Produced by Al Haines.
[Illustration: Anatole France]
*BEE:*
*THE PRINCESS
OF THE
DWARFS*
*BY ANATOLE FRANCE*
DONE
INTO ENGLISH BY
PETER WRIGHT
NEW YORK E. P. DUTTON AND COMPANY
J. M. DENT & SONS LTD - LONDON & TORONTO
1920
[Illustration: Title page]
SOLE AGENT FOR SCOTLAND
THE GRANT EDUCATIONAL CO. LTD.
GLASGOW
_All rights reserved_
[Illustration: Contents headpiece]
*Contents*
Chap.
I. Tells of the News that a White Rose brings to the Countess of the
White Moor
II. How the Loves of Bee of the Clarides and George of the White Moor
began
III. Which deals with Education in General, and that of George in
Particular
IV. Tells how the Duchess took Bee and George to the Hermitage and of
Their Meeting an Hideous Old Woman there
V. Is concerned with what you see from the Keep of the Clarides
VI. Tells how Bee and George went off to the Lake
VII. Shows the Penalty George of the White Moor paid for having gone
near to the Lake where live the Sylphs
VIII. Shows how Bee was taken to the Land of the Dwarfs
IX. Tells faithfully the Welcome given by King Loc to Bee of the
Clarides
X. In which the Wonders of the Kingdom of the Dwarfs are thoroughly
described, as well as the Dolls which were given to Bee
XI. In which the Treasure of King Loc is described as well as possible
XII. In which King Loc proposes
XIII. Tells how Bee saw her Mother and could not kiss Her
XIV. In which the Great Grief that overtook King Loc is seen
XV. Relates the Words of the Learned Nur which gave an Extraordinary
Pleasure to little King Loc
XVI. Tells the Marvellous Adventure of George of the White Moor
XVII. In which King Loc makes a Terrible Journey
XVIII. Tells the Marvellous Meeting that occurred to John, the Master
Tailor, and of the Good Song sung by the Birds of the Grove to the
Duchess
XIX. Tells of a little Satin Slipper
XX. In which a Dangerous Adventure is related
XXI. In which All ends well
Looking backward
The Sorrow of Demeter. By Sir G. W. Cox
The King of the Golden Mountain. By the Brothers Grimm
Persephone. By Jean Ingelow
The Writer of the Story of Bee
[Illustration: Princess Bee]
[Illustration: Chapter I headpiece]
*BEE*
*PRINCESS OF THE DWARFS*
*CHAPTER I*
*TELLS OF THE NEWS THAT A WHITE ROSE BRINGS
TO THE COUNTESS OF THE WHITE MOOR*
Setting on her golden hair a hood spread with pearls and tying round her
waist the widow's girdle, the Countess of the White Moor entered the
chapel where she prayed each day for the soul of her husband, killed by
an Irish giant in single combat.
That day she saw, on the cushion of her praying-stool, a white rose. At
the sight of it she turned pale and her eyes grew dim; she threw her
head back and wrung her hands. For she knew that when a Countess of the
White Moor must die she finds a white rose on her stool.
Knowing that the time had come for her to leave this world, where she
had been within such a short space of time a wife, a mother, and a
widow, she went to her room, where slept her son George, guarded by
waiting women. He was three years old; his long eyelashes threw a
pretty shade on his cheeks, and his mouth was like a flower. Seeing how
small he was and how young, she began to cry.
"My little boy," she said in a faint voice, "my dear little boy, you
will never have known me, and I shall never again see myself in your
sweet eyes. Yet I nursed you myself, so as to be really your mother,
and I have refused to marry the greatest knights for your sake."
She kissed a locket in which was a portrait of herself and a lock of her
hair, and put it round her son's neck. Then a mother's tear fell on his
cheek, and he began to move in his cradle and rub his eyes with his
little fists. But the Countess turned her head away and fled from the
room. Her own eyes were soon to close for ever; how could they bear to
look into those two adorable eyes where the light of understanding had
just begun to dawn?
She had a horse saddled and rode to the castle of the Clarides, followed
by her squire, Freeheart.
The Duchess of the Clarides kissed the Countess of the White Moor:
"What good chance has brought you here, my dear?"
"It is an evil chance that has brought me; listen, dearest. We were
married within a few years of each other, and we became widows by a
similar misfortune. In these times of chivalry the best die soonest,
and only monks live long. When you became a mother I had already been
one for two years. Your daughter Bee is as beautiful as day, and
nothing can be said against my son George. I like you and you like me.
For I must tell you I have found a white rose on the cushion of my
stool. I am going to die. I leave my son to you."
The Duchess was aware of the news that the white rose brings to the
ladies of the House of White Moor. She began to cry, and promised in
her tears to bring up Bee and George as sister and brother, and not to
give anything to one without giving half to the other. Then the two
ladies put their arms round each other, and went to the cradle where
little Bee slept under light blue curtains, as blue as the sky. Without
opening her eyes she moved her little arms, and as she opened her
fingers five small pink beams appeared to come out of each sleeve.
"He will defend her," said the mother of George. "And she will love
him," the mother of Bee answered. "She will love him," a small, clear
voice repeated.
The Duchess recognised it as that of a spirit that had long lived under
the hearthstone.
On her return to her manor the Lady of the White Moor divided her jewels
among her maids, and, having anointed herself with odorous essences and
put on her most beautiful clothes to honour that body which will rise
again on the Day of Judgment, she laid herself down on the bed and went
to sleep for ever.
