Once upon a time there lived in a very large and important kingdom a
Princess called Moonflower; she was thus named on account of her golden
hair, which was two yards and a half in length and shone like the moon.
The weight of this marvellous adornment was so very great that she was
obliged to have a dwarf, who followed her wherever she went, and who
carried it as though it had been the train of her gown. The dwarf, who
was French, was called Grimaçon; he was so clever that there was hardly
an accomplishment suitable to his position in which he was not perfect.
He could dance in a manner which caused those who beheld him to insist
upon the performance being repeated again and again; he could cook the
most delicate ragoûts and pasties; he could make such unrivalled
grimaces that all who saw them were transfixed—in short, he was
everything that a dwarf should be. He had lived in all the most
celebrated capitals in Europe, and was acquainted with the manners and
customs of every country, and, while at Berlin, had learnt to play the
German bagpipe in the most accomplished manner.
The parents of Princess Moonflower were both dead, and the kingdom was
being governed by the sister of the deceased king until the Princess
should come of age and take the management of affairs, which she was to
do at the age of seventeen. But, if before her seventeenth birthday she
were to die, the kingdom was to go to her aunt. Now the Princess’s aunt
was very ambitious and proud, and could not look upon the idea of giving
it up to her niece without dismay. “What!” she exclaimed, “is this
little wretch to supplant me? Am I, with all my wisdom, to be set aside
with ignominy for a little fool who has no recommendation but her paltry
beauty?” And she began to think of every means in her power by which she
could get rid of the Princess.
So she determined that she must never be allowed to see her seventeenth
birthday, and at last made up her mind to kill her, though she disliked
the job, and put off doing it from day to day.
Now, there lived in that country a very wicked Prince called Blackwig,
with whom the cruel old woman consulted. “Tell me, my good Blackwig,”
said she, “how I am to get rid of this tiresome Moonflower? Bethink
thyself, and I will give thee a box of pearls, a pair of puce-coloured
silk hose, and a dancing ape. And, moreover, if thy counsel please me,
thou shalt also have an excellent recipe for a pâté of spiced dolphin’s
liver, which was given me by my sister, who learned cooking in Paris.”
“Madam,” replied Blackwig, who was fond of good living, “I desire
nothing but to please you; but, as you are so liberal in your offers, I
will be the same with my advice. Listen to me. Give me the hand of your
niece in marriage, and you shall not be troubled with her long, for I
know of a poison which I will put into her soup and which will cause her
to expire without anyone’s knowing the reason—and all I will ask for
this is two thousand ducats!”
“That is a large sum,” said the Princess’s aunt, who was very
economical.
“Well, well, since you make me presents at the same time, I will take
one thousand five hundred and twenty-five ducats, _but nothing less_.”
The Princess’s aunt, who was glad to be able to charge someone else with
the death of her niece, consented, and went straight to Moonflower’s
room, to make known to her that she must prepare for her coming
marriage. She found her sitting at the window, watering her flowers. She
looked more lovely than the three Graces. She wore a dress of mauve
velvet embroidered with bunches of amaryllis in pearls and diamonds, and
her long hair fell in showers upon the ground.
“Little darling,” began the old woman, “I have to-day had a proposal for
your hand in marriage.”
“And from whom, Madam?” inquired Moonflower.
“The Prince Blackwig,” said her aunt: “he loves you to distraction, and
will make an excellent husband.”
“Fie!” exclaimed the Princess, “he squints and has bandy legs, besides
being the most malicious person in the world.”
“Nevertheless, I command you to obey me and to marry him!” shrieked the
Princess’s aunt.
“I will not,” said Moonflower, “I would rather die.”
“And die thou shalt, little viper!” bawled the old woman, “for I will
cut you in little pieces if you do not marry him this day month!” And
she left the room in a rage, banging the door behind her.
[Illustration: SHE FOUND HER SITTING AT THE WINDOW WATERING HER FLOWERS]
When she had gone, the Princess began to weep bitterly and wring her
hands. “Alas! my good Grimaçon,” she said to the dwarf, “what shall I
do? Was there ever a being so unfortunate as I? Either I must perish or
wed the odious Blackwig, and I know not which of these two horrors to
choose.”
“You must fly, your Royal Highness,” answered the dwarf, who was a
sensible little fellow, “before the day which the Queen Regent has
named.”
“But alas!” said Moonflower, “whither shall I go?”
“It wants but two months to your seventeenth birthday,” replied he,
“when you will succeed to the kingdom. If you conceal yourself till
then, you can afterwards return and claim it, and your aunt will have no
power over your actions when once you are on the throne.”
The next day Princess Moonflower and the faithful Grimaçon fled from the
palace. They walked along the most secret and quiet roads for fear of
observation, till at last they came to a huge forest, through which they
travelled for some distance, and, aching with fatigue, sank down under a
tree to rest. The little dwarf, who had been carrying his mistress’s
long hair, threw himself at her feet on the grass, for he was very
weary.
