Another look from the magician: they all shrank together, and a crawling
mass of frogs covered the floor. Bjorn was the largest of them all. Then
opening door and gate, the magician drove them out into the marshy moat.
Here they dived.
The magician then locked the door and threw the key into the moat. At
her chamber windows Swanhild sat weeping. He looked up at her furiously,
but she was so good and pure, his glance had no power over her. He shook
his fist threateningly.
"Now sit there all alone," he cried, "since you will not marry me. You
cannot escape, and no one can deliver you, for my goat keeps guard."
He flew away whistling. The black goat walked round and round the moat,
his eyes gleaming like living coals. The frogs croaked in the evening
light, and above, in her chamber, Swanhild wept solitary and forsaken.
In the meantime, the boy left by the stork at the gloomy castle in the
Bohemian forest had become a valiant knight, who knew well how to use
his sword. Yet so strange a knight as he had never before sat in
Walnut-tree Castle. This was the name of his ancestral home.
Since his father's death Wulf had lived quite alone in the ruined
castle, for none of the servants would stay after the old knight died.
But this did not trouble Wulf. He did not care to hunt the wild boar
through the thicket, or kill the frightened stag. His chief pleasure was
to stretch himself on the thick, soft moss, and gaze through the green
branches of the forest trees at the blue heavens that smiled here and
there in little flocks through the thick foliage. He also loved to seek
for forest flowers--the blue were his favourites. Whence this preference
he knew not, but he dreamt he had once looked into Swanhild's blue eyes.
Or, when tired of these things, he would stand at one of the castle
windows, gazing thoughtfully out into the blue distance. "Far away
yonder," so ran his thoughts at these times, "where the blue heaven
bends down to touch the earth, should I not find happiness there? Were
it not better to journey abroad in search of happiness than to remain
alone in this solitary castle, through whose walls the wind whistles,
whilst owls and bats are now the only occupants of its once stately
halls?"
But though longing to go out into the world, Wulf remained in the ruined
castle, in obedience to an old command of one of his ancestors.
In the middle of the castle court there grew in the cleft of a rock a
gigantic walnut tree. From it the castle had received its name. The nut
from which this tree had sprung had been planted in olden times by one
of Wulf's ancestors, who at the same time had carved these words on the
rock:--
Where flourishes this tree, there shall my house remain.
While it stands, forsake it not to search abroad for fame;
But should the ancient glory from these halls e'er disappear,
Life from this tree shall make it shine once more quite bright and
clear.
Their splendour had long since disappeared, and how the tree could
restore it Wulf could not imagine; still, he remained obedient to the
command.
[Illustration: "A CRAWLING MASS OF FROGS COVERED THE FLOOR" (_p._ 249).]
One evening a mighty storm arose. Black clouds obscured the sky. The
lightning flashed; the thunder rolled. The storm raged through the
forest. The mouldering stones of the old castle slipped from their
places, and the wind whistled through the gaps, and raged through the
old rooms and passages. Then a flash of lightning! a clap of thunder!
The castle was in ruins! Wulf escaped into the open air; before him lay
the walnut tree, shivered by the lightning.
He immediately saddled his horse. What need to remain here longer?
Hastily snatching a few ripe nuts that lay among the shattered branches,
he concealed them in his doublet as a remembrance, and then rode away
through the gloomy forest.
Far and wide, Wulf wandered over the green earth beneath the blue
heavens, encountering many enemies. But in spite of all he kept
courageously on his way.
One day his path led through a thick forest of beech trees. He looked
around thoughtfully as his horse scattered the fallen leaves at every
step. Suddenly he looked up. What was it that shimmered so blue through
the trees? Wulf urged his horse forward, but beneath a giant beech at
the edge of the forest he halted; the endless sea lay before him.
"Here is blue heaven above and beneath, surely I shall find happiness
here?" thought Wulf, as he swung himself to earth. Without a thought he
left his horse, and hastened to the shore. On the soft waves a small
bark was rocking. Wulf sprang in and loosed the chain. Lightly the waves
bore the boat out into the blue distance.
For a long time Wulf lay contentedly in the bottom of the boat. He felt
as though he were a little child folded into his mother's arms, safe
from all want and danger. And he thought the waves wished to tell him
something, but he could not understand their language. Yet he saw that
they bore his bark ever more swiftly forward, and he rejoiced at the
increasing speed.
