who no doubt came by it in some evil way. But Pinkel has a smooth
tongue, and he can get the better of any woman, old or young.'
'Then bid him go this very night,' cried the king; 'and if he brings
me the lantern I will make him one of the chief men about my person.'
* * * * *
Pinkel was much pleased at the thought of his adventure, and without
more ado he borrowed a little boat which lay moored to the shore, and
rowed over to the island at once. It was late by the time he arrived,
and almost dark, but he knew by the savoury smell that reached him
that the witch was cooking her supper. So he climbed softly on to the
roof, and, peering, watched till the old woman's back was turned, when
he quickly drew a handful of salt from his pocket and threw it into
the pot. Scarcely had he done this when the witch called her daughter
and bade her lift the pot off the fire and put the stew into a dish,
as it had been cooking quite long enough and she was hungry. But no
sooner had she tasted it than she put her spoon down, and declared
that her daughter must have been meddling with it, for it was
impossible to eat anything that was all made of salt.
'Go down to the spring in the valley, and get some fresh water, that I
may prepare a fresh supper,' cried she, 'for I feel half-starved.'
'But, mother,' answered the girl, 'how can I find the well in this
darkness? For you know that the lantern's rays shed no light down
there.'
'Well, then, take the lantern with you,' answered the witch, 'for
supper I must have, and there is no water that is nearer.'
So the girl took her pail in one hand and the golden lantern in the
other, and hastened away to the well, followed by Pinkel, who took
care to keep out of the way of the rays. When at last she stooped to
fill her pail at the well Pinkel pushed her into it, and snatching up
the lantern hurried back to his boat and rowed off from the shore.
He was already a long distance from the island when the witch, who
wondered what had become of her daughter, went to the door to look for
her. Close around the hut was thick darkness, but what was that
bobbing light that streamed across the water? The witch's heart sank
as all at once it flashed upon her what had happened.
'Is that you, Pinkel?' cried she; and the youth answered:
'Yes, dear mother, it is I!'
'And are you not a knave for robbing me?' said she.
'Truly, dear mother, I am,' replied Pinkel, rowing faster than ever,
for he was half afraid that the witch might come after him. But she
had no power on the water, and turned angrily into the hut, muttering
to herself all the while:
'Take care! take care! A second time you will not escape so easily!'
The sun had not yet risen when Pinkel returned to the palace, and,
entering the king's chamber, he held up the lantern so that its rays
might fall upon the bed. In an instant the king awoke, and seeing the
golden lantern shedding its light upon him, he sprang up, and embraced
Pinkel with joy.
'O cunning one,' cried he, 'what treasure hast thou brought me!' And
calling for his attendants he ordered that rooms next his own should
be prepared for Pinkel, and that the youth might enter his presence at
any hour. And besides this, he was to have a seat on the council.
It may easily be guessed that all this made the brothers more envious
than they were before; and they cast about in their minds afresh how
best they might destroy him. At length they remembered the goat with
the golden horns and the bells, and they rejoiced; 'For,' said they,
'_this_ time the old woman will be on the watch, and let him be as
clever as he likes, the bells on the horns are sure to warn her.' So
when, as before, the king came down to the stables and praised the
cleverness of their brother, the young men told him of that other
marvel possessed by the witch, the goat with the golden horns.
From this moment the king never closed his eyes at night for longing
after this wonderful creature. He understood something of the danger
that there might be in trying to steal it, now that the witch's
suspicions were aroused, and he spent hours in making plans for
outwitting her. But somehow he never could think of anything that
would do, and at last, as the brothers had foreseen, he sent for
Pinkel.
'I hear,' he said, 'that the old witch on the island has a goat with
golden horns, from which hang bells that tinkle the sweetest music.
That goat I must have! But, tell me, how am I to get it? I would give
the third part of my kingdom to anyone that would bring it to me.'
'I will fetch it myself,' answered Pinkel.
This time it was easier for Pinkel to approach the island unseen, as
there was no golden lantern to throw its beams over the water. But, on
the other hand, the goat slept inside the hut, and would therefore
have to be taken from under the very eyes of the old woman. How was he
to do it? All the way across the lake he thought and thought, till at
length a plan came into his head which seemed as if it might do,
though he knew it would be very difficult to carry out.
The first thing he did when he reached the shore was to look about for
a piece of wood, and when he had found it he hid himself close to the
hut, till it grew quite dark and near the hour when the witch and her
daughter went to bed. Then he crept up and fixed the wood under the
door, which opened outwards, in such a manner that the more you tried
to shut it the more firmly it stuck. And this was what happened when
the girl went as usual to bolt the door and make all fast for the
night.
'What are you doing?' asked the witch, as her daughter kept tugging at
the handle.
'There is something the matter with the door; it won't shut,' answered
she.
'Well, leave it alone; there is nobody to hurt us,' said the witch,
who was very sleepy; and the girl did as she was bid, and went to bed.
Very soon they both might have been heard snoring, and Pinkel knew
that his time was come. Slipping off his shoes he stole into the hut
on tiptoe, and taking from his pockets some food of which the goat was
particularly fond, he laid it under his nose. Then, while the animal
was eating it, he stuffed each golden bell with wool which he had also
brought with him, stopping every minute to listen, lest the witch
should awaken, and he should find himself changed into some dreadful
bird or beast. But the snoring still continued, and he went on with
his work as quickly as he could. When the last bell was done he drew
another handful of food out of his pocket, and held it out to the
goat, which instantly rose to its feet and followed Pinkel, who backed
slowly to the door, and directly he got outside he seized the goat in
his arms and ran down to the place where he had moored his boat.
As soon as he had reached the middle of the lake, Pinkel took the wool
out of the bells, which began to tinkle loudly. Their sound awoke the
witch, who cried out as before:
'Is that you, Pinkel?'
'Yes, dear mother, it is I,' said Pinkel.
'Have you stolen my golden goat?' asked she.
'Yes, dear mother, I have,' answered Pinkel.
'Are you not a knave, Pinkel?'
'Yes, dear mother, I am,' he replied. And the old witch shouted in a
rage:
[Illustration: PINKEL STEALS THE WITCH'S GOAT]
'Ah! beware how you come hither again, for next time you shall not
escape me!'
But Pinkel only laughed and rowed on.
* * * * *
The king was so delighted with the goat that he always kept it by his
side, night and day; and, as he had promised, Pinkel was made ruler
over the third part of the kingdom. As may be supposed, the brothers
were more furious than ever, and grew quite thin with rage.
'How can we get rid of him?' said one to the other. And at length they
remembered the golden cloak.
'He will need to be clever if he is to steal _that_!' they cried,
with a chuckle. And when next the king came to see his horses they
began to speak of Pinkel and his marvellous cunning, and how he had
contrived to steal the lantern and the goat, which nobody else would
have been able to do.
'But as he _was_ there, it is a pity he could not have brought away
the golden cloak,' added they.
'The golden cloak! what is that?' asked the king. And the young men
described its beauties in such glowing words that the king declared he
should never know a day's happiness till he had wrapped the cloak
round his own shoulders.
'And,' added he, 'the man who brings it to me shall wed my daughter,
and shall inherit my throne.'
'None can get it save Pinkel,' said they; for they did not imagine
that the witch, after two warnings, could allow their brother to
escape a third time. So Pinkel was sent for, and with a glad heart he
set out.
He passed many hours inventing first one plan and then another, till
he had a scheme ready which he thought might prove successful.
Thrusting a large bag inside his coat, he pushed off from the shore,
taking care this time to reach the island in daylight. Having made his
boat fast to a tree, he walked up to the hut, hanging his head, and
putting on a face that was both sorrowful and ashamed.
'Is that you, Pinkel?' asked the witch when she saw him, her eyes
gleaming savagely.
'Yes, dear mother, it is I,' answered Pinkel.
'So you have dared, after all you have done, to put yourself in my
power!' cried she. 'Well, you sha'n't escape me _this_ time!' And she
took down a large knife and began to sharpen it.
'Oh! dear mother, spare me!' shrieked Pinkel, falling on his knees,
and looking wildly about him.
'Spare you, indeed, you thief! Where are my lantern and my goat? No!
no! there is only one fate for robbers!' And she brandished the knife
in the air so that it glittered in the firelight.
'Then, if I _must_ die,' said Pinkel, who, by this time, was getting
really rather frightened, 'let me at least choose the manner of my
death. I am very hungry, for I have had nothing to eat all day. Put
some poison, if you like, into the porridge, but at least let me have
a good meal before I die.'
'That is not a bad idea,' answered the woman; 'as long as you _do_
die, it is all one to me.' And ladling out a large bowl of porridge,
she stirred some poisonous herbs into it, and set about some work that
had to be done. Then Pinkel hastily poured all the contents of the
bowl into his bag, and made a great noise with his spoon, as if he was
scraping up the last morsel.
'Poisoned or not, the porridge is excellent. I have eaten it, every
scrap; do give me some more,' said Pinkel, turning towards her.
'Well, you have a fine appetite, young man,' answered the witch;
'however, it is the last time you will ever eat it, so I will give you
another bowlful.' And rubbing in the poisonous herbs, she poured him
out half of what remained, and then went to the window to call her
cat.
In an instant Pinkel again emptied the porridge into the bag, and the
next minute he rolled on the floor, twisting himself about as if in
agony, uttering loud groans the while. Suddenly he grew silent and lay
still.
'Ah! I thought a second dose of that poison would be too much for
you,' said the witch looking at him. 'I warned you what would happen
if you came back. I wish that all thieves were as dead as you! But why
does not my lazy girl bring the wood I sent her for, it will soon be
too dark for her to find her way? I suppose I must go and search for
her. What a trouble girls are!' And she went to the door to watch if
there were any signs of her daughter. But nothing could be seen of
her, and heavy rain was falling.
'It is no night for my cloak,' she muttered; 'it would be covered with
mud by the time I got back.' So she took it off her shoulders and hung
it carefully up in a cupboard in the room. After that she put on her
clogs and started to seek her daughter. Directly the last sound of the
clogs had ceased, Pinkel jumped up and took down the cloak, and rowed
off as fast as he could.
He had not gone far when a puff of wind unfolded the cloak, and its
brightness shed gleams across the water. The witch, who was just
entering the forest, turned round at that moment and saw the golden
rays. She forgot all about her daughter, and ran down to the shore,
screaming with rage at being outwitted a third time.
'Is that you, Pinkel?' cried she.
'Yes, dear mother, it is I.'
'Have you taken my gold cloak?'
'Yes, dear mother, I have.'
'Are you not a great knave?'
