so, thinking upon her husband's command, and considering what ill might
befall her if she disobeyed it. While he uttered it his look had been
extremely stern, and a blue beard--for after a month of married life
she could no longer disguise from herself that it was still blue, or
at any rate changing colour less rapidly than she or her mother had
promised themselves--might betoken a harsh temper. On the other hand,
and though she continued to find it repulsive, he had hitherto proved
himself a kind, even an indulgent husband, and for the life of her she
could not imagine there was anything unpardonable in opening so small a
chamber. The temptation, in short, was too strong for her to overcome.
She took the little key and, trembling, opened the door.
At first, shading her eyes and peering in, she could see nothing,
because the window-shutters were closed. But after some moments she
began to perceive that the light, falling through the shutters, took
a reddish tinge as it touched the floor. So red it was--or rather,
red-purple--that for a moment or two she supposed the closet to be
paved with porphyry of that colour. Still, as she stared, and her
eyes by degrees grew accustomed to the gloom, she saw--and moment by
moment the truth crept upon her and froze her--that the floor was all
covered with clotted blood. In the dull shine of it something horrible
was reflected.... With an effort she lifted her eyes to the wall
facing her, and there, in a row, on seven iron clamps, hung the bodies
of seven dead women with their feet dangling a few inches above the
horrible pool in which their blood had mingled.... Little doubt but
these were the wives whom _Blue Beard_ had married and whose throats he
had cut, one after another!
Poor _Fatima_ thought to die of fear, and the key, which she had pulled
from the lock, fell from her hand. When she had regained her senses a
little, she picked it up and locked the door again; but her hand shook
so that this was no easy feat, and she tottered upstairs to recover
herself in her own room. But she found it filled with her officious
friends, who, being occupied with envy of her riches and having no
reason to guess that, in a husband's absence, anything could afflict so
fortunate a wife, either honestly ignored her pallor or hoped (while
promising to come again) that they had not overtired her by their visit.
They promised, too, to repeat their call very soon, at the same time
inquiring how long her husband's journey might be expected to last. It
was plain that they feared him, one and all. Half an hour ago she might
have wondered at this.
They were gone at last. _Fatima_, drawing the key from her pocket, now
to her horror observed a dull smear upon it, and remembered that it had
fallen at her feet on the edge of the pool of blood in the closet. She
wiped it; she rubbed it on the sleeve of her robe; but the blood would
not come off. In a sudden terror she ran to her dressing-room, poured
out water, and began to soap the key. But in vain did she wash it, and
even scrape it with a knife and scrub it with sand and pumice-stone.
The blood still remained, for the key was a magic key, and there was no
means of making it quite clean; as fast as the blood was scoured off
one side it came again on the other.
She was still scouring and polishing, when a horn sounded not very far
away. In her flurry she paid little heed to this, or to the rumble of
wheels she heard approaching. Frightened though she was, she supposed
that she had still almost six weeks in which to restore by some means
the key to its brightness. But when the wheels rolled up to the
porchway and came to a stop, and when the horn, sounding again, blew
her husband's flourish, then indeed the poor lady's knees knocked
together and almost sank beneath her. Hiding the key in the bosom of
her bodice, she tottered forth to the head of the stairs, to behold
_Blue Beard_ himself standing beneath the lamp in the hall below.
He caught sight of her as she leaned over, clinging to the balustrade;
and called up cheerfully that he had received letters on the road with
news that his journey was after all unnecessary--the business he went
about had been settled, and to his advantage. Still shaking in every
limb, _Fatima_ crept downstairs to give him greeting. She ordered
supper to be prepared in haste; and while he ate, forced herself to ask
a hundred questions concerning his adventures. In short she did all she
could to give him proof that she was delighted at his speedy return.
Next morning, having summoned her to attend him on the terrace, he
asked her to render back the keys; which she gave him, but with such a
trembling hand that he easily guessed what had happened.
'How is this? 'said he. 'Why is not the key of my closet among the
rest?'
'I must have left it upstairs on my table,' said _Fatima_.
'Fetch it to me at once,' said _Blue Beard_. 'At once, and without
fail.'
She went, and after a while returned, protesting that she could not
find it.
'Go back and seek again,' commanded _Blue Beard_, dangerously calm.
After going backwards and forwards several times, she could pretend no
longer, but brought him the key. _Blue Beard_ examined it closely, and
demanded--
'How came this blood upon the key?'
'I do not know,' answered poor _Fatima_, paler than death.
