talk, and as soon as they had gone he rose and climbed to the summit.
When he had sat there a little while a cloud swept by, and, seizing
him, carried him away. It travelled for a time in the sky, and then it
sank down and hovered over a large vegetable garden surrounded by
walls, so that he came safely to the ground amidst cabbages and
vegetables. The Hunter then looked about him, saying, ‘If only I had
something to eat! I am so hungry, and it will go badly with me in the
future, for I see here not an apple or pear or fruit of any
kind—nothing but vegetables everywhere.’ At last he thought, ‘At a
pinch I can eat a salad; it does not taste particularly nice, but it
will refresh me.’ So he looked about for a good head and ate it, but
no sooner had he swallowed a couple of mouthfuls than he felt very
strange, and found himself wonderfully changed. Four legs began to
grow on him, a thick head, and two long ears, and he saw with horror
that he had changed into a donkey. But as he was still very hungry and
this juicy salad tasted very good to his present nature, he went on
eating with a still greater appetite. At last he got hold of another
kind of cabbage, but scarcely had swallowed it when he felt another
change, and he once more regained his human form.
[Illustration: The hunter is transformed into a donkey]
The Hunter now lay down and slept off his weariness. When he awoke the
next morning he broke off a head of the bad and a head of the good
cabbage, thinking, ‘This will help me to regain my own, and to punish
faithlessness.’ Then he put the heads in his pockets, climbed the
wall, and started off to seek the castle of his love. When he had
wandered about for a couple of days he found it quite easily. He then
browned his face quickly, so that his own mother would not have known
him, and went into the castle, where he begged for a lodging.
‘I am so tired,’ he said, ‘I can go no farther.’
The witch asked, ‘Countryman, who are you, and what is your business?’
He answered, ‘I am a messenger of the King, and have been sent to seek
the finest salad that grows under the sun. I have been so lucky as to
find it, and am bringing it with me; but the heat of the sun is so
great that the tender cabbage threatens to grow soft, and I do not
know if I shall be able to bring it any farther.’
When the old witch heard of the fine salad she wanted to eat it, and
said, ‘Dear countryman, just let me taste the wonderful salad.’
‘Why not?’ he answered; ‘I have brought two heads with me, and will
give you one.’
So saying, he opened his sack and gave her the bad one. The witch
suspected no evil, and her mouth watered to taste the new dish, so
that she went into the kitchen to prepare it herself. When it was
ready she could not wait till it was served at the table, but she
immediately took a couple of leaves and put them in her mouth. No
sooner, however, had she swallowed them than she lost human form, and
ran into the courtyard in the shape of a donkey.
Now the servant came into the kitchen, and when she saw the salad
standing there ready cooked she was about to carry it up, but on the
way, according to her old habit, she tasted it and ate a couple of
leaves. Immediately the charm worked, and she became a donkey, and ran
out to join the old witch, and the dish with the salad in it fell to
the ground. In the meantime, the messenger was sitting with the lovely
maiden, and as no one came with the salad, and she wanted very much to
taste it, she said, ‘I don’t know where the salad is.’
Then thought the Hunter, ‘The cabbage must have already begun to
work.’ And he said, ‘I will go to the kitchen and fetch it myself.’
When he came there he saw the two donkeys running about in the
courtyard, but the salad was lying on the ground.
‘That’s all right,’ said he; ‘two have had their share!’ And lifting
the remaining leaves up, he laid them on the dish and brought them to
the maiden.
‘I am bringing you the delicious food my own self,’ he said, ‘so that
you need not wait any longer.’
Then she ate, and, as the others had done, she at once lost her human
form, and ran as a donkey into the yard.
When the Hunter had washed his face, so that the changed ones might
know him, he went into the yard, saying, ‘Now you shall receive a
reward for your faithlessness.’
He tied them all three with a rope, and drove them away till he came
to a mill. He knocked at the window, and the miller put his head out
and asked what he wanted.
‘I have three tiresome animals,’ he answered, ‘which I don’t want to
keep any longer. If you will take them, give them food and stabling,
and do as I tell you with them, I will pay you as much as you want.’
[Illustration: The Young Man Gives the Donkeys to the Miller]
The miller replied, ‘Why not? What shall I do with them?’
