with a sigh, “So be it.”
He then led her to the fairy and told her of Graciosa’s wish to leave
them.
Finetta looked at her with a severe expression. “I fear Graciosa, that
you are very ungrateful,” said she. “But if you wish to leave us, we
will not keep you. Only, when you find yourself again in the power of
the Queen, remember that it is of your own choice you are there.”
So saying, the fairy waved her hand, and at once the castle and all in
it vanished away like mist. Graciosa found herself again in her father’s
palace. With eager steps she hastened to the chamber where she had seen
him sitting. He was still there, and weeping. She ran to him and threw
her arms about him.
“Dearest father, do not grieve any longer,” she cried. “Your Graciosa
has returned to you, loving you better than ever.”
The King was filled with joy at the sight of his daughter and embraced
her and caressed her with so much tenderness that Graciosa hoped her
sorrows were now ended, and that nothing but happiness lay before her.
But she had forgotten Grognon. The stepmother was furious when she heard
that the Princess had returned to the castle. “Will I never be able to
rid myself of this wretched girl!” she cried. “But wait a bit! I will
make her so miserable that she will be glad enough to leave the palace
herself, of her own will and desire.”
She then hastened away to the King, who was again alone, as Graciosa had
gone to her chamber.
“I hear that Graciosa has returned!” cried Grognon. “The girl thinks she
can come and go at pleasure and cares nothing for any anxiety or sorrow
she may cause us. But leave her to me, and I will teach her a lesson in
obedience that may save us much trouble in the future.”
The King was troubled at hearing this. He could not bear the thought of
again putting the Princess in the power of her stepmother, and yet he
knew Grognon’s furious temper and was afraid of awakening it. In the
end, however, he agreed to what the Queen asked and promised that she
should do as she wished with Graciosa.
Grognon had learned a lesson from the return of the Princess, and she
now determined to call to her aid a fairy who was a friend of hers and
was as wicked as herself. “This girl,” thought she, “is surely protected
by some magic, and if I would succeed against her, I must call upon
some power that is greater than my own.”
The fairy came in haste at the Queen’s summons, and when she found what
was required of her, her little eyes sparkled with malice.
“This is indeed a matter to my own taste,” said she. “I will tell you
how to set a task for the Princess that she cannot possibly accomplish.
Then, when she fails, you can say she is disobedient and obstinate, and
this will give you an excuse for breaking every bone in her body.”
The advice delighted Grognon. “Quick!” said she. “Tell me what I am to
do, for I can hardly wait to rid myself of this creature.”
The fairy then drew from an enormous pocket in her gown a great mass of
tangled threads of silk. They were of all colors of the rainbow, and
each thread was so twisted in with the others that there seemed neither
beginning nor end to it and yet was so fine that one could scarcely
breathe upon it without breaking it.
“Take this silk to Graciosa,” said the fairy, “and tell her that before
to-morrow she must separate the different colors from each other and
wind them into skeins, each color to itself, and that not a single
thread of them must be broken. This she will find it impossible to do,
and when you visit her to-morrow and find that she has failed, it will
give you an excuse to punish her as you see fit.”
This advice delighted the Queen. She took the skeins and hastened away
to the place where she had had Graciosa imprisoned. The Princess was
weeping and looked so beautiful in her tears that any heart less hard
than Grognon’s would have pitied her. But her beauty only increased the
Queen’s fury against her.
“Come, lazybones!” cried the Queen. “Here is something to give work to
your idle fingers. Take these silks and separate them from each other,
winding each color into a skein by itself. See that not a thread of it
is broken, and do you have the task done before to-morrow, or else you
shall suffer for it.”
“Alas, Madam!” cried the poor Princess. “You know that this is an
impossible thing to do.”
“That is your concern,” cried Grognon harshly. “But this I will tell
you; if you are too lazy and obstinate to do as I bid you, it is only
right and proper that you should be punished.”
So saying, she gave Graciosa a push so violent that it almost threw her
upon the floor and went on out, locking the door behind her.
Left alone, Graciosa took up the mass of silk and with careful fingers
began to try to separate the strands, but hardly could she touch them
before they broke, and she soon found the task was indeed impossible.
In despair she threw aside the silks and burst into tears.