'You do not know!' cried _Blue Beard_ in a terrible voice. 'But I know
well enough. You have chosen to enter that closet. Mighty well, madam;
since that poor room of mine so appeals to your fancy, your whim shall
not be denied. You _shall_ go in, and take your place among the ladies
you saw there!'
_Fatima_ flung herself at her husband's feet, and wept and begged his
pardon with every sign of truly repenting her disobedience. She would
have melted a rock, so beautiful and sorrowful she was; but _Blue
Beard_ had a heart harder than any rock.
[Illustration: The unhappy FATIMA cried up to her:--
'Anne, Sister Anne, do you see any one coming?']
'You must die, madam,' said he, 'and that presently.'
'Since I must die,' she answered, looking up at him with eyes all
bathed in tears, 'grant me a little time to say my prayers.'
'I grant you,' replied _Blue Beard_, 'ten minutes, and not a second
more.'
As she went from him, and through the house towards her own apartment,
at the foot of the great staircase she met with her sister _Anne_, who
(unaware of _Blue Beard's_ return) had just arrived to pay her a visit.
'Ah, dear sister!' cried _Fatima_, embracing her. 'But tell me, oh, and
for Heaven's sake, quickly! where are my brothers _Selim_ and _Hassan_,
who promised to come with you?'
'They are at home,' said _Anne_. 'They were detained at parade, and
I have come ahead of them. I could wait for them no longer in my
impatience to see you; but just as I was starting they arrived back
from the parade-ground, and sent word that they will follow as soon as
they have groomed their horses, and spend a happy day with you.'
'Alas!' sobbed _Fatima_, 'they will never see me alive in this world!'
'But what has happened? 'asked her sister, amazed.
'He--_Blue Beard_--has returned.... Yes, and in a few minutes he has
promised to kill me. But ah! ask me no questions--there is so little
time left. Dear sister, if you love me, run upstairs and still up to
the top of the tower, look if my brothers are not coming, and if you
see them, give them a signal to make haste!'
Her sister _Anne_ left her and ran up, up, to the roof of the tower;
and from time to time as the minutes sped, the unhappy _Fatima_ cried
up to her:--
'_Anne, Sister Anne, do you see any one coming?_'
And _Sister Anne_ answered her:--
'_I see nothing but the noon dust a-blowing, and the green grass
a-growing._'
By and by _Blue Beard_, who had pulled out his huge sabre, and was
trying its edge on the short turf of the terrace, shouted to her:--
'Wife, your time is up. Come down, and at once!'
Then, as she made no answer, he shouted again, and as loudly as he
could bawl: 'Come down quickly, or I will come up to you!'
'A moment--give me a moment longer!' she answered, and called softly to
her sister: '_Anne, Sister Anne, do you see any one coming?_'
And _Sister Anne_ answered: '_I see nothing but the noon dust
a-blowing, and the green grass a-growing._'
'Come down quickly,' shouted _Blue Beard_, 'or I will come up to you!'
'I am coming,' answered his wife; and again she cried: '_Anne, Sister
Anne, do you see any one coming?_'
'I see,' answered _Sister Anne_, 'yonder a great cloud of dust coming.'
'Is it my brothers?'
'Alas! no, sister. I see a flock of sheep.'
'Will you not come down?' bawled _Blue Beard_.
'Just one moment longer!' entreated his wife, and once more she called
out: '_Anne, Sister Anne, do you see nobody coming?_'
'I see,' she answered, 'yonder two Knights a-riding, but they are yet a
great way off.... God be praised,' she cried a moment after, 'they are
our brothers! I am waving my handkerchief to them to hasten.'
Then _Blue Beard_ stamped his foot and roared out so terribly that he
made the whole house tremble. The poor lady came down and, casting
herself, all in tears and dishevelled, at his feet, clasped him by the
ankles while she besought him for mercy.
'This shall not help you,' said _Blue Beard_, 'You must die!' Then,
taking hold of her hair and twisting her head back, the better to
expose her beautiful throat, he exclaimed: 'This be the lesson I read
against curiosity, the peculiar vice of womankind, and which above
all others I find detestable. To that most fatal habit all the best
accredited religions, in whatever else they may differ, unite in
attributing the first cause of all misfortunes to which the race is
subject.... In this strain he continued for fully three minutes, still
grasping her hair with one hand while with the other he flourished his
sabre.
