Once upon a time there lived a King and Queen who had two handsome
boys; so well-fed and hearty were they, that they grew like the day.
Whenever the Queen had a child, she sent for the fairies, that she
might learn from them what would be its future lot. After a while she
had a little daughter, who was so beautiful, that no one could see her
without loving her. The fairies came as usual, and the Queen having
feasted them, said to them as they were going away, “Do not forget that
good custom of yours, but tell me what will happen to Rosette”--for
this was the name of the little Princess. The fairies answered her that
they had left their divining-books at home, and that they would come
again to see her. “Ah!” said the Queen, “that bodes no good, I fear;
you do not wish to distress me by foretelling evil; but, I pray you,
let me know the worst, and hide nothing from me.” The fairies continued
to make excuses, but the Queen only became more anxious to know the
truth. At last the chief among them said to her, “We fear, madam,
that Rosette will be the cause of a great misfortune befalling her
brothers; that they may even lose their lives on her account. This is
all that we can tell you of the fate of this sweet little Princess, and
we are grieved to have nothing better to say about her.” The fairies
took their departure, and the Queen was very sorrowful, so sorrowful
that the King saw by her face that she was in trouble. He asked her
what was the matter. She told him she had gone too near the fire and
accidentally burnt all the flax that was on her distaff. “Is that all?”
replied the King, and he went up to his store-room and brought her down
more flax than she could spin in a hundred years.
But the Queen was still very sorrowful, and the King again asked her
what was the matter. She told him that she had been down to the river
and had let one of her green satin slippers fall into the water. “Is
that all?” replied the King, and he sent for all the shoemakers in
the kingdom, and made the Queen a present of ten thousand green satin
slippers.
Still the Queen was no less sorrowful; and the King asked her once
more what was the matter. She told him that, being hungry, she had
eaten hastily, and had swallowed her wedding-ring. The King knew that
she was not speaking the truth, for he had himself put away the ring,
and he replied, “My dear wife, you are not speaking the truth; here
is your ring, which I have kept in my purse.” The Queen was put out
of countenance at being caught telling a lie--for there is nothing in
the world so ugly--and she saw that the King was vexed, so she told
him what the fairies had predicted about little Rosette, and begged
him to tell her if he could think of any remedy. The King was greatly
troubled, so much so, that at last he said to the Queen, “I see no way
of saving our two boys, except by putting the little girl to death,
while she is still in her swaddling clothes.” But the Queen cried that
she would rather suffer death herself, that she would never consent to
so cruel a deed, and that the King must try and think of some other
remedy. The King and Queen could think of nothing else, and while thus
pondering over the matter, the Queen was told that in a large wood near
the town, there lived an old hermit, who made his home in the trunk of
a tree, whom people went from far and near to consult.
“It is to him I must go,” said the Queen; “the fairies told me the
evil, but they forgot to tell me the remedy.”
She started early in the morning, mounted on her little white mule,
that was shod with gold, and accompanied by two of her maids of
honour, who each rode a pretty horse. When they were near the wood
they dismounted out of respect, and made their way to the tree where
the hermit lived. He did not much care for the visits of women, but
when he saw that it was the Queen approaching, he said, “Welcome! what
would you ask of me?” She related to him what the fairies had said
about Rosette, and asked him to advise her what to do. He told her that
the Princess must be shut up in a tower, and not be allowed to leave
it as long as she lived. The Queen thanked him, and returned and told
everything to the King. The King immediately gave orders for a large
tower to be built as quickly as possible. In it he placed his daughter,
but that she might not feel lonely and depressed, he, and the Queen,
and her two brothers, went to see her every day. The elder of these was
called the big Prince, and the younger, the little Prince. They loved
their sister passionately, for she was the most beautiful and graceful
Princess ever seen, and the least glance of hers was worth more than
a hundred gold pieces. When she was fifteen years old, the big Prince
said to the King, “Father, my sister is old enough to be married; shall
we not soon have a wedding?” The little Prince said the same to the
Queen, but their Majesties laughed and changed the subject, and made no
answer about the marriage.
Now, it happened that the King and Queen both fell very ill, and died
within a few days of one another. There was great mourning; everyone
wore black, and all the bells were tolled. Rosette was inconsolable at
the loss of her good mother.
As soon as the funeral was over, the dukes and marquises of the kingdom
placed the big Prince on a throne made of gold and diamonds; he wore a
splendid crown on his head, and robes of violet velvet embroidered with
suns and moons. Then the whole Court cried out, “Long live the King!”
and now on all sides there was nothing but rejoicing.
Then the young King and his brother said, “Now that we are the masters,
we will release our sister from the tower, where she has been shut up
for such a long and dreary time.” They had only to pass through the
garden to reach the tower, which stood in one corner of it, and had
been built as high as was possible, for the late Queen had intended
her to remain there always. Rosette was embroidering a beautiful dress
on a frame in front of her, when she saw her brothers enter. She rose,
and taking the King’s hand, said, “Good-day, sire, you are now King,
and I am your humble subject; I pray you to release me from this tower,
where I lead a melancholy life,” and with this, she burst into tears.
The King embraced her, and begged her not to weep, for he was come, he
said, to take her from the tower, and to conduct her to a beautiful
castle. The Prince had his pockets full of sweetmeats, which he gave
Rosette. “Come,” he said, “let us get away from this wretched place;
the King will soon find you a husband; do not be unhappy any longer.”
When Rosette saw the beautiful garden, full of flowers, and fruits,
and fountains, she was so overcome with astonishment, that she stood
speechless, for she had never seen anything of the kind before. She
looked around her, she went first here, then there, she picked the
fruit off the trees, and gathered flowers from the beds; while her
little dog, Fretillon, who was as green as a parrot, kept on running
before her, saying, yap, yap, yap! and jumping and cutting a thousand
capers, and everybody was amused at his ways. Presently he ran into a
little wood, whither the Princess followed him, and here her wonder
was even greater than before, when she saw a large peacock spreading
out its tail. She thought it so beautiful, so very beautiful, that she
could not take her eyes off it. The King and the Prince now joined her,
and asked her what delighted her so much. She pointed to the peacock,
and asked them what it was. They told her it was a bird, which was
sometimes eaten. “What!” she cried, “dare to kill and eat a beautiful
bird like that. I tell you, that I will marry no one but the King of
the Peacocks, and when I am their Queen I shall not allow anybody to
eat them.” The astonishment of the King cannot be described. “But, dear
sister,” said he, “where would you have us go to find the King of the
Peacocks?” “Whither you please, sire; but him, and him alone, will I
marry.”
Having come to this decision, she was now conducted by her brothers
to their castle; the peacock had to be brought and put into her room,
so fond was she of it. All the Court ladies who had not before seen
Rosette now hastened to greet her, and pay their respects to her.
