The DYING DWARF-QUEEN.
A stately and strongly-built fortress stood many hundred years ago on
a high rock of the Thuringian Mountains. The lord of this castle was
descended from one of the noblest families in the land, and had chosen
this place from all his numerous estates as a home for himself, his
wife, and his little son, because its cheerful situation and mild
climate were best suited to the Countess Matilda's delicate health.
They had come home to it, after a long journey, on the evening which
preceded the night on which my story begins, and the Countess, wearied
with all the ceremonies of the reception, had just fallen into a
gentle and refreshing sleep. Crimson curtains hung in heavy silken
folds round the lady's couch; through them the lamps shed a softened
light on the sleeper, lending to her cheeks a rosy glow which was,
alas! but seldom seen there.
It was midnight. Every one in the castle was asleep, resting from the
exertions of the past day, when the lofty door was noiselessly opened,
and a little tiny man with a long grey beard approached the couch of
the slumbering Countess, and let the light of a lantern fall on her
delicate features. He was scarcely three feet high, and his figure was
of ungraceful build. But in the rather large head gleamed a pair of
bright and intelligent eyes, and in the aged features shone an
expression of benevolence and truth. The little man's clothes were of
a plain dark colour; his little smock-frock was bound by a girdle with
a silver buckle; under his arm he carried an invisible cap, a little
black head-dress with a long point, and ornamented with silver bells.
Very gently he drew near the couch, raised his lantern, and softly
touched the arm of the Countess, which was carelessly thrown over the
silken coverlet. The Countess awoke, looked in amazement on the queer
little figure, and asked at length, "Who are you, little man?"
The dwarf bowed low and answered politely, "I am one of the race of
dwarfs, gracious lady, who live in great numbers in the rock below
your castle. Our Queen lies at the point of death; her only hope of
recovery is in the touch of a human hand. The King, therefore, sent
me, when he heard of your arrival, to beg you to show this kindness to
our beloved Queen."
"Alas!" answered the Countess sadly, "I am so ill myself, can I be of
any use to another?"
"It will be all right, gracious lady, and will cost you no fatigue,"
answered the little man, "if you will only trust yourself to my care."
The Countess turned to waken her husband, and to ask his advice, but
the dwarf begged earnestly, "Let him sleep, noble Countess. Long
before he wakes you will be back again. No evil will befall you. We
have always honoured your race--have lived in peace and friendship
with them through long centuries, and have secretly done them many a
good turn."
The Countess was of a kind and obliging disposition; so,
notwithstanding her delicate health and present weariness, she agreed
to follow the dwarf. She was also afraid of making the powerful little
people angry by a refusal, and thus bringing evil on her family. She
threw her cloak quickly about her, and prepared to go with the dwarf.
With noiseless tread he led her through hall after hall, room after
room, till they came to a little round bow-windowed chamber in the
tower on the western side of the castle, whence they descended by a
narrow winding stair into the castle garden.
It was a lovely summer night. The little guide darkened his lantern,
for moon and stars threw a clear light on their path, and thus they
went on in silence along the foot of the castle rock, beneath
overhanging trees, which showered down their fragrant blossoms on the
lady's dark hair. At last they came to a rock which projected somewhat
into the road, and the foot of which was thickly covered with ferns.
The dwarf parted them asunder, and the Countess saw a narrow passage
which led away into the heart of the mountain. They entered. The dwarf
opened his lantern again, and its light showed the walls of a vaulted
cave, which, at first low and narrow, became wider and higher as they
went on, till at last they walked through a beautifully arched
corridor. Soon they arrived at a door, and when it opened they entered
a room with crystal walls, which shone as with the radiance of a
thousand lights. Among the points of the crystal darted countless
little lizards, whose bodies seemed made of transparent emerald; on
their heads were little golden crowns set with rubies; and when the
pretty little creatures with their shining diadems slipped so nimbly
and lightly through the crystal points, the walls gleamed and flashed
so strangely that the Countess was filled with astonishment. But the
roof of this room seemed an ever-changing picture of living wonders.
Great white and blue snakes with diamond eyes, and slender bodies
transparent as the air of heaven, wound in endless circles the one
through the other; and as they moved in gleaming coils, sweet music
and refreshing fragrance filled the crystal hall. Here in this
subterranean kingdom sin and enmity seemed unknown. Creatures which on
earth fight and oppress one another lived here in friendly intimacy.
So fair and lovable seemed these little animals to the Countess, and
they looked down on her with such soft intelligent eyes, that she
wished one of them would come near enough for her to stroke and caress
it. Absorbed by these wonders, she had not noticed that her little
guide was already at the further end of the room, and was holding the
second door open and beckoning to her to enter. At last she saw him
and followed.
The walls of the second hall gleamed with brightly polished silver
ore, out of which bloomed flowers of such beauty as are never found in
earthly gardens. They were carved out of precious stones so skilfully
as to deceive the eye and to tempt one to bend over their cups to
breathe their fragrance. Bright silver ore formed the pavement, and
the light that streamed from a huge diamond in the centre of the
ceiling trembled in thousand-fold reflection on the silver walls and
the jewel-flowers.