*CHAPTER II*
*HOW THE LOVES OF BEE OF THE CLARIDES AND
GEORGE OF THE WHITE MOOR BEGAN*
The ordinary lot of women is to be more good than beautiful or more
beautiful than good. But the Duchess of Clarides was as good as she was
beautiful, and she was so beautiful that the princes who had only seen
her picture had wished to marry her. To all their proposals she
answered:
"As I have but one soul I will never have but one husband."
Yet she only wore mourning for five years. Then she put off her long
veil and her black clothes, for she did not like to depress those around
her or to prevent them smiling or being merry in her presence. Her
Duchy included large tracts of land, and lonely moors covered in all
their vast extent with heather; also lakes where fishermen caught fish,
some of which were magical, and mountains, terrible and lonely, beneath
which the dwarfs lived in their underground kingdom.
In the government of the Clarides she followed the advice of an old monk
who had escaped from Constantinople. His belief in the wisdom of men
was small, for he had seen how brutal and perfidious they are. He lived
shut up in a tower with his birds and his books, and there he performed
his duties as counsellor, acting according to a very few principles.
His rules were: "Not to revive old laws; to give way to the wishes of
the people for fear of rebellion, but to give way as slowly as possible,
because, when one reform is carried out, the public immediately demand
another. Princes are deposed for giving way too quickly, just as they
are for resisting too long."
The Duchess, understanding nothing at all about politics, let him do as
he pleased. She was charitable, and, as she could not like all men, she
was sorry for those unfortunate enough to be wicked. She helped the
unhappy in every possible way, visited the sick, consoled widows, and
provided for orphans.
She brought up her daughter Bee with the most charming wisdom. She
taught this child only to take pleasure in doing good, consequently she
could indulge her to any extent.
This amiable lady kept her promise made to the poor Countess of the
White Moor. She acted as a mother to George and made no distinction
between Bee and him. They grew up together and George found Bee to his
taste, though rather small. One day, when they were still in their
earliest childhood, he came to her and said:
"Will you play with me?"
"I would like to," said Bee.
"We will find some sand and make sand pies," said George.
So they made pies, but as Bee did not make hers very well, George hit
her on the fingers with his spade. Bee uttered the most piercing
shrieks, and the squire, Freeheart, who was walking in the gardens, said
to his young Lord:
"It is not a deed worthy of a Count of the White Moor to beat young
ladies, your Highness."
George's first impulse was to thrust his spade right through the body of
the squire. But as the difficulties of this enterprise seemed
insuperable, he fell back upon an easier course of action, which was to
turn his face against a big tree and weep copiously.
In the meanwhile, Bee took good care to keep her tears flowing by
digging her fists into her eyes; and, in her despair, she flattened her
nose against the trunk of a neighbouring tree. When night began to cover
the earth, George and Bee were still weeping, each in front of their
tree. The Duchess of the Clarides had to take her daughter with one
hand and George with the other to bring them back to the castle. Their
eyes were red, their noses were red, their cheeks were shiny; their sobs
and snuffles were heart-rending. They ate their supper with a good
appetite; then each was put to bed. But as soon as the candle was blown
out they slipped out of bed like little ghosts and kissed each other
shouting with laughter. So the loves of Bee of the Clarides and George
of the White Moor began.
*CHAPTER III*
*WHICH DEALS WITH EDUCATION IN GENERAL,
AND THAT OF GEORGE IN PARTICULAR*
George grew up in this castle next to Bee, whom he called sister in the
way of friendship, though he knew she was not so.
He had masters to teach him fencing, riding, swimming, gymnastics,
dancing, hunting, falconry, tennis and generally all the arts. He even
had a writing master, an old clerk, humble in his ways, but inwardly
proud, who taught him various styles of handwriting. The more beautiful
the style was, the more difficult it was to read. George found little
pleasure, and consequently little benefit, either in the lessons of this
old clerk or in those of an old monk who gave grammatical instruction,
using the most barbarous terminology. George could not make out why he
should take the trouble to learn a tongue he could talk by nature, which
is called the mother tongue.
The only person he liked being with was the squire, Freeheart, who,
having sought adventures all over the world, knew the customs of men and
of beasts, described all sorts of countries, and composed songs he did
not know how to write down. Freeheart was the only master who taught
George anything, because he was the only one who liked him, and
affectionate lessons are the only good lessons. But the two pedants,
the writing master and the grammatical master, who hated each other with
all their heart, united in a common hatred of the old squire, whom they
accused of inebriety.
It was true that Freeheart was rather too fond of going to the tavern
called the Tin-jug. There he forgot his cares and composed his songs.
He was certainly in the wrong.
Homer composed songs even better than Freeheart, and Homer only drank
spring water. As to troubles, everybody has them, and it is not drinking
wine but giving happiness to others that effaces them.
But Freeheart was an old man grown grey in the wars, loyal and
meritorious, and the two masters ought to have hidden his weakness
instead of reporting them with exaggeration to the Duchess.
"Freeheart is a drunkard," said the writing master, "and when he comes
back from the tavern called the Tin-jug, he describes in the road large
S's as he walks. I may say that this is the only letter he has ever
shaped, for this drunkard is an ignoramus, your Grace."
The grammatical master added:
"As he staggers along he sings songs that offend against every rule and
follow no received form; he is totally ignorant of synecdoche, your
Grace."
