The moon had risen over the lake and the water now only showed broken
reflections of its disc. Honey-Bee still slept. The dwarf who had
watched her came back again on his raven followed this time by a crowd
of little men. They were very little men. Their white beards hung down
to their knees. They looked like old men with the figures of children.
By their leathern aprons and the hammers which hung from their belts one
could see that they were workers in metals. They had a curious gait,
for they leaped to amazing heights and turned the most extraordinary
somersaults, and showed the most inconceivable agility that made them
seem more like spirits than human beings.
Yet while cutting their most foolhardy capers they preserved an
unalterable gravity of demeanour, to such a degree that it was quite
impossible to make out their real characters.
They placed themselves in a circle about the sleeping child.
“Now then,” said the smallest of the dwarfs from the heights of his
plumed charger; “now then, did I deceive you when I said that the
loveliest of princesses was lying asleep on the borders of the lake, and
do you not thank me for bringing you here?”
“We thank you, Bob,” replied one of the dwarfs who looked like an
elderly poet, “indeed there is nothing lovelier in the world than
this young damsel. She is more rosy than the dawn which rises on the
mountains, and the gold we forge is not so bright as the gold of her
tresses.”
“Very good, Pic, nothing can be truer,” cried the dwarfs, “but what
shall we do with this lovely little lady?”
Pic, who looked like a very elderly poet, did not reply to this
question, probably because he knew no better than they what to do with
this pretty lady.
“Let us build a large cage and put her in,” a dwarf by the name of Rug
suggested.
Against this another dwarf called Dig vehemently protested. It was Dig’s
opinion that only wild beasts were ever put into cages, and there was
nothing yet to prove that the pretty lady was one of these.
But Rug clung to his idea for the reason possibly that he had no other.
He defended it with much subtlety. Said he:
“If this person is not savage she will certainly become so as a result
of the cage, which will be therefore not only useful but indispensable.”
This reasoning displeased the dwarfs, and one of them named Tad
denounced it with much indignation. He was such a good dwarf. He
proposed to take the beautiful child back to her kindred who must be
great nobles.
But this advice was rejected as being contrary to the custom of the
dwarfs.
“We ought to follow the ways of justice not custom,” said Tad.
But no one paid any further attention to him and the assembly broke into
a tumult as a dwarf named Pau, a simple soul but just, gave his advice
in these terms:
“We must begin by awakening this young lady, seeing she declines to
awake of herself; if she spends the night here her eyelids will be
swollen to-morrow and her beauty will be much impaired, for it is very
unhealthy to sleep in a wood on the borders of a lake.”
This opinion met with general approval as it did not clash with any
other.
Pic, who looked like an elderly poet burdened with care, approached the
young girl and looked at her very intently, under the impression that a
single one of his glances would be quite sufficient to rouse the dreamer
out of the deepest sleep. But Pic was quite mistaken as to the power of
his glance, for Honey-Bee continued to sleep with folded hands.
Seeing this the good Tad pulled her gently by her sleeve. Thereupon she
partly opened her eyes and raised herself on her elbow. When she found
herself lying on a bed of moss surrounded by dwarfs she thought what she
saw was nothing but a dream, and she rubbed her eyes to open them, so
that instead of this fantastic vision she should see the pure light of
morning as it entered her little blue room in which she thought she was.
For her mind, heavy with sleep, did not recall to her the adventure of
the lake. But indeed, it was useless to rub her eyes, the dwarfs did not
vanish, and so she was obliged to believe that they were real.
Then she looked about with frightened eyes and saw the forest and
remembered.
“George! my brother George!” she cried in anguish. The dwarfs crowded
about her, and for fear of seeing them she hid her face in her hands.
“George! George! Where is my brother George?” she sobbed.
The dwarfs could not tell her, for the good reason that they did not
know. And she wept hot tears and cried aloud for her mother and brother.
Pau longed to weep with her, and in his efforts to console, he addressed
her with rather vague remarks.
“Do not distress yourself so much,” he urged, “it would be a pity for
so lovely a young damsel to spoil her eyes with weeping. Rather tell
us your story, which cannot fail to be very amusing. We should be so
pleased.”
