IX

The King had given orders that they should seek high and low for the

plum-seller, but in spite of all their pains, he was nowhere to be

found.

When the little soldier discovered that their patience was worn out, he

pressed the juice of the green Queen Claude plums into a small phial,

bought a doctor's robe, put on a wig and spectacles, and presented

himself before the King of the Low Countries. He gave himself out as a

famous physician who had come from distant lands, and he promised that

he would cure the Princess if only he might be left alone with her.

'Another madman determined to be hanged,' said the King. 'Very well, do

as he asks; one should refuse nothing to a man with a rope round his

neck.'

As soon as the little soldier was in the presence of the Princess he

poured some drops of the liquid into a glass. The Princess had scarcely

tasted it, when the tip of the horns disappeared.

'They would have disappeared completely,' said the pretended doctor, 'if

there did not exist something to counteract the effect. It is only

possible to cure people whose souls are as clean as the palm of my hand.

Are you sure you have not committed some little sin? Examine yourself

well.'

Ludovine had no need to think over it long, but she was torn in pieces

between the shame of a humiliating confession, and the desire to be

unhorned. At last she made answer with downcast eyes,

'I have stolen a leather purse from a little soldier.'

'Give it to me. The remedy will not act till I hold the purse in my

hands.'

It cost Ludovine a great pang to give up the purse, but she remembered

that riches would not benefit her if she was still to keep the horns.

With a sigh, she handed the purse to the doctor, who poured more of the

liquid into the glass, and when the Princess had drunk it, she found

that the horns had diminished by one half.

'You must really have another little sin on your conscience. Did you

steal nothing from this soldier but his purse?'

'I also stole from him his cloak.'

'Give it me.'

'Here it is.'

This time Ludovine thought to herself that when once the horns had

departed, she would call her attendants and take the things from the

doctor by force.

She was greatly pleased with this idea, when suddenly the pretended

physician wrapped himself in the cloak, flung away the wig and

spectacles, and showed to the traitress the face of the Little Soldier.

She stood before him dumb with fright.

'I might,' said John, 'have left you horned to the end of your days, but

I am a good fellow and I once loved you, and besides--you are too like

the devil to have any need of his horns.'

X

John had wished himself in the house of the Seagull. Now the Seagull was

seated at the window, mending her net, and from time to time her eyes

wandered to the sea as if she was expecting someone. At the noise made

by the little soldier, she looked up and blushed.

'So it is you!' she said. 'How did you get here?' And then she added in

a low voice, 'And have you married your Princess?'

Then John told her all his adventures, and when he had finished, he

restored to her the purse and the mantle.

'What can I do with them?' said she. 'You have proved to me that

happiness does not lie in the possession of treasures.'

'It lies in work and in the love of an honest women,' replied the little

soldier, who noticed for the first time what pretty eyes she had. 'Dear

Seagull, will you have me for a husband?' and he held out his hand.

'Yes, I will,' answered the fisher maiden, blushing very red, 'but only

on condition that we seal up the purse and the mantle in the copper

vessel and throw them into the sea.'

And this they did.

Charles Deulin.

_THE MAGIC SWAN_

There were once upon a time three brothers, of whom the eldest was

called Jacob, the second Frederick, and the youngest Peter. This

youngest brother was made a regular butt of by the other two, and they

treated him shamefully. If anything went wrong with their affairs, Peter

had to bear the blame and put things right for them, and he had to

endure all this ill-treatment because he was weak and delicate and

couldn't defend himself against his stronger brothers. The poor creature

had a most trying life of it in every way, and day and night he pondered

how he could make it better. One day, when he was in the wood gathering

sticks and crying bitterly, a little old woman came up to him and asked

him what was the matter; and he told her all his troubles.

'Come, my good youth,' said the old dame, when he had finished his tale

of woe, 'isn't the world wide enough? Why don't you set out and try your

fortune somewhere else?'

Peter took her words to heart, and left his father's house early one

morning to try his fortune in the wide world, as the old woman had

advised him. But he felt very bitterly parting from the home where he

had been born, and where he had at least passed a short but happy

childhood, and sitting down on a hill he gazed once more fondly on his

native place.

Suddenly the little old woman stood before him, and, tapping him on the

shoulder, said, 'So far good, my boy; but what do you mean to do now?'

Peter was at a loss what to answer, for so far he had always thought

that fortune would drop into his mouth like a ripe cherry. The old

woman, who guessed his thoughts, laughed kindly and said, 'I'll tell you

what you must do, for I've taken a fancy to you, and I'm sure you won't

forget me when you've made your fortune.'

Peter promised faithfully he wouldn't, and the old woman continued:

'This evening at sunset go to yonder pear-tree which you see growing at

the cross roads. Underneath it you will find a man lying asleep, and a

beautiful large swan will be fastened to the tree close to him. You must

be careful not to waken the man, but you must unfasten the swan and take

it away with you. You will find that everyone will fall in love with its

beautiful plumage, and you must allow anyone who likes to pull out a

feather. But as soon as the swan feels as much as a finger on it, it

will scream out, and then you must say, "Swan, hold fast." Then the hand

of the person who has touched the bird will be held as in a vice, and

nothing will set it free, unless you touch it with this little stick

which I will make you a present of. When you have captured a whole lot

of people in this way, lead your train straight on with you; you will

come to a big town where a Princess lives who has never been known to

laugh. If you can only make her laugh your fortune is made; then I beg

you won't forget your old friend.'

Peter promised again that he wouldn't, and at sunset he went to the tree

the old woman had mentioned. The man lay there fast asleep, and a large

beautiful swan was fastened to the tree beside him by a red cord. Peter

loosed the bird, and led it away with him without disturbing the bird's

master.

He walked on with the swan for some time, and came at last to a

building-yard where some men were busily at work. They were all lost in

admiration of the bird's beautiful plumage, and one forward youth, who

was covered with clay from head to foot, called out, 'Oh, if I'd only

one of those feathers how happy I should be!'

'Pull one out then,' said Peter kindly, and the youth seized one from

the bird's tail; instantly the swan screamed, and Peter called out,

'Swan, hold fast,' and do what he could the poor youth couldn't get his

hand away. The more he howled the more the others laughed, till a girl

who had been washing clothes in the neighbouring stream hurried up to

see what was the matter. When she saw the poor boy fastened to the swan

she felt so sorry for him that she stretched out her hand to free him.

The bird screamed.

'Swan, hold fast,' called out Peter, and the girl was caught also.

When Peter had gone on for a bit with his captives, they met a chimney

sweep, who laughed loudly over the extraordinary troop, and asked the

girl what she was doing.

'Oh, dearest John,' replied the girl, 'give me your hand and set me

free from this cursed young man.'

'Most certainly I will, if that's all you want,' replied the sweep, and

gave the girl his hand. The bird screamed.

'Swan, hold fast,' said Peter, and the black man was added to their

number.

They soon came to a village where a fair was being held. A travelling

circus was giving a performance, and the clown was just doing his

tricks. He opened his eyes wide with amazement when he saw the

remarkable trio fastened on to the swan's tail.

'Have you gone raving mad, Blackie?' he asked as well as he could for

laughing.

'It's no laughing matter,' the sweep replied. 'This wench has got so

tight hold of me that I feel as if I were glued to her. Do set me free,

like a good clown, and I'll do you a good turn some day.'

Without a moment's hesitation the clown grasped the black outstretched

hand. The bird screamed.

'Swan, hold fast,' called out Peter, and the clown became the fourth of

the party.

Now in the front row of the spectators sat the respected and popular

Mayor of the village, who was much put out by what he considered nothing

but a foolish trick. So much annoyed was he that he seized the clown by

the hand and tried to tear him away, in order to hand him over to the

police.

Then the bird screamed, and Peter called out, 'Swan, hold fast,' and the

dignified Mayor shared the fate of his predecessors.

The Mayoress, a long thin stick of a woman, enraged at the insult done

to her husband, seized his free arm and tore at it with all her might,

with the only result that she too was forced to swell the procession.

After this no one else had any wish to join them.

Soon Peter saw the towers of the capital in front of him. Just before

entering it, a glittering carriage came out to meet him, in which was

seated a young lady as beautiful as the day, but with a very solemn and

serious expression. But no sooner had she perceived the motley crowd

fastened to the swan's tail than she burst into a loud fit of laughter,

in which she was joined by all her servants and ladies in waiting.

'The Princess has laughed at last,' they all cried with joy.

She stepped out of her carriage to look more closely at the wonderful

sight, and laughed again over the capers the poor captives cut. She

ordered her carriage to be turned round and drove slowly back into the

town, never taking her eyes off Peter and his procession.

When the King heard the news that his daughter had actually laughed, he

was more than delighted, and had Peter and his marvellous train brought

before him. He laughed himself when he saw them till the tears rolled

down his cheeks.

[Illustration]

'My good friend,' he said to Peter, 'do you know what I promised the

person who succeeded in making the Princess laugh?'

'No, I don't,' said Peter.

'Then I'll tell you,' answered the King; 'a thousand gold crowns or a

piece of land. Which will you choose?'

Peter decided in favour of the land. Then he touched the youth, the

girl, the sweep, the clown, the Mayor, and the Mayoress with his little

stick, and they were all free again, and ran away home as if a fire were

burning behind them; and their flight, as you may imagine, gave rise to

renewed merriment.

Then the Princess felt moved to stroke the swan, at the same time

admiring its plumage. The bird screamed.

'Swan, hold fast,' called out Peter, and so he won the Princess for his

bride. But the swan flew up into the air, and vanished in the blue

horizon. Peter now received a duchy as a present, and became a very

great man indeed; but he did not forget the little old woman who had

been the cause of all his good fortune, and appointed her as head

housekeeper to him and his royal bride in their magnificent castle.

Kletke.

_THE DIRTY SHEPHERDESS_

Once upon a time there lived a King who had two daughters, and he loved

them with all his heart. When they grew up, he was suddenly seized with

a wish to know if they, on their part, truly loved him, and he made up

his mind that he would give his kingdom to whichever best proved her

devotion.

So he called the elder Princess and said to her, 'How much do you love

me?'

'As the apple of my eye!' answered she.

'Ah!' exclaimed the King, kissing her tenderly as he spoke, 'you are

indeed a good daughter.'

Then he sent for the younger, and asked her how much she loved him.

'I look upon you, my father,' she answered, 'as I look upon salt in my

food.'

But the King did not like her words, and ordered her to quit the Court,

and never again to appear before him. The poor Princess went sadly up to

her room and began to cry, but when she was reminded of her father's

commands, she dried her eyes, and made a bundle of her jewels and her

best dresses and hurriedly left the castle where she was born.

She walked straight along the road in front of her, without knowing very

well where she was going or what was to become of her, for she had never

been shown how to work, and all she had learnt consisted of a few

household rules, and receipts of dishes which her mother had taught her

long ago. And as she was afraid that no housewife would want to engage a

girl with such a pretty face, she determined to make herself as ugly as

she could.

She therefore took off the dress that she was wearing and put on some

horrible old rags belonging to a beggar, all torn and covered with mud.

After that she smeared mud all over her hands and face, and shook her

hair into a great tangle. Having thus changed her appearance, she went

about offering herself as a goose-girl or shepherdess. But the farmers'

wives would have nothing to say to such a dirty maiden, and sent her

away with a morsel of bread for charity's sake.

After walking for a great many days without being able to find any work,

she came to a large farm where they were in want of a shepherdess, and

engaged her gladly.

One day when she was keeping her sheep in a lonely tract of land, she

suddenly felt a wish to dress herself in her robes of splendour. She

washed herself carefully in the stream, and as she always carried her

bundle with her, it was easy to shake off her rags, and transform

herself in a few moments into a great lady.

The King's son, who had lost his way out hunting, perceived this lovely

damsel a long way off, and wished to look at her closer. But as soon as

the girl saw what he was at, she fled into the wood as swiftly as a

bird. The Prince ran after her, but as he was running he caught his foot

in the root of a tree and fell, and when he got up again, she was

nowhere to be seen.

