countenance of the prince harmonised with his discourse; but although
he was not actually ugly, his features wore an expression too stern
and hypocritical to invite her confidence. She therefore walked
silently forward, and when near the cottage felt so uneasy, that, for
the first time, she invented a lie in order to get rid of him. "You
seem to compassionate my sorrows," said she; "meanwhile you only
increase them. When my mother sees me accompanied by a great gentleman
like you, she will beat me, and not believe that you have followed me
against my will."
This reasoning appeared so just to the prince, who felt himself
affected by a passion such as he had never before experienced, that he
consented to retire, entreating Rose to meet him the next evening at
the same hour. She refused to give a decisive answer, and returned
home much dejected; recalling all the words of the stranger, and
almost reproaching herself for having behaved so harshly to him.
The following day Rose took mechanically the same route, going always
in the path by which her parents might be expected. Her provisions
being nearly exhausted, she feared to die of hunger, and began to
think that this gentleman, who had been repulsed so rudely, could,
perhaps, obtain news of her family. Suddenly beholding him leaning
against a tree, looking very melancholy and dejected, she threw
herself at his feet, bathed in tears, and said--
"Sir, a wretch who has lost everything dear, supplicates your
compassion. You are so kind--so tender-hearted--"
"What does the vile creature want!" exclaimed the prince, with a
savage expression. "How dare you have the impertinence to address me?
I wonder what prevents me from shooting you. I lost my sport all
yesterday in following a pretty girl, here is game of a new
description."
Rose started up, overwhelmed with terror, while the prince laughed
most brutally. It was not till that moment she recollected that this
her black day, which accounted for his not recognising her. "Ah!"
thought she, "this is the humane man who could not behold a woman
weep; because my colour displeases him, he is ready to take my life.
No hope now remains for me--my misfortunes are at their height!"
Rose wept all night; yet she could not prevent herself from returning
to the same spot on the following day; she felt irresistibly led
thither, dreading, and yet wishing, to meet the prince.
He had been already waiting above an hour, and accosted her with a
degree of respect quite unusual for him; but he was in love, and love
makes the worst of people better for the time.
"Cruel beauty!" said he, in a courtier-like style, to which Rose was
little accustomed, "what have I not suffered during your absence! I
even remained all night in the wood, in expectation of you, and the
queen my mother despatched messengers everywhere, fearing some
accident had befallen me."
"The queen, your mother!" exclaimed Rose. "Are you, then, the son of a
queen?"
"I have betrayed myself!" said the prince, striking his forehead in a
theatrical manner. "Yes, it is true, I have that misfortune. You will
now fear me; and what we fear, we never love."
"The wicked alone are to be feared," answered Rose. "I am very glad to
hear that you are a king, for I know that you will be my husband."
The prince, who little guessed the enchanter's communication, was
confounded by the unembarrassed freedom of her manner; but it was far
from displeasing to him. "You are ambitious," said he, smiling; "but
there is nothing to which beauty may not pretend. Tell me only how I
can have the happiness of serving you, and you shall see that
everything is possible to love."
Rose sat down on the grass, and related in very simple terms the story
of the purse; confessed that she had deceived him, and that, so far
from being severely treated at home, she was now weeping her mother's
loss; that the king must take measures for the discovery and
liberation of her family, before he could hope to win her affections,
or pretend to her hand.
The enamoured monarch vowed he would not lose a moment; and although
she behaved with much dignity, her every word and look was adorable in
his eyes. Rose thought all night of the fine fortune of being a queen;
she would then no longer wear wooden shoes; and, above all, might have
an opportunity of being useful to her dear parents.
These meetings continued every alternate day during a week; and the
queen dowager was informed that her son neglected all business, and
thought of nothing but making love. She was in despair. This prince
was surnamed the Terrible, by reason of his ferocity to women: till
that moment he had never loved, but he had frequently made pretence of
it, and when successful, it was not unusual with him to cut out the
poor ladies' tongues, put out their eyes, or even throw them into the
sea. The least pretext sufficed for this; and the queen, who was of a
kind disposition, lamented that yet another victim was preparing. The
courtiers begged her to be tranquil; said it was nothing more than the
daughter of a poor woodcutter whom his majesty now admired, and that
if he did kill her, it would be of little consequence.