She did not listen. She rose and tried to escape. But her bare and
swollen feet caused her such pain that she fell on her knees, sobbing
most pitifully. Tad held her in his arms, and Pau tenderly kissed her
hand. It was this that gave her the courage to look at them, and she saw
that they seemed full of compassion.
Pic looked to her like one inspired, and yet very innocent, and
perceiving that all these little men were full of compassion for her,
she said:
“Little men, it is a pity you are so ugly; but I will love you all the
same if you will only give me something to eat, for I am so hungry.”
“Bob,” all the dwarfs cried at once, “go and fetch some supper.”
And Bob flew off on his raven. All the same, the dwarfs resented this
small girl’s injustice in finding them ugly. Rug was very angry. Pic
said to himself, “She is only a child, and she does not see the light
of genius which shines in my eyes, and which gives them the power which
crushes as well as the grace which charms.”
As for Pau, he thought to himself: “Perhaps it would have been better
if I had not awakened this young lady who finds us ugly.” But Tad said
smiling:
“You will find us less ugly, dear young lady, when you love us more.”
As he spoke Bob re-appeared on his raven. He held a dish of gold on
which were a roast pheasant, an oatmeal cake, and a bottle of claret. He
cut innumerable capers as he laid this supper at the feet of Honey-Bee.
“Little men,” Honey-Bee said as she ate, “your supper is very good. My
name is Honey-Bee; let us go in search of my brother, and then we
will all go together to Clarides where mama is waiting for us in great
anxiety.”
But Dig, who was a kind dwarf, represented to Honey-Bee that she was not
able to walk; that her brother was big enough to find his own way;
that no misfortune could come to him in a country in which all the wild
beasts had been destroyed.
“We will make a litter,” he added, “and cover it with leaves and moss,
and we will put you on it, and in this way we will carry you to the
mountain and present you to the King of the Dwarfs, according to the
custom of our people.”
All the dwarfs applauded. Honey-Bee looked at her aching feet and
remained silent. She was glad to learn that there were no wild beasts
in the country. And on the whole she was willing to trust herself to the
kindness of the dwarfs.
They were already busy constructing the litter. Those with hatchets were
felling two young fir trees with resounding blows. This brought back to
Rug his original suggestion.
“If instead of a litter we made a cage,” he urged.
But he aroused a unanimous protest. Tad looked at him scornfully.
“You are more like a human being than a dwarf, Rug,” he said. “But at
least it is to the honour of our race that the most wicked dwarf is also
the most stupid.”
In the meantime the task had been accomplished. The dwarfs leaped into
the air and in a bound seized and cut the branches, out of which they
deftly wove a basket chair. Having covered it with moss and leaves, they
placed Honey-Bee upon it, then they seized the two poles, placed them on
their shoulders and, then! off they went to the mountain.
X
In which we are faithfully told how King Loc received Honey-
Bee of Clarides
They climbed a winding path along the wooded slope of the hill. Here and
there granite boulders, bare and blasted, broke through the grey verdure
of the dwarf oaks, and the sombre purple mountain with its bluish
ravines formed an impassable barrier about the desolate landscape.
The procession, preceded by Bob on his feathered steed, passed through
a chasm overgrown with brambles. Honey-Bee, with her golden hair flowing
over her shoulders, looked like the dawn breaking on the mountains,
supposing, of course, that the dawn was ever frightened and called her
mother and tried to escape, for all these things she did as she caught
a confused glimpse of dwarfs, armed to the teeth, lying in ambush along
the windings of the rocks.
With bows bent or lance at rest they stood immovable. Their tunics of
wild beast skins and their long knives that hung from their belts gave
them a most terrible appearance. Game, furred and feathered, lay beside
them. And yet these huntsmen, to judge only by their faces, did not
seem very grim; on the contrary, they appeared gentle and grave like the
dwarfs of the forest, whom they greatly resembled.
In their midst stood a dwarf full of majesty. He wore a cock feather
over his ear, and on his head a diadem set with enormous gems. His
mantle raised at the shoulder disclosed a muscular arm covered with
circlets of gold. A horn of ivory and chased silver hung from his belt.
