light he rose, and bidding Becasigue remain where he was, as he wished
to be alone, he strolled out into the forest. He walked on slowly,
just as his fancy led him, till, suddenly, he came to a wide open
space, and in the middle was the white doe quietly eating her
breakfast. She bounded off at the sight of a man, but not before the
prince, who had fastened on his bow without thinking, had let fly
several arrows, which the fairy Tulip took care should do her no harm.
But, quickly as she ran, she soon felt her strength failing her, for
fifteen years of life in a tower had not taught her how to exercise
her limbs.
Luckily, the prince was too weak to follow her far, and a turn of a
path brought her close to the hut, where Eglantine was awaiting her.
Panting for breath, she entered their room, and flung herself down on
the floor.
When it was dark again, and she was once more the princess Desiree,
she told Eglantine what had befallen her.
'I feared the Fairy of the Fountain, and the cruel beasts,' said she;
'but somehow I never thought of the dangers that I ran from men. I do
not know now what saved me.'
'You must stay quietly here till the time of your punishment is over,'
answered Eglantine. But when the morning dawned, and the girl turned
into a doe, the longing for the forest came over her, and she sprang
away as before.
As soon as the prince was awake he hastened to the place where, only
the day before, he had found the white doe feeding; but of course she
had taken care to go in the opposite direction. Much disappointed, he
tried first one green path and then another, and at last, wearied with
walking, he threw himself down and went fast asleep.
[Illustration: FOR A MINUTE THEY LOOKED AT EACH OTHER]
Just at this moment the white doe sprang out of a thicket near by, and
started back trembling when she beheld her enemy lying there. Yet,
instead of turning to fly, something bade her go and look at him
unseen. As she gazed a thrill ran through her, for she felt that, worn
and wasted though he was by illness, it was the face of her destined
husband. Gently stooping over him she kissed his forehead, and at her
touch he awoke.
For a minute they looked at each other, and to his amazement he
recognised the white doe which had escaped him the previous day. But
in an instant the animal was aroused to a sense of her danger, and she
fled with all her strength into the thickest part of the forest. Quick
as lightning the prince was on her track, but this time it was with no
wish to kill or even wound the beautiful creature.
'Pretty doe! pretty doe! stop! I won't hurt you,' cried he, but his
words were carried away by the wind.
At length the doe could run no more, and when the prince reached her,
she was lying stretched out on the grass, waiting for her death blow.
But instead the prince knelt at her side, and stroked her, and bade
her fear nothing, as he would take care of her. So he fetched a little
water from the stream in his horn hunting cup, then, cutting some
branches from the trees, he twisted them into a litter which he
covered with moss, and laid the white doe gently on it.
For a long time they remained thus, but when Desiree saw by the way
that the light struck the trees, that the sun must be near its
setting, she was filled with alarm lest the darkness should fall, and
the prince should behold her in her human shape.
'No, he must not see me for the first time here,' she thought, and
instantly began to plan how to get rid of him. Then she opened her
mouth and let her tongue hang out, as if she were dying of thirst, and
the prince, as she expected, hastened to the stream to get her some
more water.
When he returned, the white doe was gone.
That night Desiree confessed to Eglantine that her pursuer was no
other than the prince, and that far from flattering him, the portrait
had never done him justice.
'Is it not hard to meet him in this shape,' wept she, 'when we both
love each other so much?' But Eglantine comforted her, and reminded
her that in a short time all would be well.
The prince was very angry at the flight of the white doe, for whom he
had taken so much trouble, and returning to the cottage he poured out
his adventures and his wrath to Becasigue, who could not help smiling.
'She shall not escape me again,' cried the prince. 'If I hunt her
every day for a year, I will have her at last.' And in this frame of
mind he went to bed.
* * * * *
When the white doe entered the forest next morning, she had not made
up her mind whether she would go and meet the prince, or whether she
would shun him, and hide in the thickets of which he knew nothing. She
decided that the last plan was the best; and so it would have been if
the prince had not taken the very same direction in search of her.
Quite by accident he caught sight of her white skin shining through
the bushes, and at the same instant she heard a twig snap under his
feet. In a moment she was up and away, but the prince, not knowing how
else to capture her, aimed an arrow at her leg, which brought her to
the ground.
The young man felt like a murderer as he ran hastily up to where the
white doe lay, and did his best to soothe the pain she felt, which, in
reality, was the last part of the punishment sent by the Fairy of the
Fountain. First he brought her some water, and then he fetched some
healing herbs, and having crushed them in his hands, laid them on the
wound.
'Ah! what a wretch I was to have hurt you,' cried he, resting her head
upon his knees; 'and now you will hate me and fly from me for ever!'
For some time the doe lay quietly where she was, but, as before, she
remembered that the hour of her transformation was near. She struggled
to her feet, but the prince would not hear of her walking, and
thinking the old woman might be able to dress her wound better than he
could, he took her in his arms to carry her back to the hut. But,
small as she was, she made herself so heavy that, after staggering a
few steps under her weight, he laid her down, and tied her fast to a
tree with some of the ribbons off his hat. This done he went away to
get help.
Meanwhile Eglantine had grown very uneasy at the long absence of her
mistress, and had come out to look for her. Just as the prince passed
out of sight the fluttering ribbons danced before her eyes, and she
descried her beautiful princess bound to a tree. With all her might
she worked at the knots, but not a single one could she undo, though
all appeared so easy. She was still busy with them when a voice behind
her said:
'Pardon me, fair lady, but it is _my_ doe you are trying to steal!'
'Excuse me, good knight,' answered Eglantine, hardly glancing at him,
'but it is _my_ doe that is tied up here! And if you wish for a proof
of it, you can see if she knows me or not. Touch my heart, my little
one,' she continued, dropping on her knees. And the doe lifted up its
fore-foot and laid it on her side. 'Now put your arms round my neck,
and sigh.' And again the doe did as she was bid.
'You are right,' said the prince; 'but it is with sorrow I give her up
to you, for though I have wounded her yet I love her deeply.'
To this Eglantine answered nothing; but carefully raising up the doe,
she led her slowly to the hut.
Now both the prince and Becasigue were quite unaware that the old
woman had any guests besides themselves, and, following afar, were
much surprised to behold Eglantine and her charge enter the cottage.
They lost no time in questioning the old woman, who replied that she
knew nothing about the lady and her white doe, who slept next the
chamber occupied by the prince and his friend, but that they were very
quiet, and paid her well. Then she went back to her kitchen.
'Do you know,' said Becasigue, when they were alone, 'I am certain
that the lady that we saw is the maid of honour to the Princess
Desiree, whom I met at the palace. And, as her room is next to this,
it will be easy to make a small hole through which I can satisfy
myself whether I am right or not.'
So, taking a knife out of his pocket, he began to saw away the
woodwork. The girls heard the grating noise, but fancying it was a
mouse, paid no attention, and Becasigue was left in peace to pursue
his work. At length the hole was large enough for him to peep through,
and the sight was one to strike him dumb with amazement. He had
guessed truly: the tall lady was Eglantine herself; but the
other--where had he seen her? Ah! now he knew--it was the lady of the
portrait!
Desiree, in a flowing dress of green silk, was lying stretched out
upon cushions, and as Eglantine bent over her to bathe the wounded
leg, she began to talk:
'Oh! let me die!' cried she, 'rather than go on leading this life. You
cannot tell the misery of being a beast all the day, and unable to
speak to the man I love, to whose impatience I owe my cruel fate. Yet,
even so, I cannot bring myself to hate him.'
These words, low though they were spoken, reached Becasigue, who could
hardly believe his ears. He stood silent for a moment; then, crossing
to the window out of which the prince was gazing, he took his arm and
led him across the room. A single glance was sufficient to show the
prince that it was indeed Desiree; and how another had come to the
palace bearing her name, at that instant he neither knew nor cared.
Stealing on tiptoe from the room, he knocked at the next door, which
was opened by Eglantine, who thought it was the old woman bearing
their supper.
She started back at the sight of the prince, whom this time she also
recognised. But he thrust her aside, and flung himself at the feet of
Desiree, to whom he poured out all his heart!
Dawn found them still conversing; and the sun was high in the heavens
before the princess perceived that she retained her human form. Ah!
how happy she was when she knew that the days of her punishment were
over; and with a glad voice she told the prince the tale of her
enchantment.
So the story ended well after all; and the fairy Tulip, who turned out
to be the old woman of the hut, made the young couple such a wedding
feast as had never been seen since the world began. And everybody was
delighted, except Cerisette and her mother, who were put in a boat and
carried to a small island, where they had to work hard for their
living.
(_Contes des Fees_, par Madame d'Aulnoy.)
_THE GIRL-FISH_
Once upon a time there lived, on the bank of a stream, a man and a
woman who had a daughter. As she was an only child, and very pretty
besides, they never could make up their minds to punish her for her
faults or to teach her nice manners; and as for work--she laughed in
her mother's face if she asked her to help cook the dinner or to wash
the plates. All the girl would do was to spend her days in dancing and
playing with her friends; and for any use she was to her parents they
might as well have had no daughter at all.
However, one morning her mother looked so tired that even the selfish
girl could not help seeing it, and asked if there was anything she was
able to do, so that her mother might rest a little.
The good woman looked so surprised and grateful for this offer that
the girl felt rather ashamed, and at that moment would have scrubbed
down the house if she had been requested; but her mother only begged
her to take the fishing-net out to the bank of the river and mend some
holes in it, as her father intended to go fishing that night.
The girl took the net and worked so hard that soon there was not a
hole to be found. She felt quite pleased with herself, though she had
had plenty to amuse her, as everybody who passed by had stopped and
had a chat with her. But by this time the sun was high over head, and
she was just folding her net to carry it home again, when she heard a
splash behind her, and looking round she saw a big fish jump into the
air. Seizing the net with both hands, she flung it into the water
where the circles were spreading one behind the other, and, more by
luck than skill, drew out the fish.
'Well, you are a beauty!' she cried to herself; but the fish looked up
to her and said:
'You had better not kill me, for, if you do, I will turn you into a
fish yourself!'
The girl laughed contemptuously, and ran straight in to her mother.
'Look what I have caught,' she said gaily; 'but it is almost a pity to
eat it, for it can talk, and it declares that, if I kill it, it will
turn me into a fish too.'
'Oh, put it back, put it back!' implored the mother. 'Perhaps it is
skilled in magic. And I should die, and so would your father, if
anything should happen to you.'
'Oh, nonsense, mother; what power could a creature like that have over
me? Besides, I am hungry, and if I don't have my dinner very soon, I
shall be cross.' And off she went to gather some flowers to stick in
her hair.
About an hour later the blowing of a horn told her that dinner was
ready.
'Didn't I say that fish would be delicious?' she cried; and plunging
her spoon into the dish the girl helped herself to a large piece. But
the instant it touched her mouth a cold shiver ran through her. Her
head seemed to flatten, and her eyes to look oddly round the corners;
her legs and her arms were stuck to her sides, and she gasped wildly
for breath. With a mighty bound she sprang through the window and fell
into the river, where she soon felt better, and was able to swim to
the sea, which was close by.
