care she should not see him, when suddenly she crossed an open glade and
vanished. Berl ran after her, but could find no trace of Lurina at all,
and was quite disconsolate, when all at once he espied her sitting at
the foot of a great beech tree, leaning against the trunk, with her
beautiful face looking pale and white in the moonshine. Having watched
her for a long time, he ventured to approach and call her by name, but,
to his astonishment, she did not answer nor express surprise at seeing
him, but simply stared across the glade with vague, unseeing eyes.
Emboldened by her silence, Berl ran up and fell on his knees with a
little laugh, thinking she would scold him for having dared to follow
her. He was perplexed, however, to see that she still did not seem to
notice him, and when at last he took one of her hands, it was as cold as
ice. Starting up in alarm, he looked closely at her, and found that she
did not breathe—placed his hand on her heart, and discovered that it did
not beat.
“Why, she’s dead!” he cried in alarm. “Lurina, it is I, your husband,
Berl.”
Still Lurina did not answer. So, convinced she was dead, Berl threw her
body over his shoulder and hurried home. When he got inside, he did
everything he could to revive her, but it was no use; the beautiful
Lurina was dead, and Berl sat all night beside her body, weeping
bitterly.
At the first red flush of dawn, he went from house to house, telling
Lurina’s parents and all the neighbours that his wife had died the
preceding night in the forest. Every one came to Berl’s house to see if
it was true, and offer advice, which one’s neighbours are very fond of
doing. Among those who came was the Wise Woman, who surveyed the
beautiful Lurina for some time in silence, then laughed loudly.
“Why do you laugh?” asked Berl, angry with her for doing so.
“I laugh at your folly,” said the Wise Woman, looking oddly at him.
“Lurina is no more dead than I am.”
“But her heart is not beating, and she does not breathe,” said Panus
quickly.
“Nevertheless, she is not dead,” replied the Wise Woman quietly. “Have
you ever seen her like this before?” she added, turning to Cora.
“No, never,” answered Cora, who was weeping bitterly.
“Ah! that is because you never followed her to the forest as Berl did,”
said the Wise Woman thoughtfully. “I told you, Berl, that your wife had
faery blood in her veins, and you should have taken my advice about the
marriage.”
“Well, it’s too late now to blame me,” said Berl roughly, for he did not
like to be reproached. “What am I to do?”
“I will tell you,” observed the Wise Woman. “Come to my cottage at
once.”
So Berl left the body of his beautiful Lurina with her parents, and
walked with the Wise Woman to her cottage, which was just on the verge
of the wood, but protected from the entry of the faeries by a rusty
horse-shoe fastened on the door.
[Illustration]
When Berl entered, the Wise Woman drew a circle on the ground with her
magic staff, whereupon a ring of pale flickering fire appeared; then she
pulled seven hairs out of the tail of her black cat, and threw them into
the midst of the circle, where they began to twist about in a most
surprising manner. While they were doing this, the Wise Woman waved her
staff seven times in the air, muttering strange words, and a white smoke
arose from the centre of the fire circle where the hairs were jumping
about. This white smoke went up like a white cloud, then suddenly
vanished, and Berl saw a little man, all dressed in red, sitting in the
centre of the circle.
[Illustration]
“Well, what do you want?” he said graciously to the Wise Woman, whose
bright eyes sparkled when she saw him.
“Why did Lurina die?” asked the Wise Woman. “Tell me, Pop.”
“She’s not dead at all,” answered Pop quickly; “she is a faery, and went
into the woods to attend the festival. As she could not join the revels
of Oberon in her human body, which would be too big, she left it behind,
leaning against the trunk of a beech tree, and her faery body went to
dance with the faeries. Of course, when Berl took her body away, she
could not find it again when she returned, and she never will find it
till it’s brought back to the same place.”
[Illustration]
“What is to be done, then?” asked the Wise Woman.
“Berl must take Lurina’s body back again from where he brought it,” said
Pop; “but before Lurina’s faery body can come back to it, Berl will have
to get permission for it to do so from Oberon.—Now let me go, I’ve told
you all I know.”
The Wise Woman waved her staff again, the white smoke came down on the
little red man like an extinguisher, then everything vanished, and Berl
found himself standing outside the door of the cottage, with the Wise
Woman smiling at him.
“You heard what Pop said,” she observed kindly; “you will have to go to
the court of King Oberon, and ask him to let your wife come back.”