As he ceased, poor _Fatima_ looked up at him with dying eyes. 'Ah,
sir!' she besought him, (if this curiosity be, as you remind me, my
worst sin, you will not be so cruel as to destroy me before I have
confessed and asked pardon for it. Grant me, then, just one moment more
to fix my thoughts on devotion!'
[Illustration: Then BLUE BEARD roared out so terribly that he made the
whole house tremble.]
'No, no,' was his answer; 'recommend thyself to Heaven'; and he swung
up his sabre to strike.
At that very instant there sounded so loud a knocking at the gate that
he came to a sudden stop. His arm dropped as the gate flew open and
two cavaliers ran in with drawn swords and rushed upon him. Loosing
his hold upon _Fatima_, who sank fainting upon the grass, he ran to
save himself, but the two brothers were so hot on his heels that, after
pursuing him through the vineries and the orange-house, they overtook
him just as he reached the steps of the main porch. There they ran
their swords through his body, and, after making sure that he was dead,
returned to their sister, who opened her eyes, indeed, as they bent
over her, but had not strength enough to rise and embrace them.
_Blue Beard_ had no heirs, and so his wife became mistress of all his
estates. She employed a part of her wealth to marry her sister _Anne_
to a young gentleman who had loved her a long while; another part to
purchase captains' commissions for her two step-brothers; and the rest
to marry herself to a very worthy gentleman who made her forget the
short but unhappy time she had passed with _Blue Beard_.
MORAL
(For Curious Wives)
_Wives should have one lord only. Some have reckon'd_
_In Curiosity t' enjoy a second._
_But Scripture says we may not serve two masters,_
_And little keys have opened large disasters._
ANOTHER
(For Chastising or Correcting Husbands)
_The very best sermon that ever was preach'd_
_Was a thought less effective the longer it reached._
CINDERELLA OR THE LITTLE GLASS SLIPPER
Once upon a time there lived a gentleman who married twice. His second
wife was a widow with two grown-up daughters, both somewhat past their
prime, and this woman would have been the proudest and most overbearing
in the world had not her daughters exactly resembled her with their
fine airs and insolent tempers. The husband, too, had by his first wife
a child of his own, a young daughter, and so good and so gentle that
she promised to grow up into the living image of her dead mother, who
had been the most lovable of women.
The wedding festivities were no sooner over than the stepmother began
to show herself in her true colours. She could not endure the girl's
good qualities, which by contrast rendered her own daughters the more
odious. She put her to drudge at the meanest household work, and thus
she and her precious darlings not only wreaked their spite but saved
money to buy themselves dresses and finery. It was the child who
scoured the pots and pans, scrubbed the floors, washed down the stairs,
polished the tables, ironed the linen, darned the stockings, and made
the beds. She herself slept at the top of the house in a garret, upon a
wretched straw mattress, while her sisters had apartments of their own
with inlaid floors, beds carved and gilded in the latest fashion, and
mirrors in which they could see themselves from head to foot.
Yet they were so helpless, or rather they thought it so menial to do
anything for themselves, that had they but a ribbon to tie, or a bow
to adjust, or a bodice to be laced, the child must be sent for. When
she came it was odds that they met her with a storm of abuse, in this
fashion:--
'What do you mean, pray, by answering the bell in this state? Stand
before the glass and look at yourself! Look at your hands--faugh! How
can you suppose we should allow you to touch a ribbon, or even come
near us, with such hands? Run downstairs, slut, and put yourself under
the kitchen pump'--and so on.
'How can I help it?' thought the poor little drudge. 'If I do not
run at once when the bell rings, they scold me for that. Yet they
ring--both of them together sometimes--a minute after setting me to
rake out a grate and sift the ashes. As for looking at myself in the
glass, gladly would I do it if they allowed me one. But they have told
me that if I had a glass I should only waste time in front of it.'
She kept these thoughts to herself, however, and suffered her ill-usage
patiently, not daring to complain to her father, who would, moreover,
have joined with the others in chiding her, for he was wholly under his
wife's thumb; and she had enough of chiding already. When she had done
her work she used to creep away to the chimney-corner and seat herself
among the cinders, and from this the household name for her came to
be _Cinder-slut_; but the younger sister, who was not so ill-tempered
as the elder, called her _Cinderella_. They were wise in their way to
deprive her of a looking-glass; for in truth, and in spite of her sorry
rags, _Cinderella_ was a hundred times more beautiful than they with
all their magnificent dresses.
