Duldy, who dwelt in the forests which clothed the base of the great
mountain of Kel. This mountain was in the centre of an immense plain,
watered by many rivers, and dotted over with many cities, for the
kingdom of Metella was a very rich place indeed, so rich that the
inhabitants looked upon gold in the same way as we look upon tin or
iron, as quite a common thing. The plain was very fertile by reason of
the great rivers which flowed through it like silver threads, and all
these rivers took their rise in the mountain of Kel, a mighty snow-clad
peak which shot up, white and shining, to the blue sky from amidst the
bright green of its encircling forests.
There were old stories handed down from father to son, which said that
the mountain was once a volcano, which, breathing nothing but fire, sent
great streams of red-hot lava down to the fertile plain, to wither and
blight all the beautiful gardens and rich corn-fields. But the fires in
the breast of the mountain had long since died out, and for many
centuries the black, rugged summit had been covered with snow, while
countless streams, caused by the melting of the glaciers, fell down its
rocky sides, and, flowing through the cool, green pine forests, spread
themselves over the thirsty plain, so that it bloomed like a beautiful
garden.
[Illustration]
Duldy lived in these scented pine forests, and was supposed to be the
son of an old couple called Dull and Day, from whence by joining both
names he got his own Duldy; but he was really a lost child whom old
Father Dull had found, seventeen years before, on the banks of the Foam,
one of the bright sparkling streams which flowed from the snowy heights
above. Dull took the child home to his wife Day, who was overcome with
joy, for she ardently desired to have a little boy of her own, but never
had the happiness to become a mother. This good couple took great care
of Duldy, and he grew up to be a handsome youth, with golden hair, like
the tint of ripe corn, and blue eyes, the colour of the sky. Any one who
saw Duldy would have said he was a prince, so noble and handsome did he
look, but, alas! he was only a poor shepherd lad, for, in spite of all
inquiries, Dull and Day never found out who were his parents.
Now, at eighteen years of age, Duldy was the bravest youth in the
forest, for, while protecting his flock of sheep, as they browsed on the
thin grass of the high lands, he had killed many wolves who would have
carried off the lambs. All the forest maidens were in love with Duldy,
for he looked noble and grand in his simple suit of green cloth; and,
moreover, it was well known that Dull and Day would certainly leave
their flock of sheep to their adopted son, so Duldy would one day be a
rich man—that is, rich in the eyes of the simple country people around.
But the handsome shepherd never troubled his head about the maidens who
sighed so ardently at his feet, for the fact is, he had one day seen the
beautiful Princess Elsa when she was hunting in the forest, and had
fallen deeply in love with her.
She was really charming, the Princess Elsa, tall and stately, with dark
hair and dark eyes; it was no wonder that Duldy loved her, but how
hopeless was that love! She was the daughter of King Arago, who ruled
over the kingdom of Metella, and he was a poor unknown shepherd lad.
Still all these things happened in the days of the fairies, and when
fairies take a fancy to any mortal, that mortal can gain anything,
however lowly he may be, from the hand of a princess to the throne of a
kingdom.
But did a fairy love Duldy? Ah, that is a difficult question to answer!
He was not quite sure, and yet he was almost certain that he was loved
by the Water-witch Foamina.
She was the fairy of the stream called Foam, whose sparkling waters fell
from a great height in a white veil down to a deep pool surrounded by
delicate green ferns. From this pool the stream gushed out between two
great stones, and babbled down the side of the mountain, glided round
great moss-covered rocks rippled under the gnarled roots of ancient
trees, and swirled into sombre pools beneath the cool shadow of its
grass-fringed banks. After leaving the forest, it flowed broad and
placid between rich fields of yellow corn, through old-fashioned
villages, under the slender bridges which leaped from bank to bank, and
at last mingled with the mighty river encircling the island upon which
stood the city of Aurea, the capital of King Arago, wherein dwelt the
beautiful Princess Elsa.
[Illustration]
Dull and Day had both told Duldy how he had been found on the banks of
the stream lying on a white bed of soft foam, and he was very fond of
sitting by the brook, listening to its babbling talk, and thinking that
it might tell him something about his unknown parents. One day, while he
was thus sitting dreaming about the lovely princess, and wondering if he
would ever see her again, he heard a light laugh, and thought he saw an
arch face peering out at him from behind the falling foam of the
waterfall. As he looked steadily, the face vanished, but he caught a
glimpse of two white arms playing with the sparkling water, and again
saw the smiling face. Then the stream seemed to stop babbling and
fretting among its stones, and form itself into words, which grew louder
and clearer as he listened. It was not the murmur of the waterfall, nor
the sighing of the wind, nor the babbling of the stream, but a voice,
much more beautiful than all three, which sounded from behind the veil
of foam, and sang this song:
“I am the daughter
Of earth and water,
Born of the sun and the snow so white.
