preparing, and that night he was to be married to the lovely Princess.
The King, too, was happy, for he was pleased at the thought of having
such a brave hero for a son-in-law. Only the Princess was sad and would
do nothing but weep and bemoan herself, but she could not tell her
father the cause of her grief because of the oath she had sworn to the
nobleman.
Now when the Prince and his two brothers entered the room where the King
was sitting, the Princess gave a shriek of joy, but the nobleman turned
pale and trembled, for he knew the Prince at once as the true hero who
had saved the Princess from the dragon, and whom he and his companion
had slain by the roadside.
Then the Prince began and told the King the whole story, and as the King
listened, he wondered. When the Prince had made an end of the tale, the
King turned to the nobleman. “And what answer have you to make to all
this?” he asked him.
“That it is false and doubly false,” cried the nobleman. “’Tis I and I
alone who saved the Princess.”
Then the Prince asked him what proof he had of the truth of his story,
and when the nobleman could give no proof, the lad drew out a
handkerchief and opened it, and there were the ears and the tongue of
the dragon. He also showed the half of the handkerchief and the half of
the ring the Princess had given him, and then it was clear to every one
that it was he and he alone who had slain the dragon.
Then the nobleman was punished as he deserved, but the Prince was
married to the Princess, and his two brothers were married to the King’s
two younger daughters, and they all lived together in great joy and
happiness forever.
GRACIOSA AND PERCINET
A FRENCH STORY
There was once a King who was so rich that it would have been impossible
for him to spend all his money, and yet his greatest wish was still to
keep adding to his treasure.
The King’s wife had died and left him but one child, a daughter named
Graciosa. This Princess was so beautiful, so kind and so gentle that she
was beloved by all about her. The King also loved her dearly,--more
dearly indeed than anything in the world except his treasure, but that
was always first in his thoughts and his affections.
One day the King set out with his attendants to hunt in a forest near
by.
The huntsmen soon started a deer that bounded away through the forest.
The King followed it for a long distance, farther than he had ever gone
before. Suddenly he came out on the other side of the forest, and there,
in front of him, stood a vast castle with towers and turrets, and a
moat around it.
The King called his chief huntsman to him and asked him whether he knew
who lived in the castle.
The man replied that it belonged to the Duchess Grognon, and she was
said to be so rich that she had never been able to count all her
treasures.
As soon as the King heard this, he at once determined to stop at the
castle and ask for refreshment. He was not only weary and thirsty from
the chase, but he also had a great desire to see any one as rich as the
Duchess, and perhaps he would be shown her treasures as well.
Grognon had already seen him from her window, and as soon as he turned
toward the castle, she hastened down to meet him. She herself opened the
door for him and smiling she bade him welcome.
When the King first looked at her he was amazed. Never had he seen any
one so ugly. She was as dark and rough and broad as a toad. Her eyes
were little and red, and her mouth was like a slit that stretched from
ear to ear. But she was magnificently dressed and so covered with
jewels that the King was dazzled by them and quite forgot how hideous
was the one who wore them.
The Duchess invited the King to enter and at once commanded that a
repast should be brought him with all sorts of cakes and sweets and
fruits, and also a pipe of wine.
The King, who was very thirsty, was pleased to hear this order, and when
the pipe of wine was brought in he waited impatiently for it to be
opened. But when the Duchess struck the head of the pipe, instead of
wine a great heap of gold fell out upon the floor.
The Duchess pretended to be very much surprised. “This is a strange
thing,” said she. “I cannot imagine how they came to bring this gold
instead of the wine I ordered. I pray your Majesty’s pardon for the
mistake, which shall be well punished, I promise you.”
She then commanded that another pipe should be brought in, but when she
struck this, out poured a heap of rubies.
The King was filled with wonder and admiration at the sight of all this
treasure, but the Duchess pretended to be still more angry.
“The servant who made this mistake shall be well beaten, I promise you,”
she cried. “Bring in another pipe, and this time be sure it is filled
with good wine instead of all these stones.”
But she had no more success with the third pipe than with the second,
for when she struck it, out poured emeralds. The Duchess pretended to
fly into a fury and scornfully pushed the jewels aside with her foot.