Some brought preserves with them, some sugar, and others dresses of
woven gold, beautiful ribbons, dolls, embroidered shoes, pearls, and
diamonds. Everyone did their best to entertain her, and she was so well
brought up, so courteous, kissing their hands, curtseying when anything
beautiful was given to her, that there was not a lord or lady who
did not leave her presence gratified and charmed. While she was thus
occupied, the King and the Prince were turning over in their minds how
they should find the King of the Peacocks, if there was such a person
in the world to be found. They decided that they would have Rosette’s
portrait painted; and when completed it was so life-like, that only
speech was wanting. Then they said to her, “Since you will marry no one
but the King of the Peacocks, we are going together to look for him,
and will traverse the whole world to try and find him for you. If we
find him, we shall be very glad. Meanwhile take care of our kingdom
until we return.”
Rosette thanked them for all the trouble they were taking; she promised
to govern the kingdom well, and said that, during their absence, her
only pleasure would be in looking at the peacock, and making her little
dog dance. They all three cried when they said good-bye to each other.
So the two Princes started on their long journey, and they asked
everyone whom they met, “Do you know the King of the Peacocks?” but
the reply was always the same, “No, we do not.” Each time they passed
on and went further, and in this way they travelled so very, very far,
that no one had ever been so far before.
They came to the kingdom of the cockchafers; and these were in such
numbers, and made such a loud buzzing, that the King feared he should
become deaf. He asked one of them, who appeared to him to have the
most intelligence, whether he knew where the King of the Peacocks was
to be found. “Sire,” replied the cockchafer, “his kingdom lies thirty
thousand leagues from here; you have chosen the longest way to reach
it.” “And how do you know that?” asked the King. “Because,” answered
the cockchafer, “we know you very well, for every year we spend two
or three months in your gardens.” Whereupon the King and his brother
embraced the cockchafer, and they went off arm in arm to dine together,
and the two strangers admired all the curiosities of that new country,
where the smallest leaf of a tree was worth a gold piece. After that,
they continued their journey, and having been directed along the right
way, they were not long in reaching its close. On their arrival, they
found all the trees laden with peacocks, and, indeed, there were
peacocks everywhere, so that they could be heard talking and screaming
two leagues off.
The King said to his brother, “If the King of the Peacocks is a
peacock himself, how can our sister marry him? it would be folly to
consent to such a thing, and it would be a fine thing for us to have
little peacocks for nephews.” The Prince was equally disturbed at the
thought. “It is an unhappy fancy she has taken into her head,” he said.
“I cannot think what led her to imagine that there was such a person in
the world as the King of the Peacocks.”
When they entered the town, they saw that it was full of men and
women, and that they all wore clothes made of peacocks’ feathers, and
that these were evidently considered fine things, for every place was
covered with them. They met the King, who was driving in a beautiful
little carriage of gold, studded with diamonds, and drawn by twelve
peacocks at full gallop. This King of the Peacocks was so handsome,
that the King and the Prince were delighted; he had long, light, curly
hair, fair complexion, and wore a crown of peacocks’ feathers. Directly
he saw them, he guessed, seeing that they wore a different costume to
the people of the country, that they were strangers, and wishing to
ascertain if this was so, he ordered his carriage to stop, and sent for
them.
The King and the Prince advanced, bowing low, and said, “Sire, we have
come from afar, to show you a portrait.” They drew forth Rosette’s
portrait and showed it to him. After gazing at it a while, the King of
the Peacocks said, “I can scarcely believe that there is so beautiful a
maiden in the whole world.” “She is a thousand times more beautiful,”
said the King. “You are jesting,” replied the King of the Peacocks.
“Sire,” rejoined the Prince, “here is my brother, who is a King, like
yourself; he is called King, and my name is Prince; our sister, of whom
this is the portrait, is the Princess Rosette. We have come to ask if
you will marry her; she is good and beautiful, and we will give her,
as dower, a bushel of golden crowns.” “It is well,” said the King.
“I will gladly marry her; she shall want for nothing, and I shall
love her greatly; but I require that she shall be as beautiful as her
portrait, and if she is in the smallest degree less so, I shall make
you pay for it with your lives.” “We consent willingly,” said both
Rosette’s brothers. “You consent?” added the King. “You will go to
prison then, and remain there until the Princess arrives.” The Princes
made no difficulty about this, for they knew well that Rosette was
more beautiful than her portrait. They were well looked after while
in prison, and were well served with all they required, and the King
often went to see them. He kept Rosette’s portrait in his room, and
could scarcely rest day or night for looking at it. As the King and his
brother could not go to her themselves, they wrote to Rosette, telling
her to pack up as quickly as possible, and to start without delay, as
the King of the Peacocks was awaiting her. They did not tell her that
they were prisoners, for fear of causing her uneasiness.
The Princess scarcely knew how to contain herself with joy, when she
received this message. She told everybody that the King of the Peacocks
had been found, and that he wanted to marry her. Bonfires were lit,
and guns fired, and quantities of sweetmeats and sugar were eaten;
everyone who came to see the Princess, during the three days before
her departure, was given bread-and-butter and jam, rolled wafers, and
negus. After having thus dispensed hospitality to her visitors, she
presented her beautiful dolls to her best friends, and handed over the
government to the wisest elders of the town, begging them to look well
after everything, to spend little, and to save up money for the King
on his return. She also prayed them to take care of her peacock, for
with her she only took her nurse, and her foster-sister, and her little
green dog, Fretillon. They set out in a boat on the sea, carrying
with them the bushel of golden crowns, and sufficient clothes for two
changes a day for ten years. They made merry on their voyage, laughing
and singing, and the nurse kept on asking the boatman if they were
nearing the Kingdom of the Peacocks; for a long time, all he said was,
“No, no, not yet.” Then at last, when she asked again, “Are we anywhere
near it now?” he answered, “We shall soon be there, very soon.” Once
more she said, “Are we near, are we anywhere near it now?” and he said,
“Yes, we are now within reach of shore.” On hearing this, the nurse
went to the end of the boat, and sitting down beside the boatman,
said to him, “If you like, you can be rich for the remainder of your
life.” He replied, “I should like nothing better.” She continued, “If
you like, you can earn good money.” “That would suit me very well,” he
answered. “Well,” she went on, “then to-night, when the Princess is
asleep, you must help me throw her into the sea. After she is drowned,
I will dress my daughter in her fine clothes, and we will take her to
the King of the Peacocks, who will only be too pleased to marry her;
and as a reward to you, we will give you as many diamonds as you care
to possess.” The boatman was very much astonished at this proposal; he
told the nurse that it was a pity to drown such a pretty Princess, and
that he felt compassion for her; but the nurse fetched a bottle of wine
and made him drink so much, that he had no longer any power to refuse.
