see after your fruit garden. You will

find that those two things will take up all your time.'

'Well, perhaps you are right,' the king replied; secretly glad to be

rid of the cares of government. But though Caboche did all the work,

Petaldo never failed to appear on grand occasions, in his royal mantle

of red linen, holding a sceptre of gilded wood. Meanwhile he passed

his mornings in studying books, from which he learned the proper

seasons to plant his fruit trees, and when they should be pruned; and

his afternoons in his garden, where he put his knowledge into

practice. In the evening he played cards with his father-in-law, and

supped in public with the queen, and by ten o'clock everybody in the

palace was fast asleep.

The queen, on her side, was quite as happy as her husband. She loved

to be in her dairy, and nobody in the kingdom could make such

delicious cheeses. But however busy she might be, she never forgot to

bake a little barley cake, and make a tiny cream cheese, and to put

them under a particular rose-tree in the garden. If you had asked her

whom they were for, and where they went to, she could not have told

you, but would have said that on the night of her marriage a fairy had

appeared to her in a dream, and had bidden her to perform this

ceremony.

After the king and the queen had six children, a little boy was born,

with a small red cap on his head, so that he was quite different from

his brothers and sisters, and his parents loved Cadichon better than

any of them.

The years went on, and the children were growing big, when, one day,

after Gillette the queen had finished baking her cake, and had turned

it out on a plate, a lovely blue mouse crept up the leg of the table

and ran to the plate. Instead of chasing it away, as most women would

have done, the queen pretended not to notice what the mouse was

doing, and was much surprised to see the little creature pick up the

cake and carry it off to the chimney. She sprang forwards to stop it,

when, suddenly, both the mouse and cake vanished, and in their place

stood an old woman only a foot high, whose clothes hung in rags about

her. Taking up a sharp pointed iron stick, she drew on the earthen

floor some strange signs, uttering seven cries as she did so, and

murmuring something in a low voice, among which the queen was sure she

caught the words, 'faith,' 'wisdom,' 'happiness.' Then, seizing the

kitchen broom, she whirled it three times round her head, and

vanished. Immediately there arose a great noise in the next room, and

on opening the door, the queen beheld three large cockchafers, each

one with a princess between its feet, while the princes were seated on

the backs of three swallows. In the middle was a car formed of a

single pink shell, and drawn by two robin redbreasts, and in this car

Cadichon was sitting by the side of the blue mouse, who was dressed in

a splendid mantle of black velvet fastened under her chin. Before the

queen had recovered from her surprise, cockchafers, redbreasts, mouse

and children had all flown, singing, to the window, and disappeared

from view.

The loud shrieks of the queen brought her husband and father running

into the room, and when at last they made out from her broken

sentences what had really happened, they hastily snatched up some

stout sticks that were lying about and set off to the rescue--one

going in one direction and the other in another.

For at least an hour the queen sat sobbing where they had left her,

when at last she was roused by a piece of folded paper falling at her

feet. She stooped and picked it up eagerly, hoping that it might

contain some news of her lost children. It was very short, but when

she had read the few words, Gillette was comforted, for it bade her

take heart, as they were well and happy under the protection of a

fairy. 'On your own faith and prudence depend your happiness,' ended

the writer. 'It is I who have all these years eaten the food you

placed under the rose-tree, and some day I shall reward you for it.

"Everything comes to him who knows how to wait," is the advice given

by,--The Fairy of the Fields.'

Then the queen rose up, and bathed her face, and combed her shining

hair; and as she turned away from her mirror she beheld a linnet

sitting on her bed. No one would have known that it was anything but a

common linnet, and yesterday the queen would have thought so too. But

this morning so many wonderful things had happened that she did not

doubt for a moment that the writer of the letter was before her.

'Pretty linnet,' said she, 'I will try to do all you wish. Only give

me, I pray you, now and then, news of my little Cadichon.'

And the linnet flapped her wings and sang, and flew away. So the queen

knew that she had guessed rightly, and thanked her in her heart.

By-and-by the king and his seneschal returned, hungry and tired with

their fruitless search. They were amazed and rather angry to find the

queen, whom they had left weeping, quite cheerful. Could she _really_

care for her children so little and have forgotten them so soon? What

_could_ have caused this sudden change? But to all their questions

Gillette would only answer: 'Everything comes to him who knows how to

wait.'

'That is true,' replied her father; 'and, after all, your majesty must

remember that the revenues of your kingdom would hardly bear the cost

of seven princes and princesses brought up according to their rank. Be

grateful, then, to those who have relieved you of the burden.'

'You are right! You are always right!' cried the king, whose face once

more beamed with smiles. And life at the palace went on as before,

till Petaldo received a piece of news which disturbed him greatly.

The queen, his mother, who had for some time been a widow, suddenly

made up her mind to marry again, and her choice had fallen on the

young king of the Green Isles, who was younger than her own son, and,

besides, handsome and fond of pleasure, which Petaldo was not. Now the

grandmother, foolish though she was in many respects, had the sense to

see that a woman as old and as plain as she was, could hardly expect a

young man to fall in love with her, and that, if this was to happen,

it would be needful to find some spell which would bring back her

youth and beauty. Of course, the fairy Gangana could have wrought the

change with one wave of her wand; but unluckily the two were no longer

friends, because the fairy had tried hard to persuade the queen to

declare her niece heiress to the crown, which the queen refused to do.