There was a grating sound under the keel: Wulf had reached land at last.
Before him lay a wooded island. Above the tops of the trees rose the
turrets of a stately castle. He hastened forward and arrived at the
castle moat. An unearthly stillness reigned over all around. Nothing
moved save a swarm of frogs. These swam round and round in the moat, or
sat on the leaves of the water-lilies, and croaked in what seemed to
Wulf most sorrowful tones. But the largest amongst them behaved in a
most extraordinary manner. He was for ever trying to climb up the castle
wall, but if after much trouble he managed to get up a little way, he
always fell back again. Then he would seat himself on a water-lily, look
upwards, and wipe his eyes as though he were weeping.
Wulf also looked up.
"Happiness at last!" he exclaimed. "The blue eyes!" But he got no
further. A violent push from an angry goat sent him flying into the
middle of the moat.
Wulf felt himself sinking fast. His feet got entangled among the twisted
roots of the water-lilies. With great difficulty he managed to keep his
head above the water.
"And here I must die," said he in anguish.
Then from out his doublet sounded soft little voices:--
"The blessing of Urahn to you is near.
Do not despair, for help is present here."
And behold! all around him now began a wonderful rustling and moving. He
groped about with his hands, and felt that tender little roots had
forced their way through his doublet and were taking root in the slime.
And all around him he saw little green walnut tree leaves rising out of
the water. Twigs followed the leaves, and these again became branches.
Wulf felt he was being forced upwards; soon he was safely out of the
water. Looking up, he saw Swanhild's blue eyes. He stretched out his
arms towards her and she smiled.
Higher and higher Wulf was borne. Five strong walnut trees grew beneath
him, and bore him up on their branches. Now he could reach up and touch
Swanhild's hands. Now he sat by her at the window, and gazed into her
blue eyes.
"What is your name?" he asked.
"Swanhild," she replied.
"It is a very beautiful name," said Wulf. "But for my sake you must now
be called Little Blue Flower. When I was quite a child I saw your eyes
in my dreams. They appeared to me like little blue flowers, and every
day I searched for these flowers in the forest, but they were never
sufficiently beautiful. Now you shall be my Little Blue Flower." And
then he gave her a kiss.
But now a fresh movement began in the moat below. The stout frog was
able to scramble up the crooked, rough stems of the walnut tree, better
than up the smooth castle wall. Boldly he climbed, and the whole army of
frogs followed him. At length he reached the top. Swanhild gently laid
her hand on his head, and instead of the frog old Bjorn sat on one of
the branches of the walnut tree, and embraced and kissed both his
daughter and Wulf. Then the other frogs came, and Swanhild laid her
hand on them all. Soon all Bjorn's followers were sitting in crowds on
the branches, dangling their legs for joy. Full of anger, the black goat
ran round and round the castle moat, rolling his great fiery eyes.
[Illustration: "Now he could reach up and touch Swanhild's hands." _Page
254_]
[Illustration: "SOON ALL BJORN'S FOLLOWERS WERE SITTING ON THE BRANCHES"
(_p._ 256).]
Just as the last frog was changed, a mighty rushing noise was heard. The
magician flew raging through the air. With his magic staff he struck the
poor goat a fierce blow, and then rode back on him to Blocksberg. Here
it went very badly with him, because he came without the soul of the
little Laplander, and he was severely punished.
Bjorn, with Wulf and all his men, joyfully entered the castle through
Swanhild's window. A few days later Swanhild's marriage with Wulf was
celebrated with great splendour, and they lived together in peace and
happiness to the end of their days.
"The Princess Who Despised all Men."
[Illustration]
"THE PRINCESS WHO DESPISED ALL MEN."
By Charles Smith Cheltnam.
THERE was once a King and Queen who, having everything a King and Queen
could reasonably desire, might have been as happy as the day was
long--if they had only taken the right means for making the best of
their good fortune.