It happened that the King's son gave a ball, and sent invitations
through the kingdom to every person of quality. Our two misses were
invited among the rest, for they cut a great figure in that part of
the country. Mightily pleased they were to be sure with their cards of
invitation, all printed in gold and stamped with the broad red seal of
the Heir Apparent; and mightily busy they were, discussing what gowns
and head-dresses would best become them. This meant more worry for
_Cinderella_, for it was she who ironed her sisters' linen, goffered
their tucks and frills, pleated their wristbands, pressed their
trimmings of old lace and wrapped them away in tissue paper. A score of
times all this lace, piece by piece, had to be unwrapped, inspected,
put away again; and after a trying-on, all the linen had to be ironed,
goffered, crimped, or pleated afresh for them. They could talk of
nothing but their ball dresses.
[Illustration: She used to creep away to the chimney-corner and seat
herself among the cinders.]
'For my part,' said the elder, 'I shall wear a velvet cramoisie trimmed
_à l'Anglaise_'--for she had a passion for cramoisie, and could not
perceive how ill the colour went with her complexion. 'I had thought of
cloth-of-gold, but there's the cost of the underskirt to be considered;
and underskirts seem to grow dearer and dearer in these days. What a
relief,' she went on, 'it must be to have money and not be forced to
set one thing against another!'
'I,' said the younger, 'must make shift with my old underskirt; that
is, unless I can wheedle some money out of Papa'--for so, in their
affection, they called their stepfather. '_Cinderella_ can take out the
worst stains to-morrow with a little eau-de-Cologne. I believe that,
if she tries, she can make it look as good as new; and, at all events,
it will give her something to do instead of wasting an afternoon. I
don't pretend that I _like_ wearing an old underskirt, and I hope
to make dear Papa sensible of this; but against it I shall have the
gold-flowered robe, on which I am determined, and my diamond stomacher,
which is somewhat better than the common.'
'And I, of course,' said the elder, 'must wear my diamond spray. If
only it had a ruby in the clasp instead of a sapphire! Rubies go so
much better with cramoisie.... I suppose there is no time now to ask
the jeweller to re-set it with a ruby.'
'But you don't possess a ruby, dear,' murmured her sister, who did
possess one, and had no intention of lending it. 'And, besides,
sapphires suit you so much better!'
They sent for the best milliner they could find, to build their
mob-caps in triple tiers; and for the best hairdresser to arrange
their hair; and their patches were supplied by the shop to which all
the Quality went. From time to time they called up _Cinderella_ to ask
her advice, for she had excellent taste. _Cinderella_ advised them
perfectly, and even offered her services to dress their hair for them
on the night of the ball. They accepted gladly enough.
Whilst she was dressing them one asked her: '_Cinderella_, would you
not like to be going to the ball?'
'Alas! miss,' said _Cinderella_, 'you are making fun of me. It is not
for the like of me to be there.'
'You are right, girl. Folks would laugh indeed to see _Cinder-slut_ at
a ball!'
Any one but _Cinderella_ would have pinned on their mob-caps awry; and
if you or I had been in her place, I won't swear but that we might have
pushed in the pins just a trifle carelessly. But she had no malice in
her nature; she attired them to perfection, though they found fault
with her all the while it was doing, and quite forgot to thank her
when it was done. Let it be related, in excuse for their tempers, that
they had passed almost two days without eating, so eager were they
and excited. The most of this time they had spent in front of their
mirrors, where they had broken more than a dozen laces in trying to
squeeze their waists and make them appear more slender. They were
dressed a full two hours before the time fixed for starting. But at
length the coach arrived at the door. They were tucked into it with a
hundred precautions, and _Cinderella_ followed it with her eyes as long
as she could; that is to say, until the tears rose and blinded them.
She turned away weeping, back to the house, and crept into her dear
chimney-corner; where, being all alone in the kitchen, she could
indulge her misery.
A long while she sat there. Suddenly, between two heavy sobs she looked
up, her eyes attracted by a strange blue glow on the far side of the
hearth: and there stood the queerest lady, who must have entered
somehow without knocking.
Her powdered hair was dressed all about her head in the prettiest
of short curls, amid which the most exquisite jewels--diamonds, and
rubies, and emeralds--sparkled against the firelight. Her dress had
wide panniers bulging over a skirt of lace flounces, billowy and
delicate as sea-foam, and a stiff bodice, shaped to the narrowest
waist imaginable. Jewels flashed all over this dress--or at least
_Cinderella_ supposed them to be jewels, though, on second thoughts,
they might be fireflies, butterflies, glowworms. They seemed at any
rate to be alive, and to dart from one point to another of her attire.