“But will he do so?” asked Berl doubtfully.
“Ah, that I do not know,” said the Wise Woman; “but as the faeries may
treat you badly for looking at their festival, take this sprig of the
rowan tree, and it will protect you. Don’t forget to take Lurina’s body
back to the beech tree.”
Berl took the sprig of rowan with its red berries that she handed to
him, and walked away to his own cottage. He did not tell any one what
the Wise Woman had said, but managed to put off all their questions by
pretending to be too grieved to speak. So one after another the
neighbours departed, until only Panus and Cora were left, and they, too,
after kissing the pale lips of Lurina, went away, leaving Berl alone.
Berl waited impatiently for night to come, and as soon as the moon was
glowing like glittering silver in the starry sky, he took Lurina up in
his arms, and, carrying her into the forest, placed her in the same
position as he had found her, leaning against the trunk of the beech
tree.
When he had done this, he looked round perplexed, for he did not know
how to find the faery court, but, taking out the rowan twig, he looked
at it earnestly, wondering if it would by some magic means show him the
way. But the rowan twig made no sign, and Berl put up the hand in which
he held it to take off his cap and fasten it in it, when the twig
happened to strike his ear, and immediately the silent forest became
full of sounds.
He heard the most delightful music, then a burst of gay laughter, and,
following the direction from whence they proceeded, he came upon a wide
open glade, with a smooth green sward upon which the moon was shining.
Still, though he looked very hard, he could not see a faery; then,
suddenly remembering how the rowan twig had bewitched his ears, he took
it out of his hat, and pressed the red berries against his eyes. To his
delight, he now saw that all the sward was covered with thousands of
little men and women all dressed in pale green, and at the end was a
throne of great white lilies, upon which sat the King and Queen of
Faeryland. All round the glade were a circle of glow-worms, whose pale
lights illuminated the festival, and the bright moonlight pouring down
through the boughs of the trees made everything as bright as day.
[Illustration]
As soon as the faeries discovered that Berl could really see them at
their revels, they shrieked with rage, and hundreds of the little green
creatures swarmed up on his body to pinch him black and blue. Berl was
in a great fright at first, till he suddenly remembered what the Wise
Woman had said about the rowan sprig, so immediately called out—
“Magic branch of rowan tree,
Work the charm and set me free.”
At once there was a dead silence, and all the faeries fell to the ground
like withered leaves in autumn. Some of them ran to the throne of
lilies, and spoke to the King, upon which Oberon stepped down, and,
followed by a long train, walked up to Berl and commanded him to sit
down. Berl did so, and then Oberon struck the ground with his wand,
whereupon a great red rose sprang up, in which he took his seat with
Queen Titania, while the other faeries gathered round and prepared to
listen.
“Now, mortal,” said Oberon in a dignified manner, “how is it that with
an earthly eye you have beheld the unseen revels of the faeries?”
“It was by this rowan twig, your Majesty,” said Berl, showing Oberon the
sprig; “the Wise Woman gave it to me as a protection, in case the
faeries should be angry.”
“We are only angry with evil-disposed people,” said Oberon gently; “and
if you come here with a pure heart, no one will harm you. What do you
want with us?”
“I want my wife Lurina,” said Berl boldly.
There was a cry of astonishment at this. Suddenly a faery flew forward
on emerald wings, and, as she stood before Oberon, Berl saw that it was
Lurina.
“Yes, your Majesty,” said the faery Lurina, “I am his wife, but he lost
me through his curiosity, as your Majesty knows. I was exiled from
Faeryland many years ago, and condemned to dwell in a human body. I
lived in Lurina’s body, but was allowed by the Queen to join in the
faery revels at night. I told my husband not to follow me, but he did
so, and found my human body lying as if dead under the beech tree,
because I had left it to attend the festival. When I went back, I could
not find it, so had to stay in the forest all day as a faery.”
“Is this true?” asked Oberon, turning to Titania.
“Perfectly true,” answered Titania. “It was I who punished Lurina by
exiling her from Faeryland, but now I think she is punished enough, and,
as she has lost her human body through no fault of her own, she is
pardoned.”
On hearing these words, the faery Lurina dropped on her knees and kissed
the Queen’s hand, then flew off to be congratulated on her good luck by
her faery friends. But Berl was not at all pleased to think he had lost
his wife for ever, and spoke to the King.