“Alas, dear Grimaçon,” she said, “how cruel is our lot! We shall
certainly be devoured by wild beasts in this terrible wood.” And she
began crying and weeping. Her sighs and lamentations might have touched
a heart of stone. All at once she looked up, for there stood before her
a little crooked woman, more hideous than a witch.
“Daughter,” she croaked in a voice like a raven’s, “will you direct me
in the way to the palace?”
The Princess pointed in the direction from which she had just come.
“Go a little distance with me,” implored the hag, “and help me to carry
this bundle I have got on my back.”
Poor Moonflower was very tired, but she took up the bundle and, telling
Grimaçon to await her in the same spot, she walked off with her strange
companion. When they had gone for about half a mile the old woman
stopped her.
“A thousand thanks,” she croaked, “and now, I will give you the reward
of your civility.”
So saying, she plucked a leaf from a neighbouring bush and presented it
to the astonished girl.
“When you are in distress think of me and touch this leaf with the third
finger of your left hand.” And, almost before the words were out of her
mouth, she had disappeared.
Full of surprise, the Princess went back to where the faithful dwarf
awaited her and told him her adventure. “And now,” she said, “I will
touch my leaf and we shall be out of this terrible wood, where I feel
sure there are nothing but monsters and savage beasts who will tear us
limb from limb. It will certainly save us from our difficulties.”
“No, your Royal Highness,” he replied, “at least let us wait till the
wild beasts come—we may be in very much worse straits yet. Let us
reserve our resources till then.”
They journeyed on through the forest, and, at last, arrived at a little
stream which ran merrily along till it came to a fallen branch lying
right across it, and against which so many leaves and twigs had drifted
that the course of the water was stopped. The stream was forced out of
its bed, and beat itself against the bank.
“Look at that pretty stream,” remarked Moonflower, “how sadly it
dribbles along beyond the fallen branch. The water cannot pass it. See,
Grimaçon, with what difficulty it flows.”
And she bent down and broke the branch in two, for it was but a slight
thing. All the accumulated leaves and twigs sailed away and the stream
flowed on in a thousand beautiful ripples; at the same time a voice sang
the following words:—
“Princess, should you need a friend,
The grateful stream its aid will lend;
Should you need me, call, I pray,
Hear the words that you must say,—
‘River rise and river fall,
Send the help for which I call.’
—But, call me not till hope is lost,
Or dear the words to you may cost.”
“Well,” observed Grimaçon, who had heard these lines, “friends are not
to be despised when one has fallen upon bad times, whatever shape they
may assume—or even if they assume no shape at all!”
They continued walking on into the wood, when they heard behind them the
sound of horns and of horses galloping, and in the twinkling of an eye
they beheld the wicked Prince Blackwig, who was hunting in the forest
with his men. When he caught sight of Moonflower he knew her at once by
her long hair. “Ho!” he cried, “here is our runaway!” for he had already
heard of her flight. He dismounted, and, seizing her, placed her upon
the saddle, then, leaping up behind her, he put spurs to his horse. One
of his servants, seeing Grimaçon, picked him up, saying, “He is a merry
little ape, who will make us some sport. Let us take him too.”
“Where are we going to?” asked the Princess of Blackwig, as they flew
along.
“To my castle,” answered the wicked Prince, “where I will throw you and
your hideous dwarf into a dungeon in which you shall languish, if you
will not marry me as your aunt commands.”
“I will never marry thee,” replied she, “shouldst thou tear me in bits
for refusing.”
When they arrived at Blackwig’s castle the poor captives were thrown
into a frightful dungeon, which had only one window, and that on a level
with the ground. The place was so deep, and the floor so far down in the
earth, that they could hardly see the light, which appeared to them as a
little, far-away star. Blackwig was beside himself with fury with the
Princess, for, had she married him, he would have gained all the rewards
offered by her wicked aunt; and, as he did not intend to poison her, but
only to say that he had done so, he hoped when his wife succeeded to the
kingdom to share the throne with her. Until then, he intended to keep
her hidden in his castle. Truly, it would be a fine thing to be a king,
and to have outwitted so clever a woman.
The Princess and Grimaçon sat on the floor of their horrible prison; it
was so dark that, for a time, they could hardly see; which was just as
well, as the place was full of toads and terrible creatures, and the
bones of those who had perished there before were strewn around. At
last, their eyes began to get accustomed to the darkness, and Moonflower
began to realise the horrors of their position. “It is bad enough to
perish one’s self in such a place,” she said, “without having brought
thee also into trouble, my dear Grimaçon.”
“Take courage, Madame,” replied the dwarf, “I feel sure that we shall
surmount all obstacles, for now I perceive that the time has come for
you to use the gifts you have been given. If you will take my advice you
will see what the stream, which promised its help, can do for you.”
Half frightened by what she was doing, the Princess repeated these
words:—
“River rise and river fall,
Send the help for which I call!”
For some moments nothing happened; but presently a little trickling was
heard in the wall. It became louder and louder, and at last, by the dim
light, they could distinguish a rivulet running in a tiny thread out of
a crack between the stones. It went on increasing in volume until the
water covered the floor and rose round the Princess’s ankles. “Alas!”
she cried, “the cruel stream has played me false, and we shall certainly
be drowned like rats in this fearful place!”
“Wait a bit,” replied the dwarf, who was already up to his knees; “do
not despair, we still have the leaf.”
Still the water continued to rise; the Princess, who was horribly
frightened, took the leaf that had been given her from the bosom of her
gown, and, thinking of the old woman, touched it with the third finger
of her left hand. As she did so it began to spread and spread, and at
last grew so large and heavy that she could no longer hold it but laid
it down. It floated like a boat on the water, and, though it still
looked like a leaf, it became the size of a good large tea-tray, and
then stopped growing.
Moonflower, who was up to her waist in water, clung to the wonderful
leaf, and at last succeeded in seating herself upon it; she then helped
Grimaçon to do the same, for the little fellow had been swimming for the
last ten minutes. What was their surprise when they got into this
strange boat to find that the water had not wet them, and that their
clothes were perfectly dry.
The flood rose and rose, and the leaf and its burden rose with it, till
at last they were half way up the wall, and, in a surprisingly short
time, had reached the level of the window.
The water began rushing out of it, carrying the leaf so swiftly that the
Princess thought they would be dashed against the window-bars. What was
her wonder on finding that, as the foremost point touched them, they
melted away, and with a cry of joy she and her faithful dwarf sailed
into the open air.
“Hold tightly, your Highness,” he exclaimed, “for the pace we are going
at is terrific.”
The water rushed headlong over fields and pastures, carrying them for
several miles, at the end of which it joined itself to the stream the
Princess had met in the wood. Moonflower sailed smoothly along, past
forests and meadows, past castles and huts, till she came to the city
where her own palace stood. On the terrace of the garden she beheld her
wicked aunt walking up and down (for the stream ran close by the palace
walls). She saw her gesticulating as she went, and heard her cry out,
“Miserable girl! Thank heaven she may never return—the throne may yet
be mine!”
On sailed the leaf, on and on, for seven days and seven nights, till
they came to a land which lay far away from the Princess’s kingdom. The
people who saw her passing by in so singular a manner held up their
hands in wonder at the strange sight. Never had they beheld whirled by
them a beautiful girl, sitting on a green leaf, with such a quantity of
golden hair. It flew out as she went like a golden fringe, and when the
sun struck upon it she looked as though she were appearing in a cloud of
gold. On account of the brightness they could not see Grimaçon, who sat
behind her. Soon they came to a place where the water ran between high
trees, and where great blue lotos-flowers were growing as high as a tall
man, covering the brink to the water’s edge.
While the Princess was admiring such rare and beautiful flowers, the
leaf ran against a protruding stone and was carried by an eddy into the
bank. Moonflower jumped out and the dwarf followed her example.
“Let us trust we may find something fit to eat, if only roots and
berries,” said he, “for we have had neither meat nor drink for many days
and nights.”
Once on shore they were much astonished to find that, on reaching land,
their boat shrank to its original size, and that Moonflower was able to
take it up in her hand. She thrust it again into the bosom of her dress.
The dwarf Grimaçon began at once to look with great diligence for
something to eat, and soon discovered some delicious fruit which grew in
great masses upon the surrounding trees. When they had both enjoyed a
hearty meal the Princess was overcome by fatigue, for her long journey
had exhausted her.
“Lay yourself on yonder grass, Madame,” said Grimaçon; “and, while you
rest, I will watch over your slumbers.” So she flung herself down under
a tree where the moss was like a cushion of green satin, and was soon
fast asleep.
Now it happened that there passed that way an aged wood-cutter, who,
with a load of faggots, was on his way to the Palace belonging to the
King of that country, and who, as he went by, was much surprised to
behold, under a tree, the most beautiful maiden in the world, with hair
shining like gold and lying spread on the grass like the rays of the
moon. He was yet more taken aback by the sight of Grimaçon, who sat
beside her, shading her from the sun with a branch which he also used to
drive away the flies.
“What is the name of this country, grandfather?” cried the dwarf.
“This is the kingdom of the King of the Crystal Mountains,” replied the
greybeard, “and I am now on my way to his palace.”
“And how far off may that be?” asked Grimaçon.
“A half league,” was the reply.
As soon as he had reached the palace the old man begged to be allowed to
see the King, who, with the Queen, his mother, was seated at his second
breakfast.
The King, who was young, handsome, accomplished, and a great monarch,
desired that the wood-cutter should be brought before him. When he heard
that a lovely maiden, with hair like the moon’s rays, was asleep on the
banks of a stream scarce half a league distant, watched over by a dwarf,
his curiosity knew no bounds; so, having rewarded the venerable man with
a gold piece and a fricasseed goose from the royal breakfast table, he
commanded his chariot to be brought, and was soon on his way to the
banks of the stream, accompanied by the Queen, his mother, who was also
dying to behold so wonderful a sight.
When the Princess awoke some time afterwards, what was her amazement on
beholding a large body of people, headed by a chariot of crystal, the
wheels of which were of silver and the cushions of velvet, and which was
drawn by six Spanish horses, advancing towards her. In this equipage was
seated a lady, magnificently dressed, and a handsome young man, who,
stopping the chariot, desired the Princess and Grimaçon to approach.
“Ah!” exclaimed the dwarf, “this is none other than the King of the
Crystal Mountains, Madame; let us try to propitiate so great a monarch,
for we are completely in his power!”
So saying, he bowed till his back hair swept the ground.
The Princess was then questioned by the Queen as to who she was and
where she had come from, but, as she did not wish to give her real name,
for fear that Blackwig might by chance hear of her, Moonflower only told
their Majesties that she was a stranger, obliged to fly from her
country, and craved their protection. She did not know that she was in a
kingdom more than a million leagues from her own, and, moreover, one of
which Blackwig knew nothing. He was an ignorant fellow, and had
forgotten all the history and geography he had ever learnt.
“Your Majesties,” said the dwarf, “if it may be permitted to one so
humble to speak in such august company, I would like to mention that we
have had no food for several days but the wild roots and berries which
grow here.”
The Queen, who had espied the Princess’s marvellous hair, was enchanted
with the sight, and at once thought she would like to have her for a
maid-of-honour. “Such a person in my train would make me the eighth
wonder of the world,” she said to herself.
“Will you come back with me to the palace?” she inquired aloud. “I will
admit you into my household.”
Moonflower fell upon her knees and thanked her.
“Get into the chariot,” said the Queen, “and let us be off!”
“But we must have him too,” said the King, pointing to Grimaçon, “for he
is a brave little fellow and speaks well.” And he directed one of the
men-at-arms to place him before him on his horse.
“This is the second ride of the sort I have had lately,” observed
Grimaçon to himself, “but I think it is likely to end better than the
last!”
When they arrived at the palace the Princess was appointed to a place
among the Queen’s maids-of-honour; they gave her a white satin gown
covered with golden lilies to match her hair, in which she looked more
beautiful and brilliant than the seven stars of heaven. Grimaçon was
still allowed to attend upon her. The King had a great regard for him,
and esteemed his talents and good sense very highly.
The Queen’s maids had, upon the whole, a very pleasant existence; it is
true that she led them the life of dogs now and then, for her temper was
very bad, and she was a proud, jealous woman. But, as the Court was gay,
they amused themselves capitally and joined in all the festivities. They
had balls three times a week and hunting-parties every day. At the
hunting-parties Moonflower rode a magnificent strawberry-coloured mare,
with a silver bridle and shoes, while Grimaçon ambled by her side on a
huge mastiff, which had been trained to carry him, and which he managed
to perfection.
The King was so much attracted by the lovely Princess that he cared to
speak to none but her. At all the balls he chose her as his partner, and
at all the hunting-parties he rode beside her; but, unhappily, the more
his admiration for her increased, the more the other maids-of-honour
resented it, and spared no pains in annoying and mortifying her.
“There is no living at court now that this wretched Moonflower has
come,” they said to one another; and at last they determined to do their
best to set the Queen-mother against her.
“Madam,” they said to her, “your Majesty has no idea of the intriguing
character of your new maid; we can hear the sly creature talking
sometimes to her miserable puppet of a dwarf, and we know that she is
plotting to become possessed of the King’s affections, and intends to
supplant your Majesty in the influence you have always had with him.”
At these words the Queen turned pale. She was furious.
She knew not upon what pretext she could injure Moonflower, for she
could find no fault with her sweet temper and modest demeanour. That
afternoon, as the whole court was setting out upon a hunting expedition,
the Princess was about to mount her horse at the palace-door as the
Queen passed by in her carriage.
“Why do you always ride that ugly brute?” called out the Queen crossly,
pointing to the strawberry-coloured mare.
“Madam,” replied Moonflower, curtseying, “because his Majesty, the King,
presented me with the animal.”
“Little wretch,” hissed the Queen between her teeth, “she would ride a
pig if the King asked her to!” And she drove off in a fury.