'Yes, truly dear mother, I am.'
And so indeed he was!
* * * * *
But, all the same, he carried the cloak to the king's palace, and in
return he received the hand of the king's daughter in marriage. People
said that it was the bride who ought to have worn the cloak at her
wedding feast; but the king was so pleased with it that he would not
part from it; and to the end of his life was never seen without it.
After his death, Pinkel became king; and let us hope that he gave up
his bad and thievish ways, and ruled his subjects well. As for his
brothers, he did not punish them, but left them in the stables, where
they grumbled all day long.
(Thorpe's _Yule-Tide Stories_.)
_THE ADVENTURES OF A JACKAL_
In a country which is full of wild beasts of all sorts there once
lived a jackal and a hedgehog, and, unlike though they were, the two
animals made great friends, and were often seen in each other's
company.
One afternoon they were walking along a road together, when the
jackal, who was the taller of the two, exclaimed:
'Oh! there is a barn full of corn; let us go and eat some.'
'Yes, do let us!' answered the hedgehog. So they went to the barn, and
ate till they could eat no more. Then the jackal put on his shoes,
which he had taken off so as to make no noise, and they returned to
the high road.
After they had gone some way they met a panther, who stopped, and
bowing politely, said:
'Excuse my speaking to you, but I cannot help admiring those shoes of
yours. Do you mind telling me who made them?'
'Yes, I think they _are_ rather nice,' answered the jackal; 'I made
them myself, though.'
'Could you make me a pair like them?' asked the panther eagerly.
'I would do my best, of course,' replied the jackal; 'but you must
kill me a cow, and when we have eaten the flesh I will take the skin
and make your shoes out of it.'
So the panther prowled about until he saw a fine cow grazing apart
from the rest of the herd. He killed it instantly, and then gave a cry
to the jackal and hedgehog to come to the place where he was. They
soon skinned the dead beast, and spread its skin out to dry, after
which they had a grand feast before they curled themselves up for the
night, and slept soundly.
Next morning the jackal got up early and set to work upon the shoes,
while the panther sat by and looked on with delight. At last they were
finished, and the jackal arose and stretched himself.
'Now go and lay them in the sun out there,' said he; 'in a couple of
hours they will be ready to put on; but do not attempt to wear them
before, or you will feel them most uncomfortable. But I see the sun is
high in the heavens, and we must be continuing our journey.'
The panther, who always believed what everybody told him, did exactly
as he was bid, and in two hours' time began to fasten on the shoes.
They certainly set off his paws wonderfully, and he stretched out his
fore-paws and looked at them with pride. But when he tried to
_walk_--ah! that was another story! They were so stiff and hard that
he nearly shrieked every step he took, and at last he sank down where
he was, and actually began to cry.
After some time some little partridges who were hopping about heard
the poor panther's groans, and went up to see what was the matter. He
had never tried to make his dinner off _them_, and they had always
been quite friendly.
'You seem in pain,' said one of them, fluttering close to him, 'can we
help you?'
'Oh, it is the jackal! He made me these shoes; they are so hard and
tight that they hurt my feet, and I cannot manage to kick them off.'
'Lie still, and we will soften them,' answered the kind little
partridge. And calling to his brothers, they all flew to the nearest
spring, and carried water in their beaks, which they poured over the
shoes. This they did till the hard leather grew soft, and the panther
was able to slip his feet out of them.
'Oh, thank you, thank you,' he cried, skipping round with joy. 'I feel
a different creature. Now I will go after the jackal and pay him my
debts.' And he bounded away into the forest.
But the jackal had been very cunning, and had trotted backwards and
forwards and in and out, so that it was very difficult to know which
track he had really followed. At length, however, he caught sight of
his enemy, at the same moment that the jackal had caught sight of him.
The panther gave a loud roar, and sprung forward, but the jackal was
too quick for him and plunged into a dense thicket, where the panther
could not follow.
Disgusted with his failure, but more angry than ever, the panther lay
down for a while to consider what he should do next, and as he was
thinking, an old man came by.
'Oh! father, tell me how I can repay the jackal for the way he has
served me!' And without more ado he told his story.
'If you take my advice,' answered the old man, 'you will kill a cow,
and invite all the jackals in the forest to the feast. Watch them
carefully while they are eating, and you will see that most of them
keep their eyes on their food. But if one of them glances at _you_,
you will know that is the traitor.'
The panther, whose manners were always good, thanked the old man, and
followed his counsel. The cow was killed, and the partridges flew
about with invitations to the jackals, who gathered in large numbers
to the feast. The wicked jackal came amongst them; but as the panther
had only seen him once he could not distinguish him from the rest.
However, they all took their places on wooden seats placed round the
dead cow, which was laid across the boughs of a fallen tree, and
began their dinner, each jackal fixing his eyes greedily on the piece
of meat before him. Only one of them seemed uneasy, and every now and
then glanced in the direction of his host. This the panther noticed,
and suddenly made a bound at the culprit and seized his tail; but
again the jackal was too quick for him, and catching up a knife he cut
off his tail and darted into the forest, followed by all the rest of
the party. And before the panther had recovered from his surprise he
found himself alone.
'What am I to do _now_?' he asked the old man, who soon came back to
see how things had turned out.
'It is very unfortunate, certainly,' answered he; 'but I think I know
where you can find him. There is a melon garden about two miles from
here, and as jackals are very fond of melons they are nearly sure to
have gone there to feed. If you see a tailless jackal you will know
that he is the one you want.' So the panther thanked him and went his
way.
Now the jackal had guessed what advice the old man would give his
enemy, and so, while his friends were greedily eating the ripest
melons in the sunniest corner of the garden, he stole behind them and
tied their tails together. He had only just finished when his ears
caught the sound of breaking branches; and he cried: 'Quick! quick!
here comes the master of the garden!' And the jackals sprang up and
ran away in all directions, leaving their tails behind them. And how
was the panther to know which was his enemy?
'They none of them had any tails,' he said sadly to the old man, 'and
I am tired of hunting them. I shall leave them alone and go and catch
something for supper.'
* * * * *
Of course the hedgehog had not been able to take part in any of these
adventures; but as soon as all danger was over, the jackal went to
look for his friend whom he was lucky enough to find at home.
'Ah, there you are,' he said gaily. 'I have lost my tail since I saw
you last. And other people have lost theirs too; but that is no
matter! I am hungry, so come with me to the shepherd who is sitting
over there, and we will ask him to sell us one of his sheep.'
'Yes, that is a good plan,' answered the hedgehog. And he walked as
fast as his little legs would go to keep up with the jackal. When they
reached the shepherd the jackal pulled out his purse from under his
foreleg, and made his bargain.
'Only wait till to-morrow,' said the shepherd, 'and I will give you
the biggest sheep you ever saw. But he always feeds at some distance
from the rest of the flock, and it would take me a long time to catch
him.'
'Well, it is very tiresome, but I suppose I must wait,' replied the
jackal. And he and the hedgehog looked about for a nice dry cave in
which to make themselves comfortable for the night. But, after they
had gone, the shepherd killed one of his sheep, and stripped off his
skin, which he sewed tightly round a greyhound he had with him, and
put a cord round its neck. Then he lay down and went to sleep.
Very, very early, before the sun was properly up, the jackal and the
hedgehog were pulling at the shepherd's cloak.
'Wake up,' they said, 'and give us that sheep. We have had nothing to
eat all night, and are very hungry.'
The shepherd yawned, and rubbed his eyes. 'He is tied up to that tree;
go and take him.' So they went to the tree and unfastened the cord,
and turned to go back to the cave where they had slept, dragging the
greyhound after them. When they reached the cave the jackal said to
the hedgehog:
'Before I kill him let me see whether he is fat or thin.' And he stood
a little way back, so that he might the better examine the animal.
After looking at him, with his head on one side, for a minute or two,
he nodded gravely.
'He is quite fat enough; he is a good sheep.'
But the hedgehog, who sometimes showed more cunning than anyone would
have guessed, answered:
'My friend, you are talking nonsense. The wool is indeed a sheep's
wool, but the paws of my uncle the greyhound peep out from
underneath.'
'He is a _sheep_,' repeated the jackal, who did not like to think
anyone cleverer than himself.
'Hold the cord while _I_ look at him,' answered the hedgehog.
Very unwillingly the jackal held the rope, while the hedgehog walked
slowly round the greyhound till he reached the jackal again. He knew
quite well by the paws and tail that it was a greyhound and not a
sheep, that the shepherd had sold them; and as he could not tell what
turn affairs might take, he resolved to get out of the way.
'Oh! yes, you are right,' he said to the jackal; 'but I never can eat
till I have first drunk. I will just go and quench my thirst from that
spring at the edge of the wood, and then I shall be ready for
breakfast.'
'Don't be long, then,' called the jackal, as the hedgehog hurried off
at his best pace. And he lay down under a rock to wait for him.
More than an hour passed by and the hedgehog had had plenty of time to
go to the spring and back, and still there was no sign of him. And
this was very natural, as he had hidden himself in some long grass
under a tree!
At length the jackal guessed that for some reason his friend had run
away, and determined to wait for his breakfast no longer. So he went
up to the place where the greyhound had been tethered and untied the
rope. But just as he was about to spring on his back and give him a
deadly bite, the jackal heard a low growl, which never proceeded from
the throat of any sheep. Like a flash of lightning the jackal threw
down the cord and was flying across the plain; but though his legs
were long, the greyhound's legs were longer still, and he soon came up
with his prey. The jackal turned to fight, but he was no match for the
greyhound, and in a few minutes he was lying dead on the ground, while
the greyhound was trotting peacefully back to the shepherd.
(_Nouveaux Contes Berberes_ par Rene Basset.)
_THE ADVENTURES OF THE JACKAL'S ELDEST SON_
Now, though the jackal was dead, he had left two sons behind him,
every whit as cunning and tricky as their father. The elder of the two
was a fine handsome creature, who had a pleasant manner and made many
friends. The animal he saw most of was a hyena; and one day, when they
were taking a walk together, they picked up a beautiful green cloak,
which had evidently been dropped by some one riding across the plain
on a camel. Of course each wanted to have it, and they almost
quarrelled over the matter; but at length it was settled that the
hyena should wear the cloak by day and the jackal by night. After a
little while, however, the jackal became discontented with this
arrangement, declaring that none of his friends, who were quite
different from those of the hyena, could see the splendour of the
mantle, and that it was only fair that he should sometimes be allowed
to wear it by day. To this the hyena would by no means consent, and
they were on the eve of a quarrel when the hyena proposed that they
should ask the lion to judge between them. The jackal agreed to this,
and the hyena wrapped the cloak about him, and they both trotted off
to the lion's den.
