V.

As soon as the storks heard this they were nearly beside themselves with

joy. They ran at such a pace to the door of the ruined castle that the

owl could scarcely keep up with them. When they reached it the Caliph

turned to the owl, and said with much feeling: 'Deliverer of my friend

and myself, as a proof of my eternal gratitude, accept me as your

husband.' Then he turned towards the east. Three times the storks bowed

their long necks to the sun, which was just rising over the mountains.

'Mutabor!' they both cried, and in an instant they were once more

transformed. In the rapture of their newly-given lives master and

servant fell laughing and weeping into each other's arms. Who shall

describe their surprise when they at last turned round and beheld

standing before them a beautiful lady exquisitely dressed!

With a smile she held out her hand to the Caliph, and asked: 'Do you not

recognise your screech owl?'

It was she! The Caliph was so enchanted by her grace and beauty, that he

declared being turned into a stork had been the best piece of luck which

had ever befallen him. The three set out at once for Bagdad.

Fortunately, the Caliph found not only the box with the magic powder,

but also his purse in his girdle; he was, therefore, able to buy in the

nearest village all they required for their journey, and so at last they

reached the gates of Bagdad.

Here the Caliph's arrival created the greatest sensation. He had been

quite given up for dead, and the people were greatly rejoiced to see

their beloved ruler again.

Their rage with the usurper Mirza, however, was great in proportion.

They marched in force to the palace and took the old magician and his

son prisoners. The Caliph sent the magician to the room where the

Princess had lived as an owl, and there had him hanged. As the son,

however, knew nothing of his father's acts, the Caliph gave him his

choice between death and a pinch of the magic snuff. When he chose the

latter, the Grand Vizier handed him the box. One good pinch, and the

magic word transformed him to a stork. The Caliph ordered him to be

confined in an iron cage, and placed in the palace gardens.

Caliph Chasid lived long and happily with his wife the Princess. His

merriest time was when the Grand Vizier visited him in the afternoon;

and when the Caliph was in particularly high spirits he would condescend

to mimic the Vizier's appearance when he was a stork. He would strut

gravely, and with well-stiffened legs, up and down the room, chattering,

and showing how he had vainly bowed to the east and cried 'Mu . . . Mu . . .'

The Caliphess and her children were always much entertained by this

performance; but when the Caliph went on nodding and bowing, and calling

'Mu . . . mu . . .' too long, the Vizier would threaten laughingly to

tell the Caliphess the subject of the discussion carried on one night

outside the door of Princess Screech Owl.

_THE ENCHANTED WATCH_

Once upon a time there lived a rich man who had three sons. When they

grew up, he sent the eldest to travel and see the world, and three years

passed before his family saw him again. Then he returned, magnificently

dressed, and his father was so delighted with his behaviour, that he

gave a great feast in his honour, to which all the relations and friends

were invited.

When the rejoicings were ended, the second son begged leave of his

father to go in his turn to travel and mix with the world. The father

was enchanted at the request, and gave him plenty of money for his

expenses, saying, 'If you behave as well as your brother, I will do

honour to you as I did to him.' The young man promised to do his best,

and his conduct during three years was all that it should be. Then he

went home, and his father was so pleased with him that his feast of

welcome was even more splendid than the one before.

The third brother, whose name was Jenik, or Johnnie, was considered the

most foolish of the three. He never did anything at home except sit over

the stove and dirty himself with the ashes; but he also begged his

father's leave to travel for three years. 'Go if you like, you idiot;

but what good will it do you?'

The youth paid no heed to his father's observations as long as he

obtained permission to go. The father saw him depart with joy, glad to

get rid of him, and gave him a handsome sum of money for his needs.

Once, as he was making one of his journeys, Jenik chanced to cross a

meadow where some shepherds were just about to kill a dog. He entreated

them to spare it, and to give it to him instead, which they willingly

did, and he went on his way, followed by the dog. A little further on he

came upon a cat, which someone was going to put to death. He implored

its life, and the cat followed him. Finally, in another place, he saved

a serpent, which was also handed over to him, and now they made a party

of four--the dog behind Jenik, the cat behind the dog, and the serpent

behind the cat.

Then the serpent said to Jenik, 'Go wherever you see me go,' for in the

autumn, when all the serpents hide themselves in their holes, this

serpent was going in search of his king, who was king of all the snakes.