The Duchess had a natural dislike of meanness and tale-bearing. She did
what all of us would have done in the same situation: she disregarded
them at first, but as they kept on repeating their reports she ended by
believing them and determined to remove Freeheart. However, to make his
exile honourable she sent him to Rome to get the blessing of the Pope.
What made this journey so long to the Squire Freeheart was the large
number of taverns, haunted by musicians, which lay between the Duchy of
the Clarides and the papal city. The story will show how soon the
Duchess was to regret she had deprived the two children of their most
reliable protector.
*CHAPTER IV*
*TELLS HOW THE DUCHESS TOOK BEE AND GEORGE
TO THE HERMITAGE AND OF THEIR MEETING
AN HIDEOUS OLD WOMAN THERE*
One morning, that of the first Sunday after Easter, the Duchess issued
from the castle on her big chestnut horse, having on her left George of
the White Moor, riding a jet-black pony who had a white star in the
middle of his forehead, and, on her right, Bee, who had a pink bridle to
govern a pony with a cream-coloured coat. They were going to hear Mass
at the Hermitage. Soldiers carrying lances escorted them, and there was
a press of people on the way to admire them. And really each of the
three was very beautiful. The Duchess looked stately and sweet under
her veil spangled with silver flowers and her loose cloak: the mild
splendour of the pearls which embroidered her headdress was becoming to
the face and to the soul of this beautiful person. Next to her George,
with his waving hair and bright eye, looked quite handsome, and the
soft, clear colour of Bee's face, who was riding on her other side, was
a delicious pleasure to the eye; but nothing was more wonderful than the
flow of her fair hair, bound in a ribbon embroidered with three golden
lilies. It fell down her shoulders like the splendid mantle of youth
and beauty. The good folk looked at her and each said to the other,
"What a pretty young lady!"
The master tailor, old John, lifted his grandson Peter in his arms to
show him Bee, and Peter asked whether she was alive, or whether she was
not really a piece of waxwork. He could not understand that a creature
so white and delicate could belong to the same species as he, little
Peter, did, with his chubby, sunburnt cheeks and drab rustic smock laced
at the back.
While the Duchess received these marks of respect with kindness, the two
children showed the contentment of pride, George in his flush, Bee in
her smile. This is why the Duchess said to them:
"These good people greet us very cheerfully. George, what do you think
of it? And what do you, Bee?"
"That they do well," said Bee.
"And that it is their duty," said George.
"And for what reason is it their duty?" the Duchess asked. Seeing they
gave no answer, she continued:
"I am going to tell you. From father to son, for more than three
hundred years, the dukes of the Clarides, lance in rest, protected these
poor people, who owe it to them that they can reap the harvest they have
sown. For more than three hundred years every Duchess of the Clarides
has spun wool for the poor, visited the sick, and held their babies over
the baptismal font. That is why, children, you are greeted."
George thought: "The ploughman will have to be protected," and Bee: "I
will have to spin wool for the poor."
So, conversing and reflecting, they made their way through meadows
enamelled with flowers. A range of blue hills ran its indented line
along the horizon. George stretched out his hand towards the East.
"Is not that a large shield of steel that I see over there?"
"It is rather a silver buckle as large as the moon," said Bee.
"It is neither a shield of steel nor a silver buckle, children," the
Duchess answered, "but a lake shining in the sun. The face of the
water, that from a distance looks as smooth as a mirror, is broken into
innumerable waves. The banks of this lake that seem to you as clean as
if they were cut out of metal are really covered with reeds, waving
their light plumes, and with irises, whose flower is like a human eye
among drawn swords. Each morning white mists cover the lake, which
shines like armour under the midday sun. But you must not go near it,
for the Sylphs live there who draw travellers down into their crystal
manor."
And now they heard the tinkle of the Hermitage bell.
"Let us get off," said the Duchess, "and go on foot to the chapel. It
was neither on their elephants nor their camels that the Wise Men of the
East approached the Manger."
They heard the Hermit's Mass. An old woman, hideous and in rags, knelt
next to the Duchess, who offered her holy water as they went out of
church, and said:
"Take some, my good woman."
George was astonished.
"Do you not know," said the Duchess, "that you must honour the poor as
the favourites of Jesus Christ? A beggar woman just like this one held
you over the baptismal font with the good Duke of the Black Rocks, and
similarly your little sister Bee had a beggar as a godfather."
The old woman, who had guessed the feelings of the little boy, leaned
towards him, leering, and said:
"I wish you the conquest of as many kingdoms as I have lost, my prince.
I have been Queen of the Island of Pearls and of the Mountains of Gold;
every day I had fourteen different kinds of fish served at my table, and
a little blackamoor to carry my train."
"And by what misfortune did you lose your islands and your mountains, my
good woman?" asked the Duchess.
"I offended the dwarfs, who have carried me off from my States."
"Have the dwarfs so much power?" asked George.
"Living under the earth," the old woman said, "they know the virtue of
stones, fashion metal, and discover springs."
The Duchess:
"And what did you do to vex them, good mother?"
The old woman:
"On a night of December one of them came to me to ask my permission to
prepare a great New Year's supper in the kitchens of the castle, which
were larger than a capitular hall, and furnished with stew and
preserving and frying pans, pipkins, caldrons, boilers, ovens,
gridirons, porringers, dripping-pans, meat screens, fish-kettles,
pastry-moulds, jugs, goblets of gold and silver and of grained woods,
not to speak of the turnspit skilfully wrought of iron, and the huge
black kettle hanging to the pothook. He promised that nothing should be
lost or damaged. I refused his request, and he withdrew muttering dark
threats. Three nights after, which was that of Christmas, the same
dwarf returned to the room in which I was sleeping; he was accompanied
by a multitude of others, who pulled me from my bed, and carried me off
in my nightshirt to an unknown land.
