The fourth day it happened that the deaf mute paid his accustomed visit,
after which Prince Dolor's spirits rose. They always did, when he got
the new books, which the King of Nomansland regularly sent to his
nephew. He paid no attention to the toys which were brought, as he
considered himself a big boy.
Prince Dolor leaned over and looked at the mute's horse which was
feeding at the foot of the tower and thought how grand it must be to get
upon its back and ride away.
"Suppose I was a knight," he said to himself; "then I should be obliged
to ride out and see the world."
But he kept all these thoughts to himself, and just sat still, devouring
his new books until he had come to end of them all.
"I wonder," he would sometimes think,--"I wonder what it feels like to
be on the back of a horse, galloping away, or holding the reins in a
carriage, and tearing across the country, or jumping a ditch, or running
a race, such as I read of or see in pictures. What a lot of things there
are that I should like to do! But first, I should like to go and see the
world. I'll try."
Apparently it was his godmother's plan always to let him try, and try
hard, before he gained anything. This day the knots that tied up his
traveling-cloak were more than usually troublesome, and it was a full
half hour before he got out into the open air, and found himself
floating merrily over the top of the tower.
Hitherto, in all his journeys he had never let himself go out of sight
of home, but now he felt sick of the very look of his tower with its
round smooth walls.
"Off we go!" cried he, when the cloak stirred itself with a slight slow
motion, as if waiting his orders. "Anywhere--anywhere, so that I am away
from here, and out into the world."
As he spoke, the cloak bounded forward and went skimming through the
air, faster than the very fastest railway train.
"Gee-up, gee-up!" cried Prince Dolor in great excitement. "This is as
good as riding a horse," and tossed his head back to meet the fresh
breeze, and pulled his coat-collar up and his hat down, as he felt the
wind grow keener and colder, colder than anything he had ever known.
"What does it matter, though?" said he. "I'm a boy, and boys ought not
to mind anything."
Still, by-and-by he began to shiver, and, as he had come away without
his dinner, grew frightfully hungry. The sunshine changed to rain, and
he got soaked through and through in a very few minutes.
"Shall I turn back?" meditated he. "Suppose I say, 'Abracadabra?'"
Here he stopped, for already the cloak gave a lurch as if it were
expecting to be sent home.
"No--I can't go back! I must go forward and see the world, but oh! if I
had but the shabbiest old rug to shelter me from the rain, or the driest
morsel of bread and cheese, just to keep me from starving! Still, I
don't much mind, I'm a prince and ought to be able to stand anything.
Hold on, cloak, we'll make the best of it."
No sooner had he said this than he felt stealing over his knees
something warm and soft; in fact, a most beautiful bearskin, which
folded itself round him and cuddled him up as closely as if he had been
the cub of the kind old mother-bear that once owned it. Then feeling in
his pocket, which suddenly stuck out in a marvelous way, he found, not
exactly bread and cheese, nor even sandwiches, but a packet of the most
delicious food he had ever tasted. He ate his dinner until he grew so
thirsty he did not know what to do.
"Couldn't I have just one drop of water, if it wouldn't trouble you too
much, kindest of godmothers?"
He considered this a difficult request to grant for he was so far from
the ground that he could not expect to find a well. He forgot one
thing--the rain. While he spoke, it came on in another wild burst, as if
the clouds had poured themselves out in a passion of crying, wetting him
certainly, but leaving behind in a large glass vessel which he had never
noticed before, enough water to quench the thirst of two or three boys
at least. And it was so fresh, so pure--as water from the clouds always
is, that he drank it with the greatest delight.
Also, as soon as it was empty, the rain filled it again, so that he was
able to wash his face and hands. Then the sun came out and dried him in
no time. After that he curled himself up under the bearskin rug and shut
his eyes just for one minute. The next minute he was sound asleep.
When he awoke, he found himself floating over a country quite unlike
anything he had ever seen before.
Yet it was nothing but what most of you children see every day and never
notice--a pretty country landscape. It had nothing in it grand or
lovely--was simply pretty, nothing more; yet to Prince Dolor who had
never seen beyond the level plain, it appeared wonderful.
First, there was a river, which came tumbling down the hillside.
"It is so active, so alive! I like things active and alive!" cried he,
and watched it shimmering and dancing, whirling and leaping.
All this the boy saw, either with his own naked eye, or through his gold
spectacles. He saw also as in a picture, beautiful but silent, many
other things which struck him with wonder, especially a grove of trees.
Only think, to have lived to his age and never have seen trees! As he
floated over these oaks, they seemed to him the most curious sight
imaginable.
"If I could only get nearer, so as to touch them," said he, and
immediately the obedient cloak ducked down; Prince Dolor made a snatch
at the topmost twig of the tallest tree, and caught a bunch of leaves in
his hand. Just a bunch of green leaves--such as we have seen many times,
yet how wonderful they were to him, and he examined the leaves with the
greatest curiosity, and also a little caterpillar that he found walking
over one of them. He coaxed it to take a walk over his finger. It amused
him for a long time; and when a sudden gust of wind blew it overboard,
leaves and all, he felt quite disconsolate.
"Still there must be many live creatures in the world besides
caterpillars. I should like to see a few of them."