The jackal, who was fond of talking, at once told the story; and when
it was finished the lion turned to the hyena and asked if it was true.
'Quite true, your majesty,' answered the hyena.
'Then lay the cloak on the ground at my feet,' said the lion, 'and I
will give my judgment.' So the mantle was spread upon the red earth,
the hyena and the jackal standing on each side of it.
There was silence for a few moments, and then the lion sat up, looking
very great and wise.
'My judgment is that the garment shall belong wholly to whoever first
rings the bell of the nearest mosque at dawn to-morrow. Now go; for
much business awaits me!'
* * * * *
All that night the hyena sat up, fearing lest the jackal should reach
the bell before him, for the mosque was close at hand. With the first
streak of dawn he bounded away to the bell, just as the jackal, who
had slept soundly all night, was rising to his feet.
'Good luck to you,' cried the jackal. And throwing the cloak over his
back he darted away across the plain, and was seen no more by his
friend the hyena.
After running several miles the jackal thought he was safe from
pursuit, and seeing a lion and another hyena talking together, he
strolled up to join them.
'Good morning,' he said; 'may I ask what is the matter? You seem very
serious about something.'
'Pray sit down,' answered the lion. 'We were wondering in which
direction we should go to find the best dinner. The hyena wishes to go
to the forest, and I to the mountains. What do you say?'
'Well, as I was sauntering over the plain, just now, I noticed a flock
of sheep grazing, and some of them had wandered into a little valley
quite out of sight of the shepherd. If you keep among the rocks you
will never be observed. But perhaps you will allow me to go with you
and show you the way?'
'You are really very kind,' answered the lion. And they crept
stealthily along till at length they reached the mouth of the valley
where a ram, a sheep and a lamb were feeding on the rich grass,
unconscious of their danger.
'How shall we divide them?' asked the lion in a whisper to the hyena.
'Oh, it is easily done,' replied the hyena. 'The lamb for me, the
sheep for the jackal, and the ram for the lion.'
'So I am to have that lean creature, which is nothing but horns, am
I?' cried the lion in a rage. 'I will teach you to divide things in
that manner!' And he gave the hyena two great blows, which stretched
him dead in a moment. Then he turned to the jackal and said: 'How
would you divide them?'
'Quite differently from the hyena,' replied the jackal. 'You will
breakfast off the lamb, you will dine off the sheep, and you will sup
off the ram.'
'Dear me, how clever you are! Who taught you such wisdom?' exclaimed
the lion, looking at him admiringly.
'The fate of the hyena,' answered the jackal, laughing, and running
off at his best speed; for he saw two men armed with spears coming
close behind the lion!
* * * * *
The jackal continued to run till at last he could run no longer. He
flung himself under a tree panting for breath, when he heard a rustle
amongst the grass, and his father's old friend the hedgehog appeared
before him.
'Oh, is it you?' asked the little creature; 'how strange that we
should meet so far from home!'
'I have just had a narrow escape of my life,' gasped the jackal, 'and
I need some sleep. After that we must think of something to do to
amuse ourselves.' And he lay down again and slept soundly for a couple
of hours.
'Now I am ready,' said he; 'have you anything to propose?'
'In a valley beyond those trees,' answered the hedgehog, 'there is a
small farm-house where the best butter in the world is made. I know
their ways, and in an hour's time the farmer's wife will be off to
milk the cows, which she keeps at some distance. We could easily get
in at the window of the shed where she keeps the butter, and I will
watch, lest some one should come unexpectedly, while you have a good
meal. Then you shall watch, and I will eat.'
'That sounds a good plan,' replied the jackal; and they set off
together.
But when they reached the farm-house the jackal said to the hedgehog:
'Go in and fetch the pots of butter, and I will hide them in a safe
place.'
'Oh no,' cried the hedgehog, 'I really couldn't. They would find out
directly! And, besides, it is so different just eating a little now
and then.'
'Do as I bid you _at once_,' said the jackal, looking at the hedgehog
so sternly that the little fellow dared say no more, and soon rolled
the jars to the window where the jackal lifted them out one by one.
When they were all in a row before him he gave a sudden start.
'Run for your life,' he whispered to his companion; 'I see the woman
coming over the hill!' And the hedgehog, his heart beating, set off as
fast as he could. The jackal remained where he was, shaking with
laughter, for the woman was not in sight at all, and he had only sent
the hedgehog away because he did not want him to know where the jars
of butter were buried. But every day he stole out to their
hiding-place and had a delicious feast.
At length, one morning, the hedgehog suddenly said:
'You never told me what you did with those jars?'
'Oh, I hid them safely till the farm people should have forgotten all
about them,' replied the jackal. 'But as they are still searching for
them we must wait a little longer, and then I'll bring them home, and
we will share them between us.'
So the hedgehog waited and waited; but every time he asked if there
was no chance of getting the jars of butter the jackal put him off
with some excuse. After a while the hedgehog became suspicious, and
said:
'I should like to know where you have hidden them. To-night, when it
is quite dark, you shall show me the place.'
'I really _can't_ tell you,' answered the jackal. 'You talk so much
that you would be sure to confide the secret to somebody, and then we
should have had our trouble for nothing, besides running the risk of
our necks being broken by the farmer. I can see that he is getting
disheartened, and very soon he will give up the search. Have patience
just a little longer.'
The hedgehog said no more, and pretended to be satisfied; but when
some days had gone by he woke the jackal, who was sleeping soundly
after a hunt which had lasted several hours.
'I have just had notice,' remarked the hedgehog, shaking him, 'that my
family wish to have a banquet to-morrow, and they have invited you to
it. Will you come?'
'Certainly,' answered the jackal, 'with pleasure. But as I have to go
out in the morning you can meet me on the road.'
'That will do very well,' replied the hedgehog. And the jackal went to
sleep again, for he was obliged to be up early.
Punctual to the moment the hedgehog arrived at the place appointed for
their meeting, and as the jackal was not there he sat down and waited
for him.
'Ah, there you are!' he cried, when the dusky yellow form at last
turned the corner. 'I had nearly given you up! Indeed, I almost wish
you had not come, for I hardly know where I shall hide you.'
'Why should you hide me anywhere?' asked the jackal. 'What is the
matter with you?'
'Well, so many of the guests have brought their dogs and mules with
them, that I fear it may hardly be safe for you to go amongst them.
No; don't run off that way,' he added quickly, 'because there is
another troop that are coming over the hill. Lie down here, and I
will throw these sacks over you; and keep still for your life,
whatever happens.'
And what did happen was, that when the jackal was lying covered up,
under a little hill, the hedgehog set a great stone rolling, which
crushed him to death.
(_Contes Berberes._)
_THE ADVENTURES OF THE YOUNGER SON OF THE JACKAL_
Now that the father and elder brother were both dead, all that was
left of the jackal family was one son, who was no less cunning than
the others had been. He did not like staying in the same place any
better than they, and nobody ever knew in what part of the country he
might be found next.
One day, when he was wandering about he beheld a nice fat sheep, which
was cropping the grass and seemed quite contented with her lot.
'Good morning,' said the jackal, 'I am so glad to see you. I have been
looking for you everywhere.'
'For _me_?' answered the sheep, in an astonished voice; 'but we have
never met before!'
'No; but I have _heard_ of you. Oh! you don't know _what_ fine things
I have heard! Ah, well, some people have all the luck!'
'You are very kind, I am sure,' answered the sheep, not knowing which
way to look. 'Is there any way in which I can help you?'
'There _is_ something that I had set my heart on, though I hardly like
to propose it on so short an acquaintance; but from what people have
told me, I thought that you and I might keep house together
comfortably, if you would only agree to try. I have several fields
belonging to me, and if they are kept well watered they bear wonderful
crops.'
'Perhaps I might come for a short time,' said the sheep, with a
little hesitation; 'and if we do not get on, we can but part company.'
'Oh, thank you, thank you,' cried the jackal; 'do not let us lose a
moment.' And he held out his paw in such an inviting manner that the
sheep got up and trotted beside him till they reached home.
'Now,' said the jackal, 'you go to the well and fetch the water, and I
will pour it into the trenches that run between the patches of corn.'
And as he did so he sang lustily. The work was very hard, but the
sheep did not grumble, and by-and-by was rewarded at seeing the little
green heads poking themselves through earth. After that the hot sun
ripened them quickly, and soon harvest time was come. Then the grain
was cut and ground and ready for sale.
When everything was complete, the jackal said to the sheep:
'Now let us divide it, so that we can each do what we like with his
share.'
'You do it,' answered the sheep; 'here are the scales. You must weigh
it carefully.'
So the jackal began to weigh it, and when he had finished, he counted
out loud:
'One, two, three, four, five, six, seven parts for the jackal, and one
part for the sheep. If she likes it she can take it, if not, she can
leave it.'
The sheep looked at the two heaps in silence--one so large, the other
so small; and then she answered:
'Wait for a minute, while I fetch some sacks to carry away my share.'
But it was not sacks that the sheep wanted; for as soon as the jackal
could no longer see her she set forth at her best pace for the home of
the greyhound, where she arrived panting with the haste she had made.
'Oh, good uncle, help me, I pray you!' she cried, as soon as she could
speak.
'Why, what is the matter?' asked the greyhound, looking up in
astonishment.
'I beg you to return with me, and frighten the jackal into paying me
what he owes me,' answered the sheep. 'For months we have lived
together, and I have twice every day drawn the water, while he only
poured it into the trenches. Together we have reaped our harvest; and
now, when the moment to divide our crop has come, he has taken seven
parts for himself, and only left one for me.'
She finished, and giving herself a twist, passed her woolly tail
across her eyes; while the greyhound watched her, but held his peace.
Then he said:
'Bring me a sack.' And the sheep hastened away to fetch one. Very soon
she returned, and laid the sack down before him.
'Open it wide, that I may get in,' cried he; and when he was
comfortably rolled up inside he bade the sheep take him on her back,
and hasten to the place where she had left the jackal.
She found him waiting for her, and pretending to be asleep, though she
clearly saw him wink one of his eyes. However, she took no notice, but
throwing the sack roughly on the ground, she exclaimed:
'Now measure!'
At this the jackal got up, and going to the heap of grain which lay
close by, he divided it as before into eight portions--seven for
himself and one for the sheep.
'What are you doing that for?' asked she indignantly. 'You know quite
well that it was I who drew the water, and you who only poured it into
the trenches.'
