for the cottage was so dark after the light outside that for some
moments it was quite as black as night. However, gradually her eyes
became accustomed to the twilight, for the open door did let in a good
deal of light.
What she did see, however, did not please her eyes much, for the three
sisters, to whom Wopole gave the name of Parker—they are called the
Parcae generally—were about as ugly as they make them; and as they were
twins—that is, triplets—there was not much to choose between them.
The room in the cottage was very large, and at the wall at one end a
large number of frames stood on which were nailed reels, and from every
reel came a silver thread, and over every reel a small placard was
placed on which was written a name—the name of the owner of the thread.
Behind the frames stood one of the Fates, who took off used-up reels
and placed new ones in their stead; though how she did it the Princess
could not tell, for the Fates, as well as Love, are blind. Yet she did
it.
Between the reels and the last of the three sisters sat one clothed in
black, who held in her hand scissors wherewith she severed certain of
the threads—threads of those that die on earth. Last of the three sat
one who twisted all the threads into one great rope that ran from her
hands down a fathomless pit to the earth.
And so they all sat silently working busily, with no other sound than
the clipping of the scissors as their owner cut remorselessly here and
there, surely and safely—she needed no eyes.
But the Princess heeded little of this, for she was seeking out two
names. The names were arranged in townships, so she had but little
difficulty in finding them; and she changed the names that stood over
the strings. Over Wopole’s she put the name of Treblo, and over Treblo
she put Wopole’s name.
‘It is the only way to stop him killing Treblo. As for the others,
Abbonamento and Araminta, if Wopole cuts his own string and dies, he
will not be able to cut theirs; but if he die not instantly and cut the
other strings, I will knot them together again quickly. And I will also
knot together Wopole’s own thread, for he has done me no harm, and
once he saved my life; only, he must not kill Treblo.’
When she had got thus far, the light that came through the door was
interrupted for a moment, and Wopole entered.
He stopped for a few minutes to accustom his eyes to the faint light.
Then the Princess heard him mutter:
‘Lucky for me the old ladies are blind and deaf. Here are his own
scissors to cut his own thread. That is to fight him with his own
tools—and I shall win.’
And then he walked towards the sets of threads.
In a few moments he had found the thread marked ‘Treblo,’ and reaching
out the scissors he cut it through. But he dropped the scissors almost
instantly.
‘What a pain I have in my side,’ he said. ‘I won’t cut any more threads
if it’s to hurt me like this each time. Old Abbonamento and Araminta
won’t last long after their son; and as for the lovely Princess, Mumkie
promised her to me, so I won’t cut your string, Ernalie.’
‘Thank you,’ said Ernalie herself, so quietly that Wopole did not
notice it, and he left the house in somewhat of a hurry.
‘I’ll just join his thread, and then I’ll join him again; and so
there’s not much harm done.’
But it was not quite so easy to join the threads as it looked, for part
of the thread that went towards the earth moved on, while that which
came from the reel stood still. However, she pulled the thread rapidly
from the reel, and she managed to tie the two parts together before
they reached the lady with the scissors, and so the thread passed on
its way without notice.
‘That’s all right,’ said she thankfully, and she left the house to
follow Wopole.
He, however, had already passed the turning and was out of sight, so
she followed; but when she too had turned the corner he was nowhere to
be seen. However, she was quite sure of the road, so she went leisurely
on; but each hillock was so like the other, and there was no mark to
guide her, for no trees grew on the cheese. And so little by little
she began to feel convinced that she had lost her way, and though she
wandered on for hours and hours she came to no trace of anything that
would guide her to the vessel.
But at last she came to some footsteps in the cheese, and she was now
quite sure of being in the right track. So she ran on as fast as she
could, and she really was on the right path, and soon she came in sight
of the sea, and then she saw the vessel, but it was sailing away from
her as fast as it could, and although she shouted and cried to Wopole
to come back and fetch her, he took no notice.
‘Wopole! Wopole!’ she shrieked; but the wind carried her voice away,
and did not bring back Wopole.
Again she called:
‘Wopole!’
‘What _is_ the use of making all that noise?’ said a voice that came
from close to her side, and when she looked round she saw the Man,
sitting on his bundle of sticks, eating the bread ravenously, and
scooping up pieces of the moon-cheese from his side.
‘What is the use of making all that noise?’ he said again,
bad-temperedly.
‘I want Wopole to come back and fetch me,’ said the Princess.
‘I daresay he’d feel flattered if he knew; but he doesn’t. It’s no
use howling. By the bye, I forgot to tell you—“This lanthorn doth the
horned moon present.”’