The cloak gave a little slip down, as if to say, "All right, My Prince,"
and bore him across the oak forest to a long fertile valley. It was made
up of cornfields, pasture fields, brooks, and ponds, and in it were a
quantity of living creatures, wild and tame. Cows, horses, lambs and
sheep fed in the meadows, pigs and fowls walked about the barnyards. In
lonelier places were rabbits, wild birds inhabited the fields and woods.
Through his wonderful spectacles the Prince could see everything, but he
was too high up to hear anything except a faint murmur, which only
aroused his anxiety to hear more.
"I wonder if my godmother would give me a second pair of ears?" he said.
Scarcely had he spoken, than he found lying on his lap the most curious
little parcel, all done up in silver paper. And it contained a pair of
silver ears, which, when he tried them on, fitted so exactly over his
own, that he hardly felt them, except for the difference they made in
his hearing.
[Illustration: THE PRINCE GAZED EAGERLY DOWN INTO THE LARGEST ROOM HE
HAD EVER BEHELD. [PAGE 40.]]
The sound which greeted his ears is one which we have heard many times,
but Prince Dolor, who had lived all his days in the dead silence of
Hopeless Tower, heard it for the first time. And oh! If you had seen his
face.
He listened, and listened, and looked and looked. The motion of the
animals delighted him; cows walking, horses galloping, little lambs and
calves running races across the meadows, were a great treat for him to
watch.
"Godmother," he said, having now begun to believe that, whether he saw
her or not, she could hear him--"Godmother, I should like better to see
a creature like myself. Couldn't you show me just one little boy?"
Suddenly, a shrill whistle startled him, even through his silver ears,
and looking downwards, he saw start up from behind a bush on a common,
something--
Neither a sheep, nor a horse, nor a cow--nothing upon four legs. This
creature had only two; but they were long, straight and strong. And it
had a lithe active body, and a curly head of black hair. It was a boy
about the Prince's own age--but, oh! so different. His face was almost
as red as his hands, and his shaggy hair was matted like the backs of
the sheep he was tending. But he was a rather nice-looking lad; and
seemed so bright and healthy and "jolly," that the little Prince watched
him with great admiration.
"Might he come and play with me? I would drop down to the ground to him,
or fetch him up to me."
But the cloak, usually so obedient, disobeyed him now. There was
evidently some things which his godmother could or would not give. The
cloak hung high in air, never attempting to descend. The shepherd lad
took it for a large bird, and shading his eyes, looked up at it, then
turned round and stretched himself, for he had been half asleep, and his
dog had been guarding the sheep.
The boy called to the dog and they started off together for a race
across the fields. Prince Dolor watched them with great excitement, for
a while, then the sweet, pale face grew a trifle paler, the lips began
to quiver and the eyes to fill.
"How nice it must be to run like that!" he said softly, thinking that
never--no, never in this world--would he be able to do the same.
"I think I had rather not look at him again," said the poor little
Prince, drawing himself back into the centre of his cloak, and resuming
his favorite posture, sitting like a Turk, with his arms wrapped around
his feeble useless legs.
"You're no good to me," he said, patting them mournfully. "You never
will be any good to me. I wonder why I have you at all; I wonder why I
was born at all, since I was not to grow up like other little boys."
Prince Dolor sat a good while thus, and seemed to grow years older in a
few minutes.
Then he fancied the cloak began to rock gently to and fro, with a
soothing kind of motion, as if he were in somebody's arms; somebody who
did not speak, but loved and comforted him without need of words.
He had placed himself so he could see nothing but the sky, and had taken
off his silver ears, as well as his gold spectacles--what was the use of
either when he had no legs to walk or run?--Up from below there rose a
delicious sound.
You have heard it hundreds of times, my children, and so have I. When I
was a child I thought there was nothing so sweet; and I think so still.
It was just the song of a lark, mounting higher and higher, until it
came so close that Prince Dolor could distinguish its quivering wings
and tiny body, almost too tiny to contain such a gush of music.
"Oh, you beautiful, beautiful bird!" cried he; "I should dearly like to
take you in and cuddle you. That is, if I might--if I dared."
He was so absorbed that he forget all regret and pain, forgot everything
in the world except the little lark, and he was just wondering if it
would soar out of sight, when it suddenly closed its wings, as larks do
when they mean to drop to the ground. But, instead of dropping to the
ground, it dropped right into the little boy's breast.
When he came in sight of Hopeless Tower, a painful thought struck him.
"My pretty bird, what am I to do with you? If I take you into my room
and shut you up there, you will surely die for I heard my nurse once say
that the nicest thing she ever ate in her life was lark pie!"
The little boy shivered all over at the thought, and in another minute
he had made up his mind.
"No, my bird, nothing so dreadful shall happen to you if I can help it;
I would rather do without you altogether. Fly away, my darling! Good-bye
my merry, merry bird."
Opening his two caressing hands, in which, as for protection, he had
folded it, he let the lark go. It lingered a minute, perched on the rim
of the cloak, and looked at him with eyes of almost human tenderness;
then away it flew.
But, sometime after, when Prince Dolor had eaten his supper, and gone to
bed, suddenly he heard outside the window a little faint carol--faint
but cheerful--even though it was the middle of the night.
The dear little lark, it had not flown away after all, but had remained
about the tower and he listened to its singing and went to sleep very
happy.