[Illustration]

Oh, it was really a terrible scene! All the gaily dressed lords and

ladies were seized by the dirty hands of the people, and stripped of

their beautiful jewels. The great mirrors were all smashed, the lovely

blue hangings torn down and trampled on by the mob, the gorgeous gardens

were all destroyed, and these rioters, breaking into the King’s

wine-cellars, began to drink the fine wine of which he was so proud.

All the women of the city collected a lot of velvet couches, gorgeous

dresses, and rich curtains into a heap in the garden, and, setting fire

to it, danced about in a ring, singing loudly—

“High to low

Down must go;

Low to high

Now must fly.

All the lords and ladies dead,

Let us eat their costly bread,

While beneath our feet we tread

Every proud and haughty head.”

You may be sure the King and Queen did not wait to face these terrible

people, but, disguising themselves in mean garments, fled from the

palace, leaving all their beautiful things to be destroyed by the mob,

who chose a President, and proclaimed a Republic, then began to kill all

the lords and ladies they could find. The whole nation seemed to go mad,

and there was no law or order anywhere, but every one did exactly as

they pleased, so that the entire kingdom was brought to the verge of

ruin.

And the Rose-Princess?—ah, poor lady! she also fled in dismay from the

terrible people, and sought refuge in her own room. It was still early

in the afternoon, so she could not change into a rose, and thus escape

the fury of the mob; and, as her parents had deserted her, she stood

trembling in her beautiful chamber, thinking she would be found and torn

to pieces. Besides, being ignorant of her nightly transformation, she

was afraid to go to bed, lest she should be killed while asleep.

As she stood weeping and wringing her hands in despair, she suddenly saw

a tall handsome lady standing before her, looking at her kindly. This

was the Faery Rosina, who had come to save the Rose-Princess from the

people, as it was not her fault that they had rebelled against the King.

“Do not weep, Rose-Princess,” she said in a kind tone; “though things

seem to be going wrong just now, they will all come right.”

“But my dear parents!” cried the Rose-Princess, weeping.

“They have left the palace,” said the faery in a severe tone, “and will

now endure hardship, to punish them for the way in which they have

neglected their office; but when they have learnt a lesson, they will

come back again.”

“But what will become of me?” cried the Rose-Princess, as the noise of

the mob came nearer and nearer.

“You will be quite safe,” replied the faery; “and the people who are now

crying out to kill you, will soon be cheering you on your wedding-day,

when you are married.”

“Married to whom?” asked the trembling Princess.

“Ah, that you must find out!” answered the Faery Rosina, as the crowd

commenced to batter at the door of the room. “But now I must save you

from the people, or they will certainly kill you.”

As she said this, she touched the Princess, who immediately changed into

a white rosebud, and lay on the dark green carpet like a snowflake. Then

the Faery Rosina vanished, and the door was burst open, as the mob

rushed in.

Of course they now saw nothing, and never for a moment dreamt that the

white rose lying on the carpet was their beautiful Princess, so they

commenced to pull down all the costly things in the room, and would have

trampled the rosebud under their feet, only a young student picked it

up.

He was a handsome fellow of twenty, this young student, with a slender

figure and a dark, splendid-looking face. His name was Ardram, and he

was one of the leaders of the revolt, although he did not wish the

people to destroy everything as they were doing. Ardram was a very

learned youth, and the son of a poor sick woman, of whom he was very

fond. He had seen all the misery of the poor people who were in want of

bread, and the sinful luxury of the court, so thought it but right that

a change should be made. Therefore he led the people to the palace, to

ask justice of the King, but they had become too strong for him, and he

was already regretting that he had not let them stay where they were.

However, it was too late now for regrets, but he determined not to take

any part in the follies of the mob, so walked home to his own little

room in the city, with the white rosebud in his button-hole.

All night long he saw the flames rising from burning dwellings, and

heard the shrieks of people being killed, so he felt very sad to think

that he was the original cause of it all, though he certainly had no

intention of letting such things be done. Then he determined on the

morrow to talk to the people, and try and persuade them to stop their

plundering and cruelty, but, in the meantime, went to bed and slept for

an hour in an uneasy manner.

He forgot all about the white rosebud, which had fallen on the floor, as

he flung himself, dressed as he was, on his bed, but when he awoke in

the morning, he was much surprised to find seated beside him a beautiful

woman, who was weeping bitterly.

“Who are you?” asked Ardram, springing to his feet; “and how did you

come here?”

