the fair unknown waiting in her coach. The _Prince_, silent for want
of words--she was so very beautiful--handed her down and escorted
her through the palace gardens, where, as they passed, the guests
started and sighed at sight of one so rare. So they reached the
ballroom, and immediately the dance ceased. Even the music fainted
away as this vision of beauty came upon the scene. All was at a
silent standstill as the _Prince_ led the unknown down the hall, and
nothing could be heard but whispers of 'Ah! how beautiful she is!'
and 'Never, never have I seen such loveliness!' Even the old king was
altogether fascinated. 'My dear!' he said to the queen in a whisper,
'what an adorable woman! Ah! she and those very words remind me of you
yourself.' From which the queen, by a rapid retrospect, inferred that
the stranger was indeed a very beautiful woman, and did not hesitate to
admit it.
The _Prince_ presented the stranger with few words--for beauty speaks
for itself--and then led her out to dance. _Tara tara tara ra ra
ra!_--the fiddles struck up a sprightly measure, and all the couples
footed it with glee; but one after another they wilted away to watch
the graceful pair, so exquisitely did they dance. And then, as if by
common consent, the music fell to a dreamy waltz; the _Prince_ and the
fair unknown passed into the rhythm, and all were spellbound as this
perfect couple danced before them. Even the hard-featured step-sisters
were lost in admiration, for little they guessed who the beautiful
stranger really was.
The night wore on, and _Cinderella_ danced with the stateliest of the
land, and again and again with the _Prince_. And when supper was over,
and the _Prince_ had claimed her for yet another dance, she almost
fainted in his arms when she happened to glance at the clock and saw
that it was just two minutes to twelve. Alas! her godmother's warning!
She had fallen madly in love with the _Prince_, as he with her, and she
had forgotten everything beside. But now it was a case of quick action
or she would soon be in rags and coachless; how they would all laugh at
her then!
With a wrench she tore herself away, and, concealing her haste till
she got clear of the ballroom, sped like a deer through the ways of
the palace till she reached the marble steps leading down to the gate,
when she heard with dismay the ominous sound of a great clock striking
twelve.
Down she went three steps at a time, a flying figure of haste in the
moonlight. One of her glass slippers came off, but she had to leave
it. There--there was the coach waiting for her. She rushed towards it,
when, lo and behold, as the last stroke of twelve died away, there was
no coach at all; nothing but a hollow pumpkin by the kerb, and six
mice and a heavily whiskered rat nibbling at it, to say nothing of six
lizards wriggling away. And that was not all. She looked at herself in
horror. She was in rags!
With the one thought to hide herself, she ran as fast as her legs would
carry her in the direction of her home. She had scarcely covered half
the distance when it came on to rain hard, and, before she reached her
doorstep, she was drenched to the skin. Then, when she had crept to her
chimney corner in the kitchen, she made a strange discovery. As you
know, the coach and all that appertained to it had disappeared; her
splendid attire had gone; but--how was this?--one real glass slipper
still remained. The other, she remembered, she had dropped on the steps
of the palace.
'Well, child?' said a clear voice from the other side of the fireplace;
and _Cinderella_, looking up, saw her godmother standing there gazing
down at her with a quizzical smile.
'The slippers!' she went on. 'Oh no; however forgetful you might have
been, they could never have vanished like the other things. Don't you
remember, I brought them with me? They were _real_. But where is the
other one?'
'In my haste to get away I dropped it on the palace steps.' And
_Cinderella_ began to cry.
'There, there; never mind. Perhaps somebody with a capital S has picked
it up. You were certainly very careless, but you are not unlucky--at
least, not if I can help it.' And when _Cinderella_ looked up through
her tears her godmother had gone.
'Somebody with a capital S,' mused _Cinderella_, as she gazed into the
dying fire. 'I wonder!' But just then the bell rang announcing the
return of her step-sisters. Oh! they were full of it! A most beautiful
princess had been to the ball, they said, and they had actually spoken
with her. She was most gentle and condescending. Their faces shone
with reflected glory. And she had left suddenly at midnight, and the
_Prince_ was beside himself; and there was nothing to show for it all
but a glass slipper which he had picked up on the steps of the palace.
What a night! And so they rambled on, little thinking that _Cinderella_
had the other glass slipper hidden in her bosom along with other state
secrets.
