cruel words. But the wicked fairy, without replying, turned and left the
hall. Then the eighth fairy went to the queen and said: “Do not cry, my
dear lady; for though I cannot relieve the princess of this enchantment
I can make it less severe. She shall not die, but instead shall fall
asleep for a hundred years. When those are past, a prince shall come and
awaken her with a kiss.”
So the king and queen were somewhat comforted, and the fairies returned
to their homes. The greatest care was taken of the little princess, and
in order to save her from her fate a law was made that every spindle in
the kingdom should be burned, and no more made. Life moved along happily
for the princess until she was eighteen years old. All that the first
six fairies promised had come true, and she was the best and cleverest,
the most beautiful and the happiest and the sweetest-voiced princess in
all the world, and everybody loved her. Indeed, by this time
Tormentilla’s spiteful words were nearly forgotten.
But one morning the king and queen went away to be gone till late in the
afternoon, and the princess amused herself by wandering about into the
out-of-the-way nooks and corners and attics of the great building. She
found dusty furniture that was often so quaint it made her laugh, and
there were many other curiosities. At last she climbed a narrow winding
stair in an old tower. It led to a little door with a rusty key sticking
out of the lock. She turned the key, opened the door, and there, in a
low chamber, sat a white-capped old woman with a spinning-wheel before
her on which she was spinning flax. This poor old woman had been allowed
many years previous to make her home in the tower, and it happened that
she had never heard the king’s command to destroy the spindles; for she
was so deaf that if you shouted till you were hoarse she never would
have been able to understand you.
The princess stood on the threshold watching the old woman curiously.
This was the first time she had ever seen a spinning-wheel. “What pretty
work you are doing,” she said presently; “and why does that wheel go
whirr, whirr, whirr?”
But of course the old woman did not hear, and she neither answered nor
lifted her eyes from her work. So the princess stepped into the room and
laid her hand on the old woman’s shoulder. The spinner looked up and
rubbed her eyes. “Deary, deary me!” cried she in a high, cracked voice,
“and who may you be, my pretty darling?”
“I’m the princess,” screamed the maiden in her ear, but the spinner only
shook her head—she could hear nothing.
Then the princess pointed to the spindle on which the flax was twirling
into thread, and made the old woman understand that she wanted to try if
she could work it. The spinner nodded and laughed and got up from her
seat, and the princess sat down at the wheel, but she had hardly begun
to spin when she pricked her finger with the spindle. Immediately a
faintness seized her. She staggered to a bed close by, and as soon as
her head touched the pillow she became unconscious.
[Illustration:
THE SLEEPING BEAUTY
]
At the same moment there was a deep silence everywhere in the castle.
The little bird that just before had been singing so sweetly on the
windowsill hushed its song. The distant hum of voices from the courtyard
beneath was stilled. Even the old woman, who had been standing beside
her wheel telling the princess how to spin, stopped short and fell
asleep. In the great hall, the king and queen, who had just returned,
and were inquiring for their daughter, fell asleep before the
lady-in-waiting could answer them, and the lady herself began to snore.
The guards slumbered at their posts. The horses in their stalls became
motionless, and so did the dogs in the yard, the pigeons on the roof,
and the flies on the wall. The fire on the hearth stopped burning, and
the meat on the spit ceased roasting. In short, sleep fell on the whole
castle, and round about it there sprung up a thick and thorny magic wood
which it seemed impossible for anyone to penetrate, and which hid the
entire castle from view except a weather-vane on the roof.
Time went on until a hundred years had passed, and then one day a king’s
son happened to be hunting in the region. He became separated from his
attendants in the excitement of the chase, and at length he came to a
woodcutter’s cottage and dismounted to ask the way. The old man who
lived in the hut gave him the required directions, and then told the
prince about a thick wood a little farther on in the direction he had
been riding. “No one has ever been able to get through that wood,” said
the old man, “and my grandfather used to say it surrounded a castle in
which was a beautiful princess condemned to sleep for a hundred years.
He said some prince would come and awaken her with a kiss.”