"This," they said to me on leaving, "this is the punishment of rich
people who will not grant a portion of their treasures to the
industrious and gentle nation of Dwarfs, who fashion gold and cause the
springs to flow."
So spoke the toothless old woman, and the Duchess, having comforted her
with words and money, again took the road to the Castle with her two
children.
*CHAPTER V*
*IS CONCERNED WITH WHAT YOU SEE FROM THE
KEEP OF THE CLARIDES*
One day, not long after this, Bee and George, without being seen,
climbed up the stairs of the Keep which rises in the middle of the
castle. On reaching the platform they shouted loudly and clapped their
hands. The view stretched over rolling downs, cultivated and cut up
into small green and brown squares. On the horizon they could see hills
and woods--blue in the distance.
"Little sister," cried George, "little sister, look at the whole earth."
"It is very big," said Bee.
"My professor," said George, "had taught me that it was big, but as
Gertrude our governess says, seeing is believing."
They walked round the platform.
"Here is a marvellous thing, little brother," said Bee. "The castle is
in the middle of the whole earth, and we, who are on the Keep, which is
in the middle of the castle, are now in the middle of the whole world.
Ha! ha! ha!"
And really the skyline was around the children like a circle of which
the Keep was the centre.
"We are in the middle of the world. Ha! ha! ha!" George repeated.
Then both began to think.
"What a pity it is that the world is so big!" said Bee. "You can lose
yourself in it and be separated from your friends."
George shrugged his shoulders.
"How nice it is that the world is so big! You can look for adventures
in it. Bee, when I am grown up I mean to conquer those mountains which
are right at the end of the earth. It is there that the moon rises. I
will catch it as I go along and give it to you, my Bee."
"That's it," said Bee; "you will give it to me and I will set it in my
hair."
Then they began to look for the places they knew as if on a map.
"I know perfectly where we are," said Bee (who knew nothing of the
sort), "but I cannot guess what all those little square stones sown on
the side of the hill are."
"Houses!" answered George; "those are houses! Don't you recognise,
little sister, the capital of the Duchy of the Clarides? It is quite a
big town; it has three streets, of which one is paved. We passed
through it last week to go to the Hermitage. Don't you remember it?"
"And that winding stream?"
"That's the river. Look at the old stone bridge over there."
"The bridge under which we fished for lobsters?"
"The very one, which has in the recess the statue of the 'Headless
Woman,' but you cannot see her from here because she is too small."
"I remember. Why has she no head?"
"Probably because she has lost it."
Without saying whether the explanation satisfied her, Bee kept her eyes
fixed on the distance.
"Little brother, little brother, do you see what is shining near the
blue mountains? It is the lake."
"It's the lake!"
They now remembered what the Duchess had told them of the lovely and
dangerous waters, where the Sylphs had their manor.
"Let us go there," said Bee.
This decision overwhelmed George, who gaped and said:
"The Duchess has forbidden us to go out alone, and how can we get to
this lake, which is at the end of the world?"
"How to get there I really don't know, but you ought to, who are a man
and have a grammar master."
George was stung, and answered that it is possible to be a man, and even
a fine man, without knowing all the roads in the world. Bee gave him a
mincing, disdainful look, made him blush to the tips of his ears, and
said to him primly:
"I am not the one who promised to conquer the blue mountains and to
unhook the moon. I do not know the road to the lake, but I will find it;
you see!"
"Ha! ha! ha!" said George, trying to laugh.
"You laugh like a booby, sir."
"Bee, boobies neither laugh nor cry."
"If they did they would laugh like you. I will go to the lake alone.
And while I discover the lovely waters where the Sylphs live, you can
stay at the castle all by yourself like a little girl. I will leave you
my tapestry frame and my doll. Please take great care of them, George;
please take great care of them."
George had pride. He felt the shame which Bee put upon him. With his
head down, darkly, he cried in a muffled voice:
"All right! we will go to the lake!"
*CHAPTER VI*
*TELLS HOW BEE AND GEORGE WENT OFF TO
THE LAKE*
Next day, after lunch, when the Duchess had retired to her room, George
took Bee by the hand.
"Come along," he said to her.
"Where?"
"Hush!"
They went down the stairs and crossed the courts. When they had passed
the gate Bee asked a second time where they were going.
"To the lake," George answered decisively.
The mouth of the stupefied Miss Bee gaped. Was it sensible to go that
distance, and in satin slippers? For her slippers were of satin.
"We must go there, and we need not be sensible."
Such was the lofty answer given by George to Bee. She had put him to
shame, and now she pretended to be astonished. It was now his turn to
refer her disdainfully to her doll. Girls goad a man into adventures,
and then draw back. Her behaviour was disgraceful. She might stay
behind, but he would go himself.
She took him by the arm. He pushed her away. She flung herself round
the neck of her brother.
"Little brother!" she said sobbing, "I will follow you."
Her repentance was complete, and it moved him.
"Come along," he said, "but do not let us go by the town, we might be
seen. We had better follow the ramparts and reach the high road by a
short cut."
They went holding each other by the hand. George explained the scheme he
had drawn up.
"We will follow the road we took to go to the Hermitage; we are certain
to see it as we saw it last time, and then we will go straight to it
across the field in a bee-line."
In a bee-line is a pretty country way of saying a straight line, but the
name of the little maid occurring quaintly in the idiom made them laugh.
Bee picked flowers growing by the ditch: flowers of the mallow and the
mullein, asters and oxeyes, making a posy of them; the flowers faded
visibly in her little hands, and they looked pitiful when Bee crossed
the stone bridge. As she did not know what to do with her posy, the
idea occurred to her of throwing them in the water to refresh them, but
she preferred to give them to the "Headless Woman."
She asked George to lift her in his arms to make her tall enough, and
she placed her handful of country flowers in the folded hands of the old
stone figure.
At a distance she turned her head and saw a dove on the shoulder of the
statue.
They walked some time, and Bee said:
"I am thirsty."
"So am I," said George, "but the river is far behind us, and I can see
neither stream nor spring."
"The sun is so hot, it must have drunk them all up; what shall we do?"
Thus they talked and complained, when they saw a countrywoman with a
basket full of fruit.
"Cherries," cried George. "What a pity it is that I have no money to
buy any!"
"I have some money," said Bee.
She drew out of her pocket a purse with five pieces of gold in it, and
addressed the country-woman.
"Good woman," she said, "will you give me as many cherries as my dress
can carry."
As she spoke she held out the skirt of her frock with both hands. The
countrywoman threw two or three handfuls of cherries into it. Bee took
the fold of her skirt in one hand and with the other held out a piece of
gold to the woman and said:
"Is that enough, that?"
The countrywoman seized the piece of gold, which would have been a high
price for all the cherries in the basket, with the tree on which they
had grown, and the orchard in which the tree was planted, and she
cunningly answered:
"That will do to oblige you, my little Princess."
"Then," replied Bee, "put some more cherries in my brother's hat, and I
will give you another gold piece."
This was done and the countrywoman pursued her way, thinking of the old
stocking under the mattress in which she was to hide her two pieces of
gold. And the two children went on their road eating the cherries, and
throwing the stones to the right and the left. George looked for
cherries held together in pairs by the stalk to make earrings of them
for his sister, and he laughed to see the beautiful vermeil-coloured
twin fruit swinging on the cheek of Bee.
A pebble checked their joyful progress. It had stuck in the slipper of
Bee, who began to limp. At each hop she took her gold curls waved on
her cheeks, and limping thus, she went and sat down. There her brother,
kneeling at her feet, took off her satin slipper; he shook it, and a
little white pebble rolled out.
Then looking at her feet, she said:
"Little brother, when we go again to the lake, we will put on boots."
The sun had by now declined in the radiant sky. A breath of wind fanned
the necks and the cheeks of the young travellers who boldly, and with
fresh alacrity, pursued their travels. To walk more easily, they held
each other by the hand and sang, and they laughed to see their two black
shadows, likewise united, moving in front of them. They sang:
Marian the maid,
Demure and staid,
Went riding to the mill,
She placed her load
Of corn, and rode
Upon her donkey Bill.
But Bee stops. She cries:
"I have lost my slipper, my satin slipper."
And it was as she said. The silk bows of the little slipper had got
loose as she walked, and it lay all dusty in the road.
Then she looked behind her, and seeing the towers of the castle swimming
in the distant mist, she felt a pang, and tears came into her eyes.
"The wolves will eat us," she said, "and our mother will never see us
again, and she will die of grief."
But George brought her slipper to her and said:
"When the castle bell rings for supper, we will be back at the Clarides.
Forward!"
The miller tight,
With flour white,
Stood close under the mill,
And fair and free.
Cried, "To that tree
Tie up your donkey Bill."
"The lake, Bee, look: the lake, the lake, the lake."
"Yes, George, the lake!"
George cried hurrah! and threw his hat in the air. Bee was too well
behaved to throw up her coif in the same fashion. But taking off her
slipper which barely held, she threw it over her head to show her joy.
There it was, the lake, at the bottom of the valley the slopes of which
ran round the silvery waters, holding them as in a cup of foliage and
flowers. There it was, calm and clear, and a shiver still ran over the
ruffled grasses of its banks. But the two children could not discover
any road in the thickets to take them to this lovely mere. As they
searched, their legs were bitten by geese, who were followed by a little
girl, dressed in a sheepskin, with a switch in her hand. George asked
her what she was called.
"Gill."
"Well, Gill, how do you go to the lake?"
"I don't go."
"Why?"
"Because."
"But if you did go?"
"If I did go, there would be a road, and I would take the road."
There was no answer to be given to the goose-girl.
"All right," said George, "we will certainly find a path in the wood
further on."
"We will pick nuts there," said Bee, "and eat them, for I am hungry. We
must, when we come again to the lake, bring a bag full of things good to
eat."
George:
"We will do as you say, little sister. I now approve the plan of the
squire Freeheart, who, when he set out for Rome, took with him a ham for
hunger and a demijohn for thirst. But we must hurry, for it seems to me
it is getting late, though I do not know the time."
"Shepherdesses know it by looking at the sun," said Bee; "but I am not a
shepherdess. Yet it seems to me that this sun, which was above our heads
when we started, is now over there, far behind the town and the land of
the Clarides. I wish I knew whether this is the case every day, and what
it means."
While they thus observed the sun a cloud of dust rose on the road, and
they saw horsemen, who moved towards them at full gallop and whose
armour glittered. The children were very frightened and went and hid in
the underwoods. They are robbers, or rather ogres, they thought. But
really they were men-at-arms sent by the Duchess of Clarides to search
for the two little adventurers.