No sooner had she arrived there than the sight of her sad face
attracted the notice of some of the other fishes, and they pressed
round her, begging her to tell them her story.
'I am not a fish at all,' said the new-comer, swallowing a great deal
of salt water as she spoke; for you cannot learn how to be a proper
fish all in a moment. 'I am not a fish at all, but a girl; at least I
was a girl a few minutes ago, only----' And she ducked her head under
the waves so that they should not see her crying.
'Only you did not believe that the fish you caught had power to carry
out its threat,' said an old tunny. 'Well, never mind, that has
happened to all of us, and it really is not a bad life. Cheer up and
come with us and see our queen, who lives in a palace that is much
more beautiful than any _your_ queens can boast of.'
The new fish felt a little afraid of taking such a journey; but as she
was still more afraid of being left alone, she waved her tail in token
of consent, and off they all set, hundreds of them together. The
people on the rocks and in the ships that saw them pass said to each
other:
'Look what a splendid shoal!' and had no idea that they were hastening
to the queen's palace; but, then, dwellers on land have so little
notion of what goes on in the bottom of the sea! Certainly the little
new fish had none. She had watched jelly-fish and nautilus swimming a
little way below the surface, and beautiful coloured sea-weeds
floating about; but that was all. _Now_, when she plunged deeper her
eyes fell upon strange things.
Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, inestimable stones,
unvalued jewels--all scattered in the bottom of the sea! Dead men's
bones were there also, and long white creatures who had never seen the
light, for they mostly dwelt in the clefts of rocks where the sun's
rays could not come. At first our little fish felt as if she were
blind also, but by-and-by she began to make out one object after
another in the green dimness, and by the time she had swum for a few
hours all became clear.
'Here we are at last,' cried a big fish, going down into a deep
valley, for the sea has its mountains and valleys just as much as the
land. 'That is the palace of the queen of the fishes, and I think you
must confess that the emperor himself has nothing so fine.'
'It is beautiful indeed,' gasped the little fish, who was very tired
with trying to swim as fast as the rest, and beautiful beyond words
the palace was. The walls were made of pale pink coral, worn smooth by
the waters, and round the windows were rows of pearls; the great doors
were standing open, and the whole troop floated into a chamber of
audience, where the queen, who was half a woman after all, was seated
on a throne made of a green and blue shell.
'Who are you, and where do you come from?' said she to the little
fish, whom the others had pushed in front. And in a low, trembling
voice, the visitor told her story.
'I was once a girl too,' answered the queen, when the fish had ended;
'and my father was the king of a great country. A husband was found
for me, and on my wedding-day my mother placed her crown on my head
and told me that as long as I wore it I should likewise be queen. For
many months I was as happy as a girl could be, especially when I had a
little son to play with. But, one morning, when I was walking in my
gardens, there came a giant and snatched the crown from my head.
Holding me fast, he told me that he intended to give the crown to his
daughter, and to enchant my husband the prince, so that he should not
know the difference between us. Since then she has filled my place and
been queen in my stead. As for me, I was so miserable that I threw
myself into the sea, and my ladies, who loved me, declared that they
would die too; but, instead of dying, some wizard, who pitied my
fate, turned us all into fishes, though he allowed me to keep the face
and body of a woman. And fishes we must remain till someone brings me
back my crown again!'
'_I_ will bring it back if you will tell me what to do!' cried the
little fish; who would have promised anything that was likely to carry
her up to earth again. And the queen answered:
'Yes, I will tell you what to do.'
She sat silent for a moment, and then went on:
'There is no danger if you will only follow my counsel; and first you
must return to earth, and go up to the top of a high mountain, where
the giant has built his castle. You will find him sitting on the steps
weeping for his daughter, who has just died while the prince was away
hunting. At the last she sent her father my crown by a faithful
servant. But I warn you to be careful, for if he sees you he may kill
you. Therefore I will give you the power to change yourself into any
creature that may help you best. You have only to strike your
forehead, and call out its name.'
* * * * *
This time the journey to land seemed much shorter than before, and
when once the fish reached the shore she struck her forehead sharply
with her tail, and cried:
'Deer, come to me.'
In a moment the small slimy body disappeared, and in its place stood a
beautiful beast with branching horns and slender legs, quivering with
longing to be gone. Throwing back her head and snuffing the air, she
broke into a run, leaping easily over the rivers and walls that stood
in her way.
It happened that the king's son had been hunting since daybreak, but
had killed nothing, and when the deer crossed his path as he was
resting under a tree he determined to have her. He flung himself on
his horse, which went like the wind, and as the prince had often
hunted the forest before, and knew all the short cuts, he at last came
up with the panting beast.
'By your favour let me go, and do not kill me,' said the deer, turning
to the prince with tears in her eyes, 'for I have far to run and much
to do.' And as the prince, struck dumb with surprise, only looked at
her, the deer cleared the next wall and was soon out of sight.
'That can't _really_ be a deer,' thought the prince to himself,
reining in his horse and not attempting to follow her. 'No deer ever
had eyes like that. It must be an enchanted maiden, and I will marry
her and no other.'
So, turning his horse's head, he rode slowly back to his palace.
* * * * *
The deer reached the giant's castle quite out of breath, and her heart
sank as she gazed at the tall, smooth walls which surrounded it. Then
she plucked up courage and cried:
'Ant, come to me!' And in a moment the branching horns and beautiful
shape had vanished, and a tiny brown ant, invisible to all who did not
look closely, was climbing up the walls.
It was wonderful how fast she went, that little creature! The wall
must have appeared miles high in comparison with her own body; yet, in
less time than would have seemed possible, she was over the top and
down in the courtyard on the other side. Here she paused to consider
what had best be done next, and looking about her she saw that one of
the walls had a tall tree growing by it, and in this corner was a
window very nearly on a level with the highest branches of the tree.
'Monkey, come to me!' cried the ant; and before you could turn round a
monkey was swinging herself from the topmost branches into the room
where the giant lay snoring.
'Perhaps he will be so frightened at the sight of me that he may die
of fear, and I shall never get the crown,' thought the monkey. 'I had
better become something else.' And she called softly: 'Parrot, come to
me!'
Then a pink and grey parrot hopped up to the giant, who by this time
was stretching himself and giving yawns which shook the castle. The
parrot waited a little until he was really awake, and then she said
boldly that she had been sent to take away the crown, which was not
his any longer, now his daughter the queen was dead.
On hearing these words the giant leapt out of bed with an angry roar,
and sprang at the parrot in order to wring her neck with his great
hands. But the bird was too quick for him, and, flying behind his
back, begged the giant to have patience, as her death would be of no
use to him.
'That is true,' answered the giant; 'but I am not so foolish as to
give you that crown for nothing. Let me think what I will have in
exchange!' And he scratched his huge head for several minutes, for
giants' minds always move slowly.
'Ah, yes, that will do!' exclaimed the giant at last, his face
brightening. 'You shall have the crown if you will bring me a collar
of blue stones from the Arch of St. Martin, in the great City.'
Now when the parrot had been a girl she had often heard of this
wonderful arch and the precious stones and marbles that had been let
into it. It sounded as if it would be a very hard thing to get them
away from the building of which they formed a part, but all had gone
well with her so far, and at any rate she could but try. So she bowed
to the giant, and made her way back to the window where the giant
could not see her. Then she called quickly:
'Eagle, come to me!'
Before she had even reached the tree she felt herself borne up on
strong wings ready to carry her to the clouds if she wished to go
there, and, seeming a mere speck in the sky, she was swept along till
she beheld the Arch of St. Martin far below, with the rays of the sun
shining on it. Then she swooped down, and, hiding herself behind a
buttress so that she could not be detected from below, she set herself
to dig out the nearest blue stones with her beak. It was even harder
work than she had expected; but at last it was done, and hope arose in
her heart. She next drew out a piece of string that she had found
hanging from a tree, and sitting down to rest strung the stones
together. When the necklace was finished she hung it round her neck,
and called: 'Parrot, come to me!' And a little later the pink and grey
parrot stood before the giant.
'Here is the necklace you asked for,' said the parrot. And the eyes of
the giant glistened as he took the heap of blue stones in his hand.
But for all that he was not minded to give up the crown.
'They are hardly as blue as I expected,' he grumbled, though the
parrot knew as well as he did that he was not speaking the truth; 'so
you must bring me something else in exchange for the crown you covet
so much. If you fail it will cost you not only the crown but your life
also.'
'What is it you want now?' asked the parrot; and the giant answered:
'If I give you my crown I must have another still more beautiful; and
this time you shall bring me a crown of stars.'
The parrot turned away, and as soon as she was outside she murmured:
'Toad, come to me!' And sure enough a toad she was, and off she set in
search of the starry crown.
She had not gone far before she came to a clear pool, in which the
stars were reflected so brightly that they looked quite real to touch
and handle. Stooping down she filled a bag she was carrying with the
shining water and, returning to the castle, wove a crown out of the
reflected stars. Then she cried as before:
'Parrot, come to me!' And in the shape of a parrot she entered the
presence of the giant.
'Here is the crown you asked for,' she said; and this time the giant
could not help crying out with admiration. He knew he was beaten, and
still holding the chaplet of stars, he turned to the girl.
'Your power is greater than mine: take the crown; you have won it
fairly!'
The parrot did not need to be told twice. Seizing the crown, she
sprang on to the window, crying: 'Monkey, come to me!' And to a
monkey, the climb down the tree into the courtyard did not take half a
minute. When she had reached the ground she said again: 'Ant, come to
me!' And a little ant at once began to crawl over the high wall. How
glad the ant was to be out of the giant's castle, holding fast the
crown which had shrunk into almost nothing, as she herself had done,
but grew quite big again when the ant exclaimed:
'Deer, come to me!'
Surely no deer ever ran so swiftly as that one! On and on she went,
bounding over rivers and crashing through tangles till she reached the
sea. Here she cried: for the last time:
'Fish, come to me!' And, plunging in, she swam along the bottom as far
as the palace, where the queen and all the fishes were gathered
together awaiting her.
The hours since she had left had gone very slowly--as they always do
to people that are waiting--and many of them had quite given up hope.
'I am tired of staying here,' grumbled a beautiful little creature,
whose colours changed with every movement of her body, 'I want to see
what is going on in the upper world. It must be _months_ since that
fish went away.'
'It was a very difficult task, and the giant must certainly have
killed her or she would have been back long ago,' remarked another.
'The young flies will be coming out now,' murmured a third, 'and they
will all be eaten up by the river fish! It is really _too_ bad!' When,
suddenly, a voice was heard from behind: 'Look! look! what is that
bright thing that is moving so swiftly towards us?' And the queen
started up, and stood on her tail, so excited was she.
A silence fell on all the crowd, and even the grumblers held their
peace and gazed like the rest. On and on came the fish, holding the
crown tightly in her mouth, and the others moved back to let her pass.