Then he added: 'My king will scold me for my long absence, everyone else

is housed for the winter, and I am very late. I shall have to tell him

what danger I have been in, and how, without your help, I should

certainly have lost my life. The king will ask what you would like in

return, and be sure you beg for the watch which hangs on the wall. It

has all sorts of wonderful properties, you only need to rub it to get

whatever you like.'

[Illustration]

No sooner said than done. Jenik became the master of the watch, and the

moment he got out he wished to put its virtues to the proof. He was

hungry, and thought it would be delightful to eat in the meadow a loaf

of new bread and a steak of good beef washed down by a flask of wine, so

he scratched the watch, and in an instant it was all before him. Imagine

his joy!

Evening soon came, and Jenik rubbed his watch, and thought it would be

very pleasant to have a room with a comfortable bed and a good supper.

In an instant they were all before him. After supper he went to bed and

slept till morning, as every honest man ought to do. Then he set forth

for his father's house, his mind dwelling on the feast that would be

awaiting him. But as he returned in the same old clothes in which he

went away, his father flew into a great rage, and refused to do anything

for him. Jenik went to his old place near the stove, and dirtied himself

in the ashes without anybody minding.

The third day, feeling rather dull, he thought it would be nice to see a

three-story house filled with beautiful furniture, and with vessels of

silver and gold. So he rubbed the watch, and there it all was. Jenik

went to look for his father, and said to him: 'You offered me no feast

of welcome, but permit me to give one to you, and come and let me show

you my plate.'

The father was much astonished, and longed to know where his son had got

all this wealth. Jenik did not reply, but begged him to invite all their

relations and friends to a grand banquet.

So the father invited all the world, and everyone was amazed to see such

splendid things, so much plate, and so many fine dishes on the table.

After the first course Jenik prayed his father to invite the King, and

his daughter the Princess. He rubbed his watch and wished for a carriage

ornamented with gold and silver, and drawn by six horses, with harness

glittering with precious stones. The father did not dare to sit in this

gorgeous coach, but went to the palace on foot. The King and his

daughter were immensely surprised with the beauty of the carriage, and

mounted the steps at once to go to Jenik's banquet. Then Jenik rubbed

his watch afresh, and wished that for six miles the way to the house

should be paved with marble. Who ever felt so astonished as the King?

Never had he travelled over such a gorgeous road.

When Jenik heard the wheels of the carriage, he rubbed his watch and

wished for a still more beautiful house, four stories high, and hung

with gold, silver, and damask; filled with wonderful tables, covered

with dishes such as no king had ever eaten before. The King, the Queen,

and the Princess were speechless with surprise. Never had they seen such

a splendid palace, nor such a high feast! At dessert the King asked

Jenik's father to give him the young man for a son-in-law. No sooner

said than done! The marriage took place at once, and the King returned

to his own palace, and left Jenik with his wife in the enchanted house.

Now Jenik was not a very clever man, and at the end of a very short time

he began to bore his wife. She inquired how he managed to build palaces

and to get so many precious things. He told her all about the watch, and

she never rested till she had stolen the precious talisman. One night

she took the watch, rubbed it, and wished for a carriage drawn by four

horses; and in this carriage she at once set out for her father's

palace. There she called to her own attendants, bade them follow her

into the carriage, and drove straight to the sea-side. Then she rubbed

her watch, and wished that the sea might be crossed by a bridge, and

that a magnificent palace might arise in the middle of the sea. No

sooner said than done. The Princess entered the house, rubbed her watch,

and in an instant the bridge was gone.

Left alone, Jenik felt very miserable. His father, mother, and brothers,

and, indeed, everybody else, all laughed at him. Nothing remained to him

but the cat and dog whose lives he had once saved. He took them with him

and went far away, for he could no longer live with his family. He

reached at last a great desert, and saw some crows flying towards a

mountain. One of them was a long way behind, and when he arrived his

brothers inquired what had made him so late. 'Winter is here,' they

said, 'and it is time to fly to other countries.' He told them that he

had seen in the middle of the sea the most wonderful house that ever was

built.