‘But what _has_ that got to do with my getting home?’ said the
Princess.
‘I don’t know; but it’s my home. Look, the sea’s rising.’
The Princess looked round in alarm, for she was afraid of getting her
feet wet; but though the sea was rising, it did not hurt the moon at
all, for, you see, the water belonged to the earth, and so, while the
moon sank lower and lower, the water remained like a solid wall above
them, but did not close over them. The light of the moon attracted the
fishes and strange monsters of the deep, and the Princess saw them as
calmly as if they had been part of a large aquarium. She looked at them
for some time; but a strange sound behind her made her turn round:
‘I am about to sing a serenade,’ said the Man.
‘Please don’t,’ said the Princess.
‘I’m sure you’d like to hear it. “I’ll sing you songs of Araby,”’ he
said.
‘But I don’t care about Araby.’
‘You really must listen. Come, now, do hear.’
And he began waving his arms to and fro, roaring:
‘When moonlight o’er the azure seas
In soft effulgence swells!’
But he sang it to the tune of the moonlight sonata.
The Princess did not wait to hear. She put her fingers in her ears, and
ran off as fast as she could; but still she heard the burden:
‘Ah, Angeline! ah, lady mine!’
And he seemed to keep it up for a long while. However, after she had
gone some miles the sound died away in the distance, and all was quiet.
The Princess now sat down to rest, and to look at the earth, for the
moon had dipped underneath it by this time, and she could see Australia
and New Zealand and various of the other lands of the Antipodes.
Her attention was drawn away from the earth to the moon by a sound that
seemed like the rolling of wheels. It was still distant, but approached
rapidly, and in a few moments a chariot, drawn by two milk-white stags
with golden horns, dashed past close to her, and rolled over a hill
near by, as easily as if they had been bubbles blown by the wind.
But the Princess did not look much at the stags or the chariot; the
thing that took her attention was the driver. A woman you could hardly
have called her; for, though she was clad in the garb of a huntress, it
was easy to see who she was, for who but Diana carried a silver bow?
‘Dear me!’ said Ernalie, ‘this must be the Goddess of the moon. I’ll
go to her and tell her everything, and ask her to take me back to the
earth when she goes. For she must go to the earth sometimes since
she’s the Goddess of the chase; there’s nothing to hunt here except
cheese-mites, and they’re not great sport for such a mighty huntress.’
So she followed as fast as she was able to the top of the hill over
which the chariot had disappeared; but it had gone so fast that it
had passed out of sight over another range of hills. However, the
hoof and wheel marks were plainly shown on the white surface of the
cheese. So she went on and on, following the tracks, until, just as
she was beginning to despair, she came to the brow of a hill, and in a
valley beneath she saw a large building, in appearance something like a
Grecian temple, except that instead of stone it was made of cheese.
In front of the building was a large heap of skins of various animals,
piled up so high that they made a sort of couch on which the Goddess
was lying up to dinner; for it was the fashion among the gods to lie up
or rather down, instead of sitting up to table.
The two white stags which had been harnessed to the chariot were
playfully butting at each other with their golden horns, and the
chariot itself was tilted on its back, just as you would see an
ordinary two-wheeled cart nowadays.
But the Princess was not particularly interested in this—to tell the
truth, she was feeling remarkably hungry and thirsty, for she had been
already for some hours without tasting anything at all.
‘I wonder if I’m invisible to the gods as well as to man,’ she thought.
‘I’ll just try if I am, at all events.’
So she went towards the Goddess, who was eating the food that lay on
the table in front of the couch; but Diana did not appear to notice
her, and she advanced more boldly until she was quite close to the
table.
‘She doesn’t seem to have much variety,’ thought the Princess, at
least she meant to think.
‘Do you think so?’ said Diana, looking up in some astonishment to where
the voice came from. ‘And who asked you to say so? and who are you, and
where are you, and why can’t I see you? Tell me, or I’ll shoot you.’
‘I don’t exactly see how you can,’ said the Princess.
The Goddess seized her bow and looked for her quiver; but even as she
reached out her hand to take it, it vanished, for Ernalie was too fast
for her.
Diana looked more and more astonished and annoyed.
‘Who are you?’ she said. ‘Are you a mortal?’
‘Certainly I am,’ said Ernalie.
‘Then how is it I can’t see you?’ asked the Goddess.
‘Because of the feather, I suppose,’ said the Princess.
‘You don’t mean to say you’ve got the feather? Tell me how you got it?’