On she went right up to the queen, who bent, and taking the crown,
placed it on her own head. Then a wonderful thing happened. Her tail
dropped away or, rather, it divided and grew into two legs and a pair
of the prettiest feet in the world, while her maidens, who were
grouped around her, shed their scales and became girls again. They all
turned and looked at each other first, and next at the little fish who
had regained her own shape and was more beautiful than any of them.
'It is _you_ who have given us back our life; _you_, _you_!' they
cried; and fell to weeping for very joy.
So they all went back to earth and the queen's palace, and quite
forgot the one that lay under the sea. But they had been so long away
that they found many changes. The prince, the queen's husband, had
died some years since, and in his place was her son, who had grown up
and was king! Even in his joy at seeing his mother again an air of
sadness clung to him, and at last the queen could bear it no longer,
and begged him to walk with her in the garden. Seated together in a
bower of jessamine--where she had passed long hours as a bride--she
took her son's hand and entreated him to tell her the cause of his
sorrow. 'For,' said she, 'if I can give you happiness you shall have
it.'
[Illustration: THE CROWN RETURNS TO THE QUEEN OF THE FISHES]
'It is no use,' answered the prince; 'nobody can help me. I must bear
it alone.'
'But at least let me share your grief,' urged the queen.
'No one can do that,' said he. 'I have fallen in love with what I can
never marry, and I must get on as best I can.'
'It may not be so impossible as you think,' answered the queen. 'At
any rate, tell me.'
There was silence between them for a moment, then, turning away his
head, the prince answered gently:
'I have fallen in love with a beautiful deer!'
'Ah, if _that_ is all,' exclaimed the queen joyfully. And she told him
in broken words that, as he had guessed, it was no deer but an
enchanted maiden who had won back the crown and brought her home to
her own people.
'She is here, in my palace,' added the queen. 'I will take you to
her.'
But when the prince stood before the girl, who was so much more
beautiful than anything he had ever dreamed of, he lost all his
courage, and stood with bent head before her.
Then the maiden drew near, and her eyes, as she looked at him, were
the eyes of the deer that day in the forest. She whispered softly:
'By your favour let me go, and do not kill me.'
And the prince remembered her words, and his heart was filled with
happiness. And the queen, his mother, watched them and smiled.
(From _Cuentos Populars Catalans_ por lo Dr. D. Francisco de S.
Maspons y Labros.)
_THE OWL AND THE EAGLE_
Once upon a time, in a country where the snow lies deep for many
months in the year, there lived an owl and an eagle. Though they were
so different in many ways they became great friends, and at length set
up house together, one passing the day in hunting and the other the
night. In this manner they did not see very much of each other--and
perhaps agreed all the better for that; but at any rate they were
perfectly happy, and only wanted one thing, or, rather, two things,
and that was a wife for each.
'I really am too tired when I come home in the evening to clean up the
house,' said the eagle.
'And I am much too sleepy at dawn after a long night's hunting to
begin to sweep and dust,' answered the owl. And they both made up
their minds that wives they must have.
They flew about in their spare moments to the young ladies of their
acquaintance, but the girls all declared they preferred one husband to
two. The poor birds began to despair, when, one evening, after they
had been for a wonder hunting together, they found two sisters fast
asleep on their two beds. The eagle looked at the owl and the owl
looked at the eagle.
'They will make capital wives if they will only stay with us,' said
they. And they flew off to give themselves a wash, and to make
themselves smart before the girls awoke.
For many hours the sisters slept on, for they had come a long way,
from a town where there was scarcely anything to eat, and felt weak
and tired. But by-and-by they opened their eyes and saw the two birds
watching them.
'I hope you are rested?' asked the owl politely.
'Oh, yes, thank you,' answered the girls. 'Only we are so very hungry.
Do you think we could have something to eat?'
'Certainly!' replied the eagle. And he flew away to a farm-house a
mile or two off, and brought back a nest of eggs in his strong beak;
while the owl, catching up a tin pot, went to a cottage where lived an
old woman and her cow, and entering the shed by the window dipped the
pot into the pail of new milk that stood there.
The girls were so much delighted with the kindness and cleverness of
their hosts that, when the birds inquired if they would marry them and
stay there for ever, they accepted without so much as giving it a
second thought. So the eagle took the younger sister to wife, and the
owl the elder, and never was a home more peaceful than theirs!
All went well for several months, and then the eagle's wife had a son,
while, on the same day, the owl's wife gave birth to a frog, which she
placed directly on the banks of a stream near by, as he did not seem
to like the house. The children both grew quickly, and were never
tired of playing together, or wanted any other companions.
One night in the spring, when the ice had melted, and the snow was
gone, the sisters sat spinning in the house, awaiting their husbands'
return. But long though they watched, neither the owl nor the eagle
ever came; neither that day nor the next, nor the next, nor the next.
At last the wives gave up all hope of their return; but, being
sensible women, they did not sit down and cry, but called their
children, and set out, determined to seek the whole world over till
the missing husbands were found.
Now the women had no idea in which direction the lost birds had gone,
but they knew that some distance off was a thick forest, where good
hunting was to be found. It seemed a likely place to find them, or, at
any rate, they might hear something of them, and they walked quickly
on, cheered by the thought that they were doing something. Suddenly
the young sister, who was a little in front, gave a cry of surprise.
'Oh! look at that lake!' she said, 'we shall never get across it.'
'Yes we shall,' answered the elder; 'I know what to do.' And taking a
long piece of string from her pocket, fastened it into the frog's
mouth, like a bit.
'You must swim across the lake,' she said, stooping to put him in,
'and we will walk across on the line behind you.' And so they did,
till they got to about the middle of the lake, when the frog boy
stopped.
'I don't like it, and I won't go any further,' cried he sulkily. And
his mother had to promise him all sorts of nice things before he would
go on again.
When at last they reached the other side, the owl's wife untied the
line from the frog's mouth and told him he might rest and play by the
lake till they got back from the forest. Then she and her sister and
the boy walked on, with the great forest looming before them. But they
had by this time come far and were very tired, and felt glad enough to
see some smoke curling up from a little hut in front of them.
'Let us go in and ask for some water,' said the eagle's wife; and in
they went.
The inside of the hut was so dark that at first they could see nothing
at all; but presently they heard a feeble croak from one corner. Both
sisters turned to look, and there, tied by wings and feet, and their
eyes sunken, were the husbands that they sought. Quick as lightning
the wives cut the deer-thongs which bound them; but the poor birds
were too weak from pain and starvation to do more than utter soft
sounds of joy. Hardly, however, were they set free, than a voice of
thunder made the two sisters jump, while the little boy clung tightly
round his mother's neck.
'What are you doing in my house?' cried she. And the wives answered
boldly that now they had found their husbands they meant to save them
from such a wicked witch.
'Well, I will give you your chance,' answered the ogress, with a
hideous grin; 'we will see if you can slide down this mountain. If you
can reach the bottom of the cavern, you shall have your husbands back
again.' And as she spoke she pushed them before her out of the door to
the edge of a precipice, which went straight down several hundreds of
feet. Unseen by the witch, the frog's mother fastened one end of the
magic line about her, and whispered to the little boy to hold fast to
the other. She had scarcely done so when the witch turned round.
'You don't seem to like your bargain,' said she; but the girl
answered:
'Oh, yes, I am quite ready. I was only waiting for you!' And sitting
down she began her slide. On, on, she went, down to such a depth that
even the witch's eyes could not follow her; but she took for granted
that the woman was dead, and told the sister to take her place. At
that instant, however, the head of the elder appeared, above the rock,
brought upwards by the magic line. The witch gave a howl of disgust,
and hid her face in her hands; thus giving the younger sister time to
fasten the cord to her waist before the ogress looked up.
'You can't expect such luck twice,' she said; and the girl sat down
and slid over the edge. But in a few minutes she too was back again,
and the witch saw that she had failed, and feared lest her power was
going. Trembling with rage though she was, she dared not show it, and
only laughed hideously.
'I sha'n't let my prisoners go as easily as all that!' she said.
'Make my hair grow as thick and as black as yours, or else your
husbands shall never see daylight again.'
'That is quite simple,' replied the elder sister; 'only you must do as
we did--and perhaps you won't like the treatment.'
'If _you_ can bear it, of course _I_ can,' answered the witch. And so
the girls told her they had first smeared their heads with pitch and
then laid hot stones upon them.
'It is very painful,' said they, 'but there is no other way that we
know of. And in order to make sure that all will go right, one of us
will hold you down while the other pours on the pitch.'
And so they did; and the elder sister let down her hair till it hung
over the witch's eyes, so that she might believe it was her own hair
growing. Then the other brought a huge stone and clove in her skull,
and she died, groaning terribly.
So when the sisters saw that she was dead they went to the hut and
nursed their husbands till they grew strong. Then they picked up the
frog, and all went to make another home on the other side of the great
lake.
(From the _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_.)
_THE FROG AND THE LION FAIRY_
Once upon a time there lived a king who was always at war with his
neighbours, which was very strange, as he was a good and kind man,
quite content with his own country, and not wanting to seize land
belonging to other people. Perhaps he may have tried too much to
please everybody, and that often ends in pleasing nobody; but, at any
rate, he found himself, at the end of a hard struggle, defeated in
battle, and obliged to fall back behind the walls of his capital city.
Once there, he began to make preparations for a long siege, and the
first thing he did was to plan how best to send his wife to a place of
security.
The queen, who loved her husband dearly, would gladly have remained
with him and share his dangers, but he would not allow it. So they
parted, with many tears, and the queen set out with a strong guard to
a fortified castle on the outskirts of a great forest, some two
hundred miles distant. She cried nearly all the way, and when she
arrived she cried still more, for everything in the castle was dusty
and old, and outside there was only a gravelled courtyard, and the
king had forbidden her to go beyond the walls without at least two
soldiers to take care of her.
* * * * *
Now the queen had only been married a few months, and in her own home
she had been used to walk and ride all over the hills without any
attendants at all; so she felt very dull at her being shut up in this
way. However, she bore it for a long while because it was the king's
wish, but when time passed and there were no signs of the war drifting
in the direction of the castle, she grew bolder, and sometimes strayed
outside the walls, in the direction of the forest.
Then came a dreadful period, when news from the king ceased entirely.
'He must surely be ill or dead,' thought the poor girl, who even now
was only sixteen. 'I can bear it no longer, and if I do not get a
letter from him soon I shall leave this horrible place, and go back to
see what is the matter. Oh! I do wish I had never come away!'
So, without telling anyone what she intended to do, she ordered a
little low carriage to be built, something like a sledge, only it was
on two wheels--just big enough to hold one person.
'I am tired of being always in the castle,' she said to her
attendants; 'and I mean to hunt a little. Quite close by, of course,'
she added, seeing the anxious look on their faces. 'And there is no
reason that you should not hunt too.'