On hearing this, Jenik at once concluded that this must be the

hiding-place of his wife. So he proceeded directly to the shore with his

dog and his cat. When he arrived on the beach, he said to the dog: 'You

are an excellent swimmer, and you, little one, are very light; jump on

the dog's back and he will take you to the palace. Once there, he will

hide himself near the door, and you must steal secretly in and try to

get hold of my watch.'

No sooner said than done. The two animals crossed the sea; the dog hid

near the house, and the cat stole into the chamber. The Princess

recognised him, and guessed why he had come; and she took the watch down

to the cellar and locked it in a box. But the cat wriggled its way into

the cellar, and the moment the Princess turned her back, he scratched

and scratched till he had made a hole in the box. Then he took the watch

between his teeth, and waited quietly till the Princess came back.

Scarcely had she opened the door when the cat was outside, and the

watch into the bargain.

The cat was no sooner beyond the gates than she said to the dog:

'We are going to cross the sea; be very careful not to speak to me.'

The dog laid this to heart and said nothing; but when they approached

the shore he could not help asking, 'Have you got the watch?'

The cat did not answer--he was afraid that he might let the talisman

fall. When they touched the shore the dog repeated his question.

'Yes,' said the cat.

And the watch fell into the sea. Then our two friends began each to

accuse the other, and both looked sorrowfully at the place where their

treasure had fallen in. Suddenly a fish appeared near the edge of the

sea. The cat seized it, and thought it would make them a good supper.

'I have nine little children,' cried the fish. 'Spare the father of a

family!'

'Granted,' replied the cat; 'but on condition that you find our watch.'

The fish executed his commission, and they brought the treasure back to

their master. Jenik rubbed the watch and wished that the palace, with

the Princess and all its inhabitants, should be swallowed up in the sea.

No sooner said than done. Jenik returned to his parents, and he and his

watch, his cat and his dog, lived together happily to the end of their

days.

Deulin.

_ROSANELLA_

Everybody knows that though the fairies live hundreds of years they do

sometimes die, and especially as they are obliged to pass one day in

every week under the form of some animal, when of course they are liable

to accident. It was in this way that death once overtook the Queen of

the Fairies, and it became necessary to call a general assembly to elect

a new sovereign. After much discussion, it appeared that the choice lay

between two fairies, one called Surcantine and the other Paridamie; and

their claims were so equal that it was impossible without injustice to

prefer one to the other. Under these circumstances it was unanimously

decided that whichever of the two could show to the world the greatest

wonder should be Queen; but it was to be a special kind of wonder, no

moving of mountains or any such common fairy tricks would do.

Surcantine, therefore, resolved that she would bring up a Prince whom

nothing could make constant. While Paridamie decided to display to

admiring mortals a Princess so charming that no one could see her

without falling in love with her. They were allowed to take their own

time, and meanwhile the four oldest fairies were to attend to the

affairs of the kingdom.

Now Paridamie had for a long time been very friendly with King

Bardondon, who was a most accomplished Prince, and whose court was the

model of what a court should be. His Queen, Balanice, was also charming;

indeed it is rare to find a husband and wife so perfectly of one mind

about everything. They had one little daughter, whom they had named

'Rosanella,' because she had a little pink rose printed upon her white

throat. From her earliest infancy she had shown the most astonishing

intelligence, and the courtiers knew her smart sayings by heart, and

repeated them on all occasions. In the middle of the night following the

assembly of fairies, Queen Balanice woke up with a shriek, and when her

maids of honour ran to see what was the matter, they found she had had a

frightful dream.

'I thought,' said she, 'that my little daughter had changed into a

bouquet of roses, and that as I held it in my hand a bird swooped down

suddenly and snatched it from me and carried it away.'

'Let some one run and see that all is well with the Princess,' she

added.

[Illustration]

So they ran; but what was their dismay when they found that the cradle

was empty; and though they sought high and low, not a trace of Rosanella

could they discover. The Queen was inconsolable, and so, indeed, was the

King, only being a man he did not say quite so much about his feelings.

He presently proposed to Balanice that they should spend a few days at

one of their palaces in the country; and to this she willingly agreed,

since her grief made the gaiety of the capital distasteful to her. One

lovely summer evening, as they sat together on a shady lawn shaped like

a star, from which radiated twelve splendid avenues of trees, the Queen

looked round and saw a charming peasant-girl approaching by each path,

and what was still more singular was that everyone carried something in

a basket which appeared to occupy her whole attention. As each drew near

she laid her basket at Balanice's feet, saying:

'Charming Queen, may this be some slight consolation to you in your

unhappiness!'

