_Over the leas the Princess came,_
_On the sward of the cliffs that breast the sea,_
_With her cheeks aglow and her hair aflame,_
_That snared the eyes and blinded them,_
_And now is but a memory._
_Over the leas, the wind-tossed dream,_
_Over the leas above the sea,_
_Passed and went to reign supreme._
_--No need of a crown or diadem_
_In the kingdom of misty Memory._
*THE QUEEN WHO FLEW.*
Once upon a time a Queen sat in her garden. She was quite a young, young
Queen; but that was a long while ago, so she would be older now. But,
for all she was Queen over a great and powerful country, she led a very
quiet life, and sat a great deal alone in her garden watching the roses
grow, and talking to a bat that hung, head downwards, with its wings
folded, for all the world like an umbrella, beneath the shade of a rose
tree overhanging her favourite marble seat. She did not know much about
the bat, not even that it could fly, for her servants and nurses would
never allow her to be out at dusk, and the bat was a great deal too
weak-eyed to fly about in the broad daylight.
But, one summer day, it happened that there was a revolution in the
land, and the Queen's servants, not knowing who was likely to get the
upper hand, left the Queen all alone, and went to look at the fight that
was raging.
But you must understand that in those days a revolution was a thing very
different from what it would be to-day.
Instead of trying to get rid of the Queen altogether, the great nobles
of the kingdom merely fought violently with each other for possession of
the Queen's person. Then they would proclaim themselves Regents of the
kingdom and would issue bills of attainder against all their rivals,
saying they were traitors against the Queen's Government.
In fact, a revolution in those days was like what is called a change of
Ministry now, save for the fact that they were rather fond of indulging
themselves by decapitating their rivals when they had the chance, which
of course one would never think of doing nowadays.
The Queen and the bat had been talking a good deal that afternoon--about
the weather and about the revolution and the colour of cats and the
like.
"The raven will have a good time of it for a day or two," the bat said.
But the Queen shuddered. "Don't be horrid," she said.
"I wonder who'll get the upper hand?" the bat said.
"I'm sure I don't care a bit," the Queen retorted. "It doesn't make any
difference to me. They all give me things to sign, and they all say I'm
very beautiful."
"That's because they want to marry you," the bat said.
And the Queen answered, "I suppose it is; but I shan't marry them. And
I wish _all_ my attendants weren't deaf and dumb; it makes it so awfully
dull for me."
"That's so that they shan't abuse the Regent behind his back," the bat
said. "Well, I shall take a fly." The truth was, he felt insulted that
the Queen should say she was dull when she had him to talk to.
But the Queen was quite frightened when he whizzed past her head and out
into the dusky evening, where she could see him flitting about jerkily,
and squeaking shrilly to paralyze the flies with fright.
After a while he got over his fit of sulks, and came back again to hang
in his accustomed bough.
"Why--you can fly!" the Queen said breathlessly. It gave her a new idea
of the importance of the bat.
The bat said, "I can." He was flattered by her admiration.
"I wish _I_ could fly," the Queen said. "It would be so much more
exciting than being boxed up here."