Meanwhile the Enchanter was very ill-pleased with the entertainment,
which he declared was dullness itself.
'You don't seem to have any idea in these parts beyond little squeaking
birds!' said he. 'And fancy giving a banquet without so much as an ounce
of plate!'
So the next day, when the Princess went out into her garden, there stood
a summer-house built of solid gold, decorated within and without with
her initials and the Enchanter's combined. And in it was spread an
enormous repast, while the table so glittered with golden cups and
plates, flagons and dishes, candlesticks and a hundred other things
beside, that it was hardly possible to look steadily at it. The
Enchanter ate like six ogres, but the Princess could not touch a morsel.
Presently Grumedan remarked with a grin:
'I have provided neither musicians nor singers; but as you seem fond of
music I will sing to you myself.'
Whereupon he began, with a voice like a screech-owl's, to chant the
words of his 'opera,' only this time happily not at such a length, and
without the frog accompaniment. After this the Prince again asked the
aid of his friends the birds, and when they had assembled from all the
country round he tied about the neck of each one a tiny lamp of some
brilliant colour, and when darkness fell he made them go through a
hundred pretty tricks before the delighted Potentilla, who clapped her
little hands with delight when she saw her own name traced in points of
light against the dark trees, or when the whole flock of sparks grouped
themselves into bouquets of different colours, like living flowers.
Grumedan leaning back in his arm-chair, with one knee crossed over the
other and his nose in the air, looked on disdainfully.
'Oh! if you like fireworks, Princess,' said he; and the next night all
the will-o'-the-wisps in the country came and danced on the plain, which
could be seen from the Princess's windows, and as she was looking out,
and rather enjoying the sight, up sprang a frightful volcano, pouring
out smoke and flames which terrified her greatly, to the intense
amusement of the Enchanter, who laughed like a pack of wolves
quarrelling. After this, as many of the will-o'-the-wisps as could get
in crowded into Potentilla's garden, and by their light the tall
yew-trees danced minuets until the Princess was weary and begged to be
excused from looking at anything more that night. But, in spite of
Potentilla's efforts to behave politely to the tiresome old Enchanter,
whom she detested, he could not help seeing that he failed to please
her, and then he began to suspect very strongly that she must love
someone else, and that somebody besides Melinette was responsible for
all the festivities he had witnessed. So after much consideration he
devised a plan for finding out the truth. He went to the Princess
suddenly, and announced that he was most unwillingly forced to leave
her, and had come to bid her farewell. Potentilla could scarcely hide
her delight when she heard this, and his back was hardly turned before
she was entreating Prince Narcissus to make himself visible once more.
The poor Prince had been getting quite thin with anxiety and annoyance,
and was only too delighted to comply with her request. They greeted one
another rapturously, and were just sitting down to talk over everything
cosily, and enjoy the Enchanter's discomfiture together, when out he
burst in a fury from behind a bush. With his huge club he aimed a
terrific blow at Narcissus, which must certainly have killed him but for
the adroitness of the Fairy Melinette, who arrived upon the scene just
in time to snatch him up and carry him off at lightning speed to her
castle in the air. Poor Potentilla, however, had not the comfort of
knowing this, for at the sight of the Enchanter threatening her beloved
Prince she had given one shriek and fallen back insensible. When she
recovered her senses she was more than ever convinced that he was dead,
since even Melinette was no longer near her, and no one was left to
defend her from the odious old Enchanter.
[Illustration]
To make matters worse, he seemed to be in a very bad temper, and came
blustering and raging at the poor Princess.
'I tell you what it is, madam,' said he: 'whether you love this
whipper-snapper Prince or not doesn't matter in the least. You are going
to marry me, so you may as well make up your mind to it; and I am going
away this very minute to make all the arrangements. But in case you
should get into mischief in my absence, I think I had better put you to
sleep.'
So saying, he waved his wand over her, and in spite of her utmost
efforts to keep awake she sank into a profound and dreamless slumber.
As he wished to make what he considered a suitable entry into the King's
palace, he stepped outside the Princess's little domain, and mounted
upon an immense chariot with great solid wheels, and shafts like the
trunk of an oak-tree, but all of solid gold. This was drawn with great
difficulty by forty-eight strong oxen; and the Enchanter reclined at his
ease, leaning upon his huge club, and holding carelessly upon his knee a
tawny African lion, as if it had been a little lapdog. It was about
seven o'clock in the morning when this extraordinary chariot reached the
palace gates; the King was already astir, and about to set off on a
hunting expedition; as for the Queen, she had only just gone off into
her first sleep, and it would have been a bold person indeed who
ventured to wake her.
The King was greatly annoyed at having to stay and see a visitor at such
a time, and pulled off his hunting boots again with many grimaces.
Meantime the Enchanter was stumping about in the hall, crying:
'Where is this King? Let him be told that I must see him and his wife
also.'
The King, who was listening at the top of the staircase, thought this
was not very polite; however, he took counsel with his favourite
huntsman, and, following his advice, presently went down to see what was
wanted of him. He was struck with astonishment at the sight of the
chariot, and was gazing at it, when the Enchanter strode up to him,
exclaiming:
'Shake hands, Cloverleaf, old fellow! Don't you know me?'
'No, I can't say I do,' replied the King, somewhat embarrassed.
'Why, I am Grumedan, the Enchanter,' said he, 'and I am come to make
your fortune. Let us come in and talk things over a bit.'
Thereupon he ordered the oxen to go about their business, and they
bounded off like stags, and were out of sight in a moment. Then, with
one blow of his club, he changed the massive chariot into a perfect
mountain of gold pieces.
'Those are for your lackeys,' said he to the King, 'that they may drink
my health.'
Naturally a great scramble ensued, and at last the laughter and shouting
awoke the Queen, who rang for her maids to ask the reason of such an
unwonted hurly-burly. When they said that a visitor was asking for her,
and then proceeded each one to tell breathlessly a different tale of
wonder, in which she could only distinguish the words, 'oxen,' 'gold,'
'club,' 'giant,' 'lion,' she thought they were all out of their minds.
Meanwhile the King was asking the Enchanter to what he was indebted for
the honour of this visit, and on his replying that he would not say
until the Queen was also present, messenger after messenger was
dispatched to her to beg her immediate attendance. But Frivola was in a
very bad humour at having been so unceremoniously awakened, and declared
that she had a pain in her little finger, and that nothing should induce
her to come.
When the Enchanter heard this he insisted that she must come.
'Take my club to her Majesty,' said he, 'and tell her that if she smells
the end of it she will find it wonderfully reviving.'
So four of the King's strongest men-at-arms staggered off with it; and
after some persuasion the Queen consented to try this novel remedy. She
had hardly smelt it for an instant when she declared herself to be
perfectly restored; but whether that was due to the scent of the wood or
to the fact that as soon as she touched it out fell a perfect shower of
magnificent jewels, I leave you to decide. At any rate, she was now all
eagerness to see the mysterious stranger, and hastily throwing on her
royal mantle, popped her second-best diamond crown over her night-cap,
put a liberal dab of rouge upon each cheek, and holding up her largest
fan before her nose--for she was not used to appearing in broad
daylight--she went mincing into the great hall. The Enchanter waited
until the King and Queen had seated themselves upon their throne, and
then, taking his place between them, he began solemnly:
[Illustration: GRUMEDAN'S LION FETCHES IN THE PRINCESS]
'My name is Grumedan. I am an extremely well-connected Enchanter; my
power is immense. In spite of all this, the charms of your daughter
Potentilla have so fascinated me that I cannot live without her. She
fancies that she loves a certain contemptible puppy called Narcissus;
but I have made very short work with him. I really do not care whether
you consent to my marriage with your daughter or not, but I am bound to
ask your consent, on account of a certain meddling Fairy called
Melinette, with whom I have reason for wishing to keep on good terms.'