The two little adventurers found a narrow path in the underwood which
was not a lover's path, for two could not walk side by side holding each
other by the hand, as lovers do. Further, the footprints were not
human. Only a track made by a multitude of little hoofed feet was
visible.
"These are the footprints of elves," said Bee.
"Or roedeer," said George.
The problem is as yet unsolved. But what is certain is that the path
led by an easy descent to the edge of the lake, which now unfolded
itself to the children in all its languid and silent beauty. Willows
bent their tender foliage over it. Reeds, like pliant swords, swayed
their delicate plumes on the water. They stood ruffling in islands, and
around them the water-lilies spread their broad heart-shaped leaves and
their pure white flowers. Over the flowering islands shrill dragon-flies
flew, whirling and darting, with emerald or sapphire breastplates and
wings of flame.
And the two children enjoyed the exquisite pleasure of dipping their
burning feet into the wet gravel where the thyme grew thick and the
cattail darted its long spikes. From its lowly stem the iris yielded
them its scent; all around the ribwort unrolled its lace on the edge of
the sleeping waters which were studded with the loosestrife's purple
flowers.
*CHAPTER VII*
*SHOWS THE PENALTY GEORGE OF THE WHITE
MOOR PAID FOR HAVING GONE NEAR TO THE
LAKE WHERE LIVE THE SYLPHS*
Bee went forward on the gravel between two clumps of willows, and in
front of her the little genius of the place jumped into the water and
made rings on its surface, which grew larger and larger till they
vanished. This genius was a little green frog with a white stomach.
All was silent: A fresh breath of wind swept over that clear lake, of
which each wave rose in a gracious and smiling fold.
"This is a pretty lake," said Bee, "but my feet are bleeding in my
little torn slippers, and I am very hungry. I wish I was in the
castle."
"Little sister," said George, "sit on the grass. I am going to wrap your
feet in leaves to cool them; then I will go and look for supper for you.
I saw up there, close to the road, briars black with berries. I will
bring you the largest and sweetest in my hat. Give me your
handkerchief, I will fill it with strawberries, for there are plants
close by the edge of the path, under the shade of the trees. And I will
fill my pockets with nuts."
He made a bed of moss for Bee near the side of the lake, under a willow,
and went off.
Bee lay with clasped hands on her bed of moss, and saw the stars kindle
their tremulous lights in the pale sky; then her eyes half shut; yet she
seemed to see in the air a little dwarf riding on a crow. This was not
an illusion. The dwarf drew the bridle in the mouth of the black bird,
stopped above the little girl, and fixed his round eyes on her. Then he
struck his spurs, and went off at full flight. Bee saw these things
confusedly and went to sleep.
She was sleeping when George came back with his harvest, which he put
next to her. He then went down to the edge of the lake to wait till she
woke. The lake was sleeping under its delicate crown of leafage. A
light mist softly crept over it. All at once the moon showed itself
between the branches and immediately the waters were strewn with points
of light.
George plainly saw that the lights which glanced on the waters were not
all broken reflections of the moon, for he noticed blue flames which
came whirling nearer, and rose and fell and swayed as if they were
dancing rounds. He soon discerned that these flames flickered on white
foreheads, on the foreheads of women. In a short time lovely heads
crowned with weed and shell, shoulders down which fell blue hair, bosoms
glittering with pearls and from which veils were sliding, rose above the
waves. The boy recognised the Sylphs, and tried to fly. But already
pale, cold arms had seized him, and he was being carried, in spite of
his struggles and screams, through the waters, in halls of crystal and
porphyry.
*CHAPTER VIII*
*SHOWS HOW BEE WAS TAKEN TO THE
LAND OF THE DWARFS*
The moon had risen above the lake, and only the broken fragments of its
orb were reflected in the water. Bee still slept. The dwarf who had
examined her came back on his crow. This time he was followed by a
troop of little men. They were very little men. They had white beards
reaching down to their knees. They were the size of children, but they
had old faces. The leather aprons and the hammers which they carried
hanging at their belts made it evident they were metal-workers. They
moved in a strange way by jumping to a great height and turning
wonderful somersaults; this incredible nimbleness made them less like
men than spirits. But in their wildest antics their faces remained
unalterably grave, so that it was impossible to make out their real
character.
They placed themselves in a circle round the sleeper.
"Well," said the smallest of the dwarfs from the height of his feathered
mount; "well, I did not deceive you when I warned you that the prettiest
of princesses was sleeping on the edge of the lake, and do you not thank
me for having shown her to you?"
"We thank you, Bob," answered one of the dwarfs, who looked like an old
poet; "truly, there is nothing in the world as pretty as this maiden.
Her complexion is rosier than the dawn upon the mountains, and the gold
of our smithies is not as bright as that of her tresses."
"It is true, Pic; Pic, nothing could be more true!" answered the dwarfs;
"but what shall we do with this pretty maid?"
Pic, who resembled an old poet, did not answer this question of the
dwarfs, because he did not know more than they did what to do with the
pretty maid.
A dwarf, named Rug, said to them:
"Let us build a large cage and we will shut her in it."
Another dwarf, named Dig, opposed this suggestion of Rug. According to
Dig, only wild beasts were put in cages, and as yet there was nothing to
indicate that the pretty maiden was one of them.
But Rug was taken with his own idea, for want of another to put in its
place. He ingeniously defended it:
"If this person," he said, "is not wild, she will doubtlessly become so
by being shut in the cage, which will consequently become useful, and
even indispensable."