“I am the Rose-Princess,” she replied sadly; “but I do not know how I

came here. You will let me stay, will you not? I am so afraid of those

terrible people who broke into the palace.”

“Oh, I won’t let them harm you, Princess,” said Ardram, who had fallen

in love with her beautiful face; “but you must not leave this room, or

else I cannot protect you.”

“I’ll stay here,” said the Rose-Princess obediently; “but will you

please give me something to eat?—I feel rather hungry.”

So Ardram brought out some bread and wine, off which the Princess made a

hearty meal, talking to her host all the time she was eating.

“I saw you in the palace yesterday,” she said, looking straight at

Ardram.

“Yes,” replied the student, blushing; “I was with the people. We only

wanted justice, and I did not think they would go on like they did. The

people were too strong for me, so I left them.”

“And will you put my father on the throne again?” asked the

Rose-Princess eagerly.

“I’m afraid that will be impossible, Princess,” said Ardram quietly,

“unless he promises to govern better. You see, many years ago, a king

was deposed for governing badly, and your grandfather was put on the

throne—now they’ll offer the crown to some one else.”

“Perhaps they’ll offer it to you?” suggested the Rose-Princess.

“I don’t think so,” said Ardram, laughing, as he arose to his feet; “but

if I did become king, I would take care that all my subjects were well

off. Now I’ll go out, Princess, and you stay here.”

“Very well,” answered the Rose-Princess; “and do look for my parents.”

“I will—though I daresay they’ve left the city,” said Ardram, and he

went away more in love with the Princess than ever.

Meanwhile the Rose-Princess was left alone, and thought how noble and

brave Ardram was.

“If he was only the Prince I was to marry!” she sighed; “but then the

faery said everything would come right, so, perhaps, he is to be my

husband after all.”

She waited all through the long day for the return of Ardram, but he did

not return till sundown, and just as his hand was on the door, the

Princess changed into a white rosebud, so, when he entered, he found the

room empty.

“Princess, Princess, where are you?” he called out in alarm; but of

course no Princess answered him, and Ardram asked every one in the house

if they had seen a beautiful lady go out, but no one had done so.

“I’ll go and see my mother,” said Ardram in perplexity, for his mother

was a very wise woman, although at present she was lying on a bed of

sickness. As soon as Ardram made up his mind to ask his mother’s advice,

he put on his cap to go, when he spied the white rosebud on the floor.

“Hullo!” he cried, picking it up; “this is the rose I found in the

palace yesterday—my mother is fond of flowers, so I’ll take it to her;”

and he went away.

The streets were quite full of people, all in a great state of

excitement, for the King, Queen, and Princess had vanished, and, as all

the ministers were beheaded, there was no one to rule, so the whole

kingdom was in a dreadful state.

Ardram reached his mother’s house, and found her in bed, very ill, but

when she saw him she was much delighted.

“How are things going?” she asked, after he had kissed her.

“Very badly,” replied Ardram; “no one is able to rule, and I’m afraid we

will have a civil war.”

“Oh no, we won’t,” said his mother quickly. “If the people won’t have

their present King, perhaps the exiled Prince of the old royal family

will be found.”

“I’m afraid not,” replied her son, smiling; “but if he is, I hope he’ll

rule wisely.”

[Illustration]

“I hope so too,” said his mother pointedly. “Who gave you that beautiful

rose, Ardram?”

“I picked it up in the palace, mother,” he answered, and, taking it out

of his button-hole, he gave it to her to smell. Then he told her all

about the beautiful Princess, and his mother was very much astonished

that the poor lady had left the safe shelter of his room, and perhaps

been torn to pieces by the angry people in the street.

At last Ardram went away, leaving the rosebud with his mother, who laid

it on her pillow and went to sleep. Next morning, when the beams of the

sun were shining into her chamber, she awoke, and found the

Rose-Princess sleeping beside her.

“Are you not the Rose-Princess?” she asked, for of course she recognised

the King’s daughter at once by her crown.

“Yes,” answered the Rose-Princess quickly; “but how did I get here? The

last thing I remember before I went to sleep, was standing in Ardram’s

room.”

“You must have walked here in your sleep, then,” said the sick woman,

looking at her, “because he has been searching for you everywhere.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” said the Rose-Princess, rising. “I would not like

him to think I’d run away, because I am so fond of him.”

“Are you fond enough of him to marry him?” asked the mother sadly.

