Once I was in a place where there were those who had opened many
tombs, and had taken from the tombs, that had been in Egypt,
and were very old, many things that had been placed there
for silence and repose thousands of years ago. There were
grave-clothes and grave-caskets, the one embroidered, the other
graven; and the colors of both were as they were thousands of
years ago. There were signs over which men pondered, not knowing
their own writing, and their own thoughts, and their own fate.
There were also, a sad thing to see, the bodies of those that
had died long ago, that had lain down for rest and silence; and
of these some were called kings, and some were called queens and
others princesses; and all had once been young, and some had
once been beautiful. For here, after thousands of years, was
praise of their beauty, and love and care for it. So I pondered
very long and sadly. But most I looked at two little golden
shoes.
These little shoes had once been the shoes of one who lay here,
a princess, dead thousands of years, and once very beautiful,
as these carven symbols told. They were small and dainty and
threaded with fine gold, and laced across with care about the
feet of her who was once a woman and a princess and owner of
much beauty, and who was in her life beloved, and in her death
mourned; as these graven symbols said. A thousand years this
love reached out its arms to her to-day; although for a thousand
years Death had enfolded her in his grasp, that does not yield.
She who had lain down for rest and silence was still here,
withal at rest in her grave-garb, and silent in her sleep; but
those who had done these things had removed the grave-clothing
so that these small shoes could be seen, still upon the feet of
the princess that had slept a thousand years, enfolded in love.
For a price these might have sold the shoes of the princess, for
there were those cruel enough to strip her of that which she had
worn when she lay down to be alone. But this I could not do.
I did not carry away the shoes in my hands, but in some way it
seemed to me that I took them; for that night, as I sat at the
little table in my room, with the dim light falling as is its
wont at those hours, I saw upon the table before me these same
shoes of the princess of thousands of years ago, small and
golden; things to make one weep, so sad their story, disturbed
thus after they had been placed away for silence. I gazed at
them for a time, and presently I saw appear upon the table
beside them, the form of the Singing Mouse, as tall perhaps as
the fronts of these golden shoes.
"See," said the Singing Mouse, "here are her shoes, those of the
princess who has been resting. They crossed the paved floors of
palaces. They knew the steps of a throne. They were made by love
for love and given in love to rest and silence. She was as one
you have known, as many whom others know now. Tell me, is she
not beautiful?"
I saw standing before me the figure of the princess, tall and
slender and very beautiful. And now the grave garments were not
seen, for her robe was of silk, new and soft and shapely like to
herself, and her arms were round and soft, and her eyes were
full and dark, and her hair was as deep shadows. A band of gold
was about her brow, and her cheek was red and tender in its
bloom. Her neck was white and round, and her hands were white,
and her slender fingers curved slightly as her arms hung down by
her sides. Her feet were small and straight, and all, all of her
was beautiful, and she was a princess.
[Illustration]
Now as I gazed, I saw the face and saw that it was one I knew,
and had known long; so then I knew that the princess who was
placed away for rest and silence had never died; for did she not
stand here before me, and had I not long known her thus? Ah,
beautiful!
I took up these small golden shoes in my hands and held them out
to her. "Take these little shoes," I said, "wrought as cunning
as man may know. Place them upon thy feet for me, and may never
thorn assail thee in all thy going. Wear them and tread the
steps of thrones, years and years, ages and ages, Princess,
beloved! See, they are wrought in love."
Now I saw upon the lips of the princess who had lain down
thousands of years ago, but who lives in a place I know to-day,
a smile, very faint and far away. So as the Singing Mouse told
me, it was to be seen that she did not die. Even as she faded
away from the wall against which she stood, I knew, though I
wept, that the princess was not dead and would not die. She was
beautiful, she was beloved; and these things have not died. "Ah,
beautiful!" I said to the Singing Mouse. "But alas! for a
princess there should be a palace, and here is none!"
"Look about you," said the Singing Mouse. "See, for the time
this is a palace."
I looked about me, and it was as the Singing Mouse said. For the
time my room was a palace. I saw standing there again the
princess, upon her feet small golden shoes.
"What is this?" I asked. "And who am I?" But as I turned, I saw
that the Singing Mouse was gone. But this I knew, and so may you
know: that love does not die; and here was proof of it.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: Of White Moths]
[Illustration]