Naturally, therefore, it was no use asking the help of Gangana to

enable the queen to take a second husband, who would be certain to

succeed her; and messengers were sent all over the neighbouring

kingdoms, seeking to find a witch or a fairy who would work the

wished-for miracle. None, however, could be found with sufficient

skill, and at length the queen saw that if ever the king of the Green

Isles was to be her husband she must throw herself on the mercy of the

fairy Gangana.

The fairy's wrath was great when she heard the queen's story, but she

knew very well that, as the king of the Green Isles had spent all his

money, he would probably be ready to marry even an old woman, like her

friend, in order to get more. So, in order to gain time, she hid her

feelings, and told the queen that in three days the spell would be

accomplished.

* * * * *

Her words made the queen so happy that twenty years seemed to fall

from her at once, and she counted, not only the hours, but the

minutes to the appointed time. It came at last, and the fairy stood

before her in a long robe of pink and silver, held up by a tiny brown

dwarf, who carried a small box under his arm. The queen received her

with all the marks of respect that she could think of, and at the

request of Gangana, ordered the doors and windows of the great hall to

be closed, and her attendants to retire, so that she and her guest

might be quite alone. Then, opening the box, which was presented to

her on one knee by the dwarf, the fairy took from it a small vellum

book with silver clasps, a wand that lengthened out as you touched it,

and a crystal bottle filled with very clear green water. She next bade

the queen sit on a seat in the middle of the room, and the dwarf to

stand opposite her, after which she stooped down and drew three

circles round them with a golden rod, touched each of them thrice with

her wand, and sprinkled the liquid over both. Gradually the queen's

big features began to grow smaller and her face fresher, while at the

same time the dwarf became about twice as tall as he had been before.

This sight, added to the blue flames which sprang up from the three

circles, so frightened the queen that she fainted in her chair, and

when she recovered, both the page and the fairy had vanished.

At first she felt vaguely puzzled, not remembering clearly what had

happened; then it all came back to her, and jumping up she ran to the

nearest mirror. Oh! how happy she was! Her long nose and her

projecting teeth had become things of beauty, her hair was thick and

curly, and bright gold. The fairy had indeed fulfilled her promise!

But, in her hurry and pleasure, the queen never noticed that she had

not been changed into a beautiful young lady, but into a very tall

little girl of eight or nine years old! Instead of her magnificent

velvet dress, edged with fur and embroidered in gold, she wore a

straight muslin frock, with a little lace apron, while her hair,

which was always combed and twisted and fastened with diamond pins,

hung in curls down her back. But if she had only known, something

besides this had befallen her, for except as regards her love for the

king of the Green Isles, her mind as well as her face had become that

of a child, and this her courtiers were aware of, if she was not. Of

course they could not imagine what had occurred, and did not know how

to behave themselves, till the chief minister set them the example by

ordering his wife and daughters to copy the queen's clothes and way of

speaking. Then, in a short time, the whole court, including the men,

talked and dressed like children, and played with dolls, or little tin

soldiers, while at the state dinners nothing was seen but iced fruits,

or sweet cakes made in the shape of birds and horses. But whatever she

might be doing, the queen hardly ceased talking about the king of the

Green Isles, whom she always spoke of as 'my little husband,' and as

weeks passed on, and he did not come, she began to get very cross and

impatient, so that her courtiers kept away from her as much as they

could. By this time, too, they were growing tired of pretending to be

children, and whispered their intention of leaving the palace and

taking service under a neighbouring sovereign, when, one day, a loud

blast of trumpets announced the arrival of the long-expected guest. In

an instant all was smiles again, and in spite of the strictest rules

of court etiquette, the queen insisted on receiving the young king at

the bottom of the stairs. Unfortunately, in her haste, she fell over

her dress, and rolled down several steps, screaming like a child, from

fright. She was not really much hurt, though she had scratched her

nose and bruised her forehead, but she was obliged to be carried to

her room and have her face bathed in cold water. Still, in spite of

this, she gave strict orders that the king should be brought to her

presence the moment he entered the palace.

A shrill blast outside her door sent a twinge of pain through the

queen's head, which by this time was aching badly; but in her joy at

welcoming her future husband she paid no heed to it. Between two lines

of courtiers, bowing low, the young king advanced quickly; but at the

sight of the queen and her bandages, broke out into such violent fits

of laughter that he was forced to leave the room, and even the palace.

When the queen had recovered from the vexation caused by the king's

rude behaviour, she bade her attendants to hasten after him and fetch

him back, but no promises or entreaties would persuade him to return.

This of course made the queen's temper even worse than it was before,

and a plot was set on foot to deprive her of the crown, which would

certainly have succeeded had not the fairy Gangana, who had only

wished to prevent her marriage, restored her to her proper shape. But,

far from thanking her friend for this service, the sight of her old

face in the mirror filled her with despair; and from that day she

hated Gangana with a deadly hatred.