Pipe after pipe was brought, but one was full of sapphires, one of
pearls, and still another of diamonds. The whole floor was covered with
her treasures.
The King was bewildered. He scarcely knew how to express his wonder.
“Sire,” said the Duchess, smiling, “since you feel such an admiration
for these poor trifles, perhaps you would like to see the treasure
chambers from which these have been brought.”
Nothing could please the King better, and after Grognon had shown him
all her treasures, which indeed seemed endless, he determined, if
possible, to make her his wife that all this wealth might become his.
This plan suited the Duchess perfectly. Indeed it was for this purpose
that she had shown her wealth to the King, and it was agreed between
them that they should be married as soon as possible.
When the news of this intended marriage was brought to Graciosa, she was
filled with grief and dismay. She had already heard of the Duchess
Grognon and knew her to be not only a monster of ugliness, but of such
an evil nature that nothing delighted her more than to tease and torment
those around her and make their lives a misery to them. Nor could she
understand how her father could make up his mind to take such a creature
as his wife.
However, she hid her feelings as well as she could and determined to be
obedient and patient with Grognon, hoping that in this way she might
live with her at peace, and even perhaps win from her a little
affection.
The day for the wedding drew near, and one morning word was brought to
the King that Grognon would that day set forth on her way to his
palace.
Wishing to do all honor to his bride, the King determined to ride forth
and meet her, and he gave orders that Graciosa should make herself ready
and ride with him to meet the Duchess.
Poor Graciosa had withdrawn to the palace gardens to weep in secret, for
she did not wish others to know of the grief she felt over her father’s
marriage. As she sat beside a fountain, her tears falling as clear and
bright as the leaping waters, she saw a page coming toward her across
the garden. He was a stranger to the Princess, and he was so tall and
handsome, and his air so noble that Graciosa gazed at him with wonder.
When he reached the place where Graciosa was sitting he bent his knee
before her. “Princess,” said he, “the King is waiting for you. He rides
forth to-day to meet the Duchess Grognon, who has already set out from
her castle, and he wishes you to ride with him.”
“Tell him I will come upon the moment,” said Graciosa. “But stay! First
tell me who you are, for your face is strange to me. Are you one of the
Duchess’s pages who has been sent on before her?”
“No, Princess,” replied the page. “I am indeed a stranger here, but no
one has sent me hither. I have come hither because my greatest desire in
life is to serve you, and, if it may be, to ease your sorrows in small
measure by my love and devotion.”
“How!” cried the Princess. “Do you, a page, dare to speak to me of love
and devotion? You should be well punished for your insolence, and no
doubt you will be when I report the matter to the King, as rest assured
I shall do as soon as I find an opportunity.”
“In truth, you have no cause for anger, Princess,” replied the stranger.
“I am not a page, but Prince Percinet, the son of a King as rich and
powerful as your own father. Long ago my father died, and I live in the
palace of my mother, the Fairy Finetta. Through her I am possessed of
many magic powers and can render myself invisible at will. It is only
because of my desire to help you that I have come here dressed as a
page.”
Graciosa was filled with wonder at this story. She had often heard of
the fairy Prince Percinet, of his beauty and wit and power, but little
had she thought to meet him. She could scarcely believe it possible that
he loved her, and that it was for her sake he had come to the palace to
serve as a page.
Still full of wonder, she arose and hastened away to where her father
was waiting impatiently for her coming. He and his attendants were ready
to set out at once, and a page was holding Graciosa’s palfrey.
She was about to mount when Percinet appeared, leading a snow-white
horse so graceful and so beautiful that every one who saw it marveled.
This horse, he said, had just come as a gift to the Princess Graciosa
from one who refused to let his name be known.
It was not difficult for Graciosa to guess that the one who had given
her the horse was Prince Percinet himself, but her father could not
wonder enough over both the gift and the giver.
When the Princess had mounted the horse and gathered up the reins, it at
once moved forward with such grace and lightness that all were filled
with admiration. The King, at whose side she rode, kept admiring the
steed and wondering as to whence it had come.
They had not traveled far when they saw Grognon and her train
approaching them. The Duchess rode in a golden coach, drawn by six
spotted horses, their harness glittering with gold and jewels. Grognon
herself was magnificently dressed and covered with gems that fairly
dazzled the eyes with their glitter, but this magnificence only made her
look more hideous, like a toad peering out from a jeweled glove.
No sooner did the King come to the side of the chariot than he began to
pay his compliments to Grognon, but the Duchess scarcely listened to
him. Her eyes were fixed upon the horse upon which the Princess Graciosa
was riding.
“That is a very beautiful horse,” said she. “Indeed it is finer than any
in my stables, or, I am sure, in yours, either. I should have thought it
would have been kept for me instead of your allowing your daughter to
ride upon such a wonder.”
The King, seeing she was in a rage, tried to make excuses, but Grognon
would not listen to him. Nothing would satisfy her but that Graciosa
should light down from the horse and allow her to mount upon it instead,
and ride beside the King as they returned to the palace.
To this Graciosa eagerly agreed. The fury shown by the Duchess terrified
her, and her only wish was to turn aside Grognon’s anger and perhaps win
from her a kindly word.
But no sooner had Grognon mounted the horse than it began to prance and
curvette and leap from side to side so roughly that the Duchess thought
her teeth would be loosened in her head; then suddenly it started off at
full gallop, with Grognon screaming and clutching it by the mane. So
swiftly sped the horse that no one could overtake it, and when it
reached the palace it stopped with such suddenness that the Duchess was
thrown violently off upon the stones of the courtyard.
When the King and Graciosa, followed by the courtiers and attendants,
arrived at the palace, they were horrified to find Grognon lying on the
stones of the courtyard, screaming and groaning.
She was lifted up and carried into the castle, and physicians were
called to attend to her bruises and scratches.
“It is all the fault of that miserable girl,” Grognon screamed again and
again. “It is some trick she arranged for me, and she had no other hope
than that I should be killed outright. But she shall be punished for her
wickedness. She shall find that she cannot treat me in such a manner
without suffering for it.”
She then demanded that the King should send Graciosa to her and allow
her to punish the Princess as she saw fit.
The King was loth to agree to this, and yet he dared not refuse, for he
feared that Grognon might fall into such a fury that she would refuse to
marry him and would return to her own castle, and so he would lose her
treasures. He felt himself obliged to allow Grognon to carry out her
wishes.
Graciosa was sent to the Duchess’s chamber and went with fear and
trembling.
No sooner had she entered than the door was locked behind her. She saw,
with terror, that back of Grognon’s couch stood four tall and
terrible-looking attendants, each armed with a heavy staff.
“Now, my beauty,” cried Grognon furiously, “it is my turn. No doubt you
were vastly amused by my misadventure, but now you yourself shall know
how it feels to be covered with wounds and bruises.”
She then bade her attendants seize Graciosa and beat her as long as
their strength held out, or until their staves were broken.
Graciosa would have begged for mercy, but suddenly a whisper sounded in
her ear. “Fear not, Graciosa. I, Percinet, am beside thee. The blows
shall not harm thee, but when they fall, cry out as though they were
beyond all bearing.”
Graciosa at once recognized the voice of Percinet, and knowing he was
there, all fear left her, and she could have laughed aloud for joy.
However, she pretended to be almost fainting from terror.
Grognon now ordered the attendants to begin; they at once seized
Graciosa and raised their staves, but she now saw that by Percinet’s
magic the staves had been changed into rose-colored plumes, so soft and
feathery that the blows she received from them were like the tenderest
of caresses. But, remembering Percinet’s bidding, she cried aloud under
the strokes as though she could scarcely bear the suffering.
The eyes of Grognon and her attendants were blinded so that they did not
see the rods had been changed to plumes. The Duchess wondered at the
strength of the Princess. She had expected to see her sink down, bruised
and senseless under the rain of blows, but the harder the attendants
beat her, the less did Graciosa feel the strokes.
At last the men, outwearied, dropped their rods, and Graciosa,
pretending to weep, gathered her garments about her as though to hide
her bruises.
“Go,” said Grognon harshly, pointing to the door. “You have received no
more than you deserve, but this beating is nothing to what you shall
receive, if you again try your tricks upon me.”
Graciosa crept away to her room and to her bed, pretending to be ill,
which delighted Grognon and was as a soothing salve to her bruises.
Soon after the King and Grognon were married with great magnificence.
The new Queen was dressed in cloth of gold and wore her most magnificent
jewels; she received with satisfaction the compliments of the courtiers
who pretended to admire her and praised her beauty and grace, while they
laughed at her behind her back and wondered how the King had ever
brought himself to marry such a hideous creature.
Graciosa was obliged to wear a hideous dress, and her ornaments were
only common pebbles gathered from beside the road, with holes bored
through them and strung together, but in spite of this her beauty shone
out as the moon shines through the clouds at night time.
Soon after, a grand tournament was given in honor of the Queen. The
knight who was chosen to ride for Grognon declared her to be the most
beautiful creature in the world, and challenged all others to prove the
contrary against him.
Many knights rode against him, but he overcame them all, for, knowing
him to be the favorite of the Queen, none of them dared to try to
overthrow him.
The heralds were about to proclaim him victor when a new and unknown
knight rode into the field.
This knight rode a snow-white horse and was clad in silver armor. The
only color he wore was a green silken scarf, that being Graciosa’s
color.
This silver knight declared Graciosa to be the most beautiful and
perfect creature in the world, even as he held Queen Grognon to be the
most hideous and detestable, and this he would prove against any who
dared to ride against him.
When the Queen heard what the knight said, her face grew as red as
blood, and she gave such a cry of fury that the King trembled, and
Graciosa almost fainted with terror. However, the Queen had no doubt but
that her chosen knight would overthrow the newcomer, as he had all
others.
The two knights reined back their horses and set their lances at rest,
and then at the given signal they charged at each other. But it seemed
the silver knight scarce needed to touch the other before he sent him
rolling in the dust, and so sore wounded that it was difficult to revive
him.
At once the silver knight disappeared, and no one was able to guess who
he was or whence he had come, nor could they tell whither he had gone.
Graciosa alone guessed, even when he first appeared, that the silver
knight was no other than her fairy lover Percinet.
Grognon was in such a rage that she was like to lose her senses. She
declared that Graciosa had arranged the whole plan so as to disgrace her
before the court and demanded that the Princess should be left to her to
punish as she pleased.
The King was afraid to refuse, for Grognon threatened that if he did she
would take all her treasure and depart at once, and not one single jewel
of it should he ever see again. With an anxious heart he at last agreed
to her wishes, and Grognon, filled with triumph, determined to rid
herself once and for all of the Princess.
That night, soon after the Princess had gone to her chamber, a number of
armed men entered it and forced her to come away with them. They
brought her to a closed carriage which was in waiting, and into this she
was obliged to enter. After that she was driven on and on for a long
distance.
At last the coach stopped, the door was opened, and Graciosa was forced
to descend. She found the men had brought her into the midst of a deep
and gloomy forest, and that here they meant to leave her.
Graciosa was filled with terror. She knew the forest to be full of
lions, bears, and other savage creatures, and she could not forbear from
weeping and complaining of the cruelty that could leave her there to be
torn to pieces by the fangs of wild beasts. She even pleaded with the
men to kill her at once, that her sufferings might the sooner be ended.
The attendants, however, paid little heed to her prayers and tears
except to tell her they were acting under the Queen’s command, and soon
the poor child found herself alone and helpless. Kneeling down, she said
her prayers, and then meekly laid herself down to await whatever fate
might befall her.
Suddenly the forest all around her was lighted up as though by the glow
of thousands upon thousands of candles, and she saw before her a broad
avenue, paved with stones of changing colors and leading up to a shining
palace.
Graciosa gazed with wonder upon the sight, scarcely able to believe her
eyes. “It must be the work of Prince Percinet,” she murmured. “He is
guarding me from the savage beasts, even as he guarded me before from
the fury of the cruel Grognon.”
A sound from behind startled her, and she turned with a cry, fearing one
of the beasts might have stolen up to her unheard.
Instead there stood Prince Percinet himself, looking upon her with
tenderness and admiration. Graciosa had never seen him appear so
handsome. He was dressed in white satin, richly embroidered with silver,
and around his neck hung a broad collar of emeralds.