When she was quite safe, she put on her rags again, and smeared over her

face and hands. However the young Prince, who was both hot and thirsty,

found his way to the farm, to ask for a drink of cider, and he inquired

the name of the beautiful lady that kept the sheep. At this everyone

began to laugh, for they said that the shepherdess was one of the

ugliest and dirtiest creatures under the sun.

The Prince thought some witchcraft must be at work, and he hastened away

before the return of the shepherdess, who became that evening the butt

of everybody's jests.

But the King's son thought often of the lovely maiden whom he had only

seen for a moment, though she seemed to him much more fascinating than

any lady of the Court. At last he dreamed of nothing else, and grew

thinner day by day till his parents inquired what was the matter,

promising to do all they could to make him as happy as he once was. He

dared not tell them the truth, lest they should laugh at him, so he only

said that he should like some bread baked by the kitchen girl in the

distant farm.

Although the wish appeared rather odd, they hastened to fulfil it, and

the farmer was told the request of the King's son. The maiden showed no

surprise at receiving such an order, but merely asked for some flour,

salt, and water, and also that she might be left alone in a little room

adjoining the oven, where the kneading-trough stood. Before beginning

her work she washed herself carefully, and even put on her rings; but,

while she was baking, one of her rings slid into the dough. When she

had finished she dirtied herself again, and let lumps of the dough

stick to her fingers, so that she became as ugly as before.

The loaf, which was a very little one, was brought to the King's son,

who ate it with pleasure. But in cutting it he found the ring of the

Princess, and declared to his parents that he would marry the girl whom

that ring fitted.

So the King made a proclamation through his whole kingdom, and ladies

came from afar to lay claim to the honour. But the ring was so tiny that

even those who had the smallest hands could only get it on their little

fingers. In a short time all the maidens of the kingdom, including the

peasant girls, had tried on the ring, and the King was just about to

announce that their efforts had been in vain, when the Prince observed

that he had not yet seen the shepherdess.

They sent to fetch her, and she arrived covered with rags, but with her

hands cleaner than usual, so that she could easily slip on the ring. The

King's son declared that he would fulfil his promise, and when his

parents mildly remarked that the girl was only a keeper of sheep, and a

very ugly one too, the maiden boldly said that she was born a princess,

and that, if they would only give her some water and leave her alone in

a room for a few minutes, she would show that she could look as well as

anyone in fine clothes.

They did what she asked, and when she entered in a magnificent dress,

she looked so beautiful that all saw she must be a princess in disguise.

The King's son recognised the charming damsel of whom he had once caught

a glimpse, and, flinging himself at her feet, asked if she would marry

him. The Princess then told her story, and said that it would be

necessary to send an ambassador to her father to ask his consent and to

invite him to the wedding.

The Princess's father, who had never ceased to repent his harshness

towards his daughter, had sought her through the land, but as no one

could tell him anything of her, he supposed her dead. Therefore it was

with great joy he heard that she was living and that a king's son asked

her in marriage, and he quitted his kingdom with his elder daughter so

as to be present at the ceremony.

By the orders of the bride, they only served her father at the wedding

breakfast bread without salt, and meat without seasoning. Seeing him

make faces, and eat very little, his daughter, who sat beside him,

inquired if his dinner was not to his taste.

[Illustration]

'No,' he replied, 'the dishes are carefully cooked and sent up, but they

are all so dreadfully tasteless.'

'Did not I tell you, my father, that salt was the best thing in life?

And yet, when I compared you to salt, to show how much I loved you, you

thought slightingly of me and you chased me from your presence.'

The King embraced his daughter, and allowed that he had been wrong to

misinterpret her words. Then, for the rest of the wedding feast they

gave him bread made with salt, and dishes with seasoning, and he said

they were the very best he had ever eaten.

Sebillot.

_THE ENCHANTED SNAKE_

There was once upon a time a poor woman who would have given all she

possessed for a child, but she hadn't one.

Now it happened one day that her husband went to the wood to collect

brushwood, and when he had brought it home, he discovered a pretty

little snake among the twigs.

When Sabatella, for that was the name of the peasant's wife, saw the

little beast, she sighed deeply and said, 'Even the snakes have their

brood; I alone am unfortunate and have no children.' No sooner had she

said these words than, to her intense surprise, the little snake looked

up into her face and spoke: 'Since you have no children, be a mother to

me instead, and I promise you will never repent it, for I will love you

as if I were your own son.'

At first Sabatella was frightened to death at hearing a snake speak, but

plucking up her courage, she replied, 'If it weren't for any other

reason than your kindly thought, I would agree to what you say, and I

will love you and look after you like a mother.'

So she gave the snake a little hole in the house for its bed, fed it

with all the nicest food she could think of, and seemed as if she never

could show it enough kindness. Day by day it grew bigger and fatter, and

at last one morning it said to Cola-Mattheo, the peasant, whom it always

regarded as its father, 'Dear papa, I am now of a suitable age and wish

to marry.'

'I'm quite agreeable,' answered Mattheo, 'and I'll do my best to find

another snake like yourself and arrange a match between you.'

'Why, if you do that,' replied the snake, 'we shall be no better than

the vipers and reptiles, and that's not what I want at all. No; I'd much

prefer to marry the King's daughter; therefore I pray you go without

further delay, and demand an audience of the King, and tell him a snake

wishes to marry his daughter.'

Cola-Mattheo, who was rather a simpleton, went as he was desired to the

King, and having obtained an audience, he said, 'Your Majesty, I have

often heard that people lose nothing by asking, so I have come to

inform you that a snake wants to marry your daughter, and I'd be glad to

know if you are willing to mate a dove with a serpent?'

The King, who saw at once that the man was a fool, said, in order to get

quit of him, 'Go home and tell your friend the snake that if he can turn

this palace into ivory, inlaid with gold and silver, before to-morrow at

noon, I will let him marry my daughter.' And with a hearty laugh he

dismissed the peasant.

When Cola-Mattheo brought this answer back to the snake, the little

creature didn't seem the least put out, but said, 'To-morrow morning,

before sunrise, you must go to the wood and gather a bunch of green

herbs, and then rub the threshold of the palace with them, and you'll

see what will happen.'

Cola-Mattheo, who was, as I have said before, a great simpleton, made no

reply; but before sunrise next morning he went to the wood and gathered

a bunch of St. John's Wort, and rosemary, and suchlike herbs, and rubbed

them, as he had been told, on the floor of the palace. Hardly had he

done so than the walls immediately turned into ivory, so richly inlaid

with gold and silver that they dazzled the eyes of all beholders. The

King, when he rose and saw the miracle that had been performed, was

beside himself with amazement, and didn't know what in the world he was

to do.

But when Cola-Mattheo came next day, and, in the name of the snake,

demanded the hand of the Princess, the King replied, 'Don't be in such a

hurry; if the snake really wants to marry my daughter, he must do some

more things first, and one of these is to turn all the paths and walls

of my garden into pure gold before noon to-morrow.'

When the snake was told of this new condition, he replied, 'To-morrow

morning, early, you must go and collect all the odds and ends of rubbish

you can find in the streets, and then take them and throw them on the

paths and walls of the garden, and you'll see then if we won't be more

than a match for the old King.'

So Cola-Mattheo rose at cock-crow, took a large basket under his arm,

and carefully collected all the broken fragments of pots and pans, and

jugs and lamps, and other trash of that sort. No sooner had he scattered

them over the paths and walls of the King's garden than they became one

blaze of glittering gold, so that everyone's eyes were dazzled with the

brilliancy, and everyone's soul was filled with wonder. The King, too,

was amazed at the sight, but still he couldn't make up his mind to part

with his daughter, so when Cola-Mattheo came to remind him of his

promise he replied, 'I have still a third demand to make. If the snake

can turn all the trees and fruit of my garden into precious stones, then

I promise him my daughter in marriage.'

When the peasant informed the snake what the King had said, he replied,

'To-morrow morning, early, you must go to the market and buy all the

fruit you see there, and then sow all the stones and seeds in the palace

garden, and, if I'm not mistaken, the King will be satisfied with the

result.'

Cola-Mattheo rose at dawn, and taking a basket on his arm, he went to

the market, and bought all the pomegranates, apricots, cherries, and

other fruit he could find there, and sowed the seeds and stones in the

palace garden. In one moment, the trees were all ablaze with rubies,

emeralds, diamonds, and every other precious stone you can think of.

This time the King felt obliged to keep his promise, and calling his

daughter to him, he said, 'My dear Grannonia,' for that was the

Princess's name, 'more as a joke than anything else, I demanded what

seemed to me impossibilities from your bridegroom, but now that he has

done all I required, I am bound to stick to my part of the bargain. Be a

good child, and as you love me, do not force me to break my word, but

give yourself up with as good grace as you can to a most unhappy fate.'

'Do with me what you like, my lord and father, for your will is my law,'

answered Grannonia.

When the King heard this, he told Cola-Mattheo to bring the snake to the

palace, and said that he was prepared to receive the creature as his

son-in-law.

The snake arrived at court in a carriage made of gold and drawn by six

white elephants; but wherever it appeared on the way, the people fled in

terror at the sight of the fearful reptile.

When the snake reached the palace, all the courtiers shook and trembled

with fear down to the very scullion, and the King and Queen were in such

a state of nervous collapse that they hid themselves in a far-away

turret. Grannonia alone kept her presence of mind, and although both her

father and mother implored her to fly for her life, she wouldn't move a

step, saying, 'I'm certainly not going to fly from the man you have

chosen for my husband.'

[Illustration]

As soon as the snake saw Grannonia, it wound its tail round her and

kissed her. Then, leading her into a room, it shut the door, and

throwing off its skin, it changed into a beautiful young man with golden

locks, and flashing eyes, who embraced Grannonia tenderly, and said all

sorts of pretty things to her.

When the King saw the snake shut itself into a room with his daughter,

he said to his wife, 'Heaven be merciful to our child, for I fear it is

all over with her now. This cursed snake has most likely swallowed her

up.' Then they put their eyes to the keyhole to see what had happened.

Their amazement knew no bounds when they saw a beautiful youth standing

before their daughter with the snake's skin lying on the floor beside

him. In their excitement they burst open the door, and seizing the skin

they threw it into the fire. But no sooner had they done this than the

young man called out, 'Oh, wretched people! what have you done?' and

before they had time to look round he had changed himself into a dove,

and dashing against the window he broke a pane of glass, and flew away

from their sight.

But Grannonia, who in one and the same moment saw herself merry and sad,

cheerful and despairing, rich and beggared, complained bitterly over

this robbery of her happiness, this poisoning of her cup of joy, this

unlucky stroke of fortune, and laid all the blame on her parents, though

they assured her that they had meant no harm. But the Princess refused

to be comforted, and at night, when all the inhabitants of the palace

were asleep, she stole out by a back door, disguised as a peasant woman,

determined to seek for her lost happiness till she found it. When she

got to the outskirts of the town, led by the light of the moon, she met

a fox, who offered to accompany her, an offer which Grannonia gladly

accepted, saying 'You are most heartily welcome, for I don't know my way

at all about the neighbourhood.'

So they went on their way together, and came at last to a wood, where,

being tired with walking, they paused to rest under the shade of a tree,

where a spring of water sported with the tender grass, refreshing it

with its crystal spray.

They laid themselves down on the green carpet and soon fell fast asleep,

and did not waken again till the sun was high in the heavens. They rose

up and stood for some time listening to the birds singing, because

Grannonia delighted in their songs.

When the fox perceived this, he said: 'If you only understood, as I do,

what these little birds are saying, your pleasure would be even

greater.'

Provoked by his words--for we all know that curiosity is as deeply

inborn in every woman as even the love of talking--Grannonia implored

the fox to tell her what the birds had said.

At first the wily fox refused to tell her what he had gathered from the

conversation of the birds, but at last he gave way to her entreaties,

and told her that they had spoken of the misfortunes of a beautiful

young Prince, whom a wicked enchantress had turned into a snake for the

period of seven years. At the end of this time he had fallen in love

with a charming Princess, but that when he had shut himself up into a

room with her, and had thrown off his snake's skin, her parents had

forced their way into the room and had burnt the skin, whereupon the

Prince, changed into the likeness of a dove, had broken a pane of glass

in trying to fly out of the window, and had wounded himself so badly

that the doctors despaired of his life.