The Queen hastily opened the baskets, and found in each a lovely

baby-girl, about the same age as the little Princess for whom she

sorrowed so deeply. At first the sight of them renewed her grief; but

presently their charms so gained upon her that she forgot her melancholy

in providing them with nursery-maids, cradle-rockers, and

ladies-in-waiting, and in sending hither and thither for swings and

dolls and tops, and bushels of the finest sweetmeats.

Oddly enough, every baby had upon its throat a tiny pink rose. The Queen

found it so difficult to decide on suitable names for all of them, that

until she could settle the matter she chose a special colour for

everyone, by which it was known, so that when they were all together

they looked like nothing so much as a nosegay of gay flowers. As they

grew older it became evident that though they were all remarkably

intelligent, and profited equally by the education they received, yet

they differed one from another in disposition, so much so that they

gradually ceased to be known as 'Pearl,' or 'Primrose,' or whatever

might have been their colour, and the Queen instead would say:

'Where is my Sweet?' or 'my Beautiful,' or 'my Gay.'

Of course, with all these charms they had lovers by the dozen. Not only

in their own court, but princes from afar, who were constantly arriving,

attracted by the reports which were spread abroad; but these lovely

girls, the first Maids of Honour, were as discreet as they were

beautiful, and favoured no one.

But let us return to Surcantine. She had fixed upon the son of a king

who was cousin to Bardondon, to bring up as her fickle Prince. She had

before, at his christening, given him all the graces of mind and body

that a prince could possibly require; but now she redoubled her efforts,

and spared no pains in adding every imaginable charm and fascination. So

that whether he happened to be cross or amiable, splendidly or simply

attired, serious or frivolous, he was always perfectly irresistible! In

truth, he was a charming young fellow, since the Fairy had given him the

best heart in the world as well as the best head, and had left nothing

to be desired but--constancy. For it cannot be denied that Prince

Mirliflor was a desperate flirt, and as fickle as the wind; so much so,

that by the time he arrived at his eighteenth birthday there was not a

heart left for him to conquer in his father's kingdom--they were all his

own, and he was tired of everyone! Things were in this state when he was

invited to visit the court of his father's cousin, King Bardondon.

Imagine his feelings when he arrived and was presented at once to twelve

of the loveliest creatures in the world, and his embarrassment was

heightened by the fact that they all liked him as much as he liked each

one of them, so that things came to such a pass that he was never happy

a single instant without them. For could he not whisper soft speeches to

Sweet, and laugh with Joy, while he looked at Beauty? And in his more

serious moments what could be pleasanter than to talk to Grave upon some

shady lawn, while he held the hand of Loving in his own, and all the

others lingered near in sympathetic silence? For the first time in his

life he really loved, though the object of his devotion was not one

person, but twelve, to whom he was equally attached, and even Surcantine

was deceived into thinking that this was indeed the height of

inconstancy. But Paridamie said not a word.

In vain did Prince Mirliflor's father write commanding him to return,

and proposing for him one good match after another. Nothing in the world

could tear him from his twelve enchantresses.