In this hall were many of the dwarfs assembled. All were simply clad,
like the dwarf that had acted as guide to the Countess; all had grave,
wise countenances and beaming eyes, dimmed now with anxiety and grief.
As the Countess entered they bowed low, holding in their hands the
little caps with the silver bells, which, by making them invisible,
enable them to play many tricks on the human race. Now they arrived at
the third room, which was the Queen's bed-chamber. At the ceiling of
this room hovered a golden eagle with its wings outspread, and
holding in its beak four diamond chains, on which the Queen's bed
swung gently to and fro. The bed was a single gigantic ruby, skilfully
cut, and on it rested on pillows of white satin the dying Queen of
this enchanted realm.
The stillness of death reigned in the place. Goldemar, the mighty
dwarf-king, stood by the ruby couch, sunk in silent grief. His hair
and beard, gleaming like silver, flowed down over his mantle of royal
purple; he had taken the shining crown from his head and laid it at
the feet of the dying Queen. His nobles stood in a wide circle round
the King, and seemed to share his grief.
The Countess went up to the couch. There, on pillows of white satin,
rested the loveliest being that her eyes had ever beheld; she was
smaller than her subjects, while her husband, on the contrary,
exceeded them in stature; but her form was exquisitely symmetrical,
and her tender limbs seemed formed of wax. Round her closed eyes and
blanched lips the smile of youthfulness and kindliness still hovered,
while her wondrous hair flowed round her whole form like liquid gold.
The Countess bent silently over the dying Queen, listening for a
breath, but in vain. Not a sound disturbed the solemn stillness. Only
the golden eagle flapped his mighty wings, making a current of cool
air through the lofty apartment, so that the rosy flames flickered in
the crystal vessels, and threw a quivering reflection on the gilding
of the walls and on the diamond crown at the dying Queen's feet.
"It is too late!" thought the Countess; but she did as her little
guide directed, laying one hand on the brow, the other on the breast
of the dying Queen, and then awaited the result in anxious silence.
Slowly and sorrowfully the moments passed by. The Countess was about
to remove her hands, when she saw Goldemar's eye fixed on her in
earnest entreaty, and she had not the courage to rob the sorrowing
King of his last hope; so she let her warm hand remain a little longer
on the rigid form. Suddenly, whether it was a reality or only her own
fancy, a slight tremor seemed to move the delicate frame, then a
second and a third time, and gently, very gently, the heart began to
throb once more.
The Countess bent again over the Queen, and listened to her breathing.
Gentle and sweet like the fragrance of flowers the breath passed in
and out over the beautiful, half-parted lips, and life once more
tinged the sweet face with a faint bloom. It was not the gleam of the
candles or the ruby lights that caused the rosy hue that now
overspread her face; it was life, true life. At last she opened her
eyes, raised herself, and looked round in astonishment.
"Am I still with thee?" she said to her husband, whose glance rested
on her in delight, as she held out her soft white hand. "How did it
happen? Tell me."
Goldemar pointed to the Countess.
"Oh, my deliverer!" she exclaimed, turning in surprise to the noble
lady; "how shall I thank you?"
The news of their beloved Queen's recovery soon spread to the rest of
the dwarfs, and they came flocking in, their grave faces lit with a
serene content. They crowded round the royal pair with affectionate
congratulations, and poured forth their thanks to the Countess. Then a
band of servants drew near, carrying vessels of precious metal,
wherein lay fruits and flowers carved in precious stones of
incalculable value, and so cunningly and wonderfully wrought that the
treasuries of earthly princes have not their like to show.
"Pray, accept these," begged the King, on whose brow the crown once
more shone.
"Pray, accept them," said the Queen, her beautiful eyes fixed in
entreaty on the face of the Countess.
The Countess shook her head gently. "Let me have the pleasure of
having served you without reward," said she. "I have wealth enough;
and now take me home again."
"Thou despisest our gifts," said the beautiful Queen in a tone of
disappointment, "and our laws do not permit us to leave any benefit
unreturned. Thou hast surely some wish; name it, then, that we may
fulfil it."
The Countess shook her head, then all at once she thought of her
child. The celebrated physician, to consult whom she had undertaken
the long journey from which she had returned the evening before, had
not concealed the truth. The span of life that remained to her was
very short, and soon her beloved child Kuno would be left motherless.
Perhaps he might some day need the help of the friendly dwarfs.
"One petition, indeed, I have," she said with a faltering voice. "My
child will soon perhaps be motherless, and if he should ever need
protection, will you befriend him?"
"From this moment," replied King Goldemar, "he is under our care, and
we will hasten to his assistance as soon as he needs it."
Then the dwarf who had acted as guide to the Countess before conducted
her back through the castle garden; and soon she rested, tired, but
with a peaceful and happy heart, once more on her couch.