All the faces brightened at that, for, to tell the truth, they were
nearly as dull as their mistress; so the queen had her way, and two
beautiful horses were brought from the stable to draw the little
chariot. At first the queen took care to keep near the rest of the
hunt, but gradually she stayed away longer and longer, and at last,
one morning, she took advantage of the appearance of a wild boar,
after which her whole court instantly galloped, to turn into a path in
the opposite direction.
Unluckily, it did not happen to lead towards the king's palace, where
she intended to go, but she was so afraid her flight would be noticed
that she whipped up her horses till they ran away.
[Illustration: HOW THE QUEEN MET THE LION-FAIRY]
When she understood what was happening the poor young queen was
terribly frightened, and, dropping the reins, clung to the side of the
chariot. The horses, thus left without any control, dashed blindly
against a tree, and the queen was flung out on the ground, where she
lay for some minutes unconscious.
A rustling sound near her at length caused her to open her eyes;
before her stood a huge woman, almost a giantess, without any clothes
save a lion's skin, which was thrown over her shoulders, while a dried
snake's skin was plaited into her hair. In one hand she held a club on
which she leaned, and in the other a quiver full of arrows.
At the sight of this strange figure the queen thought she must be
dead, and gazing on an inhabitant of another world. So she murmured
softly to herself:
'I am not surprised that people are so loth to die when they know that
they will see such horrible creatures.' But, low as she spoke, the
giantess caught the words, and began to laugh.
'Oh, don't be afraid; you are still alive, and perhaps, after all, you
may be sorry for it. I am the Lion Fairy, and you are going to spend
the rest of your days with me in my palace, which is quite near this.
So come along.' But the queen shrank back in horror.
'Oh, Madam Lion, take me back, I pray you, to my castle; and fix what
ransom you like, for my husband will pay it, whatever it is.' But the
giantess shook her head.
'I am rich enough already,' she answered, 'but I am often dull, and I
think you may amuse me a little.' And, so saying, she changed her
shape into that of a lion, and throwing the queen across her back, she
went down the ten thousand steps that led to her palace. The lion had
reached the centre of the earth before she stopped in front of a
house, lighted with lamps, and built on the edge of a lake of
quicksilver. In this lake various huge monsters might be seen playing
or fighting--the queen did not know which--and around flew rooks and
ravens, uttering dismal croaks. In the distance was a mountain down
whose sides waters slowly course--these were the tears of unhappy
lovers--and nearer the gate were trees without either fruit or
flowers, while nettles and brambles covered the ground. If the castle
had been gloomy, what did the queen feel about this?
For some days the queen was so much shaken by all she had gone through
that she lay with her eyes closed, unable either to move or speak.
When she got better, the Lion Fairy told her that if she liked she
could build herself a cabin, as she would have to spend her life in
that place. At these words the queen burst into tears, and implored
her gaoler to put her to death rather than condemn her to such a life;
but the Lion Fairy only laughed, and counselled her to try and make
herself pleasant, as many worse things might befall her.
'Is there _no_ way in which I can touch your heart?' asked the poor
girl in despair.
'Well, if you _really_ wish to please me you will make me a pasty out
of the stings of bees, and be sure it is good.'
'But I don't see any bees,' answered the queen, looking round.
'Oh, no, there aren't any,' replied her tormentor; 'but you will have
to find them all the same.' And, so saying, she went away.
'After all, what does it matter?' thought the queen to herself, 'I
have only one life, and I can but lose it.' And not caring what she
did, she left the palace and seating herself under a yew tree, poured
out all her grief.
'Oh, my dear husband,' wept she, 'what will you think when you come to
the castle to fetch me and find me gone? Rather a thousand times that
you should fancy me dead than imagine that I had forgotten you! Ah,
how fortunate that the broken chariot should be lying in the wood, for
then you may grieve for me as one devoured by wild beasts. And if
another should take my place in your heart---- Well, at least I shall
never know it.'
She might have continued for long in this fashion had not the voice
of a crow directly overhead attracted her attention. Looking up to see
what was the matter she beheld, in the dim light, a crow holding a fat
frog in his claws, which he evidently intended for his supper. The
queen rose hastily from the seat, and striking the bird sharply on the
claws with the fan which hung from her side, she forced him to drop
the frog, which fell to the ground more dead than alive. The crow,
furious at his disappointment, flew angrily away.
As soon as the frog had recovered her senses she hopped up to the
queen, who was still sitting under the yew. Standing on her hind legs,
and bowing low before her, she said gently:
'Beautiful lady, by what mischance do you come here? You are the only
creature that I have seen do a kind deed since a fatal curiosity lured
me to this place.'
'What sort of a frog can you be that knows the language of mortals?'
asked the queen in her turn. 'But if you do, tell me, I pray, if I
alone am a captive, for hitherto I have beheld no one but the monsters
of the lake.'
'Once upon a time they were men and women like yourself,' answered the
frog, 'but having power in their hands, they used it for their own
pleasure. Therefore fate has sent them here for a while to bear the
punishment of their misdoings.'
'But you, friend frog, you are not one of these wicked people, I am
sure?' asked the queen.
'I am half a fairy,' replied the frog; 'but, although I have certain
magic gifts, I am not able to do all I wish. And if the Lion Fairy
were to know of my presence in her kingdom she would hasten to kill
me.'
'But if you are a fairy, how was it that you were so nearly slain by
the crow?' said the queen, wrinkling her forehead.
'Because the secret of my power lies in my little cap that is made of
rose leaves; but I had laid it aside for the moment, when that
horrible crow pounced upon me. Once it is on my head I fear nothing.
But let me repeat; had it not been for you I could not have escaped
death, and if I can do anything to help you, or soften your hard fate,
you have only to tell me.'
'Alas,' sighed the queen, 'I have been commanded by the Lion Fairy to
make her a pasty out of the stings of bees, and, as far as I can
discover, there are none here; as how should there be, seeing there
are no flowers for them to feed on? And, even if there were, how could
I catch them?'
'Leave it to me,' said the frog, 'I will manage it for you.' And,
uttering a strange noise, she struck the ground thrice with her foot.
In an instant six thousand frogs appeared before her, one of them
bearing a little cap.
'Cover yourselves with honey, and hop round by the bee-hives,'
commanded the frog, putting on the cap which her friend was holding in
her mouth. And turning to the queen, he added:
'The Lion Fairy keeps a store of bees in a secret place near to the
bottom of the ten thousand steps leading into the upper world. Not
that she wants them for herself, but they are sometimes useful to her
in punishing her victims. However, this time we will get the better of
her.'
Just as she had finished speaking the six thousand frogs returned,
looking so strange with bees sticking to every part of them that, sad
as she felt, the poor queen could not help laughing. The bees were all
so stupefied with what they had eaten that it was possible to draw
their stings without hunting them. So, with the help of her friend,
the queen soon made ready her pasty and carried it to the Lion Fairy.
'It is not bad,' said the giantess, gulping down large morsels, in
order to hide the surprise she felt. 'Well, you have escaped this
time, and I am glad to find I have got a companion a little more
intelligent than the others I have tried. Now, you had better go and
build yourself a house.'
[Illustration: 'A SMALL DRAGON CREPT IN AND TERRIFIED HER']
So the queen wandered away, and picking up a small axe which lay near
the door she began with the help of her friend the frog to cut down
some cypress trees for the purpose. And not content with that the six
thousand froggy servants were told to help also, and it was not long
before they had built the prettiest little cabin in the world, and
made a bed in one corner of dried ferns which they fetched from the
top of the ten thousand steps. It looked soft and comfortable, and the
queen was very glad to lie down upon it, so tired was she with all
that had happened since the morning. Scarcely, however, had she fallen
asleep when the lake monsters began to make the most horrible noises
just outside, while a small dragon crept in and terrified her so that
she ran away, which was just what the dragon wanted!
The poor queen crouched under a rock for the rest of the night, and
the next morning, when she woke from her troubled dreams, she was
cheered at seeing the frog watching by her.
'I hear we shall have to build you another palace,' said she. 'Well,
this time we won't go so near the lake.' And she smiled with her funny
wide mouth, till the queen took heart, and they went together to find
wood for the new cabin.
The tiny palace was soon ready, and a fresh bed made of wild thyme,
which smelt delicious. Neither the queen nor the frog said anything
about it, but somehow, as always happens, the story came to the ears
of the Lion Fairy, and she sent a raven to fetch the culprit.
'What gods or men are protecting you?' she asked, with a frown. 'This
earth, dried up by a constant rain of sulphur and fire, produces
nothing, yet I hear that _your_ bed is made of sweet smelling herbs.
However, as you can get flowers for yourself, of course you can get
them for me, and in an hour's time I must have in my room a nosegay of
the rarest flowers. If not----! Now you can go.'
The poor queen returned to her house looking so sad that the frog, who
was waiting for her, noticed it directly.
'What is the matter?' said she, smiling.
'Oh, how can you laugh!' replied the queen. 'This time I have to bring
her in an hour a posy of the rarest flowers, and where am I to find
them? If I fail I know she will kill me.'
'Well, I must see if _I_ can't help you,' answered the frog. 'The only
person I have made friends with here is a bat. She is a good creature,
and always does what I tell her, so I will just lend her my cap, and
if she puts it on, and flies into the world, she will bring back all
we want. I would go myself, only she will be quicker.'
Then the queen dried her eyes, and waited patiently, and long before
the hour had gone by the bat flew in with all the most beautiful and
sweetest flowers that grew on the earth. The girl sprang up overjoyed
at the sight, and hurried with them to the Lion Fairy, who was so
astonished that for once she had nothing to say.
Now the smell and touch of the flowers had made the queen sick with
longing for her home, and she told the frog that she would certainly
die if she did not manage to escape somehow.
'Let me consult my cap,' said the frog; and taking it off she laid it
in a box, and threw in after it a few sprigs of juniper, some capers,
and two peas, which she carried under her right leg; she then shut
down the lid of the box, and murmured some words which the queen did
not catch.
In a few moments a voice was heard speaking from the box.
'Fate, who rules us all,' said the voice, 'forbids your leaving this
place till the time shall come when certain things are fulfilled. But,
instead, a gift shall be given you, which will comfort you in all your
troubles.'
And the voice spoke truly, for, a few days after, when the frog peeped
in at the door she found the most beautiful baby in the world lying by
the side of the queen.
'So the cap has kept its word,' cried the frog with delight. 'How soft
its cheeks are, and what tiny feet it has got! What shall we call it?'
This was a very important point, and needed much discussion. A
thousand names were proposed and rejected for a thousand silly
reasons. One was too long, and one was too short. One was too harsh,
and another reminded the queen of somebody she did not like; but at
length an idea flashed into the queen's head, and she called out:
'I know! We will call her Muffette.'
'That is the very thing,' shouted the frog, jumping high into the
air; and so it was settled.
The princess Muffette was about six months old when the frog noticed
that the queen had begun to grow sad again.
'Why do you have that look in your eyes?' she asked one day, when she
had come in to play with the baby, who could now crawl.