One day the Queen gave a large garden-party, and just as the guests were

all assembled, and Prince Mirliflor was as usual dividing his attentions

between the twelve beauties, a humming of bees was heard. The

Rose-maidens, fearing their stings, uttered little shrieks, and fled all

together to a distance from the rest of the company. Immediately, to the

horror of all who were looking on, the bees pursued them, and, growing

suddenly to an enormous size, pounced each upon a maiden and carried her

off into the air, and in an instant they were all lost to view. This

amazing occurrence plunged the whole court into the deepest affliction,

and Prince Mirliflor, after giving way to the most violent grief at

first, fell gradually into a state of such deep dejection that it was

feared if nothing could rouse him he would certainly die. Surcantine

came in all haste to see what she could do for her darling, but he

rejected with scorn all the portraits of lovely princesses which she

offered him for his collection. In short, it was evident that he was in

a bad way, and the Fairy was at her wits' end. One day, as he wandered

about absorbed in melancholy reflections, he heard sudden shouts and

exclamations of amazement, and if he had taken the trouble to look up he

could not have helped being as astonished as everyone else, for through

the air a chariot of crystal was slowly approaching which glittered in

the sunshine. Six lovely maidens with shining wings drew it by

rose-coloured ribbons, while a whole flight of others, equally

beautiful, were holding long garlands of roses crossed above it, so as

to form a complete canopy. In it sat the Fairy Paridamie, and by her

side a Princess whose beauty positively dazzled all who saw her. At the

foot of the great staircase they descended, and proceeded to the Queen's

apartments, though everyone had run together to see this marvel, till it

was quite difficult to make a way through the crowd; and exclamations of

wonder rose on all sides at the loveliness of the strange Princess.

'Great Queen,' said Paridamie, 'permit me to restore to you your

daughter Rosanella, whom I stole out of her cradle.'

After the first transports of joy were over the Queen said to Paridamie:

'But my twelve lovely ones, are they lost to me for ever? Shall I never

see them again?'

But Paridamie only said:

'Very soon you will cease to miss them!' in a tone that evidently meant

'Don't ask me any more questions.' And then mounting again into her

chariot she swiftly disappeared.

The news of his beautiful cousin's arrival was soon carried to the

Prince, but he had hardly the heart to go and see her. However, it

became absolutely necessary that he should pay his respects, and he had

scarcely been five minutes in her presence before it seemed to him that

she combined in her own charming person all the gifts and graces which

had so attracted him in the twelve Rose-maidens whose loss he had so

truly mourned; and after all it is really more satisfactory to make love

to one person at a time. So it came to pass that before he knew where he

was he was entreating his lovely cousin to marry him, and the moment the

words had left his lips, Paridamie appeared, smiling and triumphant, in

the chariot of the Queen of the Fairies, for by that time they had all

heard of her success, and declared her to have earned the kingdom. She

had to give a full account of how she had stolen Rosanella from her

cradle, and divided her character into twelve parts, that each might

charm Prince Mirliflor, and when once more united might cure him of his

inconstancy once and for ever.

[Illustration: THE PRINCESS CARRIED OFF BY THE BEES]

And as one more proof of the fascination of the whole Rosanella, I may

tell you that even the defeated Surcantine sent her a wedding gift, and

was present at the ceremony which took place as soon as the guests could

arrive. Prince Mirliflor was constant for the rest of his life. And

indeed who would not have been in his place? As for Rosanella, she loved

him as much as all the twelve beauties put together, so they reigned in

peace and happiness to the end of their long lives.

By the Comte de Caylus.

_SYLVAIN AND JOCOSA_

Once upon a time there lived in the same village two children, one

called Sylvain and the other Jocosa, who were both remarkable for beauty

and intelligence. It happened that their parents were not on terms of

friendship with one another, on account of some old quarrel, which had,

however, taken place so long ago, that they had quite forgotten what it

was all about, and only kept up the feud from force of habit. Sylvain

and Jocosa for their parts were far from sharing this enmity, and indeed

were never happy when apart. Day after day they fed their flocks of

sheep together, and spent the long sunshiny hours in playing, or resting

upon some shady bank. It happened one day that the Fairy of the Meadows

passed by and saw them, and was so much attracted by their pretty faces

and gentle manners that she took them under her protection, and the

older they grew the dearer they became to her. At first she showed her

interest by leaving in their favourite haunts many little gifts such as

they delighted to offer one to the other, for they loved each other so

much that their first thought was always, 'What will Jocosa like?' or,

'What will please Sylvain?' And the Fairy took a great delight in their

innocent enjoyment of the cakes and sweetmeats she gave them nearly

every day. When they were grown up she resolved to make herself known to

them, and chose a time when they were sheltering from the noonday sun in

the deep shade of a flowery hedgerow. They were startled at first by the

sudden apparition of a tall and slender lady, dressed all in green, and

crowned with a garland of flowers. But when she spoke to them sweetly,

and told them how she had always loved them, and that it was she who had

given them all the pretty things which it had so surprised them to find,

they thanked her gratefully, and took pleasure in answering the

questions she put to them. When she presently bade them farewell, she

told them never to tell anyone else that they had seen her. 'You will

often see me again,' added she, 'and I shall be with you frequently,

even when you do not see me.' So saying she vanished, leaving them in a

state of great wonder and excitement. After this she came often, and

taught them numbers of things, and showed them many of the marvels of

her beautiful kingdom, and at last one day she said to them, 'You know

that I have always been kind to you; now I think it is time you did

something for me in your turn. You both remember the fountain I call my

favourite? Promise me that every morning before the sun rises you will

go to it and clear away every stone that impedes its course, and every

dead leaf or broken twig that sullies its clear waters. I shall take it

as a proof of your gratitude to me if you neither forget nor delay this

duty, and I promise that so long as the sun's earliest rays find my

favourite spring the clearest and sweetest in all my meadows, you two

shall not be parted from one another.'