The next day events followed one another with great rapidity. First,
came a royal proclamation. Whereas a lady had cast a slipper at
the ball it must be returned to the rightful owner, and so forth.
Secondly, came news that the slipper had been tried on the princesses,
duchesses, marchionesses, countesses, and viscountesses, and finally
on the baronesses of the Court, but all in vain. It fitted none of
them. Thirdly, it gradually became known that any lady with a foot that
betokened good breeding was invited to call at the palace and try on
the slipper. This went on for weeks, and finally the prime minister,
who carried the glass slipper on a velvet cushion, went out himself to
search for the fitting foot, for the _Prince_ was leading him a dog's
life, and threatening all kinds of things unless that foot and all that
was joined to it were found.
At last, going from house to house, he came to _Cinderella's_ sisters,
who, of course, tried all they could to squeeze a foot into the
slipper, but without success. _Cinderella_ looked on and laughed to
herself to see how hard they tried, and, when they had given it up, she
said gaily, 'Let me try and see if I can get it on.'
Her sisters laughed loudly at the idea of a little kitchen slut trying
her luck, and began to mock and abuse her; but the chamberlain, seeing
what a beautiful girl she was, maintained that his orders were to try
it upon every one.
So _Cinderella_ held out her little foot, and the chamberlain put the
slipper on quite easily. It fitted like wax. This was an astonishing
thing, but it was more astonishing still when _Cinderella_ produced the
other slipper and put it on the other foot. Then, to show that wonders
could never cease, the door flew open, and in came the fairy godmother.
One touch of her wand on _Cinderella's_ clothes, and there she stood
again dressed as on the night of the ball, only this time there were
not only jewels in her hair but orange blossoms as well.
There was a breathless silence for a while. Then, when _Cinderella's_
step-sisters realised that she was the same beautiful unknown that they
had seen at the ball, they prostrated themselves before her, begging
her to forgive all. _Cinderella_ took them by the hand and raised them
up and kissed them. And it melted their hard natures to hear her say
that she would love them always.
When the fairy godmother had witnessed all this she said to herself,
'That's that!' and vanished. But she never lost sight of _Cinderella_.
She guided and guarded her in all her ways, and, when the _Prince_
claimed his willing bride, their way of happiness was strewn with
roses.
THE CHILLY LOVER
A SONG FROM THE FRENCH
BEHOLD me here, my dear to meet!
Alas, I must have come too soon!
The wind that blows beneath the moon
In winter is not over-sweet.
Ah! never think my love is backward turning,
It still increases by a thousand-fold;
O Ursula, for thee
My heart is burning,--
But I'm so cold!
I would I had thy hand to kiss,
That pledge of faith so white and small,
Instead of these great flakes that fall
And chill me to the bone like this!
Upon my back they tumble helter-skelter,
And yet, beyond whatever could be told,
O Ursula, for thee
I simply swelter,--
But I'm so cold!
While thus my deathless love I trill,
My soft guitar for thee I play;
Alas, the north wind fierce and grey
Plays upon me a measure shrill!
On me his miserable music making,
Seizing each finger in his icy hold.--
O Ursula, for thee
My heart is baking,--
But I'm so cold!
Within thy room with friendly glow
I see the hearthfire shining clear;
The crackling faggots I can hear,--
And I am numb from top to toe!
Oh, must I freeze while thou art toasting?
Shall not my suffering be consoled?
Sweet Ursula, for thee
I am just roasting,--
But I'm so cold!
[Illustration:
O URSULA, FOR THEE
MY HEART IS BURNING,--
BUT I'M SO COLD!
p. 79]
THE STORY OF AUCASSIN AND NICOLETTE
AN OLD WORLD IDYLL
COUNT GARIN DE BIAUCAIRE, being attacked and besieged by his mortal
enemy, Count Bougars de Valence, was hard beset and in evil plight. He
therefore besought his only son, _Aucassin_, a stalwart and handsome
young man of excellent virtue, to take arms against the foe. _Aucassin_
refused to enter to battle unless he were given to wife his true love
_Nicolette_; but his father answered that _Nicolette_ was a slave-girl
and a stranger, bought long ago from the Saracens, and no fit mate for
his son. _Aucassin_ declared that _Nicolette_ was fit to occupy any
queen's throne, and he would not be dissuaded from his love. So the
Count Garin de Biaucaire spoke privily with his vassal, the captain
of the city, that he should send away _Nicolette_ forthwith, 'for, if
I could do my will upon her,' said the Count, 'I would burn her in
a fire.' The captain of the city, _Nicolette's_ foster-father, who
had bought her, had her baptized, and brought her up, was distressed
at this; but, having knowledge that _Aucassin_ was enamoured of the
maiden, he shut her up in a richly painted chamber in his palace, which
looked through one small window into the garden. There _Nicolette_ was
kept in durance, with one old woman to attend her; and she saw the
roses, and heard the birds in the garden, and resolved that she would
escape to her own true love.