And where were Petaldo's children all this while? Why, in the island

of Bambini, where they had playfellows to their hearts' content, and

plenty of fairies to take care of them all. But out of all the seven

princes and princesses whom the queen had seen carried off through the

window, there was only Cadichon who was good and obedient; the other

six were so rude and quarrelsome that they could get no one to play

with them, and at last, as a punishment, the fairy changed them all

into marionettes, till they should learn to behave better.

Now, in an unlucky moment, the Fairy of the Fields determined to visit

her friend the queen of the fairies, who lived in a distant island, in

order to consult her as to what was to become of Cadichon.

As she was entering the Hall of Audience, Gangana was leaving it, and

sharp words were exchanged between them. After her enemy had flown off

in a rage, the Fairy of the Fields poured out the whole story of

Gangana's wickedness to the queen, and implored her counsel.

'Be comforted,' answered the fairy queen. 'For a while she must work

her will, and at this moment she is carrying off Cadichon to the

island where she still holds her niece captive. But should she make an

evil use of the power she has, her punishment will be swift and great.

And now I will give you this precious phial. Guard it carefully, for

the liquid it contains will cause you to become invisible, and safe

from the piercing eyes of all fairies. Against the eyes of mortals it

has no charm!'

With a heart somewhat lighter, the Fairy of the Fields returned to her

own island, and, the better to protect the six new marionettes from

the wicked fairy, she sprinkled them with a few drops of the liquid,

only avoiding just the tips of their noses, so that she might be able

to know them again. Then she set off for the kingdom of Petaldo, which

she found in a state of revolt, because for the first time since he

had ascended the throne he had dared to impose a tax. Indeed, matters

might have ended in a war, or in cutting off the king's head, had not

the fairy discovered a means of contenting everybody, and of

whispering anew to the queen that all was well with her children, for

she dared not tell her of the loss of Cadichon.

And what had become of Cadichon? Well, the Fairy of the Fields had

found out--by means of her books, which had told her--that the poor

little boy had been placed by Gangana in an enchanted island, round

which flowed a rapid river, sweeping rocks and trees in its current.

Besides the river, the island was guarded by twenty-four enormous

dragons, breathing flames, and forming a rampart of fire which it

seemed as if none could pass.

The Fairy of the Fields knew all this, but she had a brave heart, and

determined that by some means or other she would overcome all

obstacles, and rescue Cadichon from the power of Gangana. So, taking

with her the water of invisibility, she sprinkled it over her, and

mounting her favourite winged lizard, set out for the island. When it

appeared in sight she wrapped herself in her fireproof mantle; then,

bidding the lizard return home, she slipped past the dragons and

entered the island.

Scarcely had she done so than she beheld Gangana approaching her,

talking loudly and angrily to a genius who flew by her side. From what

she said, the fairy learned that Petaldo's mother, the old queen, had

died of rage on hearing of the marriage of the king of the Green Isles

to a young and lovely bride, and instead of leaving her kingdom to

Gangana, had bequeathed it to one of the children of her son Petaldo.

'But all the trouble I have had with that foolish old woman shall not

go for nothing,' cried Gangana. 'Go at once to my stables, and fetch

out the strongest and swiftest griffins you can find in the stalls,

and harness them to the yellow coach. Drive this, with all the speed

you may, to the Isle of Bambini, and carry off the six children of

Petaldo that are still there. I will see to Petaldo and Gillette

myself. When I have got them all safe here I will change the parents

into rabbits and the children into dogs. As for Cadichon, I have not

quite made up my mind what I shall do with him.'

The Fairy of the Fields did not wait to hear more. No time was to be

lost in seeking the help of the fairy queen if Petaldo and his family

were to be saved from this dreadful doom. So, without waiting to

summon her lizard, she flew across the island and past the dragons

till her feet once more touched the ground again. But at that instant

a black cloud rolled over her, loud thunder rent the air, and the

earth rocked beneath her. Then wild lightnings lit up the sky, and by

their flashes she saw the four-and-twenty dragons fighting together,

uttering shrieks and yells, till the whole earth must have heard the

uproar. Trembling with terror, the fairy stood rooted to the spot; and

when day broke, island, torrent, and dragons had vanished, and in

their stead was a barren rock. On the summit of the rock stood a black

ostrich, and on its back were seated Cadichon, and the little niece of

the fairy Gangana, for whose sake she had committed so many evil

deeds. While the Fairy of the Fields was gazing in surprise at this

strange sight, the ostrich spread its wings and flew off in the

direction of the Fortunate Isle, and, followed unseen by the good

fairy, entered the great hall where the queen was sitting on her

throne.

Proud and exultant was Gangana in her new shape, for, by all the laws

of fairydom, if she succeeded in laying Cadichon at the feet of the

queen, and received him back from her, he was in her power for life,

and she might do with him as she would. This the good fairy knew well,

and pressed on with all her strength, for the dreadful events of the

night had almost exhausted her. But, with a mighty effort, she

snatched the children away from the back of the ostrich, and placed

them on the lap of the queen.

With a scream of baffled rage the ostrich turned away, and Gangana

stood in her place, waiting for the doom which she had brought upon

herself.

'You have neglected all my warnings,' said the queen, speaking more

sternly than any fairy had ever heard her; 'and my sentence is that

during two hundred years you lose all your privileges as a fairy, and

under the form of an ostrich shall become the slave of the lowest and

wickedest of the genii whom you have made your friends. As for these

children, I shall keep them with me, and they shall be brought up at

my court.'

