before midnight: and, with that, the coachman cracked his whip and she
was driven away, beside herself with joy.
In the royal palace, and in the royal gardens, over which shone the
same stars which had looked down upon _Cinderella's_ pumpkins, the ball
was at its height: with scores and scores of couples dancing on the
waxed floor to the music of the violins; and under the trees, where the
music throbbed in faint echoes, other scores of couples moving, passing
and repassing, listening to the plash of the fountains and inhaling the
sweet scent of the flowers.
Now, as the King's son walked among his guests, word was brought to him
by his Chamberlain that a grand Princess, whom nobody knew, had just
arrived and desired admission.
'She will not tell her name,' said the Chamberlain; 'but that she is
a Princess and of very high dignity cannot be doubted. Apart from her
beauty and the perfection of her address (of which your Royal Highness,
perhaps, will allow me to be no mean judge), I may mention that the
very jewels in her hair are worth a whole province.'
The King's son hastened to the gate to receive the fair stranger,
handed her down from the coach, and led her through the gardens,
where the guests drew apart and gazed in wonder at her loveliness.
Still escorted by him she entered the ball-room, where at once a
great silence fell, the dancing was broken off, the violins ceased to
play--so taken, so ravished was everybody by the vision of this unknown
one. Everywhere ran the murmur, 'Ah! how beautiful she is!' The _King_
himself, old as he was, could not take his eyes off her, and confided
to the _Queen_ in a low voice that it was long since he had seen so
adorable a creature.
All the ladies were busily studying her head-dress and her ball gown,
that they might order the like next day for themselves, if only (vain
hope!) they could find materials so exquisite and dressmakers clever
enough.
The King's son took her to the place of honour, and afterwards led her
out to dance. She danced so gracefully that all admired her yet the
more. A splendid supper was served, but the young _Prince_ ate nothing
of it, so intent was he on gazing upon her.
She went and sat by her sisters, who bridled with pleasure at the
honour. She did them a thousand civilities, sharing with them the
nectarines and citrons which the _Prince_ brought her; and still not
recognising her, they marvelled at this, being quite unused (as they
never deserved) to be selected for attentions so flattering.
The King's son now claimed her for another dance. It had scarcely come
to an end when _Cinderella_ heard the clock strike the quarter to
twelve; whereupon she instantly desired her partner to lead her to the
_King_ and _Queen_. 'For I must be going,' she said.
'It is cruel of you to go so early,' he protested. 'But at least you
will come again to-morrow and grant me many dances?'
'Is there to be another ball, then, to-morrow?' she asked.
'To-morrow, yes; and as many morrows as you wish, if only you will
come.'
'Ah, if I could! 'sighed _Cinderella_ to herself: for she was young,
and it seemed to her that she could never have enough of such evenings
as this, though they went on for ever and ever.
The _Prince_ led her to the daïs where sat the _King_ and _Queen_. She
made a deep reverence before them, a slighter but no less gracious one
to the company, and withdrew. Although she had given no orders, her
coach stood waiting for her. Slipping in, she was whisked home in the
time it would take you to wink an eye.
She had scarcely entered the house, however, before she received a
shock. For on the threshold of the kitchen, glancing down to make sure
that her ball gown was not disarranged by this rapid journey, she
perceived that it had vanished--changed back to the rags of her daily
wear. But there, in the light of the hearth, stood her godmother, who
smiled so pleasantly that _Cinderella_ choked down her little cry of
disappointment.
[Illustration: Whereupon she instantly desired her partner to lead her
to the KING and QUEEN.]
'Well, child? And how have you fared?'
'Godmama, I have never been so happy in all my life! And it is all
thanks to you!' But after thanking her, _Cinderella_ could not help
confessing how she longed to go to the ball next evening. The King's
son had begged her to come again, and oh! if she had been able to
promise!
'As to that, child,' said her godmother, 'we will see about it when the
time comes. But it has been lonely, keeping watch and sitting up for
you. Will you not reward me by telling all about it?'
_Cinderella_ needed no such invitation; she was dying to relate
her adventures. She talked and talked, her godmother still smiling
and questioning. For two hours, may be, she talked and was still
recollecting a score of things to tell when her sisters' coach rumbled
up to the gate, and almost at once there came a loud ring at the bell.
