known it was she; besides, the Fairy of the Fountain immediately sent
such a storm of thunder and lightning that the whole cavalcade took
shelter in the nearest place they could find. The only persons who
knew what had happened were Longthorn, her mother, and Gilliflower;
but Gilliflower, overwhelmed with grief, had sprung out of the
carriage after her beloved mistress; so the two others were left
alone. Longthorn immediately put on the garments of Désirée, and
adorned herself with her royal mantle, her crown of diamonds, her
sceptre of a single ruby, and the globe which she carried in her left
hand, composed of one enormous pearl. Thus attired, with her mother
bearing her train, the false Désirée marched into the city--they two
alone; for, by the fairy's contrivance, the rest of the attendants had
been scattered in all directions. Longthorn doubted not the prince
would be already advancing to meet his bride, which was indeed the
case; though he was so weak that he had to be conveyed in a litter,
surrounded by courtiers and knights, who all wore splendid armour and
green plumes, green being the favourite colour of the princess. Seeing
the two ladies so richly dressed, coming forward on foot and
unattended, they dismounted, and respectfully greeted them.
"May I inquire," said Longthorn, "who is in that litter?"
"Madam," replied a knight, "it is the Prince Warrior, who comes to
meet his betrothed, the Princess Désirée."
"Tell him," said Longthorn, "that I am she. A fairy, jealous of my
happiness, has driven away all my attendants, but that I am Désirée is
proved by these my royal ornaments, and the letters of my father,
borne by my lady-of-honour here."
Immediately the courtiers kissed the hem of her robe, and made all
diligence to announce to the prince, and the king his father, who
accompanied him, that the Princess Désirée had arrived.
"What!" cried the king; "arrived here in full daylight?" But the
prince, burning with impatience, asked no questions, except about the
lady herself--"Is she not a miracle of beauty--according to her
portrait?" There was no reply. "You are afraid to speak, gentlemen,
lest you should praise her too much."
But the courtiers were still silent. "Sir," at last said one of the
boldest of them, "you had better go and see the princess yourself."
The prince, much surprised, would have thrown himself out of his
litter; but he was too feeble, and his father went instead. When the
king beheld the false princess, he involuntarily drew back; but the
lady-of-honour advancing boldly, said:
"Sire, this is the Princess Désirée;--I bear letters from the king and
queen her parents, and also a casket of priceless jewels, which they
charged me to place in your hands."
The king kept a mournful silence, and regarded his son, who now
approached, leaning on one of the courtiers. When he looked at the
girl, he recoiled with disgust; for she was so gaunt and tall that the
clothes of Désirée scarcely covered her knees, and her extreme
thinness, her red, hooked nose, her black and ill-shaped teeth, made
her as ugly as Désirée was beautiful. Prince Warrior, who for months
had thought of nothing but his lovely bride, stood petrified. "King,"
said he to his father, "I am betrayed! this is not the lady whose
portrait was sent me, and to whom I have plighted my faith; I have
been deceived, and the deception will cost me my life."
"What do I hear?" replied Longthorn, haughtily. "Prince, who has
deceived you? you will be no victim in marrying me."
"Ah! my beautiful princess," exclaimed the lady-of-honour, "it is we
who are victims. What a reception for one of your rank! what
inconstancy--what falsehood! But the king your father shall make them
hear reason."
"We will make him hear reason!" cried the other king, indignantly. "He
promised us a beautiful princess, and he has sent us a skeleton, a
fright. I do not wonder he has kept it shut up for fifteen years, and
now he wishes to foist it upon us."
And without taking any more notice of Longthorn, he and his son
remounted each into his litter, and departed.
Prince Warrior was so overcome by this unexpected affliction, that for
a long time he did not speak a word. Then he resolved, as soon as his
health allowed, to depart secretly from the capital, and seek some
solitary place where he might pass the remainder of his sad life. He
communicated this design to no one but the faithful Becafico, who
insisted upon following his fortunes wherever he went. So, one day,
the prince left a letter for his father, assuring him, that as soon as
his mind was tranquillized he would return to the court, but imploring
that in the meantime no search might be made after him; then he and
Becafico departed together.