The King and Queen were somewhat embarrassed to know what answer to make
to this terrible suitor, but at last they asked for time to talk over
the matter: since, they said, their subjects might think that the heir
to the throne should not be married with as little consideration as a
dairymaid.
'Oh! take a day or two if you like,' said the Enchanter; 'but in the
meantime, I am going to send for your daughter. Perhaps you will be able
to induce her to be reasonable.'
So saying, he drew out his favourite whistle, and blew one ear-piercing
note--whereupon the great lion, who had been dozing in the sunny
courtyard, come bounding in on his soft, heavy feet. 'Orion,' said the
Enchanter, 'go and fetch me the Princess, and bring her here at once. Be
gentle now!'
At these words Orion went off at a great pace, and was soon at the other
end of the King's gardens. Scattering the guards right and left, he
cleared the wall at a bound, and seizing the sleeping Princess, he threw
her on to his back, where he kept her by holding her robe in his teeth.
Then he trotted gently back, and in less than five minutes stood in the
great hall before the astonished King and Queen.
The Enchanter held his club close to the Princess's charming little
nose, whereupon she woke up and shrieked with terror at finding herself
in a strange place with the detested Grumedan. Frivola, who had stood
by, stiff with displeasure at the sight of the lovely Princess, now
stepped forward, and with much pretended concern proposed to carry off
Potentilla to her own apartments that she might enjoy the quiet she
seemed to need. Really her one idea was to let the Princess be seen by
as few people as possible; so, throwing a veil over her head, she led
her away and locked her up securely. All this time Prince Narcissus,
gloomy and despairing, was kept a prisoner by Melinette in her castle
in the air, and in spite of all the splendour by which he was
surrounded, and all the pleasures which he might have enjoyed, his one
thought was to get back to Potentilla. The Fairy, however, left him
there, promising to do her very best for him, and commanding all her
swallows and butterflies to wait upon him and do his bidding. One day,
as he paced sadly to and fro, he thought he heard a voice he knew
calling to him, and sure enough there was the faithful Philomel,
Potentilla's favourite, who told him all that had passed, and how the
sleeping Princess had been carried off by the Lion to the great grief of
all her four-footed and feathered subjects, and how, not knowing what to
do, he had wandered about until he heard the swallows telling one
another of the Prince who was in their airy castle and had come to see
if it could be Narcissus. The Prince was more distracted than ever, and
tried vainly to escape from the castle, by leaping from the roof into
the clouds; but every time they caught him, and rolling softly up,
brought him back to the place from which he started, so at last he gave
up the attempt and waited with desperate patience for the return of
Melinette. Meanwhile matters were advancing rapidly in the court of King
Cloverleaf, for the Queen quite made up her mind that such a beauty as
Potentilla must be got out of the way as quickly as possible. So she
sent for the Enchanter secretly, and after making him promise that he
would never turn herself and King Cloverleaf out of their kingdom, and
that he would take Potentilla far away, so that never again might she
set eyes upon her, she arranged the wedding for the next day but one.
You may imagine how Potentilla lamented her sad fate, and entreated to
be spared. All the comfort she could get out of Frivola was, that if she
preferred a cup of poison to a rich husband she would certainly provide
her with one.
When, then, the fatal day came the unhappy Potentilla was led into the
great hall between the King and Queen, the latter wild with envy at the
murmurs of admiration which rose on all sides at the loveliness of the
Princess. An instant later in came Grumedan by the opposite door. His
hair stood on end, and he wore a huge bag-purse and a cravat tied in a
bow, his mantle was made of a shower of silver coins with a lining of
rose colour, and his delight in his own appearance knew no bounds. That
any Princess could prefer a cup of poison to himself never for an
instant occurred to him. Nevertheless, that was what did happen, for
when Queen Frivola in jest held out the fatal cup to the Princess, she
took it eagerly, crying:
[Illustration]
'Ah! beloved Narcissus, I come to thee!' and was just raising it to her
lips when the window of the great hall burst open, and the Fairy
Melinette floated in upon a glowing sunset cloud, followed by the Prince
himself.
All the court looked on in dazzled surprise, while Potentilla, catching
sight of her lover, dropped the cup and ran joyfully to meet him.
The Enchanter's first thought was to defend himself when he saw
Melinette appear, but she slipped round to his blind side, and catching
him by the eyelashes dragged him off to the ceiling of the hall, where
she held him kicking for a while just to give him a lesson, and then
touching him with her wand she imprisoned him for a thousand years in a
crystal ball which hung from the roof. 'Let this teach you to mind what
I tell you another time,' she remarked severely. Then turning to the
King and Queen, she begged them to proceed with the wedding, since she
had provided a much more suitable bridegroom. She also deprived them of
their kingdom, for they had really shown themselves unfit to manage it,
and bestowed it upon the Prince and Princess, who, though they were
unwilling to take it, had no choice but to obey the Fairy. However, they
took care that the King and Queen were always supplied with everything
they could wish for.
Prince Narcissus and Princess Potentilla lived long and happily, beloved
by all their subjects. As for the Enchanter, I don't believe he has been
let out yet.
La Princesse Pimprenella et Le Prince Romarin.
_PRINCE FEATHERHEAD AND THE PRINCESS CELANDINE_
Once upon a time there lived a King and Queen, who were the best
creatures in the world, and so kind-hearted that they could not bear to
see their subjects want for anything. The consequence was they gradually
gave away all their treasures, till they positively had nothing left to
live upon; and this coming to the ears of their neighbour, King Bruin,
he promptly raised a large army and marched into their country. The poor
King, having no means of defending his kingdom, was forced to disguise
himself with a false beard, and carrying his only son, the little Prince
Featherhead, in his arms, and accompanied only by the Queen, to make the
best of his way into the wild country. They were lucky enough to escape
the soldiers of King Bruin, and at last, after unheard-of fatigues and
adventures, they found themselves in a charming green valley, through
which flowed a stream clear as crystal and overshadowed by beautiful
trees. As they looked round them with delight, a voice said suddenly:
'Fish, and see what you will catch.' Now the King had always loved
fishing, and never went anywhere without a fish-hook or two in his
pocket, so he drew one out hastily, and the Queen lent him her girdle to
fasten it to, and it had hardly touched the water before it caught a big
fish, which made them an excellent meal--and not before they needed it,
for they had found nothing until then but a few wild berries and roots.
They thought that for the present they could not do better than stay in
this delightful place, and the King set to work, and soon built a bower
of branches to shelter them; and when it was finished the Queen was so
charmed with it that she declared nothing was lacking to complete her
happiness but a flock of sheep, which she and the little Prince might
tend while the King fished. They soon found that the fish were not only
abundant and easily caught, but also very beautiful, with glittering
scales of every imaginable hue; and before long the King discovered
that he could teach them to talk and whistle better than any parrot.
Then he determined to carry some to the nearest town and try to sell
them; and as no one had ever before seen any like them the people
flocked about him eagerly and bought all he had caught, so that
presently not a house in the city was considered complete without a
crystal bowl full of fish, and the King's customers were very particular
about having them to match the rest of the furniture, and gave him a
vast amount of trouble in choosing them. However, the money he obtained
in this way enabled him to buy the Queen her flock of sheep, as well as
many of the other things which go to make life pleasant, so that they
never once regretted their lost kingdom. Now it happened that the Fairy
of the Beech-Woods lived in the lovely valley to which chance had led
the poor fugitives, and it was she who had, in pity for their forlorn
condition, sent the King such good luck to his fishing, and generally
taken them under her protection. This she was all the more inclined to
do as she loved children, and little Prince Featherhead, who never
cried and grew prettier day by day, quite won her heart. She made the
acquaintance of the King and the Queen without at first letting them
know that she was a fairy, and they soon took a great fancy to her, and
even trusted her with the precious Prince, whom she carried off to her
palace, where she regaled him with cakes and tarts and every other good
thing. This was the way she chose of making him fond of her; but
afterwards, as he grew older, she spared no pains in educating and
training him as a prince should be trained. But unfortunately, in spite
of all her care, he grew so vain and frivolous that he quitted his
peaceful country life in disgust, and rushed eagerly after all the
foolish gaieties of the neighbouring town, where his handsome face and
charming manners speedily made him popular. The King and Queen deeply
regretted this alteration in their son, but did not know how to mend
matters, since the good old Fairy had made him so self-willed.
