VII

NO more marriage was to be thought of for that day; but the tables were

set and the dinner served, and the Baron Kerver was too noble a knight

to take leave of his brave Bretons until they had eaten and drunk

according to custom--that is, from sunset till sunrise, and even a

little later.

Orders were given for the guests to take their seats. Ninety-six tables

were ranged in eight rows. In front of them, on a large platform covered

with velvet, with a canopy in the middle, was a table larger than the

rest, and loaded with fruit and flowers, to say nothing of the roast

hares and the peacocks smoking beneath their plumage. At this table the

bridal pair were to have been seated in full sight in order that nothing

might be lacking to the pleasures of the feast, and that the meanest

peasant might have the honor of saluting them by emptying his cup of

hydromel to the honor and prosperity of the high and mighty house of

Kerver.

The Baron seated the hundred knights at his table, and placed their

squires behind their chairs to serve them. At his right he put the bride

and Yvon, but he left the seat at his left vacant, and, calling a page,

"Child," said he, "run to the house of the stranger lady who obliged us

only too much this morning. It was not her fault if her success exceeded

her good will. Tell her that the Baron Kerver thanks her for her help,

and invites her to the wedding feast of his son Lord Yvon."

On reaching the golden house, where Finette in tears was mourning for

her beloved, the page bent one knee to the ground, and, in the Baron's

name, invited the stranger lady to the castle to do honor to the wedding

of Lord Yvon.

"Thank your master for me," answered the young girl proudly, "and tell

him that if he is too noble to come to my house I am too noble to go to

his."

When the page repeated this answer to his master the Baron Kerver struck

the table such a blow that three plates flew into the air.

"By my honor," said he, "this is spoken like a lady, and, for the first

time, I own myself beaten. Quick, saddle my dun mare, and let my knights

and squires prepare to attend me."

It was with this brilliant train that the Baron alighted at the door of

the golden cottage. He begged Finette's pardon, held the stirrup for

her, and seated her behind him on his own horse, neither more nor less

than a duchess in person. Through respect he did not speak a single word

to her on the way. On reaching the castle, he uncovered his head and led

her to the seat of honor that he had chosen for her.

The Baron's departure had made a great excitement, and his return caused

still greater surprise. Everyone asked who the lady could be that the

Baron treated with such respect. Judging from her costume she was a

foreigner; could she be the Duchess of Normandy or the Queen of France?

The steward, the bailiff, and the seneschal were appealed to. The

steward trembled, the bailiff turned pale, and the seneschal blushed,

but all three were as mute as fishes. The silence of these important

personages added to the general wonder.

All eyes were fixed on Finette, who felt a deadly chill at her heart,

for Yvon saw but did not know her. He cast an indifferent glance at her,

then began again to talk in a tender tone to the fair-haired lady, who

smiled disdainfully.

Finette, in despair, took from the purse the golden bullet, her last

hope. While talking with the Baron, who was charmed with her wit, she

shook the little ball in her hand, and repeated in a whisper:

"Golden bullet, precious treasure,

Save me, if it be thy pleasure."

And behold, the bullet grew larger and larger until it became a goblet

of chased gold, the most beautiful cup that ever graced the table of

baron or king.

Finette filled the cup herself with spiced wine, and calling the

seneschal, who was cowering behind her, she said in her gentlest tones,

"My good seneschal, I entreat you to offer this goblet to Lord Yvon. I

wish to drink his health, and I am sure that he will not refuse me this

pleasure."

Yvon took the goblet, which the seneschal presented to him on a salver

of enamel and gold, with a careless hand, bowed to the stranger, drank

the wine, and, setting the cup on the table before him, turned to the

fair-haired lady who occupied all his thoughts. The lady seemed anxious

and vexed. He whispered a few words in her ear that seemed to please

her, for her eyes sparkled, and she placed her hand again in his.

Finette cast down her head and began to weep. All was over.

"Children," cried the Baron, in a voice of thunder, "fill your glasses.

Let us all drink to the noble stranger who honors us with her presence.

'To the lovely lady of the golden cottage!'"

All began to huzzah and drink. Yvon contented himself with raising his

goblet to a level with his eyes. Suddenly he started and stood mute, his

mouth open and his eyes fixed, like a man who has a vision.

It was a vision. In the gold of the goblet Yvon saw his past life as in

a mirror: the giant pursuing him; Finette dragging him along; both

embarking in the ship that saved them; both landing on the shore of

Brittany; he quitting her for an instant; she weeping at his departure.

Where was she? By his side, of course. What other woman than Finette

could be by the side of Yvon?

He turned toward the fair-haired lady, and cried out like a man treading

on a serpent. Then, staggering as if he were drunk, he rose and looked

around him with haggard eyes. At the sight of Finette he clasped his

trembling hands, and, dragging himself toward her, fell on his knees and

exclaimed, "Finette, forgive me!"

To forgive is the height of happiness. Before evening Finette was seated

by the side of Yvon, both weeping and smiling.

And what became of the fair-haired lady? No one knows. At the cry of

Yvon she disappeared; but it was said that a wretched old hag was seen

flying on a broomstick over the castle walls, chased by the dogs; and it

was the common opinion among the Kervers that the fair-haired lady was

none other than the witch, the godmother of the giant. I am not sure

enough of the fact, however, to dare warrant it. It is always prudent to

believe, without proof, that a woman may be a witch, but it is never

wise to say so.

[Illustration: "SHE WORE THEM ALWAYS ... LOOSE AND FLOWING"]

What I can say on the word of an historian is that the feast,

interrupted for a moment, went on gayer than ever. Early the next

morning they went to the church, where, to the joy of his heart, Yvon

married Finette, who was no longer afraid of evil spirits; after which

they ate, drank, and danced for thirty-six hours, without anyone

thinking of resting. The steward's arms were a little heavy, the bailiff

rubbed his back at times, and the seneschal felt a sort of weariness in

his limbs, but all three had a weight on their consciences which they

could not shake off, and which made them tremble and flutter, till

finally they fell on the ground and were carried off. Finette took no

other vengeance on them; her only desire was to render all happy around

her, far and near, who belonged to the noble house of Kerver. Her memory

still lives in Brittany; and, among the ruins of the old castle, anyone

will show you the statue of the good lady, with five bullets in her

hand.

_The Fair One with Golden Locks_

THERE was once a king's daughter so beautiful that they named her the

Fair One with Golden Locks. These golden locks were the most remarkable

in the world, soft and fine, and falling in long waves down to her very

feet. She wore them always thus, loose and flowing, surmounted with a

wreath of flowers; and though such long hair was sometimes rather

inconvenient, it was so exceedingly beautiful, shining in the sun like

ripples of molten gold, that everybody agreed she fully deserved her

name.

Now there was a young king of a neighboring country, very handsome, very

rich, and wanting nothing but a wife to make him happy. He heard so much

of the various perfections of the Fair One with Golden Locks that at

last, without even seeing her, he fell in love with her so desperately

that he could neither eat nor drink, and resolved to send an ambassador

at once to demand her in marriage. So he ordered a magnificent

equipage--more than a hundred horses and a hundred footmen--in order

to bring back to him the Fair One with Golden Locks, who, he never

doubted, would be only too happy to become his queen. Indeed, he felt so

sure of her that he refurnished the whole palace, and had made, by all

the dressmakers of the city, dresses enough to last a lady for a

lifetime. But, alas! when the ambassador arrived and delivered his

message, either the princess was in a bad humor or the offer did not

appear to be to her taste, for she returned her best thanks to his

majesty, but said she had not the slightest wish or intention to be

married. She also, being a prudent damsel, declined receiving any of the

presents which the King had sent her; except that, not quite to offend

his majesty, she retained a box of English pins, which were in that

country of considerable value.

When the ambassador returned, alone and unsuccessful, all the court was

very much affected, and the King himself began to weep with all his

might. Now, there was in the palace household a young gentleman named

Avenant, beautiful as the sun, besides being at once so amiable and so

wise that the King confided to him all his affairs; and everyone loved

him, except those people--to be found in all courts--who were envious of

his good fortune. These malicious folk hearing him say gayly, "If the

King had sent me to fetch the Fair One with Golden Locks, I know she

would have come back with me," repeated the saying in such a manner that

it appeared as if Avenant thought overmuch of himself and his beauty,

and felt sure the Princess would have followed him all over the world;

which, when it came to the ears of the King, as it was meant to do,

irritated him so much that he commanded Avenant to be imprisoned in a

high tower, and left to die there of hunger. The guards accordingly

carried off the young man, who had quite forgotten his idle speech, and

had not the least idea what fault he had committed. They ill-treated him

very much and then left him, with nothing to eat and only water to

drink. This, however, kept him alive for a few days, during which he did

not cease to complain aloud, and to call upon the King, saying, "O King,

what harm have I done? You have no subject more faithful than I. Never

have I had a thought which could offend you."

And it so befell that the King, coming by chance, or else from a sense

of remorse, past the tower, was touched by the voice of the young

Avenant, whom he had once so much regarded. In spite of all the

courtiers could do to prevent him, he stopped to listen, and overheard

these words. The tears rushed into his eyes; he opened the door of the

tower and called, "Avenant!" Avenant came, creeping feebly along, fell

at the King's knees, and kissed his feet:

"O sire, what have I done that you should treat me so cruelly?"

"You have mocked me and my ambassador; for you said if I had sent you to

fetch the Fair One with Golden Locks, you would have been successful and

brought her back."

"I did say it, and it was true," replied Avenant fearlessly; "for I

should have told her so much about your majesty and your various high

qualities, which no one knows so well as myself, that I am persuaded she

would have returned with me."