Then the Hunter said that to the old donkey, which was the witch,
three beatings and one meal; to the younger one, which was the
servant, one beating and three meals; and to the youngest one, which
was the maiden, no beating and three meals; for he could not find it
in his heart to let the maiden be beaten.
Then he went back into the castle, and he found there all that he
wanted. After a couple of days the miller came and said that he must
tell him that the old donkey which was to have three beatings and only
one meal had died. ‘The two others,’ he added, ‘are certainly not
dead, and get their three meals every day, but they are so sad that
they cannot last much longer.’
Then the Hunter took pity on them, laid aside his anger, and told the
miller to drive them back again. And when they came he gave them some
of the good cabbage to eat, so that they became human again. Then the
beautiful maiden fell on her knees before him, saying, ‘Oh, my
dearest, forgive me the ill I have done you! My mother compelled me to
do it; it was against my will, for I love you dearly. Your
wishing-cloak is hanging in a cupboard, and as for the bird-heart I
will make a drink and give it back to you.’
But he changed his mind, and said, ‘Keep it; it makes no difference,
for I will take you to be my own dear true wife.’
And the wedding was celebrated, and they lived happy together till
death.
_THE LITTLE GREEN FROG_[8]
In a part of the world whose name I forget lived once upon a time two
kings, called Peridor and Diamantino. They were cousins as well as
neighbours, and both were under the protection of the fairies; though
it is only fair to say that the fairies did not love them half so well
as their wives did.
Now it often happens that as princes can generally manage to get their
own way it is harder for them to be good than it is for common people.
So it was with Peridor and Diamantino; but of the two, the fairies
declared that Diamantino was much the worst; indeed, he behaved so
badly to his wife Aglantino, that the fairies would not allow him to
live any longer; and he died, leaving behind him a little daughter. As
she was an only child, of course this little girl was the heiress of
the kingdom, but, being still only a baby, her mother, the widow of
Diamantino, was proclaimed regent. The Queen-dowager was wise and
good, and tried her best to make her people happy. The only thing she
had to vex her was the absence of her daughter; for the fairies, for
reasons of their own, determined to bring up the little Princess
Serpentine among themselves.
As to the other King, he was really fond of his wife, Queen Constance,
but he often grieved her by his thoughtless ways, and in order to
punish him for his carelessness, the fairies caused her to die quite
suddenly. When she was gone the King felt how much he had loved her,
and his grief was so great (though he never neglected his duties) that
his subjects called him Peridor the Sorrowful. It seems hardly
possible that any man should live like Peridor for fifteen years
plunged in such depth of grief, and most likely he would have died too
if it had not been for the fairies.
[Footnote 8: Cabinet des Fées.]
The one comfort the poor King had was his son, Prince Saphir, who was
only three years old at the time of his mother’s death, and great care
was given to his education. By the time he was fifteen Saphir had
learnt everything that a prince should know, and he was, besides,
charming and agreeable.
[Illustration: The prince looks into the magic mirror]
It was about this time that the fairies suddenly took fright lest his
love for his father should interfere with the plans they had made for
the young prince. So, to prevent this, they placed in a pretty little
room of which Saphir was very fond a little mirror in a black frame,
such as were often brought from Venice. The Prince did not notice for
some days that there was anything new in the room, but at last he
perceived it, and went up to look at it more closely. What was his
surprise to see reflected in the mirror, not his own face, but that of
a young girl as lovely as the morning! And, better still, every
movement of the girl, just growing out of childhood, was also
reflected in the wonderful glass.
As might have been expected, the young Prince lost his heart
completely to the beautiful image, and it was impossible to get him
out of the room, so busy was he in watching the lovely unknown.
Certainly it was very delightful to be able to see her whom he loved
at any moment he chose, but his spirits sometimes sank when he
wondered what was to be the end of this adventure.