Lastly, this strange lady held in her right hand a short wand, on the
end of which trembled a pale bluish-green flame; and it was this which
had first caught _Cinderella's_ eye and caused her to look up.
'Good evening, child,' said the visitor in a sharp clear voice, at
the same time nodding kindly across the firelight. 'You seem to be in
trouble. What is the matter?'
'I wish,' sobbed _Cinderella_. 'I wish,' she began again, and again she
choked. This was all she could say for weeping.
'You wish, dear, that you could go to the ball; is it not so?'
'Ah, yes!' said _Cinderella_ with a sigh.
'Well, then,' said the visitor, 'be a good girl, dry your tears, and
I think it can be managed. I am your godmother, you must know, and in
younger days your mother and I were very dear friends.' She omitted,
perhaps purposely, to add that she was a Fairy; but _Cinderella_ was
soon to discover this too. 'Do you happen to have any pumpkins in the
garden?' her godmother asked.
_Cinderella_ thought this an odd question. She could not imagine what
pumpkins had to do with going to a ball. But she answered that there
were plenty in the garden--a whole bed of them in fact.
'Then let us go out and have a look at them.'
They went out into the dark garden to the pumpkin patch, and her
godmother pointed to the finest of all with her wand.
'Pick that one,' she commanded.
_Cinderella_ picked it, still wondering. Her godmother opened a fruit
knife that had a handle of mother-of-pearl. With this she scooped out
the inside of the fruit till only the rind was left; then she tapped
it with her wand, and at once the pumpkin was changed into a beautiful
coach all covered with gold.
'Next we must have horses,' said her godmother. 'The question is, Have
you such a thing as a mouse trap in the house?'
_Cinderella_ ran to look into her mouse trap, where she found six mice
all alive. Her godmother, following, told her to lift the door of the
trap a little way, and as the mice ran out one by one she gave each
a tap with her wand, and each mouse turned at once into a beautiful
horse--which made a fine team of six horses, of a lovely grey, dappled
with mouse colour.
Now the trouble was to find a coachman.
'I will go and see,' said _Cinderella_, who had dried her tears and was
beginning to find this great fun, 'if there isn't such a thing as a rat
in the rat trap. We can make a coachman of him.'
'You are right, dear,' said her godmother; 'run and look.'
_Cinderella_ fetched her the rat trap. There were three large rats in
it. The Fairy chose one of the three because of his enormous whiskers,
and at a touch he was changed into a fat coachman.
Next she said: 'Go to the end of the garden; and there in the corner of
the wall behind the watering-pot, unless I am mistaken, you will find
six lizards. Bring them to me.'
_Cinderella_ had no sooner brought them than her godmother changed them
into six footmen, who climbed up at once behind the coach with their
bedizened liveries, and clung on as though they had been doing nothing
else all their lives.
The Fairy then said to _Cinderella_: 'Hey now, child! This will do to
go to the ball with, unless you are hard to please.'
'Indeed, yes,' answered _Cinderella_. 'But how can I go, as I am, in
these horrid clothes?'
'You might have given me credit for thinking of that too!' Her
godmother did but touch her with her wand, and on the instant her rags
were transformed into cloth of gold and silver, all bespangled with
precious stones. She felt her hair creeping up into curls, and tiring
and arranging itself in tiers, on the topmost of which a double ostrich
feather grew from a diamond clasp that caught the rays of the old
lady's wand and shot them about the garden, this way and that, making
the slugs and snails crawl to shelter.
'But the chief mark of a lady,' said her godmother, eyeing her with
approval, 'is to be well shod,' and so saying she pulled out a pair of
glass slippers, into which _Cinderella_ poked her toes doubtfully, for
glass is not as a rule an accommodating material for slippers. You have
to be measured very carefully for it.
But these fitted to perfection: and thus arrayed from top to toe,
_Cinderella_ had nothing more to do but kiss her godmother, thank
her, and step into the coach, the six horses of which were pawing the
cabbage beds impatiently.
'Good-bye, child! 'said her godmother. 'But of one thing I must warn
you seriously. I have power to send you thus to the ball, but my power
lasts only until midnight. Not an instant beyond midnight must you stay
there. If you over-stay the stroke of twelve, your coach will become
but a pumpkin again, your horses will change back into mice, your
footmen into lizards, and your ball dress shrink to the same rags in
which I found you.'