The King was a pattern of amiability, and, as to wisdom, could have held
his own in comparison with any crowned potentate on earth; but of the
Queen not half as much could be said in praise. As a girl, her beauty
had been renowned, and had brought to her Princes by the score as
wooers; but to their suits she had, as the phrase is, turned a deaf ear,
regarding men as creatures made wholly of ill qualities, and marriage
with them a debasement of herself in every sense; and it was not until
her father threatened to imprison her for the rest of her life in a town
built of steel and adamant, that she could be induced to accept a
husband.
The amiability of her spouse was often sorely tried by her constant
disparagement of men; but, being founded upon exceptional goodness of
character, he did not allow it to be overcome, and schooled himself to
bear with her fantastic ideas, rewarding himself for his leniency by
sometimes laughing in his sleeve at the more preposterous of her
pretensions.
A great many years passed without their having any family until, one
day, the Queen had a baby girl, and consoled herself by reflecting that
that, at least, was better than having a boy, "to grow up into a horrid
man," as she expressed herself.
It happened that, at the moment of the little Princess's birth, the
fairy Gaieia was passing the palace, and, as she had no particularly
pressing business on hand, slipped in, and, after congratulating the
Queen on the beauty of her offspring, constituted herself the infant's
god-mother--as was the fairy custom at that period--at the same time
laughingly predicting that she would prove to be "the joy of her
parents."
It hardly needs to be recorded that, with her very peculiar views as to
what a woman's conduct in life ought to be, the Queen did not permit her
daughter to receive instruction of any kind from anybody but herself;
the King, consequently, rarely saw his child, and knew nothing of the
character which had been made for her by her mother, rather than allowed
to come to her and develop itself in the natural order of things. In
this way the Princess Disdainana--so her mother had insisted on naming
her--was brought up until she had reached her seventeenth year. If the
youthful beauty of her mother had been renowned, that of the Princess
was celebrated far and near as being nothing less than marvellous, and a
hundred of the richest and handsomest Kings and Princes in the world
vied with each other in their endeavours to obtain her hand; but to not
one of them would she deign to listen even for a moment, regarding all
men as a sort of natural excrescence, whose only fitting place in the
world was in companionship with the horses and dogs, or, at most, as
ugly and repulsive creatures necessary for the performance of the most
unpleasant labours. It was on this account that she had become
universally known as "The Princess Who Despised All Men."
This state of things became, at last, a cause of extreme uneasiness to
the King. By the time she had arrived at a marriageable age, the fact
that he, too, was year by year growing older began to recur to his mind
with disquieting persistency; for, having no son to succeed him, he saw
that, if his daughter's disinclination to marry were maintained, his
dynasty was in danger of coming to an end--and that is a prospect which
no King can be expected to contemplate with equanimity.
One day, therefore, when the subject was worrying him very much, he sent
for his wife and daughter and explained to them the extreme discomforts
of the situation which had been brought about by the obduracy of the
Princess.
"My daughter, I am happy to say, knows her duty to herself," replied
the Queen proudly.
The King was about to retort, "But she does not appear to know anything
whatever about her duty to her father;" but, as it was a rule of conduct
with him never to use that form of contradiction in any discussion he
had with his wife, he held his peace.
"Rather than become the wife of an ugly, coarse, bearded man, I would
die a hundred deaths!" cried the Princess vehemently.
As the last syllable left her lips, a gay laugh rippled through the air
of the room.
"May I ask what you find to laugh at in what my daughter has said?"
demanded the Queen of her husband, indignantly.
"Nothing whatever, my dear--and, consequently, I did not laugh," replied
the King mildly.
"What! Perhaps you will say that it was _I_ who uttered that insolent
sound?" cried the Queen.
"Now I come to recall the fact, I don't think I ever heard you laugh, my
dear; but I am sure the voice that laughed a moment ago was not in the
least like yours," said the King.
"It was more like my daughter's, perhaps you will say?" remarked the
Queen sarcastically.
"Not in the least--I should imagine, for I never had the advantage of
hearing her laugh any more than yourself," replied the King.
Again the gay sound of a musical voice, laughing lightly, rang through
the room.
"Oh! This is too insulting!" cried the Queen. "Come with me, my
love--out of such an unendurable atmosphere of coarseness."
And, without deigning to listen to a word of remonstrance from the King,
she hurried the Princess back to her own apartment--followed by another
silvery peal of laughter.