“But what am I to do, your Majesty?” he said, with tears in his eyes. “I
love Lurina very much, and don’t want to lose her.”
“There is only one thing to be done,” said Oberon. “Have you brought
back the human body of Lurina?”
“Yes, your Majesty; it’s under the beech tree,” replied Berl eagerly.
“Then I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” said the King. “As the Queen has
pardoned Lurina, of course she can’t go back, as no faery likes to live
in your world; but the faery Mala has been very naughty of late, so I
will condemn her to inhabit your wife’s body, and stay in exile until
she is good enough to come back to court.”
“But that won’t be Lurina,” said Berl.
“She will wear Lurina’s body,” replied Oberon, laughing; “and no one but
yourself will be the wiser. Leave the forest at once, and to-morrow
morning you will see your wife come to the cottage door. Strike up,
music!”
Whereupon the faery music began to play loudly—the blue bells rang merry
chimes, the grasshoppers creaked gaily, and the wind commenced to sigh
among the forest leaves.
Berl dare not disobey the King’s command, and, after seeing Oberon
return to the throne of white lilies, and all the faeries commence their
dance again, he arose to his feet. As he did so, he accidentally dropped
the rowan twig, which was snatched up by a faery at once, and then the
whole of the faery revel vanished. Berl could see nothing of the
dancing, nor hear anything of the music, but only beheld the smooth
green lawn, the myriad trees around, and the round orb of the moon.
There was nothing left to do but to return home, which he did at once,
and you may be sure he got very little sleep that night. At early dawn
he was standing at his cottage door, looking towards the wood, when he
beheld Lurina tripping gaily towards him, singing merrily. When she saw
Berl, she flung herself into his arms.
“Dear Berl, here I am at last!” she cried, kissing him.
“But you are the faery Mala,” said Berl, looking at her in perplexity.
“Who is the faery Mala?” asked Lurina, who had forgotten all about her
faery existence now she was in a human body. “I never heard of her. I
went into the forest and fell asleep, I suppose. When I awoke I came
straight back to you.”
Berl was a wise man, and said no more, but kissed his newly-recovered
wife heartily, then called all the neighbours to congratulate him, which
they did loudly.
When they told Lurina she had been dead, she declared it was nonsense,
as it was only a sleep, and soon every one believed it except Berl and
the Wise Woman, to whom Berl told all about his reception by Oberon.
Lurina became bright and gay all day, and never more wandered into the
forest to indulge in moon fancies, so Berl thought the faery Mala must
have been exiled altogether from Faeryland.
She was very good indeed, so good that Berl was quite afraid lest she
should be called back to Faeryland, but as yet that has not happened.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE ROSE-PRINCESS
I.
THE QUEEN WHO DID NOT BELIEVE IN FAERIES.
ONCE upon a time there was a King and Queen who reigned over a most
beautiful country. They were very rich and very happy, and lived in a
most gorgeous palace, the grand gardens of which sloped down to the blue
sea, on which sailed many richly-laden ships, carrying merchandise to
the capital city of the kingdom.
The palace was built of silver and ivory, and adorned with pale blue
velvet hangings, upon which were painted the most exquisite pictures in
the world. It stood on a high green hill, and far below lay the immense
city of Buss, with its wide streets, many towers, and glittering
fountains. As the King and Queen looked down from their beautiful castle
on to the mighty city and great green plains which surrounded it, they
ought to have been happy, but, curious to say, they were not. They had
everything in the world to make them happy except one thing, and that
one thing they longed for ardently, the more so because they did not see
any chance of obtaining it.
“Ah, if I only had a child!” sighed the Queen.
“Yes; a little boy,” said the King.
“Or a little girl,” retorted the Queen. “Don’t you know any faeries, my
dear, who would gratify our one desire?”
“No,” replied the King, shaking his head sadly. “My great-grandfather
was the last person who ever saw a faery; no one has ever seen one
since.”
“I don’t believe they exist,” said the Queen angrily.
“Oh yes, they do,” observed her husband. “This palace is said to have
been built by faery hands.”
“I don’t believe they exist,” declared the Queen again. “If they did,
they would surely help me by giving me a little girl or boy. What’s the
good of faeries if they don’t help you?”
“I wish they would help me,” sighed his Majesty; “all my subjects are
getting so unruly that I don’t know but what there will be a revolution,
and they’ll put some one else on the throne.”
