Once upon a time, by the banks of a noble river flowing to the sea
through a mountain-girdled plain, stood a city of the wisest people
in the world. Instead of spending the winter as others did, huddled
over smoky fires, freezing ears and noses, bundling themselves up in a
pother of clothes, and being cross at breakfast, these sensible folk
simply retired to their dwellings, locked their doors, drew down their
curtains, put on their nightcaps, got into bed, and _slept the winter
away_. The north wind howled there about the shuttered houses and woke
no citizen from his dreams; in the empty market place and the silent
streets, stainless and untrodden lay the snow. But when the leaves were
the size of a mouse’s ear, and the singing birds had returned from
their winter pilgrimage, the sleepy citizens would wake, rub their
eyes, stretch their arms, and come yawning to open their windows on the
sunlight and the spring.
The King of this remarkable city, I must tell you, had three children,
the two elder of whom were sons and the youngest a daughter. Now, as
occasionally happens, the two sons were models of royal deportment,
whilst their sister, the slender, dark-haired, and dark-eyed Princess
Theolette, was as wilful and spirited as a mountain bird.
Now, on a day when the year was growing old and only a few
half-withered flowers were to be gathered in the fields, it chanced
that Theolette, who had been idling about with little to do, took
it into her head to pay a visit to the royal library. It was very
quiet there, the red autumn sun was shining through the great
windows, a million motes of dust danced in the broad and ruddy beam,
and Theolette, curled in a huge red-leather easy-chair, had great
difficulty in keeping awake. Presently her eyes lit upon a large green
book entitled, _Winter Time_, and this Theolette took from its place
and opened in her lap.
Somewhat to her disappointment, the print within the old book was in
a foreign language, but the pictures--they would have kept anyone
from sleeping! There were pictures of snowy mountain-tops, of bright,
frozen lakes with people skating on them, of attacks on snow forts,
of snowstorms in pleasant country villages, and of belfries agleam
with snow beneath the moon. Now, although Theolette had never seen the
winter or any snow or ice and could hardly make anything out of some
of the pictures, she could see well enough that here was something
strange, and new, and wonderful indeed. And then and there she resolved
to run away during the winter sleep, see the winter world, and return
before the city woke to the coming of the spring!
Shorter grew the golden days, and longer the still cold nights, and
presently the great day of the winter sleep was at hand. A trumpeter,
posted in the tower of dreams, at sunrise called the city to its last
morn of waking life; and scarce had his last notes faded, ere a murmur
of bustle and preparations began to rise from every household in the
town.
At sunset, in accordance with ancient custom, the edict of sleep was
read to the people from a balcony of the palace. This venerable law, I
must tell you, summoned all good citizens to go to sleep, and recited
the dreadful penalties prepared for all who should dare to stay awake.
When the gathering had melted away, and the streets were empty save for
a hurrying citizen or two on some belated errand, the gates were locked
and the waters of the river turned into the moat about the town.
The enchanted chimes of sleep, which rang of themselves, were to sound
at the midnight hour.
Little by little, the royal palace became as silent as a stone. A
darkness of slumber and night filled the vast echoing halls, and from
afar through the gloom came the faint tramp, tramp of the hob-nailed
night-watch on the last round of the year.
After attending the ceremonial winter good-night of the royal family,
Theolette hurried away to her own chamber.
“I mustn’t fall asleep now,” said she, clenching her fist, “because if
I do, I’ll sleep until the spring!” And with a heart that went thump,
thump, thump in the darkness, she waited the midnight hour.
Suddenly the first warning bell--_Nightcaps On!_--struck one great
solemn rolling clang which swept out over the city and ebbed away
humming to the stars.
And now, after a pause, sounded the second bell--_Lights out!_
Theolette sat down in a great chair, arose, walked about, sat down
again, and arose once more. Would the third bell never ring?
Presently--_Everybody to bed!_--boomed the third bell. Theolette put
her fingers to her ears. Solemn and sweet and strange and golden, the
enchanted chimes were sounding their fairy tune.
