Once on a time there was a King and Queen of Iceland, who, after twenty
years of married life, had a daughter. Her birth gave them the greatest
pleasure, as they had so long despaired of having children to succeed
to their throne. The young Princess was named Imis; her dawning charms
promised from her infancy all the wonderful beauty which shone with so
much brilliancy when she arrived at a maturer age.
No one in the universe would have been worthy of her had not Cupid,
who thought it a point of honour to subject to his empire, some day,
so marvellous a person, taken care to cause a Prince to be born in the
same Court equally charming with that lovely Princess. He was called
Philax, and was the son of a brother of the King of Iceland. He was two
years older than the Princess, and they were brought up together with
all the freedom natural to childhood and near relationship. The first
sensations of their hearts were mutual admiration and affection. They
could see nothing so beautiful as themselves, consequently they found
no attraction in the world that could interfere with the passion each
felt for the other, even without yet knowing its name.
The King and Queen saw this dawning affection with pleasure. They loved
young Philax. He was a Prince of their blood, and no child had ever
awakened fairer hopes. Everything seemed to favour the designs of Cupid
to render Prince Philax some day the happiest of men. The Princess was
about twelve years old when the Queen, who was exceedingly fond of
her, desired to have her daughter's fortune told by a Fairy, whose
extraordinary science was at that time making a great sensation.
She set out in search of her, taking with her Imis, who, in her
distress at parting with Philax, wondered a thousand and a thousand
times how anybody could trouble themselves about the future when the
present was so agreeable. Philax remained with the King, and all the
pleasures of the Court could not console him for the absence of the
Princess.
The Queen arrived at the Fairy's castle. She was magnificently
received; but the Fairy was not at home. Her usual residence was on the
summit of a mountain at some distance from the castle, where she lived
all alone and absorbed in that profound study which had rendered her
famous throughout the world.
As soon as she heard of the Queen's arrival, she returned to the
castle. The Queen presented the Princess to her, told her her name
and the hour of her birth, which the Fairy knew as well as she did,
though she had not been present at it. The Fairy of the Mountain knew
everything. She promised the Queen an answer in two days, and then
returned to the summit of the mountain. On the morning of the third day
she came back to the castle, bade the Queen descend into the garden,
and gave her some tablets of palm leaves closely shut, which she was
ordered not to open except in the presence of the King.
The Queen, to satisfy her curiosity in some degree, asked her several
questions respecting the fate of her daughter. "Great Queen," replied
the Fairy of the Mountain, "I cannot precisely tell you what sort of
misfortune threatens the Princess. I perceive only that love will
have a large share in the events of her life, and that no beauty
ever inspired such violent passions as that of Imis will do." It was
not necessary to be a fairy to foresee that the Princess would have
admirers. Her eyes already seemed to demand from all hearts the love
which the Fairy assured the Queen would be entertained for her. In
the meanwhile Imis, much less uneasy about her future destiny than at
being separated from Philax, amused herself by gathering flowers; but
thinking only of his love, and in her impatience to depart, she forgot
the bouquet she had begun to compose, and unconsciously flung away the
flowers she had amassed at first with delight. She hastened to rejoin
the Queen, who was taking her leave of the Fairy of the Mountain.
The Fairy embraced Imis, and gazing on her with the admiration she
deserved--"Since it is impossible for me," she exclaimed, after a
short silence, which had something mysterious in it--"since it is
impossible for me, beautiful Princess, to alter in your favour the
decrees of destiny, I will at least endeavour to enable you to escape
the misfortunes it prepares for you." So saying, she gathered with her
own hands a bunch of lilies of the valley, and addressing the youthful
Imis--"Wear always these flowers which I give to you," said she; "they
will never fade, and as long as you have them about your person, they
will protect you from all the ills with which you are threatened by
Fate." She then fastened the bouquet on the head-dress of Imis, and the
flowers, obedient to the wishes of the Fairy, were no sooner placed in
the hair of the Princess, than they adjusted themselves, and formed
a sort of aigrette, the whiteness of which seemed only to prove that
nothing could eclipse that of the complexion of the fair Imis.