On hearing this, nothing would do but the prince must go and have a look
at the wood. He found it, and dismounted and prepared to push his way
through the thorny thicket. But no sooner did he start to penetrate the
wood than the tangled briars of the undergrowth were changed into
beautiful flowers which parted and bent aside to let him pass. When he
reached the courtyard he saw the dogs lying asleep, and on the roof the
pigeons were sitting with their heads under their wings. He went
indoors, and there were the flies asleep on the wall, and there was the
cook with his hand uplifted to strike the kitchen boy, and a maid
sitting near by had a fowl on her lap ready to pluck. When the prince
entered the great hall he found the whole court asleep, and the king and
queen slumbering on their thrones. Everything was so still he could hear
his own breathing.
As yet he saw no princess, and he continued looking about till he came
to the old tower and ascended the narrow, winding stair. He went into
the little room where the princess lay, and she looked so lovely in her
sleep that he could not turn away his eyes, and presently he stooped and
kissed her. At once she awoke and said: “O prince, are you here at last?
I have had such pleasant dreams!”
She sat up laughing and rubbing her eyes, and after a few moments stood
on her feet, and they went hand in hand out of the room. The old woman
stared at them in amazement, and then, mumbling to herself, resumed her
spinning. They descended the stairs and passed along the corridors until
they came to the throne room. The king and queen and whole court had
just waked up and were gazing at each other with wonderment. The long
sleep was ended for the rest of the palace also. Roosters crowed, dogs
barked, the cats began to mew, the clocks struck the hours, the heralds
blew their trumpets, the pigeons flew away from the roof to the fields,
the kitchen fire blazed up, and the meat was again roasting, the cook
gave the kitchen boy such a box on the ear that he roared lustily, and
the maid began to pluck the fowl.
In short, everything went on as if there had been no enchantment at all.
To be sure, the dress the princess was wearing was such as the prince’s
great-grandmother might have worn, but that gave them something to laugh
at.
As soon as preparations could be made, the wedding of the prince and
princess was celebrated with great splendor, and they lived happily ever
after.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE LOVE OF THE SNOW-WHITE FOX
ONCE upon a time there lived a young fox that was snow-white, and it was
so gentle and intelligent that it was beloved by all the good people for
miles around. If, in the evening, it knocked softly at their doors with
its tail they were glad, and were quick to let it in. When it entered it
would play with the children, eat of their humble fare, and then trot
away. But there were hunters in the country who wanted to kill the
beautiful white fox. Once or twice it nearly lost its life at the hands
of these cruel men.
[Illustration]
One summer afternoon, as it was frisking about in the woods with some
young fox friends, two men caught sight of it. They were fleet of foot
and had dogs with them. Away ran the white fox, and the men uttered an
excited cry and gave chase. Instead of going deeper into the forest the
fox ran across the open farm lands until it came to a holy temple.
“There, surely, I will find a safe refuge from my pursuers,” it thought.
In the temple there happened to be a young prince of noble family named
Yashi, deep in meditation. The white fox, whose strength was nearly
spent, came running in at the door and went directly to the prince and
took refuge behind him. The poor creature trembled with fright, and
Yashi took pity on it and did all he could to calm its fears. “I will
protect you, little one,” said he. “No one shall harm you.”
The fox looked up at him and seemed to understand his words. It ceased
to tremble. The prince went to the door of the great temple. Two men
hastened up to him and asked if he had seen a snow-white fox. “It must
have run into the temple,” they declared.
[Illustration]
But Yashi, faithful to his promise, answered, “I have been in the temple
praying, but I can tell you nothing of the fox.”
The men were about to go on when they caught a glimpse of the fox behind
him. Fiercely they demanded that he should stand aside. The prince
firmly refused. Then the men, intent on having their prey, attacked him,
and he was obliged to draw his sword in self-defense. At this moment
Yashi’s father, a brave old man, came up. He rushed on the assailants of
his son, but a deadly blow, which Yashi could not avert, struck the old
man down. This made Yashi very wroth, and with two mighty strokes he
felled his adversaries to the ground.
The loss of his father filled Yashi with grief, and as he stood looking
down on the body his heart was very heavy. Just then a sweet song from
within the sacred building greeted his ears. Who could the singer be?
for there was no one inside when he came out. He reëntered the temple,
and a beautiful maiden appeared before him. He saw from her look and
manner that she knew he was in deep trouble, and he told her of the
snow-white fox and the cruel hunters, and of the death of his father.