I fall in foam
From my mountain home,
Downward flash in a torrent bright.
My streamlet rushes
And sparkling gushes,
Cold as ice from the virgin snow;
And see these swirls,
My foamy curls
Ringlets white in the pool below.
Now see me dancing,
Chattering, glancing;
Over and under the grey stones grim
I slide, I creep,
I bound, I leap,
On and on thro’ the forest dim;
Then, broadly flowing,
Where corn is growing,
Yellow fields ’neath the azure sky,
Thro’ cities old
My waters cold
By turret and tower go gliding by.
I hear the laughing
Of revellers quaffing
Wine, red wine, in the splendid night;
At morning grey
I pass away,
Golden now in the gold dawn’s light.
With ceaseless motion
I flow to ocean,
Encircle first the King’s chief town.
From dark to light,
From dawn till night,
Ocean calls, and I hurry down.”
A burst of gay laughter ended the song, a great veil of white spray was
flung over Duldy as he sat on the bank, and the stream resumed its
inarticulate babbling. Duldy went home dreaming of the lovely face he
had seen, but, feeling something cold clasping his wrist, he looked down
and saw for a moment that it was encircled by a wreath of foam. The
white bubbles vanished, but he still felt the cold clasp, and knew,
though he could not see it, that the water bracelet was still on his
wrist. As he stood perplexed at this wonder, the murmur of the waterfall
sounding like soft thunder through the green woods shaped itself once
more into words:
“’Tis I whom thou hearest.
I stole thee, my dearest.
I loved thee and kissed when thou wast a child.
I love thee for ever,
No Fate can us sever:
The foam-ring will bind thee to me undefiled.”
And that is how Duldy knew he was loved by the Water-witch.
He came again to the side of the stream and heard Foamina sing the same
song, and when he was going home, he once more heard her voice murmuring
through the woods. This time he felt rather angry, because he did not
want to be bound to the water-faery, as he was in love with the Princess
Elsa. However, being a very polite youth, he said nothing, but went home
laughing.
Next time he heard her singing, he could not help telling her the truth,
and cried out,—
“I do not love you, but the Princess Elsa.”
Instantly the still waters of the pool foamed furiously and arose up
like a great fountain, in the centre of which he saw the water-faery
looking angrily at him. Terrified at the sight, he hastened away, and
did not go to the stream again, but on his wrist he still felt the clasp
of the foam-ring, which nothing, not even hot water, could wash away.
Shortly afterwards, a rumour crept through the kingdom that the Princess
Elsa had fallen into a deep sleep, out of which no one could rouse her,
and the King made a proclamation that whosoever should succeed in waking
her would receive her hand in marriage, and be king after him.
When Duldy heard this, he was anxious to go to the city and try to wake
the beautiful Princess, but Dull and Day tried to make him give up the
idea.
“You don’t know how to wake her,” said Dull; “it must be a magic sleep
into which the Princess has fallen.”
“And no one can wake a princess out of a magic sleep except a faery,”
observed Day sagaciously.
“At any rate I’ll try,” replied Duldy resolutely, “I have heard that a
princess who slept for a hundred years was awakened by a kiss—perhaps if
I kiss the Princess Elsa, she also will awake.”
“I don’t think so,” said Dull, shaking his head.
“And the King would never let a poor shepherd kiss the Princess, I’m
certain,” said Day wisely.
“Perhaps I’m not a poor shepherd,” cried Duldy cheerfully. “I may be the
son of a king for all you know; but I’ll go to the city and try to waken
the Princess with a kiss: the King would not mind a kiss if I wakened
her.”
Dull and Day shook their heads, for they were simple people, who did not
know anything about courts, and were afraid Duldy, whom they loved
fondly, would get into trouble.
However, Duldy was determined to try, for one does not get a chance of
becoming a king every day, so, packing up a few things in a bundle, and,
taking his trusty oaken staff, he set out in the cool of the evening to
walk through the forest on his way to the city of Aurea.