_Nicolette_ being thus shut away, it was rumoured through all the land
how she was lost; and some said that Count Garin de Biaucaire had slain
her. Thereupon _Aucassin_, in great sorrow and anger, went and demanded
her of the captain. But he got no satisfaction from the captain, who
advised him, even as his father had done, to take a maiden of high
degree to wife, and think no more of _Nicolette_. So _Aucassin_ went
home to his chamber and lamented for his love. And at this hour the
castle was suddenly assaulted by the army of Count Bougars de Valence.
Count Garin de Biaucaire, again seeking that _Aucassin_ should take
arms to the defence of his heritage, came in and found him making
moan for _Nicolette_. Hot words passed between them; but presently
_Aucassin_ covenanted with his father that, if he overcame the foe, he
should be allowed to see _Nicolette_, if only for a moment.
[Illustration: BUT NICOLETTE ONE NIGHT ESCAPED p. 82]
So he rode forth into the fray. But so full was his mind of his love,
that he dreamed instead of doing, and was taken prisoner and about to
be slain. Then he aroused himself and struck down all around, and rode
back home with Count Bougars de Valence as his captive. And when he
claimed his father's promise, the Count Garin de Biaucaire not only
forbade him any sight of _Nicolette_, but flung him into a dungeon till
he should forgo the love of her.
So _Aucassin_ lay bewailing in his dungeon; but _Nicolette_ one night
escaped, letting herself down by the window, wrapped in a silken cloak,
and crept along through the streets of Biaucaire until she came to the
tower where her lover was. And they had speech of each other; and she
cut off her golden curls and cast them to _Aucassin_ through a crevice.
But when she told him that she must leave that land, he was greatly
angered and forbade her. Then the sentinel on the tower, who was aware
of _Nicolette_, took pity on her, warning her that the town-guard were
even now seeking her with swords to slay her.
_Nicolette_ sank into the shadow till the guard passed by; then she
made her farewell to _Aucassin_, and with hardship let herself down
the castle wall into the fosse, being assured that she would be burned
by Count Garin if she still abode in Biaucaire. And she hid herself in
the outskirts of the forest until next day at noon. There came some
shepherd lads then, and ate bread on the fringe of the forest. By these
_Nicolette_ sent a secret message to _Aucassin_, which none but he
might understand, and she built herself a little lodge of oak-leaf
boughs and lily flowers--and hither, after much quest, came _Aucassin_,
searching vainly for his love. Then the lovers had much joy of this
meeting; and they rode away together on one horse until they reached
the seashore and took ship. But a storm arose and drove their vessel
upon the coast of the country of Torelore. In this land men did battle
with eggs, baked apples, and fresh cheeses; and _Aucassin_ with his
sword put the foes of the king to flight.
When _Aucassin_ and _Nicolette_ had dwelt here for three years in great
delight, a company of Saracens stormed the castle of Torelore, and
carried them off separately captive; and the ship which held _Aucassin_
was drifted by a tempest back home to Biaucaire, where his father and
mother were dead. So now he was lord of that land; but he cared for
nothing in the world but to regain his love _Nicolette_. As for her,
she was also at home; for the ship which carried her pertained to
the king of Carthage, her father, from whom she had been stolen as a
little child. And when her father and brothers knew her, they made much
of her, and would have wedded her to a Paynim king. But _Nicolette_
obtained a viol, and learned to play it; then she dyed herself all
brown with a certain herb, and attired herself as a harper-boy. She
persuaded a shipmaster to carry her to the land of Provence, and there
she came to the castle of Biaucaire, and sang to her viol what had
befallen _Nicolette_. _Aucassin_ was overjoyed to know that _Nicolette_
was living, and he bade the harper-boy to go fetch _Nicolette_
from Carthage that he might wed her. _Nicolette_ then went to her
foster-mother, the captain's wife, and rested there eight days, till
she was washed and anointed and richly clothed, and fairer than ever.