But the courtiers, and the queen dowager herself, were altogether
bewildered when the king, having liberated the woodcutter and his
family, brought Rose to the palace as his wife. She was not at all
abashed or out of countenance; she behaved with the utmost respect to
the queen, and with affability to all. It was universally remarked:
"The king has committed a folly, but that charming girl is his excuse,
and no man would have been wiser under similar circumstances."
A grand ball was given in the evening. Rose danced well enough for a
queen; and she yielded herself up entirely to the enchantment of such
a happy day. The prince, ever eager to be near her, was figuring away
in a quadrille, when twelve o'clock struck: great, then, was his
astonishment, while gazing passionately on his partner, he beheld--a
negress!
"What metamorphosis is this?" cried he, rudely seizing her arm; "where
is the princess I married to-day?"
Rose bent her head in confusion; it still bore her diamonds, and her
crown,--no doubt could exist of her identity.
"Wretched, hideous black, thou shalt surely die!" cried the king;
"none shall deceive me with impunity." He then drew a poniard, and was
preparing to take instant vengeance, when, recollecting himself--"I do
thee too much honour," said he; "rather let my cooks cut thee in
pieces to make a hash for my hounds."
The old queen, as humane as her son was cruel, knew there was but one
means of saving the unfortunate victim; this was to appear still more
enraged than the king.
"I truly feel this injury," said she; "some times you have reproached
my weakness, but now behold a proof that I also can avenge. Your
orders must be strictly fulfilled--I myself shall witness the
execution." She then signed to the guards to lay hold of the
unfortunate Rose, who was dragged away by an iron chain fastened round
her neck. She gave herself up for lost, and uttering the most
heart-rending cries, was led away to a pigeon-house at the end of the
palace, furnished with some clean straw, where, however, the queen
promised to come on the following day.
Her majesty kept her word. Much affected by the sweetness of the
hapless bride, she promised to mitigate, as far as possible, her
melancholy situation.
Rose, very grateful, supplicated her benefactress to inform the
woodcutter's family that she was still alive, knowing what they would
suffer should the story reach them of the black Rose having
breakfasted the king's hounds. The queen promised to employ a
confidential domestic; and Rose, who had still preserved her wooden
shoes, sent one, that her father might recognise his handiwork.
A few days afterwards a young peasant arrived from the cottage; he
brought some cakes and cheese, made by Mother Thomas, which Rose
preferred to all the delicacies of the palace.
This young peasant, who was named Mirto, related to Rose everything
concerning her dear parents, and took back very loving messages from
her to them.
Mirto found so much pleasure in conversing with the fair prisoner, and
had so often cakes to carry, that they were seldom asunder. He said he
was an orphan, and having some work to do in the prison where Thomas
had been confined, there formed a friendship with the family. In
return for some little services then rendered them, he desired to
learn the trade of the wooden shoes; being very ingenious, he became a
valuable acquisition. He never had felt so happy before. In truth, he
was not aware that this happiness received its date from the hour in
which he first saw Rose.
Alas! the poor Rose was only too sensible of his affection, and
feeling the duty of struggling against it, found herself still more
miserable than before.
"Whatever may be the conduct of Prince Terrible," said she to herself,
"I have married him. It is certainly very hard to love a husband who
wished to kill me, but still I should not permit myself to love
another."
For a whole month following she had sufficient resolution to see Mirto
no more, and was becoming sick with chagrin and weariness. The queen
visited her frequently, bringing all sorts of sweetmeats, and a
singing-bird, to divert her captivity. She brought no finery; indeed,
that would have been quite thrown away on the pigeons.
At length, one day Rose heard a great noise in the palace. People kept
running to and fro--all the bells were rung, and all the cannons
fired. The poor prisoner mounted up to one of the pigeon-holes, and
peeping through, perceived the palace hung with black. She knew not
what to think. But some one of the queen's officers appeared, and
conducted her in due form to the court. Rose, all trembling, inquired
what had happened.