Grannonia, when she learnt that they were talking of her lover, asked at

once whose son he was, and if there was any hope of his recovery; to

which the fox made answer that the birds had said he was the son of the

King of Vallone Grosso, and that the only thing that could cure him was

to rub the wounds on his head with the blood of the very birds who had

told the tale.

Then Grannonia knelt down before the fox, and begged him in her sweetest

way to catch the birds for her and procure their blood, promising at the

same time to reward him richly.

'All right,' said the fox, 'only don't be in such a hurry; let's wait

till night, when the little birds have gone to roost, then I'll climb up

and catch them all for you.'

So they passed the day, talking now of the beauty of the Prince, now of

the father of the Princess, and then of the misfortune that had

happened. At last the night arrived, and all the little birds were

asleep high up on the branches of a big tree. The fox climbed up

stealthily and caught the little creatures with his paws one after the

other; and when he had killed them all he put their blood into a little

bottle which he wore at his side, and returned with it to Grannonia, who

was beside herself with joy at the result of the fox's raid. But the fox

said, 'My dear daughter, your joy is in vain, because, let me tell you,

this blood is of no earthly use to you unless you add some of mine to

it,' and with these words he took to his heels.

Grannonia, who saw her hopes dashed to the ground in this cruel way, had

recourse to flattery and cunning, weapons which have often stood the sex

in good stead, and called out after the fox, 'Father Fox, you would be

quite right to save your skin, if, in the first place, I didn't feel I

owed so much to you, and if, in the second, there weren't other foxes in

the world; but as you know how grateful I feel to you, and as there are

heaps of other foxes about, you can trust yourself to me. Don't behave

like the cow that kicks the pail over after it has filled it with milk,

but continue your journey with me, and when we get to the capital you

can sell me to the King as a servant girl.'

It never entered the fox's head that even foxes can be outwitted, so

after a bit he consented to go with her; but he hadn't gone far before

the cunning girl seized a stick, and gave him such a blow with it on the

head, that he dropped down dead on the spot. Then Grannonia took some of

his blood and poured it into her little bottle, and went on her way as

fast as she could to Vallone Grosso.

When she arrived there she went straight to the Royal palace, and let

the King be told she had come to cure the young Prince.

The King commanded her to be brought before him at once, and was much

astonished when he saw that it was a girl who undertook to do what all

the cleverest doctors of his kingdom had failed in. As an attempt hurts

no one, he willingly consented that she should do what she could.

'All I ask,' said Grannonia, 'is that, should I succeed in what you

desire, you will give me your son in marriage.'

The King, who had given up all hopes of his son's recovery, replied:

'Only restore him to life and health and he shall be yours. It is only

fair to give her a husband who gives me a son.'

And so they went into the Prince's room. The moment Grannonia had rubbed

the blood on his wounds the illness left him, and he was as sound and

well as ever. When the King saw his son thus marvellously restored to

life and health, he turned to him and said: 'My dear son, I thought of

you as dead, and now, to my great joy and amazement, you are alive

again. I promised this young woman that if she should cure you, to

bestow your hand and heart on her, and seeing that Heaven has been

gracious, you must fulfil the promise I made her; for gratitude alone

forces me to pay this debt.'

But the Prince answered: 'My lord and father, I would that my will were

as free as my love for you is great. But as I have plighted my word to

another maiden, you will see yourself, and so will this young woman,

that I cannot go back from my word, and be faithless to her whom I

love.'

When Grannonia heard these words, and saw how deeply rooted the Prince's

love for her was, she felt very happy, and blushing rosy red, she said:

'But should I get the other lady to give up her rights, would you then

consent to marry me?'

'Far be it from me,' replied the Prince, 'to banish the beautiful

picture of my love from my heart. Whatever she may say, my heart and

desire will remain the same, and though I were to lose my life for it,

I couldn't consent to this exchange.'

Grannonia could keep silence no longer, and throwing off her peasant's

disguise, she discovered herself to the Prince, who was nearly beside

himself with joy when he recognised his fair lady-love. He then told his

father at once who she was, and what she had done and suffered for his

sake.

Then they invited the King and Queen of Starza-Longa to their Court, and

had a great wedding feast, and proved once more that there is no better

seasoning for the joys of true love than a few pangs of grief.

Kletke.

_THE BITER BIT_

Once upon a time there lived a man called Simon, who was very rich, but

at the same time as stingy and miserly as he could be. He had a

housekeeper called Nina, a clever capable woman, and as she did her work

carefully and conscientiously, her master had the greatest respect for

her.

In his young days Simon had been one of the gayest and most active

youths of the neighbourhood, but as he grew old and stiff he found it

very difficult to walk, and his faithful servant urged him to get a

horse so as to save his poor old bones. At last Simon gave way to the

request and persuasive eloquence of his housekeeper, and betook himself

one day to the market where he had seen a mule, which he thought would

just suit him, and which he bought for seven gold pieces.

Now it happened that there were three merry rascals hanging about the

market-place, who much preferred living on other people's goods to

working for their own living. As soon as they saw that Simon had bought

a mule, one of them said to his two boon companions, 'My friends, this

mule must be ours before we are many hours older.'

'But how shall we manage it,' asked one of them.

'We must all three station ourselves at different intervals along the

old man's homeward way, and must each in his turn declare that the mule

he has bought is a donkey. If we only stick to it you'll see the mule

will soon be ours.' This proposal quite satisfied the others, and they

all separated as they had agreed.

Now when Simon came by, the first rogue said to him, 'God bless you, my

fine gentleman.'

'Thanks for your courtesy,' replied Simon.

'Where have you been?' asked the thief.

'To the market,' was the reply.

'And what did you buy there?' continued the rogue.

'This mule.'

'Which mule?'

'The one I'm sitting upon, to be sure,' replied Simon.

'Are you in earnest, or only joking?'

'What do you mean?'

'Because it seems to me you've got hold of a donkey, and not of a mule.'

[Illustration]

'A donkey? Rubbish!' screamed Simon, and without another word he rode on

his way. After a few hundred yards he met the second confederate, who

addressed him, 'Good day, dear sir, where are you coming from?'

'From the market,' answered Simon.

'Did things go pretty cheap?' asked the other.

'I should just think so,' said Simon.

'And did you make any good bargain yourself?'

'I bought this mule on which you see me.'

'Is it possible that you really bought that beast for a mule?'

'Why certainly.'

'But, good heavens, it's nothing but a donkey!'

'A donkey!' repeated Simon, 'you don't mean to say so; if a single

other person tells me that, I'll make him a present of the wretched

animal.'

With these words he continued his way, and very soon met the third

knave, who said to him, 'God bless you, sir; are you by any chance

coming from the market?'

'Yes, I am,' replied Simon.

'And what bargain did you drive there?' asked the cunning fellow.

'I bought this mule on which I am riding.'

'A mule! Are you speaking seriously, or do you wish to make a fool of

me?'

'I'm speaking in sober earnest,' said Simon; 'it wouldn't occur to me to

make a joke of it.'

'Oh, my poor friend,' cried the rascal, 'don't you see that is a donkey

and not a mule? you have been taken in by some wretched cheats.'

'You are the third person in the last two hours who has told me the same

thing,' said Simon, 'but I couldn't believe it,' and dismounting from

the mule he spoke: 'Keep the animal, I make you a present of it.' The

rascal took the beast, thanked him kindly, and rode on to join his

comrades, while Simon continued his journey on foot.

As soon as the old man got home, he told his housekeeper that he had

bought a beast under the belief that it was a mule, but that it had

turned out to be a donkey--at least, so he had been assured by several

people he had met on the road, and that in disgust he had at last given

it away.

'Oh, you simpleton!' cried Nina; 'didn't you see that they were only

playing you a trick? Really, I thought you'd have had more gumption than

that; they wouldn't have taken me in in that way.'

'Never mind,' replied Simon, 'I'll play them one worth two of that; for

depend upon it they won't be contented with having got the donkey out of

me, but they'll try by some new dodge to get something more, or I'm much

mistaken.'

Now there lived in the village not far from Simon's house, a peasant who

had two goats, so alike in every respect that it was impossible to

distinguish one from the other. Simon bought them both, paid as small a

price as he could for them, and leading them home with him, he told Nina

to prepare a good meal, as he was going to invite some friends to

dinner. He ordered her to roast some veal, and to boil a pair of

chickens, and gave her some herbs to make a good savoury, and told her

to bake the best tart she could make. Then he took one of the goats and

tied it to a post in the courtyard, and gave it some grass to eat; but

he bound a cord round the neck of the other goat and led it to the

market.

Hardly had he arrived there, than the three gentlemen who had got his

mule perceived him, and coming up to him said: 'Welcome, Mr. Simon, what

brings you here; are you on the look out for a bargain?'

'I've come to get some provisions,' he answered, 'because some friends

are coming to dine with me to-day, and it would give me much pleasure if

you were to honour me with your company also.'

The accomplices willingly accepted this invitation; and after Simon had

made all his purchases, he tied them on to the goat's back, and said to

it, in the presence of the three cheats, 'Go home now, and tell Nina to

roast the veal, and boil the chickens, and tell her to prepare a savoury

with herbs, and to bake the best tart she can make. Have you followed

me? Then go, and Heaven's blessing go with you.'

As soon as it felt itself free, the laden goat trotted off as quickly as

it could, and to this day nobody knows what became of it. But Simon,

after wandering about the market for some time with his three friends

and some others he had picked up, returned home to his house.

When he and his guests entered the courtyard, they noticed the goat tied

to the post quietly chewing the cud. They were not a little astonished

at this, for of course they thought it was the same goat that Simon had

sent home laden with provisions. As soon as they reached the house Mr.

Simon said to his housekeeper, 'Well, Nina, have you done what I told

the goat to tell you to do?' The artful woman, who at once understood

her master, answered, 'Certainly I have. The veal is roasted, and the

chickens boiled.'

'That's all right,' said Simon.

When the three rogues saw the cooked meats, and the tart in the oven,

and heard Nina's words, they were nearly beside themselves with

amazement, and began to consult at once how they were to get the goat

into their own possession. At last, towards the end of the meal, having

sought in vain for some cunning dodge to get the goat away from Mr.

Simon, one of them said to him, 'My worthy host, you must sell your goat

to us.'

Simon replied that he was most unwilling to part with the creature, as

no amount of money would make up to him for its loss; still, if they

were quite set on it, he would let them have the goat for fifty gold

pieces.

The knaves, who thought they were doing a capital piece of business,

paid down the fifty gold pieces at once, and left the house quite

happily, leading the goat with them. When they got home they said to

their wives, 'You needn't begin to cook the dinner to-morrow till we

send the provisions home.'

The following day they went to the market and bought chickens and other

eatables, and after they had packed them on the back of the goat (which

they had brought with them), they told it all the dishes they wished

their wives to prepare. As soon as the goat felt itself free, it ran as

quickly as it could, and was very soon lost to sight, and, as far as I

know, was never heard of again.

When the dinner hour approached all three went home and asked their

wives if the goat had returned with the necessary provisions, and had

told them what they wished prepared for their meal.

'Oh, you fools and blockheads!' cried their wives, 'how could you ever

believe for a moment that a goat would do the work of a servant-maid?

You have been finely deceived for once in a way. Of course, if you are

always taking in other people, your turn to be taken in comes too, and

this time you've been made to look pretty foolish.'

When the three comrades saw that Mr. Simon had got the better of them,

and done them out of fifty gold pieces, they flew into such a rage that

they made up their minds to kill him, and, seizing their weapons for

this purpose, went to his house.

But the sly old man, who was terrified for his life that the three

rogues might do him some harm, was on his guard, and said to his

housekeeper, 'Nina, take this bladder, which is filled with blood, and

hide it under your cloak; then when these thieves come I'll lay all the

blame on you, and will pretend to be so angry with you that I will run

at you with my knife, and pierce the bladder with it; then you must fall

on the ground as if you were dead, and leave the rest to me.'

Hardly had Simon said these words when the three rogues appeared and

fell on him to kill him.