She stared and rubbed her eyes, for at the first sound of it her
godmother had vanished!
_Cinderella_ ran and opened the door to her sisters. 'What a long time
you have stayed,' said she, yawning, rubbing her eyes, and stretching
herself as though she had just waked out of sleep. (She had felt,
however, no inclination at all to sleep since their departure!)
'If you had been at the ball,' said the elder sister, 'you would not
have felt tired. One of the guests was the loveliest Princess--oh, the
loveliest you ever could see! She showed us a thousand civilities. She
gave us nectarines and citrons.'
_Cinderella_ contained her joy. Upstairs, while she unplaited her
sisters' hair and unlaced their bodices, she asked the name of the
Princess. But they answered that no one knew her; that the King's son
was wild about her, and would give everything in the world to discover
who she was. _Cinderella_ smiled. She no longer felt any temptation at
all to be clumsy with the hairpins.
'Why then,' she said, 'she must be beautiful indeed. And she went away,
you say, without telling her name? Is no one going to see her again?'
'As for that, she may come again to the ball to-morrow. I am told that
the _Prince_ begged it, almost with tears in his eyes.... For there is
to be another ball to-morrow, and we are going!'
'Ah, heavens!' sighed _Cinderella_, how lucky you are! Might I not just
see her? Please, please, Sister Caroline, take me to-morrow--I could
manage quite well if only you lent me your yellow gown which you wear
every evening!'
'Hoity-toity! 'snapped _Miss Caroline_. 'You cannot be awake. You must
have been dreaming to some purpose if you see me lending my clothes to
a nasty little Cinder-slut!'
_Cinderella_ had quite well expected some such rebuff, and was glad
enough to get it, for it would have been very awkward if her sister had
been willing to lend the gown.
The next evening the two sisters were at the ball; and so was
_Cinderella_, but in even finer attire than before. Her godmother
had spared no pains, and as for the expense, that hardly needs to be
considered when you can turn pumpkins into gilt coaches, cobwebs into
Valenciennes lace, and beetles' wings into rubies, with the tap of a
wand.
The King's son in his impatience flew to her coach door as soon as she
arrived. Throughout the evening he never left her side, nor ceased to
make pretty speeches; and she, pretty maid, was far from finding his
behaviour tiresome--so far, indeed, that she forgot her godmother's
warning. The end was, that in the midst of a dance she heard the stroke
of a clock, looked up, was dismayed to find it the first stroke of
twelve when she believed it yet an hour short of midnight, and made her
escape as lightly as a deer. The _Prince_ followed, but could not catch
her. Only she dropped one of her glass slippers, which he picked up and
treasured.
With the last stroke of twelve, coach and footmen had whisked away,
and poor _Cinderella_, barefoot now as well as in rags, panted
homeward over roads where the flints cut her until she bled, and the
owls and great moths blundered out of the bushes against her face. To
make matters worse, a thunderstorm broke before she had ran half the
distance, and she arrived home in a terrible plight, muddy, drenched to
the skin, and almost more dead than alive. In one thing only she was
fortunate: she had outstripped her sisters, whose coach on the way home
lost a wheel--and I have a suspicion that _Cinderella's_ godmother had
something to do with this misadventure too.
At all events when _Cinderella_ opened the kitchen door the little lady
stood as she had stood the night before, in the glow of the hearth,
awaiting her.
'Well, child,' she said, frowning, yet the frown was not altogether
unkindly, 'it is easily seen that you have forgotten my warning and
have suffered for it. But what is _that_ you are clutching?'
Poor _Cinderella_ drew from under her bedraggled bodice a crystal
slipper, fellow to the missing one. It was the one remnant of all her
finery, and somehow, scarcely knowing why, she had hugged it to her
while she ran and never let it slip in all her stumblings.
Her godmother gazed at her with a queer expression, that began by being
a frown, yet in the end had certainly changed into a shrewd smile.
'You have been careless,' she said. 'Yet I am pleased to see that you
have managed to keep, at any rate, one-half of your godmother's gift.
'I think she meant by this that whereas all the rest of _Cinderella's_
adornment had been contrived out of something other than it was, the
two glass slippers had been really produced out of the Fairy's pocket.