And she sent that lady to bring _Aucassin_ her love, who was weeping
in the palace for lack of her. So were these true lovers reunited and
wedded, and for all their sorrows they had a double happiness, their
whole lives long.
BLUE BEARD
AN OLD TALE FROM THE FRENCH
THINK of it! A man rich as a prince, of fine upstanding presence and
commanding manner; a man of great moment in Baghdad!
Think of it again! A man cursed by nature with a beard that was quite
blue, from the roots of the hairs to their very tips!
To be sure, he had three alternatives in the matter. First, he might
shave it off, thus avoiding earthly ugliness while renouncing all hope
of a place in Paradise; secondly, he might marry a scold, and so become
prematurely grey; and last, he might keep his blue beard and remain the
ugliest man in all the world. There was no other alternative, for the
beard was so deadly blue that no dye could touch it.
He had staked his chances on the second point: he _had_ married, and
more than once; but, although his wives had disappeared mysteriously,
his blue beard still remained, as blue as ever. How it was that he
had ever found any woman blind enough to marry him it is difficult to
imagine, for he was so frightfully ugly that most women at sight of him
ran away screaming, and hid in the cellar. But it is only fair to say
that _Blue Beard_ had such a way with him that, given two hours' start,
he could snap his fingers at any rival.
Now it so happened that in his neighbourhood there lived a lady of
quality, who had two sons and two daughters; and, in his walks abroad,
_Blue Beard_ often met the two girls, and soon fell into the lowest
depths of love. Both were adorable, and he really could not decide
which one he preferred. Always in exquisite doubt on the point, he
finally approached the mother and asked her for the hand of one of her
daughters, leaving the choice to her. And she, like a wise woman, said
nothing, but simply introduced _Blue Beard_ to _Anne_ and _Fatima_, and
left the rest to nature and their own fancies.
[Illustration: SEVEN AND ONE ARE _EIGHT_, MADAM! p. 94]
But neither _Anne_ nor _Fatima_ fell in love with their admirer at
first sight. His beard was so blue that they could not endure it, and,
between them, they led him a dance. Neither was inclined to marry a man
with a beard like that, and, what made matters worse, they soon learned
that he had already been married several times, and that his wives had
disappeared mysteriously. This was rather disconcerting, and each was
angling for a brother-in-law rather than a husband.
But, as already stated, _Blue Beard_ had a way with him. He did not
expect to be accepted at first asking. Indeed, when he proposed, first
to one and then to the other, they both said, 'Oh! you must see father
about it.' Now _Blue Beard_ knew very well that their father, having
led a very wicked life, was dead and gone; and, as he pondered over it,
stroking his beard the while, he began to realise what they meant when
they said, 'You must see father about it.'
But _Blue Beard_ did not despair, he merely altered his plan. He
invited the whole family, with some of their chosen friends, to one
of his country houses, where he gave them the time of their lives.
Hunting, hawking, shooting with the bow, or fishing for goldfish in the
ponds, they enjoyed themselves to the full, especially in the evenings,
when they were rowed upon the lake to the sound of beautiful music, and
made moonlight excursions to some of _Blue Beard's_ ruined castles, of
which he possessed quite a number. Whatever the nature of the day's
pleasure-party, the night hours were taken up with banqueting, dancing,
or some other form of revelry, until such a late hour that _Blue
Beard_ said to himself, 'Only wait till I marry one of them, then we
shall see who is master.' For the present he was content to take their
pranks in good part. When he found himself trying in vain to get into
an apple-pie bed he merely laughed; when he found his pillow stuffed
with prickly cactus, or the sleeves and legs of his garments stitched
up so that he could not put them on, he swore merrily and fell more
deeply in love than ever. One day they cut down the stem of an aloe
that was about to flower--a thing which happened only once in every
hundred years. The head gardener, who had been listening every day for
the loud report with which the aloe blossoms burst their sheath, was
heart-broken when he saw what had been done; but _Blue Beard_ consoled
him by raising his wages, saying that in a hundred years' time, when
every one was bald, the plant might blossom again,--what did it matter?
In fact, things went so smoothly, and everything in the garden was
so very lovely, that the younger daughter, _Fatima_, being the more
poetical and impressionable of the two, began quietly to think what
a splendid beard their host's would be if it were not so blue. From
this--for you know that love is colour-blind--she began to see the
beard in a different light. Like a dutiful and affectionate daughter
she spoke to her mother upon the point.
