Graceful found a river filled with enormous icebergs, striking against
one another and whirling in the current, and this river he must
cross, without bridge, without boat, and without aid.
"Master," said Fido, "I can go no farther. Accursed be the fairy that
drew me from nothingness to place me in your service." Saying this, he
lay down on the ground and would not stir. Graceful vainly tried to
restore his courage, and called him his companion and friend. All that
the poor dog could do was to answer his master's caresses for the last
time by wagging his tail and licking his hands; then his limbs
stiffened and he expired.
Graceful took Fido on his back in order to carry him to the Castle of
Life, and boldly climbed one of the icebergs, still followed by
Pensive. With his staff he pushed this frail bark into the middle of
the current, which bore it away with frightful rapidity.
"Master," said Pensive, "do you hear the roaring of the waters? We are
floating toward a whirlpool which will swallow us up! Give me a last
caress and farewell!"
"No," said Graceful. "Why should the fairies have deceived us? The
shore may be close by; perhaps the sun is shining behind the clouds.
Mount, mount, my good Pensive; perchance above the fog you will find
light and will see the Castle of Life!"
Pensive spread her half-frozen wings, and courageously soared amid the
cold and mist. Graceful listened for a moment to the sound of her
flight; then all was silent, while the iceberg pursued its furious
course through the darkness. Graceful waited a long time; at last,
when he felt himself alone, hope abandoned him, and he lay down to
await death on the tottering iceberg. Livid flashes of lightning shot
through the clouds, horrible bursts of thunder were heard, and the end
of the world and of time seemed approaching. All at once, in the midst
of his despair, Graceful heard the cry of the swallow, and Pensive
fell at his feet. "Master, master," cried she, "you were right. I have
seen the shore; the dawn is close at hand. Courage!" Saying this, she
convulsively spread her tired wings and lay motionless and lifeless.
Graceful started up, placed the poor bird that had sacrificed itself
for him next his heart, and, with superhuman ardor, urged the iceberg
on to safety or destruction. Suddenly he heard the roaring of the
breakers. He fell on his knees and closed his eyes, awaiting death.
A wave like a mountain broke over his head and cast him fainting on
the shore, which no living person had touched before him.
VII
When Graceful recovered his senses, the ice, clouds, and darkness had
disappeared. He was lying on the ground in the midst of a charming
country, covered with trees bathed in a soft light. In front of him
was a beautiful castle, from which bubbled a brook that flowed into a
sea as blue, calm, and transparent as the sky. Graceful looked about
him; he was alone--alone with the remains of his two companions, which
the waves had washed on the shore. Exhausted with suffering and
excitement, he dragged himself to the brook and bent over the water to
refresh his parched lips, when he shrank back with affright. It was
not his face that he saw in the water, but that of an old man with
silvery locks who strongly resembled him. He turned round; there was
no one behind him. He again drew near the fountain; he saw the old
man, or rather, doubtless, the old man was himself. "Great fairies,"
he cried. "I understand you. If it is my life that you wish in
exchange for that of my grandmother, I joyfully accept the sacrifice."
And without troubling himself further about his old age and wrinkles,
he plunged his head into the water and drank eagerly.
On rising, he was astonished to see himself again as he was when he
left home, only more beautiful, with blacker hair and brighter eyes
than ever. He picked up his hat, which had fallen near the spring, and
which a drop of water had touched by chance, when what was his
surprise to see the butterfly that he had pinned to it fluttering its
wings and seeking to fly. He gave it its liberty, and ran to the beach
for Fido and Pensive, then plunged them both into the blessed
fountain. Pensive flew upward with a joyful cry and disappeared amid
the turrets of the castle. Fido, shaking the water from both ears,
ran to the kennels of the palace, where he was met by magnificent
watch-dogs, which, instead of barking and growling at the new-comer,
welcomed him joyfully like an old friend. Graceful had at last found
the Fountain of Immortality, or rather the brook that flowed from
it--a brook already greatly weakened, and which only gave two or three
hundred years of life to those that drank of it; but nothing prevented
them from drinking anew.
Graceful filled his vial with this life-giving water and approached
the palace. His heart beat, for a last trial remained. So near
success, he feared the more to fail. He mounted the steps of the
castle. All was closed and silent; no one was there to receive the
traveler. When he had reached the last step and was about to knock at
the door, a voice, rather gentle than harsh, stopped him.
"Have you loved?" said the invisible voice.
"Yes," answered Graceful; "I have loved my grandmother better than any
one in the world."
The door opened a little way.
"Have you suffered for her whom you have loved?" resumed the voice.
"I have suffered," replied Graceful; "much through my own fault,
doubtless, but a little for her whom I wished to save."
The door opened half-way and the child caught a glimpse of woods,
waters, and a sky more beautiful than anything of which he had ever
dreamed.
"Have you always done your duty?" said the voice, in a harsher tone.
"Alas! no," replied Graceful, falling on his knees; "but when I have
failed I have been punished by my remorse even more than by the hard
trials through which I have passed. Forgive me, and punish me as I
deserve, if I have not yet expiated all my faults; but save her whom I
love--save my grandmother."
The door instantly opened wide, though Graceful saw no one.
Intoxicated with joy, he entered a courtyard surrounded with arbors
embowered in foliage, with a fountain in the midst, spouting from a
tuft of flowers larger, more beautiful, and more fragrant than any he
had seen on earth. By the side of the spring stood a woman dressed in
white, of noble bearing, and seemingly not more than forty years old.
She advanced to meet Graceful, and smiled on him so sweetly that the
child felt himself touched to the heart, and his eyes filled with
tears.
"Don't you know me?" said the woman.
"Oh, grandmother! is it you?" he exclaimed. "How came you in the
Castle of Life?"
"My child," said she, pressing him to her heart, "He who brought me
here is an enchanter more powerful than the fairies of the woods and
the waters. I shall never more return to Salerno. I shall receive my
reward here for the little good I have done by tasting a happiness
which time will not destroy."
"And me, grandmother!" cried Graceful, "what shall become of me? After
seeing you here, how can I return to suffer alone?"
"My dear child," she replied, "no one can live on earth after he has
caught a glimpse of the celestial delights of this abode. You have
lived, my dear Graceful; life has nothing more to teach you. You have
passed in four days through the desert where I languished eighty
years, and henceforth nothing can separate us."
The door closed, and from that time nothing was heard of Graceful or
his grandmother. It was in vain that search was made for the palace
and enchanted fountain; they were never more discovered on earth. But
if we understood the language of the stars, if we felt what their
gentle rays tell us every evening, we should long ago have learned
from them where to look for the Castle of Life and the Fountain of
Immortality.
Destiny
_A Dalmatian Tale_
[Illustration:]
Once upon a time there were two brothers, who lived together in one
family. One did everything, while the other was an idle fellow who
troubled himself about nothing but eating and drinking. The harvests
were always magnificent; they had cows, horses, sheep, pigs, bees, and
everything else in plenty.
The elder brother, who did everything, said to himself, one day, "Why
should I work for this idler? It is better for us to separate; I will
work for myself alone, and he can do as he likes." He said to his
brother, therefore:
"Brother, it is not just for me to do everything, while you trouble
yourself about nothing but eating and drinking; we must separate."
His brother tried to dissuade him from his plan, saying:
"Brother, don't do this, we are so well off as we are. You have
everything in your own hands; what is mine is yours; and you know that
I am always satisfied with what you do or order done."
The elder, however, persisted in his resolution till the younger was
forced to yield. "Since it must be so," said he, "I am not angry.
Divide the property as you like."
The division made, each took his share. The idler hired a drover for
his cattle, a groom for his horses, a shepherd for his sheep, a
goatherd for his goats, a swineherd for his hogs, and a keeper for his
bees, and said to them all, "I intrust my property to you. May God
have you in His keeping." And he continued to stay at home, with no
more care than before.
The elder, on the contrary, labored for himself as he had done for the
common good: he kept his own flocks and had an eye to everything; yet,
in spite of all this, he found bad luck and misfortune everywhere;
everything went wrong with him, until at last he was so poor that he
had not even a pair of shoes, but was forced to go barefoot. He said
to himself, "I will go to my brother's house and see how affairs are
prospering with him."
His road lay through a pasture in which a flock of sheep was feeding.
On approaching them he saw that they had no shepherd. A beautiful
young girl was seated near them, with her distaff, spinning gold
thread.
He saluted the young girl and asked her to whom the flock belonged.
"To him to whom I belong belong also these sheep," answered she.
"And who are you?" said he.
"I am your brother's fortune?" she replied.
"And where is my fortune?" he exclaimed, seized with anger and envy.
"Ah! she is far from you," said the young girl.
"Can I find her?" asked he.
"You can," she replied, "if you only look yonder."
On hearing these words, and seeing that the sheep were the finest that
could be imagined, he had no wish to see the other flocks, but went
straight to his brother, who, as soon as he saw him, burst into tears,
moved with pity.
"Where have you been so long?" asked he. And, seeing him clothed in
rags and barefooted, he gave him a pair of shoes and some money.
After staying three days in his brother's house, the poor man set out
for home. No sooner had he reached his house than he threw a bag
across his shoulder, with a piece of bread in it, took a staff in his
hand, and set out to seek his fortune.
After walking for some time he found himself in a great forest, where
he saw a wretched old hag asleep under a tree. He gave her a blow on
the back with his staff to awaken her. She moved with difficulty, and,
half opening her bleared eyes, said to him, "Thank God that I was
asleep, for if I had been awake you would not have had those shoes."
"Who are you, then," asked he, "that would have prevented my having
these shoes?"
"I am your fortune," answered the old woman.
"What! are you my fortune?" cried he, striking his breast. "May God
exterminate you! Who gave you to me?"
"It was Destiny," replied the old woman.
"Where is Destiny?" he asked.
"Go and find him," said the old woman, lying down to sleep again.
He set out in search of Destiny. After a long, long journey, at length
he reached a wood, where he found a hermit, of whom he asked the way
to the abode of Destiny.
"Go straight up yonder mountain and you will find his castle,"
answered the hermit; "but when you find him take care not to speak to
him, but only do all that you see him do."
The traveler thanked the hermit and took his way to the mountain. When
he reached the abode of Destiny he saw a magnificent palace full of
servants constantly bustling about and doing nothing. As to Destiny,
he was supping at a table bountifully served. When the stranger saw
this he also sat down at the table and supped with the master of the
house. After supper Destiny went to bed, and his guest did the same.
At midnight a terrible noise was heard in the castle, and a voice
cried, "Destiny, Destiny, such a number of souls have come into the
world this night; give them something according to thy good pleasure."
And behold! Destiny rose, and opened a golden chest filled with
shining guineas, which he scattered by handfuls about the room,
saying, "Such as I am to-day, such shalt thou be all thy life!"
At daybreak the beautiful castle had vanished, and in its place stood
an ordinary house, in which, however, nothing was wanting. When
evening came Destiny sat down to supper. His guest did the same, but
no one spoke a word. Supper over, they went to bed. At midnight a
terrible noise was heard, and a voice cried, "Destiny, Destiny, such a
number of souls have come into the world this night; give them
something according to thy good pleasure."
And behold! Destiny rose, and opened a silver chest, but this time
there were no guineas in it, but only silver coin, with a few small
pieces of gold, which Destiny scattered on the floor, saying, "Such as
I am to-day, such shalt thou be all thy life!"
At daybreak this house had also disappeared, and a smaller one stood
in its place. The same thing happened every night, and every morning
the house was smaller, until finally there was nothing but a wretched
hut. Destiny now took a spade and began to dig the ground. His guest
did the same, and both worked all day. When night came, Destiny took
a crust of bread and, breaking it in two, gave half to his companion.
This was all his supper. When they had eaten it they went to bed.
At midnight a terrible noise was heard, and a voice cried out,
"Destiny, Destiny, such a number of souls have come into the world
this night; give them something according to thy good pleasure."
And behold! Destiny rose, and opened a wooden chest filled with
pebbles mixed with a few copper coins, which he scattered on the
ground, saying, "Such as I am to-day, such shalt thou be all thy
life!"
When morning dawned the cabin was changed into a splendid palace, as
on the first day. Then, for the first time, Destiny spoke to his
guest. "Why did you come here?" asked he.
The poor man told him the whole story of his wretchedness, and how he
had come to ask Destiny himself why he had given him such a bad
fortune.
"You saw what I was the first night, when I scattered guineas, and
what followed," replied Destiny. "Such as I am on the night that a man
is born, such will that man be all his life. You were born on a night
of poverty; you will always be poor. Your brother, on the contrary,
came into the world on a lucky night; he will always be fortunate.
But, since you have taken so much trouble to find me, I will tell you
how to help yourself. Your brother has a daughter by the name of
Miliza, who is as fortunate as her father. Take her for your wife when
you return home, but be careful always to say that all that you have
belongs to her."
The poor man thanked Destiny again and again, and set out for home. As
soon as he arrived he went straight to his brother's house and said,
"Brother, give me Miliza for a wife; you see that I am all alone in
the world."
"I am willing," answered his brother; "Miliza is yours."
The bridegroom carried Miliza to his house. He soon became very rich,
but he always took good care to say, "All that I have belongs to
Miliza."
One day, however, as he was admiring his wheat, which was the most
beautiful that ever was seen, a stranger passed by and asked, "Whose
wheat is this?"
"It is mine," answered he, without thinking. But scarcely had he
spoken when, behold! the wheat took fire, and the flames spread all
over the field. Without stopping to put it out, he ran after the
traveler, crying, "Stop, sir, I was mistaken; it belongs to Miliza, my
brother's daughter."
The fire went out at once of its own accord. He had learned a good
lesson which he never forgot, and from that time thenceforth he was
fortunate, thanks to Miliza.
The Twelve Months
_A Bohemian Tale_
[Illustration:]
There was once a woman who was left a widow with two children. The
elder, who was only her stepdaughter, was named Dobrunka; the younger,
who was as wicked as her mother, was called Katinka. The mother
worshiped her daughter, but she hated Dobrunka, simply because she was
as beautiful as her sister was ugly. Dobrunka did not even know that
she was pretty, and she could not understand why her stepmother flew
into a rage at the mere sight of her. The poor child was obliged to do
all the work of the house; she had to sweep, cook, wash, sew, spin,
weave, cut the grass, and take care of the cow, while Katinka lived
like a princess--that is to say, did nothing.
Dobrunka worked with a good will, and took reproaches and blows with
the gentleness of a lamb; but nothing soothed her stepmother, for
every day added to the beauty of the elder sister and the ugliness of
the younger. "They are growing up," thought the mother, "and suitors
will soon appear, who will refuse my daughter when they see this
hateful Dobrunka, who grows beautiful on purpose to spite me. I must
get rid of her, cost what it may."
One day in the middle of January, Katinka took a fancy for some
violets. She called Dobrunka and said, "Go to the forest and bring me
a bunch of violets, that I may put them in my bosom and enjoy their
fragrance."
"Oh, sister, what an idea!" answered Dobrunka; "as if there were any
violets under the snow!"
"Hold your tongue, stupid fool," returned her sister, "and do as I bid
you. If you do not go to the forest and bring me back a bunch of
violets I will beat you to a jelly." Upon this the mother took
Dobrunka by the arm, put her out of the door, and drew the bolt on
her.
The poor girl went to the forest weeping bitterly. Everything was
covered with snow; there was not even a footpath. She lost her way and
wandered about till, famishing with hunger and perishing with cold,
she entreated God to take her from this wretched life.
All at once she saw a light in the distance. She went on, climbing
higher and higher, until at last she reached the top of a huge rock,
upon which a great fire was built. Around the fire were twelve stones,
and on each stone sat a motionless figure, wrapped in a large mantle,
his head covered with a hood which fell over his eyes. Three of these
mantles were white like the snow, three were green like the grass of
the meadows, three were golden like the sheaves of ripe wheat, and
three were purple like the grapes of the vine. These twelve figures,
gazing at the fire in silence, were the Twelve Months of the year.
Dobrunka knew January by his long white beard. He was the only one
that had a staff in his hand. The poor girl was terribly frightened.
She drew near, saying, in a timid voice, "My good sirs, please to let
me warm myself by your fire; I am freezing with cold."
January nodded his head. "Why have you come here, my child?" he asked.
"What are you looking for?"
"I am looking for violets," replied Dobrunka.
"This is not the season for them; there are no violets in the time of
snow," said January, in his gruff voice.
"I know it," replied Dobrunka, sadly; "but my sister and mother will
beat me to a jelly if I do not bring them some. My good sirs, please
to tell me where I can find them."