And so they were, until they grew up and were old enough to be

married. Then the Fairy of the Fields took them back to the kingdom of

the old queen, where Petaldo was now reigning. But the cares of state

proved too heavy both for him and Gillette, after the quiet life they

had led for so many years, and they were rejoiced to be able to lay

aside their crowns, and place them on the heads of Cadichon and his

bride, who was as good as she was beautiful, though she _was_ the

niece of the wicked Gangana! And so well had Cadichon learned the

lessons taught him at the court of the fairy queen, that never since

the kingdom _was_ a kingdom had the people been so well governed or so

happy. And they went about the streets and the fields smiling with joy

at the difference between the old times and the new, and whispering

softly to each other:

'Everything comes to him who knows how to wait.'

(From _Le Cabinet des Fees_.)

_THE SILENT PRINCESS_

Once upon a time there lived in Turkey a pasha who had only one son,

and so dearly did he love this boy that he let him spend the whole day

amusing himself, instead of learning how to be useful like his

friends.

Now the boy's favourite toy was a golden ball, and with this he would

play from morning till night, without troubling anybody. One day, as

he was sitting in the summer-house in the garden, making his ball run

all along the walls and catching it again, he noticed an old woman

with an earthen pitcher coming to draw water from a well which stood

in a corner of the garden. In a moment he had caught his ball and

flung it straight at the pitcher, which fell to the ground in a

thousand pieces. The old woman started with surprise, but said

nothing; only turned round to fetch another pitcher, and as soon as

she had disappeared, the boy hurried out to pick up his ball.

Scarcely was he back in the summer-house when he beheld the old woman

a second time, approaching the well with the pitcher on her shoulder.

She had just taken hold of the handle to lower it into the water,

when--crash! And the pitcher lay in fragments at her feet. Of course

she felt very angry, but for fear of the pasha she still held her

peace, and spent her last pence in buying a fresh pitcher. But when

this also was broken by a blow from the ball, her wrath burst forth,

and shaking her fist towards the summer-house where the boy was

hiding, she cried:

'I wish you may be punished by falling in love with the silent

princess.' And having said this she vanished.

For some time the boy paid no heed to her words--indeed he forgot

them altogether; but as years went by, and he began to think more

about things, the remembrance of the old woman's wish came back to his

mind.

'Who is the silent princess? And why should it be a punishment to fall

in love with her?' he asked himself, and received no answer. However,

that did not prevent him from putting the question again and again,

till at length he grew so weak and ill that he could eat nothing, and

in the end was forced to lie in bed altogether. His father the pasha

became so frightened by this strange disease, that he sent for every

physician in the kingdom to cure him, but no one was able to find a

remedy.

'How did your illness first begin, my son?' asked the pasha one day.

'Perhaps, if we knew that, we should also know better what to do for

you.'

Then the youth told him what had happened all those years before, when

he was a little boy, and what the old woman had said to him.

'Give me, I pray you,' he cried, when his tale was finished, 'give me,

I pray you, leave to go into the world in search of the princess, and

perhaps this evil state may cease.' And, sore though his heart was to

part from his only son, the pasha felt that the young man would

certainly die if he remained at home any longer.

'Go, and peace be with you,' he answered; and went out to call his

trusted steward, whom he ordered to accompany his young master.

Their preparations were soon made, and early one morning the two set

out. But neither old man nor young had the slightest idea where they

were going, or what they were undertaking. First they lost their way

in a dense forest, and from that they at length emerged in a

wilderness where they wandered for six months, not seeing a living

creature and finding scarcely anything to eat or drink, till they

became nothing but skin and bone, while their garments hung in

tatters about them. They had forgotten all about the princess, and

their only wish was to find themselves back in the palace again, when,

one day, they discovered that they were standing on the shoulder of a

mountain. The stones beneath them shone as brightly as diamonds, and

both their hearts beat with joy at beholding a tiny old man

approaching them. The sight awoke all manner of recollections; the

numb feeling that had taken possession of them fell away as if by

magic, and it was with glad voices that they greeted the new-comer.

'Where are we, my friend?' asked they; and the old man told them that

this was the mountain where the sultan's daughter sat, covered by

seven veils, and the shining of the stones was only the reflection of

her own brilliance.

On hearing this news all the dangers and difficulties of their past

wandering vanished from their minds.

'How can I reach her soonest?' asked the youth eagerly. But the old

man only answered:

'Have patience, my son, yet awhile. Another six months must go by

before you arrive at the palace where she dwells with the rest of the

women. And, even so, think well, when you can, as should you fail to

make her speak, you will have to pay forfeit with your life, as others

have done. So beware!'

But the prince only laughed at this counsel--as others had also done.

* * * * *

After three months they found themselves on the top of another

mountain, and the prince saw with surprise that its sides were

coloured a beautiful red. Perched on some cliffs, not far off, was a

small village, and the prince proposed to his friend that they should

go and rest there. The villagers, on their part, welcomed them gladly,

and gave them food to eat and beds to sleep on, and thankful indeed

were the two travellers to repose their weary limbs.

