I have never seen, just to see how we should like it," explained the
girl. "And all the while, I am somebody else's Princess!"
"That is very strange," remarked Princess Gentianella. "Now _I_ am sad
because my Prince has got to marry Anemone, the Witch's beautiful
daughter, and I am trying to find her to tell her that he is really my
Prince. Do you think she will want to marry him, when she hears that he
is somebody else's Prince?"
The beautiful girl suddenly sprang to her feet and began to laugh
joyfully. "I am sure she will not," she answered, "for _I_ am Anemone,
the Witch's daughter. So nobody will have to marry anybody's Prince
except her own, and the witch will not be able to make experiments any
more!"
"That is settled, then," said the little Princess, contentedly. "Now let
us go and find our Princes. But supposing that I find your Prince first,
how shall I know that he _is_ your Prince?"
"His name is Hyacinth," answered the Witch's daughter.
"How delightful!" cried Princess Gentianella, clapping her hands. "Then
I shall find my youngest brother as well as my Prince. But do you know
where they are?"
Anemone, the Witch's daughter, began to look a little doubtful. "I have
just remembered," she confessed, "that I sent Hyacinth to kill your
Prince, only a few minutes before you came along. Do not be anxious,
however," she added hastily, "for perhaps he will not be able to find
him."
The Princess Gentianella was not at all anxious. "Nobody could possibly
be strong enough to kill my Prince," she observed; "and as for Hyacinth,
he will be quite safe, for Prince Amaryllis is much too nice to hurt any
one!"
She proved to be right, for in another minute they saw the two Princes
coming towards them arm in arm. And if this should seem extraordinary,
it must be remembered that it all took place in an enchanted wood, where
a witch had been making experiments for hundreds and hundreds of years.
"There was no necessity to kill him, dearest," cried Prince Hyacinth,
"for he is somebody else's Prince."
He held out his arms as he spoke, and into them ran Anemone, the Witch's
daughter, and of course there is no need to tell into whose arms the
little Princess ran. After that, there was nothing to be heard in the
wood except kissing, until the Witch suddenly stepped on the scenes.
"Cobwebs and broomsticks! What is the meaning of this?" she cried
furiously.
Three of them turned round and faced her in an extremely nervous manner;
for, after all, a witch is a witch, and they knew fast enough that she
could turn them into any shape she pleased. The Princess Gentianella did
not seem nervous, however.
"Why, you are the nice old lady I met in the field," she exclaimed.
"I believe I am," said the Witch, who had never been called a nice old
lady in her life before, and was not quite sure how to take it.
"I have found my Prince, you see," continued the little Princess,
smiling away as happily as possible.
"So it seems," said the Witch. She was afraid to say more than that, in
case the Princess should find out who she was, and she thought she would
like to be a nice old lady a little longer first.
"And have you found any one yet who has so brave a heart that the
thistles cannot hurt it?" asked Princess Gentianella.
"I think I have," said the Witch.
"Then we have all found what we want," smiled Princess Gentianella, "and
the Witch cannot surely be so unkind as to refuse to disenchant the
kingdom, just because her daughter doesn't want to marry my Prince! Do
you think she can?"
The Witch dropped her thistles and held out her hands to the eager
Princess. "My dear little girl," she said, "the kingdom was disenchanted
the moment you came into it. As for the Witch, there is no Witch any
longer, for she retired into private life as a nice old lady, just ten
minutes ago. Now, as you all seem to have sorted yourselves the right
way, the best thing you can do is to go off home as fast as you can."
No doubt that is where Anemone must have gone with her Prince, for when
the little Princess looked round and found herself standing once more in
her own garden, there was no one with her except Prince Amaryllis.
"_Now_ may I come and play in your garden?" asked Princess Gentianella,
softly.
The Prince still shook his head. "I have a much better idea than that,"
he said; "we will pull down the wall and make it all into one garden."
The Tears of Princess Prunella
There is no doubt that the Princess Prunella would have been the most
charming little girl on either side of the sun, if she had not been so
exceedingly cross and discontented. She was as pretty as any one could
wish to see, and as accomplished as all the gifts of Fairyland could
make her; and she had every bit of happiness that the love of her
parents and the wit of her fairy godmother could put in her way. And yet
she grumbled and grumbled and grumbled!
"Can you not try to be happy, just for five minutes?" asked the Queen,
in despair.
"How can you expect me to be happy, even for five minutes, when every
five minutes is exactly like the last five minutes?" sighed the little
Princess.
"It is tea-time, your Highness," said the head nurse, coaxingly, "and
there are pink sugar cakes for tea!"
"There were pink sugar cakes yesterday," pouted the Princess. "There are
always pink sugar cakes unless there are white sugar cakes, and I am
equally tired of them both. Can you not tell me something new?"
"Let her go without her tea," said the King, who was rather tired of
having such a cross little daughter. But the Queen only smiled.
"The child wants a change," she remarked. "It must be very dull to play
alone all day."
"Dull!" exclaimed the King. "Why should it be dull? Has not her
godmother given her such wonderful toys that they can play with her as
well as be played with?" This was quite true, for the very ball that the
Princess threw to the other end of the nursery could catch itself and
throw itself back to her; and it is not every ball that can do that.
"What more can the child want?" demanded the King, crossly.
The Queen, however, thought there might be something more. "We must find
her a playfellow," she said wisely.
"Stuff and nonsense!" protested the King. "Why should we bring any more
crying children into the palace? However, you must do as you like, I
suppose."
The King always told the Queen to do as she liked when he was tired of
the conversation; so the Queen smiled again and issued a proclamation
at once, to tell the whole world that the Princess Prunella wanted some
one to play with, and would be ready to choose a playfellow that day
week, at twelve o'clock in the morning. Now, it is not often that one
gets a chance of playing with a King's daughter, so it is no wonder
that, when the Princess followed her royal parents into the great hall
on the appointed day, she found it filled from end to end with all the
little princes and princesses and all the little counts and countesses
and all the little dukes and duchesses that the surrounding kingdoms
could produce.
"I never had a more excellent idea," said the Queen, as she seated
herself on the throne and looked down at the crowd of children.
"Prunella has talked of nothing else for a whole week, and she has not
been heard to grumble once."
"That's all very well," observed the King, a little uneasily; "but it is
quite clear that she cannot play with them all, and who knows that so
much disappointment will not lead to a war?"
The Queen did not answer but turned to her little daughter, who stood by
her side. "Do not be in a hurry," she said to her. "So many faces are
confusing at first, and you might regret it afterwards if you made a
mistake."
But Princess Prunella showed no signs of being in a hurry. She just
glanced over the sea of faces that were turned towards her, and then
looked speechlessly at her mother. The smiles had all gone from her
face, and the big blue eyes were filled with tears.
"Why, they are all exactly alike!" she said piteously. "I cannot tell
one from another." And to the astonishment of every one in the room, she
dropped down on the steps of the throne and began to cry.
"Dear, dear! What is to be done?" exclaimed the Queen, in much alarm.
"It will look so very bad if all the children have to be sent home
again!"
"It will certainly lead to a war," was all the King said; and then they
both looked helplessly at their sobbing little daughter. As for all the
children, they were so surprised at hearing how much alike they were
that they said nothing at all; and it is difficult to tell what would
have been the end of the matter, if the Princess had not suddenly jumped
to her feet again and pointed towards the door.
"There is the Prince I should like to play with," she exclaimed. "_He_
is not like the others, for he has a wonderful look on his face."
Everybody looked round at the doorway; and, sure enough, there stood a
boy whom no one had noticed before. "Come here, Prince," commanded the
Princess, raising her voice haughtily; "you may kiss my hand if you
like."
But the boy drew back with a bewildered air and shook his head. Princess
Prunella stamped her foot angrily.
"How dare you hesitate when I tell you to come here?" she cried. At
this, however, the strange boy turned and hastened out of the room
altogether; and a loud murmur of astonishment rose from the children.
The King's daughter had never been disobeyed in her life before, and for
a moment she was too astonished to speak.
"Who is he? What is his name?" she demanded at last.
There was a pause, broken presently by the shrill voice of one of the
pages. "Please, your Highness, it is only deaf Robert, the minstrel's
son," he said.
