forth to the light of day, which she had not seen since she was taken
captive, and did all he could to make her forget the sorrows she had
suffered. When he had thus comforted her he returned to the robbers'
caves and took away their treasure. Bestowing the flocks they had stolen
from old Meliboae on Coridon, Sir Calidore went forth, taking with him
Pastorella.
Now all this time the Blattant Beast was ranging at will, no one
stopping or restraining his course. And Sir Calidore deemed it high time
to follow his quest once more, although he must first secure the safety
of his love. He therefore took her to the Castle Belgard, where dwelt
the good Sir Bellamour with Claribell, his wife, and there they were
warmly welcomed and hospitably entertained, for Sir Bellamour knew Sir
Calidore right well, and had loved him for his prowess ever since they
had served together in the field. And Claribell was drawn towards the
fair Pastorella, and tended her so lovingly that she soon grew strong
and well. When Sir Calidore saw the maiden recover strength and health,
he resolved to leave her in Castle Belgard, and to return to his quest,
for he was ashamed to remember how long he had neglected the enterprise
entrusted to him by Gloriana.
With ceaseless pains and toils Sir Calidore resumed his task. It was in
some respects easier than before, for the Beast had gradually waxed more
powerful, and wherever it went left traces of its spoil.
The knight found that it had invaded the homes of men of all conditions
of life and in all had done great damage; that at length it had reached
the clergy, and among them had wrought such spoil and havoc, and
committed such thefts that to tell all would be impossible. And now Sir
Calidore, who had followed its track with ceaseless care, came to a
monastery, where he found the Blattant Beast destroying and despoiling
with might and main. It had broken into the cloisters and scattered the
monks hither and thither; it had pursued them into their cells and had
not spared even the holy things of religion. For it broke into the
church and robbed the chancel; threw down the desks and injured the
altar, and cast everything into confusion.
Here Sir Calidore found it; and the Blattant Beast, knowing his power of
old, at once fled, but the knight pursued with great swiftness and got
nearer and nearer to the monster, until at length he overtook it in a
narrow place. Attacking it fiercely, Sir Calidore forced the Beast to
turn and face him. Then the knight struck it with his sharp steel, and
in return it rushed savagely upon him, its ugly mouth wide open so as to
expose the double row of iron teeth, and the thousand yelling, barking,
back-biting tongues therein. Not one whit afraid, Sir Calidore fell upon
the monster with such might that he obliged it to give way, and for a
moment so mastered it that all it could do was to spit forth poisonous
venom from its foaming, bloody jaws, threatening in vain to bite. Then
rearing itself on its hind legs, it attacked him with its claws as if it
would have rent him in pieces. But Sir Calidore was on his guard, and
thrust his shield before him; then putting out all his strength he
forced the creature back until it fell. Quick as thought the knight
flung his shield upon it, and with all his strength held it down.
At this the Beast raged and roared most horribly, and foamed out bloody
gore, and strove in vain to rear itself upright. The more it strove, the
firmer the knight held it. It bit, and scratched, and threw out venom,
and behaved like a very fiend, so mad was its rage that any should hold
it under, and still Sir Calidore kept on, for the more its anger
increased the greater became his power.
Then when the Beast felt it could do nothing against the knight, it
began to reveal its deepest, most wicked nature, and used its tongue no
longer to spit out blood or venom, but to speak reproaches and to utter
wicked lies of Sir Calidore. But even these could not cause this true
knight so to forget himself as to grow angry and release his hold for a
single moment. He held on tighter and tighter until the Beast was almost
strangled in his grasp. At length when he saw that the creature's power
was growing less, he drew forth a muzzle made of the strongest iron, and
with it closed its cruel mouth and shut in its blasphemous tongues. To
the muzzle he fastened a long chain, and by this drew forth the Blattant
Beast, cowed and captive. Never before had any dared to curb its will or
restrain its tongues, and it greatly repined at its bondage, inwardly
chafing under a restraint which nevertheless it did not dare to
withstand. It trembled under Sir Calidore's mighty hand, and like a
beaten dog followed him where he went. Thus was the once powerful Beast
led through all Faeryland, its former victims thronging out of the towns
to see it captive and to praise and admire its captor. Thus then did Sir
Calidore rid the world during his lifetime of a scandalous pest,
although after his days the Beast broke its chain and ranged once more
at liberty.
His quest ended, the knight returned to Pastorella, to whom a strange
fortune had befallen.
Sir Bellamour and Claribell had known troublous days in their youth. In
these days an infant daughter had been born to them, which, owing to the
sad woes that had befallen them, Claribell was forced to send away from
her. Her maid Melissa had borne the infant to the fields. With many
tears she had laid it down and watched behind bushes until a shepherd
coming to the spot lifted the babe and carried it away.
And now Melissa, who still lived with Claribell, recognized a certain
mark on Pastorella's fair skin by which she was persuaded that the
damsel was none other than the long-lost babe. She ran to her mistress
with the glad tidings; at first Claribell could hardly believe her, and
trembling with uncertain joy, hurried to Pastorella and asked her many
questions. To all Pastorella gave satisfactory answers, and Claribell
overcome with the gladness of a mother's love, tenderly embraced her
child, and then went to tell her husband. Deeply rejoiced, he too
acknowledged Pastorella as his daughter.
Thus was the fair shepherdess proved to be a right worthy bride for the
mighty Sir Calidore by birth as well as by beauty and goodness, and we
may be very sure that they were, as the old story-books say, "happy ever
after."
THE END.