[Illustration: "SHE HURRIED THE PRINCESS BACK TO HER OWN APARTMENT."]
The King was equally puzzled and vexed by the abrupt termination of what
he had hoped would have been a conference resulting in relief to himself
from pressing anxieties. Now--knowing his wife's absolute and unyielding
temper, and the complete control she exercised over her daughter--he
saw no way but one (that of using his extreme parental authority) to
bring the Princess to obedience; but that measure he was too
kind-hearted to resolve upon applying.
In the utmost perplexity of mind he had paced his study for several
minutes, without noticing that he was grasping in his right hand a
scroll of parchment. On becoming aware of this fact, he stopped suddenly
and gazed on the document with bewildered astonishment. It was
absolutely certain that he had never seen it before, that it was not in
his hand when the Queen and Princess quitted his presence, and that
nobody else had entered the room.
While he was thinking of all this, the gay laugh, which had been heard
three times before, rang through the study again, only more gaily than
ever--for a moment angering the King, though he was one of the most
placable of Sovereigns, and causing him to ferret in every possible
hiding-place in his study in search of the daring jester. But not a
trace of an intruder was discoverable. When he had perfectly assured
himself of this, he unfolded the mysteriously conveyed parchment.
The opening words of the document caused him to turn pale, and the sight
of the signature at the end of it sent a thrill of terror through his
frame. It was nothing less than a formal demand for the hand of the
Princess Disdainana, on the part of Kloxoxskin the Ninety-ninth--one of
the ugliest and most belligerent monarchs in the world--the document
being drawn in the form of an ultimatum, calling upon the King to give
his daughter to the said Kloxoxskin in marriage, within two hours of
the receipt of this demand, or, failing compliance therewith, to
surrender his throne to the said Kloxoxskin, who would, at the time
specified, come, supported by his invincible army of one million nine
hundred and ninety-nine veteran warriors, to receive the said King's
answer.
In his moments of worst apprehension, the King had never thought of
anything so terrible as this. He called his wife and daughter back to
him, and made them clearly understand the crisis that had come to him
and them; but though the Queen was inclined to save her share of the
throne by submission, the Princess declared that no consideration would
induce her to give herself to any man--to such a human monster as
Kloxoxskin least of all.
From that resolution her father tried to move her, but she was
inflexible against all his arguments and prayers; and when the two
hours' grace was spent, the King found himself in the presence of the
redoubtable Kloxoxskin the Ninety-ninth, a prisoner in his palace, and
wholly at the mercy of his all-powerful conqueror.
Realising the peril in which she stood, the Queen did her best to
persuade her daughter to submit to the inevitable; but the Princess
quickly silenced her by giving her back the arguments that had all her
life been used in the cultivation of her detestation of all men.
But though she had no misgiving as to her moral strength, the Princess
could not but contemplate with alarm the danger of a personal encounter
with King Kloxoxskin, so she determined to seek safety in flight and,
as soon as dusk came, contrived to slip unperceived from the palace into
a dense forest which grew at no great distance from the walls of her
father's capital.
For a long time she pressed farther and farther into the depths of the
forest, growing every moment more and more relieved from the
apprehension that she might be pursued.
Pausing at length to rest, she noticed that night had thoroughly set in,
and that it would be impossible for her to go any farther in the
darkness. At the same moment a terrible sound fell upon her ears--the
roaring of wild beasts of some kind, coming rapidly nearer and nearer.
For an instant her heart stood still, but she was not wanting in courage
or resource, and, observing that she was at the foot of a giant oak
tree, she lost not a moment in climbing to the shelter of its spreading
boughs.
Choosing the securest position she could find, her alarm of the moment
subsided; but though she was greatly fatigued, the memory of the peril
from which she was endeavouring to escape, coupled with anxiety as to
the trials which might be awaiting her all night, prevented her from
going to sleep; and, when morning dawned, she prepared, tired and
hungry, to descend to the ground and continue her undefined journey.
But she found that climbing was a far easier matter than descending from
her place of refuge; for she now observed that the tree sent out, on
nearly all sides of its gnarled trunk, the remains of huge jagged and
lifeless branches, to avoid which would require a skill which she did
not possess. She had no choice, however, but to make an attempt to get
down, and had nearly succeeded in reaching the ground when, to her
consternation, the full skirt of her splendid dress caught upon an
enormous splinter, and held her hanging helpless some feet in the air,
all her efforts to free herself proving unavailing.