They alone had not vanished at the stroke of midnight. 'But what has
become of the other one?' her godmother asked.
_Cinderella_ did not know for certain, but fancied that she must have
dropped it in her hurry to escape from the palace.
'Yes, you are careless,' repeated the Fairy; 'but decidedly you are not
unlucky.'
And with that she vanished, as the bell sounded announcing the
sisters'return.
They were not in the best of humours, to begin with. _Cinderella_ asked
them if they had again found the ball enjoyable, and if the beautiful
lady had been there. They told her yes; but that on the stroke of
twelve she had taken flight, and so hurriedly that she had let fall
one of her small glass slippers, the prettiest in the world, which the
King's son had picked up. They added, that this indeed was the first
cause of their delay; for, seeking their carriage, they had found the
entry blocked, and the _Prince_ in the wildest state of mind, demanding
of the guards if they had not seen a Princess pass out. The guards
answered that they had seen no one pass out but a ragged girl, who
looked more like a country wench than a Princess. Amid this to-do, the
sisters had with difficulty found their coach; and then, within two
miles of home, a wheel had come off and the coach had lurched over, in
a thunderstorm, too; and they had been forced to walk the rest of the
way, the one with a bruised shoulder, and the other (which was worse)
with a twisted ankle. But, after all, the dance had been worth these
mischances and sufferings; and, said they, harking back, the _Prince_
was undoubtedly deep in love, for they had left him gazing fondly at
the slipper, and little doubt--mysteriously as she chose to behave--he
would make every effort to find the beautiful creature to whom it
belonged.
They told the truth, too. For a few days after, the King's son had it
proclaimed by sound of trumpet that he would marry her whose foot the
slipper exactly fitted.
At first they tried it on the Princesses of the Court:
Then on the Duchesses:
Then on the Marchionesses:
Then on the Countesses and Viscountesses:
Then on the Baronesses:
And so on, through all the ladies of the Court, and a number of
competitors, who, though they did not belong to it, yet supposed that
the smallness of their feet was an argument that their parents had very
unjustly come down in the world. The Prime Minister, who carried the
glass slipper on a velvet cushion, was kept very busy during the next
few weeks.
At length he called on _Cinderella's_ two sisters, who did all they
could to squeeze a foot into the slipper, but by no means could they
succeed.
_Cinderella_, who was looking on and admiring their efforts, said
laughingly:--
'Let me see if it will fit me.'
Her sisters began to laugh and mock at her, but the Prime Minister,
who had come to make trial of the slipper, looked at _Cinderella_
attentively, and seeing how good-looking she was, said that it was but
just--he had orders to try it upon every one.
[Illustration: The Prime Minister was kept very busy during the next
few weeks.]
He asked _Cinderella_ to sit down, and drawing the slipper upon her
little foot, he saw that it went on easily, and fitted the foot like
wax. Great was the astonishment of the two sisters; but it was greater
when _Cinderella_ pulled from her pocket the other little slipper and
put it upon the other foot. On top of this came a rap at the door,
and in walked the Fairy Godmother, who, by a touch of her wand upon
_Cinderella's_ clothes, made them still more magnificent than they had
been before.
And now her two sisters knew _Cinderella_ to be the same beautiful
creature they had seen at the ball. They threw themselves at her feet,
begging her pardon for all the ill-usage they had made her suffer.
_Cinderella_ raised and kissed them, saying that she forgave them with
all her heart, and entreated them to be loving to her always.
They led her to the young _Prince_, arrayed as she was. He thought
her lovelier than ever, and, a few days after, they were married.
_Cinderella_, who was as good as she was beautiful, lodged her two
sisters in the palace, and married them that same day to two great
Lords of the Court.
MORAL
_Better than wealth or art,_
_Jewels or a painted face,_
_It is when a natural heart_
_Inhabits its natural place_
_And beats at a natural pace._
ANOTHER
_Yet youth that is poor of purse,_
_No matter how witty or handsome,_
_Will find its talents no worse_
_For a godmamma to advance 'em._
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST
Once upon a time, in a country a long way from here, there stood a
flourishing city, full of commerce; and in that city lived a merchant
so lucky in all his ventures that it seemed as if fortune waited on his
wishes. But while enormously rich, he had a very long family of six
sons and six daughters; and as yet not one of them was settled in life.
The boys were too young to go out in the world; and the girls, who had
everything at home the heart could desire, were in no hurry to risk a
change by choosing a husband, although many rich and noble suitors paid
court to them.
But one day an unexpected disaster brought this pleasant state of
things to an end. Their house caught fire and was burnt to the ground;
and with it perished not only the magnificent furniture, but the
merchant's account books, bank notes, gold and silver, and the precious
wares on which his wealth depended. Scarcely anything was saved.
This was but the beginning of their misfortunes. Their father, who
up to now had prospered in everything he touched, lost in a very
short while every ship he had upon the sea. Some were wrecked, others
captured by pirates. His agents failed; his clerks in foreign countries
proved unfaithful; and, in short, from the height of riches he suddenly
fell into the direst poverty.
Nothing was left to him but one poor little country cottage, at least
a hundred leagues from the city in which he had lived. In this he was
driven to find refuge, and to this he carried off his family, who were
in despair since the overthrow. The daughters especially could not
endure the thought of dwelling in such a den (as they called it). At
first they had felt sure that on hearing the news their suitors would
be tripping one another up in haste to renew their offers of marriage.
But in this they were soon undeceived. Their downfall was no sooner
known than all these flattering wooers took to their heels in a troop.
They fared no better with their intimate friends, who at once dropped
their acquaintance. Nay, those to whom our merchant had formerly shown
the greatest kindness were now the most eager to speak ill of him.
So nothing was left for this hapless family but to take their departure
from the city and shut themselves up in the cottage, which stood in the
depth of a dismal and almost trackless forest. No servants now to wait
on them! The sons tilled the ground and swept out the farm sheds; and
the daughters, dressed like country girls in coarse linen frocks, were
forced to turn their delicate hands to the roughest employment and live
on hard fare of which there was little enough.
Only the youngest daughter showed a brave heart. She had been
despondent as any of them to begin with; but after weeping--as well she
might--for her father's misfortunes, she recovered her natural gaiety,
made the best of things, tried to forget how ungrateful the world had
been, kept her father and her brothers amused with her cheerful wit,
and after she had done her work, would sing and play. But her sisters
would not join with her in making the best of things. 'It is very easy
for you to be happy,' the eldest grumbled. 'You have low tastes and
were born for this kind of life.' The fact is, they were all jealous of
her because of her sweet temper and good looks. So beautiful, indeed,
was this youngest sister that in the old days every one had agreed to
call her _Beauty_--by that and by no other name she was known. Alone of
them she might easily, in the first days of their ruin, have found a
husband; but she could not think of this while she could be of use to
help and console her family.
Two years passed, and there came news which seemed to offer a hope to
escape. One of their father's ships, long supposed to be lost, had
arrived in port with a rich cargo. The message further advised his
return to the city with speed, or his, agents might sell the goods too
cheaply and he would lose his gains. So, whilst his children danced
with joy at the news, the merchant set about preparing for his long
journey.
In their transport his daughters loaded him with commissions for gowns
and jewels it would have taken a fortune to buy. Only _Beauty_ would
not ask for anything. Her father, noting her silence, interrupted the
others who still kept adding to their list of requirements.
'Well, _Beauty_,' he said, 'and what shall I bring home for you? Surely
you, too, wish for something?'
'Dear father,' she answered, 'I wish for the most precious thing in the
world; and that is to see you home again safe and sound.'
This answer covered the sisters with confusion, and vexed them so that
one of them, speaking up for the others, said tartly: 'This small miss
is putting on airs. She thinks, no doubt, she cuts a figure with her
affected fine sentiments!'
Her father, however, was touched by her good feeling. Nevertheless he
told her to choose something--'For,' said he, 'at your age it is only
natural to like dresses and pretty presents.'
'Well, dear father,' said she, 'since you insist, I will beg you to
bring me home a rose. I have not seen one since we came to live here,
and I love roses.' In this way _Beauty_ contrived to obey her father
and yet to put him to no expense.