The way they played their game was to let Muffette creep close to the
frog, and then for the frog to bound high into the air and alight on
the child's head, or back, or legs, when she always set up a shout of
pleasure. There is no playfellow like a frog; but then it must be a
_fairy_ frog, or else you might hurt it, and if you did something
dreadful might happen to you. Well, as I have said, our frog was
struck with the queen's sad face, and lost no time in asking her what
was the reason.
'I don't see what you have to complain of now; Muffette is quite well
and quite happy, and even the Lion Fairy is kind to her when she sees
her. What _is_ it?'
'Oh! if her father could only see her!' broke forth the queen,
clasping her hands. 'Or if I could only tell him all that has happened
since we parted. But they will have brought him tidings of the broken
carriage, and he will have thought me dead, or devoured by wild
beasts. And though he will mourn for me long--I know that well--yet in
time they will persuade him to take a wife, and she will be young and
fair, and he will forget me.'
And in all this the queen guessed truly, save that nine long years
were to pass before he would consent to put another in her place.
The frog answered nothing at the time, but stopped her game and hopped
away among the cypress trees. Here she sat and thought and thought,
and the next morning she went back to the queen and said:
'I have come, madam, to make you an offer. Shall I go to the king
instead of you, and tell him of your sufferings, and that he has the
most charming baby in the world for his daughter? The way is long, and
I travel slowly; but, sooner or later, I shall be sure to arrive.
Only, are you not afraid to be left without my protection? Ponder the
matter carefully; it is for you to decide.'
'Oh, it needs no pondering,' cried the queen joyfully, holding up her
clasped hands, and making Muffette do likewise, in token of gratitude.
'But in order that he may know that you have come from me I will send
him a letter.' And pricking her arm, she wrote a few words with her
blood on the corner of her handkerchief. Then tearing it off, she gave
it to the frog, and they bade each other farewell.
* * * * *
It took the frog a year and four days to mount the ten thousand steps
that led to the upper world, but that was because she was still under
the spell of a wicked fairy. By the time she reached the top, she was
so tired that she had to remain for another year on the banks of a
stream to rest, and also to arrange the procession with which she was
to present herself before the king. For she knew far too well what was
due to herself and her relations, to appear at Court as if she was a
mere nobody. At length, after many consultations with her cap, the
affair was settled, and at the end of the second year after her
parting with the queen they all set out.
First walked her bodyguard of grasshoppers, followed by her maids of
honour, who were those tiny green frogs you see in the fields, each
one mounted on a snail, and seated on a velvet saddle. Next came the
water-rats, dressed as pages, and lastly the frog herself, in a litter
borne by eight toads, and made of tortoiseshell. Here she could lie at
her ease, with her cap on her head, for it was quite large and roomy,
and could easily have held two eggs when the frog was not in it.
The journey lasted seven years, and all this time the queen suffered
tortures of hope, though Muffette did her best to comfort her. Indeed,
she would most likely have died had not the Lion Fairy taken a fancy
that the child and her mother should go hunting with her in the upper
world, and, in spite of her sorrows, it was always a joy to the queen
to see the sun again. As for little Muffette, by the time she was
seven her arrows seldom missed their mark. So, after all, the years of
waiting passed more quickly than the queen had dared to hope.
The frog was always careful to maintain her dignity, and nothing would
have persuaded her to show her face in public places, or even along
the high road, where there was a chance of meeting anyone. But
sometimes, when the procession had to cross a little stream, or go
over a piece of marshy ground, orders would be given for a halt; fine
clothes were thrown off, bridles were flung aside, and grasshoppers,
water-rats, even the frog herself, spent a delightful hour or two
playing in the mud.
But at length the end was in sight, and the hardships were forgotten
in the vision of the towers of the king's palace; and, one bright
morning, the cavalcade entered the gates with all the pomp and
circumstance of a royal embassy. And surely no ambassador had ever
created such a sensation! Doors and windows, even the roofs of houses,
were filled with people, whose cheers reached the ears of the king.
However, he had no time to attend to such matters just then, as, after
nine years, he had at last consented to the entreaties of his
courtiers, and was on the eve of celebrating his second marriage.
The frog's heart beat high when her litter drew up before the steps of
the palace, and leaning forward she beckoned to her side one of the
guards who were standing in his doorway.
'I wish to see his Majesty,' said he.
'His Majesty is engaged, and can see no one,' answered the soldier.
'His Majesty will see _me_,' returned the frog, fixing her eye upon
him; and somehow the man found himself leading the procession along
the gallery into the Hall of Audience, where the king sat surrounded
by his nobles arranging the dresses which everyone was to wear at his
marriage ceremony.
All stared in surprise as the procession advanced, and still more when
the frog gave one bound from the litter on to the floor, and with
another landed on the arm of the chair of state.
'I am only just in time, sire,' began the frog; 'had I been a day
later you would have broken your faith which you swore to the queen
nine years ago.'
'Her remembrance will always be dear to me,' answered the king gently,
though all present expected him to rebuke the frog severely for her
impertinence. 'But know, Lady Frog, that a king can seldom do as he
wishes, but must be bound by the desires of his subjects. For nine
years I have resisted them; now I can do so no longer, and have made
choice of the fair young maiden playing at ball yonder.'
'You cannot wed her, however fair she may be, for the queen your wife
is still alive, and sends you this letter written in her own blood,'
said the frog, holding out the square of handkerchief as she spoke.
'And, what is more, you have a daughter who is nearly nine years old,
and more beautiful than all the other children in the world put
together.'
The king turned pale when he heard these words, and his hand trembled
so that he could hardly read what the queen had written. Then he
kissed the handkerchief twice or thrice, and burst into tears, and it
was some minutes before he could speak. When at length he found his
voice he told his councillors that the writing was indeed that of the
queen, and now that he had the joy of knowing she was alive he could,
of course, proceed no further with his second marriage. This naturally
displeased the ambassadors who had conducted the bride to court, and
one of them inquired indignantly if he meant to put such an insult on
the princess on the word of a mere frog.
'I am not a "mere frog," and I will give you proof of it,' retorted
the angry little creature. And putting on her cap, she cried: 'Fairies
that are my friends, come hither!' And in a moment a crowd of
beautiful creatures, each one with a crown on her head, stood before
her. Certainly none could have guessed that they were the snails,
water-rats, and grasshoppers, from which she had chosen her retinue.
At a sign from the frog the fairies danced a ballet, with which
everyone was so delighted that they begged to have it repeated; but
now it was not youths and maidens who were dancing, but flowers. Then
these again melted into fountains, whose waters interlaced and,
rushing down the sides of the hall, poured out in a cascade down the
steps, and formed a river round the castle, with the most beautiful
little boats upon it, all painted and gilded.
'Oh, let us go in them for a sail!' cried the princess, who had long
ago left her game of ball for a sight of these marvels; and, as she
was bent upon it, the ambassadors, who had been charged never to lose
sight of her, were obliged to go also, though they never entered a
boat if they could help it.
But the moment they and the princess had seated themselves on the soft
cushions, river and boats vanished, and the princess and the
ambassadors vanished too. Instead, the snails and grasshoppers and
water-rats stood round the frog in their natural shapes.
'Perhaps,' said she, 'your Majesty may now be convinced that I am a
fairy and speak the truth. Therefore lose no time in setting in order
the affairs of your kingdom and go in search of your wife. Here is a
ring that will admit you into the presence of the queen, and will
likewise allow you to address unharmed the Lion Fairy, though she is
the most terrible creature that ever existed.'
By this time the king had forgotten all about the princess, whom he
had only chosen to please his people, and was as eager to depart on
his journey as the frog was for him to go. He made one of his
ministers regent of the kingdom, and gave the frog everything her
heart could desire; and with her ring on his finger he rode away to
the outskirts of the forest. Here he dismounted, and bidding his horse
go home, he pushed forward on foot.
Having nothing to guide him as to where he was likely to find the
entrance of the under-world, the king wandered hither and thither for
a long while, till, one day, while he was resting under a tree, a
voice spoke to him.
'Why do you give yourself so much trouble for nought, when you might
know what you want to know for the asking? Alone you will never
discover the path that leads to your wife.'
Much startled, the king looked about him. He could see nothing, and
somehow, when he thought about it, the voice seemed as if it were part
of himself. Suddenly his eyes fell on the ring, and he understood.
'Fool that I was!' cried he; 'and how much precious time have I
wasted? Dear ring, I beseech you, grant me a vision of my wife and my
daughter!' And even as he spoke there flashed past him a huge lioness,
followed by a lady and a beautiful young maid mounted on fairy horses.
Almost fainting with joy he gazed after them, and then sank back
trembling on the ground.
'Oh, lead me to them, lead me to them!' he exclaimed. And the ring,
bidding him take courage, conducted him safely to the dismal place
where his wife had lived for ten years.
Now the Lion Fairy knew beforehand of his expected presence in her
dominions, and she ordered a palace of crystal to be built in the
middle of the lake of quicksilver; and in order to make it more
difficult of approach she let it float whither it would. Immediately
after their return from the chase, where the king had seen them, she
conveyed the queen and Muffette into the palace, and put them under
the guard of the monsters of the lake, who one and all had fallen in
love with the princess. They were horribly jealous, and ready to eat
each other up for her sake, so they readily accepted the charge. Some
stationed themselves round the floating palace, some sat by the door,
while the smallest and lightest perched themselves on the roof.
Of course the king was quite ignorant of these arrangements, and
boldly entered the palace of the Lion Fairy, who was waiting for him,
with her tail lashing furiously, for she still kept her lion's shape.
With a roar that shook the walls she flung herself upon him; but he
was on the watch, and a blow from his sword cut off the paw she had
put forth to strike him dead. She fell back, and with his helmet still
down and his shield up, he set his foot on her throat.
'Give me back the wife and the child you have stolen from me,' he
said, 'or you shall not live another second!'
But the fairy answered:
'Look through the window at that lake and see if it is in my power to
give them to you.' And the king looked, and through the crystal walls
he beheld his wife and daughter floating on the quicksilver. At that
sight the Lion Fairy and all her wickedness was forgotten. Flinging
off his helmet, he shouted to them with all his might. The queen knew
his voice, and she and Muffette ran to the window and held out their
hands. Then the king swore a solemn oath that he would never leave the
spot without them if it should cost him his life; and he meant it,
though at the moment he did not know what he was undertaking.
[Illustration: THE KING ON HIS DRAGON FIGHTS HIS WAY THROUGH THE
MONSTERS TO THE QUEEN AND MUFFETTE]
Three years passed by, and the king was no nearer to obtaining his
heart's desire. He had suffered every hardship that could be
imagined--nettles had been his bed, wild fruits more bitter than gall
his food, while his days had been spent in fighting the hideous
monsters which kept him from the palace. He had not advanced one
single step, nor gained one solitary advantage. Now he was almost in
despair, and ready to defy everything and throw himself into the lake.
It was at this moment of his blackest misery that, one night, a dragon
who had long watched him from the roof crept to his side.