Meanwhile, the poor white hind fled into the wood. She wandered about
till she came to a fountain, where, as in a mirror, she saw her own
changed shape, and wept, convulsed with grief. Then hunger began to
attack her--she bent her head, and browsed upon the green grass, which
she was surprised to find tasted very good. She laid herself down on a
bank of moss, but passed the night in extreme terror, hearing the wild
beasts roaring around her, and often forgetting that she was a hind,
trying to save herself by climbing a tree like a human being. Daybreak
reassured her a little; she admired for the first time the wonderful
beauty of dawn; and when the sun rose, it appeared to her such a
marvellous sight that she could not take her eyes from it. She was
strangely comforted, spite of all her misfortune, by the charm that
she found out, every minute more and more, in the new world which now
for the first time she beheld in daylight.
The Fairy Tulip, who loved Désirée, was very sorry for her, although
somewhat offended that the queen had not taken her advice, and
detained the princess safe in her tower till she was fifteen; however,
she would not leave her a prey to the malice of the Fairy of the
Fountain, so contrived invisibly to conduct the faithful Gilliflower
to the place where the poor forlorn hind reposed. As soon as Désirée
saw her, she leaped the stream, and came towards her former companion,
lavishing on her a thousand caresses.
At first Gilliflower was very much astonished to be so taken notice of
by a deer of the forest; but looking at it attentively, she saw two
great tears rolling down from the soft human-like eyes, and some
instinct told her that it was her dear princess. She took the forefeet
of the hind, and kissed them as respectfully as if they had been her
mistress's hands. She spoke to her, and though the hind could not
reply, yet it was clear she understood, for the tears flowed faster
than ever, and she showed, by as much intelligence as a dumb beast
could possibly evince, that she responded to the love of the faithful
girl. When Gilliflower promised that she would never quit her, by a
hundred little signs the poor hind tried to express how happy she was.
They passed the day together, Désirée leading her companion to a place
where she had seen plenty of wild fruits; so that Gilliflower, who was
dying of hunger, became strengthened and refreshed. But when night
came, the girl's terrors returned.
"Dear hind," said she, "where shall we sleep? If we stay here the wild
beasts will devour us; is there no little hut where we can hide?"
The poor hind shook her pretty head, and the tears again began to
flow, almost as if she were a human being. Her tears melted the heart
of the Fairy Tulip, who had watched her invisibly all the time, and
now made herself known--appearing suddenly in a shady alley of the
wood. Gilliflower and the white hind threw themselves at her feet--the
latter licking her hands, and caressing her as prettily as a deer
could--the former imploring her to take pity on the princess, and
restore her to her natural shape.
"I cannot do that," said the fairy; "her enemy has too much power; but
I can shorten her term of punishment, and soften it a little, by
granting that during every night she becomes a woman, though as soon
as day breaks she must again wander about as a hind of the forest."
It was a great comfort to be a woman every night; and the hind showed
her joy by innumerable leaps and bounds, which delighted the good
Tulip.
"Follow this by-path," said she, "and you will find a hut that will
serve you as a quiet home. Farewell."
She disappeared, and Gilliflower, with the hind trotting after her,
went on and on, till she came to a little hut, before which sat an old
woman, making a basket of osiers.
"My good woman," said she, "have you a room to let, for me and my pet
here?"
"Yes, truly," replied the old woman; and took them into a room where
were two little beds, hung with white dimity, with fine white sheets,
and everything as neat and comfortable as possible. As soon as it grew
dark, the princess recovered her own shape, and kissed and embraced a
thousand times her dear Gilliflower, who, on her part, was full of
delight and thankfulness. Then they had their supper, and went to
sleep in their two little beds.
When morning broke, Gilliflower was awakened by a scratching, and
there she saw the hind, just as much a hind as before, waiting to be
let out. The faithful attendant opened the door, and the deer sprang
out quickly, and disappeared in the forest.
Now, by an extraordinary chance, it happened that Prince Warrior,
wandering about, indifferent to where he went, lost himself in this
very forest, where he had come with his companion Becafico. The
latter, seeking for fruits to satisfy their hunger, reached the same
cottage-door where the old woman lived, and being received kindly,
asked her for some food for his master. She put some bread into a
basket, and was going to give it to him, when her charity made her
offer the wanderers shelter for the night.
"It is a poor cottage," said she; "but I have still one empty room,
which will at least save you from being eaten up by wolves and lions."
So the prince was persuaded; and the old woman, who appeared ignorant
of his rank, admitted him and Becafico cautiously, so as not to
disturb the lady and the hind, who occupied the next room. Thus the
two lovers were so near, that they might almost have heard one another
speak, yet did not know it.