'My friends,' called out Simon to them, 'what do you accuse me of? I am

in no way to blame; perhaps my housekeeper has done you some injury of

which I know nothing.' And with these words, he turned on Nina with his

knife, and stuck it right into her, so that he pierced the bladder

filled with blood. Instantly the housekeeper fell down as if she were

dead, and the blood streamed all over the ground.

Simon then pretended to be seized with remorse at the sight of this

dreadful catastrophe, and cried out in a loud voice, 'Unhappy wretch

that I am! What have I done? Like a madman I have killed the woman who

is the prop and stay of my old age. How could I ever go on living

without her?' Then he seized a pipe, and when he had blown into it for

some time Nina sprang up alive and well.

The rogues were more amazed than ever; they forgot their anger, and

buying the pipe for two hundred gold pieces, they went joyfully home.

Not long after this one of them quarrelled with his wife, and in his

rage he thrust his knife into her breast so that she fell dead on the

ground. Then he took Simon's pipe and blew into it with all his might,

in the hopes of calling his wife back to life. But he blew in vain, for

the poor soul was as dead as a door-nail.

When one of his comrades heard what had happened, he said, 'You

blockhead, you can't have done it properly; just let me have a try,' and

with these words he seized his wife by the roots of her hair, cut her

throat with a razor, and then took the pipe and blew into it with all

his might but he couldn't bring her back to life. The same thing

happened to the third rogue, so that they were now all three without

wives.

Full of wrath they ran to Simon's house, and, refusing to listen to a

word of explanation or excuse, they seized the old man and put him into

a sack, meaning to drown him in the neighbouring river. On their way

there, however, a sudden noise threw them into such a panic that they

dropped the sack with Simon in it and ran for their lives.

Soon after this a shepherd happened to pass by with his flock, and while

he was slowly following the sheep, who paused here and there by the

wayside to browse on the tender grass, he heard a pitiful voice wailing,

'They insist on my taking her, and I don't want her, for I am too old,

and I really can't have her.' The shepherd was much startled, for he

couldn't make out where these words, which were repeated more than once,

came from, and looked about him to the right and left; at last he

perceived the sack in which Simon was hidden, and going up to it he

opened it and discovered Simon repeating his dismal complaint. The

shepherd asked him why he had been left there tied up in a sack.

[Illustration]

Simon replied that the king of the country had insisted on giving him

one of his daughters as a wife, but that he had refused the honour

because he was too old and too frail. The simple-minded shepherd, who

believed his story implicitly, asked him, 'Do you think the king of the

country would give his daughter to me?'

'Yes, certainly, I know he would,' answered Simon, 'if you were tied up

in this sack instead of me.' Then getting out of the sack, he tied the

confiding shepherd up in it instead, and at his request fastened it

securely and drove the sheep on himself.

An hour had scarcely passed when the three rogues returned to the place

where they had left Simon in the sack, and without opening it, one of

them seized it and threw it into the river. And so the poor shepherd was

drowned instead of Mr. Simon!

The three rogues, having wreaked their vengeance, set out for home. On

their way they noticed a flock of sheep grazing not far from the road.

They longed to steal a few of the lambs, and approached the flock, and

were more than startled to recognise Mr. Simon, whom they had drowned in

the river, as the shepherd who was looking after the sheep. They asked

him how he had managed to get out of the river, to which he replied:

'Get along with you--you are no better than silly donkeys without any

sense; if you had only drowned me in deeper water I would have returned

with three times as many sheep.'

When the three rogues heard this, they said to him: 'Oh, dear Mr. Simon,

do us the favour to tie us up in sacks and throw us into the river that

we may give up our thieving ways and become the owners of flocks.'

'I am ready,' answered Simon, 'to do what you please; there's nothing in

the world I wouldn't do for you.'

So he took three strong sacks and put a man in each of them, and

fastened them up so tightly that they couldn't get out, and then he

threw them all into the river; and that was the end of the three rogues.

But Mr. Simon returned home to his faithful Nina rich in flocks and

gold; and lived for many a year in health and happiness.

Kletke.

_KING KOJATA_

(FROM THE RUSSIAN)

There was once upon a time a king called Kojata, whose beard was so long

that it reached below his knees. Three years had passed since his

marriage, and he lived very happily with his wife, but Heaven granted

him no heir, which grieved the King greatly. One day he set forth from

his capital, in order to make a journey through his kingdom. He

travelled for nearly a year through the different parts of his

territory, and then, having seen all there was to be seen, he set forth

on his homeward way. As the day was very hot and sultry he commanded his

servants to pitch tents in the open field, and there await the cool of

the evening. Suddenly a frightful thirst seized the King, and as he saw

no water near, he mounted his horse, and rode through the neighbourhood

looking for a spring. Before long he came to a well filled to the brim

with water clear as crystal, and on the bosom of which a golden jug was

floating. King Kojata at once tried to seize the vessel, but though he

endeavoured to grasp it with his right hand, and then with his left, the

wretched thing always eluded his efforts and refused to let itself be

caught. First with one hand, and then with two, did the King try to

seize it, but like a fish the goblet always slipped through his fingers

and bobbed to the ground only to reappear at some other place, and mock

the King.

'Plague on you!' said King Kojata. 'I can quench my thirst without you,'

and bending over the well he lapped up the water so greedily that he

plunged his face, beard and all, right into the crystal mirror. But when

he had satisfied his thirst, and wished to raise himself up, he couldn't

lift his head, because someone held his beard fast in the water. 'Who's

there? let me go!' cried King Kojata, but there was no answer; only an

awful face looked up from the bottom of the well with two great green

eyes, glowing like emeralds, and a wide mouth reaching from ear to ear

showing two rows of gleaming white teeth, and the King's beard was held,

not by mortal hands, but by two claws. At last a hoarse voice sounded

from the depths. 'Your trouble is all in vain, King Kojata; I will only

let you go on condition that you give me something you know nothing

about, and which you will find on your return home.'

[Illustration]

The King didn't pause to ponder long, 'for what,' thought he, 'could be

in my palace without my knowing about it--the thing is absurd;' so he

answered quickly:

'Yes, I promise that you shall have it.'

The voice replied, 'Very well; but it will go ill with you if you fail

to keep your promise.' Then the claws relaxed their hold, and the face

disappeared in the depths. The King drew his chin out of the water, and

shook himself like a dog; then he mounted his horse and rode

thoughtfully home with his retinue. When they approached the capital,

all the people came out to meet them with great joy and acclamation, and

when the King reached his palace the Queen met him on the threshold;

beside her stood the Prime Minister, holding a little cradle in his

hands, in which lay a new-born child as beautiful as the day. Then the

whole thing dawned on the King, and groaning deeply he muttered to

himself, 'So this is what I did not know about,' and the tears rolled

down his cheeks. All the courtiers standing round were much amazed at

the King's grief, but no one dared to ask him the cause of it. He took

the child in his arms and kissed it tenderly; then laying it in its

cradle, he determined to control his emotion and began to reign again as

before.

The secret of the King remained a secret, though his grave, careworn

expression escaped no one's notice. In the constant dread that his child

would be taken from him, poor Kojata knew no rest night or day. However,

time went on and nothing happened. Days and months and years passed, and

the Prince grew up into a beautiful youth, and at last the King himself

forgot all about the incident that had happened so long ago.

One day the Prince went out hunting, and going in pursuit of a wild boar

he soon lost the other huntsmen, and found himself quite alone in the

middle of a dark wood. The trees grew so thick and near together that it

was almost impossible to see through them, only straight in front of him

lay a little patch of meadowland, overgrown with thistles and rank

weeds, in the centre of which a leafy lime tree reared itself. Suddenly

a rustling sound was heard in the hollow of the tree, and an

extraordinary old man with green eyes and chin crept out of it.

'A fine day, Prince Milan,' he said; 'you've kept me waiting a good

number of years; it was high time for you to come and pay me a visit.'

'Who are you, in the name of wonder?' demanded the astonished Prince.

'You'll find out soon enough, but in the meantime do as I bid you. Greet

your father King Kojata from me, and don't forget to remind him of his

debt; the time has long passed since it was due, but now he will have to

pay it. Farewell for the present; we shall meet again.'

With these words the old man disappeared into the tree, and the Prince

returned home rather startled, and told his father all that he had seen

and heard.

The King grew as white as a sheet when he heard the Prince's story, and

said, 'Woe is me, my son! The time has come when we must part,' and with

a heavy heart he told the Prince what had happened at the time of his

birth.

'Don't worry or distress yourself, dear father,' answered Prince Milan.

'Things are never as bad as they look. Only give me a horse for my

journey, and I wager you'll soon see me back again.'

The King gave him a beautiful charger, with golden stirrups, and a

sword. The Queen hung a little cross round his neck, and after much

weeping and lamentation the Prince bade them all farewell and set forth

on his journey.

He rode straight on for two days, and on the third he came to a lake as

smooth as glass and as clear as crystal. Not a breath of wind moved, not

a leaf stirred, all was silent as the grave, only on the still bosom of

the lake thirty ducks, with brilliant plumage, swam about in the water.

Not far from the shore Prince Milan noticed thirty little white garments

lying on the grass, and dismounting from his horse, he crept down under

the high bulrushes, took one of the garments and hid himself with it

behind the bushes which grew round the lake. The ducks swam about all

over the place, dived down into the depths and rose again and glided

through the waves. At last, tired of disporting themselves, they swam to

the shore, and twenty-nine of them put on their little white garments

and instantly turned into so many beautiful maidens. Then they finished

dressing and disappeared. Only the thirtieth little duck couldn't come

to the land; it swam about close to the shore, and, giving out a

piercing cry, it stretched its neck up timidly, gazed wildly around, and

then dived under again. Prince Milan's heart was so moved with pity for

the poor little creature that he came out from behind the bulrushes, to

see if he could be of any help. As soon as the duck perceived him, it

cried in a human voice, 'Oh, dear Prince Milan, for the love of Heaven

give me back my garment, and I will be so grateful to you.' The Prince

laid the little garment on the bank beside her, and stepped back into

the bushes. In a few seconds a beautiful girl in a white robe stood

before him, so fair and sweet and young that no pen could describe her.

She gave the Prince her hand and spoke.

[Illustration]

'Many thanks, Prince Milan, for your courtesy. I am the daughter of a

wicked magician, and my name is Hyacinthia. My father has thirty young

daughters, and is a mighty ruler in the underworld, with many castles

and great riches. He has been expecting you for ages, but you need have

no fear if you will only follow my advice. As soon as you come into the

presence of my father, throw yourself at once on the ground and approach

him on your knees. Don't mind if he stamps furiously with his feet and

curses and swears. I'll attend to the rest, and in the meantime we had

better be off.'

With these words the beautiful Hyacinthia stamped on the ground with

her little foot, and the earth opened and they both sank down into the

lower world.

The palace of the Magician was all hewn out of a single carbuncle,

lighting up the whole surrounding region, and Prince Milan walked into

it gaily.

The Magician sat on a throne, a sparkling crown on his head; his eyes

blazed like a green fire, and instead of hands he had claws. As soon as

Prince Milan entered he flung himself on his knees. The Magician stamped

loudly with his feet, glared frightfully out of his green eyes, and

cursed so loudly that the whole underworld shook. But the Prince,

mindful of the counsel he had been given, wasn't the least afraid, and

approached the throne still on his knees. At last the Magician laughed

aloud and said, 'You rogue, you have been well advised to make me laugh;

I won't be your enemy any more. Welcome to the underworld! All the same,

for your delay in coming here, we must demand three services from you.

For to-day you may go, but to-morrow I shall have something more to say

to you.'

Then two servants led Prince Milan to a beautiful apartment, and he lay

down fearlessly on the soft bed that had been prepared for him, and was

soon fast asleep.

Early the next morning the Magician sent for him, and said, 'Let's see

now what you've learnt. In the first place you must build me a palace

to-night, the roof of purest gold, the walls of marble, and the windows

of crystal; all round you must lay out a beautiful garden, with

fish-ponds and artistic waterfalls. If you do all this, I will reward you

richly; but if you don't, you shall lose your head.'

'Oh, you wicked monster!' thought Prince Milan, 'you might as well have

put me to death at once.' Sadly he returned to his room, and with bent

head sat brooding over his cruel fate till evening. When it grew dark, a

little bee flew by, and knocking at the window, it said, 'Open, and let

me in.'