Then the maiden spoke to Yashi tender words of sympathy, and her voice
was so kindly and gentle that even the sound of it brought comfort to
him.
Presently he asked her who she was, and she replied that she was a
homeless stranger. So he insisted that she should dwell with him. As the
days passed she constantly became more attractive to him, until he loved
her more than anyone else in the world and asked her to be his bride.
“I already love you,” she replied. “I know that you are good and brave,
and I would solace you for the loss of your father.”
So they were married and lived happily together. Time passed swiftly,
and Yashi ruled his people wisely. At length a son was born to the
prince and princess, and they were more happy than ever. But one day
Yashi noticed that the princess was sorely troubled. For hours she sat
alone, and tears sprang to her eyes when Yashi asked her the cause of
her sorrow.
She took his hand and said: “My life with you has been very delightful.
But now that I have given you a son to be with you always, I must leave
you. I am the snow-white fox whose life you saved.”
Once again she looked into his eyes, and then without another word was
gone. Yashi and his son lived long and were greatly beloved, but the
snow-white fox was seen no more.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE GRAZIER’S WIFE
IN a certain valley, long ago, there dwelt a grazier who had a wife
named Barbara. The grazier was famous for his valor in encountering
wolves, and there was not in all the valley a man who was his match in
handling the quarter-staff. Moreover, so expert was he with a sling that
he could hurl a stone a distance of a hundred yards and hit a deer
between the eyes, and so kill it. With his knife he was equally skilful,
and he was greatly feared in a quarrel. Yet in spite of all his prowess
and courage he quailed before his wife Barbara.
She was no longer young, and her beauty was a thing of the past, but she
was a woman who made herself respected. She never failed to produce a
startling effect on her husband when she visited him as he was tending
his herds on the mountain-sides, for no other woman ever had such a
tongue. He often prayed to the saints for relief, but she continued to
both plague him with her tongue and mark him with her nails.
At last he applied for advice to an old wizard who lived in a
neighboring valley. He had begun telling of his troubles when the wizard
interrupted him and said: “I see plainly that you are complaining
bitterly, but I would have you know that I am deaf, and no matter how
violently you shout and jump and gesture, what you say or do will have
no effect on me. Nevertheless, let me tell you, that if you have some
bright yellow gold to bestow on me, you will be heard and understood.
Yes, I would hear and comprehend, even if you were dumb and had no voice
whatever.”
“I will hasten to the market,” said the grazier, “and sell some of my
finest beasts, and the money that I receive for them I will gladly give
to you.”
So away he went and sold some of his beasts and returned to the wizard
and counted out the gold-pieces one by one. Then the wizard listened
patiently to his story and sent him home with a promise of speedy
relief.
That very night, after the grazier and his wife were in bed, and the
latter was delivering a lengthy lecture on his lack of breeding in
snoring when a lady was speaking, a white figure appeared at the bedside
with a mirror in its hand.
“Barbara,” said the specter, “your virtues are known to me, and as a
reward you shall be restored to youth and beauty, which you shall
yourself behold when you look into this mirror. But beware lest angry or
vain words pass your lips, for such a lapse will be punished by hideous
old age and infirmity.”
[Illustration]
So saying, the apparition vanished. Barbara lit a lamp and occupied
herself in admiring her reflection in the magic mirror. Thus the grazier
was enabled to enjoy an unbroken sleep till morning, a thing he had not
done for years. He had peace also on the morrow and ever after, for
Barbara never allowed the mirror to pass out of her possession, and it
was a constant solace to her even to the day of her death.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE MAGIC HORN
ONCE upon a time there was a poor farmer who had three sons, and the
sons’ names were Peter, Paul, and Philip. None of the three liked work
very well, and instead of helping their father they spent most of their
time sauntering about. At last Peter heard that the king wanted a keeper
to watch his rabbits. So the youth told his father that he would go to
the king’s palace and apply for the position.
“I doubt if you are fitted for just that sort of work,” said his father.