The prince rarely slept much; his sorrow was still too great; and when
the first rays of the sun shone through his window, he arose, and
went out into the forest. There he wandered a long time without
finding any sure track: at last he came upon a sort of bower, overhung
with trees, and carpeted with moss, out of which started a beautiful
white hind, who immediately fled away.
Now the prince had formerly been a great hunter, until his passion for
the chase was swallowed up by his love for Désirée; but the old fancy
returned when he saw the white hind. He could not help following her,
and sending after her arrows, not a few, from the bow which he always
carried, causing her almost to die of fear; although, by the care of
the Fairy Tulip, she was not wounded. All through the day he pursued
her; until, towards twilight, she escaped from him towards the
cottage, where Gilliflower was watching in the utmost anxiety. The
faithful girl received tenderly into her arms the poor hind,
breathless, exhausted; and eagerly awaited the moment when her
mistress should become a woman again, and tell her what had happened.
When darkness came on, the deer vanished, and it was the Princess
Désirée who lay on Gilliflower's bosom.
"Alas!" cried she, weeping, "I have more to fear than the Fairy of the
Fountain, and the wild beasts of the forest. I have been pursued all
day by a young hunter, whom I had scarcely seen, before he obliged me
to fly; and sent so many arrows after me that I marvel I was not
killed, or at least wounded."
"My princess, you must never quit this room again," said Gilliflower.
"I must; for the same enchantment which makes me a hind forces me to
do as hinds do. I feel myself every morning irresistibly compelled to
run into the wood, to leap and bound, and eat grass, and behave myself
exactly like a wild creature of the forest. Oh, how weary I am!"
Her soft eyes closed, and she fell asleep until the dawn of day, when
again she was driven out in the shape of a poor four-footed creature,
to fulfil her sad destiny.
The prince on his part came home also very much wearied and vexed.
"Becafico," he said, "I have spent the day in chasing the most
beautiful hind I ever saw. She has slipped from me time after time
with the most wondrous adroitness; yet my arrows were so true that I
marvel how she escaped. At dawn to-morrow I must be after her once
more."
So he did not fail to go, at earliest dawn, to her hiding-place; but
the hind took care not to re-visit her favourite haunt. He sought her
everywhere, and could see nothing; then being very tired and hot, he
gathered some luscious apples which he saw hanging upon a tree over
his head. As soon as he ate them he fell fast asleep.
Meantime the hind, roaming stealthily about, came to the place where
he lay--came quite suddenly, or else she would have taken to flight;
but now seeing her enemy sound asleep, she paused a minute to look at
him; and in his features, wasted with grief, but still so loveable
and beautiful, she recognised the face which had long been engraven on
her heart. The poor hind! she crouched down at a little distance, and
watched him, her eyes beaming with joy. Then she sighed: at length,
become bolder, she approached nearer, and softly touched him with her
fore-foot.
Awaking, what was the prince's surprise to see beside him, tame and
familiar, the pretty creature whom he had hunted all yesterday; but
when he put out his hand to seize her, she fled away like lightning.
He followed with all the speed he could, and thus, she flying and he
pursuing, they passed the whole day. Towards evening her strength
failed; and when the hunter came up to her it was a poor half-dying
deer that he found lying on the grass. She thought her death was
certain--still, from his hands, it did not seem so terrible as from
any one else; but instead of killing her he caressed her.
"Beautiful hind," said he, "do not be afraid. I only wish to take you
home with me, and have you with me always." He cut branches of trees,
wove them ingeniously into a sort of couch, which he strewed with
roses and moss; then took the creature in his arms, laid her gently
down upon them, and sat beside her, feeding her from time to time with
the softest grass he could find. She ate contentedly from his hand,
and he almost fancied she understood all the sweet things he said to
her, and so time passed till it grew dusk.
"My pretty hind," said he, "I will go in search of a stream where you
can drink, and then we will take our way home together." But while he
was absent she stole away, and had only time to reach the cottage when
the transformation happened, and it was not a hind but a weeping
princess who threw herself on the bed beside the faithful Gilliflower.
"I have seen him!" she cried. "My Prince Warrior is himself in this
forest: he was the hunter who has pursued me these two days, and has
taken me at last. But he did not slay me: he saved and caressed me.