The Princess did as she was told, for she saw no use in making the
Goddess angry.
When she had finished, Diana said:
‘You have been lucky, whoever you are. The feather belonged to one of
Jupiter’s eagles, and this eagle got angry and flew at Jove because
he gave its brother eagle more than its share of food. So he banished
the eagle to the earth, and it got shot. I would give anything for the
feather.’
‘But I wouldn’t part with it for any price,’ said Ernalie.
‘I’ll give you anything you like for it, you know,’ said the Goddess.
‘But I won’t part with it,’ said Ernalie. ‘Besides, I’ve got your
arrows, and I won’t give them back to you for nothing.’
‘What a plague you are! What do you want for the arrows?’
‘First, you must promise not to steal the feather from me.’
‘Well, I’ll promise that,’ said the Goddess.
‘Then promise not to do me any harm.’
‘Very well.’
‘And lastly, take me safely back to the earth.’
‘I should be only too glad if you had never come near me,’ said the
Goddess. ‘However, I promise them all. Now give me the arrows.’
The Princess gave the arrows back, for the word of Diana was not to be
doubted.
‘I wish you would show yourself to me,’ the Goddess went on; ‘I should
like to see you very much. I wonder what sort of a person you are? Do
show yourself.’
So the Princess took off the cap in which she wore the feather, but as
soon as it was off Diana vanished; for, you see, it was the feather
touching her head that gave Ernalie the power of seeing without being
seen, and a goddess is naturally invisible. But the Princess did not
think of that.
‘It must be some trick,’ she thought. So she put the feather back in a
hurry, but the Goddess had not moved. She was smiling quietly.
‘Can’t you trust me, child?’ she said; ‘for you aren’t much more than a
child, you know.’
‘I’m grown up, at any rate,’ said the Princess indignantly. ‘I’m
nineteen years old, so I’m not so very young.’
‘And I’m nineteen thousand years old,’ said the Goddess, ‘and I don’t
look so very old, do I?’
‘You certainly don’t. But then, you see, you’re a goddess and I’m a
mortal, and it makes a difference.’
‘It does,’ said Diana. ‘But do show yourself to me again.’
‘But if I make myself visible, you disappear,’ said Ernalie.
‘Oh, I had forgotten that. However, I’ll make myself visible too.’
So when Ernalie took the feather away this time Diana was easily
visible.
‘And you want to go back to the earth, do you?’ asked Diana.
‘I do, very much,’ answered the Princess.
‘And why?’
‘Because the moon has got so little to eat on it.’
‘Really!’ said the Goddess. ‘There’s plenty of cheese, isn’t there?’
‘But I don’t like cheese, and especially green cheese. I hate it.’
‘Do you, really? What a pity it is you’re not a mouse,’ said the
Goddess.
‘But I’m not,’ said Ernalie, ‘and that settles it.’
‘She might offer me some of her food,’ she thought to herself.
‘You wouldn’t be able to eat it if you had it,’ said the Goddess, who
seemed to hear what she thought just as well as what she said.
‘Why shouldn’t I?’ asked Ernalie.
‘Because it’s ambrosia; and if you once ate any of it you’d never be
able to eat any other kind of food, which would be rather awkward for
you.’
‘Why?’ asked the Princess.
‘You’re always asking “Y.” Why don’t you use some other letter—“Z” for
instance; it gets so monotonous. Now tell me who you are, and all about
yourself.’
So the Princess did as she was told.
‘It would never do to offend her if she’s going to take me back to the
earth,’ she thought, and the Goddess remarked:
‘Quite right.’
When she had finished, the Goddess said:
‘You shouldn’t have interfered with the Fates. Even Jupiter daren’t do
that, and I’d as soon go near them as I would pat Cerberus.’
‘But what could I do? I didn’t want Wopole to kill himself.’
‘I don’t see why not,’ said the Goddess. ‘Why did you come at all?
If Wopole and the other chose to fall out I don’t see why you should
meddle to save him.’
‘But I couldn’t let Wopole kill Treblo.’
‘Why not?’ asked the Goddess.
‘Because he was my foster-brother, and he was going to marry me, and
I’m sure I didn’t want my husband to be liable to drop down dead at any
moment.’
The Goddess looked angry at this.
‘Why shouldn’t he? He’s only a man, and I hate men—nasty, vulgar
things! And you were going to marry him? If I’d known that I’d never
have spoken a word to you. Don’t you know I’m the Goddess of Chastity,
and I’ve sworn never to marry? The sooner you go the better.’