The day came for the merchant to embrace them all and bid them
farewell. He made the best of his way to the great city; and arrived
there to be met with a great disappointment. To be sure his vessel had
come safely to port; but his partners, believing him dead, had taken
possession of it and divided the cargo between them. To make good his
claim he was forced to bring a number of tedious law-suits. He won them
in the end; but only to find, after six months of trouble and expense,
that he was almost as poor as when he started.
To make his misery complete he was forced to travel back in the winter,
in the most inclement weather; so that by the time he reached the
skirts of the forest he was ready to drop with fatigue. But reminding
himself that his home was now not many leagues away, he called up what
strength, remained to him.
As he pushed on through the forest, night overtook him; and in the
piercing cold, half buried--his horse and he--in the deep snow that hid
every pathway, the poor merchant feared that his last hour had come.
Not so much as a hut did he pass. The only shelter to be found was the
trunk of a hollow tree; and there he cowered through the long night,
kept awake by his hunger and the howling of the wolves. Nor did the
day bring him much comfort: for thick snow lay everywhere, and not a
path was to be seen. It was only after a weary search that he managed
to recover his horse, which had wandered away and partly sheltered
itself in another hollow tree. He mounted, and now in a little while
discovered a sort of track which presently grew easier.
Following this, he found himself in an avenue of trees, at the entrance
of which he halted and rubbed his eyes. For no snow had fallen in this
avenue, and the trees were tall orange-trees, planted in four rows and
covered with flowers and fruit; and here and there among the trees
were statues, some of single figures, others of groups representing
scenes of war, but all coloured like real life. At the end of the
avenue, straight in front of him, rose a magnificent castle in many
terraces. The merchant rode around to the stable courtyard, which
he found empty; and there, with half-frozen hands, he unbridled and
stabled his horse. Within the doorway he found a staircase of agate
with balusters of carved gold. He mounted it and passed through room
after room, each more splendidly furnished than the last. They were
deliciously warm, too, and he began to feel his limbs again. But he
was hungry; where could he find some one to give him food? Everywhere
was silence; and yet the place had no look of being abandoned.
Drawingrooms, bedchambers, galleries--all stood unlocked.... At last,
tired of roaming, he came to a halt in an apartment where some one had
lit a bright fire. A sofa drawn up cosily beside it, invited him to sit
and warm his limbs; and resting there, he closed his eyes and fell into
deep and grateful slumber.
As weariness had sent him to sleep, so hunger awoke him. He opened
his eyes and saw at his elbow a table with meats and wine upon it. He
had been fasting for more than twenty-four hours, and lost no time
in falling-to. He hoped that he might soon have sight of this most
hospitable entertainer, whoever he might be, and an opportunity of
thanking him. Still no one appeared; and now this good food did for him
what fatigue had done before. He dropped off again into an easy slumber
which lasted for four hours almost. Again awaking, he saw at his elbow
another small table--of porphyry this time--upon which the unknown
hands had set out a dainty meal of cakes, crystallised fruits and
liqueurs. To this, too, he did justice. But, as the time still passed
and no one appeared, he began to feel terrified, and resolved to search
once more through all the rooms.... But still he found no one.
[Illustration: He had been fasting, for more than twenty-four hours,
and lost no time in falling to.]
He was standing lost in thought, when of a sudden it came into his
mind that some kindly power had perhaps prepared this palace of wonder
for him, that it with all its riches might indeed be his. Possessed by
this notion he once again made a tour of the rooms and took stock of
their treasures, planning in his mind how he would divide them amongst
his children, assigning this apartment to one and that to another, and
whispering to himself what joy he would carry home after all from his
journey. Then he went down into the garden, where--though it was the
depth of winter--the birds were singing and the air breathed the scent
of a thousand flowers.
'Surely,' he told himself, 'my daughters will be happy here and never
desire any more to go back to the city. Quick! Let me saddle my horse
at once and ride home with the news!'
The way to the stable was an alley fenced on either hand with palings,
and over the palings hung great clusters of roses in bloom. They
reminded him of his promise to _Beauty_. He plucked one, and was about
to pluck a whole nosegay, when he was startled by a horrible noise
behind him, and attempted to turn. But behind him stood a hideous
_Beast_ who was overtaking him and reaching out towards him.