“Yes, I am,” answered the Princess, blushing; “but I’m afraid he would

not marry me. Besides, you know, I am to marry the exiled Prince of the

old royal family, as soon as he is found.”

“He is found,” said the sick woman quietly. “Ardram is my son, and the

great-grandson of the King who was driven from the throne, so, if you

marry him, he will be able to regain his throne again.”

“And my father and mother?” asked the Princess in a faltering voice.

“I’m afraid they’re not fit to reign, if all I have heard is true,” said

the mother in a melancholy tone; “and if you and my son, Prince Ardram,

ascend the throne, I hope you will govern more wisely. Now, to prove the

truth of what I say, pull out that wooden box from under my bed.”

The Rose-Princess did as she was told, and, on lifting up the lid, saw a

most beautiful crown, all over diamonds, and rubies, and great blue

sapphires, sparkling like the stars.

“That is the old royal crown,” said the sick woman, as the Princess put

it on her head, “and Ardram will be crowned with it.”

“But if your son is the Prince, why did you not send him to the palace

to marry me?” asked the Rose-Princess, who looked truly royal, as she

stood in the room with the great crown on her golden head.

“Because I wanted him to see the misery of the people, before ruling

over them,” said the mother quickly. “Now he knows what poor people

endure, he will be a wise king, and govern well. Now, I will sleep until

my son comes back, then we will see about getting you married.”

So she turned her face away, in order to sleep, and the Princess put

away the royal crown, and began to sing to the sick woman in a low,

sweet voice. This is what she sang:

“Roses red, in the red, red dawn,

Open your hearts to the sun, I pray;

The dew lies heavy upon the lawn,

Westward rises the golden day.

Roses, droop in the hot noon-tide,

Scatter your petals of red and white,

Far in the depths of your green leaves hide,

Till to the eastward the sun takes flight.

Roses white, at the shut of day,

Close your blossoms thro’ sunless hours;

The moon rides high in the sky so grey.

Night brings sleep to the weary flowers.”

Then she also fell asleep, and, as night came on, she was once more

changed into the white rosebud, and lay on the pillow beside the grey

head of Ardram’s mother. When the doctor, a gruff old man called Mux,

came in, the sick woman awoke, and asked at once for the Princess.

“What princess?” asked Mux gruffly. “There’s no princess here. So much

the better, as I’d cut her head off if I saw her.”

“But she was here when I went to sleep,” said Ardram’s mother angrily.

“Well, she isn’t here now,” retorted the doctor. “I expect she’s left

you to look for the King and Queen. But never mind about her—how do you

feel yourself?”

But the sick woman was much agitated over the loss of the Rose-Princess,

and when her son entered, she told him how the Princess had been with

her all day, and again vanished; whereupon Ardram rushed out into the

streets, to see if he could find the poor Rose-Princess again.

When Mux was taking his leave, Ardram’s mother said she had no money to

pay him.

“Never mind,” said the doctor gruffly, for he was really very

kind-hearted; “I’ll take this rose as payment;” and he picked up the

white rose off the pillow.

“It’s very kind of you, doctor,” said the sick woman gratefully. “Take

the rose by all means—my son gave it to me. But, doctor, do try and find

the Princess; if you do, I will reward you better than you think.”

“Stuff!” said the gruff Mux; and he went away home with the white

rosebud fastened in his coat.

III.

THE ROSE-PRINCESS FULFILLS HER DESTINY.

GRUFF Dr. Mux took the white rosebud home with him, little thinking it

was the lost Princess, which was perhaps just as well, seeing that he

was such an enemy to the royal family. At least every one thought he

was, but everybody was wrong to think so, as, in spite of the names he

called them, he was really a great upholder of the throne, and in his

humble house the exiled King and Queen had been hidden all the time of

the revolution. No one thought of looking for them in the house of such

a red republican as Dr. Mux, so they were as safe there as though they

were guarded by stone walls and faithful soldiers.

When Dr. Mux arrived home, he went straight to bed, but arose very early

in the morning, before the sun was up, and called the King and Queen.

“Sire and madam,” he said, bowing before them, “as I came through the

streets, I noticed that the people were talking about re-establishing

the throne.”

“Oh, then we will go back to our palace,” said the Queen joyfully.

“And make an example of all traitors,” observed the King sternly.

“Nothing of the sort, sire and madam,” said the doctor, bowing again.

“From what I heard, I think the people want to put your daughter on the

throne.”

“Nonsense!” said the King.

“Pooh!” said the Queen.

“You think so?” observed the doctor severely. “Listen.”