Now, once the song of the chimes had come to an end and the throbbing
humming of the last grave chord had melted into the air, Theolette went
to her window, drew back the curtain, and looked forth over the city
sleeping in the starlight. How strange and still they were, those dark
streets winding like crooked brooks through banks of huddled roofs.
Suddenly the Princess uttered a little cry of surprise!
Far away across the sleeping city, in a little house by the wall, a
yellow light was gleaming! And now the light moved, went from window to
window, vanished, reappeared, and vanished yet again.
Someone else was awake in the city! Who could it be?
Puzzled, but not the littlest bit afraid, the Princess went to her
wardrobe and dressed herself as well as she could in a little red
hunting-dress and cap. Then, throwing her warmest mantle over her
shoulders and taking a lighted candle with her, she made her way from
her chamber down the great stairway to the palace door. Fantastic
shadows leaped and swayed as the Princess, holding aloft her taper,
descended the long broad flight, and somewhere a huge clock ticked on,
solemn, dutiful, and forgotten. Opening the door gently, Theolette
stepped forth into the dark street and hurried along it to the royal
gate of the city wall.
All seemed well; the gates were locked, and the drawbridge of the moat
was lifted high above the black and starry waters. Standing motionless
for a moment in one of the shadowy nooks of the giant portal, Theolette
listened for a footfall or a sound, but heard only the sigh of the
night wind and the ripple of water in the moat. Reassured by the
silence, the Princess lowered the drawbridge, unlocked the great gate
with her father’s own key, opened one vast swinging door, locked it
behind her, and walked off bravely into the dark and lonely land.
[Illustration: _The runaway Princess stepped forth into the dark street
and, taper in hand, hurried to the gate of the city wall_]
On the following morning, a little after the dawn, the Princess arrived
at a country town just over the frontier of her father’s realm, and
there she sought out the inn and made preparations for her runaway
winter-pilgrimage. From the host, a little white horse she purchased,
and from the host’s fourth son, who happened to be a tailor, a fine
warm riding-habit of country wool. Thus clad, away into the winter
world galloped the adventurous Theolette. Of what befell her, you soon
shall hear.
* * * * *
And what a wonderful pilgrimage it was through the world of ice and
snow! I wish I had time to tell you of all she saw and of all she did,
of how the first snowstorm so pleased her that she almost lost her
way in the whirl of the flakes, of her first look at a bit of ice, of
her visit to the winter festival of the Fairy of the Snows, of how
she danced the minuet at the polar bears’ ball, and of how she rode
Aldebaran, the skating horse, up and down the ice lakes of the wild.
White as snow was this marvelous animal, and of blue leather edged with
white were his saddle and bridle, whilst the skates he wore were of the
blackest and shiniest adamant. You should have seen him skating o’er
the lakes, now striking out with this hoof, now with that; his head
held high, his long silky tail streaming in the wind. And Theolette
thought, as she rode, of the old book in the royal library and of the
City of the Winter Sleep far away, with the storm crying unheeded
through its dream.
And now the winter waned, a venturesome bird or two returned to rock
on budding twigs, the earth began to turn from brown to green, and
Theolette knew that she must hasten back at once. Alas! one pleasant
morning, as she was nearing the borders of her father’s land, a band of
robbers suddenly sprang at her out of a wood, bound her securely, and
hurried her to their castle with the intention of demanding a ransom.
Once there, they pushed the Princess roughly into a little cobwebby
turret-chamber, slammed and locked the heavy oaken door behind her, and
left her to her thoughts.
From her window in the turret, Theolette could see the highroad leading
toward the castle through the wooded lowlands, and the broad winding
stream of a mighty river--the very river, indeed, which flowed by the
walls of the City of the Winter Sleep. With every warm and sunny hour
the spring was driving old winter from the land, the scales of tree
buds were unsealing, frogs were piping in tiny triumph from every marsh
and pool, and there were pleasant earthy smells in the air.
“The spring awakening is surely close at hand,” thought Theolette.
“What _shall_ I do?”
Now, one sunny morning as the disconsolate Princess walked to and fro
in her little room, it came to pass that she heard from the road below
a pleasant voice singing a strange old song of her own land. It was
a song about a soldier who had fought in the wars and returned in the
spring to plough the dear earth he had loved and defended. And, hearing
the old song, Theolette uttered a joyful cry and ran to the window.
A youth in a student’s dress of green stood in the highroad directly
under the window; he had heard the cry, and stood looking up at the
sunny wall.
“Stay, good sir,” cried Theolette, “and tell me who you are that sings
a song of mine own land.”
To this the pleasant youth replied that he was but a student who had
stolen away from the City of Winter Sleep, and was even then hastening
back lest his absence be discovered. And Theolette remembered the light
she had seen in the old house by the city wall.
And now Theolette told the student of her adventures and begged of him
to aid her. You may be sure that the student, who was a fine brave
fellow, needed no second entreaty! Being a clever youth as well as
a brave one, he skillfully managed to lure the robbers away from the
castle that very eve, and fling a coiled rope to the Princess. And,
hand over hand, with feet pressed close against the cord, down came the
adventurous Theolette.
Now, one of the robbers, a small one, had ridden away with Theolette’s
little white horse, so the student hurried Theolette to the river bank
where a boat lay waiting. Alas, the vessel was scarce large enough for
a single passenger!
“See, Princess, the river is in flood,” said the youth, “and you have
but to step into this vessel and be carried swiftly to the city.”
“But what of you, brave friend?” said Theolette. “You will be late now,
and your flight from the city will be known.”
“Do not fear, Princess,” replied the student with a queer, half-merry
smile. “There is still time, and I can make haste as well as any man.
To tell you truth, I have never felt at home in the city, anyway. But
enough of words. Hasten, Lady Theolette, for the robbers will soon
return.”
And now Theolette found herself on the mighty river in the full
hurly-burly of its springtide flood. On and on she swept through the
night, league after league, now floating quietly over lowlands turned
to lakes; now borne headlong with the torrent down valleys and ravines.
Solitary and fugitive, one great star shone close above the distant
peaks.
Just as the dawn was streaking the east with rose and gray, the
Princess gained her father’s city. The drawbridge was still lowered
across the moat, the city was still sealed in its winter dream.
After thrusting the little boat once more forth into the full current
of the river, Theolette ran to the palace and went to her own room.
With a little sigh, she folded away the worn red hunting-dress and cap
she had been wearing--the riding-habit of country wool had been left
behind somewhere at the return of spring--and crept into her little
silken bed. So weary was she that scarce had her head touched the
pillow ere she was sound asleep.
* * * * *
When she opened her eyes again, a whole day and a night had passed, the
City had risen from the winter sleep, and her mother stood bending over
her with an amused smile. Loud and clear and joyous the silver bells of
the spring-awakening were ringing o’er the town.
“Good gracious, Theolette,” said her mother, “but what a sleeper you
are! I’ve been shaking you for the last ten minutes. Get up now, that’s
a dear, and wear your rose frock to the grand spring breakfast.”
A little later Theolette, feeling just the tiniest bit bewildered,
sat down to breakfast with her father the King, her mother the Queen,
and the two Princes her brothers. And there, moved by an impulse of
truth and courage--for, though wilful, Theolette was as faithful to
high honor as a vowed knight--the Princess told them all the tale of
her runaway adventures. To her surprise, she could win none of them to
believe her story!
“You have been dreaming, Theolette,” said her father, gravely shaking
his head and reaching for a royal muffin. “But I called you myself!”
exclaimed her mother, pausing from her royal marmalade. And as for
Theolette’s two brothers, they pretended that polite disbelief which
young men find so delightfully irritating when teasing their sisters.
Weeks passed, spring followed winter into the cupboard of time, and
Theolette could find no one to believe her story. Weary of insisting,
and shaken by the unbelief of those about her, the Princess began to
wonder in her own heart if it were not all a dream. Nothing remained of
it all, and it was so like a dream!