The next morning they asked their host if he could tell them whether

they were still many days' journey from the princess, and whether he

knew why the mountain was so much redder than other mountains.

'For three and a half more months you must still pursue your way,'

answered he, 'and by that time you will find yourselves at the gate of

the princess's palace. As for the colour of the mountain, that comes

from the soft hue of her cheeks and mouth, which shines through the

seven veils which cover her. But none have ever beheld her face, for

she sits there, uttering no word, though one hears whispers of many

having lost their lives for her sake.'

The prince, however, would listen no further; and thanking the man for

his kindness, he jumped up and, with the steward, set out to climb the

mountain.

On and on and on they went, sleeping under the trees or in caves, and

living upon berries and any fish they could catch in the rivers. But

at length, when their clothes were nearly in rags and their legs so

tired that they could hardly walk any further, they saw on the top of

the next mountain a palace of yellow marble.

'There it is, at last,' cried the prince; and fresh blood seemed to

spring in his veins. But as he and his companion began to climb

towards the top they paused in horror, for the ground was white with

dead men's skulls. It was the prince who first recovered his voice,

and he said to his friend, as carelessly as he could:

'These must be the skulls of the men who tried to make the princess

speak and failed. Well, if we fail too, our bones will strew the

ground likewise.'

'Oh! turn back now, my prince, while there is yet time,' entreated his

companion. 'Your father gave you into my charge; but when we set out I

did not know that certain death lay before us.'

'Take heart, O Lala, take heart!' answered the prince. 'A man can but

die once. And, besides, the princess will have to speak _some_ day,

you know.'

So they went on again, past skulls and dead men's bones in all

degrees of whiteness. And by-and-by they reached another village,

where they determined to rest for a little while, so that their wits

might be fresh and bright for the task that lay before them. But this

time, though the people were kind and friendly, their faces were

gloomy, and every now and then woeful cries would rend the air.

'Oh! my brother, have I lost you?' 'Oh! my son, shall I see you no

more?' And then, as the prince and his companion asked the meaning of

these laments--which, indeed, was plain enough--the answer was given:

'Ah, you also have come hither to die! This town belongs to the father

of the princess, and when any rash man seeks to move the princess to

speech he must first obtain leave of the sultan. If that is granted

him he is then led into the presence of the princess. What happens

afterwards, perhaps the sight of these bones may help you to guess.'

The young man bowed his head in token of thanks, and stood thoughtful

for a short time. Then, turning to the Lala, he said:

'Well, our destiny will soon be decided! Meanwhile we will find out

all we can, and do nothing rashly.'

For two or three days they wandered about the bazaars, keeping their

eyes and ears open, when, one morning, they met a man carrying a

nightingale in a cage. The bird was singing so joyously that the

prince stopped to listen, and at once offered to buy him from his

owner.

'Oh, why cumber yourself with such a useless thing,' cried the Lala in

disgust; 'have you not enough to occupy your hands and mind, without

taking an extra burden?' But the prince, who liked having his own way,

paid no heed to him, and paying the high price asked by the man, he

carried the bird back to the inn, and hung him up in his chamber. That

evening, as he was sitting alone, trying to think of something that

would make the princess talk, and failing altogether, the nightingale

pecked open her cage door, which was lightly fastened by a stick, and,

perching on his shoulder, murmured softly in his ear:

'What makes you so sad, my prince?' The young man started. In his

native country birds did not talk, and, like many people, he was

always rather afraid of what he did not understand. But in a moment he

felt ashamed of his folly, and explained that he had travelled for

more than a year, and over thousands of miles, to win the hand of the

sultan's daughter. And now that he had reached his goal he could think

of no plan to force her to speak.

'Oh! do not trouble your head about that,' replied the bird, 'it is

quite easy! Go this evening to the women's apartments, and take me

with you, and when you enter the princess's private chamber hide me

under the pedestal which supports the great golden candlestick. The

princess herself will be wrapped so thickly in her seven veils that

she can see nothing, neither can her face be seen by anyone. Then

inquire after her health, but she will remain quite silent; and next

say that you are sorry to have disturbed her, and that you will have a

little talk with the pedestal of the candlestick. When you speak I

will answer.'

The prince threw his mantle over the bird, and started for the palace,

where he begged an audience of the sultan. This was soon granted him,

and leaving the nightingale hidden by the mantle, in a dark corner

outside the door, he walked up to the throne on which his highness was

sitting, and bowed low before him.

'What is your request?' asked the sultan, looking closely at the young

man, who was tall and handsome; but when he heard the tale he shook

his head pityingly.

'If you can make her speak she shall be your wife,' answered he; 'but

if not--did you mark the skulls that strewed the mountain side?'

'Some day a man is bound to break the spell, O sultan,' replied the

youth boldly; 'and why should not I be he as well as another? At any

rate, my word is pledged, and I cannot draw back now.'

'Well, go if you must,' said the sultan. And he bade his attendants

lead the way to the chamber of the princess, but to allow the young

man to enter alone.