The Queen took her departure, after having thanked the Fairy a thousand
times, and went back to Iceland, where all the Court impatiently
awaited the return of the Princess. Never did delight sparkle with more
brilliancy and beauty than in the eyes of Imis and of her lover. The
mystery involved in the plume of lilies of the valley was revealed to
the King alone. It had so agreeable an effect in the beautiful brown
hair of the Princess, that everybody took it simply for an ornament
which she had herself culled in the gardens of the Fairy.
The Princess said much more to Philax about the grief she felt at her
separation from him than about the misfortunes which the Fates had
in store for her. Philax was, nevertheless, alarmed at them; but the
happiness of being together was present, the evils, as yet, uncertain.
They forgot them, and abandoned themselves to the delight of seeing
each other again.
In the meanwhile, the Queen recounted to the King the events of her
journey, and gave him the Fairy's tablets. The King opened and found in
them the following words, written in letters of gold:--
Fate for Imis hides despair
Under hopes that seem most fair;
She will miserable be,
Through too much felicity.
The King and Queen were much distressed at this oracle, and vainly
sought its explanation. They said nothing about it to the Princess,
in order to spare her an unnecessary sorrow. One day that Philax was
gone hunting, a pleasure he indulged in frequently, Imis was walking
by herself in a labyrinth of myrtles. She was very melancholy because
Philax was so long absent, and reproached herself for giving way
to an impatience which he did not partake. She was absorbed in her
thoughts, when she heard a voice, which said to her, "Why do you
distress yourself, beautiful Princess? If Philax is not sensible of
the happiness of being beloved by you, I come to offer you a heart a
thousand times more grateful--a heart deeply smitten by your charms,
and a fortune sufficiently brilliant to be desired by any one except
yourself, to whom the whole world is subject." The Princess was much
surprised at hearing this voice. She had imagined herself alone in
the labyrinth, and, as she had not uttered a word, she was still more
astonished that this voice had replied to her thoughts. She looked
about her, and saw a little man appear in the air, seated upon a
cockchafer. "Fear not, fair Imis," said he to her; "you have no lover
more submissive than I am; and although this is the first time that
I have appeared to you, I have long loved you, and daily gazed upon
you." "You astonish me!" replied the Princess. "What! You have daily
beheld me, and you know my thoughts? If so, you must be aware that it
is useless to love me. Philax, to whom I have given my heart, is too
charming ever to cease being its master, and although I am displeased
with him, I never loved him so much as I do at this moment. But tell me
who you are, and where you first saw me." "I am Pagan the Enchanter,"
replied he, "and have power over everybody but you. I saw you first
in the gardens of the Fairy of the Mountain. I was hidden in one of
the tulips you gathered. I took for a happy omen the chance which had
induced you to choose the flower I was concealed in. I flattered myself
that you would carry me away with you; but you were too much occupied
with the pleasure of thinking of Philax. You threw away the flowers
as soon as you had gathered them, and left me in the garden the most
enamoured of beings. From that moment I have felt that nothing could
make me happy but the hope of being loved by you. Think favourably of
me, fair Imis, if it be possible, and permit me occasionally to remind
you of my affection." With these words he disappeared, and the Princess
returned to the palace, where the sight of Philax dissipated the alarm
she had felt at this adventure. She was so eager to hear him excuse
himself for the length of time he had been hunting, that she had nearly
forgotten to inform him of what had occurred to her; but at last she
told him what she had seen in the labyrinth of myrtles.
The young Prince, notwithstanding his courage, was alarmed at the
idea of a winged rival, with whom he could not dispute the hand of
the Princess upon equal terms. But the plume of lilies of the valley
guaranteed him against the effect of enchantments, and the affection
Imis entertained for him would not permit him to fear any change in her
heart.
The day after the adventure in the labyrinth, the Princess, on awaking,
saw fly into her chamber twelve tiny nymphs, seated on honey-bees, and
bearing in their hands little golden baskets. They approached the bed
of Imis, saluted her, and then went and placed their baskets on a table
of white marble, which appeared in the centre of the apartment. As soon
as the baskets were set upon it, they enlarged to an ordinary size.
The nymphs having quitted them, again saluted Imis, and one of them,
approaching the bed nearer than the rest, let something fall upon it,
and then they all flew away.