'You thought that love would conquer all obstacles,' said he; 'well,
you have found it hasn't! But if you will swear to me by your crown
and sceptre that you will give me a dinner of the food that I never
grow tired of, whenever I choose to ask for it, I will enable you to
reach your wife and daughter.'
Ah, how glad the king was to hear that! What oath would he not have
taken so as to clasp his wife and child in his arms? Joyfully he swore
whatever the dragon asked of him; then he jumped on his back, and in
another instant would have been carried by the strong wings into the
castle if the nearest monster had not happened to awake and hear the
noise of talking and swum to the shore to give battle. The fight was
long and hard, and when the king at last beat back his foes another
struggle awaited him. At the entrance gigantic bats, owls, and crows
set upon him from all sides; but the dragon had teeth and claws, while
the queen broke off sharp bits of glass and stabbed and cut in her
anxiety to help her husband. At length the horrible creatures flew
away; a sound like thunder was heard, the palace and the monsters
vanished, while, at the same moment--no one knew how--the king found
himself standing with his wife and daughter in the hall of his own
home.
The dragon had disappeared with all the rest, and for some years no
more was heard or thought of him. Muffette grew every day more
beautiful, and when she was fourteen the kings and emperors of the
neighbouring countries sent to ask her in marriage for themselves or
their sons. For a long time the girl turned a deaf ear to all their
prayers; but at length a young prince of rare gifts touched her heart,
and though the king had left her free to choose what husband she
would, he had secretly hoped that out of all the wooers this one might
be his son-in-law. So they were betrothed that same day with great
pomp, and then, with many tears, the prince set out for his father's
court, bearing with him a portrait of Muffette.
The days passed slowly to Muffette, in spite of her brave efforts to
occupy herself and not to sadden other people by her complaints. One
morning she was playing on her harp in the queen's chamber when the
king burst into the room and clasped his daughter in his arms with an
energy that almost frightened her.
'Oh, my child! my dear child! why were you ever born?' cried he, as
soon as he could speak.
'Is the prince dead?' faltered Muffette, growing white and cold.
'No, no; but--oh, how can I tell you!' And he sank down on a pile of
cushions while his wife and daughter knelt beside him.
At length he was able to tell his tale, and a terrible one it was!
There had just arrived at court a huge giant, as ambassador from the
dragon by whose help the king had rescued the queen and Muffette from
the crystal palace. The dragon had been very busy for many years past,
and had quite forgotten the princess till the news of her betrothal
had reached his ears. Then he remembered the bargain he had made with
her father; and the more he heard of Muffette the more he felt sure
she would make a delicious dish. So he had ordered the giant who was
his servant to fetch her at once.
No words would paint the horror of both the queen and the princess as
they listened to this dreadful doom. They rushed instantly to the
hall, where the giant was awaiting them, and flinging themselves at
his feet implored him to take the kingdom if he would, but to have
pity on the princess. The giant looked at them kindly, for he was not
at all hard-hearted, but said that he had no power to do anything, and
that if the princess did not go with him quietly the dragon would come
himself.
Several days went by, and the king and queen hardly ceased from
entreating the aid of the giant, who by this time was getting weary of
waiting.
'There is only one way of helping you,' he said at last, 'and that is
to marry the princess to my nephew, who, besides being young and
handsome, has been trained in magic, and will know how to keep her
safe from the dragon.'
'Oh, thank you, thank you!' cried the parents, clasping his great
hands to their breasts. 'You have indeed lifted a load from us. She
shall have half the kingdom for her dowry.' But Muffette stood up and
thrust them aside.
'I will not buy my life with faithlessness,' she said proudly; 'and I
will go with you this moment to the dragon's abode.' And all her
father's and mother's tears and prayers availed nothing to move her.
The next morning Muffette was put into a litter, and, guarded by the
giant and followed by the king and queen and the weeping maids of
honour, they started for the foot of the mountain where the dragon had
his castle. The way, though rough and stony, seemed all too short, and
when they reached the spot appointed by the dragon the giant ordered
the men who bore the litter to stand still.
'It is time for you to bid farewell to your daughter,' said he; 'for I
see the dragon coming to us.'
It was true; a cloud appeared to pass over the sun, for between them
and it they could all discern dimly a huge body half a mile long
approaching nearer and nearer. At first the king could not believe
that this was the small beast who had seemed so friendly on the shore
of the lake of quicksilver; but then he knew very little of
necromancy, and had never studied the art of expanding and contracting
his body. But it was the dragon and nothing else, whose six wings were
carrying him forward as fast as might be, considering his great weight
and the length of his tail, which had fifty twists and a half.
He came quickly, yes; but the frog, mounted on a greyhound, and
wearing her cap on her head, went quicker still. Entering a room where
the prince was sitting gazing at the portrait of his betrothed, she
cried to him:
'What are you doing lingering here, when the life of the princess is
nearing its last moment? In the courtyard you will find a green horse
with three heads and twelve feet, and by its side a sword eighteen
yards long. Hasten, lest you should be too late!'
The fight lasted all day, and the prince's strength was well-nigh
spent, when the dragon, thinking that the victory was won, opened his
jaws to give a roar of triumph. The prince saw his chance, and before
his foe could shut his mouth again had plunged his sword far down his
adversary's throat. There was a desperate clutching of the claws to
the earth, a slow flagging of the great wings, then the monster rolled
over on his side and moved no more. Muffette was delivered.
After this they all went back to the palace. The marriage took place
the following day, and Muffette and her husband lived happy for ever
after.
(From _Les Contes des Fees_, par Madame d'Aulnoy.)
_THE ADVENTURES OF COVAN THE BROWN-HAIRED_
On the shores of the west, where the great hills stand with their feet
in the sea, dwelt a goat-herd and his wife, together with their three
sons and one daughter. All day long the young men fished and hunted,
while their sister took out the kids to pasture on the mountain, or
stayed at home helping her mother and mending the nets.
For several years they all lived happily together, when, one day, as
the girl was out on the hill with the kids, the sun grew dark and an
air cold as a thick white mist came creeping, creeping up from the
sea. She rose with a shiver, and tried to call to her kids, but the
voice died away in her throat, and strong arms seemed to hold her.
Loud were the wails in the hut by the sea when the hours passed on and
the maiden came not. Many times the father and brothers jumped up,
thinking they heard her steps, but in the thick darkness they could
scarcely see their own hands, nor could they tell where the river lay,
nor where the mountain. One by one the kids came home, and at every
bleat someone hurried to open the door, but no sound broke the
stillness. Through the night no one slept, and when morning broke and
the mist rolled back, they sought the maiden by sea and by land, but
never a trace of her could be found anywhere.
Thus a year and a day slipped by, and at the end of it Gorla of the
Flocks and his wife seemed suddenly to have grown old. Their sons too
were sadder than before, for they loved their sister well, and had
never ceased to mourn for her. At length Ardan the eldest spoke and
said:
'It is now a year and a day since our sister was taken from us, and we
have waited in grief and patience for her to return. Surely some evil
has befallen her, or she would have sent us a token to put our hearts
at rest; and I have vowed to myself that my eyes shall not know sleep
till, living or dead, I have found her.'
'If you have vowed, then must you keep your vow,' answered Gorla. 'But
better had it been if you had first asked your father's leave before
you made it. Yet, since it is so, your mother will bake you a cake for
you to carry with you on your journey. Who can tell how long it may
be?'
So the mother arose and baked not one cake but two, a big one and a
little one.
'Choose, my son,' said she. 'Will you have the little cake with your
mother's blessing, or the big one without it, in that you have set
aside your father and taken on yourself to make a vow?'
'I will have the large cake,' answered the youth; 'for what good would
my mother's blessing do for me if I was dying of hunger?' And taking
the big cake he went his way.
Straight on he strode, letting neither hill nor river hinder him.
Swiftly he walked--swiftly as the wind that blew down the mountain.
The eagles and the gulls looked on from their nests as he passed,
leaving the deer behind him; but at length he stopped, for hunger had
seized on him, and he could walk no more. Trembling with fatigue he
sat himself on a rock and broke a piece off his cake.
'Spare me a morsel, Ardan son of Gorla,' asked a raven, fluttering
down towards him.
'Seek food elsewhere, O bearer of ill-news,' answered Ardan son of
Gorla; 'it is but little I have for myself.' And he stretched himself
out for a few moments, then rose to his feet again. On and on went he
till the little birds flew to their nests, and the brightness died out
of the sky, and a darkness fell over the earth. On and on, and on,
till at last he saw a beam of light streaming from a house and
hastened towards it.
The door was opened and he entered, but paused when he beheld an old
man lying on a bench by the fire, while seated opposite him was a
maiden combing out the locks of her golden hair with a comb of silver.
'Welcome, fair youth,' said the old man, turning his head. 'Sit down
and warm yourself, and tell me how fares the outer world. It is long
since I have seen it.'
'All my news is that I am seeking service,' answered Ardan son of
Gorla; 'I have come from far since sunrise, and glad was I to see the
rays of your lamp stream into the darkness.'
'I need someone to herd my three dun cows, which are hornless,' said
the old man. 'If, for the space of a year, you can bring them back to
me each evening before the sun sets, I will make you payment that will
satisfy your soul.'
But here the girl looked up and answered quickly:
'Ill will come of it if he listens to your offer.'
'Counsel unsought is worth nothing,' replied, rudely, Ardan son of
Gorla. 'It would be little indeed that I am fit for if I cannot drive
three cows out to pasture and keep them safe from the wolves that may
come down from the mountains. Therefore, good father, I will take
service with you at daybreak, and ask no payment till the new year
dawns.'
Next morning the bell of the deer was not heard amongst the fern
before the maiden with the hair of gold had milked the cows, and led
them in front of the cottage where the old man, and Ardan son of Gorla
awaited them.
'Let them wander where they will,' he said to his servant, 'and never
seek to turn them from their way, for well they know the fields of
good pasture. But take heed to follow always behind them, and suffer
nothing that you see, and nought that you hear, to draw you into
leaving them. Now go, and may wisdom go with you.'
As he ceased speaking he touched one of the cows on her forehead, and
she stepped along the path, with the two others one on each side. As
he had been bidden, behind them came Ardan son of Gorla, rejoicing in
his heart that work so easy had fallen to his lot. At the year's end,
thought he, enough money would lie in his pocket to carry him into far
countries where his sister might be, and, in the meanwhile, someone
might come past who could give him tidings of her.
Thus he spoke to himself, when his eyes fell on a golden cock and a
silver hen running swiftly along the grass in front of him. In a
moment the words that the old man had uttered vanished from his mind
and he gave chase. They were so near that he could almost seize their
tails, yet each time he felt sure he could catch them his fingers
closed on the empty air. At length he could run no more, and stopped
to breathe, while the cock and hen went on as before. Then he
remembered the cows, and, somewhat frightened, turned back to seek
them. Luckily they had not strayed far, and were quietly feeding on
the thick green grass.
Ardan son of Gorla was sitting under a tree, when he beheld a staff of
gold and a staff of silver doubling themselves in strange ways on the
meadow in front of him, and starting up he hastened towards them.