"Deaf!" repeated the Princess. "What is that?"
"It means that he cannot hear anything, little daughter," explained the
Queen; "so, you see, he would not do for a playfellow at all. Besides,
he is not even a Prince. Can you not choose one of these others
instead?"
The Princess, however, could do nothing of the kind. "All these are
alike," she said again; "but the minstrel's son has a wonderful look on
his face, and I will have no one else for a playfellow!"
So all the children went sadly back to their homes, and wondered why
they were so much alike; and the whole court was made uncomfortable once
more by the sulkiness of Princess Prunella.
"Your Highness's best wax doll has not been out for two whole days,"
suggested the head nurse.
The Princess snatched the doll from her hands and threw it on the floor.
"If you will not let me play with a boy who is deaf, how can you expect
me to play with a _doll_?" she asked; and although, no doubt, there was
much in what she said, it was hardly the way in which to speak to the
head nurse. Indeed, there would have been a serious disturbance in the
royal nursery the very next minute, if the Princess's cream-coloured
pony had not suddenly trotted round from the stable of its own accord,
and put it into her head to go for a ride.
Now, the Princess's pony was of course a fairy pony; so when he ran away
with her in the forest, that day, it was not to be supposed that he
would run away with her for nothing. He took her, in fact, for a real
fairy ride, all through a fairy forest, that began by being quite a baby
forest and then grew and grew, the deeper she went into it, until it
ended in being quite a grown-up forest. And the pony never stopped
running away until he reached a dear little grey house, that was set in
the brightest of flower gardens, right in the middle of the forest.
The Princess slipped off his back and pushed open the little gate and
walked into the flower garden. Any one else might have been surprised to
find deaf Robert sitting there, in the middle of the trim green lawn,
but after a fairy ride one is never surprised at anything; so the
Princess's heart just gave one big jump for joy, and she ran straight up
to him and took his hand.
"Poor deaf boy! poor deaf boy!" she said softly. Certainly she was not
behaving like a King's daughter, for she ought to have been extremely
angry with him for disobeying her in the morning, instead of which she
spoke as gently to him as any ordinary little girl might have done. But
then, as he could not hear what she said to him, what was the use of
speaking like a princess?
"Poor deaf boy!" she repeated, bending over him; "no wonder you look so
dull and unhappy!"
It was the first time in her life that she had forgotten she was a
princess, and she was quite surprised at the gentleness of her own
voice. She was still more surprised when the deaf boy rose to his feet
and bowed very low and answered her.
"I was only unhappy, Princess, because I could not hear what you said to
me this morning," he explained.
"Oh!" cried the Princess. "You _can_ hear me now!"
"Ah, yes," said deaf Robert; "I can hear you now, because you speak so
kindly. It is only when people are angry and speak roughly that I cannot
hear them. That is why they say I am deaf."
"Have you always been deaf?" asked the Princess, wonderingly.
"Ever since the wymps came to my christening," answered the minstrel's
son. "For when they asked my father what gift he would choose for me, he
chose that I should be deaf to every sound that was not beautiful."
"So that is why you have such a wonderful look on your face," said
Princess Prunella. "I wish the wymps went to everybody's christening!"
Deaf Robert shook his head. "If they had not come to mine," he remarked,
"I should have been able to hear what you said to me this morning."
"Never mind!" said the Princess. "Come back to the palace with me now; I
will never speak crossly to you again, and then you will always be able
to hear what I say."
"No, no," answered Robert, shrinking back. "I cannot come to the town;
it is so silent there, it frightens me."
"Silent?" echoed the Princess. "Surely, it is the forest that is
silent!"
"Oh, no," said the minstrel's son, smiling; "the forest is full of
sound. Can you not hear them all talking,--the bees and the flowers and
the great pine-trees?"
Princess Prunella listened. "No," she said, shaking her head, "I can
hear nothing." Then she took the deaf boy's hands and pulled him towards
the gate. "Come back to the town with me," she said eagerly. "It is true
that you cannot hear the other people's voices; but you will always be
able to hear _me_, and that is ever so much more important!"