‘But I can’t go. I’ve got nowhere to go to; and besides, you promised
to take me back to the earth,’ said Ernalie.
‘I suppose I did,’ said the Goddess. ‘Besides, I don’t want to have you
always here. Well, the moon will begin to rise in half an hour, and
then I’ll take you in my chariot, that’s the only thing to do; so you
can help me to harness the stags.’
This was soon done, and the Goddess went into the house to put away
the remains of the food on which she had been dining. When she came
out again Ernalie noticed that she had made a considerable change in
her costume. What the change was I don’t exactly know, but she said to
Ernalie:
‘You see I have to dress lightly to follow the chase easily. However,
if you’re ready, I am.’
So saying, she slung her quiver full of arrows over her back, and
taking the silver bow in her hand, got into the chariot.
‘Get up,’ she said to Ernalie, for the stags were already pawing the
ground in their eagerness to be off. Ernalie jumped in quickly, and the
stags darted off at an immense pace. They went so smoothly, however,
that the Princess was not at all shaken or jolted. On over hills and
through valleys, until it almost made her head swim at the way in which
the scenery shot past. However, in a few minutes the roar of the waves
sounded in her ears, and they came over the hill-top to the sea-beach.
Just then the Goddess drew the reins in, and the stags stopped short.
‘What on earth is that?’ she said.
Now that the chariot had stopped, the Princess too could hear the sound
that came faintly borne on the breeze:
‘When moonlight o’er the azure seas.’
‘Why, it’s the Man,’ she said.
‘So it is,’ said Diana angrily. ‘I recognise his voice. He calls it
“mezzo-soprano.” It’s dreadful. I told him never to sing unless he had
somebody to sing to. Of course I thought no one would ever come to the
moon. I wonder whom he’s singing to?’
‘I rather imagine he thinks he’s singing to me,’ said the Princess
hesitatingly. ‘I begged him not to sing; but he insisted. So I ran
away, and I suppose he thinks I’m still there, for, you see, he can’t
see me.’
‘Oh, he thinks you’re still there, does he?’ said Diana. ‘Just make
yourself invisible, and I’ll do the same, and we’ll go a little closer.’
The Princess did as she was told, and Diana urged the stags in the
direction of the voice.
The rattling of the wheels was quite drowned in the noise of the Man’s
voice, as he sang:
‘And you’ll remember me . . e . . e,
And you’ll remember me.’
‘You’ve improved a good deal in that last line,’ said the Goddess. ‘I
wish you’d sing it over again.’
‘You _are_ there then?’ said the Man. ‘I thought you had gone away. I
couldn’t get you to answer when I spoke to you.’
‘Ah! that was because I was too enchanted for words to express. Now,
_do_ sing the last line again. Only the last line; it _is_ so fine,’
said Diana.
The Man drew in a long breath:
‘And you’ll remember, re . member me . e . e.’
At the sound of his voice the Princess put her hands to her ears, and
Diana had the greatest difficulty in keeping the stags from turning
tail and bolting right away. However, she managed to quieten them, and
took a good grip of her whip handle, and the consequence was that the
last line came out:
‘And you’ll remember me . . e . . ow—ow!’
for the whip stung a good deal.
‘I hope you’ll remember me—ow—ow,’ said the Goddess calmly, as she
suddenly appeared to him, turning the chariot towards the sea.
‘You don’t mind getting a little wet?’ she continued, turning to the
Princess. ‘We’re going over the water.’
And she gave the reins to the stags, who sprang wildly down the steep
slope into the sea. For a moment the Princess thought that there might
be rather too much of a good thing, even if that good thing were riding
in a chariot along with a goddess; for the chariot plunged deep into a
high wave, and it seemed to the Princess as if it never did intend to
come to the surface again. However, it did come up, and that was some
comfort, although the Princess was dripping all over with the sea-water.
But the stags were once more darting onwards, for the chariot ran as
lightly over the waves as over the land, and they went at such a rate
that although the great breakers chased them, and even curled right
over them, they were never so much as touched by the spray that the
wind blew from off the crests of the waves.
So they dashed on through the blue water that coiled up over the front
of the chariot but fell back when it saw the Goddess. On and on they
went, and as they got farther out the waves became steeper and steeper,
until it seemed as if they were going over very mountainous land
indeed, for they rose over every wave.
Suddenly the Goddess said:
‘This is a little too much,’ and drew the stags in.
The great waves rolled on like angry hounds hungering for their prey;
but the Goddess motioned with her hand:
‘Down, down!’ she cried. ‘Know ye me?’