"Your majesty is a widow," replied the officer; "the king has been
killed in hunting; here are your weeds, of which the queen begs your
acceptance."
Rose was much agitated, but she followed the officer in silence, with
a sad and serious aspect, as a dignified personage should do when
informed of the death of a husband.
The queen was a tender mother, and although fully conscious of the
ferocious disposition of her son, she deeply lamented him, and wept
bitterly on embracing her daughter-in-law. "You husband is no more,"
said she; "forget his errors, my dear child; the remainder of my life
shall be devoted to making atonement for them."
The princess threw herself at her benefactress' feet, and declared all
was forgotten. "If your majesty deigns to permit me to speak
candidly," added she, "and will bestow a moment's attention, I shall
confess the dearest wishes of my heart!"
"Speak," said the queen; "nothing now can assuage my grief, save an
opportunity of proving to you my friendship."
"I was not born for a queen," continued Rose. "My mother is a poor
forester, but she has been a tender parent, and weeps incessantly for
my absence."
"Let her be conducted hither," replied the queen.
"This is not all, madam," continued Rose; "I confess that I love a
young peasant, who has assisted my father to make wooden shoes. If I
were the wife of Mirto, and your majesty would have the goodness to
give some assistance to my family, my old father might be freed from
labour, and I the happiest woman in the world."
The queen embraced Rose, and promised all she wished. She then
conducted her to the forest; and just as they had reached its
boundary, they perceived in the air a mahogany car, mounted on wheels
of mother-o'-pearl; two pretty white lambs were yoked to it, which
Rose immediately recognised as those of the Fairy Coquette.
The car descended, and the fairy alighting thus addressed the queen:
"Madam, I come to seek my child, and am delighted to find you willing
to part with her, for she has a lover whom I approve;--who loves her
faithfully, though hopelessly, which is a thing more rare than all the
treasures of your majesty's crown."
The fairy then addressing herself to Rose, related that her enemy, the
Enchanter Barabapatapouf, had just been killed in combat with another
giant. "Now," added Coquette, "I have full power to render you happy;"
and passing her fair hand over Rose's face, the negro colour and
features vanished--to reappear no more.
The queen, convinced that her daughter-in-law required nothing
further, offered only her portrait, as a token of esteem and
friendship. Rose received it with grateful respect, then ascended the
fairy's car, and was in a few minutes surrounded by the foresters, who
never wearied of caressing her. Poor Mirto drew back, trembling, not
knowing whether to hope or fear; but Coquette, perceiving their mutual
embarrassment, declared that she had ordained this marriage from the
very beginning. She blessed them, gave them a flock of beautiful white
sheep, a cottage covered with honeysuckles and roses, a lovely garden
abounding with fruits and flowers, and a moderate sum of money;
endowing them also with life for a hundred years, uninterrupted
health, and constant love.
BROTHER AND SISTER.
A brother took his sister by the hand and said, "Since our mother is
dead we have no more happy hours: our stepmother beats us every day,
and whenever we come near her she kicks us away. She gives us hard
crusts and nasty scraps to eat, and the dog under the table fares
better than we do, for he does sometimes get a nice bit thrown to him.
It would break our mother's heart if she knew it! Come, we will go out
into the wide world together."
They went along the whole day through meadows, over rocks and stones,
and when it rained the little sister said, "Heaven and our hearts are
crying together." In the evening they came to a great wood, and were
so worn out with grief, hunger, and weariness, that they sat down in a
hollow tree and went to sleep.
The next morning, when they awoke, the sun was already high in the
heavens, and shone down very hot on the tree. Upon which said the
brother, "Sister, I am thirsty; I would go and have a drink if I knew
where there was a spring: I think I can hear one trickling." He got
up, took his sister by the hand, and they went to look for the spring.
The wicked stepmother, however, who was a witch, and well knew how the
children had run away, had crept after them secretly, in the way
witches do, and had bewitched all the springs in the wood. When they
had found a spring that was dancing brightly over the stones, the
brother stooped down to drink; but his sister heard a voice in its
murmur, which said, "Whoever drinks of me will become a tiger."
Eagerly the little sister cried, "I pray thee, brother, do not drink,
lest thou become a wild beast and tear me to pieces."