[Illustration: "AT THE MERCY OF HIS ALL-POWERFUL CONQUEROR" (_p._ 265).]
Hours passed by. The sunlight pierced some of the neighbouring
tree-tops; but the return of day brought her neither comfort nor the
hope of release, and she was giving way to the horrible idea that she
would have to endure all the torments of a lingering death, when she
heard the voice of a woodman, whistling on his way to his work, and
called to him.
The man came towards her out of the underwood.
"Assist me down," said the Princess, in her habitual tone of disdain.
"Not I," replied the woodman. "I recognise you: you are the Princess Who
Despises All Men! Ho! ho!--_I'm_ a man, remember!"
That said, he went on his way, whistling cheerfully, leaving the
Princess to think, for a moment, that her rooted antipathy to men was
amply justified by the brutal conduct of this coarse and ugly wretch.
But the distress of her position became every moment more and more
acute, and, seeing that it was hopeless to anticipate the assistance of
any chance passer, she made one more effort to free herself, and by
exerting all her remaining strength, succeeded in tearing herself from
the offensive bough--at the cost of a great rent in her beautiful dress
and a fall, which left her for a few minutes lying insensible on the
ground at the foot of the tree.
After returning to consciousness, and sitting for a while to recover her
presence of mind, she rose and continued her blind way through the
forest, always hungry and many times faint with fatigue, all day long,
until once again she found the shades of evening closing about her.
Just before night had actually come, she reached a spot at which a party
of charcoal-burners were seated about a cheerful fire in front of their
hut, eating their supper of bread and potatoes, roasted in the embers
at their feet. The appetising scents of these well-cooked roots provoked
the starving Princess's hunger in an almost unendurable degree.
"Give me one of your potatoes," she said, still unable to modify the
disdainful tone of her voice.
"Not we!" replied the head charcoal-burner. "I recognise you: you are
the Princess Who Despises All Men! Ho! ho! _We_ are men, remember!"
More than ever disgusted with men, the Princess wandered all night
through the forest, afraid to lie down, lest she might fall asleep and
become a prey to some prowling wild beast.
As the dawn of another day was becoming visible, she found herself on
the border of a meadow, and saw a young farmer drawing water from a well
for some horses which were waiting near him.
"Give me some of that water--I'm thirsty!" she said imperiously.
"Aha," said the young farmer, "I recognise you: you are the Princess Who
Despises All Men! If you want water, dig a well for yourself, as I have
had to do."
"Loathsome creatures, one and all!" the Princess said to herself, as she
turned away from the spot. "My good mother was right in teaching me to
despise them."
She presently reached a more open part of the country, though she was
still near the forest through which she had passed, and, towards noon,
when she was almost overcome by the sun's heat, she came upon a rising
ground, whence she beheld, afar off, a great stretch of water, and, on
what seemed its most distant reach, an opalesque haze.
Then there suddenly came to her mind a story she had heard of the
existence of an island-kingdom peopled by women who, like herself, held
all men in disdain, and would never permit one of them to set foot where
they were. And she was overtaken by a burning desire to reach that
island, which she fancied must be hidden in the midst of the opalesque
haze on which she was gazing.
So she hurried on and on, sustained wholly by the intensity of her
desire, till she came upon the sea-shore--for the great water she had
looked upon was the wide ocean.
Alongside his boat, and busy with his nets, she found a fisherman, and
at once accosted him.
"Is yonder mist-enveloped island the kingdom of Diaphanosia?" she asked
him.
"Yes," he answered.
"Then row me over to it in your boat," she said eagerly.
"Not I," he replied. "I recognise you: you are the Princess Who Despises
All men, and _I_ am a man, you know. If you want a boat, make one for
yourself, as I had to do. Over there, in the forest, you will find
plenty of wood for your purpose, only you will have to cut it down."
To get out of the sun's burning rays, and to give herself time for
reflection, the Princess retired into the forest and sat down at the
foot of a hollow tree, by the side of which a rusty axe was lying, as
if it had been left there by some woodman and forgotten.