It was a beautiful summer’s night, with a gentle wind blowing, and the
silver moon shining down on the snowy peak of the mountain, cast strange
shadows in the old forest. Duldy did not mind the dark,—for it was
rather dark,—but marched bravely on, singing aloud to keep up his
spirits. Very soon he found himself walking beside a brawling stream
that sometimes ran directly across his path, and as it was deep and
turbulent, he was unable to cross it, but had to walk along the bank to
see if he could find a shallow place. He never came to any, however, for
the stream still appeared deep and dangerous, and wound in and out and
round about in the most serpent-like manner, babbling all the time to
itself in a laughing way, as if it was delighted at keeping Duldy from
pursuing his journey.
Duldy grew very angry, and tried to leap across, but when he was
preparing for a spring, the stream broadened out into a wide river, and
seeing that, however far he jumped, he would never land on the opposite
bank, he wisely abandoned the attempt.
Then it suddenly struck him that the stream must be Foamina, who did not
want him to leave the forest, so he determined to find out if it was
really her, for he could not believe that it was only a common stream.
In order to invoke her to appear, he stood still, and, lifting up his
voice, sang these words:
“’Tis I whom thou hearest;
If thou art my dearest,
And loved me and kissed me when I was a child,
I’ll leave thee for ever,
Return to thee never,
If thou wilt appear not, in woman shape mild.”
[Illustration: HE SAW THE FORM OF THE WATER-FAERY GLIMMERING GHOSTLY
UNDER THE THIN WHITE VEIL]
No sooner had he sung these words than a great jet of foam spouted up
from the stream, scattering him all over with cool spray, and in the
centre he saw the form of the water-faery glimmering ghostly under the
thin white veil. She tossed her arms aloft, sending a shower of
water-drops to sparkle in the moon, shining like jewels, and sang in
answer:
“River king’s daughter,
Here thou hast brought her,
From the cool water;
She smiles on thee, dear.
Throw but a kiss to me,
It will be bliss to me,
If you do this to me,
A maid I’ll appear.”
On hearing this, Duldy kissed his hand towards the tall white column of
foam, whereupon it vanished, and in its place stood a slender, beautiful
woman in an azure robe girdled with white water-lilies, the same flowers
also being entwined in her golden hair, which fell in great waves down
to the ground.
On seeing this beautiful faery with the profusion of golden tresses,
Duldy could only stare, whereupon she came forward with a smile and took
his hand. Her touch was bitterly cold, and he shivered in the chilly
atmosphere which she seemed to spread around her.
[Illustration]
“Are you Foamina?” asked Duldy cautiously.
“Yes, I am the Spirit of the River,” she replied, nodding her golden
head. “Why do you wish to see me?”
“Because I want to leave the forest,” said Duldy quickly.
“I know you do,” cried Foamina, with a laugh which sounded like the
ripple of water; “but you’ll never do so; I’ll foam round you like a
brook, and you’ll never be able to jump across.”
“But why will you do so?” asked the shepherd.
“Because I love you—I love you!” she murmured, bending towards him; “and
I won’t let you go to the Princess.”
“But I want to waken the Princess with a kiss.”
“I know you do,” said Foamina again; “but you’ll never kiss her—even if
you did it would be no good. I plunged her into that magic sleep by my
enchantments, and she’ll never awaken until you promise to marry me.”
“Oh, I’ll never do that!” exclaimed Duldy.
“Very well; then she’ll sleep on for ever,” said the Water-witch,
laughing cruelly, while the air round her grew bitterly cold, and the
yellow locks of her hair and the blue folds of her robe seemed to
undulate over her lovely form like waves of water.
“Then, as you won’t let me leave the forest, I suppose I must stay
here,” said Duldy in despair.
“Yes, unless you promise to marry me,” replied Foamina tenderly.
“In that case I’ll remain here for ever,” cried Duldy angrily; “and as
it’s so cold, I’ll light a fire.”
“No, don’t do that,” said the Water-witch, shivering; “I don’t like
fire,—a cruel, hot thing which burns me up.”
“I don’t care,” retorted Duldy, beginning to collect sticks for his
fire; “I’m not going to perish with cold for your sake, especially when
I don’t love you.”
“I’ll put your fire out,” cried Foamina in a rage.
“Oh no, you won’t,” replied Duldy coolly; “I won’t let you. Besides, I
can talk to you much more comfortably when I’m warm.”
Foamina stood sulkily on one side as Duldy lighted his fire; for, in
spite of her threat, she was so afraid of the flames that she dared not
approach them. Very soon the shepherd had a large fire blazing away
merrily, and the red glare lighted up the sombre branches of the trees
and the beautiful face of Foamina, who retired to some little distance
when the fire began to burn, singing a strange, sweet song:—
“Fire red,
Thee I dread;
Water blue,
I love you;
Fire—water
Maketh hotter;
Water—fire
Makes expire.”
