is Pensive. She will show you the way; but I warn you it is for you to
direct her, and not for her to lead you. If you make her obey, she
will serve you; if you obey her, she will destroy you."
"Stir the black ashes," added the good Fairy of the Waters, "and
perhaps you will find something there."
Graceful obeyed. Under the ashes of the paper he found a vial of rock
crystal, sparkling like a diamond. This, the fairy said, was to hold
the water of immortality, which would break any vessel made by the
hand of man. By the side of the vial Graceful found a dagger with a
triangular blade--a very different thing from the stiletto of his
father the fisherman, which he had been forbidden to touch. With this
weapon he could brave the proudest enemy.
"My sister, you shall not be more generous than I," said the other
fairy; then, taking a rush from the only chair in the room, she blew
upon it, when, lo! the rush instantly swelled, and in less time than
it takes to tell it became a beautiful musket, inlaid with
mother-of-pearl. A second rush produced a cartridge-box, which
Graceful slung around his body and which became him marvelously. One
would have thought him a prince setting out for the chase; he was so
handsome that his grandmother wept for joy and emotion.
The two fairies vanished; Graceful kissed the good old woman, urging
her to await his return, and knelt before her to receive her blessing.
She entreated him to be patient, just, and charitable, and, above all,
not to wander from the right path. "Not for my sake," added the old
woman, "for I would gladly welcome death, and I regret the wish that
you have made, but for your own, my child, that you may return to me
and that I may not die without your being here to close my eyes."
It was late. Graceful threw himself on the ground, too agitated, it
seemed, to sleep. But slumber soon overtook him, and he slept soundly
all night, while his poor grandmother watched the face of her dear
child lighted by the flickering lamp, and did not weary of mournfully
admiring him.
II
Early in the morning, when dawn was scarcely breaking, the swallow
began to twitter, and Fido to pull the blankets. "Let us go,
master--let us go," said the two companions, in their language, which
Graceful understood by the gift of the fairies; "the tide is already
rising on the beach, the birds are singing, the flies are humming, and
the flowers are opening in the sun. Let us go; it is time."
Graceful kissed his grandmother for the last time, and took the road
to Pæstum, Pensive fluttering to the right and the left in pursuit of
the flies, and Fido fawning on his young master or running before him.
They had gone two leagues from the town when Graceful saw Fido talking
with the ants, who were marching in regular troops, carrying all their
provisions with them.
"Where are you going?" asked he.
"To the Castle of Life," they answered.
A little farther on Pensive encountered the grasshoppers, who had also
set out on a journey, together with the bees and the butterflies; all
were going to the Castle of Life, to drink of the Fountain of
Immortality. They traveled in company, like people following the same
road. Pensive introduced Graceful to a young butterfly that chatted
agreeably. Friendship springs up quickly in youth; in an hour the two
comrades were inseparable.
To go straight forward does not suit the taste of butterflies, and
Graceful's friend was constantly losing himself among the grass.
Graceful, who had never been free in his life, nor had seen so many
flowers and so much sunshine, followed all the windings of his
companion, and troubled himself no more about the day than if it were
never to end; but, after a few leagues' journey his new friend began
to be weary.
"Don't go any farther," said he to Graceful. "See how beautiful is
this landscape, how fragrant these flowers, and how balmy these
fields. Let us stay here; this is life."
"Let us go on," said Fido; "the day is long, and we are only at the
beginning."
"Let us go on," said Pensive; "the sky is clear and the horizon
unbounded. Let us go on."
Graceful, restored to his senses, reasoned sagely with the butterfly,
who fluttered constantly to the right and the left, but all in vain.
"What matters it to me?" said the insect. "Yesterday I was a
caterpillar, to-night I shall be nothing. I will enjoy to-day." And he
settled on a full-blown Pæstum rose. The perfume was so strong that
the poor butterfly was suffocated. Graceful vainly endeavored to
recall him to life; then, bemoaning his fate, he fastened him with a
pin to his hat like a cockade.
Toward noon the grasshoppers stopped in turn. "Let us rest," said
they; "the heat will overpower us if we struggle against the noonday
sun. It is so pleasant to live in sweet repose! Come, Graceful, we
will divert you and you shall sing with us."
"Listen to them," said Pensive; "they sing so sweetly!" But Fido would
not stop; his blood seemed on fire, and he barked so furiously that
Graceful forgot the grasshoppers to follow his importunate companion.
At evening Graceful met the honey-bee loaded with booty. "Where are
you going?" said he.
"I am returning home," said the bee; "I shall not quit my hive."
"What!" rejoined Graceful; "industrious as you are, will you do like
the grasshoppers and renounce your share in immortality?"
"Your castle is too far off," returned the bee. "I have not your
ambition. My daily labor suffices for me; I care nothing for your
travels; to me work is life."
Graceful was a little moved at losing so many of his fellow-travelers
on the first day; but when he thought with what ease he had
accomplished the first day's journey his heart was filled with joy. He
caressed Fido, caught the flies which Pensive took from his hand, and
slept full of hope, dreaming of his grandmother and the two fairies.
III
The next morning, at daybreak, Pensive called her young master.
"Let us go," said she; "the tide is already rising on the shore, the
birds are singing, the bees are humming, and the flowers are opening
in the sun. Let us go; it is time."
"Wait a moment," said Fido. "The day's journey is not long; before
noon we shall be in sight of the temples of Pæstum, where we are to
stop for the night."
"The ants are already on the way," returned Pensive; "the road is
harder than yesterday, and the weather more uncertain. Let us go."
Graceful had seen his grandmother smiling on him in his dreams, and he
set out on his way with even greater ardor than the day before. The
morning was glorious; on the right the blue waves broke with a gentle
murmur on the strand; on the left, in the distance, the mountains were
tinged with a roseate hue; the plain was covered with tall grass
sprinkled with flowers; the road was lined with aloes, jujubes, and
acanthuses, and before them lay a cloudless horizon. Graceful,
ravished with hope and pleasure, fancied himself already at the end of
his journey. Fido bounded over the fields and chased the frightened
partridges; Pensive soared in the air and sported with the light. All
at once Graceful saw a beautiful doe in the midst of the reeds,
looking at him with languishing eyes as if she were calling him. He
went toward her; she bounded forward, but only a little way. Three
times she repeated the same trick, as if to allure him on.
"Let us follow her," said Fido. "I will cut off the way and we will
soon catch her."
"Where is Pensive?" said Graceful.
"What does it matter?" replied Fido; "it is the work of an instant.
Trust to me--I was born for the chase--and the doe is ours."
Graceful did not let himself be bid twice. While Fido made a circuit
he ran after the doe, which paused among the trees as if to suffer
herself to be caught, then bounded forward as soon as the hand of the
pursuer touched her. "Courage, master!" cried Fido, as he came upon
her. But with a toss of the head, the doe flung the dog in the air,
and fled swifter than the wind.
Graceful sprang forward in pursuit. Fido, with burning eyes and
distended jaws, ran and yelped as if he were mad. They crossed
ditches, brakes, and hedges, unchecked by nothing. The wearied doe
lost ground. Graceful redoubled his ardor, and was already stretching
out his hand to seize his prey when all at once the ground gave way
beneath his feet and he fell, with his imprudent companion, into a
pit covered over with leaves. He had not recovered from his fall when
the doe, approaching the brink, cried, "You are betrayed; I am the
wife of the King of the Wolves, who is coming to eat you both." Saying
this, she disappeared.
"Alas! master," said Fido, "the fairy was right in advising you not to
follow me. We have acted foolishly and I have destroyed you."
"At all events," said Graceful, "we will defend our lives"; and,
taking his musket, he double-loaded it, in readiness for the King of
the Wolves; then, somewhat calmed, he examined the deep ditch into
which he had fallen. It was too high for him to escape from it; in
this hole he must await his death. Fido understood the look of his
friend.
"Master," said he, "if you take me in your arms and throw me with all
your might, perhaps I can reach the top; and, once there, I can help
you."
Graceful had not much hope. Three times he endeavored to throw Fido,
and three times the poor animal fell back; finally, at the fourth
effort, he caught hold of some roots, and aided himself so well with
his teeth and paws that he escaped from the tomb. He instantly threw
into the ditch the boughs which he found about the edge.
"Master," said he, "plant these branches in the earth and make
yourself a ladder. Quick! quick!" he added. "I hear the howls of the
King of the Wolves."
Graceful was adroit and agile. Anger redoubled his strength; in a
moment he was outside. Then he secured his dagger in his belt, changed
the powder in the pan of his musket, and, placing himself behind a
tree, awaited the enemy with firmness.
Suddenly a frightful cry was heard, and an animal, with tusks like
those of the wild boar, rushed on him with prodigious bounds. Graceful
took aim and fired. The bullet hit the mark and the animal fell back
howling, but instantly sprang forward anew. "Load your musket again!
Make haste!" cried Fido, springing courageously in the face of the
monster and seizing his throat with his teeth.
The wolf had only to shake his head to fling the poor dog to the
ground. He would have swallowed him at one mouthful had not Fido
glided from his jaws, leaving one of his ears behind. It was
Graceful's turn to save his companion; he boldly advanced and fired
his second shot, taking aim at the shoulder. The wolf fell; but,
rising, with a last effort he threw himself on the hunter, who fell
under him. On receiving this terrible shock, Graceful thought himself
lost; but without losing courage, and calling the good fairies to his
aid, he seized his dagger and thrust it into the heart of the animal,
which, ready to devour his enemy, straightened his limbs and died.
Graceful rose, covered with blood and froth, and seated himself,
trembling, upon a fallen tree. Fido crept painfully to his feet,
without daring to caress him, for he felt how much he was to blame.
"Master," said he, "what will become of us? Night is approaching and
we are so far from Pæstum!"
"We must go," said the child, and he rose; but he was so weak that he
was obliged to sit down again. A burning thirst devoured him; he was
feverish and everything whirled before his eyes. He thought of his
grandmother, and began to weep. What was poor Graceful's remorse for
having so soon forgotten such fair promises, and condemned himself to
die in a country from which there was no return, and all this for the
bright eyes of a doe! How sadly ended the day so well begun!
Sinister howls were soon heard; the brothers of the King of the Wolves
were calling him and coming to his aid. Graceful embraced Fido, his
only friend, and forgave him the imprudence for which they were both
about to pay with their lives; then loaded his musket, offered up a
prayer to the good fairies, commended his grandmother to them, and
prepared to die.
"Graceful! Graceful! where are you?" cried a little voice that could
be none other than Pensive's, and the swallow alighted on the head of
her master.
"Courage!" said she; "the wolves are still far off. There is a spring
close by where you can quench your thirst and stanch your bleeding
wounds, and I have found a hidden path which will lead us to Pæstum."
Graceful and Fido dragged themselves along to the brook, trembling
with hope and fear; then entered the obscure path, a little reanimated
by the soft twittering of Pensive. The sun had set; they walked in the
twilight for some hours, and, when the moon rose, they were out of
danger. They had still to journey over a painful and dangerous road
for those who no longer had the ardor of the morning. There were
marshes to cross, ditches to leap, and thickets to break through,
which tore Graceful's face and hands; but at the thought that he could
still repair his fault and save his grandmother his heart was so light
that his strength redoubled at every step with his hope. At last,
after a thousand obstacles, they reached Pæstum just as the stars
marked midnight.
Graceful threw himself on the pavement of the temple of Neptune, and,
after thanking Pensive, fell asleep, with Fido at his feet, wounded,
bleeding, and silent.
IV
The sleep was not long. Graceful was up before daybreak, which seemed
long in coming. On descending the steps of the temple he saw the ants,
who had raised a heap of sand and were bringing grain from the new
harvest. The whole republic was in motion. The ants were all going or
coming, talking to their neighbors, and receiving or giving orders;
some were dragging wisps of straw, others were carrying bits of wood,
others conveying away dead flies, and others heaping up provisions; it
was a complete winter establishment.
"What!" said Graceful to the ants, "are you not going to the Castle of
Life? Do you renounce immortality?"
"We have worked long enough," answered one of the laborers; "the time
for harvest has come. The road is long and the future uncertain, and
we are rich. Let fools count on to-morrow; the wise man uses to-day.
When a person has hoarded riches honestly it is true philosophy to
enjoy them."
Fido thought that the ant was right; but, as he no longer dared
advise, he contented himself with shaking his head as they set out.
Pensive, on the contrary, said that the ant was a selfish fellow, and
that, if life were made only for enjoyment, the butterfly was wiser
than he. At the same time, and with a lighter wing than ever, the
swallow soared upward to lead the way.