The brother did not drink, although he was so thirsty, but said, "I
will wait for the next spring." When they came to the next, the little
sister heard it say, "Who drinks of me will become a wolf; who drinks
of me will become a wolf!" and cried out, "Oh brother, I pray thee do
not drink, lest thou become a wolf and eat me up."
The brother did not drink, but said, "I will wait till I come to the
next spring, but then I must drink, say what you will, for my thirst
is getting unbearable."
And when they came to the third spring, the little sister heard a
voice in its murmur, saying, "Whoever drinks of me will become a roe,"
and she cried, "Oh brother, do not drink, I pray thee, lest thou
become a roe and run away from me." But the brother had already knelt
down by the stream, stooped down, and drank of the water; and as soon
as the first drop touched his lips, there he lay--a white roe.
The little sister cried over her poor bewitched brother, and the roe
cried also as he rested mournfully beside her. At last the maiden
said, "Never mind, dear Roe, I will never forsake you." So she took
off her golden garter and put it round the roe's neck, then pulled
some rushes and wove them into a cord. To this she tied the little
animal and led him on, and they both went still deeper into the wood.
When they had gone a long, long way, they came at last to a little
house, into which the maiden peeped; and as it was empty, she thought,
"Here we may stay and live." So she made a pretty bed of leaves and
moss for the roe; and every morning she went out and gathered roots,
berries, and nuts for herself; and for the roe she brought tender
grass, which he ate out of her hand, and played about and was very
happy. In the evening, when the little sister was tired and had said
her prayers, she laid her head upon the roe, who was her pillow, and
went sweetly to sleep; and if her brother had only kept his proper
shape, they would have led a very happy life.
They had lived alone in this way during a long time, when it happened
that the king of the country held a great hunt in the forest. Through
the trees might be heard the blowing of horns, the barking of dogs,
and the joyous cries of the hunters, which when the little roe heard
he was almost beside himself with delight. "Oh," said he to his
sister, "let me go and see the hunt: I can no longer refrain;" and he
begged hard till she consented.
"But," said she, "when you return at evening I shall have shut my door
against the wild huntsmen, and in order that I may know you, knock
and say, 'My little sister, let me in;' but if you do not say so, I
shall not open the door."
Now off sprang the roe, and was so happy to find himself in the open
air. The king and his huntsmen saw the beautiful beast and set off
after him, but they could not catch him; for when they thought they
had certainly got him, he sprang over a bush and disappeared. When it
was dark he galloped up to the little house, knocked, and cried, "My
little sister, let me in." And when the door was opened he sprang in,
and rested all night on his pretty little bed. Next morning the hunt
began again, and when the roe heard the blast of the horns, and the
"Ho! ho!" of the hunters, he could not rest, and cried, "Sister, open
the door; I must go."
His sister opened the door and said, "But mind you must be back in the
evening and make your little speech, that I may let you in."
When the king and his huntsmen saw the white roe with the gold band
once more, they all rode after him, but he was too quick and agile for
them. This chase lasted the whole day; at last, towards evening, the
hunters surrounded him, and wounded him with an arrow in the foot, so
that he was forced to limp and go slowly. One of the hunters, creeping
softly after him to the little house, heard him say, "My sister, let
me in," and saw that the door was opened and immediately shut to
again; so he went back to the king, and told him all he had seen and
heard.
"We will have another hunt to-morrow," said the king.
The little sister was greatly alarmed when she saw her white roe was
wounded; she washed off the blood, laid herbs upon the place, and
said, "Go now to thy bed, dear Roe, and get well."
The wound, however, was so slight that the next morning he felt
nothing of it, and when he heard the noise of the hunt, he said, "I
cannot keep away; I must go, and nothing shall keep me."
His sister cried and said, "Now you will go and be killed, and leave
me here alone in the forest, forsaken by all the world; I will not let
you go out."
"Then I shall die here of grief," answered the roe: "for when I hear
the sound of the horn, I do feel as if I could jump out of my shoes."
So his sister could not do less than open the door with a heavy heart,
and the roe sprang out joyfully into the forest.