“Do not be afraid, beautiful Graciosa,” said he. “I have come to lead
you to the palace of my mother, the Fairy Finetta. She is waiting
impatiently to welcome you, and be sure that in her palace you will be
treated with only the greatest care and tenderness.”
At these words all fear left Graciosa. Blushing, she allowed Percinet to
take her hand and to lead her up the avenue to the palace.
No sooner did they arrive at the foot of the steps than the golden doors
swung open, and a tall and beautiful lady dressed in a shimmering green
robe bordered with emeralds appeared, and after making herself known as
the Fairy Finetta, she welcomed Graciosa with the greatest grace and
dignity.
Graciosa was led into the palace, and everything she saw about her was
so beautiful and wonderful that she hardly knew how to express her
admiration. Wherever they went they were accompanied by soft music;
doors opened before them as they approached, and in one apartment a
feast was set forth for them with every sort of delicious food that can
be imagined. It was served to them without hands, and nowhere did
Graciosa see any one but themselves. This gave the Princess some
anxiety.
“After all,” thought she to herself, “all this is magic and may at any
moment vanish suddenly, even as it appeared, and I may find myself again
in the forest, helpless and alone.” She therefore, as soon as she found
an opportunity, asked the Fairy Finetta whether it would not be possible
to send her back to her father’s palace again.
The fairy seemed both surprised and displeased at this question.
“Nothing would be easier,” she replied, “but have you so soon wearied of
our company that you should wish to leave us? You know how Percinet
adores you. He will be miserable if he finds he is unable to make you
happy even for a few short hours.”
Graciosa murmured something about her father.
“Your father is well and in good spirits,” replied the fairy; “he has
not even missed you.”
The Princess could now no longer urge to be sent home. She agreed to
remain in the castle for a while, at least. Percinet showed the greatest
joy when he heard this. “Ah, Graciosa,” said he, “you cannot but know
that I am miserable without you, and if you would accept my love and
devotion, I would be the happiest creature in the world.”
The Princess blushed, but made no answer and Percinet dared not press
her further.
The next few days passed like a dream for Graciosa. Every day she found
herself provided with clothes and jewels more beautiful than any she had
ever imagined. Every day invisible hands served her with food that was
strange to her, yet very delicious. Often she walked in the gardens or
amused herself by feeding the fish in the fountains. Percinet was almost
constantly with her and found a thousand ways in which to please her and
show his devotion, and the Fairy Finetta was always gracious and
charming. But one day, when Percinet had left her for a short time,
Graciosa began to think of her father, and she was seized with such a
great desire to see him that she grew very sad, and could not forbear
from weeping.
When Percinet returned and saw her tears, he at once asked her, with the
greatest concern, what was troubling her.
“I am sad because I am thinking of my father,” replied Graciosa. “Oh,
Percinet! Is it not possible for me to see him? I have been parted from
him for so long.”
Percinet became very thoughtful, but presently he said, “It is indeed
quite possible for you to see him and that without even leaving the
palace, but I fear harm may come of it. However, as you know, I can
refuse you nothing, so come with me.”
Percinet then led Graciosa to a high tower from which they could see a
great stretch of country in every direction. He bade her place her right
foot on his left foot, and her little finger on his thumb, and look in
the direction he pointed out to her.
As soon as Graciosa had done this, she no longer saw Percinet or the
tower, or anything around her. It seemed to her that she was back again
in her father’s palace, in the chamber where the King sometimes went to
be alone. She saw him there and in his hand he held a little picture of
herself painted when she was a child and he was weeping and grieving
over it so bitterly that Graciosa’s heart was wrung with pity for him.
She wished to speak to him and throw her arms about his neck, but no
sooner did she step forward toward him than she found herself back again
on the tower with Percinet, and the vision of her father was gone.
Graciosa turned to the Prince, her face bathed with tears. “Dearest
Percinet, if you love me, let me return to my father,” she cried. “He is
grieving for me, and I cannot bear the thought of his sorrow.”
Percinet looked at her reproachfully. “And is my sorrow nothing to you?”
he asked her. “You know how it would grieve me to the heart to lose you.
The King was willing to leave you to the cruelty of Grognon, and I have
treated you always with the tenderest respect, and yet you would gladly
leave me to return to him.”