[Illustration]

Sylvain and Jocosa willingly undertook this service, and indeed felt

that it was but a very small thing in return for all that the fairy had

given and promised to them. So for a long time the fountain was tended

with the most scrupulous care, and was the clearest and prettiest in all

the country round. But one morning in the spring, long before the sun

rose, they were hastening towards it from opposite directions, when,

tempted by the beauty of the myriads of gay flowers which grew thickly

on all sides, they paused each to gather some for the other.

'I will make Sylvain a garland,' said Jocosa, and 'How pretty Jocosa

will look in this crown!' thought Svlvain.

Hither and thither they strayed, led ever farther and farther, for the

brightest flowers seemed always just beyond them, until at last they

were startled by the first bright rays of the rising sun. With one

accord they turned and ran towards the fountain, reaching it at the same

moment, though from opposite sides. But what was their horror to see its

usually tranquil waters seething and bubbling, and even as they looked

down rushed a mighty stream, which entirely engulfed it, and Sylvain and

Jocosa found themselves parted by a wide and swiftly-rushing river. All

this had happened with such rapidity that they had only time to utter a

cry, and each to hold up to the other the flowers they had gathered; but

this was explanation enough. Twenty times did Sylvain throw himself into

the turbulent waters, hoping to be able to swim to the other side, but

each time an irresistible force drove him back upon the bank he had just

quitted, while, as for Jocosa, she even essayed to cross the flood upon

a tree which came floating down torn up by the roots, but her efforts

were equally useless. Then with heavy hearts they set out to follow the

course of the stream, which had now grown so wide that it was only with

difficulty they could distinguish each other. Night and day, over

mountains and through valleys, in cold or in heat, they struggled on,

enduring fatigue and hunger and every hardship, and consoled only by the

hope of meeting once more--until three years had passed, and at last

they stood upon the cliffs where the river flowed into the mighty sea.

And now they seemed farther apart than ever, and in despair they tried

once more to throw themselves into the foaming waves. But the Fairy of

the Meadows, who had really never ceased to watch over them, did not

intend that they should be drowned at last, so she hastily waved her

wand, and immediately they found themselves standing side by side upon

the golden sand. You may imagine their joy and delight when they

realised that their weary struggle was ended, and their utter

contentment as they clasped each other by the hand. They had so much to

say that they hardly knew where to begin, but they agreed in blaming

themselves bitterly for the negligence which had caused all their

trouble; and when she heard this the Fairy immediately appeared to them.

They threw themselves at her feet and implored her forgiveness, which

she granted freely, and promised at the same time that now their

punishment was ended she would always befriend them. Then she sent for

her chariot of green rushes, ornamented with May dew-drops, which she

particularly valued and always collected with great care; and ordered

her six short-tailed moles to carry them all back to the well-known

pastures, which they did in a remarkably short time; and Sylvain and

Jocosa were overjoyed to see their dearly-loved home once more after all

their toilful wanderings. The Fairy, who had set her mind upon securing

their happiness, had in their absence quite made up the quarrel between

their parents, and gained their consent to the marriage of the faithful

lovers; and now she conducted them to the most charming little cottage

that can be imagined, close to the fountain, which had once more resumed

its peaceful aspect, and flowed gently down into the little brook which

enclosed the garden and orchard and pasture which belonged to the

cottage. Indeed, nothing more could have been thought of, either for

Sylvain and Jocosa or for their flocks; and their delight satisfied even

the Fairy who had planned it all to please them. When they had explored

and admired until they were tired they sat down to rest under the

rose-covered porch, and the Fairy said that to pass the time until the

wedding guests whom she had invited could arrive she would tell them a

story. This is it: