The white Stone of Happiness.
The fruit trees were a-glow with blossom when we reached Normandy, and
the pink and white Elves who played hide-and-seek in the boughs were as
lovely as Titania. We spent some time at a big farm, where Father had
stayed long ago with Mother, and we drove all over the country in the
farmer's gig.
One day I woke quite early, when the birds had only just commenced to
twitter, and the sky was still rosy with dawn. I threw open my little
casement window as wide as it would go, and the air smelt so sweet, and
it was all so beautiful, that I longed to be out-of-doors. In the quiet
of the early morning the Elves might be abroad, so I slipped on my
things and stole down to the orchard. And there, sure enough, were the
Elfin hosts.
But though I told them who I was, they were too shy to talk, and
scattered the blossom on my upturned face, when I tried to coax them.
A fat brown thrush scolded me for disturbing her babies at their
breakfast, and fluttered round me, beating her wings, until I moved
away, when the Elves seemed to be as pleased as she was, for they
wanted to be left to themselves.
On the opposite side of the orchard was a bank of moss, and I strolled
across and sat down in a little hollow. The moss was soft as velvet, and
through the boughs of a pear tree, laden with bloom, I could see the
gate to the farm-yard. A speckled hen was the only creature in sight,
and it amused me to watch how daintily she pecked this side and that.
All at once there came an excited chorus of "_Cluck-Cluck-Cluck!_" and
it seemed as if every fowl in the place were trying to go through the
gate. They were led by a fine young cock, with beautifully bright green
head feathers. Once he was safely through, he perched himself on an
empty pail, and crowed indignantly.
"_Cock-adoodle-do-oo!_" mocked a voice behind him, and a little boy in
a red cap gave him a box on the ears which sent him flying.
"That bird thinks twice too much of himself," he grinned, as he ran to
me over the grass. "Who am I? Why, _Nain Rouge_ of Normandy, first
cousin to Puck and Robin Goodfellow across the water."
He had twinkling eyes that were never still, and a roguish face. I knew
I was going to like him immensely, so I showed him my new knife and said
he might whittle his stick if he'd promise to give it back to me. _Nain
Rouge_ felt both blades with a small brown finger, and said they were
too blunt for him.
"Blunt?" I cried. "Why, they're as sharp as sharp can be! Just see!" But
when I tried to show him how sharp they were, neither would cut at all.
I was so surprised that I hadn't a word to say, and _Nain Rouge_ doubled
himself in two with laughter.
"Never mind," he gasped, when he could speak, "I'll make them all right
for you." He touched them again, twisting his tongue round the corner of
his mouth, and screwing his eyes up comically.
"Now cut!" he said, and when I found they were as sharp as ever, I shut
up the blades, and put the knife back into my pocket. I was glad I had
left my watch in the house, for _Nain Rouge_ might have tried to play
tricks with that.
"Another name I go by is the 'Lutin,'" he said, throwing himself on the
ground beside me. "When I have nothing better to do, I _lutine_, or
twist, the horses' manes. One summer afternoon two lazy maids fell fast
asleep in the hay loft, when they ought to have been down with the
reapers in the long field. I _lutined_ their hair so nicely for them
that when they woke they could not untwist it, and had to cut it off!
The House Spirits made rather a fuss, for those girls were pets of
theirs, but Abundia, Queen of the Fees and Lutins, said I had done
quite right. We can't bear laziness, you know, for we're always busy
ourselves."
"What do you do besides mischief?" I said slyly, as he smoothed the
feather in his pretty cap. _Nain Rouge_ looked quite offended.
"If the truth were told," he said in a huff, "I should fancy I'm twice
as much use as you are. The farmers couldn't get on without me. I look
after the horses, and help to rub the poor beasts down when they come
home tired at the end of the day; I stir their food so that it agrees
with them, and scare off the grey goblins who might put it into their
heads to work no more at the plough. And I'm as good to the farmers'
wives as an extra maid, even if I do take my pay in a drink of cream. I
dance my shadow on the wall to amuse the children if they are fretful,
and tell them stories when the wind moans down the chimney and would
frighten them if it could. And I pinch their toes when they are naughty,
and hide the playthings they leave about."
He looked so much in earnest while he told me all this, and so very
good, that I was beginning to think he was not half so mischievous as
Puck, when he gave a funny little chuckle, and rubbed his hands.
"Such fun as I have with the fishermen!" he cried. "If they forget to
cross themselves with holy water before they go to sea, I fill their
nets with heavy stones, or entice away the fish. When the fancy takes
me, I change myself into the form of a handsome young man, and if folks
do not then treat me with proper respect, and call me '_Bon Garcon_'
civilly, I pelt them with stones until they run! Their wives and
daughters are always gentle to poor _Nain Rouge_, however; and when I
can, I do them a good turn. Shall I tell you how I consoled the fair
Marguerite when she wept? Then listen well!"
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
The white Stone of Happiness.
"A favourite haunt of mine," began _Nain Rouge_, "is a little fishing
village, close to Dieppe. The maidens there are more to my mind than
those on any other part of the coast; their skin is like clear pale
amber, warmed into redness where the sun has kissed it, and their
eyes--ah! you should see them! The fairest of all was Marguerite, and
often I sat for hours on her window-sill to watch her at her spinning.
Etienne would come and watch her too, and he thought, foolish lad, that
her angel-face meant an angel temper; but I knew she had a tongue.
And such a tongue! It was like the brook, for it never stopped, and she
said such sharp and bitter things that the love of her friends withered
up as they heard them, just as spring lilies droop before a cruel East
wind. Etienne was a stranger, or he would have known better than to woo
her seriously. Strange to relate, the wayward maid was different from
the day he came. I had never known her so soft and sweet, and the
neighbours said that surely some good fairy had laid her under a spell.
Etienne and she were wed one summer morning, but the little new moon had
not shone in the heavens a second time when there was trouble between
them. Marguerite's tongue was sharper than ever from its long rest, and
Etienne could not believe it belonged to his 'angel' bride. He left the
cottage without a word, and when he came back his mouth was grim, for
his mates had hastened to make things worse by telling him many tales.
A foolish man was Etienne, or he would not have heeded them; but that is
neither here nor there.
From this time on he made as though he were deaf when Marguerite railed
at him, and he took her no more to his breast when he came back from the
sea. And Marguerite grieved, for she loved him well in her woman's way,
and longed for his caresses. The sight of his pale set face, and his
sombre eyes--they were like the eyes of a dog in pain, when the hand he
loves best has struck him--stung her to fresh taunts, and there came a
day when he answered her back in the same way, and all but struck her.
Ah! a woman's tongue can do rare mischief! His mother had never heard an
ugly word from him.
One eve I met Marguerite on the shore. She was sobbing bitterly, for she
had just come out of a cave in the rocks, where dwelt a Witch who
could read the future.
I had taken the form of a slim, dark, serious looking lad, and laying
a gentle hand upon her arm, 'What ails you, Madame Marguerite?' I said.
She glanced at me piteously, as one who seeks a refuge and knows not
where to turn, and wrung her hands.
[Illustration: "What ails you, Madame Marguerite?"]
[Illustration]
'I have lost my Etienne's heart for ever, for ever,' she wailed, 'unless
I can find the White Stone of Happiness, which a mermaid throws from the
depths of the sea once in a thousand years. I may search for months, and
never find it; and Etienne holds aloof from me, and grows further away
each day.'
Now just at her feet lay a small white stone, smooth and round as a
Fairy's plaything. I picked it up and showed it to her.
'It shall be yours,' I told her gravely, 'if you give me your solemn
promise to heed my words.'
'I promise!' she answered fervently, and the wind tossed her unbound
hair until it floated round her shoulders like a Kelpie's mane. A
seventh wave rushed up to her feet, and as she moved nearer the
breakwater, I sang her this little song:
'Fairy stone of fairy spell,
Marguerite, O guard it well!
When thine anger doth arise
Elves would rob thee of thy prize.
Press it 'neath thy tongue so red,
Hold it firm till wrath has sped.
Smile, speak softly, and behold,
Love shall warm thee as of old.'
Then I gave her the stone, and she clasped it against her bosom and sped
to her home.
When Etienne returned he was in a bitter mood. Luck had been against
him; he had caught no fish, and his largest net had been torn on the
rocks. Marguerite set a meal before him, but he pushed it angrily away;
for the broth had burned while she was with the Witch, and tasted
anything but pleasant.
'Such food is not fit for a dog!' he cried. ''Twas an ill day for me
when I came to _Le Pollet_! I had done better to drown myself.'