Milan opened the window quickly, and as soon as the bee had entered, it

changed into the beautiful Hyacinthia.

'Good evening, Prince Milan. Why are you so sad?'

'How can I help being sad? Your father threatens me with death, and I

see myself already without a head.'

'And what have you made up your mind to do?'

'There's nothing to be done, and after all I suppose one can only die

once.'

'Now, don't be so foolish, my dear Prince; but keep up your spirits, for

there is no need to despair. Go to bed, and when you wake up to-morrow

morning the palace will be finished. Then you must go all round it,

giving a tap here and there on the walls to look as if you had just

finished it.'

And so it all turned out just as she had said. As soon as it was

daylight Prince Milan stepped out of his room, and found a palace which

was quite a work of art down to the very smallest detail. The Magician

himself was not a little astonished at its beauty, and could hardly

believe his eyes.

'Well, you certainly are a splendid workman,' he said to the Prince. 'I

see you are very clever with your hands, now I must see if you are

equally accomplished with your head. I have thirty daughters in my

house, all beautiful princesses. To-morrow I will place the whole thirty

in a row. You must walk past them three times, and the third time you

must show me which is my youngest daughter Hyacinthia. If you don't

guess rightly, you shall lose your head.'

'This time you've made a mistake,' thought Prince Milan, and going to

his room he sat down at the window. 'Just fancy my not recognising the

beautiful Hyacinthia! Why, that's the easiest thing in the world.'

'Not so easy as you think,' cried the little bee, who was flying past.

'If I weren't to help you, you'd never guess. We are thirty sisters so

exactly alike that our own father can hardly distinguish us apart.'

'Then what am I to do?' asked Prince Milan.

'Listen,' answered Hyacinthia. 'You will recognise me by a tiny fly I

shall have on my left cheek, but be careful, for you might easily make a

mistake.'

The next day the Magician again commanded Prince Milan to be led before

him. His daughters were all arranged in a straight row in front of him,

dressed exactly alike, and with their eyes bent on the ground.

'Now, you genius,' said the Magician, 'look at these beauties three

times, and then tell us which is the Princess Hyacinthia.'

Prince Milan went past them and looked at them closely. But they were

all so precisely alike that they looked like one face reflected in

thirty mirrors, and the fly was nowhere to be seen; the second time he

passed them he still saw nothing; but the third time he perceived a

little-fly stealing down one cheek, causing it to blush a faint pink.

Then the Prince seized the girl's hand and cried out, 'This is the

Princess Hyacinthia!'

[Illustration]

'You're right again,' said the Magician in amazement; 'but I've still

another task for you to do. Before this candle, which I shall light,

burns to the socket, you must have made me a pair of boots reaching to

my knees. If they aren't finished in that time, off comes your head.'

The Prince returned to his room in despair; then the Princess Hyacinthia

came to him once more changed into the likeness of a bee, and asked him,

'Why so sad, Prince Milan?'

'How can I help being sad? Your father has set me this time an

impossible task. Before a candle which he has lit burns to the socket, I

am to make a pair of boots. But what does a prince know of shoemaking?

If I can't do it, I lose my head.'

'And what do you mean to do?' asked Hyacinthia.

'Well, what is there to be done? What he demands I can't and won't do,

so he must just make an end of me.'

'Not so, dearest. I love you dearly, and you shall marry me, and I'll

either save your life or die with you. We must fly now as quickly as we

can, for there is no other way of escape.'

With these words she breathed on the window, and her breath froze on the

pane. Then she led Milan out of the room with her, shut the door, and

threw the key away. Hand in hand, they hurried to the spot where they

had descended into the lower world, and at last reached the banks of the

lake. Prince Milan's charger was still grazing on the grass which grew

near the water. The horse no sooner recognised his master, than it

neighed loudly with joy, and springing towards him, it stood as if

rooted to the ground, while Prince Milan and Hyacinthia jumped on its

back. Then it sped onwards like an arrow from a bow.

In the meantime the Magician was waiting impatiently for the Prince.

Enraged by the delay, he sent his servants to fetch him, for the

appointed time was past.

The servants came to the door, and finding it locked, they knocked; but

the frozen breath on the window replied in Prince Milan's voice, 'I am

coming directly.' With this answer they returned to the Magician. But

when the Prince still did not appear, after a time he sent his servants

a second time to bring him. The frozen breath always gave the same

answer, but the Prince never came. At last the Magician lost all

patience, and commanded the door to be burst open. But when his servants

did so, they found the room empty, and the frozen breath laughed aloud.

Out of his mind with rage, the Magician ordered the Prince to be

pursued.

Then a wild chase began. 'I hear horses' hoofs behind us,' said

Hyacinthia to the Prince. Milan sprang from the saddle, put his ear to

the ground and listened. 'Yes,' he answered, 'they are pursuing us, and

are quite close.' 'Then no time must be lost,' said Hyacinthia, and she

immediately turned herself into a river, Prince Milan into an iron

bridge, and the charger into a blackbird. Behind the bridge the road

branched off into three ways.

The Magician's servants hurried after the fresh tracks, but when they

came to the bridge, they stood, not knowing which road to take, as the

footprints stopped suddenly, and there were three paths for them to

choose from. In fear and trembling they returned to tell the Magician

what had happened. He flew into a dreadful rage when he saw them, and

screamed out, 'Oh, you fools! the river and bridge were they! Go back

and bring them to me at once, or it will be the worse for you.'

Then the pursuit began afresh. 'I hear horses' hoofs,' sighed

Hyacinthia. The Prince dismounted and put his ear to the ground. 'They

are hurrying after us, and are already quite near.' In a moment the

Princess Hyacinthia had changed herself, the Prince, and his charger

into a thick wood where a thousand paths and roads crossed each other.

Their pursuers entered the forest, but searched in vain for Prince Milan

and his bride. At last they found themselves back at the same spot they

had started from; and in despair they returned once more with empty

hands to the Magician.

'Then I'll go after the wretches myself,' he shouted. 'Bring a horse at

once; they shan't escape me.'

Once more the beautiful Hyacinthia murmured, 'I hear horses' hoofs quite

near.' And the Prince answered, 'They are pursuing us hotly and are

quite close.'

'We are lost now, for that is my father himself. But at the first church

we come to his power ceases; he may chase us no further. Hand me your

cross.'

Prince Milan loosened from his neck the little gold cross his mother had

given him, and as soon as Hyacinthia grasped it, she had changed herself

into a church, Milan into a monk, and the horse into a belfry. They had

hardly done this when the magician and his servants rode up.

'Did you see no one pass by on horseback, reverend father?' he asked

the monk.

'Prince Milan and Princess Hyacinthia have just gone on this minute;

they stopped for a few minutes in the church to say their prayers, and

bade me light this wax candle for you, and give you their love.'

'I'd like to wring their necks,' said the magician, and made all haste

home, where he had every one of his servants beaten to within an inch of

their lives.

Prince Milan rode on slowly with his bride without fearing any further

pursuit. The sun was just setting, and its last rays lit up a large city

they were approaching. Prince Milan was suddenly seized with an ardent

desire to enter the town.

'Oh my beloved,' implored Hyacinthia, 'please don't go; for I am

frightened and fear some evil.'

'What are you afraid of?' asked the Prince. 'We'll only go and look at

what's to be seen in the town for about an hour, and then we'll continue

our journey to my father's kingdom.'

'The town is easy to get into, but more difficult to get out of,' sighed

Hyacinthia. 'But let it be as you wish. Go, and I will await you here,

but I will first change myself into a white milestone; only I pray you

be very careful. The King and Queen of the town will come out to meet

you, leading a little child with them. Whatever you do, don't kiss the

child, or you will forget me and all that has happened to us. I will

wait for you here for three days.'

The Prince hurried to the town, but Hyacinthia remained behind disguised

as a white milestone on the road. The first day passed, and then the

second, and at last the third also, but Prince Milan did not return, for

he had not taken Hyacinthia's advice. The King and Queen came out to

meet him as she had said, leading with them a lovely fair-haired little

girl, whose eyes shone like two clear stars. The child at once caressed

the Prince, who, carried away by its beauty, bent down and kissed it on

the cheek. From that moment his memory became a blank, and he forgot all

about the beautiful Hyacinthia.

When the Prince did not return, poor Hyacinthia wept bitterly and

changing herself from a milestone into a little blue field flower, she

said, 'I will grow here on the wayside till some passer-by tramples me

under foot.' And one of her tears remained as a dew-drop and sparkled on

the little blue flower.

[Illustration]

Now it happened shortly after this that an old man passed by, and seeing

the flower, he was delighted with its beauty. He pulled it up carefully

by the roots and carried it home. Here he planted it in a pot, and

watered and tended the little plant carefully. And now the most

extraordinary thing happened, for from this moment everything in the old

man's house was changed. When he awoke in the morning he always found

his room tidied and put into such beautiful order that not a speck of

dust was to be found anywhere. When he came home at midday, he found a

table laid out with the most dainty food, and he had only to sit down

and enjoy himself to his heart's content. At first he was so surprised

he didn't know what to think, but after a time he grew a little

uncomfortable, and went to an old witch to ask for advice.

The witch said, 'Get up before the cock crows, and watch carefully till

you see something move, and then throw this cloth quickly over it, and

you'll see what will happen.'

All night the old man never closed an eye. When the first ray of light

entered the room, he noticed that the little blue flower began to

tremble, and at last it rose out of the pot and flew about the room, put

everything in order, swept away the dust, and lit the fire. In great

haste the old man sprang from his bed, and covered the flower with the

cloth the old witch had given him, and in a moment the beautiful

Princess Hyacinthia stood before him.

'What have you done?' she cried. 'Why have you called me back to life?

For I have no desire to live since my bridegroom, the beautiful Prince

Milan, has deserted me.'

'Prince Milan is just going to be married,' replied the old man.

'Everything is being got ready for the feast, and all the invited guests

are flocking to the palace from all sides.'

The beautiful Hyacinthia cried bitterly when she heard this; then she

dried her tears, and went into the town dressed as a peasant woman. She

went straight to the King's kitchen, where the white-aproned cooks were

running about in great confusion. The Princess went up to the head cook,

and said, 'Dear cook, please listen to my request, and let me make a

wedding-cake for Prince Milan.'

The busy cook was just going to refuse her demand and order her out of

the kitchen, but the words died on his lips when he turned and beheld

the beautiful Hyacinthia, and he answered politely, 'You have just come

in the nick of time, fair maiden. Bake your cake, and I myself will lay

it before Prince Milan.'

The cake was soon made. The invited guests were already thronging round

the table, when the head cook entered the room, bearing a beautiful

wedding cake on a silver dish, and laid it before Prince Milan. The

guests were all lost in admiration, for the cake was quite a work of

art. Prince Milan at once proceeded to cut it open, when to his surprise

two white doves sprang out of it, and one of them said to the other: 'My

dear mate, do not fly away and leave me, and forget me as Prince Milan

forgot his beloved Hyacinthia.'

Milan sighed deeply when he heard what the little dove said. Then he

jumped up suddenly from the table and ran to the door, where he found

the beautiful Hyacinthia waiting for him. Outside stood his faithful

charger, pawing the ground. Without pausing for a moment, Milan and

Hyacinthia mounted him and galloped as fast as they could into the

country of King Kojata. The King and Queen received them with such joy

and gladness as had never been heard of before, and they all lived

happily for the rest of their lives.

Kletke.

_PRINCE FICKLE AND FAIR HELENA_

(FROM THE GERMAN)

There was once upon a time a beautiful girl called Helena. Her own

mother had died when she was quite a child, and her stepmother was as

cruel and unkind to her as she could be. Helena did all she could to

gain her love, and performed the heavy work given her to do cheerfully

and well; but her stepmother's heart wasn't in the least touched, and

the more the poor girl did the more she asked her to do.

One day she gave Helena twelve pounds of mixed feathers and bade her

separate them all before evening, threatening her with a heavy

punishment if she failed to do so.

The poor child sat down to her task with her eyes so full of tears that

she could hardly see to begin. And when she had made one little heap of

feathers, she sighed so deeply that they all blew apart again. And so it

went on, and the poor girl grew more and more miserable. She bowed her

head in her hands and cried, 'Is there no one under heaven who will take

pity on me?'

Suddenly a soft voice replied, 'Be comforted, my child: I have come to

help you.'

Terrified to death, Helena looked up and saw a Fairy standing in front

of her, who asked in the kindest way possible, 'Why are you crying, my

dear?'

Helena, who for long had heard no friendly voice, confided her sad tale

of woe to the Fairy, and told her what the new task she had been given

to do was, and how she despaired of ever accomplishing it.

'Don't worry yourself about it any more,' said the kind Fairy; 'lie down

and go to sleep, and I'll see that your work is done all right.' So

Helena lay down, and when she awoke all the feathers were sorted into

little bundles; but when she turned to thank the good Fairy she had

vanished.

In the evening her stepmother returned and was much amazed to find

Helena sitting quietly with her work all finished before her.

[Illustration]

She praised her diligence, but at the same time racked her brain as to

what harder task she could set her to do.

The next day she told Helena to empty a pond near the house with a spoon

which was full of holes. Helena set to work at once, but she very soon

found that what her stepmother had told her to do was an impossibility.

Full of despair and misery, she was in the act of throwing the spoon

away, when suddenly the kind Fairy stood before her again, and asked her

why she was so unhappy?

When Helena told her of her stepmother's new demand she said, 'Trust to

me and I will do your task for you. Lie down and have a sleep in the

meantime.'

Helena was comforted and lay down, and before you would have believed it

possible the Fairy roused her gently and told her the pond was empty.

Full of joy and gratitude, Helena hurried to her stepmother, hoping that

now at last her heart would be softened towards her. But the wicked

woman was furious at the frustration of her own evil designs, and only

thought of what harder thing she could set the girl to do.

Next morning she ordered her to build before evening a beautiful castle,

and to furnish it all from garret to basement. Helena sat down on the

rocks which had been pointed out to her as the site of the castle,

feeling very depressed, but at the same time with the lurking hope that

the kind Fairy would come once more to her aid.

And so it turned out. The Fairy appeared, promised to build the castle,

and told Helena to lie down and go to sleep in the meantime. At the word

of the Fairy the rocks and stones rose and built themselves into a

beautiful castle, and before sunset it was all furnished inside, and

left nothing to be desired. You may think how grateful Helena was when

she awoke and found her task all finished.

But her stepmother was anything but pleased, and went through the whole

castle from top to bottom, to see if she couldn't find some fault for

which she could punish Helena. At last she went down into one of the

cellars, but it was so dark that she fell down the steep stairs and was

killed on the spot.

So Helena was now mistress of the beautiful castle, and lived there in

peace and happiness. And soon the noise of her beauty spread abroad, and

many wooers came to try and gain her hand.

Among them came one Prince Fickle by name, who very quickly won the love

of fair Helena. One day, as they were sitting happily together under a

lime-tree in front of the castle, Prince Fickle broke the sad news to

Helena that he must return to his parents to get their consent to his

marriage. He promised faithfully to come back to her as soon as he

could, and begged her to await his return under the lime-tree where they

had spent so many happy hours.

Helena kissed him tenderly at parting on his left cheek, and begged him

not to let anyone else kiss him there while they were parted, and she

promised to sit and wait for him under the lime-tree, for she never

doubted that the Prince would be faithful to her and would return as

quickly as he could.

And so she sat for three days and three nights under the tree without

moving. But when her lover never returned, she grew very unhappy, and

determined to set out to look for him. She took as many of her jewels as

she could carry, and three of her most beautiful dresses, one

embroidered with stars, one with moons, and the third with suns, all of

pure gold. Far and wide she wandered through the world, but nowhere did

she find any trace of her bridegroom. At last she gave up the search in

despair. She could not bear to return to her own castle where she had

been so happy with her lover, but determined rather to endure her

loneliness and desolation in a strange land. She took a place as

herd-girl with a peasant, and buried her jewels and beautiful dresses in

a safe and hidden spot.

Every day she drove the cattle to pasture, and all the time she thought

of nothing but her faithless bridegroom. She was very devoted to a

certain little calf in the herd, and made a great pet of it, feeding it

out of her own hands. She taught it to kneel before her, and then she

whispered in its ear:

'Kneel, little calf, kneel;

Be faithful and leal,

Not like Prince Fickle,

Who once on a time

Left his fair Helena

Under the lime.'

After some years passed in this way, she heard that the daughter of the

king of the country she was living in was going to marry a Prince called

'Fickle.' Everybody rejoiced at the news except poor Helena, to whom it

was a fearful blow, for at the bottom of her heart she had always

believed her lover to be true.

Now it chanced that the way to the capital led right past the village

where Helena was, and often when she was leading her cattle forth to the

meadows Prince Fickle rode past her, without ever noticing the poor

herd-girl, so engrossed was he in thoughts of his new bride. Then it

occurred to Helena to put his heart to the test and to see if it weren't

possible to recall herself to him. So one day as Prince Fickle rode by

she said to her little calf:

'Kneel, little calf, kneel;

Be faithful and leal,

Not like Prince Fickle,

Who once on a time

Left his poor Helena

Under the lime.'

When Prince Fickle heard her voice it seemed to him to remind him of

something, but of what he couldn't remember, for he hadn't heard the

words distinctly, as Helena had only spoken them very low and with a

shaky voice. Helena herself had been far too moved to let her see what

impression her words had made on the Prince, and when she looked round

he was already far away. But she noticed how slowly he was riding, and

how deeply sunk he was in thought, so she didn't quite give herself up

as lost.

[Illustration]

In honour of the approaching wedding a feast lasting many nights was to

be given in the capital. Helena placed all her hopes on this, and

determined to go to the feast and there to seek out her bridegroom.

When evening drew near she stole out of the peasant's cottage secretly,

and, going to her hiding-place, she put on her dress embroidered with

the gold suns, and all her jewels, and loosed her beautiful golden hair,

which up to now she had always worn under a kerchief, and, adorned thus,

she set out for the town.

When she entered the ball-room all eyes were turned on her, and everyone

marvelled at her beauty, but no one knew who she was. Prince Fickle,

too, was quite dazzled by the charms of the beautiful maiden, and never

guessed that she had once been his own lady-love. He never left her side

all night, and it was with great difficulty that Helena escaped from him

in the crowd when it was time to return home. Prince Fickle searched for

her everywhere, and longed eagerly for the next night, when the

beautiful lady had promised to come again.

The following evening the fair Helena started early for the feast.

This time she wore her dress embroidered with silver moons, and in her

hair she placed a silver crescent. Prince Fickle was enchanted to see

her again, and she seemed to him even more beautiful than she had been

the night before. He never left her side, and refused to dance with

anyone else. He begged her to tell him who she was, but this she refused

to do. Then he implored her to return again next evening, and this she

promised him she would.

On the third evening Prince Fickle was so impatient to see his fair

enchantress again, that he arrived at the feast hours before it began,

and never took his eyes from the door. At last Helena arrived in a dress

all covered with gold and silver stars, and with a girdle of stars round

her waist, and a band of stars in her hair. Prince Fickle was more in

love with her than ever, and begged her once again to tell him her name.

Then Helena kissed him silently on the left cheek, and in one moment

Prince Fickle recognised his old love. Full of remorse and sorrow, he

begged for her forgiveness, and Helena, only too pleased to have got him

back again, did not, you may be sure, keep him waiting very long for her

pardon, and so they were married and returned to Helena's castle, where

they are no doubt still sitting happily together under the lime-tree.

Kletke.

_PUDDOCKY_

(FROM THE GERMAN)

There was once upon a time a poor woman who had one little daughter

called 'Parsley.' She was so called because she liked eating parsley

better than any other food, indeed she would hardly eat anything else.

Her poor mother hadn't enough money always to be buying parsley for her,

but the child was so beautiful that she could refuse her nothing, and so

she went every night to the garden of an old witch who lived near and

stole great branches of the coveted vegetable, in order to satisfy her

daughter.

This remarkable taste of the fair Parsley soon became known, and the

theft was discovered. The witch called the girl's mother to her, and

proposed that she should let her daughter come and live with her, and

then she could eat as much parsley as she liked. The mother was quite

pleased with this suggestion, and so the beautiful Parsley took up her

abode with the old witch.

One day three Princes, whom their father had sent abroad to travel, came

to the town where Parsley lived and perceived the beautiful girl combing

and plaiting her long black hair at the window. In one moment they all

fell hopelessly in love with her, and longed ardently to have the girl

for their wife; but hardly had they with one breath expressed their

desire than, mad with jealousy, they drew their swords and all three set

upon each other. The struggle was so violent and the noise so loud that

the old witch heard it, and said at once 'Of course Parsley is at the

bottom of all this.'

And when she had convinced herself that this was so, she stepped

forward, and, full of wrath over the quarrels and feuds Parsley's beauty

gave rise to, she cursed the girl and said, 'I wish you were an ugly

toad, sitting under a bridge at the other end of the world.'

Hardly were the words out of her mouth than Parsley was changed into a

toad and vanished from their sight. The Princes, now that the cause of

their dispute was removed, put up their swords, kissed each other

affectionately, and returned to their father.

[Illustration]

The King was growing old and feeble, and wished to yield his sceptre and

crown in favour of one of his sons, but he couldn't make up his mind

which of the three he should appoint as his successor. He determined

that fate should decide for him. So he called his three children to him

and said, 'My dear sons, I am growing old, and am weary of reigning, but

I can't make up my mind to which of you three I should yield my crown,

for I love you all equally. At the same time I would like the best and

cleverest of you to rule over my people. I have, therefore, determined

to set you three tasks to do, and the one that performs them best shall

be my heir. The first thing I shall ask you to do is to bring me a piece

of linen a hundred yards long, so fine that it will go through a gold

ring.' The sons bowed low, and, promising to do their best, they started

on their journey without further delay.

The two elder brothers took many servants and carriages with them, but

the youngest set out quite alone. In a short time they came to three

cross roads; two of them were gay and crowded, but the third was dark

and lonely.

The two elder brothers chose the more frequented ways, but the youngest,

bidding them farewell, set out on the dreary road.

Wherever fine linen was to be bought, there the two elder brothers

hastened. They loaded their carriages with bales of the finest linen

they could find and then returned home.

The youngest brother, on the other hand, went on his weary way for many

days, and nowhere did he come across any linen that would have done. So

he journeyed on, and his spirits sank with every step. At last he came

to a bridge which stretched over a deep river flowing through a flat and

marshy land. Before crossing the bridge he sat down on the banks of the

stream and sighed dismally over his sad fate. Suddenly a misshapen toad

crawled out of the swamp, and, sitting down opposite him, asked: 'What's

the matter with you, my dear Prince?'

The Prince answered impatiently, 'There's not much good my telling you,

Puddocky, for you couldn't help me if I did.'

'Don't be too sure of that,' replied the toad; 'tell me your trouble and

we'll see.'

Then the Prince became most confidential and told the little creature

why he had been sent out of his father's kingdom.

'Prince, I will certainly help you,' said the toad, and, crawling back

into her swamp, she returned dragging after her a piece of linen not

bigger than a finger, which she lay before the Prince, saying, 'Take

this home, and you'll see it will help you.'

The Prince had no wish to take such an insignificant bundle with him;

but he didn't like to hurt Puddocky's feelings by refusing it, so he

took up the little packet, put it in his pocket, and bade the little

toad farewell. Puddocky watched the Prince till he was out of sight and

then crept back into the water.

The further the Prince went the more he noticed that the pocket in which

the little roll of linen lay became heavier, and in proportion his heart

grew lighter. And so, greatly comforted, he returned to the Court of his

father, and arrived home just at the same time as his brothers with

their caravans. The King was delighted to see them all again, and at

once drew the ring from his finger and the trial began. In all the

waggon-loads there was not one piece of linen the tenth part of which

would go through the ring, and the two elder brothers, who had at first

sneered at their youngest brother for returning with no baggage, began

to feel rather small. But what were their feelings when he drew a bale

of linen out of his pocket which in fineness, softness, and purity of

colour was unsurpassable! The threads were hardly visible, and it went

through the ring without the smallest difficulty, at the same time

measuring a hundred yards quite correctly.

The father embraced his fortunate son, and commanded the rest of the

linen to be thrown into the water; then, turning to his children he

said, 'Now, dear Princes, prepare yourselves for the second task. You

must bring me back a little dog that will go comfortably into a

walnut-shell.'

The sons were all in despair over this demand, but as they each wished

to win the crown, they determined to do their best, and after a very few

days set out on their travels again.

At the cross roads they separated once more. The youngest went by

himself along his lonely way, but this time he felt much more cheerful.

Hardly had he sat down under the bridge and heaved a sigh, than Puddocky

came out; and, sitting down opposite him, asked, 'What's wrong with you

now, dear Prince?'

The Prince, who this time never doubted the little toad's power to help

him, told her his difficulty at once. 'Prince, I will help you,' said

the toad again, and crawled back into her swamp as fast as her short

little legs would carry her. She returned, dragging a hazel-nut behind

her, which she laid at the Prince's feet and said, 'Take this nut home

with you and tell your father to crack it very carefully, and you'll see

then what will happen.' The Prince thanked her heartily and went on his

way in the best of spirits while the little puddock crept slowly back

into the water.

When the Prince got home he found his brothers had just arrived with

great waggon-loads of little dogs of all sorts. The King had a walnut

shell ready, and the trial began; but not one of the dogs the two

eldest sons had brought with them would in the least fit into the shell.

When they had tried all their little dogs, the youngest son handed his

father the hazel-nut, with a modest bow, and begged him to crack it

carefully. Hardly had the old King done so than a lovely tiny dog sprang

out of the nutshell, and ran about on the King's hand, wagging its tail

and barking lustily at all the other little dogs. The joy of the Court

was great. The father again embraced his fortunate son, commanded the

rest of the small dogs to be thrown into the water and drowned, and once

more addressed his sons. 'The two most difficult tasks have been

performed. Now listen to the third and last: whoever brings the fairest

wife home with him shall be my heir.'

[Illustration]

This demand seemed so easy and agreeable and the reward was so great,

that the Princes lost no time in setting forth on their travels. At the

cross roads the two elder brothers debated if they should go the same

way as the youngest, but when they saw how dreary and deserted it looked

they made up their minds that it would be impossible to find what they

sought in these wilds, and so they stuck to their former paths.

The youngest was very depressed this time and said to himself, 'Anything

else Puddocky could have helped me in, but this task is quite beyond her

power. How could she ever find a beautiful wife for me? Her swamps are

wide and empty, and no human beings dwell there; only frogs and toads

and other creatures of that sort.' However, he sat down as usual under

the bridge, and this time he sighed from the bottom of his heart.

In a few minutes the toad stood in front of him and asked, 'What's the

matter with you now, my dear Prince?'

'Oh, Puddocky, this time you can't help me, for the task is beyond even

your power,' replied the Prince.

'Still,' answered the toad, 'you may as well tell me your difficulty,

for who knows but I mayn't be able to help you this time also.'

The Prince then told her the task they had been set to do. 'I'll help

you right enough, my dear Prince,' said the little toad; 'just you go

home, and I'll soon follow you.' With these words, Puddocky, with a

spring quite unlike her usual slow movements, jumped into the water and

disappeared.

The Prince rose up and went sadly on his way, for he didn't believe it

possible that the little toad could really help him in his present

difficulty. He had hardly gone a few steps when he heard a sound behind

him, and, looking round, he saw a carriage made of cardboard, drawn by

six big rats, coming towards him. Two hedgehogs rode in front as

outriders, and on the box sat a fat mouse as coachman, and behind stood

two little frogs as footmen. In the carriage itself sat Puddocky, who

kissed her hand to the Prince out of the window as she passed by.

Sunk deep in thought over the fickleness of fortune that had granted him

two of his wishes and now seemed about to deny him the last and best,

the Prince hardly noticed the absurd equipage, and still less did he

feel inclined to laugh at its comic appearance.

The carriage drove on in front of him for some time and then turned a

corner. But what was his joy and surprise when suddenly, round the same

corner, but coming towards him, there appeared a beautiful coach drawn

by six splendid horses, with outriders, coachmen, footmen and other

servants all in the most gorgeous liveries, and seated in the carriage

was the most beautiful woman the Prince had ever seen, and in whom he at

once recognised the beautiful Parsley, for whom his heart had formerly

burned. The carriage stopped when it reached him, and the footmen sprang

down and opened the door for him. He got in and sat down beside the

beautiful Parsley, and thanked her heartily for her help, and told her

how much he loved her.

And so he arrived at his father's capital, at the same moment as his

brothers who had returned with many carriage-loads of beautiful women.

But when they were all led before the King, the whole Court with one

consent awarded the prize of beauty to the fair Parsley.

The old King was delighted, and embraced his thrice fortunate son and

his new daughter-in-law tenderly, and appointed them as his successors

to the throne. But he commanded the other women to be thrown into the

water and drowned, like the bales of linen and the little dogs. The

Prince married Puddocky and reigned long and happily with her, and if

they aren't dead I suppose they are living still.

_THE STORY OF HOK LEE AND THE DWARFS_

There once lived in a small town in China a man named Hok Lee. He was a

steady industrious man, who not only worked hard at his trade, but did

all his own house-work as well, for he had no wife to do it for him.

'What an excellent industrious man is this Hok Lee!' said his

neighbours; 'how hard he works: he never leaves his house to amuse

himself or to take a holiday as others do!'

But Hok Lee was by no means the virtuous person his neighbours thought

him. True, he worked hard enough by day, but at night, when all

respectable folk were fast asleep, he used to steal out and join a

dangerous band of robbers, who broke into rich people's houses and

carried off all they could lay hands on.

This state of things went on for some time, and, though a thief was

caught now and then and punished, no suspicion ever fell on Hok Lee, he

was such a _very_ respectable, hard-working man.

Hok Lee had already amassed a good store of money as his share of the

proceeds of these robberies when it happened one morning on going to

market that a neighbour said to him:

'Why, Hok Lee, what is the matter with your face? One side of it is all

swelled up.'

True enough, Hok Lee's right cheek was twice the size of his left, and

it soon began to feel very uncomfortable.

'I will bind up my face,' said Hok Lee; 'doubtless the warmth will cure

the swelling.' But no such thing. Next day it was worse, and day by day

it grew bigger and bigger till it was nearly as large as his head and

became very painful.

Hok Lee was at his wits' ends what to do. Not only was his cheek

unsightly and painful, but his neighbours began to jeer and make fun of

him, which hurt his feelings very much indeed.

One day, as luck would have it, a travelling doctor came to the town. He

sold not only all kinds of medicine, but also dealt in many strange

charms against witches and evil spirits.

Hok Lee determined to consult him, and asked him into his house.

After the doctor had examined him carefully, he spoke thus: 'This, O Hok

Lee, is no ordinary swelled face. I strongly suspect you have been doing

some wrong deed which has called down the anger of the spirits on you.

None of my drugs will avail to cure you, but, if you are willing to pay

me handsomely, I can tell you how you may be cured.'

Then Hok Lee and the doctor began to bargain together, and it was a long

time before they could come to terms. However, the doctor got the better

of it in the end, for he was determined not to part with his secret

under a certain price, and Hok Lee had no mind to carry his huge cheek

about with him to the end of his days. So he was obliged to part with

the greater portion of his ill-gotten gains.

When the Doctor had pocketed the money, he told Hok Lee to go on the

first night of the full moon to a certain wood and there to watch by a

particular tree. After a time he would see the dwarfs and little sprites

who live underground come out to dance. When they saw him they would be

sure to make him dance too. 'And mind you dance your very best,' added

the doctor. 'If you dance well and please them they will grant you a

petition and you can then beg to be cured; but if you dance badly they

will most likely do you some mischief out of spite.' With that he took

leave and departed.

Happily the first night of the full moon was near, and at the proper

time Hok Lee set out for the wood. With a little trouble he found the

tree the doctor had described, and, feeling nervous, he climbed up into

it.

He had hardly settled himself on a branch when he saw the little dwarfs

assembling in the moonlight. They came from all sides, till at length

there appeared to be hundreds of them. They seemed in high glee, and

danced and skipped and capered about, whilst Hok Lee grew so eager

watching them that he crept further and further along his branch till at

length it gave a loud crack. All the dwarfs stood still, and Hok Lee

felt as if his heart stood still also.

Then one of the dwarfs called out, 'Someone is up in that tree. Come

down at once, whoever you are, or we must come and fetch you.'

In great terror, Hok Lee proceeded to come down; but he was so nervous

that he tripped near the ground and came rolling down in the most absurd

manner. When he had picked himself up, he came forward with a low bow,

and the dwarf who had first spoken and who appeared to be the leader,

said, 'Now, then, who art thou, and what brings thee here?'

So Hok Lee told him the sad story of his swelled cheek, and how he had

been advised to come to the forest and beg the dwarfs to cure him.

'It is well,' replied the dwarf. 'We will see about that. First,

however, thou must dance before us. Should thy dancing please us,

perhaps we may be able to do something; but shouldst thou dance badly,

we shall assuredly punish thee, so now take warning and dance away.'

With that, he and all the other dwarfs sat down in a large ring, leaving

Hok Lee to dance alone in the middle. He felt half frightened to death,

and besides was a good deal shaken by his fall from the tree and did not

feel at all inclined to dance. But the dwarfs were not to be trifled

with.

'Begin!' cried their leader, and 'Begin!' shouted the rest in chorus.

So in despair Hok Lee began. First he hopped on one foot and then on the

other, but he was so stiff and so nervous that he made but a poor

attempt, and after a time sank down on the ground and vowed he could

dance no more.

The dwarfs were very angry. They crowded round Hok Lee and abused him.

'Thou to come here to be cured, indeed!' they cried, 'thou hast brought

one big cheek with thee, but thou shalt take away two.' And with that

they ran off and disappeared, leaving Hok Lee to find his way home as

best he might.

He hobbled away, weary and depressed, and not a little anxious on

account of the dwarfs' threat.

Nor were his fears unfounded, for when he rose next morning his left

cheek was swelled up as big as his right, and he could hardly see out of

his eyes. Hok Lee felt in despair, and his neighbours jeered at him more

than ever. The doctor, too, had disappeared, so there was nothing for it

but to try the dwarfs once more.

He waited a month till the first night of the full moon came round

again, and then he trudged back to the forest, and sat down under the

tree from which he had fallen. He had not long to wait. Ere long the

dwarfs came trooping out till all were assembled.

'I don't feel quite easy,' said one; 'I feel as if some horrid human

being were near us.'

When Hok Lee heard this he came forward and bent down to the ground

before the dwarfs, who came crowding round, and laughed heartily at his

comical appearance with his two big cheeks.

'What dost thou want?' they asked; and Hok Lee proceeded to tell them of

his fresh misfortunes, and begged so hard to be allowed one more trial

at dancing that the dwarfs consented, for there is nothing they love so

much as being amused.

[Illustration]

Now, Hok Lee knew how much depended on his dancing well, so he plucked

up a good spirit and began, first quite slowly, and faster by degrees,

and he danced so well and gracefully, and made such new and wonderful

steps, that the dwarfs were quite delighted with him.

They clapped their tiny hands, and shouted, 'Well done, Hok Lee, well

done; go on, dance more, for we are pleased.'

And Hok Lee danced on and on, till he really could dance no more, and

was obliged to stop.

Then the leader of the dwarfs said, 'We are well pleased, Hok Lee, and

as a recompense for thy dancing thy face shall be cured. Farewell.'

With these words he and the other dwarfs vanished, and Hok Lee, putting

his hands to his face, found to his great joy that his cheeks were

reduced to their natural size. The way home seemed short and easy to

him, and he went to bed happy, and resolved never to go out robbing

again.

Next day the whole town was full of the news of Hok's sudden cure. His

neighbours questioned him, but could get nothing from him, except the

fact that he had discovered a wonderful cure for all kinds of diseases.

After a time a rich neighbour, who had been ill for some years, came,

and offered to give Hok Lee a large sum of money if he would tell him

how he might get cured. Hok Lee consented on condition that he swore to

keep the secret. He did so, and Hok Lee told him of the dwarfs and their

dances.