This argument displeased the dwarfs, and one of them, named Tad,
denounced it indignantly. He was a dwarf of utmost goodness. He
proposed taking back the beautiful girl to her parents, whom he thought
to be powerful lords.
This view of the good Tad was rejected as contrary to the custom of the
dwarfs.
"Justice should prevail," Tad went on to say, "and not custom."
He was no longer listened to; the crowd had fallen into disorder and
tumult, when a dwarf, called Paw, who was simple, but sensible, gave his
views as follows:
"We must first wake the maiden, as she does not wake of herself. If she
spends the night like this, to-morrow her eyelids will be swollen and
her beauty will be less, for it is very unhealthy to sleep in a wood on
the edge of a lake."
This opinion met with general approval, because it was not opposed to
any other.
Pic, who resembled an old poet overwhelmed with misfortune, went near to
the little maid and gazed on her gravely, with the idea that a single
one of his looks would suffice to rouse the sleeper from the deepest
sleep. But Pic over-estimated the power of his eyes, and Bee continued
to sleep with her hands clasped.
Seeing this, the good Tad gently pulled her sleeve. Then she opened her
eyes and raised herself on her elbow. Seeing herself on a moss-couch,
surrounded by dwarfs, she thought that what she saw was a dream, and she
rubbed her eyes to open them and to let in, instead of this fantastic
vision, the bright early morning light streaming into her blue room,
where she imagined herself to be. For her mind, numb with sleep, did
not recall the adventure of the lake. But rub her eyes as she might,
the dwarfs stayed there; she had to believe they were real. Then,
looking round anxiously, she saw the forest, her memory returned, she
cried in agony:
"George! my brother George!"
The dwarfs pressed round her, and, for fear of seeing them, she hid her
face in her hands.
"George! George! where is my brother George?" she cried sobbing.
The dwarfs did not tell her, and for this reason, that they did not
know. So she wept bitterly, calling on her mother and her brother.
Paw felt inclined to cry like her; but anxious to console her, he spoke
a few vague words.
"Do not alarm yourself," he said. "It would be a pity if such a
beautiful lady spoilt her eyes by crying. But rather tell us your
history; it is certain to be interesting. It would give us the very
greatest pleasure."
She was not listening. She rose and tried to run away. But her
swollen, naked feet gave her such sharp pain that she fell on her knee
and burst into still more violent sobs. Tad held her up in his arms,
and Paw gently kissed her hand. This is why she dared to look and saw
that their faces were compassionate. Pic seemed to be an inspired but
innocent creature, and noticing that all the little men looked upon her
with kindliness, she said to them:
"Little men, it is a pity you are so ugly; but I will like you all the
same if you will give me something to eat, for I am hungry."
"Bob!" all the dwarfs cried at the same time, "fetch some supper."
And Bob went off on his crow. Still the dwarfs felt that this little
girl had been guilty of an injustice in considering them ugly. Rug was
extremely angry. Pic said to himself, "She is only a child, and does
not see the fire of genius burning in my looks so as to give them
alternately masterful strength and fascinating grace." Paw thought,
"Perhaps it would have been better not to wake this young lady who
considers us ugly." But Tad said, smiling:
"You will consider us less ugly, Miss, when you like us better."
At these words Bob reappeared on his crow. He brought a roast partridge
on a gold dish, with a loaf of meal bread and a bottle of red wine. He
placed this supper at the feet of Bee, turning an endless number of
somersaults.
Bee ate and said:
"Little men, your supper is very good. My name is Bee; let us look for
my brother, and go together to the Clarides, where Mama is waiting for
us in a state of great anxiety."
But Dig, who was a good dwarf, urged on Bee that she was incapable of
walking; that her brother was old enough to find himself; that no
accident could happen to him in this country, where all wild beasts had
been destroyed. He added:
"We will make a stretcher, we will cover it with a litter of leaves and
mosses, we will place you on it, we will carry you thus into the
mountain, to introduce you to the King of the dwarfs, as the custom of
our people requires."
All the dwarfs applauded. Bee looked at her sore feet and was silent.
She was relieved to hear there were no wild beasts in the country. In
all other matters she relied on the friendship of the dwarfs.
Already they were constructing the stretcher. Those who had axes were
hacking away at the stems of two young pines.
This revived his idea in the head of Rug.
"If, instead of a stretcher," he said, "we built a cage?"
But he raised a unanimous protest. Tad, looking at him with contempt,
exclaimed:
"Rug, you are more like a man than a dwarf. But this, at least, is to
the credit of our race that the wickedest of the dwarfs is also the
stupidest."
Meanwhile, the work went on. The dwarfs leapt in the air to reach
branches which they cut in their flight, and out of which they neatly
built a lattice chair. Having covered it with moss and dry leaves, they
made Bee sit there; then, all together, they seized the two poles, up!
hoisted it on their shoulders, and swung off to the mountain.
*CHAPTER IX*
*TELLS FAITHFULLY THE WELCOME GIVEN BY
KING LOC TO BEE OF THE CLARIDES*
They ascended the woody side of the hill by a tortuous path. Here and
there blocks of granite, bare and rusty, rose in the grey foliage of the
dwarf oaks, and the rugged landscape was enclosed by russet hills and
their blue-grey ravines.