The King was so much in love with Moonflower that he could neither eat
by day, nor sleep by night, and, as soon as they came to that part of
the forest where they intended hunting, he rode beside her; he never
quitted her all day; he said a thousand tender things to her; in fact,
he was so devoted that Grimaçon, who was trotting behind them on his
mastiff, was overjoyed, for he felt sure that the King, as well as being
an excellent _parti_, was worthy of her in every respect.
When the Queen-mother heard of this, her rage knew no bounds; she caused
her chariot to be turned and went straight home. To add to her troubles,
a heavy thunderstorm came on, and the rain drenched her to the skin, so
that, by the time she arrived at the palace, she was almost beside
herself. On the Princess’s return that afternoon she was summoned to the
Queen’s apartments, where she found her Majesty in a towering rage. She
stormed and raved, she called her by a thousand bad names, she would not
hear a word the poor girl had to say, and, at last, flung herself upon a
couch, breathless with anger.
“And what is the reason of your Majesty’s displeasure?” inquired
Moonflower, terrified. “May I be informed of my offence?”
“Intriguing hussy!” cried the Queen, “you know too well! But you will
never be mistress here—the King has too much sense to stoop to such an
alliance!”
“Madam!” exclaimed Moonflower, “I do not understand you.”
“Oh, indeed,” replied the Queen, ironically, “so you don’t know what I
mean. I mean that you are trying to entangle the affections of my son,
the King, with your soft looks and sly ways; but, believe me, such
unmaidenly conduct will never succeed.”
When the Princess heard these cruel words she was ready to die of
mortification and misery, and her anger against the Queen grew almost
beyond her control. “Ah!” she cried, “what a cruel position I am in, and
who is there that will help me?”
Then she suddenly bethought herself of the stream, and, without waiting
to reflect whether she was right or wrong in her impulse, she cried,
“River rise and river fall,
Send the help for which I call.”
and, as she said this, she wished in her heart that the stream might
rise and drown the Queen.
Immediately a voice was heard to say, “Unhappy Princess, why have you
neglected my warning?” And a fountain in the garden below the windows of
the Queen’s apartments began throwing itself higher and higher into the
air until it dashed against the casement, breaking the glass, and
pouring into the room.
The Queen rushed to the door as fast as she could, tore it open and flew
downstairs, followed by Moonflower. But the water pursued them down the
staircase and into the garden. When it had reached thus far it flowed
across the terrace into the river which ran below, leaving the garden
dry, and the Queen shrieking among the flower-beds, where all the
beautiful flowers—roses, lilies, tulips, marguerites and
marigolds—were torn up by the roots. Moonflower felt herself carried
away by the water; her cries and struggles were of no avail, and,
catching and clinging to every object she passed, she was whirled away
and very soon lost consciousness. In this condition she floated along
the river for leagues and leagues, with her long hair spread out like a
fan behind her, to where it flowed at the foot of the Crystal Mountains.
Here she awoke from her trance and found herself being hurried swiftly
forward towards a dark spot visible in the base of one of the highest
hills. She drew closer and closer to it, but could not stop herself.
Picture her terror on finding, as she approached it, that the dark spot
proved to be the mouth of a huge cavern! In another moment she had
entered it and was sinking down, down, down.
It was completely dark, and the water continued transporting her into
the very bowels of the earth. At last, after what seemed to poor
Moonflower several hours, a faint light began to show itself far below
her, and to grow larger every moment, until the stream all at once
emerged from the darkness, and she found herself in a wide and solitary
marsh. She clung to some rushes that grew at the water’s edge and
dragged herself out.
“Where am I?” she cried, “and what horrible place is this in which I
find myself? My last hope is the enchanted leaf,”—and she put her hand
into her dress, but oh, horror! she had dropped it. _Where?_
She wept until she was weary, and then, as she began to feel the pangs
of hunger, she arose, and, looking over the vast expanse of marsh, tried
to see whether there were any house or cottage where she might beg a
piece of bread and a lodging.
In the far distance she soon beheld a building, toward which she
directed her steps, and, after walking for hours, she came to an
enormous palace, built entirely of mud. At the gate there lay a great
crocodile, at sight of which the Princess almost fainted with fear; but,
perceiving that the creature was asleep, she timidly approached and rang
the doorbell, the handle of which was made of a crocodile’s tooth.