“He who keeps the king’s rabbits needs to be light and quick, and no
lazy-bones. You could not loiter when the rabbits began to skip and
frisk, for if you dawdled as you do at home you would be discharged.”
But the father’s advice had no effect. Peter was determined to go, and
after filling a bag with something to eat and drink and a few other
necessaries, he took the bag on his back and started. He had not
traveled many miles when he heard a voice calling for help. On going in
the direction of the sound he found an old woman in a pit from which she
was unable to climb out. “Don’t stand there staring,” said she sharply.
“Reach me your hand and pull me up. I have been in this pit a whole
year, and in all that time I have not had a morsel of food.”
“What!” exclaimed Peter, “a whole year, do you say? Then you must be a
witch, or you could not fast so long, and I will have nothing to do with
you.”
So off he marched. At length he arrived at the king’s palace and was
engaged as the keeper of the rabbits. He was promised plenty of food and
good pay and maybe the princess into the bargain, for the king had
decreed that any keeper who took such good care of the rabbits that not
one of them escaped should have the princess for his wife.
The next day Peter let the rabbits out to browse. As long as they were
near the stables and in the adjacent open fields he kept them in one
flock, but toward evening they got into a wood and began to scuttle
about among the trees. Peter ran after them this way and that until he
had no breath left for any more running. He could not get the rabbits
together. They all disappeared, and he saw nothing more of them.
After resting a while he started to go back to the palace. As he went
along he kept a sharp look-out, and he stopped to call his fugitive
charges at every fence. But no rabbits came, and when he reached the
palace there stood the king waiting for him. It was plain that Peter had
failed, and for a punishment he was banished from the country.
The king presently got a new lot of rabbits, and then he let it be known
that he wanted a keeper. Peter’s brother Paul heard of this, and nothing
would do but he must try for the place. Away he went, and by and by he
found the old woman in the pit just as Peter had, and he would not help
her out. When he got to the palace he was promptly engaged as keeper of
the rabbits, and the next day he let them out to feed. All went well
until in the late afternoon they went from the fields into the woods.
Then they skipped and hopped away, and though he rushed about and raced
after them till he was ready to drop, they all escaped. So he returned
to the palace without a rabbit, and the king ordered that he should
leave the country.
More rabbits were obtained to replace those lost, and again word went
forth that his Majesty wanted a keeper for them. Philip, the youngest of
the three brothers, heard of this and concluded to apply for the job.
“It will be just the right work for me,” he said to his father. “I would
like nothing better than to spend my days in the fields and woodlands
watching the rabbit flock, and I would be sure to have plenty of time to
nap on the sunny hillsides.”
“I fear,” said the old farmer, “that you will fare no better than your
two brothers. The person who keeps the king’s rabbits must not be like a
fellow with leaden soles to his shoes, or like a fly in a tar-pot.”
“Well,” responded Philip, “however things may turn out, I shall get the
job if I can. Surely it will be no harder than to take care of the calf
and goat here at home.”
So he packed his bag, lifted it to his shoulder, and started for the
palace of the king. He trudged along until he heard a voice calling, and
when he looked about he saw the old woman in the pit. “Good day,
grandmother,” said he, “what can I do for you?”
“Help me out of this hole,” she said, “and give me something to eat. I
will do you a good turn afterward, you may depend on it.”
He was willing enough, and he pulled her out of the pit. Then he opened
his bag and sat down to eat and drink with her. She had a keen appetite
after her long fast, and naturally got the lion’s share, but that did
not trouble Philip any. As soon as they finished, she gave him a magic
horn, and said: “If you blow into the small end of it, whatever you wish
away will be scattered to the four winds; and if you blow into the large
end the things you wish near will at once come about you. Should the
horn ever be lost or taken from you, all you have to do is to wish for
it, and it will return to you.”
“Very good,” responded Philip. “Such a horn is worth having.”
So saying, he resumed his walk, and at length he came to the king’s
palace. He was hired to keep the rabbits, and he was much pleased, for
he was certain of good food and generous wages, and if he were clever
enough not to lose any of the rabbits he might win the princess, too.