"I believe it," said the King, with an angry look at those who had

spoken ill of his favorite; he then gave Avenant a free pardon, and took

him back with him to the court.

After having supplied the famished youth with as much supper as he could

eat, the King admitted him to a private audience and said: "I am as much

in love as ever with the Fair One with Golden Locks, so I will take thee

at thy word, and send thee to try and win her for me."

"Very well, please your majesty," replied Avenant cheerfully; "I will

depart to-morrow."

The King, overjoyed with his willingness and hopefulness, would have

furnished him with a still more magnificent equipage and suite than the

first ambassador, but Avenant refused to take anything except a good

horse to ride and letters of introduction to the Princess's father. The

King embraced him and eagerly saw him depart.

It was on a Monday morning when, without any pomp or show, Avenant thus

started on his mission. He rode slowly and meditatively, pondering over

every possible means of persuading the Fair One with Golden Locks to

marry the King; but, even after several days' journey toward her

country, no clear project had entered into his mind. One morning, when

he had started at break of day, he came to a great meadow with a stream

running through it, along which were planted willows and poplars. It was

such a pleasant, rippling stream that he dismounted and sat down on its

banks. There he perceived, gasping on the grass, a large golden carp,

which, in leaping too far after gnats, had thrown itself quite out of

the water, and now lay dying on the greensward. Avenant took pity on it,

and though he was very hungry, and the fish was very fat, and he would

well enough have liked it for his breakfast, still he lifted it gently

and put it back into the stream. No sooner had the carp touched the

fresh cool water than it revived and swam away; but shortly returning,

it spoke to him from the water in this wise:

"Avenant, I thank you for your good deed. I was dying, and you have

saved me. I will recompense you for this one day."

After this pretty little speech, the fish popped down to the bottom of

the stream, according to the habit of carp, leaving Avenant very much

astonished, as was natural.

Another day he met with a raven that was in great distress, being

pursued by an eagle, which would have swallowed him up in no time.

"See," thought Avenant, "how the stronger oppress the weaker! What right

has an eagle to eat up a raven?" So taking his bow and arrow, which he

always carried, he shot the eagle dead, and the raven, delighted,

perched in safety on an opposite tree.

"Avenant," screeched he, though not in the sweetest voice in the world;

"you have generously succored me, a poor miserable raven. I am not

ungrateful, and I will recompense you one day."

"Thank you," said Avenant, and continued his road.

Entering in a thick wood, so dark with the shadows of early morning that

he could scarcely find his way, he heard an owl hooting, as if in great

tribulation. She had been caught by the nets spread by birdcatchers to

entrap finches, larks, and other small birds. "What a pity," thought

Avenant, "that men must always torment poor birds and beasts who have

done them no harm!" So he took out his knife, cut the net, and let the

owl go free. She went sailing up into the air, but immediately returned,

hovering over his head on her brown wings.

"Avenant," said she, "at daylight the birdcatchers would have been here,

and I should have been caught and killed. I have a grateful heart; I

will recompense you one day."

These were the three principal adventures that befell Avenant on his way

to the kingdom of the Fair One with Golden Locks. Arrived there, he

dressed himself with the greatest care, in a habit of silver brocade,

and a hat adorned with plumes of scarlet and white. He threw over all a

rich mantle, and carried a little basket in which was a lovely little

dog, an offering of respect to the Princess. With this he presented

himself at the palace gates, where, even though he came alone, his mien

was so dignified and graceful, so altogether charming, that everyone did

him reverence, and was eager to run and tell the Fair One with Golden

Locks that Avenant, another ambassador from the King her suitor, awaited

an audience.

"Avenant!" repeated the Princess. "That is a pretty name; perhaps the

youth is pretty too."

"So beautiful," said the ladies of honor, "that while he stood under

the palace window we could do nothing but look at him."

"How silly of you!" sharply said the Princess. But she desired them to

bring her robe of blue satin, to comb out her long hair and adorn it

with the freshest garland of flowers, to give her her high-heeled shoes,

and her fan. "Also," added she, "take care that my audience chamber is

well swept and my throne well dusted. I wish in everything to appear as

becomes the Fair One with Golden Locks."

This done, she seated herself on her throne of ivory and ebony, and gave

orders for her musicians to play, but softly, so as not to disturb

conversation. Thus, shining in all her beauty, she admitted Avenant to

her presence.

He was so dazzled that at first he could not speak; then he began and

delivered his harangue to perfection.

"Gentle Avenant," returned the princess, after listening to all his

reasons for her returning with him, "your arguments are very strong, and

I am inclined to listen to them; but you must first find for me a ring

which I dropped into the river about a month ago. Until I recover it I

can listen to no propositions of marriage."

Avenant, surprised and disturbed, made her a profound reverence and

retired, taking with him the basket and the little dog Cabriole, which

she refused to accept. All night long he sat sighing to himself: "How

can I ever find a ring which she dropped into the river a month ago? She

has set me an impossibility."

"My dear master," said Cabriole, "nothing is an impossibility to one so

young and charming as you are. Let us go at daybreak to the riverside."

Avenant patted him, but replied nothing; until, worn out with grief, he

slept. Before dawn Cabriole wakened him, saying, "Master, dress yourself

and let us go to the river."

There Avenant walked up and down, with his arms folded and his head

bent, but saw nothing. At last he heard a voice calling from a distance,

"Avenant, Avenant!"

The little dog ran to the waterside--"Never believe me again, master,

if it is not a golden carp with a ring in its mouth!"

"Yes, Avenant," said the carp, "this is the ring which the Princess has

lost. You saved my life in the willow meadow, and I have recompensed

you. Farewell!"

Avenant took the ring gratefully and returned to the palace with

Cabriole, who scampered about in great glee. Craving an audience, he

presented the Princess with her ring, and begged her to accompany him to

his master's kingdom. She took the ring, looked at it, and thought she

was surely dreaming.

"Some fairy must have assisted you, fortunate Avenant," said she.

"Madam, I am fortunate only in my desire to obey your wishes."

"Obey me still," she said graciously. "There is a prince named Galifron,

whose suit I have refused. He is a giant as tall as a tower, who eats a

man as a monkey eats a nut. He puts cannons into his pockets instead of

pistols, and when he speaks his voice is so loud that everyone near him

becomes deaf. Go and fight him, and bring me his head."

Avenant was thunderstruck; but after a time he recovered himself. "Very

well, madam. I shall certainly perish, but I will perish like a brave

man. I will depart at once to fight the Giant Galifron."

The Princess, now in her turn surprised and alarmed, tried every

persuasion to induce him not to go, but in vain. Avenant armed himself

and started, carrying his little dog in its basket. Cabriole was the

only creature that gave him consolation: "Courage, master! While you

attack the giant, I will bite his legs. He will stoop down to strike me,

and then you can knock him on the head." Avenant smiled at the little

dog's spirit, but he knew it was useless.

Arrived at the castle of Galifron, he found the road all strewn with

bones and carcasses of men. Soon he saw the giant walking. His head was

level with the highest trees, and he sang in a terrific voice:

"Bring me babies to devour;

More--more--more--more--

Men and women, tender and tough;

All the world holds not enough."

To which Avenant replied, imitating the tune:

"Avenant you here may see,

He is come to punish thee;

Be he tender, be he tough,

To kill thee, giant, he is enough."

Hearing these words, the giant took up his massive club, looked around

for the singer, and, perceiving him, would have slain him on the spot,

had not a raven, sitting on a tree close by, suddenly flown down upon

him and picked out both his eyes. Then Avenant easily killed him and cut

off his head, while the raven, watching him, said:

"You shot the eagle who was pursuing me. I promised to recompense you,

and to-day I have done it. We are quits."

"No, it is I who am your debtor, Sir Raven," replied Avenant as, hanging

the frightful head to his saddle bow, he mounted his horse and rode back

to the city of the Fair One with Golden Locks.

There everybody followed him, shouting, "Here is brave Avenant, who has

killed the giant," until the Princess, hearing the noise, and fearing it

was Avenant himself who was killed, appeared, all trembling; and even

when he appeared with Galifron's head, she trembled still, although she

had nothing to fear.

"Madam," said Avenant, "your enemy is dead, so I trust you will accept

the hand of the king, my master."

"I cannot," replied she, thoughtfully, "unless you first bring me a vial

of the water in the Grotto of Darkness. It is six leagues in length, and

guarded at the entrance by two fiery dragons. Within it is a pit, full

of scorpions, lizards, and serpents, and at the bottom of this place

flows the Fountain of Beauty and Health. All who wash in it become, if

ugly, beautiful; and if beautiful, beautiful forever; if old, young; and

if young, young forever. Judge then, Avenant, if I can quit my kingdom

without carrying with me some of this miraculous water."

"Madam," replied Avenant, "you are already so beautiful that you require

it not; but I am an unfortunate ambassador whose death you desire. I

will obey you, though I know I shall never return."

So he departed with his only friends--his horse and his faithful dog

Cabriole; while all who met him looked at him compassionately, pitying

so pretty a youth bound on such a hopeless errand. But, however kindly

they addressed him, Avenant rode on and answered nothing, for he was too

sad at heart.

He reached a mountain-side, where he sat down to rest, leaving his horse

to graze and Cabriole to run after the flies. He knew that the Grotto of

Darkness was not far off, yet he looked about him like one who sees

nothing. At last he perceived a rock as black as ink, whence came a

thick smoke; and in a moment appeared one of the two dragons, breathing

out flames. It had a yellow-and-green body, claws, and a long tail. When

Cabriole saw the monster, the poor little dog hid himself in terrible

fright. But Avenant resolved to die bravely; so taking a vial which the

Princess had given him, he prepared to descend into the cave.

"Cabriole," said he, "I shall soon be dead. Then fill this vial with my

blood and carry it to the Fair One with Golden Locks, and afterwards to

the King my master, to show him I have been faithful to the last."

While he was thus speaking a voice called, "Avenant, Avenant!" and he

saw an owl sitting on a hollow tree. Said the owl: "You cut the net in

which I was caught, and I vowed to recompense you. Now is the time. Give

me the vial. I know every corner of the Grotto of Darkness. I will fetch

you the water of beauty."

Delighted beyond words, Avenant delivered up his vial; the owl flew with

it into the grotto, and in less than half an hour reappeared, bringing

it quite full and well corked. Avenant thanked her with all his heart,

and joyfully took once more the road to the city.

The Fair One with Golden Locks had no more to say. She consented to

accompany him back, with all her suite, to his master's court. On the

way thither she saw so much of him, and found him so charming, that

Avenant might have married her himself had he chosen; but he would not

have been false to his master for all the beauties under the sun. At

length they arrived at the King's city, and the Fair One with Golden

Locks became his spouse and queen. But she still loved Avenant in her

heart, and often said to the king her lord: "But for Avenant I should

not be here; he has done all sorts of impossible deeds for my sake; he

has fetched me the water of beauty, and I shall never grow old--in

short, I owe him everything."

And she praised him in this sort so much that at length the King became

jealous, and though Avenant gave him not the slightest cause of offense,

he shut him up in the same high tower once more--but with irons on his

hands and feet, and a cruel jailer besides, who fed him with bread and

water only. His sole companion was his little dog Cabriole.

When the Fair One with Golden Locks heard of this, she reproached her

husband for his ingratitude, and then, throwing herself at his knees,

implored that Avenant might be set free. But the King only said, "She

loves him!" and refused the prayer. The Queen entreated no more, but

fell into a deep melancholy.

When the King saw it, he thought she did not care for him because he was

not handsome enough; and that if he could wash his face with her water

of beauty, it would make her love him more. He knew that she kept it in

a cabinet in her chamber, where she could find it always.

Now it happened that a waiting maid, in cleaning out this cabinet, had,

the very day before knocked down the vial, which was broken in a

thousand pieces, and all the contents were lost. Very much alarmed, she

then remembered seeing in a cabinet belonging to the King, a similar

vial. This she fetched and put in the place of the other one, in which

was the water of beauty. But the King's vial contained the water of

death. It was a poison, used to destroy great criminals--that is,

noblemen, gentlemen, and such like. Instead of hanging them or cutting

their heads off, like common people, they were compelled to wash their

faces with this water, upon which they fell asleep and woke no more. So

it happened that the king, taking up this vial, believing it to be the

water of beauty, washed his face with it, fell asleep, and--died.

Cabriole heard the news, and, gliding in and out among the crowd which

clustered round the young and lovely widow, whispered softly to her,

"Madam, do not forget poor Avenant." If she had been disposed to do so,

the sight of his little dog would have been enough to remind her of

him--his many sufferings and his great fidelity. She rose up, without

speaking to anybody, and went straight to the tower where Avenant was

confined. There, with her own hands, she struck off his chains, and

putting a crown of gold on his head and a purple mantle on his

shoulders, said to him, "Be King--and my husband."

Avenant could not refuse, for in his heart he had loved her all the

time. He threw himself at her feet, and then took the crown and scepter,

and ruled her kingdom like a king. All the people were delighted to have

him as their sovereign. The marriage was celebrated in all imaginable

pomp, and Avenant and the Fair One with Golden Locks lived and reigned

happily together all their days.

_The Little Good Mouse_

Once upon a time there lived a king and queen who loved each other so

much that they were never happy unless they were together. Day after day

they went out hunting or fishing; night after night they went to balls

or to the opera; they sang and danced and ate sugarplums, and were the

gayest of the gay, and all their subjects followed their example so that

the kingdom was called the Joyous Land. Now in the next kingdom

everything was as different as it could possibly be. The King was sulky

and savage, and never enjoyed himself at all. He looked so ugly and

cross that all his subjects feared him, and he hated the very sight of a

cheerful face; so if he ever caught anyone smiling he had his head cut

off that very minute. This kingdom was very appropriately called the

Land of Tears. Now when this wicked King heard of the happiness of the

jolly King, he was so jealous that he collected a great army and set out

to fight him, and the news of his approach was soon brought to the King

and Queen. The Queen, when she heard of it, was frightened out of her

wits, and began to cry bitterly. "Sire," she said, "let us collect all

our riches and run away as far as ever we can, to the other side of the

world."

But the King answered:

"Fie, madam! I am far too brave for that. It is better to die than to be

a coward."

Then he assembled all his armed men, and after bidding the Queen a

tender farewell, he mounted his splendid horse and rode away. When he

was lost to sight the Queen could do nothing but weep and wring her

hands and cry.

"Alas! If the King is killed, what will become of me and of my little

daughter?" and she was so sorrowful that she could neither eat nor

sleep.

The King sent her a letter every day, but at last, one morning, as she

looked out of the palace window, she saw a messenger approaching in hot

haste.

"What news, courier? What news?" cried the Queen, and he answered:

"The battle is lost and the King is dead, and in another moment the

enemy will be here."

The poor Queen fell back insensible, and all her ladies carried her to

bed, and stood round her weeping and wailing. Then began a tremendous

noise and confusion, and they knew that the enemy had arrived, and very

soon they heard the King himself stamping about the palace seeking the

Queen. Then her ladies put the little Princess into her arms, and

covered her up, head and all, in the bedclothes, and ran for their

lives, and the poor Queen lay there shaking and hoping she would not be

found. But very soon the wicked King clattered into the room, and in a

fury because the Queen would not answer when he called to her, he tore

back her silken coverings and tweaked off her lace cap, and when all her

lovely hair came tumbling down over her shoulders, he wound it three

times round his hand and threw her over his shoulder, where he carried

her like a sack of flour.

The poor Queen held her little daughter safe in her arms and shrieked

for mercy, but the wicked King only mocked her, and begged her to go on

shrieking, as it amused him, and so mounted his great black horse, and

rode back to his own country. When he got there he declared that he

would have the Queen and the little Princess hanged on the nearest tree;

but his courtiers said that seemed a pity, for when the baby grew up she

would be a very nice wife for the King's only son.

The King was rather pleased with this idea, and shut the Queen up in the

highest room of a tall tower, which was very tiny, and miserably

furnished with a table and a very hard bed upon the floor. Then he sent

for a fairy who lived near his kingdom, and after receiving her with

more politeness than he generally showed, and entertaining her at a

sumptuous feast, he took her up to see the Queen. The fairy was so

touched by the sight of her misery that when she kissed her hand she

whispered:

"Courage, madam! I think I see a way to help you."

The Queen, a little comforted by these words, received her graciously,

and begged her to take pity upon the poor little Princess, who had met

with such a sudden reverse of fortune. But the King got very cross when

he saw them whispering together, and cried harshly:

"Make an end of these fine speeches, madam. I brought you here to tell

me if the child will grow up pretty and fortunate."

Then the fairy answered that the Princess would be as pretty and clever

and well brought-up as it was possible to be, and the old King growled

to the Queen that it was lucky for her that it was so, as they would

certainly have been hanged if it were otherwise. Then he stamped off,

taking the fairy with him, and leaving the poor Queen in tears.

"How can I wish my little daughter to grow up pretty if she is to be

married to that horrid little dwarf, the King's son," she said to

herself, "and yet, if she is ugly we shall both be killed. If I could

only hide her away somewhere, so that the cruel King could never find

her."

As the days went on, the Queen and the little Princess grew thinner and

thinner, for their hard-hearted jailer gave them every day only three

boiled peas and a tiny morsel of black bread, so that they were always

terribly hungry.

At last, one evening, as the Queen sat at her spinning wheel--for the

King was so avaricious that she was made to work day and night--she saw

a tiny, pretty little mouse creep out of a hole, and said to it:

"Alas, little creature! what are you coming to look for here? I have

only three peas for my day's provision, so unless you wish to fast you

must go elsewhere."

But the mouse ran hither and thither, and danced and capered so

prettily, that at last the Queen gave it her last pea, which she was

keeping for her supper, saying: "Here, little one, eat it up; I have

nothing better to offer you, but I give this willingly in return for the

amusement I have had from you."

She had hardly spoken when she saw upon the table a delicious little

roast partridge, and two dishes of preserved fruit. "Truly," said she,

"a kind action never goes unrewarded"; and she and the little Princess

ate their supper with great satisfaction, and then the Queen gave what

was left to the little mouse, who danced better than ever afterwards.

The next morning came the jailer with the Queen's allowance of three

peas, which he brought in upon a large dish to make them look smaller;

but as soon as he set it down the little mouse came and ate up all

three, so that when the Queen wanted her dinner there was nothing left

for her. Then she was quite provoked, and said:

"What a bad little beast that mouse must be! If it goes on like this I

shall be starved." But when she glanced at the dish again it was covered

with all sorts of nice things to eat, and the Queen made a very good

dinner and was gayer than usual over it. But afterwards as she sat at

her spinning wheel she began to consider what would happen if the little

Princess did not grow up pretty enough to please the King, and she said

to herself:

"Oh, if I could only think of some way of escaping!"

As she spoke she saw the little mouse playing in a corner with some long

straws. The Queen took them and began to plait them, saying:

"If only I had straws enough I would make a basket with them, and let my

baby down in it from the window to any kind passer-by who would take

care of her."

By the time the straws were all plaited the little mouse had dragged in

more and more, until the Queen had plenty to make her basket, and she

worked at it day and night, while the little mouse danced for her

amusement; and at dinner and supper time the Queen gave it the three

peas and the bit of black bread, and always found something good in the

dish in their place. She really could not imagine where all the nice

things came from. At last one day when the basket was finished, the

Queen was looking out of the window to see how long a cord she must make

to lower it to the bottom of the tower, when she noticed a little old

woman who was leaning upon her stick and looking up at her. Presently

she said:

"I know your trouble, madam. If you like, I will help you."

"Oh, my dear friend," said the Queen; "if you really wish to be of use

to me you will come at the time that I will appoint, and I will let down

my poor little baby in a basket. If you will take her and bring her up

for me, when I am rich I will reward you splendidly."

"I don't care about the reward," said the old woman, "but there is one

thing I should like. You must know that I am very particular about what

I eat, and if there is one thing that I fancy above all others, it is a

plump, tender little mouse. If there is such a thing in your garret just

throw it down to me, and in return I will promise that your little

daughter shall be well taken care of."

The Queen when she heard this began to cry, but made no answer, and the

old woman after waiting a few minutes asked her what was the matter.

"Why," said the Queen, "there is only one mouse in this garret, and that

is such a dear, pretty little thing that I cannot bear to think of its

being killed."

"What!" cried the old woman in a rage. "Do you care more for a miserable

mouse than for your own baby? Good-by, madam! I leave you to enjoy its

company, and for my own part I thank my stars that I can get plenty of

mice without troubling you to give them to me."

And she hobbled off grumbling and growling. As to the Queen, she was so

disappointed that, in spite of finding a better dinner than usual, and

seeing the little mouse dancing in its merriest mood, she could do

nothing but cry. That night when her baby was fast asleep she packed it

into the basket, and wrote on a slip of paper, "This unhappy little girl

is called Delicia!" This she pinned to its robe, and then very sadly she

was shutting the basket when in sprang the little mouse and sat on the

baby's pillow.

"Ah! little one," said the Queen, "it cost me dear to save your life.

How shall I know now whether my Delicia is being taken care of or not?

Anyone else would have let the greedy old woman have you and eat you up,

but I could not bear to do it." Whereupon the mouse answered:

"Believe me, madam, you will never repent of your kindness."

The Queen was immensely astonished when the mouse began to speak, and

still more so when she saw its little sharp nose turn to a beautiful

face, and its paws to hands and feet; then it suddenly grew tall, and

the Queen recognized the fairy who had come with the wicked King to

visit her.

The fairy smiled at her astonished look, and said:

"I wanted to see if you were faithful and capable of feeling a real

friendship for me, for you see we fairies are rich in everything but

friends, and those are hard to find."

"It is not possible that you should want for friends, you charming

creature," said the Queen, kissing her.

"Indeed it is so," the fairy said. "For those who are only friendly with

me for their own advantage, I do not count at all. But when you cared

for the poor little mouse you could not have known there was anything to

be gained by it, and to try you further I took the form of the old woman

whom you talked to from the window, and then I was convinced that you

really loved me." Then, turning to the little Princess, she kissed her

rosy lips three times, saying:

"Dear little one, I promise that you shall be richer than your father,

and shall live a hundred years, always pretty and happy, without fear of

old age and wrinkles."

The Queen, quite delighted, thanked the fairy gratefully, and begged her

to take charge of the little Delicia and bring her up as her own

daughter. This she agreed to do, and then they shut the basket and

lowered it carefully, baby and all, to the ground at the foot of the

tower. The fairy then changed herself back into the form of a mouse, and

this delayed her a few seconds, after which she ran nimbly down the

straw rope, only to find when she got to the bottom that the baby had

disappeared.

In the greatest terror she ran up again to the Queen, crying:

"All is lost! my enemy Cancaline has stolen the Princess away. You must

know that she is a cruel fairy who hates me, and as she is older than I

am and has more power, I can do nothing against her. I know no way of

rescuing Delicia from her clutches."

When the Queen heard this terrible news she was heartbroken, and begged

the fairy to do all she could to get the poor little Princess back

again. At this moment in came the jailer, and when he missed the little

Princess he at once told the King, who came in a great fury, asking

what the Queen had done with her. She answered that a fairy, whose name

she did not know, had come and carried her off by force. Upon this the

King stamped upon the ground, and cried in a terrible voice:

"You shall be hung! I always told you you should." And without another

word he dragged the unlucky Queen out into the nearest wood, and climbed

up into a tree to look for a branch to which he could hang her. But when

he was quite high up, the fairy, who had made herself invisible and

followed them, gave him a sudden push, which made him lose his footing

and fall to the ground with a crash and break four of his teeth, and

while he was trying to mend them the fairy carried the Queen off in her

flying chariot to a beautiful castle, where she was so kind to her that

but for the loss of Delicia the Queen would have been perfectly happy.

But though the good little mouse did her very utmost, they could not

find out where Cancaline had hidden the little Princess.

Thus fifteen years went by, and the Queen had somewhat recovered from

her grief, when the news reached her that the son of the wicked King

wished to marry the little maiden who kept the turkeys, and that she had

refused him; the wedding dresses had been made, nevertheless, and the

festivities were to be so splendid that all the people for leagues round

were flocking in to be present at them. The Queen felt quite curious

about a little turkey maiden who did not wish to be a queen, so the

little mouse conveyed herself to the poultry yard to find out what she

was like.

She found the turkey maiden sitting upon a big stone, barefooted and

miserably dressed in an old, coarse, linen gown and cap; the ground at

her feet was all strewn with robes of gold and silver, ribbons and

laces, diamonds and pearls, over which the turkeys were stalking to and

fro, while the king's ugly, disagreeable son stood opposite her,

declaring angrily that if she would not marry him she should be killed.

The turkey maiden answered proudly:

"I never will marry you! You are too ugly and too much like your cruel

father. Leave me in peace with my turkeys, which I like far better than

all your fine gifts."

The little mouse watched her with the greatest admiration, for she was

as beautiful as the spring; and as soon as the wicked Prince was gone,

she took the form of an old peasant woman and said to her:

"Good day, my pretty one! you have a fine flock of turkeys there."

The young turkey maiden turned her gentle eyes upon the old woman and

answered:

"Yet they wish me to leave them to become a miserable queen! What is

your advice upon the matter?"

"My child," said the fairy, "a crown is a very pretty thing, but you

know neither the price nor the weight of it."

"I know so well that I have refused to wear one," said the little

maiden, "though I don't know who was my father or who was my mother, and

I have not a friend in the world."

"You have goodness and beauty, which are of more value than ten

kingdoms," said the wise fairy. "But tell me, child, how came you here,

and how is it you have neither father nor mother nor friend?"

"A fairy called Cancaline is the cause of my being here," answered she,

"for while I lived with her I got nothing but blows and harsh words,

until at last I could bear it no longer, and ran away from her without

knowing where I was going, and as I came through a wood the wicked

Prince met me and offered to give me charge of the poultry yard. I

accepted gladly, not knowing that I should have to see him day by day.

And now he wants to marry me, but that I will never consent to."

Upon hearing this the fairy became convinced that the little turkey

maiden was none other than the Princess Delicia.

"What is your name, my little one?" said she.

"I am called Delicia, if it please you," she answered.

Then the fairy threw her arms round the Princess's neck, and nearly

smothered her with kisses, saying:

"Ah, Delicia! I am a very old friend of yours, and I am truly glad to

find you at last; but you might look nicer than you do in that old gown,

which is only fit for a kitchenmaid. Take this pretty dress and let us

see the difference it will make."

So Delicia took off the ugly cap, and shook out all her fair shining

hair, and bathed her hands and face in clear water from the nearest

spring till her cheeks were like roses, and when she was adorned with

the diamonds and the splendid robe the fairy had given her she looked

the most beautiful princess in the world, and the fairy with great

delight, cried:

"Now you look as you ought to look, Delicia. What do you think about it

yourself?"

And Delicia answered:

"I feel as if I were the daughter of some great king."

"And would you be glad if you were?" asked the fairy.

"Indeed I should," answered she.

"Ah, well," said the fairy, "to-morrow I may have some pleasant news for

you."

So she hurried back to her castle, where the Queen sat busy with her

embroidery, and cried:

"Well, madam, will you wager your thimble and your golden needle that I

am bringing you the best news you could possibly hear?"

"Alas!" sighed the Queen, "since the death of the jolly King and the

loss of my Delicia, all the news in the world is not worth a pin to me."

"There, there, don't be melancholy," said the fairy. "I assure you the

Princess is quite well, and I have never seen her equal for beauty. She

might be a queen to-morrow if she chose"; and then she told all that had

happened, and the Queen first rejoiced over the thought of Delicia's

beauty, and then wept at the idea of her being a turkey maiden.

"I will not hear of her being made to marry the wicked King's son," she

said. "Let us go at once and bring her here."

In the meantime the wicked Prince, who was very angry with Delicia, had

sat himself down under a tree, and cried and howled with rage and spite

until the King heard him, and cried out from the window:

"What is the matter with you, that you are making all this disturbance?"

[Illustration: "I FEEL AS IF I WERE THE DAUGHTER OF SOME GREAT KING"]

The Prince replied:

"It is all because our turkey maiden will not love me!"

"Won't love you, eh!" said the King. "We'll very soon see about that!"

So he called his guards and told them to go and fetch Delicia. "See if I

don't make her change her mind pretty soon!" said the wicked King with a

chuckle.

Then the guards began to search the poultry yard, and could find nobody

there but Delicia, who, with her splendid dress and her crown of

diamonds, looked such a lovely princess that they hardly dared to speak

to her. But she said to them very politely:

"Pray tell me what you are looking for here?"

"Madam," they answered, "we are sent for an insignificant little person

called Delicia."

"Alas!" said she, "that is my name. What can you want with me?"

So the guards tied her hands and feet with thick ropes, for fear she

might run away, and brought her to the King, who was waiting with his

son.

When he saw her he was very much astonished at her beauty, which would

have made anyone less hard-hearted sorry for her. But the wicked King

only laughed and mocked at her, and cried: "Well, little fright, little

toad! why don't you love my son, who is far too handsome and too good

for you? Make haste and begin to love him this instant, or you shall be

tarred and feathered."

Then the poor little Princess, shaking with terror, went down on her

knees, crying:

"Oh, don't tar and feather me, please! It would be so uncomfortable. Let

me have two or three days to make up my mind, and then you shall do as

you like with me."

The wicked Prince would have liked very much to see her tarred and

feathered, but the King ordered that she should be shut up in a dark

dungeon. It was just at this moment that the Queen and the fairy arrived

in the flying chariot, and the Queen was dreadfully distressed at the

turn affairs had taken, and said miserably that she was destined to be

unfortunate all her days. But the fairy bade her take courage.

"I'll pay them out yet," said she, nodding her head with an air of great

determination.

That very same night, as soon as the wicked King had gone to bed, the

fairy changed herself into the little mouse, and creeping up on to his

pillow nibbled his ear so that he squealed out quite loudly and turned

over on his other side; but that did no good, for the little mouse only

set to work and gnawed away at the second ear until it hurt more than

the first one.

Then the King cried "Murder!" and "Thieves!" and all his guards ran to

see what was the matter, but they could find nothing and nobody, for the

little mouse had run off to the Prince's room and was serving him in

exactly the same way. All night long she ran from one to the other,

until at last, driven quite frantic by terror and want of sleep, the

King rushed out of the palace crying:

"Help! help! I am pursued by rats."

The Prince when he heard this got up also, and ran after the King, and

they had not gone far when they both fell into the river and were never

heard of again.

Then the good fairy ran to tell the Queen, and they went together to the

black dungeon where Delicia was imprisoned. The fairy touched each door

with her wand, and it sprang open instantly; but they had to go through

forty before they came to the Princess, who was sitting on the floor

looking very dejected. But when the Queen rushed in and kissed her

twenty times in a minute, and laughed and cried and told her all her

history, the Princess was wild with delight. Then the fairy showed her

all the wonderful dresses and jewels she had brought for her, and said:

"Don't let us waste time; we must go and harangue the people."

So she walked first, looking very serious and dignified, and wearing a

dress the train of which was at least ten ells long. Behind her came the

Queen wearing a blue velvet robe embroidered with gold and a diamond

crown that was brighter than the sun itself. Last of all walked Delicia,

who was so beautiful that it was nothing short of marvelous.

They proceeded through the streets, returning the salutations of all

they met, great or small, and all the people turned and followed them,

wondering who these noble ladies could be.

When the audience hall was quite full, the fairy said to the subjects of

the wicked King that if they would accept Delicia, who was the daughter

of the jolly King, as their Queen, she would undertake to find a

suitable husband for her, and would promise that during their reign

there should be nothing but rejoicing and merrymaking, and all dismal

things should be entirely banished. Upon this the people cried with one

accord: "We will, we will! We have been gloomy and miserable too long

already." And they all took hands and danced round the Queen and Delicia

and the good fairy, singing: "Yes, yes; we will, we will!"

Then there were feasts and fireworks in every street in the town, and

early the next morning the fairy, who had been all over the world in the

night, brought back with her in her flying chariot the most handsome and

good-tempered Prince she could find anywhere. He was so charming that

Delicia loved him from the moment their eyes met, and as for him, of

course he could not help thinking himself the luckiest prince in the

world. The Queen felt that she had really come to the end of her

misfortunes at last, and they all lived happily ever after.

_The Story of Blanche and Vermilion_

THERE was once upon a time a widow, a very good kind of woman, who had

two daughters, both very amiable. The elder was called "Blanche" and the

younger "Vermilion." They had received these names because one of them

had the fairest complexion that was ever seen, and the other had cheeks

and lips as red as coral.

One day, as the good woman was seated near the door of her cottage

spinning, she perceived a poor old woman who could hardly hobble along

with the assistance of her stick. "You appear to be very much tired, my

good woman," said the widow; "sit down here and rest yourself awhile";

and she then desired one of her daughters to fetch her a chair. Both of

them immediately rose, but Vermilion outran her sister and brought the

chair.

"Will you please to drink?" said the good old dame to the old woman.

"With all my heart," answered she; "and I feel even as if I could eat a

little if you could give me a bit of something nice." "You shall be

welcome to anything that I have," said the good widow; "but, as I am

poor, it will be nothing out of the common way." At the same time she

desired her daughters to lay the table for the good old dame, who

straightway seated herself at it.

The widow then told the elder daughter to go and gather some plums from

a tree that she had planted herself, and was very fond of. Blanche,

instead of obeying her mother willingly, murmured, and said to herself,

"So it is for this old gormandizer that I have been so very careful of

my plum tree." She, however, dared not refuse to fetch a few plums, but

she gave them with much reluctance and very ungraciously. "You,

Vermilion," said the good woman to her younger daughter, "have no fruit

to give to this good dame, for your grapes are not ripe." "That's true,"

said Vermilion; "but I hear my hen cackling, so she must have laid an

egg, and if the gentlewoman would like a new-laid egg she is very

welcome to it"; and without waiting for any answer from the old woman,

she ran off to seek her egg. The moment she presented it, however, the

old woman disappeared and was replaced by a beautiful lady who said to

the mother: "I am about to recompense your two daughters according to

their deserts. The elder shall become a great queen, and the younger a

farmer's wife." With these words she struck the house with her wand; it

disappeared, and in its place rose a nice, snug-looking farm. "That is

your portion," said she to Vermilion. "I know that I have given each of

you what you like best." Having thus said, the fairy departed; and the

good woman and her two daughters remained in great surprise.

They went into the farmhouse, and were charmed with the neatness of the

furniture. The chairs were only of wood, but they were so bright that

one might see one's face in them as in a looking-glass. The bedding was

of Irish linen, as white as snow. In the pens were sheep; four oxen and

the like number of cows were in the cowhouses, and the yard was well

stocked with all sorts of domestic animals, as poultry, ducks, pigeons,

etc. There was also a pretty garden, planted with different kinds of

fruit, vegetables, and flowers.

Blanche regarded without any feelings of jealousy the fairy's gift to

her sister. Her only thoughts were concerning the pleasures she

anticipated in being a queen. All at once she heard a huntsman's horn,

and going to the door to see the party pass, she appeared so beautiful

to the King that he resolved to marry her, and did so accordingly.

Blanche, when she was become a queen, said to her sister Vermilion: "I

do not wish that you should marry a farmer; come to court with me,

sister; I will procure you a great lord for your husband." "I am very

much obliged to you, sister," replied Vermilion, "but I am accustomed to

a country life, and do not wish to change it."

Queen Blanche then set out, and she was so gratified that she passed

several nights without sleeping, for joy. The first few months she was

so taken up with fine clothes, balls, and plays that she thought of

nothing else. But she soon grew used to these things, and nothing now

amused her; on the contrary, she was very discontented. All the ladies

of the court showed her great respect when they were in her presence;

but she knew that they did not like her, and that they said to each

other behind her back, "See how this peasant girl plays the fine lady!

The King must have had very poor taste to take such a personage for his

consort." The King heard of these remarks, and they made him reflect on

what he had done. He began to think that he had acted wrongly in

marrying Blanche, and as his passion for her had cooled, he soon

neglected her.

When the courtiers perceived that the King no longer loved his wife,

they paid her little or no attention. She was very unfortunate, for she

had not a single friend to whom she could impart her grief. She observed

that it was the fashion at court to sacrifice one's friend to one's

interest, to smile on one's bitterest enemy, and to tell lies

continually. She was obliged to be serious, because she was told that a

queen ought always to look grave and majestic. She had several children,

and during all this time she was constantly attended by a physician, who

examined everything that she ate, and ordered everything that she liked

to be removed from the table. She was allowed no salt in her soup, she

was forbidden to quit the house when she felt inclined to take a

walk--in a word, she was contradicted from morning till night.

Governesses were engaged for her children, who brought them up in direct

opposition to her wishes; yet she was not permitted to find fault. Poor

Queen Blanche was dying with sorrow, and she grew so thin that it was

pitiable to see her. She had not seen her sister once during the three

years that she had been a queen, because she thought it would be

demeaning her high rank to pay a visit to a farmer's wife; but when she

was quite oppressed with melancholy, she came to the resolution of

spending a few days in the country to restore herself. She asked leave

of the King to go, who permitted her very willingly, for he thought that

he should thus get rid of her for some time. She set out, and arrived in

the dusk of the evening at Vermilion's farm. As she was drawing near,

she observed about the door a company of shepherds and shepherdesses who

were dancing and merrymaking in high glee. "Alas!" said the Queen

sighing, "there was once a time when I could divert myself like these

poor people, and no one found fault with me." Directly she came in

sight, her sister ran to embrace her. She looked so happy, she had grown

so plump, that the Queen could not forbear crying when she looked at

her.

Vermilion had married a farmer's son, who had no fortune; but he never

ceased to remember that his wife had brought him all that he possessed,

and he strove by his obliging disposition to show his gratitude.

Vermilion had not many servants; but those that she had were as fond of

her as if she had been their mother, because she treated them well. All

her neighbors also liked her, and they were all zealous in showing their

love. She had not much money, nor had she any occasion for much, for her

farm yielded her corn, wine, and oil. Her herds furnished her with milk,

with which she made butter and cheese. She spun the wool supplied by her

sheep into the materials of clothes for herself, her husband, and her

two children. They all enjoyed excellent health, and in the evening,

when the period of working had passed, they diverted themselves with all

sorts of pastimes. "Alas!" cried the Queen, "the fairy made me a very

evil present when she gave me a crown. Contentment is not to be found in

magnificent palaces, but only in the innocent employments of a country

life." These words had hardly passed her lips when the fairy appeared.

"It was not my intention, when I made you Queen, to reward, but to

punish you," said the fairy to her, "for giving me your plums with so

much ill will. To be truly contented and happy, you must, like your

sister, possess only what is necessary, and wish for nothing more." "Ah,

madam!" faltered Blanche, "you are sufficiently revenged; I entreat you

to put an end to my unhappiness."

"It is at an end," answered the fairy. "The King, who no longer loves

you, has just married another wife, and his officers will arrive here

to-morrow to desire you, in his name, never to return to his court." It

came to pass exactly as the fairy had foretold. Blanche passed the

remainder of her days with her sister Vermilion, in all happiness and

reasonable pleasure, and she never thought of the court again except to

thank the fairy for having brought her from it to her native village.

_Prince Desire and Princess Mignonetta_

THERE was once upon a time a king who was passionately fond of a

princess; but she could not be married, because she was enchanted. He

went to consult a fairy, to ascertain what he ought to do to make the

Princess love him. The fairy said to him, "You know that the Princess

has a large cat, of which she is very fond; well, she can marry that

person only who can succeed in treading on her cat's tail." The King

said to himself, "That will not be very difficult to accomplish"; and he

quitted the fairy, determined rather to crush the cat's tail than to

fail in treading on it. He hastened to his mistress's palace; Master

Puss came to meet him, very consequentially, as was his wont; the King

lifted up his foot, but when he thought to have put it on the cat's

tail, Puss turned round so quickly that he trod on nothing but the

floor. He was a week trying to tread on this fatal tail, which appeared

to be full of quicksilver, for it was continually moving. But, at last,

the King had the good fortune to surprise Master Puss while he was

asleep, and trod upon his tail with all his weight. Puss awakened,

mewing horribly, and immediately took the shape of a tall man, who,

looking at the King with eyes full of anger, said to him: "You may now

marry the Princess, since you have dissolved the enchantment which

prevented you; but I will be revenged. You shall have a son who will

always be unfortunate until the time when he shall become aware that his

nose is too long; and, if you take any umbrage at what I threaten, you

shall immediately be put to death."

[Illustration: "HE WAS A WEEK TRYING TO TREAD ON THIS FATAL TAIL"]

Although the King was frightened at the sight of this tall man, who was

an enchanter, he could not help laughing at his threat. "If my son's

nose should be too long," said he to himself, "unless he should be

either blind or silly, he will certainly be able to see or feel it."

When the enchanter had disappeared, the King went to find the Princess,

who consented to marry him. However, he did not live long with her, for

he died eight months after the wedding. Shortly after his death, the

Queen gave birth to a young Prince, who was called Desire. He had the

finest large blue eyes in the world, and a pretty little mouth; but his

nose was so large that it covered half his face. The Queen was

inconsolable when she saw this large nose; but the ladies who were with

her told her that the nose was not so large as it appeared to her to be;

that it was a Roman nose, and that history averred that all heroes had

large noses. The Queen, who loved her son to excess, was charmed with

this discourse; and, by continually looking at Desire, his nose no

longer appeared to be so very long. The Prince was brought up very

carefully; and, as soon as he could speak, all kinds of shocking stories

were told him of people who had short noses. No one was allowed to

remain near him whose nose did not a little resemble his own; and the

courtiers, to show their respect to the Queen and her son, pulled their

children's noses several times a day, with a view of lengthening them.

They had, however, a difficult task; for their sons appeared to have

hardly any nose at all compared with Prince Desire's. When he became old

enough to understand it, he was instructed in history; and, whenever any

great prince or handsome princess was mentioned to him, he or she was

always spoken of as having a long nose. The room was hung round with

pictures in which all the figures had large noses; and Desire grew so

accustomed to regard length of nose as an ornament, that he would not

for an empire have parted with an atom of his. When he had reached the

age of twenty, it was thought expedient for him to marry; and the

portraits of various princesses were submitted to him. He was in

raptures with that of Mignonetta, the daughter of a great king, and

heiress to several kingdoms; of the kingdoms, however, Desire thought

not at all, he was so much struck with her beauty.

The Princess Mignonetta, although he was thus charmed with her, had a

little turned-up nose which harmonized admirably with her other

features, but which very much perplexed the courtiers. They had acquired

such a habit of ridiculing small noses, that they sometimes could not

forbear laughing at that of the Princess; but Desire would not suffer a

jest on this subject; and he banished two courtiers from his presence,

who dared to make insinuations against Mignonetta's nose. The others,

warned by their fate, were more cautious; and there was one who said to

the Prince, that, in truth, a man could not be amiable who had not a

large nose, but that it was not the same in respect to woman; for a wise

man, who spoke Greek, had informed him that he had read in an old

manuscript that the fair Cleopatra had the end of her nose turned up.

The Prince made a magnificent present to the courtier who told him this

good news, and dispatched ambassadors to demand Mignonetta in marriage.

His proposal was accepted, and he was so anxious to see her, that he

went more than nine miles on the road to meet her; but as he was just

stepping forward to kiss her hand, the enchanter appeared and carried

off the Princess before his face, leaving him quite inconsolable.

Desire resolved never to re├źnter his kingdom, until he had discovered

Mignonetta. He would not allow any of his courtiers to accompany him,

and, mounting a good horse, he laid the bridle on his neck, and allowed

him to choose his own road. The horse presently came to a large plain,

which he traversed the whole day without seeing a single house. Both

horse and rider were ready to die with hunger; at last, as night was

about to set in, they discovered a cave in which a light was burning.

Desire entered, and saw a little old woman, who appeared to be more than

a hundred years old. She put on her spectacles to look at the Prince;

but she was a long time adjusting them, for her nose was too short. The

Prince and the fairy (for it was a fairy) burst out laughing as they

looked at each other; exclaiming simultaneously, "Oh, what a comical

nose!" "Not so comical as yours," said Desire; "but, madam, let us leave

our noses as they are, and have the goodness to give me something to

eat; for both I and my poor horse are dying with hunger."

"With all my heart," answered the fairy. "Although your nose is

ridiculous, you are not the less the son of my best friend. I loved the

King, your father, like my own brother; but he had a very handsome

nose." "And what is there wanting in mine?" asked Desire. "Oh, it wants

nothing," answered the fairy; "on the contrary, there is far too much of

it; but no matter; a man may be very good, and yet have too large a

nose. I was saying, then, that I was your father's friend; at that time

he frequently came to see me; and you must know that in those days I was

very pretty; your father told me so. I must repeat to you a conversation

that we had together the last time he saw me." "Very well, madam," said

Desire; "I will listen to you with a great deal of pleasure when I have

had my supper; consider, if you please, that I have eaten nothing

to-day." "The poor child is right," said the fairy; "I did not think of

that. I will prepare your supper; and, while you are eating, I will tell

you my history in a few words; for I do not like long tales. A long

tongue is still more insufferable than a large nose; and I remember,

when I was young, that I was admired for not being a great talker; the

Queen, my mother, used frequently to have it mentioned to her; for, such

as you see me, I am a great king's daughter. My father--" "Your father

ate when he was hungry," said the Prince, interrupting her. "Yes, he

did, doubtless," said the fairy, "and you also will have your supper in

a moment: I was merely going to tell you that my father--" "But I will

not listen to a word until I have something to eat," said the Prince,

growing angry. He checked himself, however, for he wanted something of

the fairy, and said: "I know that the pleasure I should take in

listening to you would make me forget my own hunger; but my horse, who

will not understand you, is in need of some food." This compliment made

the fairy blush prettily. "You shall wait no longer," said she to

Desire, calling her domestics; "you are very polite, and, in spite of

the size of your nose, you are very amiable." "Plague take the old woman

with my nose!" said the Prince to himself; "one would have sworn that my

mother had stolen what is wanting in hers, to make mine with; if I were

not hungry, I would leave this prate-a-pace, who fancies that she is a

little talker. One must be very stupid not to perceive one's own

defects; that comes of her being born a princess: flatterers have

spoiled her, and persuaded her that she is a little talker."

While that was passing in the Prince's mind, the servants laid the

table; and the Prince wondered at the fairy, who kept asking them a

thousand questions, solely to have the pleasure of talking: he was

especially surprised at a waiting woman, who, in everything that she

saw, praised her mistress for her discretion. "Egad!" thought he, as he

was eating, "I am delighted to have found my way here. This example

demonstrates to me how wisely I have acted in not listening to

flatterers, who praise all princes very shamelessly, concealing our

defects from us, or representing them to us as perfections; but as for

me, I shall never be their dupe; I know my own defects, God be thanked."

Poor Desire quite thought he was right, and little imagined that those

who had praised his nose had ridiculed it in their hearts, as the

waiting woman was ridiculing the fairy; for the Prince observed that she

turned her head aside every now and then to laugh. With regard to

himself, he did not say a word, but ate away as fast as he could.

"Prince," said the fairy to him, when he began to be satisfied, "move a

little I entreat you; your nose makes so large a shadow that it prevents

me from seeing what is on my plate. By the way, with regard to your

father: I went to his court when he was quite a child; but it is forty

years since I first retired into this solitude. Tell me a little how

things are going on at court now; are the ladies still as fond of

running about? In my time they used to go on the same day to the

promenade, to the assembly, to the theater, to the ball--But how long

your nose is! I cannot grow used to it." "In truth, madam," answered

Desire, "do not say any more about my nose; it is as it is, and in what

does it concern you? I am contented with it, and do not wish that it was

any shorter; everyone to his taste." "Oh, I perceive now I have hurt

your feelings, my poor Desire," said the fairy, "but I did not intend to

do so; on the contrary, I am your friend, and I wish to do you a

service; but notwithstanding that, I cannot help being shocked at your

nose; I will not, however, mention it to you again; I will even

constrain myself to think that you are snub-nosed; though in truth there

are materials enough in it to make three reasonable noses."

Desire, who had finished his supper, grew so tired of the fairy's

tedious prattle about his nose that he sprang on his horse and rode away

from the cavern. He continued his journey; and wherever he went, he

thought that everybody was mad, for everybody talked about his nose;

nevertheless, he had been so accustomed to hear it asserted that his

nose was handsome, that he could not reconcile to himself the idea that

it was too long.

The old fairy, who wished to do him a service in spite of himself,

determined to shut up Mignonetta in a crystal palace, and place this

palace in the Prince's road. Desire, transported with joy, strove to

break it; but he could not succeed: in despair, he wished to approach

near it, so as at least to speak to the Princess, who, on her part,

stretched her hand close to the crystal wall of the palace. He was very

anxious to kiss her hand; but turn his head which way he would, he could

not place his mouth near it, his nose constantly preventing him. He then

perceived for the first time its extraordinary length, and feeling all

over it with his hand, "I must confess," said he, "that my nose is too

large." At the moment he pronounced those words, the crystal palace

vanished, and the fairy appeared leading Mignonetta by the hand, and

saying: "Confess that you are greatly obliged to me. I vainly wished to

speak to you about your nose; but you would never have acknowledged its

defect unless it had become an obstacle to your wishes. In this way

self-love conceals from us all the defects of our minds and bodies. In

vain reason endeavors to unveil them to us; we can never perceive them

until the same self-love that blinds us to them finds them to be opposed

to its interests." Desire, whose nose had become an ordinary nose,

profited by this lesson. He married Mignonetta, and lived very happily

with her to a good old age.

_The Yellow Dwarf_

THERE once lived a widowed Queen, who had one daughter. There had been

several other children, you must know, but one by one they had died,

until the beautiful Princess All-fair was the only child left.

Time passed on, and every day the maiden grew more and more lovely, and,

to tell the truth, she not only grew lovelier, but she also became very

vain indeed.

Well, by the time she reached the age of eighteen, All-fair was so

charming that she had won the hearts of twenty noble kings, and they

were all courting her at the same time.

But never a smile did they get from the fair Princess. There was not a

man living, be he king or peasant, who was good enough to become her

husband, she said.

So when the twenty kings heard this, nineteen of them took their hats at

once, and set off in a body to search for brides who were a little less

charming and a little easier to please.

But the twentieth man, the King of the Golden Mines, was so much in

love with All-fair, that he stayed behind in the hope that she would

change her mind.

"This will never do," said the Queen one day. "Here am I getting quite

old, and I want to see All-fair safely married and settled down before I

die. I must go and visit the Desert Fairy, and see if she will give me

some advice as to how I can manage my stubborn daughter."

Now you must know that it was a very hard task indeed to reach the

Desert Fairy, for she was guarded by two fierce and terrible lions. The

only way to get past the animals was to throw them a huge cake made from

crocodiles' eggs, millet, and sugar candy.

So the Queen set to work, and with her own royal hands she prepared one

of these cakes; then she placed it in a basket and set out for the home

of the Desert Fairy.

Well, the day was hot, and the cake was heavy, and before long the Queen

was lying fast asleep under a big tree.

Suddenly a terrible roar awakened her, and she looked round for her cake

to throw to the angry lions, but to her horror it was gone.

"What is to become of me?" cried the poor Queen in terror, and she burst

into tears.

"Hem! hem!" cried a small voice, and the Queen looked all around her to

see who could be speaking.

At last she looked upward, and there, in the branches of the big orange

tree overhead, sat a little yellow man. He was just half a yard high,

and he was eating oranges as quickly as ever he could; in fact, he

didn't even stop eating while he spoke to the Queen, which, of course,

was very rude.

"Ah, Queen!" he went on, "there is only one way by which you can escape

the lions, and that is by letting me marry your daughter."

The Queen was so surprised that she even stopped crying. The idea of

that hideous little creature marrying her beautiful daughter was quite

absurd, and she was just about to tell him so when again she heard the

dreadful roaring of the lions. "Be quick and make up your mind!" cried

the Yellow Dwarf. (He was called the Yellow Dwarf, you know, because he

lived in the orange tree, and he had eaten so much of the fruit that his

skin had become the same color.) "Just remember you have no cake to

throw to the lions."

So, to save her life, the Queen was forced to give her consent to a

marriage between the Yellow Dwarf and her beautiful daughter.

No sooner did she agree to the match than she began to feel very drowsy,

and the next minute the Queen found herself safely back in her own

palace.

She was so filled with sadness at the thought of her promise to the

dwarf that a fit of deep gloom settled upon her, and for weeks she never

smiled.

The Princess was quite at a loss to know what had come over her mother;

so in the end she, too, made up her mind to visit the Desert Fairy in

the hope that she would be able to tell her what ailed the Queen.

Then All-fair set to work and made a cake from the crocodiles' eggs,

millet, and sugar candy, and when it was ready she started off for the

Desert Fairy's grotto.

She soon reached the fatal orange tree, and the fruit looked so very

tempting that All-fair laid her cake upon the ground and began to pick

and eat the ripe oranges.

Just then one of the lions gave a terrible roar, and All-fair looked for

her cake to throw to them. Alas, it was gone! and the maiden began to

weep bitterly.

"Dry your eyes, lovely Princess!" cried a voice, and, looking up,

All-fair spied the Yellow Dwarf.

"You need not trouble to go to the Desert Fairy," went on the dwarf,

"for I can tell you what ails your mother."

"I shall be obliged if you will tell me at once, then," replied

All-fair.

"Oh, it is all your fault," said the Yellow Dwarf.

"How dare you say such things!" cried the Princess. "It is nothing of

the sort."

"Oh, yes, it is," answered the dwarf, with a grin. "Your mother is

sorry now that she promised you to me in marriage."

"I am sure my mother did not promise me to a fright like you," cried the

angry Princess, "and I will not marry you!"

"Oh, please yourself," answered the Yellow Dwarf; "but if you don't

marry me you will make a fine meal for the lions, that is all."

Just at that moment the lions began to roar louder than ever.

"Well, to save my life," cried poor All-fair, "I will agree to marry

you."

"I wouldn't have you now," said the dwarf, with an air of disdain.

"Oh, please do," begged All-fair, "or I shall be torn to pieces by the

lions!"

"I'll marry you out of charity then," said the Yellow Dwarf. "But don't

suppose that I really want a vain creature like you."

At that instant the Princess found herself growing very drowsy, and the

next minute she was back again at the palace, and on her finger was a

ring made of a single red hair, which she could not take off.

After that All-fair grew sad, for she feared that the Yellow Dwarf might

claim her.

Of course nobody knew the cause of her sadness, and they all wondered

what it could be.

So the Queen's ministers held a cabinet meeting, and they agreed to ask

the Princess once more if she would marry, for they thought the

excitement of choosing her wedding gown would rouse her from her gloom.

To the great surprise of them all, All-fair said she was quite willing

to do as they wished. So the King of the Golden Mines had his reward for

waiting so long, for the Princess chose him as her husband. He was very

rich and powerful, and so gallant, that All-fair thought when once she

was his wife she need fear the Yellow Dwarf no more.

The wedding day arrived at last, and as the guests were on their way to

the church they saw a big box moving toward them, and on the top sat a

very ugly old woman.

"Stop!" she cried, with a dreadful frown. "Do you remember the promise

you made to my friend, the Yellow Dwarf? I am the Desert Fairy, and if

All-fair does not marry the dwarf she will taste my wrath, you will

find."

This speech made the brave King of the Golden Mines so angry that he

drew his sword, and shouted loudly:

"Begone, or I will take your evil life!"

As soon as he uttered these words, off flew the top of the box, and out

came the Yellow Dwarf seated upon a big, black Spanish cat.

"Not so fast!" cried the Yellow Dwarf. "I am your rival, so do not vent

your wrath upon the Desert Fairy. I claim the Princess for my bride, and

in token of her promise to me, on her finger you will find a ring made

of a single red hair."

"It is false!" cried the King of the Golden Mines, and he made a dash,

sword in hand, for the Yellow Dwarf.

But quick as thought the dwarf drew his sword also, and he rode forward

on his Spanish cat.

Well, they fought long and fiercely, but the King was not able to

overcome the dwarf because he was protected by two enormous giants, who

stood one on each side of him.

Suddenly the Desert Fairy stepped forward, and on her head was a wreath

of big, curling snakes. Raising her lance, she struck the Princess such

a blow that All-fair sank fainting into her mother's arms.