His left hand rested on his lance in an attitude of quiet strength, and
his right he held over his eyes so as to look towards Honey-Bee and the
light.
“King Loc,” said the forest dwarfs, “we have brought you the beautiful
child we have found; her name is Honey-Bee.”
“You have done well,” said King Loc. “She shall live amongst us
according to the custom of the dwarfs.”
“Honey-Bee,” he said, approaching her, “you are welcome.” He spoke very
gently, for he already felt very kindly towards her. He lifted himself
on the tips of his toes to kiss her hand that hung at her side, and he
assured her not only that he would do her no harm, but that he would try
to gratify all her wishes, even should she long for necklaces, mirrors,
stuffs from Cashmere and silks from China.
“I wish I had some shoes,” replied Honey-Bee. Upon which King Loc struck
his lance against a bronze disc that hung on the surface of the rock,
and instantly something bounded like a ball out of the depths of
the cavern. Increasing in size it disclosed the face of a dwarf with
features such as painters give to the illustrious Belisarius, but his
leather apron proclaimed that he was a shoemaker. He was indeed the
chief of the shoemakers.
“True,” said the king, “choose the softest leather out of our
store-houses, take cloth-of-gold and silver, ask the guardian of my
treasures for a thousand pearls of the finest water, and with this
leather, these fabrics, and these pearls create a pair of shoes for the
lady Honey-Bee.”
At these words True threw himself at the feet of Honey-Bee and measured
them with great care.
“Little King Loc,” said Honey-Bee, “I want the pretty shoes you promised
at once, because as soon as I have them I must return to Clarides to my
mother.” “You shall have the shoes,” King Loc replied; “you shall have
them to walk about the mountain, but not to return to Clarides, for
never again shall you leave this kingdom, where we will teach you
wonderful secrets still unknown on earth. The dwarfs are superior to
men, and it is your good fortune that you are made welcome amongst
them.”
“It is my misfortune,” replied Honey-Bee. “Little King Loc, give me a
pair of wooden shoes, such as the peasants wear, and let me return to
Clarides.”
But King Loc made a sign with his head to signify that this was
impossible. Then Honey-Bee clasped her hands and said, coaxingly:
“Little King Loc, let me go and I will love you very much.”
“You will forget me in your shining world.”
“Little King Loc, I will never forget you, and I will love you as much
as I love Flying Wind.”
“And who is Flying Wind?”
“It is my milk-white steed, and he has rose-coloured reins and he eats
out of my hand. When he was very little Francoeur the squire used to
bring him to my room every morning and I kissed him. But now Francceur
is in Rome, and Flying Wind is too big to mount the stairs.”
King Loc smiled.
“Will you love me more than Flying Wind?”
“Indeed I would,” said Honey-Bee.
“Well said,” cried the King.
“Indeed I would, but I cannot, I hate you, little King Loc, because you
will not let me see my mother and George again.”
“Who is George?”
“George is George and I love him.”
The friendship of King Loc for Honey-Bee had increased prodigiously in a
few minutes, and as he had already made up his mind to marry her as soon
as she was of age, and hoped through her to reconcile men and dwarfs, he
feared that later on George might become his rival and wreck his plans.
It was because of this that he turned away frowning, his head bowed as
if with care.
Honey-Bee seeing that she had offended him pulled him gently by his
mantle.
“Little King Loc,” she said, in a voice both tender and sad, “why should
we make each other unhappy, you and I?”
“It is in the nature of things,” replied King Loc. “I cannot take you
back to your mother, but I will send her a dream which will tell her
your fate, dear Honey-Bee, and that will comfort her.”
“Little King Loc,” and Honey-Bee smiled through her tears, “what a good
idea, but I will tell you just what you ought to do. You must send my
mother a dream every night in which she will see me, and every night you
must send me a dream in which I shall see her.”
And King Loc promised, and so said, so done. Every night Honey-Bee
saw her mother, and every night the Duchess saw her daughter, and that
satisfied their love just a little.