Graceful walked on in silence. Ashamed of the follies of the day
before, although he still regretted the doe, he resolved that on the
third day nothing should turn him aside from the road. Fido, with his
mutilated ear, limped after his master and seemed not less dreamy than
he. At noon they sought for a shady place in which to rest for a few
moments. The sun was less scorching than the day before. It seemed as
if both country and season had changed. The road lay through meadows
lately mown for the second time, or beautiful vineyards full of
grapes, and was lined with great fig-trees laden with fruit, in which
thousands of insects were humming; golden clouds were floating in the
horizon, the air was soft and gentle, and everything tempted to
repose.
In the most beautiful of the meadows, by the side of a brook which
diffused its coolness afar, Graceful saw a herd of buffaloes chewing
the cud under the shade of the ashes and plane-trees. They were lazily
stretched on the ground, in a circle around a large bull that seemed
their chief and king. Graceful approached them, and was received with
politeness. They invited him by a nod to be seated, and pointed out to
him great bowls full of milk and cheese. Our traveler admired the
calmness and gravity of these peaceful and powerful animals, which
seemed like so many Roman senators in their curule chairs. The gold
ring which they wore in their noses added still more to the majesty of
their aspect. Graceful, who felt calmer and more sedate than the day
before, thought, in spite of himself, how pleasant it would be to live
in the midst of this peace and plenty; if happiness were anywhere, it
must surely be found here.
Fido shared his master's opinion. It was the season of the southward
migration of the quails; the ground was covered with tired birds,
resting to regain strength before crossing the sea, and Fido had only
to stoop down to find game worthy of a prince. Satiated with eating,
he stretched himself at Graceful's feet and slept soundly.
When the buffaloes had finished chewing their cud, Graceful, who had
hitherto feared to disturb them, entered into conversation with the
bull, who showed a cultivated mind and wide experience.
"Are you the masters of this rich domain?" asked he.
"No," replied the old buffalo; "we belong, with all the rest, to the
Fairy Crapaudine, the Queen of the Vermilion Towers, the richest of
all the fairies."
"What does she require of you?" asked Graceful.
"Nothing, except to wear this gold ring in the nose and to pay her a
tribute of milk," returned the bull, "or, at most, to give her one of
our children from time to time to regale her guests. At this price we
enjoy our plenty in perfect security, and we have no reason to envy
any on earth, for none are so happy as we."
"Have you never heard of the Castle of Life and the Fountain of
Immortality?" asked Graceful, who, without knowing why, blushed as he
put the question.
"There were some old men among our ancestors who still talked of these
visions," replied the bull; "but we are wiser than our fathers; we
know that there is no other happiness than to chew the cud and
sleep."
Graceful rose sadly to resume his journey, and asked what were those
reddish square towers which he saw in the distance.
"They are the Vermilion Towers," returned the bull; "they bar the way;
and you must pass through the castle of the Fairy Crapaudine in order
to continue your road. You will see the fairy, my young friend, and
she will offer you hospitality and riches. Take my advice and do like
those that have gone before you, all of whom accepted the favors of
our mistress, and found that they had done well to abandon their
dreams in order to live happy."
"And what became of them?" asked Graceful.
"They became buffaloes like us," rejoined the bull, who, not having
finished his afternoon nap, closed his eyes and fell asleep.
Graceful started and awakened Fido, who rose, grumbling. He called
Pensive. Pensive did not answer; she was talking with a spider that
had spun a great web between the branches of an ash-tree, which was
glittering in the sun, full of flies. "Why take this long journey?"
said the spider to the swallow. "What is the use of changing your
climate and putting your life at the mercy of the sea, the weather, or
a master? Look at me; I depend on nobody, and have everything for
myself. I am my own mistress; I enjoy my art and genius; I bring the
world to me; nothing can disturb either my calculations, or a
serenity which I owe to myself alone."
Graceful called Pensive three times without making her hear, so
completely was she engrossed in admiration of her new friend. Every
instant some giddy fly fell into the web, and each time the spider,
like an attentive hostess, offered the prey to her astonished
companion, when suddenly a breeze passed--a breeze so light that it
did not ruffle a feather of the swallow's wing. Pensive looked for the
spider; the web had been swept away by the winds, and the poor insect
was clinging by one foot to the last thread, when a bird seized it and
bore it away.
V
Setting out again on their way, they proceeded in silence to the
palace of Crapaudine. Graceful was introduced with great ceremony by
two beautiful greyhounds, caparisoned with purple and wearing on their
necks broad collars sparkling with rubies. After crossing a great
number of halls, all full of pictures, statues, gold, and silver, and
coffers overflowing with money and jewels, Graceful and his companions
entered a circular temple, which was Crapaudine's drawing-room. The
walls were of lapis-lazuli, and the ceiling, of sky-blue enamel, was
supported by twelve chiseled pillars of massive gold, with capitals of
acanthus leaves of white enamel edged with gold. A huge frog, as
large as a rabbit, was seated in a velvet easy-chair. It was the fairy
of the place. The charming Crapaudine was draped in a scarlet mantle
covered with glittering spangles, and wore on her head a ruby diadem
whose luster lighted up her fat cheeks mottled with green and yellow.
As soon as she perceived Graceful she extended to him her fingers,
covered with rings, which the poor boy was obliged respectfully to
raise to his lips as he bowed.
"My friend," said the fairy to him, in a hoarse voice, which she
vainly tried to soften, "I was expecting you, and I will not be less
generous to you than my sisters have been. On the way here you have
seen but a small part of my riches. This palace, with its pictures,
its statues, and its coffers full of gold, these vast domains, and
these innumerable flocks, all may be yours if you wish; it depends
only on yourself to become the richest and happiest of men."
"What must I do for this?" asked Graceful, greatly excited.
"Less than nothing," replied the fairy; "chop me up into little pieces
and eat me. It is not a very disagreeable thing to do," added
Crapaudine, looking at Graceful with eyes redder than usual.
"Can I not season you, at least?" said Graceful, who had been unable
to look without envy at the beautiful gardens of the fairy.
"No, you must eat me without seasoning; but walk about my palace, see
and handle all my treasures, and reflect that, by giving me this proof
of devotion, they will all be yours."
"Master," sighed Fido, in a supplicating voice, "a little courage! We
are so comfortable here!"
Pensive said nothing, but her silence was consent. As to Graceful, who
remembered the buffaloes and the gold ring, he distrusted the fairy.
Crapaudine perceived it.
"Do not think, my dear Graceful, that I wish to deceive you," she
said. "In offering you all that I possess, I also demand of you a
service which I will reward as it deserves. When you have done what I
propose I shall become a young girl, as beautiful as Venus, except
that my hands and feet will remain like those of a frog, which is very
little when one is rich. Ten princes, twenty marquises, and thirty
counts have already begged me to marry them as I am; when I become a
woman, I will give you the preference, and we will enjoy my vast
fortune together. Do not blush for your poverty; you have about you a
treasure that is worth all mine, the vial which my sister gave you."
Saying this, she stretched out her slimy fingers to seize the
talisman.
"Never!" cried Graceful, shrinking back, "never! I wish neither repose
nor fortune; I wish to quit this place and to go to the Castle of
Life."
"You shall never go there!" exclaimed the fairy, in a rage. The castle
instantly disappeared, a circle of fire surrounded Graceful, and an
invisible clock began to strike midnight. At the first stroke the
child started; at the second, without hesitating, he plunged headlong
into the flames. To die for his grandmother seemed to him the only
means of showing his love and repentance.
VI
To Graceful's surprise, the flames parted without touching him, and he
suddenly found himself in a new country, with his two companions by
his side. This country was no longer Italy, but Russia, the end of the
earth. He was wandering on a mountain covered with snow. Around him he
saw nothing but great trees, coated with hoar-frost and dripping water
from all their branches; a damp and penetrating mist chilled him to
the bones; the moist earth sank under his feet; and, to crown his
wretchedness, it was necessary to descend a steep precipice, at the
bottom of which a torrent was breaking noisily over the rocks.
Graceful took his dagger and cut a branch from a tree to support his
faltering steps. Fido, with his tail between his legs, barked feebly;
and Pensive, her ruffled feathers covered with icicles, clung to her
master's shoulder. The poor bird was half dead, but she encouraged
Graceful and did not complain.