The procession, preceded by Bob on his winged steed, entered a cleft of
the rocks hung with briar. Bee, with her golden hair scattered on her
shoulders, looked like the dawn risen on the mountains, if it is true
that sometimes the dawn gets frightened, calls for her mother, and tries
to run away, for these three events occurred when the little girl dimly
saw dwarfs terribly armed lurking in all crevices of the cliff.
They held themselves motionless with their bows strung and levelled
lances. Their tunics of hide and long knives hanging at their belts
gave them a terrible appearance. Game of fur and feather lay at their
feet. But these hunters, as far as their faces went, did not look
fierce; on the contrary, they seemed mild and grave like the dwarfs of
the forest, whom they very much resembled.
Upright in their midst stood a dwarf of great majesty. He wore a cock's
feather at his ear, and on his forehead a diadem studded with enormous
jewels. His mantle was flung over his shoulder showing a robust arm,
loaded with gold rings. A bugle of ivory and carved silver hung at his
belt. He leant his left hand upon his lance in an attitude of repose and
strength, and with the right he shielded his eye to look towards Bee and
the light.
"King Loc," the dwarfs of the forest said to him, "we bring you the
beautiful little girl we have found: her name is Bee."
"You do right," said King Loc. "She will live among us, as the custom
of the dwarfs requires."
Then advancing to Bee,
"Bee," he said to her, "welcome!"
He spoke gently to her, for already his feelings towards her were
friendly. He stood on tiptoe to kiss her hand which hung down, and
re-assured her that not only should no kind of harm happen to her, but
that all her wishes should be satisfied, even if she should ask for
necklaces, mirrors, wool of Cashmere, and silks of China.
"I would very much like some slippers," answered Bee.
Then King Loc struck a gong of bronze which hung to the walls of rock
with his lance, and immediately something was seen coming from the end
of the cavern bounding like a ball. It grew bigger till it became a
dwarf, the features of whose face recalled those given by painters to
the illustrious Belisarius, but whose leather apron showed him to be a
bootmaker.
As a matter of fact it was the chief bootmaker.
"True," said the King to him, "choose in our store the most supple
leather, take cloth of gold and silver, ask the keeper of my treasures
for a thousand pearls of the finest water, and construct a pair of
slippers for little Bee out of the leather, the tissues and the pearls."
At these words True threw himself at the feet of Bee and measured them
accurately. But she said:
"Little King Loc, you must give me the beautiful slippers you have
promised me directly, and, when I have them, I will return to my mother
at the Clarides."
"You will have your slippers, Bee," answered King Loc: "you will have
them to walk about inside the mountain and not to return to the
Clarides, for you cannot leave this kingdom where you will learn
beautiful secrets that are unguessed upon the earth. Dwarfs are
superior to men, and it is for your happiness that you have been found
by them."
"It is for my unhappiness," answered Bee. "Little King Loc, give me
wooden shoes like those worn by peasants, and let me return to the
Clarides."
But King Loc shook his head to express that it was not possible. Then
Bee clasped her hands and sweetened her voice:
"Little King Loc, let me go and I will love you."
"You will forget me, Bee, on the sunny earth."
"Little King Loc, I will not forget you, and I will love you as much as
Breath-of-Wind."
"And who is Breath-of-Wind?"
"My cream-coloured pony; he has a pink bridle and eats out of my hand.
When he was small, the squire Freeheart used to bring him up to my room
of a morning, and I used to kiss him. But now Freeheart is at Rome and
Breath-of-Wind is too big to go upstairs."
King Loc smiled.
"Bee, will you love me more than Breath-of-Wind?"
"I will."
"That is right."
"I will, but I cannot; I hate you, little King Loc, because you prevent
me seeing my mother and George again."
"Who is George?"
"George is George, and I like him."
The friendship of King Loc for Bee had largely increased in a few
moments, and, as he already hoped to marry her when she was of age, and
through her to reconcile men and dwarfs, he feared that George might at
some time become his rival and disturb his plans. This is why he knit
his eyebrows and walked off, drooping his head like a worried man.
Bee, seeing she had vexed him, gently plucked at the skirt of his coat.
"Little King Loc," she said in a sad and tender voice, "why do we each
of us make the other unhappy?"
"Bee, it is the fault of circumstances," answered King Loc; "I cannot
take you back to your mother, but I will send her a dream which will
inform her of your fate, dear Bee, and console her."
"Little King Loc," answered Bee, smiling through her tears, "you have
had a good idea, but I will tell you what you ought to do. Every night
you ought to send my mother a dream in which she will see me and send me
a dream in which I will see my mother."
King Loc promised to do so. And what he said he did. Each night Bee
saw her mother, and each night the Duchess saw her daughter. This
satisfied their affection a little.
*CHAPTER X*
*IN WHICH THE WONDERS OF THE KINGDOM OF THE
DWARFS ARE THOROUGHLY DESCRIBED, AS
WELL AS THE DOLLS WHICH WERE GIVEN TO BEE*
The kingdom of the dwarfs was deep and stretched under a great part of
the earth. Though the sky was only visible here and there through
openings in the rock, the open places, the roads, the palaces, and hall
were not buried in the thickest night. Only a few rooms and several
caverns remained in darkness. The others were lighted, not by lamps and
torches, but by planets and meteors which shed a wild, fantastic
brightness, and this brightness shone upon strange marvels. Enormous
buildings had been hewn in the face of the rock: in certain places
palaces cut out of granite rose to such a height up under the vaults of
the huge caverns that their stone carvings disappeared in a mist pierced
by the yellowish light of little planets less luminous than the moon.