So the minstrel's son went back to the palace with Princess Prunella;
and when the King and Queen saw how happy their little daughter was at
last, they said nothing more about deaf Robert not being a prince, but
got over the difficulty by making him a Marquis on the spot and giving
him the appointment of Playfellow-in-chief to her Royal Highness. A
magnificent banquet was given to celebrate this important event, at
which several speeches were made by the King and several tunes were
played by the band; but as the speeches were exceedingly pompous and the
tunes were exceedingly noisy, the new Marquis, for whom they were
intended, heard neither one nor the other. However, he heard every word
that the little Princess whispered in his ear, and perhaps that was all
that he wished to hear.
Never had life passed so peacefully at the palace as in the days that
followed. The Princess was never heard to utter an angry word, and she
went about with a contented look on her face that cheered the hearts of
all who knew her. It was indeed a happy day for the court when the
minstrel's son came to play with the King's daughter, and every one
rejoiced that the King and the Queen had been wise enough to let their
little daughter have her own way. But all this while no one thought of
the minstrel's son.
Now, anybody might suppose that a minstrel's son, who suddenly found
himself made into a Marquis and Playfellow-in-chief to a Princess, would
be the happiest boy in the world. And yet, although he grew fonder every
day of his little playfellow, deaf Robert was the saddest person in the
whole court. He grew more and more silent as the days went on, until at
last even the Princess noticed that he was changed.
"The wonderful look has gone from your face," she said to him. "Can it
be that you do not feel happy at court?"
Then the boy-Marquis told her the truth. "I am unhappy because I cannot
hear the sounds of the town," he said. "Will not your father go and live
in the forest for a change, so that we can play there together, instead
of in this horrible, silent place?"
"But I don't want to go and play in the forest," objected the Princess.
"There are no people in the forest; and I should forget I was a person
myself, if I had nothing to talk to but the flowers and the trees."
For the first time since they had played together, deaf Robert
remembered that he was nearly two years older than the little Princess;
and he smiled in a superior manner. "That is only because you hear all
the wrong things," he said. "If you could once hear the sounds of the
forest, you would never want to come back to the town."
The Princess turned red with anger, and she opened her mouth to give the
minstrel's son a thorough good scolding, which would certainly have
surprised him had he been able to hear it. But she remembered in time
that he would not be able to hear it, so she sighed impatiently and
answered him as softly as she could.
"You are quite mistaken," she said, putting her chin in the air. "If you
were a real boy you would understand." And with that she turned and left
him. It was certainly annoying not to be able to lose her temper
whenever she felt inclined, but there was nothing to prevent her from
remembering that she was a princess.
That afternoon, the Princess pricked her finger, and the minstrel's son
found out that what she had said was quite true, and he was not a real
boy at all. For, of course, the Princess did what any other little girl
of twelve years old would have done, and burst into tears; while the
minstrel's son, who was quite unable to hear her sobs, only stared at
her solemnly, and wondered why her pretty round face had suddenly
twisted itself into such a strange expression.
"What are you doing, Prunella?" he asked her gravely.
"Doing!" wept the Princess. "Why, I am crying, of course! That is what
you would be doing if you had pricked your finger as badly as I have."
She held out her small white finger as she spoke, but the minstrel's son
only stared at her as solemnly as before.
"Crying? What is that?" he asked. "And why should you do anything so
useless? Surely, it would be better to fetch a doctor or a piece of
sticking-plaster."
Princess Prunella came to the end of her patience. It had been bad
enough to exist for six whole weeks without being allowed to lose her
temper once, but now that she found she could not even cry with any
pleasure, she felt it was more than any little girl of twelve years old
could be expected to bear.
"It isn't sticking-plaster that I want," she said miserably. "When
people cry, they want to be comforted, of course."
"Do they?" said deaf Robert, looking perplexed. "But if I cannot hear
you cry, how am I to comfort you?"
The Princess was far too cross to be reasonable, though she managed to
remember that it was no use letting her crossness appear in her voice.
"That's just it!" she sobbed. "You ought to be able to hear me cry, and
then you would be a real boy!"
And the Princess pitied herself so much for being forced to play with
some one who was not real, that she buried her face in her hands and
wept more than ever. She half hoped, even then, that deaf Robert would
come and kiss her and make friends again, as any nice boy would have
done at once; but deaf Robert did nothing of the kind, and when she at
last took her hands from her eyes, her playfellow was gone.
Truly, the forest had never looked so beautiful as on that day when the
minstrel's son hastened through it on his way to his old home. The
flowers looked their best, and the birds sang their merriest, and the
trees bent their greenest boughs, to give him a welcome; but the boy
with the wonderful look on his face, who had lived among them for so
long, never paused so much as to glance at them, and they only had time
to notice, as he passed them by, that the wonderful look was no longer
there. On he hurried until he came to the little grey house, set in its
garden of bright-coloured flowers; and he pushed open the gate and
walked in, just as his Princess had done six weeks ago.
The minstrel was at home, this time, and he was sitting on the doorstep
in the sunshine. He had just composed a new song, and that always made
him extremely happy; but he sighed a little when he saw his son come in
at the gate, for he, too, had no difficulty in seeing that the wonderful
look had gone from the boy's face.
"What is the matter, my son?" he asked anxiously.
Deaf Robert wasted no time in greeting him. "Father," he cried, "why did
you ask the wymps to my christening?"
"That is easily answered," said the minstrel, soothingly. "It was
because I wished you to hear nothing but beautiful sounds all your
life."
"But what sounds do you call beautiful?" demanded his son.
The minstrel smiled. "Can you not hear my music?" he asked.
"Yes, yes," said deaf Robert; "but what else?"
It had never struck the minstrel that there need be anything else, and
he hesitated a little. "Well," he said at last, "can you not hear the
sounds of the forest?"
Deaf Robert looked up at the pine-trees overhead and down to the flowers
at his feet. "I used to be able to," he said sadly, "but even the forest
has grown silent now." Then he clenched his fists and looked imploringly
at his father. "Must I live to the end of my days without hearing any of
the things that other boys hear?" he cried.
"You are a little unreasonable, my son," said the minstrel. "Are not the
beautiful sounds of life enough for you?"
"Enough?" said deaf Robert. "I want much, much more than that, father.
Why, I want to hear the Princess cry!"
"That is nonsense!" exclaimed the minstrel. "Tears make a most
unpleasant sound, and you would be extremely disappointed if you were to
hear the Princess cry."
The minstrel's son drew himself up proudly. "You do not understand; you
are not real either," he said. "The tears of _my_ Princess make the
sweetest sound in the world, and I am not going to rest until I learn
how to hear it." Then he turned and walked through the gate and out into
the forest once more.
The minstrel looked after him and sighed. "It was the best gift I could
think of," he murmured; "it was the one I would have chosen for myself.
It is true," he added thoughtfully, "that I never wanted to play with a
King's daughter."
The minstrel's son wandered aimlessly through the forest,--the forest
that he had once liked so well because it was all his, and that he only
liked now because he had found his little Princess in it; and there he
might have been wandering still, if he had not suddenly met a wymp. This
was not really surprising in that particular forest, for it was just the
kind of forest in which any boy of fourteen might at any minute meet a
wymp; but for all that, deaf Robert was just a little bit startled when
the wymp suddenly dropped in his path from the tree above and nodded at
him.
"Hullo!" said the wymp. "What is the matter with you?"
"I am very unhappy, because I am not a real boy," explained deaf
Robert.
"Dear me! How is that?" asked the wymp, pretending to be surprised.
"Well, _you_ ought to know," answered deaf Robert. "It is all because
the wymps came to my christening."
"Nothing of the sort!" cried the wymp, indignantly. "It is all because
your father insisted on knowing better than we did, and we let him have
his own way. If the wymps had not been at your christening, you would
not even _want_ to be a real boy. So you cannot hear the Princess cry,
eh? That's a good wympish joke, that is!" And the wymp stood on his head
and choked with laughter.
"It is all very well for you to laugh," complained the minstrel's son.
"You don't know how unpleasant it is to be a boy without being a real
boy."
The wymp came down on his toes again and stopped laughing. "Then why
don't you go and learn to be a real boy?" he asked in surprise.
"How can I find out the way?" asked deaf Robert.
"You ridiculous boy!" exclaimed the wymp. "Why, the first person you
meet will be able to tell you that!"