And the waves sank, like hounds to whom their master shows his whip,
and instantly it fell a deep calm over the whole sea. Then the Goddess
lashed on the deer again, and once more they sped on over the sea, and
the chariot wheels cut two deep white furrows in the deep blue, and in
the moonlight Ernalie could see the two straight white lines glistening
right away to the horizon—for they went so quickly that there was no
time for the foam to die away, before it was out of sight. So they kept
on for a long while, and gradually the moon rose in the sky, and then
fell lower and lower, and still they journeyed on. Then the moon set,
the stars gradually faded from sight, and the hot rays of the morning
sun began to turn the eastern sky yellow.
Suddenly the Goddess pulled up the stags.
‘There’s the land,’ she said, pointing to a low blue line on the
horizon. ‘We must rise into the air now, for we are getting near the
place where ships ply to and fro on the sea, and if the sailors saw
the two white trails of the chariot wheels they would say it was the
sea-serpent, and I don’t want to be called a snake—it’s most insulting.
So if you’re inclined to be giddy you’d better sit in the bottom of the
car.’
But the Princess said:
‘Oh no. I’m never giddy, however great the height may be.’
So Diana gave the word to the stags, and they began to rise from the
water in a spiral line upwards as an eagle soars in chase of a swan.
When they had reached a sufficiently great height, the Goddess once
more let loose the reins, and the deer bounded forward again like an
arrow released from a bow.
Swiftly they neared the land; but from where they were nothing could be
seen of the things on it. Everything was blurred into one mass, as if
it had been a map spread out below them.
So they sped on again for a time, and the fresh morning air blew cool
on Ernalie’s face, and almost made her shiver, though by this time her
garments were dry again, and blew out like a cloud behind her, as if
they had been of thin gauze, though they were really of far thicker and
heavier material.
Suddenly a thought struck Ernalie.
‘Where are you going to take me?’ she asked as well as she could, for
the wind blew her words down her throat.
The Goddess smiled somewhat maliciously, Ernalie thought, and checked
the course of the stags that she might speak with greater ease.
‘You shall see,’ she said.
‘But I should like to know beforehand.’
‘I only promised to take you back to the earth,’ said Diana.
‘But you promised to do me no harm,’ said Ernalie dismally, ‘and if you
leave me in the middle of a desert you’ll do me a lot of harm.’
‘But I’m not going to put you down into the middle of a desert,’ said
Diana. ‘Look, we are descending. Now, see if you recognise the country
you pass over.’
The Princess looked over the edge of the chariot, and she saw that
the stags were descending in great spiral curves, and at each curve
the earth flew up nearer and nearer to meet them. As they got lower
down Ernalie could see what was below more clearly, as if she had been
looking through an opera glass, and was only just commencing to get the
right focus. When they were quite close the Goddess stopped the descent
of the chariot.
‘Now, do you recognise where you are?’ she asked.
But Ernalie shook her head.
‘I only see that we are over the tops of a range of mountains that
have snow on their peaks,’ she said. ‘But I was never here before—that
I am quite certain of.’
The Goddess shook the reins, and again the stags flew forward; but this
time not so fast as they had gone before.
‘You have been here before,’ she said. ‘And at just this height, and at
just this speed, only you were going in the opposite direction.’
‘Why,’ said Ernalie, ‘I must be in my own country. Oh, how cruel of you
to take me away from my Prince, and you promised to do me no harm.’
‘I am doing you no harm,’ said the Goddess. ‘To prevent you marrying is
not harm—it is good.’
But the Princess said:
‘No! no! it is harm. I would give anything to be back with him.’
‘Would you give your feather?’ said the Goddess eagerly.
‘No, not that,’ said the Princess.
‘I will give you anything you like for it,’ said the Goddess.
‘Anything——’
But the Princess said scornfully:
‘Not so, Goddess. I will get back to my love in spite of you. If I can
do nothing better I will pray to Venus and offer her the feather.’
The Goddess looked angrily at her, and it almost seemed as if her eyes
shot fire.
‘If it were not for my promise,’ she said, ‘I would hurl you from the
car; but as it is, I will put you safely down.’
But the Princess smiled in spite of herself.
‘Do you, then, hate Venus so much, great Goddess?’ she asked. ‘Well,
you have really done me much good, and therefore I promise never to
give the feather to any other goddess save you alone.’
Diana looked very much relieved; for, to tell the truth, the goddesses
in those days were very jealous of one another, and Diana could not
bear the thought that any one else should have the feather if she could
not get it.
So for a few minutes she was silent; and then suddenly she drew in the
stags.