Marguerite stayed her fierce reply that she might slip the white stone
between her lips; and as she held it beneath her tongue her anger
suddenly melted. She thought now of Etienne's hunger and weariness, and
was sorry that she had nought in the house for him to eat. And as he sat
in moody silence she stole away, and begged some good broth from her
godmother, who had always enough and to spare. This she placed before
him beside the hearth, and smiled, and spoke in a gentle voice that made
him turn to her with a start--it was just as if the Marguerite he loved
had come back to him from the grave. Then he drew her to him, hiding his
face in her dress; and for the first time since many a long day there
was peace between them. Marguerite kept that white stone always, and
when she was tempted to speak in anger it worked like a Fairy spell."
"And wasn't it one?" I asked, as _Nain Rouge_ put on his cap again, and
a delicious smell of fried eggs and bacon came from the farmhouse
kitchen on the breeze.
"Not it," said _Nain Rouge_, laughing heartily, "there were thousands
like it on the beach, but you see it did just as well. For if once a
woman can be induced to hold her tongue when she is angry, there'll be
little trouble 'twixt man and wife. This has been so from all time."
"_Cock-a-doodle doo!_" cried the black cock, strutting grandly in front
of us. _Nain Rouge_ darted after him, and I left them to themselves and
went in to breakfast.
I did not see _Nain Rouge_ again, but I heard a great deal about him
from Madame Daudet, the farmer's wife; she called him "the plague of
her life." She said he hid her spectacles every time that she laid them
down, and that it was quite impossible to make good butter, for he would
play tricks with the cream. I think she was fond of him, all the same,
for when I mentioned his name her jolly old face crinkled up into
smiles, and she looked quite pleased and happy.
One day when Father had gone to the village to see some sick child whom
the peasants believed to have been gazed at with "an evil eye," because
it seemed unable to get well, Madame came to me as I stood prodding
with a stick some fat black pigs who would not stir.
"Since you are so fond of Fairy Folk," she said, "why not go to the
valley, and see if you can meet a Fee? I have never seen one myself,
but my great-great-grandmother came across a bevy of them in a
forest near Bayeux. The loveliest one was their Queen, and my
great-great-grandmother talked of her beauty until her dying day."
"All right," I said. And she gave me some brown bread and a golden
apple, so that I need not come home for tea. Perhaps she wanted to get
me out of the way, for the sick child's aunt was coming to pay her a
visit, and she liked a gossip.
The valley was very still. Even the birds seemed to have gone to sleep,
and the stream that trickled down from the hill tinkled very softly, as
if it had to be careful not to wake the ferns that fringed its banks.
As I looked up the glade I saw a lovely little lady coming slowly
towards me, and my heart began to thump in the queerest way. She wore a
trailing silvery gown, with a deep band of blue at its border. Her shoes
were set with tiny diamonds, and her dainty feet moved through the grass
as prettily and as softly as the wind does through the corn. She did not
see me until she had come quite close, for I stood in the shade of a
blossoming bush. As I took off my cap, her fair face flushed deeply, and
for a moment I feared she would run away. So I hastened to tell her that
I was a Christmas Child, and why I had come to the valley. At this she
smiled, and I saw that her eyes were as blue as the depths of the sea.
"You are welcome," she said, "though at first I feared you. Such sorrow
has come to Fees through mortals that we are wont to fly at man's
approach. But a Christmas Child is almost a Fee himself, and I may talk
to you. My name is Mellisande."
Then she asked me to walk with her through the wood, and I felt quite
proud when she took my hand. A cheeky little Elf, who overheard me say
that I would go with her anywhere, turned a somersault in the air and
burst out laughing, but I pretended not to hear. It wasn't his business,
anyhow, and I wished that that walk through the valley had been twice as
long.
At the further end, quite hidden among the larches, was a natural grotto
of moss-grown stones, and just inside it a heap of ferns, piled up to
make a throne that was fit for a queen. Mellisande seated herself on
this, and I sat down at her feet.
We did not talk for a long while, for she seemed to be thinking as
she stroked my hair, and I only wanted to look at her. After awhile
I asked her if she had been one of the Fees that Madame Daudet's
great-great-grandmother had met in a forest near Bayeux. She smiled
and sighed as she told me "Yes," and a wood dove flew out of the trees
and perched on her shoulder.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]