The next morning he began work, and at first he found the task an easy
one. As long as the rabbits were in the lanes and fields they behaved
very well, but while he was eating his noon lunch they wandered to the
woodland, where they frisked about and scampered away into the
underbrush.
“Ho, ho!” cried Philip, “you want to leave me, do you? Well, off with
you then,” and he blew into the small end of the magic horn.
Immediately they were all gone from view, and Philip found a mossy spot
to his liking and lay down to sleep till eventide. The sun was low in
the west when he awoke, and he took up his horn and blew into the large
end of it. At once the rabbits came frolicking about him, and he led
them like a flock of sheep to the king’s palace. The king, the queen,
and the princess, too, all came out on the porch and wondered how he
contrived to manage the rabbits so well. Several times the king counted
them to make sure they were all there and he had to acknowledge that not
one was missing.
“That rabbit-keeper would be a fine lad,” said the princess, “if only he
was of noble birth.”
The next day he took the rabbits out again, and when they roamed to the
woodland he lay down in the shade at the edge of the wood close to the
sunny slope where the wild strawberries grew and scented the air with
their sweet odor.
The king was curious to learn how the youth contrived to control the
rabbits so admirably, and he sent a servant to watch him. By and by the
servant came peeping about among the trees and spied Philip asleep in
the pleasant shade of the woodland. He hid in a thicket and waited.
Toward evening he saw Philip rise to his feet and blow his horn, and
immediately all the rabbits came scampering about him. The servant
hastened home and told the king what he had observed, and the king told
his wife and daughter.
“Unless we put a stop to his using that horn,” said the princess, “I
shall have to marry him, and he is only a common farmer’s son. Tomorrow
I shall go to the wood, and while he is asleep I will take his horn and
bring it home to the palace.”
She went to the wood just as she had planned, and she had little trouble
in getting possession of the horn. When Philip awoke it was gone—and how
was he to bring the rabbits together? But he remembered that the old
woman had said he could get it back by wishing. So he wished for it; and
the princess, who had nearly reached the palace, felt it suddenly slip
through her fingers, and though she searched all about she could not
find it. The horn had returned to the hands of Philip in the woodland,
and he immediately blew it to fetch the rabbits together, and then he
went with them to the palace.
[Illustration:
Philip blows into the large end of his horn
]
The royal family saw that Philip had the horn, and the queen said she
would go the next day and take it, and they might be sure _she_ would
bring it home. The morrow came, and in the early afternoon off she
tramped to the wood. She secured the horn and hurried away with it,
holding it very tight, but as she approached the palace it slipped from
her grasp, and by and by the rabbit-keeper returned with his horn and
flock as usual.
“I shall have to look into this matter myself,” grumbled the king, “if
we are going to get that wretched horn into our possession. You women
plan all right, but it usually takes a man to carry a plan to a
successful conclusion.”
The following day, while Philip was having his nap in the wood, the king
came to the spot where the youth lay and took the horn. To make doubly
sure of it, the king put the horn in a bag he had brought along for the
purpose. Back he went to the palace. His wife and daughter met him at
the door, and he triumphantly opened the bag to show them the horn; but
it was not there. He had not succeeded any better than the women folk.
“Plague take the fellow!” he exclaimed. “There is some magic about the
way that horn disappears. The lad gets the best of us every time, and I
suppose he might as well marry into the family first as last.”
Pretty soon Philip arrived with his flock of rabbits and put them in
their night quarters. Then he heard the king calling to him, and went to
the palace porch, where he found all the royal family waiting for him.
“What sort of a horn is that of yours?” asked the king. “It looks
ordinary enough, but I am sure it has some strange power or you would
not be able to take such excellent care of the rabbits and never lose a
single one of them.”
“It was given to me by an old woman,” said Philip, “and if I blow in one
end it does one thing, and if I blow in the other it does the opposite.”
“Oh, bother your explanations!” cried the king. “Show us its power, and
then we shall understand.”
“But perhaps the showing would not please your Majesty,” said Philip.
“Stuff and nonsense!” the king exclaimed. “I said, ‘Show us.’ Who is
king here—you or me? It is my business to command, and it is yours to
obey.”
“Very well,” responded Philip, “then I wish you to scatter;” and he blew
a good strong blast into the little end of his horn.