The Princess, despite the astonishment which so strange a sight
occasioned, took up what the nymph had dropped beside her. It was an
emerald of marvellous beauty. It opened the moment the Princess touched
it, and she found it contained a rose leaf, on which she read these
verses.
Let the world learn, to its surprise,
The wondrous power of thine eyes.
Such is the love I bear to thee,
It makes e'en torture dear to me.
The Princess could not recover from her astonishment. At length she
called to her attendants, who were as much surprised as Imis at the
sight of the table and the baskets. The King, the Queen, and Philax
hastened to the spot on the news of this extraordinary event. The
Princess, in her relation of it, suppressed nothing except the letter
of her lover. She considered she was not bound to reveal that to any
one but Philax. The baskets were carefully examined, and were found to
be filled with jewels of extraordinary beauty, and of so great a value
as to double the astonishment of the spectators.
The Princess would not touch one of them, and having found an instant
when nobody was listening, she drew near to Philax and gave him the
emerald and the rose leaf. He read his rival's letter with much
disquietude. Imis, to console him, tore the rose leaf to pieces before
his face; but ah! how dearly did they pay for that act!
Some days elapsed without the Princess hearing anything of Pagan. She
fancied that her contempt for him would extinguish his passion, and
Philax flattered himself by indulging in a like belief. That Prince
returned to the chase as usual. He halted alone by the side of a
fountain, to refresh himself. He had about him the emerald which the
Princess had given him, and recollecting with pleasure the little value
she set on it, he drew it from his pocket to look at it. But scarcely
had he held it a moment in his hand when it slipped through his
fingers, and, as soon as it touched the ground, changed into a chariot.
Two winged monsters issued from the fountain and harnessed themselves
to it. Philax gazed on them without alarm, for he was incapable of
fear, but he could not avoid feeling some emotion when he found himself
transported into the chariot by an irresistible power, and at the same
moment raised into the air, through which the winged monsters caused
the chariot to fly with a prodigious rapidity. In the meanwhile night
came, and the huntsmen, after searching throughout the wood in vain for
Philax, repaired to the Palace, whither they imagined he might have
returned alone; but he was not to be found there, nor had any one seen
him since he had set out with them for the chase.
The King commanded them to go back and renew their search for the
Prince. All the Court shared in his Majesty's anxiety. They returned to
the wood, they ran in every direction around it, and did not retrace
their steps to the Palace before daybreak, but without having obtained
the least intelligence of the Prince. Imis had passed the night in
despair at her lover's absence, of which she could not comprehend
the cause. She had ascended a terrace of the Palace to watch for the
return of the party that had gone in search of Philax, and flattered
herself she should see him arrive in their company; but no words can
express the excess of her affliction when no Philax appeared, and she
was informed that it had been impossible to ascertain what had become
of him. She fainted; they carried her into the Palace, and one of her
women, in her haste to undress and put her to bed, took out of the hair
of the Princess the plume of lilies of the valley which preserved her
from the power of enchantments. The instant it was removed a dark cloud
filled the apartment, and Imis disappeared. The King and Queen were
distracted at this loss, and nothing could ever console them.
The Princess, on recovering from her swoon, found herself in a chamber
of various-coloured coral, floored with mother-of-pearl, and surrounded
by nymphs, who waited upon her with the most profound respect. They
were very beautiful, and magnificently and tastefully attired. Imis
first asked them where she was. "You are in a place where you are
adored," said one of the nymphs to her. "Fear nothing, fair Princess,
you will find in it everything you can desire." "Philax is here,
then!" exclaimed the Princess, her eyes sparkling with joy. "I desire
only the happiness of seeing him again." "You cherish too long the
recollection of an ungrateful lover," said Pagan, at the same moment
rendering himself visible to the Princess, "and as that Prince has
deserted you, he is no more worthy your affection. Let resentment and
respect for your own pride combine with the passion I entertain for
you. Reign for ever in these regions, lovely Princess; you will find in
them immense treasures, and all imaginable delights will attend your
steps." Imis replied to Pagan's address with tears alone. He left her,
fearing to embitter her grief. The nymphs remained with her, and used
all their endeavours to console her. A magnificent repast was served up
to her. She refused to eat; but at length, on the following morning,
her desire to behold Philax once more made her resolve to live. She
took some food, and the nymphs, to dissipate her sorrow, conducted
her through various portions of the Palace. It was built entirely of
shining shells, mixed with precious stones of different colours, which
produced the finest effect in the world; all the furniture was of gold,
and of such wonderful workmanship that you might easily see it could
only have come from the hands of Fairies.