Night having come, the Princess went to bed as usual, her little
Fretillon lying at her feet, not even stirring one of his paws. Rosette
slept soundly, but the wicked nurse kept awake, and went presently
to fetch the boatman. She took him into the Princess’s room, and
together they lifted her up, feather bed, mattress, sheets, coverlet,
and all, and threw them into the sea, the Princess all the while so
fast asleep, that she never woke. But fortunately, her bed was made of
Phœnix-feathers, which are extremely rare, and have the property of
always floating on water; so that she was carried along in her bed as
in a boat. The water, however, began gradually first to wet her feather
bed, then her mattress, and Rosette began to feel uncomfortable, and
turned from side to side, and then Fretillon woke up. He had a capital
nose, and when he smelt the soles and codfish so near, he started
barking at them, and this awoke all the other fish, who began swimming
about. The bigger ones ran against the Princess’s bed, which, not being
attached to anything, span round and round like a whirligig. Rosette
could not make out what was happening. “Is our boat having a dance on
the water?” she said. “I am not accustomed to feeling so uneasy as I
am to-night,” and all the while Fretillon continued barking, and going
on as if he was out of his mind. The wicked nurse and the boatman heard
him from afar, and said: “There’s that funny little beast drinking our
healths with his mistress. Let us make haste to land,” for they were
now just opposite the town of the King of the Peacocks.
He had sent down a hundred chariots to the landing-place; they were
drawn by all kinds of rare animals, lions, bears, stags, wolves,
horses, oxen, asses, eagles, and peacocks: and the chariot which was
intended for the Princess was harnessed with six blue monkeys, that
could jump, dance on the tight rope, and do endless clever tricks; they
had beautiful trappings of crimson velvet, overlaid with plates of
gold. Sixty young maids of honour were also in attendance, who had been
chosen by the King for the amusement of the Princess; they were dressed
in all sorts of colours, and gold and silver were the least precious of
their adornments.
The nurse had taken great pains to dress her daughter finely; she had
put on her Rosette’s best robe, and decked her all over from head to
foot with the Princess’s diamonds; but with all this, she was still as
ugly as an ape, with greasy black hair, crooked eyes, bowed legs, and a
hump on her back; and, added to these deformities, she was besides of a
disagreeable and sulky temper, and was always grumbling.
When the people saw her get out of the boat, they were so taken aback
by her appearance, that they could not utter a sound. “What is the
meaning of this?” she said. “Are you all asleep? Be off, and bring me
something to eat! A nice set of beggars you are! I will have you all
hanged.” When they heard this, they murmured, “What an ugly creature!
and she is as wicked as she is ugly! A nice wife for our King; well, we
are not surprised! but it was scarcely worth the trouble to bring her
from the other side of the world.” Meanwhile she still behaved as if
she were already mistress of all and everything, and for no reason
at all, boxed their ears, or gave a blow with her fist to everybody in
turn.
[Illustration: Fretillon started barking at them] [Illustration]
As her escort was a very large one, the procession moved slowly, and
she sat up in her chariot like a queen; but all the peacocks, who had
stationed themselves on the trees, so as to salute her as she passed,
and who had been prepared to shout, “Long live the beautiful Queen
Rosette!” could only call out, “Fie, fie, how ugly she is!” as soon as
they caught sight of her. She was so enraged at this, that she called
to her guards, “Kill those rascally peacocks who are insulting me.” But
the peacocks quickly flew away, and only laughed at her.
The treacherous boatman, seeing and hearing all this, said in a low
voice to the nurse, “There is something wrong, good mother; your
daughter should have been better looking.” She answered, “Hold your
tongue, stupid, or you will bring us into trouble.”
The King had word brought him that the Princess was approaching.
“Well,” he said, “have her brothers, I wonder, told me the truth? Is
she more beautiful than her portrait?” “Sire,” said those near him,
“there will be nothing to wish for, if she is as beautiful.” “You are
right,” replied the King, “I shall be well content with that. Come, let
us go and see her,” for he knew by the hubbub in the courtyard that she
had arrived. He could not distinguish anything that was said, except,
“Fie, fie, how ugly she is!” and he imagined that the people were
calling out about some little dwarf or animal that she had brought with
her, for it never entered his head that the words were applied to the
Princess herself.
Rosette’s portrait was carried uncovered, at the top of a long pole,
and the King walked after it in solemn state, with all his nobles and
his peacocks, followed by ambassadors from various kingdoms. The King
of the Peacocks was very impatient to see his dear Rosette; but when
he did see her--well, he very nearly died on the spot. He flew into a
violent rage, he tore his clothes, he would not go near her, he felt
quite afraid of her. “What!” he cried, “have those two villains I have
in prison had the boldness and impudence to make a laughing-stock of
me, and to propose my marrying such a fright as that? They shall both
be killed; and let that insolent woman, and the nurse, and the man who
is with them, be immediately carried to the dungeon of my great tower,
and there kept.” While this was going on, the King and his brother, who
knew that his sister was expected, had put on their bravest apparel
ready to receive her; but instead of seeing their prison door open and
being set at liberty, as they had hoped, the gaoler came with a body
of soldiers and made them go down into a dark cellar, full of horrible
reptiles, and where the water was up to their necks; no one was ever
more surprised or distressed than they were. “Alas!” they said to one
another, “this is indeed a melancholy marriage feast for us! What can
have happened that we should be so ill-treated?” They did not know what
in the world to think, except that they were to be killed, and they
were very sorrowful about this. Three days passed, and no news reached
them of any kind. At the end of that time, the King of the Peacocks
came, and began calling out insulting things to them through a hole in
the wall. “You called yourselves King and Prince, that I might fall
into your trap, and engage myself to marry your sister; but you are
nothing better than two beggars, who are not worth the water you drink.
I am going to bring you before the judges, who will soon pass their
verdict upon you; the rope to hang you with is already being made.”
“King of the Peacocks,” replied the King, angrily, “do not act too
rashly in this matter, or you may repent it. I am a King as well as
you, and I have a fine kingdom, and rich clothing, and crowns, to say
nothing of good gold pieces. You must be joking to talk like this of
hanging us; have we stolen anything from you?”
When the King heard him speak so boldly, he did not know what to think,
and he felt half inclined to let them and their sister go without
putting them to death; but his chief adviser, who was an arrant
flatterer, dissuaded him from this, telling him that if he did not
revenge the insult that had been put upon him, all the world would
make fun of him, and look upon him as nothing better than a miserable
little King worth a few coppers a day. The King thereupon swore that
he would never forgive them, and ordered them to be brought to trial
at once. This did not take long; the judges had only to look at the
real Rosette’s portrait and then at the Princess who had arrived, and
without hesitation, they ordered the prisoners’ heads to be cut off
as a punishment for having lied to the King, since they had promised
him a beautiful Princess, and had only given him an ugly peasant girl.
They repaired with great ceremony to the prison to read this sentence
to them; but the prisoners declared that they had not lied, that their
sister was a Princess, and more beautiful than the day; that there
must be something under this which they did not understand, and they
asked for a respite of seven days, as before that time had expired
their innocence might have been established. The King of the Peacocks,
who had worked himself up to a high pitch of anger, could with great
difficulty be induced to accord them this grace, but at last he
consented.