Ah, he is gentler and sweeter even than the image in my heart."
Here she began again to weep; but Gilliflower consoled her, and they
went to sleep, wondering much how this adventure would end.
The prince, returning from the stream, missed his beautiful white
hind, and came back to Becafico full of grief, mingled with a certain
anger at the ingratitude of the creature to whom he had been so kind.
But at break of day he rose, determined again to pursue her. She,
however, in order to avoid him, took a quite different route. Still,
the forest was not so large, but that at last he saw her, leaping and
bounding among the bushes. Seized by an irresistible impulse, he shot
an arrow after her; it struck her, she felt a violent pain dart
through one of her slender limbs, and fell helpless on the grass. When
the prince came up to her, he was overcome with remorse for his
cruelty. He took a handful of herbs and bound up her wound, made her a
bed of branches and moss, laid her head upon his knees, and wept over
her.
"My lovely hind," said he, "why did I wound you so cruelly? You will
hate me, when I wish you to love me." So he tended and cherished her
all day, and, towards nightfall, he knotted a ribbon round her neck,
with the intention of gently leading her home. But she struggled with
him; and the struggle was so sore that Gilliflower, coming out in
search of her dear mistress, heard the rustling, and saw her hind in
the hunter's power. She rushed to rescue her, to the prince's great
astonishment.
"Whatever consideration I owe you, madam," said he, "you must know
that you are committing a robbery; this hind is mine."
"No, sir, she is mine," returned Gilliflower, respectfully. "She knows
she is, and will prove it if you will only give her a little liberty.
My pretty pet, come and embrace me." The hind crept into her arms.
"Now kiss me on my right cheek." She obeyed. "Now touch my heart." She
laid her foot against Gilliflower's bosom.
"I allow she is yours," said the prince, discontentedly. "Take her and
go your ways."
But he followed them at a distance, and was very much surprised to see
them enter the cottage. He asked the old woman who the damsel was, but
she said she did not know, except that the lady and the hind lived
there together in solitude, and paid her well. But when Becafico, who
had eyes as sharp as needles, coming to meet his master, by chance
caught sight of Gilliflower, he recognised her at once.
"Here is some great mystery," said he, "for that is the lady who was
the favourite of the Princess Désirée."
"Do not utter that name, which only recalls my grief," said the
prince, sadly; but Becafico, determined to gratify his curiosity, made
all sorts of inquiries, and discovered that Gilliflower was lodged in
the next room.
"I should like to see her again," thought he; "and since only a thin
partition divides us, I will bore a hole through."
He did so, and beheld a wonderful sight. There sat the fairest
princess in all the world, attired in a robe of silver brocade, her
hair falling in long curls, and her eyes sparkling through tears.
Gilliflower knelt before her, binding up her beautiful arm, from which
the blood was flowing.
"Do not heed it," sighed the princess; "better let me die, for death
itself would be sweeter than the life I lead. Alas! how hard it is to
be a hind all day; to see my betrothed, to feel his tenderness and
goodness, yet be unable to speak to him, or to tell him the fatal
destiny which divides me from him."
When Becafico heard this, words cannot describe his astonishment and
delight. He ran towards the prince, who sat moodily at the window.
"Sir," cried he, "only look through this hole, and you will see the
original of the portrait which so fascinated you."
The prince looked, and recognised at once his beloved princess. He
would have died with joy, had he not believed himself deceived by
some enchantment. He knocked at the door, Gilliflower opened it; he
entered, and threw himself at the feet of Désirée. What followed--of
explanations, vows, tears, and embraces--was never very clearly
related, not even by Gilliflower and Becafico, who were present, but
who considerately drew aside, and spent the time in conversing with
one another. So passed the night; and anxiously they awaited for the
dawn, to see whether the beautiful princess would again become a hind
of the forest. But the day broke, grew clearer, brightened into
sunrise, and the princess, with the prince sitting beside her,
remained a beautiful maiden still. Then came a knock at the door, and
there entered the little old woman, who had been such a kind hostess
for all this while.
"The period of enchantment is ended, my children," said she. "Go home
and be happy." And then they knew her as no longer the little old
woman, but the Fairy Tulip, who had thus faithfully watched her
charge.