After they had shown Imis the Palace, the nymphs led her into the
gardens, which were of a beauty not to be described. She found in them
a very brilliant car, drawn by six stags, who were driven by a dwarf.
She was requested to enter the car. Imis complied; the nymphs seated
themselves at her feet. They were driven to the seaside, where a nymph
informed the Princess that Pagan, who reigned in this island, had
made it by the power of his art the most beautiful in the universe.
The sound of instruments interrupted the narration of the nymph.
The sea appeared to be entirely covered with little boats, built of
flame-coloured coral, and filled with everything that could be required
to compose a brilliant aquatic entertainment. In the midst of the small
craft, there was a barque of much larger size, on which the initials of
Imis were seen in every part, formed with pearls. It was drawn by two
dolphins. It approached the shore. The Princess entered it, accompanied
by her nymphs. As soon as she was on board, a superb collation appeared
before her, and her ears were regaled at the same time by exquisite
music which proceeded from the boats around her. Songs were sung, of
which her praise alone was the theme. But Imis paid no attention to
anything. She remounted her car, and returned to the Palace overwhelmed
with sadness. In the evening Pagan again presented himself. He found
her more insensible to his love than ever; but he was not discouraged,
and trusted to the effect of his constancy. He had yet to learn that in
love the most faithful are not always the most happy.
Every day he offered the Princess entertainments worthy of exciting the
admiration of all the world, but which were lost upon her for whom they
were invented. Imis thought of nothing but the absence of her lover.
That unhappy Prince had been transported in the meanwhile, by the
winged monsters, into a forest which belonged to Pagan. It was called
the Dismal Forest. As soon as Philax had arrived in it, the emerald
chariot and the monsters disappeared. The Prince, surprised by this
adventure, summoned up all his courage to his assistance, and it was
the only aid on which he could reckon in that place. He first explored
several of the roads through the forest. They were dreadful, and the
sun never penetrated their gloom. No human being was to be found in
them; not an animal even of any description; it seemed as though the
beasts themselves had a horror of this dreary dwelling.
Philax lived upon the wild fruit he found in it. He passed his days
in the deepest sorrow. The loss of the Princess distracted him, and
sometimes, with his sword, which he had retained, he occupied himself
with carving the name of Imis on the trunks of the trees, which were
not adapted for so tender a practice; but when we are truly in love we
frequently make things serviceable to our passion which appear to be
least favourable for the purpose.
The Prince continued daily to travel through the forest, and he had
been nearly a year on his journey, when one night he heard some
plaintive voices, but could not distinguish any words. Alarming as
these wailing sounds were at such an hour and in a place where the
Prince had never yet met with mortal soul, the desire to be no longer
alone, and to find at least some one as wretched as himself with whom
he could weep over the misfortunes that had befallen them, made him
wait with impatience for morning, when he might seek out the persons
whose voices he had heard. He walked towards that part of the forest
whence he fancied the sounds had proceeded, but hunted all day in vain;
at length, however, towards evening, he discovered, in a spot which
was clear of trees, the ruins of a castle which appeared to have been
of great size and magnificence. He entered a court-yard, the walls
of which were of green marble, and seemed still tolerably perfect.
He found in it nothing but trees of prodigious height, standing
irregularly in various parts of the enclosure. He advanced towards a
spot where he perceived something elevated upon a pedestal of black
marble. It proved to be a confused pile of armour and weapons, heaped
one upon the other: helmets, shields, and swords of an ancient form,
which composed a sort of ill-arranged trophy. He looked for some
inscription which might inform him to whom these arms had formerly
appertained. He found one engraved on the pedestal. Time had nearly
effaced the characters, and it was with much difficulty that he
deciphered these words:--