Catching up, unseen, his mantle and the cage as they passed into the

dark corridor--for by this time night was coming on--the youth found

himself standing in a room bare except for a pile of silken cushions,

and one tall golden candlestick. His heart beat high as he looked at

the cushions, and knew that, shrouded within the shining veils that

covered them, lay the much longed-for princess. Then, fearful that

after all other eyes might be watching him, he hastily placed the

nightingale under the open pedestal on which the candlestick was

resting, and turning again he steadied his voice, and besought the

princess to tell him of her well-being.

Not by even a movement of her hand did the princess show that she had

heard, and the young man, who of course expected this, went on to

speak of his travels and of the strange countries he had passed

through; but not a sound broke the silence.

* * * * *

'I see clearly that you are interested in none of these things,' said

he at last, 'and as I have been forced to hold my peace for so many

months, I feel that now I really _must_ talk to somebody, so I shall

go and address my conversation to the candlestick.' And with that he

crossed the room behind the princess, and cried: 'O fairest of

candlesticks, how are you?'

'Very well indeed, my lord,' answered the nightingale; 'but I wonder

how many years have gone by since any one has spoken with me. And, now

that you have come, rest, I pray you, awhile, and listen to my story.'

'Willingly,' replied the youth, curling himself up on the floor, for

there was no cushion for him to sit on.

'Once upon a time,' began the nightingale, 'there lived a pasha whose

daughter was the most beautiful maiden in the whole kingdom. Suitors

she had in plenty, but she was not easy to please, and at length there

were only three whom she felt she could even _think_ of marrying. Not

knowing which of the three she liked best, she took counsel with her

father, who summoned the young men into his presence, and then told

them that they must each of them learn some trade, and whichever of

them proved the cleverest at the end of six months should become the

husband of the princess.

'Though the three suitors may have been secretly disappointed, they

could not help feeling that this test was quite fair, and left the

palace together, talking as they went of what handicrafts they might

set themselves to follow. The day was hot, and when they reached a

spring that gushed out of the side of the mountain, they stopped to

drink and rest, and then one of them said:

'"It will be best that we should each seek our fortunes alone; so let

us put our rings under this stone, and go our separate ways. And the

first one who returns hither will take his ring, and the others will

take theirs. Thus we shall know whether we have all fulfilled the

commands of the pasha, or if some accident has befallen any of us."

'"Good," replied the other two. And three rings were placed in a

little hole, and carefully covered again by the stone.

'Then they parted, and for six months they knew naught of each other,

till, on the day appointed, they met at the spring. Right glad they

all were, and eagerly they talked of what they had done, and how the

time had been spent.

'"I think I shall win the princess," said the eldest, with a laugh,

"for it is not everybody that is able to accomplish a whole year's

journey in an hour!"

'"That is very clever, certainly," answered his friend; "but if you

are to govern a kingdom it may be still more useful to have the power

of seeing what is happening at a distance; and that is what _I_ have

learnt," replied the second.

'"No, no, my dear comrades," cried the third, "your trades are all

very well; but when the pasha hears that I can bring back the dead to

life he will know which of us three is to be his son-in-law. But come,

there only remain a few hours of the six months he granted us. It is

time that we hastened back to the palace."

'"Stop a moment," said the second, "it would be well to know what is

going on in the palace." And plucking some small leaves from a tree

near by, he muttered some words and made some signs, and laid them on

his eyes. In an instant he turned pale, and uttered a cry.

'"What is it? What is it?" exclaimed the others; and, with a shaking

voice, he gasped:

'"The princess is lying on her bed, and has barely a few minutes to

live. Oh! can no one save her?"

'"_I_ can," answered the third, taking a small box from his turban;

"this ointment will cure any illness. But how to reach her in time?"

'"Give it to me," said the first. And he wished himself by the bedside

of the princess, which was surrounded by the sultan and his weeping

courtiers. Clearly there was not a second to lose, for the princess

had grown unconscious, and her face cold. Plunging his finger into the

ointment he touched her eyes, mouth and ears with the paste, and with

beating heart awaited the result.

'It was swifter than he supposed. As he looked the colour came back

into her cheeks, and she smiled up at her father. The sultan, almost

speechless with joy at this sudden change, embraced his daughter

tenderly, and then turned to the young man to whom he owed her life:

'"Are you not one of those three whom I sent forth to learn a trade

six months ago?" asked he. And the young man answered yes, and that

the other two were even now on their way to the palace, so that the

sultan might judge between them.'

At this point in his story the nightingale stopped, and asked the

prince which of the three he thought had the best right to the

princess.

[Illustration: THE SILENT PRINCESS SPEAKS AT LAST]

'The one who had learned how to prepare the ointment,' replied he.

'But if it had not been for the man who could see what was happening

at a distance they would never have known that the princess was ill,'

said the nightingale. 'I would give it to _him_.' And the strife

between them waxed hot, till, suddenly, the listening princess

started up from her cushions and cried:

'Oh, you fools! cannot you understand that if it had not been for him

who had power to reach the palace in time the ointment itself would

have been useless, for death would have claimed her? It is he and no

other who ought to have the princess!'

At the first sound of the princess's voice, a slave, who was standing

at the door, ran at full speed to tell the sultan of the miracle which

had taken place, and the delighted father hastened to the spot. But by

this time the princess perceived that she had fallen into a trap which

had been cunningly laid for her, and would not utter another word. All

she could be prevailed on to do was to make signs to her father that

the man who wished to be her husband must induce her to speak three

times. And she smiled to herself beneath her seven veils as she

thought of the impossibility of _that_.