Though he followed them till he was tired he could not catch them,
though they seemed ever within his reach. When at last he gave up the
quest his knees trembled beneath him for very weariness, and glad was
he to see a tree growing close by laden with fruits of different
sorts, of which he ate greedily.
The sun was by now low in the heavens, and the cows left off feeding,
and turned their faces home again, followed by Ardan son of Gorla. At
the door of their stable the maiden stood awaiting them, and saying
nought to their herd, she sat down and began to milk. But it was not
milk that flowed into her pail; instead it was filled with a thin
stream of water, and as she rose up from the last cow the old man
appeared outside.
[Illustration: ARDAN PURSUES THE GOLDEN COCK AND THE SILVER HEN]
'Faithless one, you have betrayed your trust!' he said to Ardan son of
Gorla. 'Not even for one day could you keep true! Well, you shall have
your reward at once that others may take warning from you.' And waving
his wand he touched with it the chest of the youth, who became a
pillar of stone.
Now Gorla of the Flocks and his wife were full of grief that they had
lost a son as well as a daughter, for no tidings had come to them of
Ardan their eldest born. At length, when two years and two days had
passed since the maiden had led her kids to feed on the mountain and
had been seen no more, Ruais, second son of Gorla, rose up one
morning, and said:
'Time is long without my sister and Ardan my brother. So I have vowed
to seek them wherever they may be.'
And his father answered:
'Better it had been if you had first asked my consent and that of your
mother; but as you have vowed so must you do.' Then he bade his wife
make a cake, but instead she made two, and offered Ruais his choice,
as she had done to Ardan. Like Ardan, Ruais chose the large, unblessed
cake, and set forth on his way, doing always, though he knew it not,
that which Ardan had done; so, needless is it to tell what befell him
till he too stood, a pillar of stone, on the hill behind the cottage,
so that all men might see the fate that awaited those who broke their
faith.
Another year and a day passed by, when Covan the Brown-haired,
youngest son of Gorla of the Flocks, one morning spake to his parents,
saying:
'It is more than three years since my sister left us. My brothers have
also gone, no one knows whither, and of us four none remains but I.
Now, therefore, I long to seek them, and I pray you and my mother to
place no hindrance in my way.'
And his father answered:
'Go, then, and take our blessing with you.'
So the wife of Gorla of the Flocks baked two cakes, one large, and one
small; and Covan took the small one, and started on his quest. In the
wood he felt hungry, for he had walked far, and he sat down to eat.
Suddenly a voice behind him cried:
'A bit for me! a bit for me!' And looking round he beheld the black
raven of the wilderness.
'Yes, you shall have a bit,' said Covan the Brown-haired; and breaking
off a piece he stretched it upwards to the raven, who ate it greedily.
Then Covan arose and went forward, till he saw the light from the
cottage streaming before him, and glad was he, for night was at hand.
'Maybe I shall find some work there,' he thought, 'and at least I
shall gain money to help me in my search; for who knows how far my
sister and my brothers may have wandered?'
The door stood open and he entered, and the old man gave him welcome,
and the golden-haired maiden likewise. As happened before, he was
offered by the old man to herd his cows; and, as she had done to his
brothers, the maiden counselled him to leave such work alone. But,
instead of answering rudely, like both Ardan and Ruais, he thanked
her, with courtesy, though he had no mind to heed her; and he listened
to the warnings and words of his new master.
Next day he set forth at dawn with the dun cows in front of him, and
followed patiently wherever they might lead him. On the way he saw the
gold cock and silver hen, which ran even closer to him than they had
done to his brothers. Sorely tempted, he longed to give them chase;
but, remembering in time that he had been bidden to look neither to
the right nor to the left, with a mighty effort he turned his eyes
away. Then the gold and silver staffs seemed to spring from the earth
before him, but this time also he overcame; and though the fruit from
the magic tree almost touched his mouth, he brushed it aside and went
steadily on.
That day the cows wandered farther than ever they had done before, and
never stopped till they had reached a moor where the heather was
burning. The fire was fierce, but the cows took no heed, and walked
steadily through it, Covan the Brown-haired following them. Next they
plunged into a foaming river, and Covan plunged in after them, though
the water came high above his waist. On the other side of the river
lay a wide plain, and here the cows lay down, while Covan looked about
him. Near him was a house built of yellow stone, and from it came
sweet songs, and Covan listened, and his heart grew light within him.
While he was thus waiting there ran up to him a youth, scarcely able
to speak so swiftly had he sped; and he cried aloud:
'Hasten, hasten, Covan the Brown-haired, for your cows are in the
corn, and you must drive them out!'
'Nay,' said Covan smiling, 'it had been easier for you to have driven
them out than to come here to tell me.' And he went on listening to
the music.
Very soon the same youth returned, and cried with panting breath:
'Out upon you, Covan son of Gorla, that you stand there agape. For our
dogs are chasing your cows, and you must drive them off!'
'Nay, then,' answered Covan as before, 'it had been easier for you to
call off your dogs than to come here to tell me.' And he stayed where
he was till the music ceased.
Then he turned to look for his cows, and found them all lying in the
place where he had left them; but when they saw Covan they rose up and
walked homewards, taking a different path to that they had trod in the
morning. This time they passed over a plain so bare that a pin could
not have lain there unnoticed, yet Covan beheld with surprise a foal
and its mother feeding there, both as fat as if they had pastured on
the richest grass. Further on they crossed another plain, where the
grass was thick and green, but on it were feeding a foal and its
mother, so lean that you could have counted their ribs. And further
again the path led them by the shores of a lake whereon were floating
two boats; one full of gay and happy youths, journeying to the land of
the Sun, and another with grim shapes clothed in black, travelling to
the land of Night.
'What can these things mean?' said Covan to himself, as he followed
his cows.
Darkness now fell, the wind howled, and torrents of rain poured upon
them. Covan knew not how far they might yet have to go, or indeed if
they were on the right road. He could not even see his cows, and his
heart sank lest, after all, he should have failed to bring them safely
back. What was he to do?
He waited thus, for he could go neither forwards nor backwards, till
he felt a great friendly paw laid on his shoulder.
'My cave is just here,' said the Dog of Maol-mor, of whom Covan son of
Gorla had heard much. 'Spend the night here, and you shall be fed on
the flesh of lamb, and shall lay aside three-thirds of thy weariness.'
And Covan entered, and supped, and slept, and in the morning rose up a
new man.
'Farewell, Covan,' said the Dog of Maol-mor. 'May success go with you,
for you took what I had to give and did not mock me. So, when danger
is your companion, wish for me, and I will not fail you.'
At these words the Dog of Maol-mor disappeared into the forest, and
Covan went to seek his cows, which were standing in the hollow where
the darkness had come upon them.
At the sight of Covan the Brown-haired, they walked onwards, Covan
followed ever behind them, and looking neither to the right nor to the
left. All that day they walked, and when night fell they were in a
barren plain, with only rocks for shelter.
'We must rest here as best we can,' spoke Covan to the cows. And they
bowed their heads and lay down in the place where they stood. Then
came the black raven of Corri-nan-creag, whose eyes never closed, and
whose wings never tired; and he fluttered before the face of Covan and
told him that he knew of a cranny in the rock where there was food in
plenty, and soft moss for a bed.
'Go with me thither,' he said to Covan, 'and you shall lay aside
three-thirds of your weariness, and depart in the morning refreshed.'
And Covan listened thankfully to his words, and at dawn he rose up to
seek his cows.
'Farewell!' cried the black raven. 'You trusted me, and took all I had
to offer in return for the food you once gave me. So if in time to
come you need a friend, wish for me, and I will not fail you.'
As before, the cows were standing in the spot where he had left them,
ready to set out. All that day they walked, on and on, and on, Covan
son of Gorla walking behind them, till night fell while they were on
the banks of a river.
'We can go no further,' spake Covan to the cows. And they began to eat
the grass by the side of the stream, while Covan listened to them, and
longed for some supper also, for they had travelled far, and his limbs
were weak under him. Then there was a swish of water at his feet, and
out peeped the head of the famous otter Doran-donn of the stream.
'Trust to me and I will find you warmth and shelter,' said Doran-donn;
'and for food fish in plenty.' And Covan went with him thankfully, and
ate and rested, and laid aside three-thirds of his weariness. At
sunrise he left his bed of dried sea-weed, which had floated up with
the tide, and with grateful heart bade farewell to Doran-donn.
'Because you trusted me and took what I had to offer, you have made me
your friend, Covan,' said Doran-donn. 'And if you should be in danger,
and need help from one who can swim a river or dive beneath a wave,
call to me and I will come to you.' Then he plunged into the stream,
and was seen no more.
The cows were standing ready in the place where Covan had left them,
and they journeyed on all that day, till, when night fell, they
reached the cottage. Joyful indeed was the old man as the cows went
into their stables, and he beheld the rich milk that flowed into the
pail of the golden-haired maiden with the silver comb.
'You have done well indeed,' he said to Covan son of Gorla. 'And now,
what would you have as a reward?'
'I want nothing for myself,' answered Covan the Brown-haired; 'but I
ask you to give me back my brothers and my sister who have been lost
to us for three years past. You are wise and know the lore of fairies
and witches; tell me where I can find them, and what I must do to
bring them back to life again.'
The old man looked grave at the words of Covan.
'Yes, truly I know where they are,' answered he, 'and I say not that
they may not be brought to life again. But the perils are great--too
great for you to overcome.'
'Tell me what they are,' said Covan again, 'and I shall know better if
I may overcome them.'
'Listen, then, and judge. In the mountain yonder there dwells a roe,
white of foot, with horns that branch like the antlers of a deer. On
the lake that leads to the land of the Sun floats a duck whose body is
green and whose neck is of gold. In the pool of Corri-Bui swims a
salmon with a skin that shines like silver, and whose gills are
red--bring them all to me, and then you shall know where dwell your
brothers and your sister!'
'To-morrow at cock-crow I will begone!' answered Covan.
The way to the mountain lay straight before him, and when he had
climbed high he caught sight of the roe with the white feet and the
spotted sides, on the peak in front.
Full of hope he set out in pursuit of her, but by the time he had
reached that peak she had left it and was to be seen on another. And
so it always happened, and Covan's courage had well-nigh failed him,
when the thought of the Dog of Maol-mor darted into his mind.
'Oh, that he was here!' he cried. And looking up he saw him.
'Why did you summon me?' asked the Dog of Maol-mor. And when Covan
had told him of his trouble, and how the roe always led him further
and further, the Dog only answered:
'Fear nothing; I will soon catch her for you.' And in a short while he
laid the roe unhurt at Covan's feet.
'What will you wish me to do with her?' said the Dog. And Covan
answered:
'The old man bade me bring her, and the duck with the golden neck, and
the salmon with the silver sides, to his cottage; if I shall catch
them, I know not. But carry you the roe to the back of the cottage,
and tether her so that she cannot escape.'
'It shall be done,' said the Dog of Maol-mor.