While these things were going on at the Court, we must say something
about poor Rosette. Both she and Fretillon were very much astonished,
when daylight came, to find themselves in the middle of the sea,
without a boat, and far from all help. She began to cry, and cried so
piteously, that even the fishes had compassion on her: she did not
know what to do, nor what would become of her. “There is no doubt,”
she said, “that the King of the Peacocks ordered me to be thrown into
the sea, having repented his promise of marrying me, and to get rid of
me quietly he has had me drowned. What a strange man!” she continued,
“for I should have loved him so much! We should have been so happy
together,” and with that she burst out crying afresh, for she could not
help still loving him. She remained floating about on the sea for two
days, wet to the skin, and almost dead with cold; she was so benumbed
by it, that if it had not been for little Fretillon, who lay beside her
and kept a little warmth in her, she could not have survived. She was
famished with hunger, and seeing the oysters in their shells, she took
as many of these as she wanted and ate them; Fretillon did the same, to
keep himself alive, although he did not like such food. Rosette became
still more alarmed when the night set in. “Fretillon,” she said, “keep
on barking, to frighten away the soles, for fear they should eat us.”
So Fretillon barked all night, and when the morning came, the Princess
was floating near the shore. Close to the sea at this spot, there
lived a good old man; he was poor, and did not care for the things of
the world, and no one ever visited him in his little hut. He was very
much surprised when he heard Fretillon barking, for no dogs ever came
in that direction; he thought some travellers must have lost their
way, and went out with the kind intention of putting them on the right
road again. All at once he caught sight of the Princess and Fretillon
floating on the sea, and the Princess, seeing him, stretched out her
arms to him, crying out, “Good man, save me, or I shall perish; I have
been in the water like this for two days.” When he heard her speak so
sorrowfully, he had great pity on her, and went back into his hut to
fetch a long hook; he waded into the water up to his neck, and once
or twice narrowly escaped drowning. At last, however, he succeeded in
dragging the bed on to the shore. Rosette and Fretillon were overjoyed
to find themselves again on dry ground; and were full of gratitude to
the kind old man. Rosette wrapped herself in her coverlet, and walked
bare-footed into the hut, where the old man lit a little fire of dry
straw, and took one of his dead wife’s best dresses out of a trunk,
with some stockings and shoes, and gave them to the Princess. Dressed
in her peasant’s attire, she looked as beautiful as the day, and
Fretillon capered round her and made her laugh. The old man guessed
that Rosette was some great lady, for her bed was embroidered with gold
and silver, and her mattress was of satin. He begged her to tell him
her story, promising not to repeat what she told him if she so wished.
So she related to him all that had befallen her, crying bitterly the
while, for she still thought that it was the King of the Peacocks who
had ordered her to be drowned.
“What shall we do, my daughter?” said the old man. “You are a Princess
and accustomed to the best of everything, and I have but poor fare to
offer, black bread and radishes; but if you will let me, I will go
and tell the King of the Peacocks that you are here; if he had once
seen you, he would assuredly marry you.” “Alas! he is a wicked man,”
said Rosette; “he would only put me to death; but if you can lend me a
little basket, I will tie it round Fretillon’s neck, and he will have
very bad luck, if he does not manage to bring back some food.”
The old man gave her a basket, which she fastened to Fretillon’s neck,
and then said, “Go to the best kitchen in the town, and bring me back
what you find in the saucepan.” Fretillon ran off to the town, and
as there was no better kitchen than that of the King, he went in,
uncovered the saucepan, and cleverly carried off all that was in it;
then he returned to the hut. Rosette said to him, “Go back and take
whatever you can find of the best in the larder.” Fretillon went back
to the King’s larder, and took white bread, wine, and all sorts of
fruits and sweetmeats; he was so laden that he could only just manage
to carry the things home.
When the King of the Peacocks’ dinner hour arrived, there was nothing
for him either in the saucepan or in the larder; his attendants looked
askance at one another, and the King was in a terrible rage. “It
seems, then, that I am to have no dinner; but see that the spit is put
before the fire, and let me have some good roast meat this evening.”
The evening came, and the Princess said to Fretillon, “Go to the best
kitchen in the town and bring me a joint of good roast meat.” Fretillon
obeyed, and knowing no better kitchen than that of the King, he went
softly in, while the cooks’ backs were turned, took the meat, which
was of the best kind, from the spit, and carried it back in his basket
to the Princess. She sent him back without delay to the larder, and he
carried off all the preserves and sweetmeats that had been prepared for
the King.
The King, having had no dinner, was very hungry, and ordered supper to
be served early, but no supper was forthcoming; enraged beyond words,
he was forced to go supperless to bed.
The same thing happened the following day, both as to dinner and
supper; so that the King, for three days, was without meat or drink,
for every time he sat down to table, it was found that the meal that
had been prepared had been stolen. His chief adviser, fearing for the
life of the King, hid himself in the corner of the kitchen to watch; he
kept his eyes on the saucepan, that was boiling over the fire, and what
was his surprise to see enter a little green dog, with one ear, that
uncovered the pot, and put the meat in its basket. He followed it to
see where it would go; he saw it leave the town, and still following,
came to the old man’s hut. Then he went and told the King that it was
to a poor peasant’s home that the food was carried morning and evening.
The King was greatly astonished, and ordered more inquiries to be made.
His chief adviser, anxious for favour, decided to go himself, taking
with him a body of archers. They found the old man and Rosette at
dinner, eating the meat that had been stolen from the King’s kitchen,
and they seized them, and bound them with cords, taking Fretillon
prisoner at the same time.
They brought word to the King that the delinquents had been captured,
and he replied, “To-morrow, the last day of reprieve for my two
insolent prisoners will expire; they and these thieves shall die
together.” He then went into his court of justice. The old man threw
himself on his knees before him, and begged to be allowed to tell him
everything. As he was speaking, the King looked towards the beautiful
Princess, and his heart was touched when he saw her crying. When,
therefore, the old man said that she was the Princess Rosette who had
been thrown into the water, in spite of the weak condition he was in
from having starved for so long, he gave three bounds of joy, ran and
embraced her, and untied her cords, declaring the while that he loved
her with all his heart.
They at once went to find the Princes, who thought they were going to
be put to death, and came forward in great dejection and hanging their
heads; the nurse and her daughter were brought in at the same time.
The brothers and sister recognised one another, as soon as they were
brought face to face, and Rosette threw herself on her brothers’ necks.
The nurse and her daughter, and the boatman, begged on their knees for
mercy, and the universal rejoicing and their own joy were so great,
that the King and the Princess pardoned them, and gave the good old
man a handsome reward, and from that time he continued to live in the
palace.
[Illustration: Fretillon]
Finally, the King of the Peacocks did all in his power to atone for
his conduct to the King and his brother, expressing the deepest regret
at having treated them so badly. The nurse restored to Rosette all her
beautiful clothes and the bushel of golden crowns, and the wedding
festivities lasted a fortnight. Everyone was happy down to Fretillon,
who ate nothing but partridge wings for the rest of his life.