[Illustration]
Just at this time the Fairy of the Beech-Woods received a visit from an
old friend of hers called Saradine, who rushed into her house so
breathless with rage that she could hardly speak.
'Dear, dear! what _is_ the matter?' said the Fairy of the Beech-Woods
soothingly.
'The matter!' cried Saradine. 'You shall soon hear all about it. You
know that, not content with endowing Celandine, Princess of the Summer
Islands, with everything she could desire to make her charming, I
actually took the trouble to bring her up myself; and now what does she
do but come to me with more coaxings and caresses than usual to beg a
favour. And what do you suppose this favour turns out to be--when I have
been cajoled, into promising to grant it? Nothing more nor less than a
request that I will take back all my gifts--"since," says my young
madam, "if I have the good fortune to please you, how am I to know that
it is really I, myself? And that's how it will be all my life long,
whenever I meet anybody. You see what a weariness my life will be to me
under these circumstances, and yet I assure you I am not ungrateful to
you for all your kindness!" I did all I could,' continued Saradine, 'to
make her think better of it, but in vain; so after going through the
usual ceremony for taking back my gifts, I'm come to you for a little
peace and quietness. But, after all, I have not taken anything of
consequence from this provoking Celandine. Nature had already made her
so pretty, and given her such a ready wit of her own, that she will do
perfectly well without me. However, I thought she deserved a little
lesson, so to begin with I have whisked her off into the desert, and
there left her!'
'What! all alone, and without any means of existence?' cried the
kind-hearted old Fairy. 'You had better hand her over to me. I don't
think so very badly of her after all. I'll just cure her vanity by
making her love someone better than herself. Really, when I come to
consider of it, I declare the little minx has shown more spirit and
originality in the matter than one expects of a princess.'
[Illustration]
Saradine willingly consented to this arrangement, and the old Fairy's
first care was to smooth away all the difficulties which surrounded the
Princess, and lead her by the mossy path overhung with trees to the
bower of the King and Queen, who still pursued their peaceful life in
the valley.
They were immensely surprised at her appearance, but her charming face,
and the deplorably ragged condition to which the thorns and briers had
reduced her once elegant attire, speedily won their compassion; they
recognised her as a companion in misfortune, and the Queen welcomed her
heartily, and begged her to share their simple repast. Celandine
gracefully accepted their hospitality, and soon told them what had
happened to her. The King was charmed with her spirit, while the Queen
thought she had indeed been daring thus to go against the Fairy's
wishes.
'Since it has ended in my meeting you,' said the Princess, 'I cannot
regret the step I have taken, and if you will let me stay with you, I
shall be perfectly happy.'
The King and Queen were only too delighted to have this charming
Princess to supply the place of Prince Featherhead, whom they saw but
seldom, since the Fairy had provided him with a palace in the
neighbouring town, where he lived in the greatest luxury, and did
nothing but amuse himself from morning to night. So Celandine stayed,
and helped the Queen to keep house, and very soon they loved her dearly.
When the Fairy of the Beech-Woods came to them, they presented the
Princess to her, and told her story, little thinking that the Fairy knew
more about Celandine than they did. The old Fairy was equally delighted
with her, and often invited her to visit her Leafy Palace, which was the
most enchanting place that could be imagined, and full of treasures.
Often she would say to the Princess, when showing her some wonderful
thing:
'This will do for a wedding gift some day.' And Celandine could not help
thinking that it was to her that the Fairy meant to give the two blue
wax-torches which burned without ever getting smaller, or the diamond
from which more diamonds were continually growing, or the boat that
sailed under water, or whatever beautiful or wonderful thing they might
happen to be looking at. It is true that she never said so positively,
but she certainly allowed the Princess to believe it, because she
thought a little disappointment would be good for her. But the person
she really relied upon for curing Celandine of her vanity was Prince
Featherhead. The old Fairy was not at all pleased with the way he had
been going on for some time, but her heart was so soft towards him that
she was unwilling to take him away from the pleasures he loved, except
by offering him something better, which is not the most effectual mode
of correction, though it is without doubt the most agreeable.
However, she did not even hint to the Princess that Featherhead was
anything but absolutely perfect, and talked of him so much that when at
last she announced that he was coming to visit her, Celandine made up
her mind that this delightful Prince would be certain to fall in love
with her at once, and was quite pleased at the idea. The old Fairy
thought so too, but as this was not at all what she wished, she took
care to throw such an enchantment over the Princess that she appeared to
Featherhead quite ugly and awkward, though to every one else she looked
just as usual. So when he arrived at the Leafy Palace, more handsome and
fascinating even than ever she had been led to expect, he hardly so much
as glanced at the Princess, but bestowed all his attention upon the old
Fairy, to whom he seemed to have a hundred things to say. The Princess
was immensely astonished at his indifference, and put on a cold and
offended air, which, however, he did not seem to observe. Then as a last
resource she exerted all her wit and gaiety to amuse him, but with no
better success, for he was of an age to be more attracted by beauty than
by anything else, and though he responded politely enough, it was
evident that his thoughts were elsewhere. Celandine was deeply
mortified, since for her part the Prince pleased her very well, and for
the first time she bitterly regretted the fairy gifts she had been
anxious to get rid of. Prince Featherhead was almost equally puzzled,
for he had heard nothing from the King and Queen but the praises of this
charming Princess, and the fact that they had spoken of her as so very
beautiful only confirmed his opinion that people who live in the country
have no taste. He talked to them of his charming acquaintances in the
town, the beauties he had admired, did admire, or thought he was going
to admire, until Celandine, who heard it all, was ready to cry with
vexation. The Fairy too was quite shocked at his conceit, and hit upon a
plan for curing him of it. She sent to him by an unknown messenger a
portrait of Princess Celandine as she really was, with this inscription:
'All this beauty and sweetness, with a loving heart and a great kingdom,
might have been yours but for your well-known fickleness.'
This message made a great impression upon the Prince, but not so much as
the portrait. He positively could not tear his eyes away from it, and
exclaimed aloud that never, never had he seen anything so lovely and so
graceful. Then he began to think that it was too absurd that he, the
fascinating Featherhead, should fall in love with a portrait; and, to
drive away the recollections of its haunting eyes, he rushed back to the
town; but somehow everything seemed changed. The beauties no longer
pleased him, their witty speeches had ceased to amuse; and indeed, for
their parts, they found the Prince far less amiable than of yore, and
were not sorry when he declared that, after all, a country life suited
him best, and went back to the Leafy Palace. Meanwhile, the Princess
Celandine had been finding the time pass but slowly with the King and
Queen, and was only too pleased when Featherhead re-appeared. She at once
noticed the change in him, and was deeply curious to find the reason of
it. Far from avoiding her, he now sought her company and seemed to take
pleasure in talking to her, and yet the Princess did not for a moment
flatter herself with the idea that he was in love with her, though it
did not take her long to decide that he certainly loved someone. But one
day the Princess, wandering sadly by the river, spied Prince Featherhead
fast asleep in the shade of a tree, and stole nearer to enjoy the
delight of gazing at his dear face unobserved. Judge of her astonishment
when she saw that he was holding in his hand a portrait of herself! In
vain did she puzzle over the apparent contradictoriness of his
behaviour. Why did he cherish her portrait while he was so fatally
indifferent to herself? At last she found an opportunity of asking him
the name of the Princess whose picture he carried about with him always.
[Illustration]
'Alas! how can I tell you?' replied he.
'Why should you not?' said the Princess timidly. 'Surely there is
nothing to prevent you.'
'Nothing to prevent me!' repeated he, 'when my utmost efforts have
failed to discover the lovely original. Should I be so sad if I could
but find her? But I do not even know her name.'
More surprised than ever, the Princess asked to be allowed to see the
portrait, and after examining it for a few minutes returned it,
remarking shyly that at least the original had every cause to be
satisfied with it.
'That means that you consider it flattered,' said the Prince severely.
'Really, Celandine, I thought better of you, and should have expected
you to be above such contemptible jealousy. But all women are alike!'
'Indeed, I meant only that it was a good likeness,' said the Princess
meekly.
'Then you know the original,' cried the Prince, throwing himself on his
knees beside her. 'Pray tell me at once who it is, and don't keep me in
suspense!'
'Oh! don't you see that it is meant for me?' cried Celandine.
The Prince sprang to his feet, hardly able to refrain from telling her
that she must be blinded by vanity to suppose she resembled the lovely
portrait even in the slightest degree; and after gazing at her for an
instant with icy surprise, turned and left her without another word, and
in a few hours quitted the Leafy Palace altogether.
Now the Princess was indeed unhappy, and could no longer bear to stay in
a place where she had been so cruelly disdained. So, without even
bidding farewell to the King and Queen, she left the valley behind her,
and wandered sadly away, not caring whither. After walking until she was
weary, she saw before her a tiny house, and turned her slow steps
towards it. The nearer she approached the more miserable it appeared,
and at length she saw a little old woman sitting upon the door-step, who
said grimly:
'Here comes one of these fine beggars who are too idle to do anything
but run about the country!'
'Alas! madam,' said Celandine, with tears in her pretty eyes, 'a sad
fate forces me to ask you for shelter.'
'Didn't I tell you what it would be?' growled the old hag. 'From
shelter we shall proceed to demand supper, and from supper money to take
us on our way. Upon my word, if I could be sure of finding some one
every day whose head was as soft as his heart, I wouldn't wish for a
more agreeable life myself! But I have worked hard to build my house and
secure a morsel to eat, and I suppose you think that I am to give away
everything to the first passer-by who chooses to ask for it. Not at all!
I wager that a fine lady like you has more money than I have. I must
search her, and see if it is not so,' she added, hobbling towards
Celandine with the aid of her stick.
'Alas! madam,' replied the Princess, 'I only wish I had. I would give it
to you with all the pleasure in life.'
'But you are very smartly dressed for the kind of life you lead,'
continued the old woman.
'What!' cried the Princess, 'do you think I am come to beg of you?'
'I don't know about that,' answered she; 'but at any rate you don't seem
to have come to bring me anything. But what is it that you do want?
Shelter? Well, that does not cost much; but after that comes supper, and
that I can't hear of. Oh dear no! Why, at your age one is always ready
to eat; and now you have been walking, and I suppose you are ravenous?'
'Indeed no, madam,' answered the poor Princess, 'I am too sad to be
hungry.'
'Oh, well! if you will promise to go on being sad, you may stay for the
night,' said the old woman mockingly.
Thereupon she made the Princess sit down beside her, and began fingering
her silken robe, while she muttered 'Lace on top, lace underneath! This
must have cost you a pretty penny! It would have been better to save
enough to feed yourself, and not come begging to those who want all they
have for themselves. Pray, what may you have paid for these fine
clothes?'
'Alas! madam,' answered the Princess, 'I did not buy them, and I know
nothing about money.'
'What _do_ you know, if I may ask?' said the old dame.
'Not much; but indeed I am very unhappy,' cried Celandine, bursting into
tears, 'and if my services are any good to you----'
'Services!' interrupted the hag crossly. 'One has to pay for services,
and I am not above doing my own work.'
'Madam, I will serve you for nothing,' said the poor Princess, whose
spirits were sinking lower and lower. 'I will do anything you please;
all I wish is to live quietly in this lonely spot.'
'Oh! I know you are only trying to take me in,' answered she; 'and if I
do let you serve me, is it fitting that you should be so much better
dressed than I am? If I keep you, will you give me your clothes and wear
some that I will provide you with? It is true that I am getting old and
may want someone to take care of me some day.'
[Illustration]
'Oh! for pity's sake, do what you please with my clothes,' cried poor
Celandine miserably.
And the old woman hobbled off with great alacrity, and fetched a little
bundle containing a wretched dress, such as the Princess had never even
seen before, and nimbly skipped round, helping her to put it on instead
of her own rich robe, with many exclamations of:
'Saints!--what a magnificent lining! And the width of it! It will make
me four dresses at least. Why, child, I wonder you could walk under such
a weight, and certainly in my house you would not have had room to turn
round.'
So saying, she folded up the robe, and put it by with great care, while
she remarked to Celandine:
'That dress of mine certainly suits you to a marvel; be sure you take
great care of it.'
When supper-time came she went into the house, declining all the
Princess's offers of assistance, and shortly afterwards brought out a
very small dish, saying:
'Now let us sup.'
Whereupon she handed Celandine a small piece of black bread and
uncovered the dish, which contained two dried plums.
'We will have one between us,' continued the old dame; 'and as you are
the visitor, you shall have the half which contains the stone; but be
very careful that you don't swallow it, for I keep them against the
winter, and you have no idea what a good fire they make. Now, you take
my advice which won't cost you anything--and remember that it is always
more economical to buy fruit with stones on this account.'
Celandine, absorbed in her own sad thoughts, did not even hear this
prudent counsel, and quite forgot to eat her share of the plum, which
delighted the old woman, who put it by carefully for her breakfast,
saying:
'I am very much pleased with you, and if you go on as you have begun, we
shall do very well, and I can teach you many useful things which people
don't generally know. For instance, look at my house! It is built
entirely of the seeds of all the pears I have eaten in my life. Now,
most people throw them away, and that only shows what a number of things
are wasted for want of a little patience and ingenuity.'
But Celandine did not find it possible to be interested in this and
similar pieces of advice. And the old woman soon sent her to bed, for
fear the night air might give her an appetite. She passed a sleepless
night; but in the morning the old dame remarked:
'I heard how well you slept. After such a night you cannot want any
breakfast; so while I do my household tasks you had better stay in bed,
since the more one sleeps the less one need eat; and as it is market-day
I will go to town and buy a pennyworth of bread for the week's eating.'
And so she chattered on, but poor Celandine did not hear or heed her;
she wandered out into the desolate country to think over her sad fate.
However, the good Fairy of the Beech-Woods did not want her to be
starved, so she sent her an unlooked-for relief in the shape of a
beautiful white cow, which followed her back to the tiny house. When the
old woman saw it her joy knew no bounds.
[Illustration]
'Now we can have milk and cheese and butter!' cried she. 'Ah! how good
milk is! What a pity it is so ruinously expensive!' So they made a
little shelter of branches for the beautiful creature, which was quite
gentle, and followed Celandine about like a dog when she took it out
every day to graze. One morning as she sat by a little brook, thinking
sadly, she suddenly saw a young stranger approaching, and got up
quickly, intending to avoid him. But Prince Featherhead, for it was he,
perceiving her at the same moment, rushed towards her with every
demonstration of joy: for he had recognised her, not as the Celandine
whom he had slighted, but as the lovely Princess whom he had sought
vainly for so long. The fact was that the Fairy of the Beech-Woods,
thinking she had been punished enough, had withdrawn the enchantment
from her, and transferred it to Featherhead, thereby in an instant
depriving him of the good looks which had done so much towards making
him the fickle creature he was. Throwing himself down at the Princess's
feet, he implored her to stay, and at least speak to him, and she at
last consented, but only because he seemed to wish it so very much.
After that he came every day in the hope of meeting her again, and often
expressed his delight at being with her. But one day, when he had been
begging Celandine to love him, she confided to him that it was quite
impossible, since her heart was already entirely occupied by another.
'I have,' said she, 'the unhappiness of loving a Prince who is fickle,
frivolous, proud, incapable of caring for anyone but himself, who has
been spoilt by flattery, and, to crown all, who does not love me.'
'But' cried Prince Featherhead, 'surely you cannot care for so
contemptible and worthless a creature as that.'
'Alas! but I do care,' answered the Princess, weeping.
'But where can his eyes be,' said the Prince, 'that your beauty makes no
impression upon him? As for me, since I have possessed your portrait I
have wandered over the whole world to find you, and, now we have met, I
see that you are ten times lovelier than I could have imagined, and I
would give all I own to win your love.'
'My portrait?' cried Celandine with sudden interest. 'Is it possible
that Prince Featherhead can have parted with it?'
'He would part with his life sooner, lovely Princess,' answered he; 'I
can assure you of that, for _I_ am Prince Featherhead.'
At the same moment the Fairy of the Beech-Woods took away the
enchantment, and the happy Princess recognised her lover, now truly
hers, for the trials they had both undergone had so changed and improved
them that they were capable of a real love for each other. You may
imagine how perfectly happy they were, and how much they had to hear and
to tell. But at length it was time to go back to the little house, and
as they went along Celandine remembered for the first time what a ragged
old dress she was wearing, and what an odd appearance she must present.
But the Prince declared that it became her vastly, and that he thought
it most picturesque. When they reached the house the old woman received
them very crossly.
'I declare,' said she, 'that it's perfectly true: wherever there is a
girl you may be sure that a young man will appear before long! But don't
imagine that I'm going to have you here--not a bit of it; be off with
you, my fine fellow!'
Prince Featherhead was inclined to be angry at this uncivil reception,
but he was really too happy to care much, so he only demanded, on
Celandine's behalf, that the old dame should give her back her own
attire, that she might go away suitably dressed.
This request roused her to fury, since she had counted upon the
Princess's fine robes to clothe her for the rest of her life, so that it
was some time before the Prince could make himself heard to explain that
he was willing to pay for them. The sight of a handful of gold pieces
somewhat mollified her, however, and after making them both promise
faithfully that on no consideration would they ask for the gold back
again, she took the Princess into the house and grudgingly doled out to
her just enough of her gay attire to make her presentable, while the
rest she pretended to have lost. After this they found that they were
very hungry, for one cannot live on love, any more than on air, and then
the old woman's lamentations were louder than before. 'What!' she cried,
'feed people who were as happy as all that! Why, it was simply ruinous!'
But as the Prince began to look angry, she, with many sighs and
mutterings, brought out a morsel of bread, a bowl of milk, and six
plums, with which the lovers were well content: for as long as they
could look at one another they really did not know what they were
eating. It seemed as if they would go on for ever with their
reminiscences, the Prince telling how he had wandered all over the world
from beauty to beauty, always to be disappointed when he found that no
one resembled the portrait; the Princess wondering how it was he could
have been so long with her and yet never have recognised her, and over
and over again pardoning him for his cold and haughty behaviour to her.
'For,' she said, 'you see, Featherhead, I love you, and love makes
everything right! But we cannot stay here,' she added; 'what are we to
do?'
The Prince thought they had better find their way to the Fairy of the
Beech-Woods and put themselves once more under her protection, and they
had hardly agreed upon this course when two little chariots wreathed
with jasmine and honeysuckle suddenly appeared, and, stepping into them,
they were whirled away to the Leafy Palace. Just before they lost sight
of the little house they heard loud cries and lamentations from the
miserly old dame, and, looking round, perceived that the beautiful cow
was vanishing in spite of her frantic efforts to hold it fast. And they
afterwards heard that she spent the rest of her life in trying to put
the handful of gold the Prince had thrown to her into her money-bag. For
the Fairy, as a punishment for her avarice, caused it to slip out again
as fast as she dropped it in.
The Fairy of the Beech-Woods ran to welcome the Prince and Princess with
open arms, only too delighted to find them so much improved that she
could, with a clear conscience, begin to spoil them again. Very soon the
Fairy Saradine also arrived, bringing the King and Queen with her.
Princess Celandine implored her pardon, which she graciously gave;
indeed the Princess was so charming she could refuse her nothing. She
also restored to her the Summer Islands, and promised her protection in
all things. The Fairy of the Beech-Woods then informed the King and
Queen that their subjects had chased King Bruin from the throne, and
were waiting to welcome them back again; but they at once abdicated in
favour of Prince Featherhead, declaring that nothing could induce them
to forsake their peaceful life, and the Fairies undertook to see the
Prince and Princess established in their beautiful kingdoms. Their
marriage took place the next day, and they lived happily ever
afterwards, for Celandine was never vain and Featherhead was never
fickle any more.
_Le Prince Muguet et la Princesse Zaza._
_THE THREE LITTLE PIGS_
There was once upon a time a pig who lived with her three children on a
large, comfortable, old-fashioned farmyard. The eldest of the little
pigs was called Browny, the second Whitey, and the youngest and best
looking Blacky. Now Browny was a very dirty little pig, and I am sorry
to say spent most of his time rolling and wallowing about in the mud. He
was never so happy as on a wet day, when the mud in the farmyard got
soft, and thick, and slab. Then he would steal away from his mother's
side, and finding the muddiest place in the yard, would roll about in it
and thoroughly enjoy himself. His mother often found fault with him for
this, and would shake her head sadly and say: 'Ah, Browny! some day you
will be sorry that you did not obey your old mother.' But no words of
advice or warning could cure Browny of his bad habits.
[Illustration]
Whitey was quite a clever little pig, but she was greedy. She was always
thinking of her food, and looking forward to her dinner; and when the
farm girl was seen carrying the pails across the yard, she would rise up
on her hind legs and dance and caper with excitement. As soon as the
food was poured into the trough she jostled Blacky and Browny out of the
way in her eagerness to get the best and biggest bits for herself. Her
mother often scolded her for her selfishness, and told her that some day
she would suffer for being so greedy and grabbing.
Blacky was a good, nice little pig, neither dirty nor greedy. He had
nice dainty ways (for a pig), and his skin was always as smooth and
shining as black satin. He was much cleverer than Browny and Whitey, and
his mother's heart used to swell with pride when she heard the farmer's
friends say to each other that some day the little black fellow would be
a prize pig.
Now the time came when the mother pig felt old and feeble and near her
end. One day she called the three little pigs round her and said:
'My children, I feel that I am growing old and weak, and that I shall
not live long. Before I die I should like to build a house for each of
you, as this dear old sty in which we have lived so happily will be
given to a new family of pigs, and you will have to turn out. Now,
Browny, what sort of a house would you like to have?'
'A house of mud,' replied Browny, looking longingly at a wet puddle in
the corner of the yard.
'And you, Whitey?' said the mother pig in rather a sad voice, for she
was disappointed that Browny had made so foolish a choice.
'A house of cabbage,' answered Whitey, with a mouth full, and scarcely
raising her snout out of the trough in which she was grubbing for some
potato-parings.
'Foolish, foolish child!' said the mother pig, looking quite distressed,
'And you, Blacky?' turning to her youngest son, 'what sort of a house
shall I order for you?'
'A house of brick, please mother, as it will be warm in winter, and cool
in summer, and safe all the year round.'
'That is a sensible little pig,' replied his mother, looking fondly at
him. 'I will see that the three houses are got ready at once. And now
one last piece of advice. You have heard me talk of our old enemy the
fox. When he hears that I am dead, he is sure to try and get hold of
you, to carry you off to his den. He is very sly and will no doubt
disguise himself, and pretend to be a friend, but you must promise me
not to let him enter your houses on any pretext whatever.'
And the little pigs readily promised, for they had always had a great
fear of the fox, of whom they had heard many terrible tales. A short
time afterwards the old pig died, and the little pigs went to live in
their own houses.
Browny was quite delighted with his soft mud walls and with the clay
floor, which soon looked like nothing but a big mud pie. But that was
what Browny enjoyed, and he was as happy as possible, rolling about all
day and making himself in such a mess. One day, as he was lying half
asleep in the mud, he heard a soft knock at his door, and a gentle voice
said:
'May I come in, Master Browny? I want to see your beautiful new house.'
'Who are you?' said Browny, starting up in great fright, for though the
voice sounded gentle, he felt sure it was a feigned voice, and he feared
it was the fox.
'I am a friend come to call on you,' answered the voice.
'No, no,' replied Browny, 'I don't believe you are a friend. You are the
wicked fox, against whom our mother warned us. I won't let you in.'
'Oho! is that the way you answer me?' said the fox, speaking very
roughly in his natural voice. 'We shall soon see who is master here,'
and with his paws he set to work and scraped a large hole in the soft
mud walls. A moment later he had jumped through it, and catching Browny
by the neck, flung him on his shoulders and trotted off with him to his
den.
The next day, as Whitey was munching a few leaves of cabbage out of the
corner of her house, the fox stole up to her door, determined to carry
her off to join her brother in his den. He began speaking to her in the
same feigned gentle voice in which he had spoken to Browny; but it
frightened her very much when he said:
'I am a friend come to visit you, and to have some of your good cabbage
for my dinner.'
'Please don't touch it,' cried Whitey in great distress. 'The cabbages
are the walls of my house, and if you eat them you will make a hole, and
the wind and rain will come in and give me a cold. Do go away; I am sure
you are not a friend, but our wicked enemy the fox.' And poor Whitey
began to whine and to whimper, and to wish that she had not been such a
greedy little pig, and had chosen a more solid material than cabbages
for her house. But it was too late now, and in another minute the fox
had eaten his way through the cabbage walls, and had caught the
trembling, shivering Whitey, and carried her off to his den.
The next day the fox started off for Blacky's house, because he had made
up his mind that he would get the three little pigs together in his den,
and then kill them, and invite all his friends to a feast. But when he
reached the brick house, he found that the door was bolted and barred,
so in his sly manner he began, 'Do let me in, dear Blacky. I have
brought you a present of some eggs that I picked up in a farmyard on my
way here.'
[Illustration]
'No, no, Mister Fox,' replied Blacky, 'I am not going to open my door to
you. I know your cunning ways. You have carried off poor Browny and
Whitey, but you are not going to get me.'
At this the fox was so angry that he dashed with all his force against
the wall, and tried to knock it down. But it was too strong and
well-built; and though the fox scraped and tore at the bricks with his
paws he only hurt himself, and at last he had to give it up, and limp
away with his fore-paws all bleeding and sore.
'Never mind!' he cried angrily as he went off, 'I'll catch you another
day, see if I don't, and won't I grind your bones to powder when I have
got you in my den!' and he snarled fiercely and showed his teeth.
Next day Blacky had to go into the neighbouring town to do some
marketing and to buy a big kettle. As he was walking home with it slung
over his shoulder, he heard a sound of steps stealthily creeping after
him. For a moment his heart stood still with fear, and then a happy
thought came to him. He had just reached the top of a hill, and could
see his own little house nestling at the foot of it among the trees. In
a moment he had snatched the lid off the kettle and had jumped in
himself. Coiling himself round he lay quite snug in the bottom of the
kettle, while with his fore-leg he managed to put the lid on, so that he
was entirely hidden. With a little kick from the inside he started the
kettle off, and down the hill it rolled full tilt; and when the fox came
up, all that he saw was a large black kettle spinning over the ground at
a great pace. Very much disappointed, he was just going to turn away,
when he saw the kettle stop close to the little brick house, and in a
moment later Blacky jumped out of it and escaped with the kettle into
the house, when he barred and bolted the door, and put the shutter up
over the window.
'Oho!' exclaimed the fox to himself, 'you think you will escape me that
way, do you? We shall soon see about that, my friend,' and very quietly
and stealthily he prowled round the house looking for some way to climb
on to the roof.
In the meantime Blacky had filled the kettle with water, and having put
it on the fire, sat down quietly waiting for it to boil. Just as the
kettle was beginning to sing, and steam to come out of the spout, he
heard a sound like a soft, muffled step, patter, patter, patter
overhead, and the next moment the fox's head and fore-paws were seen
coming down the chimney. But Blacky very wisely had not put the lid on
the kettle, and, with a yelp of pain, the fox fell into the boiling
water, and before he could escape, Blacky had popped the lid on, and the
fox was scalded to death.
As soon as he was sure that their wicked enemy was really dead, and
could do them no further harm, Blacky started off to rescue Browny and
Whitey. As he approached the den he heard piteous grunts and squeals
from his poor little brother and sister who lived in constant terror of
the fox killing and eating them. But when they saw Blacky appear at the
entrance to the den their joy knew no bounds. He quickly found a sharp
stone and cut the cords by which they were tied to a stake in the
ground, and then all three started off together for Blacky's house,
where they lived happily ever after; and Browny quite gave up rolling in
the mud, and Whitey ceased to be greedy, for they never forgot how
nearly these faults had brought them to an untimely end.
[Illustration]
_HEART OF ICE_
Once upon a time there lived a King and Queen who were foolish beyond
all telling, but nevertheless they were vastly fond of one another. It
is true that certain spiteful people were heard to say that this was
only one proof the more of their exceeding foolishness, but of course
you will understand that these were not their own courtiers, since,
after all, they _were_ a King and Queen, and up to this time all things
had prospered with them. For in those days the one thing to be thought
of in governing a kingdom was to keep well with all the Fairies and
Enchanters, and on no account to stint them of the cakes, the ells of
ribbon, and similar trifles which were their due, and, above all things,
when there was a christening, to remember to invite every single one,
good, bad, or indifferent, to the ceremony. Now, the foolish Queen had
one little son who was just going to be christened, and for several
months she had been hard at work preparing an enormous list of the names
of those who were to be invited, but she quite forgot that it would take
nearly as long to read it over as it had taken to write it out. So, when
the moment of the christening arrived the King--to whom the task had
been entrusted--had barely reached the end of the second page and his
tongue was tripping with fatigue and haste as he repeated the usual
formula: 'I conjure and pray you, Fairy so-and-so'--or 'Enchanter
such-a-one'--'to honour me with a visit, and graciously bestow your
gifts upon my son.'
To make matters worse, word was brought to him that the Fairies asked on
the first page had already arrived and were waiting impatiently in the
Great Hall, and grumbling that nobody was there to receive them.
Thereupon he gave up the list in despair and hurried to greet those whom
he had succeeded in asking, imploring their goodwill so humbly that most
of them were touched, and promised that they would do his son no harm.
But there happened to be among them a Fairy from a far country about
whom they knew nothing, though her name had been written on the first
page of the list. This Fairy was annoyed that after having taken the
trouble to come so quickly, there had been no one to receive her, or
help her to alight from the great ostrich on which she had travelled
from her distant home, and now she began to mutter to herself in the
most alarming way.
'Oh! prate away,' said she, 'your son will never be anything to boast
of. Say what you will, he will be nothing but a Mannikin----'
No doubt she would have gone on longer in this strain, and given the
unhappy little Prince half-a-dozen undesirable gifts, if it had not been
for the good Fairy Genesta, who held the kingdom under her special
protection, and who luckily hurried in just in time to prevent further
mischief. When she had by compliments and entreaties pacified the
unknown Fairy, and persuaded her to say no more, she gave the King a
hint that now was the time to distribute the presents, after which
ceremony they all took their departure, excepting the Fairy Genesta, who
then went to see the Queen, and said to her:
'A nice mess you seem to have made of this business, madam. Why did you
not condescend to consult me? But foolish people like you always think
they can do without help or advice, and I observe that, in spite of all
my goodness to you, you had not even the civility to invite me!'
'Ah! dear madam,' cried the King, throwing himself at her feet; 'did I
ever have time to get as far as your name? See where I put in this mark
when I abandoned the hopeless undertaking which I had but just begun!'