They did listen, and heard a roar in the distance coming nearer and

nearer, then a great mass of people came sweeping up the street, crying

out, “Long live Queen Rose!” “Let us see our new Queen!” “Where is the

Rose-Princess?”

“Ah, where indeed?” cried the Queen, weeping. “I have not seen our

beautiful daughter since the mob attacked the palace.”

“She would easily be recognised,” said the doctor.

“I’m not so sure of that,” replied the King, looking at the Queen. “You

know our Princess is enchanted by the faeries.”

“Faeries?” echoed the doctor; “I never saw one.”

“But I did,” said the Queen.

“Excuse me, my dear madam—dyspepsia,” returned the doctor gravely, for

you see he did not know how the Princess changed to a rosebud every

night.

The Queen was very angry, but dared not say anything, lest the doctor

should deliver her up to the mob, who were now surging in the wide

street, listening to a man who was speaking.

“That is Ardram the student,” said the doctor. “I saw his sick mother

last night—she gave me this rosebud.”

“Ah,” sighed the Queen, as she took the rosebud from the doctor, “how

like my poor lost daughter!”

“I do not see the resemblance, sire and madam,” said the doctor; “but

listen to Ardram;” and he went out of the room, leaving the King and

Queen to hearken to the man who had taken their throne from them. He was

talking in a loud tone to the mob, and telling them they ought to elect

the Rose-Princess for their Queen, as she would know how to govern

better than her parents. The sun was just rising, and the golden beams

were shining on his face, so that he looked truly noble.

“A seditious traitor!” cried the King.

“Cut his head off!” said the Queen.

But they had not the power to do so, and, amid cries of “Long live Queen

Rose!” Ardram leaped from his standing-place, and all the mob swept down

the street to look for the lost Princess.

The King and Queen turned from the window in great anger, when they saw

to their surprise that the Rose-Princess was standing in the room.

“My child, my child!” said the King, kissing her.

“It was your rosebud, then?” said the Queen, folding the beautiful girl

in her arms.

“What rosebud?” asked the Rose-Princess in surprise; “and how did I come

here?”

“The doctor brought you,” said the King.

“Did he carry me through the streets?” asked the Princess, very much

astonished. “I wonder I was not recognised.”

“No one could recognise you as you were then,” said the Queen, and

nodded wisely, but she did not tell the Princess that she had been a

rosebud when she was carried by the doctor.

“I’ve had such a lot of adventures,” said the Rose-Princess; “but I

don’t know how I came from one place to the other. First, I was in the

palace, then in Ardram’s room, then by his sick mother’s bedside, and

now here. It must be the faeries.”

“It is the faeries,” observed the Queen, kissing her daughter again.

“You’ll know all about it when you marry the exiled Prince, and break

the spell.”

“Oh, I can break whatever spell there is when I marry Ardram,” said the

Rose-Princess; “he is the exiled Prince.”

“Nonsense!” said the King, frowning.

“Pooh!” said the Queen in an angry tone.

“Oh, but he is,” cried the Rose-Princess gaily. “I saw his crown, for

his mother showed it to me.”

“Then, if he is the real Prince,” said the King, “you had better marry

him, and break the enchantment.”

“What enchantment?” asked the Rose-Princess.

“You will find it all out,” began the Queen, “when”—

“When you marry Prince Ardram,” finished the King.

All day the three royal people sat in the humble room of the doctor, and

talked about their troubles. Rose-Princess told her parents all about

the misery of the people, and how they ought to govern, but the King and

Queen only laughed, which showed that the severe lesson of exile was

lost on them. Gruff Dr. Mux was very much astonished to see the

Rose-Princess, and told her how she had been proclaimed Queen by Ardram.

“Then I’ll marry him,” said the Rose-Princess promptly, “for I love him

very much. Where is he?”

“Coming up the street,” said the doctor. Then all four went to the

window, and saw that the crowd of people were coming back, looking very

disappointed because they had not found the Princess.

Ardram mounted on a great stone in front of the church door, for the

cathedral of the city was just opposite the doctor’s house. When the

Rose-Princess saw him, she ran out of the room, down the stairs, and

across to where the student was standing.

“Ardram, Ardram, I am here!” she cried, and climbed up beside him.

The people recognised their beautiful Princess at once, and cried out,—

“Long live Queen Rose!”

“And King Ardram,” said the Princess loudly; “if you make me Queen, you

must make him King, and we will both rule wisely.”