Now, the country in which Moonflower found herself belonged to a
terrible and wicked Enchanter, who lived there entirely by himself but
for thousands of crocodiles, which were his only companions, and for
which he had a singular fancy. When he heard the bell ring he looked
out, and saw the Princess standing before the door, so he immediately
went down to meet her. When she beheld him her terror increased a
thousandfold, for he was indeed more frightful than sin itself. He was
clothed from head to foot in the skins of crocodiles, and carried in his
hand a rod made of black wood, upon which was represented a crocodile’s
face. He had but one glaring eye, and his mouth was furnished with huge
pointed teeth, which caused him to look fiercer than an ogre. When he
set eyes upon her he cried: “Ho! here comes another mortal to add to my
collection of crocodiles!” And he raised his magic wand to change her
into one of these loathsome beasts, when, as he was about to put his
wicked design in practice, an idea struck him. “No,” he said, “I am
getting up in years, and require some one to look after me; my
crocodiles are stupid brutes and perform the services of my house but
indifferently. Now here is a servant ready to my hand.” So he dragged
the terrified Moonflower into his horrible palace, where he set her to
scrub the floors, wash the dishes, cook the food, and perform the most
menial offices. At night she had only the bare boards to sleep on, and
nothing to eat but dried frogs.
In this way many days passed. All night she wept and all day she worked
hard. “Oh, if death would but come to relieve me!” she sobbed, “what a
blessing it would be. But alas! he alone comes to those who do not want
him, and forgets wretches like myself.”
Now the Enchanter had a great glass tower on the top of his house, on
which was reflected everything that took place on the marsh in which it
stood, and every day the Princess would go up and look out to see if, by
any chance, help might be approaching; and, as day by day she came down
disappointed, she began to fear that she would have to spend the rest of
her life with the Enchanter and his hateful crocodiles. “If I had but my
dear Grimaçon,” thought she, “but alas! how can he know where I am, and,
even if he did, how could he get here?”
We must now return to the palace of the King of the Crystal Mountains.
When the flood caused by the fountain had subsided and the Queen had
been put to bed in hysterics, the excitement somewhat calmed itself, and
only the dwarf went running about calling for the Princess. When one of
the servants informed him that she had been carried away by the water
his grief knew no bounds. He sighed, he wept, he tore his hair, his
cries were heard all over the palace, where he wandered about from room
to room, giving way to his sorrow, and at last he came to the room where
the Queen and his mistress had been talking at the time of the flood. As
he walked along, with his head bent, looking the very picture of
desolation, he caught sight of a little dark thing lying on the floor.
He picked it up.
It was the Enchanted Leaf, which had been dropped by Princess
Moonflower.
At the sight of this, which so forcibly brought back to him her memory,
his tears began to flow afresh. He sat down upon the ground, looking at
it, and thinking of the late tragedy. Suddenly it occurred to him that
the Princess might not indeed be dead, but that she had probably called
upon the stream to help her, and had been carried away by it. “Perhaps,”
conjectured the unhappy little creature, “she desired its aid without a
good reason, and has been overtaken by the flood as a punishment. The
voice warned her of it. If so, I must seek her to the very ends of the
earth. Perhaps this leaf may be of service to me also, for, though I am
not the Princess, I have her happiness as much at heart as if I were.”
He then resolved to go to the King and to tell him the whole story,
concealing only the fact of Moonflower’s high birth, which he had
solemnly sworn not to reveal without her permission. At that moment he
looked out of the window and perceived the King walking about round the
fountains and up and down the terraces as one distracted. He tore his
hair and even his moustache. It was fortunate that the Queen, his
mother, was in bed and could not see him.
Grimaçon went out into the garden, and, with a low bow, presented
himself before the afflicted monarch.
“Ah!” cried the King. “My worthy Grimaçon, what a blow is this! Alas!
alas! how terrible to think that Moonflower is drowned!”
“Take courage, your Majesty,” replied the dwarf. “I hope that we may yet
behold her again.”
And he told the King of the Crystal Mountains the whole story, craving
his Majesty’s permission to go in search of his dear mistress.
“Go! go!” exclaimed the King, “most excellent dwarf, and I will go with
thee. We will seek her together, though we should traverse the whole
universe.”
When the Queen heard that her son was about to depart on a long journey
accompanied by the dwarf, she was furiously angry, for she guessed that
they were going to look for Moonflower. But she was soon appeased, as
she was to have the management of the kingdom during the King’s absence.
The King and Grimaçon started quite alone, the King taking nothing with
him but a sword which he had inherited from his grandfather, and which
he thought might bring him luck. The hilt was made of a single topaz,
and the blade was of such superfine Damascus steel, that when it was
forged it was considered the eighth wonder of the world. The dwarf
carried with him nothing but the Enchanted Leaf.
“I think, your Majesty,” he observed, “that we shall do well to follow
the course of the stream that has taken Moonflower away; and if so, we
will have recourse to this.”
And he pulled the Enchanted Leaf out of his pocket, and, touching it
with the third finger of his left hand, he thought of the old woman who
had given it to the Princess, wondering whether it would be of the same
use to him as it had been to her.
Instantly it began to grow larger and larger, until it became big enough
for the King and Grimaçon to sit upon it. In another moment they were
being whirled onward upon the face of the water.
“Now that we are fairly launched,” observed the dwarf, “I am sure that
your Majesty has never travelled in this way before and with such a
companion.”
“As to the travelling,” answered the King, “I would put up with anything
in order to reach Moonflower; and I shall indeed do well if I never
start upon an enterprise with a less brave and loyal friend.”
The dwarf was greatly pleased at finding himself so much esteemed by the
King, and, as they sailed along, his heart grew lighter, for he felt
sure that they would find the lost Princess some day.
They journeyed on, stopping here and there to gather the fruits that
grew on the banks, and at night resting at the water-side, for the King,
being strong, they were able to stop their boat and pull it ashore.
After a weary journey they saw in front of them the same dark spot that
Moonflower had remarked at the foot of the Crystal Mountains. When they
became aware that it was a deep cavern towards which they were rushing,
they were rather startled.
“Well, well,” sighed the King, “if she has perished, let us also perish,
and in the same manner.”
When they entered the mouth of the hole and found themselves sliding
down, down, down, deeper and deeper, even Grimaçon grew frightened, and
held tightly to his Majesty’s doublet.
At last they beheld a tiny speck of light shining far below them.
“Courage, Grimaçon,” exclaimed the King, “For I see a light.”
Here the dwarf peered round the King’s elbow (for he was seated behind
him), and, when he saw the little spark, he felt that, after all,
fortune might yet permit them to land somewhere in safety.
At last they came out, as Moonflower had done, into the lonely marsh.
The stream sailed on, but much more slowly, and the King and his
companion began to find the leaf on which they sat decreasing in size.
“I feel sure that it is a sign of our voyage being at an end,” said
Grimaçon.
The King stepped into the shallow water, picked up Grimaçon, and set him
on the bank, drawing the leaf up after him. It immediately shrank to its
natural size, upon which his Majesty gave it to the dwarf, who put it in
his pocket. As they sat resting upon the bank they espied the
Enchanter’s mud palace towering in the distance and resolved to go
there, hoping to find some one who might give them news of the object of
their search.
They walked and walked across the wet marsh, stumbling and sinking in
the slimy mud, until the dwarf grew so tired that he could go forward no
longer.
“I can go no further, sire,” he exclaimed, “and your Majesty must go on
and leave me; I do not fear death now that I am robbed of my dear
mistress.”
But the King would not hear of such a thing, and, being a strong man, he
took him on his back and proceeded onward as best he might, for Grimaçon
was no light weight, on account of the hump on his back, which made its
owner as heavy as an ordinary person.
Now it happened at that moment, that Moonflower was looking out of the
Enchanter’s glass tower, and saw, in the far distance, a man advancing
with something on his back. With the exception of her wicked jailer, she
had seen no one since she came to his house but the hideous reptiles
which surrounded it, and her heart leaped with joy.
Picture her transports of delight on beholding, as they approached, that
they were none other than the King of the Crystal Mountains and
Grimaçon!
“But,” she thought, bursting into tears, “the dreadful Enchanter will
but turn them into crocodiles as soon as he sees them!”
She flew downstairs and met the King and the dwarf at the door.
The crocodile which was lying across the threshold snapped his horrible
teeth at them as they advanced, but, drawing his sword, the King pierced
him to the heart, when, to the intense astonishment of the Princess and
her rescuers, he at once became a young man.
“How can I thank you?” he exclaimed, embracing the King. “You have
liberated me from a frightful prison.”
And he explained to them how the Enchanter, by a touch of his black
wand, had transformed him into a crocodile, until he should be released
by the sword of a fellow mortal.
“But,” he continued, “he will do the same to you, if he gets near enough
to strike you also.”
At this moment the Enchanter, who, during this conversation, had been
asleep indoors, came out with the fatal wand in his hand. With a howl of
rage, he rushed towards them, but, in so doing, he fell over the carcase
of the crocodile and his wand slipped from his fingers. He stretched out
his hand to catch it, but Grimaçon was too quick for him, and, seizing
the little rod, he broke it into a thousand pieces and scattered them to
the four winds of heaven. The King waited until his enemy rose, upon
which, drawing his sword, he fell upon him. A deadly combat then ensued,
for the cruel monster had a club made of crocodiles’ bones, which he
used with great skill and with which he laid about him like a madman.
But, at last, he sank, mortally wounded by the topaz-hilted sword, and
expired at the King’s feet. At the same moment a shout of joy was heard,
and all the crocodiles appeared in their true shapes, for the
Enchanter’s death had set them free from their captivity.
There were upwards of a thousand beautiful youths and maidens, who had,
at one time or another, fallen into the stream and been carried down
through the cavern into these dark and awful dominions.