The magic mirror had been for about a year in the Prince’s possession,
when one day a new subject of disquiet seized upon him. As usual, he
was engaged in looking at the girl, when suddenly he thought he saw a
second mirror reflected in the first, exactly like his own, and with
the same power. And in this he was perfectly right. The young girl had
only possessed it for a short time, and neglected all her duties for
the sake of the mirror. Now it was not difficult for Saphir to guess
the reason of the change in her, nor why the new mirror was consulted
so often; but try as he would he could never see the face of the
person who was reflected in it, for the young girl’s figure always
came between. All he knew was that the face was that of a man, and
this was quite enough to make him madly jealous. This was the doing of
the fairies, and we must suppose that they had their reasons for
acting as they did.
When these things happened Saphir was about eighteen years old, and
fifteen years had passed away since the death of his mother. King
Peridor had grown more and more unhappy as time went on, and at last
he fell so ill that it seemed as if his days were numbered. He was so
much beloved by his subjects that this sad news was heard with despair
by the nation, and more than all by the Prince.
During his whole illness the King never spoke of anything but the
Queen, his sorrow at having grieved her, and his hope of one day
seeing her again. All the doctors and all the water-cures in the
kingdom had been tried, and nothing would do him any good. At last he
persuaded them to let him lie quietly in his room, where no one came
to trouble him.
Perhaps the worst pain he had to bear was a sort of weight on his
chest, which made it very hard for him to breathe. So he commanded his
servants to leave the windows open in order that he might get more
air. One day, when he had been left alone for a few minutes, a bird
with brilliant plumage came and fluttered round the window, and
finally rested on the sill. His feathers were sky-blue and gold, his
feet and his beak of such glittering rubies that no one could bear to
look at them, his eyes made the brightest diamonds look dull, and on
his head he wore a crown. I cannot tell you what the crown was made
of, but I am quite certain that it was still more splendid than all
the rest. As to his voice I can say nothing about that, for the bird
never sang at all. In fact, he did nothing but gaze steadily at the
King, and as he gazed, the King felt his strength come back to him. In
a little while the bird flew into the room, still with his eyes fixed
on the King, and at every glance the strength of the sick man became
greater, till he was once more as well as he used to be before the
Queen died. Filled with joy at his cure, he tried to seize the bird to
whom he owed it all, but, swifter than a swallow, it managed to avoid
him. In vain he described the bird to his attendants, who rushed at
his first call; in vain they sought the wonderful creature both on
horse and foot, and summoned the fowlers to their aid: the bird could
nowhere be found. The love the people bore King Peridor was so strong,
and the reward he promised was so large, that in the twinkling of an
eye every man, woman, and child had fled into the fields, and the
towns were quite empty.
All this bustle, however, ended in nothing but confusion, and, what
was worse, the King soon fell back into the same condition as he was
in before. Prince Saphir, who loved his father very dearly, was so
unhappy at this that he persuaded himself that he might succeed where
the others had failed, and at once prepared himself for a more distant
search. In spite of the opposition he met with, he rode away, followed
by his household, trusting to chance to help him. He had formed no
plan, and there was no reason that he should choose one path more than
another. His only idea was to make straight for those spots which were
the favourite haunts of birds. But in vain he examined all the hedges
and all the thickets; in vain he questioned everyone he met along the
road. The more he sought the less he found.
At last he came to one of the largest forests in all the world,
composed entirely of cedars. But in spite of the deep shadows cast by
the wide-spreading branches of the trees, the grass underneath was
soft and green, and covered with the rarest flowers. It seemed to
Saphir that this was exactly the place where the birds would choose to
live, and he determined not to quit the wood until he had examined it
from end to end. And he did more. He ordered some nets to be prepared
and painted of the same colours as the bird’s plumage, thinking that
we are all easily caught by what is like ourselves. In this he had to
help him not only the fowlers by profession, but also his attendants,
who excelled in this art. For a man is not a courtier unless he can do
everything.
After searching as usual for nearly a whole day Prince Saphir began to
feel overcome with thirst. He was too tired to go any farther, when
happily he discovered a little way off a bubbling fountain of the
clearest water. Being an experienced traveller, he drew from his
pocket a little cup (without which no one should ever take a journey),
and was just about to dip it in the water, when a lovely little green
frog, much prettier than frogs generally are, jumped into the cup. Far
from admiring its beauty, Saphir shook it impatiently off; but it was
no good, for quick as lightning the frog jumped back again. Saphir,
who was raging with thirst, was just about to shake it off anew, when
the little creature fixed upon him the most beautiful eyes in the
world, and said, ‘I am a friend of the bird you are seeking, and when
you have quenched your thirst listen to me.’