The neighbour went off, carefully obeyed Hok Lee's directions, and was

duly cured by the dwarfs. Then another and another came to Hok Lee to

beg his secret, and from each he extracted a vow of secrecy and a large

sum of money. This went on for some years, so that at length Hok Lee

became a very wealthy man, and ended his days in peace and prosperity.

From the Chinese.

_THE STORY OF THE THREE BEARS_

Once upon a time there were Three Bears, who lived together in a house

of their own in a wood. One of them was a Little, Small, Wee Bear; and

one was a Middle-sized Bear, and the other was a Great, Huge Bear. They

had each a pot for their porridge, a little pot for the Little, Small,

Wee Bear; and a middle-sized pot for the Middle Bear; and a great pot

for the Great, Huge Bear. And they had each a chair to sit in; a little

chair for the Little, Small, Wee Bear; and a middle-sized chair for the

Middle Bear; and a great chair for the Great, Huge Bear. And they had

each a bed to sleep in; a little bed for the Little, Small, Wee Bear;

and a middle-sized bed for the Middle Bear; and a great bed for the

Great, Huge Bear.

One day, after they had made the porridge for their breakfast, and

poured it into their porridge-pots, they walked out into the wood while

the porridge was cooling, that they might not burn their mouths by

beginning too soon to eat it. And while they were walking, a little old

woman came to the house. She could not have been a good, honest old

woman; for, first, she looked in at the window, and then she peeped in

at the keyhole; and, seeing nobody in the house, she lifted the latch.

The door was not fastened, because the bears were good bears, who did

nobody any harm, and never suspected that anybody would harm them. So

the little old woman opened the door and went in; and well pleased she

was when she saw the porridge on the table. If she had been a good

little old woman she would have waited till the bears came home, and

then, perhaps, they would have asked her to breakfast; for they were

good bears--a little rough or so, as the manner of bears is, but for all

that very good-natured and hospitable. But she was an impudent, bad old

woman, and set about helping herself.

So first she tasted the porridge of the Great, Huge Bear, and that was

too hot for her; and she said a bad word about that. And then she tasted

the porridge of the Middle Bear; and that was too cold for her; and she

said a bad word about that too. And then she went to the porridge of the

Little, Small, Wee Bear, and tasted that; and that was neither too hot

nor too cold, but just right; and she liked it so well, that she ate it

all up: but the naughty old woman said a bad word about the little

porridge-pot, because it did not hold enough for her.

Then the little old woman sate down in the chair of the Great, Huge

Bear, and that was too hard for her. And then she sate down in the chair

of the Middle Bear, and that was too soft for her. And then she sate

down in the chair of the Little, Small, Wee Bear, and that was neither

too hard nor too soft, but just right. So she seated herself in it, and

there she sate till the bottom of the chair came out, and down came she,

plump upon the ground. And the naughty old woman said a wicked word

about that too.

Then the little old woman went up stairs into the bed-chamber in which

the three bears slept. And first she lay down upon the bed of the Great,

Hugh Bear; but that was too high at the head for her. And next she lay

down upon the bed of the Middle Bear; and that was too high at the foot

for her. And then she lay down upon the bed of the Little, Small, Wee

Bear; and that was neither too high at the head, nor at the foot, but

just right. So she covered herself up comfortably, and lay there till

she fell fast asleep.

By this time the three bears thought their porridge would be cool

enough; so they came home to breakfast. Now the little old woman had

left the spoon of the Great, Huge Bear, standing in his porridge.

'SOMEBODY HAS BEEN AT MY PORRIDGE!'

said the Great, Huge Bear, in his great gruff voice. And when the Middle

Bear looked at his, he saw that the spoon was standing in it too. They

were wooden spoons; if they had been silver ones, the naughty old woman

would have put them in her pocket.

'Somebody Has Been At My Porridge!'

said the Middle Bear, in his middle voice.

Then the Little, Small, Wee Bear looked at his, and there was the spoon

in the porridge-pot, but the porridge was all gone.

'_Somebody has been at my porridge, and has eaten it all up!_'

said the Little, Small Wee Bear, in his little, small wee voice.

Upon this the three bears, seeing that some one had entered their house,

and eaten up the Little, Small Wee Bear's breakfast, began to look about

them. Now the little old woman had not put the hard cushion straight

when she rose from the chair of the Great, Huge Bear.

'SOMEBODY HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY CHAIR!'

said the Great, Huge Bear, in his great, rough, gruff voice.

And the little old woman had squatted down the soft cushion of the

Middle Bear.

'Somebody Has Been Sitting In My Chair!'

said the Middle Bear, in his middle voice.

And you know what the little old woman had done to the third chair.

'_Somebody has been sitting in my chair, and has sate the bottom

of it out!_'

said the Little, Small, Wee Bear, in his little, small, wee voice.

Then the three bears thought it necessary that they should make farther

search; so they went up stairs into their bed-chamber. Now the little

old woman had pulled the pillow of the Great, Huge Bear out of its

place.

'SOMEBODY HAS BEEN LYING IN MY BED!'

said the Great, Huge Bear, in his great, rough, gruff voice.

And the little old woman had pulled the bolster of the Middle Bear out

of its place.

'Somebody Has Been Lying In My Bed!'

said the Middle Bear in his middle voice.

And when the Little, Small, Wee Bear came to look at his bed, there was

the bolster in its place, and the pillow in its place upon the bolster,

and upon the pillow was the little old woman's ugly, dirty head,--which

was not in its place, for she had no business there.

'_Somebody has been lying in my bed,--and here she is!_'

said the Little, Small, Wee Bear, in his little, small, wee voice.

The little old woman had heard in her sleep the great, rough, gruff

voice of the Great, Huge Bear; but she was so fast asleep that it was no

more to her than the roaring of wind or the rumbling of thunder. And she

had heard the middle voice of the Middle Bear, but it was only as if she

had heard someone speaking in a dream. But when she heard the little,

small, wee voice of the Little, Small, Wee Bear, it was so sharp, and so

shrill, that it awakened her at once. Up she started; and when she saw

the Three Bears on one side of the bed, she tumbled herself out at the

other, and ran to the window. Now the window was open, because the

bears, like good, tidy bears as they were, always opened their

bed-chamber window when they got up in the morning. Out the little old

woman jumped; and whether she broke her neck in the fall, or ran into

the wood and was lost there, or found her way out of the wood and was

taken up by the constable and sent to the House of Correction for a

vagrant as she was, I cannot tell. But the Three Bears never saw

anything more of her.

[Illustration]

Southey.

_PRINCE VIVIEN AND THE PRINCESS PLACIDA_

Once upon a time there lived a King and Queen who loved one another

dearly. Indeed the Queen, whose name was Santorina, was so pretty and so

kind-hearted that it would have been a wonder if her husband had not

been fond of her, while King Gridelin himself was a perfect bundle of

good qualities, for the Fairy who presided at his christening had

summoned the shades of all his ancestors, and taken something good from

each of them to form his character. Unfortunately, though, she had given

him rather too much kindness of heart, which is a thing that generally

gets its possessor into trouble, but so far all things had prospered

with King Gridelin. However, it was not to be expected such good fortune

could last, and before very long the Queen had a lovely little daughter

who was named Placida. Now the King, who thought that if she resembled

her mother in face and mind she would need no other gift, never troubled

to ask any of the Fairies to her christening, and this offended them

mortally, so that they resolved to punish him severely for thus

depriving them of their rights. So, to the despair of King Gridelin, the

Queen first of all became very ill, and then disappeared altogether. If

it had not been for the little Princess there is no saying what would

have become of him, he was so miserable, but there she was to be brought

up, and luckily the good Fairy Lolotte, in spite of all that had passed,

was willing to come and take charge of her, and of her little cousin

Prince Vivien, who was an orphan and had been placed under the care of

his uncle, King Gridelin, when he was quite a baby. Although she

neglected nothing that could possibly have been done for them, their

characters, as they grew up, plainly proved that education only softens

down natural defects, but cannot entirely do away with them; for

Placida, who was perfectly lovely, and with a capacity and intelligence

which enabled her to learn and understand anything that presented

itself, was at the same time as lazy and indifferent as it is possible

for anyone to be, while Vivien on the contrary was only too lively, and

was for ever taking up some new thing and as promptly tiring of it, and

flying off to something else which held his fickle fancy an equally

short time. As these two children would possibly inherit the kingdom, it

was natural that their people should take a great interest in them, and

it fell out that all the tranquil and peace-loving citizens desired that

Placida should one day be their Queen, while the rash and quarrelsome

hoped great things for Vivien. Such a division of ideas seemed to

promise civil wars and all kinds of troubles to the State, and even in

the Palace the two parties frequently came into collision. As for the

children themselves, though they were too well brought up to quarrel,

still the difference in all their tastes and feelings made it impossible

for them to like one another, so there seemed no chance of their ever

consenting to be married, which was a pity, since that was the only

thing that would have satisfied both parties. Prince Vivien was fully

aware of the feeling in his favour, but being too honourable to wish to

injure his pretty cousin, and perhaps too impatient and volatile to care

to think seriously about anything, he suddenly took it into his head

that he would go off by himself in search of adventure. Luckily this

idea occurred to him when he was on horseback, for he would certainly

have set out on foot rather than lose an instant. As it was, he simply

turned his horse's head, without another thought than that of getting

out of the kingdom as soon as possible. This abrupt departure was a

great blow to the State, especially as no one had any idea what had

become of the Prince. Even King Gridelin, who had never cared for

anything since the disappearance of Queen Santorina, was roused by this

new loss, and though he could not so much as look at the Princess

Placida without shedding floods of tears, he resolved to see for himself

what talents and capabilities she showed. He very soon found out that in

addition to her natural indolence, she was being as much indulged and

spoilt day by day as if the Fairy had been her grandmother, and was

obliged to remonstrate very seriously upon the subject. Lolotte took his

reproaches meekly, and promised faithfully that she would not encourage

the Princess in her idleness and indifference any more. From this moment

poor Placida's troubles began! She was actually expected to choose her

own dresses, to take care of her jewels, and to find her own amusements;

but rather than take so much trouble she wore the same old frock from

morning till night, and never appeared in public if she could possibly

avoid it. However, this was not all, King Gridelin insisted that the

affairs of the kingdom should be explained to her, and that she should

attend all the councils and give her opinion upon the matter in hand

whenever it was asked of her, and this made her life such a burden to

her that she implored Lolotte to take her away from a country where too

much was required of an unhappy Princess.

The Fairy refused at first with a great show of firmness, but who could

resist the tears and entreaties of anyone so pretty as Placida? It came

to this in the end, that she transported the Princess just as she was,

cosily tucked up upon her favourite couch, to her own Grotto, and this

new disappearance left all the people in despair, and Gridelin went

about looking more distracted than ever. But now let us return to Prince

Vivien, and see what his restless spirit has brought him to. Though

Placida's kingdom was a large one, his horse had carried him gallantly

to the limit of it, but it could go no further, and the Prince was

obliged to dismount and continue his journey on foot, though this slow

mode of progress tired his patience severely.

[Illustration]

After what seemed to him a very long time, he found himself all alone in

a vast forest, so dark and gloomy that he secretly shuddered; however,

he chose the most promising looking path he could find, and marched

along it courageously at his best speed, but in spite of all his

efforts, night fell before he reached the edge of the wood.

For some time he stumbled along, keeping to the path as well as he could

in the darkness, and just as he was almost wearied out he saw before

him a gleam of light.

This sight revived his drooping spirits, and he made sure that he was

now close to the shelter and supper he needed so much, but the more he

walked towards the light the further away it seemed; sometimes he even

lost sight of it altogether, and you may imagine how provoked and

impatient he was by the time he finally arrived at the miserable cottage

from which the light proceeded. He gave a loud knock at the door, and an

old woman's voice answered from within, but as she did not seem to be

hurrying herself to open it he redoubled his blows, and demanded to be

let in imperiously, quite forgetting that he was no longer in his own

kingdom. But all this had no effect upon the old woman, who only noticed

all the uproar he was making by saying gently:

'You must have patience.'