[Illustration]
Now, while she was singing, and Duldy was warming himself at the bright
flames, a small brown lizard came creeping out of a bunch of ferns and
ran across the open space between Foamina and the shepherd.
As soon as the witch saw it, she flung herself on to it with a wild cry,
and dissolved into a wide pool of seething foam, apparently trying to
drown the lizard. But Duldy, who was kind to all animals, put his hand
into the foam and picked up the lizard, which was nearly dead amid the
angry water. He put it on the ground near the fire, but the white foam
rolled forward right to the edge of the flames, so the poor lizard had
no choice but to be drowned or burned, and Duldy put out his hand once
more to save it from the cruel witch. To his dismay, however, the
lizard, finding itself hard pressed by the foaming waves of the pool,
ran into the fire and hid itself among the burning embers; upon which
the water retreated with an angry cry, and spouted up into a snow-white
column, out of which stepped Foamina in a fearful rage.
“Why did you not let me kill him?” she cried, throwing some cold spray
over Duldy. “I wanted to drown him.”
“The poor lizard was not hurting you,” replied Duldy, laughing.
“It was not a lizard!” shrieked Foamina, stamping her foot. “It was my
great enemy Salamander, and you saved him, stupid.”
“I don’t think so,” said Duldy, pointing to the fire. “Salamander ran in
there, so he must be burned to a cinder by this time.”
“No, he isn’t!” cried the Water-witch, coming nearer; “that is where he
lives! but I’ll put the fire out—I’ll put the fire out and drown him!”
She dissolved once more into a wave of foam, and, rolling forward, flung
a great sheet of water over the fire. Duldy expected to see the fire go
black out, but instead of that it shot up into a tall column of red
flame, and he hastily arose, afraid of being burned by the fierce heat.
The wave of foam recoiled with an angry hiss, and, changing into a
turbulent brook, flowed away through the forest with fretful murmurings,
leaving not a trace behind on the smooth green lawn.
“I’m glad she’s gone,” said Duldy, with a sigh of relief. “Now, perhaps,
I’ll be able to go on to the Princess.”
“You shall,” said a clear voice behind him; “and I shall help you.”
Duldy turned, and saw the tall column of flame still glowing fiercely
red. Afterwards it changed to a beautiful rose colour, and out of it
there stepped a handsome youth of his own height and age, dressed in a
short red tunic, with golden sandals, and a flashing band of jewels
bound round his head. His face was as bright as the sun, and under his
skin Duldy could see a rosy flushing, as though fire was burning inside
him, while under his feet were the dull red embers and flickering
flames.
“I am Salamander,” said the youth, with a smile. “You saved me as a
lizard from my greatest enemy, the Fairy of Water, and now I am going to
reward you.”
“By waking the Princess?” asked Duldy eagerly.
“No; you must do that,” said Salamander, laughing, “but it will take
something more than a kiss to wake her. Listen. Foamina is in love with
you, and when you said you loved the Princess Elsa, she revenged herself
by plunging her into a magic sleep. She did this by sending to King
Arago a golden fountain, and when it was set up in the palace, the water
which spouted out of it sent the Princess Elsa to sleep by spreading the
odour of poppies through the rooms. This odour affects no one but the
Princess, so, in order to release her from the spell, you must make a
fire of pine cones and sprinkle on the flames some of this powder, then
you will see what happens.”
“Oh, thank you!” cried Duldy, taking a small gold box from Salamander.
“And will I be King?”
“If you wake the Princess, you certainly will be King after Arago dies,”
said Salamander; “but you have a stronger claim to the throne than by
marrying the Princess. Do what I tell you, and you’ll find out the
secret of your birth.”
“I’ll go at once,” said Duly joyfully, picking up his bundle and stick.
“One word,” observed Salamander, as Duldy turned to go. “On your way to
Aurea, do not let any water of stream, river, pool, or brook touch you,
or Foamina will get you into her power again.”
“I’m afraid I am in her power now,” said Duldy mournfully. “I’ve got the
foam-ring on my wrist; cannot you take it off?”
“I cannot,” said Salamander, shaking his head; “but the Princess will be
able to do that. Foamina will be very angry when you marry the King’s
daughter, and will try to do you mischief. If she does, call on me, and
I’ll help you.”
He stepped into the rosy-coloured column again, which immediately
changed to a fiery red, and sank lower and lower until it vanished in
the ground, when Duldy saw to his surprise that his fire had also
vanished, the grass being as smooth and green as if no fire had been
lighted at all.
Delighted at having things made so smooth for him, Duldy went on through
the forest on his way to Aurea, but, remembering Salamander’s command,
he was careful to let no water touch him. Many streams lay across his
path, but he either jumped over them or clambered over by the trunks of
trees, and when he got down to the plain he crossed all the rivers by
the bridges. Looking back, he saw the great white peak of the mountain
flashing like a jewel in the blue sky, and the green forests encircling
its base like emerald waves, but he espied nothing of Foamina, so
trudged merrily along on his way to release the Princess Elsa from her
enchantment.
II.
THE FOUNTAIN OF JEWELS.
AFTER travelling for some days, Duldy at last arrived, footsore and
weary, at the gate of Aurea. It was the entrance to a long stone bridge
which crossed the river, encircling the city, and at the farther end was
another gate which opened into the principal street. Duldy entered under
the wonderfully carved archway, and looked open-mouthed at the smart
soldiers on guard, whose red uniforms were all bedizened with gold lace,
and who wore helmets of the same metal. To be sure, the good people of
Aurea did not think much of gold, as they had such quantities of it, but
Duldy, having been brought up very simply in his forest home, was quite
amazed at the glare and glitter around him.
All the houses were built of white marble, with latticed windows of
yellow gold, and in the centre of the principal square, which was at the
end of the great street, a tall slender column of marble wreathed round
with bands of gold soared aloft in the clear air. The floor of the
square was also of white marble, with four fountains, one at each
corner, which threw up jets of sparkling water in shining profusion.
Indeed, there seemed to be a great deal of water about this marvellous
city; it ran down the sides of every street, it rushed out of the mouths
of lions heads of white marble fastened to the walls, and in the centre
of some of the squares were great still pools, encircled by marble
rims, flashing like mirrors in the sunlight. Flowers! flowers
everywhere!—wreathed round the houses, growing by the fountains, and all
the people who passed by Duldy wore chaplets on their heads. White
pigeons were flashing through the still air, and the whole city was
perfumed with the scent of myriad blossoms. Oh, really it was a
wonderful city, and Duldy, looking shabby and dusty in his simple dress,
seemed rather out of place among all this magnificence. His face and
form, however, were so noble that an old white-haired man who was
passing turned back to speak to him.
“Fair youth,” he said in a thin, piping voice, “why do you look so tired
and dusty? have you not yet tasted of the hospitality of our city?”
“No,” replied Duldy quietly; “I have been too much astonished at the
beauties of this place to ask yet for hospitality. I have come to cure
the Princess.”
The old man shook his head sadly.
“Ah, many have come to cure the Princess, but none have yet succeeded;
for not doing so they lost their heads; so do not try, my son, or maybe
you will fail, and your comely golden head will be cut off.”
“Oh, I’m not afraid,” said Duldy, laughing. “I know all about this magic
sleep, and will certainly succeed in awakening her, although the others
have failed. But tell me, why does the King promise his throne to the
person who cures Princess Elsa; has he no son?”
“None,” answered the old man, whose name was Onaro. “The Princess Elsa
is his only child. You are a stranger here, I take it, so perhaps do not
know how the King Arago came to the throne.”
“No, I do not.”
“Then I will tell you,” said Onaro; “it will show you how merit
sometimes succeeds. The last King had the misfortune to be loved by the
Water-witch Foamina, who dwells on the summit of the great mountain of
Kel. He refused her love, and in revenge she drowned his queen and only
son when sailing in a boat. The King was so overcome with grief at the
loss of his wife and child that he died, and as there was no one of the
blood royal to succeed him, the citizens elected the prime minister,
Arago, to be king, and their choice was very wise; but as he is not of
royal blood, none of the neighbouring princes will marry his daughter,
so King Arago has promised her hand and his throne to the lucky youth
who awakens her from this long sleep.”
“But are you sure the young prince was drowned?” asked Duldy, who
remembered how he had been found on the banks of the river Foam.
“Some say he was, others that he was not,” said Onaro, shaking his head.
“I do not know; but it is fabled that the enchantress Foamina carried
him off with her to her mountain home, but I know not if this be true.”
“How long ago was the Prince lost?” asked the shepherd breathlessly.
“Just seventeen years ago,” replied Onaro; “and he was a year old then,
so if he had lived he would now be eighteen years of age.”