“Who else could they find?” asked the Queen curiously.
“Oh, I’m not certain of that,” replied the King. “You see, my
grandfather, who was the first of our dynasty, ascended the throne by
the help of the faeries, and the king who was deposed vanished, but they
say some of his descendants live there;” and he pointed downward to the
city.
“And there they will stay,” said the Queen angrily. “I don’t believe a
word of it. Faeries indeed! they don’t exist.”
“But they do,” persisted the King.
“Pooh!” replied her Majesty. “Pooh!”
Now, when the Queen said “Pooh!” her husband knew it was no use talking
any more, so he retired to his cabinet to look over some petitions from
starving people, while the Queen went down with the ladies-in-waiting to
walk in the garden.
It was really a delightful garden, filled with the most wonderful
flowers. There were great beds of scented carnations, glowing with
bright colours, red and white foxgloves, in whose deep bells the faeries
were said to hide, masses of snowy white lilies, and a great mixture of
marigolds, hollyhocks, sweet-williams, daisies, buttercups, and dahlias,
which made the whole ground look like a brightly-coloured carpet. And as
for the roses—oh, what a quantity of charming roses there were growing
there! Red roses, varying in colour from a deep scarlet to a pale pink;
white roses looking like snowflakes; yellow roses that glittered like
gold, and faintly-tinted tea-roses that perfumed the still air with
their sweet odours. Oh, it was really a famous garden, and bloomed all
the year round, for the kingdom was situated in the region of perpetual
summer, where snow never fell and frost never came.
The Queen, whose name was Flora, wandered disconsolately about the
garden, quite discontented with the beautiful flowers, because she could
not obtain the wish of her heart. The ladies-in-waiting began to pluck
flowers in order to adorn the royal dinner-table, and Queen Flora walked
on alone towards a great white rose tree that was covered with blossoms.
As she stood looking at it, she suddenly heard a tiny laugh, and a great
white rose unfolded its petals, showing a golden heart, and also a
dainty little faery dressed in delicate green leaves, with a crown of
little white rosebuds, and a wand made of a blade of grass. When the
Queen saw her, she was much astonished, because she did not believe in
faeries, but, now she really saw one, she had to believe her own eyes.
“I am called Rosina,” said the faery in a sweet, low voice, “and I heard
you say you did not believe faeries existed; now you see they do,
because I am a faery.”
“Yes, you must be a faery,” replied the Queen, clasping her hands,
“because no human being could be so small.”
“Oh, I can be any size I please,” said the Faery Rosina, with a laugh,
and, stepping down from the rose, she alighted on the ground, and
instantly grew as tall as the Queen herself.
[Illustration]
“Oh, you are a real, real faery!” cried Flora in delight. “But why do
the faeries not appear now?”
“Because the land is so badly governed,” said Rosina in a severe tone.
“Yourself and the King only think of luxury, and never of assisting the
poor people; but I am going to cure you both of such neglect.”
“But how?” asked the Queen, trembling.
“By giving you your wish,” said the faery, plucking a white rosebud off
the tree. “Lay this bud beside your bed to-night, and at the dawn of day
it will change into a beautiful little baby Princess, which is what you
want.”
“Oh yes, yes!” cried the Queen; “I do want a Princess.”
“Every night at sundown,” said the faery slowly, “the Princess will once
more change into a flower, and become a human being again at sunrise.”
“But will she change like this all her life?” asked the Queen, in great
dismay, for she did not like to have such a curious baby.
“She will be a Princess by day and a rosebud by night,” said Rosina,
smiling, “until she marries the great-grandson of the King whom your
husband’s grandfather deposed from the throne.”
“And where is this Prince to be found?” demanded the Queen breathlessly.
“I’ll marry my Princess to him at once.”
“You can’t do that,” said the faery, shaking her head. “The exiled
Prince does not know who he is, and the Princess herself will have to
tell him he is of the royal blood. When she does that, and you marry
them to one another, the spell will be removed, and she will be a
Princess both by day and by night.”
“I don’t see how she’s ever going to find this lost Prince!” said the
Queen angrily. “I shall certainly not let my child run about the world
looking for him.”
“Fate is stronger than you are,” replied the faery, “and you will see
what you will see.” So saying, she suddenly disappeared, and, as the
white rose slowly curled up its petals, the Queen knew the Faery Rosina
was inside.