When the sultan told the prince that though he had succeeded once, he

would have twice to pass through the same test, the young man's face

clouded over. It did not seem to him fair play, but he dared not

object, so he only bowed low, and contrived to step back close to the

spot where the nightingale was hidden. As it was now quite dark he

tucked unseen the little cage under his cloak, and left the palace.

'Why are you so gloomy?' asked the nightingale, as soon as they were

safely outside. 'Everything has gone exactly right! Of course the

princess was very angry with herself for having spoken. And did you

see that, at her first words, the veils that covered her began to

rend? Take me back to-morrow evening, and place me on the pillar by

the lattice. Fear nothing, you have only to trust to me!'

The next evening, towards sunset, the prince left the cage behind him,

and with the bird in the folds of his garment slipped into the palace

and made his way straight to the princess's apartments. He was at

once admitted by the slaves who guarded the door, and took care to

pass near the window so that the nightingale hopped unseen to the top

of a pillar. Then he turned and bowed low to the princess, and asked

her several questions; but, as before, she answered nothing, and,

indeed, gave no sign that she heard. After a few minutes the young man

bowed again, and crossing over to the window, he said:

'Oh, pillar! it is no use speaking to the princess, she will not utter

one word; and as I must talk to somebody, I have come to you. Tell me

how you have been all this long while?'

'I thank you,' replied a voice from the pillar, 'I am feeling very

well. And it is lucky for me that the princess is silent, or else you

would not have wanted to speak to me. To reward you, I will relate to

you an interesting tale that I lately overheard, and about which I

should like to have your opinion.'

'That will be charming,' answered the prince, 'so pray begin at once.'

'Once upon a time,' said the nightingale, 'there lived a woman who was

so beautiful that every man who saw her fell in love with her. But she

was very hard to please, and refused to wed any of them, though she

managed to keep friends with all. Years passed away in this manner,

almost without her noticing them, and one by one the young men grew

tired of waiting, and sought wives who may have been less handsome,

but were also less proud, and at length only three of her former

wooers remained--Baldschi, Jagdschi, and Firedschi. Still she held

herself apart, thought herself better and lovelier than other women,

when, on a certain evening, her eyes were opened at last to the truth.

She was sitting before her mirror, combing her curls, when amongst her

raven locks she found a long white hair!

'At this dreadful sight her heart gave a jump, and then stood still.

'"I am growing old," she said to herself, "and if I do not choose a

husband soon, I shall never get one! I know that either of those men

would gladly marry me to-morrow, but I cannot decide between them. I

must invent some way to find out which of them is the best, and lose

no time about it."

'So instead of going to sleep, she thought all night long of different

plans, and in the morning she arose and dressed herself.

'"That will have to do," she muttered as she pulled out the white hair

which had cost her so much trouble. "It is not very good, but I can

think of nothing better; and--well, they are none of them clever, and

I dare say they will easily fall into the trap." Then she called her

slave and bade her let Jagdschi know that she would be ready to

receive him in an hour's time. After that she went into the garden and

dug a grave under a tree, by which she laid a white shroud.

'Jagdschi was delighted to get the gracious message; and, putting on

his newest garments, he hastened to the lady's house, but great was

his dismay at finding her stretched on her cushions, weeping bitterly.

'"What is the matter, O Fair One?" he asked, bowing low before her.

'"A terrible thing has happened," said she, her voice choked with

sobs. "My father died two nights ago, and I buried him in my garden.

But now I find that he was a wizard, and was not dead at all, for his

grave is empty and he is wandering about somewhere in the world."

'"That is evil news indeed," answered Jagdschi; "but can I do nothing

to comfort you?"

'"There is one thing you can do," replied she, "and that is to wrap

yourself in the shroud and lay yourself in the grave. If he should not

return till after three hours have elapsed he will have lost his power

over me, and be forced to go and wander elsewhere."

'Now Jagdschi was proud of the trust reposed in him, and wrapping

himself in the shroud, he stretched himself at full length in the

grave. After some time Baldschi arrived in his turn, and found the

lady groaning and lamenting. She told him that her father had been a

wizard, and that in case, as was very likely, he should wish to leave

his grave and come to work her evil, Baldschi was to take a stone and

be ready to crush in his head, if he showed signs of moving.

'Baldschi, enchanted at being able to do his lady a service, picked up

a stone, and seated himself by the side of the grave wherein lay

Jagdschi.

'Meanwhile the hour arrived in which Firedschi was accustomed to pay

his respects, and, as in the case of the other two, he discovered the

lady overcome with grief. To him she said that a wizard who was an

enemy of her father's had thrown the dead man out of his grave, and

had taken his place. "But," she added, "if you can bring the wizard

into my presence, all his power will go from him; if not, then I am

lost."