'Mother,' she said, 'it may be only my fancy, but I really think his
beard _has_ changed a little in colour during the last few days.
Perhaps it's the country air, I don't know; but it doesn't seem to me
_quite_ so blue, after all.'
'My darling child,' replied the mother, 'it is strange that you should
have mentioned that. I had also noticed it, but, thinking my sight
was failing me, I feared that old age was creeping on, and so held my
tongue on the matter.'
'That settles it, dear mother. Sooner than believe that you are growing
old and your sight is failing I prefer to believe that what we have
both noticed is an actual fact. But mind you, though there is a slight
change, it is still horribly blue, mother.'
'Yes, dear; but blue's a very nice colour. It's lucky to some people.
The eyes of the Goddess of Love were blue; the sky above is blue; the
bird of paradise is blue; the deep sea is blue. Press your thumbs on
your eyes and what do you see? Blue--the deepest blue imaginable: it is
the light of the mind and soul burning in your head, dear; and that is
why poets and singers are so fond of blue.'
'Then you think----'
'Think? I _know_, child. Besides, a man with a blue beard is different
from all other men; and besides, again, in the dark all beards are
black.'
'But even in the light, dear mother, you think it is changing--just a
little?'
'Yes, my darling, I do. And the reason I know full well. He has fallen
in love, dear; and I think I know with whom. And love can work wonders.
Just as grief can turn black hair grey, so can love turn a blue
beard----'
'Not grey, mother. Say a greyish blue.'
'I was going to say a bluish grey. But there;--if this worthy
gentleman suffers from an affliction,--which, mind you, I am far from
allowing,--what could be sweeter in a woman than to pity him? And pity,
my darling, sometimes leads to love.'
_Fatima_ then sought her sister _Anne_, and told her what was on
her mind. 'Oh, well,' said _Anne_ when she had heard all about the
wonderful change, 'your having discovered it now saves me the trouble
of finding it out later on. Not only do I thank you, _Fatima_, I
congratulate you.'
Greatly relieved by her mother's and her sister's attitude, _Fatima_
decked herself out in her best, and waited for _Blue Beard_ to come and
find her, which she felt sure he would do. And she was right. That very
evening _Blue Beard_ led her aside from the others into the garden,
where the moon was shining and the nightingales singing. And there he
spoke soft words to her, and wooed and won her for his wife. As soon as
they returned to town the wedding was celebrated, and there were great
rejoicings over the happy event.
Now, shortly after the honeymoon was over, _Blue Beard_ was called away
into the country on matters of urgent importance, which would occupy
his attention for at least six weeks. And when _Fatima_, on hearing
this, pouted and began to cry, he sought to console her by suggesting
that she should amuse herself among her friends during his absence.
'See now, my dear,' he said, 'these keys will unlock all the doors for
you so that you shall want for nothing. These two are the keys of the
store-chambers, and these others open the strong-rooms where the gold
and silver plate is kept. These here are the keys to my money chests,
and these smaller ones fit the locks of my jewel coffers. But this
little one here'--he separated a curious little key from the others and
showed it her--'is the key of the little room with the iron door at the
end of the great corridor. Do what you will with all the rest, but, I
warn you, open not that door. Now, I have trusted you with everything:
if you disobey me in this one little matter you will incur my gravest
displeasure.'
'That will I never do,' said _Fatima_ as she took the keys from his
hand. And she meant it at the time. _Blue Beard_ kissed her, embracing
her fondly. Then he entered his coach and was driven away.
_Fatima_, in her grand home, eagerly welcomed the chance of holding
high revelry and playing hostess to her friends. They all came
running at her invitation, and were immediately shown over the great
house. Rooms, cupboards, wardrobes, closets, cabinets and presses
were opened by the aid of keys on the bunch, and they went into
ecstasies over the wonderful treasures the house contained. There were
magnificent pictures, tapestries, costly silk hangings, gold and silver
ornaments, the loveliest soft carpets, and, best of all, gold-framed
looking-glasses reaching from floor to ceiling. These last, which cast
one's reflection taller and fairer than the original inlooker, were the
subject of long and careful admiration. All spoke with rapture of the
splendid luxury of the place, and congratulated _Fatima_ on her great
good fortune.