* * * * *
“Now,” said King Oberon, when the French Fay had finished, “let us hear
of the doings in another part of the world.”
Then up sprang a Norwegian Dwarf--a funny little fellow with a red
pointed cap on his head--and exclaimed, “I can tell you of the doings
of one of those naughty rascals who get a bad name with mankind, of
how he had a terrible fight with a big white bear and of how he was at
length driven away.”
“Good,” said the King, and “Good,” echoed Titania, and at once the
Norwegian Dwarf jumped on to the stool, tucked his legs beneath him
tailorwise and began the story of
[Illustration: The Norwegian Dwarf]
[Illustration: Away they went]
The Bear and Skrattel.
One Christmas Day, the King of Norway sat in the great hall of his
palace, holding a feast. “Here’s a health,” said he, “to our brother
the King of Denmark! What present shall we send our royal brother, as a
pledge of our good-will, this Christmas-time?” “Send him, please your
majesty,” said the Norseman Gunter, who was the king’s chief huntsman,
“one of our fine white bears, that his liegemen may show their little
ones what sort of kittens we play with.” “Well said, Gunter!” cried the
king; “but how shall we find a bear that will travel so long a journey
willingly, and will know how to behave himself to our worthy brother
when he reaches him?” “Please your majesty,” said Gunter, “I have a
glorious fellow, as white as snow, that I caught when he was a cub; he
will follow me wherever I go, play with my children, stand on his hind
legs, and behave himself as well as any gentleman ought to do. He is at
your service, and I will myself take him wherever you choose.”
So the king was well pleased, and ordered Gunter to set off at once
with master Bruin: “Start with the morning’s dawn,” said he, “and make
the best of your way.”
The Norseman went home to his house in the forest; and early next
morning he waked master Bruin, put the king’s collar round his neck,
and away they went over rocks and valleys, lakes and seas, the nearest
road to the court of the King of Denmark. When they arrived there, the
king was away on a journey, and Gunter and his fellow-traveller set out
to follow. It was bright weather, the sun shone, and the birds sang, as
they journeyed merrily on, day after day, over hill and over dale, till
they came within a day’s journey of where the king was.
All that afternoon they travelled through a gloomy, dark forest; but
towards evening the wind began to whistle through the trees, and the
clouds began to gather and threaten a stormy night. The road, too, was
very rough, and it was not easy to tell which was most tired, Bruin
or his master. What made the matter worse was, that they had found no
inn that day by the roadside, and their provisions had fallen short,
so that they had no very pleasant prospect before them for the night.
“A pretty affair this!” said Gunter, “I am likely to be charmingly off
here in the woods, with an empty stomach, a damp bed, and a bear for my
bedfellow.”
While the Norseman was turning this over in his mind, the wind blew
harder and harder, and the clouds grew darker and darker: the bear
shook his ears, and his master looked at his wits’ end, when to his
great joy a woodman came whistling along out of the woods, by the side
of his horse dragging a load of faggots. As soon as he came up, Gunter
stopped him, and begged hard for a night’s lodging for himself and his
countryman.
The woodman seemed hearty and good-natured enough, and was quite ready
to find shelter for the huntsman; but as to the bear, he had never seen
such a beast before in his life, and would have nothing to do with him
on any terms. The huntsman begged hard for his friend, and told how he
was bringing him as a present to the King of Denmark; and how he was
the most good-natured, best-behaved animal in the world, though he must
allow that he was by no means one of the handsomest.
The woodman, however, was not to be moved. His wife, he was sure, would
not like such a guest, and who could say what he might take it into his
head to do? Besides, he should lose his dog and his cat, his ducks and
his geese; for they would all run away for fright, whether the bear was
disposed to be friends with them or not.
“Good-night, master huntsman!” said he; “if you and old shaggy-back
there cannot part, I am afraid you must e’en stay where you are, though
you will have a sad night of it, no doubt.” Then he cracked his whip,
whistled up his horse, and set off once more on his way homewards.
[Illustration: He lets them loose]
The huntsman grumbled, and Bruin grunted, as they followed slowly
after; when to their great joy they saw the woodman, before he had gone
many yards, pull up his horse once more and turn round. “Stay, stay!”
said he; “I think I can tell you of a plan better than sleeping in a
ditch. I know where you may find shelter, if you will run the risk of a
little trouble from an unlucky imp, that has taken up its abode in my
old house down the hill yonder. You must know, friend, that till last
winter I lived in yon snug little house that you will see at the foot
of the hill if you come this way. Everything went smoothly on with us
till one unlucky night, when the storm blew as it seems likely to do
to-night, some spiteful guest took it into his head to pay us a visit;
and there have ever since been such noises, clattering, and scampering
up stairs and down, from midnight till the cock crows in the morning,
that at last we were fairly driven out of house and home. What he is
like no one knows; for we never saw him or anything belonging to him,
except a little crooked high-heeled shoe, that he left one night in the
pantry. But though we have not seen him, we know he has a hand or a paw
as heavy as lead; for when it pleases him to lay it upon any one, down
he goes as if the blacksmith’s hammer had hit him. There is no end of
his monkey tricks. If the linen is hung out to dry, he cuts the line.
If he wants a cup of ale, he leaves the tap running. If the fowls are
shut up, he lets them loose. He puts the pig into the garden, rides
upon the cows, and turns the horses into the hay-yard; and several
times he nearly burnt the house down, by leaving a candle alight among
the faggots. And then he is sometimes so nimble and active, that
when he is once in motion, nothing stands still around him. Dishes
and plates--pots and pans--dance about, clattering, making the most
horrible music, and breaking each other to pieces: and sometimes, when
the whim takes him, the chairs and tables seem as if they were alive,
and dancing a hornpipe, or playing battledore and shuttlecock together.
Even the stones and beams of the house seem rattling against one
another; and it is of no use putting things in order, for the first
freak the imp took would turn everything upside down again.
“My wife and I bore such a lodger as long as we could, but at length
we were fairly beaten; and as he seemed to have taken up his abode in
the house, we thought it best to give up to him what he wanted: and
the little rascal knew what we were about when we were moving, and
seemed afraid we should not go soon enough. So he helped us off: for on
the morning we were to start, as we were going to put our goods upon
the waggon, there it stood before the door ready loaded: and when we
started we heard a loud laugh; and a little sharp voice cried out of
the window, ‘Good-bye, neighbours!’ So now he has our old house all
to himself to play his gambols in, whenever he likes to sleep within
doors; and we have built ourselves a snug cottage on the other side
of the hill, where we live as well as we can, though we have no great
room to make merry in. Now if you, and your ugly friend there, like to
run the hazard of taking up your quarters in the elf’s house, pray do!
Yonder is the road. He may not be at home to-night.”