"Revenge!" shouted the King of the Golden Mines, and he rushed to the

aid of his love, as a brave man would, of course.

But, alas! he was too late, for the dwarf had torn her from her mother's

arms, lifted her on to his Spanish cat, and the next minute they were

flying through the air beyond his reach.

The poor King was so surprised that all he could do was to gaze up

toward the clouds and wonder what would happen next. Suddenly a mist

gathered before his eyes, and he felt himself being carried up into the

air also.

Now you must know that the ugly old Desert Fairy had fallen madly in

love with the King of the Golden Mines, and she had made up her mind

that he should never marry All-fair; so she carried him off to secure

him for herself.

Up into the air they went until they reached a gloomy cave. Then the

fairy set him down, and restored his sight by means of her magic arts.

"He is sure to fall in love with me," she cried to herself, "now that

All-fair is safely out of the way!"

But it was not a bit of use, for she was so ugly that the King only

looked the other way the whole time, and this made her very angry

indeed.

So the fairy tried another plan. She took the form of a beautiful

maiden, and placed the King in a splendid chariot, drawn by two

snow-white swans.

Then she, too, stepped in, and together they sailed away through the

air.

"He'll never resist my charms this time," she said to herself. But she

found out her mistake very soon, I can tell you. You see, although the

fairy could change her form at will, her feet always remained the same,

and the King caught sight of two ugly webbed feet, that looked as if

they belonged to a griffin; so he was not deceived at all, and knew her

to be the Desert Fairy, in spite of the disguise.

On and on they went, and once the King chanced to look downward. There

he saw a castle built of bright polished steel, and on the balcony stood

All-fair weeping very bitterly.

All-fair chanced to look upward, and she spied the chariot drawn by the

snow-white swans. Although it passed along very quickly, she could see

the King seated inside with a lovely maiden, and as she did not know it

was the Desert Fairy, she felt very jealous indeed.

Soon the chariot alighted at a lonely palace, shut in by a wall of

emeralds on one side and the sea on the other.

Well, the King just cast his eyes around the place, and made up his mind

not to stay there long.

"I'll escape somehow," he said to himself; and he did, too, before very

long.

He pretended to be in love with the Desert Fairy, and this pleased and

flattered her so much that she began to treat him very kindly indeed.

She even allowed him to walk alone on the seashore for half an hour each

day.

One morning as the King stood upon the beach he was surprised to see a

charming mermaid rise up from the water.

"King of the Golden Mines," she said, "I know your story, and have the

power to set you free. I can also restore your Princess All-fair to you

once more. Now, as I am an enemy of the Desert Fairy, I will do this for

you."

The King thanked her, of course, and the mermaid bade him set himself

upon her tail, and away they sailed at full speed across the blue ocean

until they had gone many miles.

"The Princess, you must know," said the mermaid, "is being kept a

prisoner by the Yellow Dwarf. She is in a bright steel castle, and in

another hour we shall reach the place."

On they went still farther, and at length the mermaid set the King down

upon the seashore.

"The rest of the journey," she said, "you must take alone, and you will

have many enemies to fight before you reach the Princess. But," she

added, "I will present you with this magic sword, which will overcome

everything, so long as you never let it out of your hand."

The King took the sword, and thanked the mermaid again and again, and

then he set out to seek the steel castle.

But before he had gone a hundred yards, four terrible griffins attacked

him, and the King stood a good chance of being torn to pieces by their

long claws. Just in time, however, he remembered his magic sword, and no

sooner did the four griffins behold it than they sank to the ground,

blinded by its brightness.

After that it was an easy matter to cut off their heads, and the King

went on his way again.

[Illustration: THE MERMAID TAKING THE KING OF THE GOLDEN MINES TO THE

STEEL CASTLE]

Soon after he met six big dragons, and each one was covered with scales

like cast iron. But by means of his magic sword the King was able to

kill them also, and then he hoped his troubles were nearly over.

Alas! before he had gone many yards, twenty-four nymphs, all lovely as

the sun, set themselves right in his path.

"Our business," they said, "is to keep you from reaching the steel

castle. If we let you pass, all our lives will be sacrificed. We have

done you no harm, so do go back again that our innocent lives may be

spared."

Well, the King scarcely knew how to act; it seemed a pity to destroy

such lovely creatures, and yet get to the steel castle he must.

"Strike! Strike!" cried a voice loudly, "or you will lose your Princess

forever!"

So his Majesty destroyed the whole twenty-four of them, and at that

moment the steel castle appeared in sight.

On the balcony stood All-fair, just as she had been when he passed

through the air in the chariot drawn by swans.

"Princess," he cried, "your faithful lover has returned at last!"

"Faithful indeed!" replied All-fair angrily. "You were not faithful when

I saw you being carried through the air in company with a beautiful

maiden."

"Indeed I was," replied the King of the Golden Mines. "The maiden you

saw was the wicked Desert Fairy. She carried me off to an island, and

there I should be now, if a kind mermaid had not set me free."

Then the King cast himself at her feet; but, unfortunately, he managed

to drop the magic sword over the balcony.

Out popped the ugly Yellow Dwarf from behind a big cabbage, where he was

hiding, and he snapped up the sword in a trice.

The Princess gave a loud shriek when she set eyes on the dwarf, but the

little man, who knew well what a treasure the sword was, just uttered

two magic words, with the weapon in his hand, and there appeared two

terrible giants, who at once bound the King in chains in spite of his

struggles.

"Now," chuckled the Yellow Dwarf, "your lover is in my power. If he will

consent to your becoming my bride, I will set him free at once."

"Never!" cried the King of the Golden Mines.

"Then take that," replied the Yellow Dwarf, and he buried the magic

sword in the heart of the King.

The poor Princess was filled with sorrow at the loss of her lover, and

she cried loudly:

"Hideous dwarf, you have gained nothing by slaying my lover, for I will

never marry you. Since he is dead, I will die too."

Then she seized the sword and plunged it into her own heart.

The good mermaid was very unhappy when she heard what had taken place,

but as her only power lay in the magic sword, she could help them no

further.

So she changed them into two palm trees, growing side by side, and every

time the soft breezes blew, their branches caressed and kissed each

other, so they were happy together, after all, in spite of the ugly

Yellow Dwarf.

_Graciosa and Percinet_

Once upon a time there lived a King and Queen who had one charming

daughter. She was so graceful and pretty and clever that she was called

Graciosa, and the Queen was so fond of her that she could think of

nothing else.

Every day she gave the Princess a lovely new frock of gold brocade, or

satin, or velvet, and when she was hungry she had bowls full of

sugarplums, and at least twenty pots of jam. Everybody said she was the

happiest princess in the world. Now there lived at this same court a

very rich old Duchess whose name was Grumbly. She was more frightful

than tongue can tell; her hair was red as fire, and she had but one eye,

and that not a pretty one! Her face was as broad as a full moon, and her

mouth was so large that everybody who met her would have been afraid

they were going to be eaten up, only she had no teeth. As she was as

cross as she was ugly, she could not bear to hear everyone saying how

pretty and how charming Graciosa was; so she presently went away from

the court to her own castle, which was not far off. But if anybody who

went to see her happened to mention the charming Princess, she would cry

angrily:

"It's not true that she is lovely. I have more beauty in my little

finger than she has in her whole body."

Soon after this, to the great grief of the Princess, the Queen was taken

ill and died, and the King became so melancholy that for a whole year he

shut himself up in his palace. At last his physicians, fearing that he

would fall ill, ordered that he should go out and amuse himself; so a

hunting party was arranged, but as it was very hot weather the King soon

grew tired, and said he would dismount and rest at a castle which they

were passing.

This happened to be the Duchess Grumbly's castle, and when she heard

that the King was coming she went out to meet him, and said that the

cellar was the coolest place in the whole castle if he would condescend

to come down into it. So down they went together, and the King seeing

about two hundred great casks ranged side by side, asked if it was only

for herself that she had this immense store of wine.

"Yes, sire," answered she, "it is for myself alone, but I shall be most

happy to let you taste some of it. Which do you like, canary, St.

Julien, champagne, hermitage sack, raisin, or cider?"

"Well," said the King, "since you are so kind as to ask me, I prefer

champagne to anything else."

Then Duchess Grumbly took up a little hammer and tapped upon the cask

twice, and out came at least a thousand crowns.

"What's the meaning of this?" said she, smiling.

Then she tapped the next cask, and out came a bushel of gold pieces.

"I don't understand this at all," said the Duchess, smiling more than

before.

Then she went on to the third cask, tap, tap, and out came such a stream

of diamonds and pearls that the ground was covered with them.

"Ah!" she cried, "this is altogether beyond my comprehension, sire. Some

one must have stolen my good wine and put all this rubbish in its

place."

"Rubbish, do you call it, Madam Grumbly?" cried the King. "Rubbish! why

there is enough there to buy ten kingdoms."

"Well," said she, "you must know that all those casks are full of gold

and jewels, and if you like to marry me it shall all be yours."

Now the King loved money more than anything else in the world, so he

cried joyfully:

"Marry you? why, with all my heart! to-morrow if you like."

"But I make one condition," said the Duchess; "I must have entire

control of your daughter to do as I please with her."

"Oh, certainly, you shall have your own way; let us shake hands upon the

bargain," said the King.

So they shook hands and went up out of the cellar of treasure together,

and the Duchess locked the door and gave the key to the King.

When he returned to his own palace Graciosa ran out to meet him, and

asked if he had had good sport.

"I have caught a dove," answered he.