So the Prince drank his fill, and then, by the command of the Little
Green Frog, he lay down on the grass to rest himself.
‘Now,’ she began, ‘be sure you do exactly in every respect what I tell
you. First you must call together your attendants, and order them to
remain in a little hamlet close by until you want them. Then go, quite
alone, down a road that you will find on your right hand, looking
southwards. This road is planted all the way with cedars of Lebanon;
and after going down it a long way you will come at last to a
magnificent castle. And now,’ she went on, ‘attend carefully to what I
am going to say. Take this tiny grain of sand, and put it into the
ground as close as you can to the gate of the castle. It has the
virtue both of opening the gate and also of sending to sleep all the
inhabitants. Then go at once to the stable, and pay no heed to
anything except what I tell you. Choose the handsomest of all the
horses, leap quickly on its back, and come to me as fast as you can.
Farewell, Prince; I wish you good luck,’ and with these words the
Little Frog plunged into the water and disappeared.
The Prince, who felt more hopeful than he had done since he left home,
did precisely as he had been ordered. He left his attendants in the
hamlet, found the road the frog had described to him, and followed it
all alone, and at last he arrived at the gate of the castle, which was
even more splendid than he had expected, for it was built of crystal,
and all its ornaments were of massive gold. However, he had no
thoughts to spare for its beauty, and quickly buried his grain of sand
in the earth. In one instant the gates flew open, and all the dwellers
inside fell sound asleep. Saphir flew straight to the stable, and
already had his hand on the finest horse it contained, when his eye
was caught by a suit of magnificent harness hanging up close by. It
occurred to him directly that the harness belonged to the horse, and
without ever thinking of harm (for indeed he who steals a horse can
hardly be blamed for taking his saddle), he hastily placed it on the
animal’s back. Suddenly the people in the castle became broad awake,
and rushed to the stable. They flung themselves on the Prince, seized
him, and dragged him before their lord; but, luckily for the Prince,
who could only find very lame excuses for his conduct, the lord of the
castle took a fancy to his face, and let him depart without further
questions.
[Illustration: Prince Saphir steals the horse and harness]
Very sad, and very much ashamed of himself poor Saphir crept back to
the fountain, where the Frog was awaiting him with a good scolding.
‘Whom do you take me for?’ she exclaimed angrily. ‘Do you really
believe that it was just for the pleasure of talking that I gave you
the advice you have neglected so abominably?’
But the Prince was so deeply grieved, and apologised so very humbly,
that after some time the heart of the good little Frog was softened,
and she gave him another tiny little grain, but instead of being sand
it was now a grain of gold. She directed him to do just as he had done
before, with only this difference, that instead of going to the stable
which had been the ruin of his hopes, he was to enter right into the
castle itself, and to glide as fast as he could down the passages till
he came to a room filled with perfume, where he would find a beautiful
maiden asleep on a bed. He was to wake the maiden instantly and carry
her off, and to be sure not to pay any heed to whatever resistance she
might make.
The Prince obeyed the Frog’s orders one by one, and all went well for
this second time also. The gate opened, the inhabitants fell sound
asleep, and he walked down the passage till he found the girl on her
bed, exactly as he had been told he would. He woke her, and begged her
firmly, but politely, to follow him quickly. After a little persuasion
the maiden consented, but only on condition that she was allowed first
to put on her dress. This sounded so reasonable and natural that it
did not enter the Prince’s head to refuse her request.
But the maiden’s hand had hardly touched the dress when the palace
suddenly awoke from its sleep, and the Prince was seized and bound. He
was so vexed with his own folly, and so taken aback at the disaster,
that he did not attempt to explain his conduct, and things would have
gone badly with him if his friends the fairies had not softened the
hearts of his captors, so that they once more allowed him to leave
quietly. However, what troubled him most was the idea of having to
meet the Frog who had been his benefactress. How was he ever to appear
before her with this tale? Still, after a long struggle with himself,
he made up his mind that there was nothing else to be done, and that
he deserved whatever she might say to him. And she said a great deal,
for she had worked herself into a terrible passion; but the Prince
humbly implored her pardon, and ventured to point out that it would
have been very hard to refuse the young lady’s reasonable request.