“We will try our luck,” said Gunter: “anything is better to my mind
than sleeping out of doors such a night as this. Your troublesome
neighbour will perhaps think so too, and we may have to fight for our
lodging: but never mind, Bruin is rather an awkward hand to quarrel
with; and the goblin may perhaps find a worse welcome from him than
your house-dog could give him. He will at any rate let him know what a
bear’s hug is; for I dare say he has not been far enough north to know
much about it yet.”
Then the woodman gave Gunter a faggot to make his fire with, and wished
him a good-night. He and the bear soon found their way to the deserted
house; and no one being at home they walked into the kitchen and made a
capital fire.
“Lack-a-day!” said the Norseman; “I forgot one thing--I ought to have
asked that good man for some supper; I have nothing left but some dry
bread. However, this is better than sleeping in the woods: we must make
the most of what we have, keep ourselves warm, and get to bed as soon
as we can.” So after eating up all their crusts, and drinking some
water from the well close by, the huntsman wrapt himself up close in
his cloak, and lay down in the snuggest corner he could find. Bruin
rolled himself up in the corner of the wide fire-place; and both were
fast asleep, the fire out, and everything quiet within doors, long
before midnight.
Just as the clock struck twelve the storm began to get louder--the wind
blew--a slight noise within the room wakened the huntsman, and all on
a sudden in popped a little ugly skrattel, scarce three spans high;
with a hump on his back, a face like a dried pippin, a nose like a ripe
mulberry, and an eye that had lost its neighbour. He had high-heeled
shoes, and a pointed red cap; and came dragging after him a nice
fat kid, ready skinned, and fit for roasting. “A rough night this,”
grumbled the goblin to himself; “but, thanks to that booby woodman,
I’ve a house to myself: and now for a hot supper and a glass of good
ale till the cock crows.”
No sooner said than done: the skrattel busied himself about, here and
there; presently the fire blazed up, the kid was put on the spit and
turned merrily round. A keg of ale made its appearance from a closet:
the cloth was laid, and the kid was soon dished up for eating. Then the
little imp, in the joy of his heart, rubbed his hands, tossed up his
red cap, danced before the hearth, and sang his song--
“Oh! ’tis weary enough abroad to bide,
In the shivery midnight blast;
And ’tis dreary enough alone to ride,
Hungry and cold,
On the wintry wold,
Where the drifting snow falls fast.
“But ’tis cheery enough to revel by night,
In the crackling faggot’s light:
’Tis merry enough to have and to hold
The savoury roast,
And the nut-brown toast,
With jolly good ale and old.”
The huntsman lay snug all this time; sometimes quaking, in dread of
getting into trouble, and sometimes licking his lips at the savoury
supper before him, and half in the mind to fight for it with the imp.
However, he kept himself quiet in his corner; till all of a sudden the
little man’s eye wandered from his cheering ale-cup to Bruin’s carcase,
as he lay rolled up like a ball, fast asleep in the chimney-corner.
The imp turned round sharp in an instant, and crept softly nearer and
nearer to where Bruin lay, looking at him very closely, and not able to
make out what in the world he was. “One of the family, I suppose!” said
he to himself. But just then Bruin gave his ears a shake, and showed a
little of his shaggy muzzle. “Oh ho!” said the imp, “that’s all, is it?
But what a large one! Where could he come from? and how came he here?
What shall I do? Shall I let him alone or drive him out? Perhaps he may
do me some mischief, and I am not afraid of mice or rats. So here goes!
I have driven all the rest of the live stock out of the house, and why
should I be afraid of sending this brute after them?”
With that the elf walked softly to the corner of the room, and taking
up the spit, stole back on tip-toe till he got quite close to the bear;
then raising up his weapon, down came a rattling thump across Bruin’s
mazard, that sounded as hollow as a drum. The bear raised himself
slowly up, snorted, shook his head, then scratched it,--opened first
one eye, then the other, took a turn across the room, and grinned at
his enemy; who, somewhat alarmed, ran back a few paces, and stood with
the spit in his hand, foreseeing a rough attack. And it soon came; for
the bear, rearing himself up, walked leisurely forward, and putting
out one of his paws caught hold of the spit, jerked it out of the
goblin’s hand, and sent it spinning to the other end of the kitchen.
And now began a fierce battle. This way and that way flew tables and
chairs, pots and pans. The elf was one moment on the bear’s back,
lugging his ears and pommelling him with blows that might have felled
an ox. In the next, the bear would throw him up in the air, and treat
him as he came down with a hug that would make the little imp squall.
Then up he would jump upon one of the beams out of Bruin’s reach; and
soon, watching his chance, would be down astride upon his back.
Meantime Gunter had become sadly frightened, and seeing the oven door
open, crept in for shelter from the fray, and lay there quaking for
fear. The struggle went on thus a long time, without its seeming at all
clear who would get the better--biting, scratching, hugging, clawing,
roaring, and growling, till the whole house rang. The elf, however,
seemed to grow weaker and weaker: the rivals stood for a moment as if
to get breath, and the bear was getting ready for a fierce attack,
when, all in a moment, the skrattel dashed his red cap right in his
eye, and while Bruin was smarting with the blow and trying to recover
his sight, darted to the door, and was out of sight in a moment, though
the wind blew, the rain pattered, and the storm raged, in a merciless
manner.
“Well done! Bravo, Bruin!” cried the huntsman, as he crawled out of the
oven, and ran and bolted the door: “thou hast combed his locks rarely;
and as for thine own ears, they are rather the worse for pulling. But
come, let us make the best of the good cheer our friend has left us!”
So saying, they fell to and ate a hearty supper. The huntsman, wishing
the skrattel a good night and pleasant dreams in a cup of his sparkling
ale, laid himself down and slept till morning; and Bruin tried to do
the same, as well as his aching bones would let him.
In the morning the huntsman made ready to set out on his way: and had
not got far from the door before he met the woodman, who was eager
to hear how he had passed the night. Then Gunter told him how he had
been awakened, what sort of creature the elf was, and how he and Bruin
had fought it out. “Let us hope,” said he, “you will now be well rid
of the gentleman: I suspect he will not come where he is likely to
get any more of Bruin’s hugs; and thus you will be well paid for your
entertainment of us, which, to tell the truth, was none of the best:
for if your ugly little tenant had not brought his supper with him, we
should have had but empty stomachs this morning.”
[Illustration: The bear would throw him in the air]
The huntsman and his fellow-traveller journeyed on: and let us hope
they reached the King of Denmark safe and sound: but, to tell the
truth, I know nothing more of that part of the story.
The woodman, meantime, went to his work; and did not fail to watch at
night to see whether the skrattel came, or whether he was thoroughly
frightened out of his old haunt by the bear, or whatever he might take
the beast to be that had handled him as he never was handled before.
But three nights passed over, and no traces being seen or heard of him,
the woodman began to think of moving back to his old house.