The ladies-in-waiting, who had seen the Queen talking to a strange lady,
dared not approach before, but now they saw their royal mistress was
alone, they ventured to come near, and one of them offered to take the
white rosebud which the Queen held.
“Oh no!” cried Flora, hastily drawing back her hand; “I am going to keep
this rosebud. It is my”—
She was going to say Princess, but, thinking it wiser to keep her own
counsel, she held her tongue, and, on returning to the palace, told no
one but the King about the faery’s promise. The King laughed at her, and
said he did not believe her story—that she must be dreaming; but the
Queen persisted in her tale, that the rosebud would become a Princess,
and placed it on a velvet cushion by the side of her bed.
Next morning, at the first break of day, she sprang up out of bed and
hurried to look at the cushion, but there lay the rosebud a rosebud
still, and not a Princess, as she thought it would be.
[Illustration]
Queen Flora was very much disappointed, particularly as the King laughed
at her folly for believing she had seen a faery, when suddenly a shaft
of golden sunlight shone through the window right on to the cushion, and
in an instant, instead of the flower there appeared a beautiful naked
baby, who laughed and crowed gaily.
The Queen was nearly mad with joy, and took the baby up in her arms to
show the King, who was equally delighted.
“You see there are faeries after all,” he said to the Queen.
“I always thought so,” replied the Queen.
“Oh, my dear!” said the King, who was quite shocked at such a story.
“Pooh!” answered Queen Flora, tossing the baby up in her arms, and this
ended the conversation.
II.
THE ROSE-PRINCESS IS LOST.
OF course there was great joy when it came to be known that Queen Flora
was the mother of a lovely Princess, and all the bells in the city were
set ringing, while the poor people, for once, had as much food as they
could eat. The ladies of the Queen admired the beautiful baby very much
indeed, and there was no doubt the little Princess was really a charming
child. By the advice of the King, however, Queen Flora told nobody about
the transformation which took place at sundown, and always put the
Princess to bed herself every night. Then, as the sunlight died out of
the western skies, the pretty baby would change into a delicate white
rosebud, and rested on a velvet cushion beside the Queen’s bed every
night. At the first golden ray of the sun the bud changed to a beautiful
Princess once more, and no one ever knew that she was only a flower
transformed for the day into a human being.
As the years rolled on, the Rose-Princess grew into a tall, slender
girl, with golden hair, blue eyes, and the most beautiful complexion,
white and pink, flushed like a delicate rose. When she walked she swayed
like a graceful lily, and always dressed in a green gown with a girdle
of white roses, which were her favourite flowers.
[Illustration]
She also wore a silver circlet on her golden hair, upon which were
fastened diamond roses and leaves made out of bright green emeralds,
which made her look so beautiful that all who beheld her fell in love on
the spot. Many princes heard of her beauty and wanted to marry her, but
she did not care for any of her suitors, which pleased Queen Flora very
much, for she was anxious her Princess should marry the great-grandson
of the exiled King, and cease to change into a rosebud.
The King made a proclamation that if the descendant of the old dynasty
came to the palace, he would marry his daughter and be heir to the
throne; but no one ever came forward to claim the hand of the Princess,
which showed that the Faery Rosina spoke truly when she said the exiled
Prince knew nothing about his royal blood.
The Princess was christened Rose by the Queen, because she really was
the offspring of the white rose tree, but her complexion was so
delicate, and her love for roses so great, that every one called her the
Rose-Princess instead of the Princess Rose.
Now, on the seventeenth birthday of the Rose-Princess, there was a
mighty revolution in the city of Buss, and a great multitude of men and
women marched to the palace in order to dethrone the King. He was not a
bad King as kings go, but, not knowing how to govern, he did nothing but
amuse himself with balls and fêtes, letting his courtiers govern as they
pleased. As the courtiers were all very greedy, and wanted money, they
put such heavy taxes on the people, that at last the King’s subjects
could stand it no longer, and while a ball was taking place in the great
hall of the palace, in honour of the Rose-Princess’s birthday, the doors
were burst open, and the mob rushed in. The ball was being given in the
day-time, so that the Rose-Princess could attend, because, of course,
she could not dance when changed into a flower. The music was sounding
most beautifully, the King and Queen sat on their thrones with golden
crowns, and the Rose-Princess was dancing gaily, when the noisy crowd of
ragged men and women rushed into the beautiful palace.