[Illustration: A DEADLY COMBAT THEN ENSUED]
The King then fell upon his knees before Moonflower and implored her to
become his wife. The dwarf added his entreaties to those of his Majesty,
and the Princess promised that, if they lived to reach the kingdom of
the Crystal Mountains, she would bestow upon him her heart and her hand.
So they started for the cavern’s mouth, followed by the troop of those
rescued from the Enchanter’s malice.
When they had traversed the marsh they heard a sound like thunder, and,
looking back, perceived that the mud palace had sunk into the earth, and
that, in its place, there had arisen a grove of palm-trees the stems of
which were of gold and the leaves of emeralds.
The marsh, too, had changed its aspect in a very wonderful manner. The
brackish water had become as clear as amber, golden fish darted about in
it and shot to and fro among the rushes, which were of crystal and
aquamarines. A thousand will-o’-the-wisps with diamond lanterns flashed
about and the air was full of the songs of birds.
At the cavern’s mouth they stopped, not knowing how to go on, when
Grimaçon took the Enchanted Leaf from his pocket and gave it to
Moonflower. She touched it, and behold, it blazed up like a star in her
hand, throwing light into the mouth of the cave and illuminating the
falling water. Then they observed a little staircase cut in the rock
which wound upwards, ascending high out of their sight. It had a crystal
balustrade which made the ascent quite easy, and in a few moments they
were all on their way up it.
It took them two days to reach the top and the poor Princess nearly
fainted with weariness, but, supported by the King, she at last
accomplished it, after which they sat down to rest awhile at the foot of
the Crystal Mountains.
All at once they perceived flying towards them in the air two
magnificent chariots, so glorious and brilliant that never, in the whole
world, had anything appeared like them.
The first was drawn by twenty silver swans. In it sat a lady from the
border of whose cloak hung fringes of pearls and jacinths. She alighted
on the ground, close by the Princess, who, pale with astonishment, was
watching the second chariot approaching. This was drawn by twelve
peacocks, and made entirely of emeralds. It was driven by the most
lovely lady imaginable, no less gorgeous than her companion, wearing a
crown of opals which shone like the stars on a summer night.
The two Fairies stepped out of their chariots, and thus addressed the
astonished King:
“This,” they said, pointing to the Princess, “is the Princess
Moonflower, daughter of a rich and powerful sovereign now dead. She has
been compelled to fly from her kingdom by her wicked aunt, who has
usurped the throne.”
“I am the Fairy of Rivers and Streams,” continued the lady who had first
arrived, “and, as she once did a kindness to a subject of mine, I have
protected her; and, had she not disregarded a warning I gave her, these
late troubles would never have taken place.”
The Princess fell upon her knees and craved the Fairy’s pardon for her
folly.
“Rise,” answered she, lifting her, “you have, with the King’s help,
overcome your difficulties, and you certainly ought to make him happy.”
The other Fairy then came forward.
“Moonflower,” she said, “I am the Fairy of the Green Woods, and it was
I, in the guise of an old hag, whom you so graciously conducted on my
way. It was I who gave you the Enchanted Leaf, which you must always
keep as an heirloom in your family; and now, I beg of you to marry this
brave and devoted monarch, who seeks your hand.”
At these words the Princess embraced the two Fairies, who invited her,
with the King and Grimaçon, to go with them to the palace of the King.
The released youths and maidens then dispersed to their several homes,
and, mounting the chariot of the Fairy of the Green Woods, Moonflower
soon reached the palace, followed by the King and the dwarf, who
accompanied the other Fairy.
The nuptials of the King of the Crystal Mountains and Princess
Moonflower were soon afterwards solemnised, and the two Fairies honoured
the festivities with their presence; all those who had been rescued from
the Enchanter’s cruelty by the King were invited, and the rejoicings
lasted for twenty days, after which his Majesty made war upon the
Princess’s aunt, and recovered her kingdom, killing the wicked Blackwig
with his own hand.
A terrible fate was in store for the King’s proud and cruel mother. On
the day of her son’s marriage she was returning in her chariot from the
ceremony, much mortified and incensed by what had just taken place.
Noticing, as she drove along, that her coachman had not brought out the
team of horses she had ordered, and being already furious, she leaned
forward to strike him with the golden sceptre in her hand, and, in so
doing, overbalanced herself, and fell under the chariot-wheels, where
she was almost crushed to death. She was conveyed to the palace with all
speed, but, before she reached her apartments, she expired, muttering
vengeance against everyone.
The fate of the dwarf Grimaçon was very different. He was made Prime
Minister and was the most honoured person in the King’s dominions. The
King and Queen never took any step without first consulting him, and he
lived to an advanced age beloved by all, but especially by their
Majesties, who went to visit him every day in a magnificent palace which
they built for him close by their own.