Old January rose, and, turning to a young man in a green mantle, put
his staff in his hand, and said to him, "Brother March, this is your
business."
March rose in turn, and stirred the fire with the staff, when, behold!
the flames rose, the snow melted, the buds put forth on the trees, the
grass turned green under the bushes, the flowers peeped through the
verdure, and the violets opened--it was spring.
"Make haste, my child, and gather your violets," said March.
[Illustration: PRETTY DOBRUNKA WAS OBLIGED TO DO ALL THE WORK OF THE
HOUSE]
Dobrunka gathered a large bouquet, thanked the Twelve Months, and
joyfully ran home. You can imagine the astonishment of Katinka and the
stepmother. The fragrance of the violets filled the whole house.
"Where did you find these fine things?" asked Katinka, in a disdainful
voice.
"Up yonder, on the mountain," answered her sister. "It looked like a
great blue carpet under the bushes."
Katinka put the bouquet in her bosom and did not even thank the poor
child.
The next morning the wicked sister, as she sat idling by the stove,
took a fancy for some strawberries.
"Go to the forest and bring me some strawberries," said she to
Dobrunka.
"Oh, sister, what an idea! as if there were any strawberries under the
snow!"
"Hold your tongue, stupid fool, and do as I bid you. If you don't go
to the forest and bring me back a basket of strawberries, I will beat
you to a jelly."
The mother took Dobrunka by the arm, put her out of the door, and drew
the bolt on her.
The poor girl returned to the forest, looking with all her eyes for
the light that she had seen the day before. She was fortunate enough
to spy it, and she reached the fire trembling and almost frozen.
The Twelve Months were in their places, motionless and silent.
"My good sirs," said Dobrunka, "please to let me warm myself by your
fire; I am almost frozen with cold."
"Why have you returned?" asked January. "What are you looking for?"
"I am looking for strawberries," answered she.
"This is not the season for them," returned January, in his gruff
voice; "there are no strawberries under the snow."
"I know it," replied Dobrunka, sadly; "but my mother and sister will
beat me to a jelly if I do not bring them some. My good sirs, please
to tell me where I can find them."
Old January rose and, turning to a man in a golden mantle, he put his
staff in his hand, saying, "Brother June, this is your business."
June rose in turn, and stirred the fire with the staff, when, behold!
the flames rose, the snow melted, the earth grew green, the trees were
covered with leaves, the birds sang and the flowers opened--it was
summer. Thousands of little white stars enameled the turf, then turned
to red strawberries, looking, in their green cups, like rubies set in
emeralds.
"Make haste, my child, and gather your strawberries," said June.
Dobrunka filled her apron, thanked the Twelve Months, and joyfully
ran home. You may imagine the astonishment of Katinka and the
stepmother. The fragrance of the strawberries filled the whole house.
"Where did you find these things?" asked Katinka, in a disdainful
voice.
"Up yonder on the mountain," answered her sister; "there were so many
of them that they looked like blood poured on the ground."
Katinka and her mother devoured the strawberries without even thanking
the poor child.
The third day the wicked sister took a fancy for some red apples. The
same threats, the same insults, and the same violence followed.
Dobrunka ran to the mountain, and was fortunate enough to find the
Twelve Months warming themselves, motionless and silent.
"You here again, my child?" said old January, making room for her by
the fire. Dobrunka told him, with tears, how, if she did not bring
home some red apples, her mother and sister would beat her to death.
Old January repeated the ceremonies of the day before. "Brother
September," said he to a gray-bearded man in a purple mantle, "this is
your business."
September rose and stirred the fire with the staff, when, behold! the
flames ascended, the snow melted, and the trees put forth a few yellow
leaves, which fell one by one before the wind--it was autumn. The only
flowers were a few late pinks, daisies, and immortelles. Dobrunka saw
but one thing, an apple-tree with its rosy fruit.
"Make haste, my child; shake the tree," said September.
She shook it, and an apple fell; she shook it again, and a second
apple followed.
"Make haste, Dobrunka, make haste home!" cried September, in an
imperious voice.
The good child thanked the Twelve Months, and joyfully ran home. You
may imagine the astonishment of Katinka and the stepmother.
"Red apples in January! Where did you get these apples?" asked
Katinka.
"Up yonder on the mountain; there is a tree there that is as red with
them as a cherry-tree in July."