'"Ah, lady, what is there that I would not do for you!" cried

Firedschi; and running down to the grave, he seized the astonished

Jagdschi by the waist, and flinging the body over his shoulder, he

hastened with him into the house. At the first moment Baldschi was so

surprised at this turn of affairs, for which the lady had not prepared

him, that he sat still and did nothing. But by-and-by he sprang up and

hurled the stone after the two flying figures, hoping that it might

kill them both. Fortunately it touched neither, and soon all three

were in the presence of the lady. Then Jagdschi, thinking that he had

delivered her from the power of the wizard, slid off the back of

Firedschi, and threw the shroud from him.'

'Tell me, my prince,' said the nightingale, when he had finished his

story, 'which of the three men deserved to win the lady? I myself

should choose Firedschi.'

'No, no,' answered the prince, who understood the wink the bird had

given him; 'it was Baldschi who took the most trouble, and it was

certainly he who deserved the lady.'

But the nightingale would not agree; and they began to quarrel, till a

third voice broke in:

'How can you talk such nonsense?' cried the princess--and as she spoke

a sound of tearing was heard. 'Why, you have never even thought of

Jagdschi, who lay for three hours in the grave, with a stone held over

his head! Of course it was _he_ whom the lady chose for her husband!'

* * * * *

It was not many minutes before the news reached the sultan; but even

now he would not consent to the marriage till his daughter had spoken

a third time. On hearing this, the young man took counsel with the

nightingale how best to accomplish this, and the bird told him that as

the princess, in her fury at having fallen into the snare laid for

her, had ordered the pillar to be broken in pieces, he must be hidden

in the folds of a curtain that hung by the door.

The following evening the prince entered the palace, and walked boldly

up to the princess's apartments. As he entered the nightingale flew

from under his arm and perched himself on top of the door, where he

was entirely concealed by the folds of the dark curtain. The young man

talked as usual to the princess without obtaining a single word in

reply, and at length he left her lying under the heap of shining

veils--now rent in many places--and crossed the room towards the door,

from which came a voice that gladly answered him.

For a while the two talked together: then the nightingale asked if the

prince was fond of stories, as he had lately heard one which

interested and perplexed him greatly. In reply, the prince begged that

he might hear it at once, and without further delay the nightingale

began:

[Illustration: 'THE SEVEN VEILS FELL FROM HER']

'Once upon a time, a carpenter, a tailor, and a student set out

together to see the world. After wandering about for some months they

grew tired of travelling, and resolved to stay and rest in a small

town that took their fancy. So they hired a little house, and looked

about for work to do, returning at sunset to smoke their pipes and

talk over the events of the day.

'One night in the middle of summer it was hotter than usual, and the

carpenter found himself unable to sleep. Instead of tossing about on

his cushions, making himself more uncomfortable than he was already,

the man wisely got up and drank some coffee and lit his long pipe.

Suddenly his eye fell on some pieces of wood in a corner and, being

very clever with his fingers, he had soon set up a perfect statue of a

girl about fourteen years old. This so pleased and quieted him that he

grew quite drowsy, and going back to bed fell fast asleep.

'But the carpenter was not the only person who lay awake that night.

Thunder was in the air, and the tailor became so restless that he

thought he would go downstairs and cool his feet in the little

fountain outside the garden door. To reach the door he had to pass

through the room where the carpenter had sat and smoked, and against

the wall he beheld standing a beautiful girl. He stood speechless for

an instant before he ventured to touch her hand, when, to his

amazement, he found that she was fashioned out of wood.

'"Ah! I can make you more beautiful still," said he. And fetching from

a shelf a roll of yellow silk which he had bought that day from a

merchant, he cut and draped and stitched, till at length a lovely robe

clothed the slender figure. When this was finished, the restlessness

had departed from him, and he went back to bed.

'As dawn approached the student arose and prepared to go to the mosque

with the first ray of sunlight. But, when he saw the maiden standing

there, he fell on his knees and lifted his hands in ecstasy.

'"Oh, thou art fairer than the evening air, clad in the beauty of ten

thousand stars," he murmured to himself. "Surely a form so rare was

never meant to live without a soul." And forthwith he prayed with all

his might that life should be breathed into it.

'And his prayer was heard, and the beautiful statue became a living

girl, and the three men all fell in love with her, and each desired to

have her to wife.

'Now,' said the nightingale, 'to which of them did the maiden really

belong? It seems to me that the carpenter had the best right to her.'

'Oh, but the student would never have thought of praying that she

might be given a soul had not the tailor drawn attention to her

loveliness by the robe which he put upon her,' answered the prince,

who guessed what he was expected to say: and they soon set up quite a

pretty quarrel. Suddenly the princess, furious that neither of them

alluded to the part played by the student, quite forgot her vow of

silence and cried loudly:

'Idiots that you are! how could she belong to any one but the student?

If it had not been for him, all that the others did would have gone

for nothing! Of course it was he who married the maiden!' And as she

spoke the seven veils fell from her, and she stood up, the fairest

princess that the world has ever seen.

'You have won me,' she said smiling, holding out her hand to the

prince.

And so they were married: and after the wedding-feast was over they

sent for the old woman whose pitcher the prince had broken so long

ago, and she dwelt in the palace, and became nurse to their children,

and lived happily till she died.

(Adapted from _Tuerkische Volksmaerchen aus Stambul gesammelt, uebersetzt

und eingeleitet_ von Dr. Ignaz Kuenos. Brill, Leiden.)