On the fourth day he was out at his work in the forest; and as he
was taking shelter under a tree from a cold storm of sleet and rain
that passed over, he heard a little cracked voice singing, or rather
croaking in a mournful tone. So he crept along quietly, and peeped over
some bushes, and there sat the very same figure that the huntsman had
described to him. The goblin was sitting without any hat or cap on his
head, with a woe-begone face, and with his jacket torn into shreds, and
his leg scratched and smeared with blood, as if he had been creeping
through a bramble-bush. The woodman listened quietly to his song, and
it ran as before--
“Oh! ’tis weary enough abroad to bide,
In the shivery midnight blast;
And ’tis dreary enough alone to ride
Hungry and cold,
On the wintry wold,
Where the drifting snow falls fast.”
“Sing us the other verse, man!” cried the woodman; for he could not
help cracking a joke on his old enemy, who he saw was sadly in the
dumps at the loss of his good cheer and the shelter against the bad
weather. But the instant his voice was heard the little imp jumped up,
stamped with rage, and was out of sight in the twinkling of an eye.
The woodman finished his work and was going home in the evening,
whistling by his horse’s side, when, all of a sudden, he saw, standing
on a high bank by the wayside, the very same little imp, looking as
grim and sulky as before. “Hark ye, bumpkin?” cried the skrattel;
“canst thou hear, fellow? Is thy great cat alive, and at home still?”
“My cat?” said the woodman. “Thy great white cat, man!” thundered out
the little imp. “Oh, my cat!” said the woodman, at last recollecting
himself. “Oh, yes to be sure! alive and well, I thank you: very
happy, I’m sure, to see you and all friends, whenever you will do us
the favour to call. And hark ye, friend! as you seem to be so fond
of my great cat, you may like to know that she had five kittens last
night.” “Five kittens?” muttered the elf. “Yes,” replied the woodman,
“five of the most beautiful white kits you ever saw,--so like the old
cat, it would do your heart good to see the whole family--such soft,
gentle paws--such delicate whiskers--such pretty little mouths!” “Five
kittens?” muttered or rather shrieked out the imp again. “Yes, to be
sure!” said the woodman; “five kittens! Do look in to-night, about
twelve o’clock--the time, you know, that you used to come and see us.
The old cat will be so glad to show them to you, and we shall be so
happy to see you once more. But where can you have been all this time?”
“I come? not I, indeed!” shrieked the skrattel. “What do I want with
the little wretches? Did not I see the mother once? Keep your kittens
to yourself: I must be off,--this is no place for me. Five kittens! So
there are six of them now! Good-bye to you, you’ll see me no more; so
bad luck to your ugly cat and your beggarly house!” “And bad luck to
you, Mr Crookback!” cried the woodman, as he threw him the red cap he
had left behind in his battle with Bruin. “Keep clear of my cat, and
let us hear no more of your pranks, and be hanged to you!”
[Illustration: The elf was one moment on the bear’s back]
So, now that he knew his troublesome guest had taken his leave, the
woodman soon moved back all his goods, and his wife and children into
their snug old house. And there they lived happily, for the elf never
came to see them any more; and the woodman every day after dinner
drank, “Long life to the King of Norway,” for sending the cat that
cleared his house of vermin.
* * * * *
When the Norwegian Red-cap had finished his story Titania thought it
time that someone should tell another love tale, and a second German
Fairy came forward and said,
“Would your majesty like to hear again the story of the goose-girl
princess and the horse Falada?”
“Oh, yes,” answered the Queen, who if she really liked a story was
always glad to hear it told to her several times, “Oh, yes, the pretty
story of the goose-girl is one of my favourites.”
The second German Fairy then stepped on to the stool and quietly began
to recount the sad experiences of the princess who became
[Illustration: The second German Fairy]
[Illustration: She set off on her journey]
The Goose Girl.
The king of a great land died, and left his queen to take care of their
only child. This child was a daughter, who was very beautiful; and her
mother loved her dearly, and was very kind to her. And there was a good
fairy too, who was fond of the princess, and helped her mother to watch
over her. When she grew up, she was betrothed to a prince who lived a
great way off; and as the time drew near for her to be married, she got
ready to set off on her journey to his country. Then the queen, her
mother, packed up a great many costly things; jewels, and gold, and
silver; trinkets, fine dresses, and in short everything that became a
royal bride. And she gave her a waiting-maid to ride with her, and give
her into the bridegroom’s hands; and each had a horse for the journey.
Now the princess’s horse was the fairy’s gift, and it was called
Falada, and could speak.
When the time came for them to set out, the fairy went into her
bed-chamber, and took a little knife, and cut off a lock of her hair,
and gave it to the princess, and said, “Take care of it, dear child;
for it is a charm that may be of use to you on the road.” Then they all
took a sorrowful leave of the princess; and she put the lock of hair
into her bosom, got upon her horse, and set off on her journey to her
bridegroom’s kingdom.
One day, as they were riding along by a brook, the princess began to
feel very thirsty; and she said to her maid, “Pray get down, and fetch
me some water in my golden cup out of yonder brook, for I want to
drink.” “Nay,” said the maid, “if you are thirsty, get off yourself,
and stoop down by the water and drink; I shall not be your waiting-maid
any longer.” Then she was so thirsty that she got down, and knelt
over the little brook, and drank; for she was frightened, and dared
not bring out her golden cup; and she wept and said, “Alas! what will
become of me?” And the lock answered her, and said--
“Alas! alas! if thy mother knew it,
Sadly, sadly, would she rue it.”
But the princess was very gentle and meek, so she said nothing to her
maid’s ill behaviour, but got upon her horse again.
Then all rode further on their journey, till the day grew so warm,
and the sun so scorching, that the bride began to feel very thirsty
again; and at last, when they came to a river, she forgot her maid’s
rude speech, and said, “Pray get down, and fetch me some water to drink
in my golden cup.” But the maid answered her, and even spoke more
haughtily than before: “Drink if you will, but I shall not be your
waiting-maid.” Then the princess was so thirsty that she got off her
horse, and lay down, and held her head over the running stream, and
cried and said, “What will become of me?” And the lock of hair answered
her again--
“Alas! alas! if thy mother knew it,
Sadly, sadly, would she rue it.”
And as she leaned down to drink the lock of hair fell from her bosom,
and floated away with the water. Now she was so frightened that she did
not see it; but her maid saw it, and was very glad, for she knew the
charm; and she saw that the poor bride would be in her power, now that
she had lost the hair. So when the bride had done drinking, and would
have got upon Falada again, the maid said, “I shall ride upon Falada,
and you may have my horse instead”: so she was forced to give up her
horse, and soon afterwards to take off her royal clothes and put on her
maid’s shabby ones.
At last, as they drew near the end of their journey, this treacherous
servant threatened to kill her mistress if she ever told any one what
had happened. But Falada saw it all, and marked it well.
Then the waiting-maid got upon Falada, and the real bride rode upon the
other horse, and they went on in this way till at last they came to
the royal court. There was great joy at their coming, and the prince
flew to meet them, and lifted the maid from her horse, thinking she was
the one who was to be his wife; and she was led upstairs to the royal
chamber; but the true princess was told to stay in the court below.
Now the old king happened just then to have nothing else to do; so he
amused himself by sitting at his kitchen-window, looking at what was
going on; and he saw her in the courtyard. As she looked very pretty,
and too delicate for a waiting-maid, he went up into the royal chamber
to ask the bride who it was she had brought with her, that was thus
left standing in the court below. “I brought her with me for the sake
of her company on the road,” said she; “pray give the girl some work
to do, that she may not be idle.” The old king could not for some time
think of any work for her to do; but at last he said, “I have a lad who
takes care of my geese; she may go and help him.” Now the name of this
lad, that the real bride was to help in watching the king’s geese, was
Curdken.
But the false bride said to the prince, “Dear husband, pray do me one
piece of kindness.” “That I will,” said the prince. “Then tell one of
your slaughterers to cut off the head of the horse I rode upon, for it
was very unruly, and plagued me sadly on the road”; but the truth was,
she was very much afraid lest Falada should some day or other speak,
and tell all she had done to the princess. She carried her point, and
the faithful Falada was killed; but when the true princess heard of
it, she wept, and begged the man to nail up Falada’s head against
a large dark gate of the city, through which she had to pass every
morning and evening, that there she might still see him sometimes. Then
the slaughterer said he would do as she wished; and cut off the head,
and nailed it up under the dark gate.
Early the next morning, as she and Curdken went out through the gate,
she said sorrowfully--
“Falada, Falada, there thou hangest!”
and the head answered--
“Bride, bride, there thou gangest!
Alas! alas! if thy mother knew it,
Sadly, sadly, would she rue it.”
Then they went out of the city, and drove the geese on. And when she
came to the meadow, she sat down upon a bank there, and let down her
waving locks of hair, which were all of pure silver; and when Curdken
saw it glitter in the sun, he ran up, and would have pulled some of the
locks out, but she cried--
“Blow, breezes, blow!
Let Curdken’s hat go!
Blow, breezes, blow!
Let him after it go!
O’er hills, dales, and rocks,
Away be it whirl’d,
Till the silvery locks
Are all comb’d and curl’d!”
Then there came a wind, so strong that it blew off Curdken’s hat; and
away it flew over the hills: and he was forced to turn and run after
it; till, by the time he came back, she had done combing and curling
her hair, and had put it up again safe. Then he was very angry and
sulky, and would not speak to her at all; but they watched the geese
until it grew dark in the evening, and then drove them homewards.
[Illustration: Falada, Falada, there thou hangest]
The next morning, as they were going through the dark gate, the poor
girl looked up at Falada’s head, and cried--
“Falada, Falada, there thou hangest!”
and it answered--
“Bride, bride, there thou gangest!
Alas! alas! if thy mother knew it,
Sadly, sadly, would she rue it.”
Then she drove on the geese, and sat down again in the meadow, and
began to comb out her hair as before; and Curdken ran up to her, and
wanted to take hold of it; but she cried out quickly--
“Blow, breezes, blow!
Let Curdken’s hat go!
Blow, breezes, blow!
Let him after it go!
O’er hills, dales, and rocks,
Away be it whirl’d,
Till the silvery locks
Are all comb’d and curl’d!”
Then a wind came and blew away his hat; and off it flew a great way,
over the hills and far away, so that he had to run after it; and when
he came back she had bound up her hair again, and all was safe. So they
watched the geese till it grew dark.
In the evening, after they came home, Curdken went to the old king, and
said, “I cannot have that strange girl to help me to keep the geese any
longer.” “Why?” said the king. “Because, instead of doing any good, she
does nothing but tease me all day long.” Then the king made him tell
him what had happened. And Curdken said, “When we go in the morning
through the dark gate with our flock of geese, she cries and talks with
the head of a horse that hangs upon the wall, and says--
“Falada, Falada, there thou hangest!”
and the head answers,
“Bride, bride, there thou gangest!
Alas! alas! if thy mother knew it,
Sadly, sadly, would she rue it.”
And Curdken went on telling the king what had happened upon the meadow
where the geese fed; how his hat was blown away; and how he was forced
to run after it, and to leave his flock of geese to themselves. But the
old king told the boy to go out again the next day: and when morning
came, he placed himself behind the dark gate, and heard how she spoke
to Falada, and how Falada answered. Then he went into the field, and
hid himself in a bush by the meadow’s side; and he soon saw with his
own eyes how they drove the flock of geese; and how after a little
time, she let down her hair that glittered in the sun. And then he
heard her say--
“Blow, breezes, blow!
Let Curdken’s hat go!
Blow, breezes, blow!
Let him after it go!
O’er hills, dales, and rocks,
Away be it whirl’d,
Till the silvery locks
Are all comb’d and curl’d!”
And soon came a gale of wind, and carried away Curdken’s hat, and away
went Curdken after it, while the girl went on combing and curling her
hair. All this the old king saw: so he went home without being seen;
and when the little goose-girl came back in the evening he called her
aside, and asked her why she did so: but she burst into tears, and
said, “That I must not tell you or any man, or I shall lose my life.”
But the old king begged so hard, that she had no peace till she had
told him all the tale, from beginning to end, word for word. And it
was very lucky for her that she did so, for when she had done the king
ordered royal clothes to be put upon her, and gazed on her with wonder,
she was so beautiful. Then he called his son, and told him that he had
only the false bride; for that she was merely a waiting-maid, while
the true bride stood by. And the young king rejoiced when he saw her
beauty, and heard how meek and patient she had been; and without saying
anything to the false bride, the king ordered a great feast to be got
ready for all his court. The bridegroom sat at the top, with the false
princess on one side, and the true one on the other; but nobody knew
her again, for her beauty was quite dazzling to their eyes; and she
did not seem at all like the little goose-girl, now that she had her
brilliant dress on.
[Illustration: Tailpiece]
When they had eaten and drank, and were very merry, the old king said
he would tell them a tale. So he began, and told all the story of the
princess, as if it was one that he had once heard; and he asked the
true waiting-maid what she thought ought to be done to any one who
would behave thus. “Nothing better,” said this false bride, “than that
she should be thrown into a cask stuck round with sharp nails, and that
two white horses should be put to it, and should drag it from street
to street till she was dead.” “Thou art she!” said the old king; “and
as thou hast judged thyself, so shall it be done to thee.” And the
young king was then married to his true wife, and they reigned over the
kingdom in peace and happiness all their lives; and the good fairy came
to see them, and restored the faithful Falada to life again.
* * * * *
Having finished her tale, the second German Fairy was rising to return
to her place in the circle, when King Oberon, who saw how pleased the
Queen was made her yet better pleased by saying,
“Perhaps we can have another story from the same story-teller.”
“Oh, yes,” said Queen Titania, and the Fairy sat down again, and
without any false modesty began the tale of
[Illustration: The fairy sat down again]
[Illustration: He was found to abide spellbound]