'You are mistaken,' answered the jackal. 'It was _I_ who drew the
water, and _you_ who poured it into the trenches. Anybody will tell
you that! If you like, I will ask those people who are digging there.'
'Very well,' replied the sheep. And the jackal called out:
'Ho! you diggers, tell me: Who was it you heard singing over the
work?'
'Why, it was you, of course, jackal! You sang so loud that the whole
world might have heard you!'
'And who is it that sings--he who draws the water, or he who empties
it?'
'Why, certainly he who draws the water!'
'You hear?' said the jackal, turning to the sheep. 'Now come and carry
away your own portion, or else I shall take it for myself.'
'You have got the better of me,' answered the sheep; 'and I suppose I
must confess myself beaten! But as I bear no malice, go and eat some
of the dates that I have brought in that sack.' And the jackal, who
loved dates, ran instantly back, and tore open the mouth of the sack.
But just as he was about to plunge his nose in he saw two brown eyes
calmly looking at him. In an instant he had let fall the flap of the
sack and bounded back to where the sheep was standing.
'I was only in fun; and you have brought my uncle the greyhound. Take
away the sack, we will make the division over again.' And he began
re-arranging the heaps.
'One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, for my mother the sheep, and
one for the jackal,' counted he; casting timid glances all the while
at the sack.
'Now you can take your share and go,' said the sheep. And the jackal
did not need twice telling! Whenever the sheep looked up, she still
saw him flying, flying across the plain; and, for all I know, he may
be flying across it still.
(_Contes Berberes_, par Rene Basset.)
_THE THREE TREASURES OF THE GIANTS_
Long, long ago, there lived an old man and his wife who had three
sons; the eldest was called Martin, the second Michael, while the
third was named Jack.
One evening they were all seated round the table, eating their supper
of bread and milk.
'Martin,' said the old man suddenly, 'I feel that I cannot live much
longer. You, as the eldest, will inherit this hut; but, if you value
my blessing, be good to your mother and brothers.'
'Certainly, father; how can you suppose I should do them wrong?'
replied Martin indignantly, helping himself to all the best bits in
the dish as he spoke. The old man saw nothing, but Michael looked on
in surprise, and Jack was so astonished that he quite forgot to eat
his own supper.
A little while after, the father fell ill, and sent for his sons, who
were out hunting, to bid him farewell. After giving good advice to the
two eldest, he turned to Jack.
'My boy,' he said, 'you have not got quite as much sense as other
people, but if Heaven has deprived you of some of your wits, it has
given you a kind heart. Always listen to what it says, and take heed
to the words of your mother and brothers, as well as you are able!' So
saying the old man sank back on his pillows and died.
The cries of grief uttered by Martin and Michael sounded through the
house, but Jack remained by the bedside of his father, still and
silent, as if he were dead also. At length he got up, and going into
the garden, hid himself in some trees, and wept like a child, while
his two brothers made ready for the funeral.
No sooner was the old man buried than Martin and Michael agreed that
they would go into the world together to seek their fortunes, while
Jack stayed at home with their mother. Jack would have liked nothing
better than to sit and dream by the fire, but the mother, who was very
old herself, declared that there was no work for him to do, and that
he must seek it with his brothers.
So, one fine morning, all three set out; Martin and Michael carried
two great bags full of food, but Jack carried nothing. This made his
brothers very angry, for the day was hot and the bags were heavy, and
about noon they sat down under a tree and began to eat. Jack was as
hungry as they were, but he knew that it was no use asking for
anything; and he threw himself under another tree, and wept bitterly.
'Another time perhaps you won't be so lazy, and will bring food for
yourself,' said Martin, but to his surprise Jack answered:
'You are a nice pair! You talk of seeking your fortunes, so as not to
be a burden on our mother, and you begin by carrying off all the food
she has in the house!'
This reply was so unexpected that for some moments neither of the
brothers made any answer. Then they offered their brother some of
their food, and when he had finished eating they went their way once
more.
Towards evening they reached a small hut, and knocking at the door,
asked if they might spend the night there. The man, who was a
wood-cutter, invited them in, and begged them to sit down to supper.
Martin thanked him, but being very proud, explained that it was only
shelter they wanted, as they had plenty of food with them; and he and
Michael as once opened their bags and began to eat, while Jack hid
himself in a corner. The wife, on seeing this, took pity on him, and
called him to come and share their supper, which he gladly did, and
very good he found it. At this, Martin regretted deeply that he had
been so foolish as to refuse, for his bits of bread and cheese seemed
very hard when he smelt the savoury soup his brother was enjoying.
'He shan't have such a chance again,' thought he; and the next morning
he insisted on plunging into a thick forest where they were likely to
meet nobody.
For a long time they wandered hither and thither, for they had no path
to guide them; but at last they came upon a wide clearing, in the
midst of which stood a castle. Jack shouted with delight, but Martin,
who was in a bad temper, said sharply:
'We must have taken the wrong turning! Let us go back.'
'Idiot!' replied Michael, who was hungry too, and, like many people
when they are hungry, very cross also. 'We set out to travel through
the world, and what does it matter if we go to the right or to the
left?' And, without another word, took the path to the castle, closely
followed by Jack, and after a moment by Martin likewise.
The door of the castle stood open, and they entered a great hall, and
looked about them. Not a creature was to be seen, and suddenly
Martin--he did not know why--felt a little frightened. He would have
left the castle at once, but stopped when Jack boldly walked up to a
door in the wall and opened it. He could not for very shame be outdone
by his younger brother, and passed behind him, into another splendid
hall, which was filled from floor to ceiling with great pieces of
copper money.
The sight quite dazzled Martin and Michael, who emptied all the
provisions that remained out of their bags, and heaped them up instead
with handfuls of copper.
[Illustration: THE BROTHERS ILL-TREAT POOR JACK]
Scarcely had they done this when Jack threw open another door, and
this time it led to a hall filled with silver. In an instant his
brothers had turned their bags upside down, so that the copper money
tumbled out on to the floor, and were shovelling in handfuls of the
silver instead. They had hardly finished, when Jack opened yet a third
door, and all three fell back in amazement, for this room was a mass
of gold, so bright that their eyes grew sore as they looked at them.
However, they soon recovered from their surprise, and quickly emptied
their bags of silver, and filled them with gold instead. When they
would hold no more, Martin said:
'We had better hurry off now lest somebody else should come, and we
might not know what to do'; and, followed by Michael, he hastily left
the castle. Jack lingered behind for a few minutes to put a piece of
gold, silver, and copper into his pocket, and to eat the food that his
brothers had thrown down in the first room. Then he went after them,
and found them lying down to rest in the midst of a forest. It was
near sunset, and Martin began to feel hungry, so, when Jack arrived,
he bade him return to the castle and bring the bread and cheese that
they had left there.
'It is hardly worth doing that,' answered Jack; 'for I picked up the
pieces and ate them myself.'
At this reply both brothers were beside themselves with anger, and
fell upon the boy, beating him, and calling him names, till they were
quite tired.
'Go where you like,' cried Martin with a final kick; 'but never come
near us again.' And poor Jack ran weeping into the woods.
The next morning his brothers went home, and bought a beautiful house,
where they lived with their mother like great lords.
* * * * *
Jack remained for some hours in hiding, thankful to be safe from his
tormentors; but when no one came to trouble him, and his back did not
ache so much, he began to think what he had better do. At length he
made up his mind to go to the castle and take away as much money with
him as would enable him to live in comfort for the rest of his life.
This being decided, he sprang up, and set out along the path which led
to the castle. As before, the door stood open, and he went on till he
had reached the hall of gold, and there he took off his jacket and
tied the sleeves together so that it might make a kind of bag. He then
began to pour in the gold by handfuls, when, all at once, a noise
like thunder shook the castle. This was followed by a voice, hoarse
as that of a bull, which cried:
'I smell the smell of a man.' And two giants entered.
'So, little worm! it is _you_ who steal our treasures!' exclaimed the
biggest. 'Well, we have got you now, and we will cook you for supper!'
But here the other giant drew him aside, and for a moment or two they
whispered together. At length the first giant spoke:
'To please my friend I will spare your life on condition that, for the
future, you shall guard our treasures. If you are hungry take this
little table and rap on it, saying, as you do so: "The dinner of an
emperor!" and you will get as much food as you want.'
With a light heart Jack promised all that was asked of him, and for
some days enjoyed himself mightily. He had everything he could wish
for, and did nothing from morning till night; but by-and-by he began
to get very tired of it all.
'Let the giants guard their treasures themselves,' he said to himself
at last; 'I am going away. But I will leave all the gold and silver
behind me, and will take nought but you, my good little table.'
So, tucking the table under his arm, he started off for the forest,
but he did not linger there long, and soon found himself in the fields
on the other side. There he saw an old man, who begged Jack to give
him something to eat.
'You could not have asked a better person,' answered Jack cheerfully.
And signing to him to sit down with him under a tree, he set the table
in front of them, and struck it three times, crying:
'The dinner of an emperor!' He had hardly uttered the words when fish
and meat of all kinds appeared on it!
[Illustration: THE GIANTS FIND JACK IN THE TREASURE ROOM]
'That is a clever trick of yours,' said the old man, when he had eaten
as much as he wanted. 'Give it to me in exchange for a treasure I have
which is still better. Do you see this cornet? Well, you have only
to tell it that you wish for an army, and you will have as many
soldiers as you require.'
Now, since he had been left to himself, Jack had grown ambitious, so,
after a moment's hesitation, he took the cornet and gave the table in
exchange. The old man bade him farewell, and set off down one path,
while Jack chose another, and for a long time he was quite pleased
with his new possession. Then, as he felt hungry, he wished for his
table back again, as no house was in sight, and he wanted some supper
badly. All at once he remembered his cornet, and a wicked thought
entered his mind.
'Two hundred hussars, forward!' cried he. And the neighing of horses
and the clanking of swords was heard close at hand. The officer who
rode at their head approached Jack, and politely inquired what he
wished them to do.
'A mile or two along that road,' answered Jack, 'you will find an old
man carrying a table. Take the table from him and bring it to me.'
The officer saluted and went back to his men, who started at a gallop
to do Jack's bidding.
In ten minutes they had returned, bearing the table with them.
'That is all, thank you,' said Jack; and the soldiers disappeared
inside the cornet.
Oh, what a good supper Jack had that night, quite forgetting that he
owed it to a mean trick. The next day he breakfasted early, and then
walked on towards the nearest town. On the way thither he met another
old man, who begged for something to eat.