As soon as the king saw him, he said to his huntsmen, "Now hunt him
all day till evening, but don't do anything to hurt him."
When the sun was set the king said to his huntsman, "Now come and show
me the little house you saw in the wood." And when he was before the
door he knocked and cried, "Dear little sister, let me in."
Immediately the door opened, the king entered, and there stood a
maiden more beautiful than any one he had ever seen. The damsel was
frightened when she found there had come in, not her roe, but a man
who wore a golden crown on his head. But the king looked kindly at
her, took her hand and said, "Wilt thou go with me to my castle, and
be my dear wife?"
"Oh yes," answered the maiden, "but the roe must come with me, for I
cannot forsake him."
The king replied, "He shall remain with you as long as you live, and
shall want for nothing."
At this moment he came springing in, his sister tied the cord of
rushes round his neck, led him with her own hand, and they all left
the little house together.
The king took the beautiful maiden on his own horse and conducted her
to his castle, where the marriage was celebrated with great pomp. She
was now queen, and they lived a long time very happily together; while
the roe was petted and taken care of, and played all day about the
palace-garden.
But the wicked stepmother, on whose account these children had been
driven into the wide world, thought nothing less than that the little
sister had been torn to pieces by wild beasts in the forest, and that
the brother, in the shape of a roe, had been killed by the hunters.
When she now heard they were so happy, and that everything went well
with them, envy and spite raged in her heart and gave her no rest, and
her only thought was how she could do some mischief to them both. Her
own daughter, who was as ugly as the night and had only one eye, was
continually reproaching her, and saying, "It is I who ought to have
been made queen."
"Never mind," said the old witch to console her; "when the time comes
I will manage it."
By and by the queen gave birth to a beautiful little boy; and the king
being away at the hunt, the old witch took upon herself the form of
the lady-in-waiting, entered the room where the queen lay, and said to
her, "Come, the bath is ready, which will do you good and give you new
strength; make haste before it gets cold." Her daughter was also at
hand, and they carried the poor weak queen between them into the
bathroom, and laid her in the bath: then they shut the door and ran
away. But under the bath they had first lighted a great furnace-fire,
so that the beautiful young queen could not save herself from being
scorched alive.
When that was done the old witch took her own daughter, put a cap on
her, and laid her on the bed in the queen's room. She changed her also
into the shape of the young queen, all except her one eye, and she
could not give her another. But in order that the king might not
observe it, she was obliged to lie on that side where there was no
eye. In the evening, when he was come home, and heard that he had a
little son, he was very much delighted, and wished to visit his dear
wife and see how she was getting on; on which the old woman cried out
in a great hurry, "As you value your life, don't touch the curtain;
the queen must not see the light, and must be left quite quiet." So
the king went away, and never found out that it was a false queen in
the bed.
But when it was midnight, and all the world was asleep, the nurse who
was sitting beside the cradle, and who was the only person awake, saw
the door open and the true queen come in. She took the baby out of the
cradle, laid it in her arms, and nursed it tenderly. She then shook
up the pillows, laid it down again, and covered it with the
counterpane. She did not forget the roe either, but went into the
corner where it lay, and stroked it gently. After this she passed out,
quite silently, through the door; and the nurse inquired next morning
of the sentinels whether any one had gained entrance into the palace
during the night, but they answered, "No--we have seen nobody." She
continued to come in the same way for several nights, though she spoke
never a word: the nurse always saw her, but never dared to mention it.
When some time had passed, the queen at last began to speak, and
said--
"How is my baby? How is my roe?
I can come again twice, then for ever must go."
The nurse could not answer her; but when she had disappeared she went
to the king, and told him all about it, upon which he cried, "What
does it mean? I will myself watch by the child to-night."
In the evening he came to the nursery, and there at midnight the dead
queen appeared, and said--
"How is my baby? How is my roe?
I can come but once more, then for ever must go;"
and nursed and fondled the baby as before, then vanished. The king did
not dare to address her, but watched again the following night. This
time she said--
"How is my baby? How is my roe?
I can come but this once, then for ever must go."
Upon which the king could no longer contain himself, but sprang
forward and cried, "Thou canst surely be no one but my own dear wife!"