“Alas! Alas! My sorrows are well deserved,” wept the poor Princess. “Had
I but listened to Percinet and to the fairy’s warnings, I might even now
be safe and happy in her palace with Percinet for my companion.”
Hardly had she spoken thus when the Prince himself stood before her.
“Ah, Graciosa,” said he, “are you perhaps beginning to learn at last the
worth of my affection? You have indeed brought this sorrow on yourself,
but I love you too dearly to be willing to see you suffer.”
He then struck the silk three times with a silver wand he carried.
Immediately the tangles and knots were smoothed away, the different
colors separated themselves one from another, and broken ends rejoined.
In less time than it takes to tell, the task was done, and the different
silks lay smoothly wound and side by side upon the table.
Graciosa hardly knew how to thank Percinet.
“Do not thank me,” said the Prince gravely. “I wish no thanks from you.
You know how dearly I love you, and I, on my part, am sure that now you
also love me. Come away with me from all these fears and sufferings and
live with me in the palace my mother is eager to provide for us.”
But Graciosa could not yet make up her mind to marry one who was half a
fairy.
“Ah, Percinet, forgive me!” she cried. “I know that you love me, but you
are a fairy and I am a mortal, and I fear your love for me may not be
lasting. Let us wait and see whether the Queen’s heart may not soften
toward me. Perhaps she has only set me this task as a trial of my
patience and does not really intend evil to me.”
“In other words, you trust to her cruelty rather than to my tenderness,”
cried the Prince with some anger. “So be it. But at least I have saved
you from a beating.”
Thus saying, he disappeared, and the Princess was left alone.
Early the next morning Grognon hastened to Graciosa’s prison. Already
she was planning what was the most cruel punishment she could give the
Princess, for she had no other thought but that Graciosa would have
found the task impossible.
What was her amazement to see, when she opened the door, that all the
silks had been separated and wound into skeins, and that they lay upon
the table so beautifully arranged that to see them was like looking upon
a rainbow.
Graciosa met her with a smile. “Madam, I have done your bidding,” said
she, “and the silks are ready for you, as you can see.”
Grognon could think of no reply to make. She snatched up the silks and
left the room, casting upon Graciosa a look so furious and so malignant
that the poor girl trembled.
No sooner had Grognon reached her own chamber than she sent for the
wicked fairy and at once began to reproach her for setting such an easy
task for the Princess.
The fairy frowned and shook her head. “I do not understand it,” she
said. “Some magic power must be helping Graciosa, for never could mortal
fingers have separated the skeins after I had tangled them. However, I
will set her another task even harder than the first, and which I am
very sure will put her in your power.”
The fairy then caused a great tub to appear, and it was full of the
feathers of hundreds and hundreds of different birds.
“Give her these feathers to separate,” said the fairy. “Tell her that
the feathers of each kind of bird must be put by themselves, and all
must be separated by the earliest break of day to-morrow. She will
certainly find it impossible to do this task, and you will then have her
in your power.”
At this advice all of Grognon’s anger disappeared and she thanked the
fairy smilingly. She called for two of her attendants and bade them
carry the feathers to the room where Graciosa was kept prisoner, and she
herself also went there.
The poor Princess was terrified when she saw Grognon appear once more,
for she knew it could only mean some new trouble for her.
The tub was set upon the floor, and Grognon motioned Graciosa to it.
“Idle one,” she cried, “here is something that will keep you busy for a
few hours at least. Your task is to separate these feathers, putting the
ones that belong to each kind of bird by themselves, and see that they
are all separated by morning, or woe betide you.”
She then left the room, taking the attendants with her and locking and
double-locking the door behind her.
As soon as Graciosa examined the tub of feathers, she knew the task to
be hopeless, but nevertheless she sat down and made some attempt to
separate the feathers; but she did not even know which ones belonged
together, and there were, besides, thousands and thousands of them.
In despair she threw them back again into the tub, and burst into tears.
“What will become of me?” she sobbed. “Percinet I have offended so
deeply that I dare not call upon him for help, and he is the only one
who can aid me. Ah, how ungrateful I have been! I would that that noble
Prince were here that I might ask for his pardon before the Queen
destroys me.”
“I _am_ here, beautiful Graciosa! And not only ready but eager to help
you. Do not fear. This task the Queen has set you is not as impossible
as you seem to think it.”
It was Percinet who spoke. He had appeared before her, handsome and
graceful as ever. He now approached the tub of feathers and touched it
with the silver wand which he carried.
No sooner had he done this than the feathers arose in a many-colored
cloud, and each kind, separating itself from the others, gathered in a
little heap by itself.
Graciosa hardly knew how to thank the Prince.
“I desire no gratitude, but love only,” exclaimed Percinet. “Has not
this taught you that as long as you are in the Queen’s power there is no
safety for you? Oh, Graciosa, delay no longer. Come with me to my
mother, and let us tell her you have consented to our marriage.”
But Graciosa could not yet make up her mind to trust him. “Dear
Percinet,” she said, weeping, “do not think me ungrateful, but how can
I, a mortal maiden, ever mate with one who is half a fairy? No, no. We
could never be happy. Be to me a friend, as I will be to you, but do not
ask me to marry you.”
Percinet was deeply offended; he could not help showing his resentment.
“Farewell, proud Princess,” he said to her. “You say you are not
ungrateful, and yet with every word you show your lack of trust in me.
Heaven send that you may not suffer for the scorn you show me.”
So saying, Percinet again disappeared, leaving the Princess alone and
weeping.
The next day, at earliest dawn, Grognon hastened to Graciosa’s prison,
and nothing could be greater than was her wonder and fury when she found
the feathers separated and each kind lying neatly by itself.
Her rage was so great that she could not forbear from shaking Graciosa
till the poor Princess’s teeth rattled in her head, giving, as an
excuse, that the feathers were not laid evenly.
She then went away in a rage to her own room, and calling the fairy to
her, she scolded her at such a rate that her voice could be heard all
over the castle.
The fairy was confounded when she found this second task had also been
accomplished, and, it seemed, as easily and quickly as the first.
“It is some magic,” she repeated. “Some one is helping her who is as
powerful as I--perhaps even more so. But this is not the end of the
matter. You shall still have a chance to punish the Princess at your
pleasure. I have here a box. Give it to Graciosa, and bid her carry it
to your castle, and leave it in a certain cabinet in the hall, but not
by any means to open it on the way. Her curiosity will prove too much
for her, she will think it no harm to peep into the box after she is
out of sight and if she once opens it, she will find it impossible to
close the lid on its contents and you can then punish her for her
disobedience.”
The fairy at once disappeared, and Grognon sent for the Princess to come
before her.
Graciosa obeyed the summons, wondering what new sorrow was to come upon
her, but to her surprise the Queen met her with a smiling face. “My dear
Graciosa,” said she, “I have here a box which I wish to send to my
palace, and what is within it is so precious and wonderful that I do not
dare to trust it to any one but you. It is not locked, and there is no
key to it, but do not open it on your way, whatever you do. Place it
upon the central cabinet in the main hall, and then return to me in
haste, that you may assure me that you have carried it there in safety.”
Graciosa at once hastened to her room for a cloak, which she threw about
her. She took the box that the Queen handed to her, and holding it in
such a way that the folds of the cloak hid it, she set out upon her
journey.
The Queen looked after her with an evil smile.
“This time she shall not escape me,” she muttered. “Never will she be
able to withstand her wish to see what it is that the box holds.”
Graciosa, indeed, was very curious. As she hastened along, clasping the
box to her, she wondered more and more what could possibly be in it that
was so precious that the Queen dared not trust it to any one but
herself. The way was long, and the Princess was unused to walking, and
so at last when she came to a green meadow with a brook flowing through
it, she sat down to rest. As she sat there, she became so tormented by
curiosity as to what was in the box, that at last she determined to
raise the lid very carefully just a hair’s breadth, and take one look
within.
But scarcely had her fingers touched the lid when it flew open in her
hands, and out from the box there streamed a host of little people.
There were lords and ladies in fine clothes, and workmen, who at once
set about putting up silken tents as a shelter from the sun. There were
tiny coaches of gold, drawn by horses even smaller, and driven by
coachmen with powdered wigs, and there were little footmen sitting
beside them. There were cooks, who directed tiny scullions to build up
fires and at once set about preparing a grand feast. Tables were spread,
and small musicians began to play gay music to which the fine folk
danced.