So the bride and bridegroom returned to their capital, where the
marriage was solemnized with all splendour, and, at Désirée's request,
Longthorn and her mother, who had been imprisoned by the old king's
order, were set free, with no further punishment than banishment to
their own country, where they were to remain for life. As for the
faithful Gilliflower, she stayed at court, with her beloved mistress,
and became the wife of the equally faithful Becafico, who had served
Prince Warrior as devotedly as she the Princess Désirée. The two were
laden with wealth and honours, and shared the happiness of the other
two lovers, which was as great as any mortal could desire. After their
death the story of the White Hind of the Forest was commanded to be
written down in the archives of the state, and thence it has been told
in tradition, or sung in poetry, half over the world.
THE JUNIPER-TREE.
One or two thousand years ago, there was a rich man, who had a
beautiful and pious wife; they loved one another dearly, but they had
no children. They wished and prayed for some night and day, but still
they had none. In front of their house was a yard, where stood a
Juniper-tree, and under it the wife stood once in winter, and peeled
an apple, and as she peeled the apple she cut her finger, and the
blood fell on the snow.
"Oh," said she, sighing deeply and looking sorrowfully at the blood,
"if I only had a child as red as blood, and as white as snow!"
While she spoke, she became quite happy; it seemed to her as if her
wish would surely come to pass. Then she went into the house; and a
month passed, and the snow melted; and two months, and the ground was
green; and three months, and the flowers came up out of the earth; and
four months, and all the trees in the wood burst forth, and the green
twigs all grew thickly together; the little birds sang so that the
whole wood rang, and the blossoms fell from the trees. The fifth month
passed, and she stood under the Juniper-tree, and it smelt so
beautiful, and her heart leaped with joy. She fell upon her knees,
but could not speak. When the sixth month was gone, the fruit was
large and ripe, and she was very quiet; the seventh month, she took
the juniper berries, ate them eagerly, and was sick and sorrowful; and
the eighth month went by, and she called to her husband, and cried and
said, "If I die, bury me under the Juniper-tree."
After this she was quite comforted and happy, till the next month was
passed, and then she had a child as white as snow and as red as blood.
When she beheld it, she was so glad, that she died.
Her husband buried her under the Juniper-tree, and began to mourn very
much; but after a little time, he became calmer, and when he had wept
a little more, he left off weeping entirely, and soon afterwards he
took another wife.
The second wife brought him a daughter, but the child of the first
wife was a little son, and was as red as blood, and as white as snow.
When the wife looked at her daughter, she loved her; but when she
looked at the little boy, she hated him, and it seemed as if he were
always in her way, and she was always thinking how she could get all
the property for her daughter. The Evil One possessed her so, that she
was quite angry with the little boy, and pushed him about from one
corner to another, and cuffed him here and pinched him there, until
the poor child was always in fear. When he came home from school, he
could not find a quiet place to creep into.
Once, when the woman went up to her room, her little daughter came up
too, and said "Mother, give me an apple."
"Yes, my child," said the woman, and gave her a beautiful apple out of
the chest; and the chest had a great heavy lid, with a great sharp
iron lock.
"Mother," said the little daughter, "shall not brother have one too?"
That vexed the woman, but she said, "Yes, when he comes from school."
And when she saw from the window that he was coming, it was just as if
the Evil One came into her, and she snatched away the apple from her
daughter, and said, "You shall not have one before your brother."
Then she threw the apple into the chest, and shut the lid close down.
When the little boy came in at the door, the Evil One made her say
kindly, "My son, will you have an apple?"
Yet she looked so angry all the time, that the little boy said,
"Mother, how dreadful you look! Yes, give me an apple."
Then she felt that she must speak to him. "Come with me," said she,
and opened the lid; "pick out an apple for yourself."
And as the little boy stooped over, the Evil One prompted her, and
smash! she banged the lid down, so that his head flew off and fell
among the red apples. Then she was seized with terror, and thought,
"Can I get rid of the blame of this?" So she went up to her room to
her chest of drawers, and took out of the top drawer a white cloth,
and placed the head on the neck again, and tied the handkerchief
round it, so that one could see nothing, and set him before the door
on a chair, and gave him the apple in his hand.
Soon after, little Margery came to her mother, who stood by the
kitchen fire, and had a pot of hot water before her, which she kept
stirring round.
"Mother," said little Margery, "brother sits before the door, and
looks quite white, and has an apple in his hand; I asked him to give
me the apple, but he did not answer me, and I was frightened."