“She never thinks of us,” said her father.

“Ungrateful child!” cried the Queen.

But no one heard them, for the mob began to roar, “Long live King Ardram

and Queen Rose!” and the red light of the setting sun shone on the

handsome couple as they stood on the stone. Ardram was beside himself

with joy, not at being made King, but because the beautiful

Rose-Princess had her white arms round his neck, and was saying how much

she loved him.

Suddenly the red light in the sky vanished and the sun set, leaving

Ardram standing alone on the stone with a white rose in his hand.

“Where is the Queen?” roared the mob.

“I don’t know,” cried Ardram, looking at the white rosebud in a

bewildered manner; “she is gone.”

“He wants to be King alone,” cried the people, “and has made the Queen

disappear by magic.”

“No, no,” said Ardram. “I love her too much for that.”

“Kill him! kill him! he’s a magician!” yelled the people, and they all

pressed forward to tear Ardram off the stone, but, seeing his danger, he

jumped down and ran into the church, closing the great doors after him.

There he was safe, for the mob dared not to break into the church, but

all night roared round it like a stormy sea round a little boat.

The King and Queen left the window, and told the gruff doctor all about

the enchantment of the Rose-Princess, which he was now inclined to

believe, as he had seen her disappear so suddenly before his eyes. He

recommended the Queen to call on the Faery Rosina, which she did, and in

a moment the faery, a tall, beautiful woman, in a robe of shining green,

was standing before them. Then the doctor did believe in faeries,

because he now really saw one for the first time, and was much

astonished.

“Well, are you sorry you lost your throne?” asked the faery severely.

“Very,” said the King and Queen together.

“If you go back, will you rule wisely?” she said, looking at them.

“We will rule just as we ruled before,” they replied.

“Then you are not fit to go back,” said Rosina sadly. “I see I have not

cured you after all.”

“Nonsense!” said the King.

“Pooh!” said the Queen, and they both thought the faery was very rude.

“I’ll settle everything to-morrow morning,” said the faery, quite angry

at their folly. “I can do nothing till the Rose-Princess becomes a woman

again—she will of course marry the Prince Ardram to break the spell.”

“Is he really the Prince?” asked the King and Queen together.

“Yes, he is,” retorted the faery shortly, and then vanished, leaving

them quite disconsolate, as they thought they would never get back their

throne.

Meanwhile Ardram walked up and down the dark church all night, listening

to the roaring of the crowd outside, and wondering how the Princess kept

vanishing and appearing so strangely. He was more in love with her than

ever, and at last went fast asleep on the altar steps, dreaming about

his lovely bride, who said he would rule as King with her. The rosebud

lay on the steps beside him, but Ardram never thought for a moment that

his charming Princess was so near him.

Next morning he awoke in the early grey dawn, before the sun was up, and

found himself surrounded by the King, the Queen, Dr. Mux, his mother,

now looking strong and well, and a beautiful tall woman, in a green

robe, with a wand made of white roses.

“I am the Faery Rosina,” she said to him in a low, sweet voice, “and I

am come to put things to rights, Prince Ardram.”

“Why do you call me ‘Prince’ Ardram?” asked the student, looking

puzzled.

“The Rose-Princess will tell you,” said the faery, smiling.

“But where is she?” asked Ardram, looking around.

“There,” said the faery, pointing with her wand to the white rosebud,

which lay on the floor where Ardram had flung it the previous night.

“Impossible!” he said in astonishment.

“Not at all,” cried the King, coming forward; “nothing is impossible to

a royal princess. That rosebud is my daughter.”

“Given to the King and Queen by me,” said Rosina sweetly. “They did not

know how to rule, and as I knew this revolution would take place, I

wanted to provide an heir to the throne.”

“But the white rose cannot reign,” said Ardram, rather bewildered.

“Not now, but wait till the sun rises,” cried the fairy. “Ah, here is

the first yellow beam! Now look.”

Every one looked at the white rosebud lying on the floor, and then a

yellow beam which struck through a painted window, creeping nearer and

nearer till it shone on the white bud. In an instant that vanished, and

in its place stood the Rose-Princess, looking tall and beautiful. On

seeing Ardram, she bounded towards him and put her arms round his neck.

[Illustration: ON SEEING ARDRAM SHE BOUNDED TOWARD HIM AND PUT HER ARMS

ROUND HIS NECK]

“Good morning, my Prince,” she said sweetly.

“But I am no prince,” cried Ardram, clasping her to his breast.