'There! there!' said the Fairy, 'I am not offended. I don't allow myself
to be put out by trifles like that with people I really am fond of. But
now about your son: I have saved him from a great many disagreeable
things, but you must let me take him away and take care of him, and you
will not see him again until he is all covered with fur!'
At these mysterious words the King and Queen burst into tears, for they
lived in such a hot climate themselves that how or why the Prince should
come to be covered with fur they could not imagine, and thought it must
portend some great misfortune to him.
However, Genesta told them not to disquiet themselves.
[Illustration]
'If I left him to you to bring up,' said she, 'you would be certain to
make him as foolish as yourselves. I do not even intend to let him know
that he is your son. As for you, you had better give your minds to
governing your kingdom properly.' So saying, she opened the window, and
catching up the little Prince, cradle and all, she glided away in the
air as if she were skating upon ice, leaving the King and Queen in the
greatest affliction. They consulted everyone who came near them as to
what the Fairy could possibly have meant by saying that when they saw
their son again he would be covered with fur. But nobody could offer any
solution of the mystery, only they all seemed to agree that it must be
something frightful, and the King and Queen made themselves more
miserable than ever, and wandered about their palace in a way to make
anyone pity them. Meantime the Fairy had carried off the little Prince
to her own castle, and placed him under the care of a young peasant
woman, whom she bewitched so as to make her think that this new baby was
one of her own children. So the Prince grew up healthy and strong,
leading the simple life of a young peasant, for the Fairy thought that
he could have no better training; only as he grew older she kept him
more and more with herself, that his mind might be cultivated and
exercised as well as his body. But her care did not cease there: she
resolved that he should be tried by hardships and disappointments and
the knowledge of his fellowmen; for indeed she knew the Prince would
need every advantage that she could give him, since, though he increased
in years, he did not increase in height, but remained the tiniest of
Princes. However, in spite of this he was exceedingly active and well
formed, and altogether so handsome and agreeable that the smallness of
his stature was of no real consequence. The Prince was perfectly aware
that he was called by the ridiculous name of 'Mannikin,' but he consoled
himself by vowing that, happen what might, he would make it illustrious.
In order to carry out her plans for his welfare the Fairy now began to
send Prince Mannikin the most wonderful dreams of adventure by sea and
land, and of these adventures he himself was always the hero. Sometimes
he rescued a lovely Princess from some terrible danger, again he earned
a kingdom by some brave deed, until at last he longed to go away and
seek his fortune in a far country where his humble birth would not
prevent his gaining honour and riches by his courage, and it was with a
heart full of ambitious projects that he rode one day into a great city
not far from the Fairy's castle. As he had set out intending to hunt in
the surrounding forest he was quite simply dressed, and carried only a
bow and arrows and a light spear; but even thus arrayed he looked
graceful and distinguished. As he entered the city he saw that the
inhabitants were all racing with one accord towards the market-place,
and he also turned his horse in the same direction, curious to know what
was going forward. When he reached the spot he found that certain
foreigners of strange and outlandish appearance were about to make a
proclamation to the assembled citizens, and he hastily pushed his way
into the crowd until he was near enough to hear the words of the
venerable old man who was their spokesman:
'Let the whole world know that he who can reach the summit of the Ice
Mountain shall receive as his reward, not only the incomparable Sabella,
fairest of the fair, but also all the realms of which she is Queen!'
'Here,' continued the old man after he had made this proclamation--'here
is the list of all those Princes who, struck by the beauty of the
Princess, have perished in the attempt to win her; and here is the list
of those who have just entered upon the high emprise.'
Prince Mannikin was seized with a violent desire to inscribe his name
among the others, but the remembrance of his dependent position and his
lack of wealth held him back. But while he hesitated the old man, with
many respectful ceremonies, unveiled a portrait of the lovely Sabella,
which was carried by some of the attendants, and after one glance at it
the Prince delayed no longer, but, rushing forward, demanded permission
to add his name to the list. When they saw his tiny stature and simple
attire the strangers looked at each other doubtfully, not knowing
whether to accept or refuse him. But the Prince said haughtily:
'Give me the paper that I may sign it,' and they obeyed. What between
admiration for the Princess and annoyance at the hesitation shown by her
ambassadors the Prince was too much agitated to choose any other name
than the one by which he was always known. But when, after all the grand
titles of the other Princes, he simply wrote 'Mannikin,' the ambassadors
broke into shouts of laughter.
'Miserable wretches!' cried the Prince; 'but for the presence of that
lovely portrait I would cut off your heads.'
But he suddenly remembered that, after all, it _was_ a funny name, and
that he had not yet had time to make it famous; so he was calm, and
enquired the way to the Princess Sabella's country.
Though his heart did not fail him in the least, still he felt there were
many difficulties before him, and he resolved to set out at once,
without even taking leave of the Fairy, for fear she might try to stop
him. Everybody in the town who knew him made great fun of the idea of
Mannikin's undertaking such an expedition, and it even came to the ears
of the foolish King and Queen, who laughed over it more than any of the
others, without having an idea that the presumptuous Mannikin was their
only son!
[Illustration]
Meantime the Prince was travelling on, though the directions he had
received for his journey were none of the clearest.
'Four hundred leagues north of Mount Caucasus you will receive your
orders and instructions for the conquest of the Ice Mountain.'
Fine marching orders, those, for a man starting from a country near
where Japan is nowadays!
However, he fared eastward, avoiding all towns, lest the people should
laugh at his name, for, you see, he was not a very experienced
traveller, and had not yet learned to enjoy a joke even if it were
against himself. At night he slept in the woods, and at first he lived
upon wild fruits; but the Fairy, who was keeping a benevolent eye upon
him, thought that it would never do to let him be half-starved in that
way, so she took to feeding him with all sorts of good things while he
was asleep, and the Prince wondered very much that when he was awake he
never felt hungry! True to her plan the Fairy sent him various
adventures to prove his courage, and he came successfully through them
all, only in his last fight with a furious monster rather like a tiger
he had the ill luck to lose his horse. However, nothing daunted, he
struggled on on foot, and at last reached a seaport. Here he found a
boat sailing for the coast which he desired to reach, and, having just
enough money to pay his passage, he went on board and they started. But
after some days a fearful storm came on, which completely wrecked the
little ship, and the Prince only saved his life by swimming a long, long
way to the only land that was in sight, and which proved to be a desert
island. Here he lived by fishing and hunting, always hoping that the
good Fairy would presently rescue him. One day, as he was looking sadly
out to sea, he became aware of a curious-looking boat which was drifting
slowly towards the shore, and which presently ran into a little creek
and there stuck fast in the sand. Prince Mannikin rushed down eagerly to
examine it, and saw with amazement that the masts and spars were all
branched, and covered thickly with leaves until it looked like a little
wood. Thinking from the stillness that there could be no one on board,
the Prince pushed aside the branches and sprang over the side, and found
himself surrounded by the crew, who lay motionless as dead men and in a
most deplorable condition. They, too, had become almost like trees, and
were growing to the deck, or to the masts, or to the sides of the
vessel, or to whatever they had happened to be touching when the
enchantment fell upon them. Mannikin was struck with pity for their
miserable plight, and set to work with might and main to release them.
With the sharp point of one of his arrows he gently detached their hands
and feet from the wood which held them fast, and carried them on shore,
one after another, where he rubbed their rigid limbs, and bathed them
with infusions of various herbs with such success, that, after a few
days, they recovered perfectly and were as fit to manage a boat as ever.