'Certainly you shall have something to eat,' replied Jack. And placing
the table on the ground, he cried:
'The dinner of an emperor!' when all sorts of good dishes appeared. At
first the old man ate greedily, and said nothing; but, after his
hunger was satisfied, he turned to Jack and said:
'That is a very clever trick of yours. Give the table to me, and you
shall have something still better.'
'I don't believe there _is_ anything better,' answered Jack.
'Yes, there is. Here is my bag; it will give you as many castles as
you can possibly want.'
Jack thought for a moment; then he replied: 'Very well, I will
exchange with you.' And passing the table to the old man, he hung the
bag over his arm.
Five minutes later he summoned five hundred lancers out of the cornet
and bade them go after the old man and fetch back the table.
Now that by his cunning he had obtained possession of the three magic
objects, he resolved to return to his native place. Smearing his face
with dirt, and tearing his clothes so as to look like a beggar, he
stopped the passers by and, on pretence of seeking money or food, he
questioned them about the village gossip. In this manner he learned
that his brothers had become great men, much respected in all the
country round. When he heard that, he lost no time in going to the
door of their fine house and imploring them to give him food and
shelter; but the only thing he got was hard words, and a command to
beg elsewhere. At length, however, at their mother's entreaty, he was
told that he might pass the night in the stable. Here he waited until
everybody in the house was sound asleep, when he drew his bag from
under his cloak, and desired that a castle might appear in that place;
and the cornet gave him soldiers to guard the castle, while the table
furnished him with a good supper. In the morning, he caused it all to
vanish, and when his brothers entered the stable they found him lying
on the straw.
Jack remained here for many days, doing nothing, and--as far as
anybody knew--eating nothing. This conduct puzzled his brothers
greatly, and they put such constant questions to him, that at length
he told them the secret of the table, and even gave a dinner to them,
which far outdid any they had ever seen or heard of. But though they
had solemnly promised to reveal nothing, somehow or other the tale
leaked out, and before long reached the ears of the king himself. That
very evening his chamberlain arrived at Jack's dwelling, with a
request from the king that he might borrow the table for three days.
'Very well,' answered Jack, 'you can take it back with you. But tell
his majesty that if he does not return it at the end of the three days
I will make war upon him.'
So the chamberlain carried away the table and took it straight to the
king, telling him at the same time of Jack's threat, at which they
both laughed till their sides ached.
Now the king was so delighted with the table, and the dinners it gave
him, that when the three days were over he could not make up his mind
to part with it. Instead, he sent for his carpenter, and bade him copy
it exactly, and when it was done he told his chamberlain to return it
to Jack with his best thanks. It happened to be dinner time, and Jack
invited the chamberlain, who knew nothing of the trick, to stay and
dine with him. The good man, who had eaten several excellent meals
provided by the table in the last three days, accepted the invitation
with pleasure, even though he was to dine in a stable, and sat down on
the straw beside Jack.
'The dinner of an emperor!' cried Jack. But not even a morsel of
cheese made its appearance.
'The dinner of an emperor!' shouted Jack in a voice of thunder. Then
the truth dawned upon him; and, crushing the table between his hands,
he turned to the chamberlain, who, bewildered and half-frightened, was
wondering how to get away.
'Tell your false king that to-morrow I will destroy his castle as
easily as I have broken this table.'
The chamberlain hastened back to the palace, and gave the king Jack's
message, at which he laughed more than before, and called all his
courtiers to hear the story. But they were not quite so merry when
they woke next morning and beheld ten thousand horsemen, and as many
archers, surrounding the palace. The king saw it was useless to hold
out, and he took the white flag of truce in one hand, and the real
table in the other, and set out to look for Jack.
'I committed a crime,' said he; 'but I will do my best to make up for
it. Here is your table, which I own with shame that I tried to steal,
and you shall have besides, my daughter as your wife!'
* * * * *
There was no need to delay the marriage when the table was able to
furnish the most splendid banquet that ever was seen, and after
everyone had eaten and drunk as much as they wanted, Jack took his bag
and commanded a castle filled with all sorts of treasures to arise in
the park for himself and his bride.
At this proof of his power the king's heart died within him.
'Your magic is greater than mine,' he said; 'and you are young and
strong, while I am old and tired. Take, therefore, the sceptre from my
hand, and my crown from my head, and rule my people better than I have
done.'
So at last Jack's ambition was satisfied. He could not hope to be more
than a king, and as long as he had his cornet to provide him with
soldiers he was secure against his enemies. He never forgave his
brothers for the way they had treated him, though he presented his
mother with a beautiful castle, and everything she could possibly wish
for. In the centre of his own palace was a treasure chamber, and in
this chamber the table, the cornet, and the bag were kept as the most
prized of all his possessions, and not a week passed without a visit
from king John to make sure they were safe. He reigned long and well,
and died a very old man, beloved by his people. But his good example
was not followed by his sons and his grandsons. They grew so proud
that they were ashamed to think that the founder of their race had
once been a poor boy; and as they and all the world could not fail to
remember it, as long as the table, the cornet, and the bag were shown
in the treasure chamber, one king, more foolish than the rest, thrust
them into a dark and damp cellar.
For some time the kingdom remained, though it became weaker and weaker
every year that passed. Then, one day, a rumour reached the king that
a large army was marching against him. Vaguely he recollected some
tales he had heard about a magic cornet which could provide as many
soldiers as would serve to conquer the earth, and which had been
removed by his grandfather to a cellar. Thither he hastened that he
might renew his power once more, and in that black and slimy spot he
found the treasures indeed. But the table fell to pieces as he touched
it, in the cornet there remained only a few fragments of leathern
belts which the rats had gnawed, and in the bag nothing but broken
bits of stone.
And the king bowed his head to the doom that awaited him, and in his
heart cursed the ruin wrought by the pride and foolishness of himself
and his forefathers.
(From _Contes Populaires Slaves_, par Louis Leger.)
_THE ROVER OF THE PLAIN_
A long way off, near the sea coast of the east of Africa, there dwelt,
once upon a time, a man and his wife. They had two children, a son and
a daughter, whom they loved very much, and, like parents in other
countries, they often talked of the fine marriages the young people
would make some day. Out there both boys and girls marry early, and
very soon, it seemed to the mother, a message was sent by a rich man
on the other side of the great hills offering a fat herd of oxen in
exchange for the daughter. Everyone in the house and in the village
rejoiced, and the maiden was despatched to her new home. When all was
quiet again the father said to his son:
'Now that we own such a splendid troop of oxen you had better hasten
and get yourself a wife, lest some illness should overtake them.
Already we have seen in the villages round about one or two damsels
whose parents would gladly part with them for less than half the herd.
Therefore tell us which you like best, and we will buy her for you.'
But the son answered:
'Not so; the maidens I have seen do not please me. If, indeed, I must
marry, let me travel and find a wife for myself.'
'It shall be as you wish,' said his parents; 'but if by-and-by trouble
should come of it, it will be your fault and not ours.'
The youth, however, would not listen; and bidding his father and
mother farewell, set out on his search. Far, far away he wandered,
over mountains and across rivers, till he reached a village where the
people were quite different to those of his own race. As he glanced
about him he noticed that the girls were fair to look upon, as they
pounded maize or stewed something that smelt very nice in earthen
pots--especially if you were hot and tired; and when one of the
maidens turned round and offered the stranger some dinner, he made up
his mind that he would wed her and nobody else.
So he sent a message to her parents asking their leave to take her for
his wife, and they came next day to bring their answer.
'We will give you our daughter,' said they, 'if you can pay a good
price for her. Never was there so hard-working a girl; and how we
shall do without her we cannot tell! Still no doubt your father and
mother will come themselves and bring the dowry?'
'No; I have the dowry with me,' replied the young man; laying down a
handful of gold pieces. 'Here it is--take it.'
The old couple's eyes glittered greedily; but custom forbade them to
touch the dowry before all was arranged.
'At least,' said they, after a moment's pause, 'we may expect them to
fetch your wife to her new home?'
'No; they are not used to travelling,' answered the bridegroom. 'Let
the ceremony be performed without delay, and we will set forth at
once. It is a long journey.'
Then the parents called in the girl, who was lying in the sun outside
the hut, and, in the presence of all the village, a goat was killed,
the sacred dance took place, and a blessing was said over the heads of
the young people. After that the bride was led aside by her father,
whose duty it was to bestow on her some parting advice as to her
conduct in her married life.
'Be good to your husband's parents,' added he, 'and always do the will
of your husband.' And the girl nodded her head obediently. Next it
was the mother's turn; and, as was the custom of the tribe, she spoke
to her daughter:
'Will you choose which of your sisters shall go with you to cut your
wood and carry your water?'
'I do not want any of them,' answered she; 'they are no use. They will
drop the wood and spill the water.'
'Then will you have any of the other children? There are enough and to
spare,' asked the mother again. But the bride said quickly:
'I will have none of them! You must give me our buffalo, the Rover of
the Plain; he alone shall serve me.'
'What folly you talk!' cried the parents. 'Give you our buffalo, the
Rover of the Plain? Why, you know that our life depends on him. Here
he is well fed and lies on soft grass; but how can you tell what will
befall him in another country? The food may be bad, he will die of
hunger; and, if he dies we die also.'
'No, no,' said the bride; 'I can look after him as well as you. Get
him ready, for the sun is sinking and it is time we set forth.'
So she went away and put together a small pot filled with healing
herbs, a horn that she used in tending sick people, a little knife,
and a calabash containing deer fat; and, hiding these about her, took
leave of her father and mother and started across the mountains by the
side of her husband.
But the young man did not see the buffalo that followed them, which
had left his home to be the servant of his wife.
No one ever knew how the news spread to the kraal that the young man
was coming back, bringing a wife with him; but, somehow or other, when
the two entered the village, every man and woman was standing in the
road uttering shouts of welcome.
'Ah, you are not dead after all,' cried they; 'and have found a wife
to your liking, though you would have none of our girls. Well, well,
you have chosen your own path; and if ill comes of it beware lest you
grumble.'
Next day the husband took his wife to the fields and showed her which
were his, and which belonged to his mother. The girl listened
carefully to all he told her, and walked with him back to the hut; but
close to the door she stopped, and said:
'I have dropped my necklace of beads in the field, and I must go back
and look for it.' But in truth she had done nothing of the sort, and
it was only an excuse to go and seek the buffalo.
[Illustration: THE ROVER OF THE PLAIN DOES THE GIRL'S WORK]
The beast was crouching under a tree when she came up, and snorted
with pleasure at the sight of her.
'You can roam about this field, and this, and this,' she said, 'for
they belong to my husband; and that is his wood, where you may hide
yourself. But the other fields are his mother's, so beware lest you
touch them.'
'I will beware,' answered the buffalo; and, patting his head, the girl
left him.
Oh, how much better a servant he was than any of the little girls the
bride had refused to bring with her! If she wanted water, she had only
to cross the patch of maize behind the hut and seek out the place
where the buffalo lay hidden, and put down her pail beside him. Then
she would sit at her ease while he went to the lake and brought the
bucket back brimming over. If she wanted wood, he would break the
branches off the trees and lay them at her feet. And the villagers
watched her return laden, and said to each other:
'Surely the girls of her country are stronger than our girls, for none
of _them_ could cut so quickly or carry so much!' But then, nobody
knew that she had a buffalo for a servant.
Only, all this time she never gave the poor buffalo anything to eat,
because she had just one dish, out of which she and her husband ate;
while in her old home there was a dish put aside expressly for the
Rover of the Plain. The buffalo bore it as long as he could; but, one
day, when his mistress bade him go to the lake and fetch water, his
knees almost gave way from hunger. He kept silence, however, till the
evening, when he said to his mistress:
'I am nearly starved; I have not touched food since I came here. I can
work no more.'
'Alas!' answered she, 'what can I do? I have only one dish in the
house. You will have to steal some beans from the fields. Take a few
here and a few there; but be sure not to take too many from one place,
or the owner may notice it.'
Now the buffalo had always lived an honest life, but if his mistress
did not feed him, he must get it for himself. So that night, when all
the village was asleep, he came out from the wood and ate a few beans
here and a few there, as his mistress had bidden him. And when at last
his hunger was satisfied, he crept back to his lair. But a buffalo is
not a fairy, and the next morning, when the women arrived to work in
the fields, they stood still with astonishment, and said to each
other:
'Just look at this; a savage beast has been destroying our crops, and
we can see traces of his feet!' And they hurried to their homes to
tell their tale.
In the evening the girl crept out to the buffalo's hiding-place, and
said to him:
'They perceived what happened, of course; so to-night you had better
seek your supper further off.' And the buffalo nodded his head and
followed her counsel; but in the morning, when these women also went
out to work, the traces of hoofs were plainly to be seen, and they
hastened to tell their husbands, and begged them to bring their guns,
and to watch for the robber.
It happened that the stranger girl's husband was the best marksman in
all the village, and he hid himself behind the trunk of a tree and
waited.
The buffalo, thinking that they would probably make a search for him
in the fields he had laid waste the evening before, returned to the
bean patch belonging to his mistress.
The young man saw him coming with amazement.
'Why, it is a buffalo!' cried he; 'I never have beheld one in this
country before!' And raising his gun, he aimed just behind the ear.
The buffalo gave a leap into the air, and then fell dead.
'It was a good shot,' said the young man. And he ran to the village to
tell them that the thief was punished.
When he entered his hut he found his wife, who had somehow heard the
news, twisting herself to and fro and shedding tears.
'Are you ill?' asked he. And she answered: 'Yes; I have pains all
over my body.' But she was not ill at all, only very unhappy at the
death of the buffalo which had served her so well. Her husband felt
anxious, and sent for the medicine man; but though she pretended to
listen to him, she threw all his medicine out of the door directly he
had gone away.
With the first rays of light the whole village was awake, and the
women set forth armed with baskets and the men with knives in order to
cut up the buffalo. Only the girl remained in her hut; and after a
while she too went to join them, groaning and weeping as she walked
along.
'What are you doing here?' asked her husband when he saw her. 'If you
are ill you are better at home.'
'Oh! I could not stay alone in the village,' said she. And her
mother-in-law left off her work to come and scold her, and to tell her
that she would kill herself if she did such foolish things. But the
girl would not listen and sat down and looked on.
When they had divided the buffalo's flesh, and each woman had the
family portion in her basket, the stranger wife got up and said:
'Let me have the head.'
'You could never carry anything so heavy,' answered the men, 'and now
you are ill besides.'
'You do not know how strong I am,' answered she. And at last they gave
it her.
She did not walk to the village with the others, but lingered behind,
and, instead of entering her hut, she slipped into the little shed
where the pots for cooking and storing maize were kept. Then she laid
down the buffalo's head and sat beside it. Her husband came to seek
her, and begged her to leave the shed and go to bed, as she must be
tired out; but the girl would not stir, neither would she attend to
the words of her mother-in-law.
'I wish you would leave me alone!' she answered crossly. 'It is
impossible to sleep if somebody is always coming in.' And she turned
her back on them, and would not even eat the food they had brought. So
they went away, and the young man soon stretched himself out on his
mat; but his wife's odd conduct made him anxious, and he lay awake all
night, listening.
[Illustration: LAST OF ALL SHE SANG IN A LOW VOICE A DIRGE OVER THE
ROVER OF THE PLAIN]
When all was still the girl made a fire and boiled some water in a
pot. As soon as it was quite hot she shook in the medicine that she
had brought from home, and then, taking the buffalo's head, she made
incisions with her little knife behind the ear, and close to the
temple where the shot had struck him. Next she applied the horn to the
spot and blew with all her force till, at length, the blood began to
move. After that she spread some of the deer fat out of the calabash
over the wound, which she held in the steam of the hot water. Last of
all, she sang in a low voice a dirge over the Rover of the Plain.
As she chanted the final words the head moved, and the limbs came
back. The buffalo began to feel alive again and shook his horns, and
stood up and stretched himself. Unluckily it was just at this moment
that the husband said to himself:
'I wonder if she is crying still, and what is the matter with her!
Perhaps I had better go and see.' And he got up and, calling her by
name, went out to the shed.
'Go away! I don't want you!' she cried angrily. But it was too late.
The buffalo had fallen to the ground, dead, and with the wound in his
head as before.
The young man who, unlike most of his tribe, was afraid of his wife,
returned to his bed without having seen anything, but wondering very
much what she could be doing all this time. After waiting a few
minutes, she began her task over again, and at the end the buffalo
stood on his feet as before. But just as the girl was rejoicing that
her work was completed, in came the husband once more to see what his
wife was doing; and this time he sat himself down in the hut, and said
that he wished to watch whatever was going on. Then the girl took up
the pitcher and all her other things and left the shed, trying for the
third time to bring the buffalo back to life.
She was too late; the dawn was already breaking, and the head fell to
the ground, dead and corrupt as it was before.
The girl entered the hut, where her husband and his mother were
getting ready to go out.
'I want to go down to the lake, and bathe,' said she.
'But you could never walk so far,' answered they. 'You are so tired,
as it is, that you can hardly stand!'
However, in spite of their warnings, the girl left the hut in the
direction of the lake. Very soon she came back weeping, and sobbed
out:
'I met some one in the village who lives in my country, and he told me
that my mother is very, very ill, and if I do not go to her at once
she will be dead before I arrive. I will return as soon as I can, and
now farewell.' And she set forth in the direction of the mountains.
But this story was not true; she knew nothing about her mother, only
she wanted an excuse to go home and tell her family that their
prophecies had come true, and that the buffalo was dead.
Balancing her basket on her head, she walked along, and directly she
had left the village behind her she broke out into the song of the
Rover of the Plain, and at last, at the end of the day, she came to
the group of huts where her parents lived. Her friends all ran to meet
her, and, weeping, she told them that the buffalo was dead.
This sad news spread like lightning through the country, and the
people flocked from far and near to bewail the loss of the beast who
had been their pride.
'If you only had listened to _us_,' they cried, 'he would be alive
now. But you refused all the little girls we offered you, and would
have nothing but the buffalo. And remember what the medicine-man said:
"If the buffalo dies you die also!"'
So they bewailed their fate, one to the other, and for a while they
did not perceive that the girl's husband was sitting in their midst,
leaning his gun against a tree. Then one man, turning, beheld him, and
bowed mockingly.
'Hail, murderer! hail! you have slain us all!'
The young man stared, not knowing what he meant, and answered,
wonderingly:
'I shot a buffalo; is that why you call me a murderer?'
'A buffalo--yes; but the servant of your wife! It was he who carried
the wood and drew the water. Did you not know it?'
'No; I did not know it,' replied the husband in surprise. 'Why did no
one tell me? Of course I should not have shot him!'
'Well, he is dead,' answered they, 'and we must die too.'
At this the girl took a cup in which some poisonous herbs had been
crushed, and holding it in her hands, she wailed: 'O my father, Rover
of the Plain!' Then drinking a deep draught from it, fell back dead.
One by one her parents, her brothers and her sisters, drank also and
died, singing a dirge to the memory of the buffalo.
The girl's husband looked on with horror; and returned sadly home
across the mountains, and, entering his hut, threw himself on the
ground. At first he was too tired to speak; but at length he raised
his head and told all the story to his father and mother, who sat
watching him. When he had finished they shook their heads and said:
'Now you see that we spoke no idle words when we told you that ill
would come of your marriage! We offered you a good and hard-working
wife, and you would have none of her. And it is not only your wife you
have lost, but your fortune also. For who will give you back your
dowry if they are all dead?'
'It is true, O my father,' answered the young man. But in his heart he
thought more of the loss of his wife than of the money he had given
for her.
(From _L'Etude Ethnographique sur Les Baronga_, par Henri Junod.)
_THE WHITE DOE_
Once upon a time there lived a king and queen who loved each other
dearly, and would have been perfectly happy if they had only had a
little son or daughter to play with. They never talked about it, and
always pretended that there was nothing in the world to wish for; but,
sometimes, when they looked at other people's children, their faces
grew sad, and their courtiers and attendants knew the reason why.
One day the queen was sitting alone by the side of a waterfall which
sprung from some rocks in the large park adjoining the castle. She was
feeling more than usually miserable, and had sent away her ladies so
that no one might witness her grief. Suddenly she heard a rustling
movement in the pool below the waterfall, and, on glancing up, she saw
a large crab climbing on to a stone beside her.
'Great queen,' said the crab, 'I am here to tell you that the desire
of your heart will soon be granted. But first you must permit me to
lead you to the palace of the fairies, which, though hard by, has
never been seen by mortal eyes because of the thick clouds that
surround it. When there you will know more; that is, if you will
trust, yourself to me.'
The queen had never before heard an animal speak and was struck dumb
with surprise. However, she was so enchanted at the words of the crab
that she smiled sweetly and held out her hand; it was taken, not by
the crab, which had stood there only a moment before, but by a little
old woman smartly dressed in white and crimson with green ribbons in
her grey hair. And, wonderful to say, not a drop of water fell from
her clothes.
The old woman ran lightly down a path along which the queen had been a
hundred times before, but it seemed so different she could hardly
believe it was the same. Instead of having to push her way through
nettles and brambles, roses and jasmine hung about her head, while
under her feet the ground was sweet with violets. The orange trees
were so tall and thick that, even at midday, the sun was never too
hot, and at the end of the path was a glimmer of something so dazzling
that the queen had to shade her eyes, and peep at it only between her
fingers.
'What can it be?' she asked, turning to her guide; who answered:
'Oh, that is the fairies' palace, and here are some of them coming to
meet us.'
As she spoke the gates swung back and six fairies approached, each
bearing in her hand a flower made of precious stones, but so like a
real one that it was only by touching you could tell the difference.
'Madam,' they said, 'we know not how to thank you for this mark of
your confidence, but have the happiness to tell you that in a short
time you will have a little daughter.'
The queen was so enchanted at this news that she nearly fainted with
joy; but when she was able to speak, she poured out all her gratitude
to the fairies for their promised gift.
'And now,' she said, 'I ought not to stay any longer, for my husband
will think that I have run away, or that some evil beast has devoured
me.'
* * * * *
In a little while it happened just as the fairies had foretold, and a
baby girl was born in the palace. Of course both the king and queen
were delighted, and the child was called Desiree, which means
'desired,' for she had been 'desired' for five long years before her
birth.
[Illustration: THE QUEEN & THE CRAB]
At first the queen could think of nothing but her new plaything, but
then she remembered the fairies who had sent it to her. Bidding her
ladies bring her the posy of jewelled flowers which had been given her
at the palace, she took each flower in her hand and called it by name,
and, in turn, each fairy appeared before her. But, as unluckily often
happens, the one to whom she owed most, the crab-fairy, was forgotten,
and by this, as in the case of other babies you have read about, much
mischief was wrought.
However, for the moment all was gaiety in the palace, and everybody
inside ran to the windows to watch the fairies' carriages, for no two
were alike. One had a car of ebony, drawn by white pigeons, another
was lying back in her ivory chariot, driving ten black crows, while
the rest had chosen rare woods or many-coloured sea-shells, with
scarlet and blue macaws, long-tailed peacocks, or green love-birds for
horses. These carriages were only used on occasions of state, for when
they went to war flying dragons, fiery serpents, lions or leopards,
took the place of the beautiful birds.
The fairies entered the queen's chamber followed by little dwarfs who
carried their presents and looked much prouder than their mistresses.
One by one their burdens were spread upon the ground, and no one had
ever seen such lovely things. Everything a baby could possibly wear or
play with was there, and, besides, they had other and more precious
gifts to give her, which only children who have fairies for godmothers
can ever hope to possess.
They were all gathered round the heap of pink cushions on which the
baby lay asleep, when a shadow seemed to fall between them and the
sun, while a cold wind blew through the room. Everybody looked up, and
there was the crab-fairy, who had grown as tall as the ceiling in her
anger.
'So I am forgotten!' cried she, in a voice so loud that the queen
trembled as she heard it. 'Who was it soothed you in your trouble? Who
was it led you to the fairies? Who was it brought you back in safety
to your home again? Yet I--I--am overlooked, while _these_ who have
done nothing in comparison, are petted and thanked.'
The queen, almost dumb with terror, in vain tried to think of some
explanation or apology; but there was none, and she could only confess
her fault and implore forgiveness. The fairies also did their best to
soften the wrath of their sister, and knowing that, like many plain
people, who are _not_ fairies, she was very vain, they entreated her
to drop her crab's disguise, and to become once more the charming
person they were accustomed to see.
For some time the enraged fairy would listen to nothing; but at length
the flatteries began to take effect. The crab's shell fell from her,
she shrank into her usual size, and lost some of her fierce
expression.
'Well,' she said, 'I will not cause the princess' death, as I had
meant to do, but at the same time she will have to bear the punishment
of her mother's fault, as many other children have done before her.
The sentence I pass upon her is, that if she is allowed to see one ray
of daylight before her fifteenth birthday she will rue it bitterly,
and it may perhaps cost her her life.' And with these words she
vanished by the window through which she came, while the fairies
comforted the weeping queen and took counsel how best the princess
might be kept safe during her childhood.
[Illustration: THE UNINVITED FAIRY]
At the end of half an hour they had made up their minds what to do,
and at the command of the fairies, a beautiful palace sprung up, close
to that of the king and queen, but different from every other palace
in the world, in having no windows, and only a door right under the
earth. However, once within, daylight was hardly missed, so
brilliant were the multitudes of tapers that were burning on the
walls.
Now up to this time the princess's history has been like the history
of many a princess that you have read about; but, when the period of
her imprisonment was nearly over, her fortunes took another turn. For
almost fifteen years the fairies had taken care of her, and amused her
and taught her, so that when she came into the world she might be no
whit behind the daughters of other kings in all that makes a princess
charming and accomplished. They all loved her dearly, but the fairy
Tulip loved her most of all; and as the princess's fifteenth birthday
drew near, the fairy began to tremble lest something terrible should
happen--some accident which had not been foreseen. 'Do not let her out
of your sight,' said Tulip to the queen, 'and meanwhile, let her
portrait be painted and carried to the neighbouring Courts, as is the
custom, in order that the kings may see how far her beauty exceeds
that of every other princess, and that they may demand her in marriage
for their sons.'
And so it was done; and as the fairy had prophesied, all the young
princes fell in love with the picture; but the last one to whom it was
shown could think of nothing else, and refused to let it be removed
from his chamber, where he spent whole days gazing at it.
The king his father was much surprised at the change which had come
over his son, who generally passed all his time in hunting or hawking,
and his anxiety was increased by a conversation he overheard between
two of his courtiers that they feared the prince must be going out of
his mind, so moody had he become. Without losing a moment the king
went to visit his son, and no sooner had he entered the room than the
young man flung himself at his father's feet.
'You have betrothed me already to a bride I can never love!' cried he;
'but if you will not consent to break off the match, and ask for the
hand of the princess Desiree, I shall die of misery, thankful to be
alive no longer.'
These words much displeased the king, who felt that, in breaking off
the marriage already arranged, he would almost certainly be bringing
on his subjects a long and bloody war; so, without answering, he
turned away, hoping that a few days might bring his son to reason. But
the prince's condition grew rapidly so much worse that the king, in
despair, promised to send an embassy at once to Desiree's father.
This news cured the young man in an instant of all his ills; and he
began to plan out every detail of dress and of horses and carriages
which were necessary to make the train of the envoy, whose name was
Becasigue, as splendid as possible. He longed to form part of the
embassy himself, if only in the disguise of a page; but this the king
would not allow, and so the prince had to content himself with
searching the kingdom for everything that was rare and beautiful to
send to the princess. Indeed, he arrived, just as the embassy was
starting, with his portrait, which had been painted in secret by the
court painter.
The king and queen wished for nothing better than that their daughter
should marry into such a great and powerful family, and received the
ambassador with every sign of welcome. They even wished him to see the
princess Desiree, but this was prevented by the fairy Tulip, who
feared some ill might come of it.
'And be sure you tell him,' added she, 'that the marriage cannot be
celebrated till she is fifteen years old, or else some terrible
misfortune will happen to the child.'
So when Becasigue, surrounded by his train, made a formal request that
the princess Desiree might be given in marriage to his master's son,
the king replied that he was much honoured, and would gladly give his
consent; but that no one could even see the princess till her
fifteenth birthday, as the spell laid upon her in her cradle by a
spiteful fairy, would not cease to work till that was past. The
ambassador was greatly surprised and disappointed, but he knew too
much about fairies to venture to disobey them, therefore he had to
content himself with presenting the prince's portrait to the queen,
who lost no time in carrying it to the princess. As the girl took it
in her hands it suddenly spoke, as it had been taught to do, and
uttered a compliment of the most delicate and charming sort, which
made the princess flush with pleasure.
'How would you like to have a husband like that?' asked the queen,
laughing.
'As if I knew anything about husbands!' replied Desiree, who had long
ago guessed the business of the ambassador.
'Well, he will be your husband in three months,' answered the queen,
ordering the prince's presents to be brought in. The princess was very
pleased with them, and admired them greatly, but the queen noticed
that all the while her eyes constantly strayed from the softest silks
and most brilliant jewels to the portrait of the prince.
The ambassador, finding that there was no hope of his being allowed to
see the princess, took his leave, and returned to his own court; but
here a new difficulty appeared. The prince, though transported with
joy at the thought that Desiree was indeed to be his bride, was
bitterly disappointed that she had not been allowed to return with
Becasigue, as he had foolishly expected; and never having been taught
to deny himself anything or to control his feelings, he fell as ill as
he had done before. He would eat nothing nor take pleasure in
anything, but lay all day on a heap of cushions, gazing at the picture
of the princess.
'If I have to wait three months before I can marry the princess I
shall die!' was all this spoilt boy would say; and at length the
king, in despair, resolved to send a fresh embassy to Desiree's father
to implore him to permit the marriage to be celebrated at once. 'I
would have presented my prayer in person,' he added in his letter,
'but my great age and infirmities do not suffer me to travel; however
my envoy has orders to agree to any arrangement that you may propose.'
On his arrival at the palace Becasigue pleaded his young master's
cause as fervently as the king his father could have done, and
entreated that the princess might be consulted in the matter. The
queen hastened to the marble tower, and told her daughter of the sad
state of the prince. Desiree sank down fainting at the news, but soon
came to herself again, and set about inventing a plan which would
enable her to go to the prince without risking the doom pronounced
over her by the wicked fairy.
'I see!' she exclaimed joyfully at last. 'Let a carriage be built
through which no light can come, and let it be brought into my room. I
will then get into it, and we can travel swiftly during the night and
arrive before dawn at the palace of the prince. Once there, I can
remain in some underground chamber, where no light can come.'
'Ah, how clever you are,' cried the queen, clasping her in her arms.
And she hurried away to tell the king.
'What a wife our prince will have!' said Becasigue bowing low; 'but I
must hasten back with the tidings, and to prepare the underground
chamber for the princess.' And so he took his leave.
In a few days the carriage commanded by the princess was ready. It was
of green velvet, scattered over with large golden thistles, and lined
inside with silver brocade embroidered with pink roses. It had no
windows, of course; but the fairy Tulip, whose counsel had been asked,
had managed to light it up with a soft glow that came no one knew
whither.
It was carried straight up into the great hall of the tower, and the
princess stepped into it, followed by her faithful maid of honour,
Eglantine, and by her lady in waiting Cerisette, who also had fallen
in love with the prince's portrait and was bitterly jealous of her
mistress. The fourth place in the carriage was filled by Cerisette's
mother, who had been sent by the queen to look after the three young
people.
* * * * *
Now the Fairy of the Fountain was the godmother of the princess Nera,
to whom the prince had been betrothed before the picture of Desiree
had made him faithless. She was very angry at the slight put upon her
godchild, and from that moment kept careful watch on the princess. In
this journey she saw her chance, and it was she who, invisible, sat by
Cerisette, and put bad thoughts into the minds of both her and her
mother.
The way to the city where the prince lived ran for the most part
through a thick forest, and every night when there was no moon, and
not a single star could be seen through the trees, the guards who
travelled with the princess opened the carriage to give it an airing.
This went on for several days, till only twelve hours journey lay
between them and the palace. Then Cerisette persuaded her mother to
cut a great hole in the side of the carriage with a sharp knife which
she herself had brought for the purpose. In the forest the darkness
was so intense that no one perceived what she had done, but when they
left the last trees behind them, and emerged into the open country,
the sun was up, and for the first time since her babyhood, Desiree
found herself in the light of day.
She looked up in surprise at the dazzling brilliance that streamed
through the hole; then gave a sigh which seemed to come from her
heart. The carriage door swung back, as if by magic, and a white doe
sprung out, and in a moment was lost to sight in the forest. But,
quick as she was, Eglantine, her maid of honour, had time to see where
she went, and jumped from the carriage in pursuit of her, followed at
a distance by the guards.
Cerisette and her mother looked at each other in surprise and joy.
They could hardly believe in their good fortune, for everything had
happened exactly as they wished. The first thing to be done was to
conceal the hole which had been cut, and when this was managed (with
the help of the angry fairy, though they did not know it), Cerisette
hastened to take off her own clothes, and put on those of the
princess, placing the crown of diamonds on her head. She found this
heavier than she expected; but then, she had never been accustomed to
wear crowns, which makes all the difference.
At the gates of the city the carriage was stopped by a guard of honour
sent by the king as an escort to his son's bride. Though Cerisette and
her mother could of course see nothing of what was going on outside,
they heard plainly the shouts of welcome from the crowds along the
streets.
The carriage stopped at length in the vast hall which Becasigue had
prepared for the reception of the princess. The grand chamberlain and
the lord high steward were awaiting her, and when the false bride
stepped into the brilliantly lighted room, they bowed low, and said
they had orders to inform his highness the moment she arrived. The
prince, whom the strict etiquette of the court had prevented from
being present in the underground hall, was burning with impatience in
his own apartments.
'So she has come!' cried he, throwing down the bow he had been
pretending to mend. 'Well, was I not right? Is she not a miracle of
beauty and grace? And has she her equal in the whole world?' The
ministers looked at each other, and made no reply; till at length the
chamberlain, who was the bolder of the two, observed:
'My lord, as to her beauty, you can judge of that for yourself. No
doubt it is as great as you say; but at present it seems to have
suffered, as is natural, from the fatigues of the journey.'
This was certainly not what the prince expected to hear. Could the
portrait have flattered her? He had known of such things before, and a
cold shiver ran through him; but with an effort he kept silent from
further questioning, and only said:
'Has the king been told that the princess is in the palace?'
'Yes, your highness; and he has probably already joined her.'
'Then I will go too,' said the prince.
Weak as he was from his long illness, the prince descended the
staircase, supported by the ministers, and entered the room just in
time to hear his father's loud cry of astonishment and disgust at the
sight of Cerisette.
'There has been treachery at work,' he exclaimed, while the prince
leant, dumb with horror, against the doorpost. But the lady in
waiting, who had been prepared for something of the sort, advanced,
holding in her hand the letters which the king and queen had entrusted
to her.
'This is the princess Desiree,' said she, pretending to have heard
nothing, 'and I have the honour to present to you these letters from
my liege lord and lady, together with the casket containing the
princess' jewels.'
The king did not move or answer her; so the prince, leaning on the arm
of Becasigue, approached a little closer to the false princess, hoping
against hope that his eyes had deceived him. But the longer he looked
the more he agreed with his father that there was some treason
somewhere, for in no single respect did the portrait resemble the
woman before him. Cerisette was so tall that the dress of the princess
did not reach her ankles, and so thin that her bones showed through
the stuff. Besides that her nose was hooked, and her teeth black and
ugly.
In his turn, the prince stood rooted to the spot. At last he spoke,
and his words were addressed to his father and not to the bride who
had come so far to marry him.
'We have been deceived,' he said, 'and it will cost me my life.' And
he leaned so heavily on the envoy that Becasigue feared he was going
to faint, and hastily laid him on the floor. For some minutes no one
could attend to anybody but the prince; but as soon as he revived the
lady in waiting made herself heard.
'Oh, my lovely princess, why did we ever leave home?' cried she. 'But
the king your father will avenge the insults that have been heaped on
you when we tell him how you have been treated.'
'I will tell him myself,' replied the king in wrath; 'he promised me a
wonder of beauty, he has sent me a skeleton! I am not surprised that
he has kept her for fifteen years hidden from the eyes of the world.
Take them both away,' he continued, turning to his guards, 'and lodge
them in the state prison. There is something more I have to learn of
this matter.'
His orders were obeyed, and the prince, loudly bewailing his sad fate,
was led back to his bed, where for many days he lay in a high fever.
At length he slowly began to gain strength, but his sorrow was still
so great that he could not bear the sight of a strange face, and
shuddered at the notion of taking his proper part in the court
ceremonies. Unknown to the king, or to anybody but Becasigue, he
planned that, as soon as he was able, he would make his escape and
pass the rest of his life in some solitary place. It was some weeks
before he had regained his health sufficiently to carry out his
design; but finally, one beautiful starlight night, the two friends
stole away, and when the king woke next morning he found a letter
lying by his bed, saying that his son had gone, he knew not whither.
He wept bitter tears at the news, for he loved the prince dearly; but
he felt that perhaps the young man had done wisely, and he trusted to
time and Becasigue's influence to bring the wanderer home.
And while these things were happening, what had become of the white
doe? Though when she sprang from the carriage she was aware that some
unkind fate had changed her into an animal, yet, till she saw herself
in a stream, she had no idea what it was.
'Is it really, I, Desiree?' she said to herself, weeping. 'What wicked
fairy can have treated me so; and shall I never, never take my own
shape again? My only comfort that, in this great forest, full of lions
and serpents, my life will be a short one.'
Now the fairy Tulip was as much grieved at the sad fate of the
princess as Desiree's own mother could have been if she had known of
it. Still, she could not help feeling that if the king and queen had
listened to her advice the girl would by this time be safely in the
walls of her new home. However, she loved Desiree too much to let her
suffer more than could be helped, and it was she who guided Eglantine
to the place where the white doe was standing, cropping the grass
which was her dinner.
At the sound of footsteps the pretty creature lifted her head, and
when she saw her faithful companion approaching she bounded towards
her, and rubbed her head on Eglantine's shoulder. The maid of honour
was surprised; but she was fond of animals, and stroked the white doe
tenderly, speaking gently to her all the while. Suddenly the beautiful
creature lifted her head, and looked up into Eglantine's face, with
tears streaming from her eyes. A thought flashed through her mind, and
quick as lightning the girl flung herself on her knees, and lifting
the animal's feet kissed them one by one. 'My princess! O my dear
princess!' cried she; and again the white doe rubbed her head against
her, for though the spiteful fairy had taken away her power of
speech, she had not deprived her of her reason!
All day long the two remained together, and when Eglantine grew hungry
she was led by the white doe to a part of the forest where pears and
peaches grew in abundance; but, as night came on, the maid of honour
was filled with the terrors of wild beasts which had beset the
princess during her first night in the forest.
'Is there no hut or cave we could go into?' asked she. But the doe
only shook her head; and the two sat down and wept with fright.
The fairy Tulip who, in spite of her anger, was very softhearted, was
touched at their distress, and flew quickly to their help.
'I cannot take away the spell altogether,' she said, 'for the Fairy of
the Fountain is stronger than I; but I can shorten the time of your
punishment, and am able to make it less hard, for as soon as darkness
falls you shall resume your own shape.'
To think that by-and-by she would cease to be a white doe--indeed,
that she would at once cease to be one during the night--was for the
present joy enough for Desiree, and she skipped about on the grass in
the prettiest manner.
'Go straight down the path in front of you,' continued the fairy,
smiling as she watched her; 'go straight down the path and you will
soon reach a little hut where you will find shelter.' And with these
words she vanished, leaving her hearers happier than they ever thought
they could be again.
An old woman was standing at the door of the hut when Eglantine drew
near, with the white doe trotting by her side.
'Good evening!' she said; 'could you give me a night's lodging for
myself and my doe?'
'Certainly I can,' replied the old woman. And she led them into a room
with two little white beds, so clean and comfortable that it made you
sleepy even to look at them.
The door had hardly closed behind the old woman when the sun sank
below the horizon, and Desiree became a girl again.
'Oh, Eglantine! what should I have done if you had not followed me,'
she cried. And she flung herself into her friend's arms in a transport
of delight.
Early in the morning Eglantine was awakened by the sound of someone
scratching at the door, and on opening her eyes she saw the white doe
struggling to get out. The little creature looked up and into her
face, and nodded her head as the maid of honour unfastened the latch,
but bounded away into the woods, and was lost to sight in a moment.
* * * * *
Meanwhile, the prince and Becasigue were wandering through the wood,
till at last the prince grew so tired, that he lay down under a tree,
and told Becasigue that he had better go in search of food, and of
some place where they could sleep. Becasigue had not gone very far,
when a turn of the path brought him face to face with the old woman,
who was feeding her doves before her cottage.
'Could you give me some milk and fruit?' asked he. 'I am very hungry
myself, and, besides, I have left a friend behind me who is still weak
from illness.'
'Certainly I can,' answered the old woman. 'But come and sit down in
my kitchen while I catch the goat and milk it.'
Becasigue was glad enough to do as he was bid, and in a few minutes
the old woman returned with a basket brimming over with oranges and
grapes.
'If your friend has been ill he should not pass the night in the
forest,' said she. 'I have a room in my hut--tiny enough, it is true;
but better than nothing, and to that you are both heartily welcome.'
Becasigue thanked her warmly, and by this time it was almost sunset,
he set out to fetch the prince. It was while he was absent that
Eglantine and the white doe entered the hut, and having, of course, no
idea that in the very next room was the man whose childish impatience
had been the cause of all their troubles.