Her head bowed low, her eyes full of doubt and memories, the Princess
mused all day, and finally grew so pale that her royal parents became
quite alarmed, and took counsel to send their daughter on a long
visit to her aunt, the Queen of the Golden Mountain. On the morn of
departure, Theolette walked to the great hall of state to say farewell.
“A dream, a dream; was it only a dream?” thought Theolette. And she saw
again the winter world, and the polar bears’ ball, with the candles
burning in chandeliers of icicles, and the skating horse, and the
pleasant youth in green who had saved her from the robbers. Could it
have been only a dream? With a sigh and a doubting shake of her head,
the Princess took her place at the head of her ladies and approached
her father and mother.
And now, of a sudden, from the sunny street below the pillared window,
a voice was heard singing. And the voice sang an old song of a soldier
who had fought in the wars and returned in the spring to plough the
dear earth he had loved and defended. A hush fell over the astounded
assembly.
“Stop, I pray you!” cried Theolette, turning pale as the new-fallen
snow. “O hasten, good soldiers, and bring yon singer here before me!”
And now a group of guards rushed through the swinging doors to do her
bidding. Presently they returned, bringing with them the student who
had saved Theolette from the robbers! He was very pale, there were
irons on his wrists, and two burly turnkeys, dressed in red and black,
stood beside him. And, beholding Theolette, the poor youth drew in his
breath with a start and met her gaze with strange eyes.
“Speak! What does this mean? Who is this fellow?” cried the King,
rising from his throne.
“May it please Your Majesty,” replied a turnkey, falling on one knee,
“this youth is a student of the College of Dreams who disobeyed the
edict of sleep and ran away from the city. He was captured as he tried
to return after the spring awakening, brought before the Court of
Dreams, and sentenced to pay the penalty. We were on our way with him
to the dungeons under the river when the royal guards surrounded us
and led us here. What is your will, O King?”
“My will is that the judgment be obeyed,” replied the King. “Lead him
forth to his doom!”
“Nay, hear me, father,” cried Theolette. “If he is guilty, so am I! I,
too, disobeyed the edict; I, too, ran away. This is the brave youth who
so gallantly preserved me from the robbers! Oh, will you not believe me
now? It is not a dream--it never was a dream!”
At these words, a stir of excitement swept through the vast hall;
indeed, it seemed as if all there were trying to talk, to protest, to
support, to dispute, to explain. The uproar was at its height when
the boom of a cannon first quieted, then roused the hubbub to an even
greater pitch.
“A royal visitor!” exclaimed the King. “What can this mean? Let no one
stir!”
Presently, there was a fanfare of many trumpets, the great portals of
the hall swung open, and there entered a crowned King and his train.
“O King of the City of the Winter Sleep,” cried the newcomer, “hear
me, for I have come from afar and in great haste. I am the King of the
North and I seek my only son, Prince Florimond, who was stolen from
his cradle twenty years ago. The Fairy of the Isles has revealed that
I shall find him here. He dwells in a house by the city wall and is a
student of the College of Dreams. I pray you search for him at once,
for my heart hungers to behold him!”
“Florimond? Florimond?” cried the Lord Chancellor of the College,
stepping forward, “there is but one Florimond in the city and, as I
live, this youth is he!” And presently all beheld that the great King
and the runaway student were indeed father and son. To pardon the
runaway youth and loose him from his bonds was but a moment’s task.
This done, a royal herald proclaimed a three days’ holiday.
On the last evening of the festival, Florimond and Theolette walked
alone to a great balcony and looked forth over the city, the river,
and the mountain-circled plain. It was midsummer eve, the warm night
was sweet with the fragrance of many flowers, and the music of lutes
and viols sounded faintly through the pleasant air.
“Was it a wonder that I ran away,” said the Prince, laughing, “when I
wasn’t born a winter sleeper?”
“The winter--ah, what fun it all was!” answered Theolette. “I wonder if
I shall ever see it again.”
“You shall see it every year if you will only consent to be Princess
of the North,” replied Florimond, with a gallant smile. And then and
there the two runaways pledged their troth. The wedding over, Florimond
returned to his own land, taking Theolette with him; and, unless you
have heard to the contrary, they are living there happily still.