You may be sure that the good Fairy Genesta had something to do with
this marvellous cure, and she also put it into the Prince's head to rub
the boat itself with the same magic herbs, which cleared it entirely,
and not before it was time, for, at the rate at which it was growing
before, it would very soon have become a forest! The gratitude of the
sailors was extreme, and they willingly promised to land the Prince upon
any coast he pleased; but, when he questioned them about the
extraordinary thing that had happened to them and to their ship, they
could in no way explain it, except that they said that, as they were
passing along a thickly wooded coast, a sudden gust of wind had reached
them from the land and enveloped them in a dense cloud of dust, after
which everything in the boat that was not metal had sprouted and
blossomed, as the Prince had seen, and that they themselves had grown
gradually numb and heavy, and had finally lost all consciousness. Prince
Mannikin was deeply interested in this curious story, and collected a
quantity of the dust from the bottom of the boat, which he carefully
preserved, thinking that its strange property might one day stand him in
good stead.
[Illustration]
Then they joyfully left the desert island, and after a long and
prosperous voyage over calm seas they at length came in sight of land,
and resolved to go on shore, not only to take in a fresh stock of water
and provisions, but also to find out, if possible, where they were and
in what direction to proceed.
As they neared the coast they wondered if this could be another
uninhabited land, for no human beings could be distinguished, and yet
that something was stirring became evident, for in the dust-clouds that
moved near the ground small dark forms were dimly visible. These
appeared to be assembling at the exact spot where they were preparing to
run ashore, and what was their surprise to find they were nothing more
nor less than large and beautiful spaniels, some mounted as sentries,
others grouped in companies and regiments, all eagerly watching their
disembarkation. When they found that Prince Mannikin, instead of saying,
'Shoot them,' as they had feared, said 'Hi, good dog!' in a thoroughly
friendly and ingratiating way, they crowded round him with a great
wagging of tails and giving of paws, and very soon made him understand
that they wanted him to leave his men with the boat and follow them. The
Prince was so curious to know more about them that he agreed willingly;
so, after arranging with the sailors to wait for him fifteen days, and
then, if he had not come back, to go on their way without him, he set
out with his new friends. Their way lay inland, and Mannikin noticed
with great surprise that the fields were well cultivated and that the
carts and ploughs were drawn by horses or oxen, just as they might have
been in any other country, and when they passed any village the cottages
were trim and pretty, and an air of prosperity was everywhere. At one of
the villages a dainty little repast was set before the Prince, and while
he was eating, a chariot was brought, drawn by two splendid horses,
which were driven with great skill by a large spaniel. In this carriage
he continued his journey very comfortably, passing many similar
equipages upon the road, and being always most courteously saluted by
the spaniels who occupied them. At last they drove rapidly into a large
town, which Prince Mannikin had no doubt was the capital of the kingdom.
News of his approach had evidently been received, for all the
inhabitants were at their doors and windows, and all the little spaniels
had climbed upon the wall and gates to see him arrive. The Prince was
delighted with the hearty welcome they gave him, and looked round him
with the deepest interest. After passing through a few wide streets,
well paved, and adorned with avenues of fine trees, they drove into the
courtyard of a grand palace, which was full of spaniels who were
evidently soldiers. 'The King's body-guard,' thought the Prince to
himself as he returned their salutations, and then the carriage stopped,
and he was shown into the presence of the King, who lay upon a rich
Persian carpet surrounded by several little spaniels, who were occupied
in chasing away the flies lest they should disturb his Majesty. He was
the most beautiful of all spaniels, with a look of sadness in his large
eyes, which, however, quite disappeared as he sprang up to welcome
Prince Mannikin with every demonstration of delight; after which he made
a sign to his courtiers, who came one by one to pay their respects to
the visitor. The Prince thought that he would find himself puzzled as to
how he should carry on a conversation, but as soon as he and the King
were once more left alone, a Secretary of State was sent for, who wrote
from his Majesty's dictation a most polite speech, in which he regretted
much that they were unable to converse, except in writing, the language
of dogs being difficult to understand. As for the writing, it had
remained the same as the Prince's own.
Mannikin thereupon wrote a suitable reply, and then begged the King to
satisfy his curiosity about all the strange things he had seen and heard
since his landing. This appeared to awaken sad recollections in the
King's mind, but he informed the Prince that he was called King Bayard,
and that a Fairy, whose kingdom was next his own, had fallen violently
in love with him, and had done all she could to persuade him to marry
her; but that he could not do so, as he himself was the devoted lover of
the Queen of the Spice Islands. Finally, the Fairy, furious at the
indifference with which her love was treated, had reduced him to the
state in which the Prince found him, leaving him unchanged in mind, but
deprived of the power of speech; and, not content with wreaking her
vengeance upon the King alone, she had condemned all his subjects to a
similar fate, saying:
'Bark, and run upon four feet, until the time comes when virtue shall be
rewarded by love and fortune.'
Which, as the poor King remarked, was very much the same thing as if she
had said, 'Remain a spaniel for ever and ever.'
Prince Mannikin was quite of the same opinion; nevertheless he said
what we should all have said in the same circumstances:
'Your Majesty must have patience.'
He was indeed deeply sorry for poor King Bayard, and said all the
consoling things he could think of, promising to aid him with all his
might if there was anything to be done. In short they became firm
friends, and the King proudly displayed to Mannikin the portrait of the
Queen of the Spice Islands, and he quite agreed that it was worth while
to go through anything for the sake of a creature so lovely. Prince
Mannikin in his turn told his own history, and the great undertaking
upon which he had set out, and King Bayard was able to give him some
valuable instructions as to which would be the best way for him to
proceed, and then they went together to the place where the boat had
been left. The sailors were delighted to see the Prince again, though
they had known that he was safe, and when they had taken on board all
the supplies which the King had sent for them, they started once more.
The King and Prince parted with much regret, and the former insisted
that Mannikin should take with him one of his own pages, named Mousta,
who was charged to attend to him everywhere, and serve him faithfully,
which he promised to do.
The wind being favourable they were soon out of hearing of the general
howl of regret from the whole army, which had been given by order of the
King, as a great compliment, and it was not long before the land was
entirely lost to view. They met with no further adventures worth
speaking of, and presently found themselves within two leagues of the
harbour for which they were making. The Prince, however, thought it
would suit him better to land where he was, so as to avoid the town,
since he had no money left and was very doubtful as to what he should do
next. So the sailors set him and Mousta on shore, and then went back
sorrowfully to their ship, while the Prince and his attendant walked off
in what looked to them the most promising direction. They soon reached a
lovely green meadow on the border of a wood, which seemed to them so
pleasant after their long voyage that they sat down to rest in the shade
and amused themselves by watching the gambols and antics of a pretty
tiny monkey in the trees close by. The Prince presently became so
fascinated by it that he sprang up and tried to catch it, but it eluded
his grasp and kept just out of arm's reach, until it had made him
promise to follow wherever it led him, and then it sprang upon his
shoulder and whispered in his ear:
'We have no money, my poor Mannikin, and we are altogether badly off,
and at a loss to know what to do next.'
'Yes, indeed,' answered the Prince ruefully, 'and I have nothing to give
you, no sugar or biscuits, or anything that you like, my pretty one.'
'Since you are so thoughtful for me, and so patient about your own
affairs,' said the little monkey, 'I will show you the way to the Golden
Rock, only you must leave Mousta to wait for you here.'
Prince Mannikin agreed willingly, and then the little monkey sprang from
his shoulder to the nearest tree, and began to run through the wood from
branch to branch, crying, 'Follow me.'
This the Prince did not find quite so easy, but the little monkey waited
for him and showed him the easiest places, until presently the wood grew
thinner and they came out into a little clear grassy space at the foot
of a mountain, in the midst of which stood a single rock, about ten feet
high. When they were quite close to it the little monkey said:
'This stone looks pretty hard, but give it a blow with your spear and
let us see what will happen.'
So the Prince took his spear and gave the rock a vigorous dig, which
split off several pieces, and showed that, though the surface was thinly
coated with stone, inside it was one solid mass of pure gold.
Thereupon the little monkey said, laughing at his astonishment:
'I make you a present of what you have broken off; take as much of it as
you think proper.'
The Prince thanked her gratefully, and picked up one of the smallest of
the lumps of gold; as he did so the little monkey was suddenly
transformed into a tall and gracious lady, who said to him: