great rock, overhung with a tangle of eglantine and honeysuckle--and
pushing aside the fragrant curtain dexterously with his horns, disclosed
what appeared to be the mouth of a cave. Entering this, closely followed
by the King, they proceeded for some way in almost total darkness.
Gradually it grew lighter and the path wider, when the King perceived,
to his amazement, that the illumination proceeded from countless numbers
of bats, ridden by small imps carrying lighted glow-worms.
Presently they came to a spacious garden, where all the trees were
lighted by coloured lamps hanging among the branches, and the air was
filled with music and perfume.
Within the garden was a great pavilion of purple silk, most gorgeously
emblazoned with scarlet and gold, and having a Royal banner floating
from the roof.
Within was a table, covered with every variety of food and wine,
lavishly decorated with flowers and gold plate, and laid for two. Here
the hart entertained his Royal guest to supper, and after he was
completely refreshed and rested, handed him an enamelled box, which, on
being opened, disclosed a clay pipe, blackened with much use, a tinder,
and a flint.
"Smoke, O King!" said the host; "unfortunately I cannot join you; and
now to explain why I have lured you from your own people to my enchanted
land.
"I know your difficulties in Nokkeland, because for one reason we are
very near neighbours, though probably you are unaware of it. The people
who inhabit that kingdom are descended from a water fiend, and the
turbulent instincts inherited from him can never be quelled until the
power of the Neck, who rules the river between your kingdom and theirs,
is broken. Now, the Neck is my enemy as well as yours, and if you will
ally yourself with me and follow my counsels, you will have peace,
honour, and happiness for the rest of your life in all probability."
"I am ready," said the King, "only tell me what to do; the Klavs are the
plague of my life, but from what you say success even then is by no
means a certainty."
"Much depends on luck," said the hart, "and to neither your Majesty nor
myself is it given to do much. You have three daughters, Solveig, Ulva,
and little Kirsten; one of them must go over Ringfalla Bridge without
stumbling and without speaking one word. This done, your troubles and my
own are at an end."
[Illustration: "AN ENAMELLED BOX" (_p._ 102).]
Now, Ringfalla Bridge it was that spanned the river between King
Kaftan's own territory and that of the Klavs, and what between the Klavs
themselves and the Neck who inhabited the river, it had a very evil
reputation indeed.
The King looked grave, and then he laughed rather grimly. "There won't
be much difficulty about that," he said. "To cross it has been the
desire of their hearts ever since they were babies; it is only my strict
orders that keep them from it."
"She who undertakes it must go of her own free will, and if she
accomplishes it without stumbling and without speaking, the kingdom is
saved." Those were the last words of the hart ere bidding the King
good-night, and they were ringing in his ears when he awoke in the
morning. But he was no longer lying on the silken cushions on which he
had rested the night before. Pavilion, garden, and hart had vanished,
the sun was high in the heavens, he was lying on a heap of moss and
ferns in the wood, with Rolf standing over him and thrusting his soft
nozzle into his face.
The King was greatly perplexed as to whether all the events of the
preceding night had actually happened, or if he had only dreamt them,
and was rather inclined to the latter belief. Mounting Rolf, and leaving
that good steed to find his own way back to the camp, he pondered deeply
over all the hart had told him, and resolved at least to try what he had
suggested.
When at last he came to the camp it was nearly deserted, as most of the
party had gone to hunt for the King, but after much blowing of horns the
company was collected, and, abandoning all further idea of sport, rode
back to the capital.
There they found everything silent, except that the bells were
mournfully tolling, and the flag over the palace hanging half-mast high.
"What is this? Who is dead?" asked the King, but no one seemed inclined
to explain.
At last the captain of the guard, who could not run away, was forced to
salute and answer the King.
"Sire," he said, "your Majesty's daughter, the Princess Solveig, was
drowned yesterday in trying to cross Ringfalla Bridge."
Greatly to the captain's surprise, however, the King inquired no further
on the subject, but went straight up to the tower where the apartments
of the three Princesses were situated.
There he found the two youngest overwhelmed with grief for their
sister's loss, but overjoyed to see him and give an account of the
catastrophe.