It was all so wonderful and pretty that Graciosa watched them, smiling,
and with the greatest delight, quite forgetting that she had disobeyed
the strict orders of the Queen, and that she would suffer for it.
Suddenly a cloud came over the sun, and a few drops of rain fell.
This brought Graciosa to herself. Laying down the box, she ran over to
the tent where the little lords and ladies had taken shelter, and tried
to gather them up so as to return them to the box again. But this they
would not have. As soon as they found she intended to catch them, they
ran away and hid themselves among the tufts of grasses and back of
stones. Soon they had all disappeared. Not one of them was to be seen,
though Graciosa looked for them all about.
She was now so frightened that she was like one distracted. She ran
about the meadow, calling to the little people to return, and at last,
quite worn out with her exertions, she fell upon the ground and burst
into tears.
“Ah, Percinet, you will be well revenged,” she sobbed. “Whatever will
become of the poor Graciosa, and how shall I ever withstand the rage of
the cruel Grognon?”
Suddenly she heard a deep sigh, and looking up, she saw that Percinet
was standing beside her. Seeing him there, she could not restrain a cry
of joy, but the Prince gazed upon her with a sad and sorrowful look.
“Ah, Graciosa, would you ever remember me,” he asked, “if it were not
for the cruel Grognon?”
Graciosa, ashamed, did not dare to raise her eyes to his.
“Cruelly as you have treated me,” said Percinet, “I cannot leave you to
suffer.”
With these words he struck three times upon the lid of the box. At once,
as though this were a signal, the little people came running out from
their hiding places, and, as though each one wished to be the first,
they hastened back into the box, pushing and hustling each other in
their hurry. The workmen hastily folded the tents, the cook and his
scullions gathered up their cooking utensils, the coachmen cracked their
whips and shouted to their horses. Back into the box they crowded, the
box closed of itself, and the meadow lay green and deserted in the
sunlight.
Graciosa would have thanked Percinet, but when she turned to speak to
him, he was gone.
“Alas, he is so angry I fear he no longer loves me,” sighed Graciosa,
“while I have at last learned both to love and trust him. If he had but
asked me again to return with him to the fairy palace, how gladly I
would have agreed!”
Sadly the Princess again set out for Grognon’s castle, and in due time
arrived there without having had any more adventures, and placed the box
in the cabinet in the main hall as the Queen had directed.
When Grognon found that again Graciosa had accomplished her task, and so
escaped punishment, her rage was so great that she was like one who has
suddenly gone crazy. She sent for the fairy, and as soon as she
appeared, the Queen flew at her with teeth and nails.
“Miserable creature!” she shrieked. “You have deceived me. Three times
you have promised to put Graciosa in my power. And what has happened?
Every time she has accomplished the tasks and met me smiling. Begone, or
I will tear you limb from limb.”
Powerful as the fairy was, she was frightened by the fierceness of
Grognon. She made haste to take herself out of the way and fled back to
her castle, glad to have escaped with her life.
Grognon now made up her mind to take matters again into her own hands.
She caused a deep pit to be dug in the garden, too deep for any one who
fell into it to have any chance of escaping. Over this a great stone was
rolled, so that the mouth of the pit was hidden.
The Queen then sent for Graciosa to come and walk with her in the
garden. She also took several attendants with her.
Though Grognon met Graciosa with a smile and seemed to have forgotten
all her rage against her, the Princess was very uneasy. She feared the
Queen’s plots and felt sure that some new evil was being planned against
her, but she did not know from what direction the danger would come.
As they walked along, the Queen so arranged it that presently they came
to the place where the great stone was lying. Grognon pointed it out to
Graciosa. “I am told,” said she, “that a great treasure lies hidden
under that stone. We will roll it away and see whether those who told me
of it have spoken the truth.”
She then bade her attendants push the stone aside, and Graciosa, who was
very good-natured, put her hands against the stone, and pushed, also.
This was exactly what Grognon wished. She crept up back of Graciosa, and
as soon as the pit was uncovered, she pushed the Princess so that she
fell down into it, and the stone was then allowed to fall back into its
place.
At last the Queen was satisfied. She felt very sure that Graciosa could
not escape from the pit, herself, and Grognon would see to it that no
one went there to help her. She returned to the palace well pleased with
her morning’s work.
As for Graciosa, she was in despair. “Alas, Percinet! Why did I not
listen to you?” she wept. “Would that I might see you but once more
before I perish, that I might tell you that at last I know the worth of
all your love and devotion.”
Suddenly, as she thus bemoaned herself, Graciosa saw, in the side of the
pit a little door which she had not noticed before. She opened it, and
to her joy and amazement saw before her the same avenue of many-colored
stones which she had followed when she was lost in the forest, and
there, at the end of the avenue, was the shining castle that she knew as
the one belonging to Finetta.
With a beating heart, Graciosa hurried along the avenue, and as she drew
near the castle, the doors opened to her of their own accord, and
standing within she saw the Fairy Finetta and Percinet.
They looked upon her smiling, and Finetta said, “So you have at last
returned to us, Graciosa, and I hope with wisdom enough to value the
love that Percinet still feels for you.”
“Indeed, Madam,” said the Princess, blushing, “my love is as great as
that of Percinet himself, and my trust in him is as unbounded.”
With a cry of joy Percinet clasped her in his arms, while the fairy
stood and smiled upon them.
There was no reason now why they should not be married at once, and
fairies were bidden from far and near to come to the ceremony, which was
celebrated with the greatest magnificence.
Among those who came was the fairy who had helped Grognon in her schemes
against Graciosa. When she heard the story of the Princess and knew that
she had all this time been under the protection of Prince Percinet, she
became furious against Grognon. At once she mounted her chariot drawn by
dragons, and flew to the palace of the King. Seeking Grognon out, she
strangled her with a strand of the very silk that had been given to
Graciosa, and so quick the fairy was about it that none of the courtiers
had time to interfere.
As for the Princess and Percinet, they lived happy forever after, in a
magnificent palace of their own which Finetta provided for them, but she
would never allow Graciosa to return even for a visit to the King who
had treated her so cruelly.
THE GIANT’S CLIFF
AN IRISH STORY
There was once a giant in Ireland, and his name was Mahon McMahon and he
lived inside the cliffs that rose up straight from the sea. No one had
ever seen door or window in the cliffs, and no one knew how the giant
got in or out, but still it was said that he lived there, and there were
those who told of how they had heard a strange sound of beating and the
ringing of metal sounding from within, and had seen smoke rising up from
the crevices.
Back from the sea, but yet not so very far from the cliffs, there was a
fine big house, and a man by the name of Thomas Renardy lived in it. He
was a married man, and he and his wife had one son, a pretty little boy
named Philip, and he was the joy of their life and the light of their
eyes.
With every year the boy grew handsomer and finer, till he was the
admiration of all who saw him. All day he played about in the sun and
the wind, and when his mother called him in to meals he came, and as
soon as he had finished he was out again.
So he grew till he was seven years old, and then one day his mother
called him, but he did not come. She hunted him high, and she hunted him
low, but nowhere could she find him. Then the neighbors joined in the
search. They were out hallooing over the hills and through the forest,
and over by the cliffs where the sea beats high, but there was no answer
to their calling, nor did they see aught of him, and his mother was left
sorrowing.
A sad and smileless woman was she after that, and months rolled up into
years, until the years were seven; and at the end of that time her grief
for him was as green as at the beginning.
Now there was a blacksmith in that country who was a great reader of
dreams. People came from far and near to tell him their dreams and to
ask the meaning of them.
The name of the blacksmith was Robert Kelly, and he was a great hand at
the forge.
One night the blacksmith had a dream of his own, and a curious dream it
was.
He dreamed a little lad came riding up on a great white horse. He was a
handsome little fellow, with yellow hair and blue eyes, and Robert took
him, from his size and looks, to be about seven years old, but at the
same time there was something curious about him that made the blacksmith
think he might be older.
“Robert Kelly, do you remember me?” asked the lad.
“I can’t say that I do,” answered the blacksmith, “and yet there’s
something about you that makes me feel I may have seen you before.”
“Then have you forgotten Phil Renardy that was lost away seven long
years ago?”
Now the blacksmith knew of whom the boy had reminded him. It was of that
little lost lad of the Renardys.