‘You must learn to do as you are told,’ was all the Frog would reply.
But poor Saphir was so unhappy, and begged so hard for forgiveness,
that at last the Frog’s anger gave way, and she held up to him a tiny
diamond stone. ‘Go back,’ she said, ‘to the castle, and bury this
little diamond close to the door. But be careful not to return to the
stable or to the bedroom; they have proved too fatal to you. Walk
straight to the garden and enter through a portico, into a small green
wood, in the midst of which is a tree with a trunk of gold and leaves
of emeralds. Perched on this tree you will see the beautiful bird you
have been seeking so long. You must cut the branch on which it is
sitting, and bring it back to me without delay. But I warn you
solemnly that if you disobey my directions, as you have done twice
before, you have nothing more to expect either of me or anyone else.’
With these words she jumped into the water, and the Prince, who had
taken her threats much to heart, took his departure, firmly resolved
not to deserve them. He found it all just as he had been told: the
portico, the wood, the magnificent tree, and the beautiful bird, which
was sleeping soundly on one of the branches. He speedily lopped off
the branch, and though he noticed a splendid golden cage hanging close
by, which would have been very useful for the bird to travel in, he
left it alone, and came back to the fountain, holding his breath and
walking on tip-toe all the way, for fear lest he should awake his
prize. But what was his surprise, when instead of finding the fountain
in the spot where he had left it, he saw in its place a little rustic
palace built in the best taste, and standing in the doorway a charming
maiden, at whose sight his mind seemed to give way.
‘What! Madam!’ he cried, hardly knowing what he said. ‘What! Is it
you?’
The maiden blushed and answered: ‘Ah, my lord, it is long since I
first beheld your face, but I did not think you had ever seen mine.’
‘Oh, madam,’ replied he, ‘you can never guess the days and the hours I
have passed lost in admiration of you.’ And after these words they
each related all the strange things that had happened, and the more
they talked the more they felt convinced of the truth of the images
they had seen in their mirrors. After some time spent in the most
tender conversation, the Prince could not restrain himself from asking
the lovely unknown by what lucky chance she was wandering in the
forest; where the fountain had gone; and if she knew anything of the
Frog to whom he owed all his happiness, and to whom he must give up
the bird, which, somehow or other, was still sound asleep.
‘Ah, my lord,’ she replied, with rather an awkward air, ‘as to the
Frog, she stands before you. Let me tell you my story; it is not a
long one. I know neither my country nor my parents, and the only thing
I can say for certain is that I am called Serpentine. The fairies, who
have taken care of me ever since I was born, wished me to be in
ignorance as to my family, but they have looked after my education,
and have bestowed on me endless kindness. I have always lived in
seclusion, and for the last two years I have wished for nothing
better. I had a mirror’—here shyness and embarrassment choked her
words—but regaining her self-control, she added, ‘You know that
fairies insist on being obeyed without questioning. It was they who
changed the little house you saw before you into the fountain for
which you are now asking, and, having turned me into a frog, they
ordered me to say to the first person who came to the fountain exactly
what I repeated to you. But, my lord, when you stood before me, it was
agony to my heart, filled as it was with thoughts of you, to appear to
your eyes under so monstrous a form. However, there was no help for
it, and, painful as it was, I had to submit. I desired your success
with all my soul, not only for your own sake, but also for my own,
because I could not get back my proper shape till you had become
master of the beautiful bird, though I am quite ignorant as to your
reason for seeking it.’
On this Saphir explained about the state of his father’s health, and
all that has been told before.
On hearing this story Serpentine grew very sad, and her lovely eyes
filled with tears.
‘Ah, my lord,’ she said, ‘you know nothing of me but what you have
seen in the mirror; and I, who cannot even name my parents, learn that
you are a king’s son.’
In vain Saphir declared that love made them equal; Serpentine would
only reply: ‘I love you too much to allow you to marry beneath your
rank. I shall be very unhappy, of course, but I shall never alter my
mind. If I do not find from the fairies that my birth is worthy of
you, then, whatever be my feelings, I will never accept your hand.’