On the previous day, after seeing the King start at the head of a great
cavalcade on his hunting expedition, the three Princesses cast about in
their minds how they might amuse themselves, and finally agreed to go
down and picnic by the river. Now, although the river itself was not
absolutely forbidden, they were quite aware that the King disapproved of
their going there, but they pacified their consciences by taking a
strong escort, their old nurse, and a very large variety of hampers
containing lunch.
Poor old Nurse Gerda was as much averse to the expedition as King Kaftan
himself could have been, and told gruesome tales of the evil water
spirit and his doings; but the Princesses only laughed, and enjoyed
preparing their own lunch, and eating it afterwards, extremely. Then
they wandered along the banks, gathering primroses and long grasses, all
the while drawing near to the forbidden bridge; but it looked so
inviting with its stone parapet and curious wooden pavement, and the
water flowed so peacefully beneath the arches, that they there and then
made up their minds to cross it, and drew lots to decide which should
venture first. The lot fell to Solveig, the eldest, and she set out
boldly with six archers to guard her--three before and three behind,
walking abreast--a last precaution insisted upon by Gerda, the nurse,
who watched the proceeding in terror.
All went well till they had almost reached the middle, then she tripped,
and in falling touched the parapet, which instantly gave way, and the
Princess fell into the river. As she touched the water a great pair of
hairy arms caught and drew her under, so that she was seen no more.
"And," continued Ulva, who up till now had done most of the talking,
"the wall closed up again, with no sign of a break, directly she
disappeared, and though two of the guard jumped in after her, the Neck
took no notice of them, and they swam ashore in the end quite safely."
"The bridge is enchanted," said the King gloomily; and then he told them
his adventure with the white hart.
"Then," said Ulva, with great decision, "I will go: it is very simple.
Solveig talked to Ulf, the archer, all the time, and was looking at the
river when she stumbled. Now, I know what is required of me: I will look
at my feet and say nothing, not a word. Do, father, let me go." And she
gave the King no peace till he consented; but she fared no better than
her sister.
[Illustration: "A GREAT PAIR OF HAIRY ARMS CAUGHT AND DREW HER UNDER"
(_p._ 106).]
Boldly and silently she marched in the very centre of the fatal bridge,
till suddenly she saw in front of her an enormous serpent with fiery
eyes and forked tongue, with head up ready to spring. Poor Ulva's chief
fear in life was a snake. She recoiled in terror, calling to warn the
archers, who had seen nothing. And then the flooring gave way beneath
her, and she too sank into the flood, a great pair of hairy hands
clutching her as she fell.
Then there was great mourning throughout the land. The people clothed
themselves in black, and the King reviled the hart and his own folly in
acting on his advice, and refused to be comforted.
Then little Kirsten, the youngest sister, and the fairest maiden in the
land, put her white arms about his neck and told him to be of good
cheer; "for I will ride across," she said, "and if Freyja my mare
stumble, it will be her fault, not mine, and I will neither speak nor
scream, for they will tie a scarf over my lips so that I cannot. So,
father, let me go, for it is I who will save the kingdom."
But the King swore a great oath, and vowed she should not, and for three
days nothing could move him. Then, the Princess prevailed, and the whole
city came out to see her ride over Ringfalla Bridge.
This time neither guards nor soldiers attempted to cross--a dozen
courtiers, richly apparelled and mounted, accompanied the youngest
Princess, who, dressed in white and all her pet jewels, with diamond
fireflies glistening in the golden hair that floated to her little
shoes, and her small, red mouth bound fast with a silken scarf, rode
gaily upon Freyja till she had crossed the middle of the bridge, when,
once again, appeared a wonder on the verge of the forest--a great white
hart, with horns and hoofs of burnished gold. And straightway all the
courtiers were tearing after it helter-skelter in hot haste, entirely
forgetful of the poor little Princess and everything else.
[Illustration: "THE YOUNGEST PRINCESS RODE GAILY UPON FREYJA" (_p._
108).]
And Freyja that morning was very frisky; she minced along sideways on
her golden shoes, coquetting with her own shadow, and making little
playful snaps at her bridle. So she, too, stumbled at last on the
treacherous planks, throwing her mistress over the parapet into the
swiftly running stream; but this time no demon hands were stretched out
to receive their prey--only a flash of white and gold ere the water
closed over her head, and then all was still.
Meantime the white hart was giving the truant courtiers a lively time of
it; he bounded, trotted, and doubled, keeping all the time close to the
bridge, but eluding all their efforts to come near him. When, however,
the maiden fell, a marvellous thing chanced--the beautiful beast
vanished, and in his place stood the handsomest knight that had ever
been seen in that or any other land. His armour was of gold, curiously
inlaid with silver; on his helmet was a crown of emeralds, and his long
purple mantle was lined with ermine, so there could be no doubt about
his being a King.
Then all the courtiers doffed their plumed caps, and did obeisance to
him; but the stranger, after acknowledging their homage, called aloud
for "Asaph," and out of the wood, running as fast as he could, came a
beautiful little page, clothed in green, and carrying a golden harp.
Then the strange knight crossed the bridge and saluted King Kaftan, who
was standing on the bank looking at the river like one dazed.
"Be of good cheer, Sir King," he cried; "the Princess Kirsten has broken
the charm, and I am no longer the white hart, but the rightful King of
your troublesome Klavs--me they obey and no other; and now, thanks for
your courtesy." So saying, he took the harp from his little foot-page,
and, seating himself on the bank, began to play.
[Illustration: "And then little Kirsten came smiling out of the water."
_page 111_]
Very softly at first, but so wondrous were the magic notes that all the
assembled people listened silent and motionless, for never before had
they heard the like. First the sound was like the distant echo of silver
trumpets when they welcomed the host back from battle; and then coming,
as it were, nearer, like the ripple of waves on a pebbly beach, and all
the fishes swam up to listen, while out of the wood flocked bird and
beast also. So wondrous was the strain.
And then little Kirsten came smiling out of the water and sat upon the
harper's knee, and one arm he put about her to hold her fast, but still
he kept on playing. And now the music waxed fierce and terrible, like
the roll of thunder among the mountains, or the crash of armies when
they meet in battle. And the waves grew black and angry and lashed
themselves into foam, for the Neck, the evil water spirit, was furious,
but he could not fight against his master, and so at the last he also
came forth, black and hideous, but subdued, leading the two Princesses
Solveig and Ulva, who looked more beautiful than ever, and none the
worse for their sojourn below the river.
So there were great rejoicings in both kingdoms, for the youngest
Princess had broken the spell laid on Sir Sigurd by the Neck, who caught
him in the forest alone without his harp, and condemned him to wander as
a white hart until a Royal Princess should of her own free will cross
Ringfalla Bridge without stumbling and without talking.
This little Kirsten did, and she had her reward, for she married Sigurd
and reigned over the Klavs, who were turbulent no more, because their
King and Queen had been born for the special purpose of ruling over
them.
The Children's Fairy.
[Illustration]
THE CHILDREN'S FAIRY.
FROM THE FRENCH of SAINT-JUIRS.
IT was a dull, heavy afternoon, and the long, dusty road looked quite
deserted, not a horse or even a foot-passenger in sight. The birds were
taking their afternoon siesta, and the leaves were hanging down
languidly from the poor trees, which were dying with thirst. There were
three solitary-looking, tumble-down cottages on one side of the road,
and presently the door of one of them opened, and a woman's voice called
out:
"Come, Yvette, come, go out and play."
In answer to this summons a little girl of some three or four years old
soon appeared, and with great difficulty on all fours began to descend
the steep steps from the house to the footpath. It was quite a piece of
work, that perilous descent, and it was accomplished slowly, carefully,
and very awkwardly by what looked like nothing but a bundle of clothes.
The child had on a little bonnet made of two pieces of figured muslin
sewn together, and from which a few tresses of fair hair which had
escaped fell over her forehead and down the back of her neck. Her little
frock had been lengthened many times, and, consequently, the waist was
now up under the arms, like one sees in the Empire dresses. As to shoes
and stockings--well, it was not very cold, and so they were put away for
a future occasion.
When once she had reached the bottom of the steps, the child stood
upright and looked round for a minute or two, evidently deep in thought,
with her little finger pressed against her face. Play! Yes, it was all
very well, but what should she play at?
At the very time when the poor little mite was turning this question
over in her mind, hundreds of other children, accompanied by their
mother or by their nurse, would be all out in the gardens or parks, and
they would have with them all kinds of games and toys, from the
favourite spade and bucket to a real little steam-boat, which would sail
along on the ponds. They would have cannons, skipping-ropes, reins (all
covered with little bells), hoops, battledores and shuttlecocks, bowls,
marbles, balls, balloons, dolls of every description, pistols, guns,
swords, and, in fact, everything that the heart of a child can desire.
Then, too, those other children nearly always had little playmates, so
that it was easy enough to organise a game.
But, Yvette--on that deserted road, what could she do? Her father, a
poor road-mender, earned only just enough to make a bare living for his
wife and child, and certainly not a halfpenny could be spared for toys.
[Illustration: "DEEP IN THOUGHT" (_p._ 116).]
Yvette sat down just near a great heap of stones, which her father had
to break into small pieces in order to fill in the ruts. When she was
comfortably installed, she began to fumble in her pocket, and there she
certainly found all kinds of wonderful things: two cherry-stones, a
piece of string, a small carrot, a shoe-button, a small penny knife, a
little bit of blue braid and some crumbs of bread. Now, these were all
very nice in their way, and were indeed very valuable articles, but
somehow they did not appeal to Yvette at all just then. She put them
all very carefully back one by one in her pocket.
Then there was a profound silence. Yvette was not happy. The little face
puckered itself up into a significant grimace--the little nose was all
screwed up, and the mouth was just opening--tears were surely on the
way! Just at that moment, fortunately, the Children's Fairy was passing
by.
Now you, perhaps, do not know about this Fairy, for no one ever sees
her, but it is the very one which makes children smile in their dreams,
and gives them all kinds of pretty thoughts. There is no limit to the
power of this Fairy, for, with a stroke of her magic wand, she can
transform things just as she wishes. She is very good and kind-hearted,
and the proof is that she bestows her favours more generally on the poor
and unfortunate than on others.
Well, this good Fairy saw that Yvette was just going to cry. She
stretched her golden wand out over the heap of stones and then flew away
again, laughing, for she was just as light and as gay as a ray of
sunshine.
Now, directly the Fairy had gone, it seemed to the road-mender's little
daughter that one of the big stones near her had a face, and that it was
dressed just like a little baby. Oh, it was really just like a little
baby! Yvette stretched out her hand, took the stone up, and immediately
began to feel for it all the love which a mother feels for her child.
[Illustration: "SHE STRETCHED HER GOLDEN WAND OVER THE HEAP OF STONES"
(_p._ 118).]
"Ah!" she said to it, cuddling it up in her arms; "do you want to be my
little girl? You don't speak--oh! but that is because you are too
young--but I see you would like to. Very well, then; I will be your
mother, and I shall love you and never whip you. You must be good,
though, and then I shall never scold you. Oh! but if you are not
good--you know, I've got a birch rod. Now, come, I'm going to dress you
better: you look dreadful in that frock." Hereupon Yvette rolled her
child up in her pinafore, so that there was nothing to be seen of the
stone but what was supposed to be the baby's head.
"Oh! how pretty she is, dear little thing. There, now, she shall have
something to eat. Ah! you are crying--but you must not cry, my pretty
one--there, there." And the hard stone was rocked gently in the soft
little arms of its fond mother.
"Bye-bye, baby--bye-bye-bye." Yvette sang with all her might, tapping
her little daughter's back energetically, but evidently all to no
purpose, for the stone refused to go to sleep. "Ah! naughty girl; you
won't go to sleep? Oh no, I won't tell you any more stories. I have told
you Tom Thumb, and that's quite enough for to-night. Go to
sleep--quick--quick, I say. Oh, dear, dear, naughty child--I've got a
knife--what! you are crying again! If you only knew how ugly you are
when you cry! There! now I'm going to slap you--take that, and that, and
that, to make you quiet. Oh dear, how dreadful it is to have such a
child. I believe I'll change you, and have a boy. Now, just say you are
sorry for being so naughty----What! you won't? I'll give you another
chance. Now--one--two--three. Oh, very well. I know what I shall do. I
shall just go and take you back. I shall say: 'If you please, I've got a
dreadful little girl, and I want to change her for a nice little boy,
named Eugene.' And then they'll say: 'Yes, ma'am; will you have him with
light hair or dark?' 'Oh,' I shall say, 'I don't mind, as long as he is
good.' 'He'll be very dear, though, ma'am,' they'll say; 'good little
boys are very rare, and they cost a great deal.' 'How much?' I shall
ask. 'Why, one penny, ma'am.' And then I shall think about it----Now,
then, are you going to be good, and say you are sorry? No? Oh! very
well--it's too late now--I've changed you. I have no little girl now,
but a very pretty little boy, named Zizi."
[Illustration: "OH! HOW PRETTY SHE IS" (_p._ 120).]
The stone immediately underwent a complete transformation. Just now,
when it was a little girl, it had been very quiet and gentle, and had
kept quite still on Yvette's lap. Now that it was a boy there was no
more peace: it would jump about, and it would try to get away, for boys
are always so restless.
"Zizi, will you be still, and will you stay on my lap instead of
tumbling about in the road? There, let me lift you up! Oh, dear! how
heavy boys are. There, now, don't you stir, but just eat your bread and
milk. It will make you grow, and then when you are big you'll have
beautiful grey whiskers, like father. You shall have a sword, too, and
perhaps you shall be a policeman. It's very nice to be a policeman, you
know, because they are never put in prison--they take other people there
if the people make a noise in the street. Oh, Zizi, do keep still. If
you don't, I'll call the wolf--you know, the big wolf that runs off with
little children and takes them into the woods to eat them up. Wolf,
wolf, where are you?"
Just at that moment a dog appeared--a large, well-fed, happy-looking
dog, impudent too, and full of fun. He belonged to a carrier who was
always moving about from place to place, and the dog, accustomed as he
was to these constant journeys, had got rather familiar, like certain
commercial travellers, who, no matter where they are, always make
themselves quite at home.
Now, the dog had got tired of following his master's cart, and when he
saw something in the distance which was moving about, he bounded off to
discover what it was. This something was Yvette and her little boy.
"Look, look!" exclaimed the small mother, and there was a tremor in her
voice. "You see, he is coming--the big wolf!"
He _was_ coming, there was no doubt about that, for he was tearing
along, and his tongue was hanging out and his ears were pricked up.
The little stone boy was not at all frightened, but Yvette began to
regret having called the dreadful animal. Oh! if she could only get away
now; but, alas! she did not dare to move or even to speak.
[Illustration: "THE IMPERTINENT DOG CAME STRAIGHT TO THEM" (_p._ 123).]
The impertinent dog came straight to them. Poor Yvette, half frightened
to death, threw away the precious stone baby she had been fondling, and,
picking herself up, began to run, calling out: "Mother! Mother!"
The dog was quite near her, jumping up at her, and then suddenly he
turned to go and sniff at the little stone boy. He probably thought it
was a bone or a piece of bread, but he was soon undeceived, and then he
rushed to the hedge to bark and wake up all the birds.
As to Yvette, she was hurrying along as fast as her little legs could
carry her, for she was in despair, as she thought the wolf was just
behind her, and she imagined that she still felt his hot breath on her
little hand. She stopped when she got to the steps of her home, for she
was out of breath and all trembling with terror, and she felt sure that
if she tried to scramble up the steps the wolf would bite her legs.
Suddenly the inspiration, which the ostrich once had, came to her, and
she rushed into the corner which was formed by the front of the house
and the stone steps, and holding her face close to the wall, so that she
could not see the dreadful animal, she was convinced that she too was
out of his sight.
She stayed there some minutes in perfect anguish, thinking: "Oh! if I
move, he'll eat me up!" She was quite surprised even that he did not
find her, and that his great teeth did not bite her, for she always
thought wolves were so quick to eat up little girls. Whatever could he
be doing? And then, not hearing any sound of him, she thought she would
risk one peep round. Very slowly she turned her head, and then, as
nothing dreadful happened, she grew bolder and bolder.
The wolf was not in sight, and instead of the barking which had
terrified her, she now heard a lot of little bells tinkling, and in the
distance she saw a waggon with four horses coming along.
The sound of the bells was so fascinating that Yvette forgot her duty as
a mother, and stood there watching the waggon as it approached.
The horses were all grey, and they were coming so fast. Suddenly the
child uttered an awe-struck cry.