Then Covan sped to the lake which led to the land of the Sun, where
the duck with the green body and the golden neck was swimming among
the water-lilies.
'Surely I can catch him, good swimmer as I am,' to himself. But, if he
could swim well, the duck could swim better, and at length his
strength failed him, and he was forced to seek the land.
'Oh that the black raven were here to help me!' he thought to himself.
And in a moment the black raven was perched on his shoulder.
'How can I help you?' asked the raven. And Covan answered:
'Catch me the green duck that floats on the water.' And the raven flew
with his strong wings, and picked him up in his strong beak, and in
another moment the bird was laid at the feet of Covan.
This time it was easy for the young man to carry his prize, and after
giving thanks to the raven for his aid, he went on to the river.
In the deep dark pool of which the old man had spoken the silver-sided
salmon was lying under a rock.
[Illustration: DORAN-DONN BRINGS THE SALMON TO COVAN THE
BROWN-HAIRED]
'Surely I, good fisher as I am, can catch him,' said Covan son of
Gorla. And cutting a slender pole from a bush, he fastened a line to
the end of it. But cast with what skill he might, it availed
nothing, for the salmon would not even look at the bait.
'I am beaten at last, unless the Doran-donn can deliver me,' he cried.
And as he spoke there was a swish of the water, and the face of the
Doran-donn looked up at him.
'O catch me, I pray you, that salmon under the rock!' said Covan son
of Gorla. And the Doran-donn dived, and laying hold of the salmon by
his tail, bore it back to the place where Covan was standing.
* * * * *
'The roe, and the duck, and the salmon are here,' said Covan to the
old man, when he reached the cottage. And the old man smiled on him
and bade him eat and drink, and after he hungered no more, he would
speak with him.
And this was what the old man said: 'You began well, my son, so things
have gone well with you. You set store by your mother's blessing,
therefore you have been blest. You gave food to the raven when it
hungered, you were true to the promise you had made to me, and did not
suffer yourself to be turned aside by vain shows. You were skilled to
perceive that the boy who tempted you to leave the temple was a teller
of false tales, and took with a grateful heart what the poor had to
offer you. Last of all, difficulties gave you courage, instead of
lending you despair.
'And now, as to your reward, you shall in truth take your sister home
with you, and your brothers I will restore to life; but idle and
unfaithful as they are their lot is to wander for ever. And so
farewell, and may wisdom be with you.'
'First tell me your name?' asked Covan softly.
'I am the Spirit of Age,' said the old man.
(_Taken from a Celtic Story._ Translated by Norman Macleod.)
_THE PRINCESS BELLA-FLOR_
Once upon a time there lived a man who had two sons. When they grew up
the elder went to seek his fortune in a far country, and for many
years no one heard anything about him. Meanwhile the younger son
stayed at home with his father, who died at last in a good old age,
leaving great riches behind him.
For some time the son who stayed at home spent his father's wealth
freely, believing that he alone remained to enjoy it. But, one day, as
he was coming down stairs, he was surprised to see a stranger enter
the hall, looking about as if the house belonged to him.
'Have you forgotten me?' asked the man.
'I can't forget a person I have never known,' was the rude answer.
'I am your brother,' replied the stranger, 'and I have returned home
without the money I hoped to have made. And, what is worse, they tell
me in the village that my father is dead. I would have counted my lost
gold as nothing if I could have seen him once more.'
'He died six months ago,' said the rich brother,'and he left you, as
your portion, the old wooden chest that stands in the loft. You had
better go there and look for it; I have no more time to waste.' And he
went his way.
So the wanderer turned his steps to the loft, which was at the top of
the storehouse, and there he found the wooden chest, so old that it
looked as if it were dropping to pieces.
'What use is this old thing to me?' he said to himself. 'Oh, well, it
will serve to light a fire at which I can warm myself; so things might
be worse after all.'
Placing the chest on his back, the man, whose name was Jose, set out
for his inn, and, borrowing a hatchet, began to chop up the box. In
doing so he discovered a secret drawer, and in it lay a paper. He
opened the paper, not knowing what it might contain, and was
astonished to find that it was the acknowledgment of a large debt that
was owing to his father. Putting the precious writing in his pocket,
he hastily inquired of the landlord where he could find the man whose
name was written inside, and he ran out at once in search of him.
The debtor proved to be an old miser, who lived at the other end of
the village. He had hoped for many months that the paper he had
written had been lost or destroyed, and, indeed, when he saw it, was
very unwilling to pay what he owed. However, the stranger threatened
to drag him before the king, and when the miser saw that there was no
help for it he counted out the coins one by one. The stranger picked
them up and put them in his pocket, and went back to his inn feeling
that he was now a rich man.
A few weeks after this he was walking through the streets of the
nearest town, when he met a poor woman crying bitterly. He stopped and
asked her what was the matter, and she answered between her sobs that
her husband was dying, and, to make matters worse, a creditor whom he
could not pay was anxious to have him taken to prison.
'Comfort yourself,' said the stranger kindly; 'they shall neither send
your husband to prison nor sell your goods. I will not only pay his
debts but, if he dies, the cost of his burial also. And now go home,
and nurse him as well as you can.'
And so she did; but, in spite of her care, the husband died, and was
buried by the stranger. But everything cost more than he had
expected, and when all was paid he found that only three gold pieces
were left.
'What am I to do now?' said he to himself. 'I think I had better go to
court, and enter into the service of the king.'
At first he was only a servant, who carried the king the water for his
bath, and saw that his bed was made in a particular fashion. But he
did his duties so well that his master soon took notice of him, and in
a short time he rose to be a gentleman of the bedchamber.
Now, when this happened the younger brother had spent all the money he
had inherited, and did not know how to make any for himself. He then
bethought him of the king's favourite, and went whining to the palace
to beg that his brother, whom he had so ill-used, would give him his
protection, and find him a place. The elder, who was always ready to
help everyone, spoke to the king on his behalf, and the next day the
young man took up his work at court.
Unfortunately, the new-comer was by nature spiteful and envious, and
could not bear anyone to have better luck than himself. By dint of
spying through keyholes and listening at doors, he learned that the
king, old and ugly though he was, had fallen in love with the Princess
Bella-Flor, who would have nothing to say to him, and had hidden
herself in some mountain castle, no one knew where.
'That will do nicely,' thought the scoundrel, rubbing his hands. 'It
will be quite easy to get the king to send my brother in search of
her, and if he returns without finding her, his head will be the
forfeit. Either way, he will be out of _my_ path.'
So he went at once to the Lord High Chamberlain and craved an audience
of the king, to whom he declared he wished to tell some news of the
highest importance. The king admitted him into the presence chamber
without delay, and bade him state what he had to say, and to be quick
about it.
'Oh, sire! the Princess Bella-Flor----' answered the man, and then
stopped as if afraid.
'What of the Princess Bella-Flor?' asked the king impatiently.
'I have heard--it is whispered at court--that your majesty desires to
know where she lies in hiding.'
'I would give half my kingdom to the man who will bring her to me,'
cried the king, eagerly. 'Speak on, knave; has a bird of the air
revealed to you the secret?'
'It is not I, but my brother, who knows,' replied the traitor; 'if
your majesty would ask him----' But before the words were out of his
mouth the king had struck a blow with his sceptre on a golden plate
that hung on the wall.
'Order Jose to appear before me instantly,' he shouted to the servant
who ran to obey his orders, so great was the noise his majesty had
made; and when Jose entered the hall, wondering what in the world
could be the matter, the king was nearly dumb with rage and
excitement.
'Bring me the Princess Bella-Flor this moment,' stammered he, 'for if
you return without her I will have you drowned!' And without another
word he left the hall, leaving Jose staring with surprise and horror.
'How can I find the Princess Bella-Flor when I have never even seen
her?' thought he. 'But it is no use staying here, for I shall only be
put to death.' And he walked slowly to the stables to choose himself a
horse.
There were rows upon rows of fine beasts with their names written in
gold above their stalls, and Jose was looking uncertainly from one to
the other, wondering which he should choose, when an old white horse
turned its head and signed to him to approach.
'Take me,' it said in a gentle whisper, 'and all will go well.'
Jose still felt so bewildered with the mission that the king had
given him that he forgot to be astonished at hearing a horse talk.
Mechanically he laid his hand on the bridle and led the white horse
out of the stable. He was about to mount on his back, when the animal
spoke again:
'Pick up those three loaves of bread which you see there, and put them
in your pocket.'
Jose did as he was told, and being in a great hurry to get away, asked
no questions, but swung himself into the saddle.
They rode far without meeting any adventures, but at length they came
to an ant-hill, and the horse stopped.
'Crumble those three loaves for the ants,' he said. But Jose
hesitated.
'Why, we may want them ourselves!' answered he.
'Never mind that; give them to the ants all the same. Do not lose any
chance of helping others.' And when the loaves lay in crumbs on the
road, the horse galloped on.
By-and-by they entered a rocky pass between two mountains, and here
they saw an eagle which had been caught in a hunter's net.
'Get down and cut the meshes of that net, and set the poor bird free,'
said the horse.
'But it will take so long,' objected Jose, 'and we may miss the
princess.'
'Never mind that; do not miss a chance of helping others,' answered
the horse. And when the meshes were cut, and the eagle was free, the
horse galloped on.
They had ridden many miles, and at last they came to a river, where
they beheld a little fish lying gasping on the sand, and the horse
said:
'Do you see that little fish? it will die if you do not put it back in
the water.'
'But, really, we shall never find the Princess Bella-Flor, if we waste
our time like this!' cried Jose.
[Illustration: DO NOT LOSE A CHANCE OF HELPING OTHERS
WE NEVER WASTE TIME WHEN WE ARE HELPING OTHERS]
'We never waste time when we are helping others,' answered the horse.
And soon the little fish was swimming happily away.
* * * * *
A little while after they reached a castle, which was built in the
middle of a very thick wood, and right in front was the Princess
Bella-Flor feeding her hens.
'Now listen,' said the horse. 'I am going to give all sorts of little
hops and skips, which will amuse the Princess Bella-Flor. Then she
will tell you that she would like to ride a little way, and you must
help her to mount. When she is seated I shall begin to neigh and kick,
and you must say that I have never carried a woman before, and that
you had better get up behind so as to be able to manage me. Once on my
back we will go like wind to the king's palace.'
Jose did exactly as the horse told him, and everything fell out as the
animal prophesied; so that it was not until they were galloping
breathlessly toward the palace that the princess knew that she was
taken captive. She said nothing, however, but quietly opened her apron
which contained the bran for the chickens, and in a moment it lay
scattered on the ground.
'Oh, I have let fall my bran!' cried she; 'please get down and pick it
up for me.' But Jose only answered:
'We shall find plenty of bran where we are going.' And the horse
galloped on.
They were now passing through a forest, and the princess took out her
handkerchief and threw it upwards, so that it stuck in one of the
topmost branches of a tree.
'Dear me; how stupid! I have let my handkerchief blow away,' said she.
'Will you climb up and get it for me?' But Jose answered: